A room comes with a cost - Part 3 - Sexgeschichten

A room comes with a cost - Part 3

... spilling hot down my cheeks as I parted my lips wider, stuffing the wad in deep. It bulged my cheek like before, the crusty edges scraping my tongue, flooding my mouth with that revolting tang: Me, from yesterday's laundry theft, mingled with today's fresh betrayal. A gag rose, reflexive, but I swallowed it down, the fabric muffling my sob into a pathetic hum.

"Mmmph... shorry," I mumbled around it, the words garbled and wet, slurring past the obstruction. "Shorry for shassin'... for shlackin'... for bein' a bad girl."

Each syllable burned, the apology twisting like a knife... rebellion's death rattle, my voice small and wrecked, hips twitching involuntary against Mike's hand as if begging punctuation.

Steven's chuckle broke the hush, low and satisfied, his fingers leaving my cheek to trail down my jaw... tilting my head up, forcing eye contact.

"Louder, sis. And look at Dad while you say it. Mean it."

His eyes gleamed, Liam leaned in closer, the interlocked legs with Mike's pinning me open... No hiding the drip now, a fresh bead trailing down to pool on Mike's jeans, darkening the denim where my belly pressed. His cock throbbed against my hip... hot, insistent, a betrayal of his own... and his free hand tightened on my waist, fingers digging bruises I'd feel tomorrow.

I met Mike's gaze, or tried... his eyes were stormy, conflicted, that uncomfortable flicker warring with the dark hunger they'd planted last night over whiskey and whispers. The vid's echo ...

... hung between us: My gagged confession, hips bucking, the same pathetic need.

"Shorry, Mike," I forced out, louder, the panties shifting wet against my teeth, saliva soaking through to dribble down my chin. "Shorry for lyin'... for fightin' the rulesh... pwease... forgive me."

The plea cracked, raw and ragged, my walls fluttering around his fingers... clenching, releasing, a silent scream for the friction he'd dangled. Rebellion? Shredded. Just heat, coiling vicious, my clit pulsed under his thumb's feather-light graze.

One circle. Please, god... one more.

Mike's breath hitched, jaw clenching as he searched my face... tears, flushed cheeks, the bulge of fabric distorting my lips. His thumb moved then, deliberate: Slow circles on my clit, firm enough to spark but lazy, dragging the peak out like taffy.

"Good girl," he rasped, the words twisting something deep in me... praise laced with power, the same tone he'd used for "count 'em" earlier.

His fingers inside curled... shallow pumps now, scissoring just enough to stretch, the wet schlick obscene in the quiet. Liam's hand joined, not inside but teasing the rim of my ass again... light presses, circling without entry, the dual assault short-circuiting my brain. Steven's fingers tangled in my hair, guiding my head back down, muffling my building moans into the gag.

"That's it. Take it like you mean it."

The build was merciless... slow, edged, every stroke a tease that wound me tighter without mercy. Mike's ...