Tethered: A Story of Three -- Part 03

Sir didn't waste a second.

The cuffs came free with a few quick, practised motions--click, snap, release. Her arms dropped like dead weight, thudding limply to her sides. She sagged, too far gone to hold herself up. Her legs gave out.

But he was already there, catching her before she collapsed. Those broad hands caught her like they always did--calm, sure, steady. He held her a moment long enough to steady her swaying form, then he lifted her. Effortless.

She didn't resist. Couldn't.

Her head lolled against his chest as he carried her across the dungeon floor, her skin flushed and clammy, lashes wet and trembling. He laid her down beside the spanking bench with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with everything he'd done before, like she was precious now. Like she was breakable.

She blinked. Once. Twice. Her eyes landed on the black leather and gleaming metal rings, and something inside her seemed to snap.

Panic. Pure and sharp.

She tried to move, scrambled weakly to her knees, chest rising and falling in shallow, broken gasps. Her arms reached for him, clinging, pleading.

"Please," she rasped, voice cracking. "Please, Sir, I'll--I'll take your cock, I swear, I'll take every inch down my thoat, I'll do anything, just--just not that--"

It all came spilling out in a single, jagged breath. No thought. No pride. Just need. Desperate, ugly need. Her eyes flicked toward me, then the thick strap-on which jutted from my hips--dark, heavy, impossible to ignore. It wasn't subtle. It was made to stretch. To break. She knew that.

Sir didn't speak right away. He just let her beg. Let her degrade herself, let her spiral lower.

Then he crouched, slow and deliberate, and slid his fingers through her sweat-matted hair. She leaned into him like a drowning girl, grateful for even that. For any touch that didn't hurt.

And then he fisted her hair and yanked her head back hard.

"You don't decide your punishment," he said. His voice was soft. Too soft. The kind of softness that chilled. "You'll take what you're given."

Her breath caught.

"Yes, Sir," she whispered.

"Up."

She moved. Or tried to. Her limbs didn't want to cooperate. She crawled to the bench, clumsy and shaking, trying to hold the correct position. Knees wide. Chest down. Arms forward. It wasn't graceful. It wasn't elegant.

It was obedience.

She was offering herself up, knowing exactly what she would receive.

I knelt beside her, wordless. The chains clinked as I fastened her wrists, then her ankles--each cuff snapping shut with that brutal click. One by one.

No escape. No mercy. No way out.

She was mine now. Fully and finally. I'd been waiting for this--longing for it--the moment she'd be restrained, trembling, helpless beneath me. I rose slowly, letting her feel my presence. Letting her dread it.

The strap-on jutted from my hips, thick and unforgiving, catching the light as I stepped closer. She couldn't see me. But she could feel the heat of my body. The threat of what I held. She could smell her own fear.

I leaned down, letting my breath skate along the shell of her ear.

"Tell me, little one," I purred. "What'll come first--my orgasm..."

And then I shoved three fingers inside her. Hard.

She cried out--a strangled, wrecked sound--as her body clamped down, slick and helpless. God, she was wet. Wet and trembling and torn open by need and fear.

"... or your safe word?"

She didn't answer. Couldn't. Her whole body was locked in place. She shook violently, like a leaf caught in the wind.

I lined the head of the strap-on up with her entrance, not pushing yet. Just letting her feel it. Letting her know it was coming. She tensed immediately, her body going stiff. Her cunt clenched tight, like it could stop what was about to happen. It couldn't.

I didn't move. Not yet. She was holding her breath. I could hear it. That silent stillness. She thought if she didn't breathe, it would hurt less.

So I waited--still, quiet, listening. After all, she had to take a breath eventually.

And then, finally, there. A tiny, broken gasp she probably didn't even know she'd let out. The second it hit my ears, I drove forward.

One. Brutal. Thrust.

She howled--a raw, guttural sound echoed off the dungeon walls.

The sound wasn't pretty. It was raw. Real. It echoed off the dungeon walls as her body thrashed, trying to get away, trying to fight--but she was bound tight. Caught. Trapped. The cock was buried deep--too deep. She wasn't ready. She would never have been prepared.

I grabbed her shoulders, locking her in place, and rocked my hips, grinding forward until she was fully impaled. Stuffed full. Overwhelmed.

She sobbed, gasping, her voice shredded and shaking. There was no easing into it. No patience. No softness now. She would take it all.

Every inch. Just as Sir intended.

I leaned down, pressing my body along her back, the cock still buried inside her. My hips moved in tiny, deliberate rolls--slow enough to drive her mad. Just enough to keep the pressure constant. Unrelenting.

"Be good," I whispered, sweetly in her ear.

I ground my hips forward, making her feel it.

"And maybe... just maybe... I'll ask Sir for the vibrator."

I paused. Then I buried myself deeper, the sensation wild and overwhelming. Rougher this time--meaner--and she screamed again. I wasn't sure what hurt more for her at this stage, her throat or her cunt.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I murmured. "Something to ease that aching little clit of yours."

A violent, merciless plunge. Deep. Cruel. She sobbed into the leather, her cries muffled, broken. I waited. Let her settle. Let her feel every humiliating second of what was being done to her.

Then I leaned in close again.

"Make this pounding hurt a little less," I whispered.

A wrecked sound slipped from her lips--part plea, part surrender.

"But if you don't take it properly..." I dragged the words out, low and cruel, "maybe Sir will fetch the whip instead."

A pathetic little sound escaped her--a murmur of dread and need. I smiled against her ear, voice dropping to a whisper.

"You know he'll use it."

I rocked my hips again, slower this time. Teasing.

"Hard. Right across that pretty, swollen cunt."

She sobbed again. Quietly, accepting of her fate. Wrecked.

I didn't stop.

Enough teasing. Now it was time.

I set a rhythm--brutal, relentless, each thrust deeper than the last. She jolted beneath me, moaning, crying, fighting the cuffs.

Sir moved. I barely noticed until he was behind me, close enough to feel the heat of his body.

And then--touch. His hands, rough and claiming, found my breasts, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp. His fingers pinched my nipples, twisting, and I moaned through clenched teeth, hips driving harder.

"Good girl," he murmured against my ear. Low. Proud. Possessive.

"Breaking her so beautifully."

I didn't stop. Couldn't. Her body was falling apart beneath me, slick and wrecked, her voice barely functioning. Each thrust forced another desperate sound from her.

Sir stepped around the bench. Bent low in front of her. Took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him.

"Do you know why you're being punished like this?" he asked.

She tried. Tried to speak.

He tightened his grip.

"Answer."

"I--I missed a count, Sir," she stammered. The shame was all over her. Dripping from every word.

He didn't respond. Just looked at her for a long, brutal moment. Then he turned back to me.

I was still fucking her. Still driving deep. Her whole body shuddered with every thrust. I was past control now--sweat slicking down my spine, breath ragged.

Sir stepped in close. Close enough to cage me. His hand found my hair and tugged hard.

"Look at you," he whispered. "Look what you've done to her."

His praise was fire under my skin.

I thrust harder. I felt her unravelling. Her cries were mixed with whimpers. Her body reached that place where pain blurred with unbearable pleasure.

She was right on the edge.

It was time.

I pressed deep, grinding into her, letting the cock stay buried as I leaned forward.

"Sir?" I asked sweetly, breathless and full of mock innocence.

"Would you mind passing me the vibrator?"

A pause.

"I think it might be what finally breaks her."

He chuckled behind me, low, dark, knowing.

He didn't answer. Not yet. He made us both wait.

She was quaking, her nerves sparking with each cruel touch, caught between agony and surrender.