ISA-ucker

“You own us?” Ryujin’s voice was a defiant rasp, her posture rigid, but her eyes, those clever eyes, were already calculating the exits, the angles. She was a fighter. This would be fun.

“I own the air you’re wasting,” you said, your tone bored. You took a slow sip of your whiskey, letting the amber liquid burn a path down your throat. “I own the stage you dance on, the songs you sing, the adoration you pretend is for you. It’s all mine. And tonight, you learn what that really means.”

You let your gaze travel over them, a predator sizing up its meal. Yuna, the youngest, trembled, her spectacular, famous legs seeming to barely hold her up. Chaewon’s expression was a cold mask, but a faint tremor in her bottom lip betrayed her. And Karina… Karina was trying so hard to be brave, to process the obscene carnival she’d been thrust into. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, shallow breaths, making the soft swell of her tits strain against the silk of her designer dress.

You stood, and they all took a synchronized step back. A smile, thin and cruel, touched your lips. You closed the distance to Karina, your shoes silent on the polished floor. You didn’t touch her. Not yet. You just… inhaled. “You wear innocence well. A shame it’s a fucking lie.” You finally reached out, not for her face, but for the neckline of her dress. With a single, sharp tug, the fragile fabric gave way.

The sound she made was a choked gasp. The dress pooled at her waist, leaving her upper body completely bare. Her tits were perfection, high and full, with nipples the color of a pale sunrise hardening instantly in the cool, air-conditioned air. Every eye in your security detail, every gaze from the adjacent booths, locked onto them. “Look at these,” you commanded the others, your voice dropping to a intimate, nasty whisper. “These world-famous tits. Millions of dollars of marketing, right here. And they belong to me now.”

You finally touched her, palming one heavy breast, feeling the weight of it, the unbelievable softness of the skin. She whimpered, a pathetic little sound that went straight to your cock. “Such a good little fuck doll, aren’t you? Built for this. Born to have your cunt used.” You squeezed, not gently, and her back arched, a tremor wracking her body. “You see what happens to pretty, rich things in my world? They become toys. Say it.”

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes.

You pinched her nipple, twisting sharply. She cried out, a sharp, genuine sound of pain that melted into something else. Something warmer. “Say it.”

“I’m a toy,” she whispered, the words smoke and shame.

“Louder.”

“I’m a toy!” she gasped, her eyes screwing shut.

“My toy,” you corrected, releasing your grip only to cup her other tit, squeezing the soft flesh, watching it spill over your fingers. “You have the perfect body for breeding. Look at these hips. This cunt,” you said, your hand sliding down her flat stomach, past the bunched fabric of her dress, your fingertips brushing the damp heat waiting between her legs. She jolted. “I’m going to ruin this tight little idol pussy. I’m going to fucking wreck it. And you’re going to thank me. You’re going to beg for my cock to finish inside you, to pump you full, to see if this pristine body can actually do what it was designed for.”

You turned her around, pushing her against the glass partition overlooking the debauchery below. Her bare back pressed against your front, her enormous tits pressed against the cold glass. She moaned at the sensation, a ragged, broken sound. You unzipped your pants, freeing your cock, already thick and achingly hard. You rubbed the head through her soaked panties, the flimsy lace offering no resistance.

“Watch them,” you growled into her ear, one hand groping her tit possessively, the other tearing her panties aside. “Watch all those other famous sluts getting exactly what they deserve. And know you’re next.” You positioned yourself at her entrance, the head of your cock nudging against her wetness. She was so fucking tight, a silken, clenching heat that tried to resist you.

You didn’t wait. You drove into her with one vicious, deep thrust, burying your entire length in her cunt in one go.

Karina screamed. It wasn’t a sound of pain anymore. It was a raw, torn-open sound of shock and overwhelming sensation. Her hands slapped against the glass for purchase as you filled her, stretching her, claiming her. “Fuck,” you grunted, the feeling of her incredible. “You take cock like a fucking champion. A natural-born cocksleeve.” You began to move, short, brutal thrusts that shook her whole body, making her tits jiggle and sway violently against the glass. “This is what you’re for. Not singing. Not dancing. This. Taking dick. Being a set of holes for me to use.”

You pistoned into her, the slap of your hips against her ass echoing in the booth. You looked over her shoulder, catching Ryujin’s horrified, fascinated stare. “You see how her perfect tits bounce? You’re next. I’m going to fuck your mouth while I fill her cunt.” You reached around, finding Karina’s clit, rubbing rough, demanding circles. Her resolve shattered. Her moans became constant, high-pitched pleas. “Yes! Yes! Please! More!”

“More what?” you demanded, fucking her harder, feeling your own release coiling deep in my gut. “Use your words, you stupid whore.”

“More cock! Please! I need it! I need you to… to…!” she begged, her words dissolving into incoherent sobs of pleasure.

“You need me to come inside you?” you snarled, your rhythm becoming frantic, animalistic. “You want me to breed this world-famous pussy? To put a baby in the untouchable Karina?”

“Yes! God, yes! Breed me! Please, fill me up! I want it! I want it!”

Her entire body went rigid, and a guttural cry was torn from her throat as her cunt convulsed around your cock, milking you, pulling the orgasm from you. With a final, deep plunge, you emptied yourself into her, a hot, claiming rush that had your vision spotting. You held yourself there, buried to the hilt, as she shuddered through the last waves of her climax, your cum leaking out around where you were still joined.

You stayed inside her, keeping her impaled against the glass, your breath hot on her neck. You looked past her heaving form to the other three girls, their faces pale, their eyes wide. Yuna had a hand over her mouth. Chaewon’s cold mask was gone, replaced by something like terrified awe. Ryujin just stared, her jaw clenched, but a dark, curious hunger in her eyes.

“Who’s next?”

A raw, broken sound escaped Karina’s lips as you finally pulled out of her. Your cum, hot and claiming, immediately began to leak from her well-used cunt, tracing a glistening path down the inside of her thigh. She slumped against the glass, her chest heaving, her enormous tits flattened against the cool surface, her mind clearly somewhere far away from this VIP booth.

You tucked your still-hard cock back into your pants, your gaze sweeping over your other prizes. Yuna looked like a ghost, her youthful face pale, her long legs trembling so violently you thought they might buckle. Chaewon’s cold elegance was shattered, her slender frame rigid, her eyes wide with a dawning, terrifying understanding. And Ryujin. Her fierce eyes burned with defiance, but they were also locked on the evidence of your possession dribbling from between Karina’s legs.

“Yuna. Chaewon,” you said, your voice a low command that snapped through the air. “Come here. Now.”

They didn’t move, frozen in place by sheer terror.

You sighed, a sound of pure irritation. You grabbed a handful of Karina’s hair, not roughly, but with undeniable ownership, and turned her face towards them. Her eyes were glazed, a stupid, fucked-out smile playing on her lips. “Look at her. Look at what I give to good little toys. She’s never felt better in her life. Her virgin cunt is finally doing what it was built for.” You gave Karina’s hair a small tug. “Aren’t you happy, sweetheart?”

“So… happy, Sir,” Karina slurred, her voice dreamy and distant. “So full. Thank you… for your cum.”

You released her and she nuzzled against the glass like a contented animal. You focused back on the two frozen girls. “That’s your choice. Blissful obedience, or,” you paused, letting your stare land on Ryujin, “a lesson in futility that will only make your eventual surrender so much more pathetic. Your choice. But you will kneel.”

Yuna moved first, a tiny, choked sob escaping her as she took a hesitant step forward, then another. Chaewon, after a moment of silent calculation, followed, her movements stiff and precise. They came to a stop before you, their heads bowed.

“On your knees. I want your faces level with my cock. I want you to see what ruined her, and what’s going to ruin you.”

They sank to their knees, the expensive fabric of their dresses pooling around them. The contrast was exquisite. Yuna, all innocent face and trembling vulnerability, and Chaewon, a portrait of cold grace forced into submission. You freed your cock again, still slick with Karina’s juices, and held it before them. It was thick, veined, and utterly demanding.

“Look at it,” you ordered. “This is your new god. This cock owns you. It will decide when you eat, when you sleep, and most importantly, when you fucking come. Now, Yuna. Open your perfect, innocent mouth. You’re going to clean your unnie off of me.”

Yuna whined, a high-pitched sound of pure fear, but she obeyed. Her pink, perfect lips parted. You didn't wait. You fed your cock into her mouth, groaning at the sudden, shocking heat. Fuck, her mouth is even softer than she looks. She gagged instantly, tears springing to her eyes as the head hit the back of her throat.

“Suck,” you commanded, your voice a guttural growl. You placed a hand on the back of her head, not forcing her, just guiding. “Use that famous tongue you use to sing all those cute songs. Clean my dick. Taste what a real woman tastes like. Taste Karina’s broken-in pussy on my skin.”

She began to move her head, tentative and clumsy at first, her tongue fluttering against your shaft. The sensation was unbelievable. You looked down at Chaewon. “Watch. Learn. See how a good slut services what owns her.”

Chaewon’s cold eyes were fixed on the junction of Yuna’s lips and your cock, her own lips slightly parted. You could see the rapid pulse in her slender neck. You reached down with your other hand and cupped Yuna’s cheek, feeling the strain in her jaw. “You were born for this, you know. All those years of training, all that dance practice… it was just to make you flexible enough to be a perfect fucktoy. Your mouth is a much better cocksleeve than a microphone.”

You began to move your hips, fucking her mouth in short, shallow thrusts. Yuna’s gagging sounds began to morph, mixing with soft, desperate moans. Her body was betraying her, responding to the sheer dominance of the act. Her hands, which had been clenched at her sides, came up to rest on your thighs, not to push away, but to steady herself.

“That’s it, you fucking natural. You love this, don’t you? You love having your throat stuffed. You love tasting another girl on your Master’s cock.” You fucked her mouth a little deeper, and she took it, her eyes rolling back in her head. “Such a good, filthy cocksucker. My perfect little idol whore.”

You pulled out of her mouth with a wet pop. A string of saliva connected her swollen lips to your glistening cock. She gasped for air, her chest rising and falling rapidly. You turned to Chaewon. Her mask was completely gone now. Raw, undisguised hunger stared back at you.

“Your turn, princess. You think you’re better than this? You think you’re above getting your face messy?” you taunted.

You didn’t give her a chance to answer. You slid your cock into her mouth. Her reaction was instantaneous and shocking. Where Yuna had been hesitant, Chaewon was voracious. She took you deep, her head bobbing with a desperate, practiced rhythm that made you groan. Her cool demeanor had evaporated, revealing a bottomless, frantic need.

“Holy fuck,” you grunted, your fingers tangling in her hair. “Look at you. The ice queen melts for dick. You’ve been dreaming of this, haven’t you? Dreaming of a cock big enough to shut that superior little brain of yours off.” She moaned around your length, the vibration shooting straight up your spine. “You’re not so cold now, are you? You’re just a hungry, desperate slut who needs to be used. A worthless set of holes waiting for a real man to fill them.”

You alternated between them then, feeding your cock to one, then the other, making them share your taste, making them compete. The air was thick with the sounds of their sucking, their gagging, their helpless moans. You were a conductor and they were your orchestra, playing a symphony of degradation.

Finally, you pulled away from Chaewon, whose cool elegance was now a mess of spit and smudged makeup. You turned to where Ryujin stood, her arms crossed, her body a taut line of resistance. A smirk played on your lips.

“Your friends make such pretty noises, Ryujin. They understand their place. But you…” you said, your voice dropping to a predatory whisper. “You still think you’re fighting something.” You took a step toward her. “Your defiance is the most exciting part. It just means I get to break you that much harder.”

The sharp, wet sounds of their mouths on your cock finally ceased as you pulled away from Chaewon. Two pairs of glistening, swollen lips stared up at you, waiting for their next command. The air was thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and their expensive, ruined perfume.

“Stand up,” you ordered, your voice a low thrum of power. They scrambled to obey, their legs unsteady. You pointed to the plush carpet in the center of the booth. “Now, get on the floor. On your hands and knees. Face each other.”

They moved like puppets on your strings, their expensive dresses rustling as they assumed the position. Yuna’s innocent eyes were wide with confusion and a dawning, terrifying excitement. Chaewon’s cool mask was completely gone, replaced by a raw, panting need that made her seem years older.

You knelt behind them, a predator settling between two pieces of prey. Your hands slid under the hems of their short dresses, pushing the fabric up over their asses. Your fingers found the damp heat of their cunts at the same time. Yuna gasped, a high, reedy sound, while Chaewon pushed back against your hand with a desperate, hungry sigh.

“Look at these two perfect little sluts,” you growled, working two fingers into Yuna’s tight, virgin-like opening while your thumb found Chaewon’s swollen clit. “A nation’s sweetheart and an ice princess. And all they really are is a pair of wet, hungry holes.” You began to move your hands, fucking Yuna with your fingers and rubbing demanding circles on Chaewon. Their bodies started to move in time with your rhythm, a broken, shuddering dance. “You’re going to show me how hungry you are. You’re going to taste each other.”

Yuna’s head shot up, her eyes wide with shock. “W-what?”

“You heard me,” you snarled, crooking your fingers inside her, making her cry out and buck against your hand. “Put your pretty little mouth on Chaewon’s cunt. Lick her. Suck her. Show me you know how to be a good little bitch for me. And you,” you said, your voice snapping towards Chaewon, “return the favor. Show Yuna what that famous tongue can really do.”

For a heartbeat, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing. Then, Chaewon moved first. A deep, primal curiosity overrode her last shred of hesitation. She lowered her head, her long hair brushing Yuna’s thigh, and her tongue flicked out, tracing a hesitant line up Yuna’s slit.

Yuna jolted as if electrocuted, a shocked, “Ah!” bursting from her lips. The sensation, combined with your fingers pistoning inside her, was too much. Her resistance crumbled. With a soft, defeated whimper, she lowered her head and buried her face between Chaewon’s legs.

The sight was obscene. Two of Korea’s most famous idols, on their hands and knees, eating each other out under your command. The air filled with new sounds—desperate, wet lapping, muffled moans, the soft, slick noise of tongues working fervently. You fucked them harder with your hands, your own cock throbbing at the sheer debauchery of it.

“That’s it, you filthy animals,” you grunted, watching Yuna’s ass clench as Chaewon’s tongue found her clit. “Look at you. You were born for this. Fucking natural cunt-lickers. You love the taste of each other, don’t you? Admit it.”

“Yes, Sir,” Chaewon moaned, her voice muffled by Yuna’s pussy. “She tastes so… so good.”

“She tastes like a star, doesn’t she?” you taunted. “Now fuck her harder with that tongue. Make her scream.”

You increased your pace, your fingers plunging deep, your thumb grinding against clits, playing them like instruments. Their bodies were slick with sweat, trembling on the edge of release. Just as you felt Yuna’s cunt begin to flutter violently around your fingers, you pulled your hands away completely.

They both cried out in frustration, their heads lifting, their mouths and chins glistening with each other’s arousal. They looked wrecked, used, and utterly beautiful.

“Now,” you said, standing up and stroking your hard, slick cock. “Fight for it.”

They stared at you, confusion and desperate need warring on their faces.

“You heard me. This is the only thing that’s going to fill you up now. Fight. Over. It.”

Understanding dawned, and with it, a feral light in their eyes. They weren’t idols anymore. They were just need. They scrambled towards you on their knees, a tangle of limbs and desperate hands.

“Me, please, Master, me!” Yuna begged, her voice cracking as she reached for you.

Chaewon was quicker, more assertive. She shoved Yuna aside with a surprising strength and wrapped her lips around the head of your cock, sucking fiercely. “Mine,” she growled around you, her eyes blazing up at you.

Yuna let out a wail of pure frustration and grabbed Chaewon’s hair, trying to pull her off. “No! I need it! Please!”

You laughed, a low, dark sound of pure power, and let them struggle. Their conflict was a better aphrodisiac than any drug. You watched their hands gripping at each other, their mouths so close to your cock, both so desperate to please, to be chosen, to be filled.

From the periphery of your vision, you saw movement. Karina, who had been watching from her spot by the glass with a dazed, fucked-out expression, was slowly pushing herself up. A new, different hunger was on her face. The need for more, different contact. Her gaze wasn’t on you. It was locked on Ryujin.

