He’d left me alone for the hour. He hadn’t even satisfied himself, just left me tied, splayed and dripping and alone with my thoughts. I hadn’t met the man with the accent before. I was sure of that. What did it matter anyway? I’d know him soon enough.

The seconds ticked into minutes. I flexed and stretched best I could to ease the tension. To stop from wondering. It didn’t work. Two men. Two. Two cocks, god help me.

The grandfather clock in the corner ticked steadily, ignorant of the frequency of my beating heart. Breathe. I inhaled slowly. Exhaled. I wanted this. I just didn’t want to admit I did.

Seconds... minutes... an hour. The door opened and he came in, smirk almost hidden. The man with the accent, presumably, followed him, face reflecting curiosity which changed to active consideration when he saw me spread-eagled. 

He studied me as the video camera was set up. I held his gaze, but also held my tongue. Conversation seemed irrelevant when you’d agreed to be a fucktoy. He was handed a masquerade mask and came forward to fasten it around my eyes. His scent washed over me as he leaned low. Clean skin and cologne. Give me an hour and I’d fuck that right off him. My amusement must have reached my eyes as an awareness came into his and they narrowed fractionally. Even tied down I couldn’t bring myself to fully submit, and now I’d challenged him. Shit.

His fingertips grazed my neck as he straightened and I shivered. He turned to the other man.

“Are we ready? I want her throat first.”

The accent was thickened by need. I gulped in air. Not my mouth... my throat. Fuck.

“Ready,” came the quiet reply and I saw the red recording light come on. I wondered when I’d get to watch this. If I’d remember everything. 

Neither took long to undress. They circled the bed, erections growing by the second. The man with the accent stopped by my head and held his cock to my lips, teasing us both. I licked. He moaned. I moaned. He tasted divine. He held my gaze as he leaned forward and gripped my hair, allowing me no retreat as his cock pushed past my lips.

He didn’t stop. Relentlessly he invaded my mouth until he was hitting the back of my throat and I was desperately sticking my tongue out and opening as wide as possible. He pulled back slightly as if to judge my competence but must have been satisfied as he slid his cock back in. I wasn’t exactly fighting him but tied as I was, survival instinct kicked in as my body assessed its ability to breathe. If I hadn’t been bound I’m not sure I could have remained passive. That was why I liked being bound - it forced me to try.

The tongue on my ass was a complete shock. All my attention was elsewhere and I began to understand the most disconcerting thing about two men at once might not actually be physical. The man with the accent took advantage of my momentary paralysis to breach my defences and slide his cock deep into my throat. I swallowed involuntarily and he snarled his approval, head thrown back in ecstasy.

My throat burned and my eyes watered. He felt huge. The tongue on my ass danced delicate circles around my ring, teasing a thousand nerve endings at once. Smooth skin scraped against my throat, back and forth, making me painfully aware of how constricted it was. My logical brain was desperately trying to sort through the feelings, to compartmentalise, but when a finger brushed my clitoris, madness reigned.

It was too much. I stopped seeing my body as separate parts and let go. I was a fucktoy, a puppet, a vessel for pleasure and nothing else. The tongue on my ass moved to my clit and I felt an oiled finger squeeze slowly inside my wet ring. The man with the accent sensed my acceptance and withdrew long enough to straddle my head and make it easier for me to take as much of him as possible.

Calmness swept over me with my surrender. I swallowed again and again around his cock, trusting the tongue on my clit to bring me to new heights of ecstasy. With every constriction of my throat he cursed softly, urging me on, calling me a fucking good girl in that accented English, feeding my submission.

As time stretched, we became more than the sum of our parts, my moans at the sparks coursing outwards from my delicately played button transferring to his cock, now throbbing thickly in my throat.

I’m not sure which of us came first. We were connected. As the waves sweeping my body finally crested and I exploded in pleasure, I was aware of a pulsing in my mouth, warm come dripping down my throat as he roared approval, body quaking above me. I could feel my juices dripping from my curiously empty pussy, feel it clenching like it was desperately searching for something to cling to.

He pulled off me then, the final drops landing on my tongue. I swallowed, allowing them to slide down my abused throat, soothing it. He cupped my cheek almost tenderly as he stood, the questions in his eyes remaining unasked as he regarded me. I held his gaze as he moved his fingers to my jaw, massaging away the ache.

The sound of a throat clearing broke the spell and he looked towards the other man, once again all business.

“Let’s undo her and get her onto her front. She needs to stretch. And then I want her cunt.”

My empty pussy twitched in agreement even as my mind whirled with all the combinations. Two men. Two cocks. God help me.