Chapter 4: Bound in Shadows of Surrender

Mark’s lunge was a desperate flail, his hands outstretched like a man grasping at smoke, but the room had already shifted into something feral, unstoppable. Lena’s body hummed with electric fire, her pussy clenching around nothing as she hovered over Victor’s lap, the thick head of his cock parting her slick folds just enough to tease, to promise the stretch she craved. Her juices dripped hot onto his shaft, mixing with his precum in a glossy sheen that caught the low amber lights. She ground down slowly, feeling the vein pulse against her clit, a gasp escaping her full lips like a whisper of thunder.

But Mark’s voice shattered the haze—”Stop this! Lena, we can talk—” and in that moment, the men moved like wolves scenting blood. Jax was first, his ripped frame uncoiling from the couch in a blur of muscle and power. His veiny forearms flexed as he grabbed Mark’s arms, twisting them behind his back with effortless strength, the kind honed from years of tackling opponents on fields and in boardrooms. Mark yelped, a high, pathetic sound that sent a thrill straight to Lena’s core, her nipples hardening further against the sheer lace of her teddy, poking like diamonds begging for teeth.

“Time to watch, cuck,” Jax growled, his voice rough as gravel, his curved nine-incher still hard and arcing upward from his open jeans, bobbing with each movement. He shoved Mark toward the heavy dining chair they’d dragged earlier beside the couch, the oak creaking under the force. Kai joined in seamlessly, his tattooed hands yanking at Mark’s cheap button-down, buttons popping like gunfire, fabric ripping to expose Mark’s pale, trembling chest. “Strip him bare,” Kai snarled, his pierced cock twitching, the barbell glinting as if eager for the chaos. They worked in tandem, pants yanked down in one rough pull, boxers following, leaving Mark naked and exposed—his soft, shriveled dick hanging limp, a sad contrast to the throbbing monsters surrounding him.

Lena watched it all from her perch on Victor’s lap, her hips still rolling subtly, grinding her open pussy against his cockhead, coating him in her fertile slickness. Her womb ached with that deep, ovulating pull, a heat blooming low like fire licking dry tinder. She slid two fingers between her thighs, dipping into her dripping cunt, the wet schlick audible over Mark’s whimpers. “Yes ... make him watch,” she moaned, her voice husky, eyes locked on her husband’s humiliated form. Her fingers pumped slowly, juices squelching, dripping down her wrist as she fingered herself to the sight of his downfall. “Tie him tight. Cage that useless little thing.”