You don't need words

One of the men pats your head gently, almost affectionately, and speaks a few short words. You lift your eyes to his face and see approval. He smiles, sending a rush of butterflies through your stomach. He just pats your head again and gestures to someone behind you, brushing his fingers against your neck to gather your hair into a single grip that he lifts above your head.

The other man slips a wide leather band around your throat, buckling it in front with two small metal buckles. Your heart beats quickly, feeling a strange sense of validation at being collared on your knees. It proves to be no simple collar, as another wide strap hangs down your back. Your captors—or are they your owners—guide your two folded arms into place across your back and secure them with straps and cords, lashing arm to arm and binding your elbows so you can hardly move.

Kneeling like this, your position forces your chest out. You notice with some satisfaction that the eyes of both men linger appreciatively on your breasts before a heavy blindfold cuts you off from the world. You're pulled forward, presumably by some sort of leash, and shuffle awkwardly on your knees. You don't know where you're going, and the occasional stick or rock on the makes you yelp as a sharp jolt of pain pricks your knee or shin, but after a couple minutes you're allowed to stop when someone pressed something warm and soft to your lips.

A cock.

You've been drawn between the knees of someone in a seated position. You have no way to be sure who the cock belongs to, which only makes your situation all the more exciting.

Eager to show them what a good girl you are, you open your mouth and lower your head to wrap your lips around the tip, licking and drooling as best you can. A sharp contrast to the rough face-fucking you received earlier, you are now allowed to go at your own pace. Exploring and testing your own limitations, you dutifully bob and slurp on the stiff dick.

After a minute, you shift to sit up, breaking contact with the cock. Someone speaks a harsh word and then hits you with something across your thigh. "Ahh–ugk~!" As you open your mouth to cry out from the stinging punishment, you're forcibly shoved back down onto the cock.

You quickly learn the rules. Suck. Don't stop. No one will bother or **** you as long as you keep moving and make an effort to please him.

After a while, he grunts softly and fills your mouth with his salty, tangy-bitter release. Still unsure if you're allowed to rise, you resort to gentle suckling and licking to clean him until he pushes you up... and immediately, someone else pulls you towards them to push you down onto his cock.

Obediently, you repeat the process, dutifully servicing the men one after the other as they sit around a campfire chatting. You have no idea what they're discussing, but there is occasional laughter and the overall mood is lighthearted. No one addresses you. Sometimes one of them might whip your thigh with the stingy thing you suspect is a switch from a tree, to correct poor positioning or to encourage more effort. But otherwise, you may as well not exist. Just a mouth for their evening pleasure.

It's oddly peaceful, bound and blindfolded, with nothing whatsoever to concern yourself besides blowing the men who made you a ****. It's erotic, dehumanizing, perfect. Exactly what you wanted when you let Lady Dun take your sword. Your pussy aches with need as you move on to the next man, drool and cum dripping lazily down the naked front of your body.

It doesn't occur to you until you're finishing the fifth man that this might be their idea of feeding you dinner. This is heaven.