Ryujin stood rigid, her arms crossed, her jaw clenched. But her eyes… her eyes were fixed on the struggle at your feet, and a faint blush colored her cheeks. She was biting her full lip, hard, trying to maintain her defiant stance.

Karina moved like a sleepwalker, drawn to that defiance. She stopped in front of Ryujin, her body still flushed and marked from your use. She didn’t say a word. She simply reached out, her fingers gently tracing Ryujin’s jawline. Ryujin flinched but didn’t pull away. Her fierce eyes widened, the defiance flickering with sudden, shocking vulnerability.

Then Karina leaned in and kissed her.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was deep, hungry, and full of the same desperate need that had her begging for your cock moments before. And Ryujin… Ryujin melted. Her rigid posture collapsed. A shudder wracked her toned frame, and her hands came up to fist in Karina’s hair, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss with a frantic, pent-up passion she could no longer hide.

You chuckled, the sound rich with amusement and triumph. Of course. The pieces snapped into place. The defiance, the resistance—it wasn’t about power. It was about fear. Fear of her own desire, so carefully hidden behind a facade of tough competence.

“Well, well,” you murmured, your voice cutting through the sound of the girls fighting at your feet and the two now devouring each other’s mouths. “Look what we have here.”

Ryujin’s eyes flew open, meeting yours over Karina’s shoulder. The raw, terrified hunger in them was the most beautiful thing you’d seen all night. Her secret was out. And you knew, with absolute certainty, that her downfall was going to be the sweetest one of all.

The wet, desperate sounds of Chaewon and Yuna’s struggle for your cock fade into the background. Their conflict is a dull hum compared to the magnetic pull of Karina’s blissful, fucked-out state. You step over them, your shadow falling across their tangled forms, and they both freeze, looking up at you with wide, hopeful eyes.

You ignore them.

You walk to Karina, who is still swaying slightly from the intensity of her own release. Her enormous tits, heavy and magnificent, rise and fall with her deep, contented breaths. You reach out and your fingers encircle her throat, not to hurt, but to claim. To feel the hum of her pleased moan against your palm.

She giggles, a soft, airy sound that’s completely at odds with the depravity staining her thighs. “Sir…” she sighs, her eyes lidded and happy.

“My perfect fucktoy,” you murmur, your thumb stroking the line of her jaw. “The only one who truly understands her purpose.” You pull her to you and crush your mouth against hers. The kiss is deep, possessive, a messy clash of tongues that tastes of whiskey and her own submission. She melts into it instantly, her hands coming up to clutch at your shoulders, her body molding against yours.

From the floor, a small, hurt sound escapes Yuna. You break the kiss and glance down. Her innocent face is a mask of pure, unadulterated envy. Chaewon’s expression is tighter, colder, a flicker of jealous anger in her eyes. But it’s Ryujin’s reaction that truly fuels you. She stands rigid, her fists clenched at her sides, the passionate vulnerability from her kiss with Karina now replaced by a furious, burning resentment. She’s pissed. Good.

You smirk against Karina’s lips before turning your head to address the others. “Seeing her like this… it makes you ache, doesn’t it? To be the one I want.” You let your hand slide down from Karina’s throat to palm her breast, squeezing the soft, heavy flesh, making her moan. “You want my hands on you. You want my cock in you. You want to be the one dripping with my cum.”

Yuna nods frantically, tears welling in her eyes. “Please, Master…”

“But you won’t get it,” you say, your voice dropping to an icy, final whisper. The hope vanishes from their faces, replaced by devastation. “Not a single inch. Not ever again. You two are useless to me now. All that desperate fighting, that sloppy kissing… it was pathetic. You’re just background noise.”

Yana’s bottom lip trembles, a tear tracing a clean path through the mess on her chin. The sight of her sadness is a dark, sweet wine on your tongue.

You let the silence hang, letting their despair sink in, before you continue. “Unless…”

Their eyes snap back to you, clinging to that single word.

“You want my attention? You want me to fucking use you like the worthless cunts you are?” you ask, your gaze shifting to Ryujin. “Then prove it. Put her on the bed. Tie her down. Every limb. I want her spread out and waiting for me. Do that, and I might reconsider.”

The effect is instantaneous. The jealousy and sadness on Yuna and Chaewon’s faces evaporate, replaced by a fiery, singular focus. Their heads turn in unison. Karina, sensing a new game, giggled again, her eyes lighting up with mischievous cruelty.

Ryujin’s defiant posture breaks. “What? No!” she barks, taking a step back, her eyes wide with genuine alarm. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

But it’s three against one. They move as one entity, driven by a desperate need to please you. Yuna and Chaewon scramble up from the floor, grabbing Ryujin’s arms. Karina, with surprising strength, shoves her from behind, sending her stumbling toward a large, low divan in a shadowed corner of the booth.

“Get the fuck off me!” Ryujin snarls, thrashing, her toned, athletic body putting up a real fight. But Chaewon’s cold determination is a sharp counterpoint to Yuna’s frantic energy and Karina’s gleeful strength. They’re a whirlwind of limbs, a silent, efficient machine of betrayal. They force her down onto the plush velvet, her struggles muffled by their bodies.

You watch, stroking your cock slowly, as they use silken cords from the booth’s curtain ties to bind her wrists and ankles to the four ornate bedposts. Ryujin’s protests become choked grunts of effort, then fade into heavy, ragged breaths of defeat. Her chest heaves, her fierce eyes burning with a mix of fury and a terrifying, thrilling panic.

When they are done, she is utterly helpless. Strapped down on her back, her body a taut, beautiful offering. Yuna, breathless, pulls a slim black strip of silk from a nearby console. A blindfold. She looks at you for permission. You nod once.

With a trembling hand, she ties it over Ryujin’s eyes, plunging her into darkness. Ryujin’s head thrashes on the pillow. “Take it off! You fucking traitors!”

The three girls step back, panting, their own dresses in disarray, their faces flushed with exertion and a strange, dark pride. They look to you, awaiting their reward.

You approach the bed, your footsteps silent on the thick carpet. You stand over Ryujin, taking in the magnificent sight of her vulnerability. The blindfold makes her other senses scream to life; you can see her straining to hear you, to feel your presence.

From your pocket, you produce a final item: a collar. Not rough leather, but a sleek band of black velvet, from which hangs a small, polished silver ring. A choker. A permanent mark.

You lean down, your lips brushing the shell of her ear. She flinches at the contact. “All that fight,” you whisper, your voice a soft, venomous promise. “All that defiance… and it just led you here. Tied down. Blind. Mine.”

You fasten the choker around her neck. It fits perfectly, snug against her throat. The cool weight of the silver ring rests in the hollow of her collarbone.

She goes utterly still. The finality of the act silences her. The fight drains from her body, leaving behind a thrilling, electric tension. A waiting.

You straighten up and run your fingers through her hair, a mockingly gentle gesture. “Such a good girl.”

You turn your head to look at the three idol.

The three idols stand there, panting, their chests rising and falling, watching you with a desperate, hungry hope. They delivered her. They bound her. They want their reward.

You ignore them.

Your entire world narrows to the woman strapped to the divan. Ryujin. Her toned, athletic body is a beautiful, tense bowstring, every muscle straining against the silken cords. The black velvet choker is a stark, final declaration against her pale skin. You trail a single finger down the center of her body, from the hollow of her throat, over the flat plane of her stomach, to the neat thatch of hair between her legs. She flinches at the touch, a full-body shudder that makes the divan creak.

“All that fire,” you murmur, your voice a low, intimate whisper meant only for her. “All that fight… and it just makes you sweeter to break.” You lean down, your lips brushing her ear. “You kissed her like you meant it. Like you’ve been starving for it. Is that your secret, Ryujin? All that tough-girl swagger on stage… just hiding a desperate little dyke who gets wet watching her friends get used?”

She turns her head away, a final, feeble act of defiance. The blindfold is already doing its work, amplifying every sound, every sensation, every cruel word.

You straighten up and look at the three waiting girls. “You want my cock?” you ask them. Their eager nods are almost pathetic. “Then get over here. Show our new pet what she’s missing.”

They don’t need to be told twice. They scramble onto the large divan, crawling over Ryujin’s restrained form. Karina, with that fucked-out wisdom in her eyes, goes straight to Ryujin’s head, her fingers weaving into her hair. Yuna and Chaewon position themselves on either side, their hands instantly finding Ryujin’s breasts, still covered by her thin top.

“Take it off,” you command. “I want to see what she’s been hiding.”

Yuna’s fingers, trembling with excitement, fumble with the hem of Ryujin’s shirt, pulling it up and over her head. Chaewon’s cool efficiency makes quick work of the flimsy bra beneath. And then they’re bare. Ryujin’s tits are smaller than Karina’s magnificent pillows, but they are perfect. High, firm, with nipples already pebbled into hard, desperate points from fear and adrenaline and the chilled air.

“Look at these,” you say, though Ryujin can’t see. “All those fans screaming your name, they’d die to get a taste of these. And now they’re just mine to share.” You nod to Yuna and Chaewon. “Taste them.”

Yuna dips her head first, her innocent face looking almost devotional as her pink tongue flicks out and laps at Ryujin’s nipple. Ryujin gasps, her back arching off the bed. Chaewon follows suit on the other side, but her approach is different—she doesn’t lick, she takes the entire nub into her mouth and sucks, hard.

Ryujin lets out a choked cry, a mix of protest and shocking pleasure. “Stop…” she whimpers, but her body betrays her, hips shifting restlessly against the velvet.

“They won’t stop,” you assure her, stroking your cock as you watch the spectacle. “They’ll suck on your pretty little tits until I tell them to stop. You’re their toy now. A new plaything for my good little pets.” You watch Yuna and Chaewon work, their mouths worshiping Ryujin’s breasts, their hands roaming over her stomach and thighs. “You like that, don’t you? Their mouths on you. You’re so fucking wet for it. I can smell it.”

You move closer, your knees pressing into the edge of the divan. You run the head of your cock through the wetness already gathering on her inner thighs, painting her skin with her own desire. She moans, a broken, frustrated sound.

“Please…” she breathes, and you can’t even tell if it’s a plea for you to stop or to continue.

“Please what?” you demand, your voice hardening. “Use your words, you defiant bitch. Do you want their mouths to stop?”

There’s a long pause, filled only with the wet sounds of sucking and Ryujin’s ragged breaths. Her entire body is trembling. The fight is leaving her, replaced by a raw, humiliated need.

“No,” she whispers, the word tasting like ash in her mouth.

“No, what?” you snap, slapping your cock against her clit. She jerks violently against her restraints.

“No, Sir!” she cries out, the title torn from her.

“Good girl,” you purr. The praise hits her like a physical blow, and a fresh wave of wetness coats your cock. You look at Karina, who has been watching with a knowing smile. “Make her kiss you. She wants it so badly.”

Karina doesn’t hesitate. She leans down and captures Ryujin’s mouth in a deep, dominating kiss. This time, Ryujin doesn’t resist. She opens for it, her tongue meeting Karina’s in a frantic, desperate dance.

You watch them for a moment, a beautiful tangle of submission and need. Then you shift your focus. You replace Yuna’s mouth with your thumb, rolling Ryujin’s nipple roughly. “Such perfect tits,” you growl, pinching the other one between your fingers. “They were made to be teased. To be bitten.” To demonstrate, you lean down and sink your teeth into the soft flesh around her nipple. She screams into Karina’s mouth, her body bowing off the bed.

You maintain the pressure, a constant, sharp pain as you speak to the other girls. “You see how her body reacts? She’s a pain slut. She needs to hurt to come. Fuck her with your fingers. Make her come on your hands. I want to feel her squirm.”

Yuna and Chaewon’s hands immediately slide between Ryujin’s legs. You hear the slick, wet sound of two, then three fingers pushing into her tight cunt. Ryujin’s hips buck, trying to fuck herself on their hands, a low, continuous moan now pouring from her lips.

“That’s it, take it you hungry whore,” you snarl, releasing your bite to lick a soothing stripe over the red mark. “You’re fucking their fingers like it’s the best cock you’ve ever had. You’re so fucking pathetic. A desperate, cunt-hungry dyke who’s finally getting what she truly wants.”

Your words are a whip, and with every cruel sentence, her orgasm builds. Her breathing is a ragged sob. Her hands are clenched into fists, the cords cutting into her wrists. Karina keeps kissing her, swallowing her cries.

“You’re going to come,” you command her, your voice dropping to a vicious whisper. “You’re going to come all over their fingers like the good little bitch you are. And then, only then, will I even consider letting this cock anywhere near your worthless hole.”

Her body seizes up, every muscle going taut as a wire. A guttural, broken scream is torn from her throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated surrender as her cunt clenches and spasms around the invading fingers. Her back arches impossibly high, presenting her marked, heaving tits to you like an offering.

You let her ride it out, let the waves of her forced climax crash over her. Finally, she collapses, boneless and spent, her chest slick with sweat and saliva.

The room is silent except for her ragged panting. You look at the three girls, their faces flushed with a dark, shared power. You smile.

“Now,” you say, your voice cutting through the heavy air. “Who wants to watch me ruin her?”

The room still hums with the aftershocks of Ryujin’s climax, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex. Her chest heaves, her body slick and trembling against the velvet divan. The three other idols watch you, their eyes wide, waiting for the next command, their reward for breaking her.

You ignore their silent pleas, your focus absolute.

“Yuna. Chaewon,” you say, your voice a low crack of thunder in the quiet room. “Get over here. Now.”

They scramble from the divan, dropping to their knees before you, their faces a mask of desperate hope. You look down at them, then at Ryujin, still bound and blindfolded, so beautifully ruined. A cruel smile touches your lips.

“You two… you want to be useful?” you ask, your tone deceptively soft. They nod frantically. “Good. Get back on the divan. Hold her legs open. I want her completely exposed. I want to see every part of her that’s going to be mine.”

They move with a speed born of terrified obedience, climbing back onto the large bed. Yuna takes one of Ryujin’s toned legs, Chaewon the other, spreading them wide, presenting her glistening, swollen cunt to you like a offering. Ryujin gasps, a fresh tremor running through her.

You turn your head. “Karina.”

She looks up from where she’d been watching, her expression still dazed from her own earlier use.

“Come here.”

She walks to you, her movements fluid, her gaze dropping to your cock, still slick from where you’d touched Ryujin. You don’t give her time to think. You grab the back of her neck and pull her into a deep, claiming kiss. She melts into it instantly, her mouth opening for you, a soft, willing moan vibrating against your lips. Your other hand finds one of her enormous, heavy tits, spilling over the top of her torn dress. You squeeze the soft flesh, feeling the weight of it, the perfect, pliant fullness. Her nipple hardens instantly into a sharp point against your palm.

“These fucking tits,” you growl against her mouth, breaking the kiss to look down at them. “God, they’re perfect. Just massive, soft fucking pillows built for a man to grab onto while he fucks you stupid.” You knead the generous flesh, watching it mold to your grip. “You love that, don’t you? Being my big-titted fuckdoll.”

“Yes, Sir,” she breathes, her eyes glazed with submission. “They’re yours. Only yours.”

You give her a final, rough squeeze that makes her whimper, then push her gently toward the head of the divan. “Hold her head. Make her look at me.”

Karina moves behind Ryujin, her fingers threading into her hair, tilting her head up. You step forward, your cock nudging against Ryujin’s parted lips. She flinches, turning her head away.

“None of that,” you snarl. Your grip is firm on your cock, and you trace the swollen head over her lips, painting them with her own wetness. “You came for them. Now you’ll come for me. Open up.”

When she doesn’t immediately obey, you slap your cock against her cheek, a stinging, humiliating tap. “I said, open your fucking mouth.”

A ragged sob escapes her, but her jaw goes slack. You don’t hesitate. You push forward, feeding your length into her hot, reluctant mouth. She gags instantly, her body straining against the silken cords.

“Suck it,” you command, your voice dropping to a vicious whisper. You look down at Yuna and Chaewon. “And you two… don’t just hold her. Fuck her. Get your fingers in that tight little cunt. Make her feel it.”

Their eyes widen, but they obey. Yuna’s slender fingers are the first to press inside, followed by Chaewon’s. They begin to move, a steady, scissoring rhythm that stretches Ryujin’s sensitive opening. Her groan around your cock is a muffled, desperate sound.

