Chapter 13: Anal Ruination
Marcus’s grip on her curls tightened, guiding her head back down. “Suck it, you talentless cunt. Show Will how hungry you are.”
Rachel gasped around the thick head, her throat convulsing. Her hips, however, kept moving, riding William’s enormous cock with a frantic, desperate rhythm driven by a pleasure so deep it had eroded every former conviction. The shame was still there, a sharp, bright thread in the fabric of her being, but it was now interwoven with something darker, more compelling. She was a slut. She was their slut. The thought, instead of horrifying her, sent a fresh spike of wet heat pulsing around William’s shaft.
“Oh fuck yeah,” William groaned beneath her, his hands a firm, commanding weight on her trembling thighs. “That’s it. Take his dick. Ride mine. You’re just a set of holes now, Berry. Pretty little holes for us to use.”
She was. The realization was absolute. Rachel Berry, the glee club star, Finn Hudson’s chaste girlfriend, was gone. In her place was this mewling, fuck-drunk creature who craved the stretch, the burn, the degradation. She sucked Marcus with a hungry avidity, her tongue swirling around his shaft, her throat opening to take him deeper with each of William’s upward thrusts.
“Unnh… ngh!” she grunted around the cock, the sounds garbled and wet.
After a few relentless minutes, Marcus pulled back, his cock slick with her spit. “Nah. Mouth’s good. But there’s better things to do with this tight little piece.”
He moved off the bed. William, understanding instantly, shifted his grip. In one fluid motion, he rolled them, keeping himself buried inside her, so that Rachel was now on her back, pinned beneath his immense bulk. His weight was crushing, sublime.
“Don’t you fucking move,” William snarled into her ear, his breath hot. “You’re just a little sheath. A warm, wet hole for my cock. You understand?”
“Y-yes,” Rachel whimpered, her body thrumming with tension.
She felt Marcus climb onto the bed behind her. He knelt between her legs, which William now hooked over his own powerful forearms, spreading her wide, lifting her hips. The cool air touched her asshole, making her clench instinctively.
“Look at that,” Marcus muttered. A glob of something cold and slick landed on her rear entrance. Lube. His thumb rubbed it in, a crude, circular motion that made her jump. “Tighter than a snare drum. Finn ever try this?”
“N-no!” Rachel cried out.
“Didn’t think so,” Marcus chuckled. The broad, blunt head of his cock replaced his thumb, pressing insistently against the puckered ring of muscle. “He’s a pussy. We’re not.”
Rachel’s eyes flew open, staring past William’s shoulder at the stained ceiling. “Wait… you can’t… both… not at the same time… ngh!”
It was a fractured protest. Even as she said it, her mind flashed an image: Quinn Fabray, the perfect blonde cheerleader, in another room, getting railed by two of Marcus’s friends. The pinnacle of McKinley’s hierarchy, brought low. And now her.
“We can,” William said, his voice a low, dark rumble in her ear. “And we are.”
“Gonna split you in half, little girl,” Marcus grunted, pushing forward.
The pressure was immense, a burning, tearing intrusion that obliterated all thought. Her back arched off the bed, a raw, animal scream tearing from her throat. “AAAAHHHHH!”
“Fuck, she’s tight,” Marcus hissed, pausing as the thick crown of his cock popped past the resistant ring.
Rachel sobbed, the fullness unreal. She was stretched wider than she’d ever imagined possible, two massive cocks impaling her, filling her beyond capacity. She could feel them, separated only by a thin, straining wall of flesh, their heat and pulse pressed against each other inside her.
“You’re… you’re going to kill me,” she gasped, tears streaming down her temples.
William laughed, a harsh, unforgiving sound. “Shut up. Quinn took it. Tina took it. You think you’re special? You’re just the next bitch in line.”
Marcus began to push deeper, a slow, agonizing invasion. The lube eased the way, but the stretch was brutal, transformative. With a final, grinding thrust, he seated himself fully, his hips meeting her ass, his body looming over William’s back.
Rachel lay utterly pinned, a tiny, trembling sandwich of flesh between two mountains of muscle and intent. She could feel every vein, every pulse. Her own body felt foreign, a ravaged playground.
“Oh God… I can feel you… both,” she babbled, the words spilling out unchecked. “I can feel you pressing… ngh… through me.”
“Feel that, Will?” Marcus said, shifting experimentally. “Fuck. Your monster cock is gonna shove me right out her shithole.”
“Then hold on tight,” William said. He began to move.
It started slowly, a deep, rolling withdrawal that made Rachel cry out at the loss, followed by a devastating return stroke. Marcus matched the rhythm, his thrusts counter-pointed to William’s. They were synchronized, practiced. In, out, a brutal, filling pistoning that left no part of her untouched.
The pain flared, then subsided, swamped by a tidal wave of sensation so intense it bordered on nausea. Her nerves were screaming, overloaded, confused signals of violation and overwhelming pleasure firing through her core.
“Look at her,” Marcus grunted, his pace quickening. “Little glee club superstar. Got more black dick in her than a slave ship.”
“Finn’s never gonna fit in this wrecked cunt again,” William panted, driving into her harder. “We’re making it our own. You hear that, you squeaky little bitch? Your pussy belongs to us now. Your ass too.”
“Yes! Yes!” Rachel screamed, the words ripped from her. Her hands scrabbled at William’s sweat-slicked back, nails digging in. “It’s yours! Oh God… Nnh… it’s so deep!”
The pleasure was coiling now, a tight, electric spring in her belly, fed from both fronts. She was babbling, a filthy, unfiltered stream of consciousness. “You’re so big… you’re stretching me… I can’t… I’m gonna… AHH!”
Her first orgasm hit her like a truck, a convulsive, mind-wiping seizure that locked her body rigid between them. Her inner walls fluttered and clenched violently around William’s cock, her ass milking Marcus’s in erratic pulses. She saw white light, heard a roaring in her ears.
They didn’t stop.
The movement continued, relentless, grinding her through the peak and into a terrifying, sensitized overdrive. The pleasure didn’t fade; it mutated, became sharper, more penetrating.
“Again. Make her come again,” William commanded, his own breathing growing ragged.
“Gah! Unh! Oh please… please…” Rachel begged, though she didn’t know what for. Mercy or more.
She turned her head, her vision blurry. On the dresser across the room, a foggy mirror reflected the scene. A distorted tangle of limbs: dark, powerful male bodies and her own small, pale form utterly engulfed between them. Her face was a mask of tear-streaked ecstasy, mouth agape in a silent scream. The Rachel Berry who had vowed never to be with a black man was nowhere in that reflection.
There was only this. The brutal, perfect rhythm. The slap of skin. The crude, grunted insults that were now the only prayers she knew. The feeling of being completely, irrevocably claimed.
The coil tightened again, hotter, faster. Her moans climbed back into screams.
“Fuck! Here it… here it comes again! NNNGGGHHH!”