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The Battered LampChapter 17: The Decision Of The Mother free porn video
Sunday, January 26th – Kamifurano
Fumi was drawn out of sleep by a strong set of hands on her. "I need to sleep, Ando," she protested, pushing his hands away. They were like iron, not letting go. "I mean it. You've had enough for one night."
"I need more, little slut," Ando hissed.
Fumi sighed, opening her eyes. She could just make out the form of the handsome, young man she had fucked in exchange for staying in his hotel room. Her ass was full of his wonderful cum and he had pumped quite a few loads into her this evening. But she needed sleep. She was traveling up the mountain to the Yukishoujo-no-onsen, the hot spring where she hoped to be granted a boon. She wanted to make love to Kyle, and he couldn't so long as her pussy would kill him.
She hated being a Yuki-onna.
"I need more now," he hissed, his hands tightening on her shoulder.
"Stop that. You're hurting me."
"Good."
She pushed the last bits of sleep off her mind as her heart beat faster. This wasn't right. His voice sounded different. "Ando? What?"
He pined her down, his body atop her. "I'm gonna have so much fun with you."
"Get off me!" She pushed on his body, digging her fingernails into his flesh.
He grunted in pain and she pulled her right foot up, planting it against his stomach and pushed hard. He stumbled back and she rolled over, trying to get to the edge of the bed, her heart racing. Something was really wrong. His voice was different, and she wasn't shedding any pheromones, so he shouldn't be inflamed with passion right now. She reached for the cylindrical, bow case on the floor that held the special yumi Kyle had given her.
"Bitch!" he snarled, grabbing her ankle and hauling her across the bed.
She kicked with her free foot, catching him in the balls. "Help! Help!"
"Goddamn slut!" he grunted, doubling over, but his grip didn't slacken. His hand shot down, grasping other leg. She struggled, trying to kick her legs free from his grip. "You are going to pay for that, bitch. You hurt my cock. You need to kiss it to make me better."
"I'll bite it," she hissed. "Asshole!"
He pulled her across the bed until her butt rested at the edge, her legs around his body. She tried to squeeze her thighs shut, but he leaned over her pressing his groin against her. He leered down at her and she slapped at his face, digging her fingernails into his cheek, leaving blood furrows as she scratched.
"We are going to have so much fun."
"Help!" Panic filled her. He was so much stronger than her. "Someone help—"
His mouth kissed hers hard, almost chewing on her lips. His hand found her breasts, squeezing hard, then pulling on her nipple. She groaned as pleasure flooded through her and she could smell her scent filling the air. Her body writhed, responding to his touch. She was a Yuki-onna, a succubus, and she thrived on sex.
She ground her pussy against him, kissing him back. Her fear melted into passion, her legs wrapped around his hips as she humped against him, his rough jeans rubbing against the sensitive lips of her pussy, stroking her aching clitoris.
"You are a slut," he laughed, pinching her nipple so hard the pain and pleasure mixed inside her. His other hand seized her throat, squeezing hard. She couldn't breath, the blood pounding inside her head. She didn't stop humping him as her vision fuzzed. "It's a shame I have to kill you. I would love to keep you."
He let go of her breast, still squeezing her throat, relaxing for a moment so she could suck in a sweet breath, then tightening. Her pleasure burned fierce inside her. She never felt anything like this. She was so aware of everything that was going on. His belt buckle rattled, his zipper hissed, his cock smacked her pussy, hard and thick.
"Fuck ... me..." she hissed, forcing the air past his tight fingers.
"Beg, slut!"
His hand relaxed. "Fuck me! I need your hard cock!" Her body hungered, awakened by the adrenaline pumping through her body.
He squeezed. His cock buried into her pussy. Pleasure exploded through her. Hot and fast, a searing wind that left her bucking as she struggled to cry out her passion. Stars danced before her vision, her fingers and toes tingled. Her head lolled to the side, savoring the feel of his cock pumping in and out of her pussy. So wonderful. She could feel every inch of him inside her velvet, hungry sheath.
