Disciplined (2 page)

T
he stretch limousine glided through the Holland Tunnel, heading for Philadelphia. Inside the spacious vehicle, Niklas, comfortably relaxed, flipped through glossy pages of a sports magazine. With time to kill, Sebastian balanced his laptop on his knees, checked e-mail, and visited favorite cyberspaces.

For Yoyin, the euphoria of the shoe orgy had faded. She sat in the middle of the two men with her hands in her lap, eyes closed and sulking. Announcing her miserable mood, she sighed loudly.

“Champagne?” Sebastian asked.

She shook her head.

“A bite to eat?” Niklas suggested.

“I’m bored,” she said without opening her eyes.

Without a moment of hesitation, Sebastian clicked several keys, and the computer whirred as it began to shut down. Her lips upturned slightly as she listened to the pleasant sounds of paper rustling of the magazine being put away.

Sebastian undid the tiny buttons on her blouse and removed the soft fabric. He squeezed her shoulders and then flicked the satin bra straps off her shoulders. His heavy fingers pressed into her delicate skin. “Press harder,” she whispered, urging him to
leave an imprint—a scratch, a blister, a scar—a lingering wound that would sustain her long after he and Niklas left.

“Not yet,” Sebastian whispered. “There’s plenty of time,” he reminded her, his husky voice filled with promise and seduction.

Niklas worked at the back of her bra. The brush of his fingers against her skin sent tiny jolts of electricity ripping through her breasts, tantalizing her tender crests until the sharp points poked through the bra’s flimsy lace and demanded to be sucked. His nimble fingers unclasped the back of her bra and released high, proud breasts with tightened buds—both pierced with glimmering body jewelry.

Niklas and Sebastian lowered their heads in sync and covered her breasts with their lips—suctioning in the rings along with Yoyin’s rigid nipples. She gasped and clutched the backs of their heads, panting and murmuring her urgency and need.

Using the tip of their tongues, they drew tiny, hot circles around her nipples—clockwise at first and then the opposite direction. Yoyin clenched her teeth, bunched up her shoulders to control her emotions and to fight the building throbbing taking place between her legs. The drive to Philadelphia would last at least another hour, and her pussy was becoming restless. But she needed to trust that Sebastian would exercise superior time management skills, prioritizing her bodily needs effectively and efficiently.

Breathing in, she willed her body to relax and allow her capable assistants to pleasure her at a leisurely pace. Trying to withstand the onslaught of heated breath and moist lips that taunted her pierced nipples, Yoyin twisted and thrashed in delightful sexual agony. Her attendants stroked and lathed her nipples until they tightened into deep cherry-colored knots of yearning.

The sloshing sound of two wet tongues lashing her hardened pearls in synchronicity intensified her arousal, nearly sending her
into a frenzy of passion. Yoyin’s fingers curled, her nails dug into the backs of their heads as she smashed their mouths into her aching, turgid peaks.

“Niklas!” she cried, her fingers tangling in his glorious white-gold mane, pulling his lips away from her pebbled tip. “Oh, Niklas!” she uttered, the sound primal and animalistic. “My pussy…” she gasped. Her words were halted in her mouth and throat. She was too worked up to articulate her needs.

Niklas stilled his tongue, waiting for Yoyin to continue.

She shuddered and mumbled sounds of distress and then gathered the strength to communicate coherently. “My cunt is in such an uproar…I can’t control it.” The words tumbled from trembling lips.

She heard a soft growl from the back of his throat, assuring her of Niklas’ willingness to oblige her wanton cravings.

She expected Sebastian to frown down at his watch and shake his head in solemn protest, considering it too soon for Niklas to cater to her cunt. Niklas’ hard-working tongue was capable of giving her a much-too-early sexual release. Sebastian realized Yoyin would become bored and moody if the sexual stimulation wasn’t prolonged; she had to be kept sexually occupied for the full duration of the ride.

