Part 2: The Betrayal
The air left Robin’s lungs in a rush. Sarah—fucking Sarah—stepped into the cabin like she owned it, her hips swaying with every step, her brown eyes gleaming with triumph. She dropped her overcoat to reveal a lingerie-clad body, black lace cupping her breasts and hugging her curves, with garter belts holding up sheer stockings that ended mid-thigh. Her soft, wavy brown hair cascaded perfectly around her face, not a strand out of place, and her lips were painted a deep, sinful red.
Robin’s entire body locked up. No! No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. She yanked at her restraints, the silk biting into her wrists and ankles as she thrashed. A muffled scream tore from her throat, the sound desperate and humiliated.
“She’s ‘resisting,’” Matt explained, putting verbal air quotes around the word.
Sarah’s laugh was a low, throaty thing, dripping with amusement. “Oh, Robin,” she purred, stepping closer. “Didn’t Matt tell you I was coming?” She trailed a finger along the edge of the bed, her gaze raking over Robin’s bound, naked body with open delight. “Or am I a surprise?”
Robin glared at her, her cheeks burning with shame and fury. She wanted to scream, to demand answers, to do something--anything--but the gag rendered her silent, powerless. All she could do was lie there, spread open and exposed, while Sarah drank in the sight of her like fine wine.
Matt moved to lean on one of the footboard’s corner posts, as if to spectate. His expression was glazed with lust. Robin’s eyes tracked him frantically, angrily. Pretend to resist?! Did he think she wanted this? Had Sarah talked him into it? How could he be so misguided?
Sarah didn’t wait for an invitation. She slipped off her heels and crawled onto the bed, curving alongside Robin's bound body, propping herself up on an elbow. The weight of her body, the heat of her, was overwhelming. Robin tried to twist away, but there was nowhere to go. Her hands and feet jerked wildly as she strained against the scarves, her muscles trembling.
“Look at you,” Sarah murmured, her fingers tracing the curve of Robin’s breast, her thumbnail flicking over a nipple. Robin gasped, her back arching involuntarily. “All tied up. All mine.”
Robin snarled behind the gag, her body betraying her as her nipple hardened under Sarah’s touch. No. No, this isn’t happening. But it was. It was. Sarah’s hand slid lower, her fingers skimming over Robin’s stomach, her hips, before finally--finally--brushing between her legs.
Robin’s entire body jerked, a broken sound tearing from her throat. Sarah’s touch was lighter than Matt’s had been, teasing and maddening, circling but never quite giving her what she needed. “You’re so wet,” Sarah cooed, her breath hot against Robin’s ear. “Did Matt get you like this? Or is it me?” Her fingers pressed down, just enough to make Robin’s hips buck, and then she pulled away again, leaving her aching.
Robin’s vision blurred. She was going to kill them both. She was going to fucking end them.
Sarah laughed, the sound rich and dark. “I love how angry you are.” Her hand slid up to Robin’s breast again, her fingers pinching her nipple hard enough to make her gasp. “I love how much you hate this.” She leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of Robin’s ear. “I love how much you want it.”
Robin’s breath hitched. No. She didn’t. She didn’t. But her body was a liar, her traitorous sex clenching muscles around nothing, her skin flushed and sensitive everywhere Sarah touched. The other woman’s fingers trailed down her side, light and tickling, and Robin twisted, a laugh bubbling up behind the gag. Sarah’s touch turned sharper, her nails digging in just enough to make her gasp before soothing the sting with a slow, deliberate stroke.
Robin’s green eyes went bright with fury as Sarah’s fingers found her clit again, rubbing in slow, maddening circles. She thrashed and growled in frustration as her hips flexed helplessly beneath the touch. “Shhh,” Sarah murmured, her voice mockingly soothing. “Just let it happen.”
