“Take your medicine,” he said, using his fingers to catch the drips that had streaked down my chin. He pushed his fingers into my mouth, forcing me to lick them clean. “Every drop.” He pressed his fingers so deep into my mouth that I gagged, my chest lurching. My moment of weakness gave him new inspiration. He kept his fingers there, hooked deep into my mouth and pressing on the back of my tongue. “Don’t throw up on me now, girl.”

“Control yourself, Jessica,” Manson ordered, tucking his cock away. Every muscle in my throat demanded I gag again, my muscles convulsing. I was shaking all over as Vincent reached through the open window, gave my ass a smack, and then sunk his fingers inside me.

He thrust into me with a quick steady rhythm, fingers slick with my arousal as Jason kept pleasuring me with his tongue. But the stimulation was far too brief. Vincent pulled his hand back and forced his fingers into my mouth beside Lucas’s.

“You like that, don’t you?” Vincent said, saliva dripping from my lips. “You like tasting how wet you are?” Jason groaned against me, and my eyes nearly rolled back.

“That’s a good girl, keep it down,” Manson said.

Finally my mouth was freed, leaving me messy and trembling as Lucas got to his feet and Vincent went back to fingering me.

“Fuck, please…” I keened. The wet sound of his fingers thrusting into me was so humiliatingly loud, as were my gasping breaths. I wanted to curl up at their feet. I wanted to cry, scream, and kick with abandon. “Please, please, please, I’m sorry, I’ll be good!”

“I’ve heard that one before,” Manson said, the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth.

“No, no, please, I mean it, I really mean it, please!” I was certain I wouldn’t be sitting down for the rest of the week, but I needed this orgasm so damn badly that I sobbed. “God, Jason, please don’t stop, please…”

Manson seized my face. “When you call to your God, you’d better look at him,” he said. I shuddered, the heat in my abdomen becoming a throbbing inferno as I realized what he meant. There was only one God before me and it was Manson himself.

“God, please.” My voice was tiny, pleading. I was right on the edge. “Please, please, please, let me come, please!”

But Manson’s expression was merciless. Vincent was chuckling at my pleading, an utterly sadistic sound that drenched me in shame again. Dignity? What dignity? That was out the window, long gone, an extinct species. My brain was latched on to one thing, and one thing only — somehow managing to orgasm before Manson cut me off.