"Liv's New Bitch" with Liv Morgan and Roxanne Perez

[TheLW]

Liv's New Bitch #1
With Liv Morgan and Roxanne Perez
Written by TheLW
Codes: FF, Oral, Spanking, Strap-on
Disclaimer: This FICTIONAL story was written for entertainment purposes only.

On May 19th, 2025, Monday Night Raw went live from the Bon Secours Wellness Arena in Greenville, South Carolina, and the building carried the familiar electricity of a crowd that knew something consequential was unfolding, even if they could not yet name it. Red lights washed over the entrance ramp in slow pulses, and the roar of the audience rose and fell in waves as the broadcast moved deeper into the night. This was not a throwaway episode, and the people in attendance sensed it instinctively.

When Finn Bálor’s music hit, the reaction was immediate and divided, cheers tangled with boos, admiration clashing with resentment. He emerged with the unhurried confidence of a man who believed the ring belonged to him by right, flanked by the ominous presence that had come to define The Judgment Day. Raquel Rodriguez, JD McDonagh, Liv Morgan, and Dominik Mysterio followed, their collective body language projecting control, cohesion, and a menacing vibe.

Then there was Roxanne Perez.

She stepped onto the stage a half-beat behind Finn, smaller than the others, younger, and visibly out of place in a way that could not be hidden by posture alone. The contrast was evident. Roxanne’s expression was composed, but her eyes moved constantly, taking in the crowd, the lights, the faces beside her. This was not fear, exactly. It was awareness. She understood the significance of standing there, understood what it meant to be seen next to them, and she also understood how quickly the same spotlight could turn unforgiving.

Finn spoke at length in the ring, his words measured and purposeful. He talked about evolution, about dominance, about recognizing potential before the rest of the world caught up. When he gestured toward Roxanne, the crowd reacted sharply, surprise rippling through the arena. Finn framed her as an opportunity, a future asset, someone who embodied the hunger and edge that Judgment Day demanded. He did not promise anything outright. Finn never did. He implied, and implication was far more dangerous.

The others reacted in their own ways. Raquel Rodriguez watched Roxanne with a skeptical calm, arms crossed, unreadable. JD McDonagh gave her a brief nod, analytical and already calculating the angles. Dominik stood close to Liv Morgan, his attention split between the ring and the audience, visibly less invested in the moment than the tension surrounding it suggested. Liv, however, said nothing. She simply stared.

When the segment ended and the group dispersed backstage, the arena noise faded into a distant hum, replaced by the sterile quiet of concrete corridors and production equipment. One by one, the members of Judgment Day peeled away, pulled in different directions by interviews, matches, and obligations that came with being at the center of the show.

Roxanne found herself standing still.

She realized it a second too late, by the time she turned, she was alone with Liv Morgan.

Liv did not hesitate. She stepped forward, closing the space between them with calculated precision, her presence sharp and invasive. Up close, her smile was thin, practiced, and entirely without warmth. She looked Roxanne up and down slowly, deliberately, as though assessing merchandise rather than a person.

“So,” Liv said, her voice low and cutting, “you really think you’re Judgment Day material?”

Roxanne held her ground, but the shift in power was unmistakable. This was no longer a public-facing moment with cameras and scripts. This was private, and Liv thrived in private confrontations. She leaned in closer, forcing Roxanne to meet her gaze.

“Let me make something very clear,” Liv continued, her tone dripping with condescension. “This isn’t Finn’s call. Not really. You don’t just walk into this group because one guy thinks you’re shiny and new.”

Roxanne said nothing, her jaw tightening slightly.

Liv smirked, encouraged by the silence. “You want in? You get voted in. Every single one of us has to say yes.”

She straightened, crossing her arms. “Sure, you’d get Finn’s vote. JD’s too, he follows Finn around like a lost puppy. But don’t get comfortable.”

Her eyes narrowed, and the smile vanished.

“My best friend Raquel?” Liv said flatly. “She’s not voting for you. And my boyfriend?” She glanced down the hallway where Dominik had disappeared. “Dominik won’t either. I promise you that.”

Liv stepped back at last, satisfied she had delivered the message. “So don’t start imagining yourself wearing our colors. Because this little audition?” She shrugged. “It’s already over.”

With that, Liv turned and walked away, leaving Roxanne alone in the corridor, the weight of the encounter settling heavily in her chest. The opportunity Finn had dangled now felt sharper, more dangerous than before, less like an invitation, and more like a test designed for her to fail.

Liv had taken only a few steps before she stopped.

She turned back slowly, as if reconsidering something she had already decided against. The silence stretched, and Roxanne felt it before she fully understood it. Liv’s expression had changed, curiosity replacing certainty.

“...That said,” Liv began, her voice quieter now, “things can change.”

Roxanne looked up, cautious. “Change how?”

Liv tilted her head, studying her again, this time with something resembling intrigue. “I have influence,” she said plainly. “More than you think. Raquel listens to me. Dom listens to me. Votes aren’t as locked as I made them sound.”

She stepped closer once more, though this time she didn’t crowd Roxanne, she circled her instead, slow and predatory, like a thought being reconsidered rather than a threat being delivered.

“If I wanted to,” Liv continued, “I could make a convincing case. I could sell them on you. Make them see what Finn claims he already does.”

Roxanne’s heartbeat quickened. “And why would you do that?”

Liv stopped directly in front of her. “Because I don’t bring just anyone into my group,” she said. “I need to know exactly what I’m dealing with.”

She leaned in just enough that Roxanne could hear her clearly over the distant noise of the arena. “So here’s the condition.”

Roxanne didn’t interrupt.

“You meet me at my hotel tonight. After the show,” Liv said. “No cameras. No Judgment Day. Just you and me.”

Roxanne frowned slightly. “For what?”

Liv’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. “Consider it a private initiation.”

There was a brief pause, just long enough for the implications to settle, unclear, unsettling, and very much intentional.

“What kind of initiation?” Roxanne asked carefully.

Liv straightened, already stepping back, the moment firmly back under her control. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

With that, she turned and walked away for good this time, leaving Roxanne standing alone once more.

Back at the Hotel, Roxanne stood alone in the hallway, the patterned carpet muffling the sound of her footsteps as she approached the door she had memorized hours earlier.

She hesitated once.

Then she knocked.

A moment passed. Then Liv’s voice cut through the door, sharp and impatient. “It’s open. Come in.”

Roxanne turned the handle and stepped inside.

Liv didn’t greet her, at least not at first. She simply looked her over.

“You actually showed up,” Liv said, a faint smirk forming. “Good. That tells me something.”

Roxanne closed the door behind her, the click echoing louder than it should have. “You said this was the condition.”

“It is,” Liv replied. She stood, and walked closer, with unmistakable authority. “Let’s be clear before this goes any further.”

Roxanne met her eyes. “I’m listening.”

Liv stopped just short of her. “If you want a place in The Judgment Day, tonight isn’t about proving yourself to Finn. Or JD. Or anyone else.”

Her voice dropped, calm but absolute. “Tonight is about proving yourself to me.”

Roxanne stiffened slightly. “And what does that mean?”

Liv smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “It means you understand where you stand. It means you understand who has leverage, and who doesn’t. And it means you’re willing to accept my terms without pretending this is some equal arrangement.”

