To Hell And Back, Chapters 1-2 free porn video

DANIEL

The crisp November air tickled my face, filling my nostrils with the pungent tang of decay only autumn could bring. The dried maple leaves crunched beneath my feet with each footfall, most of them browned past their red majesty. Indeed, almost all the trees were bare, with only a few stubborn elms clinging to the remnants of their yellowing canopies. It was that period after Halloween and before thanksgiving where Iowans were trying to decide if it was too early to set up Christmas decorations. That time of year where you’re not quite sure if you should wear a jacket or a sweatshirt. Unfortunately for my little sister, she’d chosen a t-shirt and panties.

“Don’t take it out yet!” Emily lamented from behind the screen door.

“You want raccoons?” I asked with a raised eyebrow, “Because this,” I hoisted the carved pumpkin up, “this is how you get raccoons.”

“But I worked so hard on it! Just leave it out for two more days!” Emily insisted. I glanced at the jack-o-lantern, whose face was an odd shape of close-together eyes, a rectangular nose, and a semicircular mouth that bore no space for the upper-lip.

“You worked so hard on this?” I asked with an incredulous eyebrow.

“It’s my masterpiece.” Emily nodded sincerely.

“It’s a penis.”

“And it’s such a very good penis.” Emily grinned, “Just keep it out for a little bit!”

“Is this want you want Mom to see when she walks up the steps?” I asked.

“Oh, Mom will think it’s hilarious, you know that.” Emily waved a hand.

“Why is this the hill you’re choosing to die on?”

“Because my asshole boss scheduled me for Halloween night, and I missed it!” Emily snapped, “You got to go out as an ironic piece of bacon (‘haha, did you notice my name-tag says ‘Kevin?’’) while I was stocking tampons at Target! Now put that fucking pumpkin back, Dan, or you’ll wish raccoons were your worst problem!”

I scowled at Emily, running my eyes over her in a scrutinizing manner. She’d inherited Mom’s strawberry-blonde hair, which hung in disheveled waves from her pale face. A smattering of freckles touched her pointed nose and round cheeks, whose structure gave her portrait a girlish quality that was only complimented by her big, blue eyes and pouting, pale lips. Her chin drew to a point before the slender length of her neck, which in turn, drew to the delicate bones of her collar, whose pale surface was exposed to the shoulders above her cut t-shirt. The garment draped over her petite chest, the cold morning informing the world that Emily was not wearing a bra. The shirt cut off at her midriff, which was smooth and centered with a perfect navel above which two subtle lines drew inward toward her pelvis like beckoning paths, then disappeared beneath the waistband of her pink panties. Her thighs bore only the smallest gap between them, and thickened alluringly as they rose into the smiling crease of her gravity-defying ass.

“Daniel?” Emily asked, the soft inquiry of her voice shaking me from the moment. She peered at me from below that tangled curtain of strawberry-blonde hair, her blue eyes narrowing beneath a furrowing brow.

“Yeah.” I said awkwardly, bowing my head to hide my blushing cheeks, “Yeah, fuck it. I’ll just… I’ll just leave it here by the mailbox.” I clumsily put the pumpkin on the fence post, and hurried toward the street. I heard a yelp, then a splat. I stopped, and had a precious moment with which to take a deep breath, and ready myself for the shitstorm.

“You fucking asshole!” Emily squawked from behind the screen door, “You did that on purpose, I know you did!”

“It was an accident.” I said sardonically, exaggerating my shrug. It actually was an accident, of course, but anything was better than the truth in this moment. Emily’s pale cheeks flushed with anger, then the rest of her face followed suit. She growled, tore open the screen door, and marched after me. God, she was pretty when she was angry.

“Hey, Mrs. Johnson!” I called to the yard beside us.

“You think I’m falling for that shit again?!” Emily growled, her shoulders hunched, her arms straightening to balled fists beside her, “You are nineteen years old, Danny, and you still act like a fucking-”

“Hey Daniel, hey Emily!” Mrs. Johnson waved back from her yard, one elbow resting on her rake, “Good heavens, Emily, aren’t you cold?”

Emily skidded like a cartoon character, and froze in place with the most utterly defeated expression on her face. Her cheeks grew even redder than they’d been before, then she waved awkwardly at Mrs. Johnson, and sprinted back inside, the door slamming shut behind her. I followed her inevitable path to the upstairs window, where she and the house-cat glared at me with identical expressions of contempt from between the curtains. I gave them both a parting sneer, waved my salutations to the laughing old lady that lived next to us, and hopped into my truck.

“Fuck.” I sighed, dropping my head onto the headrest, “Too fucking close, Daniel. Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with me?” I turned the truck over, and peeled out of there with a screech of rubber. Five minutes later, I was on the highway, driving like the accelerator had fucked my sister.

Instead of me. I thought grimly. I didn’t know why this had started happening. Emily and I were only a year apart, and it wasn’t like she’d grown tits and ass overnight. I’d never felt this way about her in high school, but the moment she moved in with me after her graduation, the thoughts just started coming, and they were only getting worse. What had once been glances had turned to full-blown eye-fucks, and simple musings had turned into full-throttle, choke-my-cock-until-I-hate-myself jerk-off sessions. Even now, the fantasies were coming to me, completely unbidden. Emily in a schoolgirl outfit, smiling coyly over her shoulder. Emily in a bathing suit, raising an eyebrow as she sneaks a suggestive finger beneath her shoulder strap. Emily in chains, pulled spread eagle onto the cross, staring at me from bulging eyes above a spit-coated ball-gag. I wrenched the steering wheel to the side, and barely missed the oncoming semi-truck. I swerved through three lanes of traffic, my tires screeching as I struggled to regain control of the vehicle. I finally managed to get on the shoulder, the fading blare of the semi’s horn echoing in my ears, a backdrop to the thundering of my heart, and the rapid intakes of breath.

“That’s it!” I exclaimed, “I’m going to therapy!”

EMILY

My Halloween costume was laid out where I’d put it yesterday, on my bed, waiting for me when I got off my shift. But fucking Ahmed had decided that we were understaffed in the pharmaceutical section, so instead of being a sexy sushi (and don’t worry, I’ll explain that in a second), I was dressed in khakis and a red polo. ‘Corporate slave’ didn’t have the same appeal as ‘sexy sushi,’ but I couldn’t discard my vocational outfit. Daniel had been paying the rent all by himself for two months straight, and I had to chip in. He was already burning through his savings just to make ends meet for us. He was too good to me.

“But he’s still a fucking asshole!” I huffed at the cat, and took her bored glare as a resounding agreement. I folded my arms, and pouted on the bed, glaring at my sexy sushi outfit. Funny-sexy was hard to pull off, but damnit, I did it this year. I fucking nailed it. The headpiece was a California Roll I’d made of foam and tissue paper, the brazier was a salmon color that evoked sashimi with a ‘rice’ frill at the top, and the skirt was a black garment meant to evoke maki, with a little embroidery on the crotch that said, ‘something smells fishy.’ It would’ve been glorious, but alas, it would never see the light of day.

