The thing that shocked Brenna the most was how easy it was.

How easy to let Damon and Anthony guide her up onto the dais when the previous threesome concluded. How easy it was to just focus on Damon and on her desire for him—more than that, her love for him—as she twined her arms around his neck and kissed him before the crowd.

Part of why it was easy, of course, was because even as they were the center of attention, so much else took place. Some people left and new ones arrived. Some of the surrounding beds held people fucking their brains out, and nude girls came and went from the “baths” at their leisure to simply stroll about the room, wet and slick-looking.

But part of why it was easy was because Damon had made it that way. He’d made it so that sin was…good. This kind of sin anyway. She refused to think of any other sins she might be committing this week—and concentrated only on the sins of the flesh, which, with Damon, no longer felt like sinning at all.

Soft musical notes from lute and lyre dripped through the air as Damon faced her on the dais—Anthony stood behind her, and she was glad, because even if she fucked them both, this was all about pleasuring Damon, exciting Damon, being his ultimate unleashed dirty girl.

Damon’s gaze dropped to her breasts, the toga’s fabric now covering her again, and reaching up, he molded them in his palms, making her sigh and arch toward him.

Behind her, Anthony’s strong hands closed over her hips, then descended slowly, to massage her ass.

Oh God, she’d never been touched by two men before at once. And it was sort of like last night, when she’d been pleasured by both Damon and Jenelle—but better. Because both her lovers were men—hard, virile men. And because it felt as if the whole world was watching—watching her shed her every inhibition, for her lover.

Anthony’s palms roamed her with skill from behind, skimming up over her waist and smoothly onto her breasts, kneading her. Her head dropped back as she suffered the strange, heady pleasure of letting a stranger touch her while Damon watched.

When Anthony curled his fingers into the swaths of fabric covering her chest and pulled downward, baring her, Damon bent to kiss, suckle her nipples. And as the pleasure roared through her, Anthony’s hands traveled lower, one lifting her skirt, the other stroking boldly between her legs. She moved against his fingers involuntarily, still fueled by being in the center of the bacchanal.

And when Anthony untied the gold cord from around her waist and Damon slipped his thumbs beneath her shoulder straps to send the dress dropping in a rush to her ankles, she didn’t even flinch over her nudity. Moreover, she basked in it. Her nipples puckered tighter; her pussy flooded with warmth.

With the guidance of Anthony’s hands, she moved onto the divan, on her hands and knees, assuming the same position as the blonde who’d knelt here upon their arrival, the blonde who’d first begun to inspire her to desire such reckless sex.

Like the blonde before her, she boldly thrust her ass into the air, arching her back, and she gazed up at Damon as he let his own toga hit the floor. Her eyes then dropped to his tremendous cock, standing at full attention, looking so stiff and ready that she couldn’t wait to feast on it. “Put it in my mouth,” she said, peering back up into his dark eyes. She’d glimpsed Anthony rolling on a condom behind her.

She should be terrified. Freaking out. But she simply wasn’t. The things she’d seen here tonight had freed her and, for this night only, her desire truly knew no bounds.

As Damon positioned his cock at her lips, she parted them and let him slide inside. He filled the recesses of her mouth, slow, deep, and she enjoyed all the eyes studying her in such an obscene state.

And as he began to move in and out, as she matched his rhythm, Anthony’s hands closed back on her ass and his shaft nudged at her moist opening.

Again, part of her wanted to be repulsed, feel used and abused, feel like she’d made a horrible mistake. But she didn’t feel any of those things. What she felt was ready. Ready to be fucked by two big, hard cocks. Ready to show the world—or at least the other people who’d come here tonight—how hungry she was, how naughty, how dirty.

When Anthony entered her, she groaned around Damon’s cock. Oh God, she’d never felt so very filled. And she suddenly understood the blonde’s joy from before. As Anthony plunged into her from behind, Damon fed her his cock from the front, both men making her feel more thoroughly fucked than she could have imagined possible.

