Brown Eyes, Blue Eyes

This heightened the way the hair on his face stimulated her sensitive skin. She'd never been eaten out by a man with facial hair before.

Meanwhile, the tomato slice had disappeared into his mouth and she could feel the movements of his cheeks and tongue as he nibbled at it in between kissing her. The push and press of his lips and mouth, the light sucking; it was all enough to make her light-headed. Mewls fell from her in a series of moans that couldn't separate from the next with how deliriously good it all felt.

The wetness between her legs mingled, the sound of him there lewd and painfully loud as he mixed the grease from the food with her slick and his saliva. Her thighs tensed as his tongue lapped upward, the flat of it tracing upward against the wet, swollen seam of her, almost as if he'd mistaken her pounding arousal for her heartbeat and were trying to swallow it.

Her stomach swooped with each gloriously wet swipe, the pleasure coming in jolts.

It was incredible -- her thoughts warred with each other, pulling the word from the recesses of her mind, where she kept the things she could hardly bear to admit to herself.

It was filthy.

Her breasts felt heavy and sensitive, she wished he would at least release her so that she could touch them if he would not. Her blood was running hot and cold all at once, confusing her as fresh rage and wanton desire jerked her back and forth.

She didn't want this.

She was a captive, for fuck's sake.

No, not a captive, so much as a—

"--dirty, little slut."

She was surprised when Brown-Eyes seemed to speak the thought into reality. Her stomach flipped again.

There was nothing in Emma to outwardly contest the statement. The twitchy movements away from him ceased; she was sagging against him now, leaning into him, as if it might entice his fingers up to her breasts to fondle and pinch at her.

Her body craved to feel its weightiness tested against him, to feel the generous give of her hips and breasts were cupped in his rough, callused hands.

More than that, she wanted the pinched tightness of his lips and the easy, warm wetness of his tongue on her tits without it leaving her cunt. She wanted the warm and wet everywhere -- her neck, her asshole, the insides of her thighs.

She felt disgusting.

She was disgusting. She loved it.

Brown-Eyes tilted his head up to look at her again, his tongue lashing against her entrance, his nose brushing against her swollen clit. She jolted against him and a long moan dropped from her lips.

She could feel how his lips curved into a grin against her -- almost inside of her, and she hated herself for it.

She had half a mind that they should go back to when he'd slapped her earlier, to erase this dirtiness with a violence he seemed just as privy to. At least when he slapped her, that was an act that stayed outside of her.

She knew the way they were going, that he'd end up inside of her sooner or later.

The thought of the hot sting of his hand against her face and the helplessness of her as she yielded to his strength made her burn all the more though.

"Fuck—" she gasped.

"All in good time," he promised.

Then he was sitting upright, the viciousness with which he tore his mouth away from between her legs only such that she was left hot and bothered, itching for more contact.

"Wait!—"

The word flew from her lips before she could stop it.

She spread her thighs wider, hoping it would entice either of the men back to her. The shame wasn't gone but it certainly wasn't comparable to her pounding arousal.

Brown-Eyes looked pleased.

"She looks good like that, don't you think?"

Blue-Eyes grunted his agreement.

His gaze was fixed on the wet patch between Emma's legs. Her eyes dropped from his face to his crotch, where she saw a prominent bulge in his trousers.

"What do you say then -- you want to have her first?"

Blue-Eyes didn't answer but Brown-Eyes moved out of the way to let the other man through to Emma anyway. Blue-Eyes put his hand on her shoulder and leaned her forward, his grip surprisingly gentle as he eased her body so that he could reach her cuffs.

From his pants' pocket, he procured a small key and with a few small movements and some fidgeting, Emma felt the cuffs release her once again.

Watching Blue-Eyes, she moved slowly, careful not to do anything that might incentivize him to put her back in the cuffs. She brought her hands in front of her and studied the red indentations at her wrist.

Her thumb traced over one, rubbing gently. Blue-Eyes still said nothing.

"You're such a softy," Brown-Eyes remarked.

Emma couldn't help but wonder at what this meant for how Blue-Eyes would handle her. She found herself almost excited to find out.

After a few moments, Emma felt that firm touch at her shoulder again. It gave a little press before it slotted itself in her armpit for leverage and squeezed around her bicep, hauling her up to her feet. Firm but still someways away from being rough, Emma rose shakily to her feet and let Blue-Eyes half-walk, half-drag her to the table.

The tray remained with one sandwich, still wrapped.

He turned her with one fluid movement and pushed her down. Her butt hit the edge of the table. Blue-Eyes' touch came again, this time, more persistently. She went down fully as Blue-Eyes' hand guided her body down so that she was laying flat on the table. The cold wood hit her skin, the shock of which seemed to reflect back in the ache in her tight nipples.

