They kept their word.
Monday morning I woke up still in the apartment, still naked, still full. Someone had f****d me while I slept again—I could feel the fresh mess leaking out of me when I tried to close my legs. The sheets were ruined. So was I.
The dark-haired one was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed and scrolling his phone. When he noticed my eyes open he reached over and pushed two fingers into my cunt without a word, testing how open I still was.
“Good,” he said. “You’re staying soft for us.”
I didn’t argue. I didn’t have the strength or the will. My body had stopped belonging to me somewhere between the seventh and ninth c**k the day before. Now it only existed to take what they gave it.
By noon the apartment was full again.
Twelve men this time. Some I recognize
