The pleasure had become constant. For three weeks, Elena existed in a haze of orgasms and possession. They f****d her morning and night — in her bed, their bed, the car, the elevator when it got stuck between floors.
She’d learned to take both of them at once, one in her p***y and one in her ass, the stretch burning perfect and right. She’d learned to come on command, to beg properly, to call them Sir and Master and mean it.
She was happy. Stupidly, dangerously happy. That Friday, she left work early, her p***y already wet with anticipation. They’d texted her at lunch — Tonight. Three of us. All night. — and she’d spent the afternoon squirming in her chair, counting the minutes.
Elena showered, shaved, prepared herself. She wore black lace — a garter belt, stockings, a sheer teddy that