From how he towered over her, Emma started to realize a few things about Blue-Eyes. The first was that he was quieter than Brown-Eyes.

Whereas the latter seemed to wear a perpetuating, overarching sense of irreverence with it, Blue-Eyes kept everything about his reaction carefully locked down. Rather than make her feel alone, it almost made her feel safe, the way people slept inside of a house with the doors and windows locked up tight.

He would also be objectively handsome in any other context, she thought. Tall, lean, and with hair a lighter blonde than Brown-Eyes, Blue-Eyes seemed like he would be better suited immortalized in a classic work of art or stained glass than hovering over her in some dingy room.

He grabbed her hands, which had only been free for a few moments, and pinned them above her head.

Back in this vulnerable position, Emma felt her stomach flip.

Blue-Eyes was still fully clothed, his erection no more modestly hidden by how it strained against his jeans as he slotted himself between her legs. He could maintain a grip on her wrists with one hand, so the other reached down to her legs to sling one up, her thighs forced towards her chest by him as he leaned in, the bends of her knees catching the slope of his shoulders.

Helpless enough in this position that he didn't need to keep a hand by her hips, he reached down to undo his belt and the zip of his trousers. One white finger dropped to tug the waistband of his briefs down and then his erection sprang free.

He was thick, long, and darker than the rest of him. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had one so big -- the thought, on top of everything else, was just a bit daunting.

Emma's eyes snapped up to look at the ceiling, studying the cracks in the drywall as Blue-Eyes posed the engorged head of his cock at her entrance. The instinct to flinch away was long gone. The way it matched up to the natural dimple of her body had her attention suddenly centered on what was happening in a way only sensation could command it.

The fog of her fatigue and hunger all seemed so...imaginary to the very real, very hot, press of his cock against her. She could feel slippery wetness rub off against him. At once, heat flared in her, as if her body had recognized the new potential for release, and was dead set on snatching it up, lest she miss her reprieve as she had with Brown-Eyes' mouth.

His hips snapped forward and his cock speared into her easily with how wet she was. His velvet heat inside of her, burning her up. She gasped out a shuddering breath as he pulled out to the tip before thrusting back into her. The friction was deliriously good, sending sweet peals of pleasure sugaring through her bloodstream like Kool-Aid.

His hips slapped against her ass several times. Emma was almost numbed by how good it felt as she laid back and let him.

Blue-Eyes paused mid-thrust to hike her legs up higher, her hips braced against his chest as her thighs hooked over her shoulders. Now his balls were nestled against the wet seam of her cunt. He could feel her twitch against him here. From this proximity, his cock was angled more upward.

Emma twitched, at the stretch of him against her walls, the sensation of which only grew stronger when he resumed pumping into her.

Her voice dropped from her lips, barely recognizable. It was like he was splitting her in half.

"Ah!- Fuck, I—"

Blue-Eyes was unrelenting as he fucked her. Emma's eyes rolled to the back of her head, her eyelashes fluttering. Her cunt clenched around him as if wanting to hold him and the friction inside of her.

It was wet and tight and she felt her slick drip out of her and bead at her inner thighs as Blue-Eyes fucked her. He drilled into her, his hips slapping against hers. She felt her breasts bounce with how powerlessly she surrendered to his grip. She knew he was close when she felt him twitch inside of her.

He managed a few more pumps before she felt another twitch and then warm heat spread inside of her.

She squeezed, only half-worried about the fact that he'd come inside of her, as she milked his softening cock for what she could. More wetness seeped out of her as white drops beaded at the inside of her thighs.

When Blue-Eyes pulled out of her, more of his white cum painted her thighs. The wet, hot spatter of him made her ache for him all over again -- she was perilously close to her own end after all.

Her body still reeling, Brown-Eyes already had his cock out and was pushing it into her before she could get Blue-Eyes out of her head.

He grinned that leering grin of hers as he thrust into her, a wet sound following in the wake of each thrust. Her cheeks warmed; Brown-Eyes being inside her made it feel like he'd had some victory over her, which she knew to be ridiculous.

If this was a game, then she'd lost the moment that bag had been slipped over her head.

"Fuck, I've been waiting for this—"

At the back of her mind, Emma wondered why he hadn't just taken it then. She was his captive, after all, there were very few things he'd required her consent for so far.

His hips picked up from their moderate pace, pumping into her furiously. The slap of their skin punctuated the wet cadence of their fuck.

Emma arched towards Brown-Eyes, wanting to feel the impact of his body harder, rougher against her. She suddenly felt the terrible, shameful urge to kiss him; to taste herself on him, to feel the crush of his chest against her breasts, and the strength and weight of his frame as he railed her.

