The common complaint about pornography (and, really, is there any other way to describe this blog) is that it objectifies women. So, let’s actually turn the woman into an object, shall we? Female submissive. Several male dominants.

“So, what are we doing today?” she asked, jubilation in her voice. Something about today screamed “new and exciting,” though she couldn’t pinpoint just what it was. Maybe it was the way he seemed to be doing everything deliberately.

“Oh, you’ll see, my pet,” he answered, a sly smile on his face, as he lay down on the bed, watching his plaything prance about, nude.

“So we do have something planned! Oh, I cannot wait. I cannot wait,” she sing-songed before pouncing on him, straddling his chest, and rubbing her boobs in his face. He grabbed her ass, holding her hips to his stomach, and she gyrated herself against him.

When he released one hand, she wriggled in anticipation, waiting for the smack.

It didn’t come.

She wriggled. She did her little booty-shake that he’s always taken as a cue to spank harder.

Still, it didn’t come.

She noticed that she wasn’t breathing, waiting in anticipation.

And, still, the spank didn’t come.

When her hand made contact with her again, it was running its fingertips along her jaw line, gently.

She opened her eyes, she breathed in the breath of a person who hadn’t drawn breath in quite some time, and looked at him, mute.

“You’re going to enjoy today, my pet,” he whispered, releasing her hip with his left hand, playfully pinching the nipple near his left ear, and pushing her off him and onto the bed.

“Well, how shall I get ready?” she asked, looking at him and biting her index finger in that nervous habit that she had, simply, never outgrown.

“Oh, I think you’re ready as you are,” he said, tying the belt about a robe which did nothing to conceal his erection. Just then, the doorbell rang. “I do believe our dinner guests are here.”

She gulped and followed him as he walked to the door.

Two men entered, both dressed in jeans and T shirts, the first carrying a pizza. Both looking at her. She blushed and fought the urge to hide, or throw her hands up to diminish her nakedness. From some inner strength, she stood tall. And looking at him, making eye contact with him, her knees grew weak.

“I believe you know my pet,” he said, shaking hands with the first, and then with the second. “Let’s get to business, shall we?” and with that, he unfastened the terrycloth belt around his robe and walked to her. With deft hands, he placed it over her eyes, tying it behind her . . . it wasn’t a perfect fit – some light shown in, but the effect was instantaneous. With the blindfold on, she lost herself.

He picked her up in his arms and lied her down on the floor. Placing her hands above her head, he kneeled on each palm and then leaned his body forward, his cock pushing her lips apart. She sucked, like the good little cocksucker she was.

“Please, make yourselves at home,” he said as she worked the member between her lips, though it was upside down from how she’d grown accustomed to sucking his cock. With care, she worked her head up and down, modesty about such a personal action gone, taking care to not let her top teeth not run along that sensitive ridge along the underside of his cock . . . that ridge that she so enjoyed running her tongue along.

“She’s dripping” she heard a voice proclaim, and she snapped out of her cock-sucking trance. Two hands parted her knees and, suddenly, she was filled. A muffled moan crept into the back of her throat as she continued her work on the erection in her mouth.

A set of hands traced around her nipples making them hard, and she felt an erect cock press against her ribs.

The blindfold was unnecessary. Her eyes were closed as she let the moment wash over her. She sucked as someone (was it the first or the second? She had no clue) pumped away at her pussy. And then, the other, at her side, grabbed her breasts, hard.

Her eyes opened in shocked pain as it felt like some one attempting to pull the tender mounds at her chest from her. Her careful working of the member in her mouth faltered – she knew she scraped her teeth.

She lay still, and he started pumping into her mouth, entering as whoever was working her pussy exited. Her world was nothing beyond entrances and exits. The pain dulled.

She was vaguely aware that her nipples were now the target . . . no longer were there hands groping her breasts, but her nipples were being twisted and pinched and pulled. It didn’t matter, though, she was lost in the moment.

She heard a moan, as if from the distance, and then felt a spray inside of her. Whoever pumped against her cunt continued until the erection was lost and she felt the body against her hips leave.

And then, her breasts were released. A sudden warmth came rushing in, as blood again flowed to her nipples . . . whoever was pinching them had very strong fingers. “Another time,” she thought to herself, “I would have truly enjoyed that.”

And as soon as she thought about that, she nearly chuckled to herself, resuming her mouth’s motions over his cock.

A second later, her knees were spread apart and the breast-abuser’s cock entered her.

She came, hard, as the “in one hole, out the other” turned to “in both holes, out both holes.” With the orgasm, she squeaked, her body shaking. Her hands clutched at his knees as his weight still pushed onto them. He continued pounding into her mouth. The other one, rougher than the first, grabbed her hips and forced her body into him with each thrust. She fought to keep him in her mouth.

