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*Most of my stories get straight to, well, action, but this one doesn’t. The create up is long. Some themes that deserve a content warning: CNC, painal, humiliation, depictions of sex obsession/nymphomania, exploitation.*

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It might seem her story started when she stepped through the doors of the run-down sex shop. The beginning of a plot of weekend debauchery of a woman too precious, of a night of fortune for the perverts who simply were at the right place at the right time. And she was horny, yes. It is true she was driven to the shop by the sensations burning up her insides, making her crave the warmth of sperm covering her cervix.

What she was not: lost. Stunts like this can seldom be pulled last minute just because you wanna fuck. They aren’t a blip caused by kink brain. Her consolidation into a slut that offered herself up to glory hole strangers happened over time, only when she exhausted all the other feasible avenues to satisfy her hunger.

For women like her, possibilities were infinite: her gorgeous face and statuesque curves meant her Tinder pool was wide enough to sustain dates every night. Who could deny her doe eyes and thick lips, especially when they were followed by her in the skimpiest bikini, wet and sultry in the sand? “Here to have fun,” her user account said in an effort to lure the perverts. Still, she gave up on vanilla dating when six Tinder fucks over a weekend didn’t quite fill up her sexual well. She knew she needed something more intense, more risky, if she had a chance to know the sensation of sexual satisfaction.

What began as solo errands in increasingly tight dresses and innocently unbuttoned shirts at the bar soon became more adventurous. One day she wore no bra under a thin white tank to the liquor store, toying with the strap when the clerk made no effort to look up from her tits. She convinced him to accept an alternative form of payment not because she could not afford the wine, but because he wanted his cum to make her top see through before she hit her next spot. She made no effort to cover up the sounds of her gags and grunts behind the counter when a group of young men came in. Her orgasm was so hard around her dildo remembering the awkward silence, the complicit laughs as he spurted all over her chin and chest, that she knew she was finally onto something.

Her track of sexual conquests emboldened her, and the self-preservation filter that kicks in when assessing sex potential completely faded for her. On a horny day, she would have easily fucked her best friend, her school professors. She might have sucked off her childhood priest for all we know. So when she was wandering alone at night and a campus security officer checked in on her, she convinced him and his coworker to bring her into the security booth for her first ever DP. Their big hands covering her mouth, dragging her perfect tits and tiny waist, fingers settling right besides her swollen clit while pulling her labia open, held her steady while her ass and pussy exploded around their gigantic BBCs, milking their cum in record time.

That one satiated her desire. She slept peacefully with the two security men’s sperm inside her holes, a satisfied whore, until she started dreaming about her next orgasm.

On Friday night, she would have been perceived as a misplaced Gorgeous Girl Next Door if not for the attire she had picked to rival the actresses on the film projector at the ratty shop. By now, she had mastered the art of the primal seduction. She knew the right mix of apparel, expressions, words, that faded norms away, encouraging men to see her as their free use whore. Her presence in that store immediately eroded the social contract. The shop owner licking his lips was confirmation: he had been in the company long enough to spot little insatiable sluts the minute they showed up.

She smiled coyly as she browsed the aisles of the store as a newcomer, as if she had not long memorized the offerings. She was the bimbo conspicuously dressed in the tightest cropped white shirt that pulled up her D-cup breasts in lieu of a bra, highlighting the outline of the nipples adorned with piercings. Her hips were barely covered by a bouncy grey mini-skirt, which didn’t quite reach the waist straps of her bright red G string. She relished the sensation of having all the eyeballs in the store follow her every move, her bare midriff, her barely dressed curves. She teasingly picked up the biggest dildos, the tiny pink bullet vibrators, to pretend she was shopping for fake dicks, not real ones.

When she was certain that she had everyone’s attention, she strutted to the shop owner and asked what movie he was playing in the adjacent theatre tonight.

“We have an oldie but goodie girl-on-girl on tonight,” he smiled, making no effort to hide the way his eyes were undressing her as they spoke. “But I’m always open to customer feedback, if you wanna make it Ladies’ Night.”

She smiled, twirling her hair around her finger as she leaned on the counter, a flirtatious cliche.

“Really? That’s so nice of you. I was hoping you’d play a rough gangbang tonight.”

He did not even bother charging her an entrance fee.