“Well you know what, Cleo?” I prompted the cat, who glared up at me for interrupting her crotch-licking session, “I’m gonna wear it anyway. You and I will just have our own Halloween party! Yeah! Just you and me… just me and the cat… and I’m wearing a fucking sushi outfit that advertises my smelly pussy.” I sighed, and drooped my shoulders, “There’s a cat joke in there somewhere, Cleo, if you want to pick the low hanging fruit.” I mumbled. Cleo answered by licking her crotch.

I stripped to my birthday suit, grabbed my costume, and grumbled to myself as I began putting it on. I scowled when the brazier hung loosely from my chest. My ass was to die for, I knew, but my breasts left something to be desired. They were nice; B-cups and beautifully shaped, but I couldn’t help but feel like I’d been cheated. Mom had a chest that could act as a life raft in case of emergency.

“First-world problems, Em.” I told my reflection, then grabbed my tits, pushed them together, and tightened the corset. There; magic. Nobody knows the better until the outfit comes off, and by then, there’s no turning back. You’re mine, hypothetical male escapade, MINE! Mwhuahahahaha! I hoisted the skirt up my ass, pulled the stockings after, and stepped into the high-heels that forced my ample backside to bulge from atop my thighs. I took out my ‘I-suck-dick’ red lipstick, and applied it liberally and slowly to my parted lips.

“Would you fuck me?” I asked the mirror in my best Buffalo Bill impression, “I’d fuck me. I’d fuck me hard.” I felt good. I spun on my heel, and strutted toward the cat, who ironically did not appreciate my catwalk. Well, fuck her. I was sexy sushi, and sexy sushi don’t need no cat. I worked my shoulders as I marched lasciviously down the hallway, popping each hip, pretending I was parting the sea of people at a party, and all eyes were on me.

“That’s right, bitches.” I grinned at a poster of Lebron James, “Emily Huston just walked in, and all your thirsty boyfriends wanna get a drink of this pussaaaaAAAAAAAH!” And fate punished me for my hypothetical arrogance by making me forget there were stairs in front of me. I hit each step with a punctuation of breath, tumbling head-over-heels until I was sprawled in the kitchen, my skirt draped over my head, my beautiful California Roll headdress sacrificed to provide cushion for my stupid fucking brain. I lay there for a moment, exposed and in pain, wondering if dying was preferable to getting up from this. A fervent knock on the kitchen door confirmed that yes, dying was indeed the better option.

“Emily?!” Mrs. Johnson’s muted voice screamed from the other side of the glass door, “Oh my god, Emily, are you OK?”

You can kill me now, God. I thought grimly.

REBECCA

I knew I still had it. I was two years shy of forty, and had lived a life of drugs, unprotected sex, and worst of all, rampant tanning, but damn it, I still had it. My skin had hardly aged at all, my hair was still its luxuriant strawberry-blonde, and only the faintest stretchmarks marred my ample bust. I had an ass you could balance a wine bottle on, and I currently had it stuffed into the tightest pair of Levi’s money could buy. Genetics had been kind to me, but that wasn’t how I knew I still had the all-important “it.” No, my retention of “it” was confirmed by the eyes of the junior varsity football team, which seemed to be magnetized to my heart-shaped asset.

“Nothing like good genes, and good jeans.” Lucy chuckled next to me, her lips pursed around a cigarette. The two of us were leaning on a fence at the park, looking at the young bucks like we were still in high school. Of course, Lucy never went to high school; not as a student, anyway.

“I swear, the older I get, the younger I want ‘em.” I sighed to Lucy, taking a pull of my own cigarette, “At this rate, Chris Hansen’s going to be knocking on my door instead of you.”

“Is that how I make you feel, Becky?” Lucy grinned devilishly at me, which I guessed was the only way she could grin.

“You used to show up for fun, now you show up for favors.” I sighed.

“You owe me.” Lucy shrugged.

“I know.” I muttered. I owed her everything. I turned my forearm over, the entire length of it colored with tattoos. My whole body was, from ankle to neck, with a few spaces between the pieces, but not many. I’d gotten most of them almost two decades ago, but despite the sun exposure, none had faded. But it wasn’t the tattoos I was looking at; it was the scar that ran from wrist to elbow.

“Are you my friend, Lucy?” I asked her softly.

“I like to think I am.” Lucy said wrapping an arm around my waist, “I like to think we’re more than just that.”

I stared at her. She had wavy black hair that came together in a slight widow’s peak, a chiseled jaw, lush, red lips, and hazel eyes. Her cheekbones were so dramatic that I once wondered if they were prosthetic, and her brow seemed to dip slightly inward, giving her portrait a look of subtle menace. Below her portrait was a pale body of perfect curves and smooth flesh, and she displayed it generously in her plaid skirt and midriff-revealing shirt. She was beautiful, and still looked every-bit the teenager I’d known in high school. But it was all a lie.

“I feel like your toy.” I muttered. Lucy smiled broadly, her eyes alighting with mischievousness, and something darker. I knew the expression well, and it made my heart race. My eyes slackened to begging ovals, and I sank my teeth into my lower lip, signaling my want. Lucy’s hand snaked under my waistband, and a single, long finger trailed down the crack of me. Her touch was barely a caress, but it became the focal point of my very being. I felt the skin rise and prickle beneath her brushing fingertip, felt my body grow languid like it had been conditioned to, felt my pussy flush and drip with anticipation. My head fell forward, my breath caught, and I eased myself back, my spine arching behind me, my cheeks spreading in their denim constraints. Lucy’s breath was on my cheek, then on my mouth when I turned to face her. Her fingertip found the dirty aperture of me, and she slowly circled the rim. Oh, she knew my weaknesses. She knew them well.

“The football team is staring at us, Becky.” Lucy said, her eyes cast downward at me, an imperious, controlling stare, “They’re not even pretending to practice anymore. They’re all just staring at you while I tease your slutty little shithole.” Lucy’s lips brushed mine, but never pressed, “If you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll pull your pants down, and fist you in front of everyone.” She pushed her finger inside, my tightness uncoiling around her advance, then hugging her as she sank each knuckle. My head dropped in surrender, my mouth opened, and a low whine rose from me. Lucy’s parted lips breathed their covetous control on my neck, “You are my toy, Rebecca Huston. And you fucking love it.”

