Motier1815

Thanks. Nice thought. I will consider it 😉

Thank you for that and for the feedback by the others as well. I left that open on purpose ;-). It'll take some time, but I will work on it.

CHAPTER 8 — The New Dawn The room was silent again. The doors were closed. The pounding, the grunting, the wet slapping, all gone. Only the hum of ventilation remained, indifferent to what had happened. Helena lay on the bench for what felt like hours. Her body was empty of strength, but overfilled with everything they had left inside her. Warm, thick streams of semen and blood continued to leak slowly from her ruined hole, dripping heavily onto the floor beneath her. The raw ache between her legs pulsed with every shallow breath. She barely noticed when the attendants returned. They moved her gently, wordlessly. They lifted her limp body, wrapped her in clean cloth, and carried her down the corridor toward the exit chamber. She sat slumped now, alone, her legs still trembling. Near the exit door, mounted on the wall, was a small whiteboard. At first, her vision blurred over the writing, but as her gaze steadied, the words began to sharpen. Rows of crude handwriting. Initials. Symbols. Infections. Quiet confessions written only for each other. HIV+ (untreated) Hepatitis B Hepatitis C HSV-2 HPV high-risk strain Syphilis Gonorrhea Chlamydia Herpes HSV-1 Genital Warts ... Her stomach twisted as her eyes ran down the list. They had known. They all had known. And now, so did she. A sudden cramp rolled through her lower belly, sharp and deep. The weight of their seed shifted inside her as more fluid spilled out between her legs, staining the floor again. The warmth that had once felt arousing now felt heavy, suffocating. Her body wasn’t hers anymore. Her blood wasn’t hers. Her cells were rewriting themselves even now. She had chosen this. She had locked herself in. She had whispered yes. The exit door clicked open softly. A long hallway waited beyond. Clean. White. Indifferent. She forced herself to stand. Her legs buckled briefly, but she steadied herself. One foot in front of the other. She stepped forward into the hallway, leaking, shaking, her body still losing what it could, and keeping what it couldn’t. It was over now. The submission, the surrender, the ruin, all sealed behind her. There would be no return. No confessions. No redemption. Only time. And whatever her body would become in the months to come. Later that night, at home, the silence felt heavier than the club ever had. She sat at her kitchen table, the laptop glowing in front of her, browser filled with medical articles. One after another. She had typed the words herself: "Eye infection from chlamydia and herpes." She read about ocular chlamydia, blindness, ulcerations, chronic inflammation. She also read about ocular herpes, corneal scarring, and the potential for vision loss. She read about syphilitic eye damage and hepatitis, learning about the different types, hepatitis A, B, and C, and their potential to cause chronic liver disease, cirrhosis, and even liver cancer. She read about viral load and the lifelong impact of these infections. The more she read, the colder her hands felt. Her eye was already irritated. She rushed to the bathroom and flushed it repeatedly with water, her breath quick and shallow. Back at the table, she kept scrolling. She searched every name she saw on the whiteboard. Every disease. Every possible symptom. Every prognosis. She read about lifelong infections. About treatments she might need for years. About things that would never fully go away. She was fully aware now, brutally aware, of what had likely entered her bloodstream, her cervix, her womb, her eyes. And still, when she finally crawled into bed, exhausted, trembling, her hand found its way between her legs. She closed her eyes. Her breathing deepened. And slowly, deliberately, she masturbated. She knew exactly what she had done. She had ruined her old life. And now, she would enter a new one.

