Scenario: Cheerleader Vs N3rd Grrl

Two girls; one mean cheerleader and one shy little nerd girl. The mean girl corners the nerd and starts picking on her. She molests her, mocking her small tits, her glasses, her clothes. She forces her to lick her pussy under her cheerleader skirt. She makes the nerd rub her book against her clit. “You love books so much, then fuck it!” As she is rubs her cunt on the book, the cheerleader shoves a marker in her ass and continues to berate the nerd for being too smart, unliked, ugly, a social pariah. She fucks the little prissy nerd and tells her this is as close as she is going to get to a real fuck. She tells her that she is worthless and nobody wants to fuck her. As the nerd girl lays there crying from the shame and embarrassment, the cheerleader stands up and starts pissing all over her back. “You are worth nothing more that a place to piss.”

Enter the teacher
“What is all this now?” He pulls the cheerleader off the nerd and tears into her. Telling her she has no right to treat another person like that. Asking her if she would want to be treated like that. Slapping her face, shoving his hand down her throat. What would she do if she wasn’t the bully? He turns her over and shoves her face into the nerds cunt. She laps away like a dirty little whore. She is too into it. She is probably just a lesbian hiding her real feelings behind the cheerleader uniform. This is not humiliating her in the same way she had humiliated the nerd so he has the nerd turn over and makes the mean girl lick the nerd’s asshole. He then starts
fucking her, telling her that she is a dirty whore and that only horny greasy old men will want a slut like her. A girl would never touch her without being forced. He then fucks her ass like the frat boys will want to. She’s still licking the nerd’s asshole and the nerd girl is rubbing her clit. He says to the cheerleader, “You’re such a fucking little whore, look at you going down on her asshole! Who knew such a popular little brat could be so into other girls! I bet all the little frat boys would love to know what you’re really into! You thought it would be so nice to pick on her? Well, I think that WE should make you regret such a poor choice.” He grabs her pony tail and pulls her off the nerd ass, “what do you think about that!?” Her response is a soft whimper as he continues to fuck her ass. He shoves the cheerleaders face onto the nerd’s pussy, “Make sure that you get her nice and wet so that I may fuck her properly. Whores like you only get fucked in the ass.”

He makes the cheerleader lay on her back with the nerd girl on all fours with her cunt over her face. Then he fucks the nerd girl hard just inches from her face. Spit and cum slopping out of her cunt onto the mean girl ’s face. As he is about to cum, he pulls out and cums on the nerd’s ass and makes the cheerleader lick it out. Then he finishes her off by pissing in the cheerleader’s mouth . “You like pissing on girl’s so much, then you should love being treated like a piss whore.”

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Diary of a Serial Killer

Note: No one was killed in the making of this scene. This is a write-up of a recent consensual roleplay scene. Also, because the narrator is a serial killer I thought it a bit out of character for him to do many of the things that I did, like clean wounds before and after needle play, use condoms and other safety equipment. To keep the intensity of the write-up where I wanted it, I took license in omitting a few things that we take for granted. Tertiary places and actions were changed to keep with the mood and flow and are not real representations of what actually happened. To anyone who may have seen the scene as it built, it would have seemed like any other night at the club, because that is in reality what it was.Traffic. It makes me see red. It makes me think that the world would be better off with fewer people. I try to control it, this urge to set the world on fire. It is not ok to think like that, my mother would say to me when I was a child and when I insisted that the best way to avoid sharing toys in daycare was to, “make them all go away.” So I have learned to suppress my rage, to hide the beast that I am behind a pleasant mask. The problem is that traffic erodes my mask and leaves me like a tiger behind bars of papier maché.

It was not common traffic. It seemed to be… misplaced, as if the traffic patterns were being affected by some outside force that was hell bent on me not getting to my date on time. Then I started to see the signs that my fears were true. The license plate of the car on my right gave me the first clue; IL 432 1300. There in the middle of the plate stood the number: thirteen. I looked to my left. There was another one this time with three M’s (thirteenth letter of the alphabet). This was no simple traffic jam. This was a conspiracy.

I went on trying to avoid the cars that were obviously flagged. I looked deeply into the souls of the drivers, looking for more signs. When the triskaidekians are blocking my path I know that they are trying to keep me from where I need to be. They take many different forms, hidden in plain sight as cars that cut off your exit, signs that are confusingly marked, people who pull you down into a void of insipid banter that suffocates your brain until it is no longer possible to think for yourself. This last form, manifesting as humans,is the most evil, the most insidious. It is the one that wears down the cage of my beast the most and are therefore the ones most often hurt when it gets free. These invaders are invisible to most, but I see them, the creature inside me sees them. It scares me to watch from within my own head, staring out of my own eyes as the dark soul that I share this body with stalks and destroys them. I cannot feel remorse for them, because I know the evil darkness of their goals. I know that the universe is a better place for each one removed.

When I finally arrived to pick up my date, traffic had already weakened my defenses. I was weak with frustration and her incessant yammering rained down like hail on the fragile glass shelter that was my sanity. Talk of people that she barely knew and how “nice” they were. Of families that existed in her mind from posed pictures,  of clothes and food without any understanding of what it meant to be really cold or hungry. I tried to pull my mind away. I tried to concentrate on the road, on the other cars, but all around me the thirteens were closing in. I felt as if I were trapped in the car with prey. I was being forced to take this girl as a sacrifice. I am not a fool. I know that this is not the way to handle the darkness. Spontaneous actions leave trails, leave clues, leave the police with so many questions that cannot be easily answered. So I play it safe and head to the Pier to keep us in public.

