Olivia stumbled through the front door of her home just after 6 p.m., her legs wobbling like jelly from the four-hour brothel shift that had left her a dripping, cum-soaked wreck. The six-inch stilettos clicked unevenly on the hardwood as she kicked them off, her bare feet sticky with dried squirt and the grime from the stage floor. She peeled off the sweat-drenched crop top and shorts—now crusted with bills the patrons had shoved into her cleavage and ass crack—tossing them in a heap by the door. Her 36C tits bounced free, nipples raw and swollen from the phantom clamps and the rough gropes of the men who'd tipped extra for "close-up views" through the one-way mirrors. Her bald pussy throbbed like a heartbeat, lips puffy and gaping from the relentless multi-cock pounding via the doll, a steady trickle of her own juices mixed with phantom cum leaking down her inner thighs. "Fuck... what have I become?" she whispered to the empty house, her voice hoarse from screaming around invisible dicks all afternoon.
She made it to the shower on autopilot, turning the water scalding hot in a vain attempt to wash away the shame. As the steam filled the bathroom, memories flashed: the leering crowd chanting "Squirt, whore, squirt!" as she ground her dripping cunt against the pole, ass clenching around a phantom cock that stretched her shithole wide; the VR clients' voices in her head, grunting vulgar commands like "Take my fat dick up your ass, you blonde cum-dump—feel it ripping you open?"; the orgasms that chained together until she blacked out mid-dance, waking in a puddle of her own squirt while Rahman laughed and counted the tips. "You earned $1,200 today, slut— not bad for a housewife turned fucktoy," he'd said, pocketing most of it. "Be back tomorrow—same time, sluttier outfit. Or Josh gets the full showreel."
The hot water cascaded over her curves, but even as she scrubbed furiously between her legs—fingers slipping over her slick, abused folds—the phantom touches lingered. A faint buzz on her clit, a teasing pinch on her nipples. Rahman wasn't done playing. "Please... just stop," she sobbed, leaning against the tile wall, her perky tits heaving with each breath. But her body betrayed her; the memories stirred fresh arousal, her cunt clenching emptily, juices mixing with the water swirling down the drain.
That night, Josh called from the mine—his voice tinny over the speakerphone as she lay in bed, naked under the sheets, trying to sound normal. "Miss you, babe. Tell me what you're wearing," he teased, oblivious to her torment.
"Nothing... just waiting for you," she lied, her voice breathy as Rahman's remote tease kicked in—a slow, thick cock sliding into her pussy, filling her inch by inch. "Fuck, Josh—I need your big dick so bad."
He chuckled. "Yeah? Touch yourself for me, slut. Finger that wet pussy and tell me how it feels."
She obeyed—sliding two fingers into her slick hole while the phantom cock thrust deeper, stretching her alongside her own digits. "It's so tight... ahh, shit, it's stretching me so good—fuck, I'm gonna cum already!" The orgasm hit hard, squirting onto the sheets as she screamed into the phone, Josh groaning on the other end as he stroked his cock to her "dirty talk."
But Rahman escalated mid-call: another cock in her ass, pounding in sync. "Take it, you double-stuffed whore—feel those cocks wrecking your holes while you fake it for your hubby?" his voice echoed in her head. She bit the pillow to muffle her cries, squirting again as Josh came over the line: "Damn, babe—you're such a squirting slut tonight."
The call ended, leaving her in a puddle of shame. Sleep came fitfully, haunted by dreams of endless cocks and leering faces.
The next morning—day three of her "negotiations"—Olivia dressed even sluttier: a red see-through micro-bikini top that barely covers her nipples, strings digging into her flesh, paired with a black vinyl skirt so short it exposed her ass cheeks with every step, and thigh-high boots. She drove to Rahman's, her pussy already wet from anticipation and dread. "This has to stop today," she muttered, but deep down she knew it was a lie.
Rahman greeted her with his usual grin, but his office was empty this time—no crew lounging around. The doll sat propped in the corner, her replica eyes staring blankly, pussy and ass glistening as if freshly fucked. "You're late, slut," he barked, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her inside. "That means extra work today."
"Please, Rahman—Sir—I can't keep doing this," she begged, voice trembling as he shoved her against the desk. "The brothel... the dancing... it's too much. Unlink me, and I'll find the money somehow."
He laughed, his hand sliding under her skirt to cup her bare pussy, fingers dipping into her slick folds. "Unlink you? Bitch, you're my golden ticket. But I've got a surprise—upgraded the doll last night. Gen3 beta: multi-link for group fucks, full sensory expansion. You'll feel, taste, smell, hear everything like you're in the room with them."
Olivia's eyes widened in horror. "No... please, don't—"
He ignored her, unzipping his pants to free his thick cock—dark, veiny, already hard and leaking pre-cum. "On your knees, whore. Suck my dick while I show you the new features."
She dropped obediently, her mouth watering despite herself as she wrapped her lips around his girth, tongue swirling over the salty head. "That's it, you cocksucking blonde bitch—deepthroat me like the slut you are," Rahman groaned, fisting her hair and shoving deeper, his balls slapping her chin. She gagged, drool pouring down her chin onto her tits, but he held her there, fucking her face roughly. "Feel that throat stretch? Now imagine ten cocks at once."
As she slurped and choked, Rahman tapped his phone. The doll activated—multi-link engaging.
