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Fallen Star Issue #9 – Sudden Departure

Updated: Apr 27

When Lira first awoke to her true power, she’d imagined going off to live in some fancy high rise apartment somewhere. Or a big mansion with a huge lawn. Or a place right next to the beach. Somewhere like Serafini’s penthouse, if she’d known that places like that even existed back then. The progression had seemed simple: power leads to money leads to luxury.

She had never imagined living in an abandoned basement apartment in South Chicago.

It was part of an old boardinghouse that had been condemned due to fire damage long ago. There were signs all over it announcing plans to tear the place down, but they must have fallen through, because a decade after being condemned, the building still stood and the signs were gathering dust. Lira and her crew weren’t the first squatters to call it home, but they were the only ones at the present: the rainbow haired girl didn’t like neighbors, and there were some things that a bit of power could accomplish easily.

“Grab your stuff,” Lira ordered the others. “We’re not staying.” Flint and Grace nodded and started gathering their things. Serafini’s men were probably already interrogating Kell about their whereabouts, and loyalty had never been his strong suit. Serafini had more than enough influence to have eyes on a place like this 24/7, so they’d never be able to risk coming back. This was the last time it would be safe to be here, in the few minutes before Kell ran his mouth.

It wasn’t a large apartment by anyone’s standards, and four people had made for a very cramped living situation. There was the main room, where Flint and Kell slept on couches. The sole bedroom, which Grace had insisted on claiming for herself, saying that she refused to sleep without a locked door between her and Kell (Lira couldn’t blame her for that). The one bathroom. And the sub-basement where Lira slept. It was accessible by a trapdoor set in the floor of the main room, and it was strictly off limits to anyone but her. It was almost as small as the bathroom and reeked of mold, but it was hers.

She went down there to collect her things while Grace and Flint were busy. There wasn’t much to collect: some clothes, the cash savings she’d hidden behind a loose brick, her hair dyes. She’d brought a duffel bag with her, and she put the cash in first, then covered it up with everything else. She trusted the other two more than anyone else in the world, but that only meant she trusted them slightly farther than she could throw them instead of slightly less.. There was no such thing as honor among thieves.

She heard the apartment door open upstairs. That would be Flint, leaving to bring the car around. They’d parked several blocks away just in case they were being followed. Lira wasn’t going to take any chances. Serafini was just another rich piece of shit, but she’d heard of Backdraft. Everyone had. He’d made a name for himself as a serial rapist. He wasn’t like the kind of supervillain they showed on TV who’d crow about world domination or go around robbing banks. He just took what he wanted, whenever he wanted. Like Lira, he understood how the world really worked.

Years ago, he’d appeared on the scene after a speeding ticket of all things. He’d liked the look of the cop who ticketed him, so he’d turned her car to scrap and taken her home. There had been a manhunt for her, but she wasn’t found until a month later, when she literally crawled into her old police precinct naked, burnt, and wearing a dog collar. The cops had tried to hush up the details, but pictures had been leaked and everything about her condition became common knowledge, including the fact that she’d shown up with her police baton wedged in her ass.

That was his sort of MO. He liked kidnapping and breaking women. A random passerby on the street that caught his eye, a celebrity in town for a film shoot, the daughter of the city councilman who’d held a press conference about hunting him down. He didn’t stalk around or make plans. He’d just find them, take them, and kill whoever got in his way. There’d been a video taken by a random bystander that had made the rounds for a while, where Backdraft had done exactly that, right on a crowded street. He’d punched the victim in the face, burned her clothes off along with half of her hair, and physically dragged her away by one leg. A couple good Samaritans had tried to stop him, and were reduced to ashes for their efforts. The video ended with the gathered crowd parting for him, letting him just walk away with the screaming, sobbing woman in tow.

The women always came back, eventually, mostly. Like his first victim, they were forever changed by the experience. The random passerby had been escorted back to her house weeks later so that she could suck and fuck him in front of her husband and children. He’d made the man help him double team his wife, and then forced the two of them to whore her out on the streets. For a week, Backdraft had lived in their house, using their children as hostages, while the wife and husband played the role of prostitute and pimp, bringing back random strangers to fuck her on their marriage bed for pennies.

