Margaret's boots scuffed the cracked cobblestones, the sound swallowed by the oppressive silence. The building ahead loomed like a rotten tooth, windows black and hollow. Her pulse thrummed in her throat, a steady, insistent rhythm. She didn't need to see them to know they were there—eyes, cold and calculating, tracking her every move. The air clung to her skin, thick and stagnant. A trap. She knew it. Felt it in the way her sword hand twitched, the way her breath hitched just once before she forced it steady.
The door creaked open before she could retreat. A man stepped out, tall, broad, his face hidden behind a mask. Two others flanked him, hands resting on their weapons. The insignia on their uniforms—a jagged, broken circle—glinted in the faint light. Armorless Union. Margaret's fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword, but she didn't draw. Not yet.
"Took you long enough, O' Radiant Knight," the man said, his voice slick with mockery. "I almost thought you missed my memo."
Her jaw tightened. "Where are they?"
He chuckled, low and grating. "Your family? Safe. For now."
Her heart stuttered, but her face stayed blank. She couldn't let them see. Couldn't give them that. "If you've hurt them—"
"Hurt them?" He cut her off, his tone dripping with false sympathy. "No, no. They're our… insurance. Cooperate, and they stay safe. Try something stupid…" He let the words hang, sharp and unspoken.
Margaret's mind raced. She'd expected a fight, a direct attack. Not this. Not her family. Her chest tightened, but she kept her voice steady. "What do you want?"
His smirk widened, cruel and knowing. "You. The Radiant Knight. Kazimierz's precious symbol. We want you brought to heel. Brought down to our level. And we will do everything to see that happen today."
Her teeth ground together, her grip on the lance's shaft so tight her knuckles cracked. She couldn't fight. Not with her family in the balance. Couldn't run. Not without leaving them to die. Her options narrowed to one.
She let her hand fall from the hilt, her eyes locked on his. "If I come with you, you'll let them go?"
His grin turned feral. "Eventually. First, you'll prove you can play nice. Try anything, and your family… well, let's just say they won't be so lucky."
Her stomach churned, bile rising in her throat. She nodded. She had no choice. Not really.
For them, she'd endure. Survive. Whatever it took.
He stepped aside, gesturing toward the yawning darkness of the building. Margaret's breath caught, her heart hammering against her ribs. She stepped forward, the door slamming shut behind her. The darkness swallowed her whole. No turning back now.
The cell reeked of mildew and rust, the damp air clinging to Margaret's skin like a second layer of filth. Stripped of her armor, the Radiant Knight was reduced to a thin undersuit, soaked with sweat and sticking to her body. The Union thugs, faceless behind their masks, dragged her to a rusted metal frame. Chains rattled as they shackled her wrists and ankles, spreading her wide. The cold metal bit into her flesh, sharp and unyielding. She thrashed, the leather gag muffling her growls, her eyes blazing with fury.
"Look at her," one thug sneered, stepping closer. His gloved hand grabbed her breast, fingers digging into her nipple, twisting until she gasped against the gag. Margaret's body jerked, the chains clinking as she fought. He laughed, low and cruel. "The Radiant Knight. Nothing but meat now."
Another thug stepped forward, his hand sliding down her thigh before shoving between her legs. He rubbed her pussy through the fabric, rough and deliberate. "Already wet," he jeered, fingers pressing harder, forcing a choked sound from her. "Guess even the saint loves it."
Margaret's muscles tensed, her legs straining against the chains. But the restraints held. The thug's fingers slipped under her undersuit, probing her cunt with brutal precision. "Just a slut," he spat, forcing two fingers inside, thumb grinding against her clit. Her muffled cries filled the cell, her body jerking as he licked her face with sickening glee.
"You think you're better than us?" the first thug growled, slapping her ass hard enough to leave a red mark. "You're just a bitch in chains now. A whore for the Union to break." He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "And we're going to enjoy every fucking second of it."
Her eyes burned with defiance, her muffled voice carrying a threat, a promise. But the thugs just laughed, their hands roaming her body without restraint. One grabbed her tits, squeezing hard, fingers twisting her nipples. "Not so radiant now, are you?" he sneered. "Just a broken knight, begging for mercy."
Margaret refused to beg. Even as their hands violated her, fingers prodding and touching every inch of her body, she held onto her fury. Her muffled growls were a promise—this wouldn't go unanswered. The thugs, drunk on their power, didn't notice the fire in her eyes. They were too busy reveling in their cruelty.
Creaaaak.
The sound cut through the cell, sharp and sudden. The thugs paused, heads snapping toward the door. Margaret's eyes flicked to the source, her body still tense, her breath ragged.
The door creaked open, and Roy stepped in, his assassin's garb blending with the shadows. His eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto Margaret. She growled behind the gag, her body straining against the chains, but the metal held firm. Roy's lips curled into a sneer as he approached, the serrated knife in his hand catching the dim light.
"No armor," he said, his voice low and menacing. "No pride." He grabbed the front of her undersuit, the fabric damp with sweat, and pressed the blade against it. With a sharp motion, he sliced through the material, the serrated edge tearing it apart. The fabric clung to her skin for a moment before he ripped it away, exposing her tits to the cold air. He didn't stop, cutting and tearing until her cunt was bare, the remnants of her undersuit hanging in tatters.