“So what do your friends and family think of you being on a blind date?” I hear the words coming out but I don’t remember thinking them.

“They don’t know,” she said with a mischievous smile. Really? She has left me this opening? I shake my head and reach for another cigarette to dull the senses that are starting to tingle.
I park close to the door, under a bright halogen light. If there had been a camera I would have parked under that. We get out and head immediately for the safety of the crowded boardwalk.

“Oh, let’s go on the Ferris Wheel!” She is excited and I am pulled along to the gondola. We climb on board and we are lifted slowly into the night sky. The isolation makes her more chatty. She talks about her mom and her dad. She talks about her pets growing up and why she named them what she did. She talks about her fifth grade teacher and how he snapped his gum and all the time I waited for us to reach the top. From there, the fall could be calculated as to make her hit most of the frame of the wheel before hitting the ground. I calculate the distance from my seat to the door. I could grab her by the hair with my right hand and the gate with my left and have her tossed from the gondola in a matter seconds. As I was lost in reverie I had not noticed that she had stopped talking. She was staring out over the city and for a moment, for one brief moment she looked beautiful, almost human. The top of the wheel came and went and she was still sitting next to me. She smiled and I think I smiled back.

At dinner she shifted again. She ordered the sloppiest most expensive item on the menu. She threw herself into the meal with abandon and talked throughout. The drinks were large and ostentatious with flashing lights and collectors cups. She ordered round after round and with each round pointed out more emphatically that she did not “put out” on the first date. This was said with red stains from the boiled shrimp around her mouth. It was not like she did not have manners. Most of the evening, she was well behaved but when we entered the franchised seafood restaurant with its southern, hands-on style, she seemed to absorb the artificial culture. Her language started to drawl and she drank sweet tea and called the waitress “Sugar.” It was as if her personality was made of a semipermeable membrane and could absorb the world around. She was empty like a sponge waiting to take in the nutrients from the surroundings. I watched with revulsion as she clapped along to the birthday song and whined for Key Lime pie. She ordered one more drink long after it was time to go and I decided that I really had no choice. The prison that kept the beast at bay was no longer there. Now all that stood between her and destruction was time.

I paid the check and with a smile asked if she was ready to go.

“Go where?” she is a little tipsy from the drinks but still thinking fairly rationally.

“A club.”

“What club?”

“A private club.” Her ears perked up. The singularity, the uniqueness of my offer gave her the push she needed. I helped her to her feet and kept my hand on the small of her back as I guided her through the mall. The awkward, morally aware soul that inhabits this body from time to time was gone. I was finally alone. Getting her to the club was going to be easy. She was a slightly inebriated, trusting soul that wanted to believe that there were no real monsters. As we moved farther and farther away from main shopping area, my hand moved from the small of her back to the nape of her neck. When we passed through the first set of doors into the small  hallway that separated the mall from the parking area, I grabbed tightly at her hair, stopped and spun her to meet me. I leaned in and kissed her hard, using her surprise as a way of getting through to her. She caught her breath and just as she started to push away, I released the kiss and turned to keep walking. I walked through the second set of doors, letting them swing open but not holding them for her. Her shoes clicked frantically as she tried to get through the swinging doors before they closed. I let her chase me all the way to the car, unlocking the doors but not opening hers. I hopped in and was buckling as she scrambled into the seat next to me.

We got to the club and I ordered drinks as she freshened up. I pulled a small vial of powder from my pocket and laced her drink. The bartender went about washing his glasses as if he saw nothing. She came back, a little stiff, a little scared of being hurt,  but more of being abandoned. I pushed the drink to her. She claimed that it tasted funny. I told her it was the city water. She began in again about how great her home in the suburbs had been. I can’t stand it anymore.

“Finish your drink.” She struggles to down the rest of it as the narcotic starts to take affect. She starts to lose focus and balance. I take her for a little tour of the club. It is a Friday night and the club is quiet. She starts to stagger, unsure of her feet. She leans back into me and then pushes off as if to play coy. I let her do this a couple more times as we make our way towards the private rooms in the back. At the entrance to our private room a sober shiver runs through her as she see the darkness inside. She stops and unconsciously backs away from the doorway but I am behind her and before she can say a word my arms are around her neck. Her hands come up but land lightly on my bicep and forearm. With a gagging squeak, her body goes limp.

I toss her unconscious body onto the couch face first, her ass propped up on awkwardly angled legs. I handcuff her hands behind her back and sit back a little, waiting for her to come to. The drugs make her come to slowly and I give her situation time to sink in. She scrambles to straighten herself up. She looks at me confused and a little angry. I slap her across the face, drawing focus into her eyes for just a moment.

“Can you hear me?” She does not say a word but cringes at the touch. There are so many things about this bitch that annoy me I don’t know where to start. Like a wrecking crew at the gates to the Mall of America I lick my lips at all that there is to destroy in front of me. I pull her to her feet without a word and start in on her personality.

“If I had to listen to one more minute of your chatter in the car, I swear to god, I was going to drive us into the river.” I’m gripping her tightly by the upper arm as I whisper this in her ear. I slap her face, watching her long black hair hide her eyes. I brush it aside to ensure that she sees me as I take her apart. “No one cares about your boring life.” (slap) “Nobody wants to hear how ‘nice’ your boss is.” (punch) “I could not care less whether your mom loved your sister more than you.” I spin her around and close my arm around her neck and squeeze until the gasping sounds come. Close in, I whisper softly in her ear, “Your life is fucking meaningless and if you had an ounce of self-awareness in you, you would see that. Her eyes roll back in her head, and as she falls I spin her to fall on her back onto the couch.

