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You ached. So sore. So utterly and thoroughly exhausted, they went hard on you tonight. From the initial chase, to you getting into the woods, to them catching you, pinning you down, roughing you up. The way their hands groped, and their knives cut into your clothes, nicks along your tender flesh that drew thin lines that wept blood. They dragged gloved fingers through the scarlet mess and painted your skin with the sticky and tacky liquid, it might have had a chance to dry were it not for how much you had sweat with the exertion from the run and from your sex session.
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Cocks were forced in your mouth until you gagged and teared up, spit running down your chin and then wiping the excess onto your face, wet cocks slapped your damp cheeks, before taking you properly. One fucking into you while the other held you down in the dirt, it's sticking to your skin from the mess they left upon you.
The pace was brutal. Unforgiving. Slaps and hard grip, knife held to your throat at one point as they fucked you. They worked well, true partners in crime, working in tandem to utterly destroy you from the inside out. By the time they were done you were laying in the dirt, clothes so wrecked that none of your shame was covered, blood and sweat intermingling with their cum they had painted you with. One shot it over your lower back and ass and the other onto your face and hair, you were panting, still trying to catch your breath when you started shaking.
“Awe. You cold?” The one still crouched by your head asked, a condescending tone accompanying the tilt of his head.
You were. You really, really were. So naked, tired, very exposed and vulnerable, so damp and laying on the forest floor you were feeling the chill. You nodded.
“Poor thing.” The other cooed and the former nodded with a hum, “Terrible, truly.”
A pause.
“I have an idea.” Oh? Did they? What now, what could they possibly want to do to you now? “They were so good, took it so well, why don’t we warm em up?”
“Oh fantastic idea. Least we could do.” The other sounded almost too into the thought, that should scare you.
It was a nice thought. How would they go about that, though?
You got your answer when they both rose to their feet, and you heard zippers lowering again before your mouth could open to question, you felt it. Unmistakable and undeniable. The fucking bastards, your masked assailants, were pissing on you. As if taking you as they had, fucking you out in the open, cutting and defiling you wasn’t enough, they were literally pissing on you.
The shame was too much. You actually buried your face down, deeper into the dirt and one of them scoffed, “What’s a matter? Isn’t this what you wanted?”
A shared laugh from them and your stomach twisted as the voice from on high rang from above you, “Yeah, doesn’t it feel nice?”
The worst part of it was, that it kind of did. It seemed to last forever when realistically it was less than a minute, but by the end of it you weren’t shaking anymore. Not from the cold, at least. Gloved hands in your hair ripping your head up from the dirt, he was behind you, gloved hand on your jaw, pressing in on your cheeks, hot with shame and embarrassment, tilting your head down, making you look at yourself, you were sitting in a pool of total filth, the dirt below you wet with the evidence of what they did to you. “Look at that. What do you think of the view man?”
“Disgusting. I love it.” Came the response, and you could hear the smile in the voice of the one behind you, “Me too.”
Fingers on your face dragged through the mess of dirty cum that had been shot on you and those same fingers were shoved into your mouth, the other hand on the back of your head forcing you down onto his fingers, making you taste it. You tried to squirm away, wanting to gag from the taste and how awful it was mentally, emotionally, he didn’t let you.
“But do they like it?” The one behind you inquired, and the other said, “Let’s check.”
He crouched down and cool leather clad fingers probed below your waist, you were so damn sore, you shifted, tried to wiggle away, and those fingers were pulled out of your mouth, and the one behind you held you harder, other arm over your chest, grip almost bruising you when you were already so sore, you winced. A mix of cum and drool slipped from your mouth and fell down onto your chest, you didn’t want to swallow it, God this was all so fucking humiliating. Digits dragged up through your folds and then came up, displaying the evidence for you all to see, and he tsk’d, looking with great interest at the white cum coating his fingers. “Depraved is what you are.”
“Seriously, who gets off on being fucking pissed on other than a whore?” The one behind you taunted right in your ear. You truly felt that way. Totally debased. "Nasty."
He wiped his fingers on your inner thighs and stood up, “Awful. I bet you actually wanna cum again, even after all that.” He stepped forward, and his boot came down, pressing to your bare and inflamed cunt. You sucked in a hard breath, staring up into the soulless eyes of that mask. “Am I right?” he asked, and your eyes were wide and the one from behind asked.
“C’mon. Answer him.” You shook your head, and he scoffed, grinding his boot down, and you moaned, you actually moaned, and he said, “You’re a liar too!”
You were. Your hips tilted up involuntarily, desperate for more, and he ground down again, leaning forward, forearm rested on his knee as he looked you over, how you writhed in his companion's grip, painted in sweat, blood, dirt, cum and piss, just what a mess. And just when you started rocking your hips, trying to grind back on him, hump his boot, he pulled back. “That’s enough.”
Arms came from around you, and you were unceremoniously dropped back into the pool of bodily fluids soaking the dirt below. “Let’s go. I’d rather not associate with someone so…” You looked up, both staring down at you, and he finished the thought, “Fucked up.” They walked away and as you listened to the sound of crunching leaves and snapping twigs, you started to cry. Pulling your legs up into your chest, sobbing but not moving, lying in your own disgust. Unable to pull yourself away, they were right, you were so fucked. The idea that these two, who literally chased you, threatened you, fucked you and used you like a cum rag, found YOU to be the fucked up one? God, it made your cunt clench around nothing, made you drip and ache more and THAT made you cry all the harder into the cold evening air.