Roy tossed the shredded fabric into a puddle of filth, his eyes never leaving hers. "Look at you," he growled, his hand moving to palm her cunt, fingers pressing roughly. Margaret's body jerked, the chains rattling as she tried to pull away. Her muffled protests echoed in the cell.
He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back and forcing her to face the grime-smeared mirror on the wall. "Watch," he commanded, his voice harsh. His free hand moved to her tits, groping and squeezing with brutal force. He fisted them, fingers digging into her flesh, leaving bruises shaped like his fingerprints.
Margaret's eyes burned, but she couldn't look away. Roy's grip on her hair tightened as he leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "This is what you are now," he hissed. "A broken knight. A whore for the Union." He twisted her nipple hard, eliciting a muffled cry, before releasing her hair and stepping back.
The thugs watched in silence, their earlier bravado replaced by tense anticipation. Roy circled Margaret, his eyes roaming over her exposed body. "You thought you were untouchable," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "But look at you now. Just meat." He grabbed her ass, squeezing hard enough to leave marks, before delivering a sharp slap that echoed through the cell. Margaret's body jerked, her chains rattling as she tried to lean away.
Roy stepped back, his lips twisting into a sneer. "This is just the beginning," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You have no idea what's coming."
He turned to a small screen on the wall and flicked it on. The screen buzzed to life, revealing Maria and Zofia shackled in a neighboring cell. Their faces were pale, eyes wide with fear as they stared into the camera. Margaret's muffled cries grew more desperate, her body straining against the chains.
"Beg for their lives," Roy said, his voice taunting. "Beg, and I'll make their cages comfortable. Maybe even give them a blanket." He smirked, his hand moving to her exposed cunt, fingers pressing against her entrance. "Or don't. Your choice."
Margaret hesitated, her eyes darting between Roy and the screen. Her muffled voice carried defiance, but no clear words escaped the gag.
Roy's smirk twisted into a sneer. "Wrong answer," he growled. Without warning, he rammed three fingers into her pussy, twisting them violently. Chains rattled as Margaret's body jerked, her eyes crossing as a choked gasp tore from her throat.
At the same time, another thug stepped forward, clamps in hand. He attached them to Margaret's nipples, the metal biting into her flesh. Chains dangled from the clamps, and the thug pulled on them, stretching her tits upward until her skin threatened to tear. Margaret growled through gritted teeth, her body writhing in agony.
"Scream for us, Radiant Knight," Roy demanded, his free hand slapping her cunt hard enough to make her thighs tremble. "Let your sister hear how you break." He twisted his fingers inside her again, his other hand delivering another sharp slap. Margaret's choked gasps echoed in the cell, her body trembling as the pain and humiliation overwhelmed her.
The thug pulling the chains yanked harder, the clamps digging deeper. Margaret's back arched, her body caught between the chains and the relentless assault on her cunt. Roy leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. "This is what happens when you defy the Union," he hissed. "You break, and everyone you love suffers with you."
With a final, brutal tug, the clamps tore free, sending a spike of pain and pleasure through her body. She choked into the gag, her body convulsing as the chains held her in place. Roy stepped back, his fingers slick with her fluids, a cruel smile on his face.
"That's enough for now," he said, his voice cold. He turned to the screen, where Maria and Zofia were visibly shaken, their faces streaked with tears. "Don't worry," Roy said, addressing them through the camera. "This is just the beginning. You'll get your turn soon enough."
The screen flickered off, leaving Margaret alone with the thugs. Her body slumped in the chains, her breathing ragged, her spirit battered but not yet broken. Roy watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable, before turning to leave. "Keep her ready," he said to the thugs as his hands dropped to his belt. "We're not done with her yet."
The thugs grinned amongst themselves. With a harsh tug, they yanked Margaret to her knees, snapping her out of her stupor.
Roy's smirk widened as he loomed over Margaret, his cock still slick with her spit. Her eyes burned with defiance, but her body betrayed her—trembling, gagging, her throat working reflexively as she tried to recover from the assault. The thugs held her firmly, their laughter echoing in the damp cell, sharp and mocking.
"Swallow it," Roy growled, his voice low and venomous. He grabbed her by the back of the skull, forcing her face toward the blackened screen. "Or your aunt loses a finger." His words hung in the air, a cruel ultimatum that left no room for defiance.
Margaret's jaw clenched, her throat still convulsing from the violation. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the spit and cum that dripped from her chin. She glared up at him, her eyes promising retribution, but her body was trapped, helpless. Roy's cock twitched at the sight, his perverse satisfaction evident in the way he loomed over her.
"Look at you," he sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "The Radiant Knight. Reduced to a gagging whore." He thrust into her mouth again, his grip on her skull unrelenting. "Bet you never thought you'd be on your knees like this, huh?"
Margaret's muffled cries grew more desperate, her throat constricting as he speared deeper. Her body convulsed, her arms flailing weakly against the thugs holding her in place. But they only laughed, their hands tightening on her shoulders, forcing her to endure.
Roy's thrusts became erratic, his breath harsher as he neared his climax. "You're nothing but a hole now," he spat, his voice thick with contempt. "A fucking cocksleeve for the Union."
Margaret's mind was a haze of pain and humiliation, her senses overwhelmed by the burning heat in her throat and the musky stench of him. Her jaw ached, stretched to its limit as she tried to accommodate his size. But there was no escape, no reprieve.