The actress had been the most high profile kidnapping. He’d made her film all sorts of hardcore porn while she was with him: bestiality, scat, knife play, and worse. She’d turned up in Millennium Park one day, bound to one of the Crown Fountain towers, with a URL tattooed on her forehead and as many flash drives as he’d been able to stuff up her pussy and asshole. The website had eventually been taken down, and the police tried to confiscate all the flash drives, but every one of her videos could still be found at a hundred different porn sites these days.

The city councilman had received daily updates on the rape of his daughter from Backdraft. Every day there would be a new letter in the mail, with photos and recordings of what he’d just done with her. Frequently there would be a quiz embedded in one of the recordings or hidden in a photo, with questions like “How many times did I cum in your daughter’s ass over the last week?” or “Which have I fed your daughter more often: dog piss or dog cum?” The councilman had to go on television and answer the questions correctly as part of a public statement, or else the next letter in the mail would contain a piece of his daughter. She’d been missing three fingers and six toes by the time a garbageman found her half dead in a dumpster one morning.

There were others, many others over the years. When Frost finally managed to find and capture him, it had been in the newspapers for weeks. Lira had still been blind back then, and as dazzled by the woman as everyone else. She knew better now, but still, as she made a final sweep of her room and zipped up her duffel bag, she kept remembering that she’d abandoned Frost to that man. What would he do to her…? Lira shook her head. No, that wasn’t her fault, and it wasn’t her problem. Frost only had herself to blame for going around pretending to be a hero. She deserved what she got, even if… she deserved what she got.

The door to the sub-basement opened above her, and someone began to climb down. “Hey!” Lira shouted angrily, happy to have a distraction. “Get the fuck out of here! Just because we’re about to bail doesn’t mean you… can…”

“Doesn’t mean I can what?” Backdraft asked as he let go of the ladder and dropped the rest of the way. The bald man turned and faced her, a sick grin on his face. “Sorry, street rat, am I violating your privacy? Penetrating your inner sanctum?” His grin grew. “What can I say? Old habits die hard.”

Panic rose up in Lira’s throat, but she fought it down as she called upon her power, letting it fill her entire body. This wasn’t the penthouse, where she’d been running on empty. Enough time had passed for her to recover, and right now she’d never felt stronger. She swung a fist at the man’s head, looking to wipe that smirk off his face.

He was quicker than he looked though, and she struck only air as he slipped to the side. “A real feisty one, yeah?” he said, amused. “Good, I love them feisty.” He stretched a hand towards her, but not for a punch. A line of pure fire shot out of his palm. Lira raised an arm to block, and the flame wrapped itself around her limb like a whip. Even with her power protecting her, the lash was burning hot to her skin, and Lira cried out as he swept his hand to the side, tugging her off her feet and slamming her into the wall. He swept his hand the other way to bash her against the opposite wall next, but she pushed against the movement with her power and managed to keep her feet. She brought her free hand down on the taut fire whip between them, snapping the lash in two. The severed end around her arm faded away like smoke.

This was Backdraft’s power, what had let him run rampant in Chicago for so long. Not only could he generate fire that he himself was immune to, he could mold and manipulate it like a physical object, letting him perform amazing feats of strength that defied physics. He favored whips, but he’d been known to make weapons like swords and sledgehammers too, or even wrap himself in his own flames as armor. He’d killed Justiciar that way, the last major superhero to try and bring him down before Frost. Justiciar had been a rising star with a reputation for being undefeated, until Backdraft gave him a bear hug that transformed the man into a charred corpse.

His flame’s only weakness was that it had to remain in contact with his own body. Sever the connection and it would die. That was how Frost had defeated him years ago, summoning blades and spikes of ice to foil his every attack. Lira didn’t have anything like that, but she had enough raw strength to break his flames with her bare hands, and while touching them would hurt like hell, her power could prevent them from actually burning her. That would have to be enough.

