MadHouse
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Madhouse 6 free porn video
Stories, you see, change limits. Of our perceptions, and our barriers.
Reader, you may think, this is horrible! It is horror, to be sure, but
it changes your limits. And what you see. And know.
This is why we read.
I, personally, like to read the web of fire from the space. It's called
a fireplace, for some reason or other. But I also like reading here, and
contributing, a lotta bad, a little thought. Something said.
I received many bad reviews with the first chapter of this. They were
well sent, and well meant. I smile. I was almost too embarrassed to post
it. But beer helps confidence, sometimes. And encourages idiots always.
Idiots can't type.
So this is a tale. I wrote in random. I didn't know where it would go.
It's not as good as Deborah Ford (goddess). It makes sense now and has
closure.
I was uncomfortable with it from the start. (just so you know).
slut
Madhouse 6
Jason waved his massive jewel covered condomed dick before me, his full
hairy balls hanging blue beneath. "Do you want me to fuck you with this,
slut?"
I couldn't say no, though I knew the pain of deep throating a rhinestone
encrusted condom would leave me bleeding. I couldn't say yes, for the
same reason, though I knew that that was the answer I was supposed to
give, so I said something disrespectful. "a e u orro" (maybe tomorrow)."
He laughed, understanding, somehow, exactly what I had said. "Maybe
indeed. After all, we wouldn't want any harm to come to you, now that
you are so, so, so very perfect." He sipped his beer, set it down and
took off the zippered condom. His cock was oozing precum and it dripped
to the floor. Eyes feral and lusty, he looked me up and down, seemingly
amazed. "Perfect," he said again.
He took my hand and pulled me. "About those ballets, well. I thought
about it." I stood, tottering, with only his strong hand keeping me
balanced. "They should stay on. Sorry about that," he said, not sorry at
all. "Too much hassle, after all. I'm sure you understand and agree." He
pushed me to kneeling. "I really didn't mean to lie, but I do it so
well." And then he shoved his dick into my face, my penis receptor, my
fuck hole. "Moan for me, baby, moan."
His hands on the back of my head, he rammed my face into him with no
thought to my gagging. While fucking my face, he just kept talking,
musingly. "Your wife is a nice toy, but she really was the tool, the
hostage, in getting you." Ram! "I so wanted to break you." Ram! Gag!
Moan! "Your ego pissed me off." Ram! Moan! Gag! "I hate your kind."
Bobbing, I was sucking now, sex, some kind of sex was needed from me and
by me. "I went to school! I went to Harvard. I studied people! I know
things!" He hit my head for emphasis. I hardly felt it. I was bobbing.
"You. You sniveling slut. You know only money, and make it, but it's all
so linear. And so unfair." He rammed my mouth with extra vehemence, not
near coming at all, though he was becoming larger and deeper in my
throat. I had to time my breathing. "I understand people and am paid a
pittance, you understand paper, and live like a king." He hissed, and
the motives started to clarify. "I piss on your money and will take it."
Then, even though he was at full hard on, as he pulled my head to full
fuck position, he did. I felt the warm salty piss flow down my throat. I
barely tasted it. But it made me gag. I started hitching, as some of it
seemed to go down the wrong throat. I began to heave, even as he
continued, and then, maybe from my bucking and snorting and suffocating,
he came and as he came, he laughed uproarisly. "That's your money,
honey. Gag on it."
He threw me down, and squirted some of his come on my pretty wig as I
laid there, gagging.
Master Jason kicked me once, it didn't hurt and I was distracted by
trying to find my breath and out of side glance, I saw him pull on his
pants, put on his shirt, his face a mottle of irrational emotion. His
face wore the paints of ecstasy leaving, rage boiling, hatred brimming
and lust still blooming. It was, to me, the strangest face I've ever
seen. And at that moment, even as I was trying to find my breath, I
almost felt compelled to help him, to calm him, to stay his rage. There
was so much emotion fuming, nuclear, in him. It was not until later, as
I was laying, baking in the harsh afternoon sun, that I would realize
the similarity of the situation between the beaten wife who thinks to
help the wife beater, and the abuse that resides inside that tormented
scenario.
My Master strode away and put on a robe, picked up a remote, and
suddenly my monster plug was vibrating. Not vibrating, shuddering. He
gazed down at me. "I love you, slut. Can't you tell?"
I writhed. I moaned. It felt felt felt soooo good. I was earthquake all
over, and my tiny trapped penis spasmed, and then I couldn't hold it
anymore and I peed, giving myself an instant enema that wasn't going
anywhere soon. So tight was the corset, so confined my body, so
tremulous the shudders racking through me.