With a final, brutal thrust, Roy came, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself down her throat. Margaret's eyes rolled back, her body shuddering as she was forced to swallow. Her throat worked reflexively, the thick, viscous load coating her insides. Roy held her in place, his grip unrelenting, until he was sure she'd taken every drop.
When he finally pulled out, Margaret collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. Her chest heaved, tears and spit streaking her face. She gagged, retching up spurts of cum that had lodged in her windpipe. Her hand clutched her throat, her body trembling as she tried to recover.
Roy looked down at her, his expression dark with desire. He wasn't done. Far from it.
He yanked her head back, squashing her cheeks against his cock as he wiped himself clean on her face. "Good bitch," he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "Now, bark for your next lesson."
The thugs erupted into laughter, their voices cruel and jeering. One of them kicked her onto her back, her body collapsing onto the cold, filthy floor. Margaret lay there, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her spirit battered but not yet broken. Her anger burned beneath the surface, but the helplessness of her situation was undeniable.
Roy stepped back, his eyes glinting with dark anticipation. "Get her up," he ordered, his voice cold and commanding. "We're just getting started."
The thugs obeyed, hauling Margaret to her feet. Her legs wobbled, but they held her firm, their hands rough and unyielding. Roy circled her, his gaze predatory, as he prepared to continue her degradation. Margaret's eyes met his, her defiance still burning despite the humiliation. But for now, she was trapped, her body and spirit at the mercy of the Union's cruelty.
Roy hauled Margaret toward the mattress by her thighs, fingers bruising pale flesh. Her shoulders hit stained fabric reeking of mildew and sweat. No warning. No mercy. He hooked her legs over his shoulders, her cunt exposed and throbbing, and slammed into her.
Dry. Brutal. Unrelenting.
A choked gasp hissed through her nose. Her back arched off the mattress, eyes wide.
Roy glanced down at the trickle of red streaking her thigh. "Tighter than I figured," he grunted, lips twisting. Hips reared back—slammed forward. Air knocked out. Cock splitting her raw.
Tobacco breath hit her face as he scraped teeth over her collarbone. "Holy knight training… just to clench around my dick like a fucking virgin." He laughed when she flinched. Her nails clawed mattress seams, knuckles white. Refusing to touch him.
He noticed.
A slap cracked across her cheek. Head snapped sideways. "Eyes *here," he growled, wrenching her jaw toward the mirror. Her reflection: sweat-slick tits bouncing, thighs trembling. His hand groped her breast, pinching her nipple until she jerked. "Look. Your pussy suckles me. *Grateful*."
Margaret bared teeth in a silent snarl. Ignored the fire coiling in her spine with every thrust.
Roy angled his hips—changed—ramming a spot that made stars burst behind her lids. Mouth open. Silent scream.
He did it again.
A moan punched out of her—sharp, involuntary. Horror flashed across her face.
Roy grinned, feral. "There it is." He bit her neck, lapping blood. "Cunt's begging." He ground his pelvis into her clit. Hips twitched—traitorous. "Ha! Slut-body knows its place."
She spat in his face.
Backhand split her lip. Copper bloomed. He flipped her onto her stomach, cock twisting inside as he reentered—harder, erratic.
"Defiant bitch," he snarled, yanking her hair to expose her throat. Skin slapped skin, echoing. Her cunt ached, burn morphing into molten pressure. Thighs quivered. Breath hitched.
Roy thumbed her clit, rough. "Gonna come? Like a good whore?"
"N-no—"
He smashed her skull against the mirror. Glass rattled. "Liar."
Reflection showed her flushed face, his sneer. Body arched—muscles locked. Pleasure detonated. Whimper-moan-sob.
Roy roared, spilling inside her. Cum sticky on her stomach. "Radiant Knight's first orgasm… Union dick." He spat on her cheek. "Rhodes Island never taught you that?"
She turned her head, throat swallowing bile. Voice raw, shaking: "Is… that all you've got?"
Defiance glinted in her eyes.
Roy froze. Laughed—low, dangerous. Smacked his cock against her thigh. "Sweetheart." He brushed a strand of hair away, mock-tender. "We're just getting started."
He stood, pants slung over his shoulder. Thugs closed in, eyes glinting. Margaret lay motionless, cum-drenched, pride in tatters.
The first thug stepped forward, his cock already out, piss arching in a hot, bitter stream. It hit Margaret's tongue like acid, splattering the roof of her mouth before flooding her throat. Her nostrils flared, breath hitching through her nose as she fought not to choke. The man chuckled, adjusting his aim. "Open wider, bitch," he grunted, thumb pressing hard against her bottom teeth. She resisted, jaw trembling, until he slapped her—crack—her lips parting reflexively.
Urine pooled over her tongue, her gag reflex kicking in as she swallowed convulsively.
The thug sighed, satisfied. He pulled his cock out of her mouth and shook the last drops onto her eyelashes and cheeks. "Fuckin' perfect," he muttered, zipping up. "Who's next?"
Another man shoved forward, already unbuckling. Margaret's chest heaved, a wheeze escaping as he gripped her hair, yanking her head back. "Nah, none of that," he sneered, thrusting his cock past her lips. His piss came faster, harsher, spraying the back of her throat. She gagged, shoulders jerking against the chains, but he held her skull steady, hips nudging closer until his balls brushed her chin.
