100 NIGHTS OF SIN

##Night 5##

**Her pov**

Tonight is the fifth night two college athletes take turns destroying my holes until I can’t walk straight.

"Jesus f*****g Christ, you’re even hotter than the app hinted," the first one, tall and built like a Greek god with eyes that could melt ice, said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the plush carpet. He gestured with his chin towards the king-sized bed where I lay, skin slick with anticipation. "So, what’s the plan, gorgeous? You want us to go easy on you, or are we tearing you a new one tonight?"

The second one, shorter but with a coiled, predatory energy, chuckled, the sound a rough rasp. He had a swagger that spoke of innate confidence, the kind earned on football fields and in locker rooms. "Yeah, we’re not exactly known for our gentle touch. But hey, we aim to please. Just point us in the right direction, and we'll make sure you get your money's worth." He ran a hand through his dark, damp hair, his gaze raking over my body with an intensity that made my n*****s harden.

"No names," I managed, my voice a little shaky, the words catching in my throat. "No questions. Just… whatever you want." I watched them exchange a look, a silent agreement passing between them, a shared hunger that mirrored my own. The first one stepped closer, his shadow falling over me. He smelled of expensive cologne and something wilder, something purely masculine.

"Whatever I want, huh? That’s a dangerous game you’re playing," he murmured, reaching out to trace the curve of my hip with a calloused fingertip. A shiver went through me, not of fear, but of raw, unadulterated desire. "But I like it. I like it a lot." He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. "So, where do we start? Your mouth? Your ass? Or are we going to take turns filling you up until you can’t even remember your own name?"

"Both," the quarterback said, his grin widening, revealing perfect white teeth. "I want to taste her first. See what kind of flavor she brings to the party. Then you can have your turn breaking her in properly." He moved with a fluid grace, circling the bed as if it were a prey animal. His eyes, a striking blue, locked onto mine. "Don’t worry, sweetheart. We know how to handle a woman. We’ve had plenty of practice." He reached for the silk rope that lay coiled on the bedside table.

"The ropes," I finally managed, my breath catching. "Use the ropes. I want to be tied. I want to be completely at your mercy." The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken promises. They looked at each other again, a flicker of surprise, then a shared, wicked understanding. The first one picked up the rope, testing its strength between his hands.

"Oh, this is going to be good," he said, his voice laced with pure anticipation. "Completely at our mercy. I like the sound of that. So, spread those legs for me. Let me see what I’m working with." He knelt beside the bed, his gaze intense. The quarterback watched, his own arousal evident, a throbbing hardness against his athletic shorts. The tension in the room was palpable, thick with unspoken lust and a shared understanding of the night ahead. This was precisely what I had orchestrated, a perfect symphony of anonymity and raw, unbridled pleasure.

"Spread them wider," the quarterback commanded, his voice deeper now, tinged with authority. He grabbed my ankles, pulling them apart with a firm but gentle pressure. The silk rope slipped between my legs, a silken caress against my c******s. My breath hitched. "Yeah, that’s it. Good girl. Now hold still." The lacrosse player began to expertly tie my legs to the headboard, his movements efficient and practiced. Each knot tightened, securing me in place, my body exposed and vulnerable.

"Don't worry, we're not going to hurt you," the quarterback said, though his eyes told a different story. There was a gleam of something primal there, a hunger that was intoxicating. "We’re just going to make you feel things you never thought possible. Things you probably shouldn’t be feeling." He reached out and cupped my breast, his thumb stroking over my hardening n****e. I moaned, a soft, involuntary sound. "Hear that? She likes it. She wants it. She’s begging for it."

"I am," I admitted, my voice a raspy whisper. "God, I am." The lacrosse player finished tying my legs and moved to my wrists, securing them above my head. I was completely immobilized, a willing captive. The quarterback’s hand slid down my stomach, over my still-flat belly, and then dipped between my legs. His touch was hot, demanding. He found my c**t, and I gasped, my hips arching off the bed.

"Oh, she’s wet," he purred, his fingers working me with an expert rhythm. "So incredibly wet. You’re going to be a mess by the time we’re done with you. A beautiful, ruined mess." The lacrosse player joined him, his hands exploring my body, learning its contours. He ran his hands up my thighs, spreading me further, his fingers probing my entrances.

