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asshole until she screamed into the mattress, the stretch so brutal she thought she'd tear. His grunts, his hot breath on her neck, the way he'd slammed into her harder every time she moaned, as if he was fucking the noise out of her.

Her clit gave a tiny, traitorous twitch. She hated herself for it. In her mind, Dmitri's face came into focus, the boy who had only ever touched her with soft kisses and gentle hands, the pale little cock she had sucked under the blankets back in Russia, giggling when he got too shy to move. He had called her his angel, told her she was the only girl he could ever love. And she had believed it. She thought she loved him too, thought she would wait for him, keep herself only for him.

But now her pussy was still swollen and throbbing from another man's cock, a man who had nothing of love in him, only hunger and filth. The shame hit so hard her chest tightened, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. They spilled before she could stop them, sliding hot down her cheeks as the truth pressed in: she had let a stranger ruin her, and no matter how she tried to lie to herself, a part of her had wanted it in the moment.

Then Roland's voice echoed in her head, low and certain from last night. Friend come. Friend help. You pay.

She knew exactly what "pay" meant.

The truth settled in her chest like a weight, if she wanted to get out of here, she'd have to let them use her again. And the sickest part, the part she couldn't ignore, was that her body already knew it would give in.

Chapter 2 - Ti Zan Arrives The bed groaned under Roland's weight as he shifted, a low grunt rumbling out of his chest. The air in the cabin was heavy with damp wood, old sweat, and the rank musk of sex that clung to the sheets. Nadiya stood by the window, arms wrapped tightly around herself, staring out at the rain. She had barely slept, every creak and shift from him making her flinch.

A scratching sound broke the silence. She looked over and saw his hand digging lazily under the curve of his belly, dragging thick fingers through wiry hair before gripping himself. The blanket slid down and the monster swung into view, the same massive black cock that had split her open like a ripe fruit last night. It hung heavy, dark, veined from base to tip, the fat head drooping low, skin wrinkled and stretched. The shaft was still marked with crusted streaks of cum and her juices, dried pale against the deep black skin. Even limp, it looked indecent, a weapon made for tearing holes apart.

Her throat tightened. Her pussy gave a tiny twitch of heat that made her hate herself. Memories burned through her mind, that cock forcing past her untouched walls, her pussy gripping it helplessly, the tearing ache that had left her gasping and crying, the brutal stretch in her asshole when he'd taken that too. She had never had a cock inside her before last night, and now she felt ruined from both ends, sore in places she never knew could hurt.

Roland swung his legs over the side of the bed, the boards creaking under him. His bare feet slapped the floor as he lumbered toward her, the thick meat of his cock swaying between his legs. His eyes locked on her like he was already inside her again.

"Ah, hello... ti pitin," he said, his deep Creole voice rumbling low as he started lumbering toward her. The word pitin echoed inside her skull, making her stomach turn.

Before she could move, his huge hands were on her ass, each palm covering a cheek completely. He yanked her forward so hard her body jolted into him, her belly slamming against the hot, solid weight of his cock. She could feel the heat of it seeping into her skin, feel it thicken slightly as it pressed between them.

He dropped his face to hers and crushed his mouth against her lips. The sour stench of stale rum and the musk of her own cunt on his breath filled her nose as his filthy tongue shoved deep into her mouth. She tried to turn her head, but his fingers dug into her ass and held her still, his tongue tasting every corner like he owned it. The taste made her gag, liquor, sweat, and the faint salty tang of her own pussy from the night before.

He pulled back just enough to smirk, his beard scratching her cheek. "Friend come... friend car, he help you." Then his hand cracked against her ass so hard she yelped, the sting flashing up her spine. "You... good pitin for friend." The words sank in like a weight, and she understood exactly what he meant, she was to be a good whore for his friend.

He turned away, laughing low in his chest, muttering in Creole, "to pou dans lor nou kok zordi ti pitin" - you will dance on our cocks today little whore.

She edged back into the corner by the window, crossing her arms tight over her chest as if she could fold herself out of sight. Every muscle in her body screamed to run, but where could she go? Her pussy still throbbed from last night's fucking, the ache deep and constant.

Roland tugged on a dirty, sweat-stained shirt and pulled up a pair of worn trousers, the fabric sagging over his hips. He looked over at her. "Ti pitin, you eat?"

