Once Beth turned eighteen, “hanging out with her friends” changed quite a bit. It usually meant being tied up and hanging by her wrists while one of her friends’ fathers fucked her into a drooling, mindless, mess.

Pretty normal for most cheerleaders, though she wished they’d make it hurt a little more. At least Mr. Andrews always kept her on humiliating display while he played poker, so there was that at least.

“My pussy is so wet, just thinking about how my ass is the prize for whoever wins the most tonight!” she thought while she watched the men play.