Melody's Open Invite Gangbang

Sleep now and cocoon your mind in those dark corridors of the brain where thought is formed. Your lone respite from the callousness of the world. Here they can take nothing from you and nowhere else is this true. Pained sleeper. In time the engine of your ruin will run itself to the uttermost terminus of infamy. Here as they were in Babylon. In the broken towers of Gomorrah.

The bright light coming in from the window illuminated the insides of her eyelids. Melody blinked in delirium, looking around with a blurred gaze. She was in her apartment, laying on the couch. She appeared to be alone.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. A throbbing headache pulsed like the blows of small hammers behind her eyeballs. She felt like someone had sawed open the top of her head and filled it with sand. She looked down at herself. She was completely naked, save for the ankle-high black boots she'd been wearing the night before. For a moment she sat completely baffled at her situation, but when her brain finally sorted through the variety of aches and pains present throughout her body and focused on those emanating from her vagina, rectum, and throat, her memory of the previous night came flooding back in a quick, sickening wave.

Suddenly fighting the urge to vomit, she stood up and rushed to the toilet, scrambling awkwardly on the high heels of her boots, then dropped to her knees and unleashed a violent torrent of puke into the water, the foul acidic bile burning her nostrils as it came up. She wretched two, three times, each time letting a diminishing volume of her stomach's contents splash down. She flushed and rested her head on the seat of the toilet, too weak to get up. Her eyes watered.

Reluctantly, afraid of what she might find, she reached her fingers down to touch the angrily pulsing rim of her vagina. It burned to the touch, sending a jolt of stinging pain up through her nether regions. She snapped her hand away. She knew her asshole would be no better.

Six guys had fucked her last night. Six guys she didn't know the names of, or even remember the faces of really. Was it only six? She wasn't even sure. Guys who had seen her at the bar and known who she really was...and everything that identity entailed.

Her face suddenly became hot and she felt panic rising up in her, and she leaned back over the toilet and vomited heartily again. Whether from last night's alcohol or from sheer anxiety this time, she didn't know.

She spat into the toilet, flushed again and leaned back heavily against the wall. She felt like she wanted to sob, but she couldn't. She just sat there, feeling empty. She pulled off the ridiculous solitary boots and then looked down at her naked body. She had a few mysterious red splotches and other subtle discolorations here and there on her skin. She didn't even remember everything that had happened clearly, but she knew they had been rough with her. So rough. Patches of dried semen coated her body, too, in various places, most of it on her labia and around her groin and asscheeks, but plenty over her chest and face. She gingerly placed another finger in the entrance of her vagina, then slowly pushed it all the way in. She withdrew it and rubbed her thumb against it, feeling the clearish, oily substance her vagina had been incubating for the last several hours.

So they'd cum in her. And not used condoms. Of course they hadn't. She was Melody Ainsley after all, everyone's personal nasty whore, as far as they were concerned. Her body was shaking slightly. Just when she'd thought she might be clean, six new strange dicks plundered her vulnerable pussy. Now she would have to go all through the terror again of possibly giving Kevin a disease.

Kevin.

Panic surged through her again. God, what if he found out? She couldn't lose him, couldn't have him find out about this. She prayed that this was just an isolated incident, that it wouldn't recur or spiral into something worse. It had to be isolated, right? She'd gone so long with nothing. She'd thought she'd escaped it.

She sighed and braved another peek down between her legs. There was a tiny microfissure on her perineum, a hair-thin line of blood. She stood up and looked at herself in the mirror. What a wreck. Her hair was a wild, tangled mane, matted in places with what must be cum. Her makeup smeared and garbled all across her face, her mascara splayed up and down from her eyes in long, translucent black streaks, or tear tracks. She bent over slightly, pulling her buttcheeks apart toward the mirror. She looked back over her shoulder. Her rectum looked red and somewhat beat up, too. She'd have to avoid having sex with Kevin for a few days. He couldn't know.

She showered, reliving the now familiar experience of trying to wash away a filth that just could not be gotten down to.

