Melody's Open Invite Gangbang

She came to just a few seconds after passing out, but just kept lying there on the floor. She couldn't bear to get up and face all of them. She wanted to melt into the floor.

She finally looked up when she heard a knock on the door. More people coming in -- two guys she didn't recognize. They looked nervous. She slowly lifted her head and ventured another look around the room. So many people. She couldn't wrap her head around the fact that she was going to be fucking all of them, or at least most of them. That this was happening again. That she had ended up living a life where hundreds of people would fuck her with complete impunity. There were women present too, people she knew. They were probably just here to watch the strange spectacle of a girl they thought was normal, being an utter whore.

"She's up!" someone shouted. "Come on, you should go around and introduce yourself to everyone who doesn't know you. You're going to be getting pretty intimate with them, anyway."

She sat up but stayed seated on the floor. She looked around helplessly. No one was going to help her. They must have seen everything. Obviously. It was playing on the screens at this very moment. They didn't think she was anything but a deranged slut with a vulgar humiliation, exhibition, and degradation fetish, and they were here to indulge her.

She still couldn't stand up. This would be worse than the first time, somehow. Her world had just come crashing down. Not only was she hit with the realization that her boyfriend of the last year, her fiance, she thought, was actually a cruel manipulator who wanted to see her suffer, but she also had a weekend of what was sure to be brutal group fucking to look forward to. A surge pulsed through her crotch at the thought, filling her with shame and anger at herself. Why did her body want so badly for her to be a whore?

Someone pulled her to her feet, reaching their hands up under her skirt as they did so and slipping her underwear down to her ankles. She stepped out of them almost impulsively. The guy grabbed them then held them open and looked in at the revealed gusset.

"Good news! She's already creaming for it!" he rubbed an index finger across the inner crotch of the panties where Melody had left a thick trail of slime. "Just seeing this room full of fans has already got her excited!"

He passed the panties around to others who all felt her pussy mucus and looked at her with looks of cruel amusement and hunger in their eyes. Just as advertised, they must be thinking.

"Let's have you go around and meet some of your fans," someone said, grabbing her by the elbow and leading her around. Already people were crowding near her, placing a hand on her bare leg below the dress or on the small of her back. Like they all casually owned her. Someone handed her another drink and this one she held onto and poured back into her throat in big gulps. She kept a stone face, and avoided looking at Kevin at all.

*

Kevin watched in a state of nervous exaltation as his girlfriend was paraded like meat before the eager crowd. He could read on her face volumes of humiliation and devastation, yet he could see as clearly as anyone else in the room the shining glimmer of wetness slowly spreading down her inner thighs, visible now below the end of her skirt. What a perfect paradox of a specimen. She hated what was buried in her, what anyone now had the power to bring out.

It was hard to wrap his head around the fact that everyone in this room, and more who had not even arrived yet, would be having their complete and utter way with her body, the one he had gotten to know so intimately over the last year. More than her body, really. The level and extent of her exposure and domination transcended the physical. Were they not breaking her so completely that they were baring open her soul to the world, presenting it finally and completely to all as her ultimate submission?

Someone was leading her around the room in her cute outfit, the one she had so carefully and pridefully put on, when she had thought her life would turn out very differently. But now she realized she had just dressed herself to be a whore, yet again. He could see the depth of defeat in her eyes. To go from such a high, thinking she had escaped it all, that she could be special for someone again, to this. Knowing she had two or more days of complete and overwhelming degradation to look forward to, all of her holes used to the max, her tongue, her appendages, everything she had, given to whoever wanted it in whatever way. The opposite of something special.

She was doing the rounds, the man's hand at her back. People sipped their drinks and grinned in bemusement as she was brought up to them and made to awkwardly introduce herself and tell them how much she was looking forward to them fucking her. She followed the man's instructions in a deadpan voice.

"Hi, I'm Melody," she would repeat in some variation time after time. "I'm grateful that you're going to fuck me."