Backdraft’s flame hadn’t just caused her physical pain, it had also made her heart race and her stomach queasy. The difference between his power and her stepfather’s was a mountain and an anthill, but they were similar enough to awaken old memories. Just being in close proximity to the man was emotionally excruciating, and knowing that given the chance he would treat her just like Randall had, only worse, didn’t help. She did her best to channel her fear into action, but she was all too capable of being motivated and terrified at the same time.

If Lira’s resistance to his fire bothered the man, he didn’t show it. If anything, he looked more pleased than ever. He extended his arm at her again, and this time she didn’t try to block the lash. She ducked beneath it instead and closed the distance between them with a couple quick steps, aiming her second punch at his solar plexus. She had to stay up close, where her superior strength and speed would give her an edge.

Backdraft brought his hand up, and a great wall of fire larger and wider than he was sprang up to block her attack. Punching the wall felt like sticking her fist into a pot of boiling water. Lira gritted her teeth and swung again, her second blow shattering the flame barrier. As the broken wall faded away, she realized too late that she’d walked right into his trap.

The bald man’s other hand, hidden by the wall, was already sweeping towards her, another lash of fire emerging from it. Lira couldn’t halt her momentum in time to avoid it, and it wrapped around her neck, burning and choking her at the same time. She screamed at the sudden and intense pain, and instinctively brought both of her hands up to claw it away, but he’d anticipated that. He extended his other arm, the one that had been generating the barrier a moment ago, and a second flame whip wound around both her wrists to pin them together. He hauled with both arms, and slammed her into the wall again.

“That’s the problem with street rats,” he observed as he smashed her into the opposite wall. Lira tried to bring her bound hands up to her neck to to break the whip, but he tugged them away, and the lack of oxygen made her too weak to beat him in a test of strength. She poured more energy into her limbs, but she was quickly running through her reserve just trying to keep the man from burning her alive. “You give them a little smidgen of power, and they start getting all the wrong ideas.” Two more whips shot from his hands, one wrapping around her knees and the other around her upper arms and chest. He swung her back and forth repeatedly, bouncing her off the walls of her room like a pinball. “Start thinking they’re people.”

After a minute of torture and suffocation, Lira hung limply in her bonds, all of her strength gone and her vision growing dark. Her remaining power was holding back the flames, but nothing more, and her body was growing more bruised and bloody with every hard impact. Just before she lost consciousness completely, the flame whips vanished and she fell to the floor with a bone jarring thud. She gasped for breath and tried to rise, but her limbs wouldn’t obey her.

“Boy told me about your little ability,” said Backdraft, looming over her. “Sounded perfect. Usually I have to go easy on you whores, not start burning you until you’re too worn out to be worth fucking, but you?” He snapped his arm down, and a lash of fire struck her left ass cheek, producing a choked cry of pain. “You get to enjoy the full package.” He whipped her ass a second time. “On the bed, street rat. Let’s find out if that pussy is any good.”

“Fuck you,” Lira spat, and cried out as he whipped her again.

“That’s the plan,” he agreed. “But take your time, whore. This part’s my favorite.” His fire was a cudgel this time as it slammed into her back, making her limbs give out and sending her sprawling. “The time when you realize everyone’s been lying to you your whole life. Making you think you’re special and important, that what’s going on inside your head could ever matter to anyone.” The cudgel struck her left hand, and she screamed as two of her fingers broke with a sickening crunch. “But this is all you are and all you’ll ever be. You’re nothing but tits and holes, street rat, and I’m gonna keep going until you accept that.”

Lira wept hot tears of frustration as he continued torturing her with his flames. She was supposed to be past this! People weren’t supposed to ever be able to step on her like this again! She poured everything she had into her power, yelling at herself to get up and keep fighting, and then howled as what felt like a hot poker jabbed into her ass cheek, twisting and digging. :”Tits and holes,” Backdraft reminded her, and she squealed as a second poker jabbed her other cheek. He dragged both solid flames across her skin, spreading the hot agony. “Admit that’s all you are, and I’ll let you take a break for some hard fucking.”

