The pipe never left the nightstand anymore.
It sat there like an altar—glass stem, lighter, tiny shards of crystal waiting to be sacrificed. Every time I walked into Daddy’s apartment now, my eyes went straight to it. My mouth watered before my clitty even twitched. The craving had roots in me now, deep and permanent. Meth wasn’t something I did anymore. It was something I was.
Tonight the door opened before I could knock.
Daddy stood there shirtless, sweat already gleaming on his dark skin, pupils huge black pools. Behind him, three other men filled the living room like shadows made flesh. All tall. All thick. All black. Their eyes locked on me the second I stepped inside—hungry, patient, already hard in their jeans.
“Princess,” Daddy said, voice low and thick with smoke. “Meet your new daddies for the night.”
I didn’t speak. Couldn’t. The latex catsuit I’d worn—the same one from last time—was already sticking to me from the drive, the cutout framing my ass and the locked cage bulging obscenely at the front. My makeup was fresh but heavy: glossy red lips, heavy liner, fake lashes that fluttered every time I blinked.
Daddy didn’t waste time.
He grabbed the pipe, loaded it, lit it, took a long hit, then pressed it to my painted mouth.
“Inhale, baby. Deep. You’re gonna need it.”
I sucked the smoke down like oxygen. The burn hit fast—sweet chemical fire racing through my veins, lighting up every nerve ending. My skin felt electric. My hole clenched around nothing. My locked clitty throbbed so hard the metal rattled.
He passed the pipe to the first man—broad shoulders, shaved head, gold chain glinting against dark skin. The man took a hit, then leaned down and shotgun the smoke straight into my lungs, tongue pushing past my lips at the same time. I moaned into his mouth, already floating.
The rush slammed me harder than ever.
Colors bled. Sounds sharpened. Every touch felt like sex.
Daddy pushed me to my knees in the middle of the room.
“Show them what a good meth slut you are, princess.”
I crawled forward on all fours, latex creaking, ass swaying. The three men unzipped in unison. Three thick, heavy black cocks sprang free—longer and girthier than Daddy’s, veins pulsing, heads already shiny with precum.
I didn’t choose. I just opened my mouth.
The first one grabbed my wig and fed me his dick in one smooth motion. I gagged instantly—too thick, too deep—but the meth turned the gag into pleasure. My throat relaxed like it was trained for this exact moment. I sucked sloppily, drool running down my chin, eyes watering as I looked up at him.
“Good girl,” he rumbled. “Take it all.”
Another stepped up beside him. I reached out with both hands, stroking two cocks while the third fucked my face. The sounds were obscene—wet slurps, low groans, my own muffled whimpers. The pipe came around again. Someone held it to my lips while I was still stuffed full. I hit it without pulling off, smoke curling out my nose as I kept sucking.
The high peaked.
Reality dissolved into pure sensation.
They rotated me like a toy.
One lifted me onto the couch, face down, ass up. The latex was peeled back further, exposing everything. A thick cock pressed against my hole—no lube needed; I was already leaking Daddy’s cum from earlier and my own spit. He pushed in slow, stretching me wide, the burn blending with the meth into white-hot bliss.
I screamed around the dick in my mouth.
They didn’t let up.
One in my ass. One in my throat. One stroking himself and feeding me hits off the pipe every few minutes. My body became a vessel—open, dripping, shaking. My caged clitty leaked in useless spurts, the metal cage soaked, the word “Daddy’s Girl” on my panties long since ruined and discarded.
They talked over me like I wasn’t even there.
“Fuck, this sissy’s pussy grips like a vice.”
“Hit that pipe again—watch her eyes roll back.”
“Gonna breed this little white slut till she’s leaking for days.”
I came dry over and over—whole-body convulsions, no release, just endless ruined waves while they used me. My makeup smeared into black streaks. My throat was raw. My hole gaped every time one pulled out to switch.
Daddy watched the whole time, stroking himself, occasionally stepping in to feed me more smoke or to remind me who owned me.
“You’re not just my sissy anymore,” he growled, finally sliding into my wrecked hole after the third man pulled out. “You’re ours. Meth whore. BBC slut. Addicted little fucktoy.”
I sobbed yes around the cock in my mouth.
They finished one by one.
First load deep in my ass.
Second down my throat—thick, bitter, I swallowed every drop.
Third across my face and the shiny latex, painting me like a canvas.
Daddy went last—buried to the hilt, flooding me again while I trembled and twitched beneath him.
When they finally stepped back, I collapsed onto the floor, a panting, cum-soaked, smoke-dazed mess. The pipe was pressed to my lips one more time. I inhaled weakly, the high keeping me floating even as my body gave out.
Daddy crouched beside me, thumb brushing a tear-streaked cheek.
“Good girl,” he whispered. “You took all four of us like you were born for it.”
I looked up at him with glassy, ruined eyes.
“More… please…”
He smiled—slow, dark, proud.
“Tomorrow night, princess. We’ll bring friends.”
The pipe glowed again.
I opened my mouth.
Ready.
Always ready.
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