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“ Fuck! ”
Dazai’s body rocked forward as Fyodor thrust into her. Cold hands held her hips in a bruising grip, refusing to allow her even a moment of reprieve.
She attempts to catch herself on her elbows when the next thrust hits, but her arms are beginning to feel useless. Her whole body feels useless, like a silicone toy made only to amuse the two women above her. She feels utterly weak against their whims.
Her head is resting between Chuuya’s bare thighs, mouth struggling to keep up with the task she’s been given. The red-head has a firm hand tangled in her hair, forcing her head down.
“Language,” Fyodor brings a hand down against Dazai’s rear, eliciting another yelp from her.
Dazai tilts her head as much as she can, shooting a glare over her shoulder. “Keep working on your dom voice, it’s almost starting to sound convincing.”
Fyodor merely frowns, never one to rise to bait. Contrarily, a line like that would’ve gotten her the exact reaction she wanted out of Chuuya. Her former partner is too fun to toy with, Dazai knows exactly what buttons to push to get her exactly where she wants her.
“If you have a problem with my voice, then why is it you tighten up every time I speak? I wonder…”
Dazai shivers. “H-how can you even tell? You’re not wearing a real dick.”
Fyodor hits her with another thrust, deeper this time. “Is that real enough for you?”
“This fucking bitch,” Chuuya sneers. “We’re giving her exactly what she asked for, and she’s still running her stupid little mouth.”
“Pity.”
“Aww, I think Chuuya has her events mixed up,” Dazai teases. “The way I recall it, you were the one who asked for this.”
“You showed up to a dinner party without any panties,” the grip on her hair tightens. “You’re such a dirty fucking slut. Bet you were hoping one of us would get fed up with all your teasing and bend you over the table.”
Of course that’s what she wanted, but she would never tell Chuuya that. She doesn’t have the leisure of hiding things from Fyodor though, seeing as the two of them can practically read each other’s minds. A slow grind of the strap right against her sensitive spot is all the confirmation Dazai needs to know that Fyodor sees right through her.
“A word of advice,” Chuuya continues. “If you’re going to flash the table, make sure you’re not wet. I swear I saw some of that filth dribbling down your thigh earlier.”
That part actually is just Chuuya’s imagination, Dazai would never be so careless as to let her own body work against her. She likes Chuuya’s imagination though, so she plays into it.
“Don’t wear so many rings,” she gives her a lopsided grin. “Then we won’t have a problem.”
Fyodor delivers another smack to her ass, commanding her attention.
“Has our pretty slut decided to be a brat today?”
“ My pretty slut,” Chuuya corrects. “I had her first. And she’s a brat every day.”
“The way I see it, you and I are equals.”
“Ladies, ladies,” Dazai breathes, struggling to keep it together while Fyodor pounds in and out of her relentlessly. “No need to argue, there’s enough of me to go around.”
She’s always surprised by how well Fyodor can fuck her, given her low body strength. Chuuya can toss her around like a rag doll with ease, but Fyodor has to be more tactful about her moves. Fortunately for Fyodor, the two of them know each other inside-and-out by now. Unraveling Dazai comes as easy as breathing.
Fyodor had been the first to make a move tonight. She cornered Dazai after dinner and asked her to come back to her room- a party Chuuya so rudely decided to crash. She just happened to be in the right place at the right time to overhear them, most of the other guests had already left.
The walk to Fyodor’s room had been agonizingly objectifying, with the two of them shamelessly groping her as soon as they were away from guests. Normally she wouldn’t complain, but they were behaving like animals. She had to swat Chuuya’s fingers away from her entrance three times so they could make it to the front door.
She should have seen it coming. In all honesty, she did ask for this. Fantasized about it as she picked out the shortest dress she owned to wear with nothing underneath. Throughout the meal, the two of them kept eyeing her like she was a piece of meat. If she didn’t have an image to uphold, she would have crawled underneath the table and eaten Chuuya out right then and there.
