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wolfanficsTitle: Slut
Author: Sashataakheru
Fandom: AusComedy/The Chaser
Characters: Adam Hills, Wil Anderson, girl!Craig Reucassel
Pairings: Adam/Wil, Wil/girl!Craig, Adam/girl!Craig, Adam/Wil/girl!Craig
Prompt: #18 Whips/Paddles for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
50kinkyways
Word Count: 1,457
Warnings: kink, bondage, paddles, chains, etc.
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: I don’t know them, not associated with them, just a slashy fangirl admirer with a very active imagination.
Author's Notes: Wil/girl!Craig became Wil/Adam/girl!Craig. XD Dedicated to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fan_girl63 because she is awesome. <3
Summary: Girl!Craig wanted to play, Wil wanted to be beaten, and Adam wanted to know why he wasn’t initially invited. XD Wil’s POV.
Slut
S-she grabbed my collar hard, pulling me back onto my knees. I couldn’t see anything. She’d blindfolded me. I couldn’t feel anything. Then – nails. Christ. S-he was scratching my skin, slowly at first, light caresses that promised pain. She leant down next to me, her arms around my shoulders. Her hair tickled my neck as she whispered in my ear.
“You lack possession. This is unacceptable. You must be marked as mine, and as his. We own you completely.”
I shivered at her words. Ownership. Her voice was low and hinted at the man she really was, I could hear that intoxicating growl in her voice that always made me obey, but she always insisted on ‘she’ during playtime, and I was loathe to stop her. She said I needed a feminine influence to counter his hand.
Then there was another body on the other side of me, and I knew him, knew his smell, wanted his touch more than I needed to breathe. Adam would always bring out that reaction in me. He was like my twin. We couldn’t exist without each other. A finger caressed my cheek, I knew it was his, and shivered as he trailed his fingers down my chest. Then, there was sharp pain as he bit my neck. Her tongue traced around my ear. Their hands touched me everywhere.
He grabbed my face and kissed me, deeply, eagerly. He moved in front of me and as he pulled away, I chased his touch. I needed him. I might’ve loved her, but I needed him. He pulled me to my feet and secured my hands to the shackles hanging from the ceiling. I was standing alright, and I knew I could rely on the chains to bear my weight when I tired. I waited.
She crept up beside me and leant on me. Her heel caressed my shins and I swallowed, hoping she wouldn’t bruise me with them again. She leant in to me as she caressed my chest with those nails.
“Gonna beat you, slut. Need to be marked. Do you wanna be owned?”
God, her voice. I could never disobey that voice. “Yes. Own me completely. Please, mistress,” I found myself whispering to her.
She chuckled then and kissed me. I melted at her touch. It was like fire. He – his hands, they snaked around my chest. He bit my neck again, and the pain was glorious.
They tortured me like that for some time. I was panting with need soon enough. She was pressed against me from behind, and I knew what was coming next. I always had to remind myself it was real, that the corsets, heels, wigs and dresses were all an illusion, albeit a very convincing one. Underneath was a man I loved who knew my heart and what it wanted.
He was pressed against me as well. I could feel his nipple ring. If I was on my knees, he’d have made me suck it. He was slowly working his way down my chest, toying with me, until he was on his knees before me, teasing my cock as she traced her nails across my needy skin. It was exquisite.
The first strike from the paddle shocked me. I knew I was going to be beaten, but she never gives me any clues. She’s silent, like a cat. He grabbed my hips to steady me before getting to his feet. He wrapped his arms around me to hold me still while she beat me, hitting my thighs and arse with that paddle. She didn’t rush. She never does. She always let the afterpain linger in my skin before she struck again.
He kissed me to take my mind off the pain, though really, the pain wasn’t that bad. The paddle hitting my skin actually made it sound worse than it was. I loved the feel of his leather pants against my skin. And when she pressed against me again, biting my neck hard, I felt like the luckiest guy in the world.
I was aware of them sharing a kiss across my shoulder. I could hear their moaning in my ear. I loved that they gave each other pleasure as well as me. Her hand slid down and caressed the red skin where I’d been marked. The lightest touch of her nails sent shivers down my spine. I hardly breathed. I was waiting for her to fuck me, like I knew she wanted to.
But I was wrong again. I really should stop trying to predict her actions. I’m never right. They switched places, and she knelt in front of me as he grabbed my hips. Christ. He was going to fuck me instead. That was a rare occurrence when we played together like this. Usually she had ownership of my arse and fucked me whenever she wanted. That it was him instead was very special. I had little time to think before she took me into her mouth. I was so distracted and so turned on that he hardly needed to prepare me before he was pushing inside me.
I sometimes feel ashamed at how much the pain arouses me. I kept wishing for him to fuck me hard, to keep crashing into my sore skin. I would be broken and bruised in the morning, but I won’t regret a moment of it. The double sensations of being fucked and of her mouth around my cock as she ran her teeth ever so gently along it were mind-blowing. Nothing mattered. Nothing fucking mattered at all.