She tilted her head, eyes never leaving Roxanne’s face. “Because if you walk into our world, you don’t get protection. You get tested.”

A beat passed.

“This is your initiation,” Liv continued. “Private. Unofficial. And entirely on my terms.”

Roxanne swallowed. “What happens if I say no?”

Liv’s smile widened slightly. “Then you walk out of this room, and The Judgment Day moves on without you. Simple.”

“And if I stay?”

Liv stepped back, gesturing toward the room. “Then for tonight Roxy, that Latina ass of yours, belongs to me.”

"And you'll give me your word, that I'll be able to join The Judgment Day?"

"Oh Roxy, you have my word."

It didn’t take long for Roxanne to make her decision, as Liv Morgan would soon find herself laying naked on the bed in her hotel room, as the woman nicknamed The Prodigy was between her thighs eating out the woman who controlled her future, in possibly joining The Judgment Day.

Liv’s thighs surrounded her head, less of a cradle, and more so locking Roxanne in place. No illusion of intimacy here, just a demand. Roxanne could feel Liv’s legs flex, every subtle shift of muscle, and read every twitch, as she lapped away at the blonde haired woman.

Roxanne sucked and licked, sometimes soft and delicate, sometimes with rough, flattening licks, and Liv made a fist in her hair, yanked her back, then pushed her back in for more. She tried, once, to breathe through her nose, but Liv shifted herself upwards, riding Roxanne’s mouth for just an inch more, as if her own pleasure depended on suffocating every last doubt out of Roxanne’s head.

Liv’s thighs quivered around her ears, crushing in, forcing Roxanne’s face deeper. The heat and dampness of it made her jaw ache, the angle relentless, but she let herself fold into the problem, go harder, go sloppier, do whatever the fuck Liv needed and damn the burn on her tongue, her lips, her jaw. Liv let out a sadistic giggle, short and mean, when she realized Roxanne wasn’t going to ease off, wasn’t going to whimper or tap out for mercy.

The taste of Liv was sharp and clean, clinging to Roxanne’s upper lip even when she moved her head just for air. There was no technicality here, no methodical pursuit of spots and rhythms. Liv didn’t want a slow tease or prolonged torture, she wanted to be devoured, now, and Roxanne, well, she’d always been good at taking a cue.

She fixed her tongue to the spot just beneath the clit, a pressure so focused it made Liv’s body jolt. Liv’s hands dug into her hair, hard, and possessive, when Roxanne skimmed her teeth lightly, the grip in her hair became tighter, which was its own kind of answer.

Liv ground herself down, not with the grace of a lover, but with the aggression of a woman who needed this entire scenario to feel like a win on every level. Roxanne made a noise once, and Liv only pressed the Latina wrestler’s face deeper, a wordless command that she could only obey.

Liv’s moan, when it came, was the sound of a body refusing to yield before it absolutely had to. “Right there,” she rasped, her voice crumbling sideways. “That’s the spot. God, keep licking, just like that. Yeah. You don’t fucking stop.”

Roxanne didn’t. She couldn’t. Liv’s grip on her head was unyielding, but it was the note of pride, something Roxanne recognized even through the haze of her own humiliation, that made her push harder with her tongue, drawing frantic circles, then flattening out, then flicking, until she felt Liv’s abs spasm beneath her forearms. Roxanne realized she’d started drooling a little, a wetness dribbling down her chin as she lapped and sucked, the sound obscene and close.

Liv started rocked her hips so hard her pubic bone nearly bruised Roxanne’s nose. “I don’t know if you’re a prodigy in the ring, but you’re definitely one when it comes to eating pussy,” she said, and then she bucked so sharply her knees nearly boxed Roxanne’s ears.

Roxanne’s world centered on the sharp taste of Liv. She barely registered the way Liv’s thighs trembled, the ragged exhale that cut through her, or the way Liv’s hips stuttered and stilled. Every nerve in Roxanne’s body tuned to survival, and what Liv wanted from her next.

Liv’s hands slid from her hair, but not out of mercy. She hooked her fingers beneath Roxanne’s chin, tilting her face up. Roxanne tried to catch her breath, eyes watering, chin slick with spit and arousal.

“Look at you,” Liv purred. “I didn’t expect you’d be this obedient.”

“I’m just doing what you asked.” Roxanne said.

“No, you’re not. You’re doing exactly what I want.”

“What’s next then?” she asked. Every bit of submission she’d shown so far was tactical, and she was in no mood to let Liv think otherwise. She said it flat, challenging, but not outright bratty. That, she suspected, was not the move with Liv.

Liv kept looking at her. “You ever been fucked by a woman before?” Liv’s voice cut the air, as if she already suspected the answer.

Roxanne shook her head, which had to be obvious, considering how rookie her face must’ve looked from between Liv’s thighs. “No.”

“Good,” Liv said. “Means you’ll remember this.”

Liv sat up, shifting her weight so every movement pressed into Roxanne’s skin, she could feel Liv’s cunt, still leaking, over her chin. There was something theatrical in the way Liv licked her own fingers, then smeared the taste across Roxanne’s lips. “Stay.”

Liv stood, unapologetically bare, and crossed the room to a duffel she’d left by the dresser. She moved with a strut that dared Roxanne to look away, though Roxanne didn’t, too stunned and too stubborn not to keep her eyes fixed and level, as if refusing to be cowed by what was about to happen.

The bag zipped open. Rummaging, clatter of plastic and something that thudded, heavy and dull, against the wood. Liv returned, a harness with a strapped on silicone cock, already threaded through her fingers.

Roxanne stepped through the leg straps. Not once breaking eye contact as she buckled herself in, cinched the straps tight with practiced flicks of her wrist, adjusted, then stood with the cock slanting out and up, a shade of pink that didn’t even pretend to be lifelike.

“Get on all fours,” Liv said. “Now.”

Roxanne moved, one knee bouncing on the mattress, then the other, before settling back, legs tucked under, hands at her sides. If Liv was waiting for a sign of resistance, she’d have to be patient. Roxanne could outwait anyone. But Liv wasn’t in a waiting mood.

Liv walked over, still wearing the harness, her hair loose. She climbed onto the bed but stayed kneeling, not looming for the sake of intimidation. She let the silence build.

Liv took her time, made a show of running her fingertips over the cock, up and back until it bobbed under her hand. “Ready?” she asked, but it was moot, Liv didn’t need or want an answer. Roxanne wasn’t sure what ready meant at this point.

Roxanne felt Liv shifting behind her, before Liv pushed her face and chest down into the mattress. Roxanne’s ass tipped up, the humiliation immediate and real.

“Look at you,” Liv said, almost to herself, not with affection but a kind of sick satisfaction. “Stay just like that.

Liv hitched her hips up behind, hand pressed flat on Roxanne’s lower back, and then she nudged the silicone cock down between Roxanne’s legs, the tip gliding over skin. The pressure was sudden and inescapable, cool at first, then burning as the head breached her. Liv didn’t go slow, not even a little, just fuckin’ jammed it in until Roxanne’s whole body kicked forward, her knees scuffing up on the sheet. The shock of it forced a gasp out of her.

