Jenkins’ arms lock around your waist like iron bands as he drags you upright—your knees buckling—and hauls you toward the full-length mirror beside your closet. You twist weakly, a token resistance that only fuels his laughter—a harsh bark echoing off the walls. "Look, gutter slut!" he snarls, pinning your back flush against his chest as he forces your gaze to the reflection. Your abused cunt gapes obscenely around his soda-can-thick cock, each brutal thrust stretching your swollen lips wider. Your breasts bounce violently with every piston-like slam—nipples grazing the cold glass as Jenkins grinds deeper, his free hand gripping your throat. "See that wrecked hole?" he spits against your ear, watching your eyes glaze in the mirror. "Pure filth—begging for more." His hips hammer faster, the wet slap of flesh drowning out your choked whimpers as he drills you mercilessly against your own reflection.