Chapter
4: Den of the Beast
by Soul
in Shadow (soul.in.shadow@gmail.com)
"No!
Please, no more, I can't take any more--OH!--Don't...stop! Stop! I...I
can't...oh god, your fingers...please stop...you're fingers are--AHH--going to
make me....don't make me...oh GOD you're making me cuuuuUUAAAAAAHH!"
Miss
Americana gasped, and bolted upright, dazed, confused. She was panting, her
chest heaving, a sheen of sweat on her brow. A dream...she'd been dreaming, but
already it had faded from her mind. What happened? Where was she? oh god, what
was wrong with her head...?
She
winced as the sudden motion caused a wave of dizziness to force her back down.
She groaned, massaging her temples with trembling hands, waiting for the room
to stop spinning. She struggled to get her rapid breathing under control. When
finally she felt the throbbing subside, she risked openening her eyes, and was
relieved when the room swam into focus. Gingerly she pushed herself up,
suddenly noticing the thick, soft pelt that she was lying on.
Her
brow furrowed in confusion, then realization came crashing down on the
horrified superheroine.
The
beast! He had--she'd let him--oh god where was she now?
She
turned, looking about, her heart hammering in her chest. She was in another part
of the cave complex, but unlike the natural cavern in which she'd encountered
the monster, this one was chisled, refined. The walls were carefully carved
with long, standing murals, though the carvings themselves looked like they'd
degraded over the years so as to be barely recognizeable. Worn brass
censershung from black chains along the edge of the chamber, though whatever
incense they once held had turned to dust long ago. Tall candelabras dripped
with ages of built up wax, and fresh candles sputtered in their sconces,
lending a dim glow to the room. She herself was lying on a raised dias against
one wall. It was a rounded pedestal, almost like the frame of a great, stone
bed. It had been filled with layers of animal pelts to act as a mattress, and as
Miss Americana shifted to sit up, it sagged with welcoming softness beneath her
weight.
She
struggled to remember what had happened, but her mind was so foggy. She
remembered finding the mist-shrouded passage, remembered her surprise to find
the beast waiting for her in the chamber that followed, and after that...
She
flushed in shame. She couldn't remember everything, but what she did remember
was bad enough. He had drugged her somehow, subdued her with some kind of
strange animal hypnosis...but everything after that was muddled, and if she
thought about it too much, the dizzy spell threatened to knock her back down.
She
looked down at her naked body. The monster had stripped her, she seemed to
remember. Worse, he'd taken her power belt, though she didn't think he knew
what it actually did. She cursed under her breath. She'd been caught totally by
surprise, and now she was somewhere in the cavernous complex the thing had
called his...temple.
Power
belt or not, she couldn't just lie there until it came back. She had to find
those girls and find a way out of this hellish place.
She
shifted onto her side, and let out a loud, startled gasp as a sudden jolt of
unnexpected pleasure. Her movement had caused her thighs to press together, and
had inadvertently squeezed her incredibly sensitive mound. She reached down,
winced as she tested herself with her fingers, and raised her hand back up. The
tips of her red gloves gleamed wetly in the dim light.
What
the hell...? She was soaked. Was it...her dream? What was wrong with her?
"Awake
at last, I see."
The
voice made her jump, and she sprang onto all fours, and faced the carved portal
at the far end of the room. But instead of the monstrous form of the beast, in
the doorway stood the tall, lithe form of a woman. Her curvy figure was draped
in white fabric that might have been silk, tied around her neck, gliding down
her torso in two strips that covered her breasts before joining at her waist
turning into a long, flowing skirt. The dress covered all the essential parts,
but was scandalous for what it left bare; her breasts spilled out on either
side of the strips of silk, and the front flap of the skirt totally revealed
the entire lengths of her toned legs and her bare hips, and her tight, round
ass. A simple chord was cinched around her waist, holding everything together.
She was barefoot. Her blonde hair was tossled wildly around her head, and she
was staring at Miss Americana with bright, relfective eyes. Almost catlike. It
had to be some trick of the light. Suddenly, recognition flashed in Miss
Americana's mind.
"You're
Sandra Howlett!" she exclaimed, shocked and relieved at the same time.
"You're alive! But the others, are they...?"
"Yes,
we are all here," Sandy answered, drinking in the sight of Miss
Americana's large, naked breasts with brazen openess. She continued to stare as
she turned her head to call over her shoulder, "She's awake. Bring a basin
of water, and some cloth."