Roxanne could feel Liv shifting forward, an arm curling tight around her hips, cock sinking deeper. There wasn’t a warm-up, there wasn’t even a pause. Liv just started plowing her in hard, relentless thrusts, the pace almost cruel. The bed frame bucked, mattress springs squealing in complaint. Roxanne’s thoughts scattered, each time the cock bottomed out she felt a white flare of pain that crested fast, then dissolved into a sick kind of pleasure she wasn’t ready to name.

Liv kept her palm planted on Roxanne’s lower back, grinding her hips forward with each hard thrust, one after another persistently. “God, you take it like a fucking pro,” she spat, amusement and contempt tangled in every word. The slick slap of skin on skin slapped through the room, louder even than Roxanne’s breathless moans, which were muffled by the hotel pillow Liv had shoved her face into. Roxanne tried to focus on breathing, to stay braced, but every time the cock rammed into her, pleasure and pain split down her spine and radiated, brilliant and mean, through her whole body.

“You like this, don’t you?” Liv panted, not actually asking. “Even after all that, you’re so fucking desperate to join us, you’ll do anything I say.” Another rough thrust nearly knocked the air out of Roxanne, her ass stung from the slap Liv landed as punctuation.

Roxanne’s hands pulled at the sheets for purchase and she couldn’t stop herself from pushing back, matching Liv stroke for stroke, needing every inch. Her hips burned and her face felt raw from how hard she was pressed into the mattress, but she was never going to give Liv the satisfaction of hearing her beg.

“God, I knew you were a little slut,” Liv said, and the word slut rolled off of her tongue. Liv was back in Roxanne’s ear, breath hot and shaky, “...me and Dom wondered if you were too square for this but here you are, a little whore, fuckin’ taking it just fine.”

Roxanne heard her own voice, a sound she hadn’t expected, stifled under her arm, the mattress damp against her face. Every time Liv bottomed out, the cock punched past a threshold that felt like Roxanne was being split in half.

The harness pressed cool and slick against her ass and thighs, Liv moving ruthless but controlled, never once missing the angle she seemed to know would undo Roxanne the fastest. There was something acid in the way Liv forced the pace, a desperation to extract something unspoken, or maybe just to prove a point.

Roxanne tried to bear it quietly, but the noises kept leaking out of her anyway, little grunts, breathless fucks, the sound of her own skin getting pounded. She clenched up, all of her, but the pressure only made Liv redouble her efforts. “Yeah, that’s it,” Liv hissed, and Roxanne could feel her sweat drip down her back, pooling at the base of her spine.

Liv’s rhythm was punishing. She never let up, never slowed, only changed angle and intensity, so each drive felt new and more obscene than the last. The head of the strap-on scraped an impossible place inside Roxanne, made her want to scream and claw at the bedsheets, and she did, her fingers tangled and knotted in the hotel’s cheap white linen. Her brain buzzed, ears ringing, face hot and wet with sweat.

Liv’s next words hissed, disbelieving and triumphant, “You’re dripping down your fucking thighs.” She let go of Roxanne’s hips, dug her fingers into the girl’s ass, spreading her, exposing her, and rocking the cock in deeper so the pressure built and built and built, until Roxanne’s whole body clenched and broke. Liv didn’t go easier, not for a second, just rode her through it, and every sensitive aftershock made Roxanne bite her own arm to muffle the noise.

When it became too much, Roxanne tried to squirm away, all instinct and afterburn, but Liv hauled her back against the cock, hands punishing, relentless. “You don’t decide when you get off,” Liv said with a mean demeanor, and pushed the silicone cock all the way to the hilt. Liv held it there with her bodyweight until Roxanne’s pelvis was completely filled.

Liv finally eased off, cock still buried, and ran her hand up the length of Roxanne’s spine, nails lightly dragging. The touch  was cruel, the victory pat of someone who just pinned you to the mat and waited for the three-count.

She dropped low, pressing her chest to Roxanne’s back, hair spilling in a mess that tickled her, lips ghosting over Roxanne’s ear. “You want in? This is what it takes.” Her breath was jagged, little more than a whisper. She nipped the edge of Roxanne’s ear, then thrust once more, shallow and deliberate, rolling her hips so that Roxanne shuddered.

Liv reared back and cracked her palm across Roxanne’s ass, a stinging impact that ripped through the hotel room louder than Roxanne’s muffled gasp. Heat blossomed across Roxanne’s skin, sharp and immediate, right on top of the bruising ache from the last thrust, and Liv didn’t wait to admire her handiwork, she slapped again, and again, in savage counterpoint to the machine-piston rhythm of the cock hollowing out Roxanne’s cunt.

Roxanne could taste blood, she’d just bitten her tongue that hard. The fuck was relentlessly brutal. Every time the cock withdrew, she thought there'd be a split second to recover, but Liv rammed it back in so fast there was only pain, then numbness, then the pain again, all blurred together. The slap echoed, and Roxanne’s whole ass lit up, burning hot where Liv laid her claim.

Liv started talking, not to Roxanne but at her, as if her words were another instrument of torture. “That’s what I want. Give me every fucking thing you have.” She punctuated it with another slap, and Roxanne’s arms trembled. She barely managed to keep herself upright.

Roxanne braced herself, determined not to give Liv the satisfaction, but the pounding had reduced her to sensations, a ragged heap of need and humiliation writhing under the relentless assault. Her own breath sounded desperate in her head, the wet squelch of every thrust of the strap-on amplified in the room, and the ache inside her had gone from burning out of control to something crystalline and focused that built and built with every relentless jackhammer of Liv’s hips.

Liv kept up the filthy commentary, each word a goad, a reminder that Roxanne had no power here, that she was being used, that she was being made to take it, to like it, and that was the worst of it, she did, she fucking did. Liv twisted her fist in Roxanne’s hair, yanked her head up, and spat into her open mouth, the taste of Liv’s spit as sharp and electric as the burning sweet pain between her legs. “Swallow,” Liv ordered, and Roxanne swallowed.

“Look at you,” Liv rasped, “fucking leaking. You’re leaking all over my cock, you filthy little slut.”

Liv didn’t slow, not even when Roxanne’s arms gave out and she collapsed face-first onto the mattress. The only warning came as the thrusts turned ragged, drawing out, then slamming home in erratic, broken stabs. Liv grunted low with satisfaction, fingers digging in at the base of Roxanne’s spine, holding her impaled, shaking. The room vibrated with the aftermath, heartbeat in the ears, echo of skin on skin, panting too loud for the space.

Then Liv withdrew, leaving Roxanne sore and empty, the drag of the cock scraping like an insult. The bed shifted, and Liv was off, a blur of movement as she unbuckled the harness and tossed it onto the floor, the silicone cock still slick, bouncing on the carpet with an obscene wobble. Roxanne didn’t move, not at first, just pressed the side of her face to the pillow and tried to chain together a normal breath.

Liv yanked her upright by a fistful of hair. Just a handful of hair, twisting until Roxanne’s vision swam, then hauling her off the bed in a tangle of limbs. Her knees hit the floor. The carpet scraped against her.

Roxanne felt sweat trickle down her back as she struggled to kneel upright, ribs smarting from the way Liv whipped her from the bed. The sudden downgrade in altitude drove home the point, the last few shreds of dignity stripped away.

“Look at me,” Liv said. Roxanne looked.

Roxanne waited. Of course there wasn’t going to be a thank you. She wasn’t looking for it, but some corner of her brain still expected acknowledgment for what she’d just pushed through.

