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Chapter 7 by Kristobal Kristobal

Do they keep going?

Yes

Emily remained frozen on her hands and knees, hair falling across her face, chest rising and falling in short, stunned breaths. The rubber mat beneath her felt like ice against her skin—her nipples brushing the surface as they swayed, hard, flushed, aching. Her thighs trembled. Her slick folds, spread and bared, twitched in anticipation and fear.

The guard behind her crouched low, one hand gripping her hip tightly while the other slid between her legs to test her slit. Two fingers parted her easily, the wetness obscene, coating his knuckles.

“Goddamn,” he breathed, spreading her wider. “You’re soaking. You want this more than you’re letting on.”

She bit her lip, fists clenched on the floor.

Then he shoved inside.

No warning. No rhythm. Just the blunt head of his cock slamming in, stretching her wide around him. Her pussy clenched violently, unprepared, dragging a raw, guttural moan from her throat. She rocked forward on impact, ass jiggling, the obscene wet slop of penetration echoing through the small room.

“Ah—nnnh—!”

He didn’t wait for her to adjust. He grabbed both hips, planting his feet, and began to drive into her, hard. Every thrust mashed her pussy lips against his base, his balls slapping rhythmically against her soaked entrance. Slick coated her thighs, thick strings of it trailing down her inner legs with every pounding stroke.

Emily’s breasts bounced with every impact, her nipples grazing the floor, leaving damp streaks as she moaned, breath hitching, saliva hanging in strands from her open mouth.

The second guard stepped forward, cock swollen, glistening with the remnants of her mouth. He gripped her hair, twisted her neck slightly, and slapped the tip of his shaft against her cheek, smearing it with his precum. Her lips opened automatically. Dazed. Programmed now.

“Take it again,” he ordered.

She did. Her mouth stretched wide, his cock filling her past her tongue in one smooth thrust. Her lips sealed around the shaft, her cheeks hollowing, spit bubbling around the corners. As he thrust, she gurgled and choked, eyes fluttering, mascara-less lashes wet with tears.

The man behind her grunted louder, sweat dripping from his brow, his cock pistoning faster into her soaked cunt, the sound now a filthy, rhythmic clap.

“Fucking hell,” he growled. “Look at her ass—watch it bounce.”

He pulled out just far enough to see her hole stretch and cling to the tip of his cock—her inner walls rippling, greedy, ****, even as she whimpered. Then he shoved back in, hard enough to rock her forward on her elbows.

She was drooling now, thick ropes of spit swinging down onto her tits as the man face-fucked her, one hand gripping her jaw, the other steadying her forehead. He thrust shallow and sharp, tapping the back of her throat with every inch.

Then the one behind her came.

He shoved himself to the hilt, pressing his groin flush to her ass, cock jerking deep inside her. A pulse. Then hot spurts—thick, flooding her pussy, warmth blooming inside her like a shockwave. Her body tensed involuntarily, hips jerking.

He didn’t move right away—just stayed buried, panting.

When he pulled out, a stream of cum spilled immediately, trailing thick and white down her thighs, seeping over her folds in slow, obscene drips.

The second guard pulled from her mouth, slick with her spit, and stroked himself rapidly—her red, glistening lips parted, breathless, her face soaked. He came with a grunt, ropes splattering across her mouth, her chin, the tops of her breasts. His seed clung to her flushed skin in stringy arcs, some dribbling between her tits, some clinging to her eyelashes.

Emily collapsed fully to the floor, ass high, cunt still twitching, drooling cum with each throb of her violated hole.

Neither man spoke.

The camera stayed rolling.

What now?

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