A
moment later, two more figured slid into the room, a young redhead and a woman
with long, dark hair. Angie Blake and Carmen Santiago, Miss Americana realized.
The two were dressed the same way Sandra was. They quickly and silently came to
the side of the bed, one carrying a wide, shallow brass basin filled with
water, and the other a handful of white cloth. Miss Americana couldn't contain
her relief.
"I'm
so glad I've found you! We have to get out of here before that beast comes
back! Lets--hey, hold on, what are you doing?"
The
redhead, Angie, had soaked one of the cloths in the water and was wringing it
out. She smiled at Miss Americana, then gently dabbed the cloth against her
forehead. The coolness of the water against her skin brought a rush of relief,
but Miss Americana brushed her hand away. "Thanks, but we don't have time
for that, we need to leave--right now!"
"We
aren't going anywhere," Sandra said, her hips swaying as she walked to the
foot of the bed. Then, just under her breath, she added ominously, "And
neither are you."
Angie
climbed up beside her on her right, while Carmen slipped to her left. Miss
Americana looked from one girl to the other, totally confused. "I don't
understand. What's going on?"
Carmen
pressed a freshly damp cloth against the slope of her neck, "We are
trapped her." She whispered, "There IS no way out."
Miss
Americana's mouth fell open. She turned to Angie, but the redhead only
shrugged. "We've looked everywhere for an exit, but the only way out is
through a huge stone door...and none of us are strong enough to move it."
"Only
He can move it," Sandra explained.
Miss
Americana pushed Angie and Carmen aside as she made to stand. "Show me
where it is, I'll open the door. I'm a lot stronger than you are." But
even as she said it, her legs wobbled as she tried to take a step. She
staggered, and tripped forward...right into Sandra's waiting arms. "My
legs...! They feel like jelly. What's wrong with me?"
But
Sandra shushed her, helping her back to sit on the edge of the bed. The blonde
knelt in front of her, and took the wet cloth Angie held and began to gently
press it against the masked heroines flushed cheeks. "You're still
weak," she said gently, "Just rest a moment. Here." She gestured
to carmen, and suddenly a bronze goblet was in her hand. She pressed it to the
heroine's lips. "Drink, slowly."
Before
she could protest, Sandra tipped the goblet, and cool water rushed into her
mouth. It made her realize how parched her throat felt, and she swallowed
gratefully. She drank down the whole cup, then gasped for air.
Sandra
was wiping the cool cloth against her forehead. The water felt heavenly against
her hot skin. Miss Americana sank back onto the bed, and suddenly found Angie
and Carmen pressed up on either side of her, supporting her weight. Against her
protests, both girls began quietly running their own damp cloths along her
neck, her shoulders, down her back. Despite herself, Miss Americana couldn't
deny how nice it felt, how much of a relief. She sighed. "A-alright, just
for a minute, I just need to get my strength back. Are you girls alright? Has
it harmed you?
Almost
at once, the three girls paused. Miss Americana looked at each one, and noticed
a sudden blush that colored their cheeks.
It was
the young redhead who answered first. "No...he hasn't harmed any of us.
It's not like that...it's just..."
Her
blush deepened, and she suddenly averted her eyes. Was what Miss Americana saw
flash across her eyes...shame? Before she could press her though, Carmen began
to speak.
"It's
worse than that," she said, a tremble in her voice. "It...he...he
makes us feel...good."
And now
she, too, had to look away. Miss Americana's mouth fell open. She couldn't
believe what she was hearing.
"What
are you talking about? Good? He kidnapped you! He's holding you against your
will! How can any of this be good?"
Sandra
knelt in front of her, resting her hands on Miss Americana's knees. The
sensation of her long fingers suddenly brushing against the soft skin of her
legs drew Miss Americana's attention.
"You
don't understand...but its like...this," the blonde said slowly, wetting
her lips. She looked up into Miss Americana's uncomprehending eyes. "Have
you ever had...sex, Miss Americana?"
Now it
was the superheroine's turn to flush in embarassment, her mouth working
uselessly. "W-what do you mean--of course I have--that's none of your
busine--"
But
Sandra shushed her again, her fingers softly running up and down the outside of
Miss Americana's bare leg. "Just listen. Imagine the best sex you've ever
had. Imagine the best lover you've ever been with. This
monster...this...thing...he's better than any of them."
