Chapter 7

Big thanks to CaptainPig for helping me polish this story!

The harsh midday sun filtered through the grimy alley, cutting through the haze of Elara’s forced unconsciousness. Her body lay a discarded heap on the damp ground, still faintly twitching with the relentless, maximum-intensity vibration from the pink toy nestled deep within her. The air hung heavy with the smells of stale garbage, spent semen, and the metallic tang of her own fear and blood.

A shadow fell over her, then a familiar, sharp voice cut through the fog. “Elara? Hey, slut, wake up!”

It was Brittany. She knelt beside Elara, her face a mask of casual concern, a stark contrast to the brutality she had inflicted just moments before. She reached down, pulling out the pink vibrator. Elara’s body gave a final, convulsive shudder as the buzzing toy was removed. Brittany then tapped the side of the vibrator, lowering its intensity to a gentle hum. She held it for a moment, admiring it, before tucking it back into Elara’s shattered pussy.

Brittany then slapped Elara’s cheek, three sharp, stinging blows. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! “Wake up, lazy. We don’t have all day.”

Elara’s eyes fluttered open, her vision blurry, her head throbbing. Her entire body felt heavy, bruised, and violated. She blinked, trying to focus on Brittany’s face, which seemed to swim in and out of view. Her mouth tasted foul.

Brittany smiled, a strange, almost genuine warmth in her eyes. “There you are. Good. You gave quite the performance, Elara. I saw it all from the window. The boys, they were very ... impressed. And you, Elara, you were magnificent. I’m actually quite proud of you.”

Elara stared at her, exhausted, not fully processing the words, her mind too numb to react to the unexpected praise. Her body was still trembling, the aftershocks of the incessant orgasms reverberating through her.

Then, to Elara’s shock, Brittany leaned down. Her lips, still painted with the bold, overdrawn red lipstick, pressed against Elara’s own bruised, swollen mouth. It was not a chaste peck. Brittany’s lips parted, and her tongue, warm and insistent, pushed past Elara’s reluctant teeth, delving into her mouth. It was a deep, wet French kiss, full of unexpected intensity. Elara’s eyes, wide and bewildered, stared blankly at the alley wall as Brittany’s tongue explored, demanding a response. The taste of her lipstick, mingled with a faint metallic tang, filled Elara’s mouth.