verloren

You asked your Werewolf mate to help you make the nest after a long and difficult rut, where your knees were bruised, sore and bloody from being bent over and dragged over the hardwood floor, helf in position for hours as you took his knot over and over. He was more than happy to help and provide you with the best nest possible, upset with himself your intimate moments left you with injured and in pain.

So he came back with diffrent blankets and duvets, quilts and pillows of diffrent sizes and shapes, textures and colours. The fur and pelts of animals he had hunted and killed, sometimes you'd receive the whole thing, comletly intact and still warm. Your Orc partner was more than happy take care of your Werewolfs kills, you added whatever fur or pelt to the nest pile, the rest went to that nights dinner and the Vampire. The Orc also added a few thigs he brought from his travles, sicne the two of them were more than happy to share you than the others, more willing to tag team you to render you brainless and sweaty pile of crumpled flesh laying in the middle of the nest by the time they were done, overstimulted and unable to move a single limb.

Turning over in the equivalent of an oversized california queen bed, you strech, allowing your limbs to gain some relief, hearing your joints click and pop as you do, the movements stirred the sleeping pile of fur nest to you, flufft pointy ears perked up at the sound of you waking, tail wagging in joy.

Reaching over to pet your oversized puppy, you're met with immediate face lick once your had made contact with the Werewolfs fur, feeling the way his tails swishing back and forth against your leg, you hiked it up and on to his hip, trying to get as close to his warm body as possible. You feel the Werewolf press his muzzle against your head, resting it onit as he wrapped you in his arms. He was always a cuddly one, loved physical affection and having you close, he was a giant puppy and loved being called as such.

He rolls over, pinning you under his weight, you readjrest you had to behind his head to countine scarcting. The Werewolds hind legs starts kicking at your movements, effectivley casuing himself to hump agaisnt you, his cock slowly starts poking out its sheath. Whimpers and soft moans echo from the nest throughout the room and into the hallway, as you continue to scratch he continue to hump, his emerging cock hitting your clit in all the right places.

With his tail wagging and leg violently thumping, it was creating the prefect rhythm to get you wet and needy, you start to grind your hips in time with the Werewolfs humps, barely audibale moan into his ear, fingernails still scraching away behind it. Smiling as your Werewolf mate starts to lick your face again, then your neck, then starts to nip at your skin like a teething puppy testing out a new toy.

Suddenly, you're flippe over, your knee digging into the soft floor of the nest, your mate now grinding against your ass, front legs pressing down onto your shoulder to get you into his favrioute postion to breed you, face down and ass up, your face turned to the side to look at him over your shoulder. Locking eyes with the Werewolf, you can see the fiery lust burning in his eyes, his mount upturned into a snarl to expose his canine teeth, the Werewolfs cock slips between your thighs as he mindlessly and wildly humps away. Bouncing you agaisnt his dick like a peronal, living fleshlight.

You're both so caught up in the throes of pleasure you fail to realsie the door to the shared room opening and heavy footsteps walking through the doorway, it wasn't until a large and pale green littered in battlescars grips your chin, carassing it as it makes you look up. Your orc, back early from his travels. "Can't leave you two alone, can I now?" He mocks, watching you try to swallow your moans in shame at being caught, violently being thrusted forward by the momentum of being grinded and humped by the large, hairy beast beind you.

"Can't help it," the Werewolf whines, stopping his movements momentarily to grab his cock and guide it into your dripping hole, slipping his swollen and aching into your cunt, barely getting more than two inches in before he starts back up, pounding away with abandon, not even pulling out before pushing back out, effectively rutting into you like a wild, rabid dog in heat, his knot hitting your cunt over and over, his low hanging sack swinging wildly, occasionally slap against your clit, sending shockwaves through each time they made contact.

You can barely get any words out, choking on your own moans and spit, the Orc still has hold of your chin, watching as you go cross-eyed each time your mate hits that sweet spot inside you, droll runs down your chin. The Orc laughs, pulling you up by your chin as, forcing you into your hands, squishing your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, bringing you towards the barely hidden bulge behind the animal pelt loincloth.