She shook her head.

He chuckled, the sound thick and mocking. "You not eat, you drink Tonton cock milk yesterday hahahah good girl."

Her face burned. She stared at the floor, wishing she could disappear.

The deep growl of an engine cut through the rain outside. She turned toward the window and saw a battered 4x4 dragging itself up the muddy track, rust eating its sides, one headlight dead. Relief flared, a car meant escape. But dread followed fast, curling tight in her gut. She already knew escape here came with a price.

A heavy knock rattled the cabin door. Roland strode over and yanked it open. The smell of wet earth swept in along with a slim black man in his fifties. Water dripped from a battered coat as he stepped inside. His face was marked by a long jagged scar running down one side, his yellowed eyes catching every twitch of her body. Patchy hair clung to a balding head, and his clothes were worn and stained.

Roland clapped his shoulder and grinned. "Ti Zan."

Ti Zan's gaze locked on her instantly. For a moment there was a flicker of surprise, then slow, greedy hunger. His eyes dragged over her like filthy hands, taking in the cling of her damp shirt stretched over her tits, the faint outline of her nipples pressing through the thin fabric. He lingered on the curve of her hips, the way her shorts clung to her thighs, and finally on the dark patch between her legs where the wet had soaked through. He didn't blink, drinking her in as if he could already feel how her body would give under him.

Roland started talking fast in Creole, gesturing toward the bed. He wrapped one hand into a fist, pumped it like he was jerking off, then thrust his hips forward in the air. He spread his fingers behind his ass and wiggled them, making Ti Zan chuckle. Nadiya caught words; fesse... liki... gros, and knew he was bragging about splitting her ass and pussy open, about licking her, about how big his cock was inside her holes.

Ti Zan's eyes didn't leave her once. Both men were grinning now, their voices low and filthy. The air in the cabin felt smaller, hotter, like the walls were closing in.

One predator had been bad enough. Now there were two. Both looking at her like she was just a hole to be filled. And deep down, in the place she hated most, her body was already reacting to the thought.

Chapter 3 - Dance for the Men Ti Zan stepped in from the doorway, the rain still clinging to his shirt. His eyes locked on her instantly, raking over every inch like he was measuring what she'd feel like under him. For a moment there was a flicker of surprise, then that slow, greedy hunger.

He walked closer, each step deliberate. "Roland say you lost, girl?" he asked, his deep Creole voice thick in the air.

She hesitated, arms crossing over her chest. "Yes... I—"

He cut her off with a grin. "What's your name?"

"Nadiya," she said quietly.

He rolled the name in his mouth, as if tasting it. "Mmm... I... I like ‘ti pitin' more," he said, eyes gleaming. "Ti pitin good."

The word sank into her stomach like something rotten. She swallowed and looked away, but his stare didn't move.

Roland laughed from his stool, the sound low and knowing. He said something in Creole, the words rolling off his tongue, "That little whore's shy now, but not last night. Her tight ass was swallowing my cock like it was starving for it."

Ti Zan chuckled low, glancing at Roland. They exchanged a few lines in Creole, fast and low. Nadiya couldn't catch all of it, but she caught certain words, moan, cock, ass.

If she'd understood the rest, she would have heard:

"We'll make her moan like a bitch today. Fill her pussy and her asshole, make her cum on both our cocks." "She'll take us both, and she'll beg for it before we're done."

She shifted uneasily, heart pounding in her ears.

Ti Zan leaned forward, his eyes running over her like he was stripping her without touching her. "I help you," he said with a sly smile. "I take you in car... to town."

For a fleeting second, Nadiya felt a spark of relief, almost daring to think she might finally be getting out of this place. But the hope barely had time to take root before his expression shifted.

He glanced at Roland and chuckled, then turned back to her with a look that made her stomach twist. "You pay, eh?"

She frowned. "Pay?"

Roland grinned, leaning forward. "Pay friend," he repeated.

"How?" she asked, genuinely confused.

Ti Zan tilted his head. "You dance... Sexy. You make happy."

Her lips parted in disbelief. "I... Don't know how to dance..."

Roland slapped the seat of a stool, the wood echoing in the small room. "You dance sexy... your man, eh? What name... Dimitri?" he asked, his voice thick with mockery.

