Welcome to Hell.

[Seranova]

A slow, wicked smile spreads across his lips as he watches her work for a moment, then takes another sip of his coffee and lifts the paper to take a further gander at today's goings on. He tries not to chuckle as she obviously struggles with the waistband, but when he feels warmth hit his package and the sensation of wet mouth surrounding the head, he smiles even more broadly from behind the paper. The girl is rather persistent when given a task. This is good.

Hmmm... I wonder who is playing today. Games should be starting soon. I don't usually have Sundays off from work, so I never get to catch them...

He speaks idly, talking of football while the witch services his member like a slave. It was a fun situation, treating her as if she barely even existed. Another sip of coffee, and then he pulls the paper away and stares down at her for a moment.

I have decided... Your new official title is... fucktoy. That about sums you up perfectly, does it not?

He chuckles and goes back to his paper.

 

[Britwitch]

With a mouthful of hardening flesh it's hard to respond but her body did a fairly good job. The word sent a shiver tripping down her spine, made her hips jerk ever so slightly. She doubled her efforts on his shaft, taking as deep as she could in the position she was in, sucking hard, tongue massaging him.

Her head bobbed up and down in his lap, the position pulling on the chain between the clamps and adding whines in between muffled moans.

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

Yawning, stretching, stressed Wolfling wanders up from the seventh level where she makes her home. Golden brown eyes gleam in the flicker and haze of the flames that shoot out from rock walls and her head tilts slightly as she enters the main hall. The witchling is here...and so is he.

Soundless footsteps lead the Wolf to her favorite spot, the softness of Plexy's feather bed. With a sigh, she sinks down into it and reaches for her bottle. This time the bucket contains ice cold Stoli with bowls of cut lemon and sugar. Her eyes fasten on the other two as she sips and then gulps the first two shots.

It is then that she realizes she is still dressed for bed...in other words...she is wearing nothing. A snap of small fingers remedies that problem~ a sheer white top and loose fitting blue jeans pop immediately into place. She leans back against Plexy's pillows and rests her shot glass on the slight curve of her belly.

This should prove to be...entertaining.

 

[Seranova]

Without even looking from his paper, he senses and feels the reaction to his decision and new title for her. He downs the last of his coffee and sets the empty cup aside, then continues to read in mock interest as she works on his manhood. The slurping noises tug his lips into a tighter smile each time they are produced.

You just love the cock, fucktoy. Don't you?

His eyes glow, but she won't be able to see them. He is hiding from her on purpose, acting as disinterested as possible, not even making noise or movement from her actions. He wonders just how that little factor is affecting her. The knowledge that she was of so little consequence to him was probably weighing rather heavily. Delicious.

If you're lucky, I may even claim that tight little asshole again... Would you like that?

 

[Britwitch]

She nods as much as she can, her attempts at responding muffled by the cock buried between her lips. Mouth,lips and tongue all working to please him as much as she possibly can.

Her stomach tightens at the mention of his taking her behind again. Flashes of the first time passing through her already lust clouded mind, making her fidget as she recalls being bent over the rock, shackled and vulnerable. His for the taking. A whimpered whine leaves her lips at the memory.

 

[Seranova]

He looks up to see the wolf, lying on Plexi's feather bed, and smiles. The paper is placed in his lap, which just happens to be over the witch's head, and subsequently rises and falls with little rustles as she works.

How are you, Luna. Not going to indulge in some coffee today? It is wonderful down here...

He folds his hands together, locking fingers, elbows placed on the armrests, as he tries to think of some appropriate small talk.

How has work been treating you? And your threads? Any good writing as of late?

 

[Britwitch]

Feels the paper land on her head and hears him speaking. There must be someone else down there with them. She strains to hear the name but misses it.

Undeterred, she keeps sucking and licking, her nose bumping against his groin. Her bare behind sticking out between his legs in the process.

Almost trying to do enough to draw his gaze under the paper, to get him to notice what she's doing.

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

She takes another shot, the ice cold vodka burning her chest. The smile she bestows upon him is sharp, white, feral.

I am fine Sirrah. Breathing.

A low chuckle, golden brown eyes flashing.

And why would I drink coffee? Plexy has vodka and tequila stashed every where for me. Those are my drinks of choice.

Stretching~muscular limbs reaching out...up...before she resumes her carefully picked pose of complete and utter relaxation.

Work is good...and my threads, most of them...make me think and that is also good. I know you have been a busy little Sadist. No need for me to ask.

Eyes focus on the paper.

You know the crinkling of that paper...is very annoying. You should just thrust upward until the head hits the back of her throat and tell her to suck from there. No movement. Much better for sensitive hearing.

wide grin.