Surprisingly, Sebastian didn’t intervene. Yoyin stole a glance and sighed in pleasure at the sight of Niklas journeying downward toward her pleasure center

Sebastian retrieved the breast Niklas had abandoned. Tenderly, he cupped both small mounds together. Yoyin gave a sharp gasp of surprise when he suddenly pinched her engorged tips. He twisted the rings until she winced and threw her head back. Lips pressed together, she stifled the urge to cry out and beg for his cock. Her hand moved rapidly, caressing the back of Sebastian’s
perfectly shaped, shaved head. Each stroke of her palm thanked him for anticipating her needs and rationing the appropriate amount of pleasure and pain in carefully measured increments.

Sebastian inserted his tongue inside a silver ring dangling from her left nipple and tugged at it. Her breath caught, and she braced herself for another twinge, a teasing sting that was bound to make her pussy lips pucker up in anticipation of a passionate kiss. But the pain she craved was withheld as Sebastian now taunted her breasts with feathery kisses, moist licks, and gentle sucking—punishing her with the type of foreplay enjoyed by ordinary women.

“Hurt me, Sebastian,” she demanded, defiantly wiggling into an upright position. But Sebastian pressed her backward and continued to torment her—licking leisurely and suckling softly at her tortured peaks.

Hiking up her skirt, Niklas pressed his fingers against the thin strip of fabric inside the crotch of her thong. Tucked between firm thighs, her pierced pussy lips tingled at his touch. Niklas pushed inside her, inserting a finger covered by a white patch of cotton panty crotch. He probed slowly, sensually, until her cunt saturated the cotton with creamy desire. Niklas penetrated deeper, his knuckle pushing against the jeweled rings that decorated her pussy.

His taunting finger put her on edge, irritating and provoking her. On edge, she writhed, spreading her knees apart and tugging at her thong. “I’ve had enough of the gentle treatment. Stop being a sissy!” Yoyin hissed, rising up and causing her nipples to slip from Sebastian’s mouth. “No more cotton-covered finger probing, goddammit! Take them off. Remove my thong.” Her eyes, wide and wild, shot back and forth from Sebastian’s to
Niklas’ impassive faces. “Don’t stare at me like two blithering idiots.” She drew in air and continued to rant. “I want to feel your hard-driving cocks—one in my cunt and the other in my ass. Do as I say, you insolent bastards!”

Tears of fury stung Yoyin’s eyes.

Niklas crouched between her angrily shaking legs and gripped them in a steely embrace. “Shh.” His breath breezed through the cotton crotch, sending splinters of excitement inside the moist split of her sex. Yoyin gasped and shuddered, worked up to the brink of an orgasm.

“Try to control yourself,” Sebastian whispered as he pulled her torso against his broad chest, restraining her with hands that squeezed her breasts to the point of pain.

“Ah,” she murmured, satisfied that she was getting her way. Quick as a flash, his twisting fist relaxed, and his open palm delivered tender caresses.

Furious, Yoyin tried to wrench away from Sebastian’s embrace, but she couldn’t break free. She settled down and endured his tender touch and was rewarded with light scratches against her smooth breasts. Blissfully, she lowered her eyelids as his neatly trimmed fingernails scraped her tits, and nicked her beaded flesh.

Below, Niklas grazed his teeth against the crotch of her thong and snagged a pussy ring, which gave her a sting of fleeting, insignificant pain. She bucked, stretched, struggled, and cursed—all to no avail. Apparently, causing her to suffer from delayed pleasure was the only pain her attendants were willing to provide.

Yoyin maneuvered into the warmth of Sebastian’s strong embrace and whimpered like a child. He kissed her pouting lips until they parted in surrender.

Niklas rolled his tongue against her puckered pussy lips and then pulled off her thong. He held the satiny fabric close to his face and inhaled the fragrance. The strong, musky scent of hot pussy wafted in the air, filling the limousine with the aroma of sex. When the smell reached the driver’s nostrils, his manhood stiffened. Intoxicated by Yoyin’s womanly scent, he swerved and careened out of his lane as if a drunken-driver had suddenly taken control of the wheel.

Yoyin sprang up. “What the hell is going on?” she shouted at the driver.

“He can smell your pussy. It’s driving him wild,” Sebastian whispered in her ear, his words sending her into a heated frenzy.

Through the rearview mirror, she could see desire burning in the driver’s eyes. Despite her elevated level of arousal she snapped at the limo driver, “Why are you gawking at me? Keep your eyes on the road where they belong, you disgusting voyeur!”