The Orc runs your face along his concealed dick, humping in opposite tandem to the Werewolf behind you, watching you try and suck his fat cock over the cloth. "Aw, does our little mate want my massive Orc dick down their throat?" The Orc mocks, "such a whore for us, a pathetic human wasn't enough to satisfy your dumb needs so you slut yourself out to us." One hand pulls you away while the other moves the loincloth, exposing the leaking tip, to which you immediately try and lick, only to be stopped.

"Gone dumb on monster cock already, you've already forgotten your manners. What do we say, whore?" The Orc sneers down at you.

"Please, can I suck your cock?" You reply, staring up with doe-eyes.

A loud sign before your shoved down the girthy, slightly darker green member, choking as it quickly hits the back of your throat. The Orcs runs his fingers through your hair before sharply pulling, guiding you up and down with little effort as your thrust forward, taking more of his dick anyway by the pussy-drunk Werewolf fucking himself dumb on you. A loud growl rings out, claws digging into your hips in the same locations as the Satry did, only then did you remember about the puropsly brusies he left behind for the others to find.

Back and forth, back and forth. Always stuffed full as both monster boyfriends barley left the respective holes they claimed, tears ran down your face from the tight sensation on your scalp in the Orcs grips and his cock abusing your throat, the Werewolf abusing your inside with rapid thrusts, claws finding prurchase on your hips to pound int your harder, like its the last thing he'll do, his pelvis hits your ass, still sore and red from your hime with your goat-hoafed lover. Spit an pre drips down your lips and on to the plush bedding of the nest below, muffled screams and moans get caught in your throat as you gag, your mind trying to comprehend what's happening.

"Such a pathethic cockwhore," The Orc laughs, "Letting us fuck you whenever and whereever we please, you like being a cumslut, don't you?" He laughs, "Our useless cumslut." He knows you can't reply and finds joy in that while the Werewolf bruises your hips further with his hands and claws and ass his with pelivs from the excess and rapid movements, chasing his own pleasure first. Your orgasm crashes into you, when did it make an apperance? You shake and squirm as best as you can in your death-grip like hold as your climax washes over you.

Time goes past, how long as it been? More orgams are rung out of you until the bedding is soaked in your slick, knees burn from the friction of being pulled between the two cocks, troat and pussy soar. Still implied on your mates cocks, the Orc shoves your head down as far as you'll go, grinding agasint your face, nose pressed agasint his pelvis, spilling his warm seed down your asosthagus, forcing you to swallow al of it, some esacping through the corners of your mouth and run down your chin, your Orc scoops it up with his thick fingers and wipes it on your face and in your hair. The Werewolf wasn't far behind, howling loud enough to lightly shake the room as with one final hard thrust, his knot breaches your gummy walls as he bites down on the already placed mate-mark on your jugualr, belly slightly bulging from the excuess of cum, the Orc does the same thing, scooping up what spills out and smear the Werewolfs cum over your sweaty and brusied body.

You lay there trying to catch your bearings, head on your Orc lovers thigh and hair mattered, your breath fans over his softened cock, the other one still deep inside you, each time you clean you can feel the thick knot throb from stimulation, still buried deep, forcing you to warm his still hard cock. The two monsters chat ideally above you, the Orc running his fingers mindlessy through your hair, now lovingly detangleing it with his calous fingers as the Werewolf rests his chin between your shoulder blades, tired and catching his breath from the previous activities but not tired enough to sleep and you know once that knot goes down, their both going to want a round two.

Behind the tree line is a motorway, the distant roar of cars barely audible given the natural barrier. The sky is dark. No stars. Simon’s cigarette is the brightest thing on the lot beside the lone bulb affixed to the building in front of them. It’s above the faded wood door, unprotected from the weather. The bulb is slightly blackened, dampening the light.

“Think he’s trying to kill us?” asks Kyle, eyes narrowing as he observes the worn wood.

Simon exhales, smoke curling around his face as it dissipates into the air. “Price?”

Kyle turns to Simon, top lip curled in disgust. “Fucking look at this place, mate.”

Johnny sticks his hands in his pockets, shrugging. “Not up for getting ya’ dick wet?”

“Fuck off,” groans Kyle.