Olivia's world exploded.
Not one cock in her pussy—three. Thick, ridged, pistoning in unsynced rhythms that made her cunt feel like it was being torn apart. "Oh fuck—too many, my pussy's so full, it's stretching my wet hole wide!" she tried to scream around Rahman's dick, but it came out as muffled gurgles. The asses followed: two shafts slamming into her shithole, burning and filling her beyond capacity. "Ahh, shit—my ass is getting double-fucked, it's ripping me open, you bastards!"
Then the mouths: two phantom cocks down her throat alongside Rahman's real one, tastes layering—bitter cum, musky balls, salty skin—all flooding her senses. She gagged harder, drool foaming as three loads "shot" down her throat at once. Smells hit: sweat-soaked men, cheap lube, the sharp tang of cum. Voices overlapped in her head: "Swallow our loads, you triple-throated whore!" "Feel those cocks wrecking your cunt and ass—squirt for us, bitch!"
Rahman pulled out of her mouth, stroking his cock as he watched her convulse on the floor. "That's the upgrade, slut—multi-link. Multiple users at once, full senses. Taste that cum? Smell our balls? Hear us calling you a dirty fuckpig?"
Olivia writhed, hands clutching her tits as the phantom nipple sucks began—hot mouths latching on, teeth biting her sensitive buds. "Please—fuck, stop! My nipples are on fire, it's too much—ahh, shit, I'm cumming already!" Her first orgasm detonated: pussy spasming around the three cocks, squirting in powerful jets that soaked the office carpet. Her ass clenched rhythmically, the double penetration pushing her over the edge again. "My holes are so full—fuck me harder, you pricks—I'm your squirting whore!
Rahman laughed, grabbing her by the hair and flipping her onto the desk on her back. He spread her legs wide, her pussy gaping and dripping, and slammed his real cock into her cunt—joining the three phantom ones. "Feel that, bitch? Four cocks in your sloppy pussy now—stretching that tight hole like a gangbang cum-dump." He pounded her mercilessly, his balls slapping her ass while the quantum dicks thrust in chaos. "You're taking so much dick, you greedy slut—your cunt's gripping us like a vice!"
Olivia screamed, her tits bouncing with each brutal slam, clamps tugging painfully. "Oh god—too many cocks, my pussy's ruined—fuck, I'm cumming again, squirt all over your fat dick!" Hot juices gushed around him, soaking his balls and the desk. The smells intensified: his musky sweat mixing with phantom cum; tastes of multiple loads coating her tongue even without a cock in her mouth.
He pulled out, flipping her onto her stomach, ass up. "Time for the ass upgrade." He shoved into her shithole—real girth joining the two phantoms. "Three cocks up your tight ass now, whore—feel us reaming your shithole?" The stretch was agonizing, her ring burning as they pounded in unison. "Ahh—fuck, it's splitting my ass apart—harder, you bastards, make me your anal slut!"
Marcus and Jamal burst in at Rahman's call, cocks out and hard. Marcus—his 13-inch monster veiny and thick—grabbed the doll's ass, slamming in. Olivia felt it: a fourth cock in her already stuffed shithole. "No—too big, my ass can't take four—oh shit, it's tearing me open!" Jamal took the doll's pussy, adding to the chaos. "Five in my cunt now—fuck, I'm so full, cum in me, you pricks!"
The men took turns on the doll while Rahman railed her real ass. "You're our multi-hole fucktoy—taking dicks in every slutty opening!" Orgasms chained: fifth, sixth, seventh—squirting non-stop, the office reeking of her juices. "I'm cumming—my pussy and ass are exploding—fill me with your hot loads, you dirty fucks!"
Rahman came first—flooding her ass with thick ropes. "Take my cum up your shithole, you loan-whore!" Marcus and Jamal followed on the doll—phantom loads "shooting" into her holes, feeling real as day.
By the end, Olivia lay in a puddle of squirt and cum, body marked with red welts, holes gaping and leaking. Rahman zipped up. "Upgrade's a success. Come back daily—earn your pauses. Or the world sees what a squirting cum-slut you are."
At the end of the sentence, Rahman handed Olivia a shopping bag. She staggered home, the tastes and smells lingering, her body a vessel for endless violation.
That evening, alone in the house, Olivia tried to distract herself with a bath. The warm water soothed her sore pussy, but as she relaxed, her phone buzzed: Showtime. Suddenly, her senses exploded. Not just one cock stretching her pussy—a chorus of them. Three, four? It felt like a gangbang, invisible shafts pounding her from all angles: one in her mouth (she could taste the salty precum), one in her ass (burning stretch, accompanied by grunts in her ears—"Take it, slut"), and two alternating in her pussy. Voices echoed in her head, overlapping: Rahman's crew, laughing, moaning. The smells hit too—musk, sweat, cum—as if she were in a dingy room with them.
She thrashed in the tub, water splashing everywhere, her body convulsing as orgasms ripped through her. "Nooo! Fuck, stop—ahhh!" she screamed, but the multi-link amplified everything: each thrust synced, building to a crescendo. She squirted violently, the bathwater turning cloudy with her juices. It lasted an hour, leaving her a trembling mess on the bathroom floor, phantom cum dripping from her holes, the tastes and sounds fading slowly.
Rahman texted: Beta test success. Auction winners get multi-access now. Pay up or enjoy the ride.