Chapter 6: Continuation
The silence that followed was punctuated by heavy breathing and the soft, wet sounds of withdrawal. Cissy lay spent, a canvas painted in their release, her mind floating somewhere near the water-stained ceiling. The chemical burn of the aphrodisiac had faded to a deep, buzzing hum in her veins, a relentless engine idling.
Skull was the first to move, sliding off her with a grunt. He looked down at her, at the spectacular mess they’d made of her, and a slow, predatory smile touched his lips. “Christ. Look at that.”
The others gathered around, their eyes roaming her with a new, possessive familiarity. The initiation was over, but the hunger, it seemed, was a renewable resource.
“Can’t let a feast go to waste,” Cash said, his voice thick. He was already half-hard again, his curved cock twitching as he stared at her glistening pussy, filled with Skull’s cum.
“Round three,” Skull announced, not a question. He slapped her thigh, the sting sharp and waking. “Up on your hands and knees, Cissy. Time you learned your real place.”
Her muscles screamed in protest, but she obeyed. The movement made fresh trickles run down her inner thighs. The position felt more vulnerable than lying on her back, her ass exposed, her face near the footboard where the chains dangled.
“Mouth first,” Viper said, moving to kneel in front of her. He guided his length back between her lips. “Get us all back to attention. Do a good job.”
She opened her mouth, accepting the familiar weight and taste. Behind her, she felt Skull’s broad hand spreading her cheeks apart. “Pussy’s still dripping,” he murmured. “Hot and ruined. Perfect.”
Cash moved into position behind Skull. “I call next in that cunt.”
Cissy focused on the rhythm of sucking Viper, her jaw aching, as Skull positioned himself at her entrance. He pushed in with one slow, deep thrust, a groan escaping him as he re-entered the slick, tight warmth. He fucked her with a steady, piston-like rhythm, each drive pushing a muffled sound from her throat around Viper’s cock.
“That’s it,” Track growled from the side, watching, his own hand pumping his shaft. “Look at her take it. Fucking born for this.”
When Skull had worked himself to a hard, sweating rhythm, he pulled out with a wet pop. “Switch.”
Cash immediately took his place, his curved cock navigating her swollen folds with a practiced twist. The different angle, the distinct shape of him, made her gasp. Viper withdrew from her mouth, and Track took his turn, feeding her his considerable length. She sucked, her throat working, as Cash pounded into her from behind, his balding head gleaming under the light.
They rotated. Scribe in her mouth, his fingers tight in her hair. Tank in her pussy, his thickness stretching her so profoundly she saw stars. Viper again, then Cash. It became a brutal machine, each man using her orifice to reach full hardness before trading to the next. The bed rocked. The chains rattled softly.
“Think she’s ready for the backdoor again?” Scribe asked, his voice a silken threat as he watched Tank drill into her.
“Oh, she’s ready,” Skull said. He was leaning against the headboard, observing like a king, stroking himself. “But we do it proper this time. Two at once. Show her what her daddy’s club is really about.”
When Cash finished, painting her inner walls with another hot surge, they didn’t let her rest. Skull gestured. Viper and Tank positioned themselves. Tank, massive and relentless, pushed back into her well-used pussy. Viper, behind him, pressed the thick head of his cock against her other hole, still loose and slick from their earlier attention.
“Breathe out, girl,” Viper said, his voice devoid of warmth. He didn’t wait. He pressed forward.
The stretch was unreal. A blinding, white-hot fusion of pain and overwhelming fullness. She screamed around the cock in her mouth—Scribe’s, she thought—a ragged, desperate sound. Her body fought, clamping down on the twin invasions, which only made the men groan in feral appreciation.
“Holy fuck,” Track breathed, watching, his hand moving faster on himself. “She’s taking it. Look at that. A fucking virgin this morning and now she’s got a dick in each hole.”
“Tight as a vice,” Tank grunted, his huge hands gripping her hips, holding her still for their synchronized thrusts.
They established a ragged rhythm. Tank would push in, driving her forward onto Viper’s length, then Viper would thrust, pushing her back onto Tank. She was a piston slammed between them, a living sheath for their pleasure. The sensations blurred into a continuous static of penetration, her vision clouding at the edges. The men’s voices became a distant, snarling choir.
“Ruin her.”
“Made for this.”
“Best piece of ass the club’s ever had.”
They cycled. Different combinations. Scribe and Cash. Track and Viper. Each pair leaving her more broken, more open, more deliriously full.