That’s how they wound up ambushing each other like this in the center of Fyodor’s king-sized bed. It’s a shame Nikolai couldn’t join them, she had to miss the party due to prior engagements. Maybe next time, the two of them can make out while Fyodor and Chuuya fuck them. As possessive as the short bastard is, Chuuya’s always liked to watch her with other women. She’d rather die than admit it though.
A hand grips the back of her head, shoving her face into Chuuya’s crotch. The fingers are cold and slender, so they must belong to Fyodor.
Immediately, she sputters, trying to adjust to the wet mess on her face. And the stench. Chuuya smells fishy.
“I believe you have a job to do,” Fyodor instructs. “Do it, unless you’d like me to call back my guests and let them fuck you instead.”
“Don’t threaten her with a good time,” Chuuya laughs. “She’s a whore, she’d love that.”
She really wouldn’t, but she’s used to people making wildly off assumptions about her by now. Chuuya assumed she wanted to be in the mafia for years, and look where that got them. Chuuya assumed she didn’t have any real human emotions, and now they don’t really know how to talk to each other.
It’s just dirty talk, Chuuya probably doesn’t even mean that. Still, she feels a little defeated every time she remembers that no living person truly understands her.
Then there’s Fyodor, who knows her but doesn’t really understand her. Chuuya knows her too, just in different ways. Chuuya can predict her battle strategies better than anyone else, and Fyodor knows the darkest parts of her soul. If Dazai had to bet, she’d say they both love her in their own ways. Chuuya loves what she could’ve had, and Fyodor loves what she hates the most.
They both love her tits, and her cunt, and her thighs, and her ass, and her neck, and her submission; and that’s all that matters, right? Dazai doesn’t need them to understand her feelings on morality, or what makes her closest to happy in life. As long as they both understand how to fuck her until her legs go numb, they’ve got a good thing going here.
Besides, it’s not like they’re the only people Dazai regularly hooks up with. She’s got friends who treat her much kinder than either of them do. Friends who fuck her gently, like they’re making love to her. She has women whom she feels safe enough with to fall asleep in their beds; and men whom she trusts enough to let cum inside her. She’s being taken care of nowadays, more or less. She doesn’t need this.
Chuuya and Fyodor are enemies, even if they were both her allies once. She can’t trust either of them, not completely. Even if she trusts Chuuya with her life, she knows she is loyal to the mafia before anything else. Chuuya has chosen Dazai’s abuser over her before, back when she tried to kill her friends when the cannibalism virus appeared. That had been caused by Fyodor, in a pitiful attempt to pit their organizations against each other.
She knows she shouldn’t hold it against either of them. They’ve all done horrible things to each other, she shouldn’t throw stones from a glass house. It hurts that they’re like this, but there’s a certain thrill to it. Maybe that’s why Dazai keeps going back to both of them.
Or it could be…
Fingers snap next to her ear.
“Hey,” Chuuya calls. “Are you okay?”
Shit, she zoned out. Most people don’t appreciate that during sex.
“‘m fine,” she slurs.
Brown eyes soften in front of her, lips pulling into a frown. “Do you want to stop?”
“We won’t hold it against you,” Fyodor gently rubs her hip. “You and I have other ways to compete with each other.”
She shakes her head. “I want to keep going. Just a little spacey today, that’s all.”
“Color?” Fyodor asks.
“Green,” she reaffirms. “Make me stop thinking.”
The two of them exchange a glance. That pleasant, weak feeling is returning. She feels utterly helpless under the weight of their judgment.
Seconds tick by, giving Dazai a break to catch her breath. She doesn’t bother trying to analyze either of her partners, fully trusting both of them even though she really shouldn’t.
Finally, Chuuya lifts her chin again, a condescending smirk on her face.
“Thinking? Poor baby, you were never good for that anyways. Your brain is only good for repeating orders and reminding you to behave for us. Can you manage that?”
Dazai tunes her own thoughts out, letting Chuuya’s voice take control of her mind. She’s gotten quite good at listening to Chuuya in these situations, even if she ignores every word that comes out of her mouth on the battlefield.