"Take it," he growled, fingers tightening in her matted hair. Her throat worked, swallowing on instinct, the acrid taste burning her sinuses. When he finished, he didn't pull away—instead, he rocked his semi-hard cock against her tongue, smirking at the ragged sound she made. "Still warm," he taunted, grinding once before stepping back.
The third thug was younger, eager, hands shaking as he fumbled with his fly. Margaret glared up at him, a flicker of her old fire in her bloodshot eyes, but he just grinned. "Look at her," he said, glancing to the side. "Think she wants to bite?"
Roy leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Try it," he said flatly, meeting Margaret's burning gaze. "See what happens to Zofia's other hand."
Margaret's nostrils flared, her lips peeling back in a silent snarl, but the thug seized the moment, shoving his cock into her mouth. His piss was thinner, weaker, but he moaned like he was coming, hips stuttering as he soaked her tongue.
"Shit—shit—" he panted, over too quickly, stumbling back with a nervous laugh. "Fuckin' knight," he spat, as if trying to reclaim his pride.
Roy pushed off the wall last. Margaret's body tensed, her breath coming faster, but he didn't unzip. Instead, he crouched, gripping her chin, his thumb digging into the hollow of her cheek. "You're learning," he said, quiet, almost approving. Her eyelid twitched, a muscle jumping in her jaw. "But we're not done." He stood, nodding to the floor. "Lick it clean. Every drop."
Margaret froze, her gaze darting to the puddle of urine seeping into the cracked tiles.
Roy sighed, pulling a phone from his pocket. "It seems you still need some motivation."
The screen illuminated her exhausted face, showing Zofia's bloodied hand, still clamped in the vise.
Margaret's throat bobbed, a ragged sound escaping her—half sob, half snarl—before she threw herself forward, her tongue dragging through the filth.
The taste was sharper here, mixed with mildew and old vomit, and her stomach lurched. She retched, bile rising, but Roy's boot pressed between her shoulder blades, shoving her face deeper. "Clean it," he repeated. Her tongue scraped the tiles, shoulders shaking, until the floor gleamed wetly under the flickering fluorescent light.
He hauled her up by the hair, forcing her to face the foggy mirror bolted to the wall. Her reflection stared back—hair clumped with piss, cheeks smeared with grime, lips swollen and split. Roy's breath ghosted over her ear. "See that?" he murmured. "That's what you are now. A piss rag. A floor licker." His hand slid down, groping her breast roughly through her torn shirt. "But you're still holding out, aren't you?" He twisted her nipple, hard, and she jerked, a choked gasp escaping. "Think you're better than this?"
Margaret's eyes met his in the mirror, a spark of defiance flaring—but then his hand slipped lower, fingers hooking into the waistband of her pants. She stiffened, breath catching, and Roy smiled. "There it is," he whispered. "That fear." He pressed closer, his erection digging into her back. "You'll break. They all do."
Behind them, the thugs laughed, one of them mockingly clapping. "C'mon, Radiant Bitch—admit it! You're degraded, a common mutt!" Roy released her, stepping back as she dropped into the puddle.
Her eyes were defiant, burning with hate as a hand grabbed her elbow roughly and hauled her upright. "C'mon, our cocks aren't going to jack themselves off."
The first thrust knocked the wind out of her, bare toes scrambling for grip on the slick tiles. The thug behind her hilted himself in one brutal stroke, his cock splitting her wide. The mirror fogged with their breath, her tits jolting with each snap of his hips, nipples tight from the cold—or fear.
"Eyes open," Roy snarled, yanking her head back by the hair. Her eyelids fluttered, a whimper trapped behind clenched teeth, but he dug his thumb into the corner of her eye until she relented.
The reflection hit her like a gut-punch: arms twisted behind her in the thugs' vise grip, sweat and spit glistening on her collarbone, the man's cock driving into her cunt with every thrust. His balls slapped against her ass, wet smacks punctuating his grunts.
"Fuck—fuck—she's still tight," the man panted, fingers bruising her hips. Margaret's throat worked, a strangled noise escaping as he bottomed out, her cunt fluttering around him.
"Look at that," Roy purred, leaning close enough for her to smell the nicotine on his breath. "Bet your little followers never dreamed their hero squeezed like a back-alley slut when she's railed raw."
She tried to shut her eyes again, but Roy pinched her earlobe hard enough to draw blood.
"No, you don't. Watch."
The thug's pace turned jagged, erratic, his cockhead grinding her cervix. Margaret's thighs quivered, a traitorous heat pooling low in her belly—shame or arousal, she couldn't tell. Her nipples ached, swaying with each brutal thrust, and when his hand slid up to grope one, she flinched, a choked "Nngh—" slipping out.
"There she is," the thug behind her laughed, breathless. "Knew you'd fucking love it."
Roy released her hair, letting her head loll forward—but the mirror still held her. Margaret's gaze darted, desperate, landing on the warped reflection of her own mouth: swollen, slack, a thread of drool dangling from her chin.
Not me, she thought wildly, not me, not me.
The thug came with a guttural roar, his cock twitching as he flooded her. Hot. Too hot. She gagged, thighs shaking, as he pulled out, his cum dripping down her legs.
"My turn," another voice leered. Hands groped her ass, spreading her wider. The second cock breached her in a single thrust, thicker, meaner, and Margaret's back arched involuntarily, a broken cry tearing loose at the renewed sensation—bigger than anything she'd taken today.
