Sometimes it scared her.
Richard penetrated her with his usual slow consideration, but she wished he’d just shove it in and take it fast. Every moment with Rob’s eyes upon her, watching her take a cock inside her tight, sore bum was excruciating. Not physically: she was used to the discomfort, the sharp moment of pain and then the strange fullness. But she couldn’t meet his eye and tried to blank him out of her consciousness, shutting her eyes to him.
As if Richard could see this, he said, ‘Look at Rob. Look at your master. Let him see you getting fucked.’
‘I can’t,’ she gasped, and Richard stopped after one hard thrust and held himself inside her to the hilt.
‘I beg your pardon?’ he said, taking hold of her hair, pulling her head up.
‘You can,’ said Rob. ‘Look at me, Lucy. I’m ordering you to.’
The relief of having no choice flooded through her, raising her eyelids swiftly.
It had to be done. She would do it.
‘Is she looking?’ asked Richard.
‘Yes.’
‘Right. Now, let me fuck this tight little arse.’
This he proceeded to do, in big, salutory thrusts, making it clear to her that he owned the narrow space he occupied and would do what he wanted in it.
She looked at Rob, who maintained an almost unblinking stare throughout, her vision blurring as the thrusts became ever stronger, an extra punishment, adding to and augmenting the existing pain in her bottom.
She wanted him to touch her clit, or to be allowed to touch it herself, but she didn’t think Richard had that in mind for her tonight. He was putting on a show of dominance, and she suspected it was more for Rob’s benefit than hers.
If Rob objected, he didn’t seem about to say so.
He looked so grave and stern. When he smiled, you couldn’t possibly imagine that he had this expression in him and yet here it was, keeping her in her place better than a hundred shackles and straps.
She took the pain for love, took the humiliation for love, took everything either of these men had to give her for love, love, love.
Richard grabbed her hair and pulled hard, then he came, hot and steamy inside her, filling her.
Rob crouched closer, stroked her damp cheek, whispered, ‘Good girl.’
Her wobbling arms collapsed beneath her and she accepted Richard’s full weight on her back as she folded her body over the stool seat.
‘Well,’ said Rob, after a mingling of grunts and pants that drowned out the hammering rain on the window panes. ‘Shall I open another bottle?’
The three of them nestled on the sofa, in various states of undress, covered in blankets, sipping at their wine.
In the middle, Lucy was cradled by two arms, her head on Rob’s shoulder, while Richard stroked her feet.
‘Am I crazy,’ she said, yawning, ‘or is this a really promising start to the weekend?’
‘Both,’ said Rob at once, and she flicked at his chest.
Richard’s laugh was redolent of red wine and relaxation.
‘I’m having all kinds of ideas,’ he said. ‘How about you, Rob?’
‘Oh yes, I’m full of sadistic creativity tonight. For instance, I’m thinking we ought to send Lucy outside naked in the rain to collect the eggs from the henhouse tomorrow morning.’
Richard took up the theme. ‘Yeah, but she can wear her wellies. Nothing else. You like rubber, don’t you, Lucy?’
‘Not that kind,’ she said, stretching out between her two bookend lovers. ‘I did bring my latex spanking skirt though.’