Friday at the Adult Store

"Please, it burns! Please!"

Between laughs, someone encouraged the shop owner to pass the lube, and maybe someone squirted some on her. They probably didn't because she had wanted them to break her, and this is what it really entailed. Little mindless tramp thought she was a sexual goddess for them to worship, but she had misread the situation. They had lost respect for her when she flaunted her bra-less tits, when she kneeled down in a perverted venue, when she wiggled her ass against the man who kept her legs spread in front of everyone. Her screams and pushes didn't stop him from shoving his big cock deeper into her ass, nor the construction worker from fucking her pussy with abandon, nor the bystanders from stroking their cocks at the destruction of someone who could be their niece. Her screams and cries blended into a crass musical score with the ecstatic screams of on-screen Young Harlot.

Between the pain and shame, the helplessness, Friday sex shop nympho was ready for it to end. She had had enough. This had gone too far, and she feared for her safety. It wasn't just double penetration fullness that she felt; she felt two strong bodies holding her in place, a rough hand slapping her across the face when her crying subsided. Her long legs were trapped in between two bodies, and she couldn't close them to set her entrances free. This is what being a free use fucktoy felt like, and the idea she had cum to so many times was nowhere near the reality. She sobbed, both in understanding and in fulfillment.

Only the men fucking her could feel inside her the moments when fear turned into resignation, and then into enjoyment. Her holes stopped clenching, as if trying to push them out, and she lay there, spread, available. But after a few strategic slaps, a few strokes that hit her G spot, she began to tighten around both of them again. A different kind of tight. "That's a good whore," the construction worker whispered in her ear. "This easy bitch is going to fucking cum again," he yelled for the rest of the room. She squealed, not quite cumming herself when the guy under her filled up her ass with sperm, but certainly arriving before the construction worker forced his paint-stained fingers in her mouth while breeding her.

On the screen, Young Harlot had one over the real life version. She was sucking a cock while riding another while stroking another, all of this while another fucked her ass. The men in the theatre knew the numb whore on the couch had potential, and someone dragged her to the ground. Cum flowed out of her holes as she was forced onto a riding position, and new cocks pushed the overflow back in. By this point, her clothes were long gone, and she made no attempt to dissuade the ones filming her breaking on their cellphones.

While the porno was on the last leg, they took turns fucking her holes. After four soul-shattering orgasms, she was too out of it to stroke anyone successfully. The irritation that came with multiple loads and careless cocks began to make her holes tender and she whimpered and she howled, but they mistook her sounds for those of fertile feline. They thought this poor little nympho had not yet had enough, so they kept hitting her G spot, circling her sore clit, violating her overused ass. Her piercings were burning her nipples after too many careless tugs; her body had red marks of all widths and sizes, collateral damage from the violent ways they positioned and repositioned her to best enjoy her flesh. It's a miracle that, in those conditions, she had it in her to build up one last hurrah. "Please don't stop," she beg-whispered, and the hands digging into her ass cheeks pulled her down harder onto the cock she was barely able to keep riding.

First and foremost a successful businessman, the shop owner positioned himself above her, hard cock ready, and he started to record. After a night of humiliation and debauchery, the soft hand that caressed her face and held her chin was a welcome change of pace, and she barely registered that she was being filmed.

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

"I'm Anna," she answered hurriedly, clearly on the uphill path to orgasm. Her eyes traveled from his cock to his face and back.

"I know, Anna, you'll get some in a minute, but I wanna know something first. Do you live here in the city?"

She nodded, unable to keep her eyes off his cock.

"What brought you to the shop tonight?"

"I was horny."

"You wanted to get fucked like a cheap whore, didn't you?"

She moaned, close again. The frame couldn't quite capture the view of the sloppy cock stretching her open, but it did center the uncontrolled bounce of her reddened tits as she struggled to maintain the interaction. He slid his full length into her mouth, the only beautiful part remaining of a ruined face.

"Look at me. Do you feel you got what you wanted?"

She looked up, the light of his device blinding her, and she nodded an "mhhmmmm" against his cock.

"You're not gonna be able to walk out of here when we're done with you, Anna."

His free hand held the back of her head and he started fucking her throat. Poor Anna didn't have it in her to resist. A good girl, she crossed her arms behind her head and gagged all over the shop owner, until her eyes finally went out of focus. It was happening. She was reaching her last orgasm.

The shop owner pushed deeper in her mouth and she gagged hard as she came, a visual spectacle for future audiences. Her whole body twitched on camera. His cum and her saliva escaped from her lips, overflowing onto the base of his cock and onto her face. The men inside her yelled, their nails almost cutting into her thighs and ass when they rewarded her with a final load.

When her orgasm finally subsided, she was no longer in the warm embrace of a DP. She lay on the floor, spread, used -- in a way, left to her own devices. She was intoxicated in sex and cum. Different cameras captured her gaping holes and the cum that dripped out of them, a memento that perhaps they'd share with friends when they told the story of the wild thing that happened to them on Friday. One by one, the participants started to drop more money on her body, perhaps guilty for how they had left her, and began to exit. She was too out of it to realize, so the shop owner collected it for her. While she recovered, he closed the shop for the night; he had an important deal to negotiate.

He thought he'd find her passed out in the same position, but she was awake again, rolled onto her back. She was pushing the cum that had dripped out of her back in with her fingertips. He smiled at the sight of the insatiable, knowing that it was a promising new venture.

"You have a special gift, Anna," he sat next to her, cupping her face before circling her clit gently. "You certainly made their weekends, and I'm sure I can help you cum to this again tonight. For next week, I can make sure you get twice that number of cocks."

Silent, she spread her legs, her clit pressing against his fingers, and closed her eyes.

In lieu of a signed contract, he sealed the deal by making her explode around all that cum again.