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Steven Grant shuffled along the city sidewalk, hands stuffed deep in his jacket pockets, shoulders raised in a weak attempt to ward off the evening chill. He was late – again. And as usual, it was because of one Marc Spector. “I’m sorry!” Marc apologized for the umpteenth time from within their head.
“Shut it, mate!” Steven snapped back.
Marc continued anyway. “Khonshu had a job for me. You know I can’t say no to him.”
“Bloody pigeon,” Steven muttered, drawing odd looks from passersby. “Always ruining our lives.”
“She’ll understand,” Marc reassured him. “She always does.”
“Yeah…” Steven mused. Marc was right, of course. You would understand. Your endless patience never ceased to amaze them. Apart from that you were also kind, smart, funny, and incredibly beautiful. And the best of all was that you looked up at them as if they were your knights in shining (white) armor. They had no idea what they did to deserve you, but Gods did they love you.
As Steven stepped into the corner bar, he nervously glanced around. This was not his type of place – he didn’t even drink alcohol. But you liked it here, and that was good enough for him. He scanned the room, looking from table to table until his eyes finally landed on you. You were sat at the bar, glass of white wine in hand. Standing across from you, a bit too close for Steven’s liking was a tall, blonde, handsome-looking bloke. He must have said something funny then, because you began to laugh your wonderfully musical laugh with your scrunched-up nose that Steven had imagined was reserved just for him.
Steven froze. His hands balled into tight fists. “How could she…” His shaky voice lost steam halfway through his lament. Marc’s natural state was anger. He had come to terms with it by now. But Steven was more fragile, innocent, and Marc’s instinct to protect him from pain in any form won over. “Give me the body,” he growled. Steven was too upset to argue. Seconds later Marc was marching across the crowded bar with purpose. He had already killed one man that night, and he was not opposed to adding another to the body count.
Engrossed in your conversation with the good-looking stranger, you jumped when you felt a strong arm snake around your shoulders, pulling you back into a solid chest. You relaxed when you heard a whiskey-smooth voice purr in your ear, “hey babe.”
“Ah, so this must be the boyfriend,” spoke the interloper.
“Yeah,” Marc spat back. “And who are you?” You could not mistake the biting edge to his question.
“Todd,” the man introduced himself, extending a hand out in greeting. Marc flatly refused the offering of goodwill. The stranger continued, unperturbed. “I’ve been keeping your lady friend here company. She said her date was running late. You know, if this beautiful woman was mine, I wouldn’t waste a single second that I could be spending with her.” He flashed you a debonair smile. You blushed slightly and giggled at the compliment. Marc’s eyes momentarily flashed to you in irritation. He squeezed you tighter, just shy of the point of pain. Puffing his chest out in a macho display, Marc sized up the taller man. “Yeah, well she’s not yours, so I suggest you move along.”
The stranger could not misinterpret his threatening tone this time. The cocky smile fell from his face and he straightened up, taking a large sip of his beer. Marc took the opportunity the moment of silence offered. He seized your hand and yanked you down off of the barstool. You barely had time to grab your things before he was dragging you away. “But I haven’t finished my drink!” you protested.
“Quiet!” he snapped.
You clamped your mouth shut, knowing better than to argue with Marc when he was in a mood. His possessiveness used to bother you, but now you recognized it as his love language. While Steven showed his affection through words and thoughtful gestures, Marc showed his through pure domineering physicality. He had to have his hands on you, his lips, and his teeth, marking you up and showing everyone who you belonged to.
Your boyfriend was parading you along at a brutal pace. Your high-heeled shoes caught every crack in the uneven sidewalk, causing you to trip often. Mercifully, his flat wasn’t too far from the bar. Marc shoved you over the threshold, slamming the door behind him and locking it out of habit. Then he reeled on you, releasing his anger. “What were you thinking?”
You were already stomping away from him. “You were late!” you shouted, tossing your coat and purse aside. You kicked off your heels, leaning against the arm of the couch to rub your sore ankles.
“So you decided to ditch us for some other guy?”
Realization slowly dawned on you that Marc may not have been alone at the bar. “Oh no, did Steven see?”
“Of course he did! And he’s furious, too.”
You felt a pang of guilt. Steven didn’t handle things quite as well as his alters, not that any of them were well adjusted. Your indignation melted away. “Nothing happened, baby. We were just talking.”
Marc was silent for a moment. The expression on his face was pained. “Are we not enough for you?”
