TW: Includes R word content. But if you think about it, Selma and Patty already have canon rape charges against them so this has to be some sort of divine retribution. Totally skippable again.
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Leo tore a condom off the strip and limped back out to the couch.
The two of them had not moved. Well… it wasn't like they had an option to.
"We really thought you were leaving," Selma let out a breath of relief when she saw him return.
Patty, on the other hand, noticed what was in Leo's hand. "No, no, no. That was never agreed on. Untie us!"
He came around behind the couch, behind the back of it, behind the two pairs of bare cheeks waiting on the cushions. He rolled the condom down the length of his dick with one hand and stepped up close.
Leo responded to Patty.
"Do you think I agreed on getting kidnapped, huh? Did I have a say in that? Did you untie me?"
Leo moved left. Behind Patty.
He hooked one finger in the white cotton wedged into her crack and tugged it sideways out of the way.
"Don't you dare," Patty said into the cushion. "Don't you dare, Leo, I swear — that wasn't part of the deal — Selma, tell him this wasn't — "
He held his dick at the base, lined up, and pushed.
She was tight. Her pussy was very tight. It made sense, considering this was not something she was exactly in the mood for at the moment.
Leo had to push hard through the first few inches, the resistance gripping at him as he worked deeper, until he finally bottomed out against the warm pillow of her ass. She made a single sharp sound through her teeth into the cushion, then a second one, then went quiet.
He started moving.
The angle from behind, with her tipped forward over the back of the couch, was as good an angle as a man could ask for. He could see the whole length of his cock working in and out of her pussy, every push a slow grind against the resistance. Her ass jiggled with every thrust, the meat of her cheeks rippling forward and back, the pink of the spanking marks was deepening into red along the impact line where his hips were now slapping against her.
"You're disgusting," Patty got out into the cushion, voice strained. "You can't keep doing this. The second you let me up I'm — I'm calling — I'll — unh — "
"You'll what, Patty."
"I'll think of something — ah — "
He pushed in deeper. She lost the sentence.
She kept it up though. Every minute or so she'd find enough breath to bite out something through the cushion — I hate you. I hate this. I'm going to wring your neck. — and every minute it came out a little less convincing than the time before. Her hands, bound in front of her, fisted slowly in the upholstery, then unfisted, then fisted again. Her "uh — uh — uh —" sounds came out lower than her sister's would. Quieter. More into the cushion. The protest got mixed up in them. By minute four the protests had gone from full sentences to single words.
"Hate. This. You."
By minute six she was making more sound than words. Long low grunts forced out of her on every thrust, the "uh" sounds running into the "hates" and the "nos" until the consonants dropped off entirely and she was just making the vowels.
"uhhh — uhrGHH — uhuAAH —"
He kept the pace slow and deep.
The tightness did not let up the whole way. He had to work for every stroke, the grip of her vagina staying just as snug at minute nine as it had been at minute one. Her ass kept absorbing the impact of his hips with the same long heavy ripple, the spanking marks now blurred into a uniform deep pink across both cheeks. Sweat started gathering at the bottom of her back. The protests had stopped entirely. Her face had gone slack against the cushion. Her eyes were half-closed. The mascara had run a little at the inside corners. Her mouth hung open and the moans had slowed into something deeper and longer, a low rolling sound that came out of her on every push.
He pulled out clean.
The second he did, she let out a small involuntary sound, quiet, almost a whimper.
He didn't say anything. He just slid sideways along the back of the couch.
Selma was waiting on the right.
He moved the cotton of her panties out of the way the same way and lined up. The slick gathered at her pussy lips of her was visible before he even touched her, glistening.
"You're soaked, Selma."
"Mm-hm."
"You liked watching your sister get fucked like that, huh? Tied up and not able to resist, huh? You're such a slut, Selma."
"Mm-hm," she breathed into the cushion, with no shame at all.
"Couldn't even pretend, could you."
"Why would I pretend, sugar-plum."
Leo let out one short laugh through his nose, gripped her hip, and pushed in.
He slid into her in one long unhurried push without much resistance at all, and the only sound out of her was a low broken "oh —" into the cushion as he reached her cervix. She did not move. She could not move. All she could do was take it.
Where Patty had been a tight grip he'd had to work for, Selma was a long easy ride. Her ass took the slaps of his hips with the same heavy ripple, but the inside of her was a different proposition entirely. Warm and wet and welcoming. There was no resistance, nor work, just slick easy strokes. He could see the whole length of dick glistening with her juices every time he pulled back. Leo went fast.
Her sounds came out higher and dreamier than her sister's had been.
"Yes," she sighed into the cushion. "Yes, sugar-plum, just like that. Mm-hm. Mm-hm."
"Quiet, Selma."
She was not, in fact, quiet. She kept up a low running commentary into the couch the entire time he was inside her. They were a mix of half words, half sounds, all of it pleased.
"Oh, that's a good one. That's a real good one. Oh."
"Selma."
"Mm. Sorry."
"…That callus on your right hand is doing — unh — work, sugar-plum, real work —"
"Selma."
"Mm-hm."
Her cheek was mashed against the cushion. Her eyes were half-shut. The red lipstick smear was now also smeared into the couch fabric. She looked completely wrecked and completely happy about it. Every other thrust pulled another small dreamy sigh out of her, the cushion catching most of it.
She was loose, though. He had to admit. He could fuck her like this for an hour and not get there again, especially after the ten minutes Patty had just put him through. He gave her two solid minutes, which was as much as she was going to get, and then he pulled out.
