Slutty pussies get their due
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torman2011
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Re: Slutty pussies get their due
This one is inspired by movies like The Phonebooth and The Wall.
Sylvia reclined on her velvet chaise, unwrapping the black box from her anonymous admirer. Inside: a massive plastic member with many a features and an ohmibod, with a note—“For a goddess. Surrender tonight.” She smiled. No one knew her needs better than the shadows she played in.
Sylvia started her chat. Her anonymous admirer had promised her a sum way beyond her regular proceeds. "I hope you're ready" said the cloaked voice on the other end.
"You assume I trust strange gifts from faceless men?" replied Sylvia. "Not trust. Temptation. And I know you, Sylvia. You’ve used weaker reasons to take greater risks" came the reply.
...They're in.
Good girl. Now, relax. Let em pulse. Let em claim you.
Minutes passed as Sylvia rode the giant member, losing herself in throngs of climaxes.
But suddenly, Sylvia's eyes met at the center, not from intense pleasure but pure agony. Reality finally hit her like a freight truck as she arched her head back and a scream echoed. She tried looking behind to no avail, until she saw the image from the camera facing her loins on her monitor. Spikes stuck out of her womanhood as blood gushed forth.
A second vibration, this time sharp—biting pain surged between her thighs, bringing Sylvia almost to the ends of consciousness.
“Who are you?” screamed Sylvia.
Another jolt rocked her bottom. Not electricity, but the vibrator buried deep in her. Only, the vibrations caused her to lose her balance, inflicting more damaged on her already wrecked body.
“I go by many names. But tonight, just call me Judge. And I suggest you move as little as possible if you don't want to end up with just one large slit down there” came the reply.
“What do you want?!”
“To remember. Let’s start simple. August 12th, two years ago. Who was he?”
Her breath caught. “Ethan. Married. I didn’t know—”
An electric shock tore thru her torn slit. Agony flared.
“Try again.”
“I knew. He was a client. I seduced him. Told his wife lies. She left with their newborn.”
“Next. Lucas Hill.”
She shook. “Pastor. I blackmailed him. Photos. He left the church.”
“How many, Sylvia?”
Tears streamed. “I—I don’t know. Twelve? Fourteen?”
“No. Twenty-two. Every one broken. Fired. Divorced. One took his life.”
“I didn’t force them—!”
Buzz. She screamed.
“You fed their weakness. Branded sin as liberation.”
“What do you want from me?!”
“I want you to confess. To remember every name. Every manipulation.
Every lie. You will confess to the world and make every amend.
The device hummed again—more pain.
“And then?” she whimpered.
“Then you beg for forgiveness. And maybe… I let you forget what hell tastes like.”
Sylvia reclined on her velvet chaise, unwrapping the black box from her anonymous admirer. Inside: a massive plastic member with many a features and an ohmibod, with a note—“For a goddess. Surrender tonight.” She smiled. No one knew her needs better than the shadows she played in.
Sylvia started her chat. Her anonymous admirer had promised her a sum way beyond her regular proceeds. "I hope you're ready" said the cloaked voice on the other end.
"You assume I trust strange gifts from faceless men?" replied Sylvia. "Not trust. Temptation. And I know you, Sylvia. You’ve used weaker reasons to take greater risks" came the reply.
...They're in.
Good girl. Now, relax. Let em pulse. Let em claim you.
Minutes passed as Sylvia rode the giant member, losing herself in throngs of climaxes.
But suddenly, Sylvia's eyes met at the center, not from intense pleasure but pure agony. Reality finally hit her like a freight truck as she arched her head back and a scream echoed. She tried looking behind to no avail, until she saw the image from the camera facing her loins on her monitor. Spikes stuck out of her womanhood as blood gushed forth.
A second vibration, this time sharp—biting pain surged between her thighs, bringing Sylvia almost to the ends of consciousness.
“Who are you?” screamed Sylvia.
Another jolt rocked her bottom. Not electricity, but the vibrator buried deep in her. Only, the vibrations caused her to lose her balance, inflicting more damaged on her already wrecked body.
“I go by many names. But tonight, just call me Judge. And I suggest you move as little as possible if you don't want to end up with just one large slit down there” came the reply.
“What do you want?!”
“To remember. Let’s start simple. August 12th, two years ago. Who was he?”
Her breath caught. “Ethan. Married. I didn’t know—”
An electric shock tore thru her torn slit. Agony flared.
“Try again.”
“I knew. He was a client. I seduced him. Told his wife lies. She left with their newborn.”
“Next. Lucas Hill.”
She shook. “Pastor. I blackmailed him. Photos. He left the church.”
“How many, Sylvia?”
Tears streamed. “I—I don’t know. Twelve? Fourteen?”
“No. Twenty-two. Every one broken. Fired. Divorced. One took his life.”
“I didn’t force them—!”
Buzz. She screamed.
“You fed their weakness. Branded sin as liberation.”
“What do you want from me?!”
“I want you to confess. To remember every name. Every manipulation.
Every lie. You will confess to the world and make every amend.
The device hummed again—more pain.
“And then?” she whimpered.
“Then you beg for forgiveness. And maybe… I let you forget what hell tastes like.”
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