"No," Nadiya said quickly, shaking her head. "I've never danced for him."

Roland chuckled, the sound low and filthy. "Now... you learn dance."

He got up, walked to the corner, and hit play on a battered old CD player. The speakers groaned before a slow, dirty sega beat crawled into the room, warped and fuzzy.

Nadiya stayed still, arms tight across her chest. Ti Zan smirked. "Move, pitin."

She took a step, hips swaying awkwardly. Roland's laugh was sharp, Ti Zan's whistle sharp enough to cut the air.

"Roll hips," Ti Zan said. "Bend over," Roland added, voice taunting.

She bent slightly, rolling her hips in a hesitant circle. Her tits shifted under the thin top, her nipples brushing the fabric. Her shorts crept higher on her thighs, showing the first curve of her ass.

Both men hooted like they were watching a stripper on stage. Roland called her ti pitin again and again.

She thought of Dmitri, the shy boy she'd once kissed in the snow. She'd been so innocent then. Now she was swaying her hips for two men whose eyes stripped her bare and burned her skin. How am I doing this? she thought. But something in her, something that woke up last night, wasn't letting her stop.

The beat thumped through the cabin, deep and heavy, and her body betrayed her. She turned slightly, arching her back, and began twerking her firm ass to the rhythm of the music. Each bounce was deliberate, slow at first, then sharper, making the denim stretch tight over her curves. The movement sent a pulse through her thighs and up her spine, her breathing quickening as she felt their stares, hot and hungry, drinking in every shake.

Ti Zan let out a low, filthy chuckle in creole. "Look at that ass, Ti Zan... it's begging for cock."

Roland grinned, leaning forward in his chair. He said in Creole, "Last night I had her moaning like a little slut. Today, I'll make her scream again in both holes." He licked his lips, eyes locked on the way her cheeks clapped together. "Her ass was swallowing my cock, bro... now it's teasing me again."

Their words made her stomach twist with disgust, but her hips kept moving, the music and their raw, hungry stares pulling her deeper into something she didn't want to name.

Ti Zan crooked a finger. "Come dance on me."

She froze, then stepped forward. The moment she was close, he yanked her into his lap, making her straddle him.

Her breath caught, his cock was hard beneath his trousers, pressing right into her crotch. His hands gripped her waist, forcing her hips to grind against him. She tried to hold still, but his grip was iron, moving her until she was dry-humping him.

Roland leaned back against the wall, one hand stroking himself through his pants. He said something in Creole that made Ti Zan laugh. She didn't catch it all, but the words both holes and cum burned in her ears.

Without warning, Ti Zan flipped her over his knees. She landed with her upper body hanging down, her ass high in the air.

He ran his palm slowly over her firm asscheeks, squeezing, testing her like she was meat. "I hear you are good pitin," he said.

She stared at the floor.

SMACK. His hand cracked down. She yelped. "I hear you are good pitin," he said again.

"Y... Yes," she whispered.

Another smack, harder. The sting spread through her ass, and she bit her lip, but a tiny moan slipped out anyway.

Roland chuckled and said in creole to Ti Zan. "She likes it."

Ti Zan spanked her again and again, alternating with slow, possessive rubs. Her ass burned under his hand, the heat throbbing. She hated the way her hips shifted involuntarily, hated the wetness gathering between her thighs, but she couldn't stop it.

Chapter 4 - The First Payment The music was still playing from the battered radio, a slow, dirty bassline rolling through the cabin like it was made for moments like this. Nadiya was still catching her breath from the lap dance, her skin hot from Ti Zan's constant spanking, the heat lingering low in her belly.

Ti Zan leaned back in his stool, eyes glued to her. "Shorts... remove, ti pitin," he said, voice low but commanding.

She froze, glancing from him to Roland, but Ti Zan only raised his chin, that lazy smirk daring her to argue. Slowly, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts and pushed them down over her hips. The denim slid to the floor, revealing the white thong stretched tight between the two perfect, round globes of her ass. The fabric was buried deep in the cleft, the curve of her hips smooth and flawless.

Ti Zan gave a grunted in creole. "Look at that ass. Tight as fuck. That's the kind of view a man could die on." His eyes roamed down her legs and back up again, lingering on the swell of her cheeks. "Bet she leaves claw marks when she's bouncing on a cock."

