Mara's BDSM Submission

Petra was twenty-eight, and she had begged for this in plain words until Barrett stopped pretending he might refuse her. The dungeon under their house was private, warm, and already smelling of leather. A padded bench waited under the lights. Rope hung in neat coils. Barrett, thirty-two, her husband, stood with his sleeves rolled, watching her the way a man watches a gift he has decided to share.

Their friends had come exactly as invited. Roxanne was thirty, tall in black boots, a harness cinched over her hips, the strap-on still waiting on the side table because she liked to make a girl look at it first. Casimir was thirty-five, broad and quiet, the kind of stillness that made Petra's stomach drop. Callum was twenty-nine, lean, barefoot, turning a pair of leather cuffs over in his hands like he was done being patient.

Petra wore the tight black corset Barrett had buckled himself and nothing under it. The boning crushed her waist and shoved her breasts high, nipples stiff in the cool air. The collar sat snug at her throat, the ring cold against her skin. She had knelt in their bedroom and asked him to offer her. Not lend. Offer. Their shared submissive toy for the night, used by all four of them, every hole, until she couldn't talk. He had made her say it again where the others could read it. Sober. Clear. Safeword red. Everything else yes.

Now they circled her. Three dominant men and one dominant woman, hungry eyes moving over the corset, the collar, the bare curve of her ass. Casimir's gaze dragged down to the neat strip above her cunt. Roxanne's mouth curved. Callum stopped behind her and she felt his heat and did not turn. Barrett tipped his chin.

"Tell them."

"I begged him," Petra said. Her voice already shook. "I want to be your toy. Please. All of you. Use me."

The circle tightened. Breath hit her shoulder. The lights hummed. She felt herself getting wet from nothing but being looked at like meat they had permission to ruin.

Barrett nodded once, and the inspection started.

Roxanne went first. She walked a slow circle, the toe of one boot nudging Petra's ankles wider, then dragged her nails up the outside of a thigh, over the corset, and down again. "Pretty little thing," she said. "Shaking already. You that easy?"

"Yes," Petra whispered.

Casimir's big hand settled on her waist, testing the give of her, then slid up to cup one breast, thumb rolling the nipple until it ached. Callum came in from the other side and palmed her ass, spreading her just enough to look, a low sound in his throat when he saw how wet she was. Barrett stayed in front of her and didn't touch her yet. He watched her face while the others did. That was worse. That was better.

"Arms up," Barrett said.

She lifted them. Three pairs of hands moved over her like they were pricing her. Roxanne pinched both nipples and held. Casimir's fingers traced the crease of her hip and stopped just short of her cunt, and Petra made a broken noise and tried to tilt into the touch. Callum slapped the underside of one ass cheek, light, testing. The sound cracked in the quiet room. Heat flooded the spot.

"Again," Barrett said.

Callum slapped her harder. Petra's knees dipped. A thin string of wetness slid down her inner thigh and Callum laughed under his breath and smeared it with his thumb.

"On your knees," Barrett ordered.

She dropped. The concrete was cold through the thin mat. The collar tugged when she looked up, and all four of them stood over her, cocks already thick against pants, Roxanne's harness empty and waiting and somehow worse for it. Petra's mouth opened on its own.

"Hands behind your back," Casimir said. His voice was low and flat. "Don't you dare touch yourself."

She locked her wrists. Callum caught her chin and turned her face side to side like he was checking a purchase. "Mouth looks useful."

"It is," Barrett said. "She practiced."

Roxanne crouched, grabbed a fistful of Petra's hair, and gave her a light slap across the cheek, not enough to mark, enough to sting and wake every nerve. "Color."

"Green," Petra gasped. "Green, please, I'm green."

Another slap, the other cheek, from Barrett this time. Then Casimir's open palm against the side of her breast. They took turns. Commands stacked on her until her thoughts went thin and bright.

"Thighs apart."

"Arch."

"Stick that tongue out."

"Look at me when I hit you."

She obeyed all of it. The slaps stayed light and mean, cheeks, tits, the soft inside of her thighs, each one sending a jolt straight to her cunt. Subspace opened under her like a trapdoor. The room narrowed to voices and hands and the throb between her legs. She was dripping. She could feel it cooling on her skin, could hear the wet sound when Callum pushed two fingers through her folds and held them up so the others could see the shine.

"Filthy," he said. "She's soaking the floor."

"Please," Petra heard herself say. The word came out wrecked. "Please use me. Rough. I want it rough. Mouth, cunt, ass, I don't care, all of it, please, I'm begging, fuck me, choke me, I'm your toy, please—"

Barrett smiled for the first time all night. "Bench."

They didn't let her walk. Callum and Casimir hauled her up and laid her out on the padded bench, and Roxanne buckled the cuffs while Barrett checked the straps. Wrists high and wide. Ankles yanked apart and locked. Spread-eagle, corset still crushing her ribs, collar ring clipped to a short chain so she couldn't lift her head far. The position opened her completely. Cool air hit her soaked cunt and the tight pucker of her ass, and she whimpered and pulled at the cuffs and got nowhere.

Roxanne slicked the strap-on at the side table, thick and blunt, and stepped between Petra's spread thighs to work lube into her ass with two fingers, slow and rude, twisting until Petra was panting and trying to fuck herself down onto them. "Greedy hole," Roxanne said. "You'll take all of it."