"Which hole first?" he asked, his voice husky. "Ass or p***y? You tell us, and we’ll make it scream." I closed my eyes, savoring the sensation, the delicious anticipation. "p***y," I finally breathed. "Start with my pussy." The quarterback’s fingers deepened their assault, his nails grazing against my c**t, sending waves of pleasure crashing through me. I cried out, arching against his hand, my body trembling uncontrollably.

"She wants it deep," he stated, his grin never wavering. He leaned down and kissed my throat, his tongue tracing a path to my pulse point. "Don't worry, sweetheart. We're going to give it to you deep. Deeper than you've ever had it before." He then released me, and I felt a moment of panic, but it was quickly replaced by the feel of his mouth closing over my c**t. I screamed, a guttural, unrestrained sound.

"That’s it," the lacrosse player whispered, his hands now on my ass, spreading me open. "Let it all out. We want to hear you." He slid a finger inside me, then another. I bucked against him, my body a taut string pulled to its breaking point. The quarterback’s mouth continued its work, his tongue a relentless force. I was lost in the sensation, drowning in a sea of pleasure.

"She’s ready," the quarterback announced, his voice muffled by my flesh. He pulled away, and I whimpered, a desperate sound. The lacrosse player’s fingers were deep inside me now, stretching me. He began to thrust them in and out, his rhythm slow and deliberate. "You like that, don't you?" he asked, his eyes burning into mine. "You like having your tight little ass stretched open."

I could only nod, unable to speak. He withdrew his fingers and I gasped, a sharp intake of breath. Then, the quarterback was there, his c**k pressing against my lips. "Kiss it," he commanded. I obeyed, my mouth closing around him, my tongue teasing his head. He grunted, his hand coming down to grip my jaw. "No, not like that. Take it. Take all of it." He pushed himself inside me, his length filling me completely. I cried out again, a ragged sob.

"f**k, she’s tight," he grunted, his hips beginning to move. The lacrosse player watched, his own c**k twitching with anticipation. He reached down and grabbed my c**t, stroking it rhythmically as the quarterback f****d me. The combined stimulation was almost too much. I was on the verge of orgasm, my body convulsing.

"Don't you dare c*m yet," the lacrosse player warned, his voice low and dangerous. "We want to see you beg for it. We want to see you break." The quarterback withdrew, leaving me feeling hollow and aching. The lacrosse player immediately took his place, his c**k sliding into me with a slick, wet sound. He was harder, thicker than the quarterback, and he filled me to the absolute brim. I groaned, my body clenching around him.

"Now, that’s more like it," he growled, his hips pumping with a powerful, driving rhythm. He thrust deep, stretching me until I thought I would split. I cried out, my voice a raw shriek. "Yeah, scream for me. Let me hear you enjoy it." He was relentless, his pace increasing, his thrusts becoming more forceful. My vision swam, and I felt myself teetering on the edge of oblivion.

"She’s about to go," the quarterback said, his voice a low growl. He knelt beside me again, his hand finding my c**t and beginning to work it. The dual stimulation was overwhelming. I felt my body convLse, my toes curling. A wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washed over me, and I screamed, my orgasm shattering through me like a thunderclap. My body convulsed around the lacrosse player’s c**k, milking him.

"Good girl," he whispered against my ear, his own climax building. He thrust into me one last time, his body stiffening, and then he let go, his seed gushing into me with a deep, satisfying pulse. I shuddered, my body spent.

"Your turn," the quarterback said, his voice rough. He pulled away, and the lacrosse player followed, leaving me aching and satiated. He moved to the other side of the bed and began to tie my legs to the other side of the headboard, spreading me even further. He then reached for the other rope, the one that had been by the foot of the bed.

"We’re going to have some fun with you now," the quarterback said, his eyes glinting. He picked up a riding crop from the bedside table. "You like this, don't you?" He flicked it against his palm, the sound sharp and menacing. I swallowed hard. "Yes," I whispered. "I do."

"Good," he purred. "Because we're going to make you like it even more." He began to lash my ass with the crop, each strike sharp and stinging. I cried out, my body tensing. He alternated between my cheeks, the red welts beginning to appear.

