The Seven-Day Marathon: Day Four (Friday 12:00 a.m. – Saturday 12:00 a.m.) – “The Identity Funeral”

96:00:00 flipped to 95:59:59 and the lights went black.

When they came back on, a single spotlight illuminated a small steel table in the center of the room.

On it lay the same framed photo of Ethan Park from his first day of senior year, next to a simple cardboard tombstone that read:

R.I.P. ETHAN PARK

Cause of ****: total surrender

The thirty bulls stood in a silent semicircle, hoods on, cocks hard, waiting.

Eva was dragged forward and **** to kneel in front of the photo.

Day Four was the funeral of everything she used to be.

One by one the men stepped up, looked her in the eyes, and spoke a short eulogy:

“Ethan Park was a scared little boy who disappeared the first time he begged for cock.”

“Ethan Park died the day he signed his body away for good.”

“Ethan Park is survived by one cum-drunk sissy whore who will never speak his name again.”

After each line, a bull crossed out “ETHAN” on her skin with thick black marker and wrote a new word over it:

CUM DUMP

BREEDING SOW

CASH COW

BLACK-OWNED

By the end there wasn’t a single place on her body that still carried her old name.

They made her crawl slow laps around the room while the photo of the boy she used to be was held in front of her face.

“Look at him,” they taunted.

“That kid’s gone. You killed him. Every load you took murdered another piece of him.”

They kept her on the breeding bench for hours, taking turns slow and deep, forcing her to stare at the picture the entire time.

“Say goodbye, bitch. Say goodbye to the last thing left of Ethan.”

When her voice finally cracked and she whispered “goodbye,” they came all at once (painting the photo, her face, her brands in thick ropes).

The picture was torn in half and the pieces pressed against her swollen belly like a **** mask.

At the very end they laid her on her back, surrounded by the shredded remains of her old identity, and fucked her one last time while chanting:

“Dead boy. Dead name. Dead life.

All that’s left is hole.”

96 hours became 72.

Day Four complete.

Eva lay in the wreckage, eyes empty, the torn photo stuck to her cum-soaked skin.

Mistress’s voice drifted over the speakers:

“Rest, my perfect little ghost.

Three more days, and even the memory of who you were will be gone forever.”

The lights dimmed.

Thirty shadows moved in the dark, ready for the next resurrection.

End of Day Four.

Chapter 22 (Day Five) coming next…5.1s