“Yes, ma’am.” Mopping perspiration from his brow, the driver concentrated and kept his gaze focused straight ahead.

Sebastian pulled her against his broad chest, molding her body to his. She glimpsed Niklas lowering his pants and unsheathing his hard male sword.

With lust-filled eyes, she watched as Niklas crouched between her divide and used four fingers to scrape the cream from her dewy core. He used her moisture to lubricate his weapon, polishing it to a brilliant shine. His ivory-colored machinery was long and beautifully shaped—crafted to perfection. From the smooth, sloping head of his penis and down to his full and plump testicles and taut scrotum, his total male package was an alluring sight.

Niklas wrapped his hand around his stiffened length; he let out
a low moan as he aligned the ultra-sensitive tip against Yoyin’s heated opening. He rubbed it slowly and circularly until her overheated pussy responded with popping and sizzling sounds. She moaned and raised her hips, thrusting forward as she tried to capture more of his cock. Leaning forward, she clutched his shoulders and pulled his mouth to her nipples that were held in offering by Sebastian’s large dark hands.

With Niklas’ cock imprisoned between her thighs, Yoyin threw her long copper-colored legs around his waist, forcing his magnificent weaponry inside. It slid past her pierced petals and burrowed deep inside the core of hungry, hot pussy. Undulating, her breath came out in short gasps.

“Fuck me like a man; I need it hard and fast,” she challenged, knowing that her legs, tightly wound around his waist, prevented him from increasing his pace. “You fuck like a prissy little girl,” she taunted. “Stop acting prim and girlish, fuck my pussy until it’s raw.” She intertwined her fingers in Niklas’ long hair, yanking it insultingly.

“You’re overwrought. Calm down,” Sebastian whispered in her ear, guiding her nipple back inside Niklas’ mouth. “Relax and let Niklas satisfy your hunger.”

“He can’t satisfy me; change places with him,” she demanded. “I want a hard, driving fuck,” she growled.

Without warning, Niklas drove inside her with vigorous thrusts, using speed and force, and sending bolts of heat rushing through her system. Snarling and panting like a vicious animal, he bit one peaked nipple and then the other. “Am I man enough for you?” His pleasant features twisted into a surly mask of anger. “Answer me,” Niklas demanded. “Am I man enough for you?”

“Yes!” she cried out in passion, as he stroked her velvet walls
until they became tender and pink. Yoyin opened her mouth to scream.

Sebastian turned her head to the side and muffled her scream with his full, darkly outlined lips. He kissed and fondled her pouting lips with loving tenderness, while Niklas mercilessly plunged inside her.

Sexually stirred by the depraved activity taking place in the back of the limo, the driver stealthily unzipped his pants and released his painful erection. Throwing caution to the wind, he steered with one hand and stroked his dick with the other. A half hour later, the limo cruised over the Walt Whitman Bridge. Miraculously, the lustful driver had satisfied himself without causing a collision. He and the three decadent passengers arrived in Philadelphia all sexually satiated and physically unscathed.

Y
oyin awakened with a start. Her arms outstretched, she frantically patted the empty spaces on each side of her. She sprang upright.

“Niklas! Sebastian!” Her tone was filled with desperation, and her voice echoed inside her vast bedroom. Sourly and abruptly, she pressed her lips together as she recalled that she had given her two attendants a few days off. Now, she was alone. Sorrow consumed her. And then another emotion—emptiness—swallowed her.

The hollowed-out feeling of emptiness hit as hard as a furious fist. She cried out, bent at the waist, clutching her abdomen and rocking forward, as if protecting herself from another harsh blow.

Sebastian!
Images of his big black cock mercilessly banging inside her feminine interior evoked a soft sigh.
Niklas!
His large ivory tusk had rammed and impaled her.
Mmm.
They’d fucked her ferociously—in the limo as well as in her bed. Two dicks had simultaneously pumped inside her pussy and asshole. The dual penetration had filled her completely, providing painful pleasure until she collapsed, totally spent.

