Chapter 5: Live stream continues
Marcus didn’t move from his spot between her splayed legs. He just grinned, his eyes fixed on her glistening, cum-smeared soles still held aloft by Jamal. "My turn from the front," he announced, his voice rough. He didn’t wait for confirmation. He shuffled forward on his knees until his cock, thick and rigid, nudged her soaked, swollen entrance Darius had just vacated.
"Hold position," Darius ordered, his voice still thick with exertion but laced with authority. He stood near her head, watching, the recorder still glowing red in his hand. Jamal kept her legs hoisted high and wide, her knees bent sharply towards her shoulders, putting her entire lower body on obscene display. Her calves screamed. Her toes, pointed rigidly upward despite the trembling, felt like they might snap.
Marcus pushed in slowly, stretching her tender, overused flesh. Melissa gasped, the sensation a raw blend of lingering soreness and renewed friction. "Point those toes, Mel," Jamal reminded her, jiggling her ankles slightly. "Show 'em off." She strained, forcing her feet into the rigid arch demanded of her.
Darius raised the recorder near her face. "Alright, J. Feed her the comments. Keep her motivated." He tapped her calf sharply. "Hold it."
Jamal grabbed the phone, thumb flying. "Live chat is fucking wild," he said, a grin spreading. "Forty thousand viewers hungry for more. Okay, here we go." Marcus began a slow, deep grind, his eyes fixed on her face. "'CumSlutSupreme' says: 'Look at that gaping hole! Still dripping Dare and Terrell's load! Perfect lube for Marcus!'"
Melissa whimpered, humiliation washing over her. Marcus chuckled, driving deeper. "He ain't wrong."
"'FootFetishGod' comments," Jamal continued, "'Those soles are coated! Needs licking clean while she gets filled again! Someone get down there!'" He nudged Marcus. "Hear that? Service call." Marcus just grunted, his pace increasing slightly, focused on his own rhythm.
"'PublicRecordAgain' posts," Jamal’s tone shifted, sharper, "'Melissa Brown. KY State Police. Forensics Analyst. Imagine her handling evidence with those cum-sticky fingers tomorrow.'" The icy stab of terror returned, sharper than before. Her job. The sterile lab. Her colleagues. Melissa’s breath hitched. Marcus felt her flinch and slammed home hard, forcing a sharp cry from her lips. "Shut up and take it," he growled. "They know you now."
"'CuckoldDreamer_Prime' writes," Jamal pushed on, relentless, "'Hubby Brandon must be losing his mind seeing this! Bet he's stroking his tiny dick watching his wife become a public cumdump!'" The image of Brandon, confused, hurt, possibly watching, sent a fresh wave of shame crashing through her. Tears welled. Marcus pounded harder, his cock dragging against her sensitive walls, the dual assault of words and sensation overwhelming.
"Point. Those. Feet." Darius commanded, his voice cold, tapping her calf again. Jamal adjusted his grip, forcing her legs even wider apart. The stretch in her hips was agonizing. She locked her toes into position, trembling violently.
"Good ones comin' in too," Jamal announced, trying to shift the tone slightly, though the undercurrent remained dark. "'ArchAdmirer' says: 'Her feet are poetry in motion. The strain in her tendons! The curve of her arch! Pic 15 is iconic.'" He glanced down. "You hear that, Mel? Poetry."
Marcus groaned, his thrusts becoming deeper, more deliberate. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the towel near her shoulders, bringing his face closer to hers. "Look at me," he demanded. Melissa met his intense gaze, tears spilling over. "'SoleObsessed_Elite' comments," Jamal read right beside her ear, "'Worship those feet! Suck her toes while Marcus owns her pussy! Make her cum on camera!'"
As if on cue, Marcus lowered his head, capturing her mouth in a hard, possessive kiss, silencing any whimper. His tongue invaded as his hips pistoned. Jamal chuckled. "Chat loves that! 'KissTheSlut' says: 'Hot as fuck! She's totally submitting!'"
Marcus broke the kiss, panting. "She is." He resumed his brutal pace.
"'BusinessProposal' posts," Jamal scanned, interest piqued. "'Offer stands: $750 for a 10-min custom vid. Feet focus. Her saying her name, her husband's name, thanking me for using her.'" Darius raised an eyebrow, looking down at Melissa. "Hear that? Payday. Think you can be polite, Mel?"
Melissa sobbed, the degradation twisting into something transactional, even colder. Marcus slammed into her cervix. "Answer him," he grunted.
"Yes," she gasped, the word mangled. "Yes!"
"'TotalSlayage' is pumping us up," Jamal announced. "'Forty-five K viewers! She’s breaking the internet! That ruined pussy is legendary! Keep stretching her!'" Marcus groaned, his rhythm faltering. He was close. Jamal angled the phone down. "They want to see it. See her take it."