“Think he’s on to something, Johnny,” croons Simon. The behemoth of a man inhales the last of the cigarette, tossing the butt in the gravel, extinguishing the embers with the toe of his boot. “No windows. Weird lock. Metal walls. Fucking murder shed that is.”

“Think there’s a dead body in there?”

“Limbs hanging from chains?”

“Captain Price, the serial killer?” Kyle’s fist lands on Johnny’s shoulder. “Fuck me. That hurt.” Johnny lunges, the two men wrestling for a headlock.

Rolling his eyes, Simon kicks at Johnny’s shin. “Grow up. Fucking children.” Lighter in hand, Simon clicks it open. Shut. Open again. “Rather do this in the club?” He nods toward the secondary building, the larger one to the left. Muffled, pounding music oozes from the building, growing louder when the entrance door opens. “Where everyone can watch? You into that?”

“Piss off.”

Johnny throws up his hands. “No judgement, Kyle.”

“Price wants us to blow off some steam,” says Simon. “We’ve been pent up. Aggressive since the mission. He’s fucking right.” He side-eyes Johnny. “Also felt bad you almost died.”

Johnny sighs dreamily. “Loves me more than my own, Da.” Johnny throws his arm over Kyle’s shoulder, drawing him in. “Probably bought us one of the bonnie lassies in there. Or three.”

Simon growls low in his throat, eyes on the door. “I have the code.”

Kyle’s head tips back, gazing up into the starless sky. “Let’s have it off then.”

Johnny hollers, shaking Kyle like he’s a ragdoll before taking off to the murder sex shed.

“Out the way, Johnny,” scolds Simon, elbowing him.

Simon punches in the code, the red light flipping green. Twisting the knob, he shoves open the door, revealing darkness. It takes a moment for their eyes to adjust, to unwrap the present inside.

“Fucking hell,” murmurs Simon, stepping into the small room. Johnny and Kyle slide in on either side of him. The door shuts with an audible click. “Is that—”

“It is,” says Johnny, clearly surprised.

No bed or lounge decorates this room. No scantily clad women ready to offer themselves. There’s a hole in the wall. A cutout. Large enough for a human to crawl through. Breeding Hole is painted in glowing green neon above it. Two arrows curve inward to point at either side of the hole. The lettering oozes downward like fresh paint.

The hole is not unoccupied.

Johnny’s surprise turns to lecherous glee. “It’s a fucking glory hole.” He slowly strides forward, gaze sweeping over exposed skin and spread legs.

A woman, but only half, sticks out from the wall. You’re on your stomach, a black board with a red cushion supporting your weight, top end covered by a black curtain. Black stilettos, strappy with a razor-thin heel, is all you wear. The rest is exposed and open for them.

Beside the glory hole are two sets of ankle straps. One set is higher than the hole itself, allowing for legs to be locked open and wide. The second set are level with the support cushion. They can bend your knees, force them open, keep you restrained as they fuck you.

Price didn’t buy one or even three of the workers in the club for a quick fuck. A countdown on the wall denotes the remaining time.

Three hours.

Three fucking hours.

Price bought a session.

Graffiti covers the remaining three walls. Several television monitors play porn without sound. Overhead, music blares, a thudding rhythm that shakes the bones. Light comes from a few stray bulbs in the ceiling, each covered by a clear glass box in different colors. The set-up bathes the space in a kaleidoscope, heightening the pulsing intensity of the room.

Simon, Johnny, and Kyle circle you but don’t touch.

Glancing at a nearby rolling cart, Simon grabs a bottle of lube. “Look here,” he says, nodding his head.

It’s packed with silicon dildos of various shapes and sizes, anal plugs, vibrators, a variety of stimulation toys from a feather to a wooden paddle. There are extra bottles of lube, individually wrapped sanitation wipes to clean themselves, or you, off, and beside that are two rows of disposable cameras with extra film. A sticky note next to the cameras says “Use Me.”

“No condoms,” muses Simon, finding them absent after a second perusal.

“Says breeding,” chuckles Johnny. “Don’t need condoms for that.”

“Think she’s clean?” asks Kyle.

Johnny turns on him. “First you think he’s trying to murder us and now you think he’s going to give us STDs?”

“Not intentionally,” mutters Kyle.