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The many times she orgasmed to the fantasy she was finally realizing that night, she pictured different entry points into action. Eyes locked with a stranger as he slid his hand over her chest, matching the begin of the porno characters’ kiss. Men jerking off near and then over her as she spread her legs and massaged her clit to the film. A couple making out on a seat near her, and her asking if she could join in their fun. But realized fantasies have to confront a dose of reality, and she had never expected to sit in a small and smelly sex theatre while the owner found a gangbang film to humor her. She had picked a love seat booth and no one had yet joined her.

She kept her smile on, but truth is it was all so awkward. Everyone knew where things would go, but no one seemed to know how to break the ice. Maybe they did not at all know how to bring them there. She made eye contact with the men that entered the room, all of them older. A couple of them in their late forties, DILFs in her eyes; one in his thirties, in construction clothes. When the owner left the projection room, a couple more guys came in. When she did the math, her nerves awakened.

If this were the sex club she had once visited, a simple “no” would be enough to end it all. But she didn’t know these men, nor the shop owner, and she had no way of knowing if they would respect her wishes. If they’d stop before her body got too hurt, or if they’d pass her around like a whore regardless of her screams. And it was that very possibility that soaked her G string while she sat there, the center of attention, before the lights dimmed and the film started playing.

A rare night: the owner sat in the booth next to hers. She would have turned to smile at him when he did, but she genuinely wanted to know what film he’d chosen. The synopsis briefly readable in his projection summarized all she hoped for that night: “Wild truant sluts have ‘em lining up in this Young Harlots special. Anal, DP, BJ’s and more, all finished up with a cum dripping whore.”

Trust a porn connoisseur to make a great choice for the occasion: she immediately recognized herself in the main Young Harlots character in this gangbang special. Though it wasn’t the white lingerie, the slutty way of sucking a red lollipop before she fucked herself with it. It really was the camera tilting over the long line of men holding bills to pay for their turn on her. On the film, each fuck cost a hundred dollars; she knew the men in that cheap theatre had paid a much lower fee not even for the porn, but for the chance to use her.

She smiled when the parade of cocks in the Young Harlot’s holes began, but truth is she also felt the pressure. Here she was, surrounded by strangers in a sex theatre, and she had not managed to break down the retaining walls that kept these men from pouncing on her. Was this just gonna be the raunchiest masturbation game she ever played?

“Is this what you wanted?”

The shop owner had humored her once, and he might humor her again. His question was loud to make himself heard from his own seat, over the background of moans and flesh sounds.

On the screen, the Young Harlot was swinging from one side of the screen to the other, her head bobbing in a sequence of multiple cock service. In the theatre, everyone was at their seat, expectant, some stroking their cocks hard. There was only one way she had it in her heart to respond to the shop owner’s question.

“Yes, this is very much what I want right now.”

She stood up from her love seat, twirling slowly to look at the men around the room while they stroked their cocks. She took a couple of steps into an empty spot on the floor and she squatted down, legs spread, into a kneeling position. Her G string got caught between her moistened folds, accentuating the slit where her body parted for men to make her theirs. Surprisingly, the men’s reaction was not immediate. A few awkward seconds passed with her on her knees, barely dressed, offering herself up to a bunch of strangers who weren’t taking her. Not even the shop owner flinched.

It was the construction worker who was best equipped to take benefit of good fortune when he came across it. He stepped to her, dick released from his hand to let it hover over her face. The paint stains on his pants reminded her of the general aesthetic she was seeking that night. Like a good girl, she looked up into his eyes and opened up, sticking out her tongue. She giggled against him as his head ran the length of her mouth a few times while the other men formed a circle around her. Their very own Young Harlot was getting started.

She had long fantasized of being a whore in the service of a group of men, but she had never given wondered to the challenges it’d entail — especially when they started treating her exactly the way she wanted. What began as respectful patience while she moved from one cock to another slowly began to slip on the spectrum of decency. It all started with a soft caress to guide her to a cock in specific. Before she knew it, the same hand locked at the back of her head for a few seconds while he grunted he wanted to feel her throat. The two hands that pulled her head next were less gentle, as were the hands that tore the tiny white shirt open. And then more pulls, deeper pushes, longer challenges. Her hands were pulled above her head while someone bit into her pierced nipples, and then forced to wrap around wet cocks.