Her power… couldn’t save her here. Lira felt something die inside of her with that realization. The ability that she’d been so proud of didn’t mean anything against someone with true strength like Backdraft. It was just a gimmick in the end, little better than her ability to glow. She’d been wrong: she was still one of the weak, helpless people, and always would be. She was still just that pathetic girl squashed beneath her stepfather as he grunted and pumped, and she’d been an idiot for ever thinking she could be anything more. “Tits and holes!” she yelled. “I’m, I’m just tits and holes!”

The pokers vanished. “Good timing, whore,” Backdraft said. “I just finished your new artwork. That skin of yours is tough, but everything burns if you’re patient enough.” Lira remained face down on the ground, making no attempt to rise or resist, as the bald man took out his phone and snapped some pictures. When he was done, he crouched and showed her the screen. Her entire ass was a patchwork of welts from the whip by now, but there were lines and swirls of dark burn scars on both cheeks, forming crude letters between them: WORTHLESS. “There you go,” he said cheerfully. “You ever start getting ideas above your station…” He slapped her ass with his bare hand, and the impact on her burnt and torn flesh made her cry out in pain. “You just remember what I wrote here.”

He stood back up and nudged her roughly with a boot. “Right then, ready for some pussy pounding, or should I write more love letters on you?”

Lira forced herself up onto her feet, feeling very small and alone as he pushed her towards her bed. He had her stand by the foot of it and bend over, her face pressed into the sheets as his unseen hands began to grope her. “Not a virgin, I see,” he observed, tugging at her labia to inspect her pussy. There was something intensely dehumanizing about the casual way he ran his hands over her. She was worth even less in his eyes than she’d been in Randall’s: no one particularly special or noteworthy, just another new toy to play with. “Shame, nothing quite like your first. But I’ll see if I can be as memorable, yeah?” She heard him removing his pants, and then something hot and hard poked her slit, making her flinch. “Welcome me in, whore,” he demanded. When she didn’t immediately move, he slapped her ass again. “Well? You still need some attitude adjustment then?”

“I-I don’t know what you want!” Lira protested, hating the terrified whine in her voice. Randall had never wanted her to be an active participant when she was with him. He’d just wanted a living blow-up doll, a girl that remained quiet and still and glowing while he masturbated himself with her insides.

Backdraft seemed to understand, because he just chuckled, his anger dissipating. “Then I bet I’m gonna have to teach you all sorts of things, street rat. Lesson number one: my hands have better things to do than touch your dirty, slutty cunt lips. Reach your hands back and spread yourself open for me.” Lira’s cheeks brightened with shame, but she obeyed, finding her labia and pulling them apart. The bald man wasted no time pushing himself into the opening she was offering, and the rainbow haired girl gasped as his prick sank into her. She’d had nobody in there since Randall a year ago, and Backdraft was longer and thicker than her stepfather had been. She was bone dry, but that seemed to be no deterrent to him.

“Nice and warm, nice and tight,” he said once he was completely inside her. “Good. There’s nothing more useless than a girl without a decent fuckhole between her legs.. Now rock your hips. Slide this hungry cunt of yours back and forth on my cock.”

Lira tried to do what he wanted, but it was an unfamiliar motion, and she was still exhausted and sore. After a couple minutes of her clumsy efforts, Backdraft sighed. “Looks like you need a bit more motivation.” And then she screamed as he stabbed her with a sword of fire.

At least, that’s what it felt like, at first. The pain was so deep and fierce that she was certain she’d been literally impaled on his flame. It was only after a few seconds, and enough agonized howling to make her hoarse, that she realized the truth. “Normally the finger alone does the trick,” Backdraft said, twisting the middle finger he’d rammed up her virgin asshole. “But you seem to be an especially stupid whore, so I thought I’d go the extra mile.” It wasn’t his finger that hurt, though it was far from comfortable. It was the column of fire emerging from his fingertip, filling her bowels like molten lava. “I don’t like lazy whores and I don’t like stupid whores, street rat,” he said loudly over her continued screams. “You’re going to have to shape up quick if you want to see tomorrow.”

Lira frantically rocked her hips, putting everything she had into fucking herself on his hard cock. It wasn’t just the horrible agony motivating her. Backdraft didn’t seem to realize that her resistance to his flames wasn’t a passive ability but something that required active effort. She didn’t want to tell him that she was even weaker than he thought, but if her power ran out while his flame was still inside her… she shuddered and fucked him even harder.