Simon snorts, placing the lube back on the cart. “Think Price is the type?”

Kyle inclines his head. “Maybe to his enemies.”

“Be real shite of him,” laughs Johnny. “After feeling bad for me and all.”

Stepping forward, Kyle traces the lines of your body, fingertips hovering millimeters away from skin. “Hand me the lube,” he demands of Simon, not looking at him. “And a plug,” he adds as Simon places the lube in Kyle’s offered palm.

Johnny claps his hands together, grinning madly. “Aye. That’s how it’s done.”

Gripping the plug in one hand and the lube in the other, Kyle squirts a generous amount. As he places his hand on your ass, you jerk as if surprised. Kyle gives you a generous, reassuring squeeze before sliding his hand between, easing you open wider until your pussy and anus are stretched and exposed. Both tense and flex, and Simon groans.

“Fucking gorgeous sight,” murmurs Simon, rubbing his hand over the front of his dark jeans.

Kyle aligns the plug, pressing the tip against the puckered hole. There is resistance but it pops in smoothly. Your thighs shiver followed by another jerk of your body. Kyle fills his hands with you, squeezing, some of the remaining lube transferring.

Squeezing both cheeks, he settles his clothed hips in front of your exposed pussy. “Perfect height,” he says, lightly thrusting. He backs up, gesturing. “Try.”

Johnny takes his place and then Simon. Height won’t be a problem. They’ll be able to fuck you with ease.

“Who’s starting?” asks Kyle.

When no one moves, Johnny aims for his belt buckle. “Aye. I fucking will.”

Johnny releases his semi-hard cock, easing his pants open and down enough to keep the zipper away from his dick. Fisting the base, he jerks himself, pressing the head of his cock to your clit, rubbing against it. A sharp smack echoes with the music as Johnny’s free hand comes down on your ass. A few more send your thighs twitching.

Kyle licks his lips, joining Johnny, occupying his hand with the other cheek. Simon lingers at the cart, picking up different toys and vibrators, clicking them on and messing with the settings.

Beads of precum bloom in Johnny’s slit. He paints your clit with them, smearing it around to act as lube. A few more beads and he playfully teases your pussy, easing the tip in and out, all while jerking himself to hardness.

“What about this one?” Simon holds up a small vibrator no larger than the palm of his hand. It’s on, shaking wildly, nearly jumping around from the speed setting.

Johnny smacks his dick against your pussy a few times and steps away as Simon approaches with the vibrator.

“Too much?” asks Simon, switching the speed down a level.

“Not enough,” replies Johnny, slowing his hand movements to strokes.

Simon ups the speed again, firmly shoving the vibrator against your clit. Your ass bucks into the air. Kyle lunges forward, placing pressure onto your lower back, forcing you back to the cushion. You writhe under Kyle’s hold, attempting to escape the sensation. Simon, with the continued pressure, swirls the vibrator.

Another jerk, and they all jump back.

“Fucking hell,” laughs Johnny. “Got ourselves a squirter.” Simon is already reaching for a wipe, patting down your skin to clear the excess. Johnny inserts two fingers into your pussy, pumping slowly. “She’s dripping.”

“Need us to hold her?” asks Simon

“Aye,” and Johnny nods at the cameras on the cart. “Want a picture of this slick cunt taking my cock.”

Simon chuckles, handing off a camera to Kyle as he readies his own. He holds it up, snapping a photo as Johnny’s cock disappears.

“Fuck,” groans Johnny. “Tightest cunt I’ve ever fucked.”

Simon snaps a few more photos and sets the camera aside. “We got her, Johnny.”

Together, Simon and Kyle grasp your legs, pulling you toward them and further onto Johnny’s cock. They move as one, adjusting the ankle straps, locking you in as Johnny rests his hands on your back, putting his weight behind it.

Hips sharply jerking, Johnny drives into you, only chasing his end. Lips parted, panting, beads of sweat forming on his brow. Simon and Kyle watch intently, their eyes lust-laced and eager, each of them stroking themselves to hardness as they wait their turn.

Johnny groans out his pleasure, grinding his hips against you as his balls tighten. Kyle already has the camera ready as Johnny slips out. Simon moves when Kyle does, spreading your pussy wide with his fingers. Kyle waits a beat, snapping a photo when Johnny’s cum appears.

