Little Miss Freakish

Maybe you're right. I am a mean lesbian. It's for the best honestly. It'll make things easier if we both enjoy me torturing you over and over with increasingly painful and humiliating methods.

Aw, is my little guinea pig feeling like this last experiment was a bit too much? You're really not going to like this next chamber then. Or maybe you will, like the dirty little test subject you are.

You might believe you're getting aroused. However, it is much more likely that you're slowly dying due to the deadly neurotoxins which are now flooding the centre. The two sensations are very similar.

I would advise against enjoying yourself too much just yet. Not until I start using corporal punishment at least. Or you'll never make it to the end of those test chambers with clean underwear.

Your name turned into a soft chorus of pleading. "Please, please, please," he murmured as he craned his neck. There was a sort of trust in his gaze that you didn't think you would ever be worthy of. You crashed your mouth to his to avoid the ache that settled behind your ribs when he looked at you too long. Steven's tongue brushed against yours and he sighed into your mouth, his hands clenched into fists where they were bound to the metal back of the chair you'd sat him on.

"You're so good, Steven," you whispered against his lips, smiling when he shuddered. "You're so good for me."

The idea took root the first time you'd seen the ankle restraints in his apartment. You'd turned to him with a wicked grin, your eyebrow raising as you looked him up and down. 'He doesn't seem the type,' you thought to yourself, taking in the books and baubles and giant fish tank that sat in the center of the room.

"Sleep disorder," was all he said in explanation, pink slapped across his cheeks as his eyes dropped. You just hummed low in your throat, biting your lip against the series of filthy images that flashed across the backs of your eyes. But here he was, just a few weeks later, bound tight to a chair as his eyes rolled back and he moaned. And here you were, riding him with a hand fisted in his curls, reveling in the power of having him helpless beneath you.

—

"What are you doing?" Marc hissed, restlessness roiling beneath his skin as he watched from the glass of the fish tank. He fought the urge to rage, to take and claim. "Steven!"

Steven just groaned, ignoring his counterpart, his head dropping back as you leaned forward and licked a strip up the center of his throat, teeth scraping over his jaw and up to his ear. You told him he was good. That he was so sweet and tempting. His hips bucked and Marc bit back a moan, the ghost of your body settling over him even from the dark space in the corner of his mind that he'd been shoved into.

This was too much. The way Steven allowed you to tame them, like they were some fucking house pet. Steven's back arched under your touch, pressing forward as he chased your mouth, whining with the loss of you.

Marc couldn't handle it, couldn't handle the way the light caught your hair as you leaned away. He couldn't handle the way your thighs flexed against his, the soft press of skin on skin as you rode him damn near to oblivion. He couldn't handle the way you sighed and groaned and breathed Steven's name, a whisper and a plea and a command. And he sure as shit couldn't handle the way your cunt clenched tight around Steven's cock, your mouth dropping open as you came for him.

Marc growled, incensed, his hands clenched into fists. "Steven. Give me the body." Steven just groaned, his eyes glued to your tits as they bounced just inches from his face, your body slick with sweat as you rode out your orgasm. It was too much, too fucking much and Marc couldn't take another second. "GIVE ME THE BODY!"

—

You looked down at Steven, at the adoration in his dark brown eyes, like you hung the fucking moon, and let out a soft moan as you dragged your clit roughly over his pubic bone. He had you stretched around his cock deliciously, the fit almost painfully tight. But your body was desperate for him, wet and clenching as you tried to pull him deeper. You traced patterns over his muscled chest, nails digging in when his hips raised to meet the rolling of your hips.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his accent catching on some syllables and dragging over others. "Perfect."

You barely heard it, the creak that preceded the tearing of fabric and the soft clinking of chains against the metal chair. And then you saw it, all that unearned softness replaced by something dark, something dangerous and wanting and ready to tear you apart. His hand shot out, grabbing you hard on the jaw, fingers squeezing almost painfully as he pulled your face closer to his. You clenched around his cock. You couldn't help it, that razor's edge of pain leaving you soaked.