Miss
Americana was aghast. "But...that's insane! You can't be serious!"
"She's
right though," Angie interrupted softly. She held Miss Americana's right
hand and hugged it against her soft chest, almost like she was seeking comfort.
"I...I've never felt anything like it. I'm not sure I have the words to
explain..."
"Angie
is young," Carmen spoke now, looking sympathetically at the blushing
redhead. "She was the least experienced of us. She was the least prepared
for...him."
The
19-year old nodded, clutching Miss Americana tighter. "He surprised me on
my run," she began, her gaze growing distant as she remembered. "At
first I thought it was some kind of a bear. A cougar, maybe. I was terrified.
Before I could run, he grabbed me, and pulled me close to him. I remember...I
remember something came out of his mouth. Like smoke. It made me dizzy,
weak...I fell asleep..."
The
mist, Miss Americana realized, her chest tightening. It was that damned mist!
"I
woke up here...in one of these rooms." She swallowed hard, glanced at
Sandra, who nodded for her to continue. "He was in there with me. He
grabbed me, pulled me into his lap. He started...he started to play with my--my
breasts...he used his tongue..." To her shock, Miss Americana felt Angie
start to squirm against her. The girl's hand began to touch and squeeze her
left breast through the fabric of her dress. Her other hand had fallen lower,
beneath the long strip that ran between her legs...where it rocked slowly, back
and forth. When Angie continued, her voice was thick. Her eyes were glazed.
"I couldn't stop him. He made it feel so good...his breath...it made me so
hot...it wasn't long before I stopped asking him to. And then he started to
lick me...down there!" the redhead gasped. Her fingers were moving faster
now. Miss Americana was beside herself. The thought of this poor girl being
taken should have made her furious...and yet the image of that monster holding
her legs apart, against her weakining will, while he plundered her pussy with
his monstrous, serpentine tongue...it made her feel uncomfortably warm.
Unconsciously, she rubbed her thighs together. She didn't notice the sinister
smile that had formed on Sandra's face as the blonde saw the movement of her
legs.
"I
don't know how long he did it," Angie continued, "But it felt like
forever. He wouldn't stop. Even when I gave in, when he made me...made me
come..." she shivered, "He kept going. He licked me over and over,
and I kept coming for him...I couldn't help it. No one's ever made me come like
that before. I must have passed out. When I came to, he had bent me over, and I
could feel his...cock...against me." Her eyes were distant...dreamy.
"I shouldn't have wanted him so badly, but his tongue had done things to
me, had made me...weak...wanting....when he told me to beg for him....I did.
And then he--oh god, he...AH!"
She
shuddered suddenly, stiffening against her, and Miss Americana realized the
girl had gotten herself off, right there, right next to her. She could only
stare mutely as Angie sagged against her, resting her head on Miss Americana's
shoulder. The poor girl! She was out of her mind, this was madness!
"It
was the same for me," came Carmen's voice, and Miss Americana turned. The
dark-haired beauty reached down and took the heroine's hand in her own.
"He broke into my husband's house, carried me away. Brought me here. He
seduced me much the same way he seduced Angie...except he didn't need his
tongue to break my will...all he had to do was show me his cock."
"That's
not possible," Miss Americana said, her eyes widening in disbelief.
Carmen
smiled...almost sadly, "I am not naive, Miss Americana. I've been with
many men, but none of them could compare to this beast. He...has the most
beautiful cock I've ever seen. It's huge. Bigger than any man could hope to be.
I couldn't...I couldn't look away from it. When he put it in my hands, all I
could think about was how hard it was...how hot...how easy it was to slide my
hands up...and down..." Carmen's eyes were glassy, and her hands began to
slide, up and down, gliding along the soft red leather of Miss Americana's
trapped glove. The shocked heroine could only watch mutely as Carmen sighed,
and rubbed her hand against a heated cheek, remembering...pretending it was the
monster's throbbing cock that pressed urgently against her skin.
Miss
Americana groaned. The heat between her legs was getting worse. The lurid stories
were racing through her mind, filling it with torrid, racy images. What was
wrong with her? why was she feeling this way? These girls had been
seduced...no, raped! She shouldn't be feeling so...hot...