You start to move your hips, fucking her mouth in short, shallow thrusts. “That’s it, you defiant bitch. Take it. You wanted to be different? You wanted to fight? This is what you get. A mouthful of cock and two of your friends fingering your desperate pussy.”

You push deeper, feeling the head of your cock hit the back of her throat. She chokes, tears leaking from under the blindfold. The vibration is incredible.

“You hear that?” you taunt her. “That wet, sloppy sound? That’s your friends turning you into their little toy. They’re fucking you raw while you choke on me. You’re not a star. You’re a fucking glory hole for us to use.”

You glance at Yuna and Chaewon, their hands working in unison, driving their fingers in and out of Ryujin’s soaking cunt. “Faster,” you snap at them. “Make her feel every inch. I want her to forget her own name.”

They increase their pace, their fingers pistoning into her, the slick, filthy sound filling the room. Ryujin’s body begins to buck and writhe, not in protest, but in building ecstasy. Her moans around your cock become higher, more frantic.

“Look at you,” you grunt, grabbing a handful of her hair to hold her still as you fuck her throat. “You’re loving this. You’re a natural fucking cocksucker. Born to have your face used. And your cunt… god, it’s gripping their fingers like it doesn’t want to let go. You’re going to come, aren’t you? You’re going to come all over their hands while you choke on my dick.”

Her answering moan is one of pure, agonized need. Her hips are fucking themselves on their hands now, a frantic, rhythmic pumping. You feel her throat constrict around you as her climax approaches.

“You perfect, filthy whore,” you praise her, the words a verbal slap. “My perfect little slut. You were born for this. To be used. To be shared. Now fucking come for me.”

The command is the final trigger. Her body seizes, a violent, uncontrollable shudder that wracks her from head to toe. A guttural, choked scream is torn from her as her cunt clenches and spasms violently around the invading fingers. The contractions are so intense you can feel them through her throat, milking your cock with every pulse.

You hold her there, impaled on your length, as she rides the brutal wave, her screams muffled by your flesh. You don’t let up, maintaining the pressure, fucking her through it, making her take every second of the overwhelming sensation.

Finally, she collapses, spent and limp, only held up by Karina’s grip in her hair and your cock in her mouth. Her breathing is ragged, shallow gasps.

You slowly pull out of her mouth, a string of saliva and precum connecting her swollen lips to your tip. She slumps forward, coughing weakly.

You look down at the three other girls, their faces flushed, their own arousal evident. Your voice is a low, dark promise.

"Who wants to taste her on me?"

Silence. Heavy, panting silence, broken only by the slick sounds of Ryujin’s body and the distant, throbbing bass from the club below. You look at the three girls—Karina, Yuna, Chaewon—their eyes wide, their bodies humming with a shared, depraved energy. The question hangs in the air, thick as the scent of sex.

Who wants to taste her on me?

Karina moves first. Of course she does. She never breaks eye contact with you as she closes the distance, her full, heavy tits swaying with each step. She doesn’t ask. She simply drops to her knees, her mouth opening, and takes the head of your cock into the wet, incredible heat of her mouth. Her tongue swirls around the tip, lapping up the mix of your precum and Ryujin’s saliva with a deep, hungry moan of appreciation.

“Fuck, yes,” you groan, your hand tangling in her dark hair. “You love that, don’t you? The taste of a broken bitch on your Master’s cock.”

“Mmm, yes, Sir,” she purrs around you, the vibration shooting straight to your base. “She tastes like surrender.”

You let her suckle for a moment, watching her work with that fucked-out expertise she’s perfected. Then you push her back gently. Your gaze sweeps over Yuna and Chaewon. “Your turn. Don’t be shy.”

They scramble forward, a tangle of limbs and desperate need, their tongues licking and worshiping your shaft, cleaning every last trace of Ryujin from your skin. They’re not just obeying anymore. They’re competing. They’re hungry for it.

You let them have their fill before stepping back. Your attention turns to the divan. To all four of them. Your property. Your toys.

“On the floor. All of you. Now.” The command is absolute.

They move as one, a single organism of obedience. They arrange themselves on the plush carpet before you—Karina, Yuna, Chaewon, and a still-dazed Ryujin, who is yanked down by the others. They lay on their backs, side-by-side, a row of the most expensive, most famous pussy in Korea, presented for your use. Their chests rise and fall rapidly, their eyes glazed, their lips parted. The defiance is gone. In its place is a terrifying, beautiful emptiness. A waiting.

You stand over them, a god surveying his altars. “This is what you are,” you state, your voice low and resonant. “This is all you are. Four pretty holes, waiting for my cock to fill them. Your voices, your dances, your fame… it was all just foreplay for this moment. To prepare you to be my perfect, breeding sluts.”

You kneel between Yuna’s long, trembling legs. She looks up at you with wide, innocent eyes, but there’s no fear in them now. Only a deep, aching need. “You first, my little angel. I’m going to ruin this perfect, innocent cunt forever.”

You grip your cock and guide it to her entrance. She’s so wet, her slickness already coating her inner thighs. You don’t push. You just rest the thick head against her, teasing. “You want this? You want me to put a baby in this sweet, young pussy?”

“Yes! Please, Master! Please, I need it!” she begs, her hips bucking uselessly, trying to impale herself on you.

You chuckle and finally push forward, burying your entire length inside her in one brutal, claiming thrust. Her back arches off the floor, a silent scream on her lips as she’s stretched, filled, owned. “Fuck,” you grunt, the sensation of her tight, clutching heat almost too much. “This cunt was made for me. It’s sucking me in like it wants to keep me. You want to keep my cum inside you, don’t you? You want to swell with my child?”

You don’t wait for an answer. You set a punishing rhythm, fucking into her with deep, powerful strokes that slap your thighs against her ass. Her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you deeper. Her hands claw at the carpet. You lean down, capturing one of her perfect, small breasts in your mouth, sucking the nipple hard as you pound into her.

“You’re taking it so well, you fucking whore,” you growl against her skin. “My perfect little idol. My perfect little breeder.”

You feel the familiar, hot pressure coiling in your balls. You pull out of her suddenly, ignoring her cry of loss. You move to Chaewon. Her cool, elegant face is contorted with raw lust. You slam into her without preamble. Her cunt is different—tighter, a fierce, clenching grip that welcomes the invasion.

“You,” you snarl, driving into her. “You thought you were better than this. Now look at you. Begging for a gangster’s dick. Your icy cunt is fucking burning for me.” You pin her wrists above her head. “You’re going to take my seed, and you’re going to pray it takes root, you understand me?”

“Yes, Sir! Fuck!” she screams, her composure utterly shattered. “Fill me! I want it! I want your baby!”

You fuck her harder, your vision starting to blur. The need to release, to claim, is overwhelming. You pull out of her dripping cunt and stumble to Karina. She spreads her legs wider, a knowing, slutty smile on her face, her massive tits heaving. “Your turn, my big-titted fuckdoll.”

You plunge into her. Her cunt is a paradise of soft, wet, welcoming heat. It feels like home. You grab two handfuls of her enormous breasts, squeezing them, smushing them together as you piston in and out of her. “These tits,” you grunt, your rhythm becoming frantic, erratic. “They’re going to be so fucking heavy with milk. You’re going to be my personal dairy cow, Karina. Dripping with my cum, swollen with my child, your huge tits always full and aching for me.”

“Oh god, yes!” she wails, her eyes rolling back. “Breed me! Make me yours forever!”

You’re right on the edge. With a final, guttural roar, you pull out of Karina and fall upon Ryujin. Her eyes snap open, the last vestiges of her defiance finally, truly gone, replaced by a bottomless hunger. You thrust into her, and her body convulses, her cunt gripping you like a fist.

“You… you fought the hardest,” you pant, your forehead against hers, your thrusts shallow and desperate. “So you get the deepest claim. You get to be the most ruined. You get to be the most mine.”

You bury yourself to the hilt as your orgasm erupts. A hot, seemingly endless flood of cum pumps into her depths, claiming her, filling her, breeding her. You grind against her, milking every last drop into her willing body. You collapse on top of her, your weight pressing her into the carpet.

For a long moment, there is only the sound of ragged breathing. You slowly pull out, your cum immediately beginning to leak from her well-used cunt. You look at the four of them. Their minds are broken. Their loyalty, finally, completely, is to you.

Karina is the first to move. She crawls to you, not on her knees, but on her hands and knees, like the animal she’s become. She presses her face against your thigh, nuzzling you.

“Master,” she whispers, her voice thick with devotion. “Thank you. Thank you for making us yours.”

You stroke her hair. “You’re welcome, my pet.”

She looks up at you, her eyes clear and serious. “There are… others. At the company. Other idols. Stuck-up little sluts who think they’re better than us.” A wicked smile plays on her lips. “Let me bring them to you. Let me bring you more girls to break. More famous cunts for you to own and breed.”

A white towel. Tucked under her arms, barely secure, showing way too much leg and the curve of her shoulders. She's dripping—fully dripping—water pooling on your doormat. Her hair is soaked, and there's shampoo suds sliding down the side of her face.

"My water's out," she says, like this is completely normal. Like she's not standing there practically naked. "Can I use your shower?"

You open your mouth. Close it. Your brain is trying to process several things at once and failing spectacularly. You're pretty sure you're doing a damn convincing cosplay of a fish out of water.

"I—what?"

"Water. Out." She tilts her head and more shampoo slides down toward her eye. She squints, annoyed. "Middle of washing my hair. Building maintenance isn't answering. So can I use your shower or not?"

"Oh. Uh. Yeah, of course, I just—"

She's already walking past you into your apartment before you even finish the sentence. Just strides right in, leaving wet footprints on your floor, completely unbothered by the fact that she's in a towel in her neighbor's apartment.

You close the door slowly, still trying to catch up to what's happening, decidedly looking anywhere besides your neighbor's… very attractive legs… 

Stop being a pervert.

"You live alone, right?" she asks, glancing around. Her eyes land on the pile of dishes in the sink, the controller on the couch, and the bag of chips you left open on the coffee table.

"Yeah."

I can tell, her eyes say.

"Good." She spots the hallway leading to what she correctly assumes is the bathroom. "That way?"

The fuck does 'good' mean?

"Yeah, second door, but—"

She's already heading that direction. You follow, because what else are you supposed to do? 

She stops at the bathroom door, hand on the handle.

"Towels?" she asks.

"Uh, cabinet under the sink. But you already have—"

"This one's wet." She says it like you're being slow on purpose. "I'll need a dry one after."

"Right. Yeah. That makes sense."

There's shampoo dripping dangerously close to her eye now and she wipes at it with the back of her hand, still holding the towel secure with the other. "You got conditioner?"

"I... don't think so?"

She looks at you like you've just admitted you don't own furniture. "What do you mean you don't think so?"

"I use, uh, the three-in-one—"

"Oh my god." She laughs and shakes her head. "Of course you do. Whatever, I'll survive. Thanks for this, by the way."

And then she's in your bathroom, door closing behind her, and you're standing in the hallway trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.

The water starts running and you're still standing there like an idiot.

You force yourself to walk back to the living room. You sit back down on the couch. Pick up the controller. Stare at the screen without actually seeing it.

There's a girl in your shower. A naked girl. Not even just a naked girl.

It's Asa. Your hot neighbor who you've exchanged maybe twenty-four words with total. Who you've definitely noticed in the hallway, in the elevator, that one time she was getting her mail in running shorts. And now she's naked in your bathroom, using your terrible 3-in-1 soap, probably judging every aspect of your life.

You unpause the game and die instantly because you're not paying attention. The water is still running and you're trying so very hard not to think about what's happening not even ten feet away.

"Hey!" Her voice cuts through the sound of the shower.

You duck and nearly drop the controller. "Yeah?"

"Your water pressure is amazing!"

"Oh. Uh. Thanks?"

What the fuck are you supposed to say to that?

"Way better than mine!" she continues, and you can hear the smile in her voice. She's genuinely enjoying this. "I might have to come over every time!"

She's joking. Probably joking. You hope she's joking because your brain cannot handle the thought of this becoming a regular thing.

The water runs for another few minutes. You're hyperaware of every sound - the shower shutting off, the cabinet opening (she's getting one of the towels), the bathroom door unlocking.

"Hey, do you have a—"

She opens the door and leans out, and your brain short-circuits for the second time today because she's wrapped in your towel now. Your dark blue towel that's way too big for her, tucked under her arms, her shoulders and collarbones still wet.

"—hair dryer?" she finishes.

You blink at her stupidly. "Huh?"

"Hair dryer. Do you have one?"

"Why would I have a hair dryer?"

She looks at your admittedly short hair, then nods like that's fair. "Right. Okay. I'll just..." She gestures vaguely at her wet hair.

"I have, uh..." You try to think. "A towel? Another towel?"

"That's fine. I'll just air dry." She steps fully out of the bathroom now, padding barefoot across your floor, leaving little wet footprints. "You mind if I wait a bit? I don't want to go back to my place like this."

"No, yeah, that's fine. Totally fine."

She settles onto the other end of your couch, tucking her legs under her, completely at ease in your towel in your apartment. You're still holding the controller, game paused, trying to figure out where to look that isn't directly at her.

"You can keep playing," she says, nodding at the screen. "I'll just sit here."

"Right. Yeah." You unpause and die immediately again.

She laughs. "You're terrible at this."

"I'm distracted."

"By what?" There's something in her voice that makes you look at her, and she's got this expression on her face that's not quite innocent. Like she knows exactly what she's doing. She tilts her head.

"By... the current situation."

"What situation?" She's absolutely fucking with you now. "I'm just sitting here."

"You're sitting here in a towel."

"Would you prefer I wasn't in a towel?" She grins slyly. "Because I can work with that."

Your brain stops functioning.

She shifts on the couch. Or at least you think she does—you're trying so hard not to stare at where the towel is tucked that you don't notice her getting closer until suddenly she's right there. Not on her end of the couch anymore. Right next to you, her thigh almost touching yours.

"You know," she says, and her voice has dropped lower, "I've been thinking."

"About what?"

"About how we live on the same floor." She leans in slightly. You can smell your body wash on her skin. "Same building. Same floor. Same water line."

Your eyes flick to hers. She's got this look on her face—amused, knowing.

"So if my water's out..." she continues, a shit-eating grin forming on her face. "Why isn't yours?"

Oh.

Oh.

"You—"

"There we go," she says, and then she's climbing into your lap.

The controller falls to the floor. Your hands automatically go to her waist—to steady her, to stop her, you're not sure—but she's already settling her thighs on either side of yours, towel riding up dangerously high.

"Is this okay?" she asks, but she's already leaning in.

"Yeah," you manage hoarsely. "Yeah, that's—"

She kisses you before you can finish. Her lips are soft and she tastes like your toothpaste (she used your toothbrush? Jesus). Then her hands are in your hair and you're kissing her back before your brain even has the chance to catch up.

She makes this little pleased sound against your mouth, pressing closer. The towel is the only thing between you and you can feel the heat of her through your sweatpants. Your hands tighten on her waist and she grinds down slightly, testing.

You groan into her mouth and she pulls back just enough to grin at you.

"Thought so," she says cheekily. 

Then she's kissing you again, harder this time. Her tongue slides against yours and her hips roll forward, grinding against the bulge in your sweatpants. You're already getting hard and she can definitely feel it.

"Asa—" you start, but she catches your bottom lip gently, tugging at it with her teeth and whatever you were going to say disappears.

Her hands slide down from your hair to your shoulders, then lower, fingers curling in your shirt. "Off," she murmurs against your mouth.

You help her pull it off, and then her hands are on your chest, tracing the lines of muscle. She pulls back to look at you properly, appreciation clear in her eyes.

"Not bad," she says.

"Thanks, I guess?"

She laughs, then kisses you again. This time when she grinds down you thrust up to meet her and she gasps, breaking the kiss.

"Bedroom?" you suggest.

"Not yet." Her hands go to the towel tucked at her chest. "I want you to touch me first."

She pulls the towel loose and it falls away.

Fuck.

You've thought about this—of course you've thought about this, she's gorgeous and lives twenty feet away—but imagination doesn't even come close to reality. She's right here in your lap, completely naked, skin still slightly damp from the shower.

Your hands move without conscious thought, sliding up her sides to cup her breasts. She arches into the touch, head falling back.

