Punishment For Voice Crack ft Tzuyu
Part of ambassador contract
Tags : DP, Spit roast, Two at pussy, Two at ass, squirting, cuckcold, BBC, BBW, creampie, Fuck machine, bondage, golden shower, Creampie (mouth, ass, pussy), spanking.
The donkey boiler hummed behind Tzuyu’s knees, its rhythmic clatter drowning out the distant chatter of Seoul traffic. She traced a finger over the crumpled invitation on her lap, its embossed lettering catching the fluorescent light of the cramped practice room. "Unnie," she said, voice slicing through Momo’s stretching grunts. "Are we really performing at Victoria’s Secret?"
Jihyo paused mid-squat, sweat glistening on her forehead. She snatched a towel, avoiding Tzuyu’s gaze. "Only four spots." The words hung heavy, unspoken implications tightening the air. Nayeon stopped fiddling with her phone, her reflection in the mirror sharp with curiosity.
Tzuyu’s thumb brushed the invitation’s edge. Her boyfriend’s face flashed in her mind—his laugh when she’d tripped during rehearsal last week. This performance wasn’t just glitter and wings; it was a secret weapon. She pictured his stunned smile when she’d stride out in sequins, then later, the Victoria’s Secret bikini tucked in her drawer.
The manager’s footsteps echoed down the hall before he entered, clipboard in hand. "Decision’s made," he announced, eyes scanning Jihyo’s defiant posture, Momo’s toned shoulders, Nayeon’s pout, Tzuyu’s hopeful stillness. "Jihyo, Momo, Nayeon, Tzuyu. Fittings start Thursday." Tzuyu’s breath escaped in a soft rush. Momo grinned, cracking her knuckles. Nayeon squealed, already reaching for her phone. Jihyo just nodded, towel crumpled in her fist.
Later, Tzuyu’s apartment smelled faintly of takeout kimchi and sex. Her boyfriend traced lazy circles on her bare shoulder, the sheets tangled low on his hips. Tzuyu nestled deeper into the warmth of his chest, sticky and spent, the quiet hum of Seoul filtering through the blinds. His hand drifted lower, fingers brushing the damp mess cooling between her thighs. She caught his wrist gently. "Oppa," she murmured, voice thick with fatigue and affection. "I have work in America... October 15th."
His fingers stilled. "America?" He shifted, propping himself up on an elbow. The soft light caught the confusion in his eyes. "What kind of work?" Tzuyu kept her gaze fixed on the ceiling, the intimacy suddenly fragile. "A performance," she whispered, the enormity of the Victoria’s Secret secret pressing down on her tongue. "A big one." His silence stretched, heavy with unasked questions. She felt the warmth of his skin pull away slightly, replaced by a cool draft against her side.
"It’s... fashion," Tzuyu offered weakly, scrambling for a truth that wasn’t *the* truth. Her hand found his forearm, squeezing gently. "I promise you will like it," she murmured, turning her head to meet his eyes. A hesitant smile touched her lips. "But I can't tell you. I want to surprise you." The plea hung in the air – *trust me*. His brow furrowed, a flicker of hurt quickly masked by curiosity. He studied her face, searching for clues in the flush still high on her cheeks. "A surprise?" he echoed, his voice low.
He understood the secrecy; idols lived behind NDAs thicker than stage makeup. He’d seen her in everything from schoolgirl uniforms to shimmering crop tops on music shows. This felt different, though. The sudden trip, the hushed intensity in her voice, the way her gaze darted away. He traced the curve of her collarbone with a single fingertip. "Okay," he conceded slowly, pulling her closer again, the warmth returning tentatively. "A fashion surprise in America." A playful skepticism tinged his words.
His lips brushed her temple, then trailed down to her ear. His voice dropped, rough and intimate against her skin. "Before you go… let’s fuck until we drop." The bluntness sent a jolt through her, familiar heat pooling low in her belly. He knew how to chase away doubts, replacing them with pure sensation.
Tzuyu turned fully towards him, her eyes dark and direct in the dim light. Her hand slid possessively down his chest, nails grazing lightly over skin still damp from earlier exertion. "You don't have to ask," she murmured, her voice a low thrum that vibrated against him. "I was going to do that with you anyway." A slow, deliberate smile spread across her lips. "This time," she breathed, her fingers tightening on his hip, pulling him against her, "you can ejaculate inside me until I'm full." Her gaze locked onto his, unwavering, commanding. "I'll be your slut tonight. Use me however you want."
He didn't hesitate. His hands gripped her hips, flipping her onto her stomach with a swift, practiced motion. Her breath caught sharply as her cheek pressed into the pillow, her body arching instinctively. The sudden shift left her exposed, vulnerable. His palm slid firmly down the curve of her spine, tracing the dip of her waist before settling possessively on the swell of her ass. He pulled her hips back towards him, angling her perfectly. The blunt head of his cock pressed against her slick entrance, already swollen and sensitive from their previous coupling. A low groan escaped him as he pushed forward, sinking into her tight heat in one deep, deliberate stroke. The sudden, overwhelming fullness made Tzuyu gasp, her fingers clutching the sheets beneath her.
His hand lifted, hovering for a heartbeat above the flushed skin of her buttock. Then it came down hard – a sharp, stinging crack that echoed in the quiet room. Tzuyu cried out, a sharp, involuntary sound that wasn't pain alone. It was surprise, surrender, an electric jolt straight to her core. "Again," she gasped, her voice thick and ragged, muffled slightly by the pillow. "Give me that slap." She pushed her hips back further, inviting him deeper, demanding more. "Harder." The command was clear, edged with a raw need that surprised even her.
He obliged instantly. Another sharp smack landed on the other cheek, the sound louder this time, the sting blooming hotter. Her body jerked against him, but she held her position, pushing back against the force, driving him impossibly deeper inside her. "Yes!" she moaned, the word drawn out into a shuddering sigh. "Fucking harder! Use it!" Each slap punctuated his thrusts, the sharp pain amplifying the deep, rhythmic pleasure coiling tighter and tighter within her. Her words tumbled out, unfiltered, hungry: "Mark me... make me feel it tomorrow... show me who I belong to tonight." Her voice wasn't coy or playful; it was primal, demanding, a stark contrast to the idol persona locked away outside these walls.
"You are a slut, Tzuyu," he growled, his breath hot against her shoulder blade, his hips pistoning relentlessly. His fingers dug into the flesh he’d just struck, possessive and bruising. "My slut. Only mine." The degradation wasn't cruel; it was a fierce claim, a dark mirror to her own surrender. It stripped away everything but the raw, consuming connection between them.
"Yours!" she gasped, turning her head sideways against the pillow, her cheek pressing into the damp cotton. Her eyes met his reflection in the dark window pane – wild, desperate. "Only yours, Oppa! Fuck... you feel so good... so thick... stretching me..." The dirty talk flowed freely now, crude and explicit, each filthy syllable feeding the fire. "Your cock's perfect... filling me up... wrecking me..." She arched her spine further, presenting herself completely, inviting the relentless pounding. "Make me scream... make me come... just... fuck..."
He groaned, a low rumble vibrating through her body. "So fucking tight," he praised, the words rough with exertion and awe. His hand slid from her hip, fingers tangling roughly in her hair, pulling her head back sharply. "Take it all, slut. Take every fucking inch." The rhythm became punishing, each deep drive accompanied by the wet slap of skin. He watched her face contort in the dim reflection – eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent cry before another choked moan escaped. "That's it," he rasped, his own control fraying. "Beg for it. Beg for my cum." Tzuyu didn't hesitate. "Please!" she cried out, her voice cracking. "Inside... fill me... breed me... please!" The plea tore from her throat, raw and absolute, shattering the last vestiges of restraint. His grip tightened, his thrusts lost their rhythm, becoming frantic, urgent jerks. A guttural roar tore from him as he slammed home one final time, burying himself to the hilt, his body shuddering violently against hers as he emptied himself deep inside her trembling body. Tzuyu convulsed beneath him, her own climax crashing over her in blinding waves, muffled cries escaping into the pillow as she clenched around him, milking every last pulse.
He stayed buried inside her for a long moment, both panting, slick skin pressed together. Then, without pulling out, he hooked his arms under her knees, lifting her effortlessly. Tzuyu gasped, wrapping her legs around his waist instinctively as he carried her, still impaled, towards the large window overlooking the sleeping city. He pressed her back against the cool glass, the condensation forming instantly against her heated skin. "Look," he commanded, his voice thick and possessive. "Look at Seoul. Everyone asleep... everyone oblivious." He began moving again, slow, deep rolls of his hips that made her gasp against the pane. "But you," he murmured, biting her earlobe, "you're wide awake. Taking my cock against the glass like the perfect little slut you are." The vulnerability, the exposure despite the darkness outside, sent a fresh jolt of heat through her. She arched into him, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Yes," she hissed, watching their blurred reflection move against the city lights. "Fuck your slut against the window... show everyone..." Her words dissolved into a moan as he drove deeper, the glass vibrating faintly with each thrust.
Later, sweat cooling on their skin, he lay back against the pillows. Tzuyu straddled him, her silhouette stark in the dim light filtering through the blinds. She lowered herself slowly, taking him inch by inch, her eyes locked on his. Her movements were deliberate, powerful – a slow grind punctuated by sharp lifts and drops that drew ragged groans from him. "Ride me," he growled, his hands gripping her hips, guiding her rhythm. "Show me how much you need it." Tzuyu threw her head back, a low hum building in her throat as she moved, her body a fluid wave above him. "So good," she breathed, her voice husky with exertion and pleasure. "So deep... filling me again..." She leaned forward, planting her hands on his chest, her hair falling around her face. "Tell me," she demanded, increasing her pace, driving down hard. "Tell me how good your slut feels." He groaned, his fingers digging into her flesh. "Perfect," he gasped. "Champion fucking rider... taking every inch like you were made for it." The praise, raw and sincere amidst the filth, ignited her. She rode him harder, faster, chasing her own peak with fierce determination, her cries sharpening until she shuddered violently, collapsing forward onto his chest as her climax ripped through her.
He rolled her onto her side, facing him, tangling their legs together. One hand slid beneath her thigh, lifting it high over his hip, opening her completely as he pressed back inside. The angle was intimate, invasive, his thrusts deep and slow, grinding against her core. Tzuyu gasped, her fingers clutching his shoulders. "Oh god... right there..." she whimpered, her eyes wide, vulnerable. He kissed her fiercely, swallowing her moans. "Look at me," he commanded against her lips. "Look at me while I fuck you." Her gaze locked onto his, dark and desperate. He moved with deliberate intensity, each stroke hitting a spot that made her toes curl. "Such a good girl," he murmured, his voice rough with affection layered over possession. "Taking it so deep... so perfect for me." Tzuyu arched into him, her nails scraping down his back. "Yours," she gasped, the word breaking on a sob. "Always yours... fuck me... claim me..." He buried his face in her neck, his thrusts becoming urgent, possessive. "My perfect slut," he breathed into her skin. "Mine to fill... mine to ruin..."
He pulled her upright onto her knees, her back pressed flush against his chest. His arms wrapped tightly around her waist, one hand sliding down to cup her mound, fingers finding her clit instantly. Tzuyu cried out, arching back against him as he entered her from behind again, his cock driving deep while his fingers worked her sensitive flesh. The dual sensation was overwhelming, dizzying. "Fuck... fuck..." she chanted, her head lolling back onto his shoulder. His lips traced the shell of her ear. "Feel that?" he growled, his hips snapping forward, driving into her relentlessly while his fingers circled and pressed. "Feel how deep I am? How hard you're coming for me?" Tzuyu could only nod frantically, her body trembling, suspended on the edge. "Yes!" she managed, her voice a ragged scream. "So deep... so full... don't stop! Make me come!" His fingers intensified their pressure, his thrusts became brutal, piston-like. "Come for me, slut," he commanded, biting her shoulder. "Scream my name... let Seoul hear who owns this cunt." The command, the sheer intensity, shattered her. Tzuyu convulsed violently against him, a raw, guttural cry tearing from her throat as her climax crashed over her, wave after wave, her inner muscles clamping down on him in frantic pulses.
Exhaustion hit Tzuyu like a physical blow. She slumped forward onto the mattress, her breath ragged and shallow, lungs burning. Sweat plastered strands of hair to her forehead and neck, cooling rapidly on her overheated skin. Every inch of her felt tenderized, marked – deep red handprints bloomed across her buttocks and thighs, a constellation of purple-red kiss marks covered her shoulders, neck, and breasts. Her pussy throbbed, swollen and vividly red, slick with a mixture of her own arousal and his spent cum, which seeped out onto the sheets beneath her. Her muscles trembled with residual aftershocks, utterly spent. Behind her, her boyfriend collapsed heavily onto the bed, pulling her limp body back against his chest. His arms encircled her waist, holding her close. His breathing was just as labored, his chest rising and falling rapidly against her back. He was utterly drained, completely spent – no more cum, no more frantic energy, just the profound, heavy stillness of utter depletion. He buried his face in the damp hair at her nape, inhaling deeply the scent of sex and exertion.
A profound silence descended, thick and comforting. The frantic energy, the sharp commands, the desperate pleas – all dissolved into the quiet hum of the city night filtering through the blinds. Tzuyu felt his heartbeat gradually slowing against her spine, a steady counterpoint to her own. His embrace wasn't demanding now; it was sheltering, possessive in its quietude. His fingers traced lazy, soothing patterns on her hipbone, avoiding the tender marks. "My slut," he murmured into her hair, his voice rough with fatigue but thick with unmistakable affection. The words weren't praise for her performance; they were an acknowledgment of her surrender, her trust, her endurance. Tzuyu hummed softly in response, a sound of pure contentment vibrating deep in her chest. She nestled impossibly closer, seeking the solid warmth of him. The soreness was a dull ache now, a testament to their shared intensity, a badge she wore willingly. The cool air kissed her sweat-damp skin, a welcome contrast to the furnace heat they’d generated.