"He
let me pleasure him...no, worship him," Carmen whispered, brushing her
lips against Miss Americana's trembling fingers. Before she could move to stop
her, Carmen removed her red glove and pressed her bare palm against her flushed
cheek. Miss Americana was surprised by how warm the woman felt, almost
feverish. Carmen's gaze was distant as she continued, "I begged him to let
me...taste him....suck him...I knew it was wrong, but I felt drunk...dizzy...I
took him in my hands. Touching it made me s-so hot, I...I..."
Suddenly
her mouth parted, and Miss Americana gasped as the woman drew her gloved
fingers into her hot, wet mouth. The sensation of her tongue caressing her bare
fingers was impossibly erotic...and totally wrong.
"S-stop
that!" Miss Americana gasped, "Stop it"!
Carmen
bobbed her head a few more times, drawing her deep into her mouth, before
letting her escape with a soft gasp. She licked at her lips. "He came in
my mouth," she whispered, looking into Miss Americana's wide, staring
eyes, "He flooded my mouth with his cum...so much of it...I couldn't
swallow fast enough...it spilled onto my face, my chin...by breasts..."
She rolled her tits in her hands. "He sat back on the ground. His cock was
still rock hard, still streaming hot, thick cum...when I climbed on top of him."
"Oh...no..."
Miss Americana whispered, "That's...that's awful...what he did to you
girls was...awful!"
"Do
you want to know the worst part?"
It was
Sandra, speaking softly from where she knelt in front of Miss Americana's
tightly squeezed legs. Her voice had fallen to a conspiratory whisper.
"The
worst part of it all was that he made us beg for him. Made us need him. His
touch enflames you. His pressence makes you weak. The scent of him makes your
head spin. He makes submitting to him feel like the most natural thing in the
world..."
Lewd
thoughts began to dance in Miss Americana's mind. Were they dreams? Memories?
Sandra's words were filling her with a strange, familiar drowsiness. Her body
sagged back, into the waiting arms of the two other prisoners. The reflection
of candlelight danced in Sandra's open, cat-like eyes, drawing Miss Americana's
gaze, fascinating her. In the darkest corners of her mind, a helpless,
desperate, submissive voice was softly moaning,
"Slut....slut....sluuuut...!"
Sandra
held the captive heroine's gaze and gently, slowly, began to sway. She watched
as Miss Americana's eyes stayed fixed on hers, hooded, open but unseeing,
following her as she moved back and forth...back and forth. The evil blonde
smiled, and began to stroke gently up and down her bare, smooth thighs.
"You
know what its like, don't you, Miss Americana?" Sandra's fingers dipped
into the tight seam between Miss Americana's pressed thighs, tracing
it...teasing it. "To be held against your will. To be made to feel things
you didn't think you wanted...needed. To lose yourself to the hot, irresistable
need for pleasure...for sex." She hissed the last word, watching in
satisfaction as Miss Americana's eyes grew wide, her face blushing red. Sandra
smiled, and now her caressing fingers began to gently pry at Miss Americana's
trembling knees.
"Wait--what
are you--"
"You
fancy yourself a hero," Sandra breathed, bending forward so that she could
plant light, butterfly kisses along the top of the shocked heroine's creamy
thighs. Her fingers had wedged between her knees...trying to coax them apart.
"But in the end you're just like us, aren't you? Just a woman...with a
woman's needs..."
"Stop
that," Miss Americana gasped, "Sandra, what are you doing?" She
made to struggle, to get away from the blonde's unwanted advances, when she
suddenly felt strong, soft hands wrap around her own. She looked to her sides,
where Angie and Carmen had each seized one of her arms, holding her tight. she
pulled against them, but her strength was gone. She was as weak as a kitten.
They had no trouble forcing her backwards, pressing her back into the soft fur
of the bed, so that her ass slid down to the edge, toward the waiting, hungry
eyes of the evil blonde. "No! Let me go! I'm here to save you! Let me
go!"
But
none of the girls were listening. Angie and Carmen each grabbed a wrist,
raising and trapping both arms beside her tossing head. Her huge, firm breasts
rose high on her chest, quivering enticingly as she struggled to free herself.
"But
darling...thats what we've been...trying to tell you..." Sandra whispered,
her kisses growing firmer, wetter. Her tongue drew tiny circles along Miss
Americana's trapped, struggling thighs. She looked up the prone body of the
dark-haired beauty, past the rising mounds of her creamy tits, and into her
wide blue eyes. "We don't want to be rescued...and soon...you won't
either!"