I drag her over the arm of the couch tilting her head back, forcing her mouth open. As she starts to come to again I wait for her head to start to move before shoving my cock into her mouth. The angle, the force and the choking all fight her urge to get away. She gags and tears fill her eyes.

“You go out on a blind date without telling anyone where you are going. You buy a new dress, new underwear. You proceed to talk about how you are not going to put out while proceeding to lean on me, brush up against me and generally tease me. Now tell me, are you surprised where you find yourself?” I pull my dick out of her mouth and wait for her to start speaking. She says nothing. I slap her hard across the face. “Answer me!” The rage is like a heat wave running through me as I feel it coming out of my pores as sweat. I am on fire as I want to peel her like grape and listen to her scream.

“I…” She stammers and I shove my dick back into her throat feeling her tonsils on either side of the head of my cock. She starts to get her feet under her as she tries to shift her angle and stop the assault anyways she can. I pull out and step back, putting my dick away as she gasps for air. Spit and and tears cover her face.

I pull her up to her feet by her arm and turn her to remove the cuffs. The abuse has affected her, sobering her up a bit and now is time for her to be broken of her hope and fight. After taking the cuffs off I relax and turn ever so slightly to give her the opening. She sees it and almost without conscious effort she starts for the door. My arm snaps out and grabs her by the hair. I throw her into the brick wall and laugh. My hand goes to her neck and I lean in again, breathing hot on her cheek. I feel her body goes limp and I let her fall into a pile. I step back and kick, catching her stomach with the top of my foot. A sound escapes as the air is forced from her lungs. She tries to curl up in to a fetal position but I dig the heel of my boot into her thighs, pushing them down.

“Get up.” She slowly gets to her hands and knees and I kick her in the cunt. She falls face first into the carpet. Her hand comes out as she tries again to come up and I step in feeling the bones move beneath the sole of my shoe. I grab her by the hair and pull her up, only shifting my weight of her hand after her arm had reached full extension. She held her arm limp as I squeezed her jaw and forced her to look into my eyes.

“Did you really think you had a chance?” She is looking right at me now shaking her head violently. She knows there is no way out except through me. “Do you want to go home?” She feverishly nods her head. Little pleases start coming out. “There is only one way out. Show me that you want me to let you go.” I reach down and undo the belt of her dress and put it around her neck. She is shaking as she tries to get naked. She sheds the last of her clothes and I let go of the belt, spin her around and slap her across the face. “Besides, even if you did get away, where would you go? Do you think anyone out there would stop me?” She looks over her shoulder towards the door that leads back to the main club. Suddenly, how far she has gone, how far she is from safety, sets in. She looks back at me with desperation in her eyes. I throw her back on the couch and turn to my bag.

I watch over my shoulder as she gauges the distance again. I give her my back as a way of tempting her into trying for the door. She lunges, on hands and knees, for the door and I contemplate for a minute letting her get to the bar and having the bartender and bouncer drag her back in but decide against it. I wait for her to almost reach the door before snatching her up by the hair. She screams as I throw her back on the couch. I lean in close and say, “Do that again and I will be fucking your corpse.”

I grab some rope and string her up by her wrists. There is nothing more perfect than the stripped victim before the real damage is done. It is like a clean canvas, an unmarked form waiting to be worked into something more. Her head hung down and her hair hid the fear in her face. I pulled it back and tied her head up by her hair.

“You are a cunt.” I spit the words out and watched as she flinched when they hit her. “I am going to use you like a cunt, but first you need to act like a cunt. What does a cunt do?” She says nothing and I reach up and squeeze her cheeks. “Well?”

“I… I don’t know.” She is almost in tears, but not quite.

“A cunt bleeds.” I unroll a string of thirteen needles and proceed to pierce her flesh, looking for vulnerable spots. Her skin was red and hot to the touch from the earlier tortures. As I look over the body and find where I want to put the needle I pinch and pull and slap the skin to bring even more blood to the surface. With casual torment I begin to slide the needles in, letting each slide in slowly watching the skin stretch, feeling it pop as it punctures. The screams come again, this time with sheer pain. I give each one room to exist on its own uncomplicated by the mixed pain of overlapping punctures. After putting in about six of the needles I start to ask her about her prudish composure.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” She shakes her head, closing her eyes tight to keep out the image of her wanting it. “If you want me to fuck you, all the pain can go away.” She looks up at me desperately.

“Please. Please fuck me.” The words are the verbal equivalent of her scramble for the door. I smile down at her.

“You are saying it, but you don’t mean it. You want me to stop the pain and are willing to be fucked for relief. That is not what I want. What I want is for you to want me to fuck you. I want you to beg me to fuck you because you long for it, long for me.”

“I do. Please fuck me.”

“No. Not yet.” I return to my work, finding new places to inflict sharp, exquisite pain.

After they are all in, I leave them in and leave her hanging for a while. The pain subsides and I want her to be refreshed when I start to pull them out. Each comes out with a twist releasing a small rivulet of blood. She is gone by now, lost in the pain, afraid that the slightest move will increase it. As the last one is pulled free I step back and look at her. The red lines accentuate her curves and define her body in ways that no clothing could. I take a few of the beads and smear them on her parched lips and on her cheeks. The look in her eyes says in no uncertain terms that she is now mine completely.

