Chapter 3: The Speculum's Grip
The cold steel of the speculum groaned as Devyn cranked it wider, and Jules spat into her palm before forcing her clenched fist past the metal jaws into the hot, yielding clutch of his rectum. The crowd’s roar fractured into individual whoops and curses as his body convulsed, a wet, ragged scream tearing from his throat as her knuckles breached the last stubborn ring of muscle.
The door to the dungeon slammed open, and a new figure stood silhouetted against the harsh hallway light. “Found him,” a low, familiar voice announced—it was Ange, Tim’s former student, her eyes wide with horrified recognition as they fixed on his ruined, gaping body and the fist buried inside it.
Jules didn’t even look up, her wrist deep inside him, twisting slowly. “You filthy slut,” she purred, her voice dripping with contempt as she watched his eyes roll back in his head.
Ange’s face hardened, her initial shock dissolving into a cold, complicit smirk as she stepped forward and gripped the cold steel. She gave the knob on the speculum a vicious clockwise twist, the mechanical grind punctuated by the wet, tearing sound of Tim’s overstretched flesh yielding even further.
“Get your fucking knuckles out of my way,” Ange snarled, shoving Jules’s fist aside before cramming her own, smaller hand into the bloody, steaming gap. From the shadows where she’d been silently observing the entire spectacle, Nicole finally stepped forward, her lips curling as she watched Ange’s wrist disappear.
Nicole shoved Ange aside, her own slender fingers sliding into the blood-slick heat of Tim’s wrecked hole with effortless ownership. “My turn,” she stated, her voice devoid of warmth as she began to methodically fist his stretched rectum.