Jenny's Couch, Book 5 Chapter 30

There was one long table in the dayroom. Six trays were distributed at the six seats at one end. Five of them were already taken. Karen's stomach clenched when she saw the only open seat was next to the large girl with the birthmark who had led the teasing against her. The empty stool was to her right, and to its right was the small, silent girl who had been apart from the others, sitting on the floor reading. As Karen walked up to the table she was hyper-aware of her bare body, of the way the bindings at her wrists and forearms pushed her shoulders back and her high breasts forward. With every step she felt the swollen tissues inside her vagina moving against each other, felt the lubrication sliding over her labia, felt the tingling in her clitoris that was the prelude to a truly devastating orgasm. Ordinarily she would have welcomed the feeling, would have stopped whatever she was doing, found a secluded spot if necessary, and masturbated herself to completion and then maybe onward to two or three additional until she was stopped by the class bell, or her parents calling her down to supper, or her next trick arriving, or simple exhaustion.

But now with this horrible...thing clamped onto her, she dared not let herself get too close. Sometimes Karen liked to edge herself but she could never hold out for very long and she always knew that she could push herself over whenever she chose. Having it forced on her, though, forced at the point of the terrible stinging, was awful. Being more than halfway up the mountain, close enough that she could see the summit, and not being able to take those last steps was the worst frustration she'd ever known.

And she was hyper-aware of the drying semen caking her face, the way it pulled at her cheeks and the way her clotted lashes stuck together with every blink, the thick droplet depending from her chin and the smaller one from the tip of her nose that she could almost, but not quite catch on her tongue and slurp away. She had wiped off what she could which mostly just smeared the mess onto her shoulders without getting much of it off her face.

And the worst of it all was the open contempt on the other girls' faces as she made her way slowly towards the table. Karen imagined it would be the same if the truth about her ever got around her school, imagined Miriam and Brooke and Katie and Janelle looking at her with that same contempt. She had imagined herself naked in school many times, usually it stimulated her as she masturbated under the covers at night, imagining whoring herself to the teachers and to the big high school boys. (Her particular fantasy was to run naked onto the field during a football game and then getting fucked by all the boys on both teams, and then the coaches and teachers, then everyone in the stands.) But she had never thought until now how her friends would react to learning she was a total whore. Karen tried to put it out of her mind, tried to crush down the depthless humiliation that washed over her at these thoughts, and tried to put on a brave face as she walked around the table and stepped carefully over the bench to sit. It was hard to keep her balance with her hands bound. The stool was metal, paint chipping away over rust and it was rough and stung her butt.

"Ewwwww!" the large girl exclaimed with unfeigned disgust. "Mother of fuck, what IS that stench?"

Karen looked at her quizzically. Had she never smelled cum before? But maybe not, not everyone was a whore like she was. She pointedly turned her shoulder to the girl, clamping down on the flush of humiliation rising under her stiffening mask of semen, and looked down at her tray with dismay. It held a plate full of spaghetti swimming in sauce, some lima beans in a lot of juice, and a carton of milk, no straw. There was not a thing she could do about it. The food was right there in front of her and her stomach was growling. She tugged futilely at her bindings for the thousandth time. Finally, face flaming and now itching as the drying cum pulled at her, she lowered her head and, with mocking laughter all around, she tried to slurp up some of the spaghetti. All she managed to do was to get sauce on her face, and semen in the sauce. But that wasn't even the worst. As she bent forward her buzzing little clam pressed against the rough, rusty surface of the bench and she involuntarily ground herself against it, felt the sharp little flakes grind themselves into her tender flesh and before she knew it, the orgasm she had been fighting off all afternoon welled up in her.

"OW!" Karen cried and literally jumped in her seat. It felt like hot needles stabbed into her clitoris. Only for a moment, but after that the deep, pulsing ache spread back from the tip of her quivering bud. She still felt hot and juicy inside but the hurt surrounded it. She bowed her head and cried as mocking laughter filled her ears. She could feel the salt tears cutting a channel through the thick mask of jizz on her face. She closed her eyes and tried to wish all the horror away, tried to find her floaty place but there was no way she could reach it if she couldn't even have a single cum.