Robin's jaw clenched around the gag. Like hell she would "let it happen." Her muscles tensed as she fought against the building pressure between her legs, willing her body to obey her mind instead of Sarah's expert fingers. Each stroke sent electricity up her spine, but she swallowed the moans that threatened to escape, focusing instead on the fury burning in her chest. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction--wouldn't let her body surrender what her mind refused to yield, no matter how skillfully Sarah played her like an instrument.
“You’re losing your touch, Sarah,” Matt observed with a smirk as Robin shot him a murderous look. “I’d say she’s holding you off.”
Sarah favored Robin’s glare with a superior smile. “Ah, love, but this is a marathon, not a sprint.”
As she spoke, Sarah shifted to a sitting position, and the hand that had been stroking between Robin's legs began a tickly journey downward. Robin’s breath caught as Sarah’s manicured nails grazed her her thigh, then the back of her knee, and then finally settled atop her tied ankle, ominously tapping along the side of her narrow, shapely foot.
Robin’s eyes widened in panic. Her foot began curling and pinwheeling wildly as Sarah’s intentions became clear. “Oh, she’ll lose her mind if you touch her feet,” Matt warned, his voice thick with anticipation. “She absolutely can’t stand it.”
Robin’s world narrowed to a pinpoint of panic. Having her feet tickled fundamentally undid her, a fact she’d known since childhood. And the mortification of it happening now--to be reduced to helpless laughter, to lose even the dignity of her anger--was unbearable. She thrashed harder and screamed through her gag, her muffled protests growing desperate as Sarah’s fingers crept lower.
“That’s what I’m counting on,” Sarah whispered, and scraped a perfect nail along Robin’s arch.
Robin’s scream shook the windows even through her gag, her body arching off the bed. Shame burned through her as tears pricked her eyes--hating them, hating herself more for the wetness Sarah would find when her fingers returned between her legs. Sarah jumped back in shock, then flashed a predatory smile. “Ohhh, I think we’ve found her weeeeakness,” she sang, drawing out the word. She turned to Matt. “Love, slide down there so you can tickle her feet. Just softly, though, and only when I say. I’ll keep working at her up here.”
Robin had never felt so stripped of control. Matt and Sarah shifted positions around her body like predators circling prey, and her mind flooded with flashes of the humiliation to come. Her muscles burned from fighting the silk ties, her jaw ached from straining against the gag--all for nothing. The fury still boiled inside her, but beneath it lay the cold certainty that she was trapped. No movement possible. No words permitted. Only her stubborn will and whatever scraps of pride she could salvage remained. And those final defenses would crumble the moment Matt began tickling her feet, leaving her naked soul exposed to Sarah's galling ministrations.
Sarah's red lips curved upward as Matt's hands moved slowly toward Robin's soles. Robin tensed every muscle and steeled herself. Resistance was all she had left.
“Only when I say,” Sarah repeated. She was looking smugly at Robin but speaking to Matt. “Don’t tickle her yet.”
Robin turned a hateful gaze on her rival, whose smile only deepened as her eyes glittered. Sarah licked her lips and returned her right hand to the wetness between Robin’s legs, sliding her practiced fingers past Robin’s moist folds to stroke and tease with unbearable friction. With her left, she began to flick her nails across Robin’s nipples, bringing them erect before squeezing and rolling them in turn. Robin couldn’t help but squirm, though her eyes never faltered. “I see that look, love,” Sarah gloated softly. “But you can’t help what this is doing to you, can you?”
Robin’s jaw muscles clenched as she growled low with resistance and frustration.
“Oh, that is gorgeous,” Sarah purred. “Time to soften you up, Rob. Matt, tickle her now, but ever so slightly. Just barely touch her.”
Robin closed her eyes. “No, no, no…” her words were muffled by the gag, but she couldn’t help speaking them. Her feet jerked back reflexively at the first gentle touch of Matt’s fingertips on her oversensitive soles. She yelped and tensed, curling her feet away, but they couldn’t go far. She could do nothing to stop Matt from tracing his teasing fingers softly from her toes down to her heels, over and over.