CHAPTER 6: Inescapable Reality Weeks had passed since Mia disappeared from their circle, and her absence hung between Helena and Lisa like a thick fog that neither dared to clear. They tiptoed around the subject of Roulette Night, like two addicts pretending they were clean, each feeling the itch building in their veins. Mia's infection had broken something, but it had also validated something, the risk was real, and it wasn't just a fantasy. Someone they knew had been hit, and deep inside, that knowledge didn't entirely repel them; it excited them. One evening, Helena was scrolling through her encrypted inbox when she found a message that made her stomach flip. The subject line was simple: "Super Wednesday , The Crazy Room." The message was short and direct: You are extended a private option for the Crazy Room session. Entry is fully voluntary. Consent begins at the moment you lock yourself in. Odds are substantially higher. Full spectrum. Super Wednesday. 10:00 PM. Helena had heard the whispers about the Crazy Room. Even some of the men were frightened of it. Unlike Roulette Night, the Crazy Room was an enigma, a place where the rules were different, and the risks were supposedly much higher. The rumors spoke of multiple viral threats and worse odds, but the specifics were unclear. The allure of the unknown was both terrifying and thrilling. Helena stared at her phone, her hands trembling as she re-read the invitation. Her first instinct was revulsion, and Mia’s haunted face flashed through her mind. But the intensity of her fear sent a wet pulse between her legs. The thought of walking into that room, locking her wrists and ankles, and spreading herself open while strangers decided her fate made her light-headed. Two nights later, Helena met Lisa for drinks. They sat in a quiet corner, low music covering their hushed voices. "Have you heard about the Crazy Room?" Helena asked, showing Lisa the invite on her phone. Lisa raised an eyebrow and exhaled slowly. "I've heard about it. Never thought they’d actually offer it to us." "I’m scared," Helena whispered, almost ashamed. Lisa smiled faintly. "That’s exactly why it exists." Neither spoke for a moment. Finally, Helena added, "Mia’s face won’t leave my head." Lisa nodded. "It’s dangerous. But it’s real. It was always real." Lisa leaned forward, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?" Helena whispered back, "Every fucking night." Lisa smiled thinly. "So am I." For days, neither Helena nor Lisa could sleep. Their minds were consumed by the enigma of the Crazy Room. They had heard it was extreme, that the odds of catching something were much worse than the usual 1 in 20. But the specifics were a blur of rumors and speculation. Helena's body shivered at the thought of what might happen, anonymous men, masks, unknown viruses, and the finality of locking herself in. Her body kept betraying her every time the thought returned. She would touch herself at night, orgasming violently to images that terrified her. Lisa, too, was caught in the same web of fear and excitement, her dreams haunted by the unknown. Wednesday morning arrived, and the invitation burned in Helena's phone screen. 10:00 PM. She had not declined, which meant the spot was still hers. By late afternoon, she was shaking. Her hand hovered over her phone multiple times. Decline? Delete? Ignore? She couldn’t. She was already sliding down the slope, and she knew it. Lisa felt the same pull, the same irresistible urge to face the unknown. Hours before they would need to leave, both women stood in their respective apartments, staring at themselves in the mirror. Their bodies were perfect, strong, beautiful, still unmarked. But they knew that the viruses, if they came, would leave no visible signs, not at first. Beneath the surface, their blood could be rewritten. Permanently. Their identities altered. Their freedoms surrendered. Their innocences erased. All by their own hands. And the worst part, the part that made their knees weak and their breaths catch, was that they wanted it. Not because they didn’t fear it, but because they did. Because risk was no longer abstract. Mia had proved that. And still… the pull was stronger than the fear. At 9:40 PM, Helena and Lisa each slipped behind the wheel of their cars. They didn’t text each other. They didn’t tell anyone. Some decisions had to be made alone. The city lights blurred past them as they drove toward the club. Their hands were cold. Their breathing was shallow. But their destination was certain. CHAPTER 7 , The Crazy Room The hallway was silent, each step toward the Crazy Room feeling like walking deeper into a place her mind was no longer allowed to control. Helena's breath came in short, shallow bursts, her legs trembled, and her heart pounded so violently that it blurred the sound of her own footsteps. At the door stood two attendants, still and calm as statues, their presence only making the moment heavier. This was no longer some twisted dare or a boundary-pushing game between friends; that was far behind her now. "You know the rules," one of them said quietly. "Once you are locked in, consent is complete." Helena nodded, unable to speak even if she tried. The door opened, revealing a cold, clinical, and unforgiving space. The bench stood alone beneath the spotlight, bolted to the floor, with ankle and wrist cuffs lying open like instruments of a ritual long prepared. The emptiness of the room amplified her breathing; this was her stage, her choice. The door sealed behind her with a quiet click, leaving her alone. For a moment, she stood frozen, hoping that immobility might still reverse her decision. But the pull inside her was stronger than her fear, carrying her forward. She approached the bench like a woman walking to her own execution. The cold leather pressed against her naked skin as she knelt, her breathing quickening and becoming erratic. The cuffs waited, patient. One wrist, then the other. The attendants worked with silent efficiency; the locks snapped shut with metallic clicks. Her arms were pinned forward, her chest pushed toward the bench, breasts exposed. The first ankle restraint closed around her left leg, spreading her wider, fully opening her sex to the empty space behind her. Only one restraint remained, and then came the pause. The attendant crouched beside her, his voice lowered, not kind but calm. "Before I close this, you should fully understand." Helena's breathing turned jagged, her chest heaving with panic. "The odds tonight are extreme. This is not like before. No healthy man would enter this room. They know what they carry, and