Outside, Seoul glittered silently, indifferent to the storm that had raged within these walls. Tzuyu closed her eyes, focusing only on the steady rhythm of his breath against her neck and the comforting weight of his arm draped over her. The Victoria’s Secret runway felt impossibly distant, a glittering mirage beyond this cocoon of tangled limbs and shared exhaustion. Here, marked and spent in his arms, was her undeniable reality. The secret she carried felt heavier now, not just the performance, but the raw, unvarnished truth of this intimacy – the vulnerability, the surrender, the fierce belonging that existed only between them. She drifted towards sleep, the scent of him, sex, and the faint tang of kimchi from their discarded takeout the only anchors in her swirling thoughts.
Three weeks later, the humid air of New York City hit Tzuyu like a damp cloth as she stepped out of the JFK terminal. The sheer *scale* of it – the towering buildings, the relentless cacophony of horns and sirens, the press of unfamiliar faces – momentarily stole her breath. Beside her, Momo bounced on her toes, eyes wide with exhilaration. "Finally!" Momo exclaimed, already scanning for their ride. Jihyo adjusted her sunglasses, her expression unreadable but radiating focused intensity. Nayeon fiddled with her phone, a small frown forming. "My Instagram stories keep buffering," she muttered. Tzuyu pulled her hoodie tighter, the unfamiliar chill seeping into her bones despite the humidity. The city felt alien, overwhelming. She touched the small pendant necklace beneath her shirt – a gift from him, a tangible reminder of that last night, the warmth, the claim. The secret felt heavier here, amplified by the distance and the sheer magnitude of what awaited them.
Backstage at the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show was controlled chaos incarnate. A kaleidoscope of sequins, feathers, and impossibly toned bodies moved in a frantic ballet beneath blinding lights. Makeup artists wielded brushes like weapons, hairstylists sprayed clouds of lacquer, and stylists barked orders in rapid-fire English. Tzuyu stood frozen amidst the whirlwind, clutching the garment bag containing her outfit for the segment. The air crackled with adrenaline and expensive perfume, thick enough to taste. A stylist whisked her towards a brightly lit vanity station. "Taiwan, right? Purple Fantasy segment. You're up after the Angels." Tzuyu nodded mutely, her Korean manners kicking in automatically with a small bow. The stylist unzipped the bag, pulling out the pieces: a vibrant purple bra with intricate lace detailing, a sheer pink mesh tank top, and impossibly short hot pants. Tzuyu’s eyes widened. The bra was structured, lifting and framing her breasts with startling clarity, while the sheer pink tank top offered zero concealment, leaving everything beneath tantalizingly visible. She’d worn daring outfits before, but this felt… *exposed*. Purposefully provocative. Her stylist beamed. "Perfect fit! You look bombshell, honey. Now sit!" Tzuyu obeyed, sinking onto the stool as brushes descended.
The purple lace bra pushed Tzuyu’s breasts into impossible, rounded perfection, the sheer pink mesh tank top draping over them like liquid sugar—revealing every curve, every shadow, every taut outline beneath. It felt less like fabric and more like a second skin designed for exhibition.
She snapped a quick selfie in the vanity mirror, capturing the scandalous plunge of the neckline and the way the hot pants hugged her hips. Before doubt could creep in, she tapped send. The caption burned her fingertips: *When I get home, I’ll show you another sexy and cute lingerie more than this.* Her thumb hovered, then pressed *deliver*. A reckless thrill shot through her—a promise wrapped in defiance.
The performance of TWICE had been nothing short of dazzling. The lights shimmered like a thousand stars, the crowd roared with excitement, and every move was in perfect harmony. It was as if the entire stage had been set for a flawless, unforgettable moment.
But then… it was Tzuyu’s turn to sing. She stepped forward gracefully, her presence commanding the entire venue. Just as she opened her mouth to deliver her line, a sudden sharp pain struck her throat. Her voice trembled, then cracked like shattered glass echoing through the hall.
The atmosphere shifted instantly. The once synchronized performance faltered, the other members glanced at her in shock, and the audience’s cheers turned into stunned silence. What was moments ago a scene of perfection now felt like a beautiful painting torn in half. It was the kind of moment that made time stand still — the one unexpected twist that changed everything.
Backstage, the bright lights of the stage faded into the warm glow of the dressing room. The sound of distant cheers slowly melted away, replaced by the soft hum of the air conditioner and the rustle of costumes. TWICE entered the room one by one, their adrenaline still lingering — but the air felt heavy.
Tzuyu walked in last, her hands gripping the hem of her outfit tightly. Her heart pounded like a drum, each step feeling heavier than the last. She finally gathered the courage to speak.
“I’m… I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice trembling. “I messed everything up. The performance… I ruined it.”
Jihyo immediately stood up from the couch and walked toward her, placing both hands gently on Tzuyu’s shoulders.
“Tzuyu, look at me,” she said firmly but softly. “You didn’t ruin anything. Things like this happen. You were amazing out there.”
Nayeon let out a small sigh and approached with a playful smile, trying to lighten the mood.
“Yeah, don’t be so dramatic,” she said, poking Tzuyu’s arm. “Your voice cracked, not the entire stage.”
Momo chimed in, her usual cheerful energy glowing through.
“Exactly! Besides, the fans love you no matter what. You saw their faces, right? They were still cheering like crazy.”
Tzuyu’s eyes began to well up, but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment — it was from the warmth of her members. She nodded slowly, wiping the corner of her eyes.
“Thank you… really,” she whispered.
Jihyo pulled her into a tight hug, and soon Nayeon and Momo joined in, wrapping their arms around her like a shield of comfort. In that small dressing room, surrounded by friends who had become family, Tzuyu realized that one cracked note couldn’t break their bond — it only made it stronger. Just as the warmth of their group hug began to soothe Tzuyu’s shaken heart, the door to the dressing room suddenly swung open with a sharp click. The room fell silent as their manager stepped inside, his expression serious. The easy atmosphere they had just built vanished in an instant.
He cleared his throat before speaking, his tone calm but firm.
“Tzuyu,” he began, his eyes locking onto hers. “It looks like you won’t be able to leave just yet. The Victoria’s Secret Show organizers want to speak with you… about what happened on stage.”
Tzuyu froze. The warmth in her chest was replaced by a cold wave of panic that washed over her entire body.
“M–Me?” she stammered. “They… want to talk to me?”
The manager nodded slowly. “Yes. It’s about the mistake. They said it’s important, and they’d like to settle it before the press conference starts.”
The other members exchanged uneasy glances. Jihyo immediately stepped forward.
“Wait, can’t we all go together?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.
The manager shook his head. “No, they specifically requested to speak with Tzuyu alone. Don’t worry — I’ll be with her the entire time.”
Nayeon frowned, crossing her arms. “This is ridiculous. It was just a cracked note, not a scandal.”
Momo reached out and squeezed Tzuyu’s hand reassuringly. “It’ll be fine. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Tzuyu tried to steady her breathing. Her palms were sweating, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios. She forced a small, nervous smile.
“O-Okay… I’ll go.”
The manager gave a short nod, then gestured toward the hallway. Tzuyu took one last look at her members — their worried faces, their encouraging eyes — and then stepped forward, following him out of the dressing room. The hallway felt colder than before. Each step echoed ominously as she walked toward whatever awaited her behind the meeting room door.
Inside, the air was thick with tension. Two imposing figures stood silhouetted against the window overlooking Manhattan’s skyline—one a towering Black man with shoulders like a linebacker, the other a broad-shouldered White man with icy blue eyes that scanned her like a specimen. Tzuyu’s manager lingered near the door, silent. The Black man stepped forward, his voice low and resonant. "You cracked on live television. Millions saw it. That’s not acceptable." He paused, letting the weight sink in. "You’ll get a punishment." Tzuyu’s breath caught—not from fear, but from the sheer absurdity. Punishment? For a vocal slip?
"What the hell?" Tzuyu protested, her voice trembling despite herself. "I don’t know about this!" She turned to her manager, desperate for backup. "Ask your manager about the contract," the White man interjected smoothly, tapping a thick folder on the polished table. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. "It’s standard. Every performer signs it." Tzuyu’s manager shifted uncomfortably but stayed silent. The White man leaned closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. "I’m sorry, Tzuyu. But the contract says if you make a mistake… you get a penalty. And the penalty"—he paused dramatically—"is secret."
The Black man gestured toward a heavy oak door hidden behind a curtain. "This way." Tzuyu hesitated, her pulse hammering against her ribs. Her manager finally spoke, his voice strained. "Just… go with them. It’ll be over quickly." Reluctantly, Tzuyu followed the two men through the door. The hallway beyond was narrow, dimly lit, and smelled faintly of disinfectant. The White man walked ahead, keys jangling, while the Black man stayed close behind her. Her footsteps echoed hollowly on the tile floor. The silence pressed in, thick and suffocating. She clutched her pendant necklace beneath her shirt, seeking its familiar shape.
The door at the end of the hall swung open. Complete darkness swallowed them. Tzuyu froze just inside the threshold. "Where—?" she started, panic sharpening her voice. "Click" The lock slid home behind her. Simultaneously, harsh fluorescent lights snapped on overhead. She blinked against the sudden glare. The room wasn’t large—maybe ten feet square—and utterly bare except for one thing: a gleaming chrome shelving unit bolted to the far wall. Its tiers were meticulously organized. Vibrators, dildos in various sizes and textures, leather restraints, blindfolds, bottles of lube, nipple clamps, even a sleek riding crop. The sheer clinical precision of the display was more chilling than any disarray.
The Black man stepped beside her, his voice devoid of inflection. "Standard penalty clause. Section 7B." He gestured toward the shelves. "You choose the implement. We administer." Tzuyu stared, cold dread pooling in her stomach. "No," she breathed, shaking her head violently. "This is insane! I won't—" The White man cut her off smoothly, leaning against the doorframe. "Refusal triggers automatic forfeiture. Liquidated damages clause." He pulled a folded sheet from his breast pocket, snapping it open. "Five million US dollars. Payable immediately upon cancellation." He tilted his head. "Can JYP Entertainment cover that? Tonight?" Tzuyu’s protest died in her throat. Five million dollars. The number echoed like a death knell. She saw her manager’s pale, strained face behind them. He gave a minuscule, helpless shake of his head.
"What... what do I have to do?" Tzuyu whispered, her voice barely audible. The White man smiled thinly. "This room has cameras in every corner recording us since we came in. You need to strip completely naked. Select at least three items from the shelves." He paused, letting the command sink in. "Then, you'll hold a sustained, provocative pose for sixty seconds. After that..." His gaze drifted meaningfully to the largest silicone dildo. "...you'll demonstrate the use of your chosen items. Fully. On camera. There is another punishment phase, but we'll discuss that later." Tzuyu felt the walls close in. The clinical chrome gleamed obscenely under the harsh lights. The cameras were invisible, omnipresent. Her skin crawled.
Tzuyu moved like an automaton. Her fingers trembled as she unzipped the pink mesh tank top, letting it pool at her feet. The purple lace bra followed, then the tiny hot pants. The cool air hit her bare skin, raising goosebumps. She stood exposed, utterly vulnerable, under the impassive stares of the men and the unseen lenses. Avoiding their eyes, she walked stiffly to the shelves. Her hand hovered – a blindfold? Clamps? She recoiled inwardly. Instead, her fingers closed on a smooth, curved glass dildo, then a pair of velvet-lined leather cuffs, and finally, a small, discreet bullet vibrator. The choices felt arbitrary, defensive. She clutched them against her chest, a flimsy shield.
"Pose," the Black man commanded flatly. Tzuyu took a shaky breath. She dropped the items at her feet. Turning her back fully to the men, she arched her spine deliberately, pushing her hips back. One hand slid slowly down her spine, fingers tracing the curve to her ass, while the other lifted her hair off her neck. She held the exaggerated arch, presenting herself like a mannequin in a window display. Her face burned with humiliation, but her expression remained carefully blank, eyes fixed on the blank wall ahead. The silence stretched, thick with the hum of the fluorescents and the silent whirring of cameras capturing every trembling line of her naked form. Sixty seconds felt like eternity.
"Demonstrate," the White man prompted, his voice devoid of inflection. Tzuyu knelt stiffly. She picked up the velvet-lined leather cuffs first. With trembling fingers, she buckled one tightly around her left wrist. The soft lining felt alien against her skin. She hesitated, then secured the other cuff around her right ankle, forcing her leg into an awkward, bent position. It wasn't functional restraint; it was symbolic degradation. Next, she lifted the smooth glass dildo. Her gaze flickered towards the impassive observers, then away. She squeezed lubricant onto her fingers, her movements jerky, before applying it mechanically to the cool surface. Taking another shallow breath, she positioned it against her entrance, pressing inward with clinical detachment. Her jaw clenched as the unnatural chill invaded her, a stark contrast to the remembered heat of her lover. Finally, Tzuyu picked up the small bullet vibrator. She switched it on. A low, insistent buzz filled the sterile room. Avoiding any semblance of pleasure, she pressed it firmly against the base of the glass dildo still lodged inside her. The vibration traveled up the shaft, creating a jarring, artificial sensation. She maintained the pressure, her expression rigidly neutral, staring straight ahead at the chrome shelves. Tears pricked at her eyes, blurring the harsh gleam of the implements. She focused on the pendant beneath her discarded clothes – a tiny anchor in this sea of violation. Her body remained utterly still, performing the act with cold precision, a stark parody of intimacy under the unblinking gaze of the cameras.
