Three hours. No refunds.

NikolaApril 25, 20256 min read3.5K views

Part One

I knew they would enter without a word. But I still flinched when the lock clicked. The room was already hot—and not just from the steam. I was on my knees, head bowed. The three of them entered, broad shoulders, heavy gazes. I felt like nothing even before they approached.

Vladimir was the first to approach. His boot ended up right in front of my face. I didn't raise my head, but he lifted my chin with his toe himself. "Looking up like a bitch," he said calmly. "So, he's ready."

He spat. The spit landed on my lip and dripped to my chin. I didn't wipe it. Sergei leaned down and wiped it with his cockhead—already hard, tense,

with a drop of clear pre-cum. He ran it over my mouth, then pushed it inside. Without words. Without preparation.

I coughed immediately—deeply, gutturally, my throat wasn't ready. He didn't stop. On the contrary, he smirked. "Swallow it. We've only just begun." A strong hand grabbed me by the hair, fixed my head. I was choking. The gag reflex passed, but my eyes filled with tears.

Alexei didn't stay on the sidelines—he stood beside me and started touching my nipples, squeezing them until it hurt. "You're already trembling? We haven't even entered you yet." He leaned down and spat in my ear. The saliva ran down my neck. Sergei pushed deeper and deeper until I could no longer distinguish the taste. My head was buzzing. My pulse pounded in my temples.

Then my mouth was freed. I gasped for air, saliva dripping down my chin. Vladimir had already spread my legs, pushed with his knee. "Enough playing. Time for action." I felt the cool lube drip onto my anus. But there were no fingers. Just—a thrust. Strong, inhumanly rough. I screamed, without even realizing—the air escaped with a wheeze.

They didn't hold back. One held my shoulders, another pressed his chest against my back. The third was back in my mouth. I was torn apart, pinned down, choking. My knees slid on the floor. Saliva, sweat, already a little semen. Everything mixed together.

"He opens up well," Alexei said, "You can see he's been trained." A spit. A slap on the buttocks. I felt my anus pulsing, not having time to close. As if it was calling them back itself. My muscles burned.

"Ten minutes," someone said, "and he's already leaking. I wonder what will happen in an hour." They laughed. I was on the edge, but I didn't want them to stop. I wanted it to get worse.

Part Two

Vladimir didn't let me catch my breath. As soon as I lowered my head, he grabbed my hair and pulled me back.

"Look at us," he said. "You wanted to be a thing. Now we'll show you how it's used."

Sergei stood behind, entered my anus again, and I moaned, not hiding it. He didn't let me get used to it, the rhythm was uneven—a jerk, a pause, two jerks. My whole body jerked.

Alexei held me by the shoulders, pressed me down, commenting: "Look how he trembles. His anus is like a lip—it opens and waits."

The first one's semen was already leaking out, mixing with the lube and my own fluids. It ran down my thighs, onto the floor. One of them smeared it across the floor with his foot.

"Already a puddle. And not even ten minutes have passed," someone said and laughed. "We'll kill him by morning."

They flipped me onto my back, pulling my knees up to my chest. Vladimir stood between my legs, and his cock pressed against the torn entrance for a moment, not entering immediately.

I felt him pressing—not moving, just pushing me open from the inside. I clenched my fists, but said nothing. Only a wheeze.

"Like this. Don't clench," he ordered. "Now we'll turn you into a box."

When he entered completely, I didn't scream—I moaned, low, drawn-out, as if something inside me cracked. Alexei stood behind, watching.

"See how his body speaks for him? He wants us not to stop."

Sergei stood to the side, put his cock in my mouth, without warning. I couldn't close my mouth—my jaw ached. He started moving on his own, not looking at me.

They used me like furniture, like an opening. One thrust from inside, another filled my throat. My eyes could no longer focus.

I heard Vladimir say: "Look at us. Look how we're taking you."

But I couldn't. I was between gasps, sounds, a body that wouldn't obey. My body was open, wet, flowing. They saw it. They knew I wouldn't stop them.

Part Three

They no longer tried to switch carefully. One pulled out—the second was already entering. Without lube. Without pauses.

My muscles only reacted with trembling. I heard someone laughing—loudly, genuinely, with pleasure. And I realized it wasn't me.

Alexei held my face with both hands, pressing my cheeks tightly. He looked into my eyes and said: "Do you understand what we're doing to you? Or does it not matter anymore?"

I wanted to answer, but my mouth was full. And I didn't know what I would say. All I felt was a pulsating heat inside, a heaviness in my stomach, the vibration from the thrusts.

Vladimir returned again. He said: "We haven't even started seriously. Just a warm-up."

He spat on his palm and rubbed my chest, pressed my nipple, then bit it. Sharply. I flinched—and received a thrust from below simultaneously.

"Oh, he's still alive," Sergei snorted. "But not for long."

They turned me on my side. One held my leg, another by the waist. The third kept fucking me. I felt everything inside shifting, as if I was being inflated. Every time they entered, I felt something tearing loose inside.

"His anus isn't returning anymore," someone said. "Look how it just sinks in."

They watched me pulsate, how the hole was open and wet, how the previous one's semen leaked out as the next one entered.

"He's ready for two. Right now," Vladimir threw out. "Hold his legs."

I wanted to turn away, but a hand landed on my neck, pressed down. My head remained pinned to the pillow. I felt two of them pressing simultaneously.

They entered. I roared. Not from pain. From… the fullness. From the horror. From the fact that it was possible.

I was them. Two bodies. Two cocks. Two rhythms. I couldn't breathe—not with my chest, not with my stomach. Only through the scream.

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