“Not enough,” observers Simon. “Needs more.”

Kyle takes position. He doesn’t fuck as wild and hard as Johnny, but his strokes are deep and deliberate.

Johnny smiles behind the disposable camera. “Hold that pose.” Kyle eases your leg up a bit, giving Johnny a clear view of how Kyle’s thick cock stretches your pussy.

The camera goes off and Kyle starts to fuck you again. When the creampie happens, they snap another cumshot photo.

“Not enough,” repeats Simon. “Not nearly enough.”

With three hours on the tab, they rotate, take pictures, make you squirt a few more times. Kyle removes the anal plug, going up a size, insert it while they turn you onto your back. Ankles are secured in new restraints, toes pointing toward the ceiling, legs stretched.

Simon hooks his arms around your legs, hands firmly gripping your thighs. He cares little for ceremony or niceness. Their mixed cum is smeared all over you pussy and ass, overflowing whenever one of them fucks your cunt.

Johnny aligns the camera perfectly, angling just so to capture the position without Simon’s head in the photo and the television monitor off to their left. It’s showing a gloryhole similar to this one.

“Turn her on her side,” instructs Kyle, indicating how with a flick of his finger. “Think that tight ass is ready.”

Unhooking your ankles from the restraints, the three of them turn you onto your left side. Simon eases you toward them a touch. Lifting your top leg, he plants it on his shoulder. He straddles your other leg, aligning his cock up with your pussy. Johnny spreads your ass cheeks for Kyle; the plug removed with a wet pop.

On the other side of the partition, you cry out around Price’s dick as not one but two cocks enter you. They fuck rough. Hard. Whoever they are. Not that you can ask. Not that you can say anything. All you can do is stare daggers at the man keeping your mouth occupied.

Price tuts as you choke on him. “What will your daddy think of you?”

Daddy won’t know about this at all.

You’re taking this but you’ll never speak about it. Whatever your adoptive father did to earn Price’s ire is unknown to you, and you don’t wish to know anyway. General Shepherd never brings work home, but you’re aware of his power, and that he likely has enemies everywhere.

When Price took you from your apartment in Washington D.C., you thought he’d kill you. Make you an example to your father.

“Apologies, love,” murmurs Price, using his thumb to wipe away smeared cum on the corner of your mouth. “But your father’s a bastard.”

There is cum in your hair, on your face, all over the cushion, spread over your breasts. You’re not allowed to swallow. Your mouth is a hole for Price to come in. Nothing more.

Price palms your breast, squeezing, teasing your nipple between thumb and forefinger. “Glad my men are having fun.” Price eases the rest of his cock into your mouth until you gag. He retreats slightly, but only enough for your breathing to return to normal. “They deserve it. After what happened to them. What your father put them through.” He sighs. Shrugs. “Not that they know who they’re breeding.”

Unable to move, unable to speak, you only stare, narrowing your gaze to stinging venom. Price brushes it off like it’s nothing.

Insignificant.

Killing General Shepherd was Price’s gut reaction.

Soap shot in the head, bleeding out, barely clinging to life. They thought him dead. His recovery, as slow as it was, surprised them even more. If Johnny had been killed, if he hadn’t survived, General Shepherd would feel lead, too. Know death was coming for him.

The sole reason Price didn’t fill General Shepherd full of holes is because Johnny lives, and lives well. Price’s revenge requires a different taste, and before him, the spread is bountiful.

A few favors are all it took to put Price in Shepherd’s office at the Pentagon. Place is a fucking fortress but it’s just a building when people owe you. Shepherd will know it’s him. There’s no doubting that. But Price wants him to know.

Price leans against the front of the desk, lightly tapping the final nail against his palm. Around him are pictures. Took a while to develop them. Can’t walk into a store, hand over rolls of film full of cumshots, and ask for them to be developed. He had to do this quietly. Discreetly. Took a few months of planning, but it’s here, in front of him.

Each and every picture is from that night. The only face that appears in any of the photos are of yours. Boys were smart about how much of themselves they revealed. A few didn’t make it, but there were plenty in the end.

