Eternal Submission
The collar bit into my neck like a lover's teeth—constant, unyielding, a rhinestone reminder that I was no longer free. "Meth Slut" sparkled under the dim apartment lights, catching the haze of smoke that hung perpetual in the air now. I hadn't seen daylight in days. Weeks? Time blurred into hits and cocks, each one melting into the next. My body was a canvas of ownership: sharpie scrawls faded but renewed nightly, cum dried in flaky patterns across my pale skin, bruises blooming like dark flowers on my thighs and ass from grips that never gentled.
Daddy kept me chained to the bedpost most mornings—short leash, just enough slack to crawl to the bathroom or kneel at his feet. The latex catsuit was gone, shredded in some frenzy I barely remembered. Now I wore whatever they threw at me: a pink lace babydoll one night, fishnet body stockings the next, or nothing at all but the collar and a plug stuffed deep to keep me stretched and leaking. My clitty—uncaged but useless—dangled soft and shrunken from the constant highs, only twitching to life when the pipe glowed.
That evening started like the others. Daddy unlocked the chain, pulled me into the living room by my collar. The pipe was already loaded on the coffee table, crystals shimmering like forbidden diamonds. "Kneel, princess," he commanded, voice rough from his own endless sessions. I dropped instantly, knees hitting the carpet with a thud that sent a jolt straight to my empty hole.
He lit it first, taking a slow, deep drag, then pressed the warm glass to my swollen lips. "Suck it all down. Make it count."
I inhaled greedily, lungs expanding until they ached. The burn was sweeter now—familiar, addictive. I held it, eyes locked on his, until he nodded. Exhale came in a plume that wrapped around us like a lover. The rush crashed over me: skin igniting, every pore alive, my hole clenching desperately around the plug. Colors sharpened—the red of my painted nails, the deep brown of Daddy's skin. My clitty stirred, dripping a single bead of precum onto the floor.
"Good girl," he murmured, stroking my cheek. But his eyes flicked to the door. "Company's coming. Six tonight. All for you."
My heart raced, the meth amplifying the thrill into terror-laced ecstasy. Six big black cocks. Six men to use me, mark me, own me deeper. I whimpered, rubbing my thighs together, the plug shifting inside me and making me gasp.
The knock came heavy. Daddy opened the door, and they poured in—tall shadows, muscles rippling under tight shirts, jeans bulging at the front. Strangers mostly, but that didn't matter. They were all Daddies now. All owners. Their eyes devoured me kneeling there, naked except the collar, body trembling from the fresh high.
No hellos. No small talk. One—the leader, broadest chest, dreads tied back—grabbed the pipe immediately. "Load her up more. Want her flying high for this."
Daddy obliged, reloading and handing it over. The man took a hit, then crouched in front of me, sealing his lips over mine and shotgunning the smoke straight down my throat. His tongue followed, thick and invasive, tasting of smoke and salt. I moaned into him, the double rush hitting like lightning—brain fogging, body surrendering. My hands reached out instinctively, fumbling for his zipper.
They laughed, low and dark. "Eager little whore."
Clothes came off in a blur. Cocks everywhere—thick, veined, dark shafts curving upward, heads glistening. I was pulled into the center, surrounded. Hands yanked the plug out with a wet pop, leaving me gaping and empty for seconds before fingers—two, three—plunged in roughly, stretching me wider.
"Pipe," someone growled.
It was pressed to my lips again mid-moan. I hit it hard, smoke curling as the first cock nudged my entrance. No lube needed—cum from last night still slicked me, mixed with my own desperate wetness. He slammed in, girth forcing a scream from my throat that was quickly muffled by another dick shoving past my lips.
They didn't hold back. Ass and mouth filled in brutal harmony, hips snapping, balls slapping my chin and ass. The meth made every thrust a symphony—pain-pleasure exploding in waves, my vision pulsing with each pound. I gagged, drooled, clenched—body on autopilot, a perfect fucktoy.
They rotated faster this time. One pulled out of my ass, only for two to take his place—double stuffing me again, cocks rubbing together inside my stretched hole. The burn was insane, but the high turned it into orgasmic fire. I came dry immediately, body convulsing, milking them both as tears streamed down my face.
"Look at her shake," one laughed, slapping my clitty hard enough to sting. It only made me leak more.
Another hit from the pipe—forced while double-fucked, smoke burning down as they railed me. My mind fractured: flashes of cocks, tastes of precum, the endless stretch. They bent me over the table, one under me sliding into my ass while I straddled him, another behind adding his dick to the mix—triple now? No, wait—two in my hole, one in my mouth, hands stroking the rest over my body.
I lost count of the positions. On my back, legs pinned behind my ears, taking turns breeding me deep. On all fours, a train of cocks pounding my ass while I sucked whoever stepped in front. Face down on the floor, someone sitting on my back to pin me while they took turns throat-fucking me until I puked a little bile and cum, only to shove back in.
The pipe circled endlessly—hits between thrusts, during switches, even as they came. Cum flooded me: hot ropes down my throat, deep in my guts, across my tits and face. I swallowed greedily, hole clenching to keep it in, but it overflowed anyway, trickling down my thighs in sticky rivers.
Daddy joined last, as always. Pulled me onto his lap on the couch, impaling me on his familiar cock while the others watched, stroking themselves back to life. "Tell them, princess," he rasped, bouncing me hard. "Who owns you?"
"You—all of you—meth—cocks—forever—please—more—"
He made me hit the pipe one more time, mid-bounce, then fucked me senseless—deep, claiming strokes that had me sobbing in bliss. When he came, it was like sealing a pact, his seed mixing with the others inside me.
They didn't leave after. Stayed the night, taking turns using me again—lazy fucks on the bed, mouth work while they smoked, even pissing on me in the shower to "clean" the cum off, the warm stream mixing with my tears and the high.
By morning, I was a wreck: body aching, skin marked fresh with bites and slaps, hole gaping and sore. But the craving never stopped. Daddy unchained me only to chain me back, pipe reloaded.
"You're home now," he whispered, lighting it for me. "Owned. Addicted. Ours."
I inhaled deep, nodding through the rush.
Yes. Forever.
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