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“MMMPH” was all she could say around the gag stuffed in her mouth. The man reached down and flicked a nipple, toying with it, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger until it stood at attention. The other two men sauntered up to the table, stroking their throbbing cocks, watching her hungrily. The first man, wearing a blue mask, dipped his head down, and took a pink nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue, nibbling it, sucking and biting until Ella gasped behind the gag. The next man, in a red mask, lightly stroked her thigh, kneading the skin with his rough hands, slowly moving up and into the skirt of her dress. The third man, grey mask, lifted her ass off the table just high enough to push her dress over her waist and pull her panties to the side. “Fuck, man, I always thought she had a nice little pussy, but damn.” Muttered the man in the black mask. He lightly stroked her mound with his fingertips, indulging in the feel of her. Ella had started to cry now. She. Before his beauty-addled mind could form words she succeeded. ‘What’re you doing here? I thought tonight was ‘guy’s night’?’ A direct question, the best way to crack through a testosterone induced fog. ‘It is. I mean it was. Well, technically still is.’ Her arms crossed her chest unconsciously propping up her breasts. She tapped her foot, a bemused expression creeping onto her face. He still found himself babbling around her as his mind had done that first night when she entered the back room. He sighed and tried again. ‘It really isn’t for me anymore. Hasn’t been for a while now.’ She smiled gently, as if humoring a child. ‘And what were they thinking of doing tonight?’ He couldn’t meet her eyes, deciding on a half truth rather than the brutal facts. ‘They were talking about hiring a stripper.’ ‘Or maybe a prostitute who sidelines as a stripper?’ ‘That wasn’t exactly discussed but I got the feeling it was hoped for. Some of ’em at least.’ The end of his sentence turned into little.
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