The third night was the worst.Margaret didn’t bring just one or two men. She brought three.They entered together, laughing loudly, already drunk, smelling of cheap whiskey and sweat. One was bald and pot-bellied, the same one from the first day. The second was young, thin, with nervous eyes and a sadistic smile. The third was the most dangerous: tall, muscular, with scars on his face and a vacant look, as if he had already done much worse things than what he was about to do.Margaret stood at the door, counting the money with agile fingers.“Three hours,” she said. “You can use her however you want. But don’t kill her. I still need her.”The bald one laughed.“Don’t worry. We’ll return her in one piece… more or less.”The door closed.I was tied up the same way: arms above my head, legs spread, completely naked. The gunshot wound throbbed. My entire body was a map of bruises, bites, and dried semen.The young one was first.He climbed onto the bed and shoved his cock into my mouth w
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