When she had to do this to the people she knew -- her boss, some of her coworkers, mutual friends of theirs she'd acquired over her time in Boston, they could all see her face flushing a deeper red, see her throat constrict as she struggled to say the humiliating thing to the person she'd thought took her seriously and respected her only a short time ago. Here and there she even saw people she knew in her original life, in Spokane, people who had evidently missed the chance the first time and had now flown across the country to get a piece of their notorious hometown whore they'd obviously heard so much about. In a small, faltering voice she heard herself offering her pussy to her 10th grade gym teacher, Mr. Eckersley, a middle aged balding man who smiled down at her with sweat breaking out on his forehead and an obvious bulge in his jeans. She had always been creeped out and scared of him. He had always seemed like a pervert who paid particular attention to her exercising, who always found an excuse to place his hands on her and "adjust" her, who had made questionable comments to her from time to time. And now that seemed to be confirmed. He'd get to fuck her after all. Melody scanned the room again. Yes, here and there a few other former authority figures from her youth, old creeps she'd always avoided. Getting to fulfill their ultimate fantasies at last. Melody thought she might be sick in that moment. They'd probably followed every detail of her humiliating journey online with obsession.

People would casually stick their fingers under her skirt as she spoke to them, feeling her wetness for themselves, watching her knees buckle slightly as they lightly pinched her clit. One guy who'd already had a few drinks pulled her in and planted a deep french kiss on her mouth.

She made her way around the rest of the room, her face red, a spectacle of humiliation for everyone present, submissively introducing and offering herself to every cluster of people present. Always somewhere on the wall behind the people she would see another TV with the HD footage of her first gangbang. There were at least six large, flat screen TVs mounted around the penthouse, showing different clips. One was just dedicated to the extensive amount of footage that had been taken to document each part of her body down to the tiniest detail. At the moment she could see her spread labia dominating the 60 inch screen. Some guys sipping beer and looking at it turned from the screen to her and back a few times, as if to mentally place the thing on her. Another TV was playing on loop her various desperate verbal requests to be made a whore for life, swearing that she would fuck any man no matter what.

The depraved actions of the whore on screen, performing more degrading acts than the most desperate pornstar, seemed so at odds with the expectations that you would have for a girl who looked like Melody. As she stood before them in her nice dress and her meticulously fixed hair and her subtle, classy makeup, it seemed nearly impossible that she was the unrespectable trash taking cock after cock, drinking piss and being coated in cum on the screens, but so it was. And they would get to do it all to her again. That and more. Whatever they could think of. It seemed too good to be true. Girls like her didn't do this kind of stuff. No girl did this kind of stuff.

Soon enough they began easing into it. Everyone seemed slightly cautious, as if afraid to be the first to escalate things. But they were, slowly. They knew they had time. Soon they had her sitting in the middle of one of the couches, guys framing her on either side, as well as behind her. Her shoes had been taken off somewhere and she sat with her legs splayed wide, her naked pussy hanging out of the bottom of the black dress now hiked up around her waist. The guys on either side either rubbed her long legs or ran their fingers over her crotch, touching, prodding and feeling her wet pussy. Guys behind reached hands over her shoulders and copped hearty squeezes of her tits, their hands reaching beneath the fabric of the dress and squeezing the modest bulbs of fat on her chest. Her bra had been removed too, and she reclined there, spread eagle, being casually groped in just her dress, choker, and makeup. Everyone's attention was trained on the TV before them. They seemed to want to review the material while discussing it with her. They seemed to want to have time for the humiliation to seep in. Know the depth of her defeat.

As those around her passively rubbed and groped her where she sat, they turned the conversation to an inquiry of her extreme situation. Most of them seemed at least partially drunk now, and they put the questions to her with growing boldness: What made you want to be a whore? How many guys do you fuck a month on average? Does it turn you on knowing how many tens of millions of views your videos have? Does it turn you on knowing you have such a dedicated fanbase, that people online track your whereabouts? When it became obvious that she was mostly oblivious to the latest of these realities, the guys set up an excited hoot.

