Velvet ribbon

The gift box waited on the bed like a secret with teeth.

Aleksandra stared at it from across the room, standing in just her robe, damp from the shower, her skin still warm and glowing. The low golden light from the bedside lamp made the black box gleam like something forbidden. No name. No logo. Just a small tag, tucked under the lid in that familiar, elegant handwriting:

“Wear what’s inside. I want to unwrap you properly.”

Her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.

He was coming for her.

She could feel it in her bones.

She slid the robe from her shoulders and let it pool on the floor.

The velvet ribbon in the box was deep burgundy—soft, rich, heavy. It spilled into her hands like wine. She brought it to her mouth, kissed it softly. It smelled like rosewood and darkness. Her nipples tightened from the mere touch of it against her skin.

Beneath the ribbon… a silk eye mask.

Her breath caught.

No instructions. But she didn’t need them.

She knew.

She stood in front of the mirror and tied the ribbon around her bare waist, looping it twice before knotting it low at her hip, the ends falling down her thigh like the start of a sin.

The eye mask slid over her eyes like a secret.

With her vision gone, everything intensified. The air on her skin. The weight of her own breath. The way her thighs clenched instinctively.

She lay on the bed—arms up, ankles relaxed, body open—naked but for velvet and submission.

Her heartbeat thrummed between her legs.

And then… the door opened.

She heard it click softly.

Footsteps.

Slow. Measured.

Not one pair. Two.

Her whole body tensed—then melted.

She didn’t move. Didn’t ask. Didn’t speak.

She just felt.

A hand wrapped around her ankle. The grip was warm, firm—possessive. Another slid over her wrist, fingers trailing lightly, reverently, as though memorizing her shape. Then another set—on her thigh. Her collarbone. Fingertips brushing her jaw, her lips.

Four hands.

And she had no idea which belonged to him.

It didn’t matter.

They touched her like she was the center of the world.

The ribbon was tugged loose—not ripped, but untied slowly, deliberately.

She felt them peel her open like a gift. One hand ran up her inner thigh, teasing the crease where thigh met hip. Another smoothed over her breast, thumb grazing her nipple, making her arch off the bed.

A mouth replaced the hand—hot lips closing around her nipple. Tongue flicking, sucking, drawing soft whimpers from her throat.

Then another mouth—lower. Between her legs.

She spread wider, knees falling open. The tongue that met her there was skilled, slow at first, then faster. It circled her clit, then flattened, licked deep between her folds, then retreated. Fingers replaced it—two of them, sliding into her soaked pussy, curling up, pumping slowly.

She moaned—head rolling back, hands clenching into the sheets.

And then—another hand. Lower. Slick fingers teasing the entrance to her tight little ass, circling slowly, pressing in just enough to make her gasp.

She was dripping. Shaking.

They teased her—over and over—licking, fucking, stretching her with fingers in both holes until she was begging.

“I want it,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Please… please…”

Hands gripped her thighs.

A cock brushed her entrance—thick, hot, heavy.

He slid into her in one slow, merciless stroke.

She arched. Cried out.

Her pussy clenched around him, so full she could barely breathe. But before she could even adjust—another cock tapped against her lips.

She opened her mouth, instantly, hungrily.

Took him in—sucking deep, tongue swirling, moaning around him as he rocked gently in and out of her throat.

The rhythm built.

One cock in her pussy. One in her mouth.

Bodies surrounding her. Hands everywhere.

She didn’t know whose fingers were back in her ass—stretching her, pushing deeper—but it made her thighs tremble, her toes curl. Her eyes rolled under the blindfold. She was wrecked.

Utterly used. Utterly safe.

They moved together like they’d rehearsed it.

One thrusting into her slowly, grinding into her deepest spot. The other fucking her mouth with more rhythm now, a hand tangled in her hair, guiding her head. The third kept teasing her ass, one finger, then two, making her moan around the cock in her mouth.

She came hard, shaking, crying, her pussy clenching tight around the cock inside her.

But they didn’t stop.

The man in her mouth was losing control.

She could feel it in the way his cock began to throb against her tongue, the way his fingers fisted tighter into her hair, guiding her head with a rhythm that was no longer careful—just desperate. His thighs trembled beneath her hands. His breath was ragged above her, little gasps that matched the moans vibrating in her throat. She opened wider, relaxed her jaw, took him deeper, and when the first pulse hit her tongue, she moaned—hungry for it. Hot, sticky ropes of cum spilled into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat. She swallowed instantly, eagerly, her tongue still flicking around the head as he grunted, overwhelmed by the feel of her sucking every drop from him. Her lips slid off with a pop, and she licked the dribble from her chin with a sinful smile, still blindfolded but radiating satisfaction.

Even before she could recover, the man between her thighs let out a thick, guttural growl and gripped her hips hard—his fingers bruising into her flesh as he thrust deeper, his rhythm turning erratic, needy. His cock twitched inside her, and she gasped as she felt the first wave of warmth pulse into her cunt. He buried himself fully—deep, thick, claiming her from the inside as his cum flooded her, leaking out around the base of his cock even before he pulled out. Her pussy clenched around him, milking every drop. She could feel it dripping onto the sheets beneath her, and she loved it—loved knowing she was wet, messy, marked. His breath came hot against her shoulder as he collapsed over her, hand stroking her waist, his cock softening but still buried deep inside her soaking, well-fucked pussy.

He stayed inside her as long as he could, until he finally slipped out with a wet sound and a groan. One hand remained on her lower back—grounding her, gentle now—while the other smoothed her hair away from her flushed face. She was trembling. Used. Completely filled. And yet… her body still tingled. Her breath still hitched at the smallest touch. She turned her head slightly, still blindfolded, lips parted, cum still on her tongue, and whispered, “Thank you.” Her voice was wrecked. Satisfied. Dripping with surrender.

They didn’t leave.

They stayed.

Both men stayed close—one brushing kisses along her spine, the other softly massaging her thighs, fingers stroking the slickness between her legs like they wanted to memorize the mess they made together. Aleksandra lay there between these two gorgeous men, radiant and ruined, completely adored. She hadn’t just been taken—she had been cherished. Worshipped by two sets of hands and two cocks that had filled every part of her. And as they slid under the covers beside her—one on each side, arms wrapping around her gently—she let out a soft, sleepy moan. Her body was glowing. Her holes still wet and twitching. And for the first time in a long time, she drifted into sleep knowing exactly what it meant to be wanted.

And for the first time in a long time…she felt whole.

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