CUM ON CAMERA-7

ARIA

The warehouse doors slammed shut behind us and stayed locked for the entire weekend.

No windows. No clocks. Just red lights, cameras, and an endless rotation of bodies. They gave me water, protein shakes, and cock. Nothing else.

By the second night, I’d already taken twenty-three different men. Some from the Collective, others invited guests. My brand and fresh tattoos were constantly on display, constantly touched, constantly fucked against.

I was on my back on the main platform, legs held wide by two of the guests — thick, rough guys who didn’t talk much. Just used. The one named Drake knelt between my thighs, his heavy cock slapping against my swollen, cum-leaking pussy.

He dragged the fat head up and down my slit slowly, coating himself in the mess of loads already inside me. Every pass bumped my clit, making my hips twitch.

“Still so fucking tight after all that,” he muttered.

I was panting, chest heaving, nipples hard and sensitive. “Please… put it in.”

Drake pushed the head in, stretching my puffy entrance. I gasped, back arching off the platform. He went torturously slow, inch by thick inch, letting me feel every vein as he sank deeper. My walls fluttered and clenched around him, greedy even after hours of use. When he bottomed out, his hips pressed right against my brand, making the tender skin burn.

“Fuck—yes—” I moaned, eyes rolling back.

He held there, buried to the balls, grinding in slow circles so his pubic bone rubbed my clit. The pressure made my toes curl. My pussy spasmed around his thickness, milking him.

Then he started thrusting.

Long, powerful strokes. Pulling almost all the way out until just the head stretched my entrance, then slamming back in deep. The wet, filthy sounds of my cum-filled cunt filled the room. Every thrust made my tits bounce and sent jolts through the brand.

I couldn’t stop moaning. My hands gripped the edges of the platform, knuckles white. Drake fucked me harder, picking up speed, pounding that spot inside me that made my vision spark.

Another man — one of the newer guests — straddled my chest and pushed his cock between my tits. I squeezed them together for him, tongue out, catching the head every time it pushed toward my mouth.

Drake’s pace turned brutal. He leaned over me, one hand gripping my marked thigh, the other pressing down on my lower belly right over the tattoos. The added pressure made his cock feel even bigger inside me.

I came hard, pussy gushing around him, squirting messily over his abs. My walls clamped down, pulsing, trying to pull him deeper. Drake groaned but didn’t stop, fucking me through the orgasm until my legs shook uncontrollably.

He finally pulled out, cock shiny and throbbing, and erupted across my tits and face, adding to the layers already there.

Before I could catch my breath, they flipped me onto all fours.

Vesper’s voice cut through the haze. “Take her ass next. Slow. Make her feel it.”

A new cock — even thicker — pressed against my cum-lubed asshole. He pushed the head in carefully, stretching the tight ring. I whimpered, pushing back despite the burn. Inch after inch sank into my ass until he was balls deep, heavy balls resting against my dripping pussy.

He started fucking me with deep, rolling strokes. Pulling out slow, then sliding back in, letting me feel the full length every single time. My mouth fell open in a constant moan. One of the men in front fed me his cock, using my throat in time with the ass-fucking.

The sensation was overwhelming — full, stretched, claimed in both holes. My brand rubbed against the platform with every thrust, sending sharp reminders of ownership through the pleasure.

I came again, ass clenching tight around the thick cock, tears of overstimulation running down my cheeks.

They kept rotating. Hours blurred. I was moved from position to position — riding one cock reverse cowgirl while another fucked my throat, lying on my side taking two at once, held upright in the air like a fleshlight while three different men used my holes in succession.

Every orgasm tore through me harder. My voice grew hoarse from screaming and moaning. Cum leaked constantly from my pussy and ass, pooling beneath me. My face, tits, and marked belly were glazed.

Late on the final night, they brought out the breeding bench.

They strapped me down on my back, legs folded up and locked wide open, hips tilted so my cum-dripping pussy pointed straight up. The position put my brand and tattoos on perfect display.

Vesper leaned over me, stroking my hair. “Last round, baby. They’re all going to cum inside this time. Deep.”

One by one they mounted me.

Each man took his time. Pushing in slow, savoring how sloppy and open I was. Fucking me with long, deliberate strokes while the others watched and stroked themselves. I felt every thrust, every vein, every time a cock kissed my cervix.

I lost count of how many loads flooded my womb. Thick, hot spurts deep inside while I moaned and begged for more. My belly felt full, swollen with it.

The final man — Drake again — fucked me the longest. He pinned me down, hips slamming, eyes locked on mine.

“Gonna fill you one last time, Queen.”

He buried himself to the hilt and came with a deep groan, pumping rope after rope directly against my cervix. I came with him, pussy convulsing, milking every drop.

When he finally pulled out, a flood of cum poured from my ruined hole.

I lay there strapped to the bench, body trembling, covered and filled, permanently marked.

Vesper kissed my forehead softly.

“You’re done for this round, Aria. But the Collective owns you now. Completely.”

I looked up at her through heavy lids, voice barely a whisper.

“…Good.”

The cameras kept rolling as they unstrapped me and carried my limp, cum-soaked body away.

This was only the beginning of forever.