When she got out she saw that there was a notification on her phone where it sat on her coffee table. Her heart dropped. She slowly picked it up and turned the screen on.

Someone had sent her a picture of herself, with blonde hair, obviously taken last night. She was on her knees on the ground looking up at the camera, her uncertain eyes red with bloodshot. Her mouth was open and filled with cum.

He'd sent others, too. All from the same number. Pictures from last night, one of her on her knees, her face surrounded by a circle or dicks, various pictures of her with dicks in her pussy or ass, some with her looking at the camera while a cock was shoved deep in her throat, one with her being double penetrated.

"Your secret's still safe with me, babe," the accompanying text read. "Just keep up your end of the deal and your boyfriend never finds out."

She shut off her phone and threw it down on the couch, then she sank down next to it and began to cry in frustration.

She spent much of the day in various degrees of anxiety around her apartment. She was supposed to work a shift at the store that evening, but she knew she couldn't. She still had the effects of a hangover, and didn't want to leave the safety of her own place anyway. She called in, saying she was running a fever.

She slept for a while, just wanting to turn her mind off for a while. She woke to the warmer tones of evening light hitting her wall. She braved a look at her phone again.

Kevin had texted her that morning, apologizing for having to run off last night, and wishing her a nice day. She texted him back, hoping he wasn't too worried by her delayed response. She could not have him getting suspicious.

Taking a deep breath, she navigated back to the other messages. She had to delete them.

But when she was greeted with that picture of her upturned face, eyeliner smeared, covered in sweat and harboring the cum of strangers in her open mouth, she felt that terrible thrill again. The one she'd worked so well to suppress for the last several months. The whore rising up again.

She slipped a hand down the front of her panties, tracing it along the length of her vulva. It still stung, but the desire to touch herself overrode the pain. It might have even enhanced it somewhat, knowing that this pain was the consequences of her depravity. She collected some of her wetness and brought it up to tease her clit, running the slippery tip of her finger over the slightly hardening little bud.

She began rubbing herself hard, looking at the shameful pictures of herself. A well-fucked tramp, covered in the crud of her suitors. Yes, she was a whore. They'd been right to put her in her place. Look at those anonymous cocks in her holes. She could still feel the aches deep within her where they'd fucked her. They'd seen her, taken her to their home, crammed their dicks into every wet entry point of her body, and fucked her until she could barely walk. Just the way everyone should. The world's rent-a-whore. She had a sudden urge to go spread her legs wide in front of the window facing the street, but resisted. She rubbed herself furiously, rubbed until the pleasure overrode the pain of her raw, abused genitals. She loved feeling the havoc they'd wreaked on her body.

She had an explosive squirting orgasm, coating the couch and part of the coffee table in front of it. She lay back, her chest heaving with her breath. The moment passed. What was wrong with her? She was disgusted with herself. She quickly erased the pictures and the entire conversation, unable to believe she'd been excited by this horrifying objectification of herself only moments before.

She cleaned up after herself, drying up her squirt then getting a wet washcloth and scrubbing away the dried film of pussy juice and semen that had leaked out of her onto the couch the night before. She took another shower. She had to be sure nothing was detectable by the time Kevin came over tonight. She sat in the shower, her mind racing with thoughts of worry, shame, and guilt.

He couldn't know anything.

*

Kevin had had a front row seat to all the debauchery of the previous evening, and it had been the most intense sexual gratification of his life. The guys had been pretty decent cameramen. He'd of course seen plenty of footage of his girlfriend taking a room full of dick, but this was different. That had all been in the past, removed. She hadn't known him at the time, she had looked a little different. This was so much better, knowing he'd just been with her, seen her wearing that same outfit that had been torn from her body. Knowing she had put it on that night having no idea what would happen to it, and her.

They'd taken her back to the main guy's apartment, and Kevin had been surprised to find that the guy happened to live in the same building as Melody. It was on another floor and on the opposite side, but still. He could tell that Melody was afraid they were somehow taking her back to her own apartment when they first went up to the building.