"Fuck yes," the new thug groaned, slamming her hips backward onto him. "Look at her face—look at it!"
She refused to. But Roy grabbed her jaw, forcing her to meet her own gaze in the glass.
Her pupils were blown wide, lips trembling. Amidst the sweat, cum stains, and blood smears, a single tear cut through the grime on her cheek.
The thug's hands clawed at her tits, twisting violently, and her cunt clenched—a sharp, involuntary spasm that ripped a ragged moan from her throat.
"There," Roy hissed triumphantly as he saw the sudden twist of her expression. "See? Even your body knows what you are."
The thug pistoned faster, his grunts harsher, fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave crescent moons in her skin. Margaret's breath came in shallow hitches, her reflection blurring as tears pooled—but Roy wiped them away with a cruel swipe of his thumb.
"No hiding," he said softly. "This is you now. Remember it. No longer are you the Radiant Knight. You have been tainted. Soiled. No longer worthy."
The thug's rhythm fractured, slamming his hips forward like a broken machine. His cock pulsed as he shot ropes of cum into her, filling her a second time. Margaret's knees buckled, but the men holding her arms yanked her upright, her cunt dripping onto the floor. The camera's red light blinked steadily in the corner.
Roy stepped in front of her, blocking the mirror, his hand cupping her cheek almost tenderly. "You held out longer than most," he admitted. Then his smile turned knife-sharp. "But that little twitch in your cunt? The way your tits stiffened when he mauled them?" He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. "That's the truth they'll see. Not the knight. Just another whore who likes it rough."
When the third man entered her, dry and brutal, Margaret's lips finally came loose—not in pain, but in rage, in grief, in resignation. Her reflection stared back, hollow-eyed, mouth open in a silent wail, as the thug's cock sawed into her.
Roy held up the camera, zooming in on her face. "Smile for the crowd, Radiant Bitch."
She didn't. But her cunt spasmed again when the thug came, and the wet, filthy sound it made was answer enough.
The room was thick with the stench of sweat, smoke, and cum. Margaret's body was a canvas of bruises, bite marks, and drying fluids, her skin slick and sticky under the dim light. Her legs trembled as the thugs held her upright, her knees buckling under her weight. She was a marionette with its strings cut, her head lolling forward, strands of hair clinging to her damp face. The screen beside them still glowed, Maria's tear-streaked face frozen in a silent scream, Zofia's eyes burning with a fury that could melt steel.
Roy stepped closer, his boots scraping against the concrete floor. He grabbed a fistful of Margaret's hair, yanking her head back to face him. Her lips parted, a faint wheeze escaping her throat. "You're not done yet," he said, his voice low and dripping with malice. He nodded to one of the thugs, who stepped forward with a grin, his cock already hard and glistening with spit.
Margaret's eyes flickered to the screen, to Maria's face, and for a moment, something sparked in her—a flicker of defiance, of desperation. But it was gone as quickly as it came, snuffed out by the weight of her exhaustion. Her body was no longer hers to control, her mind a foggy haze of pain and humiliation.
But before her skull fully settled against the table's edge, a cock jammed past Margaret's lips, pushing pass teeth and grinding against the back of her throat. Splinters dug into her scalp as the thug above her gripped her hair, angling her throat for a smoother slide. Saliva pooled at the corners of her mouth, strands of it clinging to her chin as he fucked her face in short, clinical thrusts.
"Don't just lie there," he complained, slapping her cheek. Her eyelid twitched, but she didn't blink, her gaze fixed on the water-stained ceiling.
Beneath her, the second thug spread her legs wider, his calloused fingers prodding her cunt. "Still loose from earlier," he snorted, spitting on his cock before shoving in. Margaret's hips jerked, a hollow thud echoing as her spine hit the table. He didn't bother with rhythm, just hammered upward, the table legs screeching against concrete with every drive. Her tits jostled limply, nipples raw and chafed, but she didn't react—not even when he leaned down to bite one, teeth leaving crescent indents.
Roy exhaled a plume of smoke, watching it curl above her face. "Think Maria's crying harder now," he mused, tapping ash onto her sternum. Margaret's breath hitched, her throat convulsing around the cock in her mouth.
"Think she's broken already?" the thug at her mouth sneered, gripping her hair to yank her head back. Her tongue lolled, eyes glassy, but a faint gag still rattled her chest when he shoved deeper.
"Nah," the other grunted, sweat dripping off his nose onto her stomach. "Look—her cunt's still clawing at me—" He proved it with a brutal upward thrust, her hips jerking, a wet slap echoing. Margaret's breath hitched—tiny, involuntary—and Roy smirked.
"There it is," he commented, crouching to blow smoke into her face. Her nostrils flared, a single cough tearing loose around the cock in her throat. "Still in there, isn't she?" His thumb brushed her nipple, rough and sudden, and her back arched just enough to be undeniable.
The thug in her cunt laughed, twisting his hips, and this time a sound escaped her—a fractured uhn—before she bit it back.
"Fuck, fuck—" the thug above her panted, pace faltering. "Gonna—hnng—!"
Margaret's eyelids fluttered as he came abruptly, his cock jerking as he painted her tongue with cum. Margaret swallowed reflexively, her throat working even as her expression stayed blank.
He pulled out between her lips with a slick pop, smearing the last drops across her tongue. "Open," he ordered. When she didn't oblige, he pried her jaw wider, spitting into her mouth like he would on the side of the street. "There. Now you're seasoned."