He bit my neck as he came, jerking hard into me. His arms held me tightly, wrapping around my chest possessively. She pulled back as I came. I felt her dress against my skin as she rose to her feet. A hand curled around my head and she kissed me, well, tongue-fucked me, actually. Her hands slowly lifted the blindfold off as she kissed me. It didn’t matter. I still had my eyes shut.
They both left me at the same time, and he came and stood next to her as they looked me over. She was still hard, I could see her erection. But Gods she was beautiful. She handed him a paddle, presumably the same one she’d used on me before, and leant back against the wall to watch. He considered me for a moment before slapping me with the paddle on my chest. I had the breath knocked out of me, but that may have been because I was exhausted and my arms were aching. It was only when I looked down that I noticed what was special about that paddle and why I’d been marked with it. Emblazoned on my chest were four large red letters spelling out the word “SLUT.”
She walked over to me again and caressed the red letters with her nails. He dropped the paddle and released my wrists. He caught me in his arms and carried me to the bed. She followed us and lay down beside me, tracing patterns on my chest with her fingers. I watched amused as she kicked the heels off and ditched the wig. Playtime was over.
“All mine. Isn’t that right, Wil?” she said. Sorry, Craig said. He wasn’t my mistress anymore.
I’m not allowed to call him Craig when he’s my mistress. She doesn’t have a name. She just is. He’s different, but I’m not allowed to call him by name when we’re playing. I’m not usually allowed to speak at all.
“All yours. Can we not do that for at least a week? My arms are killing me,” I said.
“Poor darling. This isn’t an attempt to get a massage out of me, is it?” Adam said. He was propped up beside me, smiling down at me.
“Well, I wouldn’t say no if you did want to make my muscles not hurt as much. Don’t I get some aftercare?” I said, pouting at him.
“Alright, alright. Come on, Craig. Our little baby needs our attention,” Adam said.
I’d have reached up and hugged them then, but my arms wouldn’t move, so I had to make do with lying there as they sat me up and rubbed my arms and my back.
And when we’d cleaned up and showered, we left the room behind, leaving as equals. We held hands and they walked either side of me. I was their slut, and damn proud to be so. I wish the whole world could’ve seen the marks on me. They were glorious. They wouldn’t last, sadly, but they would find their own way to mark me as their own. They didn’t need to, though. I knew in my heart I would always be theirs.
Author: Sashataakheru
Fandom: AusComedy/The Chaser
Characters: Adam Hills, Wil Anderson, girl!Craig Reucassel
Pairings: Adam/Wil, Wil/girl!Craig, Adam/girl!Craig, Adam/Wil/girl!Craig
Prompt: #18 Whips/Paddles for
50kinkyways Word Count: 1,457
Warnings: kink, bondage, paddles, chains, etc.
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: I don’t know them, not associated with them, just a slashy fangirl admirer with a very active imagination.
Author's Notes: Wil/girl!Craig became Wil/Adam/girl!Craig. XD Dedicated to
fan_girl63 because she is awesome. <3Summary: Girl!Craig wanted to play, Wil wanted to be beaten, and Adam wanted to know why he wasn’t initially invited. XD Wil’s POV.
Slut
S-she grabbed my collar hard, pulling me back onto my knees. I couldn’t see anything. She’d blindfolded me. I couldn’t feel anything. Then – nails. Christ. S-he was scratching my skin, slowly at first, light caresses that promised pain. She leant down next to me, her arms around my shoulders. Her hair tickled my neck as she whispered in my ear.
“You lack possession. This is unacceptable. You must be marked as mine, and as his. We own you completely.”
I shivered at her words. Ownership. Her voice was low and hinted at the man she really was, I could hear that intoxicating growl in her voice that always made me obey, but she always insisted on ‘she’ during playtime, and I was loathe to stop her. She said I needed a feminine influence to counter his hand.
Then there was another body on the other side of me, and I knew him, knew his smell, wanted his touch more than I needed to breathe. Adam would always bring out that reaction in me. He was like my twin. We couldn’t exist without each other. A finger caressed my cheek, I knew it was his, and shivered as he trailed his fingers down my chest. Then, there was sharp pain as he bit my neck. Her tongue traced around my ear. Their hands touched me everywhere.
He grabbed my face and kissed me, deeply, eagerly. He moved in front of me and as he pulled away, I chased his touch. I needed him. I might’ve loved her, but I needed him. He pulled me to my feet and secured my hands to the shackles hanging from the ceiling. I was standing alright, and I knew I could rely on the chains to bear my weight when I tired. I waited.
She crept up beside me and leant on me. Her heel caressed my shins and I swallowed, hoping she wouldn’t bruise me with them again. She leant in to me as she caressed my chest with those nails.