"'CumOnHerFaceThisTime!' demands 'FacialsOnly'," Jamal read quickly. "'Mark her pretty face! Show everyone what she is!'" Marcus’s thrusts became jerky, frantic. Darius shifted the recorder lower, aiming it towards Melissa’s face. "Open wide, Mel," Darius said, no hint of request.
Marcus roared, pulling out abruptly just as his release pulsed. Thick ropes of hot cum splattered across Melissa’s flushed cheeks, her forehead, her parted lips. She flinched, closing her eyes as the warm fluid hit her skin. Jamal snapped pictures rapidly. Click. Click. Click. The recorder captured her choked gasp, the wet sounds.
Marcus slumped back, breathing hard. Jamal lowered the phone slightly, scrolling. "Comments blowing up! 'CumCanvas' says 'Perfect shot! 'MarriedSlutBranded' loves it." He looked at Darius. "Fifty thousand views."
Darius kept the recorder aimed, the red light unwavering. He looked down at Melissa, her face streaked white, her legs still held high and wide by Jamal, trembling with exhaustion, her pointed toes the only part of her still rigidly obeying. "Keep holding," Darius said, his voice cold. "We're not done. Jamal? Your turn." He nodded towards the spent Marcus. "Clean her face off first. Chat wants it."
Jamal chuckled, releasing one ankle to swipe two fingers roughly through the cum on Melissa’s cheek. He shoved his sticky fingers into her mouth. "Suck it clean, Mel," he ordered, his own cock already hard again as he moved to take Marcus’s place between her brutally spread legs. "The viewers love a good cleanup." Melissa gagged, tasting salt and bitterness, as Jamal positioned himself, the next wave of comments scrolling relentlessly on the glowing screen beside her head. The numbers ticked higher: 51,112. Still climbing.
Jamal finished with a final, deep thrust, his own release adding to the mess inside her. He pulled out, collapsing back onto the towels with a satisfied groan. The sudden absence left Melissa feeling hollowed out and used, her body trembling from the sustained, brutal pace.
For a long moment, the only sounds were their ragged breathing and the distant ocean. Then Melissa slowly pushed herself up onto her elbows, wiping a shaky hand across her sticky face. A wide, unsteady grin spread across her lips. “OH MY GOD,” Melissa says, her voice hoarse but bright with adrenaline. “THAT WAS GREAT. I LOVE HEARING THE COMMENTS.” She said with a laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “I DON’T CARE ABOUT WORK, FUCK EM, I CAN RETIRE IN THREE YEARS ANYWAY.”
The men all laughed, the tension dissolving into a shared, dark amusement. Darius nodded, a businessman closing a successful deal. “LET’S DO THIS AGAIN IN OUR CONDO.” He scooped up the phone, showing her the still-climbing view count. “WE WILL SET UP ANOTHER LIVE STREAM ON PORNHUB AND SEE IF WE CAN GET THE VIDEO TO GO VIRAL. WE WILL TAKE A BUNCH OF PICS FIRST OF YOU BEFORE AND POST THEM AND THEN GET THE LIVE STREAM GOING.” He looked around at the others, then back at her. “DO YOU WANT US TO GANGBANG YOU OR RUN A TRAIN AGAIN?”
Melissa blinked, the terminology still new to her. “WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“A GANGBANG IS WHEN MULTIPLE MEN ARE ON YOU AT THE SAME TIME,” Darius explained casually, as if discussing sports strategies. “A TRAIN IS WHEN ONE GUY FUCKS YOU AND THEN ANOTHER GUY TAKES HIS PLACE, SO JUST ONE AT A TIME.”
“LET ME THINK ABOUT IT,” Melissa said, her mind already racing with the possibilities. “BRANDON IS LEAVING IN THE MORNING, HE HAS TO HEAD BACK HOME FOR WORK BUT IM STAYING A COUPLE MORE DAYS. LET’S DO IT TOMORROW NIGHT.” She looked around at the four men. “WHERE ARE YOU ALL STAYING?” SHE ASKED.
“WE ARE ACTUALLY STAYING IN FORT WALTON BEACH AND THE EL MATADOR CONDOS.” DARIUS SAID. “ONLY A SHORT DRIVE FROM DESTIN.”
“OK, DEAL. I’LL BE THERE AT 9PM.” She pushed her tangled hair back from her face, a new, eager glint in her eye. “WHAT DO YOU ALL WANT ME TO WEAR.”
Darius looked at the other men, delegating the request. One asked her if she had a short skirt. “YEA, I BROUGHT A KHAKI COLORED SKIRT DOWN HERE.” She nodded. “WHAT ELSE?” SHE ASKED.
Another guy said a spaghetti strapped shirt. Melissa said she brought a black one. “WHAT ABOUT HIGH HEELS?” ANOTHER MAN ASKED.
“OF COURSE,” SAID MELISSA, a sly smile playing on her lips.
“OK, IT’S A PLAN,” SAID DARIUS, finalizing the arrangement. “WE ARE IN CONDO 112, FIRST FLOOR, SEE YOU TOMORROW AT 9PM.”