Fyodor strokes her hair. “So pitiful. It must be such a struggle for you to think with those heavy tits.”
Now that she mentions it, her tits do feel very heavy. They make her neck sore, and her nipples are so sensitive. Her breath hitches every time they brush against the satin sheets.
This is a bad idea. Her clit has always been voice-activated, all it takes it a few carefully chosen words spoken in that specific turn to turn her into putty. She can’t let go like this.
“So heavy and full,” Chuuya tuts. “Your tits are smarter than you are. Let them do the thinking for you.”
…But it feels so good to let herself go dumb.
“I’m sorry we didn’t touch them enough earlier, angel,” Fyodor murmurs. “We know how much you love being groped.”
Dazai whines, attempting to fuck herself back into the strap. Fyodor keeps her hips in place though, halting any movements.
“C’mon baby,” Chuuya pulls her closer, resting her cunt against Dazai‘s cheek. “No more thinking. Just listen to us, and let that useless brain of yours leak out of your pretty pussy.”
Mindlessly, Dazai nods. She uses her left hand to grab one of her own breasts, pretending she’s being groped by Chuuya or Fyodor or one of her coworkers. She really does love having her breasts touched. Sometimes she goes braless just to see if one of her friends-with-benefits will try anything. If she’s lucky enough, her coworkers will turn it into their new greeting for the day.
She finally gets to work eating Chuuya out. She’s always loved the way Chuuya tastes, bitter like a fine wine. She grooms herself well too, while there’s still hair down there it’s not out of control like Dazai’s is. Not that Dazai minds hair, of course.
She slides her tongue between Chuuya’s folds, circling her entrance but not penetrating it. Chuuya doesn’t like penetration, which is simply a matter of personal preference. She says it feels gross to have stuff “all up in there.” To each their own, but Dazai heavily disagrees.
Chuuya’s juices flood Dazai’s mouth and spill down her chin, satisfying her far more than their previous meal did. She lost herself for a minute there, but the taste of Chuuya on her lips brings her fully back. Her brain was already pleasantly fuzzy from the dirty talk, but now she’s twice as eager as she was before.
“That’s it,” Chuuya praises. “Lick me up you fucking slut. This is what you were made for.”
Dazai moans, eagerly lapping at Chuuya’s walls. She lied a bit earlier when she said Chuuya smells like fish, the mafioso uses way too many expensive bath products for that. The natural scent still lingers, but it’s not anything unpleasant. Hard to get used to, sure, but Dazai has had many years to adjust.
“She’s good at that,” Fyodor comments. “You must use her often.”
“And you don’t?”
“Not for that,” Dazai can hear the teasing smile in her voice. “I’ve never cared for it.”
“You’re missing out.”
The pleasure is becoming too much for her. Fyodor’s thrusts are relentless, sliding against her walls so perfectly. Eating Chuuya out only makes her wetter, fingers pinching at her nipples since she’s been forbidden from touching herself anywhere else. She clenches around the strap every time Fyodor slides out, trying to keep her close.
She’s going to come soon, she can already tell. If Fyodor keeps going at this pace, Dazai stands no chance.
She tries to keep herself grounded by focusing on Chuuya, but that only throws her deeper into a state of bliss. Chuuya’s lips are so soft, soaking into her mouth. She really was born to be here, her head between Chuuya’s thighs while Fyodor uses her.
That thought throws her over the edge, body convulsing as Fyodor continues to fuck into her. She comes silently, lips faltering against Chuuya. The mafioso groans when she pauses, gripping her hair to try and force her to continue. Dazai weakly sticks her tongue out, trying to obey (key word: trying).
Fyodor stills inside of her when she’s done, running a possessive hand over her back. It’s almost comforting, though she doubts that was the intent. The only sympathy Fyodor knows is faux, she can never resist rubbing salt in an open wound.
They give her a moment to catch her breath, panting against Chuuya like a hungry dog. They must not be very patient today though, because it’s not long before Fyodor pulls out and discards the strap near the end of the bed.
