Hard to keep track with the journey you’ve been on.

The last thing you remember is asking for a light outside the pub. From there, time fractures: hitting your head on a car door, a warm body at your back, a hand down your pants, the toes of your feet dragging over asphalt, and—here. The hum of a generator somewhere out of sight, surrounded by dark, empty stable stalls.

Your slick thighs quake as you sink onto his length, hands sliding over his sweaty chest, scrabbling for purchase in the pale, wispy hairs. His mitts for hands hold steady, pulling you down slowly but not gently, stuffing himself into your sodden cunt. Behind the gag, you whine and beg. His cock doesn’t seem to end, its thickness punishing. His scarred mouth remains a grim line, the rest of his face hidden by a painted balaclava, only his chin and lips uncovered, but you hear him panting like a dog through his nostrils through the fabric.

“Are you making love or fucking the girl?” A voice interjects. “She’s not going to break easily, are you?”

The older man slaps his palm across your ass, kneading it roughly with a chuckle as the man beneath you grunts. His eyes don’t leave yours, letting you witness the irritation brewing within them. He doesn’t make a sound when you rip his chest hairs after he yanks you the rest of the way down. To your humiliation, there’s barely any resistance.

“That’s more like it, Ghost. See? Working well together already.” The gag’s ripped from your head, and the hand on your ass is joined by its twin as the older man kneels behind you. “Lean forward, princess. And don’t hide those noises, okay?” 

Anticipating your resistance, Ghost’s hands slide up to your mid-back, gradually tilting you until your breasts mash and flatten your hands. You whimper, wondering if you’ll find a shred of mercy. The word ‘please’ stuck to your teeth.

“Fuck, look at that,” A finger traces where your cunt stretches around Ghost, causing you to shudder. “You know, you weren’t my first choice, but Ghost and I made a bet, and I lost. Can you believe it?” The finger glides through your slick, and you hear Ghost’s breath cease until the digit withdraws. “I know we’ve just met, princess, but I never lose.”

“Bloody…do you ever stop talkin’?” Ghost rasps, voice like rough gravel.

“When I sleep.”

Ghost adjusts your weight, making you squeak. “Fuck sake, Nikolai…”

A blunt, wet forefinger presses at the furl of your ass, and you jolt. Three hands instantly seize you, keeping you in place as the finger returns.

“Hold her steady.”

You feel Ghost’s chest vibrate with a growl, but the invasion of the single finger makes you go rigid. It wriggles to the second knuckle, pumping in experimental thrusts. It burns from the meager, borrowed lubrication, but your comfort is a blatant postscript, unimportant to what they want. And the realization of what they want arrives with suffocating clarity as a second finger shoves its way in next to the first.

After a third, you press your cheek to Ghost’s pec and sob brokenly, unable to keep your pathetic noises in any longer. Every time the other man—Nikolai, you commit to memory—spits on your hole and pushes it in, your blubbering starts anew with hysterics.

“Fuck, is she holding you tight? She must be.” The fingers flex and spread, withdrawing to pat the tender ring. 

Ghost doesn’t speak, but his eyes flick above you. One of his hands moves to grasp the nape of your neck and hold your face flat. You understand why when the fingers disappear, Nikolai moves up the mattress, and the leaking head of his cock slaps your asshole. It’s fruitless to try and come to terms with inevitability. You could spend a hundred days languishing, prostrate at an altar, and it wouldn’t be enough.

Nikolai presses teasingly once, then pushes and pushes until his cockhead slips past the tight ring of muscle. The men groan in unison as he presses in, fighting for space, carving out passage a thin wall away from Ghost.

With your breath punched out, your mouth hangs open in horror, throat creaky with aching hitches of breath. Nikolai rocks shallowly, feeding the rest of himself in and expelling coherency from your head, rendering everything but pure sensation incomprehensible. Body and mind stretched beyond belief.

You’re distantly aware of being talked over, words lost in a haze of drool, tears, and—iron. You blink, surfacing with a start, and find your teeth dug into the skin above Ghost’s beating heart. Unclenching your jaw with a gasp, you stare at the bloodied wound for all of a second before Nikolai pulls back for a mean thrust.

“The princess bites!” He sounds delighted, death from above.

Your spit mixes with blood, mirroring the slurry your brain’s been reduced to by the dual assault. You swallow, eyes rolling their sockets to meet Ghost’s gaze, finding his pupils wide enough to drown in. He doesn’t say a word, expression seemingly flat behind the mask. His lip stiffens, bearing Nikolai’s impatient rhythm alongside you until kick-starting his own.

The men could not be more out of sync. With what lucidity remains, you slowly conclude it’s not merely due to their single-minded mission, to use you like a warm thing with holes, a living receptacle, but because they hate each other. More than they apparently hate you. You also realize it’s largely one-sided. Ghost can’t stand the man he’s fucking you with, glaring past your head, fingers gripping you tighter and tighter.

It doesn’t help that Nikolai eggs him on.

“This how you normally fuck a whore, Ghost? Waste of a big dick.”

“Yeah, yeah, c’mon. She can take it. Fuck her how she likes.”

“You picked her and this is how you treat her? You sure you wanted her so bad?”

“Princess, bite him again. He likes it. We need to keep him in a good mood, yes?”

There’s no heat, no punch to his comments. Barbs delivered with amusement and what sounds like a smirk. The hand on the back of your neck’s never strayed since it settled there, and it squeezes every time Nikolai speaks.

It’ll be sore tomorrow, much like the rest of you.

The men pummel you, fucking into you like animals. Starving creatures fighting over a carcass.

Eventually, unable to defend itself with disgust and pain, your body surrenders some, leaking a wetness that poisons the dregs of your dignity. It doesn’t escape either man—how could it, with how tight you go—and they accelerate, hurtling you full-force to the edge. Someone’s hand wedges between you and Ghost, clumsily finding your clit in time to rub a few harsh circles, giving you the shove you don’t want.

You come with a shriek and cut off another as the hand taps your clit well into overstimulation. If you thought Nikolai’s intrusion made you stupid before, the rapid succession of their orgasms turns what’s left into mush. More putty for them to play with.

The men saw in and out of you, pumping their spend with erratic, jerking thrusts. There’s a squelch over your shoulder as Nikolai pulls all the way out, only to push languidly back in. Ghost doesn’t fight it when his softening cock slips from your heat and pets your nape with his bleeding chest heaving beneath you. It’s horribly soothing. Cruel.

Finally, Nikolai withdraws, and Ghost rolls you off onto the mattress. 

The men dress while their cum cools. Every inch of you twitches.

“She looks good like that,” Nikolai observes blithely, zipping his jacket. “What is the call, Ghost? Keep her? Dump her?” You flinch. “You won the bet. You picked her. It is your decision.”

Shaking, you sit up, gluing your eyes to the hulking man as he rolls his mask into place. He tucks it into his collar with the same fingers you’re sure were inside you in the car.

“If you don’t want to decide now—”