Margaret's hand twitched—once—like she might claw at him, but it fell limp again, her palm slapping the table. Roy noticed. He grabbed her wrist, pinning it beside her head. "Uh-uh," he tutted. "No heroics left, right?" Her chest heaved, a tear escaping down her temple, but her face stayed blank.
The man in her cunt wasn't far behind, his grunts turning ragged. "Gonna fill this bitch up," he panted, slapping her thigh. "Make her leak for days." His fingers dug into her hips, lifting her slightly to sink deeper. Margaret's breath quickened, a faint keening noise escaping her nose—almost imperceptible. Roy leaned in, cigar hovering near her nipple. "You feel that?" he whispered. "That's your body begging."
She shut her eyes.
Crack.
The thug behind her skull yanked her head sideways, forcing her to face the side, towards the black screen.
"Look," Roy hissed into her ear, his voice filled with sadistic pleasure.
Click.
Against her better judgement, she looked — and she regretted it the instance she did.
Maria's face filled the frame, tear-streaked and desperate. On the side, she saw her aunt and absentmindedly noted her expression of pure, liquid fury.
The thug in her cunt laughed, snapping his hips harder. "Aww, you hear that?" he cooed, mocking Maria's hiccupping wails. "Soundtrack's perfect, huh?"
Margaret was at a loss of words. She felt as her world began crumbling away.
And then, without warning, the thug in her cunt chose that moment to come, his cock twitching as he emptied himself. Margaret's cunt fluttered, a weak ripple of muscle as her toned stomach flexed and pressed against thug's pelvis.
Lossing all control of her body, a traitorous moan slipped out—low, broken…
—Hungry.
Maria froze, her sobs cutting off in a horrified gasp.
"Ohhhh, she heard that," Roy chuckled as the thug pulled out. Cum seeped from Margaret's cunt, pooling beneath her ass. He wiped himself on her thigh, leaving a glistening streak. "Good enough for a breeding sow, maybe."
Then the screen flickered—Maria's tear-streaked face, Zofia's silent fury. Margaret's breath hitched. "M…Maria…" she rasped, voice shredded.
A rough hand grabbed her chin, and hardened cock came into view. "Who said you could talk?" The new thug snarled, shoving his cock back in, cutting off her sister's name.
Margaret's throat spasmed, a wet gurgle rising. Her hand twitched once, twice—before dropping down limply.
Roy stood, crushing his cigar into the table beside her head. "Get her up," he ordered. The thugs dragged her upright, her legs wobbling. The screen zoomed in on Zofia's face—stony, furious, helpless. Margaret's mask slipped for a heartbeat, her lips trembling, a silent plea in her eyes.
Then Roy grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet Zofia's gaze. "Wave goodbye," he said softly.
She didn't raise it. Her brain had already shut down.
When consciousness returned, Roy's smirk loomed inches from her face. "Well, well, well, I didn't expect you to enjoy it this much." He chuckled, "I hope you are not too worn down. It would be a pity if you cannot enjoy the full finale."
Margaret's lips moved. No sound came.
But her cunt, still twitching, said enough.
"Come on then, you eager whore. You'll get your fill."
Margaret's jaw hung slack, strands of cum-glue still clinging to her lips as they dragged her off the floor. Her thighs trembled when her knees hit concrete, the thug beneath her already grinning, cock jutting upward like a blade, still glistening from the early abuse.
"C'mere, hero," he sneered, yanking her hips down. She collapsed onto his erect rod with a wet slap, her cunt swallowing him whole with one swift stroke. Her breath hitched, but no sound came. Just the hollow rise of her ribs, the twitch of her fingers against his chest.
Without so much a reaction.
A dark part of her mind was morbidly fascinated by how easy it was for her to take the massive cock in just now—it was almost impossible to think that she was almost torn in half to even take in half the cock's length.
A hand clamped her shoulder broke her out of her thoughts. When the sensation of cold lube dripped down her ass crack, her spine stiffened, pupils dilating.
"Ah, good. Finally a reaction. I was afraid we broke you for a second there."
"N-no…" The word slurred, weak as a child's whimper. Her hips jerked forward, trying to rise, but the thug beneath her laughed, wrapping around her body and locked her flailing arms in a tight hold.
"Stay put." The thug whispered into her ears, tongue flicking her earlobe before biting with his teeth.
Meanwhile, slicked fingers probed her asshole, cold, dry-knuckled and cruel.
"Fuckin' pristine." Mocking laughter from behind, accompanied by a thumb circling her clenched hole.
Margaret's breath hitched, a wet, frantic sound as she shook her head. For the first time, tears rolled down her cheeks freely, streaked the bench.
And when the inevitable sensation of a cockhead prodded her asshole—insistent, unrelenting—Margaret's throat clicked dryly.
"S-stop…you'll tear me a-apart" She said— a tiny, helpless voice, that almost sounded begging.
A tear splashed onto the thug's sternum beneath her, ignored by everyone in the room.
Roy's shadow loomed, camera whirring. His face a mask of cruelty and sadism as he looked upon what was most definitely his greatest achievement. "Arch up for the audiences, darling. People are waiting for the finale."
She shook her head, strands of hair sticking to her damp cheeks, refusing to move.
