Vivienne's face burned hotter. She could feel Jenny staring at the fresh silver rings, at the bruises on her mother's breasts, at the way her own body was still leaking onto the sheets.
Their boobs kept mashing together with every futile struggle, soft and warm and humiliatingly intimate.
Cruxius's eyes cracked open just enough to deliver a flat, dangerous look. "Shut up," he said quietly, "or I'll fuck you both again. Together. Right now. In a threesome. I'll bend you over each other and make you watch while I stretch your daughter's cunt right in front of you, then switch and do the same to your ass while she holds your legs open. I've got all night."
The threat landed like a hammer.
Both women went dead still.
Vivienne felt Jenny's body tremble against hers. She felt her own thighs quiver between his.
They both knew—he wasn't bluffing. He 'could' do it.
He 'would' do it.