“Now grab your shit and get the fuck out of my room. We’re done.”

Roxanne’s legs gave a final warning as she pushed up, finding the edge of the mattress, then fumbling for her underwear. She reached for her shorts, still bunched inside-out on the floor. Liv didn’t bother watching her.

Roxanne gathered what was left of her gear in a haphazard pile. Her hands trembled, not from pain, but from the cold emptiness that followed the comedown. The sweat between her legs was sticky, pungent, already cooling against her thighs. She looked for her phone, checked the time even though she didn’t care, then remembered to find her keycard, crumpled in the back pocket of her jeans.

Liv hadn’t spoken again, hadn’t moved from her spot on the bed, where she sprawled with all the loose-limbed satisfaction of an animal after the kill. It was nothing to do with afterglow, Liv’s face showed no trace of warmth, just that faintly devilish smirk, as if she’d proven something and found Roxanne wanting.

Roxanne wished she could hate Liv. She didn’t know if she could, not really, but she hated how badly she wanted to be hated, how little dignity she had left chained to that desire.

The door to the hallway was only a few feet away, but Roxanne froze, but she lingered, biting the inside of her cheek. She spun back to face the room, cheeks hot, throat dry as cheap hotel towels. “Liv,” she said.

Roxanne forced herself to speak, voice burned out at the edges but steady, “I want in Judgment Day, can you talk them into it. You said you had influence. Now prove it.”

Liv didn’t even look at her. The next words out of her mouth came out was pure venom. “You’ll get your answer on Monday. That’s how these things work, Roxy.”

That was it. Like Roxanne had imagined, no thank you. No approval, no validation, not even a sneer for the effort. Just next steps, clinical and efficient, as if what had happened between them was a handshake instead of something that had left her knees carpet-burned and the inside of her thighs throbbing.

Roxanne fumbled the door, hands all thumbs, and let herself out into the hallway. It felt colder than before, the AC turned up to arctic levels, or maybe her body just hadn’t adjusted yet. She walked, slow, not wanting to limp but also realizing there was no one here to see, no one to judge. The elevator at the end of the hall was a glowing square of mercy, and she would’ve almost taken the stairs just to avoid the long wait in front of a mirrored wall.

To Be Continued

[TheLW]

Liv's New Bitch #2
With Liv Morgan and Roxanne Perez
Written by TheLW
Codes: FF, MMMF, Mast, Blowjob, Oral, Rough Sex, Squirting, Verbal Humiliation
Disclaimer: This FICTIONAL story was written for entertainment purposes only.

The arena was still hours away from going live, but the building already felt tight with anticipation. Production crates lined the corridors, cables snaked across the concrete, and the low murmur of crew members echoed through the backstage area. It was the quiet before the storm, the kind of stillness that only existed before Monday Night Raw went live.

Roxanne Perez lingered near a row of equipment cases, hands clasped in front of her, shoulders squared in a way that suggested composure more than comfort. She had been waiting. Watching. Counting footsteps until Liv Morgan finally appeared at the far end of the hallway.

Liv noticed immediately.

She slowed just enough to make the moment stretch, eyes looking over Roxanne with amusement before she stopped in front of her. Her gear bag was slung over one shoulder, her posture loose, confident, unbothered.

“Well,” Liv said lightly. “You look like someone waiting on test results.”

Roxanne lifted her chin. “You said I’d get an answer.”

Liv smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I did. And you will.”

There was a beat. Roxanne swallowed. “So... did you talk to them?”

Liv hummed as if considering how much effort the question deserved. “I talked. Yeah.”

Roxanne’s chest tightened. “And?”

Liv tilted her head, studying her. “You’re not going to like how that conversation went.”

That was enough to make Roxanne’s stomach drop. “What does that mean?”

Liv stepped closer, close enough that her voice didn’t need to rise above the ambient noise of the corridor. “It means I might’ve... overshared.”

Roxanne frowned. “Overshared how?”

Liv’s lips twitched. “I mentioned that we spent some quality time together after the show.”

The color drained from Roxanne’s face. “You told them?”

“I told them,” Liv confirmed, utterly unbothered. “Finn. JD. Dom.”

Roxanne looked around instinctively, as if someone might be listening. “Why would you do that?”

Liv’s expression sharpened, impatience flashing beneath the surface. “Because secrets are leverage, Roxy. And I don’t waste leverage.”

Roxanne’s voice dropped. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

Liv smirked. “You don’t get to say what the deal is. You never did.”

She shifted her weight, arms crossing as she leaned back against a road case. “If it makes you feel any better, the reaction was... enthusiastic.”

Roxanne stiffened. “Enthusiastic?”

“Oh, very,” Liv said. “Turns out they’re all curious.”

There was a momentarily pause.

“And,” Liv added, eyes locked on Roxanne’s, “I might’ve told them you wouldn’t mind.”

Roxanne’s jaw clenched. “You told them I wanted that?”

“I told them you wanted in,” Liv corrected. “They understand what that means.”

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

“You set me up,” Roxanne said quietly.

Liv pushed off the case and stepped in again, forcing Roxanne to look at her. “No. I tested you. Big difference.”

Roxanne exhaled through her nose, steadying herself. “And if I say no?”

Liv’s smile returned, slow and sharp. “Then this little experiment ends right now. Finn forgets your name. Judgment Day moves on. And you get to keep whatever pride you think you walked in here with.”

Roxanne didn’t answer immediately.

Liv watched her closely, eyes scanning every microexpression. The hesitation. The calculation. The way Roxanne’s hands curled into fists at her sides.

“That’s what I thought,” Liv said.

Roxanne finally spoke. “And if I go through with it?”

Liv’s gaze hardened. “Then I’ll make sure you’re not just some story they laugh about. I’ll make sure this actually gets you somewhere.”

Roxanne searched her face. “You’re serious.”

Liv scoffed. “About control? Always.”

Another beat passed.

“Where are they?” Roxanne asked.

Liv’s grin widened, satisfied. “Clubhouse. They’re waiting.”

Roxanne nodded once. The motion was small, but final.

Liv turned without another word, already walking down the corridor. After a second’s hesitation, Roxanne followed.

Each step felt heavier than the last, not because she didn’t understand what she was walking toward, but because she understood exactly why she was doing it.

Behind them, the arena continued to wake up, unaware that Judgment Day business was already well underway.

No more than five minutes later, Liv Morgan, Roxanne Perez, and the three men of Judgment Day were sealed inside the clubhouse, the door closed behind them. The shift in atmosphere was immediate. Liv didn’t bother with theatrics. She didn’t raise her voice. She simply turned to Roxanne and issued a single command, sharp and absolute, before even setting her duffle bag down.

Roxanne obeyed.

Liv watched the entire time, expression unreadable, as Roxanne stripped down naked, alongside the three men in Judgment Day (Finn Bálor, Dominik Mysterio, and JD McDonagh), before reaching into her bag and producing a collar and leash. She stepped in close, fingers firm as she fastened the collar around Roxanne’s neck herself, adjusting it. Only once it was secure did Liv take hold of the leash and give it a short, decisive pull, just enough to make the point unmistakable. This wasn’t symbolic. It was ownership being established, in full view of Judgment Day.

