Amy continued to get herself ready. She put her hair up in a ponytail, the better for Devon to hold on to, assuming he didn't tie her hands up and use the knots for a handhold. She did her lipstick black, made sure especially to put on eyeliner that could streak down her cheeks, and clasped on her collar. It was a gift from last month, and she knew Devon wanted her to wear it for his visit this month.
Once she had that taken care of, she checked her outfit one more time. A little goth hottie stood looking back at her. Short, black pleated skirt, a skimpy black spaghetti strap that showed her nipple piercings on her B-cups, along with fishnets and calf-high boots with a 4-inch heel. She lifted her skirt just once to make sure she had shaved fully bare. Devon hated any hair on her pussy at all.
She could hear Greg, her husband, rustling in their room. He was nesting in his video game chair, headphones on. He hated the visits from Devon and company. Only twice had they allowed him to join in on the fun. He got sex from Amy on the regular anyway, but since that first day, it was never really the same between the two of them.
Just thinking about that first time...if she was wearing panties, they'd be soaked. Instead she started to leak a little down her leg.
*******
It was just another Friday. That's the way Amy remembers it starting. Maybe a mostly typical Friday. For once, her mom had Suzie, and she had a few friends over for games and maybe a few drinks, nothing serious. A few card games, a couple of Smirnoff Ices, and the party was winding down by about 1 am.
By this point, she had said "bye" to almost the last of the guests. Brandon and Devon lounged on the couch, chatting with Greg about video games. She left them to it and headed to the bedroom to change into short shorts for bed and a tight-fitting, brightly-colored tank top. After she was changed, she headed to the restroom.
Secretly, she had fantasies about Brandon and Devon. Greg was a little lacking in some ways. Taller than she was, but only by three inches, at 5'7". His build was okay. Stocky, with muscle behind it, but no one would call him sexy. He sported a classic haircut and a light goatee nowadays. It looked okay in his sand blond hair, but she liked him better shaved. Amy loved him, but as far as her imagination was concerned, when they hit the bedroom, he was Brad Pitt instead.
Brandon ticked a few more of her boxes. Shaggy, shoulder-length, wavy, brunette hair that made him look like what she imagined a musketeer looked like if he shaved. He was a little lanky, but on his 6-foot frame, it looked good. Coupled with his softer facial features, he could have easily passed for a girl if he did drag. For bi-sexual Amy, it was like having the best of both worlds that turned her on.
Devon overshadowed them both. A strong, 6'2" body with defined muscles. Not like a bodybuilder, more like a farm boy. He shaved his head, but this night he had just a little stubble on top. His tattoos just peeked around the sleeves of his shirt, which was tight enough to make her think delicious thoughts of one day finding out what was underneath. His strong jaw and deep voice essentially made him her go-to when she needed an orgasm, at least when Greg pissed her off...which was often.
She took a little extra time in the restroom, figuring it was almost time for her to try to lie down and get some sleep. But she did a little reading of the latest smut on AO3 just to give her some good dreams. She doesn't even remember what it was about. She heard a little commotion outside, but disregarded it as just the guys being guys.
She bookmarked her reading, cleaned herself, flushed, washed her hands, and headed out to tell the guys good night. She saw Devon's head from the hallway, still on the couch, but Greg and Brandon weren't visible at first. As she came around the corner though, she knew that something was very wrong.
There was Greg, bound and gagged, tied to a kitchen chair on the far side of the living room, opposite the kitchen.
Before she could turn and run to the bedroom, Brandon stepped out of the doorway and cut off her retreat. Devon was quick to jump over the back of the couch and steal up behind her. He flashed a rather large blade around her throat and quickly covered her mouth.
Huskily, he breathed into her ear: "Hey, Amy. Why don't you join us in the living room?" He slid the knife across her neck in warning. The feeling of the metal on her sensitive neck triggered her a little bit, but she was more terrified than she always imagined she would be in her fantasies. She had a knife kink, but in this moment, fear overwhelmed her excitement. The look in Brandon's eyes told her they both meant business.
He pulled her into the space behind the couch, the part that's not quite the living room and not quite the dining room. There, on the floor, was a bag she hadn't noticed before. Brandon reached into the bag and pulled out a short length of rope. With deft hands, he grabbed her wrists to bind them. She thought about fighting back, but Devon had wrapped an arm around her to hold her still, and the knife blade was almost slicing her skin already. A wrong move, and her blood would spill quickly and violently.
Devon must have felt her acceptance of the situation. He nodded to Brandon, then grabbed her hair and circled to her front, still keeping the knife in place near her jugular, while Brandon pulled her arms behind her to bind them tightly. The rope was long enough to wrap around her wrists, up to her elbows, and wrap around her torso. Brandon must have studied the proper technique, because she felt like a shibari girl, complete with the rope tight around the top and bottom of her breasts. Again, she would have been gushing like a waterfall if this were consensual.
