Chapter 5: Inferno of Flesh and Fire

Lena’s body was a canvas of raw need, painted in sweat and slick, her black lace teddy torn at the edges from eager hands, framing her swollen tits and dripping holes like a frame around a masterpiece of sin. The living room pulsed with heat, the air thick as honey laced with musk—the sharp tang of her fertile pussy mingling with the salty sweat of the men, drowning out every trace of Mark’s pathetic cologne until the room reeked only of conquest, of bodies slamming together in wet, relentless rhythm. Victor’s thick cock still throbbed inside her from the last thrust, her walls clenching around him like a vice of velvet fire, milking every inch as if her ovulating womb knew exactly what it craved: seed, strong and flooding, to claim what her husband had denied.

She pulled off him with a wet pop, her pussy gaping slightly, juices trickling down her thighs in shiny rivers that caught the low light like liquid diamonds. “More,” she gasped, voice hoarse from moans and cocks down her throat, eyes wild and locked on the three beasts circling her. Victor, the silver-fox boss, his suit jacket discarded, shirt unbuttoned to reveal a chest dusted in salt-and-pepper hair, his eight-inch thickness veined and slick with her essence. Jax, the ripped ex-athlete, polo stripped off to show rippling abs and broad shoulders glistening with sweat, his nine-inch curve arcing up like a weapon begging to bury deep. Kai, the tattooed tech-bro, tee gone, ink snaking over lean muscle like dark promises, his 7.5-inch girth pierced and throbbing, the barbell cool and menacing.

They laughed, low and predatory, phones already out—cameras rolling from the start, capturing every stretch, every gasp, every tear on Mark’s bound face. “Film it all,” Victor commanded, his lens zooming in on Lena’s stretched cunt, the pink folds fluttering with aftershocks. “Close-ups of her begging holes, his crying eyes. We’ll send you the reels every time you crawl for funding, loser—your motivation to keep this slut hosting.”

Mark whimpered from his chair, zip-ties biting into his wrists and ankles, the cold steel cage locking his useless dick soft and straining, leaking clear precum that dribbled onto his thighs like tears of defeat. His shoes were splattered with her squirt, the wet spots dark and sticky. “Lena ... please...” he sobbed, but she only smiled, wicked and glowing, crawling toward the leather couch arm, bending over it ass-high, tits spilling forward, nipples scraping the cool material.

“Destroy me,” she begged, arching her back until her pussy and ass presented like offerings, the lace framing them in black invitation. Victor stepped behind, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise, and slammed balls-deep into her cunt—schlick-schlick-schlick, the wet plunge echoing like thunder in the room. Lena’s moan ripped out, raw and animal, her walls stretching around his girth, the fertile heat blooming low as his cockhead kissed her cervix. “Yes! Pound my ovulating womb—breed me like he never could!”