So, why did she feel so empty? Curious, her fingers trailed down to her vagina, searching…seeking…needing to know. She
touched her pierced petals and winced in pain.
Ah! Yes
. Her cunt was raw. Her body jewelry was dislodged, and pieces were missing—absolute proof that her cunt had been thoroughly ransacked and plundered. The way she wanted it. The way she needed it. Still, Yoyin wanted more.

Rough sex was her addiction. The perfect escape from horrific memories that plagued her. But like a narcotic, violent sex provided only temporary relief.

She jerked her head toward the phone. She needed help. But who?
Irena!
Yes, her butch bitch would come to her rescue. Urgently, she picked up the phone.

“Irena,” she said breathlessly the instant the call connected. “I’m so sorry about our quarrel last week,” she blurted insincerely. “Please accept my apology. I want to see you tonight,” Yoyin said, rushing on before Irena could speak. “Actually, I need you to get here as quickly as you can.” Smiling wistfully, images came to mind of the last time Irena had paid her a visit, strapped with a humongous dick. Feeling revitalized, she spoke more animatedly. “Don’t forget to bring your strap-on—the mammoth dark one with the bulging veins,” Yoyin reminded.

“Screw you!” Irena snarled. “I’m not your human fuck toy!” The line abruptly went dead.

Mouth agape, Yoyin looked at the phone in amazement.
Bitch!
She considered redialing Irena’s number, but she rejected the idea. Yoyin Ayikade did not engage in shouting matches over plastic dicks. Furious, her chest heaved as she contemplated her next move. There was no way to contain her irritation and frustration. Scanning her enormous bedroom, her eyes landed on a towering stack of glossy, signature shoe boxes. Sebastian and Niklas had arranged her recent purchases in an eye-catching display that resembled an exhibit piece at the Philadelphia
Museum of Art or the Guggenheim. The strategically angled colorful boxes were a clever idea, but the whimsically delightful presentation didn’t please her. Instead, she was full of rage.

The nerve of Irena. The woman was usually at her beck and call. How dare she refuse to rush to Yoyin’s bedside, strapped with that wonderfully life-life hunk of synthetic manhood? She breathed in and out rapidly, working herself up into a tizzy. Irena had one hell of a nerve choosing such an inappropriate time to get stingy with her fake penis.

In a burst of anger, she hurled the phone at the shoe-box art, knocking the once-beautiful display to the floor. Pairs of exquisite shoes tumbled onto the floor. Through large welling tears, she caught a glimpse of the beautiful, twinkling sandals. Yoyin leapt from the bed and rushed to the piles of scattered shoes and boxes. Tears of frustration spilled as she sat naked on a soft area rug.

Desperately, she slid her feet inside the sandals and stood. Wiping away tears, she pranced over to a jewel-framed, full-length mirror and peered admiringly at her reflection. Ignoring her glowing skin, emerald eyes, and luxurious hair, she set her focus on her body parts that interested her most. Her eyes roved approvingly over her firm breasts with pointed nipples, decorated with gleaming jewelry. Her legs, long and lean, were a great source of pride. Her mons, covered by a soft layer of honey-colored hair, was nestled between strong, firm thighs. She noticed that her pussy looked pubescent and innocent on the outside. But when she spread her outer labia, it told a different story. Her petals were battered and bore a deep-rose color from the hard-fucking her attendants had given her. Her clitoris, red, sore, and swollen, had also taken a beating, yet the platinum clit-ring was miraculously still intact.

Yoyin struck a number of poses, turning to the side; she ran a
hand over her protrusive, plump butt—another courtesy of Mother Africa. She pointed her feet at different angles, waiting to feel the fire of arousal. A splinter of sensual heat sliced through her, but the rush of pleasure was so swift, so fleeting, and so anticlimactic; she yanked off the sandals and flung them far from sight.

Crouching down, she snatched off one lid after another, rummaging through boxes, searching for the perfect pair of shoes to take the edge off her voracious hunger. Sitting naked, she stabbed her feet into a half-dozen pairs of shoes before erupting in fury, kicking wildly at the useless footwear and numerous boxes.

Hopelessness swirled in the pit of her stomach and coursed through her, hollowing out every shred of sensation, leaving her void and unfulfilled.

Empty.