It was unbearable. Not enough to make her scream, but she could feel bubbles of traitorous laughter beginning to form in her chest. To Sarah’s delight, the writhing and squirming of her body doubled in intensity, and her muffled growls took on a high-pitched keening edge.
Sarah repositioned herself between Robin’s legs, kneeling low to focus full attention on her sex. Robin opened her eyes to find Sarah watching her with an expression more intent, eager, and smugly cruel than anything she had ever seen. She thought to spit a curse at her tormentor though the gag, but just as it formed, the bubbles of laughter broke free from her chest with devastating effect.
It was as if a dam had burst. Muffled laughter poured past Robin’s gag and filled the room with sounds of such pure, girlish mirth that both Sarah and Matt laughed along with her.
Sarah sat back to watch the show. “This is so great--tickle her a little harder.” Matt’s touch turned firmer, his fingers probing faster and deeper, tracing patterns that made Robin’s toes curl and her legs tremble. Her stifled laughter became hysterical, the sound helpless and desperate, her body betraying her in the worst possible way. And deep in Robin’s disciplined mind, below her surface reactions, she hated this. Hated that she was turned on, hated how ticklish she was, hated how she couldn’t stop laughing like some idiotic child while Sarah and Matt watched her with smug, knowing smiles. Lifting her head to see how much they were enjoying her helpless howls and obvious arousal, Robin felt a deep, shameful flush creep over her skin.
“Look at her,” Sarah said, her voice dripping with triumph. “She’s mortified.”
Matt chuckled, his breath warm against Robin’s ankle. “She’s also soaking wet.”
“Of course she is,” Sarah gloated. “She loves this. Even if she won’t admit it.”
Robin wanted to deny it. Wanted to scream at them both, to tell them to go to hell, to stop--but the gag stole her words, and her body stole her dignity. Matt’s fingers danced over her feet, tickling the arches, the heels, the spaces between her toes, and she laughed, her body jerking and twisting as she tried and failed to pull away. Sarah leaned forward and resumed her attentions, working Robin’s clit in time with the tickling, each stroke sending another jolt of pleasure through her.
“Ease back,” Sarah directed, and Matt’s tickles once again became gossamer-light. But now, her resistance broken, Robin’s laughs were replaced with helpless moans of pleasure, gradually growing louder.
She was going to come. She was going to come, and they were both going to watch, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Sarah whispered encouragement, her voice a dark temptation as she rubbed Robin’s clit faster. “That’s it, Robin. Let go. Come for us.” She slipped two fingers inside the slick folds, seeking Robin’s G-spot. Robin screamed lustily, holding onto the edge, and furiously locked eyes with her tormenter.
Sarah smiled into her glare and licked the fingers of her other hand, never breaking Robin’s gaze. “Harder, Matt,” she said, and as Robin watched, laugher growing louder along with her moans, Sarah reached down and slid more fingers home, this time finding a new dark place not yet touched…
Robin shattered.
Pleasure crashed over her in a wave so intense it stole her breath, her body arching off the bed as the orgasm tore through her. She screamed through the gag, the sound muffled and desperate, her hips bucking helplessly as her **** clenched Sarah’s fingers. Her feet twitched and jerked in Matt’s grip, her toes curling tight as the tickling and the pleasure and the humiliation of it all sent her spiraling into oblivion.
Sarah didn’t stop. Neither did Matt. They kept touching, playing, drawing out her orgasms until she was sobbing, her body oversensitive, her skin too hot, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Only when she finally sagged back against the bed, her limbs trembling with exhaustion, did they relent.
Sarah withdrew her hand from Robin's pussy, the fingers glistening with the juices of her arousal. She brought them to her lips, licking them clean with a slow, deliberate motion. “You are delicious,” she murmured.
Robin’s chest heaved, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. She was a mess--sweaty, flushed, her body still humming with the aftershocks of orgasm. She glared at Sarah, then at Matt, her eyes burning with a mix of fury and something darker, an idea taking shape in her exhausted mind…
The end (I think)
