Author’s note, this is part 5 of the PolyWorld series.
As with any good manager, Evan knew how to warm Meg up. Spread eagle and blindfolded on the bed, she squirmed causing the chains of her restraints to jingle as a tongue found her clit.
She had no clue who the tongue belonged to, but there were no complaints forthcoming.
The tongue danced a grind against her, warm and wet. Heated humid breath added to the light pleasure of the experience.
With the first pleasurable shock gone, Meg settled back on the bed and enjoyed the tongue lapping at her. Senses returning and she could now hear the muted movement of those around her. Imagination had her picturing a lineup of twelve naked men, each waiting for their turn at her. It took some doing not to blurt out some wisecrack about Twelve Angry Men, but she succeeded at keeping her mouth closed.
“There will be twelve, and the number of cocks you fuck shall be twelve,” Evan said. “After those cocks are in your pussy, they shall complete their work and fill your mouth.”
Her belly warmed at the thought of all that cum that she would cause. At least her mouth wouldn’t be closed for long.
The tongue pulled away.
For a moment, Meg felt empty.
The bed beneath her shifted, and the first rubbery feeling erection nudged her pussy lips open. It was not a huge cock, but it gave her a full feeling as it slid inside her.
Much as she preferred the warm flesh of a bare cock, the rubbery feel of the condom was a necessary evil. Evan would protect her and make sure each cock that fucked her was sheathed in rubber.
A grunt from the cock owner between her legs was followed by appreciative groans of others in the room. The one between her legs began thrusting, filling her about half as Evan did.
Meg had no idea who this man was that currently fucked her. She loved the mysterious taboo of it all, however. She suspected the man was short and along the plumper side of things, which would have been how she would have described four of Evan’s friends.
“Be quick about it, we haven’t got all night.” The voice was Evan’s and it elicited masculine chuckles.
After a few moments, the cock pulled out.
“That’s it?” Meg said with a mock gasp.
The masculine chuckles returned.
The small cock, now unwrapped, found its way to her lips and bounced lightly as its owner stroked at it.
The second cock that pushed between her pussy lips was larger than the first had been. It still wasn’t huge, and Meg wondered if Evan had them lined up by size. Knowing his ego, she was certain Evan’s cock was still the largest in the room.
A groan came from her left.
She opened her mouth in anticipation and was rewarded with the first warm streams of cum. Most spread across her cheeks, but a small taste landed on her tongue.
“Thank you,” a male voice croaked.
The second cock gave up its thrusts and pulled out. The next one moved in. Waves upon waves of pleasure crashed over Meg as she lost track of those between her legs.
As she felt the ninth thrusting, at least she guessed it was number nine or ten, she noticed female moaning coming from outside the room. She had known there were fluffers involved to get the men hard before the gangbang, but it seemed now the fluffers reward was in the living room.
This cock pulled out of her.
“And that is twelve,” Evan’s voice claimed, proving that Meg’s estimate was a little off.
That twelfth cock found her lips and, like all before it, sprayed a stream of cum onto her face with some landing on her extended tongue.
She sighed and licked her lips. “That’s it, is it?”
“No,” Evan answered. His voice was closer, though his movements were silent. “We have a baker’s dozen.”
The bed dented beneath her, and the violent first thrust hit its mark perfectly with a near clapping sound as male hips hit against her.
She knew it was Evan, himself. With clues such as his power and that this cock had no rubber on it, this was not a difficult assumption.
The man between her legs worked her like a jackhammer, his hands on her hips and lifting until her ass was midair so her pussy could take the pounding straight on.
Meg cried out in her appreciation. Much fun as the anonymous twelve had been, they had all been timid with her and a little too gentle.
Not this one.
Her hips ached from his grip, but she still wasn’t complaining. Her legs dangled and swung with his thrusts, and her moans began to announce the anticipation of her biggest orgasm of the night.
The rigid cock hammered even harder and deeper into her.
A slight tinge of pain caught her when it hit her cervix, turning her moan into a small bark.
The onslaught continued unabated.
Suddenly Meg found her wrists, though still cuffed, were no longer restrained. Her ankles were also freed.
The brute pulled out of her long enough to flip her over.
On her belly, she bit her lip expecting pain to follow if he went after her anus.
He did not, however, as his fist wrapped around his cock and guided it between her legs back to her pussy. He spooned her from on top and began hard thrusts again.
Not quite as deep now, but he still made her feel so full.
The man collapsed on her back as his cock tensed. The semen shot into her, and the victorious groan gave away Evan’s identity at being the last fucker.
Meg felt her body relax as Evan kissed her neck.
“How are you still wet?” he asked in a whisper. “I figured we’d need lube half way through tonight, but you’re still so fucking wet.”
She grinned back at him over her shoulder. “Why, you have more for me?”
He pulled the blindfold off her.
Two candles were the only light that danced in the room. Many orgasmic moans were now filtering in from Evan’s living room.
“You were amazing, my love.” Evan nipped at her neck.
Her heart jumped, upon hearing the pet name. Thoughts of Darryl entered her mind. “I better check in with home.”
Evan shook his head. “He’ll be fine. You told him you’d see him after work tomorrow. You’re mine until then.”
She sighed and nodded.
“We need to train him, as well.” Evan nipped at her ear again.
Darryl looked at the toilet bowl closely. These days it was a closeup he got often.
At least it was clean now.
He debated if his stomach wanted to return anything else before he finally got up from his knees.
The mirror showed a pale naked body. The face was gray with dry lips, sunken eye sockets, and bloodshot blue eyes.
Those eyes found his phone on the counter.
Still nothing more from Meg since her 5 pm check-in the evening prior.
His shoulders slumped, and he looked back at the mirror. “She said after work. Leave her be, asshole.”
The reflection offered only a shrug.
Turning around, he pulled a towel from the rack and hung it by the shower. Turning on the shower, he stepped in without testing the water, and the cold spray hit him hard to cause him to dry heave once.
Shower complete, he dried and dressed in his usual fashion of tracksuit, white t-shirt, and tube socks. Today’s tracksuit featured a burnt orange jacket and black pants. He sat at the computer and looked at his work from the day before. Lips parting with a dry snap, a smile formed. “This is fuckin’ brilliant!” It was fascinating to read his own writing with no recollection of creating any of it. With hands hovering over the keyboard, he considered his next addition to the novel.
His mobile dinged announcing an email.
Still nothing from Meg.
Darryl poured his third refill of two parts vodka and one part orange juice. He glanced around the kitchen. “Better eat something.” Opening the black doors of the pantry, he pulled out a large bag of plain potato chips. Grabbing the drink from the counter, he marched back to the computer.