The relentless vibration, combined with the unnatural fullness, began to trigger an unwanted physiological response. Tzuyu squeezed her eyes shut, biting down hard on her lower lip. A tremor started deep within her core, a traitorous wave building despite the icy dread flooding her veins. Her breath hitched, becoming shallow gasps. The tears spilled over, tracing hot paths down her cheeks as her hips gave a minute, involuntary jerk against her will. A choked sob escaped her throat. She was crying silently, her body betraying her, trembling on the precipice of an orgasm she didn't want, fueled by humiliation and the machine's impersonal buzz.
"Enough," the Black man stated flatly, his voice cutting through the buzzing hum and Tzuyu's ragged breathing. His command wasn't born from mercy, but from completion. Tzuyu flinched violently as if struck. She immediately pulled the vibrating bullet away, her hand shaking uncontrollably. The abrupt cessation left a ringing silence punctuated only by her own shuddering breaths and the faint drip of her tears onto the cold tile floor. She slumped forward slightly, the glass dildo still protruding awkwardly, her body trembling with the aftershocks of the forced climax and sheer emotional exhaustion. She remained kneeling, utterly exposed, the velvet-lined cuffs biting into her wrist and ankle, symbols of her degradation.
Suddenly, a sharp, insistent electronic chirp sliced through the oppressive silence. Tzuyu’s discarded clothes vibrated faintly on the floor. Her phone screen, visible through the mesh of her tank top, lit up brightly: "My Boyfriend ♡". The cheerful heart emoji glared obscenely against the sterile chrome and her nakedness. Tzuyu froze, her eyes widening in pure terror. The White man chuckled, a low, unpleasant sound. He bent smoothly, retrieving the phone. He held it up so Tzuyu could see the caller ID clearly, his icy eyes locked onto hers. "Hmm," he mused, his voice dripping with false contemplation. "Should we continue this punishment while her boyfriend watches? Live stream it? Let him see his little princess now?"
"No!" The word tore from Tzuyu’s throat, raw and desperate. She scrambled backwards instinctively, the movement jarring the dildo painfully. "Please, don't do that! Don't answer!" Her voice cracked, thick with tears and panic. The thought of him seeing her like this, kneeling naked, violated, tears streaming down her face... it was worse than anything else.
The Black man stepped forward, his massive frame looming. "Actually," he rumbled, his tone leaving no room for argument, "the company gave us permission to administer the penalty. Full discretion. We can do whatever we want." He tapped the thick contract folder still lying on the nearby shelf. Tzuyu’s breath hitched. JYP Entertainment had signed off on 'this'? The White man nodded, slipping her phone into his own pocket with a predatory smile. "Just ignore it for now. We'll call him back... later. When things get hotter." Both men exchanged a glance of chilling understanding. Tzuyu stared at them, her mind reeling. 'What punishment again?' The dread solidified into cold terror. What worse violation could possibly await her?
Without another word, the Black man moved toward a section of the wall Tzuyu hadn’t noticed—a seamless panel. He pressed something, and it slid aside silently, revealing a hidden alcove. Inside stood a stark, gleaming chrome chair. It wasn’t ornate; it was functional, brutalist. Thick padded armrests ended in sturdy leather straps. A high footrest protruded forward, and the seat itself was split. Tzuyu’s stomach lurched. The White man gestured toward it casually. "We need you to try this sex chair BDSM in the room," he stated, his voice flat, almost bored. "Standard equipment for penalty phase two. Ensures... proper positioning." He patted the cold metal. "More efficient for filming."
Tzuyu recoiled violently, scrambling back on her knees, the glass dildo still protruding obscenely. "No!" she choked out, her voice thick with tears and panic. "I did what you asked! I posed! I used the... the things! Please!" She ripped the cuffs off her wrist and ankle, the velvet suddenly feeling like shackles of fire. The leather straps on the chair seemed to coil like snakes in the harsh light. The Black man moved swiftly, blocking her path to the door. His expression was impassive granite. "If you don't wanna do this," he intoned, his voice low and dangerous, leaning close enough for her to smell his sharp cologne, "you *will* get a penalty. Remember? Five million dollars. Immediate forfeiture. Your career? Your group? Gone." He paused, letting the threat sink its claws deep. "And we *will* call your boyfriend. Right now. Show him everything."
Defiance warred with utter despair in Tzuyu’s eyes. Her gaze flickered to the chair, then to the Black man’s unyielding stare, then down to the pendant necklace lying tangled in her discarded clothes. The phone vibrated faintly again in the White man’s pocket – *My Boyfriend ♡* – a cruel echo of the life being ripped away. Her shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her like blood from a wound. A single tear traced a hot path down her cheek as she slowly, painfully, pushed herself to her feet. She took one trembling step toward the chrome monstrosity, her naked body a canvas of humiliation under the unblinking eyes of the cameras. The silence screamed louder than any command.
The cold metal stung her bare skin as she lowered herself onto the chair. It molded unnaturally to her form, forcing her spine rigidly straight against the high backrest. The Black man moved with practiced efficiency, his large hands surprisingly gentle yet terrifyingly impersonal. He lifted her right leg, bending it at the knee, and secured her ankle firmly to the padded armrest strap. The thick leather bit into her skin. He repeated the motion with her left leg, spreading her wide open, exposing her completely. Tzuyu squeezed her eyes shut, trying to detach, to float away. Next, her wrists were pulled forward and secured tightly to the armrests, palms facing upward in a posture of helpless surrender. She was pinned, utterly immobilized, every intimate curve displayed under the harsh fluorescents. The White man adjusted a small camera mounted on a tripod directly in front of her, its lens a cold, black eye.
"Let's begin," the White man murmured, his voice a low purr devoid of warmth. He picked up the discarded bullet vibrator Tzuyu had used earlier. He didn't turn it on immediately. Instead, he trailed the cold plastic tip slowly, agonizingly slowly, along the inside of her strapped thigh, tracing a path upwards towards her core. Tzuyu flinched, a gasp escaping her lips. He paused just shy of her mound. Then, he switched it on. The sudden, intense buzz against her sensitive inner thigh made her hips jerk involuntarily against the restraints. He dragged it higher, grazing the outer folds, teasing the edge of sensation before pulling it away entirely, leaving her trembling on the brink. "Patience," he chided softly, circling the vibrator just out of reach.
The Black man stepped in, his fingers cool and dry. He traced the curve of her collarbone, then dipped lower, circling one nipple with deliberate, feather-light strokes. Tzuyu whimpered, her body arching slightly against her bonds as the touch sent jolts of unwanted arousal through her. Just as the sensation peaked, his fingers retreated. Simultaneously, the White man pressed the buzzing vibrator directly against her clit. Tzuyu cried out, her back arching sharply off the chair as intense pleasure surged through her. It built rapidly, a wave cresting higher and higher… until, abruptly, he snatched it away. The sudden absence was a physical shock, leaving her panting, slickness pooling visibly beneath her. "Not yet," the White man whispered, watching her flushed face with detached interest. "We have time."
Again and again, they orchestrated her torment. The Black man’s fingers explored her neck, her ears, the sensitive skin behind her knees, each touch lingering just long enough to ignite a spark before vanishing. The White man alternated the vibrator – pressing it against her inner thigh, teasing her entrance, circling her clit – always withdrawing just as her breath hitched and her hips strained upward, chasing release. Each denial was sharper than the last, a cruel symphony of touch and withdrawal. Tzuyu’s body betrayed her utterly; she was soaked, trembling, slickness glistening on her thighs and the cold chrome seat beneath her. Her ragged breaths filled the sterile room, punctuated by choked whimpers. The relentless cycle built unbearable tension, leaving her suspended in a state of agonized, humiliating arousal, her eyes clenched shut against the cameras and the men’s impassive stares.
"Please," Tzuyu gasped, tears streaking her cheeks, her voice thick with despair. "Please... let me cum... or let me go... I can't... I can't do this anymore..." She sagged against the restraints, the fight draining away, replaced by a crushing wave of depression and exhaustion. The Black man leaned close, his shadow engulfing her. "Your punishment," he rumbled, his tone devoid of pity, "is still a long way from finished. We didn't let you go." He straightened, his gaze hard. The White man stepped forward, holding her phone aloft, the screen flashing "My Boyfriend ♡" once more. "If you want release," he added smoothly, his icy eyes locking onto hers, "call him. Right now. He must watch your punishment live until its conclusion. If he refuses... or hangs up... we leak everything. Your career? TWICE? Ruined."
Tzuyu stared at the phone, then at the chrome chair trapping her nakedness, then at the shelves laden with implements. The impossible choice choked her. Exposing her deepest shame to the man she loved was unthinkable. But failing TWICE, destroying everything they'd built? The weight crushed her. A sob tore from her throat. "Okay," she whispered, the word barely audible, tasting like ash. "Okay... I'll call him." Defeat slumped her shoulders. The White man nodded curtly, unlocked her phone, and tapped the call button. He held it near her face. The dial tone pulsed like a dying heartbeat in the suffocating silence. Tzuyu braced herself, staring at the lens, waiting for the connection, waiting for her world to shatter completely.
The ringing stopped. A familiar voice, warm and concerned, filled the room: "Tzuyu-ah? Hey! Are you okay? I saw the performance, it wasn't that bad..." His voice trailed off, confusion replacing worry as he registered the strange silence, the harsh acoustics. Tzuyu squeezed her eyes shut, fresh tears spilling. The White man leaned close to the phone, his voice chillingly calm. "Hello? Tzuyu's boyfriend? You're about to witness something... enlightening. Watch closely." He angled the phone's camera towards Tzuyu, bound and exposed on the chrome chair, her tear-streaked face a mask of utter despair. The Black man picked up the buzzing bullet vibrator and pressed it firmly against her clit. Tzuyu gasped, her body jerking against the straps. The punishment resumed, now broadcast live to the person whose presence she craved most and whose witness she dreaded above all. Her boyfriend's stunned silence echoed louder than any scream.
"What... Tzuyu?! What the hell is happening?!" His voice cracked, raw with disbelief and rising panic. "Where are you? Who are those men?!" Tzuyu choked back a sob as the vibrator intensified its relentless assault. "I... I'm so sorry," she stammered, her voice thick with tears and the physical shock of the stimulation. "The Victoria's Secret contract... they said I messed up... penalty clause..." She gasped again, hips straining helplessly against the restraints as the buzzing sent waves of unwanted pleasure through her core. "They... they forced me... into this room... made me strip... use toys... now this chair... they're filming everything..." Her explanation was fragmented, punctuated by involuntary cries as the Black man shifted the vibrator, teasing her mercilessly. "They threatened... five million dollars... ruin TWICE... if I didn't comply..." She broke off, a sharp cry escaping her as the White man traced a cold finger down her inner thigh.
"Listen!" Tzuyu pleaded, desperation clawing at her throat. "Right now they need you to watch all of this until the end or I will be destroyed!" The words tumbled out, sharp and frantic. "If you hang up... if you look away... they'll leak the footage... everywhere... my career... TWICE... it's all over... please..." Her voice dissolved into a ragged moan as the vibrator pressed harder against her clit, the sensation unbearable yet impossible to escape. "Just... keep watching... pretend it's... pretend it's nothing... please..." She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear the thought of his eyes on her exposed humiliation, yet knowing his witness was the only shield against total ruin. His stunned silence on the line was a tangible weight.
The vibrator’s relentless buzz suddenly intensified, focused directly on her swollen clit. Tzuyu’s back arched violently against the chrome restraints, a choked scream tearing from her lips as the forced climax ripped through her. Wave after wave of unwanted ecstasy crashed over her, leaving her trembling uncontrollably, slickness dripping onto the cold metal seat beneath her. Before she could even draw a ragged breath, before the aftershocks subsided, the White man smoothly withdrew the vibrator. He stepped aside, revealing a sleek, dual-pronged machine mounted silently on a chrome trolley behind him. Its polished steel arms ended in two imposing silicone phalluses, glistening obscenely under the harsh lights. "Phase three," he announced coldly, aligning the machine precisely between Tzuyu’s splayed legs. "Efficiency."
With a soft hydraulic whir, the machine activated. One phallus pressed firmly against her slick entrance, the other positioned squarely against her tight, unprepared anus. Tzuyu gasped, eyes flying open wide in pure terror. "No! Wait—!" Her protest was cut off as the machine drove forward simultaneously. The thick silicone shafts invaded her with brutal, mechanical precision. Tzuyu screamed, a raw, guttural sound of shock and pain as she was forcibly penetrated in both holes. The machine began its rhythmic, piston-like thrusts, deep and unyielding, filling her completely with each synchronized stroke. Her body jerked against the straps, tears streaming freely as the cold, impersonal violation overwhelmed any lingering trace of forced pleasure, leaving only agony and utter degradation broadcast live to her boyfriend’s horrified silence.
The relentless pistoning continued, a jarring counterpoint to Tzuyu’s choked sobs. The machine offered no variation, no mercy – only the ceaseless, deep penetration stretching her impossibly tight. Her boyfriend’s voice finally broke through, thick with anguish and fury: "Tzuyu! I’m calling the police! Right now! Hang on!" The White man chuckled darkly, leaning close to the phone’s microphone. "Call anyone you like. This facility is secure, untraceable. By the time anyone finds this room... if they ever do... her penalty will be complete. And the footage? Already uploading." He gestured dismissively at Tzuyu, pinned and ravaged by the machine. "Keep watching. Or forfeit everything." Tzuyu could only whimper, her body a vessel for the machine’s cold rhythm, her world reduced to the chrome chair, the thrusting pistons, the cameras, and the sound of her own violation echoing in her lover’s ear.
