Chapter 11: The Double Claiming
The silence after her nod was absolute, broken only by the rustle of Trez’s slacks dropping to the floor. The command hung in the air, and Nia’s body moved before her mind could protest. She pushed herself up from the damp sheets, turning her back to the three of them, and got onto her hands and knees. The faded floral pattern of the pillowcase swam before her eyes. She buried her face in it, inhaling the scent of laundry soap and Cam, a last remnant of a world that was already gone.
Behind her, Trez let out a low, approving hum. “Look at that. Perfect presentation. Jax.”
“Right here, Dad.”
The bed dipped heavily as Jax knelt on the mattress in front of her. His hands, large and rough, framed her face, pulling it from the pillow. Her tear-blurred vision focused on the thick, dark shaft bobbing before her lips, already glistening at the tip. It smelled musky, male, overwhelmingly of him. “Open up, sweetheart,” Jax murmured, his thumb pressing against her bottom lip. It wasn’t a request.
A sob caught in her throat as she parted her lips. He guided himself in, the broad crown pushing past her teeth, stretching her mouth wide. She instinctively gagged, her body recoiling, but Jax held her head firmly. “Uh-uh. Take it. You wanted more, you got it. Swallow.”
At the same time, she felt Trez’s massive hands grip her hips, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh of her ass. There was no preparation, no gentle testing. He positioned the blunt, terrifying head of his cock at her slick entrance, still wet from Cam, and pushed.
The stretch was immediate and monumental. A sharp cry was muffled around Jax’s girth as Trez invaded her, an inexorable, burning pressure that felt less like penetration and more like being split open. He wasn’t just longer than Cam; he was thicker, a dense, unforgiving column of flesh that redefined her limits. He sank in with a steady, brutal force, not stopping until his hips were flush against her ass, his pubic bone grinding against her.
She was impossibly full. Her cunt was stretched taut around Trez, a searing, aching fullness that radiated through her entire pelvis. Her throat was packed with Jax, his cock hitting the back of her palate with every shallow thrust he began to make. Drool leaked from the corners of her stretched lips, soaking the pillow. Tears tracked through it.
Trez began to move. He didn’t start slow. He drew back almost all the way, the brutal drag of his cock making her whimper, then slammed back home. The impact jolted her whole body forward, forcing Jax deeper into her throat. She gagged violently, her eyes watering.
“That’s it,” Trez grunted, his voice a deep vibration she could feel through her core. “Feel that, girl? That’s what you been crying for. That’s a real fucking.”
His rhythm was punishing, a relentless piston driving into her softness. Each thrust mashed her clit against the base of his shaft, sending conflicting signals of pain and sharp, unwanted pleasure sparking through her nerves. The sound was obscene—wet, meaty slaps of flesh, his low grunts, her choked gags.
Jax settled into a rhythm of his own, fucking her mouth with leisurely, deep strokes. “Look at her, Cam,” he said, his voice tight with arousal but conversational. “Look how she’s taking it. Her little pussy’s gripping Dad like a fucking fist. She loves it.”
Cam hadn’t moved. He was still on the bed, backed against the headboard, the sheet pooled around his waist. His face was ashen, his eyes wide with a horror that was slowly being corroded by something else. His own cock, softened after his orgasm, was now stirring, thickening against his thigh, a traitorous response to the raw carnality of the scene.
“Stop,” Cam whispered, the word barely audible. “Please, you’re hurting her.”
Trez laughed, a short, harsh bark. He didn’t slow. He reached around Nia’s body, his big hand palming her breast, pinching her nipple hard. “Hurting her? Listen.”
He punctuated his words with a particularly deep thrust. A broken, muffled moan escaped Nia’s stuffed mouth. It wasn’t a sound of pure pain. It was layered, complex—a surrender, a shock, the first tremors of a pleasure so profound it bordered on agony.
“She’s soaking,” Trez growled. “Dripping down my fucking thighs. This is what her body was built for. Not for your little puppy-love pokes. For this. For getting ruined.”
Cam’s eyes were glued to where Trez was joined to Nia, to the incredible sight of her small, pale body being impaled by the man’s monstrous, black cock. His own hand drifted down, wrapping around himself, a movement he seemed unaware of.
“Nia,” Cam begged, his voice cracking. “Tell them to stop. Please.”
Jax pulled his cock from her mouth with a slick pop. Nia gasped for air, strings of saliva connecting her lips to his shaft. Her eyes, dazed and pleading, found Cam’s.
“Well, baby?” Jax asked, slapping his cock against her flushed cheek. “You want us to stop? You want to go back to his vanilla bullshit? Just say the word.”
Nia’s mind was a scrambled mess of sensation—the burning fullness in her pussy, the raw ache in her jaw, the degrading, exhilarating knowledge of what was being done to her. The hunger, that yawning beast, was finally being fed. It was terrifying. It was everything.
She looked at Cam, at his heartbroken face, and a fresh wave of tears spilled over. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed, the words thick and wretched. “Cam, I’m so sorry. But I… I need it. I can’t… I can’t go without it anymore.”
The confession hung in the air, more final than any slammed door.
Jax grinned, shoving himself back into her mouth, deeper this time, silencing her cries. Trez’s pace became furious, his balls slapping a steady percussion against her clit. The combined assault short-circuited her thoughts. The pain blurred, transformed, metastasized into a piercing, white-hot pleasure that began to coil at the base of her spine. It was too much. It was exactly enough.
Cam watched, his hand moving faster on his own cock now, a mirror of their rhythm. His horror was still there, but it was fused with a dark, irresistible arousal. The sight of her—obedient, used, transformed into a vessel for their pleasure—was the most depraved, most captivating thing he had ever seen. He was hard as iron, aching, his orgasm building alongside theirs.
Trez felt her inner muscles begin to flutter, a frantic, convulsive ripple around his shaft. “There it is,” he snarled. “She’s gonna come. She’s gonna come just from getting her pussy wrecked. You see that, boy? Watch her break.”
Nia’s world dissolved into pure sensation. The climax hit her like a seizure, a violent, crashing wave that tore a ragged scream around Jax’s cock. Her body bucked and clenched, milking Trez’s length as pleasure, sharp and absolute, electrified every nerve ending.
Her convulsions pushed Trez over the edge. With a guttural roar, he slammed home and held, pumping jet after jet of hot come deep into her womb, flooding the already-tight space. The hot, claiming pulse triggered Jax, who pulled from her mouth and spent across her face and hair with a satisfied groan.
The sounds of their release, the sight of Nia marked and shaking, pushed Cam into his own silent, shameful climax, his come striping the sheets beside him.
The room fell into a heavy silence, dense with the smell of sex and sweat and salt. Nia collapsed onto her side, trembling, Trez’s cock slipping from her with a wet, sore sound. She was a mess of tears, saliva, and semen.