My cock bounced unattended against indian my crotch, filled by the relentless stimulus of my prostate, leaking and spurting with each drive as though his penetration milked me of my seed. It ached in its fullness, the flesh singing to be caressed. “Don’t touch her!” Yavara snarled when Opal sought to relieve the pressure in my valve. The succubus backed off, looking worriedly at me. Yavara stroked my hair as I mewled and sputtered for reprieve, my words unintelligible, lost in my screams of ecstasy. “This little faggot whore doesn’t deserve to be touched; no, no, no. You’re going to come from your faggot pussy like the twink-slut you are, and then you’re going to thank Brock for raping your shithole!” “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” I cried, lost in the torrent of my pleasure, my pain and humiliation. Oh, how I bathed in it, squirming in the splendor of depravity, becoming fully the faggot whore, the pathetic slut unworthy of being touched like a man. Only a hole to be filled, and filled violently! My screams fluctuated to the fervent rhythm of our colliding bodies, rising in pitch as the sensations churned within my depths. My cock bounced off my crotch, strings of cum snapping from the sticky surface, the tip spurting white froth every time Brock punched into my deepest parts. I pressed my heels into the floor to pivot against the rising orgasm, but Brock snatched my ankles and spread them wide in the air, bending my body inwardly, giving him unfettered access to my ruined shithole. He sneered in my face, his breath hot and full of stink, his animalistic grimace full of possession. Possession of me, for I was his, his in totality! My eyes topped my whites, staring at him awestruck with mouth agape as I choked on ecstasy too great to sound. My cock slapped against my belly, my asshole clenched and pulsed, my prostate convulsed against the relentless abuse, the pressure building, building, building, oh god! I exploded, my body seeming to burst from within, the surge of euphoria taking me until I was sobbing freely. With every pump of Brock’s penetrating cock, my own pathetic rod pumped the contents of my prostate onto me, spurting my clenching belly, my flailing breasts, my gasping mouth. With a sudden roar, Brock surged forward, nearly folding me in half, and with my ruined pelvic floor facing the ceiling, and his cock buried to the base in my ass, he came inside me. YAVARA I’d never seen anything as beautiful as Elena Straltaira covered in her own seed. Her pelvis was elevated above her, her cock weakly spurting the last of her milk into the folded creases of bronze fat that ribbed her compressed belly. I’d never seen anything as beautiful as the sight of Brock slowly pulling out his cock, the pink sheath of Elena’s ruined anus clinging to him like a fleshy condom, then releasing to bunch around her exit in a coiled flower, leaking a thick stream of nectar between her thighs that ran in rivulets down riding her belly to comingle with her own seed. And I’d never seen anything as beautiful as the look she gave me. That realization in her sapphire depths, that trembling pout of her lip as she tried to form words, but could not. “Now you understand.” I whispered lovingly, running my fingers through her matted hair, “You’re like me, Elena.” “Yes.” Elena mouthed, her bulging eyes trembling. I looked at Brock, who was stroking his still-hard cock, the dark length of it shining with Elena’s anal lust. Without prompting, my hermaphroditic lover elevated Schoolgirls her pelvis, and whispered, “Fuck me.” Brock gripped her muscular thighs, splayed them with her heels resting on his shoulder, and slowly took Elena’s final virginity. She whimpered in my lap, gritting her teeth against the pain. Her pussy wasn’t as malleable as her rectum, and though it was slickened with her desire, her body was forced to acclimate to Brock’s overbearing girth. She cried out and thrashed, and I steadied her with my hands on her shoulders, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Her slaves knelt around us, gawking at the display of their master so humbled, so vulnerable. “You can do it, Master!” Opal encouraged, taking one of her hands. “Just a little more!” Ruby nodded, taking the other. Elena gripped their hands with white-knuckled intensity as she struggled with the last few inches of Brock, her thighs quivering, her heels kicking. I asked about the inside pinker lips and where did she pee from. After their initial shock that a girl should do such a thing, they started coming out with some comments. I found them sat on a grassy area surrounded by families. Katie begged her parents to riding go and they said yes, knowing that my father was taking us. “Yes she was gagging for it, I didn’t want to fuck but she pulled up my robe and made me fuck her!” another defendent insisted. "I'll be DAAAAMMMNED,” I whispered as I came on his tongue. I freeze everything. Your vote will determine the winner of this wager.” She paused, looked around the room, and then said firmly, “Remember only Ma’ams and Mistresses may vote.” Alistair continued, smiling. Chapter 6 It was true. Her muscles, many cut by Ealaín and Greta's attacks, flexed. Her mother notices the look in her eyes. “You’re shitting indian me.” I say, unbelieving. Got to turn my phone off now. The kid’s smart, there’s no doubt about that. Daddy already told me to follow whatever instructions and requests you gave me . . . Madison..in a latex one piece...stilletto heels would teach Danni the easy way....or the hard way via a riding crop. Then I understood. The day after we Schoolgirls moved in I was sitting on the patio having a cup of coffee when Arthur appeared through a gate in the hedge that separated our houses. She looked around the room before replying. I don’t immediately start thinking about sex when I see her, sometimes it doesn’t happen at all, and the whole thing proceeds like a normal visit with a relative. The pulling in my loins intensified, and I had to force myself from Mateo’s mouth before I emptied myself into it. "So, what do you think?"