Delivered into their hands

The guards' hands closed around her trembling arms, their fingers digging pale marks into her damp flesh. Emma felt a cry catch in her throat as they dragged her toward the black silk-veiled alcove. The rustling of the drapes shattered the silence, revealing a narrow room where the air smelled of leather and acrid wine.

A guard ripped off her corset with a swift movement, the laces cracking like bone. They stripped off, standing front and back, one in front of her vagina and the other her anus, their penises rising at the entrances to her intimate passages.

• Mistress always rewards us for being merciless, you'll never forget to be careful again, one of the guards whispered in her ear.

The guard in front of her dug his hand into her hair, yanking her head back with a sharp gesture. She felt the hard tip of his cock brush against her pussy lips with a hot, musky threat. Behind her, the other guard spat into her palm before pressing his member against her anus, already bruised by the cane blows.

In perfect harmony, they thrust into her at once, stealing her breath away. A hoarse cry burst from her throat, immediately muffled by the guard's hand. The pain was sharp, ripping—a raw burn where the man's cock behind her **** its way into her anus, while the one in front of her pushed deeper, crushing her inner walls with calculated brutality.

• Shh, this is just the beginning, let us have our fun.

Emma stifled another cry as the two guards began to move in opposite rhythms, their massive bodies crushing her between them like a rag doll. Pain mingled with burning shame as their hands ran over her damp skin, pinching her breasts freed from the corset or scratching the fresh marks of the cane.

One of them leaned down to bite the back of Emma's neck, his teeth sinking into her pale flesh as he growled,

• Can you feel how tight you're feeling?

He lifted her up and dropped her onto their impaling cocks. The shock ripped through her like a blade, a brutal mix of pain and pressure that drew a hoarse moan from her. Her legs, already trembling, struggled weakly in the air, her toes curling against the absent ground.

The guards' hands held her firmly, their fingers digging into her red-marked hips, forcing her to endure every inch of their penetration. But once again, her body betrayed her; she was dripping wet, which amused the guards, who were encouraged in their brutality. After the caning and butting of her brutes, Emma was nothing more than a rag, a puppet; she no longer had any coherent thoughts; her primal urges were taking over.

The guards' snorting laughter echoed against her sweaty neck as her trembling thighs slapped against their hips with each merciless thrust. The guard in front of her grabbed her throat, compressing her moans into a hoarse stream, while the other, behind her, dug his nails into the curve of her bruised buttocks.

"Look at you," the one holding her hair growled, forcing her gaze towards the tarnished mirror hanging on the wall. "Do you see yourself?

In the stained surface, Emma saw her distorted reflection, her face scarlet, her lips parted with ragged breath, her eyes filled with a hazy glow somewhere between fear and submission. Her breasts, marked with purple imprints, bounced in time with the thrusts that pierced her.

• She looked like a sex doll who just can't get enough. Don't worry, we'll spoil you.

The guard in front of her burst into a hoarse laugh, his hand sliding from her throat to crush her lips under his thumb, muffling her gasps. The other, behind her, abruptly accelerated his movement, each thrust more violent than the last, tearing strangled sounds from Emma that seemed to spring from the depths of her entrails.

She felt their virile members distorting her intimate walls, almost rasping them, and yet she also moaned with pleasure; being treated like this outweighed her Decadence.

The guards let out hoarse growls as their hands gripped Emma with renewed ferocity. The one holding her hair wrenched the back of her neck, exposing the clammy pallor of her throat to the flickering candlelight. She felt the other guard's grip tighten around her hips, his fingers digging into the purple marks left by the cane, each pressure wringing a convulsive shudder from her overstimulated body.

The last thing Emma noticed before darkness engulfed her was the wet slap of flesh against flesh. The guards continued to pound into her inert body like animals, their laughter turning guttural as they used her **** form. Her head lolled forward, her dark curls plastered to her sweat-drenched shoulders, while the guard behind her fisted her hair and roughly pulled her upright, forcing her spine to arch painfully. But nothing worked, she lost consciousness as she heard a guard say,

• Okay, she's done for, we're taking her to the infirmary.