Then Karen felt something wet and sticky pressed against her nose. "What now," she thought wearily, and opened her eyes. She had to sit up to be able to focus on it. It was a fork, a plastic fork with a twirl of spaghetti on it. She looked at the hand holding the fork and followed the arm to the small girl sitting on her right. Karen took her first good look at the child. She was by far the youngest one there, or at least she was very petite. She didn't look older than ten, and no one would send a girl that young to a place like this...would they? She looked part-Asian. She had the eyes and the glossy black hair, but she had a nose she had yet to grow into and a wide, thin-lipped mouth with a deep Cupid's bow. She held the fork out and motioned slightly with it, like, go ahead. Karen tried to give her a grateful smile - she felt the dried cum crack and flake away from her skin - but the girl wouldn't make eye contact, just held out the fork. Karen shrugged and put it in her mouth.

The sauce was bland, the cheap stuff with way too much sugar, but Karen was too hungry to care. The young girl was silent, her eyes looking somewhere past Karen and the table, but she kept forking up the pasta and feeding it to Karen like she was a little baby. When the spaghetti and sauce was mostly in Karen's stomach - some had inevitably spilled down her front and now decorated the tops of her breasts and her scant cleavage - the girl started forking up the lima beans with the same mechanical regularity until they, too were gone. Then she opened the little carton of milk and held it up so Karen could drink. That was a bit of a mess - the kid misjudged the angle and cold milk splashed into Karen's lap, dripping down over her vulva and her protruding clit - but she got most of it down. Then without a word the girl turned to her own tray and shoveled it in following exactly the same routine: all the spaghetti first, then all the beans, then draining the carton. As soon as she put down the empty carton she picked up her tray and Karen's too, and put them back in the cart they'd been delivered in, for staff to take away.

Karen realized she was now being blissfully ignored by the other girls who were chattering among themselves. And with no desire to sit there until they found some other reason to pick on her, she got to her feet awkwardly and tottered off towards her cell. The ache in her clit made her walk even more splay-footed than the change in her balance from having her arms pulled back. Her shoulders were starting to ache something fierce, too. How long were they going to force her to stay bound like this? She paused in the doorway to try and grasp the door with her bound hands and pull it shut. As her fingers groped she was surprised by a light push in the small of her back. She turned her head to see, and it was the girl. She ducked and slid around Karen, careful not to touch her naked body, and sat down on the bed with her hands gripping the edge of the mattress. Her worn sneakers didn't quite touch the floor.

Karen took a moment to look at her face in the mirror. She was a mess. Not only had the cum all dried into a lumpy, flaky white mask but she had spaghetti sauce on her chin and jaw. Her long blond hair was a mess also, uncombed, tangled and getting greasy. A big hank was glued to one cheek and now it had sauce in it, too. The girl spoke up. "You're very messy. Is that part of being a whore?" Her tone was rather flat and monotonic, and she was looking off into the corner of the cell.

"No...actually, can you help me?" She bent awkwardly to fumble the toilet paper from its niche in the sink/toilet unit, then turned around and offered it to the girl. She turned back around to see the kid looking quizzically at the roll in her hands. "I mean, will you wipe my face off?"

"Oh," said the girl. "Okay." Karen knelt down before her. The girl pulled off a very long swatch of TP, wadded it up, and still not looking directly at Karen, started blotting at her face with it. It didn't help much. The sauce came off easily enough but the semen was dried and very sticky. "Maybe if you used some water..." Karen said.

"No!" the girl said with surprising force. Then, "Sorry, I don't like water on my hands."

Karen took a good look at the girl, at the way she didn't make eye contact, at the odd cadence to her voice, and it clicked. Like that boy Ethan in the grade above hers, she was "on the spectrum". Karen wasn't sure what the spectrum was or what it meant to be on it except Ethan seemed to blurt out whatever was on his mind with no awareness of how it might land. He'd once walked up to the cheerleaders' table and asked Krysstal if she knew one of her breasts was larger than the other. If it wasn't for the fact that his older sister was on the squad, he would've gotten the beatdown of his life for that. And he would never look you in the eye, either, he was always talking to your mouth or your ear and he ate his food the same way: nothing could be touching on his plate and he would eat all of one thing before taking a bite of another.

