The first two go by quickly

Mira stepped up to the block, close enough that the three of them had to hear her, and close enough that Silke could feel the strap between her legs. “Since Anna’s already come so many times today, she’s not allowed to come anymore.” Silke swallowed behind her mask. What was she now, without an orgasm? Just another hole. Open. Strapped down. The bunny’s cock between her cheeks, her pussy wet and swollen from the bull, her mouth a wet ring over the wood. This morning, coming had still sounded like a currency. Now it was forbidden. Her body didn’t understand that.

Mira smiled at the three of them. “When I say ‘pull out,’ that means pull out. No matter how close you are. If you end up on your backs or on the floor in the process, you can start over. If she—Anna—comes because of you, you’re out. And you’ll be banned for life.”

The boys got nervous.

The blond one swallowed. The one with the ring adjusted his cock in his fist. The tall guy from the sports field just nodded, as if “suspension” were a term from practice. Mira tapped the blond one on the hip.

“You first. Cunt. You two, on her mouth. Keep it hard. Don’t cum down her throat.”

The blond stepped between Silke’s spread, strapped-down thighs. Light from the window fell directly on her open slit: lips dark, glistening, the entrance still rounded from the dildo. He positioned the pink glans and pushed himself inside. Silke gasped into the ring. He wasn’t the biggest. Still, he filled her swollen cunt, brushing against the sensitive spots that, after three orgasms, took everything as a command. She wanted to clench up. He was careful. Every twitch was a risk for him and a humiliation for her. The other two held their cocks to her mouth.

On the left, the fat one, uncircumcised, smelling of kitchen and rubber. On the right, the tall one, dark, with a thick vein, his glans already wet. Silke opened her mouth first for the fat one. Then the tall one, deeper, almost too long for the angle. Saliva ran down her chin pad. She took them in turn, jerking one off with her tongue while the other slapped against her cheek.

The blond guy fucked her in a repetitive rhythm. Not like in bed. Like a piece of furniture. Thrust. Pause. Thrust. Mira walked around the platform, turned it five degrees toward the glass, and checked the frame. Silke’s tits hung over the edge of the cushion and bounced in time with the rhythm. The Bunny’s cock twitched.

“Slower. I want to see her, not you.”

He slowed down. It got worse. Every centimeter could be felt. Silke’s clit rubbed against nothing and yet kept searching. Frustration rose hotly in her lower abdomen. She was a hole that wasn’t allowed to come, and that’s exactly what made her wetter.

“Pull out.”

The first time.

The blond man cursed through clenched teeth. He was close. The cock slid glistening out of Silke; a thread of wetness remained between the glans and her open lips. A drop fell to the floor. Mira turned the platform parallel to the window.

“Put it back in. And Anna: If you flinch, I’ll hear it.”

The blond man took her again. Deeper this time. The curve of his pubic bone pressed against her cushion. Silke moaned around the dark cock in her mouth. The moaning was allowed. Coming wasn’t. She tried to use her head. She didn’t come. She barely didn’t come.

Her thighs trembled in the restraints. Her pussy wanted to devour the blond man and hold him tight. Mira saw it coming soon enough.

“Pull out.”

A second time. The blond man entered her a third time.

Now impatiently. Mira let him. Silke felt him grow thicker, felt the rhythm shift, felt his breath break down into a single gasping breath. The frustration inside her was intense enough to hurt. Every thrust brushed against the point where she could have lost control. Mira stepped up to her head, one hand on the back of the mask, offering no comfort.

“Just one hole today. Holes don’t come. Holes stay still.”

Silke held still. As still as a body can hold still after coming three times on a machine and now being told to jerk off while empty. The blond guy came inside her pussy. Warm. Pulsing. Not much elegance. Bursts against the swollen wall. Silke gasped around the cock in her mouth and didn’t come. Her pussy clenched reflexively, once, just below the threshold. Mira watched the face behind the holes, the stomach, the toes.

He pulled out. The cum dripped immediately. White, thick, a string from the open lips onto the floor of the platform. He left. Pulled up his pants. Two photos were exchanged—ones Mira still owed her.

Two cocks left. Silke’s pussy remained open and dripping. The frustration was intense. The emptiness after being filled was worse than the filling itself. She wanted to rub, to press her hips against the wood, to rest her clit somewhere. The straps forbade it. Mira noticed. Sadistic and precise. She didn’t place two fingers on Silke, only on the padding next to her hip, and tapped out the rhythm that Silke wouldn’t get.

“Down. Breathe. You’re dripping nicely. That’s enough of a picture.” Silke breathed. Spit on her chin. Cum on her slit. The tall one stepped up to her pussy; the fat one stayed at her mouth. The second one came faster. No more long, drawn-out thrusting. He hooked his hands onto the block’s handles and took her with long, deep thrusts; the dark shaft glistened against her whiteness and wetness. Silke sucked the wedding-ring-adorned cock, gagged briefly, then kept going. Mira filmed the drips that the new guy pulled out with him every time he withdrew—a dirty mixture that stuck to his balls.

“Don’t come inside her until I count. Three. Two—”

He stopped. Trembled. Silke’s cunt clamped down on him without permission. Mira smiled.

“One. Now.”

He came inside her, harder than the blond guy, longer spurts—the front wall took it all. Silke almost screamed into the other cock but held back because Mira yanked her nipple at that moment. The pain was new, and the orgasm was gone. For now. He pulled out. Even more white. It flowed out of her in a slow, humiliating arc, over what had already dripped, onto the wood. Two holes filled. One mouth occupied. No orgasm. Silke hung from the block and was exactly what she’d feared.

Just open. Just wet. Just there, so the third one wouldn’t go soft.