The question caught you completely off guard. The insecurity in his voice wounded you. “How could you ask that?”
Marc became withdrawn. He closed his eyes, concentrating. You knew from experience that he was communicating with one or more of his alters. He slowly opened his eyes. “Steven wants to talk to you.”
The flat where the boys lived was full of mirrors – standing mirrors, wall mirrors, even mirrors on the ceiling. This allowed for some degree of normalcy for the alters dwelling in the headspace. They could never feel forgotten or excluded here. More importantly, through the reflections they could see and interact with you without a physical form. Marc was now leading you over to one of these mirrors – a full-length situated beside the left side of the bed. He positioned you to stand in front of it, his chest pressed flat to your back, arms wrapped around your waist and chin resting on your left shoulder. Though it was Marc holding you, the reflection in the mirror was Steven.
“Hello, love,” he said softly. Steven had always been the sweetest, gentlest of the bunch. Though his lips were drawn up in a smile, his eyes betrayed his suffering. It was bad enough that you had hurt Marc, but knowing that you were the cause of poor, innocent Steven’s grief just about killed you. “Steven, I’m so sorry…” you began, but Steven cut you off. “It’s alright, love. Maybe we’ve been too busy lately. Always running off on the next mission. We’ve neglected you.” You began to protest Steven’s claims, but he silenced you. “Hush, darling. Let us take care of you, remind you why you belong to us.” You shivered in anticipation of his words.
Fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt. “Let’s get this dress off you, yeah?” suggested Steven. Slowly, strong hands pulled the fabric up. Calloused palms brushed against your hips, your waist, the sides of your ample breasts until the garment was fully removed. Clever digits quickly unlatched the clasp of your bra, tossing the offending item aside. Your panties were next, peeled from your thighs at an agonizing pace. You knew in these actions it was Marc touching you, but in the reflection of the mirror it was all Steven.
His tanned arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled you back to the edge of the bed. He sat, widening his legs to make room for you between them. Once you were nestled in his lap, he lifted your legs up over his muscular thighs, effectively spreading you wide open. In this position, you were fully exposed to Steven’s hungry gaze. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped to hang slightly opened. It surprised you how even after all this time together, Steven still gawked like a schoolboy every time he saw you naked. After a moment like this, he regained his senses and returned to the task at hand (which was making you cum in as many different ways as he could dream of).
“Arms around our neck, love,” Steven encouraged and you complied. Gently, he pulled your hair back off of your shoulders and softly kissed the now exposed flesh. His hands slowly snaked down over your body, touching every bit of skin he could reach. He massaged your full breasts, bringing your dusky nipples to peak before continuing further south. When at last he reached the mound of your sex, he used his fingers to spread your labia.
Your entrance was weeping already just from the tortuous buildup Steven was giving you. You squirmed in his grasp, desperate for him to just touch you already. But Steven liked to take his time with you. He liked to savor every moment, because he was still convinced one of them would be the last and you would be gone forever like every other too-good-to-be-true thing in his life. From the mirror’s reflection, he watched as the anticipation drove you crazy. Sweat began to bead on your brow and in the valley of your breasts. Your opening fluttered around nothing, and Steven swore he could see right inside you.
“You’re gorgeous,” he breathed out like a sigh, and the lust and devotion dripping in his voice made you gasp, the apex of your thighs growing wetter yet. With the middle and index fingers of his right hand, he scooped up some of your fresh slick and spread it through your folds to your clit. The sudden contact caused you to buck your hips upwards. “Easy, love,” Steven murmured. He lightly circled the bud, barely adding pressure until you relaxed in his arms.
He began a steady rhythm, rubbing your now swollen clit as he kissed and licked along your neck and shoulder. His left hand came up to lightly pinch at your sensitive nipples. Basking in the pleasure Steven was freely giving you, you closed your eyes and rested your head back on his shoulder. “Eyes on me, darling,” came Steven’s sweet yet commanding voice. You snapped your head back up to look in the mirror.
You had never been one for watching yourself have sex. Now looking at yourself writhing in Steven’s lap as he worked you over, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t have an effect on you. Clearly, it had an effect on him, too. His erection was growing more and more pronounced, pressing hard against your ass. How you wanted that perfect cock inside you, but you knew he wouldn’t allow it unless you came first.
