5: Six More Orgasms

HAZEL

I was slutted out.

For the next few hours, I had all sorts of things done to me.

I had my second orgasm on the bed. With my legs thrown over A’s shoulders and his tongue lapping at my essence and tongue fucking me like it was the last thing he'd ever do while the other laid by my sides, head raised and lips working wonders on my boobs. My moans and whimpers and gasps had filled the room with the groans of satisfaction and a raspy voice that told me I tasted delicious and he could eat me out all day.

I had my third orgasm on the bed too. With a strong pair of hands holding my waist and pulling my hips to match his thrusts as he wrecked me with what I'd describe as an agent of destruction. His dick alive in me, pulsing and reaching depths that made stars explode behind my eyes. That was too intense on its own, and the sensation from it alone was enough to make me pass out, but I still have a thicker one in my mouth, pumping in and out while his hand held my ponytail and moved my head to match his thrusts. A third dick was on my chest, gliding over my nipple and really destroying my senses. I came with a scream and a shudder. I felt alive, truly alive and free, in this dark room with these faceless men that were fucking me into oblivion.

I had my fourth orgasm on the floor, on all fours with one kneeling behind me and thrusting into me from his position while another held my head up with my ponytail and fucked my mouth like that was the only thing it was made for. I couldn't tell where the third one was, probably on the bed and biding his time. I heard him move when the guy finished in me, his cum dripping down my thighs while I was held up by forces beyond me. I was worn out and sated at the same time. He took A’s position with a smack that made me gasp around the dick in my mouth and that eased the dick further into my mouth. My eyes watered.

It felt like heaven. Like bliss and perfection.

I had my fifty orgasm on my knees and my hands wrapped around two dicks. I thought I'd be clumsy with the handjob they wordlessly requested from me but the wet, thick, veiny, and bulging cocks came alive in my hands and it drove my hands to move faster while they groaned and gasped. Occasionally, I found my mouth opening and my tongue darting out for a taste. That pleased them, and I felt like a good student who made her teachers proud. The sensation of the double hand jobs was enough to drive me over the edge but it was truly the face I was sitting on, the fingers holding my pussy lips apart and the tongue, curled and skillfully going in and out of me that made me come undone. He licked and sucked till I was dry and wet again.

By now, my breathing was labored, my heart pounding, and my eyes tired.

“I'm tired,” I managed to grit out but I was pushed down on all fours again and the minute I was thrusted into, my tiredness became a thing of the past.

I had my sixth and final orgasm on the floor again. On her fours and two of them simultaneously fucking me: they took turns with two thrusts each while the last one fucked my face.

When they were done, I was dripping in cum: my face, my chest, my thighs. I was happy, happier than I've ever been in my entire life. I felt thoroughly worshipped, like I mattered, they had put my pleasure first and make sure I was well and thoroughly fucked. I wondered how I'd be able to get back to the yoga center because I could hardly feel my legs, and my eyes were so heavy I only wanted to sleep.

“We’re going to blindfold you now to clean you up,” came the raspy male voice that sounded so familiar it jolted my brain.

“No,” I yelled out in a tired voice, “just leave, I'll clean myself up.” I was afraid the blind fold wouldn't be enough to conceal my identity.

“We won't be able to tell who you are with the blindfold,” I was assured and before I could reply, a blind fold was on my eyes and it extended to the bridge of my nose.

I heard a switch from somewhere but I didn't feel the light through the blind fold and for the next few minutes, multiple wet wipes cleaned my body.

I was tired. My brain was tired, my body was tired and yet, I couldn't stop my body from reacting to their fingers occasionally brushing against my skin. It was even more heightened because I couldn't see a thing and they could see everything.

By the time my upper thighs were being wiped, I was dripping again, and he noticed.

“Wet again?” his fingers brushed over my folds and I shuddered, “you're one hell of a little slut, aren't you?”

The voice that said that belonged to Zephyr Rossi in my head, and I cursed myself for watching them that night. It was the only reason why I was thinking about him now.

All thoughts of the Rossi Brothers disappeared when a wet finger tapped my lips. I opened up.