I untie her arms first leaving her nearly suspended by her hair. As I undo that knot she slips to her knees. I undo my belt and she looks up with anticipation. She wants to show me her gratitude, her desire and as soon and my dick is free, she consumes it with hunger.  I let her relish in her devotion for a moment before dragging her back to the sofa by her hair. I throw her over the armrest, pushing her legs apart and under her so she opens to me. I take a piece of medical tubing from my bag and wrap it around her neck. I pull her head up and enter her from behind. The sound escaping is a mixture of ecstasy and dying and I pull her back onto me over and over again. She tries to hold herself up by her arms, but as her world goes black they slip and she crashes down onto the couch. I release the tubing and let her gain consciousness again. She is coughing as she gets back onto her arms. I pull back again, violently pulling her into each thrust until again, her arms give out and she falls forward. Again I release and let her taste air for one last time. As she starts to move I pull the tubing again, this time as tight as possible. She starts to scramble for the hose with her hands and now she is completely held up by the tension. There is a convulsion as she dies and one last orgasm shakes throughout her. Her arms go limp and then her whole body. I keep her like that for a few seconds more to ensure that the struggle is out of her and I let go. She falls forward and I pull out. I pull the body back on the couch. The corpse stares lifelessly at the ceiling, the skin not yet cool. The blood all over it makes the scene that much more vivid, and in no time I feel the orgasm rising within me. The semen falls across her face and into her eyes that do not flinch or seek approval. They take it with the same apathy one would expect from tile on the bathroom floor.

I rest for a minute, sitting on the sofa next to the body, feeling the heat slip away and the joints begin to stiffen. When I have rested, I pull my clothes on and grab my bag. I go to the bar. I look at the bartender who gives me a knowing nod. There are reasons that you belong to a private club. In a matter of hours the room will be clean again and the night will proceed as if it had never happened. Well, except for the one more missing person report floating through the police bureaucracy.

On the Ride Home

She hit me. Not hard, not maliciously, but with a joking sense of dare, she hit me. I looked at her and she smiled that smile that says, “I have no idea what I am in for…” I reached up and petted her head, running my fingers up the nape of her neck until they held the back of her skull. I closed them into a fist and pulled down hard. Her eyes closed as she melted into the seat. I pulled her closer to me. We are on Congress at the post office. The road narrows to one lane as it goes over the river, concrete barriers on either side as we drive through a hole in the side of a building large enough to have its own zip code.

“Open your eyes,” I said. “One of us has to watch the road and I am watching you.” She tensed up as we pass through and I-290 opens up on the other side. I had her stick her hand in her pants to see if she was wet. Hell yes. Instant mess. I had her stick her hand down her throat which was pretty easy since I had her head pulled back like a sword swallower. She got most of it in and started to gag. I had her pull it out and start masturbating.

“Think of this. Think of now when you go home. This is what you are missing. This is why you are moving back. This is what you want, what I want. This is what we do.” Now we are going about 60 and her exit is coming up quick.

“Cum now.” She picks up the pace and starts to let out those little lost girl sounds, that whimpering that makes me… As she starts to cum, I pull back on her hair hard making her scream in pain at the same time. Again and again I pulled on her hair as she shook through a fairly nice little orgasm.

I looped around to drop her off in front of her sister’s house and to give her a little time to pull herself together. We stopped in front of the house and chatted for a bit before she went to get out of the car. She leaned over and hit me on the shoulder. Some bitches will never learn.

Parlay

 Prologue: This story was inspired by the erotic musings of Fallen Depths though it takes a very different turn and has a different style. I recommend reading the original too. ~MN

She was the cruelest bitch to ever lay flint to powder; the dread pirate Annie McMayhem, queen of the seas. I had met up with her once before in a Malaysian smugglers den where she was fighting for gold teeth. On the table next to her bottle of rum sat a small pile of bloody gold canines and incisors. I knew then and there that this was not a cunt to cross.

We were three days out from the Fiji, heading east when our crow’s nest spotted her flag. We signaled her and pulled along side for Parlay. As I boarded the ship I heard a blood-curdling scream. A man, stripped naked to the waist was lashed to the aft mast; in front of him a small figure brandished a rapier. She was bald with a silk scarf keeping the sweat from her eyes. She wore an off white shirt open to her navel, exposing breasts casually to anyone brazen enough to stare, and one large hoop earring. One arm was capped at the wrist by a stainless steel dagger while the other lined up the rapier tip. She lunged forward at the man tied to the mast. The blade deflected off his jaw and into the wood. He screamed as if castrated. Tears ran down his face streaking the dirt.

Hold the fuck still you bilge rat or I won’t be able to pierce your ear!” McMayhem screamed. Someone appeared with a belt to strap his head to the mast. She lined up again and lunged. This time he screamed before she reached him. Her blade missed its mark and pierced his throat. The screaming died as blood filled his lungs. The blade had exited through the back of his neck and stuck tight to the mast. She gave it a pull but it didn’t budge. She put her foot on the dead man’s gut and blood spurt out as she twisted the rapier free. Victorious she wiped the blade on her shirt absent-mindedly. She looked up and saw me.

AHOY Nodi! You ole syphilitic sea turd! Is that a belayin’ pin in your britches, or are ya just happy to see me?” She leapt from the bridge of the boat and landed on the deck beside me. We hugged and sized each other up, looking for new scars since the last time we had met. She had a fresh scar, still pink on the left side of her face and three of her teeth were now made of ivory with sapphires set in them. The missing hand was not new but the stainless steel dagger was.

That’s quite a dagger ya got thar.” I said holding up my new steel hook. The same doctor had fitted both of them so they looked like evil sibling appendages.

Aye, and that a mighty nice patch!” she said, lifting it up to look at my newly vacant eye socket. “Ya lose that to the French?”