Then, something shifted. A pressure Tzuyu had never felt before began building low in her belly, intensifying with each synchronized thrust. It wasn't pleasure; it was a primal, mounting tension, a deep internal floodgate straining against the relentless invasion. Her breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, her eyes wide with a new kind of terror mixed with bewildering sensation. The machine drove deeper, hitting angles that seemed to ignite sparks against her raw nerves. Suddenly, with a force that ripped a guttural cry from her throat, her body convulsed violently against the restraints. A hot, uncontrollable gush erupted from her, soaking her thighs and the chrome seat beneath her in a clear, pungent stream. The squirting was shocking, violent, utterly involuntary – a visceral release born purely of brutal mechanical stimulation and overwhelming pressure. Tzuyu stared down at the spreading wetness, her mind blank with horrified disbelief. She’d never done that before.
The machine didn’t pause. It maintained its brutal rhythm, pistons slick with her fluids now. The White man observed clinically. "Interesting physiological response," he noted, almost academically. "Record the volume and duration." Tzuyu barely heard him. The initial shock gave way to a crushing wave of humiliation so profound she thought she might vanish. This intimate betrayal broadcast live – not just her degradation, but this deeply personal, uncontrolled physical reaction. Yet, even as shame threatened to drown her, the machine’s relentless pistons found their mark again. The pressure built faster this time, the pathway somehow slicker, more receptive. Within moments, another powerful surge tore through her. Less violent than the first, but just as unstoppable, another hot jet soaking her thighs and the chair. A choked sob escaped her – tears mingling with sweat – as her body betrayed her again with terrifying ease. The squirting was becoming frighteningly reproducible under the machine’s unyielding assault.
Her boyfriend’s voice was a frantic whisper in her ear now, distorted by distance and despair: "Tzuyu... oh god... Tzuyu, I'm here... hang on... please hang on..." His anguish was palpable, a fragile lifeline in the sterile horror. The White man leaned casually into the phone’s mic, his voice chillingly calm. "Hear that? He’s begging. Pathetic." He gestured dismissively at Tzuyu, pinned and dripping. "Focus on the screen. Keep watching. Or forfeit everything." His command was absolute, dismissing the boyfriend’s pain as irrelevant noise. Tzuyu strained against the straps, desperate for that whisper, but the machine’s deep thrusts demanded her entire physical awareness. Each synchronized penetration dragged a low moan from her throat, involuntary and thick with exhaustion. The relentless stimulation – the deep filling, the friction against oversensitive nerves – was eroding her resistance, replacing terror with a terrifying, primal ache.
The White man chuckled, a low, satisfied sound vibrating through the room’s tension. He didn't stop the machine. Instead, his fingers danced over a small control panel mounted on its chrome flank. With a deliberate twist, he adjusted a dial. Instantly, the pistons plunged deeper, faster, the thrusts jarring Tzuyu’s body violently against the unforgiving restraints. Her spine slammed into the chair back, the impact sharp. The sudden escalation bypassed thought entirely. A pressure unlike anything she’d ever felt surged within her, immense and unstoppable. It wasn’t pleasure; it was hydraulic inevitability. Tzuyu’s eyes flew wide, her mouth forming a silent scream before sound erupted. Her body arched impossibly high against the straps, every muscle locked rigid. A torrential jet of fluid erupted from her, not a gush but a continuous, powerful stream soaking her thighs, the chrome seat, and pooling on the floor beneath the chair with a loud splash. The sensation was overwhelming, a brutal release that felt like her core was being squeezed dry.
The pressure built relentlessly, wave after wave forcing the liquid out. Tzuyu’s toes curled inward painfully, cramping against the footrest. Her head snapped back, eyes rolling white beneath fluttering lids, sightless. The scream finally tore loose, raw and primal, echoing off the sterile walls: "AHHHHHHH!" It wasn't a sound of pleasure or pain alone, but of utter annihilation, of being reduced to pure biological function under mechanical assault. The jet intensified, becoming a roaring fountain, pouring out of her with terrifying force. The Black man watched impassively, arms crossed. The White man leaned closer to the phone’s camera, ensuring the lens captured the obscene cascade. "Beautiful, isn't it?" he murmured, almost reverently. "Pure physics."
Then came the final surge. Tzuyu’s body convulsed like a landed fish, thrashing against the straps with shocking violence. The jet became a pressurized explosion, a gallon’s worth of fluid erupting in a single, catastrophic burst. The sheer force pushed violently against the invading pistons, momentarily jamming the machine’s relentless rhythm. The silicone shafts slipped partially free from her ass and pussy, slick and dripping, before the hydraulics overcame the resistance and plunged back in with brutal finality. Tzuyu collapsed, utterly spent, the scream dying into ragged, wet gasps. Her body lay limp in the restraints, trembling uncontrollably, drenched in her own fluids. The machine continued its piston strokes, indifferent, while the White man tapped the phone screen, ending the call. "Phase three complete," he stated flatly. The silence that followed was broken only by Tzuyu’s shuddering breaths and the soft whir of the machine.
The Black man moved first. With swift, impersonal motions, he released the thick leather straps binding her ankles and wrists. There was no gentleness, no support. As the last strap fell away, Tzuyu’s body folded like a marionette with its strings cut. She slid bonelessly off the chrome chair, landing heavily on the cold, wet floor in a heap. The impact jarred her bones, but she barely registered it. Every muscle felt liquefied, utterly useless; she was a sack of warm jelly dropped onto a tile floor slick with her own humiliation. The chill of the fluid-soaked linoleum seeped into her skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from her abused core. Sweat plastered her hair to her temples and neck, mingling with the drying streams of tears and the pungent wetness coating her thighs and belly. She lay there, face pressed to the wet floor, unable to move, barely able to breathe.
Above her, the machine whirred softly, its pistons slick and gleaming. Tzuyu’s body, still pulsing with aftershocks, betrayed her again. With each shallow, exhausted breath she drew, air escaped her violated holes in soft, rhythmic bursts. *Pffft. Pffft.* The vibrations were shallow, involuntary expulsions – tiny queefs escaping her stretched pussy and ass with every tremor that ran through her jelly-like limbs. Each puff of air was a silent, humiliating echo of the machine’s relentless penetration, a physiological footnote to her degradation broadcast moments before. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, wishing the floor would swallow her whole, drowning out the soft, mortifying sounds her own body insisted on making.
The White man crouched, his polished shoes splashing lightly in the puddle beneath her. He held her phone, screen facing her. Her boyfriend’s face filled the display, pale and strained, eyes wide with horror and unshed tears. Tzuyu’s breath hitched, another tiny *pffft* escaping her. “I’m sorry,” she rasped, the words scraping her raw throat. Her voice was shattered glass. “I’m so sorry… I can’t…” She couldn’t even finish the thought – couldn’t apologize enough, couldn’t explain the depth of her violation, couldn’t promise it wasn’t her choice. Shame choked her. “I’m sorry…” she whispered again, her gaze dropping from his devastated face to the wet floor reflecting the harsh lights.
Then, a tremor ran through her jelly-like legs. Not exhaustion this time. A low, desperate thrum began deep inside her abused core, pulsing in time with her rabbit-fast heartbeat. The machine’s brutal efficiency hadn’t just emptied her; it had rewired her. The lingering ache, the phantom sensation of relentless pistons, ignited a terrifying, involuntary hunger. Her hips gave a tiny, involuntary jerk against the cold linoleum. Her eyes, glazed moments before, flickered with a frantic, confused need. “Please…” The word escaped her lips, barely audible, directed not at her boyfriend’s image, but into the sterile air thick with the scent of her own humiliation. “Fuck me… please…” It was a plea ripped from her animal core, divorced from reason or shame. “Make me cum… Breed me… Fill me…” The obscene words tumbled out, slurred and desperate, a betrayal deeper than the cameras. Her body arched slightly, seeking friction against the wet floor, a silent, writhe demand for the torment to continue, to finish her.
The Black organizer chuckled, a low rumble vibrating through the room. He nudged her thigh with his polished shoe. “See?” He gestured towards the phone screen, his voice thick with mocking triumph. “We think your girlfriend is needy for a cock. Real cock. Not toys.” The White organizer leaned into the camera frame beside his partner, his smile predatory. “Just watch how a duet from BBC and BBW will turn your girlfriend into a proper slut.” He emphasized the crude acronyms, savoring the degradation. Tzuyu’s boyfriend cried out, a strangled sound of protest and disbelief – “Stop! Don’t touch her! Tzuyu, fight them!” – but the men ignored him utterly. The White organizer picked up the phone, adjusting its position deliberately. He placed it on a small tripod stand near Tzuyu’s splayed legs, angling the lens upward for a horrifyingly intimate view. “Best seat in the house,” he murmured coldly. “Watch her become what she truly is.”
They moved with synchronized efficiency, shedding their tailored suits like discarded skins. The White man’s pale skin contrasted sharply with the harsh lighting as he peeled off his shirt, revealing a thick torso dusted with dark hair. His belt buckle clattered to the wet floor. Beside him, the Black man’s movements were fluid, powerful; his dark skin gleamed as he shrugged off his jacket and shirt, revealing defined muscle. They kicked off their shoes, stepped out of trousers and briefs. Both men stood fully naked now, towering over Tzuyu’s crumpled form. Their erections were monstrously thick and impossibly long, easily ten inches each, rigid and straining. The White man’s cock was thick and veined, flushed pink against his paleness. The Black man’s was a deep, heavy ebony, glistening slightly at the tip. Tzuyu whimpered, shrinking back instinctively into the cold puddle, her body trembling violently at the sheer size and menace radiating from them. Her boyfriend’s frantic pleas echoed tinny and useless from the phone speaker: “No! Get away from her! Tzuyu! RUN!”
The White man crouched, his movements surprisingly swift. He hooked his hands roughly under Tzuyu’s armpits, hauling her limp, dripping body upright with a grunt. Her legs buckled instantly, jelly refusing to hold weight. He hauled her back flush against his chest, his thick forearm locking across her collarbones like an iron bar, pinning her arms uselessly at her sides. Her head lolled against his shoulder, her eyes wide and terrified, staring directly at her boyfriend’s horrified face on the phone screen. The Black man stepped forward, his massive frame filling her vision, his dark erection bobbing obscenely close to her face. He gripped her hips firmly, fingers digging into the soft flesh above her pelvic bone, lifting her slightly. Tzuyu gasped, her feet barely touching the wet floor, suspended between them. The White man’s cock pressed hot and insistent against the cleft of her ass. The Black man’s tip nudged against her slick, swollen entrance. Tzuyu’s breath hitched, a tiny, terrified squeak escaping her lips. “Let’s shut him,” the White man growled low into her ear, his breath hot and smelling faintly of mint. He gave a sharp nod to his partner.
It was a single, brutal motion. The White man thrust his hips forward violently, driving his thick, pale cock deep into Tzuyu’s unprepared asshole with a wet, tearing sound. Simultaneously, the Black man surged forward, impaling her pussy on his massive ebony shaft in one powerful stroke. Tzuyu’s entire body convulsed, her spine arching impossibly against the White man’s restraining arm. Her eyes flew wide, pupils dilated with shock and agony. A choked, guttural scream ripped from her throat, raw and primal: “FUCK! IT’S SO BIG!” The sheer, overwhelming stretch was beyond comprehension – her ass felt split open, her pussy stretched impossibly wide around the invading girth. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks as she hung there, suspended, brutally filled to bursting front and back. Her boyfriend’s voice dissolved into a wordless cry of anguish on the phone.
“Keep talking, Tzuyu,” the Black man growled, his voice thick with exertion as he withdrew his cock slowly, almost completely, leaving her pussy gaping and slick. “Face him.” He nodded towards the phone angled at her crotch. “Tell your boyfriend how our cock feels.” Before she could form words, the White man pulled back sharply from her ass, leaving her shuddering and empty. Then, with brutal synchronization, they slammed back in – the Black man filling her pussy to the hilt, the White man burying himself deep in her ass. Tzuyu gasped, her body jerking violently. “S-so deep!” she stammered, her voice trembling. “H-his cock… stretching me… tearing me… oh god!” The White man withdrew again, only for the Black man to pull out, leaving her momentarily hollow. They began a relentless, alternating rhythm – one thrusting deep while the other withdrew, creating a ceaseless, devastating piston motion inside her abused holes. Each deep penetration forced a sharp cry or a ragged gasp from Tzuyu’s lips.
The alternating thrusts weren’t just brutal; they were maddeningly efficient. As the Black man drove deep into her slick, stretched pussy, the friction ignited sparks against her oversensitive clit. When he withdrew, the sudden emptiness was immediately filled by the White man’s thick invasion of her ass, stretching her differently, hitting nerves that sent jolts through her core. Then the Black man slammed home again before she could recover, his cockhead grinding directly against her cervix. The overlapping sensations – deep filling, grinding pressure, sharp friction – built a terrifying pressure low in her belly, different from before. It wasn’t just hydraulic inevitability; it was a desperate, clawing need amplified by the relentless rhythm. Tzuyu’s whimpers turned into frantic moans. “F-feels… too much!” she gasped, hips instinctively trying to rock against the thrusts despite the agony. “Making me… need to… squirt again!” Her body was betraying her, responding to the violation with terrifying urgency.