“That’s it, street rat,” Backdraft encouraged, sounding amused. “Be a good hole for my cock.”

Lira panted as she worked, perspiration dripping down her face. The fire inside her was heating up her entire body , and the sheets beneath her were already damp with sweat. Her arms ached from the uncomfortable position they were in, but she instinctively knew that trying to remove them would invite more pain, so she kept her hands firmly in place on her cheeks. Backdraft had stopped even twisting his finger once she’d begun moving the way he liked, and the knowledge that he was just standing still while she worked herself to the bone to make him cum made her feel dirty and disgusting. Like she really was exactly what he thought, nothing but a set of tits and holes built to please his cock. Was he even wrong?

“Almost there, whore,” the bald man said, his voice slightly strained. “Now I want to hear how much you love me.”

“I-I love you?” Lira ventured, the words too ridiculous to say with any kind of sincerity. She gasped in pain as the fire in her ass became noticeably hotter. Her power was only barely holding it back now, and it would be gone in seconds.

“Say it like you mean it!” he ordered, furious. “Make me believe that you love me more than anyone in the entire world, whore! Show me that you’re a groveling, whimpering little bitch who can’t live without my cock!”

“I love you!” Lira wailed as she felt her insides starting to cook. “I-I love you so much! And your cock! Oh God, I love you and your cock so much!” She continued screaming declarations of love as his dick began to pulse and swell. He was close, but his fire was still inside her, and the pain in her asshole was diminishing, not because the flame was growing smaller or cooler, but because her nerve endings were being burned away. “I’m yours!” she screamed, desperate to make him finish faster. “I’m your tits and holes! I’m, I’m, I’m your street rat whore!”

Just as she was convinced that it was too late, that she was going to burn alive in her own room with his cock buried in her, he began to unload in her pussy, spraying his hot cum all over her walls, and he withdrew his finger from her asshole, letting the flame dissipate. The rainbow haired girl laid there numbly, more tired than she’d ever been and completely drained of power, as the last few drops of his semen spurted in her.

“Not half bad, whore,” Backdraft said as he pulled out of her. “You might just make a halfway decent fucktoy after all. Now get down here and suck my cock.”

Lira slid limply to the floor, still acutely aware of his jizz inside her, warm and slimy. She itched to go scrub herself clean, but she knew there was no chance of that happening. Instead she rose to her knees and found herself eye level with his soft cock. Even like this it was disturbingly large, and sticky with his cum. It was one of the most disgusting things she’d ever seen, but she opened her mouth and took him in without complaint. He tasted worse than he looked. This was just the way things were meant to be, she told herself, as her tongue began to lap the cum off of him. He was strong, and she was weak. There was no point in feeling sorry for herself.

As she slurped on his filthy prick, she felt the pain in her bowels gradually sharpen. It made her squirm uncomfortably, but it also brought a deep sense of relief: the internal damage hadn’t been too great for her power to heal. It was actually beginning to recede, the nerve endings restored, when she felt Backdraft’s dick began to grow harder and thicker in her mouth. Backdraft pulled out of her and slapped his wet cock against her cheek. “That’s enough of that for now then,” he said. “Just a little taste, whore. You can enjoy the full thing later.”

The bedsprings creaked as he sat down on her bed. “Up on my lap. Let’s find out if your ass is as good as it looks.” A bolt of terror ran through Lira, and a whimper escaped her lips before she could stop it. Her asshole was healing, but it was still completely raw inside, most of the freshly healed nerve endings exposed. If he shoved that thing inside of her now…”please,” she whispered, her voice tiny and weak. “I, I’ll suck your cock as much you want, honest! And I’ll fuck my, my cunt on your cock just the way you like it. So please, please not my ass…”

He chuckled. “So do you still have a virgin hole on you, yeah?” She nodded. “Then I’ll make you a deal, street rat.” He leaned in a little, his voice growing a bit softer. “I can break all your fingers, smash your teeth in, burn those fat tits of yours until they melt, rip off your clit, and then give what’s left of you a good, hard buttfucking… or you can climb onto my lap and do it yourself, like you were fucking told. What’s it gonna be?”

