STORY 2 - BECOMING THE FRAT’S LIVE IN SLUT (II)

Every instinct screams at me to leave. Every fantasy I’ve never admitted to anyone – not Connor, not my friends, not even my own diary – screams at me to stay. I’ve imagined this. Late at night, fingers between my legs, biting my pillow so my roommate wouldn’t hear. Being taken. Being used. Being passed around by men who saw me as nothing but a set of holes to fill. It was supposed to stay a fantasy. Blake waits. They all wait. Connor watches me with something like horror dawning on his face – like he’s just now realizing that he might have miscalculated. That his girlfriend isn’t going to fall apart. That she’s standing here, soaking wet, actually considering it. I reach for the first button of my sundress. “That’s my girl,” Blake murmurs. “I’m not your girl.” I undo the second button. The third. “I’m not anyone’s girl.” “Not yet.” He smiles – slow, predatory, hungry. “Give us the night.” The dress falls. I’m standing in nothing but my pink lace panties in front of five strangers and the boyfriend who sold me, and I’ve never felt more terrified or more alive. Declan whistles low. “f**k me. Connor, you absolute moron. You’ve been sitting on that?” “Pretty tits.” Mason’s already got his phone out, recording. “Hold still, sweetheart. I want to remember this.” “No phones.” I say it before I can stop myself. “No recording. That’s my condition.” Blake raises an eyebrow. “You’re giving us conditions?” “I’m giving you my body for the night. Not my face online.” I meet his eyes, refusing to flinch. “That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.” A long pause. Then he laughs – genuinely amused – and gestures to Mason. “Put it away.” Mason pouts but complies. “Anything else?” Blake asks. “No.” I hook my thumbs in my panties. “But I’m keeping these on until someone earns the right to take them off.” “Oh, I like her.” Tyler speaks for the first time, his voice surprisingly soft for someone with his reputation. “She’s got teeth.” “Let’s see if she still has teeth when she’s choking on my cock.” Declan stands, already unbuckling his belt. “I call her mouth first.” “Easy.” Blake holds up a hand. “I go first. President’s privilege.” He crosses to me, and I force myself to hold my ground, to not retreat, to meet him like an equal even though we both know I’m about to become whatever they want me to be. His hand cups my jaw, tilting my face up. Gentle, almost. Deceptively so. “Last chance,” he says quietly, just for me. “Say the word and you walk. No consequences. No retaliation. Connor can find another way to earn his spot.” “And if I stay?” “Then you’re ours until sunrise.” His thumb traces my lower lip. “Every hole. Every way we want. We fill you up, wear you out, and send you home so f****d out you won’t remember your own name.” My cunt clenches so hard it almost hurts. “Do I at least get a safe word?” “Crimson.” He smiles. “Use it if you need to. I don’t think you will.” I should use it now. I should walk up those stairs and never look back and press charges and ruin Connor’s life and – “Okay,” I whisper. “Okay what?” “Okay, sir.” His eyes flash with something dark and pleased. “Good girl. Now get on the mattress.” *** They don’t ease me into it. Blake tears my panties off with one rough yank – the fabric rips like it’s nothing, like I’m nothing – and then his hands are everywhere. Spreading my thighs so wide it almost hurts. Pinning my wrists above my head with one massive hand. Manhandling me into position like I weigh nothing at all, like I’m a doll he’s arranging for his own amusement. “Look at this cunt.” He spreads me open with two thick fingers, holds me apart so the others can see everything. My p***y. My wetness. My shame. “Pink and pretty and f*****g soaked. She’s been waiting for this her whole life. Haven’t you, sweetheart?” I try to close my legs. He doesn’t let me. “I hate you,” I gasp. “No, you don’t.” He shoves three fingers inside me without warning – no buildup, no gentleness, just in – and I arch off the mattress with a cry that doesn’t even sound like me. “You hate that you want this. There’s a difference.” He’s right. God, I hate that he’s right. His fingers work me rough and fast, pumping in and out, curling against that spot inside that Connor’s never once found in eight months of fumbling missionary. My hips buck without my permission. My thighs shake. Within seconds I’m panting, grinding down on his hand like the desperate slut he called me, chasing something I didn’t even know I needed. “She’s close already.” Blake sounds amused. Pleased. Like I’m performing exactly the way he expected. “Hasn’t even been touched properly and she’s about to come on my fingers. Look at her – clenching around me, dripping all over my hand.” “Pathetic,” Declan says from somewhere to my left. But he sounds impressed. Hungry. “Please – ” I don’t even know what I’m begging for. More. Less. Something. Anything. Everything. “Please what?” Blake adds a fourth finger, stretches me wider than I’ve ever been stretched, and I yelp – a high, broken sound that makes all of them laugh. “Use your words, sweetheart. Tell us what you need. Tell us what your boyfriend’s pathetic little d**k never gave you.” “I need – f**k – I need – ” “She needs cock.” Tyler appears beside the mattress, already stripped naked, and oh God. Oh God, he’s big. Thick and long and hard, jutting out from his hips like a threat. They’re all going to be big, aren’t they? All of them. And I’m going to take every single one. “She’s clenching around your fingers like she’s trying to milk them. Her greedy little cunt wants to be filled.” “Is that true?” Blake crooks his fingers, rubs that spot inside me that makes my vision blur. “You want to be filled, sweetheart? Want five c***s taking turns in this tight little hole? Want us to pump you so full of c*m you’re leaking for days?” "Yes – ” The word rips out of me before I can stop it. Before I can pretend I don’t want exactly that. Blake withdraws his hand. I whine. Actually whine, like a b***h in heat, at the sudden emptiness. I’m so wet I can feel it dripping down to my ass, soaking the mattress beneath me. He stands up, holds his glistening fingers to the light. Shows Connor – still frozen in the corner like the pathetic coward he is – exactly how much his girlfriend’s body has betrayed her. “Declan.” Blake’s voice is casual, commanding. “She wanted to know who’d earn her panties.” He tosses the torn pink lace to the redhead, who catches it with a grin. “Make her come on your c**k in under two minutes and they’re yours.” “Challenge accepted.”