After a few minutes, the other withdrew and she felt warm spray on her chest. She paused for only a moment, to let the fact that she had just been fucked by two guys – the jiz of the second dripping down her breasts before she started working on his shaft with a renewed fervor. He slowly released his weight from her hands and she took the cue, withdrawing them and dropping him from her mouth, if only for a second.

Cat like, she turned over, onto her hands and knees, her hands giving out from her the first time she tried to put weight on them, as they had grown numb under his knees. She took him into her mouth and started taking his whole length at once. There was a part of her that loved the new – that loved the fact that she didn’t know what was coming next. But, in familiarity there is also solace – and this, this was familiar.

She worked him like she knew he liked to be worked, strong pressure from her tongue along the underside of his cock, one hand guiding her mouth, the other massaging his balls.

She felt their hands along her ass, spreading her cheeks. She tried to consciously relax, thinking that her other hole was about to be penetrated, but she was too in-tune to the task-at-mouth to put her mind anywhere else. However, that hole wasn’t penetrated – fingers traced along her labia and then spread open her other lips.

Surely, they can’t be ready for round two just yet.

But, then he started to moan, and she moaned right along with him. When he came, she swallowed every drop, as she knew what was expected of her.

And then, there was silence.

She sat nude, on her hands and knees with her head down, looking at the floor. A drop of the second’s cum dripped from her right breast, taking with it a tiny bit of the soreness. She trembled, ever so slightly, when she realized that there were three sets of eyes on her. And then, because she knew she was on display, she raised her head as if to tell the room “look at me, I’m a prize.”

A tug at the blindfold flooded her world with light, though, in truth, it was quite dim in the room.

“Which one took you first?” he asked her and she looked at the two – really looked at them – for the first time.

The one on the left was taller with a little more heft to him. The one on the right gave the look of a “mean short guy,” as he obviously spent more time in the gym of the pair. Their manhoods – well, neither was erect at the moment, so that part wouldn’t give her a clue.

She thought about her boobs and the way they were manhandled. She thought about the way the second grabbed her hips. She figured the second had to be the one on the right, making

“I think he took me first,” she said, pointing to the taller of the two.

“Really?” he asked, his smirk evident in his tone. “It appears you were wrong,” he followed-up just as a something smacked her ass. In the next days & weeks, she’d think back at the feeling of the person inside of her. She’d think about the angles the two of them used, and she’d think, more and more, that her guess was right. But, for right now, all that mattered was that she was wrong, and because of that, she was spanked.

The blows came quickly, one after the other in quick succession. One concentrated on her ass, the other on her upper thighs. She cried out & looked down, but he pulled her hair to keep her head high. “Take it, my princess. Embrace it.” And she did. She stopped crying out, though some blows did cause an involuntary whimper. She opened her eyes, relaxed her body, and invited the pain . . . there was a bit of a rhythm between the two of them – smack…,,,,,,.smack; smack…smack; smack………..smack; smack…smack. Her body rocked on its own, Her eyes closed. She embraced the pain, his hands at the sides of her face.

Some time later . . . it might have been seconds or minutes or hours, as she had entered that place where time simply didn’t exist, she realized that she wasn’t being spanked anymore, yet her body still rocked. His hands were still holding her head.

She opened her eyes.

“Dinnertime,” he said.

She looked to the dining room and saw the swing above the table. For the first time that night, she really thought she had a clue what might be going on — she’d serve as a centerpiece. She was wrong.

With his help, she climbed into the swing. She was on display – her legs spread wide, her pussy still throbbing.

“You two are red drinkers, right?” he asked – the question sounding completely rhetorical.

“Yep” came the response from one of them – she wasn’t sure who.

He went to the wine rack & pulled out a bottle. After uncorking it, though, he didn’t pull out the glasses, but went to a drawer. He pulled out lube, and squeezed a great big gob into his hand and lathered the entire bottle. Another large gob into his hand and he walked to her.

Suddenly, his desire to fist her, those nights they’d spent as he inserted more fingers, and sent them deeper, made sense. They were working for this. She closed her eyes and rocker her hips as far forward as she could in the swing. The bottle touched her aching sex, and it was cool against her skin. For a moment it was removed and his hand was over her, into her. That second gob of lube was spread all over, mixing with her own juices, and the remnants from the first fucking. The familiar pain – his large, warm hand pushing into her. But, this time, he wasn’t just fucking her with that fist – he was pressing into every nook & cranny, making sure lube was there.

And, slowly, he retreated the hand.

The bottle was back, and she again relaxed as much as she could. The coolness of the glass pressed against her. She was far from silent when the bottle “broke the plane.” Mere millimeters in, the bottle stayed, held by him.

She breathed. She whimpered. She tried to relax.

