Nine Marines' Shared Property - Nicole Casey Page 0,34

a horrific wolf costume, was deployed first.

It was nearly impossible to tell which way she would run, so we had Nolan and Santiago stationed on one side of the room and the triplets stationed on the other.

She fell into the arms of the triplets.

When Manny sent word that she was descending the stairs, I, like the others, donned my robe. Only minutes away; the anticipation was too much to bear. I balled my hands into fists and gritted my teeth then relaxed, took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Hurry up Gwen, I need you now.

Gwen appeared dressed as a goddess trapped in ice. But instead of presenting me with a cooling image, quelling my desire, the sight of her left me burning and aching to touch her, grab her, hold her and take her.

Her body was wrapped in slivers of silk: white, soft-blue and silver. Her shoulders and hips were framed in what looked like blocks of ice.

I’m going to melt the ice off of her, set her free, peel the slivers of cold fabric imprisoning her body.

Nolan and Santiago chained her to the wall.

Her lips trembled and quivered.

I grabbed her by the sides of her head. She uttered a sound, but I closed my mouth against hers. God, her lips are spectacular!

I let go of her head and reached for her chest. She arched her back and her heaving breasts met my open hands. I pulled at the strips of silk like an impatient kid tearing through the wrapping of his anticipated gift. Her nipples exposed, I ran my thumbs over and around them.

Then I grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her toward me. The chains of her shackles creaked and snapped. “Lock her,” I said, and my colleagues fastened the chains so that she was left suspended, falling forward, arms extended to her sides.

I stepped back, and my colleagues closed in around her pulling the strips of silk and exposing strips of her flesh which they closed their mouths on.

I took the whip off the wall and walked behind her. A block of fake ice hid her ass from me. This angered me, and I lashed the whip to her back. She let out a muffled cry that married with the other cries and lashes reverberating from the other chambers in the dungeon.

“You cover your ass with a block of ice!” I shouted. “That ass is mine!” I whipped her again then I rummaged my hand over the block searching for a strap or a buckle. I felt the frustration in my cock, eager to penetrate her. “Where’s the fucking strap?”

I whipped her again.

“You can’t find it,” she said and she laughed.

But I did find the buckle. I unfastened it and the block of ice-looking rubber fell from her hips. I kicked it to the side, pulled her panties to the side and rammed my cock into her snatch.

She cried out.

“I found the buckle, didn’t I?” I thrust and whipped then I tossed the whip to the ground in order to free my hands and grab her hips.

My colleagues further loosened her shackles. She was bent over at ninety degrees, J.P.’s cock in her mouth, my cock pounding her pussy, smacking against bone.

I dug my fingers into her sides, pounded, arched my head back and came.

Fuck, that feels great!

I was suddenly aware of the chilling air in the chamber. I put my robe back on and stepped away from her, giving my colleagues more room to maneuver.

My cravings satisfied, I leaned against the wall and watched my colleagues take turns groping her, whipping her, fucking her.

It was beautiful to behold the economy and the synchronicity of their movements. In addition to the afterglow of sex, I felt an odd sense of pride: pride in our teamwork and pride in the fact that I felt no jealousy watching the woman I cared deeply for being taken by the men I shared her with.

As she wore a mask, it was difficult, if not impossible, to get a sense of the facial expressions she was making. I approached her, put my hand to her cheek and lifted her head up to look at me.

Santiago was pounding her ass, but he stopped for a moment.

I leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Do you know the magic word?”

She was breathing heavily. She wet her lips and said, almost as if it were a question, “Please?”

I whispered in her ear, “The magic word is ‘stop’. You can say it, can’t