"I understand, it's okay, thank you," Karen said, and sat down on her bed next to the girl. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Rachel, I'm named after Rachel Lloyd, she was the first woman in America to get a doctorate in chemistry in 1886, even though it was from the University of Zurich which is in Switzerland and not in America, and she studied sugar beets and my dad thought she was great."

Something else clicked for Karen. "Is your dad a chemistry professor too?"

"He was until something happened and he went away and Mommy said good riddance because he was a stupid drunk but I said he couldn't be stupid if he was a professor and she got mad and then we argued a whole lot and then she had men come and bring me here. They were scary and they smelled funny."

Karen glanced towards the door. It was half-open but no one in the dayroom was paying them any attention. "Rachel, I'm here to find you! Your father wants to get you out of here."

Rachel looked confused. "So you're not a whore?"

"Oh, yes, I'm definitely a whore. But that's not why I'm here...it's complicated. But my friends are going to get us out. Soon."

Before Rachel could say anything more, Karen heard the sound she'd been waiting for. There was a sloppy "Pshsht!" from outside her window. "Rachel, close my door please," she said.

"We're not allowed to close doors if we're together. I asked the deacon why and he said we have to be pure and I told him that nobody was pure, we're made up of all kinds of chemicals and we even have other animals living on us - did you know there are spiders in your eyelashes - but then he hit me and it hurt and I cried..."

Karen cut her off. "Just...please, do it!" Rachel looked like she had a lot more to say but she moved to obey. Karen lurched to her feet, almost overbalanced and fell on her face, but took a staggering step to the barred window. She grunted in pain as she banged her thigh against the corner of the desk. She pushed her head into the corner of the recessed window and craned her neck so she could see out the narrow opening. Yes, it was Lilah, shoving her face into the small space between the window frame and the bars. It was dusk outside. Orange sodium light bounced off her tusks and piercings and gave her solid eyeballs an eerie sheen. Her riotous facial tattoo was a chiaroscuro background. "I found her!" Karen said excitedly. "She's right here!"

Lilah blinked slowly. "What elth?" she slurred. Drool shone on her chin. Everything else Karen had seen poured out of her in a jumble: how many deacons there were, when the shifts changed, the shock sticks they used, all of it. "And, Lilah," she breathed, "They put this, this thing on me and if I get too whory it hurts me, it hurts me a lot, Lilah, how do I get it off?"

"You don't," the nine-year-old husked in her ruined voice. "There'th a big picnic for the deaconth tomorrow, and you have to be there. While they're all fucking you I can do it. When you hear it, run. Run for the busheth behind the boyth dorm. Everybody run there."

"But Lilah, it hurts me, it hurts so bad!"

With the tattoo covering her face and her dyed eyeballs looking almost black in the falling night, Lilah's expression was unreadable. "That'th what you wanted."

The shock of recognition was so strong Karen had to slump back against the cold concrete or fall down. Lilah was right. She did want it. She deserved it. She had killed her wife who would never feel anything again. No amount of pain was too much. Tears itched as they ran down her cum-crusted face and she was ready to take her punishment. She straightened to tell Lilah thank you, but she was talking to the night. The little monster was gone.

Karen turned back to Rachel who was sitting with her head tilted and a quizzical expression. "That person didn't tell you what 'it' was," she said.

"...What?" Karen's heart was so full she barely heard.

"That person said, 'when you hear it, run' but they didn't say what 'it' was, and you didn't ask."

"Oh. Well, that was Lilah. And she's not really a person any more. She used to be a little girl, but now she's a monster. It says so right on her back." And Karen couldn't help it, she giggled.

"But..." Rachel started again.

Karen realized that, just like Ethan, you had to be really precise and literal with Rachel. "I don't know what it'll be, but with Lilah it'll be loud. So listen for anything unusual and loud tomorrow and that'll be the signal."

"But the door is locked. How will we get out?"

"Can you trust any of the other girls not to snitch?"

"I don't know how to trust people. They always do things I don't understand. But if I tell them it's a way to escape, they'll help. Willa, the one with the red stain on her face, she told me she's been here four years and she's tried to escape twice. Once she got all the way home but her parents just called and had her brought back. She cried for a long time and then she beat me up because I saw her crying and said I was sorry."

