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Two days had passed since Ali dragged us onto the street, **** us to whore ourselves out like meat, and yet when I looked in the mirror now, dripping from the shower, there wasn’t a mark left on me. Not one.

My skin was smooth, glowing. No bruises, no scratches. No cum crusted into my hair, no ache in my throat from the endless cocks I’d swallowed. My lips were plump, my tits sat high and soft, my cunt looked pink and untouched, like nothing had ever been rammed inside it.

Like it hadn’t happened at all.

But I remembered.

My body remembered.

Every time I spread my legs in that alley. Every cock shoved into me. Every filthy groan that Ali pulled out of my throat against my will. My pussy clenched just thinking about it, as if the ghosts of those thrusts were still inside me. Some moments made me gag. Others made me bite my lip, shame burning as my clit hardened at the memory.

That morning had been quiet. Ali was nowhere to be seen. Akio lay tangled in the sheets, tits spilling out as she slept, her face buried in the pillow. For the first time in days I felt something close to peace.

It lasted five minutes.

My phone buzzed.

Report to the office. Now.

No signature. It didn’t need one.

I dressed and ate, what could it possibly want with me, Ali was here the questions should be over.

The office hadn’t changed. Still sterile, empty, the air sharp with bleach and electricity. Corridors stretched like tunnels, swallowing me. My heels echoed on the polished floor. No glazed employees this time. No one at all. Just me and the hum of lights above.

My old work area, I went in, it felt claustrophobic, the same plastic chair, the same screen with camera however the keyboard was now gone, what was the point I never used it anyway.

The screen flickered to life before I even sat.

“Jane.”

The voice wasn’t the one I’d heard before. Not neutral. Not detached but there was something cruel in it, tighter I instantly felt uncomfortable.

“Sit.”

I obeyed.

My skirt split open and my pussy was exposed, I hadn't bothered with panties, it just didn't feel right now.

The screen showed static, but the voice filled the booth.

“You survived the last trial. Adequate.” A pause. “Now we test your thresholds.”

My stomach clenched. “Thresholds?”

“Yes. Pain. Pleasure. Endurance. Expansion.”

That last word slithered across the air like a dirty finger shoved inside me. My cunt twitched.

“How much can you take before you break?” it asked, matter-of-fact, like it was checking inventory. “How far can you spread your cunt before its useless?”

The word hit me like a slap. Cunt. Not pussy. Not sex. Cunt. Ugly. Raw. Filthy.

My thighs squeezed together under the desk. Pointless. My clit was already throbbing, it took all my willpower not to touch it.

“I— I don’t know, what do you mean useless” I stammered.

The screen flashed with words

Useless - adjective - Incapable of acting or functioning effectively; ineffectual or inept.

The machine purred. “ Shall we find out!”

The questions started fast. Precise. Each one filthier, heavier.

“How many hours can you be edged before you’re sobbing for cock?”

“How many fingers have you crammed into your hole?”

“Do you get wet by the thought of pushing something into you that should not fit?”

My pulse pounded. Heat crawled up my throat. Shame coated me, thick and suffocating. But under it, hot and slick, was arousal. I shifted, my clit hard, the plastic seat below me felt slick.

The voice chuckled. A mechanical growl, jagged with cruelty.

“You’re dripping already. I can hear it in your breath.”

I clenched my fists, nails biting my palms, but my cunt betrayed me.

“You will report your limits. Then you will exceed them.”

The screen cut black. The booth door unlocked with a click.

That was it.

By the time I got home my nerves were fried. My thighs pressed together with every step, still wet from that damned voice. My hands shook as I pushed open the bedroom door.

I froze.

The bed wasn’t empty.

Laid out across the sheets was a line of toys.

At the start—smooth, shiny, bright little dildos shaped like bullets, a butt plug no bigger than my finger. Beginner stuff. Slim shafts meant to tease. Then they grew. Thicker. Heavier. Ribbed, knotted, obscene. Black rubber monsters with heads so wide they’d split me if I **** them in. By the end of the row, the toys weren’t toys. They were abominations. Thick as my wrist. Veins bulging like rope. The last one was impossible, long, brutal, shaped for beasts, not women. Just looking at it made my hole clench and ache, terrified and hungry all at once.

My phone buzzed.

Start now. Work your way up. Ali will assist you.

The words blurred. My chest heaved.

I heard Ali's excited breathing and the tap of her shoes coming closer.

And I knew I was fucked.