Continued from here. 

Elle climbed into the back seat, sitting to my left. I was between them now, my body bucking lightly from the orgasm I had just been denied. I managed to regain some control before Elle reached up and pushed me forward, bending me over the padded armrest in the front. My face was nearly in the cup holders. I tried to push myself back up, but my boyfriend’s hand shot to the back of my head and pressed me back down. 

“We can’t do this here,” I insisted as Elle pushed my skirt up around my waist. “What if someone sees?” I had decided to abandon the cause of the fact that it was odd that the three of us were performing the act together and instead focused on something a little less grey as my argument. “We can’t do this in public.”

He pulled my panties aside and swept a finger down over my slit. I shivered as he said, “don’t even pretend this is your first time playing around in a car.” I whined softly as he pulled his hand back from my wet cunt. He removed his hand from the back of my head.

Elle’s quickly replaced it, her fingers grasping firmly at my hair to hold me down. “I know for a fact it isn’t.” She leaned down, biting on my earlobe before whispering, “So why are you being such a brat about this?”

I tried to pick my head up and groaned, “Elle, I…” I shrieked as my boyfriend’s hand collided with my pussy. He had these large hands and a way of hitting incredibly hard without really trying. 

“I don’t think that’s the proper way to address her tonight,” he rubbed his hand over my soaked mound with a chuckle before gathering my wrists in his hands. “Got anything to tie them with?" 

At the prospect of this, I panicked. My legs twisted against the seats in an effort to try to give what was at least a playful kick to one of their sides. Elle reached in front of me and into her purse. She rummaged around for a bit before replying, "no, I don’t think so.” I let out a sigh of relief. Outside, I heard cars continue to speed by and tried to keep my head low.

“Wait a minute,” I heard my boyfriend say. He let go of my wrists and I heard him unbuckle my bag. Suddenly, I felt nylon around my wrists. Fuck. I’d been wearing stockings earlier that day, as per his request, and removed them when the weather was too warm. 

He tied them tightly, cinching a few times before tucking the knot inside as to make any effort at their removal rather difficult. I whimpered as Elle set to teasing my clit with the pad of her thumb while my boyfriend returned his hold to the back of my head to keep my face down. “Please, I just want to cum,” I pleaded.

Elle chuckled, “aw, we know, babe.” She adjusted my panties so they covered me again and I whined softly. She had a way of making things drag unbearably. “You make it so obvious." 

Suddenly, she yanked the waistband of my panties up, exposing my rear, and clapped her other hand against my left cheek roughly. My boyfriend followed suit with the right. I practically leapt out of the sunroof, crying out and bucking against the armrest. They continued for a few minutes before Elle insisted, "this isn’t right at all. I should be hearing counting. And thank yous.”

My boyfriend smacked my right side again and I panted out a, “one, thank you, Sir.”

Elle hit the left. “One. Thank you, Miss.”

Another to the left. “Two. Thank you, Miss.”

Then the right. “Two. Thank you, Sir.”

It continued that way for a while. Occasionally, they would switch the side they spanked without telling me. His hits were harder, and they laughed each time I correctly guessed that he had moved to the other side when I grunted out a pained, “thank you, Sir.” Whenever I guessed the hitter wrong, the next hit would be square on my panty-covered pussy. 

Elle broke the rhythm eventually, hitting me so many times in succession that I simply could not keep track. I slumped against the armrest. My head was starting to feel light. My ass was stinging. My pussy was throbbing. 

“What number are you up to, slut?” She asked, giving my ass another smack as if to rouse me from my stupor.

I shook my head and whispered, “I don’t know, Miss.”

“You don’t know?” she repeated back to me as if she were speaking to a child. “Well, that’s no good at all.”

To be continued.