𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 42 : 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐏*𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐈𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐀 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐏𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝!

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚'𝐬 𝐍𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬°°°°

Caught in-between, she turned and walked to him, going down on her knees.

She grabbed the erection between his legs and stroked.

Next, she slid her thumb across the opening before pulling it into her mouth with a wet suck.

“Holy shit!” the man gasped.

“Go…Go” voices rose in a savage chorus.

From across the pit—VIP, Antonio heard the roaring crowd. He eyed the scene and his soldier hinted at what was happening.

“Bloody whore” he clinked his tongue in disgust—his attention navigating back to his business.

Just as the man was about to jerk, Breanna popped his c*ck free with a smack of her lips and laughed huskily.

“Save it for later—Jerker, someone got to keep the party going.”

“F*ck” he cussed, realizing he can't keep her all to himself.

The crowd roared as she made her way to the stage.

Bills fluttered after her.

“Shake it, slut!” chants thundered.

Regret sweat slicked her palms as she grabbed the cold pole.

The crowd below was no longer cheering—they had turned into animals, eyes glinting with lust.

“Bounce those melons for daddy!” the men clawed to shove bills against her body.

She turned sharply to silence their howls and jeers. Forfeit the mission if need be.

Her eyes caught papers changing hands in the VIP, just across the pit.

“Motherfu*ker!” rage overtook her.

“Wave those tits, baby, we paid for the show!” a patron screamed, jolting her back to reality.

> It's now or never, she braced swinging around the pole,

She spun, kicked, bent low — every move stoking their frenzy, and also good for her pedant to capture Antonio and his partners.

The crowd below finally lost its rhythm —they began baying, their voices crashing like a storm.

“Stripe. Take it off.”

Breanna seized the lapels of her blazer and yanked them wide.

Flash—glittering bra and panties blazed under the neon. Her stomach taut, curves flawless, thighs gleaming in fishnets.

“Holy hell”

Thunderous gasps tore through the line.

“What the fu*k are they excited about?” Antonio grunted.

His face straightened from what he was about to sign, visibly rattled.

Eyes saw the figure but he felt that they were betraying him.

“Holy Sh*t!” he grounded his molars.

Victor Loa shifted impatiently, calling back his attention.

“Bruno!—sign already”

“Yeah” Antonio coarse,

He picked up his pen and scribbled the Medina family signature on the designated space.

The three men clasped hands— deal sealed.

A female dealer strode in at the completion of the deal.

To clear the game left unattended.

She winked at Antonio as she took his stake, her hand sweeping over his chips like a hungry inevitable tide.

Despite Antonio's attention gravitating at the stage, he ran his hand up the thighs of the dealer.

Lingering his thumb at the wet patch under her.

The dealer muffled her moan at first, but then Blade angrily yanked the lace pant aside, forcing two fingers into her—hard.

The girl buckled, thrashing on the table, before them.

Victor and the rest knew what was coming and chuckled. Their presence was no longer needed.

Rafael Mendez hastily packed up, before it got messy.

“Let's call it a night” Victor grumbled, standing.

“One minute” Antonio growled, stopping him.

He pumped his fingers harder—deeper, and within seconds the girl jerked violently, squirting and trembling.

Done—Antonio straightened to escort them away, raising one hand lazily.

Breanna lost rhythm.

In her desperation to capture their departure, she didn't notice the human wall that kept the mob at bay melting away.

The mob below surged like a storm tide, onto the stage—clawing to touch her.

Breanna staggered, sweat beading along her collarbone. But the starving men howled in protest, desperate for more.

Hands clawed and dragged her down by her ankles, her thighs.

She screamed, thrashing and snarling, her knee slamming into a jaw— nails clawing bloody streaks across a hand that grabbed too close.

But every strike only drove the mob wilder. Her hair was yanked, her arms dragged wide.

Jeers, laughter, and the crude slap of flesh on flesh filled her ears.