Lira looked into his eyes, and saw only malice and lust looking back at her. She shivered, suddenly certain that he meant what he said. She meant absolutely nothing to him besides what pleasure he could wring out of her body, and he’d mutilate her without hesitation if it would get him what he wanted. As far as he was concerned, she was utterly expendable. Wordlessly she joined him on the bed, sitting in his lap with her back to him. She could feel his cock beneath her as a painfully hard lump against her butt. His hands slid over her breasts, palming them with casual possessiveness. They belonged to him now. “Put it in yourself, whore,” he told her. “It’s been a busy day, and I’d just like to relax and play with your tits while my new fucktoy rapes her own virgin butt.”

Lira shook with fear as she lifted her hips and took hold of his prick with one hand, guiding it to her anal ring. It felt far, far too thick to ever fit as she sat down on it. His cockhead flattened against her opening, and she spread her ass cheeks with her other hand, trying to open the way forward. Backdraft’s thumbs were lightly flicking her nipples when she winced, the head of his too thick cock finally wedged inside her. He felt like a baseball stuffed into a garden hose, and she made a soft sound of pain. Every instinct in her body told her to move away from the source of agony, but she had to close her eyes and press against it instead, using gravity to assist her. Progress was torturously slow as she shifted her hips this way and that, battling her own asshole for every millimeter of progress. All the while, the bald man groped and pinched and squeezed her tits, seemingly fascinated by the soft flesh.

It felt like hours passed before her hips made contact with his legs, and his fat prick was fully seated inside her. She could feel every vein and hair on the filthy thing, and every little twitch felt like someone trying to rip her in two. Her entire rectum burned from the way his head had scraped the raw flesh on its way in, and the heat of her battered walls nearly rivaled the literal flame that had been inside her a short time ago. Lira knew that she had to lift herself up now, but she couldn’t work up the will to do it. Now that the entire thing was buried inside her, the only thing worse than leaving it in was having to get it all back out.

“Credit where credit’s due, street rat,” Backdraft told her. “These aren’t the first virgin guts my cock has explored, but the way they hug my shaft is as warm a welcome as I’ve ever received. But…” she went rigid as he coated his hands with fire and resumed groping her, “it’s going to feel even better and more welcoming when it’s massaging my prick. Get moving.”

His scorching hot fingers dug brutally into her flesh while his equally blazing palms made her nipples sizzle. Lira screamed and squirmed, trying to escape his grip, but that only made him tighten his grasp and burn her more severely. For several seconds she just howled helplessly, his laughter reminding her that all of her pain was helping make him feel good. There was only one way to make the torture stop, and the rainbow haired girl took it, forcing her body to rise back up. It was a million times harder than putting it in had been; gravity was now working against her, and her abraded flesh was swelling up, shrinking the already tight anal passage. But she didn’t have a choice. Lira cried out freely, tears running down her face, as she dragged herself off of his cock, the process as agonizingly slow as it had been the other way.

When only the head remained inside her, Backdraft told her to stop. “Time to go back down, whore.” Lira was openly sobbing by now, and inside her head she cursed and screamed. It wasn’t Backdraft she was angry at, though. She was pathetic! Thinking she could be anything more than a sniveling weakling! This was what she deserved for forgetting her place! Thoughts like those rampaged through her mind, and in that moment the bald man’s treatment of her seemed like the most natural thing in the world. She was just worthless trash, after all. If someone like him, someone who was allowed to be a real person, could find a way to get some use out of her, she should be thanking him for it. ‘Just tits and holes’? He was being generous with her.

Lowering herself onto his cock the second time hurt worse than the first. So did lifting herself back up. And the third was worse than the second, and the fourth was worse than the third… each time she forced the fat ugly thing into or out of her, she injured her rectum further for the next time. But Backdraft kept her going, cruelly pushing her ever onward with his flames. Just as her asshole hurt more and more as time went on, his treatment became worse and worse, her hands hotter and more aggressive. Eventually he got sick of only torturing her tits and began using one hand to play with her cunt too, caressing her tattered insides with fire and making her howl for mercy. “I love you!” she pleaded, half mad and desperate to making him finish. “Your street rat loves you! Her asshole loves you! All of her tits and holes love you! She loves being buttfucked!”