You gasped as his fingers suddenly breached your entrance. He moved them slowly in and out, listening to the juicy sucking sounds your pussy made. “So wet. So perfect,” he praised. With his other hand he reached down to rub circles over your clit, his fingers curling inside you to hit that spot that nearly had you screaming. “Look at that pretty little cunt, gripping my fingers so nice.” You groaned – you loved it when Steven talked dirty.
His fingers began to move more rapidly as he planted sloppy kisses along the side of your throat. His sinful lips traced along the sensitive area behind your ear that drove you wild. “I love you,” he whispered against your skin, those three little words sounding much sexier than they should have. “Be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?” You whimpered, “fuck…” You came hard, and Steven worked you through it, praising you all the while. “That’s it, that’s our good girl.”
Completely blissed out, you barely registered being lifted up and laid out on the bed. Marc swiftly removed his clothing and joined you, positioning himself between your thighs. With no forewarning, he slid his big cock into your soaked entrance and unceremoniously began fucking you without mercy. You found yourself gripping the edge of the mattress for dear life as he took what he wanted from your pliant body.
“Your pussy was fucking made for this cock,” he growled. The slap, slap, slap of skin against skin was so filthy and his words were so debauched, you had to close your eyes to the onslaught lest you be overwhelmed. Marc raised his hand up to wrap around your throat, closing off your airway just enough to make you feel dizzy. “That’s right, baby,” he gritted out as he continued thrusting. “Fucking take it!” After a few more hard pumps, he released your neck. With the same hand, he gave your thigh a harsh smack, signaling you to flip over onto your stomach. You quickly complied and he grabbed your hips roughly, manhandling you into the exact position he wanted before shoving his dick back inside your abused cunt.
The momentum of his fucking was now slightly altered. You opened your eyes to Steven’s reflection. He was staring down to where you two were connected, watching himself slide in and out in gaping awe. Your pussy clenched violently at the sight and he moaned. “Oh Gods, you feel so good!” Steven massaged the globes of your ass as he fucked you from behind, continually speaking words of praise that had you melting under his touch. “So beautiful like this, darling. You take us so well.”
You were fast approaching your second orgasm when Marc grabbed you cruelly by the hair and hauled you up, flipping you over once again. “Alright, that’s enough,” he stated, bristling with irritation. “I want you to look at who’s actually fucking you.” Your body teetered on the edge of the mattress, but Marc had your hip pinned down forcefully with one powerful arm. His other hand was still gripping you tight, fingers laced in your hair and pulling nearly to the point of pain. In this position, bent awkwardly beneath him, you had a clear view of where you were joined. You gasped at the sight of his gorgeously thick cock penetrating you over and over.
“That’s it, babygirl. Watch this cock fuck that juicy little pussy. That’s all for us, right?”
When you didn’t answer right away, he shook your head a little. You snapped back to attention. “Right, daddy.”
Marc snarled his approval. “That guy at the bar,” he huffed, sweat beginning to drip from his exertion. “What was his fucking name? Todd?” He practically spit the name in your face and you felt your cheeks grow red with shame and arousal. “He doesn’t get to see you like this, does he? Spread wide open, dripping all over this dick.”
“No,” you replied breathlessly.
“I saw the way he looked at you, staring at your tits, wishing he could fucking use you like this.” His free hand reached up and grabbed your breast, squeezing it tightly then pinching your nipple hard enough for you to yelp. “But this doesn’t belong to him, does it?” You could barely speak at this point, you just shook your head weakly. “Who do you belong to, babygirl?” He retightened his grip in your hair to drive home his point.
“You, daddy,” you choked out. “Only you.”
“Damn straight,” he grunted, reaching down to harshly swat at your clit. You cried out in surprise, feeling your walls spasm with your impending release. Marc could feel you clenching around him. He knew how close you were. “Cum on my cock, sweetheart,” he commanded. You did so immediately, wailing as a more powerful orgasm wracked through your body.
Marc slowed his pumping, but he did not stop. You were still catching your breath when you heard a new voice speak lowly from behind you. “Qué linda putita eres, cariño.” You shivered. Jake. Your third boyfriend rarely came out to play, but when he did, he more than made up for your time apart. Marc gently released your hair so your upper half was laying off the edge of the bed. You were now looking upside down in the mirror at Jake’s dangerous smirk. His hips thrust lazily as he stared down at you with those dark eyes that could be hiding any sort of intentions.
Panic washed over you that Jake had heard about the incident at the bar. Of all three men, Jake was the most unpredictable. You had no idea what he would do if he caught you so much as speaking to another man. Jake watched the nervousness play out on your face and his lips twisted up into a devilish sneer. Shit, he knew.