She leans down to kiss at the backs of Dazai’s thighs, making the bandaged woman flinch. It’s too soon for her to be getting wet again, but her cunt throbs with interest.
“We never said you could stop,” Fyodor says, breath fanning against her pussy. “Go on, finish Chuuya off.”
Dazai falters, brain lagging to make sense of the words. She feels floaty, like Fyodor’s voice is coming from somewhere far away.
“You heard her,” Chuuya uses the grip on her hair to pull her closer. “Finish me off.”
Right, she’s supposed to be eating Chuuya out. She’s here to please them, not the other way around.
Chuuya stops her before she can continue though, lifting her head to meet her eyes. “Color?”
She gives herself a minute to think on it, wanting to be sure of her answer.
“Green.”
Chuuya pats her cheek. “Good. Let us know if that changes.”
With that, she lets Dazai do what she came here for. Behind them, Fyodor begins to lick at Dazai’s folds, just teasing. It makes Dazai whine against Chuuya, trying to escape the contact. Fyodor grabs her thighs though, making sure she has no chance of escape.
Fyodor licks into her, drinking up all her juices from earlier. She hums at the taste, the sound vibrating against Dazai’s core. Dazai tries to whimper and complain, but she has a job to do. She’s already neglected Chuuya enough for one night.
She moans loudly as she eats Chuuya, going down on her like a starved man. She pays attention to her clit this time, hitting it with every stroke of her tongue (while pacing it to make sure the contact isn’t too overwhelming). Chuuya rewards her with a series of grunts and moans, gripping her hair tighter. Dazai sighs blissfully at the rough treatment, movements growing more and more eager.
It’s hard to concentrate while Fyodor is fucking her with her tongue, but Dazai adapts. She grinds back into Fyodor’s face to seek more pleasure, earning a reprimanding slap to her thigh. It would be nice if Fyodor would let her fucking move for once, but Dazai can’t really complain.
She’s hooked up with Chuuya enough times to recognize the tell-tale signs of her approaching orgasm. When her head rolls back and her thighs begin to twitch, Dazai moves to suck on her clit, making the mafioso yelp. She falls over the edge shortly after that, nails digging into Dazai’s scalp. She mutters a series of curses and mean names as she cums, all of which lose their effect under the affectionate tone of her voice. Chuuya and Dazai have always liked each other more than they’re willing to admit.
She shoves Dazai’s head away when she’s done, slapping her face when she tries to chase her cunt. Dazai gives her a mischievous smile, which Chuuya returns with a glare.
Fyodor doesn’t let up, eating Dazai until she’s coming up on her second orgasm. Chuuya watches them with hazy eyes, keeping a possessive hand in Dazai’s hair. The two of them lock eyes when Dazai finally lets go, mouth falling open in a silent cry.
She hears Fyodor fall back onto the bed, letting out a satisfied huff. For a moment, they all just lay there, catching their breath.
Dazai can’t remember the last time she got fucked this good. Her bandages are soaked with sweat, and her legs are shaking. Brown curls stick to her forehead, the insides of her thighs soaked. She distantly wishes the three of them could buy an apartment together, so they could do this to her everyday. That would never work for a number of reasons, the top of the list being that Chuuya and Fyodor would kill each other. Unless she killed one of them first.
Chuuya is the first to move, crawling towards the end of the bed. Dazai yawns, stretching out her tired arms.
“Could one of you call me a cab? I don’t feel like taking the bus.”
“We’re not finished yet.”
She blinks confusedly, turning her head to face Chuuya. She’d expected the red head was getting up to grab towels or water but- no, she’s putting on Fyodor’s strap.
Oh shit
Dazai gulps. “You’re not tired?”
“Some of us exercise,” Chuuya smirks. “And eat things other than junk food. If you’re worn out after only two rounds, you have nobody but yourself to blame.”