Roy tsked. With one sharp stab, he drove the arrow's blunt edge into her kidney. Her back bowed reflexively, ass lifting—exposing her.
The cock did not miss the opportunity, wasting no time to press itself against the entrance that many men could only dream to defile.
At the foreign, scorching touch, Margaret's asshole clenched—too tight, too dry despite the lube.
"Stop—!" The scream cracked mid-word as the tip breached her.
But it was too late.
"Hnngh!" Her body jerked violently, a guttural wail tearing loose from her abused throat. Fingers scrabbled desperately against the bench, nails screeching on metal. Her legs thrashed, but hands pinned her hips, pushing her down flat against the sweaty, masculine body beneath.
The thug beneath her took advantage, slamming upward into her cunt.
Margaret's scream died as the dual stretched propelled all thoughts from her feeble mind. Her body jerked upwards, her back arching like a bridge, suspended between violations.
A strangled, ragged gasp escaped from her lungs.
"Finally some fight—" The ass-thrusting thug grunted, palms smacking her ass cheeks to spread her wider. "—fuck! Squeezin' me like a fist!"
The sudden slam from behind bowled Margaret over. Her elbows barely catching her fall. Her face hovering inches above the thug beneath her. His breath reeked of nicotine as he stole smirked. "Cry pretty for us."
He then proceeded to sqush his lips into hers, tongue pushing pass her teeth as he proceeded to violated every cavity and corner of her mouth.
She couldn't. She couldn't react—couldn't do anything. The pain was too bright, too specific—a white-hot wire unraveling her from the inside. Her cunt pulsed around the cock beneath her, betraying her with a slick squelch.
In her daze, her mouth opened on its own, her tongue darting out to ensnare the opposing tongue in a wrestling match.
Roy watched as Margaret mashed lips and traded spit with lowly Union thugs, shaking his head in amusement.
The ass-fucking thug set a brutal pace, each thrust jostling her forward, forcing the cock in her cunt to grind upward. Margaret's teeth sank into her lower lip, copper blooming. A high, reedy whine leaked through her nostrils. Her hips jerked—a feeble attempt to escape—but the movement only dragged the cock deeper into her ass. She gagged, drool spilling onto the thug beneath her.
The thug at her ass chuckled, sinking deeper. "Oh, she's loving this—"
"I...I-I'm n-not—" Margaret's protest dissolved into a shattered gibberish as he bottomed out. Her nails scraped the thug's chest, drawing bloodless lines as her eyes rolled back into her head. "Uwughuurlng!"
"Hear that?" The ass-thug slapped her hip, the crack echoing. "Sounds like a bitch in heat." Margaret's cunt dripped, her body's answer louder than her whimpers.
The thug beneath her groaned, hands sliding to her ass to pull her harder onto him. "Fuck—she's milking me dry—"
Pain and pressure coiled low in her belly. Margaret's thighs quivered, her toes curling against concrete. "N-no…nonono…" She chanted it like a prayer, but her asshole fluttered, greedily gripping the invading cock. The thug above her laughed, angling his hips to brush that spot—
"Fuck!" The curse ripped out of her, raw and shattered. Her cunt clenched, a sudden rush of wetness soaking the thug beneath her. "Oho—there it is!" He pistoned upward, chasing his own release. Margaret's head thrashed, a broken sob escaping as her orgasm tore through her—shameful, violent, relentless.
The ass-thug cursed, pace faltering. "Gonna—hnngh—breed this shithole—"
Margaret's eyes flew wide despite amid her orgasm. No.
He came with a guttural snarl, flooding her ass in thick pulses. She felt it—hot, alien—and her stomach lurched.
The thug in her cunt laughed. "My turn." He redoubled his efforts, forgoing any sense of rhythm for primal, unadulterated arousal.
Before the first orgasm could wind down, the second one hit. Overstimulated, Margaret's cunt spasmed like she was shocked, a weak orgasm ripping through existence. Her scream came out a broken wheeze.
Roy watched her pupils blow wide, her thighs quaking. "There it is," he murmured. "That's the Knight we know."
"...Ha...ha...ha..." Margaret was too far gone in her own world, body and mind haggarded beyond belief.
But it seems the thugs were not yet done. Both of them pulled their half-hard cocks out, cum seeping through from the gapping holes. Eagerly, the men flipped Margaret over so that she was facing towards the ceiling.
And then, without a single exchanged word, the two thugs lined their cocks up and hilted themselves into the new holes. Ass-thug to cunt, cunt-thug to ass. Their roles were switched.
Margaret, sensing the sudden intrusive sensation in her bowels, clenched both holes with a soft, sensual groan.
The stretch this time drew blood—a coppery tang cutting through sweat. Margaret's asshole gaped, too ruined to clench, as the cunt-thug forced himself in. The fresh invasion—wider and thicker than the one before—tore a sound from her. Something between a sob and a moan.
"Fuck yes," the new ass-thug groaned, fingers bruising her hips. "Tighter'n a—hnng—virgin."
Her cunt kissed the other cock, slick mixing with cum. Each thrust squelched. The thug fucking her cunt leaned over, breath hot on her ear. "Gonna remember this? Huh? When they pin medals on that pristine uniform? You'll forever remember this thick cock that marked your womb and ass."
"Fuck…fuck…fuck..." Margaret's slurred out drunkenly, curses sprouted out her lips like a broken record—vulgar words she never so much mumbled in her entire life.