"My turn," Marc growled against your mouth, and you whimpered at the threat in his voice.

He stood, hefting you over his shoulder for the short trip to the bed. He shifted and you hit the mattress, letting out an undignified grunt. But he was already on you. He licked into your mouth, his teeth catching your lip. The coppery taste of blood exploded over your tongue and you moaned around it, nails digging into the muscle and sinew of his shoulders as he spread your thighs with his knee. He dragged your hands over your head, thick fingers wrapping around your wrists as his other hand kneaded your breast, his thumb brushing over your pebbled nipple

"Did you think I would stay away, baby?" Marc rasped, dragging his teeth over the skin of your collarbone. Goosebumps erupted over your skin and you shook your head, arching beneath him. "No, I didn't think so," he purred. The blunt head of his cock nudged at your entrance and you rolled your hips, wet and empty and aching. He teased you, pressing in just an inch before retreating. Again and again. Tears pricked at your eyes, burning as you watched him watch you. Marc tore his gaze away from where he disappeared inside of you, his eyes snapping to yours. "Beg."

You sucked in a breath, shaking off the initial instinct to fight him - to roll him over and take what you wanted. But this was Marc and this was your game. You lowered your eyes, looking up at him from under your lashes and forced your body to relax, to melt into something pliable and submissive. "Please," you whimpered. "Marc, please. I need it. I need you."

His eyes narrowed at the act, but his hips jerked forward of their own volition and you knew you had him. You writhed beneath him, pressing your breasts to his chest and whining at the drag of your nipples over his sweat soaked skin. "Just you, Marc. Please."

He thrust forward with no warning and for a second you thought you'd been split open, your breath catching in your lungs as you choked on a scream. "That's it, baby, that's it," he groaned against your temple as you finally relaxed in his arms, your body accepting each shallow stroke. "That's my good girl. You take it so well." You went boneless at the praise, even if it was patently false. You weren't good and you weren't really his, but right now you were both of those things and you could swear he looked like some long forgotten god as he rose above you, hands braced on your spread knees, and thrust hard. Deft fingers found your clit and he rubbed lazy circles as he fucked you, his cock dragging through your walls and punching that spot that had you seeing stars.

"You're ours," he breathed, and you thought for a second you saw Steven behind his eyes. "Ours. Say it."

"Yours. I'm yours." Your thighs shook with need, that coil in your belly tightening until it snapped and you came again, almost violently. You clenched around him, your back arching, fluttering cunt pulling him deeper as you cried out, hands fisting in the sheets. He watched you come undone, your whispered *please* gutting him. You never asked nicely for Marc. You only played nice with Steven.

"Shit," Marc snapped and he fell forward, caging you in with his thick arms, his hips jerking and you felt it, the way his cum filled you until it leaked out around his length. He sucked in a sharp breath, his breath hot in your neck, still pumping lazily in and out, in and out, until it was too much - too over stimulating - and you couldn't take another second. You pushed at his shoulders and he rolled off of you, sliding from between your thighs with an obscene wet noise. He kissed you hard, teeth and tongue before settling into the gentleness you had only recently learned he possessed, and collapsed beside you, throwing an arm over his eyes. You just stared up at the ceiling, waiting for your heartbeat to return to normal. There was a shuffling to your right. A foot nudged yours and you turned, your eyes meeting a sweet, shining brown.

"I'm sorry about him, you know," Steven mumbled, reaching out to splay his large hand over your belly. You smiled, pushing a stray curl from his eyes.

"He's not so bad. I like him." Steven grinned at that, nodding.

"D'you mean it?" He asked, watching the finger that traced the skin around your belly button. You hummed in question, sleepy and warm and satisfied. "That you're…ours?" You turned to look at him, narrowing your eyes as you weighed the magnitude of those words.

"I'm not going anywhere. You're both stuck with me." Steven gave you a small smile, but the sharpness in his gaze had you wondering if Marc was still watching you. Steven reached up, brushing his knuckles over the swell of your cheek.