That’s such a load of bullshit, Dazai is far from weak. Sure, she doesn’t have the healthiest lifestyle, but she was still raised in the mafia. She’s much stronger than she looks. Any normal person would be tired after two rounds with barely any break in between. Leave it to Chuuya to try and get a reaction out of her.
She scowls. “Surely you don’t plan on putting that thing in me .”
Chuuya flips her over onto her back with ease, eyes darkening. “Oh, but I do.”
She parts Dazai’s legs, an easy task because they’ve been reduced to jelly. Dazai knows she should probably pull away. All she has to do is tell Chuuya she wants to stop, and they could end this right here and now. The second she breathes the safeword, this will all be over.
But does she want this to be over? Does she really want to stop now? To leave without Chuuya fucking her?
She doesn’t. Chuuya’s easily the best lay she’s ever had (sorry, Fyodor), she would never pass up the chance to get railed into the mattress by her.
Chuuya rubs the strap between Dazai’s folds, teasing her entrance. Dazai whimpers, trying to close her legs, but Chuuya keeps them open. She’s grinning down at her predatorily, that look that makes Dazai feel pleasantly trapped. Chuuya’s got her now, and Dazai wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Color?”
“Green,” Dazai whines. “Green just- please, put it in.”
That’s all the encouragement Chuuya needs, pushing in with far less care than she would normally have since Dazai’s already been fucked. Normally, she’d make Dazai beg more, but it seems neither of them have the strength to hold back today. It makes Dazai dizzy to think that Chuuya is just as impatient as she is.
Like this, she has a nice view of Chuuya’s breasts; which normally aren’t that big, but the bra she’s wearing pushes them up. She unconsciously licks her lips at the sight of Chuuya’s glistening cleavage, and the silver chain that clings to it.
Weakly, she brings one hand up to grope her. Chuuya only laughs, allowing the touch. The tit feels small and plump in her hand, lacy material itching her skin. Her hand moves in time with Chuuya’s tits as they lightly bounce every time she thrusts. The sight has Dazai moaning mindlessly, legs spreading further.
The slide of the strap makes an obscenely wet sound, one that has Dazai’s face turning red. Chuuya doesn’t hold back at all, fucking Dazai like she’s nothing but a fleshlight.
She doesn’t realize Fyodor has moved until she’s locking eyes with her wet cunt. That’s right, Fyodor hasn’t cum yet. Dazai will have to take care of that.
A drop of slick drips down from Fyodor’s lips, landing on Dazai’s right cheek. It makes the women above her laugh cruelly, Chuuya’s thrusts becoming impossibly harsher.
“Are you going to do your job this time?” Fyodor asks.
Dazai nods, dazed. “Anything you want.”
Chuuya barks out a laugh. “I think we’ve broken her.”
“Mmm…not enough for my tastes.”
The weight of Fyodor against her face feels heavenly. Dazai immediately gets to work, sucking up Fyodor’s juices and worshiping her cunt. She places butterfly kisses and kitten licks to Fyodor’s pussy, showing her how much she adores it. Breathing becomes a challenge, but Dazai would happily die like this.
Fyodor smells…stranger than Chuuya, more pristine. Less natural, but not obnoxiously soapy either. It’s difficult to describe, almost like stepping into an old thrift shop. Dazai doesn’t mind it, it would take a lot to turn her off from going down on Fyodor. It would take a lot to turn her off from going down on anyone, really.
“I thought you didn’t care for this?”
“I changed my mind.”
“She’s good at it, isn’t she?”
Fyodor’s breath stutters. “She’s had a lot of practice.”
“Have you ever shoved the strap down her throat? She likes that too.”
“Hmm, I’ll have to try that later.”
The fact that later is still on the table has Dazai moaning against Fyodor’s cunt. That’s when Fyodor begins to ride her face, seeking her own pleasure.
“This stupid bitch can’t do anything right,” she sneers.
“I know,” Chuuya exhales. “She makes me do all the work every single time.”
That’s also untrue, Dazai eats Chuuya out a lot. And even so, Chuuya likes to do most of the work. Dazai’s offered to take the lead a couple of times, but Chuuya always turns her down.
