Chapter 3: The Second Round
Torin rolled off her, the warmth of his body leaving a sudden chill. The blindfold was soaked through, clinging to her skin with sweat and tears. For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing mixing with the distant, oblivious roar from the lower tables.
Then Callum’s voice, rough and edged with something darker than triumph. “Well? Who wins, Ailsa? Who owns that pretty, dripping cunt?”
Her throat was raw. She couldn’t speak. The sensations were a war inside her—the brutal, fulfilling stretch Callum had left, now layered with the agonizing, familiar fullness of Torin. Her body pulsed around emptiness, clenching weakly, betraying a hunger that had only been sharpened.
“She’s still shaking,” Torin observed quietly. There was no victory in his tone. Only a hollow exhaustion.
A rough hand—Callum’s—closed on her ankle, pulling her legs wider apart. She jerked at the touch. “Look at her. Still gaping. Still hungry. One cock isn’t enough for you now, is it? You’ve been spoiled.”
“Don’t,” Torin said, but the word lacked force. He was watching too.
Callum’s thumb rubbed over her swollen flesh, smearing their combined release. A shudder wracked her. “The wager’s flawed. She came for both of us. Silent, but she came. So we need a new test.”
Torin was silent for a beat. When he spoke, his voice was thick, resigned to the descent. “What?”
“She guesses. Blindfold stays. You take her ass. I take her cunt. Or vice versa. She has to say who is where. If she’s so finely tuned to each of us… she’ll know.”
A brutal, curious thrill shot through Ailsa, cutting through the shame. The utter indecency of it, the physical impossibility they were proposing, made her skin burn.
“She’s never taken a man in the ass,” Torin said, a final, weak defense.
“There’s oil by the hearth. For the leather.” Callum was already moving, his footsteps retreating then returning. The slick, herbal smell of saddlesoil filled the air near her hip. “We’ll go slow. It’s not about cruelty. It’s about knowing. You want to prove you know her? Let’s see.”
The furs shifted as Torin moved closer. His lips brushed her ear, his whisper a confession. “I have to know, Ailsa. I have to know if what’s between us is more than just… this animal thing he’s given you.”
Callum’s fingers, slick and cool, circled her other entrance, probing gently. She flinched, but the oil smoothed the way. One thick finger pressed inward, a slow, burning intrusion that made her gasp. “Relax, little one. Or this will hurt.” His voice was almost gentle, a terrifying contrast.
She felt Torin’s hands on her hips, turning her onto her side, facing the back of the dais. He curled behind her, his chest to her back. His cock, still wet from her, nudged against the cleft of her ass. Callum moved in front of her, guiding himself to her sodden, sensitive sex.
“Guess as we go,” Callum breathed.
They pressed forward as one.
Torin entered her ass with a strained, careful push, the burn intense, a sharp, full feeling that stole her breath. At the same moment, Callum slid back into her cunt, the hot, familiar stretch a shocking counterpoint. She was filled, utterly, a sensation so profound it bordered on pain. She cried out, a short, sharp sound lost in the hall’s din.
“Shhh,” Torin soothed in her ear, his body trembling with the effort of his control. He was seated fully inside her, a deep, insistent pressure. Callum began to move, a slow, rhythmic thrust that jostled her against Torin, making her feel every inch of both of them.
“Who?” Callum grunted, picking up speed. The friction was everywhere, overwhelming. The separate sensations began to bleed together into a single, mind-shattering fullness.
Her mind scrambled. Callum’s thrusts were authoritative, deep, aimed to own. Torin’s were shallower, mindful of the new territory, but the intimate clasp of his body around hers from behind was uniquely his. The feel of his scarred jaw against her neck.
“C-Callum’s in my cunt,” she panted, the obscenity tasting strange on her tongue. “Torin… is behind.”
A guttural sound from Torin, part relief, part something else. “Aye.”
“Switch,” Callum commanded.
They withdrew slowly, leaving her feeling cavernous and empty for a split second before they shuffled and pressed back in. This time, the initial stretch into her ass was thicker, less careful. Callum. He filled the tight channel with a single, demanding thrust, making her see stars. Torin, meanwhile, slid back into her well-used pussy with a groan of pure relief, his hips meeting hers with a familiar, desperate cadence.
“Now?” Torin asked, his voice ragged.
“Y-you’re in my cunt,” she moaned. “Callum is… God, he’s in my ass.”
“Good girl,” Callum growled, pumping into her from behind. The approval, the degradation, the dual stimulation coalesced into a lightning bolt of pleasure. Her climax approached not as a wave but as a sudden, violent eruption. She came with a choked scream they could not possibly silence, her body clamping down on both invading cocks in a series of ruthless spasms.
It triggered their own releases. Torin came first, a hot flood inside her womb, his face buried in her hair with a broken sob. Callum followed, his own orgasm pulsing into her depths, his large hands gripping her hips as he ground out every last drop.
They collapsed around her, a tangled, sweaty, spent heap of limbs on the furs. The blindfold was askew. She could see slivers of firelight through the bottom. She didn’t move to adjust it.