"Don’t hold back," I gasped between strikes. "Make me feel it." He obliged, his strikes becoming harder, faster. The pain was intense, but it was also exhilarating, a strange counterpoint to the pleasure I had just experienced. The lacrosse player watched, his c**k throbbing.

"My turn," he said, his voice a low growl. He took the crop from the quarterback and began to strike my ass with it. His strokes were more brutal, more vicious. I cried out again, my voice raw. Tears streamed down my face, but they were tears of a strange, masochistic pleasure. My body was a landscape of sensation, pain and pleasure inextricably intertwined.

"Are you ready for more?" the quarterback asked, his voice laced with a cruel amusement. He picked up a vibrator from the bedside table. "Because we're just getting started." He turned it on, the intense vibration filling the room. He pressed it against my c**t, and I screamed, my body convulsing.

"f**k me," I gasped, "Please, f**k me harder." The lacrosse player was still working me with the crop, the blows becoming more frequent, more intense. The quarterback’s hand held the vibrator to my c**t, and I felt myself spiraling towards another orgasm. I was a prisoner of my own desire, my body a vessel for their pleasure. The night was far from over, and I knew, with a chilling certainty, that they would push me beyond my limits, until I was nothing but a broken, beautiful shell.

"Hold on tight, sweetheart," the quarterback whispered, his breath hot against my ear. "We're going to take you to your breaking point." He increased the intensity of the vibrator, the machine whirring furiously. My body arched off the bed, my muscles spasming. The lacrosse player’s crop continued to lash my ass, each sting a fiery brand. I was a storm of sensation, a maelstrom of pain and pleasure.

"I can’t," I choked out, the words barely audible. "I can’t take anymore." The quarterback’s hand tightened on the vibrator, his thumb pressing down, increasing the power. My vision blurred, and I felt a scream building in my chest, a primal cry of surrender. The lacrosse player’s strokes became more furious, driving me deeper into the abyss. My body was a canvas, painted with the marks of their dominance, and I was reveling in the exquisite torment.

"Yes, you can," the quarterback purred, his voice a seductive rasp. "You’re stronger than you think. You can take it all. You can take us." He pushed the vibrator deeper into me, and I screamed, my orgasm ripping through me, a violent, uncontrollable wave. My body convulsed, my muscles clenching, milking the powerful machine.

"There you go," the lacrosse player whispered, his voice a low growl. He withdrew the crop, and I felt a sudden void. He knelt beside me, his hand immediately finding my mouth. He pushed his fingers inside, then began to stroke me rhythmically. My body, still buzzing from the orgasm, responded instantly. I whimpered, my hips bucking against his hand.

"She’s still going," the quarterback observed, his voice a low rumble of satisfaction. He moved to my other side, his hand finding my ass and spreading me open. He began to lick me, his tongue a rough, insistent force. "We’re going to make you c*m again, and again, and again, until you can’t remember your own name." I moaned, caught between the intense pleasure of his tongue and the deep, internal stimulation of the lacrosse player’s fingers.

"Yes," I gasped, my voice thick with need. "Please. I want it." The quarterback’s tongue grew more demanding, his ministrations becoming bolder, more explicit. He found my c**t, and I cried out, my body arching off the bed. The lacrosse player’s fingers deepened their assault, stretching me wider, pushing me to the brink once more.

"She’s a trooper," the quarterback said, his voice muffled by my flesh. "A real trooper. But even troopers get tired." He increased the pressure, his tongue working my c**t with an almost surgical precision. I felt myself building again, the familiar waves of pleasure washing over me. "This time," he growled, "we’re going to make you beg for it. We’re going to make you plead."

"I… I don’t want to stop," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "I want you to keep going." The lacrosse player’s fingers were now pushing deeper, and I felt a strange, unfamiliar sensation. It was a fullness, a stretching that was both painful and profoundly arousing. He was pushing something into me, something hard and unyielding.

"What is that?" I gasped, my eyes flying open. The quarterback’s tongue stilled. The lacrosse player’s fingers were withdrawing, and I felt a heavy pressure as something was pushed into my asshole. It was thick, smooth, and it stretched me to my absolute limit. I cried out, a sharp, involuntary sound.

