She has to

Emily’s legs folded before her mind caught up, her knees pressing to the cold rubber of the floor, arms limp at her sides. The temperature of the room hit her fully now—chill against bare skin, goosebumps prickling across her arms, her back, her thighs.

Her breathing came shallow. Eyes fixed straight ahead.

The taller guard stepped close, unhurried. The tip of his cock, flushed and thickening with each heartbeat, hung at eye level now—heavy, veined, the smell of his skin and arousal suddenly inescapable.

“Open your mouth,” he said. No cruelty. No urgency. Just command.

Emily’s lips parted, but only a little. Her jaw stiff, her body locked.

A hand came down, fingers threading into her hair—not yanking, but firm. He tilted her head back.

“Wider.”

She opened for him.

The head of his cock met her tongue—warm, unwashed, the taste already bitter and raw at the edges. He didn’t wait. He pushed forward, easing into her mouth, inch by inch, until the tip pressed past her tongue and brushed the back of her throat.

She gagged.

His hand held her still, letting her adjust, letting her panic in place. Her thighs tensed. Her fists clenched on her knees.

“Breathe through your nose,” he murmured, not unkind.

The second man shifted beside them, phone steady in hand, camera lens trained on her face—her wide eyes, her stretched lips, the soft, humiliating sounds of wet breath and stifled chokes.

“Fuck, look at that,” he muttered. “Bet that mouth hasn’t been used like this in a while.”

The first one began to move—slow thrusts at first, careful, watching her reactions. Her lips stretched taut, jaw aching as the shaft slid deeper each time, bumping into her throat again and again.

Drool slipped from the corner of her mouth, down her chin.

“Messy girl,” he said, smiling now. “You’ll get used to it.”

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

His rhythm increased, shallow at first, then deeper. Her breath hitched every time he bottomed out against the back of her throat. Her eyes blurred. Her nipples, flushed and stiff, brushed her forearms where they hung at her sides.

The sound of him using her mouth filled the small room—slick, wet, obscene.

Then suddenly, he pulled out with a pop, strings of spit trailing between them.

He looked down at her, face flushed.

“Turn around.”

Emily hesitated.

A slap landed across her cheek—not hard, but sharp enough to shock her.

He didn’t repeat the command.

She turned. Slowly. Bent forward on hands and knees. The mat was cold against her breasts, her thighs trembling. Her pussy, pink and slightly swollen from friction against her own skin, glistened faintly.

Behind her, the second man dropped to his knees.

Unzipping.