Chapter 11: The Morning After
The lavender scent was the first thing he recognized, a familiar thread in the chaos of the last twenty-four hours. Then the ache in his shoulders, a deep, pulled tenderness.And finally, the constraint. Cool, smooth silk—Catriona’s scarves, he realized—bit into his wrists and ankles, tying him spread-eagle to the four brass posts of her bed. The morning light bled through the velvet curtains, casting the room in a dusty, rose-gold haze.He was already hard. The blood had pooled there during sleep, or perhaps his body, trained now, was simply ready.The sheet was gone. He lay naked, exposed to the empty room, his cock standing thick against his stomach.
The door opened without a knock.Catriona entered first, her robe a simple navy blue, loosely tied. Freya followed, then Zelda, and finally a woman he’d only seen in a photo on the fridge: Sarah, Catriona’s coworker with the sharp bob and sharper smile. All four wore only robes.Their expressions were a study in anticipation.
“Morning, sunshine,” Zelda purred, a long black feather in her hand—plucked from some decorative vase, probably.
“We let you sleep in,” Catriona said, perching on the edge of the bed near his hip. Her fingers traced the line of his abdominal muscles, down to the base of his shaft.She didn’t grip him, just teased the wiry hair there. “You needed your strength.”
Sarah smiled, her eyes appraising him without shame. “So this is the famous Aidan.Cat wasn’t exaggerating.” She untied her robe, let it fall. Her body was lean, her pubic hair neatly trimmed.
Freya bounced onto the mattress, her knees landing either side of his head. “My turn first,” she declared, her robe gaping open to reveal the swell of her breasts.“I need that tongue. I’ve been thinking about it since last night.” She didn’t wait, just shifted backward, lowering herself until the heated, damp seam of her pussy hovered above his mouth. The intimate, musky scent of her filled his nostrils.“Open.”
He did. Her fingers tangled in his hair, guiding him, and then she settled her weight onto his face. Her outer lips pressed against his, and he tasted her—salt, skin, the distinct flavor of her arousal. He flicked his tongue out, finding her clit, and she moaned, grinding herself against his mouth.
As he began to lick in earnest, Zelda moved to his side. The tip of the feather traced the sensitive bud of his nipple, then dragged down his ribcage, over the tense plane of his stomach, and finally along the throbbing underside of his cock. The sensation was maddening: light, tickling, unbearable.He jerked against his bonds, a muffled groan escaping from beneath Freya.
“Shhh,” Zelda whispered, leaning close, her dark hair brushing his cheek.“Just a toy. Our toy for the day. You don’t get to decide anything.”
Catriona, watching for a moment from the foot of the bed, then climbed up, straddling his chest. She faced him, her knees pinning his arms. She opened her own robe, but didn’t remove it, just let it fall around her like a tent. Then she shifted forward, until the slick, parted folds of her cunt were positioned directly over his sternum. He felt the heat of her, the wetness as it dripped onto his skin in a slow, claiming trickle.
“You’re a canvas,” she breathed, rocking slightly, smearing her arousal across his chest.
Sarah, meanwhile, had approached from his other side. She ran a hand along his shaft, her grip firm and knowing. “Think you can handle another one so soon, champion?” she asked, her tone playful but edged with challenge.She didn’t wait for an answer. She climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips. Reaching behind herself, she guided the broad, leaking head of his cock to her entrance. She was tight, the resistance palpable, and she took her time, sinking down onto him with a controlled, excruciating slowness that forced the air from his lungs.Her head fell back as she finally seated herself fully, a satisfied hiss escaping her lips. “Fuck, Cat.You didn’t say he felt this good.”
Aidan was lost. Freya’s cunt on his mouth, demanding rhythmic, sucking licks. Catriona’s dripping heat on his chest, her eyes locked on his. Zelda’s feather, now tracing the hypersensitive skin of his balls. And Sarah, beginning to move, rising and falling on his cock with a deep, rolling rhythm that threatened to shatter him immediately.
The world narrowed to sensations. The slap of skin, the wet sounds of his mouth on Freya, the creak of the bedsprings, the chorus of female sighs and instructions. “Faster with your tongue,” Freya gasped. “Yes, right there, don’t stop.” Sarah picked up her pace, her inner muscles clamping around him in tight, milking pulses. “You’re going to fill me up, aren’t you?” she taunted, looking down at him. “You’re going to pump your load straight into my fucking womb.”
Zelda discarded the feather. She pressed her mouth to his ear, her voice a gravelly, intimate obscenity. “You’re a fucking slut for this.Your cock is so hard it’s pathetic. You love being our communal dick. You’d let us use you until you’re dry.”
It was the truth.The humiliation was a fuel. His hips bucked involuntarily, driving himself deeper into Sarah.The coil in his groin tightened beyond bearing.
Freya’s thighs began to tremble against his temples. “I’m coming, I’m coming, make me come!” she chanted, and he redoubled his efforts, sucking her clit, thrusting his tongue as far as it would go. She let out a shriek, her release flooding his mouth, her body convulsing above him.That triggered Sarah. She cried out, her rhythm breaking into frantic, slamming bucks.“Now! Give it to me now, you fucking stallion!”
Catriona leaned forward, her hands braced on the headboard, her face inches from his. “Do it, Aidan,” she commanded, her voice low and fierce. “Come inside her.”
The command broke him.With a strangled roar against Freya’s flesh, he erupted. His body arched off the bed as much as the bonds allowed, every muscle rigid. He poured into Sarah, pulse after hot, urgent pulse, feeling her cervix kiss the head of his cock as she squeezed every drop from him.For a minute, there was only the sound of ragged breathing. Freya lifted herself off his face, collapsing beside him. Sarah slowly, tremulously, lifted off his softening shaft, a trickle of his spend immediately leaking down her thigh.
He slumped back, utterly drained.The room swam.But the women didn’t rest. Zelda produced a damp cloth and began cleaning his stomach, his chest, his wilting cock with clinical efficiency. Catriona kissed him, deep and probing, tasting Freya on his lips.“So good,” she murmured. “But the day is long.”
Freya, recovering, giggled and nuzzled his neck. “We’ve got plans. Gotta keep your energy up.” She began to kiss her way down his body.
And despite his exhaustion, under their hands and mouths, he felt the impossible: a faint, returning stir. A twitch that grew, fed by their relentless attention, under Zelda’s now-slick fingers and Freya’s swirling tongue and Sarah’s whispered, filthy promises of what she wanted next.
By the time the clock on the dresser read noon, he had come four times. The fourth was a weak, aching dribble that left him seeing gray spots, his body hollowed out.They finally untied him, but only to flip him onto his stomach. Catriona arranged pillows under his hips.
“Rest,” she said, massaging the knots from his shoulders. “Just for a bit.”
He drifted, not into sleep, but into a hazy, hypersensitive stupor. He felt the bed dip as someone lay beside him, a hand idly stroking his back. The smell of sex and perfume and warm skin was a permanent layer in the air.
Catriona’s lips brushed the shell of his ear, her voice the clearest thing in the universe. “You’re ours until Sunday night, remember?”
It wasn’t a question.It was a reminder.The weekend stretched before him, an endless, devouring landscape. And as her hand slid down the curve of his spine, he knew with a certainty that terrified and exhilarated him, that he would walk it.