Forlorn, Yoyin collapsed atop the rug, drawing her knees up to her chest. Too empty to muster tears, she lay curled, her head propped by balled fists. Staring vacantly at the scattered disarray—upside-down shoe boxes, topsy-turvy shoes with tangled straps, and stiletto heels locked like horns.

Amidst the disorder, something caught Yoyin’s eye—something that struck her as odd and out of place. One of the signature boxes sat upright, with its lid slightly raised and with tissue paper jutting outward. But there was something else protruding beneath the lid. Curious, she scooted forward and removed the lid.

Inside the shoe box, lying atop tissue paper, was a cream-colored envelope—lofty and rich in appearance and personally addressed. Her full name was handwritten in beautiful calligraphy.
Hmm. Another clever antic of my attendants
, she assumed as she picked up the smooth linen-textured envelope.
How lovely,
she thought sarcastically. The towering shoe box hadn’t soothed her acute sexual
need and she doubted if cleverly worded good wishes on expensive paper would brighten her day.

Annoyed, she turned the invitation over. Affixed to the back was a red wax seal, impressed with an image that bore a remarkable resemblance to aroused female genitalia.
Interesting!
She squinted, inspecting it closer. Oh, it wasn’t a vagina; it was a budding flower with a single drop of moisture trickling down. Still, the symbolism intrigued her. She felt a mild flutter of excitement as she hurriedly broke the seal. Inside the elegant double-fold invitation was a translucent vellum overlay with raised, lettered script. She read the message quickly. Her eyes widened, and she read the invitation again.

You are cordially invited to The Island, a place where your strongest desires come to blazing life with just one wish. At The Island, we cater to your most self-indulgent fantasy…where you are always the center of attention. This invitation is given only to a select few, and you, Yoyin Ayikade, have been chosen. Should you choose to accept this invitation, you agree that you are surrendering to your desires, that you are freeing yourself to experience something you’ve never dared to succumb to. And in doing so, your craving to always be the center of attention will manifest deliciously so…

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”—
ANAÏS NIN

This invitation will expire in twenty-four hours. You can contact us at 800-555-9860 to experience the fantasy of a lifetime. We’re waiting for your call…

Educated in America, she’d left England while in her teens.
She finished high school but could only tolerate a few semesters of college. She returned to Europe.

Yoyin’s mother tried to coerce her wayward daughter into settling down with someone from a prestigious background, who was equally wealthy and preferably possessing a royal title: a duke, a count, or a baron. Yoyin soon discovered that noblemen were terrible in bed—unimaginative and timid lovers.

With high hopes of a more hedonistic lifestyle, she resumed residence in the United States. But living in America had turned out to be as boring as Great Britain.

Until now.

She peeked at the invitation again and broke into a huge grin. She was certain Sebastian was responsible for slipping the mysterious invitation inside the shoe box.

Impulsive by nature and driven by the urge to have every decadent sexual desire fulfilled, she extricated the phone from beneath the clutter and promptly called the number.

“Greetings, Miss Ayikade,” said a soothing male voice without stating a company name. Even stranger, he sounded as if he’d been expecting her call at that precise moment.

“I’m calling to accept the invitation,” she said.

“Very good. Your benefactor will be pleased to know that you’ve agreed to visit our lovely island.”

“My benefactor,” she scoffed. “I’m wealthy; I don’t need anyone to pay my way.”

Then the person on the other end of the phone patiently told her that in this case, the “benefactor” was the person who had
recommended her visit to the island. The island’s special services were not available to the public, he explained further. But no guest received an invitation without a referral.

Sebastian!
It had to be him. Benefactor, indeed! Sebastian was quite cunning. He and Niklas probably just wanted a short vacation. Some free time away from the intense sexual workouts she put them through. Yoyin smiled, amused that Sebastian had tried to put one over on her and then her smile widened when she imagined the multitude of cocks that would begin ramming her the moment she set foot on the decadent, private island.

“Your credit card information is required to finalize the transaction,” he said, breaking into her scandalous musings.

“Who owns the island?” she queried.

“The island is owned by Merrick,” the voice responded.

She shrugged. She’d never heard the name before. Merrick was probably an offshoot company of some huge conglomerate, she decided, and then began rattling off the series of numbers on the front of her Platinum Visa.