The Gilden Age

The master bedroom was cold, the air conditioning humming aggressively against Jessica’s bare, sweating skin. She was strapped to a heavy oak chair in the center of the room, her legs forced open, her wrists bound behind her back. She was completely naked, exposed to the sterile judgment of the room.

Dimitri stood over her, holding a piercing needle. He wasn’t wearing gloves.

"Hold still, little champion," he sneered, grabbing Jessica’s left nipple. He twisted it cruelly, forcing it to bead up into a hard nub. "This is going to hurt. But pain focuses the mind, doesn't it?"

Jessica whimpered, tears streaming down her face, but she couldn't move. She watched, paralyzed by fear and a dark, twisted anticipation, as Dimitri lined up the needle. He didn't hesitate. He drove the steel through her sensitive flesh with a brutal efficiency.

Jessica screamed, her back arching off the chair, the pain blinding and sharp. But before the scream could fade, Dimitri was grabbing the right nipple. The second piercing was worse than the first, a fresh wave of agony that made her vision swim.

"Beautiful," Dimitri said, admiring the fresh silver barbells now weighing down her breasts. "Now you're decorated. Now you're owned."

Through the haze of pain, Jessica’s eyes were drawn to the massive screen on the wall. It was a live feed from the Velvet Gavel.

Natalia was on the main stage, surrounded by the entire men's swim team. She wasn’t just dancing; she was being used. They had her bent over the pole, one cock in her mouth, another pounding into her pussy from behind, while a third waited for his turn.

But what broke Jessica’s heart—and inflamed the sick, burning jealousy in her gut—was the look on Natalia’s face. Her eyes were rolled back, her mouth stretched in a wide, ecstatic grin. She wasn’t just enduring it; she was reveling in it. She was moaning around the shaft in her throat, her hands reaching back to pull the boy fucking her deeper into her.

She likes it, Jessica thought, the jealousy a bitter taste in her mouth. She's getting what I need. She's being the team slut.

The sound of rhythmic slapping drew Jessica’s attention away from the screen. On the bed, just a few feet away, Trent was balls-deep in his mother's ass.

Veronica was on all fours, her face turned toward Jessica. She wasn't sobbing anymore. Her eyes were glazed over, dilated with a mixture of drugs and lust. Her mouth hung open, her tongue lolling out as her son pistoned in and out of her.

"Yes, Trent! Yes!" Veronica screamed, her voice ragged. "Fuck Mommy's ass! It’s yours! It’s all yours!"

She pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts with a desperate enthusiasm, her body trembling not from pain, but from the sheer depravity of the act. She was loving it. She was getting off on being used by her own son.

"You see that, Jessica?" Trent grunted, sweat dripping down his face. He slapped Veronica’s ass hard, leaving a red handprint on her pale skin, but Veronica only moaned louder. "This is what happens to women who know their place. They get to be useful. They get to feel good."

Dimitri, finished with Jessica’s piercings, wiped his hands on a towel and walked over to the bed. He climbed up in front of Veronica, his cock already hard.

"Open up, Veronica," Dimitri commanded.

Veronica didn't hesitate. She opened her mouth wide, eager for the second cock. Dimitri shoved himself inside, cutting off her moans and turning them into muffled gags.

Now Veronica was the centerpiece, a spit-roast between husband and son. They established a rhythm, Trent driving into her ass while Dimitri fucked her throat. Her body jerked back and forth between them, a vessel for their pleasure.

Jessica sat tied to the chair, her chest heaving, the pain in her nipples radiating through her chest. On the screen, Natalia was taking two cocks at once, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated bliss. On the bed, Veronica was being used by the two men who controlled her life, and she was thanking them for it.

Jessica was the only one not being touched. The silence of her own body was the loudest thing in the room. She was the champion, the investment, the future. But as she watched the live stream of her stepsister being gang-raped and her mentor being double-teamed by her husband and son, all she could think was:

Why am I not enough?