The organizers saw it. The Black man increased his pace, hammering into her pussy with short, powerful strokes focused on grinding her clit. Simultaneously, the White man altered his angle, driving deep into her ass with each thrust, hitting a spot that made Tzuyu’s vision blur. The pressure inside her coiled tighter, tighter – a spring wound beyond breaking. Tzuyu’s head snapped back against the White man’s shoulder, her mouth open in a silent scream before sound erupted. “AHHHHH! IT’S COMING!” she shrieked, her voice raw and desperate, echoing her boyfriend’s horrified gasp from the phone. Her body locked rigid between them, every muscle straining. Then, with a force that felt like her insides were tearing loose, a torrential jet exploded from her – not a stream this time, but a violent, pulsing fountain soaking the Black man’s thighs and the floor beneath them in hot, pungent fluid. She squirted violently, convulsing around the invading cocks, her mind dissolving into pure sensation under the relentless, alternating thrusts.
“Fuck, look at that!” The Black man groaned, his hips never slowing as he watched the spray soak his skin. “This slut’s pussy is a fucking geyser!” His thrusts became sharper, deeper, deliberately triggering another shuddering spray that splashed against his abs. The White man chuckled darkly, his grip tightening on Tzuyu’s collarbones as he drove harder into her ass. “Asshole’s clenching like a vice,” he grunted, admiring the way her muscles spasmed around him with each involuntary jet. “Perfect fucking holes.” Tzuyu could only sob, her body betraying her again and again. Every shift, every thrust deeper, every grinding rotation sent another hot gush pouring from her, turning the floor into a slick, steaming mess beneath their feet. Her boyfriend’s choked voice pleaded uselessly from the phone speaker: “Stop! Please stop hurting her!”
“Hear that?” The Black man slammed home again, forcing another choked scream and a fresh gush from Tzuyu. “Your boyfriend’s crying.” He leaned closer to Tzuyu’s ear, his voice thick with cruel amusement. “Tell him. Tell him how pathetic his little dick feels compared to this.” Tzuyu’s eyes flickered towards the phone screen, seeing his tear-streaked face. Shame warred with the raw, humiliating truth clawing its way out. “H-his cock…” she gasped, her voice trembling as the White man withdrew, leaving her ass gaping before slamming back in. “It’s… nothing! Tiny!” Another brutal thrust from the Black man sent another hot jet spraying. “Yours… split me open!” she cried, the words ripped from her. “Fills me… so deep! Makes me… squirt like a whore!” Each confession punctuated by another violent surge of fluid, another shuddering clench around their monstrous shafts. Her boyfriend’s anguished cry dissolved into static.
The Black man roared, his thrusts turning frantic, piston-like. “Fuck yes! Take it!” Tzuyu’s body arched violently, her scream dissolving into a ragged gasp as another powerful jet erupted – thinner now, but still pulsing uncontrollably. The White man growled, his hips snapping forward erratically. Tzuyu felt the hot, thick pulse deep in her ass, then the deeper, heavier throb filling her pussy seconds later as the Black man emptied himself inside her. They held her suspended between them, grunting, shuddering, as Tzuyu’s body trembled through weak, final spurts onto the slick floor. Only then did they release her. She crumpled into the steaming puddle, utterly spent, her boyfriend’s horrified silence echoing from the phone. The White man tapped the screen, ending the call. “Phase four,” he stated flatly. Tzuyu didn’t move.
The Black man hauled her up, his hands rough under her arms. He spun her around, facing the White man. Before she could react, the Black man bent her sharply at the waist, forcing her hands onto the wet chrome chair seat for balance. Her legs wobbled violently. The White man stepped close, his softening cock slick with fluids. He gripped her hips. The Black man positioned himself behind her, his massive erection already swelling anew against her bruised ass. Tzuyu whimpered, understanding dawning. The White man drove forward, filling her pussy with a thick, wet slide. Tzuyu gasped at the familiar stretch, her body still hypersensitive. Before she could adjust, the Black man pressed the broad, slick head of his cock against her loosened asshole. He pushed slowly, relentlessly, stretching her open again with agonizing pressure. Tzuyu cried out, her fingers slipping on the chrome. “Fuck! Both holes…again!” the black men said.
They found their rhythm quickly this time – not alternating, but synchronized. The White man thrust deep into her pussy. Simultaneously, the Black man drove forward, burying his thick shaft deep into her ass. The combined invasion was overwhelming, a double-barreled assault that stretched her impossibly tight. Tzuyu screamed, her body bowing under the force. As they pulled back together, withdrawing almost completely, a hot jet pulsed weakly from her pussy, splattering against the chrome chair leg. They slammed forward again, pistoning into her in perfect unison. The deep, simultaneous penetration forced the air from her lungs in a choked gasp, and another, thicker surge of fluid gushed out, soaking the White man’s thighs. Tzuyu’s hips jerked involuntarily against the thrusts. “Squirt!” she gasped, her voice ragged. “Oh god, squirting!” The humiliation was visceral, her body reacting instantly to the brutal fullness.
They settled into a punishing cadence. Thrust together – deep, stretching, filling. Pull back together – leaving her momentarily hollow. With every synchronized drive forward, the pressure built unbearably low in her belly, triggering an immediate, uncontrollable response. A jet erupted with each inward plunge, the force and volume dictated by their pace. When they hammered into her fast and hard, the jets were sharp, pressurized bursts, spraying the floor beneath her. When they slowed, grinding deep with deliberate rotations, the flow became a thick, pulsing stream, soaking her trembling thighs and the men’s legs. Tzuyu moaned continuously now, a low, desperate sound punctuated by sharp cries with each deep penetration and the accompanying gush. Her body was no longer hers; it was a conduit responding with humiliating precision to their unified rhythm.
“Keep going!” Tzuyu gasped, her voice slurred and thick, eyes unfocused. Her hips pushed back weakly against the Black man’s thrusts. “Make me squirting… all day… until dry!” Each word was punctuated by a shudder and another hot jet splattering against the chrome legs. She felt the White man’s cockhead grind deep inside her pussy, hitting something that made her vision swim. “Ur cock… it’s in my belly!” she moaned, the sensation alien and overwhelming. “Feels… so deep… like touching my guts!” She twisted her head, trying to catch the Black man’s eye behind her. “Better… better than my boyfriend!” The confession ripped out, raw and shameful. “His tiny cock… never filled me… never made me… leak like
this!”
The White man chuckled, a dark rumble against her spine. He shifted his grip, pulling her hips back harder onto his thrusts. “Tell us where it feels best, slut. Where does it hurt good?” Tzuyu whimpered, her mind fragmented. The Black man slammed forward, burying himself to the hilt in her ass, the impact forcing a choked scream and a powerful jet from her pussy onto the White man’s groin. “I… I don’t know!” she cried, her voice cracking. “That spot… inside my pussy… when you grind…” The White man obliged, rotating his hips slowly as he withdrew, dragging against her sensitive walls. Tzuyu arched violently. “There! Oh god, *there*! Feels like… electricity!” Another deep thrust, another gush. “Breed me!” she begged, the words tumbling out unbidden. “Fill my holes! Make me… your squirting slut!”
Her pleas fueled them. They increased their tempo, pistoning into her with brutal, synchronized efficiency. Tzuyu’s body convulsed rhythmically, jets becoming weaker, thinner sprays with each thrust as exhaustion warred with relentless stimulation. Her moans dissolved into breathless whimpers, her legs trembling violently, barely holding her upright. “Yes… yes…” she slurred, her head lolling forward, hair plastered to her face. “Squirt… for you…” The words were barely audible whispers now, lost beneath the wet slap of flesh on flesh and the men’s harsh grunts. She was emptying, drying out, reduced to a trembling vessel responding only to the deep, violating rhythm that owned her holes. The chrome chair legs gleamed wetly beneath her.
The Black man’s thrusts grew frantic, desperate. He roared, a guttural sound vibrating through Tzuyu’s spine. She felt the hot, thick pulse deep inside her ass, a heavy throb that seemed to go on forever, flooding her depths. Simultaneously, the White man slammed deep into her pussy, grinding hard against her cervix. He gasped sharply, his hips jerking erratically as his own release surged – a scalding torrent filling her womb, mixing with the fluids already slicking her thighs. Tzuyu gasped, her body instinctively clenching around the invading heat, triggering one final, pathetic dribble onto the floor. They held her pinned, shuddering, their spent cocks still buried deep as they emptied themselves completely inside her. Tzuyu hung limp between them, trembling with aftershocks, utterly filled.
They withdrew roughly, letting her collapse forward onto the cold chrome chair seat. Tzuyu slumped, her cheek pressed against the wet metal, breath ragged. Before she could even register the emptiness, the Black man hauled her upright by her hair. Pain shot through her scalp. He spun her around, forcing her onto her hands and knees on the soaked linoleum. Her limbs trembled violently, barely holding her weight. The White man kicked her legs wider apart. Tzuyu whimpered, understanding flooding her exhausted mind. She lifted her head weakly, meeting the Black man’s eyes as he positioned his thick, slick cockhead against her swollen, gaping entrance. Behind her, she heard the White man step closer, his shadow falling over her.
The Black man drove forward without preamble, sheathing himself fully inside her abused pussy in one brutal motion. Tzuyu cried out, her arms buckling slightly at the renewed invasion. Simultaneously, the White man gripped her jaw roughly, his fingers digging into her cheeks. He forced her mouth open wide. Tzuyu gagged as the thick, salty head of his cock pressed against her lips. She tried to turn her head away, but his grip was iron. He pushed forward relentlessly, stretching her jaw impossibly wide as he shoved his entire length down her throat. Tzuyu choked, her eyes bulging, tears streaming anew as her airway was brutally blocked. She could only gag helplessly around the thick shaft, saliva dripping onto the floor beneath her.
The Black man chuckled darkly, watching her struggle. He raised his heavy hand high and brought it down hard on Tzuyu’s upturned ass cheek with a sharp, echoing 'crack!' The impact jolted her entire body forward onto the White man’s cock, forcing him deeper into her throat. Tzuyu screamed around the obstruction, a muffled, desperate sound. "Keep sucking," the Black man ordered, his voice thick with amusement. He withdrew slowly from her pussy, leaving her gaping and slick. As he pulled out completely, the White man pulled his dripping cock from her throat, allowing Tzuyu a single gasping, ragged breath before slamming back deep into her pussy. The alternating rhythm began – brutal, efficient, and utterly degrading.
As the Black man thrust into her pussy, stretching her impossibly wide, Tzuyu gagged and choked on the White man’s cock filling her throat. When the Black man withdrew, the White man pulled back, letting her gasp for air only to immediately shove himself back down her throat as the Black man slammed home again. Each thrust into her pussy forced her body forward onto the cock in her mouth; each withdrawal pulled her back. Tzuyu’s world narrowed to the suffocating thickness in her throat and the splitting stretch below, her body jerked like a puppet between them. Tears, snot, and saliva coated her face, dripping onto the already soaked floor. Her boyfriend’s horrified face flashed in her mind, drowned out by the wet sounds of penetration and her own choked gags.
The relentless alternation continued – pussy, throat, pussy, throat. Tzuyu’s hips began to jerk weakly against the Black man’s thrusts, her abused body betraying her once more. A familiar, terrifying pressure built low in her belly, triggered by the deep, grinding penetration and the helpless gagging. "She’s gonna blow again," the Black man grunted, increasing his pace. As he hammered deep into her slick channel, Tzuyu convulsed around him, a muffled scream trapped around the White man’s cock buried in her throat. A hot, pulsing jet erupted from her, splattering weakly against the Black man’s thighs and the floor beneath her trembling knees – a humiliating punctuation to her brutal violation.
"Glukk.. Glukkk... Glukk." The choked, wet sounds were the only protest Tzuyu could manage, her throat working helplessly around the invading shaft. Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks, mixing with saliva pooling beneath her chin. The men maintained their brutal rhythm, their thrusts growing frantic, ragged breaths filling the humid air. The White man’s grip tightened on her jaw, forcing her head forward onto his cock with each inward plunge. "Take it deep, slut," he rasped, his hips snapping erratically. Tzuyu’s eyes rolled back slightly, consciousness flickering under the suffocating pressure and the relentless, violating pistoning below.
The Black man roared first, a guttural sound that vibrated through Tzuyu’s core. She felt the hot, thick pulse deep inside her womb as he slammed home one final time, flooding her with his release. The sensation triggered a weak, involuntary clench around him, squeezing out the last pathetic dribble onto the floor. Simultaneously, the White man thrust deep into her throat, grunting harshly as his cock swelled. Tzuyu gagged violently as the first scalding spurt hit the back of her palate. He held her head firmly, pumping thick ropes directly down her constricted throat. "Swallow it!" he commanded hoarsely, his hips jerking erratically. Tzuyu choked, her throat convulsing reflexively, forced to gulp down the bitter warmth flooding her mouth and esophagus.
They withdrew roughly, letting Tzuyu collapse forward onto the wet floor. She gasped, sucking in ragged, shuddering breaths, coughing weakly as thick strands of cum dribbled from her bruised lips onto the slick surface. Her body trembled violently, utterly spent, every muscle screaming in protest.
Before she could even lift her head, the White man hauled himself backwards onto the damp linoleum, sprawling flat on his back. The Black man seized Tzuyu under her arms, lifting her limp form like a ragdoll. He positioned her unceremoniously over the White man’s hips, forcing her knees wide apart on either side of his torso. "Ride him properly," the Black man commanded, his voice thick with exertion, shoving her hips down hard. Tzuyu cried out as the White man’s semi-hard cock slid brutally back into her gaping, oversensitive pussy, the sudden entry stretching her abused flesh anew.
As Tzuyu slumped forward weakly, trying to brace her shaking hands on the White man’s chest, the Black man stepped beside her head. He gripped a fistful of her sweat-soaked hair, jerking her face upwards. Without hesitation, he shoved the slick, swollen head of his cock past her slack lips and deep into her raw throat. Tzuyu gagged violently around the intrusion, tears instantly flooding her eyes as her airway constricted.