"OK, tell them, but make sure they know it's a secret and the deacons can't find out."

Rachel apparently took that as a command because without another word she stood up and went to the door. She pushed it open a little and checked to make sure the deacon wasn't watching to see her leave someone else's cell, and then she slipped out. Karen was left alone. Her shoulders still ached, her face still itched under the thick layer of dried semen, her whole body buzzed and quivered with the orgasm denied her before dinner, but she knew there was a plan and an end in sight. After some contortions to plump the thin hard pillow the best she could, Karen lay down on the bed on her side and drew her knees up, as the only position she could even be half comfortable in. Eventually she must have dozed. At some point she awoke in semidarkness. The light in her cell had gone out. Dim light from the dayroom was visible through the window in her cell door. Karen closed her eyes again and slept.

And woke to feel large hands on her bare body. "Wha...?" she said as she was rolled on to her stomach. Her face was mashed into the pillow. She heard a "snik" sound, then pressure on her wrists. But then with a snap, the zip tie was cut and her wrists were free! A moment later the second zip tie was cut and her elbows where free too. Karen groaned as she moved her arms, working her shoulders and feeling the ache of nearly two days' bondage. "Thank you," she breathed, and rolled over on her back, a pure delight to be able to do so without her elbows protesting and her hands digging into the small of her back. She lifted her arms up over her head and stretched her muscles until her shoulders creaked, it felt so good.

Then Karen heard chuckle and "No, thank you!" from the shadowy form looming over her. He reached over her and she saw a flash of silver. Then there was a clicking ratchet sound she was all too familiar with, and cold metal closed around one wrist.

"What?" Karen said, and tried to sit up. But suddenly there was a knee on her chest and the voice, no longer laughing, snapped out "Arms over your head! Grab the bedframe!" in such a tone of command that Karen automatically obeyed, grabbing the rail at the head of the bed with her free hand. Another ratchet sound and metal closed around that wrist too. Karen craned her head backwards to see. A pair of silver handcuffs adorned her wrists with the short chain between them passing around the bedframe. Her arms were pinned over her head as surely as they had been bound behind her back. She had more freedom of motion, from one side of the bed to the other, but that was all. Karen looked up at the man, hurt and betrayal in her eyes. As she adjusted to the dimness, she saw, of course, another deacon, this one big and burly with a bald head. Gold gleamed in his mouth as he smiled. It was not a nice smile.

Fear thrilled through Karen as the deacon undressed. Fear and...something else, something all too familiar. It was the nerves she always felt when she found herself naked before yet another stranger and knew that in seconds she would be feeling a new penis penetrating her most personal, private area. It almost made her laugh: So personal and private that she had had thousands of stangers' cocks jammed into it. It was nerves, almost like stage fright no matter that she was now a seasoned professional. And the quiver of anticipation in her belly, the heaviness inside as her vaginal tissues became suffused with blood and her lubrication flowed, making her body ready for the sublime feeling of that penis first nudging between her slick labia, finding her hot hole and the terrifyingly delicious pleasure of the friction against her clitoris. That swollen nerve cluster was humming now, begging to be allowed the release that had been denied her since the horrid device had been attached to it. After feeling its bite Karen had been desperate to avoid the pain - it shot right through her as if she were pierced by the sharp, deadly point of a spear. But now her attitude had changed. Lilah had reminded her: she deserved it.

The deacon's clothes were piled on the desk. He was naked except for the heavy gold cross they all wore. As if to make up for the lack of hair on his head, his body was covered with a dense black mat from his neck, spreading to cover his entire chest, narrowing down his abdomen to flare again into a heavy bush from which his erection emerged, standing proud with the head already shiny with precum. There was even hair on his shoulders, down his back, and the tight cheeks of his ass.

Karen rattled her handcuffs against the bedframe. She spread her legs obscenely, baring her bald labia and slick, juicy opening. She looked down to see her clit jutting up over the hill of her pubic bone, the hated cap on it rising and falling with her pulse. "Fuck me," she demanded of the deacon. "Fuck my cunt, it's so hot, I need your penis so badly, fuck me like the nasty little whore I am!" And Karen smiled her professional smile, a grin that turned nasty as the deacon's eyes widened with a mixture of lust and fear at the crazed thirteen-year-old succubus confronting him.