Her vision narrowed, her blood screaming through her mind. Her pussy convulsed again, another rolling wave of pleasure orgasmed through her body. She couldn't do anything more then lay there and be lost in the pleasure as the world retreat. Her lungs burned, her pussy was on fire. Her vision was almost gone.
Molten fire exploded inside her. Her cum spasmed through her body as her pussy drank every drop of his sweet cum. Such energy burned through her, fueling her body, her vision suddenly coming back clear as day.
"Yes!" he hissed, his hips drawing back to spill another load inside her. "Such pleasure!" His back arched, his fingers crushed her throat.
Then her pussy devoured his life, sucking it out of his cock and feeding her. For months she had starved herself, subsisting on blowjobs and anal sex. And now she had her feast. She drank every drop the man possessed. His hand went limp, sweet air sucked into her throat, and he collapsed on her, his body cold as ice.
She had drained him dry.
Fumi pushed him off of her, panting, her throat burning, her mind struggling to think. Guilt and relief flooded her. I killed another man.
He tried to kill me.
Someone must have cast a spell on him.
She froze at that thought. That one witch had escaped at the cabin? Was she out for revenge or were there other enemies of Kyle's that they did not know about? Fear clutched her heart. She scrambled off the bed, grabbing her stuff. She had to get out of here. Whomever had enchanted Ando would be coming to investigate his work.
"I'm sorry, Ando," she whispered as she grabbing her cloths from off the floor, his cum leaking down her legs. She didn't have time to clean up. She needed to get to the hot spring as fast as possible so she could get back to Kyle.
She pulled on her thick snow pants, two heavy sweaters and a thick jacket. She opened the case that held Windfeather, drawing the yumi out. The bow was the most finely crafted yumi she had ever possessed, the dark wood inlaid with a strange, green metal that didn't harm the bow's flex at all. She could suddenly feel the air swirling in the room, sense the subtle eddies and currents thanks to the bow.
Fumi almost went out the front door, but her fear stopped her, freezing her gloved hand on the knob. What if they're outside? They could be watching. I need to be smart.
She retreated to the bathroom, opening the window. She was on the second floor and peered out at the snowy ground below. More snow fell, black specks in the darkness. She drew on the bow, forming a wind blowing up the side of the building, snow whipping into her face, and leaped out.
She floated like a feather to the ground, cradled by her wind, landing in the calf-high snow. She had memorized the map. The trail to the hot spring should be to her left. She set out into the snowy night, fear hammering in her heart.
I'm running through a snowy mountainside. Didn't I dream something like that? She tried to remember the dream she had on the plane. But she had been so tired. She vaguely remembered that she was stumbling blind through the snow, being hunted by something.
"I'm not blind. It must have just been a coincidence."
She threw a look over her shoulder anyways. All she saw was snow falling, burying her footsteps.
Zaritha hated the snow.
She was a being of fire, haunting the deserts. This freezing water irked her. She stood in the falling snow, the delicate flakes flashing into steam right before touching her skin. The drift she stood in had melted, steam rising about her, exposing the green grassy verge beside the plowed road, her eyes fixed on the hotel room.
It had been two hours since Ando had entered the motel room. She had told the human to make her suffer. Surely she had suffered enough in this amount of time. Worry began eating at her. She cursed the rules that creation had placed on her race. Why had they been given all their power if they couldn't use it how they pleased?
Not like these barbarous humans. They could do what they want, creation didn't care. How she hated them all. Particularly her master. The slave bracers burned on her wrists, demanding that she go in there and kill little Fumi. But no Hidden Person could kill a mortal. Her people could do a lot to one, control them, torture them, but not directly kill one.
And her pawn was taking far too long.
With a flare of irritation she flashed into a whirlwind of fire, streaking through the sky to the second floor walkway, rematerializing before the door. She didn't want to walk through the heavy snow if she didn't have to.
The door was locked. So she knocked.
No one answered.
She grasped the knob, flooding it with her fire. The brass glowed red, deforming and melting into a blob that fell in a sizzling mess around her hand to drip on the cement floor. The door creaked open an inch. She pushed it open, summoning a ball of fire to light the hotel room up.