Brown-Eyes' hands moved to the bend at the small of her back, tugging her closer. It was the first time he'd touched her where she'd felt supported, attended to, rather than imprisoned. With this small hitch of tension there, she dripped in his grasp, her breasts bouncing aggressively in time with his thrusts.

One hand left her waist to close around a tit, squeezing just shy of painful before his touch tapered off to her nipple, where he rubbed.

"Mm, you're so fucking soft and tight," he ground against her. "God and you take me so good."

She refused to answer this; she wasn't taking anything, something was being taken from her. Her lips pressed stubbornly together -- a fortitude she'd wished she had when Brown-Eyes had been thrusting his cock in her mouth earlier -- though her cunt betrayed her, clenching greedily around him.

His hips jerks against her in fast, rabbity movements. Her stomach swooped. She could feel his fingers flex; he was close.

"Fuck, I think I can feel where he filled you up." His voice was hard. "You're still dripping and I'm about to fill you again."

He twitched and then his wet heat was spreading through her. Emma clenched, feeling sticky and damp. Brown-Eyes kept thrusting into her, working himself through his orgasm, milking himself for all he could inside of her.

At the twinge of heat, she clenched again, lapping him up, and then, unwittingly she clenched another time. She knew her body would react the way it knew how to, regardless of who was fucking her but still -- coming at the hands of her captors? Her grip on the table's edge tensed; in her mind, she was digging her heels in. She refused to let him drag her to her release. Then she clenched twice more. Her stomach flipped; she could feel the little muscles in her arms and legs start to spasm too. Every part of her body was tightening and releasing like they were trying to keep pace with Brown-Eyes' thrusts.

The heat at her skin was sweltering, suffocating almost. She would not come, not at the hands, or cocks of these men, who kept her here against her will.

"Ah!- No!"

That sour, thin-lipped smile of his spread a bit wider.

"You too? After the third load you've taken tonight, your body can't take it anymore?"

He slowed his pace, rolling his hips deeply, forcing her body to rock from the same low movements.

The friction was still so sweet, her walls still so sensitive and full of him. The hand at her breast thumbed her nipple again, and little flecks of pleasure dropped into the fire inside of her, disappearing like drops in a pail of water.

Her skin tingled and as her fingers tensed, her nails biting at the smooth surface of the table, she felt her control slip like it was yanked from her hold.

The suddenness of her orgasm shocked her, her thighs quivering, the flood of wetness spilling from between them, and the release of tension that had a surprised moan tumbling from her lips.

The heat dispelled from her as static filled her tired limbs, though some remained at her face, where the bloom of her shame continued to ride high at her cheekbones.

She twitched as Brown-Eyes pulled out of her.

His softening cock dribbled cum out of her, drizzling her thighs and the tuft of wiry brown hair in a milky white. From there, only more seeped out -- most likely a sticky mix of Brown-Eyes and Blue-Eyes.

Emma squeezed her thighs together and felt shivery delight tingle through her at the wet friction there.

More seeped out with a lewd sound.

She peered down her nose to watch Blue-Eyes and Brown-Eyes who loomed over her limp, tired body. She could hardly make out their searching eyes from how the light behind them bled shadows over them.

She was still feeling warm and light; almost entirely removed from the stuffy little room and the reek of sex. Her body was relaxed, her skin cold though she was too tired to wrap her arms around herself now.

She could hear their voices but knowing she wasn't privy to the decision-making process, she couldn't bring herself to care at the moment. Her eyes fell shut and in her heaviness, she missed the prick at her thigh.

Neither Blue-Eyes nor Brown-Eyes made any move to leave. In fact, Emma was vaguely aware of Blue-Eyes holding something up before them as Brown-Eyes put himself away.

Click!

The tinny sound of a camera shutter came from a device way smaller than an actual camera. Her eyes snapped open, her eyelids as heavy as the rest of her. Again, the urge to cover herself came but she couldn't, her limbs felt too sluggish.

Bizarrely so.

She turned to try and look, her head lolling with surprising weight. Blue-Eyes and Brown-Eyes had ceased being them and had melted into ambiguous, dark shapes, shifting around her field of vision like static on the TV screen.

"Hey-"

Her voice came out slurred, so much that it was a wonder the world was still right side up, with how the words veered off and spun away in her mouth. She would've tried to speak again but she was sleepy. Terribly sleepy.

Her body was so heavy, as was the fog in her head, that she couldn't seem to bother to worry about this sudden on-set exhaustion.

Oh well, she thought as blackness spotted her vision. She let herself sink into it.