"Top... remove," Ti Zan said.

Her hands trembled as she pulled her top over her head, her breasts spilling free, firm and full, nipples already stiff from the chill air.

Roland leaned forward, licking his lips. "Goddamn. Perfect tits. Firm enough to slap, soft enough to fuck."

Ti Zan chuckled darkly. "When she walks, those tits will bounce right in my face."

Nadiya's face burned crimson, her arms twitching as though to cover herself, but both men's stares pinned her in place.

"Sit ti pitin," Ti Zan ordered, patting the wooden table beside him.

She obeyed slowly, climbing up until she was perched on the rough surface. The cold wood met her bare thighs, making her shiver.

"Open legs," Ti Zan said.

Her knees edged apart reluctantly, the white thong now stretched tight over the mound between her thighs.

Ti Zan tilted his head, eyes fixed on the damp patch in the fabric. "Touch pussy, ti pitin. Show us you good pitin."

"I... I don't know how to...," she whispered.

Roland smirked. "You know. Yesterday you scream with cock in ass, now you shy?"

Ti Zan's voice hardened. "We see your pussy wet... now you play."

She still hesitated, her stomach flipping, her cheeks hot.

Her breath came faster, shame prickling over her skin. Slowly, she hooked her thumb into the thong and dragged it aside. Cool air hit her bare slit, the pink lips glistening already from the heat in her body.

"Beautiful pussy," Roland murmured, stroking himself lazily.

"Two fingers," Ti Zan said, his eyes locked on hers.

She slid her hand down, grazing her clit before dragging her fingers through the slick between her folds. The sound was soft but obscene. She pushed two fingers inside, her breath catching as her thighs trembled.

Roland muttered something in Creole to Ti Zan, and she caught only words like"make her scream." Both men laughed.

Ti Zan's eyes locked on the way her fingers spread her slit, the pink glistening as they slid in and out. Both men were stroking their cocks through their clothes, their eyes glued to every movement. Ti Zan's breathing grew heavier, his jaw tight, he could no longer take it. His stool scraped the floor as he stood, stepping in close. He caught her wrist, pulling her hand away. Before she could react, his head dropped between her legs, his mouth sealing over her pussy. His tongue was hot and relentless, licking her open and fucking her with deep, hungry strokes.

She gasped, her back arching despite herself.

Roland stepped closer, grabbed her jaw, and tilted her face toward him. "Open that mouth."

Before she could answer, his cock was pushing between her lips, thick and heavy. He groaned when she moaned around him, the vibrations making his cock throb in her throat.

Ti Zan sucked her clit hard, then dragged his tongue down to fuck her with it. Roland held her head still, feeding her more cock, his hips rocking in slow, deep thrusts.

Her mind screamed at her to stop, but her body was grinding down onto Ti Zan's mouth, chasing that rising burn. Her moans came wet and broken around Roland's shaft, drool sliding down her chin.

Roland laughed low, glancing down at her with pure filth in his eyes said in creole. "She's gonna cum right on your face, bro. Look at her, she's gone."

The knot in her belly snapped, pleasure tearing through her as she came on Ti Zan's tongue, her thighs jerking. "Ah, ahh, fuck, oh Yes" she gasped around Roland's cock, the words muffled as drool spilled down her chin. "Don't stop... don't stop..." Her muffled cries vibrated against his shaft, making him grunt as her moans turned into broken, breathless whimpers, "Dah—dah—fuck"

Ti Zan pulled back just enough to wipe his slick-covered mouth with the back of his hand, grinning at Roland. Both men laughed, Ti Zan saying in Creole that it was a great pussy, while Roland stroked her cheek with his cock like she was their little toy.

Chapter 5 - The False Escape The music was still thumping low, the bass vibrating through the warped wooden floor. Nadiya's breath came in shaky pulls, thighs trembling, her chin wet from Roland's cock and her pussy still slick from Ti Zan's tongue. She sat on the edge of the table, knees pressed together, clutching her backpack like a shield. The stink of sweat, cum, and the sour tang of beer hung heavy in the room.

Ti Zan was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes glinting like he'd just thought of something wicked. He turned to Roland, muttering in Creole, low and deliberate so she couldn't understand. Roland's lips curled into a knowing grin. They chuckled together, glancing her way, the sound crawling under her skin. She didn't know what they'd just agreed to, but she could feel it wasn't innocent.