But they hadn't. The six guys had taken her to the one guys place. It must have been about 2 am by the time they got there. Melody wouldn't make it back out until about five hours later, when they had sent her running back to her own apartment through the building, with just her heels and her purse for adornment, hoping against hope not to run into any other early morning tenants on her way there.

They'd wasted little time getting her undressed once they were all in the apartment. Her skirt had been lifted in one pull up and over her head, and her bra had quickly followed. It left her standing there in just her black ankle boots, her panties having been relegated to her purse earlier in the evening. One of the dudes went to the window and threw her clothes out onto the street three stories below.

The guys stayed dressed for a while while Melody wandered around naked, looking scared and awkward. Finally she just sat on the couch while the guys kept preparing more drinks, a few of which they forced on her. Kevin knew she was already three fourths of the way to hammered, even if this scare had woken her up a bit. She would be completely out of it if she kept drinking these.

Still, after only a moment's hesitation she threw her head back and drank, first one, then two, three more as they came. She must be drinking to forget, knowing what was coming. They had her sit with her legs wide open and they all took turns just casually reaching over and toying with her pussy as they drank, laughing and cutting up the whole time. The guy filming assured her he wasn't going to do anything with the footage, it was just for his personal use. By this time Melody was too drunk to even question it or really notice, though.

"So, just exactly how many guys have you fucked?" the ringleader asked while he knelt before her and slowly squeezed three of his fingers in and out of her already wet cunt, as if he were scientifically surveying the structure of such a promiscuous girl's sex canal.

"Two hundred and eighty four," Melody said, almost immediately, a completely deadpan look on her face, as if expecting him to mock her. It had come to mind so quickly, the number obviously always circling in her head.

284. So that's her real number.

"You're such a generous girl to give yourself away to so many guys like that," the guy said. "Wow. Well you're going to be up to 290 after tonight, are you excited about that?"

His pants were suddenly coming down. He pulled her ass toward the edge of the couch and leaning over her, stuck his bare dick right into her slick hole.

"Here's number 285 for you," he said, his thrusts making loud squishing noises as they bottomed out against her spread crotch. A thick web of pussy mucus already covered her labia, and smacked up against the guy's pubic region and lower belly when he fully inserted himself into her. He held her by her ankles, holding them apart and up above his shoulders.

"God you feel fucking good for how much mileage you've got. Does your boyfriend have any idea how many dicks you've let in this little cunt of his?"

Kevin could see a flash of panic cross Melody's eyes as she looked up at her partner.

"No," the guy said. "I didn't think so. Don't worry. I'm not going to tell him as long as you can keep a secret, too."

They all took their turns with her, first just one after the other, in that same position. They each counted their respective numbers for her as they entered. 286, 287, 288, 289, 290. The number that could never be reversed, only get higher. The number that our society has decided is inversely equal to a woman's worth. God he loved to see it climb higher in real time. He knew that number weighed heavy on her mind too. How many times had she told him he was number two?

Kevin could see the hesitancy on her face, the guilt. It was the first time she'd fucked anyone else since being with him. Nearly a year. She'd thought she'd outran this. Thought she could build a normal life with a single guy she could be committed to, but look at her now. He could see it all hitting her, drunk as she was, as she accommodatingly spread her pussy open for the next guy to enter her more easily. She looked as if she were in shock.

Once they'd all gotten their dicks wet the first time they began switching it up, fucking her this way and that, hanging off every piece of furniture in the apartment. They'd trade off the camera when they needed to. They took her two, three at a time, each one of them getting their fill of every hole she had, switching recklessly from ass to pussy or ass to mouth, not bothering to clean themselves off at all between holes. They slammed into her mercilessly, and she was already soaking wet enough to take it.