"Mmph~ yes," she breathes. "Like that."

You thumb over her nipples and they harden under your touch. She rocks her hips against you again, more deliberately now, and you can feel the heat of her even through your sweatpants.

Wait. Why should you just sit here and let her control everything?

The thought clicks something into place. Your hands tighten on her waist and you stand up in one smooth motion, taking her with you. She yelps in surprise, legs wrapping around your waist instinctively.

"What are you—"

You set her down on the couch, on her back, and settle between her spread thighs. "My turn," you say.

Her eyes widen slightly, then darken. "Okay then."

You kiss down her neck, her collarbone, taking your time. She's squirming under you, impatient, but you ignore it. Kiss between her breasts, down her stomach, lower.

"Oh fuck," she breathes when she realizes what you're about to do.

You kiss the inside of her thigh, then the other one, deliberately avoiding where she wants you. She makes a frustrated sound.

"Stop teasing, you fu—"

You lick up through her folds and she chokes on whatever she was going to say. She's already wet, and the taste of her makes you groan even louder than she does. You do it again, slower this time, and her hips jerk up.

"Ahhn~ fuck—yes—"

You find her clit with your tongue, circling it, and her hands fly to your hair. She's making these breathy little sounds, "ah—ah—" every time you hit the right spot.

"Right there," she pants. "Don't stop, please don't stop—"

You slide two fingers into her while you work her clit with your tongue and she practically sobs. She's tight around your fingers, already clenching, and when you curl them to hit that spot inside her she cries out.

"Oh god—nngh—oh fuck—I'm—"

She cums with a sharp gasp, thighs clamping around your head, pussy pulsing around your fingers. You work her through it until she's pushing at your head, oversensitive.

When you pull back she's sprawled on your couch, chest heaving, looking so very wrecked.

"Holy shit," she mumbles.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, a wide smile on your face. "Bedroom now?"

"Yes. Fuck yes." She sits up, then notices the bulge straining against your sweatpants. "But first—"

She drops to her knees on the floor and your brain short-circuits for the third time today.

"Asa, you don't have to—"

"I want to." She hooks her fingers in your waistband and pulls your sweatpants down. Your cock springs free—you weren't wearing boxers—and her eyes go wide. "Oh. Okay. That's..."

"What?"

"Nothing." But she's grinning as she wraps her hand around you. "No complaints here."

Then she leans forward and takes you in her mouth.

"Ohhhh fuck—"

She can't take all of you—you're too big—but what she does take feels incredible. Her tongue works the underside while her hand strokes what doesn't fit, and you have to brace yourself against the back of the couch to stay upright.

She pulls off with a wet pop, looking up at you with those big eyes. "Good?"

"You know it's good."

She smirks at that, then takes you back in her mouth, deeper this time. You can feel yourself hitting the back of her throat and she moans around you, the vibration making your hips jerk.

"Asa—fuck—if you keep doing that I'm gonna—"

She doubles down, sucking harder, and you have to physically pull her off before you lose it.

"What's wrong? Gonna blow a load down my throat already?" She pouts.

"Bedroom," you say roughly. "Now. Before I pump everything I have into that mouth of yours."

"Promise we can try that next time?"

Next time. Fuck.

"Yeah. Promise."

You pull her up and kiss her hard, tasting yourself on her lips. Then you're half-walking, half-stumbling to the bedroom, stopping every few steps because you can't stop kissing her.

You get her to the bed and she climbs on, crawling backward, completely unselfconscious in her nakedness. You strip off your sweatpants the rest of the way and follow her.

"How do you want me?" she asks.

"On your back. Want to see your face."

She grins and lies back, spreading her legs. You settle between them, lining yourself up, and pause.

"You sure about this?"

"If you don't fuck me in the next ten seconds I'm going to lose my mind," she says flatly.

Good enough.

You push inside slowly. She's tight—so very tight—and you have to go slow or you'll hurt her. She's making these little whimpering sounds, "oh—oh god—you're so big—"

You're halfway in and you pause, letting her adjust. She's trembling, stretched around you, and you lean down to kiss her.

"You okay?"

"Very okay. Keep going."

You push in the rest of the way and she moans, nails digging into your shoulders. Fully seated inside her, you have to stay still for a second or you're going to lose it immediately.

"Move," she pants. "Please move."

You start with slow, deep thrusts. She's so wet that the slide is easy, and the sounds are obscene—slick and dirty. She's moaning with every thrust, "yes—fuck—yes—"

"Harder?" you ask.

"Harder."

You give her what she wants. Snap your hips forward, really driving into her, and she nearly screams. Her legs wrap around your waist, heels digging into your ass.

"There—right there—mmph—oh fuck—"

You can feel her getting tighter, clenching around you rhythmically. She's close again.

"Touch yourself," you tell her. "Want to feel you cum on my cock."

Her hand flies between you, fingers working her clit, and within seconds she's cumming. Her pussy clamps down on you like a vice and you have to stop moving or you'll follow her over the edge.

"Oh my god—oh fuck—" She's shaking through it, eyes squeezed shut.

When she finally goes limp you pull out and flip her over.

"Ass up," you tell her.

She scrambles to comply, getting on her hands and knees, presenting herself to you. The view is incredible—her ass displayed, her pussy glistening and swollen from being fucked.

You line yourself up and push back in, and from this angle you go even deeper. She moans into the pillow, back arching.

"Fuck—yes—"

You grab her hips and really fuck her now. Hard, fast, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. She's moaning continuously, "ah—ah—ah—" with each thrust, and you can feel your orgasm building.

"I'm close," you warn her.

"Inside," she gasps. "Cum inside me—"

"Asa—"

"Please—wanna feel it—"

You reach around to rub her clit and she screams into the pillow, gripping your sheets, cumming again. Her pussy spasms around your cock and that's it—you're done. Your orgasm slams into you and you bury yourself deep, cumming hard, filling her up.

"Fuck—fuck—Asa—"

You can feel yourself pulsing inside her, pumping her full, and she's moaning at the sensation. When you finally stop you collapse on top of her, both of you breathing hard.

After a long moment, she speaks.

"So," she says, voice still muffled by the pillow. "Same time next week when my water mysteriously stops working again?"

She looked between them. Her pulse roared now, heavy and real. This wasn’t flirtation. Not anymore.

"Get out," she said, stepping back.

Luca only looked at Emil.

Emil didn't smile. He pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket and placed it on the table. "You read this before we do anything else."

"I'm calling the front desk," she said, reaching for her phone.

Luca shook his head. "There's no line. Not right now."

Her hand paused. A chill spread down her arms.

The air in the room felt wrong now—too still, like a breath being held. Her phone was in her hand, but she didn't press the screen. Both men just stood there. Not moving. Not lunging. But present in a way that made her skin crawl.

"Why?" she asked, her voice small. "Why are you doing this?"

Emil tilted his head. "Because you let us in. Because you looked at us like you wanted to be owned."

She shook her head once, sharp. "I didn't."

Luca's voice was quiet. "You did. Even if you didn’t mean to. We’re giving you a choice. A controlled one. But make no mistake—this room belongs to us until you decide otherwise."

Her breath turned shallow. "If I scream—"

"No one will hear you over the rain," Emil said, his voice almost kind. "And we won’t touch you. Unless you ask. That part is real."

She didn't believe him. Not fully. But the room was a trap of her own making, and they knew it.

Her hand hovered near her phone again. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t screamed, hadn’t run. And the moment she didn’t, she realized she was no longer in control of the silence.

Emil stepped closer, slow and deliberate, until the coffee table was all that separated them. He held the folded sheet of paper like a menu she’d been forced to order from.

"You think we want to hurt you?" he asked. Not softly. Not cruelly. Just loud enough to make her spine go rigid. "We could have. We didn't. You're still standing. Still clothed. Still free to scream. So scream."

Momo didn’t move.

"Exactly," he said.

Luca stood by the door like a second lock. His arms were folded now. No warmth in his face. Just patience. Or boredom. Or something colder.

"This isn't about us," Emil went on. "This is about what you did. You opened the door. You let us in. You waited. Now you’re scared of the thing you asked for. That fear? That’s honesty."

"I didn’t ask for this," she hissed.

"Didn’t you?" Luca finally said, his voice deep and flat. "Not with words. With the way you looked at us. The way you lingered. The way you didn’t flinch when the door shut."

Her mouth parted. No sound came.

Emil unfolded the page and placed it on the table between them. "Read it. Or don’t. Makes no difference to us. We’re not the ones shaking."

Momo looked at the page but didn’t reach for it. Her stomach turned. Her chest was tight. She couldn’t tell anymore if the danger was real or if they were just experts at crafting it.

"Why me?" she asked.

Luca tilted his head. "Because you looked like someone who wanted to disappear."

A pause.

"And we’re very good at making people vanish," Emil added.

The chill that moved down her spine then wasn’t theatrical. It was chemical.

"You want choice? You have one," he said. "Door or table. Say the word."

Her eyes flicked to the door, to Luca, then back to the sheet of paper. Her body screamed to run. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She wasn’t sure who she was outside this pressure.

Momo moved to the couch and sat, but only just. Her knees touched. Her hands folded tight.

Emil didn’t wait for another word. The moment she sat, her silence became consent. Her fear, confirmation.

Luca moved first. He didn’t ask. He took her phone from the coffee table and slipped it into his back pocket. Her mouth opened, then closed. Her protest died in the space between fear and realization.

"You don’t need it anymore," Emil said, already circling the couch. "For now, you listen. You obey. You endure."

She turned her head toward him. That was all she could do. The moment she shifted, Luca’s hand was on her shoulder again. Firm now. Guiding.

"No more bargaining," he said near her ear. "Not until we’re finished."

Momo's spine locked, breath caught in her chest. The control she thought she'd have had been an illusion—a kindness offered once, now revoked.

Emil crouched in front of her, leveling his eyes with hers.

"You want out?" he asked.

She didn't answer.

"Too slow."

His hand gripped her jaw, not cruel, but unyielding. Luca shifted behind her. Pressure. Heat. Presence. A wall against her back.

"You're going to do exactly what we say," Emil continued, voice low and certain. "Not because we asked nicely. But because your silence signed the contract."

Momo’s hands trembled in her lap. Still, she didn’t speak.

Luca reached around and undid the top button of her blouse. One. Then another. Then stopped. Waiting.

Emil watched her face. "Don’t bother nodding. You had your chance to choose."

Momo swallowed. The room tilted. Time bent.

Luca didn’t wait. He slid his hands down her arms, rougher now, catching the edge of her blouse and yanking it down to her elbows, trapping her own limbs in the sleeves. The fabric clung. Her breath caught.

"Hey—" she started.

Emil moved faster. One step, two. His hand clamped gently but firmly over her mouth.

"No more warnings," he said near her ear. "You sit. You listen. You learn your place."

Momo jerked her head back, but he didn’t flinch.

Luca grunted behind her, hands traveling over the exposed top of her chest. "Soft. Warm. Already shivering."

Her blouse hit the floor.

She twisted. Emil grabbed her chin, not hard, but commanding. He forced her to look at him.

"No one's hurting you," he said. "Unless you make us earn it."

Her mouth moved under his hand. A protest, swallowed.

"Try that again," Luca said, dragging the back of his knuckle down her spine, slow. "See what it gets you."

She stilled.

Emil released her mouth. "Words, now. You want this stopped, you better say so like you fucking mean it."

She didn’t.

Silence. Her own breathing. Too loud. Her skin flushed. She hated how warm she was.

Luca unhooked her bra, quick and final.

Emil stepped back and looked her over like a hunter admiring a kill. "That's better."

Momo wrapped her arms across her chest, shaky. "You think this proves something? That you can scare me into letting go?"

Luca circled her, voice low. "You're still trying to win. That’s cute."

Emil pulled her hands down with little effort, exposing her fully. "But we already own this moment. You gave it up the second you stopped fighting."

She bit her lip, eyes hot with fury. Shame. Something she refused to name.

"You don’t get to break me."

Luca smirked. "No, sweetheart. You’ll do that all by yourself."

Momo stood stiff, chest rising fast, arms trembling as they tried again to cover what little was left untouched. Emil didn’t stop her. Not at first. He only watched her hands with calm disdain, like they were disrespectful.

Then he moved. Quick.

He caught both her wrists, yanked them down to her sides, and held them there.

“Enough,” he said. “No more hiding.”

Luca stepped in close, his presence a wall. Momo backed into Emil's grip. She didn’t mean to. Her body betrayed her.

“Look at her,” Luca murmured, tilting his head.

Emil did. His gaze dragged over her chest, flushed and rising with every breath, nipples tight from cold and shame—or maybe not just that.

“Pretty when she’s pretending not to want it,” Emil said. “Prettier when she stops pretending.”

He pulled her backward into him, pinning her with the full weight of his body. His hands gripped her wrists like anchors. She tried to turn, to twist—something—but Luca stepped in, mouth brushing the top of her breast.

Momo gasped.

“Soft,” he said again, low. “Responsive.”

His lips closed around her nipple without warning.

She cried out, a sound too sharp for pleasure, too hot for pain. Emil caught it in her ear, his voice low and cruel.

“Didn’t say no,” he whispered. “Didn’t say stop.”

Luca sucked harder. His free hand cupped the weight of her other breast, thumb flicking. Momo’s knees buckled. Emil held her upright.

“You’re shaking,” he said.

She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood.

“You think you can still win this?” he asked.

Luca dragged his tongue slow across her skin. “She wants to lose. Just needs permission.”

Momo whimpered. Her hands, still pinned, stopped struggling.

Emil leaned down and latched his mouth to her other nipple, his tongue hot and merciless.

Her whole body jolted. Her head dropped back against his shoulder.

They devoured her like a dare—like they knew the moment she moaned would be the moment she broke.

Her breath faltered. Her knees nearly gave out, and Emil caught her before she collapsed entirely, guiding her back to the couch. Not sitting. Displayed. Spine arched. Arms limp at her sides.

Luca knelt first.

Then Emil.

Both in front of her now, twin shadows at her feet.

She blinked, dazed, and realized they weren’t watching her body anymore. They were watching her face.

"From this point on," Emil said, eyes steady and dark, "everything happens in twos."

"You’ll be touched in sync, tasted in sync," Luca added, his voice lower.

They leaned forward together.

Momo drew a breath to ask—what does that mean? But the question died as their mouths pressed against her. Not rough. Not claiming. Worshiping.

Warm lips trailed over her skin, tongues flicking in perfect rhythm, mouths mapping her like sacred ground. She gasped. Her head fell back. It was too much and not enough.

They didn’t grope. They didn’t rush. They adored.

Two mouths. Two pairs of eyes. One unspoken command: feel everything.

She looked down once, and the sight undid her. Both men, kneeling, mouths on her, staring up. Devoted. Ravenous. Controlled.

It shattered something.

Momo let out a noise she didn’t recognize, hands clutching the edge of the couch. Her thighs tensed, then trembled. Her breath was uneven. The power of their gaze—matched, steady, almost reverent—pierced deeper than touch ever had.

Emil moved first. He rose slowly, still on his knees, tracing his mouth up the valley of her body. Over ribs. Between breasts. Past her collarbone. Until he reached her face.

He paused just long enough to let her see the heat in his eyes before he kissed her.

It wasn’t soft.

It was claiming.

At the same time, Luca shifted downward, spreading her knees with his broad palms. He didn’t ask. He didn’t speak. He simply bent low and pressed his mouth between her thighs like it belonged there.

Momo arched.

The kiss at her lips deepened as her moan fed directly into Emil’s mouth. His hands cradled her jaw. Luca’s gripped her hips. They moved in perfect opposition—one tasting her surrender, the other swallowing it.

She was caught. Anchored.

Pleasure mounted too fast. Too sharp. Her mind blurred.

Two mouths. Two rhythms. One descent.

She came fast.

Her body snapped tight, then dropped, breathless and boneless against the cushions. A sound tore from her throat, raw and startled. The kind of sound that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but surrender.

Luca pulled back first, lips wet, chin slick. He looked up at her with a crooked smirk.

Emil kissed the side of her jaw one last time, then leaned back, chest rising steady.

They laughed. Not cruel. Not soft. A knowing sound. Male. Certain.

"So much for holding out," Emil murmured.