they know what they give." Only now did the full weight of it land inside her. This wasn’t just higher risk; this was certainty. This was why they called it The Crazy Room. The second attendant stepped closer, his voice steady and final. "This is your last moment to stop. Shall I close the final restraint?" Her mind screamed; this was her last out. But even as panic boiled inside her, she also knew something else: if she said no now, she would destroy the very climax her sick craving demanded. She couldn’t repeat the anticlimax of asking, of retreating into safety. The tension was beyond anything she had ever felt, fear, lust, and a self-inflicted horror fusing into something too heavy to escape. Her voice trembled as it broke free. "Yes." The final cuff snapped shut. The hum of the magnetic locks filled the air; she was fully restrained, fully spread, fully surrendered. Her fate was sealed. The wait stretched unbearably, and then the first door opened. She heard him approach, boots heavy, breath steady, hands sure. Rough fingers gripped her hips, spreading her open with brutal confidence. Helena's mind raced with a mix of terror and anticipation. What if he has something worse? What if this is the one that destroys me? Her breathing was hard and uncontrolled, her body trembling with a mix of fear and dark excitement. Without hesitation, his cock pressed against her and drove inside her raw. The stretch burned, and a sharp cry escaped her lips, turning into a series of loud, desperate shouts. "Ah! Ah! Ah!" Her head jerked forward as air rushed from her lungs. He set a brutal rhythm immediately, fast, heavy, punishing. As he pounded into her, his breath hot over her back, he finally whispered, "You’ll feel all our toxic cum inside you… long after tonight. I am going to infect you." His words sent a shiver down her spine, a mix of horror and perverse satisfaction. His orgasm struck hard, a thick flood of semen pouring into her womb, warm and invasive. He withdrew, and another entered. The next man grabbed her hair roughly, twisting her head back as he slammed into her. "Look forward," he growled. "You need to stay open for us." She gasped as he drove himself fully inside, his balls slapping wetly against her overstretched, leaking hole. "Your pussy will never be clean again," he whispered into her ear as he finished, spraying his load inside her. They kept coming, a parade of masked strangers moving like a machine behind her. One after another, endless. Her body offered no resistance anymore, not because she accepted it, but because there was nothing left to resist. These men were not having sex with her; they were converting her, destroying her. For these guys, she was nothing more than a perverse satisfaction, a vessel to ruin. At some point, one man paused before entering her, running the head of his cock up and down her swollen, gaping opening. "You’re already ruined," he whispered. "Might as well take more." He pushed inside hard, filling her anew, pumping another infected load deep into the growing toxic pool inside her womb. Her belly swelled as more men followed. The pressure inside her became unbearable; her womb felt heavy, painfully full, bloated with viral seed. Her vision blurred; her lips no longer formed words, only shallow gasps and broken moans. She no longer knew how many men had entered her, only that they weren’t finished. Her entire existence had narrowed into this: the pounding, the stretching, the endless, irreversible filling. Later, she no longer knew how much later, another man grabbed her chin and forced her head sideways. "Eyes open," he whispered. "I want you to see." His cock jerked close to her face; she blinked reflexively. "You know this is risky, right?" he smiled darkly. "Eye infections are nasty. I probably shouldn’t, but I will." His cock erupted, spurting directly into her eye. Hot, thick ropes struck her cornea, blinding her instantly with burning, sticky heat. Tears streamed down her face as the burning intensified. In that instant, even through the sting, the thought pierced her collapsing mind: He knows. He knows exactly what he carries. And he’s giving it to me anyway. Another man took his turn, grabbing her other eye and forcing her to look at him. "My turn," he grunted, and with a wicked smile, he too released his load into her eye, the hot semen mixing with the tears and causing her to scream in pain and humiliation. The parade of men continued, some fucking her brutally in the ass, the tight ring of muscle offering little resistance to their invasive thrusts. The pain was excruciating, but it only seemed to spur them on, their grunts and groans filling the room as they took their pleasure from her ruined body. One man, his breath hot and rancid in her ear, whispered, "I'm going to scratch you a bit, make it more interesting." She felt a sharp pain as he dragged something sharp across her pussy, opening her flesh just enough to draw blood. "That should increase the infection risk," he chuckled, his cock throbbing as he rammed into her, mixing his seed with the blood that now trickled down her inner thighs. Her body was a canvas of pain and humiliation, each new assault pushing her further into a state of shock and disbelief. The men seemed to feed off her suffering, their grunts and groans a symphony of perverse satisfaction. The final man arrived; she sensed his presence before he touched her. He spread her wide one last time. His cock was different, broken, diseased, open sores rubbing against her torn flesh as he pushed inside. The friction was fire; every thrust scraped his infected skin deeper into her already shredded tissues. Her head dropped forward as her body trembled uncontrollably. This one will finish me. He roared as he slammed into her harder than any before, grinding through her ruined insides with brutal force. With a final violent thrust, he erupted, flooding her with his diseased load, his sickness joining the flood trapped deep inside her womb. The restraints released; she collapsed forward, utterly broken. Semen, blood, and infection poured from her gaping hole, spilling onto the floor beneath her in heavy streams. The attendants lifted her limp, destroyed body without a word, carrying her into the recovery room and laying her down like an empty shell. No words. No sympathy. Hours passed. Her belly bulged with the obscene load inside her; her womb stretched, packed tight with twenty men’s contaminated seed. Her blood was no longer hers; her cells were no longer hers; her life had been rewritten. Through cracked, barely moving lips, she whispered, "They have me now."

