Ward takes his turn

Ward didn't move at first. He stood there, still hard. Calibrating. She thought maybe he'd let her wipe her face. To go on she knew she needed a few seconds to compose herself. Her knees ached. A rivulet of cooling cum slid oozed down the front of the bodysuit, seeping into the fabric in a darkening stain. She blinked. Her eyelids were heavy. Yeah, in just a second she could--

He stepped closer, one foot on either side of her ruined knees, and hooked a finger under her chin. It was gentle in a way that made her stomach drop. He tilted her face up. Her mouth fell open before her brain caught up. Ward's thumb pressed down on her lower lip, and then he was guiding himself inside her gasping mouth.

It was different. Dear God, it was different. Paul's dick had been manageable. Thick enough to stretch her jaw, long enough to bump the back of her throat if she didn't pay attention, but he hadn't given her time not to adapt. Ward was longer, and wider too, splitting her open. Fresh tears down her wrecked face. She felt the difference in the first inch, then the second. Her tongue flattened under his cock. Her lips strained.

At least Paul warmed me up, she thought with shame. She tried to do what she'd done before: breathe through her nose, relax her throat, let her hand do the work on what her mouth couldn't take. But Ward's hand closed over hers and peeled it away. With his foot, he pinned it to the floor beside her knee, like he was doing maintenance on her and needed a better position. His other hand found the back of her head. She couldn't see clearly through the film in her eyes, but she could feel him. His hips that fed her another inch whether she was ready or not.

Breathe. She forgot how. Her nose clogged with crying. Panic fluttered in her chest like a trapped bird. She tried to pull back, just an inch, but Ward's hand on her skull firmed to hold her there. He was forcing her to learn the shape of him.

His silence was the worst part. Paul had given her noise for feedback. Ward continued to hammer her mouth, and she had no idea what he was thinking. Just the wet sounds of her own throat and the occasional gasp. From him, to be clear, not her. She was a thing. Warm and compliant. Her mouth and pulse was what she was good for. He pulled out slowly when her face got too red. She sucked air. Then he pushed back in. Her hands scrambled for purchase on the floor. Both palms slapped the wood. Her spine curved. She angled forward by forty five degrees or so to try to cope. All her weight rested on her hands. Her ass stayed up by reflex. The bodysuit rode up. She felt cool air on the backs of her thighs.

Ward fucked her throat like he had somewhere to be. There was no pattern she could predict. He'd sink deep and hold and make her gag. Her throat would convulse to try and expel what she'd taken, but there wasn't any chance of that. Then he'd pull back to the tip, let her drool. And then he'd drive back in, and her vision would white out at the edges. She saw things supplied by her brain's invention. Ward on top of her, pinning her wrists. Behind her, one hand on her hip and the other in her hair. Ward's face, finally, finally breaking the silence. She hated how the images made her clench around nothing. Her body responded to the fiction, but the reality of being used was right here.

Mina watched from the bearskin rug. Izzy caught her reflection in the dark screen of Mina's phone. The red recording light was flashing in the corner. She looked so fucking pathetic. At least Mina was enjoying herself.