"Just a little something to keep things interesting," the lacrosse player said, his voice a low growl. He withdrew his hand, and I felt the firm pressure of the object inside me. It was a c**k ring, a large, heavy one, and it was making my asshole feel impossibly full. The quarterback immediately resumed his ministrations, his tongue now working my c**t with renewed vigor.

"This is going to be fun," he purred. "You’re going to feel every single one of our thrusts now. Every single one." He looked at the lacrosse player. "You want to go first with this one?" The lacrosse player grinned, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light. He reached for his shorts, his erection already straining against the fabric.

"Hell yeah," he said, his voice a low growl. "Let's see how much this tight little thing can take." He pulled down his shorts, revealing a thick, powerful c**k. He positioned himself between my legs, the c**k ring a painful, exhilarating pressure against my asshole. He hesitated for a moment, then, with a deep thrust, he pushed himself inside me.

I screamed, a raw, piercing sound. It was agony, pure and unadulterated. The c**k ring made it impossible for him to go in fully, but the pressure was unbearable. Tears streamed down my face, but I couldn’t stop him. My body was rigid, my muscles clenched.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice rough with exertion. He began to thrust, his movements short and choppy, the c**k ring grinding against my asshole. Each thrust sent a jolt of pain through me, but it was also laced with a strange, intense pleasure. I felt myself starting to build again, despite the pain. The quarterback watched, his hand still on my c**t, his thumb stroking rhythmically.

"She’s close," he said, his voice a low murmur. "Don’t stop. Keep going." The lacrosse player grunted, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more relentless. The pain was becoming unbearable, but the pleasure was intensifying too. I felt myself teetering on the edge of another orgasm, a desperate, painful climax.

"f**k," I gasped, my body trembling. "I… I can’t." The lacrosse player withdrew, leaving me aching and raw. The c**k ring remained, a constant, throbbing pressure. The quarterback immediately knelt beside me, his hand finding my c**t again. He worked it with a feverish intensity, and I felt myself shattering, my orgasm a violent explosion of release. My body convulsed, my screams echoing in the luxurious suite.

"See? You could take it," the quarterback whispered, his voice hoarse. He withdrew, and the lacrosse player immediately returned, his c**k still hard. He pushed himself into me again, the c**k ring making it excruciatingly painful, but also intensely pleasurable. I felt myself being stretched beyond my limits, my asshole burning.

"This is it," he growled, his hips driving harder. "This is the end." He thrust into me one last time, his body stiffening, and then he let go, his seed gushing into me, hot and thick. I screamed, my body wracked with convulsions.

The lacrosse player withdrew, leaving me a breathless, trembling mess. The c**k ring remained, a constant reminder of the night’s brutal intensity. The quarterback’s hand found my c**t again, and he began to stroke me, his touch surprisingly gentle now.

"You did good, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "You were a very good girl tonight." He continued to stroke me, and I felt a soft, lingering pleasure. The pain in my asshole was still there, a dull ache, but it was overshadowed by the aftershocks of my orgasm.

"Just one more thing," the lacrosse player said, his voice a rough whisper. He reached for a small vial on the bedside table. It was filled with a clear liquid. He uncapped it and poured a few drops onto his fingers. He then reached for my ass.

"What is that?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Just a little something to make sure you remember us," he said, his eyes glinting. He inserted his fingers into my asshole, spreading me open. The liquid stung, burning with an exquisite intensity. He then pushed something small and hard into me.

"What did you do?" I cried out.

"Just a little surprise," he said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "You'll find out soon enough." He withdrew his hand, and I felt a strange, heavy sensation in my asshole. The quarterback was still stroking me, his touch now more insistent.

"Don't worry," he said, his voice a low growl. "We'll make sure you remember us. We'll make sure you never forget this night." He leaned down and kissed me, his tongue exploring my mouth. I moaned, my body still humming with pleasure. The night had been brutal, intense, and utterly intoxicating. And as I lay there, surrounded by the scent of s*x and sweat, I knew I would never forget them. The strange object in my asshole was a constant reminder of their power, their cruelty, and the depths of my own desire. The pulsing started from within my own goddamn asshole.