Bound in rope, I'm presented to the group like a sacrifice. 'Cover her, mark her, make her your tribute,' the voice commands. Hands grope, cocks throb, and I'm enveloped in a symphony of grunts and groans. Cum splatters across my breasts, my stomach, my thighs. I'm drenched, claimed, a living, breathing monument to their lust. I revel in it, each sticky strand a testament to my debasement, my willingness to be their cum-drenched canvas.