CHAPTER 5 , The Aftermath The car ride home was a shroud of silence, the air thick with unspoken words and shattered illusions. Lisa, usually the loudest, stared blankly out the window, her reflection a ghostly echo of the vibrant woman she once was. Rachel bit her nails, her eyes wide with a delayed panic that gnawed at her insides. Helena sat still as a statue, her silence a stark contrast to her usual calm demeanor, her eyes occasionally flicking to Mia, a mix of concern and horror etched on her face. And Mia, Mia was a shell, her empty stare fixed out into the night, her expression a void of all emotion. The sexual energy that once crackled between them had been snuffed out, replaced by a cold, harsh reality. The game had become real, and the weight of that reality pressed down on them, a physical force that made it hard to breathe. No one dared say it, but the truth hung heavy in the air: It could have been any of us. In the days that followed, the group chat fell silent, the usual banter and teasing messages replaced by an eerie stillness. No new invitations were sent, no plans were made. Just an empty, echoing silence that screamed of their collective trauma. Mia didn't respond to any calls, her phone remaining stubbornly silent. She withdrew completely, retreating into a shell of solitude and isolation. Helena found herself unable to stop thinking about Mia, about what she must have felt in that moment, not just the raw, brutal sex, but the horrifying realization that followed. He chose her. The man knew. He had walked into that club, infected, and scanned the room like a predator. And when he saw Mia's nervous smile, her hesitation, her fear, he saw weakness. Or perhaps, he saw an opportunity. Mia had been selected, and that knowledge was a poison that would forever alter her reality. Two weeks later, Mia finally reached out to Helena, her message short and to the point: "I’m getting tested tomorrow." Helena responded immediately, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and anticipation. "Do you want me to come with you?" But Mia's reply was a simple, "No." And then, silence again. A silence that was deafening, that spoke volumes of Mia's internal turmoil and Helena's growing concern. The result came back faster than Mia was prepared for. Positive. Confirmed. Helena received the message late at night, the words "It's done." burning into her retina as she stared at her phone, her mind reeling. Mia had crossed the line from thrill to irreversible reality. The virus was inside her now, multiplying, embedding, altering her blood forever. The finality of it was a punch to the gut, a brutal reminder of the stakes they had been playing with. Rachel was the first to crack, her panic a tangible thing that filled the room. "We’re done," she snapped at Lisa, her voice sharp and final. "No more of this shit. No more Roulette Nights. Not ever." Lisa, for once, was shaken far deeper than she let on. She nodded, her usual arrogance replaced by a subdued resignation. They never discussed going back, the dare broken, the fantasy shattered. They had always pretended they were playing with controlled danger, but now the illusion of control was gone, replaced by a stark, terrifying reality. Within a few weeks, Mia quietly left the group, her departure as silent as her presence had become. No farewell. No confrontation. She simply faded away, deleted from the group chat, her number unanswered, her voicemail full. She was unreachable, a ghost of her former self. Her apartment was dark, her social media silent, a stark contrast to the vibrant, lively woman she once was. The others understood, no one dared blame her. Mia had to disappear into her new world, a world where the consequences of that whispered "cum inside me" would follow her for the rest of her life, a constant, inescapable reminder of that night. And yet, late at night, Helena couldn’t stop thinking about that moment. Mia pinned beneath him, trembling, sobbing. Her lips quivering before she whispered the words that ruined her. Helena kept seeing it, kept feeling something twisted in her gut. It was horror. It was arousal. It was both. And as much as she hated herself for it, she envied Mia. Mia had crossed further than any of them. She had paid the price. She belonged to something now. Something irreversible. Something that would forever change the course of her life, a stark reminder of the danger they had all been playing with.

