Flat On Your Back.

You crumble to the floor with a heavy smack. In your daze it takes you a moment to realize that Heather is hovering over you. By the time you start to reach out to push her away it's already too late. You feel something pierce your pussy and your eyes go wide, your arms losing all strength.

Heather smiles and sits back on her haunches, hips pumping. You moan and contort. You don't know if it's you, the gas, or both but your pussy is on fire. After just a few thrusts you're finding it hard to concentrate. You try to crawl away, **** to gain some distance, but Heather laughs and pulls you back.

"No escape now, bitch," she laughs. "You're my personal cock sleeve until I say so."

Her words make your head swim. You know you should fight back, curse at her, kick, scream, something. But you forget why. Why is being a cock sleeve so bad? Your pussy certainly seems to like it. So instead of screaming curse words you moan as you get plowed into the arena floor.

Heather let's out a maniacal laugh, "We got a squealer! Make some noise for me, cow! Let me see your dick explode from your pussy getting fucked!"

Seconds later Heather gets her wish. You let out your loudest moan yet and feel both your pussy and your dick throb and release their loads. All semblance of resistance flees your mind as pleasure takes root.

Heather keeps you there for a long time. After a few minutes your moans become softer, more exhausted things. You barely feel anything besides the raw pleasure which threatens to consume you. You feel your body seize and twist of it's own accord as someone covers you in warm sticky liquid. You hear noises, voices maybe, but they seem indistinct. You're tired...