 

[Seranova]

He ponders for a moment upon the wolf's suggestion and nods simply. Then a hand shoves under the paper and grips the back of the girl's head. With a thrust of hips and a shove of hand, the head of his cock buries within her throat, pushing through resistance and settling there to stay.

You heard the nice woman, didn't you? Suck. No moving, just suck.

The knowledge that she couldn't move or resist with chains binding her hands behind her back caused him to look back up to Luna and grin wickedly. The witch's face and head were still covered by the opened newspaper, which had fallen silent with no more moving beneath.

Are you enjoying your morning, wolf?

 

[Britwitch]

The action takes a moment but it's effect is resounding.

Her airway is blocked, forcing her to breathe through her nose. Sounds of gagging momentarily escape from under the newspaper. Eyes widen and water and her whole body tenses but she doesn't fight it. She can feel her face flushing.

Sucking as best she can with the head nestled in her throat, she licks the length of him, constricting her mouth around him all without moving her head.

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

Blessed silence as he took her suggestion to heart. The wolf allowed herself a passing grimace. Poor Witchling. With her throat stuffed full and nostrils pressed to groin? She would not be able to breathe. Not very well or often. The Wolf grinned. Not her problem, was it?

Ah, tis enjoyable enough, Sirrah. Gonna sleep soon, in the real world...but for now, I am relaxed and happy.

A vague motion, shot glass filling rapidly with vodka. The wolf takes the shot and replaces the whole kit and caboodle in the bucket. Six shots of vodka is enough. Her eyes stay focused on the pale jut of ass that rises from between his legs.

You should probably raise her up, for a moment. Death by dick isn't fun.

 

[Seranova]

His hand still pressing firmly into the witch's hair, he looked at Luna and nodded simply.

Yeah, I should suppose not.

The newspaper lifts slowly and is tossed away, and he stares at her face, noting the tears, the discomfort, but also the obvious struggle to still bring pleasure via an overstuffed mouth. A crooked smile touches his lips.

How bout it, fucktoy? Need to breathe again? Or should I just hold you like this till you pass out? After all, fucking your throat is just as easy when you're not conscious...

But after the small, wicked laugh, he does grip her hair and pull her forcefully off of his shaft. Then his hand grips the wet base and he begins to rub to slimy, saliva-soaked shaft messily over her face. Over nose, lips, cheeks, eye sockets, everywhere, until she is coated in a fine sheen mixture of spit and precum.

You want your face fucked, little witch? Gonna have to ask nicely...

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

Wolfling is amused...very amused. But the hour grows late and she needs rest before work. Rising with silent motions, she moves to stand beside his chair. Leaning over slightly, she buries sharp nails into the jut of pale ass and RAKES upward, leaving red streaks behind.

Then she turns her attention to him. Tiny fingers touch her lips before brushing that kiss to his wickedly grinning mouth.

Don't make her beg too long Sirrah....or you may have a real doozy of a mess later.

Fingers glide to his temple, stroke there...and then she moves off, back toward the door that will lead her down to her level...and from there...home.

 

[Britwitch]

She tries to answer but her head is starting to feel light. His body blocks her nose and makes it hard to draw in air.

Suddenly air rushes to fill her lungs as she is yanked up and off of his shaft. She takes a shuddering breath, gasping a little as moisture covers her face. Chest heaving as she tries to focus on his questions...and her answer.

Yes, yes please. I want you to fuck this mouth, to use it, fill it with every inch of you, again and again...

The words are breathily spoken but determined for all that, tear bright eyes meeting his, pleading with his. Desperation. Need. Hunger. All shining in their depths. A quiet yelp at the scratching of nails on her ass.

Please, fuck my face...

 

[Seranova]

He listens to her first pleas, but doesn't answer as he is distracted by the approach of the wolf. His eyes raise to meet her, and he can't help the wicked grin plastered on his face. A nod at her words, a knowing wink is all that is returned, before she moves away and retreats from sight. Then, his attention shifts back to the girl bewteen his feet and registers her next needy words.

A simple nod is all he offers in the way of reply, as he line up tip of cock to her lips and uses the hand in her hair to slam her down into his pelvis once again. Free hand joins the other on the back of her head, and he thrusts repeatedly into her mouth as he pulls her head forcefully into his groin.

A soft sigh each time the head pushes into her throat, and feels the squeeze as it tries reflxively to push him back out.

I'll bet that dirty little cunt is just dripping while your throat gets fucked like this. Hm? You are loving your new role, aren't you? That's why you keep coming back for more abuse and humiliation... just a fucktoy in the shape of a witch...

 

[Britwitch]

She barely has chance to register his nod of agreement before his cock is rammed between her lips and her head pushed down into his lap. A snatched breath is all she manages. Again and again he forces his way into her throat, the muscles constricting around him, trying to expel him.