“Yes!” I gasped, bending further, pressing my breasts to the back of my hands, which grasped the fence before me. My shirt slid up my back with each inch I lowered myself, revealing the tattoos than ran alongside my spine. My glutes parted with the deepening bend, spreading as far as they could for Lucy’s invading finger. My anus seemed to hunger for the violation, my entire body teeming to be used, humiliated, and disgraced. I looked over my shoulder, and saw the gawking faces of the football team, their youthful complexions wrought with confusion and desire. Look at me, I thought, look at the debased whore who bends over for it in public. You can all have me. All at once. Make a bridge of my body and fill me until I spill continuously from my gaping holes.

You’re getting worse, Becky. Lucy’s voice echoed teasingly in my mind.

You made me like this! I mentally moaned back.

I made you to be so much more, but you’re coming along nicely. Lucy replied, the cruelty mixing with the affection in her tones.

Am I ready? I asked, giving her big, hopeful eyes, eyes wrought with vulnerability and submission, just like she wanted. Just like I wanted. Lucy smirked at me, her red lips pursing around a cigarette, the smoke tumbling slowly from them. I didn’t have to be told what to do. I unbuttoned my shirt with one hand, and pulled a breast free. A woman walking her dog stopped and gawked at me. A jogger did a double take, then slowed down to do the same. They watched me as I grabbed my breast, and tilted it so that the nipple faced Lucy. It was pink and erect, contoured with gooseflesh, circled with tattoos and pierced with a golden ring. It longed for the heat. Lucy pulled her cigarette from her lips, exhaled the smoke through her nostrils, then lowered the orange embers to my chest, and extinguished them on my presented nipple. I cried out, my voice wrought with delight and agony. Oh, the pain was absolutely exquisite. It seemed to burn a line from my tortured node to my defiled anus, both senses heightening the other, both senses only intensified by the thrill of my humiliation. She’d ruined me, ruined me long ago.

You’re almost ready. Lucy said, You just have to do one thing.

Anything! I mentally screamed, beyond desperate. I was undulating now, my hips rocking lecherously, my chest jutting forth before the deepening arch of my back.

“You have to give me your children.” Lucy breathed against me, her supple body pressing its tantalizing warmth, hinting at the pleasure it could provide. And the pain.

“No.” I whispered back, brow furrowing as I strained to keep control of my mind. The lust had my body completely, and the masochistic whore it compelled to the surface almost had the keys to the driver’s seat.

“No?” Lucy giggled, “I believe the contract you signed meant your soul belonged to me.”

“But not theirs!” I moaned, my hips rotating to the twist of Lucy’s finger, shifting to the will of the puppeteer.

“When you make a deal with the devil, you should know you’re going to get fucked, Becky.” Lucy put our foreheads together, and I watched her irises change from hazel to gold, and the pupils change from circles to reptilian slits.

“Why do you want them?” I asked, my mind hazing with pleasure.

“I’ll tell you when the time comes.” Lucy crinkled her nose, “I’ve always been one for theatrics, after all.”

“I’ll die for them.” I hissed hoarsely, my crotch damp.

“Oh, you will, Becky.” Lucifer licked my parted lips with her snake-like forked tongue, “But it’s too late to save them; they’re already waiting for us.” I didn’t see the knife that killed me.

DANIEL

The low fall sun had disappeared behind the clouds, dulling the view. Barren fields strewn with spent corn stalks blurred past me, the occasional derelict farmhouse interrupting the landscape. Interstate 80 was usually pretty busy at this time of day, but I hadn’t seen a car for miles. Not since my near-miss with the semi. The radio had gone dead, only playing static. Fucking antenna was malfunctioning again. I passed a billboard for a strip club, the sign peeling and faded from years of neglect. I could barely make out the image of a devil woman arching her back from a pole, with font meant to evoke neon below it. Welcome to Hell was the tagline for the venue, Located off exit 666.

“Huh.” I mused aloud, “There’s no exit 666. Those dumb fucks are gonna lose customers for that pun.”

Three miles later, I approached a road sign marking the upcoming rest stops and gas stations. Perdition Gentlemen’s Club, Beelzebub’s Burgers, The Inferno Inn, Brimstone Tires. Exit 666, all lanes.

“All lanes?!” I exclaimed, “Then it’s not a fucking exit, is it? Goddamn it, am I even on I-80 anymore? Of course not. No wonder there’s no fucking cars. Must’ve accidentally veered into an onramp when I missed that truck.”

I pulled onto the shoulder, and took out my phone. No signal, of course. This was starting to feel like a Stephen King novel. I sighed, and rummaged through my glovebox, trying to find the GPS.

“You lost, Sugar?” a sultry female voice asked from my window. I jolted upright, my heart blasting against my breastbone. She was leaning against my driver’s side door, a pair of hazel eyes staring amusedly, and a pair of pale tits barely concealed by a generous neckline.

“Nice cheekbones!” I stammered, my malfunctioning brain projecting the observation.

“Thanks, Sugar.” The woman winked, long lashes closing over her smirking eye. Holy shit, she was hot. No one would ever look at this brunette and say she was ‘beautiful,’ though she certainly was, but her posture, expression and attitude created an aura of sex so vulgar, that she could only be described as ‘hot.’

“Do you know how to get to I-80 from here?” I asked, realizing as I spoke that I was yelling each word.

“I can get you to where you need to go, if you give me a ride.” The woman grinned, displaying sparkling white teeth beneath lush, red lips. Oh, those lips had been in some naughty, naughty places, I could tell just by the evil quirk of her smile. There was a promise in her hazel eyes, a promise I knew she’d keep if I let her in, but I couldn’t. Mom had just gotten out of rehab again, and I needed to pick her up. If I abandoned her for my own desires, then I was no better than her, and I’d sworn I’d never be like her.

“I need to get to I-80.” I reaffirmed, more to myself than the woman.

“No, you don’t.” The brunette’s grin broadened.

“Excuse me?” I said, taken aback.

“Your Mom’s not waiting for you outside of Better Lives Rehabilitation Center.” The woman chuckled, then glanced down the highway, “She’s waiting for you there.”

I gawked wordlessly at the woman, then followed her gaze, and looked through my windshield. The highway lead down an immense decline that narrowed to the horizon, and the horizon was on fire. The sky was a great ceiling of rock, the clouds were black fumes spewed from calderas, and the landscape was a treachery of jagged peaks and sheer cliffs. All around the brimstone ground, naked bodies bathed in red light were writhing together in a horrific orgy, the debauchery stretching as far as the eye could see. The cracks of whips, the clanking of chains, the slaps of flesh and the rub of leather all created a terrible percussion beneath the droning symphony of screams and wails. And though the tones of the damned were agonized, they were also dripping with some terrible euphoria, some pleasure too great for mere vocal cords to exalt.

That truck killed me, didn’t it? I thought.

“It did.” She answered from the passenger’s seat. I looked to her, and wasn’t surprised at all to see a woman of black hair, crimson flesh, golden eyes, and onyx lips. Curved horns protruded from her wavy mane, her elegant spine continued into a tail above her succulent backside, and her eyes bore slit pupils. She licked her lips with a serpent’s tongue, then produced a cigarette, and lit it with a flick of her thumb.