Luca stood, towering. He unfastened his belt with a practiced flick, metal whispering. "She’s better at breaking than bargaining."

Momo blinked slowly, still catching air. The room swam.

Emil reached down and unzipped. The sound felt louder than it should have. Final.

"Get on your knees," he said, voice low and unshakable. "Use that mouth for something useful."

Luca added, already stepping closer, "Both of us. Side by side. No favorites."

Momo dropped to her knees.

The rug scratched her skin. The air was thick with sweat and command. They stood above her, belts undone, cocks heavy and waiting. No tenderness now. No slow seduction.

She looked between them. Then up.

They didn’t smile. They didn’t have to.

Emil went first. One hand cradled the back of her head. The other guided her mouth. No instructions. No easing in.

She gagged. Loud. Wet.

Luca chuckled low beside her. "Too eager."

"She’ll adjust," Emil said. "They always do."

She coughed, throat tightening, but he didn’t let go. Didn’t stop. Not until she stilled.

Then he pulled back.

"Now him," Emil said, breath rough.

Luca stepped in, his fingers tracing her jaw first—a mockery of care. Then he pushed in.

She closed her eyes, breath shaking through her nose. He was slower, but thicker. She choked again, shoulders jerking.

"Good girl," he muttered. "You’ll take both soon."

They began to trade her mouth like breath.

Back and forth. One in. One out. Rhythm building. Hands guiding her like she was nothing but hunger and obedience.

No favorites.

Just service.

They pulled back from her mouth, breath heavy, knuckles flexing. Momo knelt between them, chest rising fast, lips swollen, eyes glazed. The carpet burned her knees. Her throat burned worse.

Luca stepped away first. Emil followed.

“On the bed,” Emil said.

She didn’t move.

Luca grabbed her by the arm, firm, not cruel, but with finality. She flinched. Then twisted.

“Wait,” she said, voice cracking.

Neither man paused.

They guided her to the bed, bent her forward. Her hands clutched the sheets. Her breath caught when Emil's palm rested on the small of her back, holding her there.

Then Luca’s hands spread her legs.

She snapped.

“No,” she gasped. “Wait. Don’t—please, not both."

Emil froze. His fingers tightened.

“Look at me,” he said. She did. Barely.

His voice didn’t soften. But it lowered.

“Then say it clear. Say stop. Say you want this to end."

Momo shook her head, breath ragged. “I just… I can’t. Not that."

Emil didn’t move.

He looked at her, dead-on. One second. Two.

Then he turned to Luca and nodded.

Momo blinked. “Wait,” she said, voice rising. “I said I can’t.”

Luca was already moving. Hands on her hips. Knees on the bed.

Emil leaned over her back, his voice a whisper. “You didn’t say stop.”

Her breath seized.

“That was your rule,” he added, mouth at her ear. “You wanted control. Use it. Or we take over.”

Luca spread her legs wider.

“No—”

Her voice cracked.

Emil's hand slid under her chin, forcing her head up. “Say it. Loud. Say stop. Say enough. Or we keep going."

She couldn’t. Her lips parted, but no sound came.

Her body betrayed her. It didn’t fight.

Luca shifted behind her, his breath hot. His grip was final. Her thighs trembled.

Emil kissed her temple. “Then you know what happens next.”

Momo tensed under him, a breath caught so sharp it almost hurt.

“Wait,” she said, barely audible.

Luca's hands were already on her hips, adjusting her position. She tried to rise, to twist away, but Emil pressed her back down with a hand between her shoulder blades.

“Please, I—I said not that,” she choked out.

Emil's tone didn’t change. “You didn’t say stop.”

Luca's voice came from behind, lower. “She’s scared. That’s good.”

Her legs kicked, once. Her breath turned frantic.

“You don’t have to prove anything,” she said. “You don’t have to do this.”

“We do,” Emil said calmly, sliding his hand along her spine. “Because you let us.”

Luca shifted behind her. She felt the heat, the intent.

“No,” she gasped. “No, please, I can’t take both. I can’t.”

Emil leaned down close. “You will. Or you say the word. You scream. You fight. But if you freeze, we keep going.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. Her body shuddered.

Then the pressure began.

One at her hips. One higher, angling. Pinned between them.

She sobbed, legs buckling. Her voice came broken: “Stop. Please stop.”

Emil paused.

“Is that your word?”

Momo trembled. Silence. A second. Two.

“No,” she whispered.

“Good girl,” Luca said.

Then they entered her.

Together.

Momo gasped, body seized between them, the word echoing in her skull. Their rhythm began slow—coordinated, deliberate. Every movement precise. Every breath stolen.

“Fuck,” Luca hissed behind her, low and hot. “Tighter than I thought she’d be."

Emil gripped her jaw, forcing her head back against his shoulder. “That’s because she’s fighting it. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“I can’t,” Momo breathed, tears on her cheeks. “It’s too much. You can’t both—I—please—”

Emil's voice was pure steel. “You took us in your mouth like you were starving. Now take the rest."

She sobbed, back arching with the next thrust. Her hands fisted in the sheets.

Luca growled behind her, pace picking up. “She’s melting. Feels it now."

“No,” she whimpered. “No, I’m not—I don’t—”

Emil silenced her with a hand to her throat, not squeezing, just there. “You are. You’re dripping. Shaking. You fucking love it."

Her legs gave. Only their hands kept her up.

“She’s close,” Luca said. “You feel that? She’s pulsing.”

Momo moaned without meaning to. Her voice fractured. “Don’t say that. Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”

Emil's fingers tightened around her jaw. “Then act like you’re here. Own it.”

Luca grunted behind her, his pace sharp, relentless. “She’s trembling. Fuck, she’s right there."

Momo shook her head, face burning. Her hands clawed at the sheets, nails tearing the fabric. Her breath came in sobs now—half protest, half need.

“Don’t,” she begged, eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t make me. Not like this.”

Emil's voice dropped to a growl. “You're already gone, baby. Let go.”

She tried to speak. The words fell apart. Her body arched.

The pressure cracked.

It hit her hard—a climax torn from somewhere deep, shaking and brutal. Her mouth opened on a scream she couldn't silence. Her muscles clenched around them. Her eyes flooded.

Luca cursed. Emil held her tighter, letting her ride it out, his breath in her ear.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Give it up. All of it."

And she did.

She spilled over their rhythm, a girl turned wreckage in their hands.

She spilled over their rhythm, a girl turned wreckage in their hands.

Emil didn’t slow. Neither did Luca. If anything, they tightened around her, using every inch until her body jolted with each thrust.

“Goddamn,” Luca growled, slamming deeper. “I'm gonna cum in her ass. She’s begging for it without saying a word."

Emil was shaking against her back, sweat dripping. “Fuck—I’m close. Gonna fill her up. Flood her pussy 'til it spills."

Momo tried to speak, to plead again, but her mouth stayed open in a silent cry. Her body wouldn't respond.

Luca grunted, thrusts turning brutal. “Take it. Fucking take all of it."

Emil bit out a moan, grip bruising her waist. “Cumming. Right now. Gonna pump this pussy full. Keep it. Fucking keep it."

They finished together.

Luca cursed as he buried himself to the hilt. “Fucking emptied me.”

Emil growled into her skin. “That’s it. Take our cum. Every last drop. You’re ours now."

Her body trembled, wrecked and leaking.

They stayed inside her for a breath. Then another.

The silence stretched, too long. Momo's body trembled, but not from pleasure anymore.

Luca pulled out first. She flinched. Emil followed, slower, and she hissed in pain.

Momo twisted away, breath catching. "You got what you wanted," she snapped, voice raw. "We're done."

Luca grabbed her wrist before she could crawl off the bed. "Not quite."

She yanked, snarled. “Get your fucking hands off me."

Emil stepped in close, crouching at the edge of the bed. His tone didn’t rise. That made it worse.

“You think this ends when you say so? After what you just gave us? After what you took?"

Momo spit at the floor between them. “You don’t own me."

Luca leaned in beside Emil, voice a low threat. “You’re dripping with us. Still open. Still shaking. And you’re going to clean every fucking drop."

“No,” she growled.

Emil grabbed her chin, hard. “Then we make you.”

She struggled. Kicked. Cursed. But her body betrayed her again—weak, drained, trembling.

They pinned her, not cruel, but practiced. Controlled.

Luca brought himself to her lips. “Open your mouth. Or we hold it open. Either way, you're going to taste what you begged for."

Her mouth clamped shut. Eyes blazing.

Emil smirked. “That fire won't save you now."

Momo stared up at him, defiant. But it was cracked now. Her lips parted, breath ragged, fury twisted with something she hated to name.

“You want me to clean it up like I enjoyed it?” she snapped.

Luca stepped forward, still exposed, heavy and unapologetic. “No. We want you to clean it because you did.”

She looked away, eyes wet. Her hands curled into the sheets.

“Make it quick,” she muttered. “Then you leave."

Emil didn’t move. He let her crawl. Let her mouth inch forward.

She paused. One last time.

Then took him in.

The taste was bitter. Salt and heat and shame.

Luca grunted behind her, guiding her pace. “Don’t rush. Use your tongue. Make it good."

She gagged once, coughed, then kept going. Emil's hand found the back of her head, steadying her.

“There you go,” he said. “Earn your silence."

She finished one. Then the other.

When she sat back, her jaw ached. Her throat burned.

Emil dressed without a word. Luca wandered to her suitcase, casually unzipping it. He flipped through her things.

Momo pulled the blanket over herself, watching.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Seeing who you came with,” Luca said. “You weren’t alone in the lobby. Cute girl. Tight dress. Same eyes."

Emil picked up her phone. Open. Unlocked.

Momo's stomach turned. “Don’t.”

He ignored her. Tapped through her apps. Pulled up a tagged photo.

Sana.

“Room 611,” Emil read aloud.

Momo sat up. “You’re not touching her.”

“We’re not asking,” Luca said.

Emil smirked. “But you’ll tell her, won’t you? Right after we leave. And she won’t believe a word. Not after what she saw on your story."

They walked to the door.

“She’ll open it for us,” Emil added. “They always do."

Click.

It had begun two hours ago, at a sterile corporate dinner. You’d been nodding along to some executive’s monologue about quarterly projections when you saw her. Karina. She was a vision in crimson, holding a flute of champagne she never sipped from. Her manager, a man with a nervous smile, had guided her to you like a precious offering.

“Our most valued investor deserves to meet our brightest star,” he’d simpered before melting away.

Up close, the idol persona was a thin veil. Her eyes, dark and knowing, didn’t just look at you; they dissected you. She wasn’t the innocent starlet the media portrayed.

“They told me to be very… appreciative tonight,” she’d said, her voice a low, melodic thing that bypassed your ears and went straight to your groin.

The car ride to your building was a silent, charged thing. You didn’t speak. You just watched the city lights reflect in the deep, obsidian pools of her eyes. The elevator ascent was a study in tension, the air so thick you could taste the anticipation.

The moment the penthouse door hissed shut, the facade shattered.

You didn’t ask. You simply took. You backed her against the door, your body caging hers, and captured her mouth in a kiss that was anything but polite. It was a claim. Her lips were pliant at first, a soft, surprised gasp giving you entry. Then she met your hunger with her own, her tongue tangling with yours in a wet, frantic dance. Her hands came up, not to push you away, but to claw at your shoulders, pulling you impossibly closer.

“I knew you’d taste like this,” you’d murmured against her lips, your voice rough. “Like expensive sin.”

That was all the preamble there was.

Now, pinned against the window, that same dress is your enemy. Your hands slide from her hips, around to the front, and you don’t bother with a zipper. You grasp the delicate fabric at her neckline and pull. The sound of tearing silk is obscenely loud. She cries out, a sharp, guttural sound that’s pure ecstasy, not protest.

Her breasts spill free into your waiting hands, heavy and perfect, their weight a promise you intend to collect on immediately.

“Look at these fucking tits,” you groan, squeezing the soft flesh, your thumbs circling her taut nipples. “This is what all those fans dream of, isn’t it? And they’re mine.”

You spin her around, pressing her front against the cool glass. Her palms slap against the window for purchase. You yank the torn dress and her thong down to her knees, baring the magnificent swell of her ass. You land a sharp, stinging slap on one perfect cheek, relishing the way the flesh jiggles and flushes a immediate, bright red.

She moans, long and low, pushing her ass back against you in a silent, desperate plea.

“Such a greedy fucking slut,” you praise, the degradation laced with awe. You run your hand over the warming skin. “You were built for this, weren’t you? Built to take my cock.”

You don’t enter her yet. You guide yourself, slick with your own precum and her excitement, between the pillowy softness of her ass cheeks. You fuck the crevice, your length sliding against her tailbone and the tight, puckered star of her asshole, painting her skin with your need.

“Please,” she whimpers, the word mangled against the glass. “Please, I need it.”

“You need what, Karina?” you demand, slowing your thrusts to a tormenting grind.

“I need your cock,” she gasps, her voice breaking. “I need you to fuck me. I’m your slut. I’m your fucking slut!”

The admission unleashes you. You grab her hips, align yourself, and sink into her pussy in one brutal, deep thrust. She screams, a raw, unfiltered sound of pure satisfaction. Her inner muscles clench around you like a velvet fist, rippling and milking your length.

You set a punishing pace, each drive of your hips slamming her body against the glass. The world outside doesn’t exist. There is only the slap of skin on skin, the ragged symphony of your breathing, and the filthy, wet sound of you pistoning in and out of her dripping cunt.

“You take it so well,” you grunt, your own control fraying. “This world-class pussy was made for my fucking seed. You want me to breed you? You want to be full of me?”

“Yes! God, yes!” she cries, her words dissolving into a stream of pleasured nonsense. “Fill me up… breed your slut… please, I need it…”

You feel the coil in your gut tighten, a familiar, inevitable pressure. With a final, animalistic roar, you plunge as deep as she can take you, and unleash yourself inside her. Your release is violent, endless pulses of hot cum flooding her depths. She convulses around you, her own climax triggered by the sensation, her body shaking violently as she sobs your name.

You stay buried inside her for a long moment, both of you panting, connected. You lean over her, your chest pressed to her sweaty back, and whisper into her ear.

“That’s one.” You slowly, reluctantly, pull out. A thick trickle of your cum immediately leaks down her inner thigh. “Now get on your knees. Your mouth is looking…

“…filthy.”

The words hang in the air, a command and a promise, still warm against the shell of her ear. You don’t give her a moment to process it. Your hands slide from her hips, a final, possessive squeeze, and you step back. The sudden absence of your body against hers feels like a loss, a vacuum of cold air where heat and connection once were.

Karina shivers, her body still thrumming from the brutal climax you just pulled from her. She sways for a second, her palms still flat against the cool glass of the window, her mind hazy with endorphins and the primal satisfaction of being filled. Then, the command registers. A fresh, different tremor goes through her—a tremor of anticipation. She knows exactly what you want.

Slowly, her movements slightly unsteady, she turns. The torn crimson dress hangs off one shoulder, her magnificent breasts swaying with the motion, her nipples still hard and flushed from your attention. Her eyes, dark and wide, find yours. They’re not glazed over anymore; they’re focused, sharp with a specific, dark hunger. She doesn’t speak. She just sinks to her knees on the plush rug, the posture of a supplicant, her gaze locked on your cock.

It’s slick and gleaming, painted with her arousal and the thick, pearlescent evidence of your first release. The scent of sex is potent, musky and sweet, flooding the space between you.

You look so pretty on your knees, Karina. Born for it. Open that pretty fucking mouth.

She obeys without hesitation, her lips parting. Her tongue darts out, not to taste yet, but to wet her own lips in nervous, eager anticipation.

You don’t make her wait. You close the small distance and guide yourself into the wet heat of her mouth. You don’t thrust, not yet. You just rest the head on her tongue, letting her feel the weight, the taste. Her eyes flutter closed for a second, a soft, guttural sound vibrating around you. She’s savoring it. The mix of your cum and her own essence. Your taste.

That’s it. Taste what we did. Taste what’s leaking out of that perfect little cunt. You love it, don’t you? My perfect, filthy cocksucker.

She moans her answer, the sound trapped in her throat, and then her mouth comes alive. Her tongue curls and laps at your sensitive head, cleaning you with a devotion that’s almost religious. She sucks gently, her lips forming a tight seal, drawing the lingering remnants of your release from your skin.

