I needed him deep inside me. I had never thought it before, and if that made me a total slut, I didn’t care, but I needed cock.
A hand came down on my upturned bottom, the sting of it a surprise. While it hurt, it morphed into even more pleasure and I gasped, then groaned.
“We say how,” the man behind me said.
“We say when,” the one beneath me finished.
A palm cupped my stinging bottom, pulled my cheeks apart. A hard finger, slick and coated with something cool slid over me there, finding my back entrance, circling, then pushing in.
The sharp bite of the stretch had me panting, stilling. The finger worked the lube into me, more, then more still.
“Are you ready for our cocks, mate? To be ours forever?” The man behind me spoke as he gently yet thoroughly prepared my ass for…oh god. Our cocks. Forever.
Yes. I was ready. More than ready. Time didn’t exist, only the feel of his finger as he worked me, stretched me open, the feel of the hard, muscled body beneath me. Hands stroked my back, my sides, my hair.
“She’s ready.”
I’d been ready for a while but didn’t mention it, afraid I’d get spanked again. They were in control, so I bit my lip.
I felt them move, heard the rustling of their actions as I was lifted up so that the cock beneath me nudged my pussy. Yes! I wiggled, trying to lower, but he would have none of it. I realized when I felt the other’s cock at my prepared back passage that they were going to take me together.
Really together. Not one after the other. Not one in my pussy, the other cock in my mouth. Together, as in double penetration.
As I panicked, a sense of eagerness, of extreme arousal washed over me. I felt the men’s desires mingle with my own through the collar and it tempered my panic and soothed it with mindless need.
“Please,” I begged, feeling their cocks pressing. The one at my pussy slid in easily, the wet sound of my arousal as loud as our breaths. In a smooth stroke, he sank deep, filling me. He groaned. I groaned. God, he was big. Thick. Hard. So fucking deep.
“I’m going to come.”
I was. They’d primed me so well that I was shaking with it.
“Not yet. As soon as you are ours, when you take both our cocks we will be truly joined. Only then will you be collared, mated, claimed.” The man behind me spoke in my ear as he pressed inward, the broad head of his cock slowly opening me. My body held barely any resistance to his efforts. Perhaps it was the lube or his intent, but I truly believed it was the collars that connected us, that made me relax, to breathe out, to give over. They’d wanted me to submit and this act was the ultimate submission.
I could do nothing but take whatever they wanted. When they wanted. How.
It was that knowledge more than the second cock sinking into me that had me coming on a blissful scream. I was so full, so open. Exposed. Vulnerable and yet powerful all at once.
It was too much, the pleasure. I was truly imprisoned, caught not only by the bonds over my head, but the cocks that joined us. We were one.
When I felt their hot seed spurt from them, I screamed again, then again.
“Miss Pierce!” The voice repeated itself and a hand shook my shoulder. “Stop screaming, please.”
I was thrashing, felt the way my hands were bound, knew it was real.
“Rachel!”
No, it wasn’t real. The voice shouting at me was a woman, not the deep rumble of either man.
I blinked, once, then again. Bright light filtered through the seams of my closed eyelids, turning my vision a deep, dark red until, unable to deny the annoying woman’s voice, or the too small hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes.
Fuck. There were no men. No hands, mouths, cocks. There had definitely been an orgasm though. I was sweaty and I could feel the heat of it, the pleasure still coursing through my body. My pussy rippled and pulsed around…nothing. My bottom clenched. Empty. The wet result of my arousal made my bottom slip and slide on a strange exam chair. It was like I’d been tied down, naked, at the dentist’s office.
My hands were bound, but not by the men’s cuffs and I wasn’t in a soft bed. No. I was restrained to the testing chair in the Interstellar Brides Processing Center. The men were nothing more than a dream, a figment of my sex-starved imagination. I hadn’t been with a man in a long damn time. Over a year.
Apparently, my body had gone from zero to orgasm in about five seconds flat. But it had been so good, so hot and hard and…
“Miss Pierce. I need you to look at me.” There was that annoying female voice practically barking orders at me. I didn’t care for her tone. Not one bit.
I focused on the face swimming before me and waited for my vision to clear. When it did, I found a somewhat unpleasant young woman’s face looming over me. I remembered her now. Unfortunately, I remembered everything. “Warden Egara.”
“Good. You’re awake.”
“You wanted me tested and now you’re taking the dream away from me?” It had been a dream. Since when had reality included two hot, virile lovers who fucked me at the same time? When had I ever had an orgasm that strong? That intense? When had I ever been so desperate to be touched that just thinking about it had nearly made me scream?
Never. Smoking-hot, dominant lovers were not part of my reality.
My reality included prison. Harsh lighting. Bad food. Stale air. Several hundred women who looked at me like I was fresh meat. Loneliness. Betrayal.
“Yes, Miss Pierce. I’m terribly sorry. I don’t normally stop the testing so abruptly, but I have to admit, I was a little nervous about your screaming.”
I couldn’t help but flush. “Let’s just say the dream was very… vivid.”
She looked down at her tablet, apparently having decided that I was not dying in her testing chair. She went around the generic table and sat down. The room was clinical, stark. I’d think I was in an office conference room if not for the fancy testing chair I sat in. No, that I was tied to like a mental patient. The restraints around my wrists were at least four inches wide and an inch thick. I wasn’t sure what kind of superhuman women they normally strapped down, but the only way any normal girl would get out of these was with a hacksaw.
I looked down at myself, oddly pleased to see that I wore the bland, gray testing gown instead of the orange prison pants and white t-shirt that had made up my wardrobe for the last few months. I was naked beneath, and bare from the knees down. Medical gowns, it seemed, were standard-level ugly no matter what planet they were from. And I wasn’t a fan of my bare ass sticking to the chair. Where was the standard-issue granny panties and sports bra?
“The testing was successful, a match was made at a ninety-nine percent.” Her smile transformed her face, and I realized that she wasn’t that old, probably even a few years younger than me. Her brown hair was pulled back in a severe bun, a style that reminded me of Wild West school marms in the old movies. Her gray eyes held a keen
