Chapter 12: Red is Love also
The metallic tang of blood hung thick in the air, clinging to the damp sheets where I lay, my stomach cramping. Vishal paced the cramped room, his naked body gleaming with frustrated sweat, his cock jutting angrily, rigid and flushed despite my whispered apologies. "Fuck, Isha," he groaned, running a hand through his hair, his eyes dark with need. "Second day? Seriously? I’m fucking dying here." Priya watched from the corner, perched silently on the rickety chair, her gaze flickering between his cock and my pained expression. "Periods aren't an excuse, randi," she stated flatly, her voice cutting through the humid silence. "Your boyfriend needs to cum. Responsibility hai teri." (It's your responsibility.) Vishal stopped pacing, staring at me with raw hunger. "She’s right. Use your mouth. Your tits. Fuck, anything."
Trembling, I crawled to the edge of the bed where he stood. The scent of his musk mixed sickeningly with the copper smell of my own blood. I took his heavy cock in my hands, feeling the hot, urgent throb against my palm, then leaned forward, opening my mouth. "Good slut," Vishal hissed as my lips closed over the swollen head, the taste of salt and pre-come flooding my tongue. I worked him, bobbing my head, sucking hard, using my tongue to circle the sensitive ridge, my hands kneading his tight balls. Priya moved closer, her shadow falling over us. "Harder," she commanded me. "Ghis ke choos usko. Gaandu ko nikalna hai." (Suck him hard. Make the fucker come.) I gagged slightly as he thrust deeper, hitting the back of my throat, my eyes watering. With a guttural roar, his hips snapped forward, fingers tangling in my hair, holding me down as thick ropes of hot cum pulsed into my mouth, coating my throat. I swallowed convulsively, the salty bitterness clinging.
He pulled out with a wet pop, breathing heavily, his cock softening momentarily. Priya was instantly there, her hand wrapping around the slick shaft, her thumb rubbing the swollen head, smearing the remnants of my saliva and his seed. "Nahin, Priya," he mumbled, trying to push her away but lacking conviction. "Bas ho gaya." (No, Priya. It's done.) "Nonsense," she purred, her other hand pinching my nipple hard, making me yelp. "Ek baar aur chahiye tujhe. Dekh tera lund phir khada ho raha hai saale." (You need it again. Look, your cock is getting hard again, fucker.) Under her expert, insistent strokes, it was; thickening, rising, regaining its angry rigidity against her palm. "Uski gaand hai na?" Priya continued, her eyes locking onto mine, cold and demanding. "Offer him your ass, randi. Apni gaand de use." (Offer him your ass, whore. Give him your ass.) Shame burned my cheeks. "Priya..." I whispered, voice thick.
"Dirty bitch," she spat, shoving me roughly onto my stomach. Before I could react, she grabbed the thick, purple dildo discarded near the bed – slick still from Vishal’s earlier use – and without warning, rammed it brutally into her own cunt, moaning loudly as she sank onto it. "Ahhh... dekh, Vishal," she gasped, fucking herself on the toy, her eyes fixed on his reawakened cock. "Is randi ki gaand tere liye ready hai... le ja use." (Ahhh... look, Vishal. This whore's ass is ready for you... take her.) Her moans, the lewd sight of her impaling herself, the sheer force of her demand, stripped away my resistance. "Haan... haan, Vishal," I choked out, pushing my hips back, presenting my ass, the memory of the last tearing invasion a fresh terror. "Le le meri gaand." (Take my ass.) Priya laughed, a dark, triumphant sound, her hand never stopping its rhythmic tug on his cock as she watched him position himself behind me. "Chod is chinal ko," she growled. (Fuck this bitch.) The blunt, insistent pressure against my clenched hole began again, Priya's obscene moans filling the room as she fucked herself, her free hand reaching to spread my cheeks wider for Vishal. He pushed, grunting, my strangled cry lost in the sounds of Priya’s pleasure and the wet slap of silicone against flesh.
The brutal pressure mounted, Priya’s hand guiding Vishal’s thick cockhead relentlessly against my clenched, resistant hole. "Push, motherfucker!" Priya snarled, her own hips still grinding down hard onto the dildo buried deep inside her, the slick, vulgar squelch punctuating her command. Vishal grunted, throwing his weight forward, the slick, blunt force finally breaching the tight ring of muscle. "FUCK! NO! GAAND PHAT JAYEGI, VISHAL!" I screamed, the white-hot tear ripping through me as his cockhead forced its way inside, stretching my ass wider than before. Priya laughed, a harsh, breathless sound, reaching around to roughly grab my breast and twist the nipple. "Teri gaand itni tight kyun hai, randi?" she hissed. "Relax nahin kar sakti kya apni boyfriend ke liye?" (Why’s your ass so tight, whore? Can't relax for your boyfriend?)
He didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate, driven by Priya’s goading and his own rekindled lust. With a brutal shove, he buried several thick, burning inches deeper into my bowels. "Saali... kitni garam... tut jaaye gi kya?" he panted, his voice thick with exertion and arousal, pulling back only to slam forward again, harder. Each thrust was a fresh violation, my asshole stretched obscenely around his girth, the friction igniting raw pain deep inside. Priya leaned over my back, her sweat-slicked skin pressed against mine, her breath hot on my neck. "Chod! Zor se chod is chinal ki gaand ko!" she urged Vishal, her hand abandoning her dildo to claw at his ass, pulling him deeper into me with every punishing stroke. "Ahhh... haan... isko pata chale ga kaun boss hai..." (Fuck! Fuck this bitch's ass hard! Ahhh... yes... she'll learn who's boss...)
Vishal obeyed, his rhythm turning savage, jackhammering into my clenching passage. The wet, meaty slap of his balls against my skin filled the cramped room, mingling with Priya’s ragged moans and my own choked sobs. The pain was immense, a searing agony radiating through my hips and spine, yet Priya’s sharp pinches on my nipples sent jarring, unwanted sparks through the torment. "Nikalne wala hai, saali!" Priya suddenly gasped, her voice tight with voyeuristic excitement, her fingers digging into Vishal’s hip. "Uske chutadon pe nikal! Saare muth uske boobs pe gira!" (He's gonna come, bitch! Come on her ass cheeks! Spill all your cum on her boobs!) Vishal roared, his thrusts becoming erratic, desperate. With a final, brutal slam that felt like it split me, he buried himself to the hilt. Hot, thick ropes of cum erupted deep inside my violated ass, pulsing against raw, inner walls as Priya dragged him backwards, his slick cock scraping out. "Haan! Abhi!" Priya commanded, shoving me onto my back, my breasts bouncing. Vishal, shuddering, gripped his cock, aiming the last powerful spurts directly onto my heaving, sweat-slicked tits, the warm, sticky fluid painting stripes across my skin while Priya watched, panting, triumphant.