“Drive.” The devil commanded softly. I didn’t feel like arguing.

“How did Mom die?” I asked as I shifted in gear. My beat-to-shit pickup had turned into Lamborghini Diablo, of course.

“She’s been on borrowed time for nineteen years. Now her debts are due.” The devil said, the smoke from her lips forming an inverted cross in the air.

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll find out.” The devil flashed her dazzling smile at me. The wheel jerked in my hand, and I let go, letting the overpowered super-car drive itself. The devil giggled at my startled reaction, then blew the shape of a heart from her smoky mouth. The wisps hit my face, sucked into my nostrils, and filled my sinuses with a spicy aroma. “You can call me ‘Lucy,’ by the way.” Lucy said, black lips creasing, “I’m getting sick of you mentally referring to me as ‘the devil.’”

“Oh, uh… sorry.” I mumbled.

“Don’t ever apologize in hell.” Lucy chuckled, “What’s it matter anymore if you’re sorry?” She brushed a wavy curtain of black hair from one of her eyes, and grinned from the top of her brow, “You take what you want down here.”

“I want you.” I said without thinking. Lucy’s black lips parted to yield her slithering tongue, and the forked tip circled her mouth below ravenous eyes.

“Careful what you wish for, Danny-boy.” She purred, and I was naked in a bed of satin sheets, my arms and legs chained to the post in a compromising spread-eagle. I looked out the window to see the landscape zipping by, and my disoriented mind figured I was in a trailer hitched to whatever was now driving us. She stood before me, her red cleavage bulging from the top of a black leather corset, her red ass bulging from a black leather thong, and her red thighs constrained by black leather boots. She walked domineeringly around the bed, the click of her heels telling me her boots were stilettos, the crack of her whip telling me I should’ve kept my fucking mouth shut. The low, red light cast her face in shadows, giving her already-menacing portrait an even more threatening appearance.

“I’m going to ask you some questions, Danny-boy.” Lucy said softly, “If you answer them right, I’ll be happy. If you answer them wrong, I’ll still be happy, but you won’t be.” She accentuated the last word with a snap of the whip.

“I’ll talk!” I squeaked.

“And I’ll listen.” Lucy grinned, and laid the whip across my nipples. I looked down, and realized that despite everything, I was sporting a skin-splitting erection. Lucy’s eyes followed mine, and then reconnected, a sparkle in her regard. “Now,” she said softly, her voice like poisoned honey, “where is your sister?”

“What?!” I exclaimed, and Lucy wrenched the whip away. The threaded cord seared across my nipples, and I cried out, my hands balling to fists above my shackled wrists.

“I believe I was the one asking the questions.” Lucy purred, and trailed her finger softly over the flesh she’d just tortured. Oh… oh, it was good. Too good. Her caress was overly gentle, barely a touch at all, but it prickled the flesh with delightful tingles. “I don’t want to hurt you, Danny-boy.” Lucy said softly, sounding like a concerned mother, “I want to please you, but if you don’t give me what I want, I’m going to have to punish you. Now, where is your sister?”

“She’s at the Des Moines Civic Center.” I muttered. Lucy laughed, and by the tone of her laugh, I knew I just bought myself some pain.

“The Des Moines Civic Center?!” She sputtered, “Was that the best you could do?” And the whip snapped across my belly again, and again, and again. Each motion was effortlessly casual from her, as though she were swatting a fly, but each snap laid a welt on my flesh that only grew more painful with time. I yelped at the first two, cried out at the third, then bellowed at the last two, my back arching from the bed. Once again, she calmed me with her tender caress, tracing the lines of her abuse with her fingertips, turning pain to pleasure with just a touch. This time, I moaned when she did it, and she looked up at me with a knowing smile.

“Just like your mother.” She chuckled.

“What?”

“You just can’t help yourselves.”

“What?”

“Say ‘what’ again.” Lucy said huskily, putting a finger to my lips, “Say it one more time, I double-dare you, mother fucker.”

“Pulp Fiction?”

“I’m a bit of a cinephile.” Lucy smirked, tracing my mouth, “And if you don’t watch out, we’ll be reenacting a certain snuff film I watched the other day.” Lucy propped one foot on the bed, the thick leg bending alluringly, the stiletto heel pushing into the mattress an inch below my testicles. She pivoted her weight on that heel to lean over me, and as the bend of her knee increased, the sole of her boot slowly pushed my throbbing cock against my belly. I was terrified, and I’d never been so turned on in my life. Little spurts of precum shot from my tip and pooled into my navel, and before I knew what I was doing, I was moaning again.

“My, my, my, aren’t you a little treat?” Lucy chuckled over me, her bulging cleavage practically spilling from her corset. She pet my ,hair as I writhed beneath her pressing sole, the gentleness of her hand juxtaposing the cruelty of her foot. But the pain was no longer something I shied from, for each excruciating addition of weight only heightened the pleasure I garnered from it. She finally pushed her toes down, and I gritted my teeth against the agony and ecstasy.

“Your sister, Danny.” Lucy whispered above me, her golden eyes seeped in malice and tenderness alike. I could’ve stayed there forever, stuck in the duality of my newfound perversion.

“She’s at my house.” I croaked.

“That’s where she died, but that’s not where she is.” Lucy said, and the excruciating weight in my crotch intensified. My hands became claws of tensed fingers, my toes curled, and my legs thrashed below me. Oh, it was good. So, terribly, good.

“She’s dead?!” I managed, the revelation filtering through.

“Yes,” Lucy said, and now her face was hovering over mine, her body parallel above me, almost all her weight pressing on my throbbing shaft, “but she’s missing.”

“She’s in heaven then!” I yelled.

“Sorry, Danny-boy,” Lucy said, and she actually did sound genuine, “but Emily didn’t make it.”

“I! Don’t! Know! Where! She! Is!” I gasped each word. Lucy tilted her head forward, her black hair drawing a curtain over my face, the strands tickling my forehead and cheeks.

“I believe you.” She said softly, and her forked tongue slipped from her black lips to trace the outline of my panting mouth, “Now…” she whispered directly into my ear, “do you want me to stop?”

“No.” I breathed.

“I didn’t think so.” She chuckled, “The safe word is ‘Emily;’ I want to hear you moan her name.”

“It was you!” I snarled, “You’re the one who’s been putting those fucked up thoughts in my head!”

“Fucked up thoughts?” Lucy cocked her head confusedly, “What are you talking…” Lucy trailed off, and her eyes widened above mine, “Oh Danny-boy,” she grinned, lifting her heel, shifting it forward, and slowly pressing it down, “you belong here, you sick, twisted, fuck.”