When he pressed a searingly hot thumb against her clitoris, the agony was so intense that she lost control of her bladder, spraying urine all over her bedsheets. Backdraft roared with laughter at the sight. “You little anal slut! It feels so good that you’re pissing yourself?!”

“Yes!” she agreed, her own words making her feel like rancid garbage. “Yes! This street rat whore is an anal slut! She, she needs your cum in her shithole!” The way his cock pulsed told her that her words were having an effect, and she threw herself into them, abandoning her dignity for the sake of survival. “I’m just a worthless whore! A worthless whore who can’t live without your cock! Can’t live without your hot cum! Please let me taste it! Let me feel it spurting in the tight virgin guts you love so much! Oh God! Oh God! I love you!”

It was all too much. Too much pain, too much humiliation. It was swallowing her whole. Lira could feel herself fading, becoming the empty doll she’d been for Randall. Just property to be used. She welcomed the return, eager to forget everything that had happened over the last year and find comfort in oblivion. She’d made the mistake of thinking she could be a person, of allowing herself hope that she could find happiness. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. She would seal herself away where nothing could hurt her.

Lira left.

The bald man groaned as his twitching cock erupted with cum. The salty juice soaked into the bleeding rectum of the girl in his lap, and she shrieked at the new pain. He stopped torturing her tits and cunt, but the rainbow haired girl continued breathlessly degrading herself and declaring her love for him while his cock softened. It was what he would want. “Thank you! Thank you! I love your cum so much! It feels so wonderful in my ass! Your whore doesn’t deserve such a reward!”

“You pitiful street rat,” said Backdraft. “You know, the boy said you’d give us trouble. Claimed you were tough as nails. What a fucking joke! I haven’t even finished checking out all your holes yet, and you’re already a broken, weeping bitch. I’ve never seen anyone so weak. So perfectly suited to be a fucktoy.”

“Yes sir,” she agreed. She knew he was right. “I’m just a fucktoy.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said mockingly. “You’re not just a fucktoy.” More hot liquid gushed into her stinging bowels “You make a good toilet too.”

“Thank you sir,” the rainbow haired girl said as he pissed in her guts. She meant it. “Thank you for letting me be your toilet.”

A few minutes later, the girl knelt in front of him, carefully cleaning his cock with her tongue. As ordered, her hands were behind her, cupping her gaping asshole to keep his fluids inside of her. She tasted her own shit and blood on him along with his piss and cum, but she didn’t even think about complaining. She belonged to him now, and if he wanted to use her mouth to wash his filthy dick, who was she to argue? “Balls too,” he said. You got some of your piss on them.” She obediently lowered her head so she could lick the sweat and urine off of his balls. Once they were slick and shiny with her spit, she returned her attention to his dick.

When she had cleaned every last trace of anal sex off of him, she continued sucking. After a minute, he began to stiffen again in her mouth. A tiny, quickly dwindling part of her viewed his revival with dread, knowing it meant she was about to be raped again, but most of her was indifferent, if not grateful: he wanted to use her again. Even someone as pathetic as her could find a place in the world as a fucktoy and toilet.

“One last hole to try, rainbow slut,” Backdraft told her. “Get that cock down your throat.”

It hurt to do what he’d asked, but that didn’t matter. He still tasted disgusting even after being cleaned, but that didn’t matter. She felt humiliated swallowing a cock that was still warm from her ass, but that didn’t matter. She forced her head down deeper, dismissing everything that didn’t matter as useless noise.

Once half of his cock was inside her, the rainbow haired girl couldn’t breathe, but that didn’t matter. Her sore throat didn’t matter. Her tears didn’t matter. Her gagging didn’t matter. She forced her head down deeper.

He was all the way in. Her tongue on the base of his shaft. Her nose in his pubic hair. His cockhead deep in her esophagus. Her lungs screaming for relief. She pulled back, letting it all come out slowly. Feeling his head travel back up her esophagus, his shaft slide across her tongue and lips. More pain, more disgust, more humiliation, all discarded. His head cradled in her mouth, her seared chest heaving as her lungs drew in air.

