They returned.
The fourth round. The fifth. The sixth. The tinctures kept them erect. Their cocks were raw and red but hard. The room was thick with the smell of sex and sweat and the particular sourness of the drug.
Vess's body was a map of ruin.
Her pussy was so swollen that the lips protruded obscenely. Her ass was gaped and leaking a continuous stream of white. Her tits were covered in bite marks and bruises. Her face was a mess of tears and snot and dried seed. Her throat was raw from screaming and choking.
She gushed.
The clear fluid came again. It squirted from her pussy when the Count hit a certain angle. She did not know what it was. She thought she was dying. She thought her body was failing. She sobbed and gushed and the men laughed and fucked her harder.
"She is coming," the Prince said. "The bitch is coming. The warrior is coming on my cock."
"She is not coming," the Baron said. "She is pissing. She is so broken she is pissing on the bed."
They laughed.