Her heel pushed into my balls, indenting the mattress beneath them until there was no more give. My chains rattled as I squirmed beneath her, trapped in the pain, a slave to the pleasure, bellowing in hoarse tones as the pressure in my balls increased. My cock elevated with the rise of her foot, and it throbbed excruciatingly, bubbling with the imminence of release. The roiling in my loins escalated, the pain in my crotch was unbearable, but I reveled in it, staring rapturously into the merciless eyes of my mistress.

“Say it,” Lucy hissed in my ear, “say her name.”

“EMILY!” I screamed, and I erupted. I thrusted as Lucy released the pressure of her heel, and I showered myself with my seed, spilling it across my belly, chest, and chin. I didn’t care. I was in a torrent of ecstasy, my entire being seeming to be sucked out of the end of my cock, pumping through my loins like a hose.

“There, baby, there.” Lucy cooed softly, trailing her fingers through my hair. She took a dollop of what had spilled on my chin, and brought her finger to her lips.

“Mmm.” She hummed hedonistically, drawing the finger through her pursed mouth, “Oh, you are decadent, Danny-boy.” Her slit pupils dilated, and her posture grew languorous. She eased herself downward, her golden eyes watching me. Her breath caressed my shaft, and it twitched alive, curving with unnatural engorgement. Her tongue slithered from her wet mouth, and wrapped thrice about me. I sucked in air through gritted teeth, and her open mouth quirked in a lazy smile, then wrapped around my head, and took in the entirety of her meal. Oh… oh sweet baby Jesus.

You don’t have to worry about him down here, Danny-boy. Lucy chuckled in my mind. Her lips pillowed wetly against my throbbing girth, a soft succulence to ease the tortuous aching of my erection. Inch after inch of me disappeared into her, the tip pushing easily through the resistance of her throat, and then nestling into her neck. I could see my bulge from the outside, but Lucy didn’t strain at all. She swallowed continuously around me, her golden eyes twinkling, knowing unabashedly how good she was. My head fell back against the pillow, and I groaned. She drew upward, her red cheeks growing gaunt below her extravagant cheekbones, her lips pulling from her mouth. She stroked me with her tongue as she sucked me, moving the lassoed member in contest with her pulling lips. It took all my willpower not to blow right there. She drew all the way up, then popped my cock from her black mouth, letting it waggle freely with a fresh sheen of her spit. My needful protest sounded high and pathetic, and Lucy delighted in it. She wrapped her delicate fingers about my girth, and laid my length against her face. She smelled me, drawing her nose up my shaft until she got to the head, then she licked her lips once more, and dove back in.

Up and down, up and down. Her golden eyes never left mine, staring intently as she gurgled softly, never gagging, but slurping and squelching, making me vanish and reappear. She wasn’t sucking my cock; she was consuming me, and it seemed to be more for her pleasure than mine, for she touched herself as she did it, pushing one hand down her panties. The knuckles rolled beneath the fabric, and her eyes glazed over. Without any warning or preamble, Lucy pulled my cock from her mouth, dropped her face under my spread legs, and divided my ass cheeks with her thumb and forefinger.

“Hold on, wait a fucking second…” and the words trailed away from me. Lucy’s forked tongue tickled my puckered exit, her breath caressed it, her lips brushed it. I heard her chuckle low and knowingly when my tensed thighs relaxed on their own accord.

“That’s it, Danny-boy,” her voice was a covetous purr, “open up to me.”

"Stop!” I gasped.

“Oh, but I just started.”

She pushed her tongue inside, corkscrewing wetly into my filth, invading me until her lips squished against my rim. A shuddering breath exited my disbelieving mouth, and I moaned for her like she wanted. Her lips smacked vulgarly as she sucked, rotating with the lecherous hums that came from deep within her chest. She stroked my cock with one hand, and touched herself with the other, all the while she explored my sinful insides, her tongue squirming within, lathering my channel, teasing every nerve. She found the organ of my masculinity, and she pressed it with her invading member. It was too much. The devil’s violation had me thrusting and bucking pathetically, gasping and speaking gibberish. My hips shifted and swayed, my hands balled, and my knuckles whitened. She flicked and prodded my prostate relentlessly, never giving me a chance to quell the rise inside me, always intensifying, tortuously ratcheting the pleasure until it was taking over my mind. When I was exalting at the precipice, she withdrew, consumed my shaft, and let me blow down her swallowing throat. My back arched from the bed, and I thrusted like an animal. She reached beneath me, drove her middle finger up my ass, and pressed the digit against my convulsing organ. I bellowed in abject euphoria, losing control of myself, but she didn’t mind. She let me drive into her, brutally smacking my pelvis into her muzzle, pulling her cheeks gaunt with each forceful exit and bulging down her neck with each untamed drive. Her black hair flailed, her golden eyes rolled back, but she never once seemed to be taken by my aggression; she just hummed whorishly around my meat, worked her hand fervently between her spread legs, and her invading finger deep into my ass. I’d never had cascading orgasms before, but she gave me one there, for an even greater climax came after, and it left me paralyzed.

She tamed me as assuredly as a dog breaks for its master. My eyes bulged and trembled, my body shook with spasms, and my cock pumped down her continuously-swallowing throat, my balls atrophying and empty, completely spent. She came from her masturbation, the pitch of her humming moans rising until they were a suppressed scream, then fading as her back drooped into a splendid arch. Finally, mercifully, she withdrew herself from me. She licked the finger she had stuck inside me, then licked the webbing of lust from her masturbating hand, watching me as she did it. She played with the strings of cum that dripped from her marred lips, winding them onto her finger, then sucking it clean.

“I’m going to make you destroy yourself.” She said as she nestled herself into the crook of me, her breasts pillowing against my ribs, one thick leg lying lazily across my crotch. She rested her head on my chest, and drew a circle about my nipple with a teasing finger. “I’m going to make your darkest dreams come true, and watch you succumb to your desires.”

“I won’t help you.” I growled dispiritedly. She giggled, apparently very amused by my crisis. The chains that shackled my wrists and ankles disappeared. I could do nothing but embrace the devil like a lover, and pull her closer to me. Her horns grazed my chin, her tail flicked behind her, and she sighed contentedly.

“You’re going to do whatever I ask, Danny-boy. You see, I’ve planned a family reunion, and I can’t let you spoil it.”

EMILY

Mrs. Johnson looked… different. When I lowered my skirt from my humiliated face, I expected to see the concerned features of the plump geriatric who lived next door. Instead, I was greeted by the sight of an angel. That was the only way to describe this woman. She had pure white hair, bronze skin, big sorrowful blue eyes, lush pouting lips, and dimpled cheeks. And while her face spoke of heavenly innocence, her body spoke of less-than-divine experience. This woman had an hourglass figure that seemed anatomically impossible, but she was not a dainty thing. Her arms were toned with soft muscle, and her bronze midriff showed the shadowed lines of her abs. She had on a billowing white top that clung to her oversized breasts, and white leggings that clung to an ass that put mine to shame. I was so struck by this woman that I didn’t even realize I was in hell. That came a second later, when I looked up at the ceiling to see an eight-legged man with no arms and a set of fangs grinning down at me.