And just like that, Liv was walking Roxanne over to a nearby chair, with the leash. As Liv sank into the chair like royalty, one leg slung over the other, the leash wrapped twice around her hand. “You heard me, Roxy,” she said, voice so even it felt rehearsed. “On your knees.” The collar was stiff against Roxanne’s throat, she could feel the rough grain of the leather even as she dropped, naked, to the carpet.

Floor-level, the room looked different, overhead lights too bright on her bare skin, the loose swirl of Liv’s hair an untouchable cloud above, Finn and JD flanking with a studied, predatory casualness. Both men were already stroking themselves, Finn’s cock thick and flushed, JD’s hand methodical and deliberate, more clinical than performative.

Dom was the first to move, sneakers creaking on the tile. He stepped in behind Roxanne, not quite close enough to touch, but she could feel the heat of his body and the softness of his breathing. For a second the only sound was the jerking noise of Finn and JD’s fists. Roxanne’s head tingled, she kept her eyes level, staring at Liv’s skirt just above her knees, noticing that the blonde wasn’t wearing any panties.

Liv’s hand found the top of Roxanne’s head, pushing down sharply so she nearly toppled, cheek brushing the inside of Liv’s thigh. Then, with her other hand, Liv spread her knees wide, skirt bunched up, and her sex mound exposed, parted just enough to confirm exactly what Roxanne was meant to focus on.

Dom’s fingers grazed her spine as he crouched behind her, nudging Roxanne forward, closer, so the collar choked a notch tighter, digging into the hinge of her jaw. Roxanne’s ears rang, she could see the ovular paleness of Liv’s thighs, and then a hand, Liv’s, cradling the back of her head, steering her face up and into the heat of Liv’s cunt.

Roxanne started slow as she licked upwards, then another, and only after the third pass of her tongue, did she allow herself to flick Liv’s clit directly, watching the way Liv’s body moved and how her hand flexed. The angle was awkward and the pressure from Dom’s presence behind her made the position even more precarious, but that was part of the test. Roxanne adapted, found a pace that worked, and burrowed deeper, ignoring the desperate sounds coming from her own throat as Liv began to grind back against her face.

Dom’s hand slid between Roxanne’s thighs and then, without warning, pressed his cock into her cunt from behind. The jolt of intrusion stole her breath, Liv’s taste, Dom’s blunt force, the sharp choke of the collar, and for a split second, Roxanne felt suspended, body and mind both buckling under the new load.

Liv kept her guided, hand heavy and stern, and now Roxanne’s licks turned more frantic, the act of eating Liv became the only anchor as Dom set a brutal rhythm, hands clutching Roxanne’s waist so hard she could feel the imprint of his grip.

Dom was not gentle, in fact he was impatient and reckless, his hips rocking back and forth. Every time he slammed forward, her mouth pressed deeper into Liv’s cunt, nose and lips smeared, humiliatingly, with Liv’s wetness. That was by design, Finn’s eyes were sharp, watching the way Roxanne’s submission played out, JD’s face was coldly amused, one hand still stroking his cock.

JD McDonagh, for his part, never broke eye contact with Liv, his mouth warped in a smirk as he watched the way Roxanne’s head jerked forward with every thrust of Dom’s cock. There was a sick choreography to it, Liv’s hips curling, Dom’s blunt and almost angry insistence, Finn’s hand pumping in unison with Roxanne’s humiliations. Finn, always the cerebral one, gave nothing away but his cock leaked pre-cum in thick beads, hand working with a runner’s stamina.

Roxanne tried to focus on Liv, only Liv, the taste of her, wanting to bring Liv to the edge in front of an audience, the way Liv’s thighs pressed in, trapping her, as if forbidding escape just as Dom burrowed home. Each time Roxanne’s tongue found the exact spot, Liv rewarded her with a shiver or a sharp pull on the leash. Sometimes Liv’s nails dug into the top of Roxanne’s head, other times she went almost gentle, cradling her head with a lover’s care, as if to remind her the cruelty wasn’t personal, just necessary.

Eventually Liv shifted, rolling her hips until the angle was perfect, her breath coming shorter, more precise. She wanted to cum on Roxanne’s face, and needed it as much as everyone else did.

Roxanne sensed it, shoving her tongue inside, then lapping up with devotion, forcing Liv’s legs wider. She circled Liv’s clit again and again until Liv’s thighs quivered and the leash tightened with each sharp exhale. The chair rocked beneath Liv, and the rhythm in the room, the cadence of Dom’s hips, the wet, humiliating smack of Liv’s cunt against Roxanne’s face, the quiet grunts from Finn and JD, built to a pressure cooker tension.

Liv stared down her own body at Roxanne, her voice a throaty snarl, “Don’t you dare stop.” Roxanne didn’t, not even as Dom’s cock jackhammered her forward, as the drool and slickness from Liv matted her lips and chin. Liv wanted to see her break, or maybe wanted to see that she wouldn’t, but either way, Roxanne was determined to prove she could do what was asked, no, required, of her.

And then Liv’s hips jerked up, a sharp buckle, and she let out a yelp. Roxanne’s mouth was flooded, the taste changed, briny, sweet, overwhelming. Liv squirted hard, splashing all over Roxanne’s face.

Roxanne’s own body was shaking. Dom’s pace hammered the air from her lungs, the thud of his hips against the backs of her thighs perfectly in sync with the high whine of Liv’s orgasm. Liv didn’t let her up, not even as Roxanne’s vision speckled and her jaw cramped, she ground herself against Roxanne’s lips with desperate, rolling motions.

But there was no grace period. Dom was pounding into Roxanne with a thick, adolescent hunger, detached from her entirely except for the leverage her hips provided. Every few thrusts his stomach smacked her ass so hard her own breath ratcheted out in little gasps, and he seemed to get off on the way it forced her nose deeper between Liv’s thighs. Finn and JD edged closer, circling like wolves, cocks in their own hands, and Roxanne could feel the gravity of their expectation.

Liv slumped a bit in the chair, one hand fanning out along her inner thigh, the other still wrapped in the leash. She wasn’t letting go. Instead she used it to yank Roxanne’s face up so they were eye-to-eye before spitting in Roxanne’s face.

Liv’s spit ran down the bridge of Roxanne’s nose, sliding over her mouth, where it mixed with the remainder of Liv’s wetness. Liv’s fingers pressed beneath Roxanne’s jaw, tilting her head just so, the leash taut. “Look at the fucking mess you are,” Liv laughed, loud enough to draw a snort from JD, who tucked himself in closer, almost over Roxanne’s opposite shoulder.

“Now,” Liv said, dragging out the word into a purr as she unwrapped the leash from her hand, “show them how hungry you are.” She punctuated with a quick flick of her hand, an unmistakable order.

For a second, everything stilled. Finn stepped forward, standing over her, cock red and bobbing, the tip glistening. JD was right behind, his own cock draped to the side, fist still stroking. Dom was locked in behind her, hands still clamped on her hips, making sure she couldn’t get up even if she wanted to. There was nowhere to look but up, nowhere to go but down.

Liv tugged on the leash, the condescension as intentional as her smile. “Be a good little bitch,” she said, “and suck their dicks.”

