The club hummed with sex.

Everywhere I looked, bodies were writhing, grinding, gasping.
The velvet couches were packed with couples and small groups, some fucking openly, some simply watching, hands wandering under clothes or over bare skin.

You kept me close at your side on the couch, fingers tracing idle circles just above the hem of my sheer slip. It didn’t cover much — just a whisper of fabric that clung to my nipples and teased over my thighs. You had dressed me like this deliberately, knowing I’d feel every stare.

On the stage ahead, a woman was riding a man’s cock, her body lithe and desperate. Every bounce of her hips made her breasts sway, every moan ripped raw from her throat. Around us, the audience wasn’t passive. I could see men and women alike touching themselves, some already fingering or stroking, some on the brink of climax just from watching.

Your hand slipped higher under my slip.

I tried to sit still, tried to keep my breathing even, but when your fingers found how soaked I was, you let out a low, pleased sound against my ear.

“Such a good girl” you whispered. “So desperate already.”

I whimpered as you traced lazy circles around my clit, dragging the wetness up over the sensitive bundle of nerves but never giving me quite enough. You teased me ruthlessly while keeping your attention on the show, fingers slipping inside me briefly, just to remind me who owned me.

When you pulled your hand away, my body ached with need.
Without a word, you took my hand and led me through the haze of the club, past couples fucking openly against walls, past people moaning into each other’s mouths.

You pulled me into a darkened corner, half-hidden behind thick curtains, the pulse of bass still heavy in the air.

You pressed me against the wall and hiked my slip up around my waist. My panties were soaked, useless. You shoved them aside and freed your cock, already hard, leaking, desperate.

And then you pushed inside me in one long, rough thrust.

I gasped, the stretch almost overwhelming after the endless teasing. You set a brutal pace, hips slamming into mine, the sounds of our bodies slick and shameless in the dark.

And people were watching. I could feel it — the heat of their eyes, the sounds of them stroking themselves, the way the air seemed to tighten around us.

I was already close, panting against the wall, when another couple approached.

The woman dropped to her knees beside us almost immediately, her eyes hungry as she watched where you fucked me, licking her lips like she couldn’t wait to taste.

The man stayed standing, his hand reaching out boldly to cup my breast. You didn’t stop him.
You grabbed my hair gently and tilted my head back as the other man leaned in to kiss me — slow and filthy, his tongue slipping into my mouth as you pounded into me from behind.

It was too much. I came hard, sobbing into the kiss, my body clenching tight around your cock. You groaned against my ear, but you didn’t stop. You fucked me through it, using my trembling, wrung-out body like it was yours to take — because it was.

When you finally pulled out, your cock slick and dripping with our mixed fluids, you stepped back slightly.

The other man caught me as my knees buckled. He was ready for me, lifting me easily against the wall, guiding the head of his cock to my entrance.

You watched — no jealousy, just pride — as he pushed inside me with a grunt, filling me again, stretching me wide all over again while I was still raw and shaking.

You knelt down beside the woman now, your hand fisting in her hair.

“Open your mouth,” you said, voice low and commanding.

She obeyed instantly, tilting her face up to you like a perfect little toy.

You guided your messy, slick cock into her mouth, making her taste every bit of the filthy mess you had made of me. She moaned around you, bobbing her head eagerly, hands fisting in her lap as she sucked you clean.

I watched through heavy-lidded eyes as the man fucked me, slow and deep, while you used her mouth — your free hand resting lightly on her head, controlling her pace with the barest pressure.

The man thrust into me harder, grunting into my neck, his rhythm getting frantic, sloppy. I could feel another orgasm spiraling up inside me, hotter and messier than the first.

When he came, he stayed deep inside, his body shaking against mine.
You groaned low and pulled the woman off your cock with a soft pop, stroking yourself the rest of the way to completion, spilling hot and thick across her face and breasts.

The four of us stayed there for a moment, panting, trembling, the air heavy with sweat and sex.

And all around us, the club kept moving — bodies still twisting in the dim light, desperate hands still reaching, mouths still open in hungry moans.

Tonight, we weren’t just part of the show.

We were the show.

Slowly we moved over towards the private rooms to allow for access to more space and more ways to play.

The air in the private room was suffocating hot, thick with sex and sweat, the musk of desperation clinging to every breath.

You shifted us effortlessly into new positions, your control absolute even in the haze of lust.

