My jaw tightened, ripping me back to the present.
My eyes squeezed shut tightly. There was a man behind me holding my head in place while they tried to stuff things into my mouth.
Three cocks, it felt like. All three of them, sliding in and out at the same time, my teeth grinding against them, my lips straining painfully.
Pain erupted through my hands, and I instinctively tried to move my fingers only to feel them throb. Shoes. I think they were standing on my hands. Why? I never would have moved. I’m a good Favorite, I knew how to follow the rules, they didn’t need to do that.
I couldn’t breathe. Their cocks kept slamming into me, the hands behind my head forcing me to stay as panic swam through me.
Not even the Leaders were this cruel.
Over and over again, sliding against each other, into me, the sounds coming out of me loud and gross. I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t breathe.
“I’m gonna cum,” a voice grunted.
“Me too,” another moaned.
They went harder, faster.
In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
Tears streamed down my face, my jaw and hands screaming in pain, my head pounding, my cheeks tearing. I couldn’t breathe.
I was going to die.
I had been fine with death, accepting of it, but not like this. Never like this.
Fear tore through me in waves, my entire body shaking.
The hot semen hit the back of my throat. One after the other, all three stretching my mouth further than I ever thought it was able to open, forcing the semen to drip straight into my stomach.
I coughed and choked, some of it coming up through my nose, burning me.
They pulled out of me. One after the other, and I collapsed forward, barely catching myself on my elbows before I heaved it all up. Coughing, bile ejecting from my stomach. I didn’t feel good.
I didn’t feel good at all.
They started laughing.
Laughing.
Why were they laughing at me? Couldn’t they see that I was struggling to breathe?
Of course they could, and they liked it.
That chill in my stomach I had felt before returned. A cold burning in the pit of my stomach as I tried to breathe.
Mother always told me that hate was a strong word, that’s why I almost never used it. Well, I suppose that and the fact that up until recently, I thought I had lost the ability to feel anything at all, which hadn’t been completely true.
I hated lavender because it reminded me of Bastrom. Because when I thought back to my childhood, all I could smell was lavender, but that was it. I tried not to use it very much because I didn’t want my heart to grow cold.
