The Count and the Lord each seized a breast.
They pinched the nipples between their fat thumbs and forefingers. Hard. They twisted. The pink nubs were stiff from the cold air and the fear, and the pain shot through Vess's chest like white lightning. Her back arched off the bed.
"MMMPH~!! NGH~!! HNGHH~!!"
"Grab her hand," the Lord commanded.
He was the hairiest of them. Dark tufts covered his chest, his shoulders, his back. His belly was a massive, hanging weight. His cock was thick and dark and curved slightly upward, the head swollen to a bulbous crown. He grabbed Vess's limp right hand and forced her fingers around his shaft. The skin was hot and slick with his own leaking. He moved her hand up and down, using her as a sleeve, a tool, a masturbatory aid.
