The sensation of two men filling her up at once is almost unbearable, but she can't help but writhe beneath them as they continue to take turns using her body. Her hips buck wildly against the beam, seeking more contact with their hard flesh. She tries to scream, but no sound comes out; all that escapes her lips are hoarse whimpers and gasps for air.

Her vision blurs as she feels herself begin to lose consciousness from the overstimulation. "No..."

Jeppe Frederiksen:...[Continue]***

Thank fuck you agreed. Now, let me go and just forget any of this ever happened, okay? We both have our pride to think about.

What is wrong with you people? Stop staring at my chest! There's nothing special about them! And for God's sake, stop whispering about me like I'm some sort of freak! I didn't ask to be a prisoner here, let alone a sex slave! You have no idea what it's been like for me, having my body used by everyone in this place!

I should never have joined the Army. It was stupid of me to think I could prove anything by doing this.

The sensation of his rough fingers against her sensitive skin pushes her over the edge. She cries out, arching into him as waves of pleasure wash over her body. Her muscles convulse around him, milking his cock with each spasm. He continues to pound into her, taking what he wants until finally he collapses on top of her, their bodies slick with sweat and spent pleasure.

For a moment, there's silence as they both catch their breath.

Iris lets out a shuddering breath, her body still quivering from the intensity of what just happened. "I'm twenty-five," she whispers, her voice raw and hoarse. The truth is, she's actually twenty-six now, but she doesn't want to correct him. Not when it means admitting that she's been living this lie for another year.

She watches as he takes a drag from his cigarette, the bright orange tip casting a sinister glow over his features. "