The bass in Club Fleshpit pounded like a war drum, a relentless, sub-human throb that vibrated through the sticky floor and into every bone. Red and purple strobes slashed through thick cigarette haze and sweat mist, turning the writhing sea of bodies into a living nightmare. The air stank of spilled vodka, cheap cologne, pussy juice, and fresh piss. Hundreds packed the main floor, grinding, shouting, half-fucked already on drugs and lust.

At the center rose the elevated platform—chrome poles, scuffed acrylic stage, usually reserved for hired dancers in cages. Tonight it was a slaughter block.

Mia, 25, that pathetic little office slut with her tight waist, perky B-cups, and long dark hair, had strutted in wearing a black micro-dress that barely covered her shaved cunt lips and rode up her ass with every step. She thought flashing her tits for free shots made her bold. Deep down, her twisted fantasies craved this chaos—she loved the thrill, the degradation, imagining herself as the center of raw, filthy attention. What she didn’t know was that her husband’s five closest friends—guys she’d flirted with at barbecues, the ones who always eyed her like meat—had followed her here on a tip, phones ready to capture every second for her oblivious hubby back home.

It started fast. One mountain of a bouncer—Diesel, six-foot-five, neck thicker than most men’s thighs, arms sleeved in prison ink—snatched her mid-dance by the throat. His fingers crushed her windpipe just enough to make her eyes bulge. He slammed her down onto the platform on her back so hard the air exploded from her lungs in a ragged wheeze. The music never paused. The crowd erupted in a primal roar. Phones shot up like weapons, red recording lights blinking everywhere—including those held by her husband’s friends, grinning from the front row.

The DJ grabbed his mic, voice dripping venom over the beat: “Yo, you filthy degenerate motherfuckers! We got premium fresh meat tonight! This disgusting little cumrag’s name is MIA, and she’s begging to be completely FUCKING OBLITERATED in front of every single one of you! Who wants to tear this bitch apart?”

The answering scream shook the walls. Mia’s heart raced—not with fear, but excitement. This was her dark dream unfolding; she moaned eagerly as Diesel ripped her dress off in one savage yank—fabric shredding like wet tissue—leaving her completely naked except for those ridiculous six-inch clear heels. Her pale skin glowed under the strobes, nipples already rock-hard from twisted arousal. Two more bouncers vaulted the barrier, thick zip-ties biting into her wrists as they yanked her arms overhead and locked them to the dancer poles. Ankles were forced wide, cuffed to bolted rings in the stage floor, spreading her legs obscenely until her cunt lips parted on their own and her asshole winked under the lights for the entire club to see. “Yes ... expose your slut,” she whispered hungrily, loving the exposure—unaware her husband’s friends were already filming, zooming in on her spread holes, texting previews to him: “Your wife’s getting wrecked tonight, bro.”

First wave hit like a freight train. Eight bouncers and bartenders swarmed the stage—no lube, no mercy. Diesel hawked a thick yellow glob of spit straight into her exposed cunt hole, then lined up his veiny, forearm-thick cock and speared her asshole dry in one merciless thrust. Mia’s scream was laced with ecstasy—raw vocal cords shredding as her body arched off the platform, heels scraping uselessly, but her eyes sparkled with mad lust. “Fuck yes, rip me open!” Another bouncer started punching her tits with closed fists, turning the soft flesh purple and swollen almost instantly, while a third rammed his cock down her throat until her stomach heaved and she gagged violently around his shaft.

“Choke on my dick, you nasty fucking barf bucket!” he snarled, gripping her hair braid like a handle and skull-fucking her harder, forcing her to swallow her own drool. Mia loved it at first—thrashing in bliss, her cunt dripping as the crowd’s hands exploded across her body—dozens, hundreds—slapping her face until both cheeks were flaming red and puffy, twisting her nipples until they were raw and throbbing, four and five fingers at once punching into her stretched cunt like it was a speed bag. Someone unzipped and unloaded a thick stream of hot piss directly into her gaping asshole—a filthy enema—then Diesel slammed back in, trapping the urine inside. Every brutal thrust sloshed it deeper, piss bubbling out around his shaft and running down her thighs in yellow rivers. “Drown my holes ... use me like trash!” she gurgled, reveling in the filth.

They flipped her onto all fours, face smashed against the grimy stage. Triple penetration hit instantly: two cocks cramming her cunt at once, stretching the walls until they burned, another splitting her asshole beside Diesel’s girth, and a fourth choking her throat until her eyes rolled white. A random fist forced its way into her pussy alongside the dicks—knuckles grinding against shafts—until her lower body convulsed and she squirted a violent, high-pressure flood that arced over the edge and soaked the front row. People opened their mouths to catch it, cheering like animals. Mia was in heaven at the start, moaning like a whore in heat, “More cocks ... stuff your worthless holes fuller!”

But as the night wore on, the intensity crossed into suffering. A stranger in the crowd reached up, grabbed her blooming rosebud with filthy fingers, and yanked hard. Three inches of slick pink rectal flesh prolapsed out, glistening under the strobes. He punched it—closed fist, full force—over and over while Mia’s body jerked and spasmed, her scream turning into a broken gurgle. “Beat my fucking guts! Punch my shithole inside out!” she somehow managed to wail between cocks. The pain was too much now; what started as fantasy turned real—non-consent creeping in as she realized she couldn’t stop it, the crowd too rabid, the bouncers too forceful. “No ... stop, it’s too much!” she whimpered, but they ignored her, forcing her deeper into the degradation. Phones zoomed in tight. Strobes froze every wet detail in flashes.

They dragged her to the very edge of the stage, ass hanging over the drop, prolapse dangling like raw meat for the crowd. A line formed—fifty, sixty, a hundred deep—men and women alike. Ass-to-mouth became a public assembly line: every cock that pulled out of her ruined asshole, slick with ass slime, went straight into her mouth or was passed to the next stranger waiting to taste her filth. She gagged violently, spitting ropes of cum, piss, and anal mucus onto the stage, only for hands to scoop it up and force it back between her swollen lips. Mia thrashed, tears starting as the suffering hit—forced to continue despite her pleas, the non-consent raw and unrelenting.