CHAPTER 4 , Mia's Collapse Mia couldn't escape the haunting image of Helena's encounter, the whispered confession, "I said yes," replaying in her mind like a curse. She would wake up in the middle of the night, flushed and breathing hard, the scene etched into her memory: Helena beneath a masked stranger, raw, unprotected, and utterly vulnerable. The danger, the irreversible gamble, the moment when control slipped away, it all consumed Mia's thoughts. And now, Roulette Night was calling them back. Lisa, ever the instigator, pushed the idea forward. "We're invited again," she announced in the group chat. "Same club. Same rules." Rachel's reply was almost immediate: "I’ll come. But just to observe again." Helena simply responded with: "I’m in." And then there was Mia. She stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity before finally typing: "I’ll come. But I won’t participate." Her stomach twisted as she hit send, unsure if she was reassuring herself or lying. The car ride was quieter than before, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension. Lisa was radiant, her excitement palpable. Rachel sat stiffly, glancing nervously at her phone. Helena looked calm and collected, but Mia sat in silence, her fingers twisting her bracelet, her chest tight with anxiety. The club came into view, as discreet and anonymous as ever, but this time, every step inside felt heavier, more ominous. They went through the motions, signed disclosures, nods of acknowledgment, rules they all knew by heart. Twenty men. One infected. No tests. Only their word. Mia's hands shook as she signed her name again, her own name looking fragile and insignificant on the thick paper. The men were already there, scattered around the room, their black masks giving them an air of power and predation. The atmosphere was thick with unsaid things, sex, danger, and something far darker underneath. Lisa disappeared into a private room almost instantly, pulled by an invisible force. Rachel hovered near the bar, her eyes locked downward. Helena stayed close to Mia, her presence a small comfort. "You okay?" Helena whispered, her voice barely audible. Mia nodded too quickly, her lie evident. Helena’s hand brushed lightly against hers. "You don’t have to do anything," she reassured. Mia’s breath trembled. "I know," she whispered back, her voice shaking with uncertainty. And then he was there, the tall, nerdish man who had fixated on Mia during their last visit. He approached without hesitation, his presence overwhelming and slightly creepy. Mia hesitated, looking at Helena for support, but the guy pulled her gently toward the room. Not with force, but with a firm insistence that left no room for argument. Mia quickly followed, her heart pounding in her chest. The private room was sparse, containing only a mattress on the floor. The door clicked shut behind them, sealing her fate. Mia’s pulse pounded in her ears, her legs feeling unsteady and weak. He stood before her, his voice calm but commanding. "Either you walk out of the door, or you undress, lay on your back on the mattress, and open your legs." Mia swallowed hard, her hands trembling as she slowly began to undress. She felt ashamed, vulnerable, and totally out of her depth. This man was not her type; he was intense, focused, and slightly frightening. "You don't have to say anything," he continued, his voice cold and detached. "If you open your legs, I am going to fuck you hard, brutal, and without mercy. You are just a fuck toy for me." Mia laid on her back, her legs initially closed, but then, with a deep breath, she opened them, exposing herself completely. He stood there for a moment, just looking at her, his expression unreadable. She looked him in the eyes, knowing exactly what he was going to do. His cock was long and thick, the biggest Mia had ever seen. It stood erect, a weapon pointed directly at her, and she felt a mix of fear and anticipation. He moved toward her, his intentions clear, and Mia braced herself for what was to come. He started to thrust deep and slow, each movement deliberate and controlled. He was not gentle, not kind, not soft. He was a stranger, a mask, a potential threat, and he was fucking her raw, unprotected, unrestrained. Mia's moans turned to helpless gasps, her legs pinned wide by his powerful grip as he drove into her with brutal force. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed against the walls, a primal, brutal symphony. Mia's hands clutched at the sheets, her body shaking violently as she lost all sense of self, her mind and body no longer her own. He was ramming into her, his body slamming against hers with a relentless, punishing rhythm. This guy was on a mission to degrade her, to make her feel every inch of him, to conquer her completely. She could feel him building up, his breath growing ragged, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he approached his climax. The room was filled with the sound of their bodies meeting, the scent of sex and sweat and something more primal, more dangerous. Mia was torn, her mind a whirlwind of doubt and desire. Should I ask? Should I find out? Or should I just let it happen, let him finish, let him come inside me, let whatever will be, be? The question sat on the tip of her tongue, a heavy, pulsing presence, a decision that felt like a matter of life and death. Finally, she whispered, terrified and trembling, "Are you... the infected one?" He didn’t slow or hesitate. He simply answered, "Yes." The word shattered her, tears instantly welling up in her eyes, her stomach twisting into a knot of sickness and heat. He continued pounding her mercilessly, his breath now harsh, close to release. Her mind screamed at her to stop him, but her lips refused to form the words. He stared into her eyes, his gaze intense and unyielding. "If you say nothing... I will finish inside you." That sentence hit her harder than if he had said nothing at all. The finality of it, the stark reality of her choice, sent a shiver down her spine. