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Back Losers: Part I Save as PDF
Chapters (58)
  1. Table of Contents
  2. Content Note
  3. A Note From The Author
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. Acknowledgements
  57. Also By Harley Laroux
  58. About The Author

But I was a fool to think I could win. This was their playground and I was their toy, a desperate horny mess bucking my hips against Jason’s mouth to reach my peak faster. Manson was smiling, the expression widening with my every desperate breath.

“Don’t,” I pleaded, my voice shaking. My pussy throbbed in that blissful, familiar feeling. “Don’t stop him. Please, God, don’t make him stop, please.”

Manson shook his head, as if I were so very silly. “Bad girls don’t get rewarded, Jess. And you’ve been a very bad girl.”

He didn’t even need to give an order. Jason stopped, the lack of contact making me cry out in protest. He smacked his lips as if he’d just eaten a meal, and instead of pleasure, I got his palm slapping down on my ass again, reigniting my skin with stunning speed.

“This is what happens,” Lucas said as I begged with useless abandon. “This is what you earned.”

I shook my head frantically, gasping through tears at the stinging pain. My safeword teetered on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t give it voice. I’d told them I could take it and I would. I knew what I deserved, what I needed. And I needed to suffer.

Only when I was wailing, my begging completely incomprehensible, did the spanking stop.

16

16

Manson

Jess grimaced as she tugged her jeans up over her reddened ass. She sniffled angrily as she pulled up her zipper, looking between the four of us with a pouting lip and watery eyes.

As if she hadn’t literally asked for this.

“Don’t you give me that look,” Vincent said the moment her gaze slid over to him. “I’ll bend you back over so fast it’ll make you dizzy.”

For once, she had the good sense to stay silent. God, she made me feel insane. Every time I looked too long at the Mustang — tires slashed, windows broken, paint keyed, dents in every panel — I wanted to spank her again. I wanted her to learn. I would have felt better if I’d thought it would do her any long-term good, but lessons weren’t learned in a single day.

Why the hell had she asked for this? And better yet — why had I given in to her? I was fucking infuriated, yes, but I usually avoided shit like this when I was so angry. It felt a little too close to losing control.

But she’d asked for punishment, and who was I to deny her? She’d chosen to face our wrath rather than running off. It was an unspoken show of trust that I hadn’t expected, but it left me more confused than anything else.