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“Is she made of sounds or thoughts or fucking?

“I want to see...Vitor. I want to goddamned see.

“What a broken human is made of when we get her to spill herself on the floor.

“Fuck with the sticks,

“Fill her holes.”

“Yes, sir.” Vitor approached, efficient and solid, retrieving two sticks off the sofa as he passed the pile. Prepared, we assembled prepared. Never knew what might strike a man as fun.

“Good, man.”

Her eyes were wild, darting about, until she braved me and stared.

“Why are you talking like that?”

“How...am I talking?” I smiled.

“All...broken.”

“Because.” I cupped and crushed her jaw in my hand. Her lips smooshed in. A girl made of soft dough. “I’m the monster and I’m a poet. He hasn’t sated me. He’s left me dry too long. Sometimes I swan about and leave him gathering dust.”

I did a skip, a twirl, a plié.

And ended before her. Bowed.

“Like a ballerina. I am contrite that I confused you, but...

“You’re still getting stuffed.

“I’m going to make you come and come, while they do too.” I waved, wrist circling in the direction of the currently fucked girls.

Vitor wedged a stick beneath her and I picked her up and let her slide down onto it. In pussy, I thought, from her expression. From her gaping and choking, from her litany of no, no, no, from her squirming.

“Lucky for you...” I leaned in, nipped her nose, her mouth. “These ones are rounded. One day I might use points. Wait, Vitor. Tsk. The man is eager to use the next bit of torture.” I stripped off my clothes, kicked them aside. “Now. Do her ass.” I held her again, while she panted and wriggled and squealed, while he wiggled in the stick. “You scream good. For a girl.”

“You don’t fucking scare me.”

But she said it quietly. “But I do.” I knew she was lying. “Close your eyes unless I let you open them.”

Nothing was novel about tonight. Except that I held her almost sacrosanct. I touched her and made her writhe. Ran my hands down her slippery breasts, in her sucking mouth, played with the sweat on her butt, and I went to my knees...

I sucked on her, let Vitor fuck her ass after all. The others, hyped on Viagra, happily fucked the girls together in mouth and ass and cunt. They spewed their cum on Red and on the others. Messing the rug and the girls. I made her come until she sweated and drooled, dripped her own cunt juice as well as saliva and sweat and semen. Until some of her was white, some of her pink, some red. I let a few fuck her ass. Made her cry with orgasms until her legs wobbled then collapsed.

Fun.

But I didn’t touch her with my cock. The twist of will from my other half held me in its bonds. We had our tacit agreement which never had been spoken or written because it couldn’t be, and it held. For now.

Disgusted at my restraint, I violently fucked the girlfriend of the mayor’s daughter. My newest collectible. Her pretty chestnut hair swished like a medusa’s. Her tits bobbed up and down as her cunt gobbled my cock. Another brain-dead girl. No spite, no vivacity.

Red, though, my perfect Red, the last drip, the last spurt was hers.

This dreg of a fucked girl opened her eyes to me jacking off over her.

She resembled her old picture now.

I kneeled over her entangled body, where we’d wrapped the other girls around her for one last en-masse fuck. I squeezed my fist down the huge erection I still carried. One mistake and I’d be justified.