"Move, slut," the Black man growled, tightening his grip on her hair. "Show him how hungry that throat is." Trapped between the cock filling her mouth and the one buried deep inside her, Tzuyu could only whimper. She attempted a feeble rocking motion with her hips, her exhausted muscles straining against the relentless demand, while simultaneously trying to suck weakly around the shaft choking her. Saliva dripped steadily onto the White man’s chest beneath her trembling body.
The White man groaned, his hips lifting sharply off the linoleum, driving his cock impossibly deeper into her slick channel. His upward thrust forced Tzuyu’s head forward onto the Black man’s erection, burying it fully down her throat. The sudden, brutal invasion choked her airway completely. Tzuyu’s eyes snapped wide, panic flaring, before rolling back into her head, showing only the whites. A muffled, desperate gurgle escaped her as she felt the White man’s cock swell and pulse thickly inside her pussy—filling her anew, stretching her sensitive walls taut. The sensation, combined with the suffocating thickness lodged in her throat, sent a terrifying wave of pressure crashing through her core.
Despite the inability to scream, her body reacted violently. Her hips jerked uncontrollably against the White man’s pelvis. Deep within, a familiar, agonizingly intense knot tightened—the spot his cockhead was grinding against relentlessly. It wasn't pleasure; it was a raw, physiological detonation. A fierce, uncontrollable jet of fluid erupted violently from her, spraying hotly down onto the White man’s groin and thighs with shocking force. Her entire body locked rigidly, trembling violently around the twin invasions, the silent scream trapped behind the cock in her throat manifesting only in the violent, humiliating gush soaking them both.
The Black man chuckled darkly, watching the spray soak his partner. "There's the geyser," he rasped, pulling his slick cock almost completely from her throat only to slam it back down hard. Tzuyu convulsed again, another weaker jet pulsing out weakly onto the mess below, her eyes still rolled back, her consciousness flickering like a dying bulb under the relentless assault on both ends. The White man grunted, his hands clamping onto her hips, grinding her down onto his still-throbbing cock, ensuring every drop of her humiliation was milked out onto his skin.
He shifted his grip suddenly, one thick hand sliding up her slick torso to roughly knead her bruised breast, pinching the nipple hard between his thumb and forefinger. Tzuyu jerked violently, a choked, wet sound escaping around the cock in her throat. The sharp, unexpected pain sent a fresh jolt through her hypersensitive nerves, directly into her core. The White man felt it too – a fresh clench deep inside her abused passage, followed instantly by a renewed, powerful surge of fluid soaking his thighs. "Fuck yeah," he groaned, twisting her nipple cruelly, "Squirt harder, bitch. Show us your gratitude."
His brutal manipulation, combined with the deep grinding pressure inside her and the suffocating fullness in her throat, pushed Tzuyu past the edge of any control. A guttural, choked scream vibrated around the Black man’s shaft as her body locked rigidly. Then, an explosive torrent erupted – thicker, hotter, and utterly uncontrolled than anything before. It pulsed violently onto the White man’s groin and stomach, a cascading flood that seemed to drain her completely. Simultaneously, the Black man roared, burying himself to the hilt in her throat, his cock pulsing thick ropes of cum directly down her constricted esophagus. The White man bucked violently beneath her, his own release surging deep inside her womb once more, mixing with the fluids already flooding her.
The double-barreled climax hit Tzuyu like a physical blow. Every muscle turned instantly to water. Her legs buckled completely, unable to hold even her slight weight. Her body slumped forward like a boneless sack, collapsing heavily onto the White man’s chest. The sudden dead weight drove his cock impossibly deeper into her spasming passage as she landed, her limp form pinned between the two men. The Black man’s cock slid wetly from her slack mouth as she collapsed, leaving her gasping weakly, her face pressed into the damp, cum-streaked skin beneath her. Only the shallow, desperate rise and fall of her ribs showed she was still breathing.
The Black man chuckled, a low, rumbling sound thick with satisfaction. He reached down, grabbing Tzuyu’s sweat-slicked hair, and hauled her head back. Her eyes were glazed, unfocused, pupils blown wide with exhaustion and residual shock. He angled her face towards the phone still propped nearby, its screen showing her boyfriend’s frozen horror. "See that?" he growled, his voice rough. "See how we turn your precious girl into a squirting slut? See how she begs for it now?" Tzuyu whimpered, a weak, broken sound, her eyelids fluttering as she tried and failed to focus on the screen. Her body trembled violently against the White man’s chest, tiny aftershocks still rippling through her.
The Black man released her hair, letting her head loll forward again. He exchanged a look with the White man sprawled beneath Tzuyu’s limp form. "She’s done," the White man stated flatly, shifting slightly under her weight. "For now." The Black man nodded slowly, his gaze flicking back to the phone. "We still have another surprise planned for you, loverboy," he said, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "Something… special. But this little slut? She needs rest." He prodded Tzuyu’s unresponsive thigh with a thick finger. "Can’t let her die from endless sex before the main event, can we?" His laughter was harsh, echoing in the humid room. "Wouldn’t be fair to deprive you of the grand finale."
He hauled Tzuyu off the White man with surprising ease, her body sliding wetly onto the cold linoleum. Before she could curl in on herself, the Black man gripped her shoulders, dragging her limp form across the slick floor towards a sturdy metal frame bolted to the wall – a simple structure of pipes resembling scaffolding. The White man followed, stretching his arms as he walked. Together, they lifted Tzuyu upright. Her knees buckled instantly, but the Black man held her torso while the White man seized her wrists. He pulled her arms high above her head and swiftly secured them to the top bar of the frame with thick leather cuffs, leaving her suspended, toes barely brushing the floor. Her head lolled forward, hair obscuring her face, her body trembling violently in the forced posture.
The White man crouched behind her. He gripped her hips firmly, forcing them back. Tzuyu whimpered weakly as the sudden movement forced a thick bubble of air mixed with viscous fluid to escape her gaping vagina with a low, wet "pfffrrrrrt". It hung in the humid air for a second before dissipating. Simultaneously, a slow, thick stream of semen trickled down the inside of her bruised thigh, joining the pool beneath her dangling feet. The White man chuckled darkly, tracing a finger along the swollen, distended rim of her anus. "Look at that," he murmured, pressing inward slightly. Another softer "pfft" escaped from her asshole, followed by a trickle of milky fluid leaking onto the floor. "Both holes singing for us."
The White organizer stepped back, retrieving Tzuyu’s phone. He tapped the screen, reactivating the video call, and held it inches from her downturned face. Her boyfriend’s horrified expression filled the tiny display. The Black man grabbed a fistful of her tangled hair, jerking her head up sharply. Tzuyu’s eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused, struggling to register the screen. "Look at him," the Black man commanded, his voice low and menacing. He tightened his grip, forcing her gaze directly onto the phone. "Tell him. Tell your precious boyfriend exactly what you are now."
A ragged breath shuddered through Tzuyu. Her lips moved silently for a moment, forming words that wouldn’t come. Then, with a desperate, final surge of fading consciousness, she whispered, thick and slurred, "I… I am their slut." Tears welled in her swollen eyes, spilling over onto her bruised cheeks. "I… am sorry." The apology hung heavy in the humid air, a broken whisper directed at the tiny image of her boyfriend. Her eyelids fluttered closed again, her head sagging forward despite the painful grip in her hair. The trembling subsided into shallow, rhythmic breaths; she was utterly spent, drifting into oblivion while suspended, exposed, and utterly owned.
The Black man released her hair, letting her head slump forward onto her chest. He exchanged a satisfied glance with the White organizer, who lowered the phone, ending the call with a tap. "Out cold," the White man observed, tracing a finger down Tzuyu’s sweat-slicked spine. "Good. Needs to recharge." The Black man chuckled, stepping back to admire their handiwork – the unconscious idol suspended like a trophy, skin gleaming with sweat and fluids, limbs trembling faintly even in sleep. "Plenty more planned," he murmured, his gaze lingering on her bound wrists and the vulnerable curve of her throat. "The grand finale requires a well-rested slut."
The White organizer moved closer, his fingers brushing lightly over Tzuyu’s exposed clit. It twitched faintly beneath his touch. He pressed harder, circling the swollen nub with deliberate pressure. Tzuyu’s body jerked in her restraints, a low moan escaping her slack lips despite her unconsciousness. A thin, hot jet of fluid sprayed weakly onto the floor beneath her dangling feet. "Look," the White man grinned, stepping back to avoid the spray. "Her pussy’s still responsive, even unconscious. Like a live wire."
The Black man nodded, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He walked towards the chrome penetration machine humming faintly in the corner. "Slow power," he said, adjusting a heavy dial with a thick click. "Gentle rhythm. Enough to keep her wet… keep her primed." He disconnected the thick hose from its cleaning reservoir, the nozzle dripping viscous lubricant onto the linoleum. "Wouldn’t want her drying out before the main event." He hefted the machine’s articulated arm, its polished steel glinting under the harsh lights.
He positioned the dual-headed attachment between Tzuyu’s spread legs. The White man gripped her hips firmly, holding her steady despite her limpness. The Black man pressed the cold, lubricated tips against her gaping, swollen openings. Tzuyu whimpered softly in her sleep, her hips shifting weakly away from the intrusion. The Black man ignored her, securing the machine’s base firmly against the floor. With a final, heavy 'clunk', he locked it into place. He flipped a switch. A low, rhythmic hum filled the room as the machine began its slow, insistent pistoning – a gentle, relentless reminder deep inside her unconscious body that her ordeal was far from over.
The White organizer approached Tzuyu’s suspended form. He retrieved a thick strip of black silk from a nearby tray – the blindfold forgotten earlier. He unfolded it deliberately, the fabric whispering softly. Standing directly in front of her, he lifted her chin gently. Tzuyu’s head lolled back, her slack mouth slightly open, her breathing shallow and even. He carefully smoothed the cool silk over her closed eyelids, tying it securely at the back of her head. The darkness enveloped her completely, isolating her further in her exhaustion. Beneath the blindfold, her eyelids fluttered faintly. The machine’s steady thrusts continued, a metronome against the wet sounds filling the humid air.
The Black organizer moved to the chrome penetration machine humming beside Tzuyu. He knelt, examining the pooling fluids beneath her suspended feet – a viscous mixture soaking the linoleum. He traced a finger through the mess, lifting it coated in shimmering strands. "Look at this," he murmured, his voice low and thick. "Like a goddamn hamster wheel stuck on leak." He wiped his finger clean on her trembling thigh, leaving a glistening smear. The White organizer chuckled darkly, stepping closer to observe the unconscious idol. "River’s still flowing," he noted, watching a fresh rivulet trace its way down her inner thigh to join the puddle below. "Even asleep, she’s a fountain."
The Black organizer stood, his gaze fixed on Tzuyu’s slack face beneath the blindfold. He reached out, pressing his thumb against her lower lip. Her mouth yielded passively. "Think she’s dreaming?" he mused, pushing his thumb deeper until it brushed against her teeth. "Dreaming of cock? Dreaming of us?" The White organizer shrugged.
"Let’s wake her up," the Black man said, his hand already holding a sleek metal cattle prod humming with latent energy. "Okay," the White man replied, grabbing a thick leather belt coiled like a snake on a nearby tray. He unspooled it with a sharp snap that echoed in the humid room. The Black organizer jammed the cattle prod against Tzuyu’s inner thigh. Blue-white sparks crackled across her skin. Tzuyu’s body jackknifed violently against her restraints, a raw, choked scream tearing from her throat as her eyes snapped wide beneath the silk blindfold. Simultaneously, the White organizer swung the belt hard across her exposed ribs. The leather cracked like a gunshot, leaving an angry crimson welt instantly.
Tzuyu thrashed wildly, her suspended body twisting against the leather cuffs. "Stop! Please!" she gasped, her voice shredded and thick with sleep-disorientation. The Black organizer pressed the prod against her hip bone, sending another jagged bolt of electricity through her. Her spine arched impossibly backward, muscles locking rigid. "Who owns you?" he demanded, his voice a low growl. Before she could form words, the White organizer whipped the belt diagonally across her stomach. Tzuyu shrieked, her legs kicking uselessly in the air. "You! You own me!" she sobbed, saliva dripping from her chin.
The White organizer stepped behind her, raising the belt high. "Louder!" he commanded. The Black organizer pressed the prod’s tip against her clit. Tzuyu screamed, a desperate, ragged sound. "YOU OWN ME!" she bellowed, her voice cracking with terror. The belt descended with brutal force across her shoulder blades. The leather kissed flesh with a sickening thwack. Tzuyu convulsed, her body jerking like a marionette. "Good slut," the Black organizer murmured, withdrawing the prod. Tzuyu hung limp again, trembling violently, fresh tears soaking the blindfold, her breath coming in frantic, shallow gasps. The machine continued its relentless, gentle pistoning beneath her.
The White organizer circled her suspended form slowly, his boots squelching softly in the fluids pooled beneath her feet. He stopped directly in front of her, his shadow falling over her trembling body. He leaned close, his breath hot against her ear, smelling faintly of stale coffee and sweat. His fingers traced the damp silk covering her eyes. "Tell us," he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rasp that cut through her ragged breathing. "How was your rest? What are you dreaming about?" His thumb pressed gently against her jawbone, forcing her head up slightly.