Without breaking eye contact, Jake pushed your legs up over his shoulders, effectively pinning you down and splitting you open for his enjoyment. You were trapped, with nothing to do but take the punishment he was about to deliver. Jake started out slow, but strong. Every thrust of his hips jolted your body so violently you feared you’d be thrown from the bed. As it was, you were barely lying on the bed at all anymore, but Jake kept you in place with brute strength.
“So,” said Jake. “Three men aren’t enough to satisfy you, perra necesitada.” His voice was rougher than Steven’s, but calmer than Marc’s. He did not waver, as if he wasn’t currently impaling you on his hard member. The nonchalance with which he defiled and degraded you was terrifying, a sign of the psychopath within. It electrified and excited you, making you embarrassingly wet.
“I think I need to teach you a lesson, querida. Stevie and Marc are far too soft.” Whatever was coming, you had no choice but to take it. You looked up at his reflection, wide-eyed and mollified. “Necesitas ser disciplinada, to be treated like the slut you are.” Jake’s left hand shot out to slap you coldly across the face. Your pussy fluttered as the sound echoed through the flat. You sobbed, in spite of yourself.
“Shh, mi vida.” Jake smoothed his hand down the side of your face he had just struck. “I know what you need,” he whispered. “You need papi to fuck you right.” He emphasized the last word by pushing so deeply into you, his cock kissed your cervix. Hot flashes of light exploded before your eyes. Jake always liked a little pain mixed with his pleasure, whether he was giving or receiving.
His pelvis pounded mercilessly as he pulled you down onto his throbbing dick. With your head and shoulders still suspended upside down, your heart was working overtime to pump blood in two opposite directions at once. The heady sensation created a sort of euphoria that had you completely drunk on his cock. Jake leaned down, stretching the middle finger of his left hand out to your lips. “Chupada,” he demanded in his dark, gravelly voice. You obediently opened your mouth and took him in, slurping and lapping around the digit until he pulled it back out with a lewd pop. With his finger now thoroughly slickened, he moved it to your swollen clit, pressing down hard and rubbing in fast circles.
Your third orgasm of the evening hit you without warning. You closed your eyes as you came apart around him, the evidence of your most intense release soaking the bedsheets below and splattering on his stomach and chest. “Fuck, hermosa. That was beautiful!” Only seconds passed before they followed you over the edge – Jake with a roar, Marc with a grunted “fuck,” and Steven with a shout of “oh Gods, yes!” The sounds of them finishing were so deliciously erotic, you were sent into a final, smaller orgasm, your cunt clamping down around their twitching cock. You felt their cum flowing into you, filling you to the brim and spilling out around the edges. Jake continued to thrust, fucking his seed deep inside your spent and spasming pussy.
When at last he relented, the room fell silent, save for Jake’s labored breathing and the blood pounding in your ears. “Damn,” he uttered breathlessly. “Te quiero mucho.” He looked down, realizing you hadn’t moved yet. “Are you okay, princesa?” Strong arms lifted you up into Marc’s protective embrace. He looked you all over, making sure you weren’t in pain beyond the usual post-rough sex soreness. Once he was satisfied with your condition, he gently laid you down with your head on the pillow. Marc crawled into bed next to you, pulling the comforter up over you both and kissing your shoulder sweetly before giving the body over to Steven.
You cuddled into his side as Steven wrapped his warm arms around you. He sighed with contentment, looking down at you lovingly. He nuzzled into your hair, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “I’m sorry we were late, love,” he softly spoke.
“S’alright,” you weakly replied, the blood supply to your brain still slowly returning.
Steven chuckled at your blissed-out state. “I hope we weren’t too hard on you,” he fretted. Steven then grew quiet for a moment, telepathically connecting with the alters in his head. Having reached some sort of conclusion, he announced out loud, “I’m only glad Khonshu didn’t see. No telling what he would’ve done.” You cringed. You were very sure that whatever consequences the three men had given you, it was nothing compared to the judgement the God of the moon would lay down.
Your troubled thoughts were interrupted by an unanticipated yawn. Steven smiled fondly. “Get some rest, darling. We’ll be here when you wake.” He kissed you chastely, drawing up the covers around you. As the loves of your life watched over you, you drifted off into a peaceful, sated sleep. With your last conscious thought, you mused that if this was your punishment, then perhaps you should giggle at handsome strangers in bars more often…