4. #2
I stood there in nothing but my white sneakers, white ankle socks, and the short, pleated skirt. I felt incredibly vulnerable, stripped of the "elite" camouflage I had spent two years perfecting. I was back in college, but the rules had totally changed.
"Take the skirt off," Tyrell said, his deep voice carrying no trace of playfulness. It was an order from a man used to shattering offensive lines.
My hands trembled as I reached for the waistband. I pushed the scratchy fabric down my hips, letting it pool around my ankles. I stepped out of it, leaving the red and white uniform in a pile on the teak deck.
I was completely naked now, except for my socks and shoes.
The three men fell silent. They stared at my pale, bruised body. They saw the faint red handprints Arthur had left on my ass. They saw the slight, puffy swelling of my pink lips.
And they saw the wetness that gave me away.
"She's already leaking," Jackson said. He reached down to adjust the waistband of his board shorts. A massive, heavy bulge was tenting the fabric. "Guess some primed the pump before she got here."
"I don't care who primed it," DeMarcus said, his voice dropping into a harsh, aggressive register. "I'm gonna nail it."
He grabbed me by the shoulders, his grip bruisingly tight, and spun me around. He shoved me hard against the plexiglass divider that separated the pool deck from the drop-off to the beach below.
I gasped as my stomach hit the thick, sun-warmed plexiglass.
"Grab the railing, bitch," DeMarcus barked.
I grabbed the thick stainless-steel handrail, leaning my upper body over the drop, presenting my bare ass to the three men behind me.
"Look at this ass," Tyrell said, as he stepped up right behind me. “Look at this pussy. She already loose. Looks like someone already stretched her out today."
"Good," Jackson laughed, stepping up to my right side. "Means she can take it."
A large, rough hand clamped down on my right hip, holding me firmly against the glass. I felt the thick, incredibly wide, blunt head of a cock press against my wet, open slit.
I didn't know whose it was. DeMarcus or Tyrell. It didn't matter, not really. They were a team, after all.
Whoever it was grabbed my hips and drove himself inside me with a brutal, uninterrupted shove.
I screamed even before he bottomed out in me. The sound echoed out over the empty beach.
He was impossibly thick. Even after the marathon session with Arthur, this was a shock to my system. He filled me completely, stretching me to the point of burning pain. He bottomed out so hard my stomach slammed against the railing, knocking the wind out of me.
"Fuck," the man behind me grunted, hips pinned to my ass cheeks. "Bitch can take it deep."
He pulled almost completely out, leaving me gasping, and slammed back in.
The sound of his dark skin hitting my pale ass did something to me.
I pushed back, trying to take even more of his big black cock.
He set a punishing, relentless rhythm and as he pounded into me from behind, Jackson stepped into my field of vision on my right.
He took me by the shoulders and repositioned me away from the drop.
And then he grabbed my jaw with one big hand and forced my head up.
"Open up." He shoved his thick, rigid cock between my lips. I gagged, my eyes watering instantly. He was just as big as the man fucking my pussy, maybe longer. I was impaled from both ends.
"That’s right, suck it, slur" he sneered, starting to fuck my face with short, aggressive thrusts. "Show us what you learned in cheer camp, little girl."
I was already losing myself. The hot sun beating down on my bare back.
The brutal, stretching pain in my pussy.
The musky taste of Jackson's cock choking me. The sound of their grunts and laughter blending with the bass from the speakers. I’d been on the island no more than twenty minutes and they were already spit-roasting me.
Over the next few days, I knew they would destroy me.
And I knew that Richard, the man who gave me to them, was sitting somewhere in an air-conditioned villa, listening to every scream.
My shame was absolute, but their cocks were so fucking big. My pussy throbbed around the thick shaft inside me as my body tried desperately to accommodate the sheer, violent size of him.
"She's tightening up, D," Tyrell's voice boomed from behind me. "I think she likes it."
So, it was Tyrell who was fucking me.
His hips slammed against my ass with terrifying force.
"Good to know,” DeMarcus told him. “We got forty-eight hours on this island, and she's our only toy."
Those words hit me in waves, syncing with the brutal, jarring rhythm of Tyrell and Jackson’s thrusts into opposite ends of me.