Then Ti Zan's voice softened, almost playful. "Dress up, Ti Pitin. I take you car. We go town."

The words hit her like a rope thrown to someone drowning. For a second she just stared at Ti Zan, not believing he'd said dress up instead of bending her over. She'd been sure they were about to fuck her right there on the table, and a sick part of her realised she'd been bracing for it, maybe even waiting for it to happen. The shock snapped her out of it. She pushed herself off the table, tugging her white thong back into place between her sore, firm cheeks. Her shorts slid up over her ass, but she still felt their eyes on her like a touch. She yanked her top over her bare tits, the fabric sticking for a second to the faint sheen of sweat and spit.

She grabbed her small backpack, her only piece of herself left in this place, and slung it over her shoulder. For the first time since yesterday, she felt a flicker of relief. Maybe she'd get out. Maybe she'd see a main road. Maybe...

Outside, the air was damp and cold, the smell of wet earth filling her lungs. Ti Zan's truck rattled when he started it, headlights cutting through the mist that coiled between the trees. She slid into the backseat, keeping her backpack clutched to her lap, eyes fixed on the dirt road ahead.

The forest closed in on both sides, the canopy dripping from last night's storm. The wipers squealed across the glass. Ti Zan drove with one hand, the other resting loose on his thigh, his eyes flicking to her in the rearview every few minutes. His mouth twitched with a half-smile, like he was holding back a laugh only he understood.

Her pussy was still wet, a dull throb between her legs that made her shift in her seat. She didn't really understand the sudden change, why they'd stopped touching her, but the ache was still there, craving more. She pushed it down, she was getting out of these woods, and now that was all that mattered.

Then his phone lit up. He snatched it up and spoke in Creole, his tone quick and sharp. She couldn't understand the words, but his grin widened, teeth flashing in the dim cab light.

The main pathway never came. Instead, he slowed and swung the truck down a narrow, rutted path barely wide enough for the tires. Mud splashed up the sides, branches scraping against the doors.

Her stomach tightened. "Where... where are we going?"

"Need gas," he said simply, eyes still forward.

Gas? Out here? She turned her head, only trees, dripping and silent. No buildings. No people. Just green shadows. The air in the pickup felt heavier now, like it was pressing her into the seat.

The path ended at a sagging cabin with a tin roof that rattled in the wind. Ti Zan pulled the pickup to a stop, the engine coughing before falling silent. Rain dripped from the trees, pattering on the roof. He looked back at her over his shoulder with that sly half-smile.

"Ti Pitin,. Go inside," he said, gesturing toward the door. "We put gas."

Her fingers tightened around the straps of her small backpack. She hesitated, glancing at the dripping forest on both sides, the deep mud under her shoes. A knot of unease curled in her gut, something about the way Ti Zan's smile lingered, the way Roland's eyes didn't meet hers, felt off. But she didn't dare to question it. Better inside than out here in the wet. She slid out of the truck, Roland already lighting a cigarette beside the cab.

Ti Zan went ahead, boots squelching in the mud, and pulled open the cabin door. A wave of heat rolled out, thick with the stench of stale smoke, sweat, and something metallic. She stepped inside and froze.

Three black men were sprawled around a scarred wooden table, cards and empty bottles scattered in front of them. All three turned to her at once, their eyes snapping up from the table to roam over her body in long, slow sweeps. Their stares weren't just looking, they were feeling. Pulling at her clothes. Peeling her bare.

The air seemed to thicken, heavy with the stink of sweat, smoke, and male hunger. In that instant, she understood exactly what was about to happen. They were going to touch her again, grope every inch, strip her down, and finish what Roland and Ti Zan had started. They were going to fuck her, hard, without mercy. Her pussy started throbbing and her heart began to race, and she knew she had to be a good ti pitin.

The first one leaned back in his chair, his gaze dropping straight to her tits. He smirked, muttering something in Creole to the others. She didn't understand, but his eyes said it all, he was picturing her topless, tits bouncing in his hands, her nipples shoved between his lips while he squeezed her hard enough to make her gasp. He made a squeezing motion with both hands that made the others snicker.

