Chapter 50: The Deep Denial
The Rex's third knot sat against her seam, fat and orange and gleaming, and Ben stopped there.
He just held it. His palm flat on the toy's base, his weight behind it, steady as a wall. Maggie's flogged lips strained around the widest point, swollen skin stretched into a trembling oval, the knot dimpling her opening inward without giving a single inch more.
"Look at that," Ben said to the camera, without looking at the camera. "Fourteen inches around, and her beat-up little hole is arguing with it."
Maggie's breath came in shredded pulls. The blindfold made everything sound, and the sound was the wet creak of her own cunt being asked to widen, and behind it, deeper, the relentless slap of the stallion hammering Ella's ass. Her hips rolled without her permission. She pushed into it, bearing down, the way the hunger demanded, and the knot slid a quarter inch and stopped.
"Don't force it, Magpie." His free hand settled on her belly, warm, paternal, monstrous. "It goes when I say it goes."
"Please." Her voice was wrecked, hoarse from screaming. "Please, Ben, push it in."
"Mm." He rolled his thumb across the base, and the knot rotated against her seam, a slow grinding stretch that made her sob out loud, raw and un-muted. "Feel that? That's your lips remembering how to open. I spent an hour flogging them shut for you. Swollen like a virgin. Now look at them fighting a knot the size of a fist."
Behind them Ella choked, a wet convulsive gurgle around the twenty-four inches roped into her throat, and the vibration of it climbed Maggie's shaft like a struck wire. She gasped, her clit-cock jerking inside that trapped, gagging heat, and her cunt clenched hard around the two knots already seated inside her, and the edge came rushing up, white and total.
Ben felt it in her body before she said a word. He pulled the Rex back.
Just back. Slow, steady, dragging both seated knots rearward through her gripping channel until the first one wedged at her opening from inside, stretching her lips wide around it again, refusing to leave. Maggie's orgasm collapsed in midair. She wailed, an ugly, animal sound, her thighs straining against the straps hard enough to creak the bench.
"No, no, no, Ben, I was, I was right there, please, I need it."
"I know." He pushed forward again. The knot slid back in, and the third one kissed her seam, and stopped. "That's the game, sweetheart. Chat set the goal. Eleven thousand hearts and you get to come. They're at four."
"You fucker." It came out adoring, broken.
"Yeah." He smiled. She heard it in his voice. He pressed, a slow hydraulic ounce at a time, and her puffy lips dimpled, bulged, spread into that straining oval again, the knot's fat ridge carving them wider than the sphere ever had. "Fuck, listen to her. That's your hole talking, Magpie. All swollen and honest."
The knot's widest point climbed her opening one heartbeat at a time. He never rushed it. He'd stop when her whole body started to shake, circle his hips, drag it back a half inch, and start again, and each time the stretch felt brand new, her flogged tissue raw and hot and impossibly tender around it. Sweat ran into the blindfold's edge. Her knotted clit-cock throbbed in Ella's roped mouth with every pulse of her heart, and Ella's throat answered with a fresh ripple of choking, and the two rhythms braided together until Maggie couldn't tell which hole she was being fucked in.
"Ben," she whispered. "I'm gonna cum again. I can't stop it. It's happening."
He pulled out to the first knot.
The denial hit her like cold water. Her back bowed off the leather, a keening noise tearing out of her, her empty, aching channel clamping down on almost nothing, just that one ridge wedged at her lips. Her tits heaved. She sobbed, big hitching gulps, her bound hands twisting uselessly above her head.
"Earn it," Ben said softly. He leaned down, his mouth close to her ear, and his fingers found the base of her clit-cock where it rooted into her puffy seam, and he stroked it once, slow, maddening. "Your tight little hole wants the last knot. The fattest one. So it has to work for it. Open for me and take shallow, Magpie. Just the tip of the knot. In and out. Like a virgin learning her first finger."
He did it. A shallow, merciless rocking, the third knot's ridge breaching her lips and pulling free, breaching and pulling free, the friction drawing a continuous low moan out of her like water boiling. Her swollen hole flared each time it was dragged over the ridge, then snapped puffy and shut each time it escaped, and the sensation was nowhere near deep enough and exactly enough to keep her perched on the edge with her toes curled and her teeth bared.
"That's it. Feel how tight you are? Hour ago you couldn't have taken this. Now you're kissing it." Another stroke of her root. "How bad do you want it, Magpie?"
"So bad." Her voice cracked. "I want the knot. I want all three and I want to cum with them ripping me open. I'll be good, I'll hold it, please just, deeper."
"No." He laughed, low, warm, the meanest kindness she'd ever heard. "You'll hold it and I'll decide about deeper. Chat, poll's open. Third knot all the way, or twenty more strokes of just the tip?"
The tablet chimed, a cascade of votes. Behind him Ella's machine thudded on, the girl's muffled screams fading into a thin, exhausted hum around Maggie's shaft, drool slinging from her chin with every piston stroke.
Ben read the screen. His thumb went still against her root, and Maggie held her breath, her whole swollen, beaten, starving body waiting on him.
"They voted," he said, and positioned the knot flush against her gasping seam. "Tip only. Sorry, my love. Your hole has to earn the fat part."
He began to rock again, and Maggie screamed her denial at the white ceiling, and the knot's ridge dragged over her lips one more excruciating time.
"Count them with me," Ben said. "Nineteen to go."