You watch, mesmerized, as the nation’s sweetheart, the idol millions dream of, worships your cock with a fervor she’s never shown on any stage. Her hands come up to hold your thighs, not to push away, but to anchor herself, her fingers digging into your muscles.

You let her have this moment of control, this worship. But it’s not what you truly want.

Your hand fists in her dark hair, not roughly at first, just a firm grasp. You pull her head back just enough to break the seal of her lips. A thin string of saliva connects her mouth to your cock.

You’re too gentle, superstar. I didn’t say to kiss it. I said to suck it clean. Be a good fucking slut and get to work.

The verbal lash, the shift from praise to degradation, makes her flinch and then melt simultaneously. A fresh wave of wetness blooms between her legs; you can smell it. That’s her real language.

You don’t give her a chance to reset. You push forward, your grip in her hair tightening, and fuck up into her mouth. It’s not a gentle motion. It’s a claiming. Her eyes fly open, wide with surprise that quickly morphs into pure, unadulterated bliss. A choked gag rips from her throat as you hit the back of it, but she doesn’t pull away. Her hands scramble to find purchase on your legs again, her nails biting into your skin.

There you go. Take it. You wanted my cock, you get all of it. Every fucking inch.

You set a ruthless rhythm, your hips pistoning, using her mouth with the same brutal efficiency you used her pussy. The sounds are obscene, wet and guttural. Gags and choked moans and the relentless, slick slide of your flesh against her lips, her tongue, the roof of her mouth. Tears well in the corners of her eyes from the force of it, tracing paths through her perfect makeup.

You look down at the wreck you’re making of her. Smudged eyeliner, flushed cheeks, saliva slicking her chin, and your cock plunging in and out of her stretched lips. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

Look at you. Fuck. AESPA’s main visual, a mess on her knees for my dick. You’re a natural, Karina. This is what you were made for. Not singing. Not dancing. This. Taking my fucking seed down your throat.

The praise woven into the degradation makes her moan around you, the vibration shooting straight up your spine. Her body is trembling, her own pleasure cresting again just from this, from being used so thoroughly. You feel the familiar, coiling tension low in your gut again. It’s too soon, too fast, but the sight of her is too potent.

You pull almost all the way out, until just the tip rests on her swollen lower lip. She’s panting, trying to catch her breath, her chest heaving.

You want another load, you greedy bitch? You want to swallow it? Or do you want me to paint that famous face?

Her response is immediate, desperate, her voice ragged and broken. “Swallow. Please. I want to swallow it all. I need it.”

The raw need in her voice is your undoing. You drive back into the welcoming heat of her throat, burying yourself to the hilt. You hold yourself there as you erupt, a second, shocking volley of release pulsing directly down her throat. She gags once, hard, but her throat works frantically, swallowing every drop, taking everything you give her without wasting a single bit.

When you’re spent, you finally slide out. She collapses forward, catching herself on her hands, coughing, her body wracked with shudders. Strings of saliva and cum connect her lips to your softened cock. She looks utterly destroyed. And utterly satisfied.

She looks up at you, her dark eyes swimming with tears and a kind of awed devotion. Her voice is a hoarse, ruined whisper.

Thank you.

The hoarse whisper of thanks still hangs in the air, a sacred profanity in the aftermath of her devotion. You look down at her, collapsed on the rug, a beautiful ruin of smudged makeup and your own release. The sight ignites something darker, more possessive, deep within you. She’s not finished. You’re far from done with her.

You don’t pull her up. You simply hook your hands under her arms and haul her to her feet. Her legs are unsteady, barely supporting her weight as you guide her, stumbling, back toward the floor-to-ceiling window. The glittering panorama of Seoul is nothing but a backdrop now, its lights meaningless compared to the prize in your hands.

“Such a good mouth,” you murmur, your voice a low rumble against her ear as you position her. “But this pretty little ass has been asking for it all night. Begging for it since I painted your thighs.”

You push her forward, bending her over the wide, cool sill. The torn crimson dress is already a mess around her waist. You shove the last of the fabric up her back, exposing her completely. The magnificent curve of her ass is on full display, still faintly pink from your earlier spanking. Below, the glistening, swollen lips of her pussy are still leaking your cum onto her thighs. And between them, the tight, clenching rosebud of her asshole winks at you, utterly untouched.

“Look at that,” you groan, running a possessive hand over one globe of her ass, squeezing hard. “Look at how fucking perfect you are. Every hole is a masterpiece. And every one of them belongs to me.”

Karina shudders, a full-body tremble that speaks of exhaustion and rekindled hunger. Her forehead rests against the glass, her breath fogging a small circle. “Please,” she whimpers, the word already a mantra. “Please, sir.”

“Please what, superstar?” you demand, your fingers tracing the sensitive skin around her rear entrance, making her jump. “You need to use your words. Tell me what this filthy cunt wants.”

She moans, pushing her hips back against your teasing touch. “I need you to ruin me. I need you to fuck my ass. I want to feel you there. I want to… I want to feel it for days.”

The admission, so raw and desperate, sends a jolt of pure lust straight to your cock, which is already hard again, throbbing with the need to claim her. “My greedy little anal whore,” you praise, the degradation laced with awe. “You weren’t just born to suck cock, were you? You were built to take it anywhere I want to give it.”

You spit into your palm, the action crude and primal, and slick your length with a few rough strokes. You press the broad, leaking head of your cock against her tightest entrance. She gasps, her body tensing for a split second before she consciously forces herself to relax, to open for you.

“Breathe out, slut,” you command, your voice leaving no room for disobedience.

She exhales a shuddering breath, and you push.

It’s an exquisite, brutal stretch. The resistance is intense, her body fighting the invasion for a breathtaking moment before yielding. You watch, mesmerized, as your crown disappears inside her, the tight ring of muscle stretching obscenely to accommodate you. A low, guttural groan is torn from your throat. She’s so fucking tight, hotter and tighter than anywhere else, a velvet-stranglehold around the head of your dick.

“Fuck, Karina… your ass is fucking divine,” you grunt, pushing another inch inside. Her cry is muffled by the glass, a sound of pure, overwhelming sensation. You don’t stop. You can’t. You sink deeper, slowly, relentlessly, stretching her open until you’re buried to the hilt inside her convulsing channel.

You stay there for a long moment, both of you panting, connected in the most intimate, degrading way possible. You lean over her, covering her body with yours, and whisper into her ear. “You feel that? That’s my cock buried in your ass. This is what you are now. My anal sleeve. My personal fucktoy.”

You pull back almost all the way, until just the tip remains, and then slam back into her in one brutal, deep thrust. She screams, her fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth glass. You set a punishing, rough rhythm, each drive of your hips a claim, a brand. The sound is different here—a wet, filthy squelch mixed with the slap of your balls against her soaked pussy.

“You take my cock so well in your shithole, you filthy idol,” you growl, your hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. “This is what you really wanted, isn’t it? To be bent over and used like a common back alley slut.”

“Yes! Yes!” she sobs, her voice cracking with pleasure-pain. “I’m your slut! Your back alley slut! Use me! Ruin my ass! Make it so I can’t even think about sitting down without remembering your fucking cock!”

Her words, her complete and total surrender, fuel your frenzy. You fuck her with a relentless, animalistic drive, your world narrowing to the feeling of her impossibly tight ass milking your length. You reach around her hip, your fingers finding her clit, swollen and throbbing. You circle it with rough, demanding strokes.

“You’re gonna come, aren’t you?” you snarl, punctuating each word with a deep, brutal thrust. “You’re gonna come from getting your ass fucked raw. You’re such a degenerate little star. Come for me. Come on my cock.”

The command, the relentless stimulation, the sheer psychological overload is too much for her. Her body seizes up, her internal muscles clamping down on you like a vise as a silent, screaming climax rips through her. Her ass convulses around you, pulling a ragged groan from your chest.

The sensation tips you over the edge. You bury yourself as deep as her body will allow, your own release roaring out of you. You pump her full, pulse after hot, thick pulse of your seed flooding her deepest channel. You grind into her, making sure every last drop is deposited deep inside, marking her, breeding this hole just as thoroughly as you did her pussy.

You collapse over her, both of you spent and shaking. After a moment, you slowly, carefully pull out. The sight is obscene. Her asshole is red, well-used, and gaping slightly, a trickle of your cum already starting to leak out.

You turn her over. Her eyes are rolled back in her head, her tongue lolling slightly from her parted lips. She looks completely and utterly wrecked. You grip her jaw, your thumb stroking her cheek.

“Open,” you command, your voice hoarse.

Dazed, she obeys. You push your thumb into her mouth. “Taste it. Taste your ass on me. Taste my cum from your filthy hole.”

She moans, her tongue swirling around your thumb, sucking it clean with a devotion that borders on madness. Her eyes flutter closed in ecstasy.

"You," you breathed, the word escaping you like a punch to the gut.

A slow, wicked smile touched her full, painted lips. "You’re a hard man to find. Took me months."

She didn’t wait for an invitation. She simply stepped forward, over the threshold, and the scent of her—expensive perfume and pure, unadulterated female—flooded your senses. The door clicked shut behind her, the sound final, a period at the end of a sentence you hadn't known you were writing.

Your eyes raked over her. The coat was all she had on. You could see the subtle hint of her nipples, hard points against the fine wool, and the delicious, knowing curve of her ass beneath the fabric. Every fantasy you’d had since that one incredible night came roaring back.

"You shouldn't be here," you said, your voice already dropping to a gravelly register you barely recognized.

"I know," she whispered, her gaze dropping to the obvious bulge growing in your pants. "But I had to be. I can't stop thinking about it. About your fucking cock."

That was all the permission you needed. Your hand shot out, tangling in her hair, not roughly, but with an undeniable authority that made her gasp. You didn't lead her to the bedroom. This wasn't about a bed. This was about right here, right now.

You guided her down, your gaze locked on hers. "Kneel."

A shudder of pure ecstasy went through her. Her knees hit the hardwood floor without a moment of hesitation, the sound a soft thud in the quiet room. She looked up at you, her expression a perfect mix of defiance and utter submission. You unbuckled your belt, the leather sliding through the loops with a whisper, the button of your jeans popping open, the zpper grinding down.

"You've been a bad fucking girl, Kazuha," you growled, freeing your aching cock. It sprang out, already fully hard, thick and demanding. "Hunting me down. Showing up at my door dressed like a common slut. Is this what you want? Is this what the perfect idol really craves?"

"Please," she begged, her voice husky. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, her eyes fixated on your length. "Please."

"Open that pretty, lying mouth."

She obeyed instantly, her lips parting. You didn't gentle the motion. You guided yourself to her mouth, the broad head bumping against her teeth before you pushed forward, sliding into the wet, incredible heat of her.

"Fuck," you groaned, your head falling back. Her mouth was a haven, a velvet vise. She took you in, her throat relaxing with a practiced ease that was utterly obscene. You watched, mesmerized, as your cock disappeared between her perfect lips, her eyes watering slightly as you hit the back of her throat.

You tightened your grip in her hair, holding her firmly in place. "That's it, you filthy cocksucker. Take it. You were born for this, weren't you? Born to be on your knees for a real cock. All those millions of fans think you're an angel. They have no idea what a perfect little throat slut you are."

A broken, gurgling moan vibrated around your shaft. Her eyes fluttered shut in bliss at your degrading words. Her hands came up, not to push you away, but to grasp your thighs, her nails digging into the denim as she anchored herself.

"You love this, don't you?" you demanded, pulling back until just the tip remained on her tongue, glistening with her spit. "You love being used. Tell me."

"I love it," she choked out, her voice wrecked. "I dream about it."

"Tell me what you dream about."

"I dream about your fucking cock punishing my throat. I dream about you fucking my face until I can't breathe."

"Your dream just came true, you desperate whore."

You thrust back in, deeper this time, setting a punishing rhythm. The wet, sloppy sounds of her gagging and sucking filled the room. Her makeup began to run, black tears tracking down her cheeks, and the sight of her ruined perfection only drove you harder.

"You're nothing but a set of holes for me, aren't you, Kazuha? A pretty face to fuck and a warm cunt to fill. Look at me."

Her tear-filled eyes rolled up to meet yours. The submission in them was absolute, intoxicating.

"God, you are so fucking good at this," you rasped, the praise falling from your lips like a prayer. "Your mouth is a miracle. You take my entire fucking cock like you were made for it. Such a good girl."

The whiplash from degradation to praise made her moan desperately, the sound muffled by your dick stuffing her mouth. She began to move her head herself, meeting your thrusts, taking you even deeper, her nose pressing into your pelvis. She was drowning in it, in you, and she never wanted to come up for air.

You could feel the pressure building in your balls, a tight, coiling heat. Her throat muscles fluttered and clenched around you, milking you, begging for your release.

"You want my cum, you greedy bitch? You want me to flood that pretty little throat?"

She nodded frantically, her gagging intensifying, her body trembling with the effort and the need.

"Then fucking take it."

With a final, deep grind into the depths of her throat, you came. Your release shot down her neck in hot, pulsing streaks. She swallowed convulsively, desperately, not wasting a single drop, her throat working around you until you were completely spent.

You held there for a long moment, both of you panting, connected by the most intimate of acts. Finally, you slid out of her mouth with a wet, soft pop.

She collapsed forward, coughing, her forehead resting against your leg, her entire body shaking. Strings of saliva and cum connected her swollen lips to your softening cock. She looked utterly destroyed. And she had never looked more beautiful.

She looked up, her vision clearing, a messy, debauched grin spreading across her face. "Again."

Her ragged breathing was just beginning to settle, her forehead still pressed against your thigh, when the sharp, digital chirp of a phone shattered the silence. Kazuha flinched, a full-body tremor that vibrated through your leg.

“Ignore it,” you commanded, your voice low and rough, your fingers still tangled possessively in her hair.

She shook her head weakly, a panicked look flashing in her dark, smudged eyes. “I can’t. It’s… it’s the only one I have. It’s my manager.”

The phone kept ringing, an insistent, annoying demand from the real world. An idea, dark and delicious, unfurled in your mind. You leaned down, your lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Get it.”

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“Get the phone, Kazuha. Answer it. Put it on speaker.”

A fresh wave of arousal, mixed with pure terror, washed over her face. The duality was exquisite. She scrambled on the floor, her trench coat falling open to reveal the full, perfect expanse of her body, and fumbled in the pocket. Her hands were shaking as she swiped the screen and held the phone between you.

“Yoboseyo?” she breathed, her voice hoarse from your use.

“Kazuha! Where the hell are you?” a man’s voice, sharp and anxious, crackled through the speaker. “You were supposed to be at the vocal coach’s forty minutes ago. The car has been waiting. We have a schedule!”

You didn’t give her a chance to reply. Your hand was on her hip, spinning her around onto her hands and knees on the hardwood floor. Her perfect, round ass was presented to you, a pristine canvas you were about to ruin. You positioned yourself behind her, your cock, still slick with her spit and your release, already hardening again and pressing against her entrance.

“Tell him you’re busy,” you growled, your voice low enough that only she could hear.

She whimpered. “I-I’m… I got held up, Manager-nim. Something… urgent came up.”

“Nothing is more urgent than this comeback! Are you at the dorm? I’m sending another car.”

You grasped your cock and rubbed the broad head through her wetness, coating yourself in her, but not pushing in. Not yet. She shuddered, a low groan catching in her throat.

“Fuck, you’re already so wet for me, you filthy little idol,” you murmured, the words meant only for her. “Tell him you’re dealing with a personal matter.”

“It’s a… personal matter,” she parroted, her voice straining for control.

“What kind of personal matter? Are you sick? Do you need a doctor?” The manager’s tone shifted from anger to concern.

You chose that moment to thrust. Not hard, but deep. One smooth, relentless motion that buried your entire length inside her in a single go. Her body jerked, and a strangled cry, half-gasp, half-moan, ripped from her throat. It was loud, unmistakable.

A tense silence filled the phone line for a beat. “Kazuha? What was that? What’s going on?”

You pulled out slowly, almost all the way, letting her feel every inch of your cock dragging against her clenched, fluttering walls. Then you slammed back in, a brutal, punishing piston that knocked the breath from her lungs.

“Answer him,” you ordered, your voice a dark promise.