I laughed. “Arrrrg! I didn’t stop to ask the lout if he was French and his wife was otherwise too distracted to tell me when he barged in on us.” McMayhem giggled.

You, Nodi, are a whore.”

Right now I be a thirsty whore. Whatcha got to drink on this skiff?”

You’re in luck me heartie! We just plundered a Spanish galleon two days hence and filled our hole with bourbon and wine! Come, let’s drink!”

She led me to the Captain’s quarters. It was a spacious set of rooms with a sitting area occupied by a large round table scattered with maps, candles and the leftovers of several meals. With a sweep of her hand the table was cleared. A second mate brought me a chair while Annie sat in a high backed, red crushed velvet chair that was too big for her and the room but as she sat down she seemed to own in it. She put her foot up and tipped back in the chair.

Whiskey and grub!” She yelled and the echoing sound of people springing into action reverberated through the room. Supper was served by two beautiful servant wenches. Their eyes were constantly down-turned and any movement by the cap’n or myself made them flinch. As we drank we started to play with this fear; as one girl began pouring my drink I would sit up quickly as if preparing to grab her. She would flinch and stumble back toward McMayhem who would bolt up scaring the poor lass back my way. Back and forth a few more times, until the waif burst into tears and ran from the room. We burst into laughter each time we did it. Annie began to tell me about her girls, Dutch captives that had been missionaries in Africa.

They know more than missionary now!” She started giggling uncontrollably at her joke, pieces of food falling from her mouth. I spit bourbon across the table and tears welled up in my eyes. She calmed down and called in her first mate.

Bring me a four pound cannon shot.” He raced out of the room, passing one of the wenches as she entered with more wine. Annie grabbed her by the arm and pulled her in and across the table. The girl was barely eighteen with golden blonde hair and pleading blue eyes that stared at me. Her face was held down into a plate of half-eaten food and she let out a small whimper; she knew whatever was coming next was going to be nearly unbearable. The first mate returned with the shot. It was a iron ball just a little smaller than a grapefruit. McMayhem took it and called for the other one of the servant girl. When she came in, Annie handed her the ball and with her steel-daggered hand, lifted the pinned down girl’s dress exposing her soft white ass and using her good hand to anchor the wench by the neck. The smell of sex wafted from beneath her petty coats betraying her slutty desire.

“That’s the finest pirate booty I’ve ever laid eyes on!” I said with a sneer.

The second girl, who had a similar face and hair a shade darker, knelt almost reverently in front of Annie, turning the metal shot over in her hands. She let a long thread of saliva leave her lips to coat the ball. She then spit on her hand and rubbed the already wet cunt of the blonde. The blonde’s eyes closed as she let out a moan of pleasure.

I slammed my hook down on the table and her eyes were again wide with fear. “Ye look at me while she scrapes yar barnacles,” I hissed. She kept her sharp blue eyes on me as her fellow servant, possible sister, began to work the ball into her cunt. Her lips parted slightly showing the whiteness of her teeth as the stretching became tearing, and soon after became filling. The brunette finally passed the threshold and the ball disappeared into the blonde’s cunt.

Now ye hold it, me proud beauty or I’ll get me flogger!” barked McMayhem. She looked at the other girl, still on her knees. “Take off me pants.” The brunette undid the buttons and let the trousers fall. Underneath the pants McMayhem was wearing a harness with attachment points but nothing rigged to it.

Get me the ram rod,” she commanded and the brown haired wench nodded and crawled to a nearby chest. When she opened it there was almost a glow from the great variety of dildos inside. There were silver and gold and polished wooden ones with fine grains of yellow running through the black meat. There were thick and thin ones, long and short. The brunette pulled out a simple blue steel cylinder. She hooked it into Annie’s harness and started sucking it without being told. Once it was wet and glistened, the captain pulled the girl off of it and positioned herself behind the blonde. She directed her steel cock into the girl’s ass and very unceremoniously, she drove it home.

“RAMMING SPEED!” Annie roared.

The blonde, whose eyes had never stopped looking at me no matter where I was looking, screamed as the rod tore into her. McMayhem liked the sound and giggled as she picked up the pace. Faster and faster she sodomized the girl whose cries of pain started to melt away and turn into screams of pleasure.

Give this Sea Dog Hansel,” Annie offhandedly said to the girl on the floor. The wench had been enraptured in the fucking. She was caressing her breast and cunt absentmindedly. “Now!” Annie ordered and the girl jumped from her reverie and returned to the pleasure chest against the wall. She came back with a six-inch long statue of porcelain. It was a little Dutch boy with rosy cheeks and wooden shoes. The brunette adeptly removed my hook and replaced it with the figurine, and then with her eyes raised to me she slowly took the statue into her mouth, coating it with saliva. I took it out of her mouth, watching the line of spit trail from her swollen lips. I walked over to the blonde and she eagerly started licking at the wet figure.

Now, bring me Gretel.” The sweat was beading up as McMayhem continued to work the girl’s ass. There was a disappointed moan followed by a crash as the cannon shot finally fell from her overused cunt. The captain stopped.

You lazy whore! I’ve crushed seventeen men’s skulls between me thighs and you’re pussy is wider me ship’s beam!” She pulled out of the girl’s ass and picked up her rapier. “Ye know the punishment.” The blonde nodded, stood up slowly and turned over to lie on her back in the middle of the table while all the time, not for a moment, letting go of the Dutch boy that was my hand. She shifted her weight and moved back to get her whole body on the table. She brought her legs up and lifted her dress to expose her red and swollen cunt. A light fuzzy of blonde hair covered her like down feathers. Without a second of warning or preparation, the dread pirate brought the sword down across her labia. The girl screamed and bit down on the Dutch boy.

