**The Basement**

The cold concrete pressed against my bare back as Huseynaga’s thick fingers tightened the rope around my wrists, securing me to the metal frame of the old bed. He smirked down at me, his dark eyes hungry. “You like being tied up, don’t you, Brilyant?” His voice was rough, teasing.

I squirmed, feeling the rough fibers dig into my skin, but I didn’t answer. Words escaped me—mostly because I knew what was coming. The basement smelled like sweat and something metallic, the dim flicker of the overhead bulb casting long shadows.

Huseynaga stepped back and nodded to the others—three men I barely knew, their faces hard with anticipation. They moved in, their hands already fumbling with their belts. My breath hitched as one of them, a broad-shouldered brute with a scarred lip, grabbed my hair and tilted my head back.

“Open up, slut.”

A plastic funnel was shoved between my lips before I could protest, the rim pressing hard against my teeth. One of the men, already half-hard in his jeans, unzipped and took himself in hand, stroking lazily. “First round’s mine,” he grunted.

I squeezed my eyes shut as the hot stream hit the back of my throat, filling my mouth faster than I could swallow. It spilled over my chin, dripping down my neck and chest, the bitter taste making me gag. The men laughed, watching as I choked, their cocks twitching at the sight.

Huseynaga stood back, arms crossed, his own dick straining against his pants. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Take it.”

The second man stepped up, pissing in thick, heavy bursts, making sure to aim so it splashed over my face, my tits. My skin was sticky, my hair soaked. I could barely breathe between the liquid forcing its way down and the hands now roughly groping my body.

Then came the pain.

One of them—I didn’t even see who—slapped me hard across the face. My head snapped to the side, my vision flashing white for a second before the sting settled in. Another blow followed, then another, each one making my skin burn.

“Fuck, look at her,” one of them growled, his fingers digging into my thighs, spreading me wider.

The worst part wasn’t the piss or the slaps. It was the anticipation of what came next.

Huseynaga finally stepped forward, pulling out a long, thick metal rod from the duffle bag near the bed. He ran it slowly up my inner thigh, the cold steel making me shiver. “Gonna stretch that greedy little pussy of yours,” he whispered. “Gonna make sure you remember this.”

I whimpered as the first inch pressed inside, my cunt already clenching instinctively. Then he pushed harder.

It burned. The stretch was unbearable, the metal stretching me wider than any cock ever had. Tears welled in my eyes as he twisted it, grinding it deeper, my body struggling to take the invasion.

“Look at that,” one of the men muttered, stroking himself faster. “Her cunt’s swallowing it.”

Huseynaga smirked, adding a second rod alongside the first, forcing my pussy to spread even wider. The pain was sharp, overwhelming, but beneath it, a sick, twisted pleasure curled in my stomach.

Then they took turns.

One after another, they fucked my stretched-out hole with their hands, their cocks, their toys—anything to make me scream. Huseynaga watched the whole time, jerking himself off slowly, his eyes never leaving me.

By the time they were done, my pussy was raw, my mouth still tasting of piss, my skin bruised from their hands.

And all I could think was: *I’d do it again.*