"She really doesn't know about the forums and all that? Fuck, we've got to show her."

While the adjacent scenes continued to show the highlight reels of her past depravity, someone pulled up a web browser on the TV right before the couch where Melody sat and began a tour of the online world dedicated to her. The videos, cut into a hundred different edits or highlights. Rehosted on countless sites. Views in the millions on most of them. Surely well over 100 million altogether. All using her real name. Her face grew hot as she looked. What a fool she'd been to think the footage that had been shot of her would just fade into the obscurity of the internet. How wrong she'd been.

The special sites. She was staggered at the number of them. A simple Google of "Melody Ainsley" returned page after page of results, all about her sexual exploits, all about her body. Most included some special blurb or bio describing the situation. The specifics seemed to inspire obsession in a certain type of person. They were really obsessed with her. Some sites included huge galleries of every regular photo they could find of her, old photos. Photos from her childhood up through high school years and into college. They'd stalked and found as much info about their ruined pixie dream girl as they could. Paragraphs about her "former" interests, as they usually referred to them as. "Melody was interested in video games. She was on the tennis team, and wanted to go into graphic design." The implication, of course, being she wanted these things before her life became dedicated to just taking cock. They always seemed to include as much info as possible. Her full name, birth date, employment history. Her life story. They really seemed to want to know their conquered slut, to make it more personal. Inevitably, these sites would include jarring juxtapositions of Melody looking wholesome, posing with the college tennis team, right next to a picture of that same face stuffed full of cock, or covered in an opaque white spread of cum. A cruel before and after.

The narrative would often continue. "But then, at 22 years old Melody made the mistake of trying to fulfill one of her darkest fantasies. It ran away from her more than she could have ever expected, and now she has a lifetime of just being a famous cockwhore to look forward to. What would her younger self, the one who made straight A's, think?" Despite the growing horror and panic within her, these words opened up a steady flow of arousal straight out of her aired out vagina. It was like they had read every one of her deepest fears and anxieties and published them.

"She's fucking pouring!" a guy who had his hand in her crotch announced gleefully to the room.

Now at this point on the site there was a strange video included. One of her face, saying words she never remembered saying, in a room she didn't recognize. But it was her, speaking in a strange but recognizable voice, speaking into a webcam and discussing how it was her desire to be fake raped, to have her boundaries pushed, her humiliation fetish exploited. She saw herself saying "Oh I'm pretty sure you won't be able to get the safeword out of me...I've been wanting this my whole life." Words she'd never spoken. Things began to click in her mind, slowly, but she didn't have long to linger on it. She half wondered if she was just losing her mind.

Now they had the anatomy sites pulled up. They'd already showed her the video edits on various porn sites that just had the bits focusing on her body parts in extreme detail, but now she saw that there were also entire sites dedicated to just that. One of them was the second overall Google result for her name. "Melody Ainsley -- Full Body Anatomy Resource" it was titled. So absolutely everyone had this at their fingertips. A different page dedicated to everything on her body. Click here for vagina. Here for asshole. Feet. Toes. Hands. Tongue. Lips. Nipples. Cervix. Colon. Teeth. On and on. Each page had numerous, perfectly lit, super HD photos of the piece of her in question. Little zoom bars allowed you to go in as far as you wanted anywhere on the picture, to an amazing level of detail, or zoom out for the full context. For the pages like her vagina it included it from every angle and every configuration imaginable. Lips spread, lips closed. Gaped. From behind in doggy style. She'd forgotten how thorough they'd been. She sat in a near catatonic state as this masterpiece of personal violation flashed by for the great crowd assembled to see.

