Chapter Text
Footsteps. The sound echoed in my head, each one heavier than the last, a rhythm that sent shivers down my spine. I couldn’t move, couldn’t see, couldn’t do anything but wait. The box held me tight, my body on full display through the holes—my breasts hanging out, the cool air brushing against my nipples already stiff from the clamps and weights. My pussy was exposed, slick and throbbing, ready for whatever was coming. And my mouth, forced open by the ring gag, was wet and waiting.
I heard them. The men. Their breathing, low and uneven, filled the room. I could feel their energy, their hunger, before I even felt their hands. My empath ability surged, and their fantasies flooded my mind like a tidal wave. So many. So many images, so many desires, all focused on me. I could feel the way they wanted to use me, the way they wanted to claim me. My body responded instantly, trembling with need, my pussy clenching around nothing as I moaned around the gag.
They’re here.
I felt the first touch, fingers grazing my folds, and I gasped. Oh god. The sensation was electric, sending jolts of pleasure through me. But it wasn’t just my own pleasure—I could feel his too. The way his fingers trembled with anticipation, the way his cock hardened at the thought of sinking into me. My back arched as much as it could, my body begging for more.
Then, the first cock prodded at my entrance, and I whimpered. Please. It pushed inside me, thick and unrelenting, stretching me wide. I could feel every inch of him, every ridge, every pulse of his desire. And I could feel his pleasure too, the way his breath hitched as he sank into me, the way his grip tightened on the box as he started to move. My head fell back as much as the hook in my ass would allow, my ponytail tugging painfully, but I didn’t care. I was lost in the sensation, in the overlap of our pleasure.
And then, another. Fingers twisted my nipples, pulling at the clamps, and I screamed around the gag. More. I could feel his thoughts, the way he wanted to see me writhe, the way he wanted to hear me moan. And then, a cock pressed against my lips, sliding into my mouth. I sucked reflexively, my tongue working over the tip as he thrust deeper, choking me. Tears streamed down my face, but I didn’t care. I wanted this. I needed this.
More. More. More.
The men were relentless, their cocks taking turns in my pussy and mouth, their hands groping my breasts, pulling at the clamps, squeezing, pinching. I could feel all of it—their pleasure, their fantasies, their lust. It was too much and not enough all at once. My body was on fire, every nerve alight with sensation, my pussy clenching, my mouth sucking, my nipples throbbing. And then, I came. Hard. My body convulsed, my pussy clamping down on the cock inside me, my mouth sucking harder as I moaned around the gag. The men groaned, their pleasure spiking as they felt me, and I came again, the waves crashing over me one after the other.
They didn’t stop. One cock was replaced by another, and another, and another. I lost count, lost all sense of time. My mind was a haze of pleasure, my body a tool for their desire. I could feel their cum inside me, filling me up, dripping out of me as another cock took its place. My mouth was a mess of spit and cum, my lips swollen, my jaw aching, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.
Each thrust, each filling, sent shockwaves through me. I could feel the men’s pleasure as intensely as my own—the heavy throb of their cocks, the tightness of their grip on the box, the way their breath hitched with every push deeper into me. My pussy clenched and fluttered around each new invasion, milking them, drawing out every drop of their cum until it spilled out of me, pooling beneath my thighs. My breasts swayed with the force of their movements, the clamps pulling at my nipples, a sharp pain that only heightened the pleasure coursing through me.
My mouth was never empty. The moment one cock pulled out, another shoved in, stretching my lips, hitting the back of my throat until tears streamed down my cheeks. I gagged, choked, but never stopped sucking, never stopped tasting. The salty tang of pre-cum, the thick spurts of their release—it all mixed with my spit, coating my chin. I could feel their satisfaction, their pride at using me so thoroughly, and it made me moan, made me crave more.
Hands were everywhere they could reach, groping, pinching, slapping. My ass cheeks were red from the force of their palms. They pulled at my clamps, twisted my nipples until I screamed through the gag, my voice hoarse, my throat raw. And still, they didn’t stop. More cocks, more cum, more pleasure. My body convulsed with orgasm after orgasm, each one crashing into me without warning, leaving me trembling, gasping, begging silently for more.
I was their toy, their plaything, and I reveled in it. The box was my world, the men my gods, and their pleasure my purpose. I could feel their fantasies, their darkest desires, and I embraced them, letting them use me however they wanted. And as another cock slammed into me, as another flood of cum filled me, I came again, my body spasming, my mind shattering.
They didn’t stop. They couldn’t. And neither could I.
At some point, I passed out. The pleasure was too much, too intense, and my body gave out. But I woke up to the same thing—cocks pounding into me, hands on my body, pleasure overwhelming me. I came again, my body shaking, my voice hoarse from screaming through the gag. I didn’t know how long it had been, didn’t know how much more I could take. But I didn’t want it to stop. I wanted more.
And then, I felt the box being opened. I was still convulsing, still cumming, as I was lifted out of the box and placed on the floor. The restraints dug into my skin, holding me in place, and I felt exposed, vulnerable, completely at their mercy. And then, I felt it—cum splashing onto my skin, landing on my breasts, my stomach, my face. Some of it landed in my mouth, and I lapped it up, my tongue moving reflexively as I swallowed it down. I was still cumming, still lost in the pleasure, as they continued to use me, to mark me.
And then, the fantasies stopped. The pleasure ebbed, my body still trembling, but the intensity fading. I could feel the cum on my skin, could feel it leaking out of me, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I was barely conscious, my body spent, my mind blank. And then, I heard their footsteps, moving away, leaving me there on the floor, a trembling, moaning mess.
I didn’t know how long I lay there, how long it took for the world to fade away, for the darkness to claim me again. But as I drifted into unconsciousness, the last thing I felt was a hand brushing against my cheek, and Laura's voice whispering,
“Good girl.”