Now tightly bound, she was pushed to a chair and sat down strongly by Devon. She's always admired his strong physique, but then, it frightened her. Devon now snatched a little of her hair and pulled hard to lean her head back and stretch her neck out so he could wrap his strong hand around it. Held this way, she looked up at her captor and started to realize what they had in mind. Sure, Brandon and Devon had danced in her mind's eye when she was alone, fantasizing about what they would feel like inside her quivering moist pussy, but even she hadn't allowed it to be forced, and never both together. Tears streamed down her face, and her voice wavered as she whispered, "Please....no."
Devon responded: "Oh, but Amy, we've been planning this for a while. We know you've cuckolded old Greg before, and we've seen you look at us. We got tired of waiting for you to make the move, and we thought it best if we tried this whole thing together and made Greg watch so he could finally see what a dirty girl he married."
Brandon spent the time Devon was talking by binding her ankles to erase any chance of escape. She swallowed hard, but her throat is dry. It won't be long and they would be using her, and she knew it. Greg knew it too, but no matter how he fought against his rope or his gag, neither would give way. He would be witness to this. Secretly she hoped that when it's over that they kill her, because he would never see her the same.
She had a sudden thought that death would be better than this, and tried to fight back, but Devon clamped his hand around her throat hard. She started to see stars as she lost the air in her lungs.
"Now, now. This won't be as bad as you think. Try to enjoy yourself," Brandon finally spoke. His hands were brushing her bare thighs, all the way up to where her short shorts ended. She knew he could probably see her womanhood the way he's spread her knees, and she got embarrassed in spite of knowing he was going to bare it soon anyway. It was still a little moist from her reading in the bathroom.
Devon had taken his knife and slid it on the table, there to remind her of the pain of disobedience, but now freeing a hand he could use to undo his jeans. He was slowly stroking his cock to get it hard while he kept one hand on her throat, which was loosened to allow her to breathe again. her eyes were drawn to his cock, thick, and getting longer by the second. Maybe not the biggest cock she'd ever seen, but maybe bigger than she thought he might be packing. The head kept getting closer and closer to her face. Weirdly, her body was starting to respond. This whole situation was fucked up, but she'd gone too long without a proper orgasm and here were two cocks willing to try to make that happen. Her body wanted it, even if her mind fought it.
Devon looked down at her opened eyes and stared. "You gonna be a good girl, or will I have to bleed you a little to get what I want?"
"Good girl," she said.
"We'll see about that. Normally I'd make you jack me off, but it seems your hands cannot be useful right now. Open up."
She wanted to say no. She wanted to bite the head of his cock off for raping her like this, but pain wouldn't make this situation any better, so she opened her mouth to accept him in.
He started with just the head. She left her jaw slack and let him slide in and out, letting this cock slide across her tongue. She was so disgusted she wanted to puke. His hand on her throat clamped her reflex closed and he wasn't going deep, so maybe she could outlast him.
Brandon had been very gently feeling her inner thighs and sliding his finger across her clothed pussy. He had also pulled his cock out (she could hear his light fapping as his belt buckle went tink tink tink), but seemed more interested in trying to make her wetter if he could. He's almost there, but she was trying to fight it with all she was worth. Yes, they've hit her kinks, but damn them. He slowly realizes that playing with her with her shorts on won't cut it.
"Hey, Devon, mind if we start getting these clothes off?"
"Yeah, but let's move so Greg gets a better view."
Devon pulled his cock out of her mouth, and buttoned just the top button so his pants didn't fall down. Brandon began to lift her bound feet while Devon reached under her shoulders. It was uncomfortable. Luckily, it was over soon, as they lifted her over the back of the couch and laid her down on the cushions. They both came around, and with a little work, pulled her into a standing position in the empty space in the middle of the room, just a few feet from Greg.
"Doesn't she look sexy all trussed up like this," said Devon with a sneer. "Let's make it sexier."
She didn't know when, but he had retrieved his knife and now she felt it slowly slide into her shirt. He worked the knife around the ropes to completely remove the fabric around her tits. Now free, her breasts heaved as she tried to breathe. She quietly sobbed, wondering why this was happening.
A few other quick flicks of his knife and Devon has her shorts and panties on the floor. She shivered at the cool air of the house now blowing gently over her bald vulva. Greg is also sobbing at the sight of her, naked, with a cock being stroked on either side of her.
"God damn....nipple piercings. You are a little slut, aren't you?" Devon growled. "Say it...say you're a little slut."