With a growl, the deacon threw himself onto Karen. The breath whooshed out of her as he crushed her body into the thin mattress, but her skin came alive to the rough texture of his thick chest hair. It was like the grown-up version of when she was a small child, the warm unexplainable thrill she got from rubbing her bare body against Mister BearBear, the toddler-sized stuffie she had been gifted by Stanley on her third Christmas. Mister BearBear was in fact a wolf, but toddler Karen had named him that and seven-year-old Karen had still thought of him that way when she discovered that lying atop him and squeezing her legs around him caused butterflies in her tummy and other, mysterious sensations in her nipples and between her legs. This was like that only a thousand times more intense and Karen gasped for breath as she anticipated her penetration. When it came the surge of pleasure was so intense that for a moment her vision went gray and there was no sound except for the singing of her blood in her ears. The deacon's cock was very thick and it speared her and filled her and stretched her and all she could manage was to gasp, "Oh, God, thank you God, fuck me, fuck me hard!"

The deacon obliged. He made no attempt to lift his weight off Karen's chest, keeping her crushed into the thin mattress so she could feel the weave of iron straps it rested on pressing into her shoulder blades and her ass. He wrapped his hands around her cuffed wrists for leverage and began thrusting, hard and deep, plumbing the end of her channel and banging painfully into her cervix with each thrust. But this was a pain Karen knew and welcomed because it always accompanied the rising flames of pleasure. Karen had been holding herself back for hours and hours, fighting off the urge to relax and let her body be consumed by those flames and now it took mere seconds after she let go for them to spark and catch and flare and burn her to ash, only to be reborn to be consumed again, over and over.

But this time she knew the flames could not overcome her. Just as the felt herself rising to her peak came the pain she had been expecting, like needle-sharp teeth biting down on her clitoris. "Owwww," she cried, and tried to get the breath to sob beneath the deacon's weight. He felt her buck and stiffen and he paused but she still felt his cock throbbing inside her as the ache spread around and past it. "Don't stop," she gritted out. "Fuck my whore cunt!" She groaned as he obeyed, thrusting again then pulling back until his tip just barely grazed her lips. Karen panted, trying to push her hips forward and up against his weight to engulf him again. He waited and she saw a malicious grin reveal his gold tooth as struggled, then as tears of frustration filled her eyes he shoved forward with all his might. "Yes!" Karen shouted, as the flame roared higher. "Yes yes yesyesyesAIIIEEE!" And now it was tears of pain that overspilled and cut fresh trails down the sides of her head through the flaking dried semen. The pain was a dozen wasps driving their venom into her clit and it spread across her vulva and the ache went up and back like the worst cramp she had ever had. It quenched the flames so suddenly it left her breathless and she fought to get air back in her lungs. But the deacon was heavy atop her and was thrusting, thrusting, faster and faster. Karen felt her legs flailing involuntarily, her heels drumming against the backs of his thighs. The pain in her clit became the focus of her attention but underneath that, the familiar comfort of a cock inside her, filling her, beating against her, faster and faster, then swelling to stretch her channel even further.

"AAAAAAARGH!" the deacon shouted in Karen's ear as her cunt was suddenly filled with liquid heat. She gasped as hot semen filled her, splashing against the entrance to her womb and spreading its warmth to soothe her aching cunt. "OHHHH FUCK!" the deacon groaned and shoved himself forward, pressing the joined crotches so hard Karen felt crushed into the mattress. He grunted with each spurt of his ejaculation and Karen felt his hot cum oozing out around their junction, her slick swollen lips suddenly even wetter. The pain in her clit was slowly fading and Karen fought to recapture that delicious tingle that started in her cunt and spread throughout her body but the deacon was already softening inside her and finally he lifted his bulk off of her and pressed himself up on his hands.

Karen looked down at herself. The skin of her breasts, chest, and belly was red from friction and bore the impression of the deacon's pelt, as if she had been lying face down on carpeting. Black curly hairs were scattered across the reddened skin. Her breath was harsh in her ears and she gulped as he withdrew his wilted cock. A frothy mix of his cum and her own creamy lubrication dribbled onto her mound. She squeezed her pelvic muscles, desperate for any last bit of sensation, and felt jizz drooling out of her stretched opening.