What kind of creeps would go to such lengths to assure her humiliation and exposure? Care this much? With a start she realized that surely most of the people responsible for making these sites were present here tonight. If Kevin had truly advertised this event for weeks to all of her fans online, of course her biggest obsessives would make it. They wouldn't miss the opportunity for the world. They'd get to fuck the object of their obsession, contribute to another chapter of her drawn-out destruction. She looked around the room tepidly, as if she could spot the particular creeps.

A guy to her left her was rubbing the sole of her foot, a guy to her right was rubbing his fingers between the toes of her other foot. Five or six hands were feeling up and down the lengths of her bare spread legs. Hands were still at her tits, the fingers of a hand or two in and around her vagina, one of them rubbing the wetness from there down her crack to her asshole. She realized she was mindlessly sucking someone's finger.

They showed her the forums next. Page after page of people around the world fetishizing her and her exploitation, with new posts added daily. People tracking her whereabouts, her current looks and aliases. She saw her current name up there, Garden Perry, saw her info from Philly, from everywhere she'd been. She was dumbfounded at how off the mark she had been about her obscurity.

They explained to her what the crowns meant next to people's usernames. A crown for anyone who had proof of having fucked her -- silver if they'd used a condom, gold if they'd gone without. And the number inside indicating where in her total list of partners they'd fallen. The lower the number, the earlier you'd gotten to her, seemed to be some kind of status symbol, although there seemed to be some clamoring amongst people without their crowns to be the guy to push her over a certain threshold. In the days leading up to this event, people seemed to be fighting over who would get to be the 500th unique dick to go inside her. Melody's pussy spasmed at this thought. 500. The number seemed unfathomable, but yes, she would get to that number this weekend wouldn't she? She was at 302 right now, but there were at least 200 people here or en route. She looked around the room at the leering, lascivious faces all focused on her. They were all here to get their crowns. She suddenly felt very powerless, very filthy, and very wet.

Kevin was standing near her again, watching her face as she looked at the TV and strangers groped her.

"Yeah," he said. "I recognized you the first moment I saw you. I'd jerked off to your material countless times already, so suddenly meeting you in person, posing as someone else...I thought I was dreaming."

So was any of this between us real? Did you care about me at all, even though you thought of me as a whore? She wanted to ask him, but couldn't bring herself to broach such a personal and potentially devastating topic in front of all these people. Not that it mattered now.

"Any time there's new material of you, people send it to your parents. They probably try to avoid looking at it, but some has to slip through. Your brother too, aunts, uncles, cousins, old close friends. They're all kept up to date with your latest exploits thanks to your loyal fans. You can try to escape your old life, but they can never escape you. I'm sure they'll love the footage we're about to create."

Snickers around the room as people listened. They thought -- they knew -- that she deserved it.

"And as you can see you're very popular. Everyone you ever used to know knows about this shit. It's the town scandal, in your neighborhood. The thing even old ladies fret over to each other in hushed tones. A sign of the depravity of this latter day era. So I can basically guarantee that every male you ever used to know, old or young, follows your online presence religiously. It's every guy's fantasy to find porn of a girl he knows. And you delivered in spades. If you can think of a male from your old life, you can know with basically 100% certainty that they jack off to close ups of your asshole daily. Even if they'd never admit it. It wouldn't surprise me if your dad has had a guilty whack or two to your stuff. It has to be thrilling on some level to see your little girl grow up to become a public cumwhore. And you're going to keep providing fresh content for all of them for the rest of your life."

Melody's pussy clenched involuntarily around the random dude's fingers inside of it. She had been subconsciously grinding down into them.

"I started advertising this event about a month ago. On Craiglist, on your forums and fansites, basically spread the word as best I could. Of course I let all your coworkers and friends in Boston know too. Gave everyone the full run down. So they know how much you love it. Most of them couldn't believe their luck to know a girl like you."

Melody had mostly tuned out the film crew that was present up until now, but now one of them was getting a close up reaction shot of her face and she couldn't ignore it. She looked dead into the lens, a deer in headlights. She felt embarrassed and stupid. The helpless dumb slut. At it again.