They moved together that way, her lust growing, heat building, even as the sensation of having two large shafts inside her threatened to overwhelm her. She responded by fucking Anthony harder, sucking Damon more energetically. She gave it all she had, wanting to soak up every nuance of this moment, wanting to feel everything there was to feel.

Anthony drove into her with still more power, until she was forced to release Damon’s cock in order to cry out as the strokes pummeled her. But she peered up into Damon’s eyes the whole time, through every hard thrust from the man behind her, and—oh God—it was almost as if Damon were in front of her and behind her at once, because if felt far more like fucking Damon than fucking someone else.

“So good, babe,” he whispered. “You’re doing so fucking good.” And she loved that he was as into this as she was, watching another guy do her as she gazed into his eyes.

But then Anthony eased off, going still, and used his hands to shift her position, reminding her—this was a show for the other patrons and she’d agreed to follow his lead even as he’d promised to keep things fairly simple.

Behind her, Anthony leaned back, resting on his knees on the divan, and he took Brenna with him, situating them both in an upright position, his cock still jutting up into her cunt. Oh—she felt it deeper this way, putting her weight on him. Her legs were parted, spread so that her calves stretched out on both sides of his, and he reached down, between her thighs, using the fingertips of both hands to spread the front of her pussy, as well.

Damon’s eyes dropped briefly to her freshly shaved flesh, then rose to hers. He’d been standing at one end of the ornate divan, but now climbed up onto the upholstered bench on his knees, moving closer, closer, until his stiffened cock pressed directly between her breasts.

She sucked in her breath as Anthony’s hands came around, pushing the two mounds of soft flesh around Damon’s rock-hard length. She sighed with the pleasure it brought—pleasure she’d never before contemplated. And pleasure that grew still more intense when Damon began to slide his erection up and down between her tits, fucking them. Oh God, it felt so good. So good to have such powerful strokes buffeting her breasts while Anthony continued to fuck her pussy below.

Again, she moved with them, the three of them finding a common rhythm, then working it. Around them, moans of pleasure filled the air, some of them echoing from her and the two men enjoying her. And being on the dais continued to inspire her, make her more energetic, wanting to show everyone what it was to be a perfect bad girl.

As Damon’s shaft pistoned upward, she stuck out her tongue, catching the tip at the end of each thrust. He let out a hot little groan with each lick she delivered, and finally, she bent forward, her mouth in the shape of an “O,” letting him drive the head of his cock between her lips each time.

Making his cock wet again helped it slide more easily through the valley of her breasts, turning her skin slick, making them both move harder against each another. It was now Damon’s palms pressing her tits around his thrusting cock; Anthony now used one hand to steady her hips over his as he fucked her and the other to rub hot little circles over her clit.

Together, the three of them gyrated, the pleasure deepening, deepening, until Brenna thought she would die of it. The rhythmic swirl of Anthony’s fingers showed his sexual experience as he pushed her closer to orgasm with each circular caress. She shoved her clit against his hand even as she met his dick underneath. And her breasts felt swollen from Damon’s hot fucking, larger somehow than they’d ever been in her life.

She heard her breath grow thready, louder, and knew she was close—and above her, Damon’s breathing hitched, too. She looked up, meeting his gaze as the tip of his shaft entered her mouth, then heard him murmur, “Ah, fuck, I’m coming,” just as hot, wet semen burst from the slit of his cock, arcing across her breasts in one, two, three, vigorous shots.

She sucked in her breath and orgasmed—the hot pulsing, pleasure exploding from her cunt and outward as Damon sensually rubbed his warm, white come into her breasts, making them slick and shiny, his obscene massage causing her climax to stretch, stretch, so long, longer than any she’d ever had.

As it finally passed, Anthony drove his cock up into her—hard, hard, hard—groaning with each stroke, his hands gripping her hips tight, and she knew he’d just come, too.

And as they all went still, the crowd around them seeming to quiet then, as well—making her think maybe a lot of people had just come with them—Damon did something no one else on the dais had done tonight after their performance. He took her face in his hands and kissed her.