One,” said the brunette still on her knees, rubbing her clit. Annie slashed at the cunt again and again the blonde screamed.

Two,” her voice was getting more aroused.

Slash. Scream.

Three…” She was working her clit frantically. McMayhem shifts position to cut perpendicular to the last three.

Slash.

Four!”

Slash! The last one was with such gusto that the tip drew blood as it crossed the soaking wet pussy.

Five!” The brunette screaming in orgasm as the blonde cried in pain. Annie leaned in and kissed away the blood and licked the blonde’s swollen labia but before she could get the impression that all was wine and roses, she took her little Dutch girl and shoved it into the little Dutch girl. The little blonde was devouring the dildo in her mouth and in her cunt almost completely forgetting the pain from just a few minutes earlier. Annie fucked her hard and fast while I went for depth, reaching far down her throat.

Annie McMayhem giggled. “Let’s make ’em kiss!” There was an irresistible insanity in her eyes and we both started fucking our corresponding holes as deep as we could imagining that we would eventually meet somewhere in the middle of the bitch. She gagged and gasped and squirmed as the captain pushed up against the wenches cervix.

On the count of three, lift.” she said. “One, two, three!” We lifted her off the table by the dildos. Her hair hung down and her limbs hung limp but the small of her back was floating as if by magic.

Now that, is a spit roast!” By now the brunette was on the floor writhing uncontrollably.

It looks like your whores can’t control themselves.” I nodded at the mess on the floor and laughed.

She’s insatiable! However, most of my whores can fuck for hours without so much as a moan.” As she talked she motioned for the brunette to come closer. When she was near, the dread pirate rubbed her boot on the girls cunt, mixing the mud and salt with her cum. She lifted her foot and the brunette, like a starving dog, jumped up and started licking the mixture from her foot.

I don’t know,” I said. “I’m a thinkin’ I could get one of your whores to cum before I do.”

Bullshit!” She sneered and kicked the brunette away.

Care t’ make a wager?” I looked for that bit of crazy that would give me the advantage.

I’ll bet me best. No! I’ll bet better than me best!”

You’re on,” I said.

The dread pirate Annie McMayhem smiled and a twinkle filled her eyes. “Get Bridgette.” The order went out like ripples behind a massive stone being thrown into the water. The girls were cleared of the room and the table was broken down as to give the competition more room. Shortly after the room was prepared, a small hooded figure made her way to the open space. She removed her hood and I was instantly taken by her jet black hair and emerald eyes. She was an enchantress and I knew it.

Avast, me proud beauty! I be firing me cannon down through your porthole.” I growled.

I found a stool, sat down and called for a bottle. The blonde was on her knees at my side and I handed her a new attachment for my hand. It was two thin, slightly curved metal plates that came together in a duck’s bill. A small cord tied to the harness near my elbow allowed me to open and close it with a simple flex of the forearm. I stuck it in the blonde’s mouth and pried her teeth apart to test the mechanism. She moaned a little and I spit down her open throat.

“Bring me Moby Dick!” The dread pirate giggled as the brunette took a small wooden box from the larger chest. Inside was a scrimshaw dildo shaped like a sperm whale. There were rubies and diamonds embedded in it like petrified blood and sea spray. She put it into her harness and removed her shirt, now completely soaked in blood, sweat and cum. She made quite the sight standing there in only her boots, scarf and strap-on made of whalebone. Her nipples stood out like gumdrops, and thrust at the air. The brunette backed up and offered her cunt up to Annie, who fell upon the wench with renewed hunger.

“Let’s board these bitches Nodi!” she yelled as she fucked her captive. Bridgette lost no time, moving in close. Her hands were like snakes, seeking to wrap themselves around me until the found a place of weakness. I grabbed her hair, snapping her head back, pulling her mouth open ever so slightly. One hand was inside my shirt running up my side while the other wasted no time finding my cock. I opened the new clamp that was my right hand just far enough to take hold of her windpipe. She gasped and stepped backwards as I pushed her against a column. I let go of her hair, reach down and with a single movement pulled off my belt. I wrapped it around her neck and the post, cinching it to the point that she winced in pain. I watched as the color faded from her cheeks and her green eyes started to glaze before I released. She moaned and I secured the belt to hold her tightly without choking. I pulled off her robe and used it to tie her hands behind the post. I pushed her down onto her haunches, feet beneath her, knees spread. She was mouth level with my cock and stared at my crotch greedily. Her mouth opened and closed with her pouty lips quivering. I took the speculum hand and shoved it down her throat until her eyes were watering and then pulled it out covered in saliva and bile. I slid it into her cunt and spread it so I could easily reach her G-spot. Once inside her and pushing in her spot, I removed the speculum and put it back in her throat. In less than thirty seconds she was squirting all over the floor, crying gagging and convulsing.

“Thar she blows!” screamed Annie.

I stood up and pulled out my dick. While holding her mouth open with my speculum hand I pissed down Bridgette’s throat. She closed her eyes and drank thirstily. Annie put her boot against her brunette’s ass and pushed toward us. “Lick it up, slut!” I pulled up my pants and removed the belt from Bridgette’s neck.

Ye got quite the crew here,” I said as we dress and watch the brunette clean the floor. “Ye sure tha’ ye can part with one o’ them?”

The dread pirate Annie McMayhem giggled her evil giggle. “Aye, me have an even better bitch in mind for yar prize.”

