“I can’t take it... You’re too good at this...” On the silent practice field, I lay prostrate on the ground, my rear hiked high, letting him roughly pull my ponytail, allowing him to do whatever he pleased with me. In a haze, I felt myself slipping into a strange state, an intensifying hunger for even rougher treatment... My name is Riley Miller, a freshman at the Performing Arts College, specializing in dance. Because of my looks and figure, many guys saw me as an untouchable, aloof goddess, too intimidated to ask me out. But they had no idea that since puberty, a powerful urge for intimacy had awakened within me. I’d even... more than once fantasized about being completely overpowered and taken by multiple strong men. And it all started that one night. My parents were always busy with work, often not getting home until after midnight. These late hours were my absolute free time. As usual, I’d snuck into their master bedroom and opened their computer, planning to play some games. Instead, I found a string of blush-inducing titles in the playback history: “Prime Housewife Cheating on Husband with 5 Alpha Males.” “Innocent Campus Queen’s Passionate Bout with Black Men.” “...” The content of these videos was invariably the same: several powerful, muscular men surrounding a beautiful, naked woman, manipulating her luscious body as they pleased. A fierce wave of shame made me want to retreat. Yet, my eyes were completely beyond my control, mesmerized, fixated on the screen as the woman was left breathless, writhing in ecstasy, biting the sheets and rolling her eyes back. Growing up, my mom’s strict upbringing and my dance training had taught me to always maintain a ladylike poise and discretion. I was to avoid sitting immodestly in skirts at all times. No talking to boys, no staying out past curfew, and definitely no early relationships. So that was my first time seeing an adult man’s naked body. And it was my first time realizing that men could be as wild and untamed as bulls. And that a woman could, apparently, accommodate so many men at once. Under such intense stimulation, my breathing grew more ragged, and I involuntarily slipped my hand under my nightgown, exploring gently. From that day on, every night I would hide under my covers, fantasizing about being roughly handled by several strong men, while soothing my own body. Only when my strength was completely drained could I finally fall asleep peacefully. I had been distressed, unsure how to manage my seemingly bottomless desires. But on the very first day of freshman orientation camp, I finally got a taste of that intoxicating sensation. That day, I was in a dream, being tossed and turned by two burly men, when I was suddenly roused by my roommate from the bunk below. “Riley, wake up! Formation call!” “What?! Why didn’t my alarm go off?” Being late for orientation was a serious offense. Seeing my roommates rushing off, I didn’t even have time to change my underwear, grabbing my camouflage uniform and hurrying downstairs, pulling it on as I ran. But I was still late. A tall, powerfully built man, easily six-foot-three, stood at the stairwell, clutching a stopwatch, his face grim. His eyes were sharp, fixed on me. Seeing his stern expression, my heart sank. I didn’t even hesitate at the last two steps, jumping down directly and sneaking to the back of the line, head bowed. My ankle felt a little twisted, but I didn’t pay it any mind then. What I was concerned about was that I’d forgotten to wear a bra. Yes, my breasts were quite full, and it was obvious when I walked without a bra. After that jump, they bounced conspicuously. And the coach must have seen it because his gaze lingered on my chest for an extra few seconds. It was utterly humiliating. “My name is Ryan Thompson, and I’m your coach!” “Regarding discipline, I will emphasize only one thing: obedience!” I thought the coach had let me off the hook, and I breathed a sigh of relief. But during the marching drills, he singled me out again, claiming my kicks were off and I needed individual training. I couldn't rejoin the squad until I perfected them, otherwise, I'd drag the whole team down. “No strength, just flimsy!” Ryan stood beside me, taking my leg and adjusting my posture. “Stand tall, don’t move.” We were at the very back of the line. The students in front were all standing at attention, no one looking back, so naturally, no one saw his hand on my leg. The uniforms issued by the school were thin, so thin I could even feel the warmth of his palm. Suddenly, I remembered my spring dream from the night before. The faces of the two super-strong men in my dream, once blurry, now began to sharpen, transforming into Ryan Thompson’s face. He peeled off my uniform, pressing me down onto the bed, riding me like a horse. His hard muscles, infinite strength, and astonishing stamina – everything about him drove me wild. Just then, Ryan’s hand gradually shifted lower, his large palm cupping half my buttock, kneading gently twice. “Tighten your glutes,” he murmured. In my dream, he had said something like: "Slut, hike that ass higher." “Ugh…” As I thought of that unspeakable image, a ticklish, numb sensation instantly spread between my thighs, as if ants were crawling there. My buttocks involuntarily clenched inwards, and I let out a soft moan. Ryan turned his head to look at me. “Coach,” I whimpered, “I don’t feel good.” “Where do you not feel good?” “I can’t quite say.” “You’ll get used to it.” No sooner had he spoken than he pressed his entire body against my back, one hand resting on my lower abdomen, the other cupping my breast, embracing me completely. “Stomach in, chest out, hips tucked.” Besides my most intimate area, I had three other sensitive spots: my earlobes, my neck, and my chest. Just a light touch to any of these would trigger an immediate reaction. So, the moment Ryan’s hands landed on them, I felt a delicious tingle, a delightful ache that almost made me wet myself. But I didn't feel any discomfort. In fact, I deliberately pushed my chest out, craving him to go further. I don't know how long it lasted, just as I thought Ryan's hand would slip under my clothes any second, he suddenly pulled away. Losing that firm contact, I felt as if a piece of my heart had been ripped out, leaving me hollow and intensely uncomfortable. The pleasure halted abruptly, and the emptiness multiplied. My legs went weak, and my body involuntarily swayed to the side. Thankfully, Ryan caught me. I stumbled into his broad, solid chest, my inner thigh landing squarely on his hand. Feeling Ryan’s fingers hook upward, I impulsively reached out and ran my hand across his lower abdomen. So powerful! How did he manage to stuff that monstrosity into his pants? It was even more exaggerated than in the adult films I’d watched. I wanted to devour him whole. “You…” Ryan’s words started, then abruptly stopped. I secretly glanced at him, only to see him staring intently at my crotch. A quick glance down confirmed that the camouflage pants were of terrible quality. Somehow, they’d ripped open, right at my groin, completely exposing me. “Ah…” I let out a soft gasp, quickly covering myself, and looked at him with a pout. “I have new training uniforms in my room. Come with me.” With that, Ryan dismissed the squad. Once only the two of us remained on the field, he scooped me up, carried me into the adjacent staff dormitory, set me down on a cot, and locked the door. In the confined space, he finally dropped the act. First, he smoothed my hair back, then with a quick tear, he ripped my uniform in half, revealing my smooth, unblemished skin beneath. “Same uniform, but why do you make it look so slutty?” “Coach…” I knelt on the cot, my throat dry with nerves. “Slut! You’re nothing but a slut!” He scoffed. “Not even wearing a bra, just trying to tempt men, huh?” Then, without room for refusal, he gripped my cheeks, forcing my mouth open, and inserted two fingers inside, swirling them around my tongue. In that instant, the sensation of being utterly dominated by a man reached its peak. “Mmmph mmmph…” I didn’t hesitate. Just like the women in the videos, I sucked on his fingers, looking up at him, my tongue teasing and producing wet, squelching sounds. It was incredibly shameful, yet it ignited a burning heat within me. Soon, saliva dribbled from the corner of my mouth, down my chin, and onto my chest. A surge of even greater excitement and stimulation flooded my heart, because Ryan had already pulled down his pants. The moment I’d been longing for was finally about to happen… Knock knock knock. Just then, a knock at the door suddenly echoed, shattering the atmosphere in the room. “Ryan, are you in there?”
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