You're taken upstairs

The four bandits half-drag, half-carry you up the narrow, creaky stairs of the tavern. You feel heavy and distant. Like a mirage with no clear foundation. They kick open the door to a dingy room at the end of a hallway and shove you inside.

The only furniture is a large, worn-out bed with stained sheets and a single flickering lantern on a small table. The leader locks the door. They size you up with expecting eyes, looking pleased with themselves.

You're pushed onto the bed. You land on your back and settle into the hard mattress.

The thin and wiry fellow climbs on first. He spreads your leg roughly, and thrusts in without foreplay. The bed creaks beneath as he continues to fuck you. At the same time, the broad-shouldered man forces his cock into your mouth, smelling of musk and meat. The leader stands on the side. Looking pleased. Fondling you at sporadic intervals for no clear reason.

They take turns over time. Switching between mouth, pussy, and groping.

Cum soon starts leaking down your thighs and lips as they fill you again and again in every hole they so please. Words, conversations, and sentences zoom out by, seeming more like vague references than concrete words. There's a vague thought, a passing question about what happens if they keep finishing inside. The idea that a stray bit of seed might work its way into your womb and implant itself.

But even that fades. Like tears in the rain.

“Get knocked up with my bastard, you stupid whore.”

“Look how she takes it. The woman's a natural born slut.”

“That's it... swallow my cum.”

Time passes in a rough daze. Everything seems so brittle and hot, and it becomes hard to think, much less acknowledge what's happening. Before long, you pass into a long slumber, awaiting the coming morrow.