In the realization of her blow bang fantasy, she realized she got more than she bargained for. While she focused on her struggle to breathe between cocks, her body became docile, and the group of men began to pass her around without mercy. Her knees dragged on the dirty floor of the theatre while they pushed and turned her and positioned her to their taste. In her struggle, they pulled her flailing body up by the head to shove a big dick in when she collapsed. There was no recovery time for her overstretched jaw, for her increasingly triggered gag reflex, and she soon lost control over her ability to remain a tidy cock-sucker. The precum mixed into her saliva flowed freely onto her semi-bare tits, her mascara ruined in the first fifteen minutes of play.

The Young Harlot on the screen had a cock poking through her cheek, her lips plump with botox wrapped around a gigantic cock. The image on the screen seemed almost demure compared to what was happening in the theatre. The cute Girl Next Door, the insatiable nymphomaniac was lost in the bliss you reach when all you can think of is the cock in your throat. No breaks meant her sexual mind was hyperfocused, heightening the hunger in her insides for a deep climax. The more they manhandled her, the more filthy her head game became. The group grunted when she was rewarded with her first cumshot, for which she was a good girl and kept her tongue stuck out.

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In her bliss, she barely felt the way one of the men hugged and picked her up from behind, lowering her onto his body when he sat down on one of the love seats. Her shirt was hanging from her shoulders, drooled and pierced breasts entirely exposed, and her skirt was ruched around her waist. His hands moved to hold her legs by the calves, spreading her for the other men in the room. His cock painfully pressed between her ass cheeks, and others laughed when the whore began to grind herself against it in such an awkward position. But her soaked underwear accentuated a gorgeous, clean-shaven pussy, and the shop owner was the first one to dive in to taste the juices along her slit. She squealed with hunger when his fingers entered her and his tongue flicked her clit repeatedly.

On the film that still ran in the background, the Young Harlot was already bouncing on dicks, servicing as many men as she could at any given time. After a first round of debauchery, however, it would seem that the sex theatre men were taking in the magnificent sight before them. A cute young woman spread on top of a man, covered in drool and cum, her tight little holes exposed. They held back while the shop owner squirted a considerable amount of lube on her cunt and spread it softly around her little asshole, condescending, babying the slut in front of him.

“It’s all good, baby girl,” he said while inserting two fingers in her pussy again, turning them as if he were lubing up every inch of her insides. “I’m just making sure that you can endure the thorough fucking you’ll get tonight…” He felt the squeeze of her flesh around him in response and he doubled down, his old, bearded face approaching hers. “I’m not gonna stop them when your holes are too sore from being used, but I promise I’ll keep lubing you up so they won’t break you beyond repair. Is there anything you want us to know before you can’t talk, baby?”

She counted six dicks in the room. It might be the first time in her life her pussy gives up before everyone’s taken their turn.

“I…” she hesitated, suddenly self-conscious about her words, about her spread and exposed position on the love seat. “I’m on the pill.”

Never had such a short sentence set a room on fire so quickly.

The lucky one to take the first turn on her was a man in his late forties who had not bothered to put on a condom, nor to take his wedding ring off. He was dressed in slacks and a shirt, his tie long gone. Maybe he had gone to the shop after work to buy a toy to spice up his marital sex life, but luck had it that he instead found himself in a sleazy sex theatre pushing his fat, bare cock into a young fucktoy’s little pussy. Her gaze lowered to the gap between her legs where he would split her flesh open, and she moaned when he first went in.

“Fuck,” he grunted, knowing that the fallout from his reckless choices might be worth it if only for the tight, velvety embrace of her cunt around him. Still, now that he was making such gamble, he needed to make it count by having an orgasm he’d remember on his deathbed. He held her by her tiny waist as he began pumping her, his strokes more for his sake than for hers, and it just so happened that his self-centered motion hit the right angles and spots. Her insides squeezed him in and he cursed at her.

The porno moans in the background, the four hands holding her, the eyes that admired her while she got fucked — her body was starting to do exactly what she had fantasized. It was all too much for one little body to hold in. The pressure began to create up in her insides, warmth irradiating over her body with each thrust against her cervix, and she began to lose control. “Little whore is getting close,” she heard, her legs trembling in the love seat guy’s hands. Her breathing was shallow, fast, mixed with moans. The guy fucking her couldn’t stop grunting, almost trapped in the increasingly hard squeezes around his cock.

