Haelaste swings him by the dick toward the bed and slams the door behind her. "Take off all your clothes and stuff them under the bed. Then kneel."
He struggles to pull the garments away, the some of the finest things he owns thrown aside like they're worth nothing - just like the body that wore them. By the time he is laid bare, she is sitting boredly on the bed, inspecting her fingernails. He lowers himself before her and she tosses her skirts over his head, revealing to only him the bare pussy between her spread legs. He knows what to do next.
"If you must cum, do it on your own clothes, not mine," is all she says as she waits expectantly for his mouth to entertain her. He quickly shuffles things around on his knees so that his cock is free of her skirts, already jerking himself. In the close darkness of that warm place beneath her clothes, her cunt becomes his world.
He kisses and licks; he sucks and penetrates. His tongue is an instrument of her desire, seeking out every little pulse and moan that might betray her own need. She is drier than his new jabbress had been, however, both in texture and in taste. It is possible that she had not even thought about her own pleasure until they entered the room, meaning that he had a long way to go to bring her to her highest heights. But he has learned too well how to let go of time, how to pursue another's amusement until it becomes their satisfaction. So it is that his fingers join his face in his attention on her, teasing and opening her as his tongue works its fervent labor against her. Her clit bobs and shivers beneath his touch, but he can only feel it, not see it. So too can he feel the hot wet squirt of her climax all over his chin and chest, and he worries that some of it has gotten on the inside of her clothes.
Before he can worry too much, she raises her foot and kicks him away by the shoulder. He stumbles backwards, lying tentatively on the cold floor as he watches her step over to the vanity and check her makeup.
He came at one point. He does not remember when, but he can tell because there is a seeping stain on his clothes beneath the bed. Still his member remains hard, as if he had never known an orgasm at all, a curse he knows too well now. He touches it, then whimpers, then begins to stroke. He doesn't even look towards the door as it opens, Haelaste leaving without notice or care.
He is left in silence for just a minute or so, thrusting himself into his own hand as he tries desperately to cum again. Tears well in his eyes as he realizes that this is all he amounts to, jerking himself on the hard stone floor of an empty room. This is how the men who enter next find him - Veszrek and Wehldrin both are grinning insidiously at him as they close the door once more.
The jaluks are not so subtle. They waste no time in producing their dicks and slapping the courtesan in the face with them, his mouth wide open and forced to grasp through the air to take hold of their flailing appendages. "That's right, little toy. Try to get it in your eager mouth. That's what you want, isn't it? Hungry for some hot cum for dinner? What a pathetic slut. Look at his little penis, all angry and inflamed. That's right, jerk your tiny little dick, slut. See if you can cum while we fuck your face." Veszrek goes on and on. The stiff warmth of their desire, the close cage of their bodies, the stimulation of their degrading words... it is all too much to bear. His own cock bursts into his hands as they tease him, and he quickly wipes his cum on his thigh as his climax goes unnoticed.
There is a moment of clarity then, the barest instant of reprieve from the irresistible arousal. If he could only make it last, maybe he could escape. He could grab his clothes and stay sane long enough to get out of this humiliation. But this dream is as futile as the last dozen times he thought of it. Inevitably, the hunger returns. And luckily, there are two firm cocks prepared to sate it.
Barely taking their own clothes off, the two jaluks facefuck him as quickly and brutally as they can. They spit on him as he tries to slobber on their cocks in a chaos of confusion and degradation. "Keep up, filth," says Wehldrin, as the so-called filth gags on a bulbous dickhead in the back of his throat. "You're a worthless piece of shit, a dirty son of a whore whose only purpose is to be abused by your betters. You better hope you got enough spit on my phallus, wimp. I'm going to fuck you in your sloppy little ass."
He tosses the once proud courtesan aside, only for their victim to be picked up again by Veszrek and forced onto his cock instead. Meanwhile Wehldrin moves to the poisoned jaluk's bare ass and begins plowing into him at an unforgiving pace. The bottle was no preparation for the thick, eager member that churns inside him now. It obliterates him, tearing him open and colliding with his innermost box as he openly moans into an equally annihilating rod in his mouth. Sweat pours out of his naked body as he is used like an object to a pair of thrusting cocks. Rhythm and reason are lost; there is only the discomfort and disgrace of selfish abuse at both ends.
After another eternity, one of them stops suddenly, spurting hot cum into his violated bowels. Soon after, the salty taste of the other's finds the back of his throat. They remove themselves from him without ceremony, leaving him gasping on his hands and knees. With a quick clean up at the basin and not another glance at the man they'd double-teamed, the two exit the room.
