Mr. Leash had enough. He wanted what he wanted and he wanted it NOW. He stepped away from Liza, set down the flogger and picked up a whip.
Without coordinating, consulting or anticipating, Mr. Milton had also grabbed a whip.
Front and back, Liza was assaulted with sensations. Pain ripped through her and she screamed.
Whips were discarded for hands. Hard hands. Smacking her breasts, beating her ass.
Liza gave herself up to the men. She let herself feel. Being tied and helpless absolved her of responsibility. Whatever happened was not of her doing. There was a peace in that. If she had been able to process thought, she might have pondered it. As it was, she was lost. The blows edged her closer and closer to the edge of a cliff.
She looked over the edge of the cliff. *Release me.* she spoke into the darkness.
But she wasn’t released. Her physical bonds were removed. She crumbled to the floor but was caught by her captors.
They carried her to a table.
“Baby? You still with me?” Mr. Leash spoke in a lulling tone. Meanwhile, he again secured her ankles.
“Yes, I’m here” she responded trying to bring her head back to consciousness.
“Red? Tell me” Mr. Milton spoke from above her head. He was securing her wrists.
“Yes.” she whispered. “Yes.”
Her head fell off the edge of the table and she took several cleansing breaths.
Gentle touches. Hands covered her body. Nothing hidden. Everything .... open.
“We’re not done with you, Red. When you wake the dragon, you get the teeth and the claws.” Mr. Milton stated matter-of-factly. He would show no mercy. He knew she needed none.
His mouth covered hers. Mr. Leash pressed his lips against hers and pulled the kiss from her. Liza wouldn’t give it willingly. Under other circumstances, she would’ve slapped him. Here. Now. She followed. His tongue coaxed her own into a response. She responded; softly at first then more fervently. Her urgency goaded by the finger easing in and out of her. Slowly, methodically, one finger stroked her pussy from the inside.
Liza couldn’t understand the violations. The kiss with Mr. Leash was probing and increasing in intensity. The stroking by Mr. Milton was slow and steady. She moved her hips trying to get the fingers to match the pace of the tongue but to not avail. Mr. Leash was not Mr. Milton. Mr. Milton was not Mr. Leash. And neither gave a flying fuck what the other was doing. Her body was experiencing two completely different unities simultaneously and it made no sense to her. She had no choice but to let go.
“Breathe, baby, breathe.” Mr. Leash reminded her yet again.