The second man's gaze locked on her hips, tracing the curve of her shorts where the white thong cut up between her ass cheeks. He said something slow and low, his voice like gravel, his stare never leaving her ass. She didn't know the words, but the way he licked his lips and rolled his hips told her, he was describing bending her over that table, shoving her thong aside, and ramming himself so deep in her asshole she'd be biting her arm to keep from screaming. His friends roared with laughter at whatever detail he added, one of them slapping the table in approval.

The third tilted his head, eyes fixed on the space between her thighs. He muttered in Creole, his tone thick and hungry, making a slow "V" with two fingers and pushing them toward his mouth in a filthy gesture. The others howled, and she didn't need a translation, he was talking about spreading her pussy open, tonguing her until she squirted, then shoving his cock in while the others watched.

Her skin prickled, a flush creeping up her chest. She felt naked under their stares, like they were already unzipping her, pulling her top over her head, sliding her shorts down. She could almost feel their fingers hooking in her thong, tugging it down, their hands gripping her thighs to hold her open. Her stomach twisted in fear... and yet, deep inside, that same dark, traitorous throb she hated was there again.

Ti Zan stepped in behind her and shut the door with a heavy thud. He said something to them in Creole, his voice dripping filth, making all three men grin wide. One rubbed the thick bulge in his pants, another ran his tongue over his teeth, the third just kept staring at her like he was imagining exactly how she'd sound with all of them inside her.

She clutched her backpack tighter, the leather straps digging into her palms. The rain outside suddenly sounded distant, muffled, like the world beyond these walls didn't exist anymore. This wasn't an escape, it was her walking straight into another filthy, raw experience her body was already betraying her for. Her pussy throbbed hot, her chest rising faster, knowing she was about to be their good little ti pitin all over again.

Chapter 6 - The Gangbang The second the cabin door slammed shut, the air changed. The scrape of three chairs ripping back on the wooden floor cut through the space like a blade. All three men stood at once, eyes locked on Nadiya like starving dogs on fresh meat, and there was plenty to feast on.

Her damp white top clung to her firm tits, the thin fabric outlining every curve of her nipples. Her shorts rode high on her hips, the denim cutting into the soft flesh and framing the perfect curve of her ass. Her long blonde hair was a tangled, messy halo from sweat and rain, strands sticking to the flushed skin of her cheeks and neck. Her lips were plump and swollen, still carrying the faint sheen from drooling on cock, and her thighs held that guilty, slick shine between them where her pussy was still leaking from earlier. She looked like the kind of beautiful, fuckable slut a man could ruin for hours, and the kind of slut who would come back for more. Roland and Ti Zan stood right behind her, sealing the only exit like guards keeping their prize in place.

No words, no questions, just hands. One man's fist twisted in her top and ripped it so fast the cotton tore open down the middle, her tits bouncing free into the heavy, smoky air. Another yanked her shorts down in a single violent tug, denim burning her thighs as it scraped her skin and pooled at her knees before she could even gasp.

Her arms were wrenched above her head, wrists pinned in an iron grip while their friends swarmed her. Fingers were shoved into her mouth, pressing hard into her cheeks until she gagged, then yanked out slick with spit and dragged across her nipples. Palms squeezed her tits like they were testing meat for sale, thumbs rolling her nipples until they were stiff points. Another hand was already between her legs, fingers finding the heat through her thong and pressing against her slit, rubbing until the damp patch spread.

Her pussy was throbbing so hard it almost hurt, each rough touch sending a hot jolt up her spine. Her heart hammered in her chest, a frantic rhythm that matched the pulse between her legs. She should have been fighting, screaming, anything, but instead there was a sick, shameful curiosity curling deep inside her. The way their filthy hands owned her body, the way their eyes devoured her like she was nothing but a fucktoy to be used, it made her wonder how far they'd go. And even worse... how far she'd let them. She could feel herself getting wetter, her cunt betraying her with every second, craving to see what these filthy men would do to their new little slut.

They barked short, filthy bursts in Creole between laughs — "Mari fesse ar li sa" ("She has such a great ass") — "Bizin bien your li sa" ("she needs to be fucked good") — their voices sharp with the joy of stripping her bare. She couldn't understand every word, but she didn't need to. The way they grinned told her enough.