Roxanne’s mouth opened instantly and Finn’s cock was already in her mouth, heavy and insistent, smearing salt and slick across her tongue. The first thrust was awkward, Roxanne’s jaw was still locked from her ordeal between Liv’s thighs, but Finn guided her, steady hands working in tandem with the pace Dom set from behind. He was methodical, not really cruel but not gentle either, sliding into her mouth and out, forcing her to figure out how to breathe around the unrelenting press of dick and the wafting ozone smell of sweat and pre-cum.

She barely had time to adjust when JD crowded in close behind Finn, his own cock a vertical dare, so pale and veined in contrast to the angry flush of Finn’s. He cupped Roxanne’s jaw with one hand, thumb working her cheek open so he could fit the broad head of his cock at the edge of her lips. For a surreal moment, both men’s cocks were brushing against each other, crowding her tongue and palate, and Roxanne choked, eyes watering furious as Liv’s laughter crackled above.

“Don’t let her off easy,” Liv said with satisfaction.

Roxanne felt the sting of humiliation in her core. But she refused to look away, refused to be the weak link. She sucked harder, hollowing her cheeks and letting the thick taste of Finn and JD mix, overwhelming her senses, her dignity already left behind.

Liv leaned forward, one elbow braced on her own knee, looking at the tableau with a queen’s appraisal. “How do you like my bitch?” Liv crowed, her voice so bright and brittle with pride that even the men smirked. “Look at the state of her. She’s fucking desperate for it, aren’t you, Roxy?”

Roxanne nodded, or tried, the motion lost somewhere between Finn’s cock and the insistent invasion of JD’s. Her eyes glistened, and Liv took a moment to brush the messy strands from Roxanne’s face, her fist curling tenderly around Roxanne’s chin. Then she hauled Roxanne’s head up, disengaging her briefly from the tangle of cock and spit.

“She’s never going to forget this,” Liv announced to the room. “None of us will.”

Roxanne risked a fleeting look at Liv, whose victory was so complete. “Say it,” Liv demanded, voice ironclad. “Say what they’re all thinking.”

"Yeah, Liv," she gurgled, mouth still pressed open by the rival cocks, face tilted up in full, humiliated view. "I’m…" the word was lost as Finn pushed deeper, but Liv’s hand steadied her with a practiced cruelty, and Roxanne forced herself to say it again, spattered with spit and desperation, "...I’m your bitch."

JD laughed from over her, a bright, scalp-prickling sound. "Louder, Perez," he taunted, knuckles rough against her scalp as he pulled her off Finn’s shaft and lined up his own, jamming in so fast she had to catch her breath or gag.

Roxanne shuddered, shoulders curving inward. If she looked away, it would be over, and that would be worse than all of this. So she fixed her eyes on Liv, studied the way Liv’s mouth pursed in smug delight, the sweat pooling in her collarbone, the thumb and forefinger circling the leash at Roxanne's throat.

"I'm Liv's bitch," Roxanne managed, the syllables ragged.

JD seized her by the collar, thumb driving hard against the hinge of her jaw, and used the leverage to wrench her open for him. The move was ugly, atavistic, he wasn't showing off for Liv, or for Finn, not even really for himself. He just wanted to see how far he could push it before her knees gave out. The head of his cock hammered the roof of her mouth, the bitter tang of him eclipsing everything.

Behind her, Dom was no less relentless. Each time he bottomed out, the slap of his pelvis reverberated in her hips, and he’d sink his nails in harder, as if trying to carve some permanent memory into her skin. When she lurched forward, trachea half-closed with JD's insistent thickness, Dom yanked her back, using her body as a counterweight for his own need. At some point, she could only do her best to stay afloat in the churn of velocity and hunger.

Liv surveyed the scene from her throne, fingers kneading the leash with a sadistic satisfaction. She watched as Roxanne ground herself to pulp on the cocks of JD and Finn, watched the way tears slicked the girl’s cheeks and the way her jaw trembled without ever closing, even when her breath whistled half-suffocated beneath the bulk and battering of JD's assault. Roxanne was already wrecked but far from done, and the men, god, the men, got off on it with a kind of clinical detachment that made Liv’s own clit spark cold fire.

She leaned forward, spacing her words with little tugs, the leash shortening like the fuse on a firecracker. “You’re such a fucking cocksleeve, Roxy. So desperate you’d crawl naked through the whole fucking locker room if I asked.” Her tone was bright, giddy with malice, and it made Finn snicker through his teeth as he twined a fist in Roxanne’s hair to keep her head steady. With a practiced twist, he jammed in deeper, nose to pubic bone, and Roxanne gagged, helpless as the drool waterfall down her chin.

Liv’s voice was syrupy as she narrated each humiliation, spinning it out for the audience as much as for herself as for Roxanne.

The boys had stamina for hours, but it was Dom who came first, yanking out of Roxanne's pussy and stroking himself in brutal, clipped tugs. He finished in seconds, painting Roxanne's lower back and the slope of her ass with thick, hot ropes of cum. He kept one hand pressed to the small of her back, forcing her head deeper onto JD's cock so that she shuddered, body locked in place, drooling and gasping.

Liv laughed, drawing the leash even tighter, and cocked her head in playful judgment. "Messy bitch. Hope you know you're not getting cleaned up until you earn it."

With Dom spent, Finn and JD doubled their assault. Finn took hold of Roxanne’s hair with one hand while JD battered her mouth, trading off in a rhythm that left her no time to gasp, only to swallow frantically and let the humiliation become her world. They watched each other's technique, fine-tuning their own pace by the other's cues, united in their desire to see how far Roxanne could be degraded.

Liv intervened with a voltage crack of her voice. “Stop.” The single word froze the room.

Finn and JD halted, cocks bobbing, hands at their sides. Liv uncurled from her throne, planted both feet on the floor, and gave Roxanne’s leash a hard, expectant tug. Roxanne followed the pull of restraint, saliva and cum dripping onto the floor as she shuffled on all fours, the collar high and tight against her jaw. The men parted without speaking, just a predator’s silent respect for the queen’s next move.

Liv guided Roxanne to the battered black leather couch in the center of the cavernous clubhouse, the seat so wide it seemed built for group punishment. She yanked up on the leash at the last moment, forcing Roxanne’s head to tilt, and bent down low over her so their lips nearly brushed.

“You want to keep going?” Liv whispered, voice husked with triumph. There wasn’t a question mark at the end, just the expectation of compliance.

Roxanne didn’t even try to speak. She nodded, fever-bright gaze locked on Liv.

Liv smiled, then leaned in, kissing her.

Liv’s lips left Roxanne’s, humid with spit and raw need, and she pulled back just enough to spit again, this time directly into Roxanne’s trembling mouth. There was a wicked tenderness to the gesture, as if Liv could alternate between torment and seduction at will, and above all, Roxanne would find herself grateful for either.

Finn was already on the couch, sprawled out, legs wide, cock propped up and glistening with the relics of her earlier effort. He watched them, like a wolf, interested only in demonstration of obedience and in what, precisely, it would take to see Roxanne completely and utterly shattered. JD stood nearby, arms folded, cock bobbing half-hard, eyes glinting with the particular amusement of a man who relished hierarchy but rarely declared it.

Liv didn’t waste a second. “Crawl.”

Roxanne crawled, as she knelt between Finn’s legs, her knees grinding onto leather that was slick with ancient polish and, by now, more than a little spit and sweat. Liv followed at a stroll, leash wrapped double in her fist. She sat on the arm of the couch, one boot planted on the cushion, short skirt riding high, a queen presiding over a pit fight.

