The deliveryman dragged the groaning girl to her knees, cupped the back of her head, and shoved her face down onto his cock.
It stabbed into the hole in her mouth like a knife into a scabbard. The crown hit the back of her throat, setting off her gag reflex, but he didn’t let go as she twisted and choked. In a trice, the teacher was there, grabbing the back of the girl’s neck while jamming her other hand deep into her bra.
“There, there, dear,” she crooned into Claire’s ear as she mauled a tit. “Take it … take it all, like a good girl.”
One of Dotty’s hands was back in the girl’s shirt as she leaned down on Claire’s back while thrusting the warming, whirring wanker up into her over and over and over again.
Claire was sweating profusely, her shirt all but transparent, her legs vibrating. Drool poured out of her yanked-open mouth, splashing the deliveryman’s lap and splattering the floor around his chair. Mucous streamed out of her nostrils and a steady stream of tears coursed down her cheeks. She didn’t even feel Swanson’s fingers leaving her chest, but she certainly felt them find her clit.
The girl twitched in place as the teacher expertly stimulated her student as only a fellow female could.
Claire began to twist her torso, her mouth locked to his cock and her knees seemingly nailed to the kitchen floor. She began to rhythmically grunt in hysteria as her skin reddened.
Relaxed and comfortable, Sanchez approached the redhead. He knew this was the right choice, the perfect girl with whom he could continue and expand his abuse of Olivia, a lovely bitch to feed to his monster of a cock.
After walking through the darkness, Sanchez came into the light cast by the headlamps of Madison’s Ford Mustang. The girl was still looking at the poster she had stapled to the pole when the man moved unnoticed behind her. His hand gripped a black jack as his muscular arm swung up quickly from his side.
With brutal strength Sanchez smacked the red haired girl across the back of her head.
“Lights out, slut.”
Sanchez moved in, stooped, and caught the collapsing cutie on his shoulder. She was light as a feather to him.
Driving with one hand, Sanchez kept rubbing his dick. His eyes couldn’t help but look in the rearview mirror at the way the curves of his fresh slavegirl made hills under the blanket.
The drive to his shack in the desert took some time.
“Time goes awful slow when you’ve got such a rapeable beauty in the back of your truck. But I bet time is about to go a lot slower for this little cunt when she wakes up tied down in my cellar. Ha!”
As he left the city and gained speed, the wind swirling into the pickup bed lifted the blanket off Madison bit by bit, revealing more and more of the girl to her captor.
“Two girls. Two helpless bitches. Two asses to punish. Two pairs of tits to abuse. Two sets of holes to fuck. Two screaming mouths.”
His dick throbbed in his pants, but his foot remained steady on the accelerator.
The Matronalia festival had been raging in Rome for the past two days, and while most Romans spent their days paying tribute to the goddess Juno and honoring the women of their households, the Severanii family was honoring women in a much… different way.
“I think a woman’s beauty is most on display while tied up and helpless, wouldn’t you agree Praetor?” Senator Severanii said, gulping down a mouthful of rich red wine and casting his eyes over the naked slave girl in the middle of the room.
“Please… please, somebody help me!” Natonia begged, tears rolling down her cheeks and spilling onto her naked heaving tits. There were nearly twenty people in the room, all staring at her nakedness and licking their lips. Not only men either, but fat and old Roman women were staring at her with predatory eyes. Natonia couldn’t understand it, why were they doing this?
“Marcellus!” The Senator barked, summoning in a young Greek man who wore the tattoo of a slave on his arm.
“My guests and I are bored. Bring a cane and start adding stripes to this young girl’s ass at once!”
“With pleasure, master.” The Greek smiled.
“No! Please, I’ve done nothing wrong! Please don’t hurt me! What do you want from me!?” Natonia screamed, her eyes stinging with tears and heart pounding in her ears.
“Please, I’ve had enough… I can’t take it anymore! PLEASE!” Valaria groaned as she dragged into the dungeons of the Roman fort. Valaria had once been a proud Germanic warrior, but now she was another captive of the Roman Empire after her tribe was annihilated. Unfortunately for her, she’d killed a dozen Roman centurions before finally being subdu
“Please, it wasn’t my fault! I swear I didn’t know! Please! Please believe me!” Plescinia sobbed as she was dragged through the bloody sands toward the site of the previous night’s battle. Cum, blood and shit leaked from her anus from the brutal anal fucking she’d received from half the encampment, and her back was a mess of welts and bruises.
“This whore,” Governor Militant Flavius announced to the assembled troops, “used her rotting, filthy cunt to lure a Century of our best soldiers to their doom. She is a spy for the Parthian’s and she will crucified here, left as a reminder to all enemies of Rome, that treachery is punished most severely.”
“Pleeeeaassseee! Don’t do thisssssss!” Plescinia begged as she dragged, kicking and screaming, toward the ominous frame of the crucifix.
“Don’t worry girl.” One of the soldiers whispered in her ear. “We’ll let you down and bring you food and water tonight, and then you’ll thank us by fucking every one of our cocks until our balls are drained. Then back up on the cross you go!”
Being in the top 1% has so many advantages that it would be impossible to list them all, but the best of these advantages is having the money to buy yourself whoever you want… even if they’re not for sale. Humphrey Victarion is a fat, old business man and a philanthropist who donates millions every year to various charities. Though he’s accumulated billions of dollars and owns several multinational corporations, no one has ever looked twice at Humphrey; he’s just an unassuming businessman. Or so the rest of the world believes.
But in the privacy of his mansion, Humphrey Victarion goes by a different name. A name that echoes throughout the house in the screams of its many captives and a name that brings women to tears when it’s whispered in the darkness…
Vicky began shivering violently as she watched the red embers flare to life in the darkness as Lord Vicious took another long drag on the cigar. Poor Vicky was only a secretary at one of the buildings Lord Vicious owned, but once she’d caught his eye there was nothing she could do to save herself. She’d been asked to stay late by her boss and then, while walking to her car in the now abandoned parking garage, she’d been taken. Now she was in Lord Vicious’s parlor room, in almost complete darkness. The only light came from the flickering of a few candles and the burning embers of the cigar.
“Well my dear, you look even more lovely without your clothes on.” Humphrey laughed. “I wonder if you even remember me… you barely gave me a glance when I walked in the door. Now look at you, you’re so terrified you can’t take your eyes off me.”
“Please, sir, whoever you are… just let me go! I haven’t seen your face, I can’t identify you. Just let me go and I won’t tell anybody.” Vicky cried, shrinking back further into the shadows to hide her nakedness.
Humphrey struck a match and the brief flash of light revealed his cold, grinning face. His thick black mustache was curled into a perverse imitation of a smile, and a cold eye stared out from behind the crystal lens of his monocle.