Her puppet was dead, his pants around his ankle.
"Si'lat whore," she cursed. "How did that little girl kill you?"
The corpse didn't answer. They never did in Zaritha's experience.
She examined the dead man. He was young and fit, his body compact and muscled. She didn't see any wounds on him or smell any blood on the air. His throat was unmarred, there was no foam about his lips. She moved her flame over him, illuminating his flesh, and froze over his groin. His cock was black and shriveled. Dessicated.
"The little thing isn't human," Zaritha purred, a tremble going through her body. The rules had changed. Excitement burned through the Ifrit. She scanned around, wondering where the little thing had fled. What sort of powers did she possess? The shriveled cock implied a succubus. "No teleportation or flight then. But the little thing could be hiding."
The hotel room wasn't large. It took her a minute to figure out where Fumi had fled. The bathroom window was open. She flashed down to the ground, snow steaming around her. A trail led off into the snowy forest.
The Ifrit smiled and pursued her prey.
South Hill, Washington
Kyle woke up early on Sunday. He couldn't sleep. He was so close to helping Fatima wake up. The Panacea glowed like a rainbow on his dresser, its soft light scintillating through his bedroom, falling on the naked flesh of his concubines cuddling across his huge bed. Aaliyah slept in his arms, her dark hair falling across her dusky face.
His cock was half-hard and his bladder was full. He carefully crawled over the piles of beautiful women, trying not to wake up his concubines. The room was at the perfect temperature. Not too hot, not too cold, but just right for a person to sleep naked without covers. He paused at the doorway, admiring their lush beauty.
Through his bedroom door was a hallway. Each of his, Fatima's, and Aaliyah's concubines had their own smaller room, with another four rooms set aside for his wives. No one had slept in their beds yet. The hallway led to a large sitting room. It was more like his own living room. His Xbox was hooked up to the huge TV hanging on one wall, the floor strewn with bean bags and pillows. There was a new door leading to Britney and Phillipa's room.
He exited the extra-dimensional space his bedroom resided in—Aaliyah's explanation made his head ache, though Kyle was sure Britney would perfectly grasp the concept—and reentered regular space.
"Kyle!" his mom gasped.
Kyle flushed, realizing he was naked and his hands covered his cock. "Um, sorry, Mom."
She stood in a silk, blue robe and he couldn't help but admire the way it clung to her lush figure. His mom was the poster-woman of MILF's. His cock swelled, getting harder to hide behind his hands. He wanted to make love with her. He needed to. The next step in healing his sister demanded it. The Panacea needed to be attuned to his sister, drawing on the energy of the two people closest to Fatima—her brother and mother.
Only his mother had said no.
"I wasn't thinking."
"It's okay." Her dusky cheeks colored. "I've seen it before."
"I was just going to the bathroom."
She nodded, her eyes staring up at the ceiling.
"So, I should..."
"Yeah, I guess you should," she answered.
"Um, have you thought about ... it, Mom?"
"I have." She shifted. "I didn't sleep at all, to be honest. I'm just not sure ... it's so wrong, Kyle."
"It's for Fatima."
Her eyes flicked down for a second. "I ... I need more time to think." She pushed past him, heading back into her bedroom. "I'm ... I'm going for a walk."
"It's pouring down rain." He could hear it drumming on the roof."
"Good," she muttered. "I need to cool..." She flushed more, then disappeared into her bedroom. Kyle couldn't help but noticing the way her nipples pressed against her robe."
"Can I help you with that, Master?" Chyna purred from behind him, pressing her large breasts into his back.
"I just need to pee."
Her hand reached around him, finding his hard cock, her mouth sucked at his ear. "That's what I meant. You've never pissed in my mouth. I want you to."
"You're such a good slave," he whispered.
"I love you, Master."
"I love you," he answered. "You know it's not as deep as I feel for Aaliyah."
"I know. You love your wives more than us. We don't mind."
He turned, his hard cock brushing her naked stomach. Her lips were hungry as they kissed him. He ran his fingers through her dark-brown hair as her tongue darted into his mouth. He moaned, loving the taste of her.