Fear Factory

 

Fear comes it all sorts of forms. Fear of things, people, actions. There are valid fears and irrational phobias. There are fears that can be faced and fears that can be approached and fears that are so dark they’ll never be addressed. I have a co-worker that is afraid of large sinks. She refuses to use the bathroom in our warehouse and will hold it for as long as it takes to avoid having to come face to faucet with her phobia. I, on the other hand, like fear. To be more specific, I like other people’s fears. I like the way they react irrationally, the shortness of breath and the purely physical convulsions that seize the body. When you are playing with fear, there is something so powerful, so potentially malicious about how you are affecting the sub that it could easily become addicting.

She got off the train in my neighborhood at 9pm. I live in a rougher neighborhood, not the roughest by any stretch, but rough enough, and at 9pm when the weather is changing and people are running around happy to be out of the house, it can make a lone girl walking down the street uncomfortable. I usually pick up the sub to avoid hassles and to make better use of the time allotted us, but this time I had her walk. I followed her in my car and fed her directions by text.

Cross the street.

Turn left.

Walk down the alley.

Go into the open garage.

Strip.

The overhead light was out so as I shut the garage door on her, she was left in the dark.

I park the car around front and take a casual stroll to let her stand in the dark naked for a while. The thin metal garage door barely stops sounds so the chatter of people passing by makes her feel as if she is surrounded by the general public. One of the most interesting things I have found about public nudity is that it really depends on the crowd’s opinion. If you are in approving company, at a club or play party where it is accepted or even expected, being naked can be liberating. If you are in a general public environment, nudity can make someone very self-conscious. The sounds of people walking by made her nakedness an isolating thing. I stood outside the door for a moment listening to her breathing as she tried to hold still.

I burst in and her breathing immediately changed to more rapid, shallow breaths as I threw an oversized pillowcase over her head and upper body. I took two belts and strapped them tight around her chest and waist. The pillowcase itself was confining enough but the added constriction made her breathing even more labored. She was about to lose her shit and we had barely started!

I spun her around to face me and bent down to pick her up. I grabbed her by the waist and my fingers felt that her cunt was already soaked. I threw her over my shoulder and headed for the back stairs. The walkway from the garage to the stairs runs between our building and the next, which is an apartment complex. It was late at night and I rarely met people in passing but I moved quickly to avoid any questions that might come about from being seen carrying a girl in a bag into my house in the middle of the night. The last thing I need is for my neighbors to think that I am a serial killer.

We made it to the stairs without incident and were rounding the corner, out of sight when the sound of people passing by made me freeze in my tracks. I was not likely to be seen but I wanted to give her a moment to hear the people. I wanted her to think about us getting caught, about trying to explain to strangers that we were friends and this was just a game. The moment passed and I moved on. Up two flights of stairs and to my door, I put her down to walk into the house. I direct her to the room with one hand on her neck. In, around the bed, past the suspension frame and on to the mat she goes. I kick her in the back of the knees to make her collapse and leave her on her knees with her forehead touching the ground as I go back down to the garage to retrieve her clothes.

When I get back I fall upon her with punches and slaps, watching her wriggle and writhe in the bag. I pull on her hair through the case and bring the cloth in on her nose and mouth, increasing the feeling of suffocation as I growl in her ear. She is whimpering as I beat her chest and pound my forearm into her back. I pull off the first belt, fold it in half and spank her with it. She cries out in pain and pulls away. I hold her still and slap her again and again. I get bored of the belt and go back to punching and slapping, pulling and growling.

I wanted her to feel that she may have made a mistake by deciding to play. I wanted her to feel that she had no control even if she wanted it, that I held all the cards. She continued to moan and cry out as I beat her more and more. I reached down to take off the second belt and she immediately tensed up. She knew that as soon as the belt was off I was going to use it. She was flinching already as I worked the buckle and pulled it out from underneath her. I spanked her again and again listening to that most gratifying of sounds as the belt slap mixes with her cries of pain.

I grabbed her face and hold her nose and mouth, waiting for the panic, and just as she starts to thrash I let go. As she gasped for breath. I stood her up and wrapped my arms around her chest, squeezing the air out of her lungs. I released and the air flooded back into her lungs. Squeeze again, hold and release a couple more times to ensure she was lightheaded when I took the pillowcase off.

When she came out of the pillowcase, the first thing she noticed was the lighting. I had replaced the lamp bulb with a black light to screw with her senses. She is a very tactile person and to go from the enclosure where she was seeing almost exclusively with her body to being assaulted by the sharp, artificial contrast left her more confused. I took advantage of this to double down on the beatings that were now sharper without the fabric to soften the sting. I threw her back down and started moving her head back and forth by pulling hard on her hair. She was completely out of her head by now and, like a well-rested dough, she was ready to be worked over. One finger, then two, then three. I fucked with her cunt until she was begging to come. I pulled out and squeezed her thighs, reached over for the Hitachi and turned it on low as I went back in for another three-finger work out. She couldn’t hold it any longer and I let her cum, watching as she squirmed on the floor like a fish gasping air.

In the end it was a blast and what I learned about fear is that there are so many different kinds of fear, so many ways of scaring someone and invoking that gut response to terror. We definitely need to do this again… and again and again.

