Page 3 of The Show
Until he squeezed again, using my breasts as roughly as I knew he wanted to use the rest of my body.
“Answer me,” he growled.
“Yes, my lord,” I whispered, hoping it would disguise my voice enough that he wouldn’t recognize me. “Please.”
Thepleasemight have been too much. But I wanted this. The way my cunny throbbed, slickness coating my thighs, made me suspect Ineededthis.
Madam Eve's voice seemed distant, a soft murmur at the edge of my consciousness, as she dismissed Rose and Violet. I couldn't focus on her words, not with Edward's hands still on me, his thumbs circling my nipples, drawing out a gasp despite my efforts to remain aloof, impassive. I didn't hear her leave, didn't notice anything but the sudden press of men’s bodies around me, the harsh breaths and crude whispers.
My eyes fluttered closed, a vain attempt to block out the reality of what was about to happen. But shutting out the sight of them only heightened my other senses. Hands—so many hands—wereon me…groping, caressing, exploring every intimate inch of my flesh.
A rough palm skimmed down my spine, while another squeezed my buttock, fingers delving into the cleft between. I shuddered, a mix of revulsion and unwanted desire coursing through me.
Someone cupped my mound from behind, thick fingers sliding through the slick folds, tracing the entrance to my body. “She's soaked, Teddy,” a voice grunted, thick with lust. “Your little whore wants this?”
“Ourlittle whore,” Edward chuckled.
A wave of humiliation washed over me, but it did nothing to dampen the heat building in my core. Another hand found my breast, replacing Edward's, kneading the soft flesh before pinching the taut peak. I bit back a moan, hating myself for the way my body responded to their crude touches.
DidI want this?
After everything I’d been through, everything I was enduring now…did I still yearn for Edward’s touch? Or any man’s touch? Or did I just enjoy being used this way—degraded?
Fingers probed my mouth, parting my lips, pushing inside. I tasted salt and smoke, and suckled instinctively, my cheeks hollowing out. A groan echoed around me, and the fingers withdrew, only to be replaced by another set, these thicker, rougher as they pressed my tongue down, causing me to choke.
I was lost in a sea of sensation, of coarse words and crude laughter.
They touched me everywhere, their hands harsh and demanding, and my body…Iburned. I was adrift, drowning ina tide of shame and desire, unable to anchor myself to anything solid, anything real.
Until Edward's voice cut through the fog, sharp and commanding. “On your knees, slut.”
His hands, those familiar hands that had once caressed me with tenderness—or so I’d thought—tightened in my hair, pushing me down. And I, grateful for the anchor of his touch, went willingly, sinking down to my knees on the soft carpet in the center of the room.
The Supplicant Swan.
I remembered this position fromA Harlot’s Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Arts. Madam Eve had given me a copy when I’d first approached her about the unusual opportunity she was offering. She’d told me to read it, to memorize it.
And I’d always been a good student.
The kneeling woman twirls her tongue around the head, working the shaft, or occasionally the ballocks, with her hand, bringing him to completion.
But I’d never done it for anyone but Edward.
Edward tugged on my hair, and I opened my eyes, my gaze level with the waists of the men surrounding me.
Their hands were at their trousers, unbuttoning, pushing fabric aside, freeing their cocks. I saw them in various states of arousal, some already hard and proud, others being stroked to full erection by their owners. The sight sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of apprehension and anticipation.
Knowing what was expected of me, I reached out, my hands tentatively gripping the two closest shafts. I began to stroke them, my fingers learning the shape and feel of each one. This was calledMilkmaid’s Delight, and I’d practiced it at the Farthington’s Ball with Edward, a lifetime ago.
But I’d never seen this many cocks. One was smooth and straight, the other thick and veined. I could hear the men's breath hitch, their low groans of approval as I worked them.
Suddenly, a cock was at my lips, pressing for entrance. It wasn't Edward's; I knew the shape and taste of him intimately. This one was longer, the tip already wet with precum. I parted my lips, taking him in, my tongue automatically swirling around the head. The man grunted, his hands coming to the back of my head, pulling me forward until I was taking more of him.
I struggled to breathe, to keep up with his rhythm, as he fucked my face.
He was rough, his thrusts making me gag, but I forced myself to relax, to take him deeper. Tears stung my eyes, saliva dripped from my chin, but I focused on my breathing, allowing him to use my mouth, and kept stroking the cocks in my hands.
The man in my mouth stiffened, his grip on my hair tightening almost painfully. He thrust deep, making me choke. Then he was coming, his hot release pumping down my throat.