Tzuyu’s lips parted, a sticky strand of saliva connecting them. Her voice was thick, slurred, barely audible over the machine’s rhythmic hum and the wet sounds beneath her. "I... I was dreaming..." she gasped, her hips jerking weakly as the machine pistoned deeper. "Dreaming... being fucked... by two of u..." The admission hung in the humid air, thick with shame. Before she could finish the stammered confession, the Black organizer’s belt cracked across the backs of her thighs. The leather bit deep, leaving an immediate crimson stripe. Tzuyu shrieked, her body convulsing against her restraints.
"Tell us the details," the Black man growled, circling her suspended form like a predator, the belt dangling loosely in his hand now. "Every filthy dream." The White organizer didn’t wait. He knelt beside the chrome machine, fingers twisting the heavy dial on its base with a sharp 'clunk'. Instantly, the gentle pistoning transformed into a brutal, jackhammer rhythm. The machine slammed into Tzuyu with violent force. Her spine arched backward in a terrifying curve, muscles straining against the leather cuffs. Her head snapped back, a silent scream tearing from her throat as her body became a taut bowstring vibrating under the assault.
The details spilled out in ragged, desperate bursts between the machine’s punishing thrusts. "H-harder!" Tzuyu gasped, her voice cracking. "U... filling me... both holes! Making me... leak!" Her confession triggered another violent response. Her hips bucked wildly against the machine’s relentless drive. Deep inside, the brutal tempo found its mark. A fierce, uncontrollable jet erupted from her, spraying hotly onto the floor with shocking intensity—far stronger than before. It pulsed violently, soaking her bruised thighs and the pooling mess below, a humiliating fountain timed perfectly to the machine’s piston-like rhythm.
The White organizer watched the torrent, a predatory smile spreading across his face. "Louder," he commanded, his voice icy. "Tell him *why* you need it." His hand shot out, delivering a stinging slap across Tzuyu’s cheek. The sharp crack echoed, snapping her head sideways against the restraints. Simultaneously, the Black organizer twisted the dial further. The machine roared, pistons slamming into her like a supercar hitting maximum acceleration—deep, brutal, impossibly fast. It hammered against her deepest spot relentlessly. Tzuyu’s spine arched impossibly backward, a raw, primal scream tearing from her throat: "FUCK ME! I NEED COCK! FUCK ME HARDER!"
The Black organizer stepped close, his breath hot on her ear. "Not good enough," he growled, grabbing her chin roughly. "Degrade him. Degrade yourself." Tzuyu’s eyes widened beneath the blindfold, terror mixing with desperate arousal. The machine pounded mercilessly, forcing another gush from her trembling body. "He... he can’t!" she screamed, her voice hoarse and shattered. "His cock... tiny! Pathetic! Never... never made me leak... like this! Only you... only you can!" Tears streamed down her cheeks, soaking the blindfold as humiliation washed over her in waves thicker than the fluids soaking her legs.
The Black organizer chuckled, a low rumble of satisfaction. He nodded to the White organizer, who retrieved Tzuyu’s phone. He reactivated the call, holding the screen inches from her blindfolded face. "Say it to him," the Black man ordered, his grip tightening on her jaw. Tzuyu whimpered, the machine’s brutal rhythm never ceasing. "Y-you hear?" she sobbed, directing her words at the unseen horror on the screen. "I’m... their fountain! Their slut! Your... your useless cock... never... never filled me!" Her voice broke completely as another violent jet pulsed out, punctuating her degradation—a final, humiliating testament screamed directly at her boyfriend.
The White organizer lowered the phone, ending the call. He traced a finger over Tzuyu’s trembling lips. "Beg properly," he commanded softly. "Beg for what you truly crave." Tzuyu’s head lolled weakly. "Please," she gasped, her voice raw and broken, "fuck me... daddy... fuck me master..." The words hung thick and desperate. The Black organizer seized her hair, wrenching her head back. "Louder!" he roared, delivering a stinging slap across her cheek. "Tell us *why* you’re worthless!" Tears soaked the silk blindfold as she choked out, "Because... I’m... empty without cock! Just... just a leaky hole... begging to be filled!"
The White organizer twisted the machine’s dial further. Its pistons hammered faster, deeper, transforming her body into a shuddering vessel. Tzuyu arched violently, her scream dissolving into a guttural sob. "I’m... trash!" she confessed, the words ripped from her. "Filthy... dripping... trash!" Her hips bucked wildly against the machine’s relentless drive. Another explosive torrent erupted, thicker and hotter than before, spraying across the Black organizer’s boots. He watched, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "Exactly," he murmured, wiping the fluid onto her thigh. "Degraded. Used. Ours."
The Black organizer’s hand slammed onto the machine’s power switch. The brutal hum died instantly. Silence crashed into the room, thick and startling. The sudden stillness was jarring—no vibration, no relentless pressure. Tzuyu gasped, her suspended body jerking as if startled awake. Then, without warning, her core clenched violently. A powerful, uncontrolled jet erupted from her gaping vagina—a torrential cascade soaking her bruised thighs and splattering onto the linoleum with shocking force. It pulsed rhythmically, a humiliating fountain triggered solely by the abrupt absence of the machine’s filling intrusion. She whimpered, her head lolling forward, utterly exposed in the sudden quiet.
The White organizer stepped directly in front of her suspended form. He gripped his thick, glistening cock, already hard again. He pressed the swollen head firmly against her slick, swollen entrance, teasing the stretched rim without penetrating. Tzuyu gasped sharply, her hips instinctively jerking forward against his touch—a desperate reflex. Behind her, the Black organizer pressed his rigid length firmly against the cleft of her ass, grinding slowly against her cheeks. "You want this so bad, baby?" he growled, his voice thick with mocking desire. His fingers dug into her hips. "This... is our final phase. Your punishment ends if..." He paused, emphasizing the condition. "...you promise no protests. No tears. Just acceptance."
Tzuyu’s blindfolded face tilted weakly towards the voice behind her. Her lips trembled. "I... agree," she whispered, the words thick with exhaustion and surrender. Her voice gained a desperate strength. "I am your slut. Do... whatever you want, Master." The admission hung heavy, a final relinquishment. The White organizer chuckled, low and satisfied. "Good girl," he murmured, pressing his cockhead harder against her entrance. The Black organizer shifted his hips, aligning himself against her asshole. Tzuyu braced, trembling violently, awaiting the final invasion.
Without warning, the White organizer gripped her hips and drove forward—not into her ass, but deep into her already stretched, slick vagina. Tzuyu gasped sharply, her body arching against the leather restraints. Before she could process it, the Black organizer pressed his thick crown against her *same* opening, forcing it against the White organizer’s shaft already buried inside her. Tzuyu’s eyes snapped wide beneath the silk. "No!" she shrieked, panic shredding her voice. "No no no! Don’t—it’s too much! My pussy will break!" Her hips jerked uselessly away, muscles straining against the inevitable. The Black organizer ignored her, applying relentless pressure as he pushed into the impossibly tight space alongside his partner’s cock. Tzuyu screamed—a raw, guttural sound of agony—as her vaginal walls stretched beyond their limit, burning like torn silk. "STOP! PLEASE! IT'S TEARING! IT'S TEARING APART!" she sobbed, her body convulsing against the dual intrusion.
The Black organizer sank deeper, his thick shaft sliding alongside the White organizer’s inside her ravaged passage. Tzuyu’s screams dissolved into choked, wet gasps. Her vaginal walls pulsed violently around the invading cocks, a spasm of protest that only intensified the searing friction. "Burns... burns..." she whimpered, her voice breaking. "Like... fire... inside... tearing..." Tears streamed down her cheeks, soaking the blindfold. The White organizer groaned, shifting his hips to grind deeper against her, forcing her to accommodate both of them fully. Tzuyu’s head thrashed side to side, suspended wrists straining against the cuffs. "Hurts... Master... please... too big..." she begged, her voice a shattered whisper lost beneath the wet, squelching rhythm of their thrusts.
The Black organizer chuckled, a dark rumble vibrating through Tzuyu’s core. "Feel that?" he growled, pistoning harder. "Her cunt’s clamping down... trying to push us out." Tzuyu whimpered, her body trembling violently as the dual intrusion stretched her beyond endurance. Deep inside, her muscles convulsed again—a fierce, involuntary clench desperate to expel the invaders. But the thick shafts filled her completely, leaving no space. A muffled gurgle escaped her lips as the pressure built, trapped and agonizing. "She’s trying to squirt," the White organizer observed, his voice tight with exertion. "But she’s plugged tight. Can’t release." Tzuyu gasped, nodding frantically, her hips jerking uselessly against the relentless penetration. "Can’t... breathe..." she choked out. "Too... full..."
The Black organizer pulled back sharply, withdrawing his cock entirely. Instantly, the White organizer followed suit, sliding out with a slick, wet pop. Tzuyu’s body arched violently, a ragged gasp tearing from her throat as the crushing pressure vanished. For a split second, her gaping entrance hung open, slick and swollen—utterly empty. Then, with explosive force, a thick, pressurized torrent erupted from her depths. It sprayed violently onto the floorboards, hitting the linoleum with a sharp splatter—a hot, uncontrollable jet that pulsed rhythmically, soaking her thighs and pooling beneath her dangling feet. Tzuyu’s head snapped back, a silent scream of relief twisting her features beneath the blindfold.
Before the final pulse faded, the Black organizer slammed back inside her stretched passage with brutal force. The White organizer followed instantly, driving deep alongside him. Their cocks plunged back into the slick emptiness, filling her completely once more. Tzuyu’s cry of release choked off into a sharp gasp of renewed agony. Her vaginal walls clenched desperately around the invading shafts, already triggering the next unbearable build-up. The Black organizer laughed, a harsh sound echoing in the humid room. "Again," he commanded, setting the rhythm: deep, synchronized thrusts building pressure—sudden withdrawal—the violent, humiliating release—then the brutal, filling slam back inside. Over and over, turning her body into a broken, leaking pump.
The Black organizer gripped Tzuyu’s jaw, forcing her blindfolded face towards him. His breath was hot and sour against her ear. "You love this, don’t you?" he demanded, punctuating his words with a sharp, grinding thrust that made her gasp. "Tell us how it feels." Tzuyu whimpered, her voice shredded. "It... burns," she confessed, tears soaking the silk. "Deep inside... tearing... like glass shredding me open... every thrust..." Her hips jerked weakly against the rhythm. "Hurts... so much... Master... please..."
The White organizer chuckled behind her, his hands tightening on her hips. "But?" he prompted, his voice silky with menace. He withdrew sharply with his partner, triggering another explosive torrent that sprayed hotly onto the floor. Before she could recover, they slammed back inside simultaneously. Tzuyu screamed—a sound that dissolved into a shuddering moan. "...but..." she gasped, her body trembling violently as the dual shafts filled her completely again. "...it feels... full... so full..." Her voice dropped to a desperate whisper. "...and... right now... deep... hitting... that spot... swollen... sensitive..." She arched against her restraints, a choked sob escaping her. "...it feels... so... good... Master... please... don't stop..."
The Black organizer laughed, low and triumphant. He slammed deeper, grinding against her cervix. "Louder!" he roared. Tzuyu obeyed, her voice cracking with raw need: "Feels... hot... burning... tearing... but... oh god... it feels... perfect! Filling me... owning me... making me... leak... like... like a good slut!" Her confession triggered another violent eruption, soaking her thighs as the organizers thrust harder, faster, claiming her broken body’s final surrender.
The White organizer groaned, his rhythm becoming erratic. "Close..." he gasped, fingers digging into her hips. Tzuyu felt his cock swell inside her, pulsing against her deepest walls. The Black organizer snarled, "Cum together... fill her!" He slammed into her with brutal force, triggering Tzuyu’s own shuddering climax—a weak, gushing spray that mingled with the torrent already pooling beneath her. Then, simultaneously, the White organizer buried himself to the hilt, unleashing thick ropes deep into her womb while the Black organizer roared, pumping his release directly against her cervix in hot, pulsing bursts. Tzuyu screamed, her body convulsing violently against the restraints as the scalding flood overwhelmed her.
Silence crashed back, broken only by Tzuyu’s ragged sobs and the wet drip-drip-drip beneath her suspended feet. The Black organizer withdrew first, his cock slick and glistening. The White organizer followed, leaving her gaping entrance exposed, twitching weakly. Tzuyu hung limp, blindfolded face tilted downward, tears and saliva soaking the silk.
"Rest period's over," the Black organizer announced, his voice thick with exertion. He moved behind her, grabbing her bruised hips roughly. "Time for the grand finale." His partner knelt, retrieving a heavy glass bottle filled with viscous, amber liquid. He poured a thick stream over her puckered rosebud, the coolness making Tzuyu flinch. "Lubricant," he stated flatly. "Industrial grade. For *contravention*." He coated his fingers thickly, then pressed two firmly against her tight ring. Tzuyu gasped, her body tensing. "No... please... not there..." she whimpered, her voice a shredded whisper. "It’s too
small..."
The White organizer ignored Tzuyu's hoarse plea, pressing his thickly lubricated thumb deep into her resisting anus with a wet pop. She cried out, her suspended body jerking against the leather restraints as he worked the digit in cruel circles, stretching the tight ring while the Black organizer poured more amber fluid down her cleft. "Shut up and relax," the Black man commanded, slapping her ass cheek hard enough to leave a crimson handprint. He coated his rigid cock with the industrial lubricant, its chemical tang sharp in the humid air. Tzuyu whimpered, her knotted muscles yielding under the brutal preparation as the White organizer added a second finger, scissoring her mercilessly. "She's ready," he grunted, withdrawing his fingers to reveal her gaping, glistening hole
.
