Chapter 25: The Finale

It wasn’t quiet, I just never heard anything. A pause in the din of beautiful silence in the moments that followed was bliss. Cum dripped down my chin, making me feel like the worthless slut I was. My own submission had overtaken my senses and I felt nothing but heavenly waves throughout my body.

I was unaware of everything. I didn’t know where I was, what I was doing or even my name, as I fell from the brown cock and landed on the soft floor.

There was cum in my mouth. There had been plenty of cum sliding down my throat all night and I adored the delicious, viscous sap of the alpha males. My eyes closed and I breathed deeply, only gently aware that there was a commotion around me.

Laughter. Giggling and sadistic chatter. They made comments but I barely heard the voices let alone the words. I felt my arms lifted upwards and I was half-dragged, half-carried to the table.

The remnants of dessert were pushed to one side and I was pushed onto the soft table top, arse hanging over the sides. A finger, lubed and ready, pressed against my butthole.

The host said nothing; I opened my eyes to see him unbuttoning his trouser fly and presenting his meaty cock to my lips.

I groaned as the first cock slid past my sanctuary; loosened from the finger and used to raw fucking. I closed my eyes as pubic hair tickled my nostrils and prick threatened my gag reflex.

I slid further into my submission.

Much further.

I was a pig.

I don’t know how many men came from my butt that night; I don’t know how many came down my throat. I saw the highlights from the TV station and it was many; my body ached the next day. I knew scores of uninvited men slipped into the venue and few had come to offer their holes for enjoyment. The hosts mandated condoms – that was non-negotiable – but everything else was just additional video copy for their popular website.

They came to fuck us. They came to fuck me.

Yet I would not have complained. At that moment, had I been asked, I would have wanted more and more. I was living for the cock, desperate to be more submissive. I wanted nothing but more and more submission.

I wanted to be spanked and to be pissed upon. I wanted to be at the centre of the bukkake. I wanted to be used and abused. I adored the tight hold a man placed upon my waist. He was in control. He was fucking me. He was sliding his veined cock past my ring and enjoying my body for his pleasure.

His hand slapped against my buttocks; I groaned into the spewing cock in my mouth. I wanted more. I needed it. I was trapped in a world of powerful submission and helplessness. I was a fly in their web of sexual mystery and I had long since accepted my fate.

They laughed at my humiliation; entertained by the nastiness of the Woodford Wanderers players. I danced in their laughter, and absorbed their cruel comments. It fuelled my desperation.

Their fun ended as quickly as it had begun; I snapped out of my head-spinning with a my stretched anus longing for a further penetrative assault on my bud. It was wet; the lube clung to my skin as I was dragged and marched into the adjoining room.

Most of my team-mates were there. Some, were still in the toilets or tied in the other room. Our stocky defender, dressed as a maid was being dowsed in piss in the corner of a vast room, full of torture equipment and sexual paraphernalia.

I never saw the man who did it, but I was pushed into a paddling pool, a third of the way down the room. It was full of mud. The cool glutinous filth splashed up my body as I landed and sank into the six inches of dirt.

They laughed. I was dirty, they reminded me. But I knew that. I had always known that. It was a sensual coolness, soothing against the abused muscles tired from an energetic football match and supporting my weight in unnaturally submissive positions.

I sank into the ooze, feeling it entrap my body and wrap it’s dark, thick arms around me. I guessed what they wanted; our sadists knew my muscles were weakened, my strength sapped. They wanted me to lose.

But they wanted me to fight.

The first man to fight me was a fan. His elegant torso was chiselled with rippling muscle. Another day, I would have gleefully surrendered to him. A smile emerged from underneath his thin face, topped with thick black hair. I stared at the topless man, unbuttoning his belt on his trousers to reveal a brightly coloured jockstrap.