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to form words, but her voice broke, her body convulsing with sobs. Her hips and pelvis were trying to cope with the relentless pounding, the invasion of his body into hers. She looked away to the side, her mind screaming for her to say something, anything, to stop this madness. But her lips refused to form the words. His eyes burned into hers, and with a low, primal growl, he slammed into her one final, brutal thrust and exploded inside her. "I am going to infect you and change your life forever." She looked back into his eyes, seeing the devil. She felt him pulsing, his seed flooding into her unprotected womb, forced deep with grinding motions that made her whimper. Sealing her fate. Her body convulsed, sobbing and climaxing in the same breath. It was done. Irreversible. Permanent. Long minutes later, Mia sat shaking in the lounge, her legs still trembling, her hair clinging to her damp face. Helena sat beside her, calm and steady, her hand gently touching Mia’s arm. "You crossed it," Helena whispered, her voice a mix of understanding and sadness. Mia stared into the void, her voice raw and broken. "I couldn’t stop." Helena’s hand squeezed hers, a silent promise of support. "None of us do." Mia’s tears finally slipped down her cheeks as she whispered, "I don’t want it to stop."

CHAPTER 3 , Helena's First Step The man led Helena into one of the private rooms, and she followed in silence, her heart pounding in her chest. The door closed softly behind them, sealing her inside the room with him, alone. "Relax," he said, his voice warm and reassuring. "This is your room. Your rules." She nodded, trying to force herself to breathe slowly and calmly. He started with gentle kisses, his touch deliberate and respectful, but as he undressed her, his hands grew firmer, more possessive. Her dress slipped to the floor, leaving her exposed and vulnerable, her skin hot with a mix of nervousness and excitement. He undressed in silence, revealing a strong, lean body, his erection fully erect and unprotected. Helena's breath hitched at the sight, her mind screaming warnings, but her body ached with desire. He guided her onto the bed, his grip firm on her wrist, and spread her legs with a single, dominant motion. "May I?" he asked, but there was no softness in his voice, only a raw, primal hunger. "Yes," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation. And then he was on her, his body pressing down on hers, his cock pressing against her entrance, hard and insistent. He entered her with a single, brutal thrust, shearing into her, impaling her completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a sharp, intense pain that quickly morphed into a dark, twisted pleasure. Her entire body responded violently, a mix of terror and euphoria coursing through her veins like a drug. One in twenty, her mind screamed. One fucking chance in twenty that you're about to get infected by a stranger. The reality of it, the raw, brutal truth of it, sent a shiver of dark excitement down her spine. He started to move, his hips snapping against hers, each thrust deliberate and deep, a claiming, a conquering. He was not gentle, not soft, not kind. He was a stranger, a mask, a potential threat, and he was fucking her raw, unprotected, unrestrained. And she was loving every fucking second of it. Her nails dug into his back, her hips met his thrusts with a desperation that matched his own. She was surrendering, giving in to the primal, dangerous allure of it all. He was grunting, his breath hot and heavy in her ear, his body slick with sweat as he pounded into her, claiming her, using her. And she was his, completely, utterly his in that moment, a willing participant in this dangerous, exhilarating game. His pace quickened, his body slamming into hers with a brutal, unyielding rhythm. She could feel his body tensing, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, and she knew he was close, working his way to his climax. The room was filled with the sound of their bodies meeting, the scent of sex and sweat and something more primal, more dangerous. She was torn, her mind a whirlwind of doubt and desire. Should I ask? Should I find out? Or should I just let it happen, let him finish, let him come inside me, let whatever will be, be? The question sat on the tip of her tongue, a heavy, pulsing presence, a decision that felt like a matter of life and death. Her heart pounded, her body ached, and her mind raced, a dizzying mix of fear, excitement, and uncertainty. She was on the brink, teetering on the edge of a precipice, and she knew that once she asked, there would be no going back. The tension was insane, a crazy, exhilarating, terrifying tension that had her on the verge of screaming. And then, in a moment