The Black organizer positioned himself behind Tzuyu, his swollen tip pressing against her abused entrance. Simultaneously, the White organizer gripped his own cock, slick with her fluids, and pressed it firmly alongside his partner’s against the same stretched opening. Tzuyu screamed, "NO! IT WON’T FIT—" before they drove forward in unison with a savage thrust. Her anus tore open around both invading shafts, a searing burst of agony ripping through her as they buried themselves to the hilt in a single motion. Tzuyu’s body snapped rigid, a silent scream contorting her blindfolded face as her bowels convulsed around the impossible intrusion. "Breathe, slut," the Black organizer snarled, grinding deeper. "Take your masters’ cocks."
Tzuyu gasped, her voice shredded and wet. "Hurts... burns... ripping me... inside out..." Yet even as she whimpered, her vaginal walls clenched violently. A thick jet erupted from her gaping pussy, spraying hot fluid onto the floorboards—utterly untouched, spasming around empty air. The White organizer laughed, his hips pistoning against her asshole. "Liar," he hissed, fingers digging into her hips. "Your cunt’s weeping for cock. See?" Another pulse of fluid gushed freely, splattering her thighs. "Your body knows its purpose." Tzuyu sobbed, her vaginal muscles fluttering uselessly as another torrent escaped. "I... I can’t stop... leaking..."
The Black organizer slammed harder, his cockhead grinding against her prostate. "Truth time," he growled. "You love being our broken fountain." Tzuyu shook her head wildly, tears soaking the silk. "No! It hurts... tearing... please—" Her protest choked off as her pussy convulsed again, unleashing a fierce arc of fluid that hit the Black organizer’s shin. He chuckled darkly. "Your holes tell the real story." He withdrew abruptly, dragging his cock halfway out before slamming back in alongside his partner’s shaft. Tzuyu’s scream dissolved into a guttural moan—her untouched vagina answered with a shuddering gush that pooled beneath her swaying feet.
The White organizer seized her hair, wrenching her head back. "Beg for our cum," he demanded, pistoning deeper. Tzuyu’s lips trembled. "Fill me!" she gasped, the words thick with shame. "Please... breed me... Masters!" Her confession ignited a fresh torrent from her gaping pussy, splattering the floor in hot pulses. The Black organizer groaned, his rhythm faltering. "Almost there... gonna flood this greedy hole." Tzuyu whimpered, her body torn between agony and the deep, throbbing pleasure blooming beneath the brutality. Her hips jerked weakly forward, seeking more even as her ass burned like torn silk.
"NOW!" the Black organizer roared. Together, they buried themselves to the hilt. Tzuyu’s spine arched violently as twin bursts of scalding heat flooded her bowels—thick, pulsing jets that made her gasp. Her vaginal walls clenched around nothing, triggering a final, violent eruption that sprayed across the White organizer’s thighs. Tzuyu’s mouth hung open in a silent scream, blindfolded face tilted skyward as the organizers emptied themselves deep inside her.
They withdrew slowly, leaving her suspended and gaping. Tzuyu sagged against the cuffs, trembling uncontrollably. Fluid—a mix of semen, lubricant, and her own release—dripped steadily from her ruined asshole.
The White organizer gripped her hips, turning her limp body to face him. "Again," he commanded flatly. Before Tzuyu could protest, both men slammed back into her vagina simultaneously, stretching her swollen entrance around their thick shafts. Tzuyu screamed—a hoarse, tearing sound—as they pistoned in brutal unison, filling her womb with another scalding flood before pulling out. Fluid gushed freely from her gaping
hole.
Immediately, they repositioned. The Black organizer forced his cock deep into her aching asshole, followed instantly by the White organizer squeezing his shaft alongside it. Tzuyu choked on a sob as her rectal passage stretched beyond endurance, tearing anew. They hammered into her bowels relentlessly until, with twin groans, they emptied another torrent of cum inside her convulsing depths.
They withdrew abruptly, leaving her gaping holes dripping. Before Tzuyu could even gasp, they slammed back into her vagina simultaneously. Her abused entrance yielded weakly to their brutal invasion. The pistoning resumed—deep, punishing thrusts—until she felt the scalding flood fill her womb again. Released once more, Tzuyu sagged forward violently. Only the leather cuffs biting into her wrists kept her suspended body from collapsing onto the wet floor. Her muscles trembled uncontrollably, utterly
spent.
The White organizer circled her limp form, tracing cold fingers over her bruised hip. "Weak," he murmured, his voice thick with contempt. "Pathetic." Tzuyu whimpered, her blindfolded face drooping lower. "Yes... Master..." she breathed, the admission barely audible. Her knees buckled instinctively, but the restraints held her upright—a puppet dangling by shredded strings.
The Black organizer seized her jaw, forcing her head up. "Again?" he demanded, his thumb pressing hard against her split lip. Tzuyu’s eyelids fluttered beneath the silk. Her body screamed protest, but her voice emerged as a broken whisper: "Please... Masters..." Her hips jerked feebly, an automatic response burned deep into her ravaged nerves. Fluid trickled down her inner thighs, pooling beneath her dangling toes—a silent testament to the relentless cycle breaking her.
They obliged without hesitation. Simultaneous penetration—vaginal, then anal, then vaginal again—each invasion a fresh agony layered over exhaustion. Tzuyu’s screams dissolved into wet, choking gasps as they emptied themselves inside her womb, her bowels, her womb once more. The final withdrawal left her suspended like discarded meat, wrists straining against the leather cuffs—the only anchor keeping her ravaged body upright. Her muscles trembled violently, utterly spent. Fluid dripped steadily from her gaping holes onto the slick floor.
Silence stretched, thick and humid. Tzuyu hung limp, blindfolded face tilted downward. Her breathing hitched—shallow, ragged pulls of air. The organizers circled her, boots scraping wet concrete. "Cycle complete," the White man announced flatly. Tzuyu whimpered, a weak sound swallowed by the dripping quiet. Her body felt liquid, boneless—a vessel drained, used, abandoned. Only the cruel bite of the cuffs kept her upright, suspending her jelly-like form above the mess she’d become.
The Black organizer moved behind her. Rough fingers worked the leather restraints binding her wrists. They snapped open with a dull click. Tzuyu gasped—a sharp intake of breath—as her arms dropped uselessly to her sides. Her legs buckled instantly. She crumpled forward, a dead weight collapsing against the Black organizer’s bare chest. He grunted, catching her effortlessly, his thick arms wrapping around her waist. She felt small against him, utterly spent, her head lolling onto his shoulder like a broken doll. Her skin was slick with sweat and fluids, cool against his heat. He didn't speak, just turned, carrying her slumped form towards the far wall.
He lowered her with surprising care onto the cold concrete floor. Her legs sprawled bonelessly apart. He retrieved thick leather straps, securing each ankle firmly to iron rings embedded in the wall, spreading her obscenely wide. Her arms were pulled up above her head, wrists fastened to another set of rings. The posture forced her torso upright, slumped slightly forward. Her chin rested heavily on her own chest, blindfolded face hidden. Her breathing remained shallow, uneven. Every muscle trembled faintly—a hummingbird trapped in a cage of exhaustion. The position exposed her utterly: gaping holes glistening, thighs streaked with drying fluids, a ruined map of their ownership.
The White organizer approached Tzuyu’s restrained form. In his right hand, he held an obscene silicone octopus, its thick tentacles writhing around a central shaft thicker than a man’s forearm. In his left, he gripped a brutal string of bull anal beads, each black sphere a solid 9 centimeters in diameter, ending in a heavy metal ring. He knelt silently between her spread legs. The cold air-conditioning hummed faintly overhead. Tzuyu flinched as the first cold, slippery bead pressed against her gaping asshole. "What..." she slurred weakly, head lolling. "Master?"
The Black organizer leaned over her shoulder, his rough fingers finding the silk knot of her blindfold. With a sharp tug, the fabric fell away. Tzuyu blinked rapidly against the sudden glare of fluorescent lights. Her bleary eyes focused slowly on the grotesque silicone monstrosity hovering inches from her ravaged vagina. Her lips parted. "No," she whispered, her voice cracked and frail. "That... won't fit... please..." The White organizer ignored her, pressing the first cold bead relentlessly into her stretched hole. The Black organizer chuckled low in her ear, his breath hot. "Quiet."
Tzuyu watched in mute horror as the White organizer pushed bead after bead deep into her rectum, the heavy ring clinking against the concrete floor beneath her. Simultaneously, he positioned the thick tentacled head against her vaginal entrance. She whimpered, a dry rasp escaping her throat. "Master... it's too... big..." Her protest dissolved into a choked gasp as the White organizer shoved the silicone monstrosity brutally inside her. Her vaginal walls screamed in protest, stretched impossibly wide around the invading mass. Her hips jerked uselessly against the restraints. The Black organizer gripped her jaw, forcing her to watch. "Look," he commanded. Tzuyu’s eyes widened in terrified fascination as the tentacles began to writhe mechanically against her inner walls.
The Black organizer leaned close, his voice a low rumble vibrating against her ear. "We need to make sure our mixed cum didn't flood out," he stated flatly, his fingers tracing the obscene bulge stretching her lower abdomen. "These two things"—he gestured at the buried anal beads and the pulsating silicone mass—"will go inside and hold our mixed cum to out from ur gaping holes." Tzuyu whimpered, understanding dawning. The beads plugged her asshole; the tentacled monstrosity expanded and pulsed, forming a grotesque internal cork sealing her womb. She felt impossibly full, stretched beyond endurance, yet horrifyingly contained. Her vaginal muscles fluttered weakly against the silicone prison, triggering a sharp pang of trapped sensation deep within her pelvis.
A low vibration started deep inside the silicone plug. Tzuyu gasped as the tentacles intensified their writhing motion, massaging her cervix and inner walls with relentless, alien pressure. Simultaneously, the anal beads began a slow, rhythmic rotation deep in her bowels. Tzuyu’s back arched off the concrete floor. "No... oh god... it’s... moving..." she choked out, her voice thick with panic and a terrifying, building pressure. The vibrations intensified, the tentacles kneading her deepest nerves while the beads twisted inside her rectum. Her body trembled violently, trapped between the restraints and the dual internal assault. A muffled gurgle escaped her lips as her womb clenched futilely against the silicone barrier. Fluid tried to escape her vagina, but met only unyielding resistance; her asshole strained against the thick beads, utterly contained.
The White organizer knelt beside her, his expression impassive. He pressed a button on a small remote. The tentacles inside her suddenly pulsed with fierce suction, pulling relentlessly against her cervix while the vibration intensified to a brutal hum. Tzuyu screamed—a raw, ragged sound tearing from her throat—as her body convulsed violently against the straps. Her hips bucked, her spine arched impossibly high, suspended only by the leather cuffs. Deep inside, the trapped pressure built to a crescendo, a volcanic agony of denied release centered on her womb and bowels. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gasped, "Hurts... too full... bursting... Masters... please!" Her plea echoed in the sterile room, unanswered, as the machines inside her continued their cruel, holding rhythm.
The Black organizer moved to stand above her restrained head, his shadow falling across her tear-streaked face. He unzipped his fly, freeing his still-hard cock. "Open," he commanded, his voice devoid of inflection. Tzuyu’s lips trembled, her eyes wide with dawning horror. "Master... no..." she whimpered weakly. He gripped her jaw, forcing it open wide. "This," he stated flatly, "is a parting gift." A hot, pungent stream of piss hit the back of her throat. Tzuyu gagged violently, choking as the acrid fluid flooded her mouth. She tried to turn her head, but his grip was iron. The stream intensified, splashing over her cheeks, nose, and eyelids, soaking her hair and pooling in the hollow of her throat. "Swallow," he ordered, his piss flowing relentlessly. Tzuyu choked, convulsed, and finally obeyed, gulping down the bitter torrent as it flowed.
Beside her, the White organizer unzipped. Without ceremony, he aimed his stream directly onto Tzuyu's face, mixing with the Black organizer’s flow. "Consider it... baptism," he grunted, piss spraying her forehead, blinding her momentarily as it stung her eyes. Tzuyu sputtered, gagged, and swallowed convulsively, unable to escape the dual assault. The warm, salty fluid filled her nostrils, dripped into her ears, matted her hair into dark, wet clumps against the concrete floor. Her body jerked uselessly against the restraints, a trapped animal drowning in the humiliation. "Before we go," the Black organizer stated coldly, his stream finally tapering off, "remember this taste. Remember who owns you." They both stepped back, leaving her gasping, soaked in their urine, the sour reek thick in the air.
The Black organizer retrieved Tzuyu’s phone from a nearby bench. He knelt beside her, ignoring her shuddering breaths and the fluids dripping from her chin. "Smile for your prince," he sneered, positioning the camera. The flash exploded, blinding her anew. The photo captured her in brutal detail: soaked hair plastered to her tear-streaked face, blindfold gone revealing wide, terrified eyes, leather straps straining against her spread ankles and wrists, the obscene bulge of the tentacle plug stretching her lower abdomen, the anal bead ring glinting coldly on the floor beneath her gaping asshole. He typed swiftly, attaching the image. The White organizer leaned in, dictating the message in a flat tone: "This is ur princess right now." The Black organizer hit send, the electronic whoosh slicing through the silence. Tzuyu whimpered, imagining her boyfriend’s horror as the notification lit up his screen.
A week later, the video surfaced anonymously on a dark web forum. Faces blurred—hers into a pixelated void, theirs into shifting shadows—but the details remained stark: the leather restraints, the brutal dual penetration, her convulsions, the jets of fluid spraying with each withdrawal. Comments flooded in beneath the grainy footage. "Her body is like Tzuyu," wrote one user, followed by, "I am masturbating saw this video, felt like i fuck with Tzuyu." Another replied, “That asshole gaping like a gloryhole. Need that." The video spread, ripped and reposted across illicit sites, the blurred faces fueling speculation.