Kevin beat off multiple times throughout the whole thing, cumming and then still being ready to get hard again a minute later. He loved seeing these guys take such deep pleasure in her, doing whatever they wanted. This was the kind of sex the vast majority of people would never get to experience in their life. Completely unrestrained. Limitless. And they were getting it from his girl. The internet's pet whore. They were fucking her as is they were taking out all the frustrations of their lives on her vagina, on her rectum. And she could take it. God she was built to be gangfucked. Her legs splayed open as a guy switched out of her vagina at one point. Her entire crotch was glowing red. A gleaming rivulet of her own juice streamed out, down her asscrack. Yep...all these months spent trying to repress it, but still nothing excited her like being used like she was only a dumpster for cum. What a strange contrast existed between who she wanted to be seen as, and who she was deep within. You didn't get this completely drenched from being forced to give your pussy to six strangers unless it massively excited you.

"Don't hold back, guys," the ringleader told his friends, as if they needed encouragement. "You know what she can take."

He watched them pillage her for the next few hours, all of them cumming, waiting a bit, then getting straight back into the action. They obviously didn't want to waste this opportunity. They fucked her like viking raiders taking out all of their sexual rage on the only female left in a sacked coastal village, slamming into her until only their pelvic bones stopped them from going further. Her cervix seemed to have trained itself to retreat as far back as possible, but even then the more endowed of them could feel themselves bottom out against it and push the elastic dimpled wall back even further until every millimeter of their cocks was wrapped in the lumen of her vaginal space. Her clouded mind seemed to have retreated to a place of shelter. She fucked them back thoroughly, loosening up and giving into it in self-preservation, the way a drunk person fares better in a car crash than a sober one. Come what may.

They fucked her all over the apartment, every way they could. At one point they had her in the bedroom, laying on her back with her head hanging off the mattress, and they all took turns throatfucking her in this optimal position. They could easily angle their cocks down the length of her throat and simply lean down, pressing their whole cock into her just using the weight of their body. She initially reached a hand up to a thigh to try to push the first guy a little further out, but soon realized how hopeless that task would be.

"Open your throat," he said to her, already touching the tip of her nose with his balls. She tried to recall the way she had relaxed her throat in the past when people fucked her face, but then remembered that there wasn't really a great way to ease it. You just had to endure it. The next thing she knew the guy had leaned all the way down, sliding his cock back until her lips ringed the very base of his shaft, his pubic hair tickling her tongue, and then he struggled to push just a tiny bit further, the head of his dick somewhere down near her voicebox. Kevin could see her throat distending. She vocalized a strong but muffled, smothered gag, her head involuntarily raising up slightly to escape the massive intrusion, but there was nowhere to go.

The guy pulled out a little then slammed back in, over and over, fucking her throat like it was a pussy, just thrusting in as far as he could each time, with complete disregard to how awful it might be for Melody. He moaned loudly. This was not something you ever got to do to a girl. Melody flailed, her fingers tightening on his thighs like ten overworked little vices, but still he assaulted her. Her throat was making a cacophony of absurd gurgles and wails, occasionally a sharp, muffled retching noise that sounded like she was going to vomit, but she somehow powered through the reflex. She was turning slightly purple in the face, and drool flung out of the rim of her lips in ropes or webbed between the corner of her mouth and the guy's balls. Tears were pouring unbidden from her eyes, rolling down in dark tracks of ruined mascara. He was fucking her throat so deep you couldn't even see his shaft. Just a ballsack protruded from her mouth, smashing into her nose with each thrust.

Obviously feeling the coming tide, the guy suddenly pulled out just as a surge of spittle and bile rose up out of her throat and rolled down the upper half of her face in a foamed wave. She sputtered through the vile mask as it covered her nose, her eyes, then her hair as it made its way to the floor. She took several huge, gasping breaths, the normal tone of her skin slowly restoring. She coughed and sputtered.

Before she had even begun to collect herself, the guy was straight back in, moaning in undignified, high pitched little bursts, unable to help himself. He'd obviously never felt anything like this. He plugged away for several more seconds, moaning and spasming, his thrusts quickening until suddenly with a great cry he grabbed her by the hinges of her jaw and pulled her head all the way into his crotch, holding his dick as deep into her throat as it would reach as he experienced a lengthy, body-wracking orgasm.