The box creaked open, dim light blinding me. It was a wooden crate in their "private room" - a place they'd warned me off. Too late now. They yanked me out, my legs floppy from the drug. They dragged me to a pull-up bar on the ceiling. The thong dug deep, my skinny body pathetic in the mirror - pink fabric, weak arms.
They tied my wrists to the bar with a gym towel, feet dangling over a stinky grate. Naree piled her dirty gym clothes nearby - sweaty, sour. "Please, let me go!" I sobbed. They smirked. Amir fixed a metal rod to the wall, a rubber dick on one end. Naree forced her red yoga pants on me, tying the string tight, the extra length knotted to a floor loop. She cut a hole in the ass with a knife.
"No! Please! It's too big - I'll die!" I screamed, crying hard. Naree stuffed her sweaty pantyhose in my mouth - bitter, wet - then tied purple yoga pants over it, gagging me tight. Amir smeared gel on the rod, and they swung me onto it. Pain ripped through me - sharp, hot, breaking. I screamed into the gag, muffled, as it sank in, my toes brushing the floor.