His words cut through the panic to wreak fresh havoc on her body. Everything he says is true. Her needy sex is aching to be filled, to be used.

She is everything he claims her to be. Little more than a fucktoy.

His fucktoy.

 

[Seranova]

Silence follows with only the sounds of her gagging and slurping as he uses his strength to force his manhood into her mouth and throat repeatedly. His teeth grit together and his jaw set as he mercilessly used her face as if it were a cunt of its own volition to be fucked carelessly. Her mouth served that purpose to him. It was of no greater value than just a tool to satisfy his pleasures and perversions. She really was a fucktoy now.

Finally, he roughly pulled again, lifting her face from his crotch, and glaring at the line of sticky saliva and precum that ran from her lower lip to the tip of his member. With a wicked sneer, he released her hair and pulled her heavy bosom to rest in his lap, one mound on each side of his shaft. Hands pressed the breasts together to squeeze his slick length, and the clamps and chains wiggled from the motion.

Bounce for me, fucktoy. Use your tits to bring me pleasure. Make me cum all over your face and tits.

 

[Britwitch]

There was nothing she could do but kneel and take it, every punishing thrust, each ram of his cock into her throat reminding her just what she was down here.

Tears ran down her cheeks, saliva did the same down her chin. Her nipples were on fire as the position pulled incessantly on the clamps fixed to them.

When eventually the assault on her mouth and throat abated she was left almost entirely breathless.

The shift in position brought both relief and fresh discomfort. She could at least breathe now, but her nipples were now under his palms as he mashed the globes together.

With a whimpered sound she began to bounce on her knees, causing the soft pillows of flesh to move up and down his slick shaft. Up and down, up and down. Bouncing before him, desperate to do as he's asked. To please him.

 

[Seranova]

With all of the attention she had given his member, he is nearly ready to burst by the time her soft flesh surrounds him and begins to rise and fall quickly. A groan escapes his lips as his muscles begin to tighten and hips thrust up to meet the tightness created by her breasts. His eyes are on her, watching the squished flesh, her face covered in tears and saliva, and the messy general state of her heair and appearance. His own face twists in pleasure, and he growls softly.

Look down, fucktoy. Look right at the cock about to shoot its cum all overyou. Accept that hot load on your face and tights.

With a moan, he flexes again. Fingers tighten on breasts, jerking them down until the tip of his member pokes through the top of her cleavage. Twitching, and release, his climax begins hard.

 

[Britwitch]

Her eyes look down just in time to see the head pop up between her breasts and twitch before load after load of seed shoots up into her face.

Strings rapidly decorate her cheeks, her nose, a strand or two passes into her partially open mouth. Some misses her face and gravity draws it back down onto her chest.

The smell of his seed is strong in her nose, it's all she's aware of. Every jet sends a ripple through her breasts, making them wobble in his hands.

When eventually the jerking stops her face is coated with cum. Spatters dot her chest. Skin tightening as hot seed starts to cool.

 

[Seranova]

With a final grunt, the last of his gift was deposited over her skin, and he pauses for a few minutes to catch his breath. Well, maybe his decision was also to give his seed a bit more time to dry upon her face before she could escape to clean it off. Finally, he grabs a fistfull of her hair and unceremoniously tosses her off of him. A snap of his fingers, and the clamps disappear from her body.

Well, fucktoy. You got to be used. Feel any better?

He chuckles absently, and with cock softening and hanging out of his pants, picks up his paper and begins reading once again, leaving her to her own devices for cleanup and exit, should she so choose. Unless she wanted more...

 

[Britwitch]

A sigh as clamps vanish, then a hiss as blood flows back into flesh formerly crushed, making her wince. She rolls up onto her knees from where she landed and bows her head.

I do, thank you...

She murmurs before rising and, with a regretful noise, quietly leaving Hell. Time ticks on in the real world and she must obey. But she'll be back.

He knows it as well as she does.

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

Reappears in Hell, main level, where Plexy leaves her feather bed. Small booted feet tap rapidly upon hot rock...heading for the metal tub and the cold vodka. Not bothering with a shot glass, she snags the bottle and open it. Upending it and gulping down ice cold contents.

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

Footsteps echo as she heads for a chair. Her chair. Made out of the dream stuff of cyber hell and held in place by sheer will power. She slips into it with a shudder and a sigh, her eyes trained on the bottle she grasps.

She is oh so very tired.

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

The Wolfling awakens, her head oh so heavy, her breath raspy from the heat. With a shiver and a sigh, she stands up, stretches and scratches the roundness of her rump.

She has plans for this morning...and that requires...readiness.