Finally, they pulled out. She collapsed onto her stomach, her face pressed into the sweat-and-cum soaked leather of the headboard. She could barely form a thought.
Skull stood up from his perch. He was fully erect again, his cock a heavy, daunting presence. “My turn,” he said, his voice rough with want.
“Fuck, Prez, you got the stamina of a goddamn bull,” Cash laughed, wiping his face. “She’s barely conscious.”
“She’s fine,” Skull said, his eyes burning into Cissy’s prone form. “Aren’t you, girl?”
She managed a weak nod, a shred of defiance still flickering. She would take it. She would take anything.
But the men now clustered around her, their own hunger not slaked. There was a low murmuring. It was Scribe who spoke, his intellect for depravity crystalizing the thought. “You want in her, Skull. We all still want in her. So let’s not take turns.”
Skull’s gaze snapped to Scribe, then a dark, approving smile spread across his face. “You’re a sick fuck, brother. I like it.” He looked back at Cissy. “On your feet. Come here.”
Somehow, she pushed herself up. Her legs were water. Skull lay back on the center of the bed, his head propped against the headboard. He guided her to straddle him. “Ride me,” he commanded. “Take all of it.”
She lowered herself onto him, a slow, agonizing descent that made her whimper. He filled her utterly, a deep, claiming anchor. She began to move, a feeble rocking of her hips.
Skull looked over her shoulder, his arms around her waist holding her in place. “Viper. Cash. Get up here. Same hole.”
The words didn’t make sense until Viper moved behind her on the bed, kneeling close, his cock nudging against where she was already stretched impossibly wide around Skull. He pushed.
It was a pressure beyond comprehension. A searing, impossible fullness that made her scream, her body arching backward. Skull’s thickness was beneath, Viper’s above, crowding into her pussy together. The stretch was vicious, a tearing, burning sensation that melted almost instantly into a shocking, violent flare of pleasure. Her cry cut off into a choked gasp.
“That’s it,” Skull gritted out, his own face a mask of strained ecstasy. “Fucking tight.”
Before she could process the dual occupation, Cash was there, his curved cock pressing against her back door. He spit, used the copious wetness leaking from her stuffed pussy as lubes, and forced his way in.
Triple penetration. Her body was a vessel splitting at the seams. She couldn’t breathe. Every nerve was firing, a cacophony of pleasure-pain that short-circuited her mind. She was pinned between them, filled in a way that felt both profane and inevitable.
Then Track’s hand was on her head, turning her face. “Mouth open, sweetheart.” He fed his length past her lips, completing the violation.
Quadruple penetration.
She was utterly, completely occupied. A live, warm hole for each of them. They began to move, not in unison, but in a chaotic, overwhelming cadence. Skull thrusting up, Viper and Cash pistoning in and out of their respective apertures, Track fucking her face. The sounds were obscene—wet, slapping, guttural groans. The smell of sex was overpowering.
Her world dissolved into raw sensation. The brutal stretch. The deep grinding friction. The helpless, overwhelming submission. Something was detonating deep within her, a chain reaction started by the impossible pressure and the crude, grunting praise from the men.
“Look at her take it!”
“Fucking unbelievable!”
“She’s gonna break!”
She wasn’t breaking. She was coming apart in a different way. A pressure built, terrifying and immense, centered in her overfilled core. Her body clamped down in a series of violent, involuntary spasms around the three cocks buried in her.
“She’s convulsing!” Cash yelled, pounding into her ass.
Then it happened. A hot, torrential gush erupted from her, a flood of clear fluid that soaked Skull’s crotch and dripped down onto the bed with a sound like pouring rain. It wasn’t a normal orgasm; it was an eruption, a surrender so complete it emptied her.
She screamed around Track’s cock as she squirted, her body shaking uncontrollably, the pleasure so intense it tipped into a kind of agony.
The sensation triggered their own finishes. Skull roared, holding her hips down as he emptied into her already flooded channel. Viper cursed, his release joining Skull’s. Cash shouted, his cum painting her insides. Track pulled from her mouth, spilling across her neck and breasts.
They stayed like that for a long moment, a tangled, breathing heap of spent flesh. Slowly, carefully, they withdrew from her ravaged body. She collapsed onto Skull’s chest, boneless, shuddering.
Skull’s hand, surprisingly gentle, stroked her soaked hair. His voice, when it came, was low and final, vibrating in his chest beneath her ear. “That’s your patch, Cissy. You feel it? That’s you. Officially. Forever.”
Around them, the men murmured their agreement, the sound as binding as any oath. She was in. There was no going back.