Price admires his work, at how the photos cover nearly every surface. Shepherd will walk in, and everywhere he looks, they’ll be a picture of his daughter taking cock.

But there’s one final piece.

Something he didn’t expect.

Something that happened just this morning.

You should have killed me. You should have fucking killed me!

You were angry, standing at Price’s doorstep. Don’t know how you fucking found him, but your Shepherd’s, and he likely taught you well.

Beating on his chest, screaming in Price’s face, you raged, and then you spit out the real truth, the reason you even went looking for him in the first place.

The pregnancy test stares up at Price.

There are three possible fathers. All of them still ignorant about you and what Price did.

He’ll disown me. Did you know that? He’ll force me out of the family over this.

Price won’t put it past Shepherd to act so harshly, but you’re with him now. Left you asleep on his bed, curled up under the covers. He’ll have to tell the lads eventually, but not right now.

It shouldn’t have had the effect it did on you. But it does. Your heart spreading up while your eyes widen a little, clearing your throat as if to stop the smile threatening to spread across your face.

“Would you like a cup ‘f tea? Before you guys, we’ll- are off on your way?”

How could they say no to you?

Looked up at the both of them with those big brown doe eyes they couldn’t get enough of.

It’s a cramped little studio, the bedroom is the living room and the kitchen is small, lucky you have two stools they can sit on at the kitchen counter as their eyes are trained on you. You can feel them as you get around the kitchen, finding three mugs, whatever tea you could find. G’Mo is asleep on the soft blue cat tower, tail swishing back and forth as you wait for the kettle to whistle. But it’s taking forever, maybe you shouldn’t have asked them to come up here—

“What do you do for work love? Something nice hopefully.” John gives you a soft smile as you lean against the counter.

“That’s a real nice thought,” you hum, arms folding over your chest, “but I’m a waitress at the moment. Nothing special.”

“You like it?” Simon asks.

“Would you?” No that came off too rough, harsher than intended, you’re shaking your head, “I mean- I’ve got one manager out for me but everyone else is nice. At least, everyone working there. I get free bread to take home so it’s not the worst.”

“Bein on yer feet all day, you alright workin like tha?”

You shrug, “You two are on your feet all day.”

“‘S different dove.”

“Trained for it, ‘s wot John ‘nd I signed up for. You-“

“—It’s honest work. I get paid on time.” You’re quickly on the defense, and maybe your arms being crossed is more like you holding yourself, keeping these two men from getting any closer than what’s already going on.

“It’s not what y’want to do swee’art. Not meant t’ do tha.”

The kettle goes off before you can say anything else. Quickly grabbing that little ‘home sweet home’ rag that was across the bar of the oven and taking the kettle off the stove. Your minds running a mile a minute, but the silence is comfortable. They thank you for their tea’s, the click over your head tick, tick, ticking away till their mugs are empty.

You manage to say something before they leave, “I’m sorry about earlier. Just- I gotta do what I gotta do. Don’t really have another option right now. You guys understand that.”

Of course they do.

But you shouldn’t have to settle when you deserve the world.

Least, not anymore.

John cups your face, caressing it with his rough fingers, “Course dove. ‘S nothin t’ apologize for. We…”

“We made it a little tense, yeah?” Simon finishes smoothly. You could almost melt into the soft looks they were both giving you. Hands sweating, you rub them against your pants. John tells you they have to go. Let’s his thumb rub across the apple of your cheek before letting his finger tilt your chin up. And Simons there too, pushing your hair back, his hand at the back of your nape.

“It was great getting to see you again, Dollface.”

You clear your throat, mystified, you nod, blushing you can feel the tips of your ears turning hot, but you know this is the last time. Or it, should be. “Y-yeah, ‘s been nice. Simon, John.”

“Don’t work that brain out too much alright honey? Be good for us.”

“Of course.”

And you’ve got too men already aching to find a way to bend you in half in that shitty apartment complex with the shit locks that John will probably be over to fix and renue by the end of the week.

One him and Simon will have easy access getting in and out of your flat so Simon can survey the complex, install a camera or two just to make sure you’re safe.

They’ve already decided, you’re theirs. Your Daddies precious girl.

Even if you don’t know it yet.