Chapter 3: The Calls Are Made
The storm hit an hour after dusk. Rain drummed against the taut nylon of the tent, a relentless percussion that drowned out the forest. Inside, the lantern’s flame guttered, casting a febrile, dancing light. The air was damp and heavy with the smell of wet earth, sweat, and the faint, coppery scent of sex that still lingered from the morning.
Marge sat curled in a sleeping bag, watching the shadows leap. Her body felt foreign to her—used, sore, humming with a latent energy she didn’t understand. Derek and Gage were talking in low tones by the tent flap, their voices just murmurs beneath the rain.
“They’re coming,” Gage said, peering out into the blackness. “Saw their light bobbing down the trail.”
Derek turned to look at her. His smile was sharp, excited. “You ready, baby?”
She didn’t know what to say. Ready for what? The promise from the morning—“a real crew”—echoed in her head, both terrifying and electrifying. She just nodded, her throat tight.
The tent flap unzipped with a rasp, and a gust of wet, cold air rushed in, followed by two men. They shook water from their jackets, their figures bulky in the confined space. The first, Cooper, was tall and lean, with a sharp gaze that swept the tent and landed on her. The second, Jace, was thicker, built like a wrestler, with a blunt, friendly face that didn’t match the hunger in his eyes.
“Fuck, it’s coming down out there,” Cooper said, his voice a dry rasp.
“Little cramped,” Jace grunted, but he was smiling, staring openly at Marge.
“Plenty of room for what we need,” Derek said, clapping Gage on the shoulder. “You guys remember the deal.”
“Blindfold on the girl,” Gage said, his tone leaving no room for question. He produced a strip of dark cloth from his pocket. “Makes it easier. For her.”
Easier. The word felt hollow. Derek came to her, his touch gentle as he tied the cloth over her eyes. The world vanished, replaced by profound, smothering black. Her other senses sharpened unbearably: the scent of wet wool and male bodies crowding closer, the sound of rough breathing and the rain, the feel of the cool canvas beneath her knees.
“Open your mouth.” It was Gage’s voice, right in front of her.
She obeyed, her lips parting. Something hot and blunt, already slick, pressed against them. The taste of salt and skin filled her mouth. She flinched.
“That’s Cooper,” Derek whispered from somewhere to her left. His hand was on the back of her head, not pushing, just resting. “Be a good girl and suck it.”
She took the length into her mouth, the act of submission sending a confusing jolt straight to her core. She worked her tongue, her cheeks hollowing, guided by the low groans from the man above her. His hands tangled in her hair, not gently. He fucked her mouth with shallow thrusts, the head of his cock hitting the back of her throat. She gagged, tears soaking the blindfold.
“Good, fuck, just like that,” Cooper hissed.
Then he was gone, pulled away, and another cock, thicker, replaced it. Jace. He was less patient, more forceful, gripping her head and setting a brutal pace that left her gasping for air between thrusts. Spit dripped down her chin. She was an instrument, a warm, wet hole for their use, and the realization coiled hot and shameful in her stomach.
While she serviced Jace, she felt hands on her body from behind. Fingers dug into her hips, yanking her backwards onto a waiting cock. Derek. He entered her in one smooth, deep stroke, filling the aching emptiness. The dual sensation—being fucked from behind while her mouth was occupied—shattered her thoughts into static.
“Switch,” Gage’s voice cut through.
Bodies shifted around her. Jace pulled from her mouth with a wet pop. Derek withdrew, leaving her feeling cavernously empty for a second before Gage took his place, his entry harder, faster, pounding her forward. Someone else—Cooper—guided his cock back between her lips. The rhythm was chaotic, overwhelming. She was a conduit for their pleasure, passed between them, her body jolting with each deep penetration from behind, her throat working to take what was given to her mouth.
“Alright, enough warm-up,” Gage grunted, pulling out of her. “Get her on her hands and knees.”
Hands manhandled her, positioning her in the center of the tent floor. The canvas was cold and gritty beneath her palms and knees. The blindfold stayed on. She heard the rustle of clothing, the sound of a belt buckle, low, eager curses.
“Who’s first?” Cooper asked.
“Derek and me,” Gage said. “You two watch. Learn how she takes it.”
They flanked her. She felt the broad, familiar head of Gage’s cock press against her entrance, already slick and loose. He pushed in, a deep, stretching fill she was beginning to know. Before she could adjust, she felt Derek’s cock, nudging against the same stretched ring of muscle, seeking entry alongside his brother’s.
“Fuck, here we go,” Derek breathed.
The pressure was immense, a white-hot sting of resistance that gave way to a grotesque, unbelievable fullness as he forced his way in. She screamed into the blindfold, her back arching. They were both inside her, their shafts grinding together, a violent, intimate friction that consumed her entire being.
“Jesus Christ,” Jace whispered, awe in his voice.
“Your turn, Coop,” Gage gritted out, not ceasing his relentless thrusting. “Take her mouth. Don’t be gentle.”
Cooper’s cock slid between her lips again, filling the last available hole. She was pinned, perforated, utterly occupied. The three men moved in a dissonant, jarring rhythm, using her body as the junction point of their thrusts. The sound was wet, meaty, obscene—the slap of balls against skin, the choked gags from her throat, their ragged panting.
“Look at that stretch,” Derek moaned, his voice strained with ecstasy. “Look at her fucking take it.”
She was losing herself in the sensation, the pain blurring into a pleasure so intense it felt like annihilation. Her own moans vibrated around the cock in her mouth. Her world was reduced to the brutal physics of penetration, the smell of sex and sweat, the animal sounds of the men using her.
They switched. Gage and Cooper inside her, Derek at her mouth. Then Jace and Derek, Gage watching, then taking his turn back. She lost track. It was just a cycle of immense pressure, of being filled and emptied and filled again by different combinations of hardness. They talked over her, about her.
“Tighter than my fist.”
“She’s dripping all over the canvas.”
“Think we could get a fourth in here? In the ass?”
“Next time. For sure.”
The vulgar planning fused with the physical violation, each word a dark caress that pushed her closer to an edge she didn’t recognize. An orgasm built in her, not from gentle touch but from the sheer, degrading fullness, from the sound of their approval, from the complete surrender of her body.
It hit her during a rotation with Gage and Jace fucking her cunt, Derek feeding her his cock. It tore through her with a silent, seismic violence, her body clamping and spasming around the two invading shafts. Her convulsions triggered their own releases. Gage came first with a guttural shout, his heat flooding her. Jace followed, grunting, adding to the mess. Derek pulled from her mouth and she felt the hot stripes of his release paint her back and shoulders.
They collapsed around her, a tangle of damp, heaving limbs. The blindfold was soaked with sweat and tears. Someone finally loosened it, pulling it away. The lantern light was blinding. She blinked, her vision swimming, taking in the scene: the four men, spent, watching her with expressions of raw, satiated hunger. She was on her knees, dripping their combined semen, marked, used.
Derek crawled to her, cupping her face. His eyes were blazing with pride. He kissed her, deep and possessive, tasting of her and sweat and sex. “You were perfect,” he whispered against her lips. “Fucking perfect.” He looked over her shoulder at the others, at his brother’s satisfied smirk. “Next weekend. We’ll get the fifth. Make her airtight.”
Outside, the rain continued to fall, washing nothing away.