Roland growled something low, and in unison, all five men shoved their trousers down. Heavy, veined, black cocks swung free into the air, every one of them thick enough to hurt, their fat heads already shining with pre-cum. They surrounded her so close she could feel the heat radiating off them. Every turn of her head met another shaft brushing her cheek, smearing her with their musk.

The smell was dizzying, pure male funk, sweat, and the salty tang of pre-cum thick in the warm air. Ti Zan grabbed her hand and wrapped it around his shaft, making her stroke him with enough force to make her knuckles ache. A rough shove from behind sent her stumbling forward, and before she could catch herself, they forced her down to her knees on the splintered floor. She was instantly face-to-face with a wall of heavy, swinging cocks, thick, veined shafts swaying inches from her lips, their fat heads glistening and dripping strings of pre-cum that almost brushed her cheeks. The heat coming off them made her skin prickle, and every breath she took was filled with their musk. Another man stepped closer and pressed the tip of his filthy huge black cock against her lips, smearing it over her mouth until she parted them.

Her thong was hooked and yanked so hard it burned her hips. The elastic snapped, the scrap of fabric pulled up to one man's face where he sniffed deep before tossing it at Roland. She felt hands spreading her ass wide, thumbs pressing her open so all of them could see her swollen pussy and her tight pink asshole, both still sore and raw from the night before.

Spit hit her skin, hot and wet, running down her crack as rough fingers worked it into her asshole. She started moaning, the sounds muffled around the thick cock stuffing her mouth, the vibrations running down his shaft and making him groan as her tongue twitched helplessly beneath it.

Roland's voice cut through: "Arch back, ti pitin." She obeyed without thinking, dipping her spine and pushing her ass higher until it was the center of the room. The position bared everything, her perfect, round cheeks spread wide, her pussy puffy and glistening, her tight pink asshole still wet from spit, both holes looking freshly used and aching for more.

It happened fast. Ti Zan lay back on the floor under her, hooking his arms under her thighs and dragging her down onto his cock. Her pussy fought him at first, clenching tight around the thick head, the tender walls stretching wider and wider until the swollen crown finally punched through. She gasped, the sudden burn melting into a deep, throbbing ache as inch after inch forced its way inside, prying her open until her hips met his with a wet slap. Fuck, he's splitting me in two... The thought hit unbidden, shame flooding her cheeks even as her cunt squeezed around him.

A second man was behind her, the blunt, fat head of his cock pressing hard against her tight ring. The pressure built until the muscle gave with a brutal pop, her asshole gripping him like a vice even as he pushed deeper, the stretch so intense it sent a shockwave up her spine. I can feel every vein, every throb... it's too much... it's so fucking full. Her back arched and her breath hitched as the last inches buried inside her.

Before she could even recover, a third was in front, jamming his cock between her lips and driving it so deep her throat bloomed around it, the thick shaft sliding down until she felt the hard bulge pushing against the front of her neck. All three holes stuffed... I can't move... I'm just their cock-sleeve now. The shame and heat tangled in her belly, making her moan around the shaft choking her.

She was locked in place, every twitch of her body rubbed against a cock. The room was filled with the wet slap of balls, the slick slide of cocks in her holes, her own muffled gagging and moaning vibrating around the shaft in her throat. Saliva poured down her chin, dripping onto Ti Zan's belly as her asshole was pounded wide behind her.

She moaned around the cock in her throat, the sound wet and desperate, her body trembling between them. The thick shafts in her pussy and ass hammered into her from both sides, the brutal rhythm driving her higher until her vision blurred. Her thighs began to shake, her cunt clenching and spasming around Ti Zan's cock as the wave hit, she came hard on them, soaking his balls and the base of his shaft, the heat of it mixing with the mess already dripping down her.

The men felt it, groaning at how tight she suddenly gripped them, and instead of slowing, they fucked her harder, pounding through her orgasm like they were trying to fuck another one out of her before the first had even finished. They barked at her in Creole, their voices thick with filthy laughter, telling her she was nothing but a little whore, that her pussy was milking their cocks like it belonged to them, that she'd keep cumming on them until she couldn't walk.

They started swapping without warning. The cock in her ass slid out, leaving her gaping, only for another to slam into her pussy. The one in her throat pulled free with a wet pop and was instantly replaced by the one that had been inside her ass, the taste of herself and spit thick on it. Cum-slick and drool-wet shafts moved from hole to hole, the mess building with every thrust.