Finn didn’t gesture, didn’t beckon, but the expectation was molecular in the air, and Roxanne found herself straddling his lap as if her knees had always known the way. His hands encircled her hips, guiding her, positioning her above the rigid spear of his cock. She could feel the livid heat against her thigh, the way his fingers dug in, and for a brief, crystalline instant the room shrank down to just that, her, and him, and the moment of contact that was about to define everything that came after.

Liv’s voice was like a whipcrack in her ear, lashing her forward. “Take it, slut. Show Finn what you can do.”

Roxanne, breath shallow, leveraged herself over Finn’s cock and pressed down. The head split her open, Finn’s gaze never leaving her face as she eased onto him, inch by impossible inch. The ache immediate, but she rode it, let the pain become the engine of her own want. When her hips bottomed against Finn’s thighs, his cock buried to the root, she felt herself around him, a wanton clutch that made his mouth twitch in the ghost of a smile.

“Good girl,” Finn muttered.

He was thicker than she’d realized, she’d watched him on camera enough times, the ring gear tight, the subtle bulge she’d trained her eyes to collect secrets from, but nothing on screen had prepared her for the size and the unsparing texture in real time.

Roxanne tried to move, but Finn held her, refusing to let her set the rhythm, forcing her to adapt to him instead. Only when her struggling ceased and her muscles turned to quiver did Finn rock his hips, barely a centimeter, as if to show her that the reward for submission was the privilege of sensation.

Liv watched with a proprietary intensity, wrist flicking the leash in small bursts, telegraphing her impatience every time Roxanne paused for air. Her eyes were slitted, lips parted, as if she were the hinge binding everyone else’s pleasure to her own. The room was close, thick with the smell of sweat, cum, and the low animal current of ambition no one would admit to.

“Don’t pace yourself,” Liv murmured. “He likes it rough.”

Finn’s grip found Roxanne’s ass, knuckles whitening as he dragged her down hard, his cock punching deeper. She scrambled, her body not quite catching up with the orders being written across her nerves, but it didn’t matter, her obedience was all that was required of her.

Finn stayed silent, preferring the slow-death tension of control, the tiny, involuntary noises she made each time her hips met his. With every bounce, he angled upward, using her own body weight to grind himself against the tightest part of her. Roxanne’s jaw slackened, the sensations looped from pain to delight so fast there was no clear boundary.

Balor watched her master the new pace, the way she steeled herself to brute force, and his jaw set in satisfaction. Roxanne bounced, not with the controlled elegance she brought to the ring, but with a messy, needy urgency that shocked even her. She let herself ride the pistoning length of Finn’s cock with unguarded surrender, she crashed her hips down until her clit ground against the slab of his pelvis, again and again, each time spearing herself more desperately, as if volume alone could drown the tremor in her voice.

Liv was pleased. She could feel the heat between her thighs build again as she watched the uncaged spiral of Roxanne, the way the smaller woman’s spine arched and her tits, smeared with a single ribbon of spit from their earlier encounter, lifted with each ragged inhale. Liv kept the leash in hand, sometimes yanking it just as Roxanne crested the top of Finn’s cock, forcing her to snap back upright and feel every last inch of the descent. There was artistry to how Liv balanced reward and punishment, never letting Roxanne find comfort, always balancing right on the edge of collapse.

JD, for his part, prowled behind the couch, every now and then circled around to the front and side, eyes never leaving the point of impact where Finn disappeared inside Roxanne’s stretched cunt. He liked that angle, the way the girl’s hips stuttered and how Finn’s cock gleamed with her clam juice. He let the other hand wander, stroking himself with a laziness that belied the sharp, clinical mechanism whirring behind his eyes.

The room settled into a rhythm that felt inevitable: Finn anchoring the action with his dense, implacable presence, Liv ticking each new humiliation off with professional pride, and Roxanne in the center, riding her own exhaustion and adrenaline in equal measure. The leash bit at her throat, from the yanking. And yet, as Finn’s hands pulled her down again and again, she chased every sharp jolt of pain with something greedier, something she couldn’t name and didn’t dare try to.

Liv’s knee pressed against the couch cushion, skirt hiked, studying from a foot away. Her hand dipped below her waistband, hand vanishing between her own thighs, and she worked herself with the same discipline she demanded from Roxanne. Her breath hitched quietly, thumb tracing tight circles against her clit as she watched the sweat bead and slide down the curves of Roxanne’s back.

JD McDonagh made his move with a tactician’s sense of timing, closing from behind even before Roxanne could ready herself, his cock slick and insistent as a threat against the small, unused pucker of her ass.

Roxanne didn't see him, but the cold shadow of his intent prickled down her back. Liv did, though. Liv saw everything, and when Roxanne tried to buck away at the first prod of pressure, Liv snaked a hand around, trapping Roxanne's chin, forcing her to meet Liv's eyes. “Don't run. Take it.”

JD pressed in, slow at first, but then, blunt, unyielding, the round crown punching past all resistance with a brief, splitting ache that made Roxanne yelp high in her throat. Finn’s cock inside her cunt had taught her to bear up, to let the pain transform, but her ass was another story, it was inescapable, so raw her vision lost color, the stretch so intense it forced her whole body to shudder.

Breathe, Roxy. If you don’t, you’ll pass out and miss the best part.” Liv said.

The praise was as biting as any rebuke, and Roxanne, caught in the friction, found her humiliation slowly curdling into something hot and deeply, shamefully right. The more they took, the more she wanted to endure, if only to transmute Liv’s words into a private, unseen victory.

Liv, now openly rubbing herself, kept a running commentary, “Look at that, boys. That’s what real hunger looks like. See how she shudders for it? See how empty she’d be if you stopped?”

McDonagh was merciless. Where Finn had been quietly methodical, JD was jagged, almost petulant in his need to see just how deep he could go, how frantic he could make the sound of the breathy, half-choked sobs leaking from Roxanne with every thrust. The crown of his cock bullied past the stubborn ring of muscle, then he eased back, half a thumb’s width, only to piston in harder, again and again, until the shock yielded to a permanent pulse of pain that Roxanne learned to ride the way she surfed every other escalation of the day.

Liv’s hand was at her own clit, two fingers working with clinical precision, the rest of her attention owning the tableau… the way Roxanne’s ass clenched and trembled as JD split her and Finn filled her cunt, the slap of skin and the glisten of spit, the glossy proofs of submission they’d manufactured together. Liv’s breath stuttered as she watched both men fuck Roxanne in unison, JD’s hips slamming forward until his abs were slick with sweat and Finn’s cock glistened, shaft dark with the evidence of just how far Roxanne had fallen.

“Fuck, that’s beautiful,” Liv moaned, her thumb flicking over her clit.

Dom, not one to be overshadowed or, worse, forgotten, closed in like he’d been waiting for his cue. He was still semi-soft from the savage finish on Roxanne’s back. He loomed in front of her, cock already bobbing and coaxed by his hand, waiting for any flicker of permission from Liv, who, with an arch of eyebrow, greenlit the next humiliation.