I will not put the vanilla girls in the hole. I will not put the vanilla girls in the hole. I will not put the vanilla girls in the hole. I will not put the vanilla girls in the hole. I will not put the vanilla girls…

I found the hole at work and so the chance of just grabbing someone by the hair and throwing her in there was zero. That does not mean that I am not scheming and anybody who thinks that just because the hole is in my work thinks that it will not come into play does not understand that I have keys and access to the security tapes. Believe you me that the hole will be used. It is just too good not to. The issue is that right then, at the moment that I unearthed this Al Capone’s vault of kink, I had no one that I could share it with.

 Pictures or it didn’t happen

 It is like so many things in life, the true value of the hole is context so as I start to take pictures of it, I realize that I need to find some way of portraying the potential of the space, not just the physical existence of it. The girl is a cutie that works for us and she is – as far as I can tell – very normal, very vanilla, but since she is very easily the cutest girl in the room and I love toying with people, I asked her to pose next to the heavy cast iron door. To give it proportions. I snap a shot of it closed, then open. Then she asked me, “Do you want me to get inside?”

No one is vanilla. You either know your kink or you don’t. I say this with both certainty and from experience. For years I lived quietly a “vanilla” life thinking that what I wanted, what I wanted to do was just the dark ruminations of a twisted mind. People did not do what I wanted to do and that was that. As ZG and I started to talk more and more and I began to see that there are people, sick perverted people, who not only think like I do but are acting these thoughts out. That is the way it goes, you are one day thinking that what turns you on, I mean really turns you on is so vile that you are the only one thinking it. If you are lucky your fear is proven false and the world opens up.

An addendum to my more perverted readers: I know that many who have made their way to kink made it on their own. The desire overcame their fear of social norms and to them I say kudos. This does not mean that you are more kinky or a better pervert than someone else. It just means that you have an element of rebel in your make up. Great, but not the only thing that makes you kinky. We are doing what we do because we like it and that varies for each of us. Hell, that varies within each of us on a daily bases so cut the newbies and tourist a little break. They don’t all need to be thrown in the deep end head first, only most of them.

Making the Most of the Space You Have

Three bedroom, two bath with a dungeon in the back. I hate to call it a dungeon because that implies torture and while pain and torment are definitely on the table, they are merely means to an end. They are colors to paint with but they are not the picture. How about studio? Studio is even more pretentious than dungeon. I am not an artist. I love to be creative, to hear you say, “I’ve never done that before.” But that is not the same thing as comparing what I do with being a musician or sculptor. Office? Too serious. Play room? Too playful. Let’s just call it “the room.”

The room is almost done. The frame is in place and most of the books that had been collecting dust on the shelves have been boxed up. The lock has been installed and the curtain for the glass door has been hung to keep out unintentionally prying eyes. There a few things left to do (hang the curtain to hide the shelving, get a stereo system, get rid of the desk, etc.) but all in all the room is coming together. It made its maiden voyage last night and I was pleased.

I leave the ladies to play on the couch and make sure that everything is order; the music is selected, the heat is on. I stand in front of the wall, looking at the newly organized toys. I find what I am looking for (cuffs and blindfolds) and look over the assortment for anything else that might be fun. Oh, o-ring gags!

When I return to the living room I am met by that pouty look. The look of a child (read: Z) who is mad because she has been told it’s bedtime when she just got to the good part (read: vagina) of the book (read: adorable lady friend M). The silly bitch just doesn’t know how much book reading she has ahead of her. Adorable lady friend M is dressed in perfect nerd girl harem attire (glasses, garters, skirt and sweater) and Z has on her standard business hotness. I leave M on the couch for a minute as I guide Z back to the bedroom. It’s her house so I have to spin her a little to get her confused. A girl always sounds better falling when she has no idea what (if anything) is going to catch her fall. She lands face-first in the bed with her legs at awkward angles that make it hard for her to keep her balance. I leave her like this and go back to get M.

In the room I hang them up on the frame, each in turn. They sway on tiptoes as I strip and inspect them. After finding that both of the girls were in good shape, a few bruises and a scar in the middle of M’s back, but nothing broken, I bring them together, strip off all their clothes except their garters and have them stand together under the frame. I put their arms together from fingers to elbows and wrap them together. I take the two sets of arms, tie them together and string them back up. M is much shorter than Z so I had to try to not overextend her arms while still keeping Z off balance. I keep their arms over their heads, mouths gaping and drool pouring out of their top-side fuck holes. I bring their feet together and start wrapping.

If you did not already know, you can get 1000’ rolls of stretch wrap at the hardware store. I am trying to get various colors but the questions I get from my supply manager have made that more of a challenge. I wrap them together from feet to neck, making sure to pull them together with each round. By the end they are one solid body with two arms and two hot, gagged little mouths that were now almost completely out of drool.

I am many things, but a monster is not one of them. Okay, maybe that is not entirely true. I am a monster, but I do like to take good care of my toys so when I see that they are drying out I got a big glass of water and a turkey baster. They are like a freaky two-headed baby bird choking on the tablespoons of water I drizzle into their mouths. The water pours out and down between their tits making the wrap squeak as they moved. I inject more water under the wrap, watching it run down their backs as they squirm. Refreshed, I let them hang for a bit while I got the camera.

When I come back with the camera the girls are trying to make out through their gags. Their mouths pried open, tongues searching for each other made them look like some sort of incestous Siamese twins. I took a few nice photos (Santa brought me a new camera for Christmas after reading P’s final play date before his (un)timely end and seeing some the pictures from that).

I finished taking pictures and cut the girls down. The nice side effect of playing with shrink wrap is that the skin is hyper-sensitive afterwards. So they quickly fall into touching each other. I take off their blindfolds and gags and move them to the bedroom for more relaxed sexytime.

Yes. Overall, I would have to say that the room is coming along nicely.