Hotel Califuckya

“You all - most of you .. I .. I don’t know …”

“You all fucked me last night, didn’t you?”

This is perhaps an understatement. They had gang-fucked her, each of them using her repeatedly, selfishly, manhandling her like a sex-dolly, not caring when they hurt her, laughing and joking with each other as they waited their turn, taking every opportunity to slap, pinch and demean her as the night progressed.

Her voice is sexily husky - her throat is raw from repeated forced penetrations, as are her sex and asshole.

“Yeah. Yeah we did, plus some other guys who split. What of it?”

“Well .. well I woke up in a .. a really nice room, and a girl brought me breakfast, and helped me .. clean up. But .. but there were no clothes - only this, and .. and I don’t understand. “

“What’s to understand? You got fucked. If you stay, you’ll get fucked some more, I guess. If you don’t wanna get fucked, then leave.”

“Only you’re gonna need to leave soon, in that case, cos my dick’s getting hard right now, and I didn’t get a turn at that sweet little ass last night.”

Laughter.

She fakes a smile, but her body flinches a little, delightfully. Her chances of getting out without another episode are diminishing rapidly, and she knows it; but there’s something she needs to know.

“If .. if I stay .. do .. do I get to keep that room?”

No-one bothers to answer, as a strong hand in her hair from behind drags her firmly sideways, bending her over the low back of an easy chair, kicking her feet wide apart. Her hands are up, grasping the hand, trying to minimise the pain at her scalp, and she’s squeaking and panting, but there’s no serious resistance, and a cheer goes up as a cock is slowly, relentlessly forced into her tight back passage, wrenching sad moans from her sore throat.

Soon, she’s jouncing and moaning steadily as the rhythm increases, breasts swaying wildly. 

The hand in her hair lifts her head, and the guy who was doing all the talking is there, looking deeply into her soft, tear-filled eyes.

“It works like this, pretty. As long as you stay, people get to do stuff to you. Fuck you, hurt you, slap you .. hell, tattoo you if’n they want to. If anyone says you should go, complains about you, and I hear about it, you have to prove to me you’re worth keeping - otherwise you’re out with the garbage. As long as you stay, you get a pretty room, spending money, pretty sex outfits, nice shoes, class food and drink - all that shit. Your room *is* yours - no-one comes in without an invite - although of course girls who never invite anyone in get complaints real soon. You can leave whenever you want; just walk out the door - if you can walk, that is; can be hard to do with a dick in your ass!”

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