She slammed her head back down, producing a wet gurgle. All the way back to the base. Soreness, gagging, tears, suffocation. She drew back. Again. Again. Again.

The rainbow haired girl threw up. It didn’t matter.

Again. Again. Again. Spit and precum bubbling out her lips, snot and tears covering her face. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. The taste of her vomit on his shaft. The pulsing of his head in her throat. His coarse pubes against her nose and lips. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Gagging, choking, hurting, sobbing, but never stopping. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Muffled words of love, of degradation, of despair and submission. All unintelligible, but the words themselves mattered as little as everything else. Again. Again. Again. Again.

His head swelled, fat and painful inside her, and sperm shot down the rainbow haired girl’s throat. She continue mindlessly fucking her throat on him as he spurted, and when his stream slowed a trickle, she sucked the last drops from the tip. Her tongue cleaned the vomit off of him, then moved on to where it had spilled onto the bed. She licked the filthy sheets, tasting sweat and urine now too. Relief. Disgust. Humiliation. All ignored.

“Won’t be needing these anytime soon,” Backdraft commented, tossing her clothes out of the duffel bag while she continued cleaning the bed of everything they’d left behind. “Don’t mind keeping this though.” Her life savings went into his back pocket. “Ah, here’s the thing.” He pulled a brightly colored sock out of her bag and tossed it at her. “Here, to keep all that piss and cum in you so you’ll still be nice and juicy next go-round.” The sock was scratchy against her flesh as she crammed it into her bowels, and the thought of having his urine and semen in her was vile, but the rainbow haired girl gave no reaction.

He could have just ordered her to climb up the ladder, but he wanted to drag her instead. Bound in ropes of fire, she was hauled up into the main room of the apartment. Through the open door to the bedroom, the rainbow haired girl saw Grace on the bed, sandwiched between two men, four others standing nearby and smoking while they waited their turn. She observed the red haired girl’s plight with clinical detachment, ignoring any emotions triggered by the sight of her closest friend in the world being raped.

Her wrists were together and bound to the headboard. Her legs were apart and bound to the bed posts. All four limbs were bloody from struggling, but she was still twisting them, uselessly expending energy and hurting herself further. The man beneath her was using her ass and squeezing her tits. More blood ran out her anus as he furiously pounded her, and her nipples were red and sore from the attention they’d been receiving. The man above her was using her cunt and kissing her. Her insides were already full of cum, and drops of it spurted around his cock with every thrust while he attacked her mouth with his tongue, violating her oral cavity every bit as aggressively as her cunt. Her sheets and legs were coated with more sperm, some of it already drying; it had to be at least the tenth time she’d been raped. Grace was crying.

Flint was dead.

His burnt body was on the floor next to the exit. Most of him was blackened beyond recognition, but there was enough of his face left for the rainbow haired girl to identify the expression of terror he’d worn when he died. He was one of the only people who’d ever been kind to her. He’d trusted her. If she was capable of feeling emotion, she would have felt back breaking despair and grief at how she’d failed him.

“You want to try the ginger bitch, sir?” asked one of the smokers. “She’s a bit sloppy by now, but they’re still good holes, and we left her mouth alone in case you wanted a go at it.”

“Nah, this whore already drained my balls good,” said Backdraft, slinging the rainbow haired girl over his shoulder like she weighed nothing. “And I need to save some up for Fela. Didn’t get to fuck the ice cunt more than once before we left, after all. Cleanup crew will be here in a few hours, so you stay here and keep enjoying yourselves until they show up. If that street rat is still alive when you’re done with her, send her to the boss. Mr Serafini likes red heads.”

“Yes, sir.”

The bald man patted the sock stuffed in the girl’s ass. “Tell him I took the rainbow slut as my commission. If he needs me, I’ll be home playing with my new toys.” If she’d possessed any will or emotions, she would have screamed and begged the men to have mercy and kill her as he carried her out of the apartment. But luckily, there was no one left in her head to care.

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