I was pushed down onto my back at the edge of the bed, knees spread wide, my body still trembling from the last orgasm ripped out of me.
The other woman — still flushed and messy, her skin shining with spit and cum — knelt behind me. Her hands gripped my thighs, spreading me further apart before she leaned in and dragged her tongue up the soaked seam of my pussy.

I cried out, the stimulation sharp, immediate.

At the same time, the other man stepped in over me, fist wrapped around his cock, guiding it to my lips. I opened for him without hesitation, feeling his weight and heat as he slid between my lips.

You, meanwhile, took the other woman for yourself.

You grabbed her hips firmly, positioning yourself behind her. Without any softness, you thrust deep into her soaking cunt, drawing a choked moan from both her and me — the force of your movement pushed her face harder against me, her mouth sloppily devouring my pussy.

I whimpered around the other man’s cock, my body jolting with every thrust you delivered into her. Each one sent waves of pleasure and pressure through me — her tongue working desperately against my clit, my throat filled with the taste and weight of the cock sliding between my lips.

You set a brutal rhythm, hips slamming against her arse with loud, wet smacks that filled the room.

And the whole time — you never looked at her.

Your gaze was locked on me.

Even as you fucked her, even as she made obscene noises into my cunt, your eyes were pinned to mine — dark, possessive, burning with something raw and terrifying and beautiful.

I could barely breathe under the weight of it.

Every thrust into her pushed her mouth harder against me, her tongue flicking and curling around my clit, her nose grinding against my swollen, overstimulated pussy.
The man I sucked groaned lowly above me, fingers tangling in my hair to set a slow, deliberate pace, using my mouth while you fucked and used the other woman.

The sensations built impossibly, blindingly fast.

The sloppy heat of her mouth, the relentless slide of cock between my lips, the sight of you, so utterly commanding even as you used another body to push me further into madness — it all collided.

You grunted harshly, hips jerking as you filled the other woman with a guttural growl — and at that exact moment, the pressure inside me detonated.

I came with a cry around the cock in my mouth, my body seizing, thighs clamping helplessly around the woman’s face as I rode the brutal, overwhelming waves of orgasm.
But even as I shattered, you kept your eyes locked on mine.
You watched me break for you.
And you smiled.

Your cock was still hard as you pulled out of the other woman, cum leaking down her thighs.

Without even pausing, you grabbed me by the hips, pulling me away from the other man’s cock with a wet pop.

“You’re mine,” you growled, voice rough, dragging me upright against your chest. “My filthy little fucktoy.”

I whimpered, already wrecked, already on the brink again.

You shoved me face-first onto the bed, kicked my legs wider apart, and thrust into me in one brutal motion.

I screamed — the stretch almost too much after everything, my whole body a raw nerve.

But you didn’t give me time to adjust.

You pounded into me without mercy, using my body like it was nothing but a hole for your cock, a toy to take your pleasure from.

The other couple didn’t stay idle.

The woman knelt beside me, pinching and rolling my nipples between her fingers, dragging her nails down my trembling back. The man gripped my hair again, forcing my head up, whispering filthy praise into my ear about how good I looked being destroyed.

It was too much.

The relentless pounding of your cock.
The hands on my body.
The filthy, obscene whispers.
The eyes drinking in every second of my collapse.

You growled lowly behind me, slapping my arse hard enough to leave a stinging handprint.

“Take it,” you snarled, hips slamming against mine. “Take my cock. Let them watch me ruin you.”

I sobbed, my mind shattering into a thousand pieces, my body locked in an endless spasm of pleasure and pain and surrender.

You fucked me like you wanted to imprint yourself on every inch of my insides, like you wanted your cum to leak out of me for hours, proof to everyone who saw that I belonged to you.

I came again — violently, uncontrollably — the orgasm ripping through me so hard I almost blacked out, my cries ragged and broken.

And you weren’t far behind.

With a final, savage thrust, you buried yourself deep inside me and came, filling me so full I could feel it dripping almost immediately around your cock.

But you stayed inside me, grinding your hips against mine, refusing to pull out — forcing me to stay open, messy, ruined while the other couple watched and touched and praised.

I collapsed against the bed, boneless, overwhelmed, your body covering mine like a brand, a claim.

You kissed the back of my neck softly then — the only gentle thing in the whole savage, filthy mess we’d made — whispering against my sweaty skin, “Good girl.”