Barrett unzipped at the head of the bench. His cock was heavy, flushed, already wet at the tip. He tapped it against Petra's lips. "Open."

She opened. He pushed in, thick over her tongue, and didn't stop until her throat fluttered around him. At the same moment Casimir lined up at her cunt and sank in to the root in one long drive. Petra's scream came out as a gagged vibration around her husband's cock. Then Roxanne pressed the head of the strap-on to her ass and drove it home, steady, relentless, until the harness kissed her skin.

Triple. Mouth, cunt, ass. Stuffed so full her vision whited out.

They found a rhythm like they'd planned it. Barrett fucked her throat in short, deep strokes, hand on the collar, hips snapping, spit spilling from the corners of her mouth and running down her neck. Casimir pounded her pussy, the wet slap of it obscene, each thrust shoving her up the bench into Barrett's cock. Roxanne worked the strap-on in her ass with cruel, even strokes, grinding at the deepest point, one hand braced on Petra's hip. The stretch burned and then melted into a heavy, filthy fullness. Petra couldn't thrust, couldn't close her legs, couldn't do anything but take it and shake.

Callum stood at her side and spanked her where he could reach, the upper curve of her tit, the soft meat of her thigh, open-handed cracks that made her clench around both the cock and the toy. "Look at her," he said. "Taking all three and still dripping on Casimir's balls."

Barrett pulled out long enough for her to gasp a breath. A string of spit connected her lip to his cock. "Color."

"Green," she sobbed. "Don't stop, green, please don't stop—"

He shoved back in. Casimir changed the angle and hit something that made her whole body jerk against the cuffs. The orgasm hit without permission, sharp and huge, her cunt clamping down, her ass fluttering around the strap-on, a broken wail swallowed by Barrett's cock. They didn't slow. They fucked her through it and into the next one.

"Again," Roxanne said, and slapped her clit with two fingers between Casimir's thrusts. Petra came a second time, thighs shaking, tears at the corners of her eyes, subspace so deep she felt like a set of holes they'd hung on a bench.

They pulled out together. She was gaping, soaked, drooling, the bench dark under her ass. Before she could beg they were already rotating.

Callum took Casimir's place and drove his cock into her cunt, groaning at the heat. Barrett moved to her ass, slicking himself on the mess Roxanne had left, and pushed into that stretched hole with a low curse. Roxanne climbed up by Petra's head, fed her the strap-on still shiny with lube and Petra's own slick, and fucked her mouth with it while Barrett and Callum spit-roasted the rest of her. The toy tasted like her. Petra sucked it anyway, desperate, eyes rolled back, while two cocks slammed into her from below.

Casimir wrapped a hand around her throat above the collar and squeezed, careful, watching her face, letting up when her lips went slack around the strap-on and tightening again when she sucked harder. "That's it. Choke on it. Good toy."

They flipped the pattern again. Roxanne's strap-on in her cunt now, thick and tireless, while Casimir took her mouth and Callum took her ass, Barrett standing over her spanking her tits in time with the thrusts, pink prints blooming on her skin. Then Barrett back in her throat, Callum in her pussy, Casimir's fingers in her ass alongside nothing, then his cock, stretching her open while Callum stayed buried in her cunt, a crushing double that made her scream around Barrett until another orgasm tore through her and left her limp in the cuffs.

They used her like that until the room was nothing but wet sounds and her hoarse, grateful noises. Spanking. Choking. A hand in her hair. A palm on her throat. Commands she obeyed without hearing. She came again when Roxanne ground the strap-on against her cervix and Callum slapped her clit, and again when Barrett fucked her ass deep and told her she was nothing but a set of holes they'd rented for the night. She agreed. She would have agreed to anything. She was theirs.

Casimir came first, buried in her cunt, a hot pulse she felt in her belly, groaning her name like a curse and staying in to the hilt while he emptied. Callum pulled him out of the way, shoved into the same sloppy hole, and fucked the creampie deeper before adding his own, hips stuttering, cum spilling out around his cock and down onto the bench. Barrett hauled her head up by the collar and came down her throat, then pulled out and striped the rest across her tongue and lips when she couldn't swallow fast enough. He wasn't done. None of them were. Callum moved to her ass and came there too, a second thick load, while Casimir got hard again between her tits and Barrett fingered the mess in her cunt and made her come one more time just from being filled and talked down to.

Sweat soaked the corset. Cum leaked from her pussy and her ass in slow white lines. Spit and semen shone on her chin. She was shaking, used open, still tugging weakly at the cuffs like her body hadn't gotten the message that it could stop begging.

They unbuckled her only to drag her to the edge of the bench and fold her over it, ass up, face in the mess she'd made. Barrett pushed back into her creamed cunt. Casimir fed her his cock again, salty with her. Roxanne worked two fingers into her ass beside nothing and then the strap-on, and Callum spanked her until the skin was hot and she was sobbing please into Casimir's balls. Another load from Barrett, deep, overflowing. Callum added his across her lower back and rubbed it in with the head of his cock. They kept her there, stuffed and dripping, while Roxanne fucked the strap-on into her ass and told her to push the cum out so they could watch it run.

Petra clenched, leaked, and came so hard her vision shut off, and Barrett slapped her used cunt and growled, "Keep leaking, toy, we're not finished painting you."