"Huh." Roy raised an eyebrow. "What do you know? Didn't know she had it in her all along." The assassin turned to the camera on the side, red light still blinking. "What a sight to behold. We are doing the people a service by recording this."
"You betcha, boss." The cunt-thug panted, thumb digging into her hipbone. "Think she's gettin' off?"
The ass-thug snorted. "What do you think, genius?" He kneaded her nipples. "Feel that flutter? Bitch's cunt's milkin' you. She's definitely feeling it."
At some point, Margaret's head drooped and hung low, drenched hair swaying as the two cocks that pistoned into her depths like well-oiled machine. The once-regal woman looked delirious, eyes crossed and seemed so far removed reality. Drool, snot, and sweat drizzled down her jaw, soaking the thug beneath her, who looked too aroused in his thrusting to mind.
At this glorious sight, Roy couldn't help but leaned back and admire handiwork—the fall of brilliant Margaret Nearl, orchestrated by yours truly. Once the most powerful knight of Kazimierz, now reduced to a common whore. The fracture reflection of the remarkable woman who once took the nation by storm.
And look at her now. Stained, violated, a broken woman with her will and resolve shattered. Another victim who surrendered herself to the most primal desire seeded within all living, sapient beings.
This woman—this animal—was a far cry from the mighty knight that dominated the grand arena many years ago. An insult to all the legends who were crowned champions of the Kazimierz Major.
Roy licked his lips and he watched the delirious woman reaching her climax. Halfway through, she had lost control of her motor functions. The woman was so out of the world he wondered if she had passed out.
Roy admired the expression the Radiant Knight was sporting. He wondered how her fans would react if they knew the faces their idol was capable of making.
On the other hand, Margaret could feel her sanity rotting away, her identity disintegrating as tsunami after tsunami of unprecedented sensation crashed into her existence, threatening to sink her consciousness into the murky depths.
She felt that the moment she let go of the last vestige of her consciousness, the person known as Margaret Nearl would forever be gone—be replaced by a whole different person.
Roy's arrow shaft cracked against her ass.
"Eyes open," he ordered. She hadn't realized they'd shut. Tears blurred the warehouse lights above as the thugs began to unceremoniously move in tune.
It was worse when they synced.
"...I...I'm...not..." Margaret shook her head violently, trying to clear her head. Denial was on the tip of her tongue.
Hearing that, Roy crouched, his smile kind, but the look in his eyes was anything but.
"Liar," he whispered. His arrow tip traced her twitching asshole where cock stretched it taut. "Your body's singing."
Deep within her, beyond the stupor, a dark, traitorous voice admitted that he was right.
The pain sharpened everything—the drag of calloused hands, the reek of sweat and cigars, the thud-thud-thud of hips against flesh. But beneath the burn, her cunt betrayed her. The pain and burn in her ass had subside, replaced by a mind-breaking, dragging pleasure that did inexplainable things to her brain. Her nipples ached, rubbing raw with every jolt forward.
Click.
The camera light blinked on. As did the screen on the wall, showing the tear-streaked of her sister and aunt. Maria covered her mouth in horror, before Zofia pulled her head into her bosom, shielding her niece from the cruel sight.
Margaret could do nothing but mumble gibberish as she took on two cocks at the same time—both were the most formidable opponent she'd ever faced.
Roy angled the lens, zooming in on her flushed face. Tears and sweat streaked her cheeks, splotched by cum stains and snot.
"Smile," he crooned.
She didn't.
But when the thug in her ass hit a angle that sparked white behind her eyes, her mouth fell slack and her eyes rolled up. A sound escaped—high, helpless...
Erotic.
With a blinding flash, the camera caught it all in ultra-high definition.
"Excellent!" Roy barked, a sick smile stretched his cheeks. "A glorious film that would no doubt sustain itself against the river of Kazimierz history!"
The thugs paid no attention to the slight distraction. Instead, it was as though it flipped a switch within them. Their movement grew erratic and abrupt, sharp movements that drilled their cocks into every nook and crevice of Margaret's innards.
The ruined knight hung helplessly between the two massive men, body rocking from the frantic motions. Her weight was only held by the two cocks that impaled and ravaged her.
A sudden sensation swelled from her core—her soul. It bore the full brunt of all her abuse, ready to be unleashed like a high-grade Originium mine.
And when she finally reached her breaking point. Margaret broke. Every hole in Margaret's body clench and wept as she squirted and cried and orgasmed like no tomorrow.
The Radiant Knight, Hope of Kazimierz, Symbol of Knighthood and all that was Honourable, threw her head back and let out a broken, silent howl of pure pleasure and ecstasy.
The thugs stood no chance at the sudden sensation. Both unloading what remained of their ammunition into Margaret's bowels at the same time.
When they pulled out , their flaccid penis flopped out of the suction with a wet popped.
Delirious, blissfully unaware, Margaret let out a soft moan as cum leaked from both holes, dripping onto the bench.
Margaret slumped, planting her face onto the mess she made.
She didn't pass out so much as shut down.
"There she goes," Roy purred off-camera. The thug beneath her grabbed her throat, not squeezing—just feeling her swallow. "Look at her face," he snorted. "Barely knows if she wants to cum or puke."
Roy crouched, tilting the camera to capture her glazed eyes. "Smile," he whispered.
Her lips twitched.
Nothing else moved.