Still, the degradation makes her even wetter. She loves being treated roughly and talked down to like she’s nothing but a piece of trash on the sidewalk. It’s why she provokes people so much.
“Pathetic,” Fyodor spits. “She’s nothing but a free use whore, begging to be defiled.”
She must be imagining things, because she swears she hears Chuuya moan at that.
“Fuck, yes she is.”
“Poor thing would’ve been so lonely tonight if we hadn’t picked her up.”
“It’s her only purpose, without us she’d be miserable.”
“She’s lucky we take such good care of her.”
Nobody else fucks her like this. Nobody else can treat her like she’s nothing, and still make her feel special. That’s why she keeps coming back to them. They’re terrible for her, but she just can’t stop.
“Look at her taking me in,” Chuuya marvels. “She was born to do this.”
“If only she’d quit that useless detective job to become our servant. We’d treat her well.”
“Yeah,” Chuuya snorts. “Treat her like the fucktoy she is.”
“And she’d love that,” Fyodor’s grinds are becoming frantic. “All her responsibilities make her sad. She’s probably so desperate to be treated like she means nothing. Our poor angel, so tired of having to think all the time.”
Dazai can’t see it, but she’s sure Fyodor and Chuuya are kissing right now. She feels them both lean forward slightly, and the obscene smacking noises are a dead giveaway. She isn’t sure how she feels about that.
They both lean into the kiss, hands running all over each other. She hopes they’re playing with each other’s tits, that would be nice to see. Maybe if she’s lucky, she’ll get to watch Chuuya fuck Fyodor later. She’d also like to see them scissor…damn, she’ll have to make a whole list.
“You’re so fucking hot,” Chuuya grits out, and Dazai isn’t sure who she’s talking to. Chuuya’s thrusts haven’t slowed, and neither have Fyodor’s grinds. They’re still treating her like their good little fuck doll while they make out with each other.
Dazai spasms around the strap, cumming for the third time.
“I think she just finished.”
“Of course she did,” Fyodor chuckles lightly. “This is her wet dream.”
No lies detected. It seems Fyodor is more honest than her beloved ex-partner.
Chuuya slips out of her, admiring the way her legs shake in the aftermath. Fyodor keeps going until she reaches her peak, cumming with a loud sigh.
She slides her pussy all over Dazai’s face afterwards, making her filthy. Dazai whimpers, leaning up into the contact. Fyodor chooses that exact moment to pull away, flopping back down onto the bed.
Dazai’s chest rises and falls as she gulps down gusts of cool air. She needs to regain her strength, she has a feeling they’re far from done. She may have bitten off more than she could chew teasing them earlier tonight.
Chuuya’s eyes follow the movement of her breasts hungrily, making goosebumps form on Dazai’s arms. The red hand uses both hands to grab her tits, squeezing them and making them bounce. Dazai lets herself be played with, drool spilling out of her mouth. Tonight, she is nothing but a toy for Chuuya and Fyodor to entertain themselves with.
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Fyodor pull something out of her nightstand. She hopes it’s wipes, or maybe even a tiny fan. She’s so hot right now, pun intended.
The feeling of something plastic and cold against her clit tells her it’s not a wipe.
She groans, but doesn’t protest. To make things clearer, she answers their unspoken question.
“Green.”
Suddenly, the toy buzzes to life, vibrating against her clit. Fuck, she didn’t expect that. They really did shut her brain off.
She begins to whine and squirm, trying to pull away. They keep her held in place though, shushing her complaints.
“It’s okay baby,” Chuuya murmurs. “Just lay back and take it. That’s what you're best at, anyways.”
“Want it so bad…”
“We know,” Fyodor comforts. “Don’t worry, we know. We’re going to give it all to you. After all, we still need to punish you for acting like a whore earlier.”
“’m sorry.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to make it up to us,” Fyodor drags the vibrator down through her folds, resting it against her entrance. “We’re just getting started.”