Page 39 of Yours to Break

Oliver squirmed in my arms under my brother’s scrutiny. I knew when he suddenly released a drawn-out moan that Hudson had stroked his little dick. My breath stuttered from Oliver’s channel squeezing down around me.

Hudson chuckled, “That feel good, pup?”

“M-mhm,” Oliver whimpered.

“Yeah? And does our needy little cockslut need his front hole filled?” Hudson wondered, rubbing his tip against Oliver.

Oliver groaned, shaking his head.

Hudson slapped his cheek.

Grabbing Oliver’s shocked face, he snarled, “Don’t lie to us, pet. As much as you would hate to admit it, youknowyou need our cocks. You’re addicted.”

Oliver wailed, throwing his head back, as Hudson sheathed himself in the wet, hot depths of his pussy. I shuddered at the feel of Hudson’s cock thrusting alongside my own. I wouldn’t last much longer.

“Fuck, that’s tight. Shit,” Hudson panted. “We own you, Oliver. You willnever—fuck—never have anyone else inside you. It’s just you and us now, baby. Just you and us.”

Oliver’s back arched from the sheer strength of his orgasm. Both of his holes clamped down, milking our cocks until every last drop of cum had been sucked from our balls.

He really was such a good boy.

* * *

As the days passed, we could see that Oliver was slowly falling deeper down the rabbit hole. Each day brought us something new. The first time he had initiated a cuddle, the first time he hadaskedto suck our cocks—without any coercion on our part.

He became needier; always wanting to be close, pressing into our touches, whining when we told him one of us needed to leave the house for a job.

It was heady.

His brain was finally seeming to accept that he wanted to be ours. That, really, he should’ve been grateful to us for taking him from that useless life of his and bringing him home where he belonged. There was nothing out there that would ever truly satisfy his need to be wanted, and he knew that now. He knew he wasn’t made to survive without us and our affection.

Our attention.

He’d never have to be anxious anymore over whether or not anyone would ever want him or need him. Once the training period was over, we planned on spoiling the fuck out of him. Sometimes we needed to travel for work, and wouldn’t it make trips so much more enjoyable to have him with us? I wondered if there was anywhere he wanted to go that he thought he’d never be able to experience. New York City? Puerto Rico? Thailand? Anything he wanted, he would have. Our pet deserved only the finest.

I’d buy him a damn horse stable if he wanted one. We’d get him an octopus or shark if he asked. Granted we would definitely not be the ones in charge of actually keeping the animals alive and shit.

Actually, no—he couldn’t haveanythinghe wanted. For instance, if he ever asked us to let him go, we’d laugh in his face and fuck his brains out until he was reminded of the simple fact that he belonged to us. Forever.

Also, if he ever asked for his store back, or just to have a job in general, the answer would be no. Why would a pet have a job? So, again, we’d laugh in his face and give him as many orgasms in a row that it would take to shut down any thoughts of becoming less dependent on us.

He was never getting away from us.

Ever.

17

Oliver

I was trying my best to weather the storm. I really was. But I didn’t exactly have training on how to handle being kidnapped and kept as a pet by two psychopaths.

It was growing harder each day to resist—not physically resist them, but mentally resist them. I hadn’t had contact with someone outside of the twins since the day they took me. I didn’t know where my phone was; I was never alone for a long enough amount of time to try to find it.

They knew what they were doing, I knew what they were doing, they knew that I knew what they were doing, and yet I couldn’t help but yearn for more of the comfort and praise they so generously gave.

They hadn’t explicitly said anything to me, but I was pretty sure they’d expected me to be in love with them by now. In their defense, the only comparison they had was Lane and Greyson’srelationship. It was a small happiness that at least I’d lasted longer than Lane.

Which was a really fucked up way of thinking about things.

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