Almost

Lana is not yet done.

“Get up.”

Kyler does not get up. She is face-down in the sheet, cunt leaking, legs not taking orders. A sound comes out of her that is not a word.

Lana grabs her hair and pulls.

Kyler comes up gasping, dragged to her knees on the mattress, eyes unfocused. Lana turns her toward Adam. His cock is wet, heavy, streaked with her and with the load that didn’t stay inside.

“Clean it,” Lana says. “Dutifully. You don’t sleep with my husband’s cum drying on him. Lick it. Suck it. Get it off him.”

Kyler sways and opens. She takes the head. She licks, slow, wrecked, tongue dragging up the shaft, swallowing what she can reach. Spit and cum. She does it because the fist in her hair does not offer another choice. Lana keeps her there and talks.

“That’s it. Clean the cock that just ruined you. Taste your cunt. Taste his load. You were gaping. You were screaming. Now you’re a washcloth. Don’t you stop because you’re shaking. My husband doesn’t wear a gym girl's cunt on his cock. Get the underside. Get the head. Swallow. You wanted to be used.”

Kyler moans around him, barely there. Her hands brace on his thigh. She sucks, dutiful, sloppy, almost tender in how destroyed she is. Lana does not let the tenderness become rest.

“Look at you. Held up by the hair. Mouth full. Pussy still dripping on the sheet. You’re a cunt I brought to the house. You got the pounding. You got filled. Now you clean. If you pass out on his cock I’ll slap you awake. Finish it.”

Kyler’s eyes flutter. She keeps licking. A last swallow. Her body tips.

She almost passes out with him still against her tongue.

Lana’s hand cracks across her ass. Sharp. Kyler jolts, a yelp, eyes open again.

“No,” Lana says. “You don’t sleep in the bed. You’re a toy. A cunt that got used. Toys don’t get the marriage mattress. You sleep on the rug. That’s the place. Under us.”

She hauls Kyler by the hair to the edge and tosses her.

Kyler hits the rug on her side, naked, cum on her thighs, mouth wet, and the last of her gives out. She passes out there. Breathing. Gone. A used body on the floor.

The bedroom is quiet except for that.

Lana looks at Adam on the bed. She climbs up beside him, glasses still on, and looks at his face.

“Did I do well?”