I screamed, paralyzed with terror. He descended from his web, drooling from the sharp points of mandibles that deformed his jaw. I tried to scramble to my feet, but my legs were useless with fear. I’d spent a grand total of two seconds in the afterlife, and I was already going to get raped by Spiderman. This was just my luck. There was a crash, the twinkling of broken glass, then a blinding light. The creature screamed, and I heard the terrifying sound of its feet pattering away. I shielded my eyes from the white light, and squinted, trying to discern the outline approaching me. The light faded around the angel, but her aura remained, beautiful and radiant like she was.

“Emily?” She asked, her voice echoing with heavenly reverb.

“Yeah.” I croaked.

“My name’s Rachel.” Rachel said, extending a hand, “I’ve been sent by God to get you out of here.”

“Oh.” I muttered. What the fuck else was I to say?

“‘Thank you’ would suffice.” Rachel chuckled, answering my mental question. Of course, she could read my mind.

“Are you an angel?” I gasped as Rachel helped me to my feet.

“No,” Rachel smiled ruefully, “angels belong in heaven, and I have no right to be there.”

“But…” I frowned, “you’re all… white and glowing and sexy…” I gestured to her, “you look like a fucking Victoria’s Secret model!”

“No wings.” Rachel pointed to her back.

“Oh, angels have wings, huh?” I blew air threw flapping cheeks, “Of course they do, how could I be so stupid. So then, what are you?”

“A demon.” Rachel shrugged, “Just because I’m damned, doesn’t mean I’m not still loyal to God.”

“But you don’t have horns.” I frowned at her mane of white hair.

“Not all demons have horns, Emily.” Rachel smiled.

“Ah, so all angels have wings, but not all demons have horns; got it.” I muttered. I glanced at the burning hellscape that surrounded me, and stretched to the infernal horizons. The sky was a great rock ceiling, but at the center of it, I saw a hole that opened to a starry night.

“Is that where we’re going?” I asked, pointing to the hole.

“It is.” Rachel nodded.

“Alright Rachel,” I grunted, “lead on.”

We walked in silence for a few hours. I had millions of questions, but I didn’t know where to start, so I erred on the side of caution, and decided not to piss off my guardian angel -err, guardian demon- with incessant inquiries. We traversed passes, climbed mountains, and scaled down canyons. On the way, we passed thousands of damned souls, but none bothered us. In fact, most veered out of Rachel’s way the moment they saw her, which gave me some measure of comfort. Apparently, I was being protected by a bonafide biblical badass.

We stopped at what looked like a biker bar. It wasn’t the kind of place I’d frequent, but I wasn’t about to complain about Rachel’s tastes. The roided-up demons that loitered near the entrance were a piss-inducing sight, but the moment they saw Rachel, they fucked off. Rachel took me by the hand, and I clung to her like a frightened daughter as she guided me through the threshold.

My ears were immediately assaulted with death-metal, and my eyes were filled with debauchery. Demons fought, fed, and fucked in equal quantities, but it was the latter that caught my eyes. I’d seen some pretty hardcore porn in my day, but this… well, I guessed this was hell. One demoness was bent over the bar, her ass perched on a barstool, a long line of men behind her. The horned black woman seemed to greatly enjoy being used as a demon-semen receptacle for every patron, even after her anus had prolapsed into a ruby ruin. The next man came up and just stuffed it back in, and she moaned her gratitude to the ceiling, her back arching from the bar. Another woman with three (count ‘em three!) tits was sandwiched between two bull-horned juice-heads, both of whom seemed hell-bent on excavating the poor woman. Four more tailed demonesses were in a writhing pile on the floor, their holes apparently free to use for any passerby. The ones that weren’t heaving in the throes of penetration were lying in puddles of their own making, and spreading themselves with a curled-back tail to present their leaking assets. Rachel stepped through the debauchery like it was nothing, and I tried very hard to seem just as ambivalent to the ordeal, but I failed. I gawked at the sex surrounding me, and caught way too many leering eyes and inviting smiles. Rachel guided me into a secluded booth, and I sat down, only then realizing that my legs were shaking.

“Smoke?” She asked, pulling out a pack.

“Um, no thanks.” I smiled, putting up a staying hand. Rachel shrugged, then put a square between her lips, and lit it without using any perceivable flame.

“God, you’re cool.” I sighed, “You’re like a fucking movie character.”

“Thanks,” Rachel grinned around her cigarette, “and you’re… sushi?”

“Sexy sushi.” I said, tapping the side of my nose, “Me and my brother were doing food this year. He was Kevin Bacon. Like… he was a piece of bacon… with… Kevin… you don’t know what I’m talking about, do you? Were you born in ancient Egypt or something?”

“Arizona.” Rachel said.

“Like… before white people ruined it?”

“Nineteen-ninety-nine.”

“Wait,” I frowned, “you’re telling me that you’re only a year older than me, and you don’t know who Kevin Bacon is?!”

“Time's a funny thing. A year, a billion; why count time's passage when it no longer matters?” Rachel said, flicking ash onto the floor. I had no idea how to respond to that. I wasn't sure if this woman was insane, dangerous, or the savior I hoped she was. Why are you in hell, Rachel? was the question I wanted to know, but dared not say. Rachel smiled knowingly at me. “Let's just say that religious repression and temptation make a volatile mixture. I made some mistakes, and God punished me eternally for them, which why I serve down here, instead of up there.”

“He sounds harsh.”

“God is a woman.” Rachel said, pursing her lips around her smoldering square, “So is the devil, for that matter. Down here we call her ‘Lucy.’ And yes,” Rachel looked at the ceiling, but I got the feeling she was looking through it, “they are both very harsh.”

“Why are we here?” I asked.

“Because we have sinned.” Rachel sighed dramatically, then before I could clarify, she smiled wryly, “We’re here to meet an old friend of mine. I think you’ll like her.”

A waitress stepped into our booth with a tray of drinks. “The house special today is… Rachel?” she gasped. I looked over to see a naked woman, her only garment a pair of fishnet stockings. She had tan skin and amber hair, her body was nubile and supple, and her horned brow and long tail marked her demonically. Despite all that, it was her voice that captured me. It was casually musical, and it seemed to slip into my ear and penetrate my mind.