My eyes went to my wife and saw that she, and my sister and Steve had
all fallen asleep in a tumbled mass of nakedness on the bed. I glanced
through the window, and saw that the sun was getting tired as well, and
setting. I looked at my Master, and saw him taking something out of the
closet. What now? What could possibly be next? What was left?
A doll. A blow up doll. Not a naked one, oh no. This one was wearing a
corset on her air filled waist, stockings, thigh high leather boots,
with, yes, ballet heels. In its left hand was a whip. Around its throat
was a collar that said "slut's owner." Over its head was a cat woman
mask.
Master Jason carried it towards me, smiling almost sadly. "slut, I've
stolen your wife. So this is your new mistress. Her name is Jenny and I
want you to fuck her silly." He went over to where my "other wife" had
put the shot glass of my last, my very last come, and poured into
Jenny's "vagina".
Holding the doll upside down with one hand, he screwed the double dick
back into my mouth. I could tell something had shut down in my Master,
because the penis was actually sideways, but of course, I could say
nothing. No consonants, no vowels. Just this ass shaking, vibrating need
to come. It had been so long. Yet so recent.
"Please Jenny, and you please me, slut." He said it resignedly,
dolorous, and then handcuffed the doll to me and placed her pussy on my
mouthdick. "I want to hear you love your Mistress."
Then he went to the bar, and surprisingly, poured a glass of the drugged
vodka and downed it.
I was doomed.
I did the best that I could, and part of me, the lust part, almost got
into it. I pushed "her" in and out of my mouthdick and moaned and
shuddered, and paced, even as the come, my last come, leaked out of her
plasticized pussy onto my rubberized face, into my wig. It almost
annoyed me, since my wig, so pretty before was now getting a lot of
comes in it, sticky and dry.
I glanced at him, Master Jason, but his mind was elsewhere, and he
looked forlorn. I slowed my tempo, tired, weak and sore, but he noticed.
"Faster slut, with more vigor, fuck Your Mistress!"
There was no choice but to obey, and I moaned, I rammed the poor little
plastic Mistress as hard as I could. I was still rattling from the
vibrator that emanated from my plug, and coursed through my body. I
realized I was in heat.
For at least twenty minutes this lasted.
My neck was sore. I! Was sore!
Master Jason came over and began to make mewling sounds. "Jenny says oh
oh oh, just a little more. Oh! Oh!" He peeled a quiet cry, mocking me,
mocking Jenny. "Eeek! I'm coming!" And pushed the doll into me as far as
she could go without popping.
I panted through my nostril holes. That had been almost too real.
And you loved it, didn't you?
Master Jason dropped my Jenny, but she stayed close to me, because of
the handcuff, or were they wedding bands. He unscrewed my mouthcock and
reinserted the pussy ring. Then, he swayed to the closet, mumbling a
little, and he said, "I stole your wife and you are cuckolded. You think
that Jenny doesn't need a real man? This is your Mistresses Master and
you will fuck him in front of her. His name is Michael. Make her
jealous. Make her need."
"Michael" was a man doll in leather. Leather chaps, leather gloves,
leather vest. His realistic looking latex cock was terrifying. Veined
and rigged, it was fourteen inches long and very fat.
I had my vowels back, and was about to say, I can't. There is no way I
can (I ah, er e o ay). But Master Jason was beyond repair, beyond
listening. Maybe he was conditioning himself now. I couldn't know. But
the look on him was almost suicidal, fatalistic, for which, me being
conditioned myself, made me feel both glad, and sad. It was like, like
he was performing the final act of degradation on me. "Please Michael,
and you will please Jenny," he slurred, and even through my nostrils, I
could smell the vodka
(poison)
tracing through him. "Please Jenny, and you please me. And then maybe we
can do something about those ballet boots."
Master slammed Michael's cock down my throat, gagging me, as I tremored
from my vibrating plug. I peed a little, again, adding to my enema, and
took it. Master Jason thrusted Michael's cock in and out of me, deeper
and deeper, and I moaned appropriately. But I could tell something was
winding down here.
I had to get past this, I had too, and I sucked Michael greedily, with
vigor. Vaguely, I knew something was way wrong with me, when I started
to think that Jenny was happy with my efforts.
Two plus two equals EE cups
The alpha of risk relative to the omega of investment is 22" inch corset
Collagen is a desired investment. It's a no brainer.
Sucking Michael, in my Madhouse was making me non linear. I was losing
myself. And then,
It stopped.