Her hair was a leash, yanked to steer her mouth onto the next man's cock, jerking her so fast her lips smacked wetly against them. Hands were everywhere, thumbs grinding her clit, palms squeezing her tits until her nipples burned, fingers pressing into her cheeks to force her jaw wider.

The Creole filth rained down on her from every side. "Ti pitin ou kontan sa" — little whore, you love that. "Ou pou bwar tou nou difout la" — you will drink all our cum. "Baisse to fesse pli for" — drop your ass lower. They laughed as they called her whore, slut, cock-sucker, ti pitn. One even made her repeat the word "ti pitin" with a cock halfway down her throat, making them roar.

Roland took her from behind so hard the sound of skin smacking echoed louder than the rain hammering the roof. Her moans turned into raw, high cries, words spilling between gasps. "Ahhh yes fuck me deeper ohhh Tonton ohhh Ti Zan ahhhhhh—" Her legs shook, pussy clenching desperately around whatever cock was inside her in that moment.

She came again, the orgasm ripping through her before the last one had even faded, her pussy fluttering and squeezing around the thick shaft inside her like it was trying to hold it in. Every brutal thrust only fed the heat, forcing her higher, until her whole body was trembling in a mess of sweat and spit. They didn't let her ride it out, they kept driving into her, switching holes, filling her from every angle, dragging more and more climaxes out of her. She lost count, cumming over and over, each one wetter, messier, and more desperate than the last, until she was gasping and sobbing from the overload, her cunt and ass raw but still clenching greedily for more cock.

They were grunting now, close. A flood of hot cum hit her asshole first, dripping down her crack. Roland groaned and pumped into her pussy, filling her until it leaked down her thighs. A third pulled out of her mouth and painted her face, streaks dripping from her lashes to her lips, where another hand smeared it and forced her to lick it off.

By the time the last man finished across her tits, she was swaying on her knees in a puddle of sweat, spit, and semen. Cum leaked thick from her ass and pussy, strands clung to her hair, her tits gleamed with it. Her chest rose and fell fast, eyes glazed, mouth slack. A perfect used pitin, and deep inside, she loved it.

Chapter 7 - The Realisation The cabin was thick with heat and the stink of sex, the air heavy enough to taste. Nadiya lay sprawled on the splintered floor, her body limp, every muscle spent. Cum leaked in slow, sticky rivulets from her gaping pussy and her aching asshole, pooling between her thighs before trailing down onto the dirty wood. Her face was streaked and glazed, the drying mess tight on her skin, her hair matted into damp knots that clung to her cheeks and neck. Her tits were covered in the fading sheen of their release, streaks drying into pale crusts, her nipples still stiff against the cooling air.

She could hear them behind her, voices low and laughing in Creole. She couldn't catch every word, but the tone told her enough, they were talking about tomorrow, about what they'd do to her next. One burst out laughing, another slapped the table, and she caught fragments in English: "holes," "longer," "make her beg." The sound made her stomach twist... but it wasn't only dread that bloomed in her chest.

Her body still tingled, every nerve raw from overuse. Her clit throbbed with a faint, maddening pulse, each beat a reminder of how many times they had wrung her out. She could still feel the ghost of their cocks inside her, the stretch in her ass, the deep ache in her pussy, the way her throat still felt tender from being used. She hated that her hips shifted slightly against the floor, chasing that phantom friction.

Rain hammered the tin roof, the steady rhythm blurring into the pounding of her own heartbeat. She closed her eyes, trying to drift, but there was no escape. Not from the sound of their laughter. Not from the knowledge settling deep inside her chest. She wasn't leaving this place. Not until they were finished with her.

And the worst part, the part that made her bite her lip hard enough to taste blood, was the truth she could no longer deny. Somewhere inside her broken, shivering body, she craved it. The rough hands. The filthy words. The stretch and the sting and the heat of being passed from cock to cock. Her shame and her arousal twisted together until she didn't know where one ended and the other began.

She curled onto her side, her thighs pressing together, cum squelching between them. The rain kept falling, the men kept talking, and she lay there in the middle of it all, marked, leaking, and waiting. She belonged to them now. And she would until they decided otherwise.

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