The pipe was already lit when I crawled through the door.
Daddy didn’t even let me stand. He grabbed my wig, dragged me across the hardwood on my knees, latex catsuit squeaking with every frantic inch. The cutout at my ass was already soaked—leftover cum from the morning mixed with fresh lube I’d shoved in myself on the drive over, desperate to stay open for him.
The room stank of it now: burnt glass, sweat, sex, and the sharp chemical sweetness that lived in my lungs.
Three new men waited this time. Bigger. Meaner. Blacker than the last group. They stood in a loose circle around the low coffee table that had become our altar. No shirts. Jeans unzipped. Thick, heavy cocks already out, glistening at the tips like they’d been stroking themselves waiting for the main course.
Daddy shoved the pipe between my glossy lips without a word.
“Hit it. All of it. Don’t breathe till I say.”
I sucked hard. The bowl glowed orange. The smoke scorched down my throat, thick and oily. My eyes watered instantly. I held it—chest burning, head swimming—until black spots danced at the edges of my vision.
He pinched my nose shut.
“Hold.”
I obeyed. Body trembling. Latex creaking as my muscles locked.
When he finally let go I exploded the cloud out in a violent cough, spit stringing from my red lips to the floor. The rush slammed me like a freight train. My skin caught fire. Every hair follicle screamed. My caged clitty spasmed so violently the metal clanked against my thighs. My hole fluttered open and closed like it was breathing.
I was gone.
They didn’t speak to me anymore. I wasn’t a person. I was holes. A warm, dripping, meth-fucked toy.
The first one—tallest, thickest forearms—grabbed my throat and forced me onto my back across the table. Glass clinked. The pipe rolled away. Another man caught it, reloaded, kept it burning.
Second man straddled my chest, knees pinning my arms. His cock—easily ten inches, uncut, veined like a roadmap—slapped my face hard enough to sting.
“Open, bitch.”
I did. Jaw aching already. He didn’t ease in. He rammed straight to the back of my throat and kept pushing until my nose was buried in his pubes. I gagged violently, stomach heaving, but the meth turned every choke into a full-body orgasm. Tears streamed. Mascara rivers. My throat convulsed around him like it was trying to milk him dry.
Third man dropped between my spread thighs. No warning. No fingers. Just the blunt head of his cock forcing past my wrecked ring. The stretch was brutal—white-hot pain that the high instantly rewired into pleasure so intense I screamed around the dick choking me.
They found a rhythm instantly.
Ass and throat filled in perfect sync. Every thrust into my pussy drove the cock deeper down my gullet. My body rocked helplessly on the table like a ragdoll. Latex squeaked. Wet slaps echoed. My caged clitty leaked in pathetic dribbles, pooling on my stomach, running down my sides.
Someone grabbed the pipe again.
They pulled the cock out of my throat just long enough to force the stem between my lips.
“Suck it down, whore. All at once.”
I inhaled like my life depended on it. The entire bowl vanished in one greedy pull. Smoke filled me until I thought my lungs would burst.
They shoved the dick back in before I could even exhale.
The world disappeared.
Only sensation remained.
Cock in my ass thickening. Cock in my throat pulsing. Hands everywhere—pinching my nipples through the latex, slapping my caged clit, yanking my wig, leaving red handprints on my thighs.
I came again—dry, violent, whole-body seizing. My vision whited out. I felt myself piss a little from the intensity, warm trickle soaking the latex at my crotch. They laughed. Called me a filthy piss-sissy. It only made me clench harder.
They rotated.
New cock in my ass—longer, curved, hitting spots that made my eyes roll back permanently. New cock in my mouth—girthier, stretching my jaw until it clicked. The third man straddled my face backward, heavy balls dragging across my nose while he jerked himself over my smeared makeup.
Daddy stood at my head now, feeding me hits between thrusts. Every time I started to come down even a fraction, he forced another lungful into me. Keeping me pinned to the peak. Keeping me broken.
“Tell them,” he growled.
I couldn’t speak—mouth full—but I tried anyway. Muffled, wrecked, desperate.
“Mmmph—your—meth—slut—BBC—whore—addicted—hole—please—more—more—”
They laughed again. Then they bred me.
First load blasted deep in my ass—hot, thick, overflowing instantly. Second painted my face and the inside of my mouth, bitter and endless. Third came across my latex-covered chest, dripping down the shiny black like white rivers.
Daddy went last.
He flipped me onto my stomach, yanked my hips up, slammed back in through the mess. Fucked me like he was trying to break me in half. One hand around my throat. The other forcing the pipe back to my lips.
“Last hit, princess. Biggest one yet.”
I sucked until the bowl glowed white-hot.
He came with a roar—flooding me so deep I felt it in my stomach—while the meth rush peaked one final, shattering time.
I blacked out for seconds. Maybe minutes.
When I came to, I was still on the table. Legs dangling. Ass gaping. Cum leaking out in thick globs. Face sticky. Latex ruined. Pipe still warm in my hand.
Daddy crouched beside me, stroking my hair like I was a pet.
“You’re not going home tonight,” he said softly. “You’re not going anywhere. This is where you live now. On your knees. On your back. On that pipe. With us.”
I looked up at him through ruined lashes, voice cracked and small.
“Yes… Daddy…”
He pressed the reloaded pipe to my swollen lips.
“Again.”
I inhaled.
Deep.
Forever.
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