“Don’t jizz in her mouth,” said Steve.
“Come on man! Why not!”
“Because only I get to jizz inside her, you prick.”
I had to watch as thick streams of cum landed on my breasts, stomach and chin.
“That was fucking awesome,” said John as he climbed off me.
Both left me there. Dangling over the sofa, covered in cum. Used and forgotten as they did a few more lines of coke.
Sometime later, they remembered their little fuck toy.
“We have to clean her off. I’m not touching your fucking jizz,” said Steve as he took a swig from another beer.
“No problem!”
John tilted his full beer bottle over me. Dousing me in cold, sudsy liquid.
Steve laughed. “You’re a prick.”
“Hey! My first instinct was to use piss, so count yourself lucky, slut,” said John as he slapped my face.
Both men laughed.
“Oh man, can you imagine just pissing down some slut’s throat?”
“What do you think you have her for?”
I want to die. I’ve had enough. There is no more hope left in me. I want to die.
Setting aside his beer, Steve stepped up to the sofa as he fisted his cock.
No! No! You can’t! You can’t do this. I’m real. Please!
“I think I’ll just fuck her snatch. This thing has the tightest fucking snatch. Seriously dude, you haven’t gotten pussy like this since high school.”
John picked up the phone to film as Steve picked my whole body up.
“Watch this,” he said to John.
Steve sat on the sofa and positioned my legs, so I was straddling him. Lifting up my hips, he positioned his cock right at my pussy entrance. Then he put his hands around my impossibly narrow waist.
“Are you ready? You filming?”
“Yeah! Yeah! Fuck the bitch!”
Steve shoved my body down onto his cock.
I let out the silent scream of a wounded animal as his flesh tore into me. His damp cock sticking to my dry flesh as he pushed and pushed harder. If I truly were real, I would be bleeding. Lifting me high, he shoved me up and down his shaft over and over and over again.
“Swing around front. Watch how her tits actually bounce!”
“Fuck! They look so real!”
Steve latched onto my right nipple and bit down. Growling like a dog, he shook his head from side to side. I prayed for the solace of true death. Anything was better than this pain. This humiliation. It was one thing to be used, it was another to be denied the dignity of fighting back. The peace of mind that you at least screamed and yelled and called out for him to stop.
I was denied all that. I was forced to suffer inside this plastic cage.