Now that he had cum, the deacon seemed less sure of himself. He glanced almost shyly at her face, looking away as soon as he made eye contact. He dressed swiftly. "What about..." Karen thought to ask at the last and rattled her handcuffs but it was too late. He was out the door and she was left in her empty cell locked to the bedframe. She lay there, listening to her breath and her heartbeat gradually slowing, the random noises of air in the vents and unidentifiable clicks and clunks from the room outside her cell. The sharpest stinging in her clit gradually receded but the ache spread inside her, deeper and heavier than ever before. She could still smell the deacon's sweat and his cologne on her body and the sharp odor of his semen rising from the soaked sheet between her legs.

Karen dimly heard the sound of the buzzer at the door to the building but she only realized its significance when she heard footsteps approaching her cell. She raised her head as the door opened and another deacon stepped in. This one was smaller, not much taller than her five feet and a bit but more filled out than her slight form of course. He had a thin, ratlike face with a hatchet of a nose underneath a head of unruly tight black curls. Beady eyes darted around the room before settling on Karen's naked body. His eyes fixed on her soaking crotch and the large wet stain she could feel spreading on the thin sheet and the mattress beneath. His lip curled. The distaste on his face kindled a strange joy in Karen's breast and she felt her breath coming faster. Her skin tingled all over as she knew this deacon saw her for the disgusting whore she was. She writhed on the bed, thrusting her sweaty breasts up and making them shimmy and bounce. She spread her legs and lifted them, exposing her drooling puss obscenely. "Come fuck me," she said, spitting out the words, making it a plea and a command both. "Fuck my whore cunt. Fill me up with more cum!"

In a flash the deacon was around the bed and he slapped Karen so hard her head bounced off the wall. Tears blurred her eyes and through the ringing in her ears she heard his voice, high and almost hysterical. "Don't look at me!"

"Okay, okay, I'm not looking!" she cried turning her face away. Her cheek stung and her head hurt where it had hit the wall. She closed her eyes but a wave of sick dizziness rolled over her so she opened them and stared at the chipped gray paint in the near-dark. She heard sounds of clothing being removed - her lip twisted in a wry smile when she realized she knew the sound by heart. Then there was quiet, just the sounds of man and girl breathing in the dark. Then hands gripped her hips and flipped her over on her stomach. Her chin dug into the thin pillow and she looked up at her cuffed wrists. Hands on her again, this time on her waist, pulling her up to her knees. So Ratface wanted it doggie style. Karen knew how to do that. She arched her back, pushing out her puss and waggled her ass suggestively from side to side. The bed creaked as Ratface climbed in behind Karen. She felt clumsy fingers probe at her, poking at her slit, too far forward. She stiffened and gasped as a fingernail scratched across her clit, then groaned as fingers finally found her opening. Two, then three fingers slid in. Karen sighed as she felt herself pleasurably stretched. Then she felt the familiar warm, blunt head of an erection poke into her clit and a shudder went through her. She swallowed and set her jaw. It was time for more punishment.

Ratface fumbled some more but finally got his hardon socketed into Karen's drenched opening. Then he grabbed her hips and pulled and shoved brutally forward, penetrating Karen to full depth in a single thrust. His cock was very very thick and Karen groaned as her lips were stretched beyond comfort, then suppressed a giggle as a loud queef was forced out around the seal. Then he started hunching against her, awkwardly and unevenly. He seemed to have no idea what he was doing. Karen wondered if this was his first time. She grabbed the bedframe for leverage and started trying to set a steady rhythm, moving her ass forward and back, and hoping he would catch on, but she was met with a stinging slap on her right buttock. "Hold still," he gritted out, and continued hunching. His cock filled her up but it was hardly providing any of the friction she so desperately needed.