“I—ah!—I’m… oh god… I’m fine!” she managed to gasp out, the words breaking apart as you set a ruthless, driving rhythm. The wet, slapping sounds of your bodies meeting filled the room, a lewd soundtrack broadcast directly to her manager’s ear.

“That doesn’t sound fine! It sounds like you’re in pain! Who is with you? Are you hurt?”

You leaned over her, blanketing her body with yours, and nipped at her shoulder. “Tell him you’re being thoroughly fucked,” you whispered. “Tell him you’re getting your greedy little cunt ruined because you’re a starlit whore who can’t think about anything but cock.”

The degradation, the sheer filth of it, combined with the relentless pounding, tipped her over an edge. She cried out, a real, unfiltered scream of pleasure as an orgasm rattled through her, her inner muscles gripping and milking your cock like a vise. The phone slipped from her trembling fingers and clattered to the floor.

“Kazuha! Kazuha! Answer me right now!” the manager’s voice was shrill, screaming from the floorboards.

You didn’t stop. You fucked her through her climax, your pace never faltering, your grip on her hips tight enough to leave bruises. “That’s it, you fucking ruin yourself on my cock. You love this, don’t you? You love having your manager hear what a desperate, moaning slut you are when you’re off your leash.”

“Yes! Yes!” she sobbed, her face pressed into the floor, her voice muffled but clear enough for the phone to pick up. “Don’t stop! Please, don’t stop fucking me!”

“What is happening?!” the manager’s voice was a distant, hysterical echo. “Who is there? I’m calling the police!”

You laughed, a dark, possessive sound, and increased your pace, your balls slapping against her wet flesh. The entire room smelled of sex and sweat and her expensive, ruined perfume. “He thinks you need to be saved. He has no idea you were born for this. That this fucking dick is the only thing that makes you feel real. Tell him you don’t need a doctor. Tell him you need my fucking cum.”

You felt the pressure building, a familiar, tightening heat in your gut. Her body was convulsing around you again, a second, more powerful orgasm seizing her, pulling you closer to the edge.

“Fuck! I’m… I’m gonna…!” you grunted, your rhythm becoming erratic, desperate.

The manager was still yelling, his voice a tinny, panicked stream of words that neither of you could understand anymore. You gave one final, brutal thrust, burying yourself to the hilt as you came, pumping your release deep inside her in hot, pulsing waves. Your name tore from her lips, a prayer and a curse mingled together, as she collapsed completely beneath you.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of your harsh panting and the frantic, distant voice from the phone on the floor. “…Kazuha! Speak to me! Are you safe? Answer me!”

You stayed buried inside her, feeling her body continue to twitch and clench around your softening cock. You reached down, your movements slow and deliberate, and picked up the phone. You brought it to your mouth, your voice dripping with dark satisfaction.

“She’s safe,” you said, your tone final and absolute. “She’s exactly where she needs to be.”

The night is where the real fun begins, where pretenses can be sacrificed and given way to what people actually want.

As midnight came, Yeojin sneaked out of her home, heading to the dedicated spot just five minutes away. Underneath a bridge, the entire sketchy background. Broken windows, rusted walls, the only thing pristine was the bed.

"Heya boys." She said to the three men, including you. All much bigger than herself, not saying much obviously.

"Yo." The dude to your left said, did you know his name? No, Yeojin gathered you three individually. It'd be a surprise if she knew yours either.

"Got what I asked for?" She gestured towards everyone. Getting nods in response, a blindfold, some lube and a camera.

The lube was simple, three of you, Yeojin had three holes to be filled up with cock.

Both the blindfold and camera worked in tandem. Everything that was about to happen to Yeojin was going to be recorded and uploaded for all to see, millions watching her body get railed was something that made her drench the panties worn. The blindfold and a slightly different hairstyle kept people guessing about who it was.

"Good, call me anything but Yeojin. Ruby works." She took the blindfold, wrapping it over her eyes. The right guy set up his camera, getting Yeojin in the middle.

She sunk to the battered floor "Come on boys, make a mess of me."

She trembled in anticipation, hearing loud echoing steps surrounding her. "Ruby."

"Yes?" She smirked.

"You are going to be a good girl right?"

"Of course, whatever you three want." She slipped into her persona, gets the men in front of her confident enough to deliver a good scene.

One of the strangers stepped forward, putting his thumb between Yeojin's glossy lips. "That's right, then suck my cock." She threw herself forward, unable to see but powered by lust. Her teeth found the fabric, pulling his boxers down.

His length couldn't be seen, but felt, resting against Yeojin's entire cheek.

You and the other stranger lowered your own boxers, pushing into Yeojin's hands. She took a quick diversion to lubricate them in her slick spit, rubbing it in with every stroke.

Yeojin felt her lips spread open, cock going inside in one thrust. "Ugh, she's got a fucking warm mouth." He groaned, the room went from zero to a hundred, her head bobbed up and down, servicing the meat she could take. Which was just under half before she gagged and withdrew.

Her hands didn't leave you two out for dry, jerking your lengths with consistent rhythm, "She's a slut dude, fucking made for this." The other man bellowed.

"Right, she can take more." He groaned, grabbing hold of Yeojin's hair from the back. Shoving her forward, suddenly his entire shaft was lodged in Yeojin's mouth. She gagged in response, feeling her heart flutter as she was used. "Fuck.. see boys? Ruby can do it all."

"Destroy her mouth."

He thrust inside at the same time, Yeojin gagging up saliva all over his length, making a mess. Her thighs rubbed together, getting off on the whole ordeal. "Fuck..."

"She's too good, can't cum in such a pretty mouth so soon." He groaned, pulling out of Yeojin's lips, saliva dripping onto the ground as she could breathe properly for a moment.

Only a moment though, as she was quickly getting her throat fucked by your shaft, pushing deep as her hair became a mess. Frayed and connected by a prayer, her tongue licked helplessly on pure pleasure, the taste of your cock something she wanted more of. "Ah, she's like fucking heaven."

Yeojin sucked for the camera to see, glowing under the lens, gluck gluck gluck she moaned, muffled out by her mouth being stuffed. "Ruby's a cute little cocksucker, damn..."

You rotated, but instead of taking her handjob you were eying up that bed. Certainly a generous term, no more than a mattress, sheet and two pillows. Not even hoisted off the floor. "Move her onto the bed." They picked her small statured body up. Bouncing her onto the soft object, catching airtime.

"There we go, bet she was waiting to get thrown on this mattress, get her cunt pounded right for everyone to see. Right?"

Yeojin smiled internally, "Yes! Fuck, please use me for your pleasure, I'm so horny for your cocks!" This was going perfect, she'd be famous again. She was once again getting face fucked, hair getting tugged hard, stinging slightly.

You almost forgot that it was Im Yeojin of fucking LOONA that was about to be undressed, getting rid of her joggers. Pulling them down her perfectly portioned thighs, her white underwear was grey– completely soaked through. "She's fucking soaked, she wants this so fucking bad."

Your fingers peeled her panties off, thick sticky grool connecting the fabric to her folds. Making it hard to remove, she was so fucking aroused. You spread Yeojin's labia, contemplating if you had the willpower to slurp on her pretty pussy or just fuck it raw.

One lick at least, indulging her sweet musky taste, her scent making you even more desperate. You needed it now, standing up. Slapping your cock against Yeojin's clit, hard and needy for attention. With one last moment, you were inside. Her tiny cunt took it with a whine, hissing around the thick meat she was choking on. She felt so full, struggling to take it.

But she took it, her pussy walls stretching to accommodate your shaft pushing in inch by inch. And she felt so alive. So proud. "Her pussy is so fucking tight, can't even imagine her ass, christ."

How sweet her moans would have been, had hey not been silenced, you thrust into her tight cunt at the same rate he was thrusting into her mouth. The synchronized motions making delicious sounds of skin slapping and grunts, Yeojin's hands were both occupied on the only one not inside, massaging his balls as she stroked.

"Such a good whore! Taking cock like a prodigy, fuck!" He groaned, Yeojin's hair was in a bunch, like clockwork they swapped. You were too occupied by Yeojin's pussy to subscribe to their rotation, gripping onto her hips.

"Fuck! I'm such a slut, keep fucking me in my tight cunt! Fuck! Don't stop fucking my mouth until you cum down my fucking throat! Please!" She whined.

"Oh you fucking bet."

Her mouth was immediately taken again, jaw locked stiff. "She has such a cute ass, you should come over here." You beckoned the other guy, reaching over, throwing the lube into his grasp.

"Bet."

You adjusted Yeojin, turning her onto her side. Presenting her ass as a trophy, the approaching man poured lube down onto his hand. Pushing his fingers into her asshole, leaving no hole untouched.

"Yo dude, let me hit." The guy fucking Yeojin's mouth groaned, you agreed, regrettably pulling out. For some unexplainable reason you two high fived on the interchange, such moments were to celebrate supposedly.

Yeojin's face was starting to show signs of ruin, saliva connecting on her cheeks, lips swollen and plump. Eyes probably moistened underneath the blindfold, how you wish it wasn't there.

She tasted her juices on your cock, which was now rapidly fucking her face. Only going half inside before pulling back, Yeojin's mind was too occupied with the tip circling her asshole, warning her of its arrival. Slowly pushing inside inch a time. It hurt slightly, but the sheer abundance of lube made it more than manageable. There was so much, her cheeks glistening in the phone flashlights that illuminated the dingy room. Since the actual fixture was more than fucked.

"She's so tight, struggling to even get into her tight fucking ass." He groaned, not stopping his attempts, going as slow as he could to breach through the difficulty.

"You got it."

The first to cum was Yeojin, gushing her juices down on the cock slapping against her pussy. Being triple penetrated was too much, but she wanted more.

Next time she'll bring four.

"She's a prime slut, taking three cocks like the best whore ever." Yeojin's ass started to get swatted, spanked hard with the only goal to make her cute asscheeks red raw with passion.

Overstimulation drove Yeojin crazy, digging her fingers into the mattress. All stale odors from before has been replaced with nothing but sweat, mostly from Yeojin. Every inch covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

The second to cum was filling up Yeojin's cunt, but that's not where his seed was deposited. Instead he shot it all over her petite tits, white splashing in thick splatters down her chest. He had to take a second, opting to operate the camera for all the juicy angles.

Yeojin was finally given respite, the ability to breathe and moan freely as her mouth was empty. "Ugh! Fuck, keep railing my whorish holes! Pound my asshole until I can't walk! Fuck! Yes!"

You slipped back into Yeojin's sloppy pussy, not wasting a moment before delivering thrusts able to break this stupid mattress.

"Going to fuck your tiny asshole until I cum in it, deposit my filthy load where it fucking belongs!" He chanted, Yeojin squealed in ecstasy.

"Ahh! Fuck, I'm going to cum again! Fuck, fuck! please more! Fuck!" Yeojin announced, you pulled out so the camera could watch her squirt all over the bed. She exploded, screaming. Firing clear liquid in bursts out of her cunt. The sight made you shoot a stray shot of cum on her thigh.

"Swap, let me fuck her in the ass."

He pulled out, letting Yeojin clean his cock with her mouth. Rotating back into her cunt, her ass was so much tighter. You took a deep breath, trying to endure it's strength. She was back to being triple penetrated, claps, moans, gasps. It was the whole fucking package.

Time was running thin, very thin.

Yeojin was full of cum from multiple cocks, camera turned off. Going a round that was for your eyes only, blindfold taken off. She was dripping semen, "Ah! Fuck! One more orgasm for your favourite slut! Please!" This one wasn't for the cameras, just in her element.

Two cocks were going in and out of her cunt, ass getting pounded by you. "You can cum for us again! Come on!" You gave it her all, knowing this was your last chance to fuck Yeojin's asshole.

Every muscle burned, weeped for relief. "I'm c-cumming! Fuck! I'm such a slut!!" She screamed, not even having the energy to squirt any further.

"Shit me too." One of the men sighed, releasing the last load he could. Adding another few spurts of cum to her warm hole. Slipping out and sighing.

Minutes passed, you two flooded Yeojin with your final breath. Time had ran out, people were going to start using this trail again.

A deluge of cum fell out of Yeojin's gaping holes, flowing down onto the mattress onto someones sheets, you actually had no idea whose this place was. Yeojin did, hopefully. White flooded out, Yeojin smiled. "Thanks boys, that was a nice scene."

She struggled to stand, legs buckling under pressure. You caught her before she landed. "No problem, we've gotta go."

"Yep. Help me get back into my clothes, I'll shower when I get back."

She looked between them. Her pulse roared now, heavy and real. This wasn’t flirtation. Not anymore.

"Get out," she said, stepping back.

Luca only looked at Emil.

Emil didn't smile. He pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket and placed it on the table. "You read this before we do anything else."

"I'm calling the front desk," she said, reaching for her phone.

Luca shook his head. "There's no line. Not right now."

Her hand paused. A chill spread down her arms.

The air in the room felt wrong now—too still, like a breath being held. Her phone was in her hand, but she didn't press the screen. Both men just stood there. Not moving. Not lunging. But present in a way that made her skin crawl.

"Why?" she asked, her voice small. "Why are you doing this?"

Emil tilted his head. "Because you let us in. Because you looked at us like you wanted to be owned."

She shook her head once, sharp. "I didn't."

Luca's voice was quiet. "You did. Even if you didn’t mean to. We’re giving you a choice. A controlled one. But make no mistake—this room belongs to us until you decide otherwise."

Her breath turned shallow. "If I scream—"

"No one will hear you over the rain," Emil said, his voice almost kind. "And we won’t touch you. Unless you ask. That part is real."

She didn't believe him. Not fully. But the room was a trap of her own making, and they knew it.

Her hand hovered near her phone again. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t screamed, hadn’t run. And the moment she didn’t, she realized she was no longer in control of the silence.

Emil stepped closer, slow and deliberate, until the coffee table was all that separated them. He held the folded sheet of paper like a menu she’d been forced to order from.

"You think we want to hurt you?" he asked. Not softly. Not cruelly. Just loud enough to make her spine go rigid. "We could have. We didn't. You're still standing. Still clothed. Still free to scream. So scream."

Momo didn’t move.

"Exactly," he said.

Luca stood by the door like a second lock. His arms were folded now. No warmth in his face. Just patience. Or boredom. Or something colder.

"This isn't about us," Emil went on. "This is about what you did. You opened the door. You let us in. You waited. Now you’re scared of the thing you asked for. That fear? That’s honesty."

"I didn’t ask for this," she hissed.

"Didn’t you?" Luca finally said, his voice deep and flat. "Not with words. With the way you looked at us. The way you lingered. The way you didn’t flinch when the door shut."

Her mouth parted. No sound came.

Emil unfolded the page and placed it on the table between them. "Read it. Or don’t. Makes no difference to us. We’re not the ones shaking."

Momo looked at the page but didn’t reach for it. Her stomach turned. Her chest was tight. She couldn’t tell anymore if the danger was real or if they were just experts at crafting it.

"Why me?" she asked.

Luca tilted his head. "Because you looked like someone who wanted to disappear."

A pause.

"And we’re very good at making people vanish," Emil added.

The chill that moved down her spine then wasn’t theatrical. It was chemical.

"You want choice? You have one," he said. "Door or table. Say the word."

Her eyes flicked to the door, to Luca, then back to the sheet of paper. Her body screamed to run. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She wasn’t sure who she was outside this pressure.

Momo moved to the couch and sat, but only just. Her knees touched. Her hands folded tight.

Emil didn’t wait for another word. The moment she sat, her silence became consent. Her fear, confirmation.

Luca moved first. He didn’t ask. He took her phone from the coffee table and slipped it into his back pocket. Her mouth opened, then closed. Her protest died in the space between fear and realization.

"You don’t need it anymore," Emil said, already circling the couch. "For now, you listen. You obey. You endure."

She turned her head toward him. That was all she could do. The moment she shifted, Luca’s hand was on her shoulder again. Firm now. Guiding.

"No more bargaining," he said near her ear. "Not until we’re finished."

Momo's spine locked, breath caught in her chest. The control she thought she'd have had been an illusion—a kindness offered once, now revoked.

Emil crouched in front of her, leveling his eyes with hers.

"You want out?" he asked.

She didn't answer.

"Too slow."

His hand gripped her jaw, not cruel, but unyielding. Luca shifted behind her. Pressure. Heat. Presence. A wall against her back.