“Taste yourself,” came the gruff command as two fingers entered my mouth. I licked them clean.

The fingers went back to my core. Just one of his. Another one joined it and I could tell it wasn't his and a last one that didn’t belong to the both of them joined in.

And I was finger fucked again, jointly by the three of them: one thrusting into me, one massaging my clit, and one toying with my lips.

That was how I had my seventh orgasm. That was how I passed out.

When I came back, I was alone in the room with the blindfold still on, and the room was arranged as if we hadn't desecrated it for hours. My clothes, torn off my body during the haze of passion, were carefully folded, and it amazed me how much of a gentleman they were.

For people that signed up on an anonymous site to fuck a girl in a dark room, their manners were surprisingly intact.

I stood up from the wet and I winced at the sharp pain I felt from my legs and upper thighs and pussy. I winced again because my first wince made my mouth feel like a trailer ran through it.

I dressed up hurriedly, careful not to think about what I had just done but how could I not when wearing my pants reminded me of how recklessly they had fucked me, when clamping my bra hook reminded me of the hot needy mouth around my nipples, when feeling my lips reminded me of how they had made me take turns to blow them up?

I couldn't even use my hands without remembering how they felt in my palms: thick, big, pulsing, and all veins.

How was I supposed to live normally now? How was I supposed to have normal days when the memories of how they slutted me out were replaying in my head on a loop?

I exited the room even though everything in me wanted to sleep. I was still worn out and tired, but I had less than 40 minutes to make it back to the yoga center, so Ken, my guard, wouldn't catch on.

I made it back in time.

“You look worn out,” he commented once I was inside the car and he was driving us home.

“Yeah, the classes were much more intense today.” I didn't look at him through the rear-view mirror. Again, the memories of my legs being thrown over a pair of shoulders and a tongue skillfully fucking, eating, and tasting me was drowning me.

I closed my eyes. I was jolted awake by Ken calling my name. We were home, and he was looking at me worriedly. I smiled to disarm him before dragging myself to my room where I forced myself to have a shower before finding solace in my room.

I woke up when the sun was up and burning and I instinctively closed my eyes at the sunlight streaming in through the window. For a minute, I was disoriented. I didn't know who I was or where I was until it came rushing back. The sex marathon, the drive home, sleeping around 8pm…

What? I sat up with a start as I glanced at the huge wall clock opposite my bed.

It was noon.

What the fuck…

I've never slept past 5 am, not since I was 15.

How could I have possibly slept from 8 pm till 12 am? A Monday morning and I missed work. I've never missed work. And how did my PA not call me to…

I grabbed my phone, unlocked it and met 5 missed calls. Of course, she called but my phone was on silent all through.

I wanted to dash to the bathroom, freshen and dress up and rush to the office, but I was starving. The hunger I felt was too enormous. I grabbed my stomach in pain. Instead I made my way to the dinning where a couple of maids soon attended to me and in no minutes, a large tray of food was in front of me.

At first, I thought I wouldn't be able to finish a quarter of it, but the more I ate, the hungrier I got. I wasn't just starving, I was famished. Was this one of the effects of good and proper sex? Sleeping and getting well rested because my body felt stretched, my bones more aligned, and my joints more flexible. And I was eating what I'd eaten over three days at once.

I felt free too, my muscles untangled and my hormones balanced. If this was what proper sex felt like, then I wouldn't give it up for anything. I was already thinking of going back to the site and asking for another session. It was stupid and risky, but I was going to get forced into marrying Alpha; this was the least I could do for myself.

A door banged from somewhere in the house, and I sat up. It didn't take a minute to hear the rush of footsteps, and Dad soon showed up, with an air of urgency and tension around him. He stopped briefly when he saw me. Of course, he wasn't expecting to see me at home on a Monday morning.

I rose to my feet, “Good afternoon, Dad.”

“Alpha has been attacked,” he dropped what was supposed to be a bombshell but was the best news I've ever heard, “it's bad and he's in a critical condition now.”

I became hungrier. Instantly, my mood became festive and uplifted.

I hope he dies.