She made a small dreamy sound of complaint into the cushion that he ignored. He stepped back, breathing through his teeth around the dull ache in his left side where the broken ribs were making themselves known again. They'd been quiet, but ten minutes of working against Patty's grip and another two of riding Selma had brought them back to the surface. Every breath in pulled a sharp twinge through his chest. He flexed once, winced, and pushed it down.
He moved back to the left.
Patty's eyes flicked sideways at him. She'd been catching her breath into the cushion, the heavy pink of her ass still glowing from earlier, and she clearly had not been expecting him back.
"Your sister's too loose to get me there."
"…What."
"You're going to have to finish me off."
"Selma."
"What."
"This is your fault."
"How is this my fault."
"You couldn't keep one thing tight in your life, Selma — "
"Patty, that is genuinely uncalled for — "
"No, it is exactly called for, you have ruined ev — "
"My looseness is a gift, it is a generosity, I share what I have — "
"Selma I will kill you — "
Leo let them go at it for a second, planted one hand on the back of the couch for balance, and grimaced as the motion sent another sharp pull through his ribs. He needed a stable angle.
He climbed up onto the back of the couch instead.
He got his feet planted on the back cushion on either side of Patty's hips, lowered himself into a deep squat over her, and gripped her wide waist with both hands to brace his weight. The squat took the pressure off his ribs and put it into his thighs, where he had it to spare. From this angle he was directly above her, looking straight down at the back of her bound body, his cock lined up with her exactly where he needed it.
"Leo, what are you — oh — "
He pushed back in.
The angle was different from before. Steeper. He was coming straight down into her now instead of straight in, and the depth he could get from above was something else entirely. Patty's protest broke off into a long low sound she could not have stopped if she'd tried.
He started moving.
"This wasn't part of the agreement, Leo — unh — finishing once was the deal, you already finished — "
"That doesn't count."
"It absolutely counts — "
From the right, Selma's voice came up. "Patty. Stop fighting it. Just take it. You're going to enjoy it more if you stop arguing. Trust me."
"I do not want your advice right now — ah — "
Leo let go of her waist with one hand, fisted it in the thick mass of her hair, and pulled her head back off the cushion. Her neck arched. Her face came up. He saw her eyes for half a second before he started moving again, harder this time, the hand in her hair holding her head where he wanted it.
"This is — unh — abuse, Leo, this is — "
"Shut up, Patty."
"I will not be — oh — quiet — you are not — ah — going to break me — "
The hand at her waist held her steady. The hand in her hair held her up. His ribs flared every few thrusts and he gritted his teeth through it and kept going.
"You think this is going to — unh — make me crack, you think you can just — oh god — fuck the resistance out of me, well it is not — ah — going to work — "
"Mm-hm."
"It is not — "
The protests started getting less coherent. Patty was still trying. Leo had to give her that, she was still pushing the words out between thrusts even when the words barely held together anymore.
"— unh — not — ah — this isn't — oh — You are — oh — the worst man I have ever — unh — "
"Take it, Patty."
"I am taking it, I am taking it under protest, there is a difference — "
"Keep taking my cock. Your pussy has no choice."
"ah — Leo, slower, slow — slower — "
"No." He pounded harder.
"You can't just — oh god — Leo, I swear, the second I am out of these ropes — ah — "
Her sentences got shorter. The threats started running into the moans. By the time the pull at the base started gathering, she was alternating between bitten-off curses and bitten-off vowels and could not seem to decide which she was going to commit to.
"I hate — unh — I hate — oh — I — ah — "
The pull climbed.
The combination of the angle, the grip, the depth, the visual of Patty's ass jiggling up at him on every downstroke, the protest still coming out of her in broken pieces, and the ten minutes he'd already put in earlier. It all caught up at once.
He let go of her hair. Her face dropped back to the cushion. He gripped her waist with both hands again, pulled her up onto him three more times. Hard and deep. The slap of his hips against her ass loud enough to echo, and then he yanked himself out and reached down with one hand to roll the condom off in a single motion. He dropped it onto the floor.
Two strokes.
He came across both of them.
From his squatting position over Patty, with Selma right next to her on the right, he had a clean view of the whole canvas. He aimed the first heavy pulse straight down onto Patty's back and let it run. The second went lower, across the curve of her right ass cheek. He swung his hand sideways and put the third across Selma's left cheek, then the fourth back on Patty, then the fifth between them, working back and forth across the matching pair of bared asses below him until he was empty.
When he was done both of them were covered with his cum.
He stayed in the squat for one more second, breathing hard around the throb in his ribs, looking down at the matching set he had just made.
Then he climbed off the couch.
His legs were not steady when he hit the floor. His ribs were a bright clean line of pain down his left side. He took one careful step, then another, and he found his pants and boxers and got dressed.
The two of them on the couch had not said a word since he'd finished.
Patty's face was still pressed into the cushion, her mouth open, her breathing slow and shallow. Selma was looking at him from her side with eyes that had gone all the way back to glazed, lips slightly parted. Neither of them seemed capable of forming a sentence.
Leo fastened his belt.
He limped to the door without saying anything.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Behind him, on the couch, the two twins lay exactly where he had left them — bound, dresses flipped, thongs wedged, asses red and now striped white, faces pressed into the cushions, breathing slow.
Neither of them tried to move in their shackles. They didn't even try to call out to him as he left.