Master Jason was looking at me, curious, tired, wasted. He attached a
hand cuff for me and Michael. "Now you have your own family. Fuck them
well."
Grabbing my collar leash he pulled me, tottering wildly to the wall of
restraint. He clasped a chain around my waist and another around my
neck. Jenny and Michael hung beside me.
Master Jason found a chair, turned it and sat before me. "slut, I so
love you." He said this wearily, dreamy. "Why do you neglect me? Why do
you prefer your wife to me? Your sister to me? Even Steve. Why this
rubber dolls, attached by chains?"
He sighed. He sighed like the weight of the world was upon him. "Don't
you know what I have done, and just for you?"
And I thought, and had thought this before, many times. You. You raped
my house, my home, my family. Lies, you speak, lies you live. And more
recently, as things went from worse to worser, I would give you me, if
you spare them.
I said none of this, I had no consonants. It would not have been clear.
But it was in my eyes, and it was the first time, we had met, eye to eye
since all that long ago. Before, Master Jason had made everyone else
surrogate.
I hated my Master. I loved my Master. I felt both loathing and
adoration. He is so clever, I thought. He is so cruel.
I was lost.
He sighed again. Tilting head, he said, "We need to empty you."
I nodded vigorously to that. I was full to bursting.
Master Jason went to the toy box and pulled out a pink enema bag. "This
is your food bag, slut. Empty yourself into it."
Behind me, at ass level, was the tiny zipper. Behind that, was the
nozzle of my plug. He, My Master, lovingly attached the bag, and turned
the stopper. Suddenly, my fullness, my constipation, was leaving me. Out
went my pee, the come I had eaten, my doggy foods. That glass of water
in a wine glass that shattered. All of that.
The pink enema bag became full. He redialed the nozzle and sipped me
back into closure. I was empty, but I was trapped again.
Master Jason sniffed the bag and hacked. "This is foul stuff, slut.
Very."
He lifted the bag onto a high hook and attached a feeder tube to me. A
clamp kept away, my non nourishing dinner.
"Do you love yourself, slut?"
"I o u (I love you)"
"Do you?"
I nodded vigorously. This was dangerous territory. And I was terrified!
Master Jason leaned back on his chair. He pulled a cigarette from his
breast pocket. He lit it. He took a puff. Then he roamed his eyes on me.
"Perfect."
I was tired. So very. And the vibratings, so horny before were now
beginning make my teeth want to jump out. But Jenny and Michael were
depending on me - hanging on me - they weren't real, they aren't real.
Are you real or pretend?
I didn't know anymore.
"slut, One question", Master Jason said, gazing away from me. "Your
sister and wife, I have made tramps. Steve, your bestest friend, I have
turned against you. They hate you. They cringe from me. They believe
this is all your fault. They like your falling. From grace, if you want
to put it poet style.
The preamble was calculating, lengthy, eternal. Would it ever end? I
gazed at the clamp, that kept my waste from reentering me, through my
mouth. Into my corsetted slut body. And maybe back again. I mushily,
decided that recycling can be a bad thing.
I was terrified, but still the plug vibrated, and still I could see
myself, my reflection from that mirror on that wall. I felt lusty, and
weak. And I looked beautiful, vulnerable, and for a moment, looking at
my thigh high ballets, loved me.
"Give yourself willingly," Master Jason said, "and You will spare them."
"ee m (free them?)
"Yes, slut. I will. We will take your money that I despise and go. Far
away."
"Save your family. Come with me."
A lie? A truth? He'd already lied about my heels. Twice. But now, Master
Jason looked tired, tired of this game. Was, why me? I had to ask
"I e" (Why me?) He could always understand me, and he did.
"slut, you are one the richest idiots I have ever seen. So trusting, so
kind, in your benevolent way. Such is the freedom of the rich. You have
time to be kind. I have the time to be insane."
"Choose."
I looked over at my wife, my sister, Steve, cuddled and cozy. Cummed
out. Trust doesn't come easy to me, or doubts. We are, after all, the
consequences of our decisions made. And not made. Mostly.
I chose.
Master Jason said, "Be careful. It's permanent."
Gazing strong, as strong as I could, I nodded my head.
He took the stopper off, smiling as he did so, and I fed.
***
They barely noticed I was gone?
Master Jason loved me, badly.
He was cruel.
I loved him.
***
Through post cards, shown to me by Master Jason, all of which, I licked
well, I saw that my family was safe. My tears fell at my wife's smile.
She didn't even notice I had left. Maybe she hadn't noticed I'd been
there. Or maybe, she'd been conditioned to forget me.
Nanette
- 20.02.2021
- 27
- 0