“I’m ready for more,” she whispered as her body started to adjust to the foreign object. Once again, she embraced the pain.

And he pushed, very slowly, twisting the bottle as he went, until it rested against her cervix.

Her mouth in an “o,” she released quick breaths – as if this were nothing more than a Les Mas class. She was in pain – but it was pain that she had trained herself for . . . an ache from *there* that, somehow was not an “ever present screaming pain,” but a constant and ever-present ache.

And as soon as she started to get used to the fact that a wine bottle was pushing out from her pussy, though, her hair was pulled so that the wine glass could be filled. And then the next. And then the next.

The three sat, eating pizza and drinking wine, talking about the lovely centerpiece and then the play-offs. When his wine glass was finished, he grabbed her hair. She marveled at the way he was able to do it – pull her hair, brutally, yet with care. But, pull her toward him he did, and the last of the wine spilled out from the bottle.

Slowly, he placed his hand at her stomach and pulled the bottle out. It hurt just as much going out as it did coming in. And she absolutely relished the pain.

She was certain that a second bottle was coming in. But, again, she was wrong.

“Well, my pet, I do believe it’s time to say goodnight,” he said as he took her off of the swing.

Her legs hit the ground and her knees did that wobbly thing that they did every time she got off of the swing . . . only this time she didn’t actually fall to the floor – perhaps the fact that her orgasms for the night could still be counted on the one hand was the difference.

And as soon as she started thinking about the events of the evening, despite having had two cocks inside of her and a fucking wine bottle, she grew hungry.

“It was a pleasure to meet you” she said to the two.

“The pleasure was all ours,” the second, smaller of the two, said.

“Oh, princess, why don’t you say a proper goodbye,” he said to her, and she dropped to her knees, and got the second cock in her mouth. She was a good cocksucker, she knew, and he was hard within seconds.

“Mount him” he whispered to her, and she let the second’s cock drop from her mouth. She grabbed the second’s hands and lead him to the couch – he laid down and she mounted, grinding her pelvis against his, cupping and rubbing her breasts, giving him the show he wanted.

A second later, the first knelt inches from the second’s head, and she saw what “a proper goodbye” meant. Eagerly, she placed her hands at either side of the second’s head before sliding the first cock between her lips. She rode the second sucking the first. She didn’t even realize that she was fully in charge of the rhythm. The two of them simply lay still as she worked them — making the second thrust deep into her as she cupped the first’s balls and guided his shaft into her mouth. Her world, right at that moment, was two cocks, and she was loving every moment of it.

And then she felt his fingers.

He obviously had found the lube yet again, and fingers searched her asshole, teasing it. First one, then two fingers working their way into her as she rode the cock inside of her. She tried to relax, but that’s easier said than done. She stopped riding the cock inside of her, pressing her hips against the second, pushing him all of the way in. She stopped sucking the cock in her mouth, relaxing her jaw as she took his full length into her.

She tried to relax.

She tried.

She felt her cheeks part.

She tried to relax more.

And then she felt him enter.

The pain was excruciating, as it always was when she wasn’t adequately relaxed. For the briefest of moments, her world was pain, and only pain. Slowly, he pushed into her. She moaned and whimpered.

She felt his cock press differently than it normally did as he took her by this hole. She said, confused, for just a moment, before realizing that there was a cock up her cunt, and it was pressing his just a little differently.

She thought about the three cocks inside of her, and her hips started rocking.

He grabbed a hold of her hair, tightly, and she struggled to move to suck on the first’s cock. With, seemingly, all of her strength, she moved her head against his pull, resuming the blowjob she knew he wanted her to give.

He thrust into her as his own schedule, his own timing.

She felt full.

A buzz started somewhere deep inside her. She lost herself in the motion . . . she was no longer riding, but simply moving her body to what he was doing to her. The buzz grew into a feeling of intense heat, originating somewhere her belly. A dissonance that only grew, spreading throughout.

He released her hair and grabbed both of her hips pushing her forward and back and he forced her on & off of his cock. She was no longer working the blowjob, just keeping her mouth open . . . serving as nothing but a hole for the first.

She felt the second spudder beneath her as he continued claiming her.

The first came and she swallowed what she could, but she was too focused on what was happening to her to pay much attention.

She shrieked in a combination of ecstasy, newness, pain, embarrassment, and upcoming release.

She felt the familiar convulsion deep within her.

She allowed herself to go.

He pulled her hair back and she convulsed, her pussy milking the very last drops from the second’s cock.

His cock slipped out of her and she shrieked and gasped for breath.

The second cock slipped out of her.

“That, my love, was a proper goodbye,” he said. She wondered when the room about her had become a cloud.

The first and the second dressed and exited.

He picked her up in his arms and carried her to bed.