Roxanne barely noticed him at first. Every nerve in her body was a snare drum of Finn and JD, one stretching her thin in every direction, the other pounding through the last of her resistance. But then Dom’s fingers were in her hair, sticky with his own spent lust, prying her mouth open so he could wedge his cock past the point of refusal. The leash kept her upright, Dom’s grip on her hair kept her steady as he shoved forward, the taste of sweat-salt and skin and something more acrid flooding her mouth. She gagged, but not enough to make him stop. That was the point, after all.

Liv’s laughter rolled through the clubhouse, now a throaty, delighted growl.

Dom jerked Roxanne's head toward him, a sharp angle that made her vision blur. She tasted the spent, brackish tang of his cock as he slid it between her lips, the slit still wet, slightly tacky, with the remnants of his previous finish. He didn’t wait for her to find a rhythm. Instead, he fucked into her mouth with ragged insistence, his grip on her hair so tight it brought tears to her eyes, tears that Liv watched with gluttonous pride.

Finn and JD ratcheted up their own aggression, Finn’s fists white on her hips as he yanked her down, impaling her deeper every time, his cock bruising her from the inside out. JD, not to be outdone, clawed at the globe of Roxanne's ass, thumbs digging bruises as he wrenched her cheeks apart and drove in, the slap of his hips a metronome of humiliation. In the impossible, overloaded middle of all three, Roxanne lost track of where one penetration ended and another began, all became sheer, exquisite overwhelm, the sense of being packed so full she didn’t know if she would ever be the same.

Roxanne jaw unhinged, saliva spilling at the edges of her mouth as Dom forced her to devour his cock with a choke-pointed determination that made even Finn’s jaw set harder. The room was deafened with the slick, ugly sounds of sex, the slap of skin, the wet gasp of breath stifled by girth, Liv’s panting as she two-fingered herself rapid-fire from the sideline.

Liv’s own hand worked in a blur beneath her skirt, first two fingers then three, the wet sounds of her cunt almost louder than the ones coming from Roxanne’s ruined throat. Liv arched her back with every upstroke, grinding her palm hard against her clit, eyes never straying from the tangle of meat and muscle and want in front of her. The leash cut deep into Roxanne’s neck, and Liv’s knuckles blanched as she ratcheted the pressure every time Roxanne’s jaw started to slacken from exhaustion.

JD, sweating and wild-eyed, leaned over Roxanne’s back, his jaw right next to her ear. “Feel that?” he hissed, his pelvis jackhammering, “That’s the only thing you’ll remember, bitch.” His words were sharp, but beneath it was a hunger to see her finally snap, to see her reduced to nothing but nerve endings and need. He rammed forward, and Finn, sensing the wet collapse of Roxanne’s resistance, started to piston harder, the two men’s cocks almost dueling for the honor of who could fuck her into oblivion.

Dom’s hand left her hair for a split second to slap her cheek, the sharp, stinging sound making both Finn and Liv’s eyes narrow with fresh attention. “Swallow, you little freak,” Dom sneered, his thumb digging into her lower lip, forcing her jaw wide to take even more of his cock. Roxanne’s eyes teared but she didn’t gag, she wanted to, needed to, show that she could take it all, even when her throat was raw and airless.

Liv’s hand worked over her clit as she watched, devouring the sight of Roxanne’s mouth stuffed and streaming, watched the way JD’s cock stretched her and Finn’s cock stretched her more, watched the streak of cum already cooling on Roxanne’s ass from Dom’s first finish and the growing constellation of bruises where each hand or hip or jaw had marked her.

Roxanne’s mind blurred out, pain and pleasure both redlining into a whiteout static. She couldn’t distinguish one man from the other, or the cadence of their thrusts from the rhythm of Liv’s rasping laughter. The leash was her only anchor.

It was JD who finished first, out of nowhere, his body tensing at a freakish angle, jaw clenched and eyes rolled nearly white as he buried himself to the hilt in Roxanne’s ass. There was no warning, just the sudden buck of his hips and a shudder that made Roxanne yelp against Dom’s cock, still forcing the back of her throat. JD pulled out with a wet, obscene pop, white streaks leaking down the bruised seam of Roxanne’s asshole and pooling at the top of her cunt where Finn was still pistoning. He watched, fascinated, as the mess oozed out, a signature left to dry before the next had even evaporated.

Finn barely registered JD’s withdrawal, just the slackening pressure at Roxanne’s back and the thickness of cum now leaking from her ass. He was lost in his own rhythm, the tight torque of Roxanne’s cunt wringing his cock with every upward grind of her hips. Each fresh spasm made his toes curl, but he kept control by a strand, refusing to let go, not yet.

Liv caught the detail. She saw Finn’s thumb, the way he used it like a brand, and she purred, “Mark her up, Prince. She looks better with bruises.”

Dirty Dom, meanwhile, had no illusions about holding back. He was in love with the ruin of it, the complete collapse on Roxanne’s face and the way her lips spasmed around his cock, her jaw red and trembling. The more she gagged, the more she tried to swallow him whole, the more Dom wanted to break her open and see what else she could take. He had never wanted anything as much as he wanted to see her forget herself, to see the line between her and the moment completely erased.

“Queen Liv’s got herself a real one,” McDonagh muttered, barely audible over the renewal of skin-on-skin violence from Finn and Dom. “Knew she’d break in pretty.”

Finn picked up the pace, the thick ridge of his cock raking the inside of Roxanne’s cunt. He could feel her muscles fluttering, bruised and numbed but still greedy, the pressure shuddering up his spine. He gripped her ass tighter, pulling her backward to swallow every inch he had, and let loose a grunt so dark it shocked even him.

Roxanne wanted nothing more than to survive it, to bear out the punishment and to show Liv, hell, to show all of them, that she could outlast this fuck session. Liv was already close again, fingers knifing her cunt slick, hips bucking in a frantic tempo that matched Roxanne’s frantic gasps. It was as if she could only come from the spectacle of other people’s undoing.

She felt Finn’s balls clench against the bruised rim of her ass, and in the next instant the flood inside her was unmistakable, thick and volcanic, splashing deep against her battered cervix. His control collapsed for just three savage thrusts, punctuated by the basaltic snarl in his throat as he pressed her down flush to his hips, forcing every last drop into her. The heat of Finn’s climax sparked a chain reaction, her own body seizing and milking him for all it was worth, the aftershock so raw and unfiltered that it sent new tears streaking down her cheeks.

Dom, fueled by the spectacle of it and the animalistic need to grind Roxanne into pulp, lost what little patience he had. His cock thickened and jerked past her teeth, and a moment later the taste changed, sudden, bitter, obscene. He came not once or twice but in wild, broken pulsating throbs, squandering himself down her throat with every thrust. Roxanne tried to swallow, but it was too much, and the overflow spilled between her lips, painting her chin and running in hot, viscous trails to her breasts.

Dirty Dom’s hand kept her locked in place, using her throat as a spillway and not letting go even when Roxanne gagged, then swallowed because she had to, because there was no other possible choice, and the taste imprinted itself like a hex, unforgettable.

Liv was already there, coming so hard her own voice fractured, the hand between her legs working double-time even as the leash in her other hand dug cruel, insistent bruises under Roxanne’s jaw. She rode the climax with theatrical exaggeration, thighs tensed, spine arched, and when she peaked she dragged Roxanne up by the collar, rewarding her with a hot, open-mouthed kiss, tongue sliding deep to scoop up the last salty remnants of Dom’s baby batter.

To Be Continued