Fingers snagged her bra strap, tearing it clean off.

Her breasts spilled bare into the light for a thousand hungry eyes

The roar that followed shook the building,

“Fuck—look at those tits, they’re perfect!”

Hands reached, groped, desperate to claim what the spotlight had revealed.

“Bet her cunt’s shaved clean under that tiny strip”.

Breanna gasped, struggling to cover herself, but her g-string went next,

The sting of fabric lashes her skin before it vanished into the sea of grabbing hands

Now—nothing shielded her, arms locked as they pinned her.

Her wrists were twisted behind her, the rope biting—a tie yanked tight across her mouth, cutting off her scream into a muffled cry.

For the next dizzy, choking minutes, she lay bare—naked, exposed, smothered beneath lustful eyes.

Rough palms took turns mauling and twisting her nipples

A man’s hot breath brushed her skin as he sucked her tits, she writhed in disgust, but it only made him suck harder.

“Pink little nipples just beggin’ to be chewed off.” he teased it with his teeth before retreating, only for another to take over.

Breanna looked up through wild hair —tears blurring the man's face.

“Alright boys, which hole first? Pussy or ass ?” the new fellow asked, hands on her thigh.

The crowd erupted in savage delight.

“Yeah! Cunt—stuff it with fingers. Bet she’ll squeal like a pig!”

“Open wide, Cat! You heard them” the man whispered, a savage grin on his face.

Breanna shook her head violently, choking against the gag, but his hand was already sliding up the inside of her thigh,

Her body bucked—desperate to escape the invasion, she clamped her thighs tight.

A loud laugh broke out at her action.

“Bi*ch, we just wanna see that tight little hole!” the man coaxes, caressing her navel with his tongue.

But Breanna's legs clenched more tighter.

Seeing her insubordinate, her legs were yanked apart forcefully.

“Hold her still”, the man seethed.

More hands clamped her thighs, holding her open.

Without blinking, he grazed his way forward—knuckles grazing her folds.

Breanna jerked violently, sweat dripping down her spine.

“Everyone look—she’s leaking” the man announced, slicking a finger through.

“Damn! Shove those fingers deeper—make the bitch cum!”

That was the last sentence she heard and two more fingers pressed in harder, bold, filthy—wrecking her hole with vigorous thrust.

She convulses at her climax—orgasm spasming through.

“Fuck. You're nothin’ but a slut—can’t hide it!” the man moaned, licking his fingers clean.

“Hear that muffled squeal? This p*ssy is begging for a good pound!” he announced.

Behind them zippers slid open with a hiss, a fellow already stroking his hard shaft.

Impatiently, he shoved forward ready to ram into her.

Seeing his obscene co*k hovering inches away from her labia—threatening pre-cum, Breanna teeter, waiting to be torn apart.

Out of the blues— a sharp whistle split the chaos.

Bouncers descended like executioners and the stage cleared in a storm of fists—frenzy scattering like rats

With Antonio’s men back in position. No one dared cross the line again.

The gag was torn away and the grip on her wrists released.

Breanna staggered away from them, chest heaving in ragged sobs—hair tangled across her face.

Shame burned hotter than the sweat dripping down her skin, every inch of her felt dirty—branded by their hands and jeers.

Every eye in the casino had seen her body, the struggle and humiliation.

From the VIP balcony, Antonio leaned casually against the rail, cigar smoke curling from his lips.

He savored the proof that her body, her dignity, even her terror—none of it belonged to her anymore.

Overwhelmed with embarrassment, Breanna curled her knees to her chest—shamed tears burning through her eyes.

Antonio stepped onto the floor, boots echoing—slow and deliberate.

The crowd parted like water for him. Cigar still burning between his fingers,

He stopped in front of Breanna, taking a long drag from his cigar before flicking it into the pit below.

For a long moment, he only stared—almighty Breanna Stewart wrecking in humiliation at his feet.

Without a word, he removed his jacket