Page 26 of Rider Daddies
Ryder brings his hand up to her breast, squeezing. “Saint,” he calls. “Be a champ and loosen up this corset for me.”
Now all three of us are working on her.
“Let’s see how far we can tease you.” I look up from between her legs, catching her eyes. “Bringing you right to the edge of orgasm…but not quite there.”
Lacey furls her lip. She’s getting frustrated, a crease forming between her two dark eyebrows as she realizes what we’re doing—getting her back.
Tensing her jaw, she reaches down to rub her clit.
It’s a good thing I have excellent reflexes.
I catch her hand and pass it over to Ryder. “You’re forbidden from touching yourself.”
She bites her lip, sweat dripping down her brow. There’s a pink hue to her cheeks, her face completely flushed. God, I just know that her perfect little pussy will be the same color.
She arches her back. Bucks her hips.
“Try all you want, sweetheart,” Ryder says, taking away her other arm. “Remember—there’s three of us and one of you.”
“You can’t tease me like this…you don’t understand.”
“No,” snaps Saint. “Youdon’t understand.”
I’ve been so busy watching Lacey squirm that I didn’t even realize Saint left the table. I turn around and locate him just as he materializes from behind the curtain, something pulled taut in his hand. A rope?
This woman better buckle in for the ride of her life…
Minus the ride. For being the biggest cocktease this world has ever seen, she doesn’t deserve pleasure.
Just pain.
In its cruelest form.
Pushing her right to the edge of climax and holding her at that point until she crumbles will be the best thing for her. The woman needs humbling. A reality check.
Saint advances forward and catches both of her hands in the rope, bringing them up over her head to tie her to the table leg.
We’re supposed to be teasing her, but somehow she still manages to reverse the torture.
Teasing her is also teasing us. The suffering is universal. Everyone is involved.
Forget the blue balls. Those things will be dropping off before we even have time to strip her naked.
“Another rope for her feet, I think, Saint,” calls Ryder, struggling to tame her ankles.
“Please,” she gasps. “Just fuck me.”
“No. This world is an unkind place,” I say. “It doesn’t always give you everything you want.”
Saint reappears with two more bits of rope, capturing each of her ankles.
“Spread them as wide as possible,” instructs Ryder. “So we can see all of her.”
I offer Saint a helping hand, taking one ankle to knot it around the table leg.
Stepping back, I admire our work.
Holy fuck.