"You're going to do exactly what we say," Emil continued, voice low and certain. "Not because we asked nicely. But because your silence signed the contract."

Momo’s hands trembled in her lap. Still, she didn’t speak.

Luca reached around and undid the top button of her blouse. One. Then another. Then stopped. Waiting.

Emil watched her face. "Don’t bother nodding. You had your chance to choose."

Momo swallowed. The room tilted. Time bent.

Luca didn’t wait. He slid his hands down her arms, rougher now, catching the edge of her blouse and yanking it down to her elbows, trapping her own limbs in the sleeves. The fabric clung. Her breath caught.

"Hey—" she started.

Emil moved faster. One step, two. His hand clamped gently but firmly over her mouth.

"No more warnings," he said near her ear. "You sit. You listen. You learn your place."

Momo jerked her head back, but he didn’t flinch.

Luca grunted behind her, hands traveling over the exposed top of her chest. "Soft. Warm. Already shivering."

Her blouse hit the floor.

She twisted. Emil grabbed her chin, not hard, but commanding. He forced her to look at him.

"No one's hurting you," he said. "Unless you make us earn it."

Her mouth moved under his hand. A protest, swallowed.

"Try that again," Luca said, dragging the back of his knuckle down her spine, slow. "See what it gets you."

She stilled.

Emil released her mouth. "Words, now. You want this stopped, you better say so like you fucking mean it."

She didn’t.

Silence. Her own breathing. Too loud. Her skin flushed. She hated how warm she was.

Luca unhooked her bra, quick and final.

Emil stepped back and looked her over like a hunter admiring a kill. "That's better."

Momo wrapped her arms across her chest, shaky. "You think this proves something? That you can scare me into letting go?"

Luca circled her, voice low. "You're still trying to win. That’s cute."

Emil pulled her hands down with little effort, exposing her fully. "But we already own this moment. You gave it up the second you stopped fighting."

She bit her lip, eyes hot with fury. Shame. Something she refused to name.

"You don’t get to break me."

Luca smirked. "No, sweetheart. You’ll do that all by yourself."

Momo stood stiff, chest rising fast, arms trembling as they tried again to cover what little was left untouched. Emil didn’t stop her. Not at first. He only watched her hands with calm disdain, like they were disrespectful.

Then he moved. Quick.

He caught both her wrists, yanked them down to her sides, and held them there.

“Enough,” he said. “No more hiding.”

Luca stepped in close, his presence a wall. Momo backed into Emil's grip. She didn’t mean to. Her body betrayed her.

“Look at her,” Luca murmured, tilting his head.

Emil did. His gaze dragged over her chest, flushed and rising with every breath, nipples tight from cold and shame—or maybe not just that.

“Pretty when she’s pretending not to want it,” Emil said. “Prettier when she stops pretending.”

He pulled her backward into him, pinning her with the full weight of his body. His hands gripped her wrists like anchors. She tried to turn, to twist—something—but Luca stepped in, mouth brushing the top of her breast.

Momo gasped.

“Soft,” he said again, low. “Responsive.”

His lips closed around her nipple without warning.

She cried out, a sound too sharp for pleasure, too hot for pain. Emil caught it in her ear, his voice low and cruel.

“Didn’t say no,” he whispered. “Didn’t say stop.”

Luca sucked harder. His free hand cupped the weight of her other breast, thumb flicking. Momo’s knees buckled. Emil held her upright.

“You’re shaking,” he said.

She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood.

“You think you can still win this?” he asked.

Luca dragged his tongue slow across her skin. “She wants to lose. Just needs permission.”

Momo whimpered. Her hands, still pinned, stopped struggling.

Emil leaned down and latched his mouth to her other nipple, his tongue hot and merciless.

Her whole body jolted. Her head dropped back against his shoulder.

They devoured her like a dare—like they knew the moment she moaned would be the moment she broke.

Her breath faltered. Her knees nearly gave out, and Emil caught her before she collapsed entirely, guiding her back to the couch. Not sitting. Displayed. Spine arched. Arms limp at her sides.

Luca knelt first.

Then Emil.

Both in front of her now, twin shadows at her feet.

She blinked, dazed, and realized they weren’t watching her body anymore. They were watching her face.

"From this point on," Emil said, eyes steady and dark, "everything happens in twos."

"You’ll be touched in sync, tasted in sync," Luca added, his voice lower.

They leaned forward together.

Momo drew a breath to ask—what does that mean? But the question died as their mouths pressed against her. Not rough. Not claiming. Worshiping.

Warm lips trailed over her skin, tongues flicking in perfect rhythm, mouths mapping her like sacred ground. She gasped. Her head fell back. It was too much and not enough.

They didn’t grope. They didn’t rush. They adored.

Two mouths. Two pairs of eyes. One unspoken command: feel everything.

She looked down once, and the sight undid her. Both men, kneeling, mouths on her, staring up. Devoted. Ravenous. Controlled.

It shattered something.

Momo let out a noise she didn’t recognize, hands clutching the edge of the couch. Her thighs tensed, then trembled. Her breath was uneven. The power of their gaze—matched, steady, almost reverent—pierced deeper than touch ever had.

Emil moved first. He rose slowly, still on his knees, tracing his mouth up the valley of her body. Over ribs. Between breasts. Past her collarbone. Until he reached her face.

He paused just long enough to let her see the heat in his eyes before he kissed her.

It wasn’t soft.

It was claiming.

At the same time, Luca shifted downward, spreading her knees with his broad palms. He didn’t ask. He didn’t speak. He simply bent low and pressed his mouth between her thighs like it belonged there.

Momo arched.

The kiss at her lips deepened as her moan fed directly into Emil’s mouth. His hands cradled her jaw. Luca’s gripped her hips. They moved in perfect opposition—one tasting her surrender, the other swallowing it.

She was caught. Anchored.

Pleasure mounted too fast. Too sharp. Her mind blurred.

Two mouths. Two rhythms. One descent.

She came fast.

Her body snapped tight, then dropped, breathless and boneless against the cushions. A sound tore from her throat, raw and startled. The kind of sound that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but surrender.

Luca pulled back first, lips wet, chin slick. He looked up at her with a crooked smirk.

Emil kissed the side of her jaw one last time, then leaned back, chest rising steady.

They laughed. Not cruel. Not soft. A knowing sound. Male. Certain.

"So much for holding out," Emil murmured.

Luca stood, towering. He unfastened his belt with a practiced flick, metal whispering. "She’s better at breaking than bargaining."

Momo blinked slowly, still catching air. The room swam.

Emil reached down and unzipped. The sound felt louder than it should have. Final.

"Get on your knees," he said, voice low and unshakable. "Use that mouth for something useful."

Luca added, already stepping closer, "Both of us. Side by side. No favorites."

Momo dropped to her knees.

The rug scratched her skin. The air was thick with sweat and command. They stood above her, belts undone, cocks heavy and waiting. No tenderness now. No slow seduction.

She looked between them. Then up.

They didn’t smile. They didn’t have to.

Emil went first. One hand cradled the back of her head. The other guided her mouth. No instructions. No easing in.

She gagged. Loud. Wet.

Luca chuckled low beside her. "Too eager."

"She’ll adjust," Emil said. "They always do."

She coughed, throat tightening, but he didn’t let go. Didn’t stop. Not until she stilled.

Then he pulled back.

"Now him," Emil said, breath rough.

Luca stepped in, his fingers tracing her jaw first—a mockery of care. Then he pushed in.

She closed her eyes, breath shaking through her nose. He was slower, but thicker. She choked again, shoulders jerking.

"Good girl," he muttered. "You’ll take both soon."

They began to trade her mouth like breath.

Back and forth. One in. One out. Rhythm building. Hands guiding her like she was nothing but hunger and obedience.

No favorites.

Just service.

They pulled back from her mouth, breath heavy, knuckles flexing. Momo knelt between them, chest rising fast, lips swollen, eyes glazed. The carpet burned her knees. Her throat burned worse.

Luca stepped away first. Emil followed.

“On the bed,” Emil said.

She didn’t move.

Luca grabbed her by the arm, firm, not cruel, but with finality. She flinched. Then twisted.

“Wait,” she said, voice cracking.

Neither man paused.

They guided her to the bed, bent her forward. Her hands clutched the sheets. Her breath caught when Emil's palm rested on the small of her back, holding her there.

Then Luca’s hands spread her legs.

She snapped.

“No,” she gasped. “Wait. Don’t—please, not both."

Emil froze. His fingers tightened.

“Look at me,” he said. She did. Barely.

His voice didn’t soften. But it lowered.

“Then say it clear. Say stop. Say you want this to end."

Momo shook her head, breath ragged. “I just… I can’t. Not that."

Emil didn’t move.

He looked at her, dead-on. One second. Two.

Then he turned to Luca and nodded.

Momo blinked. “Wait,” she said, voice rising. “I said I can’t.”

Luca was already moving. Hands on her hips. Knees on the bed.

Emil leaned over her back, his voice a whisper. “You didn’t say stop.”

Her breath seized.

“That was your rule,” he added, mouth at her ear. “You wanted control. Use it. Or we take over.”

Luca spread her legs wider.

“No—”

Her voice cracked.

Emil's hand slid under her chin, forcing her head up. “Say it. Loud. Say stop. Say enough. Or we keep going."

She couldn’t. Her lips parted, but no sound came.

Her body betrayed her. It didn’t fight.

Luca shifted behind her, his breath hot. His grip was final. Her thighs trembled.

Emil kissed her temple. “Then you know what happens next.”

Momo tensed under him, a breath caught so sharp it almost hurt.

“Wait,” she said, barely audible.

Luca's hands were already on her hips, adjusting her position. She tried to rise, to twist away, but Emil pressed her back down with a hand between her shoulder blades.

“Please, I—I said not that,” she choked out.

Emil's tone didn’t change. “You didn’t say stop.”

Luca's voice came from behind, lower. “She’s scared. That’s good.”

Her legs kicked, once. Her breath turned frantic.

“You don’t have to prove anything,” she said. “You don’t have to do this.”

“We do,” Emil said calmly, sliding his hand along her spine. “Because you let us.”

Luca shifted behind her. She felt the heat, the intent.

“No,” she gasped. “No, please, I can’t take both. I can’t.”

Emil leaned down close. “You will. Or you say the word. You scream. You fight. But if you freeze, we keep going.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. Her body shuddered.

Then the pressure began.

One at her hips. One higher, angling. Pinned between them.

She sobbed, legs buckling. Her voice came broken: “Stop. Please stop.”

Emil paused.

“Is that your word?”

Momo trembled. Silence. A second. Two.

“No,” she whispered.

“Good girl,” Luca said.

Then they entered her.

Together.

Momo gasped, body seized between them, the word echoing in her skull. Their rhythm began slow—coordinated, deliberate. Every movement precise. Every breath stolen.

“Fuck,” Luca hissed behind her, low and hot. “Tighter than I thought she’d be."

Emil gripped her jaw, forcing her head back against his shoulder. “That’s because she’s fighting it. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“I can’t,” Momo breathed, tears on her cheeks. “It’s too much. You can’t both—I—please—”

Emil's voice was pure steel. “You took us in your mouth like you were starving. Now take the rest."

She sobbed, back arching with the next thrust. Her hands fisted in the sheets.

Luca growled behind her, pace picking up. “She’s melting. Feels it now."

“No,” she whimpered. “No, I’m not—I don’t—”

Emil silenced her with a hand to her throat, not squeezing, just there. “You are. You’re dripping. Shaking. You fucking love it."

Her legs gave. Only their hands kept her up.

“She’s close,” Luca said. “You feel that? She’s pulsing.”

Momo moaned without meaning to. Her voice fractured. “Don’t say that. Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”

Emil's fingers tightened around her jaw. “Then act like you’re here. Own it.”

Luca grunted behind her, his pace sharp, relentless. “She’s trembling. Fuck, she’s right there."

Momo shook her head, face burning. Her hands clawed at the sheets, nails tearing the fabric. Her breath came in sobs now—half protest, half need.

“Don’t,” she begged, eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t make me. Not like this.”

Emil's voice dropped to a growl. “You're already gone, baby. Let go.”

She tried to speak. The words fell apart. Her body arched.

The pressure cracked.

It hit her hard—a climax torn from somewhere deep, shaking and brutal. Her mouth opened on a scream she couldn't silence. Her muscles clenched around them. Her eyes flooded.

Luca cursed. Emil held her tighter, letting her ride it out, his breath in her ear.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Give it up. All of it."

And she did.

She spilled over their rhythm, a girl turned wreckage in their hands.

She spilled over their rhythm, a girl turned wreckage in their hands.

Emil didn’t slow. Neither did Luca. If anything, they tightened around her, using every inch until her body jolted with each thrust.

“Goddamn,” Luca growled, slamming deeper. “I'm gonna cum in her ass. She’s begging for it without saying a word."

Emil was shaking against her back, sweat dripping. “Fuck—I’m close. Gonna fill her up. Flood her pussy 'til it spills."

Momo tried to speak, to plead again, but her mouth stayed open in a silent cry. Her body wouldn't respond.

Luca grunted, thrusts turning brutal. “Take it. Fucking take all of it."

Emil bit out a moan, grip bruising her waist. “Cumming. Right now. Gonna pump this pussy full. Keep it. Fucking keep it."

They finished together.

Luca cursed as he buried himself to the hilt. “Fucking emptied me.”

Emil growled into her skin. “That’s it. Take our cum. Every last drop. You’re ours now."

Her body trembled, wrecked and leaking.

They stayed inside her for a breath. Then another.

The silence stretched, too long. Momo's body trembled, but not from pleasure anymore.

Luca pulled out first. She flinched. Emil followed, slower, and she hissed in pain.

Momo twisted away, breath catching. "You got what you wanted," she snapped, voice raw. "We're done."

Luca grabbed her wrist before she could crawl off the bed. "Not quite."

She yanked, snarled. “Get your fucking hands off me."

Emil stepped in close, crouching at the edge of the bed. His tone didn’t rise. That made it worse.

“You think this ends when you say so? After what you just gave us? After what you took?"

Momo spit at the floor between them. “You don’t own me."

Luca leaned in beside Emil, voice a low threat. “You’re dripping with us. Still open. Still shaking. And you’re going to clean every fucking drop."

“No,” she growled.

Emil grabbed her chin, hard. “Then we make you.”

She struggled. Kicked. Cursed. But her body betrayed her again—weak, drained, trembling.

They pinned her, not cruel, but practiced. Controlled.

Luca brought himself to her lips. “Open your mouth. Or we hold it open. Either way, you're going to taste what you begged for."

Her mouth clamped shut. Eyes blazing.

Emil smirked. “That fire won't save you now."

Momo stared up at him, defiant. But it was cracked now. Her lips parted, breath ragged, fury twisted with something she hated to name.

“You want me to clean it up like I enjoyed it?” she snapped.

Luca stepped forward, still exposed, heavy and unapologetic. “No. We want you to clean it because you did.”

She looked away, eyes wet. Her hands curled into the sheets.

“Make it quick,” she muttered. “Then you leave."

Emil didn’t move. He let her crawl. Let her mouth inch forward.

She paused. One last time.

Then took him in.

The taste was bitter. Salt and heat and shame.

Luca grunted behind her, guiding her pace. “Don’t rush. Use your tongue. Make it good."

She gagged once, coughed, then kept going. Emil's hand found the back of her head, steadying her.

“There you go,” he said. “Earn your silence."

She finished one. Then the other.

When she sat back, her jaw ached. Her throat burned.

Emil dressed without a word. Luca wandered to her suitcase, casually unzipping it. He flipped through her things.

Momo pulled the blanket over herself, watching.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Seeing who you came with,” Luca said. “You weren’t alone in the lobby. Cute girl. Tight dress. Same eyes."

Emil picked up her phone. Open. Unlocked.

Momo's stomach turned. “Don’t.”

He ignored her. Tapped through her apps. Pulled up a tagged photo.

Sana.

“Room 611,” Emil read aloud.

Momo sat up. “You’re not touching her.”

“We’re not asking,” Luca said.

Emil smirked. “But you’ll tell her, won’t you? Right after we leave. And she won’t believe a word. Not after what she saw on your story."

They walked to the door.

“She’ll open it for us,” Emil added. “They always do."

Click.