“Gonna beat you, slut. Need to be marked. Do you wanna be owned?”
God, her voice. I could never disobey that voice. “Yes. Own me completely. Please, mistress,” I found myself whispering to her.
She chuckled then and kissed me. I melted at her touch. It was like fire. He – his hands, they snaked around my chest. He bit my neck again, and the pain was glorious.
They tortured me like that for some time. I was panting with need soon enough. She was pressed against me from behind, and I knew what was coming next. I always had to remind myself it was real, that the corsets, heels, wigs and dresses were all an illusion, albeit a very convincing one. Underneath was a man I loved who knew my heart and what it wanted.
He was pressed against me as well. I could feel his nipple ring. If I was on my knees, he’d have made me suck it. He was slowly working his way down my chest, toying with me, until he was on his knees before me, teasing my cock as she traced her nails across my needy skin. It was exquisite.
The first strike from the paddle shocked me. I knew I was going to be beaten, but she never gives me any clues. She’s silent, like a cat. He grabbed my hips to steady me before getting to his feet. He wrapped his arms around me to hold me still while she beat me, hitting my thighs and arse with that paddle. She didn’t rush. She never does. She always let the afterpain linger in my skin before she struck again.
He kissed me to take my mind off the pain, though really, the pain wasn’t that bad. The paddle hitting my skin actually made it sound worse than it was. I loved the feel of his leather pants against my skin. And when she pressed against me again, biting my neck hard, I felt like the luckiest guy in the world.
I was aware of them sharing a kiss across my shoulder. I could hear their moaning in my ear. I loved that they gave each other pleasure as well as me. Her hand slid down and caressed the red skin where I’d been marked. The lightest touch of her nails sent shivers down my spine. I hardly breathed. I was waiting for her to fuck me, like I knew she wanted to.
But I was wrong again. I really should stop trying to predict her actions. I’m never right. They switched places, and she knelt in front of me as he grabbed my hips. Christ. He was going to fuck me instead. That was a rare occurrence when we played together like this. Usually she had ownership of my arse and fucked me whenever she wanted. That it was him instead was very special. I had little time to think before she took me into her mouth. I was so distracted and so turned on that he hardly needed to prepare me before he was pushing inside me.
I sometimes feel ashamed at how much the pain arouses me. I kept wishing for him to fuck me hard, to keep crashing into my sore skin. I would be broken and bruised in the morning, but I won’t regret a moment of it. The double sensations of being fucked and of her mouth around my cock as she ran her teeth ever so gently along it were mind-blowing. Nothing mattered. Nothing fucking mattered at all.
He bit my neck as he came, jerking hard into me. His arms held me tightly, wrapping around my chest possessively. She pulled back as I came. I felt her dress against my skin as she rose to her feet. A hand curled around my head and she kissed me, well, tongue-fucked me, actually. Her hands slowly lifted the blindfold off as she kissed me. It didn’t matter. I still had my eyes shut.
They both left me at the same time, and he came and stood next to her as they looked me over. She was still hard, I could see her erection. But Gods she was beautiful. She handed him a paddle, presumably the same one she’d used on me before, and leant back against the wall to watch. He considered me for a moment before slapping me with the paddle on my chest. I had the breath knocked out of me, but that may have been because I was exhausted and my arms were aching. It was only when I looked down that I noticed what was special about that paddle and why I’d been marked with it. Emblazoned on my chest were four large red letters spelling out the word “SLUT.”
She walked over to me again and caressed the red letters with her nails. He dropped the paddle and released my wrists. He caught me in his arms and carried me to the bed. She followed us and lay down beside me, tracing patterns on my chest with her fingers. I watched amused as she kicked the heels off and ditched the wig. Playtime was over.
“All mine. Isn’t that right, Wil?” she said. Sorry, Craig said. He wasn’t my mistress anymore.
I’m not allowed to call him Craig when he’s my mistress. She doesn’t have a name. She just is. He’s different, but I’m not allowed to call him by name when we’re playing. I’m not usually allowed to speak at all.
“All yours. Can we not do that for at least a week? My arms are killing me,” I said.
“Poor darling. This isn’t an attempt to get a massage out of me, is it?” Adam said. He was propped up beside me, smiling down at me.
“Well, I wouldn’t say no if you did want to make my muscles not hurt as much. Don’t I get some aftercare?” I said, pouting at him.
“Alright, alright. Come on, Craig. Our little baby needs our attention,” Adam said.
I’d have reached up and hugged them then, but my arms wouldn’t move, so I had to make do with lying there as they sat me up and rubbed my arms and my back.
And when we’d cleaned up and showered, we left the room behind, leaving as equals. We held hands and they walked either side of me. I was their slut, and damn proud to be so. I wish the whole world could’ve seen the marks on me. They were glorious. They wouldn’t last, sadly, but they would find their own way to mark me as their own. They didn’t need to, though. I knew in my heart I would always be theirs.
