Snuff Sex is All Chelsea Craves

 

snuff sex

I’m on my knees, face pressed into the filthy carpet, my wrists pinned behind my back by a grip like iron. The first one rams into my ass without warning—no lube, no mercy. I scream, but it’s drowned out by the jeers. He’s thick, splitting me open inch by inch, and I can feel every ridge of his cock tearing through my tightest hole. My nails dig into my palms as he fucks me like a piece of meat, his balls slapping wet against my cunt.

They take turns—no breaks, no tenderness. One shoves his cock down my throat while another replaces the first in my ass. I’m choking, gagging, my eyes watering as they use every hole with savage brutality. The second one in my ass is even bigger, stretching me past the point of pain into a numb, raw agony. He grabs my hips and pounds into me, grunting like an animal, his fingers digging bruises into my skin.

The room reeks of sweat, cum, and my own fear. I’m just a hole for them—a warm, tight place to dump their loads. When the first one cums deep inside me, it burns, thick and hot, leaking down my thighs. There’s no end. They just keep coming, laughing, their hands grabbing my hair, my tits, my ass. I’m their toy, bought and paid for, and they’ll break me before they’re done.

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