Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
“Fucking beautiful,” The Skull said, his voice dripping with a hunger that was entirely primal. He didn’t touch me. He just watched, and that felt more invasive than anything else.
The air had hummed, thick with tension, fear, and something dark and forbidden. My breath came fast and hard, my pulse pounding as the three masked figures closed in.
The Skull, The Stag, and The Black Mask.
They surrounded me like it was a ritual, the flickering tree lights, the wintery storm raging outside, and the firelight catching on their masks making them seem even more ominous.
The Black Mask touched me next, his gloved finger tracing along my jaw, sliding down to my throat, and pressing in just enough to make me swallow. “She’s trembling,” he murmured, voice muffled and low. Reverent.
The Stag leaned close and said in a deep and dark voice, “Not from fear,” and the words sank straight into me. Their presence alone stole my breath.
And when The Black Mask lifted his hand, I held in my breath when I saw the knife in his hand. The blade whispered against the skin of my collarbone, I let out a squeak of fear. It was cold, the touch teasing and taunting me before it bit shallowly at my skin.
Pain bloomed, sharp and intimate, and when I looked down and saw a bead of blood rise, I felt all three of them still, as if my body had just spoken for me.
“Red is pretty on you.” I wasn’t clear who spoke or if all of them said it at the same time.
The Stag roughly palmed my breast, his thumb circling my nipple with a crude, possessive pressure. “You want to be good for us, don’t you, Gwen? You want to show us how a good girl listens.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a command woven into my unraveling mind. A tear escaped my eye, tracing a hot path down my cheek. Yes. No. I don’t know. The corruption of what they silently promised was a whisper, seductive yet vile all in the same breath. These three men promised warmth far greater than the fireplace could provide.
So suddenly that my head spun, The Skull dropped to his knees, his bony mask level with my stomach. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my leggings and the flimsy cotton panties beneath them, and I held my breath as he stared up at me. I looked at the other two, both of them staring back at me, although their expressions were hidden beneath their masks.
When I didn’t say anything, just looked back down at The Skull, his deep chuckle filled the small space. With one brutal yank, he stripped my leggings and panties down to my knees, baring my pussy to the hot, thick air. I cried out on instinct, a strangled sound of protest and excitement that died in my throat the moment he leaned in.
“Let’s see if we can make her scream for another reason,” he growled, tearing away my clothing, and hiking one of my legs up and out, placing it on his shoulder, and pushing just the bottom of his mask up to drag his tongue, hot and insistent, in a long, wet stripe up my slit.
My head kicked back against the wall, my palms flat on the wood to balance myself. Oh God. His mouth was a brand, searing away the last fragments of my resistance. His fingers dug into my thigh as he ate me like a man starved, his tongue fucking into me, lapping at my clit, his nose buried in my flesh.
The vulgar, wet sounds echoed in the cabin, a lewd counterpoint to the storm. I was moaning, high and desperate, my hands now tangling in his hair, not to push him away but to hold him tight against me.
This was wrong. This was crazy. Yet I was letting it happen. I was supposed to hate this. I did hate it. So why was my pussy clenching around nothing, aching for more, and getting wetter?
“She tastes so fucking sweet,” The Skull moaned against my flesh, his voice muffled as he groaned, “A perfect, tiny little cunt. Look at you… getting all sloppy for us.”
“Born to be used,” The Stag agreed, his hand still working my breast, pinching my nipple just shy of pain. The praise wrapped in such degradation sent a fresh jolt of lightning through me. I was their thing, their beautiful, filthy toy. The thought should have revolted me. But it made me drip onto The Skull’s chin.
I looked at The Black Mask, the metallic sheen catching the firelight. He was silent and steady as he watched the other two destroy me in the best of ways.
The sound of metal drew me to The Stag. He unbuckled his pants, freeing a thick, heavy cock that stood proud and long and already showing a glossy sheen of pre-cum at the crown.