Jackson pulled almost all the way out of my mouth. Tyrell slammed into my cunt.
Forty-eight hours.
Tyrell pulled away until only the head of his cock was keeping my cunt open. Jackson thrust into my throat.
This wasn't half an hour riding Arthur. Not a quick blowjob for Tyler. This was two full days of unrestricted access for three huge men in their absolute physical prime. Men who used their big black cocks like weapons and my body like a piece of training equipment.
I gagged around Jackson's cock, my eyes streaming tears as he fucked my throat.
I couldn't breathe properly. The thick, dark meat was choking me, his pubic hair scraping my face with every aggressive downward thrust. He was holding my hair with a fist, forcing me to take his entire length, entirely unconcerned with either my comfort or my need for oxygen.
Behind me, Tyrell was relentless. He wasn't tiring. He was built for endurance and he just pounded into me, into my stretched and burning pussy, occasionally grunting or exchanging a joke with DeMarcus, who was standing somewhere behind him, stroking his own massive erection, waiting for his turn.
I was a piece of meat on a spit.
The sun was so fucking hot.
Forty-eight hours.
I tried to wrap my mind around the timeline. Two days. No safe word. No escape. Richard had handed me over completely. There would be no breaks for me until they wanted a break. Until all of them wanted a break.
Animal panic flared somewhere in my chest.
I can't survive this, I thought wildly. They're going to tear me apart.
But as the panic peaked, I heard Richard speaking in my head like some dark, commanding ghost. You are my absolute, shameless slut. You will endure whatever degradation I demand of you.
My panic mutated and I understood. I wasn't supposed to survive this intact. I was supposed to be ruined by them. That was the point. My purpose. The more they degraded me, stretched me, hurt me, and treated me like some set of communal holes, the more I was offering to Richard.
"Oh fuck, yes" I moaned around Jackson's cock, sounding garbled and pathetic, sounding utterly lost. This was who Richard wanted me to be. So this was who I would be.
My pussy, which had been burning hot with friction, suddenly flooded with a fresh wave of my juices. My cunt clamped down hard on Tyrell’s thick cock.
"Shit!" He barked, his rhythm stuttering for a fraction of a second as my body reacted. "She's going tight on me. This little bitch is getting off on this."
"Course she is," Jackson laughed, pulling almost entirely out of my mouth and then slamming back down to my tonsils. "Look at her. She's a filthy little cum dump. Aren’t you, Sloane?"
I nodded frantically, my face mashing against his groin.
"DeMarcus," Tyrell grunted. "Get ready to tag in. I'm gonna blow my load deep in this booster meat."
"I'm ready," DeMarcus rumbled. His massive shadow fell over me.
Their words hung in the humid air, so casual, so fucking dismissive.
A stark and terrifying promise of what lay ahead of me.
But my fear of what was coming over the next two days was gradually eclipsed by a blinding, white-hot submission rising inside me.
I was a fucktoy. I was a cumdump. And I was going to let them use me until there was nothing left.
I was going to worship their big black cocks.
Tyrell’s hips became a blur of dark muscle, slamming against my pale ass with a sickeningly wet, rapid-fire rhythm. He was bottoming out with every stroke, sending shockwaves of deep, bruising pleasure straight up my spine.
"Yeah, take it," he said, grabbing my hips so hard his fingers dug into my bones. He gave one final, spine-compressing thrust, buried himself to the root, and went completely rigid inside me.
The first pulse hit me like a hot iron. It was nothing like the slow, weak leak I’d taken from Arthur. It was high-pressure jet of pure testosterone. Another pulse followed, then another. It went on and on. How much cum I wondered would it take to make my belly physically swell?
I gasped around Jackson's cock, my eyes rolling back in my head, as my cunt clamped down on Tyrell’s thick shaft, milking the last few twitches out of him, as my own body responded to being taken and owned by an alpha athlete.
"Fuck," he panted, resting his heavy, sweat-slicked palms upon my back. He stayed inside me for a long moment, breathing heavily, before slowly pulling out.
I didn't even have a second to recover.
"My turn," DeMarcus said.