She dropped to her knees, her heavy breasts sliding down his stomach, to grasp his dark brown cock in her dusky hands, stroking him to his full girth, then her mouth engulfed him. He groaned, leaning his left shoulder against the hallway wall as her tongue caressed the tip, her lips sucking. Her hazel eyes twinkled with eager delight.
He relaxed his bladder. That wonderful sensation of release poured out of him, straight into his concubine's mouth. He groaned, savoring the degradation of his concubine. And the fact she willingly drank his piss only made it hotter. Her throat worked as she swallowed his flood, moaning her satisfaction.
"Dirty whore," he groaned. "Drink my pee. Little slut!"
She swallowed harder, the tip of his cock itching with pleasure as he pissed in her hungry mouth. He loved the sound of her swallows, so wrong and obscene. This was true submission. It was so intoxicating. He would never need to piss in a toilet again. Not when he had a bedroom full of concubines that would be more than eager to demonstrate their love in such an intimate way.
His stream began to die out, until only a few spurts remained. She sucked every last drop out of him, then she bobbed her head. She had his piss, now she wanted his cum.
"That's it, slut!" he groaned, his pleasure churning.
Chyna was a grade A cocksucker. He gripped her dark-brown hair, falling loose about her shoulders than in her usual pigtails, and fucked her mouth. She moaned in joy, her arms wrapping around his waist to seize his buttocks, squeezing and kneading him, pulling him into her mouth.
"You want my cum, don't you, slut!"
She moaned a yes around his thrusting cock. He dove deeper, pressing down her throat. She didn't resist. She was a submissive, loving concubine. Her lips reached the base of his shaft, kissing the tangled mat of his pubic hair, his balls slapping her chin.
His fingers tightened in her hair as his balls boiled. His cum flooded her mouth. She moaned louder, her tongue swirling about his cock, swirling his cum around her mouth before she swallowed his salty load.
"Thank you for your cum and piss, Master," she smiled. She gave the tip of his cock a kiss.
"Thank you for loving me," he whispered, stroking her hair.
She smiled at him. "Don't worry about your mother. I saw her eyes. She'll come around."
"Will she?" he sighed.
"Have faith."
"In what?"
"Why lust, Master!"
Detective Donnar knocked on the door. He had been at home watching the playoffs when his phone had rang. One of the missing girls had just showed up at her home, though her mother didn't sound entirely pleased. He forced himself away from the close game. Twenty minutes later he was standing at the Stoddard residence.
Two women were shouting inside the house, muffled by the door.
He knocked again. Harder.
The door yanked open, a middle-aged man was there, his jowls ruddy. "Detective?" he blinked.
"Your wife called. Phillipa has turned up?"
"Yeah." Another loud yell echoed from upstairs.
"Is everything all right?"
"Phillipa is moving out," he answered. "Her mother is ... discussing it with her."
"Has she told you were she's been?"
"Her girlfriend's house."
"Did you know your daughter had a girlfriend?" Donnar couldn't remember any mention of Phillipa having a boyfriend or girlfriend.
"She didn't seem to have anyone she dated. She had band, really dedicated to playing the trombone, and her book club." Mr. Stoddard's eyes tightened; the Detective had informed Phillipa's parents some of the details of what really was going on in that club.
"So, who is this girlfriend?"
"She didn't say. She and her mother have been going at it since..." He shrugged. "I retreated downstairs and let them screech at each other. Safer that way."
Detective Donnar gave a snorting laugh. "Has your daughter ever disappeared like this before?"
"Never. She's a model student. Get's straight A's. I don't know what's gotten into her."
Feet thumped down the stairs and Phillipa appeared, a heavy suitcase clutched in one hand. She was a beautiful teen, her skin pale-olive, vaguely Asian, with those slanted eyes. Her mother, a middle-aged, oriental woman was behind her, shouting loudly and rapidly in Korean.
"I'm eighteen!" Phillipa snarled. "I can move out if I want to!"
"Your father and I worried sick about you. And you just want to leave. Where were you?"
"At my girlfriend's! And it's where I'm heading to."
Alma
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