“Fantasia.” Rachel grinned delightedly up at the demoness, then, much to my shock, she pulled the woman into a heated kiss. Fantasia’s tray was dropped unceremoniously on the table, shots of liquor spilling without a care. And why would she care, for was there anything as beautiful as watching these creatures exchange tongues? Their eyes closed in bliss, their noses pressed alongside one another, and their mouths smacked and hummed with pure hedonism. Fantasia seemed to wilt into Rachel, molding herself desperately to the curves of her, her thin tail coiling and wagging behind her in contentment, revealing her puckered anus and leaking slit. I sank into the corner of my booth, intimidated and shamefully aroused, but confused more than anything.

“Last time I saw you, you were a scared little girl.” Fantasia said, eyes connecting with Rachel’s above a glistening string of their spit, “Now look at you.”

“Last time I saw you, you were in a whorehouse.” Rachel chuckled, guiding the smaller woman onto her knee, “Now I hear you’re working as a waitress of all things. What happened?”

“Being a hooker was just too predictable; you always know when you’re going to get stuck.” Fantasia snickered, “Working here is just so much more exciting. Any moment a patron could grab me, force me to my knees, and there would be nothing I could do about it. I’m just so helpless.”

“You’re anything but helpless, Fantasia.” Rachel smiled. Fantasia smirked at her, then shifted herself into Rachel’s lap. She stopped abruptly, yelped, and whipped her head around to give Rachel an astonished gape.

“When did you…”

“Shhh.” Rachel said, putting her finger to Fantasia’s lips. The lithe demoness parted her lush lips, and sucked the presented finger to the knuckle, drawing her mouth down its length with a low hum. Rachel smiled at the young woman, then turned her sapphire gaze on me.

“The reason you’re so turned on right now, is because Fantasia is a succubus.” Rachel explained, then added a wry smirk, “And you’re also a lot less heterosexual than you thought you were.”

“Aren’t we all?” Fantasia sighed, scooching herself the rest of the way into Rachel’s lap. Her amber eyes drew on me, and I felt her intoxicating magic working in my mind. “Who’s your friend?”

“Fantasia, this is Emily; Emily, Fantasia.” Rachel made the introductions. Fantasia extended her hand, and when I grasped it, I felt myself grow hot from my crotch to my cheeks. I didn’t shake her hand, but held it stupidly, staring with mouth agape into her laughing amber eyes. Her thumb caressed mine, then she withdrew.

“A virgin.” Fantasia smiled at me, then at Rachel, “Have you brought me a present?”

“A virgin?” Rachel inquired, inspecting me curiously.

“I mean…” I felt myself flushing with embarrassment, “I blew a few guys, so it’s not like I don’t party.”

“You know, I think the greatest allure of virginity is not the innocence, but the shame.” Fantasia pontificated, smiling at me, “All that insecurity is just so…” Fantasia licked her lips, “…delicious.”

“And a signaling beacon for anyone Lucy sends after her.” Rachel frowned.

“The devil is after me?!” I exclaimed.

“What have you got me roped into, Rachel?” Fantasia asked her lap partner.

“Your mom signed a contract with Lucy, and Lucy’s charging interest.” Rachel said to me, “You and Daniel are the interest. She already has your brother-”

“SHE WHAT?!” I screamed. My head was swimming, my heart was thundering, and my belly was turning over in my guts. Mom, Daniel, Lucy, Rachel. It was like I was hit with cold water. I’d been in a weird state of pseudo-denial, but the mental safeguards I put up crumbled, and I suddenly realized the enormity of my situation. God and the devil were real, I was dead and in hell, my mother had sold her soul, and my brother had been kidnapped by Satan. Panic gripped me, ravaging any sense of rationality. I broke out into cold sweats, then vomited, then fell face-first into that vomit. The last thing I saw before consciousness ebbed from me, were two beautiful faces, etched in concern.

REBECCA

My death had been a pleasant experience. As was the case with all things involving Lucy, the terrible was made pleasurable, and the horrifying was fetishized. She’d made me come as she slid the knife between my ribs. I felt the sharpness of it, but not the pain. My mind was flooded with the endorphins of my humiliating release, and I barely had time to register that my heart had been pierced before sweet blackness enveloped me.

“Welcome home, Becky.” Lucy smiled at me. She was her true self now; crimson, horned and tailed, gorgeous and terrifying. She was clad in a leather corset and boots, with a thong that disappeared between her thick legs and bulging cheeks. She held a wine glass in one hand, and swirled it beneath her nostrils before she took a sip.

The room I was in was a circular chamber with iron bars across the windows, stone walls and floor, and a chain with a hook at the end hanging from the ceiling. I was dangling from that hook, my cuffed wrists forced high above me, my naked body stretching below me, the tips of my toes grazing the floor.

“Daniel?” I asked, “Emily?”

“Dead and damned.” Lucy said softly, taking a sip of wine.

“Let them go!” I cried.

“Or what?” Lucy smiled back, tilting her head curiously.

“We had a deal!” I yelled, and even as the words left my mouth, I realized how futile they were. Lucy didn’t even deign to answer me, but stood from her chair, taking a sip of her blood-colored beverage. She circled me, studying my body like a wolf studies a deer. I shuddered, the fear creeping into my mind, and with it, the desire. That reaction had been conditioned into me by this very woman. I couldn’t help myself. Fear, pain, humiliation, and degradation were all triggers for me, and those triggers made me subservient, docile and wanting.

“Do you remember when we first met?” Lucy asked softly. Her voice was commanding and soothing, slipping into my ear and caressing my mind, echoing softly in the annals of my consciousness. The voice of my master.

“Of course.” I breathed.

“I never saw a more damaged creature.” Lucy mused. She walked behind me, the threat of her footsteps coming closer, building the anticipation. I couldn’t stop the hot rush to my nethers, nor the opening of my petals, nor the leaking of my nectar. “Plenty of girls that age go through a self-harm phase, but you weren’t fucking around.” She said, and as she did, I felt a tingle in the scar that split my forearm. “That’s when I knew you were special.” I felt fingertips between my shoulders, “That’s when I knew you were a keeper.”

“Please!” I whimpered, rubbing my thighs together, trying to quell the growing need between them, “Please let my children go! You don’t need them!”

“I don’t need you, Becky, but I want you.” Lucy’s fingertips traced down my spine, causing my back to arch, both fleeing and beckoning her touch, “Just like I want little Daniel and little Emily.”

“They’re innocent.” I whispered, but my objection seemed more like a formality to me than anything else. My focus was zeroed-in on Lucy’s fingers as the nails dragged gently down the small of my back.

“You were innocent when you first came to me.” Lucy muttered, her mouth right next to my ear, “You were a lamb who had made a grave mistake, but I saw the potential.” Her breasts pillowed to my shoulderblades, her chin rested on my collar, and her hand moved between my lower cheeks. “You had so much self-loathing, so much pain. What did I tell you I would do?”

