Chapter 5: Double Domination
The flickering light stuttered again, bathing Poppy’s flushed face and Will’s straining cock in Abi’s grip in stark, intermittent flashes. Poppy’s hand moved faster under her leggings, her breath hitching in sharp little gasps, eyes glued to Abi’s spit-slicked fingers slowly stroking Will’s shaft. Abi’s thumb remained a relentless pressure on his hole.
"Looks like Will’s not the only needy one," Abi rasped, her voice thick. She squeezed Will’s cock hard, making him grunt. "You want a taste too, Pops? Of this desperate slut?" She jerked her head towards Will.
Poppy whimpered, her fingers digging harder against herself. Her blue eyes, wide and dark, flickered to Will’s face, then back down. Her nod was barely perceptible, a frantic little jerk of her chin.
Abi’s grin was pure feral satisfaction. "Good." In one brutal motion, she released Will’s cock and the pressure on his arsehole. Before he could react, her hands were on his shoulders, shoving him downwards with shocking force. His knees slammed onto the cold, damp tiles. Pain jolted through him, mingling with the dizzying arousal. He looked up, disoriented, the harsh light stinging his eyes.
Abi stood over him, her small breasts heaving under her thin top, nipples hard peaks. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of Poppy’s leggings and knickers, yanking them down in one swift motion. Poppy gasped, lifting her hips to help, her thick blonde curls glistening, already soaked. The musky scent of her arousal hit Will’s nostrils, heavy and primal under the bleach stink. Abi guided Poppy backwards until her arse bumped the chipped porcelain sink.
"Open," Abi commanded Poppy, her voice low but absolute. Poppy instantly spread her legs wider, bracing her hands on the sink’s edge. Her wet cunt was fully exposed, swollen lips parted, glistening folds slick and inviting.
Abi’s hand clamped on the back of Will’s head, fingers tangling painfully in his hair. She forced his face forward, pressing it hard into Poppy’s pussy. Will’s nose buried in her coarse curls, his mouth mashed against her slick opening. The taste exploded on his lips – salt, musk, pure female heat. He couldn’t breathe, only taste and smell her.
"Lick," Abi ordered, her voice a harsh whisper beside his ear. Her other hand snaked down the front of her own jeans. He could hear the wet sounds as her fingers found her cunt. "Make her come, Will. Show Poppy what your fucking tongue can do."
Will obeyed. Instinct and Abi’s iron grip took over. He opened his mouth, flattening his tongue against Poppy’s slit. He dragged it upwards, slow and firm, tracing the swollen ridge. Poppy cried out, a sharp, surprised sound, her hips jerking. He did it again, slower this time, savoring the wet heat, the tremble he felt against his tongue. He focused on her clit, that hard little nub just above her entrance, circling it with the broad tip of his tongue.
"Oh God... fuck..." Poppy moaned, her head falling back against the mirror with a soft thud. Her thighs tightened instinctively around his head, trapping him, pressing him deeper. Her hips began a shallow, desperate grind against his mouth. "Yes... right there... oh, Will..."
The sounds were obscene, amplified in the tiled room: the wet, rhythmic lapping of Will’s tongue, Poppy’s high-pitched gasps and moans, the slick, squelching sound of Abi’s fingers pumping rapidly in and out of her own cunt. Abi watched them, her breath coming fast, her eyes burning with arousal and possessive approval. "That’s it," she hissed, leaning closer to Will’s ear. Her breath was hot. "Suck her clit, you filthy cunt-licker. Suck it hard."
Will sealed his lips around Poppy’s swollen bud, sucking rhythmically, flicking the tip of his tongue against it. Poppy shrieked, her fingers clawing at the sink, her hips bucking wildly against his face. He could feel her muscles fluttering, tightening around nothing. She was close. So close. He plunged his tongue deeper, spearing into her entrance, lapping up the flood of her juices, then returning to torture her clit with firm, insistent sucks.
"Abi... I’m... I’m gonna..." Poppy’s voice was a strangled sob.
"Let go," Abi commanded, her voice rough with her own building pleasure. Her fingers worked furiously between her own legs, her eyes fixed on Will servicing Poppy. "Come on his fucking face, Poppy. Drown him."
Poppy’s body arched. A guttural cry tore from her throat, raw and unrestrained. Her thighs clamped like a vice around Will’s head, grinding down hard as wave after wave of orgasm ripped through her. Will kept sucking, kept licking, drinking down the hot, salty rush of her release as it pulsed against his tongue and chin. Her cries echoed off the tiles, mingling with Abi’s low groans and the frantic wet sounds of her own fingers. Poppy’s knees buckled slightly, held up only by the sink and the pressure of Will’s face buried between her thighs. Her moans subsided into whimpers, her body trembling violently.
Abi’s breath hitched. Her eyes rolled back slightly, her mouth falling open in a silent cry. Her back arched off the wall she’d leaned against, her fingers working in a final, desperate frenzy. A low, guttural groan escaped her lips, deeper than Poppy’s cries, as her own climax hit. Her hips jerked against her hand, once, twice, then stilled. She slumped slightly, breathing hard, watching Will still lapping at Poppy’s oversensitive cunt, his face glistening, dripping.
She reached down and roughly yanked Will’s head back by his hair, breaking the connection. He gasped for air, blinking, his mouth and chin slick with Poppy’s juices. Poppy slumped against the sink, panting, her legs trembling. Abi stared down at Will, sprawled on his knees, breathing hard, utterly debauched. Her own fingers slipped out of her skirt, glistening wet. She wiped them casually on Will’s shoulder.
"Good boy," she murmured, her voice raw but satisfied. She traced a finger through the wetness on his chin, then pushed it into his mouth. He sucked it clean instinctively, tasting both women. Poppy watched, dazed, her chest heaving.
The insistent buzzing of a phone shattered the heavy, post-coital silence. It was muffled, coming from Abi’s pocket. She fished it out, glanced at the screen. "Dave," she said flatly. "Fucking impatient." She silenced the call, but not before the distinct vibration seemed to echo in the small space.
A loud, impatient knock hammered on the thin bathroom door, making all three of them jump. "Oi! You lot finished redecorating in there?" Dave’s voice boomed through the wood. "Haven’t got all bloody night! Need a piss like a racehorse!"
Poppy scrambled frantically, yanking her leggings and knickers back up, her face flushed crimson now with embarrassment rather than arousal. Will stumbled to his feet, hastily pulling up his jeans and fumbling with his belt. Abi, however, moved with deliberate slowness. She smoothed her top, ran a hand through her messy copper hair, and shot a final, unreadable look at Will, his face still wet, and Poppy, hastily adjusting her clothes. A faint, dangerous smile touched Abi's lips as she reached for the door handle.
The lock clicked. The door opened a crack, revealing Dave’s impatient, slightly puzzled face framed in the brighter hallway light. His eyes darted past Abi, taking in the dishevelled scene: Will wiping his chin with the back of his hand, Poppy avoiding his gaze, her cheeks flaming, the damp patches on the floor near the sink. The thick, unmistakable scent of sex and sweat mingled with the bleach, pouring out into the corridor. Dave’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. "Right then," he managed, his voice strained. "Hurry the fuck up." He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding looking directly at any of them, his earlier impatience replaced by awkward confusion. The fluorescent light above Abi’s head flickered violently, casting jagged shadows across her satisfied smirk and the raw tension thickening the air like petrol fumes.