[FNS-077] A flexible OL disciplined every morning by a group of thugs – Ayami Mori

I quickly understood I was nothing but a piece of sentient meat for Mike. I lay there, a mere slab of flesh, aware yet powerless, as the older man approached with a glint of hunger in his eyes. The air was thick with the scent of spices and smoke, a cruel reminder of the fate that awaited me. He picked me up, his fingers cold and calloused, and I felt the tongue push against my anus, a searing pain that echoed through my very being. As he savored my unclean butthole, I could sense his satisfaction, a grotesque pleasure derived from my demise. With every lick, I faded further into oblivion, my essence consumed, leaving behind only the hollow memory of what I once was. In that final moment, I realized that I was not just meat; I was a story, a sacrifice to his insatiable appetite, forever lost in the depths of his ravenous soul.