“Free me from myself.” I whispered. I closed my eyes, savoring the graze of her fingers as they divided my glutes, ran over my puckered rim, and brushed through my dripping folds.

“That’s right.” Lucy chuckled lowly. Her voice was in my head now, commanding me gently from the recesses of my mind. “I took your self-hatred, and I made it self-love. Now love and hate walk hand-in-hand in you, just like pleasure and pain.” Lucy forked her index and pinky finger to open my slit, and pushed her middle and ring inside. I gasped, my head falling back, my eyes widening.

“There’s no greater freedom then being a slave.” Lucy whispered as I whined pathetically, “For once choice is removed, then there’s nothing to worry about. You can’t be blamed for your actions, so you can enjoy the consequences of them without guilt. Once you realize there is no low you can’t stoop to, you become limitless.”

“Please!” I begged, “Let them be!” Her fingers rubbed my anal wall from the other side, the knuckles pushing into the ribbed erogenous spot on my ceiling. She controlled me from within, turning me into a debauched puppet whose hips twisted at the whim of her fingers. I whined and pleaded, gasped and groaned, my back stretching and arching, my arms flexing high above me. Lucy’s breath was heavy against my neck, her crotch was pressing into my ass, grinding with my pathetic undulations.

“And when I took you back to earth, you were a new woman.” Lucy hissed, “No more hiding in the shadows for you. You were the life of the party, the girl with no limits, the slut who didn’t know the word ‘no.’ Tattoos, piercings, cocaine, molly, cock, pussy; you didn’t care, just as long as it gave you that thrill.”

“Yes!” I sobbed, my eyes streaming with my pleasure and self-debasement.

“You were magnificent, Becky.” Lucy growled, her fingers pushing against my back wall as she pet me from the inside, stimulating my vacant rectum, shooting searing pleasure deep into my nethers, “You would’ve died like an exploding star, and taken your rightful place beneath me here. But then you became a mother, and that all changed. Oh, you relapsed every once in a while, but you weren’t the same. But that’s OK now, because I know the truth.”

“What?!” I cried out, my voice ragged with pleasure, “What truth?”

“It’s not the right time, Becky.”

“Please!” I begged, “Please just let them go!”

“I know you want to believe you’re being a martyr for your children.” Lucy’s tone almost sounded consoling, “But I know the truth about you, Becky. Your protests are part of the persona you play, because deep, deep down, you’re begging me to let you stoop to the lowest a mother can go.” Lucy held her unoccupied hand before me, and a collar materialized in her red palm. On that collar, glinting gold in the hellish light, was a dogtag with the name ‘Pet’ inscribed. My mind flooded with emotion, and it overflowed from my eyes. I turned over my shoulder to look at Lucy, my expression wrought with pathetic hope.

“Do you mean it?” I muttered, voice hoarse.

“Of course, I do, I made a promise, didn’t I?” Lucy smiled affectionately, “But you have to prove yourself… Pet.”

My body teemed with the pleasure coerced from within, and expressed it with the pathetic shifts of my hips. Only my mind remained completely unsullied, but Lucy wouldn’t allow me even that much. Oh, how I wanted to give her the last of myself. Oh, how I ached to become the thing etched on that dogtag. I might’ve kept my last shred of dignity, but Lucy sensed it before I could strengthen it, and she did something I had no chance of resisting. Her pressing crotch suddenly grew stiff. Her breath became short and raspy on my neck, ravenous and aggressive. I felt something very unfemale swell between my cheeks, the shaft widening, the tip parting my crack. It was hot, throbbing, and huge. When I looked into Lucy’s reptilian eyes, the slit pupils were dilated, and her black lips were drooling with hunger. She suddenly grabbed my face, pushed my cheeks together, and drove her tongue between my squished lips. Her mouth consumed me dominatingly, and I wilted in it, my eyes rolling back and my tongue subserviently reciprocating. She took a fistful of my hair and tore my face away, leaving me mouthing pathetically for her kiss as she stared imperiously into my eyes.

“Scream for me, you slut.” She hissed. I did. Lucy pressed her tip to my puckered aperture, and buried herself to the hilt. I shrieked to the ceiling, my back drooping, my arms stretching above and behind me as I bent with my arch. My insides uncoiled for her advance, the fleshy resistances forced open with every inch, the walls pressed flat against the cavity, stretched to their limits. Horrible pain shot deep into my colon, and with it, incalculable pleasure. Lucy removed her hand from my pussy, and cupped my exalting mouth. Above her pressing palms, my eyes were wide and trembling, and they only widened as she eased herself back. Her cock was too girthy for me, and my pelvic floor stretched from my crack with her retreated, the flesh forming a debauched tent along her exiting pole. She made it to the crease of her cock, then she rammed into me again, and again, and again. I squealed muffled pain and pleasure, tasting myself on the palm that muted me. My pussy spurted with every thrust, the sticky lust running down my trembling legs, some of it navigating my crack to mercifully lubricate my violation. My mind began to go blank in the heat of it, aware only of the piercing invasion, the depth of her defilement, then the stretching of my exit. My rim expanded to a white circle of tortured nerves, delighting in ever bump and vein that passed through them. The sensations became too much. My tongue lolled stupidly from my mouth, licking the hand that suppressed my screams. My breasts jiggled with the force of her drives, slapping on my chest, forming a rhythm with the violent clapping of my glutes, whose fat rippled with Lucy’s impacts.

“Make me your slut! Make me your pet!” I exalted senselessly, begging for her to break the last of me. She did. My shithole clenched with spasms, my pussy fluttered from within, a feeling of tension began to wind relentlessly in my depths. My screams grew in intensity, each one filled with desperate breaths, each one becoming higher and higher. Lucy panted and growled against my neck, her tone feminine, but expressed with undeniable masculinity. I felt her bulging invasion throb and pulse, and its imminent eruption only served to expedite my own. With a final gasp, Lucy grabbed my rippling glutes, spread them wide, pressed her thumbs about both sides of my dilated rim, and tore herself out. I choked on my orgasm. My anal sheath flowed out of me, bunching at my exit in a glistening bud of rosy flesh. My body was assaulted with a wave of ecstasy so great, that I lost control of my bladder, and squirted hormone-rich urine from my nethers. My head flung back, and I screamed, my body trembling with the ecstasy that overwhelmed it, bending to expel it. Lucy squatted behind me, and wrapped her lips around my prolapsed bud. She sucked gently, offering sensual pleasure in the wake of my violent release. Her reptilian tongue slithered its forked tip through my filthy petals, and rewarded every nerve my coalesced rectum had. My body dropped without resistance, dangling helplessly from the chain, my mouth moaning and sobbing my gratitude. I came again, softer than before, the climax echoing the tenderness of Lucy’s slurping lips. When my coiled anus was numbed and swollen, she pushed it back in with her tongue, then stood up. The tension in the chain slackened, a