She just needed a gentle nudge over the edge. The shop owner stepped in and cupped her face in his hands, almost breaking her out of her trance to force her to look into his eyes.

“Look at me and ask for permission to cum around his cock.”

Like a good girl, she looked at him, and she opened her mouth to ask for it. But the words weren’t quite coming out right; she was almost blabbing. She screamed, her insides twitching, but he wouldn’t have any of that. So he slapped her messy face, yelling at her to try again.

“P… Please Ineedto…” her eyes shut, almost wincing. “Cum!”

She couldn’t hold it any longer, and she came hard around the cock taking her, so hard that he had to force himself on top of her to contain her bodily explosion. Her supple tits pressed up against his chest as he buried himself in her, pounding her twitching body into the man sandwiching her from underneath. “Oh my fucking God,” she yelled, gasping for air as she came back to her senses. The first man withdrew from her, leaving a trail of his semen running out of her fuckhole. The man underneath held her, and his cock began to press against her asshole.

One of the younger guys grabbed her legs away from the guy underneath her, and he put them over his shoulders when he moved in to take his piece. The guy underneath her continued to poke her ass with his cock, dabbing the little folds with his precum as his free hands now moved to fondle her magnificent tits. He tugged on her piercings, slapped her tits upwards to make them bounce, he pinched her nipples just to hear her get loud again. It took very little time for her pussy to extract a sloppy seconds, but this guy pulled out just on time to cum all over her hipbone and mound.

Round three seemed to get her going again, this time her walls tightening a bit harder than earlier — the second sign of a gangbang challenge. She had yet to make four more men come, and the first two were stroking to get hard again. She had never gotten fucked beyond a natural ending point; she did not know what it was like to keep fucking when your body begins to shut down after one too many orgasms. But they seemed keen on helping her find that world. The third man, in his forties, wrapped his hand around her neck to lightly choke her as he fucked her, reminding her that good girls like her get rewarded, and she was being so good she’d eat enough cum to keep her full for the rest of the weekend. As the room faded around her, all she could feel were his words hitting her, his cock abusing her tight hole. In complete silence, she came hard around him, and he choked her harder as he released one more load to coat her insides.

Choked and overstimulated, she collapsed on the guy below her, spread, a load still glistening on her mound. She barely moved as the construction guy went in her this time, pounding her so hard that the love seat creaked. The loud slaps of meat were only disguised by the loud audio of the film in the background. She was panting, completely lost in the overwhelming sensations that kept growing in her pussy. But a burning sensation awakened her.

The guy under her, tired of simply facilitating, had moved his hands under her ass to finally take her, and his cock was in the process of forcing her tight asshole aside. She had taken cocks inside it before, but she was underprepared, and she screamed and bucked. The construction worker’s strong hands held her hips in place while he himself pumped her pussy, and it was clear no one had the intention of helping her. She cried loudly.

“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. 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.

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 cried, 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. “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 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 room 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 videos.

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, but they mistook her sounds for those of a bitch in heat. They wondered this poor little nympho had not yet had enough, so they kept hitting her G spot, circling her sore clit, violating her overused ass. It’s a miracle that, in those conditions, she had it in her to create 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. He slid his full length into her mouth, the only gorgeous part remaining in 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 withstand. She crossed her arms behind her head and gagged all over the shop owner, and 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, marked from a rough night, twitched on camera. His cum and her saliva escaped from her lips, overflowing onto the base of his cock. The men inside her yelled, their nails almost cutting into her thighs and ass when they rewarded her with a final load.

She lay on the floor, spread, used. She was intoxicated in sex and cum. Different cameras captured her gaping holes and the cum that dripped out of them. One by one, the participants started to drop more money on her body, and began to leave. 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 essential deal to negotiate.

He wondered he’d discover her passed out, but she was back awake, pushing the cum that had dripped out of her back in with her fingers. He smiled at the sight of the insatiable, a promising new venture.

“You have a special gift, Anna,” he sat next to her, rubbing her clit gently. “I can help you cum to this again tonight. And I can get you twice that number of cocks next week.”

In lieu of a signed contract, he just made her explode around all that cum again.

NSFW: yes

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