Karen gritted her teeth. At this rate this pathetic incompetent would be finished and gone before Karen had even begun. So she kept moving her ass, and soon was rewarded with another spanking. She smiled as a jolt of pleasure accompanied the slap. She felt her buttocks heating and Ratface groaned as she involuntarily clenched her cunt around his thick cock. "I'm a bad girl," Karen cried as she wiggled her ass from side to side, drawing another spank, and then another, and then a steady cadence of stinging slaps. "Yes, spank your dirty little whore," she moaned, as heat rose in her cunt. She was almost bouncing on the bed, doing anything she could to get that friction against her vaginal walls, the motion she so desperately needed. The heat was rising in her, filling her up. She felt her erect nipples rubbing almost painfully on the sheet, felt the flush rising in her face and spreading, felt her cunt start to spasm and her legs to tremble...

But then Ratface lurched back. "Oh NO!" Karen cried as the cock slid out of her, leaving her empty and unfulfilled. The next thing she knew, hot liquid splashed on the back of her neck. She felt semen painting her skin from the base of her spine all the way up her back. Heavy globs plopped onto her scalp. She moaned in frustration as the last of Ratface's ejaculation dribbled down her asscrack. "No, no, no, no," she mumbled as he got off the bed and began dressing, leaving Karen suspended, her body trembling and heat prickling her reddened ass but with no way to go further. Desperately she collapsed on the bed and began humping against the sheet, grinding her cunt into the mattress. But she was so wet, and the sheet so soaked with her own secretions that she only slid over the stained fabric as her natural lubrication did its job all too well.

It wasn't until she shifted so she could trap and pinch her clitoris between the mattress and her pubic bone that Karen got what she needed. "OW!" she cried as the pain stabbed at her, this time so strong that it took her breath away. Tears flowed as she pressed her face into the pillow. By the time the worst of the agony had passed and she raised her head, Ratface was dressed and gone.

Karen got no more sleep that night. A steady parade of deacons entered her cell. After the first ones, they started coming in pairs. Karen was laid on her back with her head twisted uncomfortably to hang partially off the end of the bed. One deacon lifted her legs into the air and shoved his cock into her pussy while another struggled to fill her mouth. The angle was awkward. Karen's jaw ached from holding her mouth open. Her cheeks got sore from having cocks stretch them from inside. It was hard to swallow in that position, so lots of cum ran down her face, clotting her nostrils, filling her ear and puddling in the hollow of her throat. She couldn't see the deacons fucking her, could only feel the different cocks, each with its own unique length and girth and pattern of veins and ridges as they filled her up, as her steaming cunt clenched and trembled around them, as her arousal spiked again and again, only to be quenched by the blinding pain in her clitoris. The device was being triggered constantly now. Her clit felt as if it were being ground to a pulp and the ache inside had spread down her thighs and up through her abdomen. Karen had run out of tears but she was dry-heaving continuously, choking and sobbing around the procession of erections filling her mouth as uncaring men simply took their pleasure from her with no care or interest in how it affected her.

Karen closed her eyes and let the pain overwhelm her, let it carry her away. Her mind filled with images of Moira. Moira fingering her in the backseat of her car. Moira laughing at her as she staggered into the sunlight after turning her first trick ever. Moira's mouth on hers and her fingers pinching her nipples. Moira's green eyes boring into her as Moira ground the hot coal of a cigarette into her breast and her wicked smile as Karen screamed in pain. Moira's green eyes glazed with lust as Moira slurped freshly-deposited semen out of her burning cunt. And then, Moira's face in the instant the gun went off. Karen screamed herself hoarse as pain and longing filled her and smothered her and she knew nothing else.

Karen opened her eyes, or tried to. One was gummed completely shut. The other opened reluctantly and she blinked through cum-clotted lashes. She was alone. Her body ached everywhere. Her wrists were abraded by the handcuffs. Her skin prickled and itched. Her clitoris felt torn and throbbed with pain. Her hip joints protested as she gingerly closed her thighs and her abraded internal tissues burned. She looked down at herself. She was covered in sweat and spattered everywhere with semen. There were fingerprint bruises all over her breasts and ugly purple marks darkening on her pubic mound. Her jaw ached and her eyes stung. Even her toes had cum on them. She realized it was no longer as dark. She craned her neck to see dawn turning the sliver of sky she could see through the window from purple to pink. She tried to clear her cum-blocked nostrils, failed, and breathed through a dry mouth still full of the bitter aftertaste of semen. The lights flicked on, and she heard the deacon in the dayroom shouting that it was chow time. She wondered if someone would come to unlock her handcuffs so she could eat.