of sheer panic, she blurted out the question, her voice a shaky whisper, "Are you?" He paused, his body still buried deep inside hers, his voice a low, steady rumble, "No." A wave of relief washed over her, a relief so profound it left her dizzy and lightheaded. But with that relief came a sense of loss, a fading of the crazy tension that had been building between them. It was over, the moment of truth had passed, and now it was just a fuck with a stranger, raw and primal, but lacking the electric charge of the unknown. His breathing grew ragged and desperate. "May I come inside you?" he asked, his voice a low growl. This was it, the final question, the ultimate decision. She whispered back, trembling, "Yes." His release exploded inside her, a warmth that flooded her, seeping into her most intimate places. She lay there, breathless, as he held himself inside her, releasing every drop, the rush of it all unlike anything she had ever felt. The gamble was complete, and she was left reeling in the aftermath. Helena rejoined the others, her body still throbbing with the aftermath of her encounter. Mia looked up at her, her eyes wide with a mix of fear, envy, and uncertainty. "You... you did it?" Mia stuttered, her voice barely above a whisper. Helena nodded, trying to hide the mix of emotions swirling within her. Lisa's grin widened, a triumphant and excited glint in her eyes. Rachel, ever the stoic one, simply stared at the floor, her expression unreadable. The tension in the group was palpable, a thick, heavy blanket of unspoken words and lingering doubts. Mia fidgeted nervously, her hands twisting in her lap, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. "I... I want to go home," she managed to stutter out, her voice trembling with anxiety. The others exchanged glances, the reality of their situation settling in. The night had taken a toll on them all, and the once-exciting dare now felt like a heavy burden. They decided to call it a day, the weight of their experiences too much to bear any longer. As they gathered their things and made their way out, the air thick with the remnants of their dangerous game.

CHAPTER 2 , The Arrival The car ride was tense, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. The weight of their decision had finally settled in, and the women rode in silence. Rachel sat by the window, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, lips pressed into a thin line. Mia clutched her purse in both hands, her thumbs tapping nervously against each other. Lisa, on the other hand, was glowing with anticipation, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Helena stayed silent, her gaze fixed forward, her heart pounding beneath her calm exterior. The building was discreet, blending seamlessly into the night. There were no signs, no lights, no windows, just a single door that promised a world unlike any other. Two well-dressed attendants greeted them without a word and led them inside. With each step, the outside world dissolved, leaving them in a sleek, softly lit reception hall. At the main desk, a woman in black met them, her voice a soft whisper. "Welcome to Roulette Night. You are fully informed of the rules?" The four women nodded, their expressions a mix of nervousness and resolve. She handed each of them a simple document outlining the rules: No condoms permitted. Twenty male partners. One HIV positive, untreated. No medical testing provided. Participants trust the integrity of the process. Women may ask the man at any point: ‘Are you the infected one?’ The man must answer truthfully. Silence after disclosure equals consent. Each woman signed, their names looking strange and formal at the bottom of those cold, clinical pages. The central lounge was elegant and muted, a stark contrast to the pulsating energy of the city outside. Twenty men stood scattered throughout the room, each wearing identical black masks, their anonymity absolute. The women were unmasked, the unspoken message clear: You are exposed. They are not. Soft music played beneath quiet conversation, and waiters moved discreetly with trays of champagne. The four friends huddled briefly in a corner, their voices low. "I hate this already," Rachel whispered sharply, her eyes scanning the room with disdain. Mia’s voice trembled as she spoke, "We don’t have to do anything. We can just watch." Lisa grinned, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "But we can do more than that. That's the point, isn't it?" Helena simply nodded, her pulse throbbing in her throat. The danger felt alive here, palpable and intoxicating. The men moved with a predatory grace, circling politely, speaking gently, never pushing. It was not a crude meat market; this was about temptation, about the thrill of the unknown. Helena quickly caught the attention of a tall, sharp-eyed man. His voice was deep and confident, sending a shiver down her spine. "You’re new," he stated, his eyes never leaving hers. "Yes," she answered softly, trying to hide her nervousness. "You control everything," he reassured her. "No one forces you here." "I know," she whispered, her voice barely audible. But he leaned in closer, his breath warm on her ear. "But you’re drawn to the edge, aren’t you? Where control becomes… less certain." Helena's stomach flipped, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through her veins. She was here, and there was no turning back.

This story contains dark psychological elements, and extreme consensual scenarios intended purely for fictional entertainment. If you somehow visit this forum and are still easily offended, overly politically correct, or uncomfortable with explicit material involving psychological submission and risky behavior, you are advised not to read further. Although I know a Helena and a Mia, all characters are entirely fictional and over the age of 18. Any resemblance to real people, places, or events is purely coincidental. I have been lurking on this forum for a long time. Here is my little pervert gift to you all. I hope you enjoy it. Motier1815 (ObsidianPulse) Into the Crazy Room CHAPTER 1 , The Dare The year was 2001, and dangerous ideas often started as jokes that spiraled out of control. Helena and her friends were gathered around Rachel’s dining table for their monthly "Girls' Night," a setting familiar to them all. The table was set with early 2000s decor, and the air was filled with the scent of wine and the low hum of a CD player in the background. Wine poured freely, as did their deepest secrets. Four successful, independent women in their late twenties, each restless in their own right, found themselves drawn into a web of intrigue sparked by Lisa's casual question. Lisa, ever the boundary-pusher, leaned in after her second glass, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Ever heard of Roulette Night?" she asked, her tone as nonchalant as if she were suggesting a new restaurant. The others looked up, curiosity piqued. Rachel, ever the pragmatist, was the first to respond. "Sounds like a casino," she said flatly, taking a sip of her wine. Lisa’s grin sharpened, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and mischief. "It’s not," she replied, lowering her voice to a near whisper. "It’s a private party. Fetish scene. Bareback only. No condoms allowed." Rachel raised an eyebrow, a mix of disbelief and intrigue on her face. "Really? That’s bold," she said, leaning back in her chair. Mia raised an eyebrow, already suspicious. "What is it then?" she asked, her voice laced with caution. Lisa leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. "Out of the twenty men attending, one’s HIV positive," she revealed, letting the bombshell hang in the air. The room froze, the weight of her words settling over the group like a shroud. Helena’s breath caught in her chest, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through her veins. By 2001, HIV/AIDS was better understood, but the stigma and fear were still very real. Mia whispered, her voice barely audible, "You mean… actually positive?" Lisa nodded, her eyes never leaving theirs. "Yes. Untreated," she confirmed, her voice smooth and unyielding. Rachel shook her head sharply, horror etched on her face. "That’s insane," she declared. "So… no tests? Nothing?" she asked, her voice rising in disbelief. Lisa shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that only served to heighten the tension. "Only their word," she said, her tone dismissive. The table went silent, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Lisa continued, savoring every word, "While you're with your partner, you’re allowed to ask him directly: ‘Are you the infected one?’ He must answer truthfully. If he lies, he's banned forever. After his answer, you decide. You can say no at any time, and he pulls out. But if you say nothing..." Lisa let the silence hang, the implication clear. "...it's taken as consent." Helena felt a strange pulse deep inside her, a mix of fear and exhilaration. The idea of a five percent chance, nineteen clean, one infected, with no real proof, wrapped around her brain like silk and thorns. Mia looked sick, her face pale and drawn. "One of us could get it," she whispered, her voice trembling. Lisa shrugged again, her smile predatory. "Or none of us. The odds are in your favor," she said, her voice laced with excitement. "But they're not zero," Mia whispered, her eyes wide with fear. Lisa smiled, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "And that’s exactly why it’s exciting," she declared. Over the following weeks, Lisa kept returning to the idea, her enthusiasm unwavering. Rachel resisted the hardest, but even she couldn’t fully turn away. Mia said little but grew more visibly shaken every time the topic came up. Helena kept her own battle private, afraid of how much the idea thrilled her, the risk, the irreversible danger, the ultimate surrender. Lisa’s final move came when she dropped the invitation on the table weeks later. ROULETTE NIGHT, PRIVATE INVITATION. Rachel stared at it like it was a weapon, her face a mask of horror and disbelief. Mia simply exhaled, her breath shaky and uncertain. Lisa’s grin widened, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "One night. One chance. Watch if you want. Nothing more , unless you choose," she said, her voice laced with a dangerous promise. The early 2000s decor and the low hum of the CD player seemed to fade into the background as the gravity of their decision settled in.