Miss
Americana stiffened as Angie and Carmen each suddenly took one of her tits in a
warm, possessive grip. Skilled, knowing fingers began to knead and massage her
massive mammaries, rolling them, gently milking them from base to tip. Their
soft, feminine hands soon had her tits tingling all too pleasantly. Despite
herself, Miss Americana felt herself responding to their erotic manipulation.
Her struggles weakened. Her breathing began to speed up. And when they turned
their attention to her rapidly hardening nipples, she let out a hoarse,
reluctant gasp of pleasure.
"My,
your breasts are sensitive, aren't they?" Sandra said, smiling as her
fingers managed to slip a little further between Miss Americana's knees.
"And there's nothing like the touch of another woman who understands just
how to make you feel. Don't you think so?"
"N-no!
I don't want this! Let me go! Stop--Oh!--stop...touching me!" Miss
Americana snapped, and tried to buck herself free of the vile vixens holding
her down. But she had no leverage, and they easily subdued her attempts at
escape. Carmen responded by taking her rigid nipple between thumb and
forefinger...and gently beginning to twist. Miss Americana gasped as the motion
sent pangs of undeniable pleasure through her body, right down, it seemed, to
her suddenly throbbing clit. Carmen and Angie exchanged knowing glances, then
Angie followed suit, trapping her other nipple, and gently begginging to roll
it between her fingers.
Miss
Americana stiffened, arching her back as jolts of unwanted pleasure erupted
from her trapped nipples. She barely stifled an intense moan, her useless hands
clawing at the fur blanket. "DON'T!!" she groaned, teeth clenched, as
Carmen and Angie began to pull at her nipples, drawing them up and away from
her body, until her breasts were almost perfect, alabaster cones jutting from
her hammering chest. All the while they continued to slowly twist those oh-so
sensitive nubs back and forth, back and forth. This time, they managed to drag
a stilted, but betrayingly sweet, groan of pleasure from the restrained
heroine.
The
attack on her breasts had lowered her defenses, and Sandra had taken the
opportunity to slide her penetrating fingers in a few inches further. They now
pressed insistently on the hot, trembling flesh of Miss Americana's inner
thighs, probing, stroking, inviting her to spread herself wider...
No!
Miss Americana summoned what strength she had, and clamped her legs together,
trapping Sandra's intruding hands. The blonde clucked in admonishment.
"Now, darling, that's not very cooperative of you. I know you're starting
to enjoy this. Why keep fighting? Why not just lie back, and let me take you
someplace...nice..."
"L-like
hell!" Miss Americana snapped, looking down past her tormented tits to the
blonde's smirking face. "You three have been...brainwashed! And if you
think I'm just going to lie here and let the same thing happen to me...!"
Sandra
regarded her with a mix of amusement and derision, her cat-like eyes sparking.
"You think you're so strong? Very well then. Let's see just how long you
can keep these pretty long legs of yours from spreading for me."
She
nodded to her two accomplices, who smiled in acknowledgement. All at once, they
let go of Miss Americana's throbbing nipples, letting her tits fall back to her
chest where they settled with a heavy, enticing jiggle. The masked heroine
gasped in relief, but her sentiment was short lived. For no sooner had her
bouncing tits settled when Angie and Carmen each suddenly drew a succulent
nipple into their hot, wet mouths.
"OH!
Wait-stop, what are you....oooOOH!!"
But the
ravenous beauties ignored her protests as they devoured Miss Americana's
vulnerable breasts. They would alternate between sucking on them so hard her
nipples began to throb in ecstacy to rolling and flicking the engorged nubs
with their wild, silky tongues. Their rampaging mouths had turned her aching
breasts into conduits of sheer pleasure, every moment that passed her protests
grew weaker, weaker, until at last they had reduced the once-proud champion of
justice to a helplessly moaning, begging mass of quivering tit-flesh.
Worse
still, Sandra's fingers had resumed a gentle undulation against the inside of
her legs. Trapped as they were, they couldn't move much...but sultry, insistant
pressure was enough to force Miss Americana to focus on keeping her thighs
squeezed tight. She couldn't risk the horrible (wonderful?) things those
devilish fingers might do if they got any more freedom. But restrained as she
was, overpowered and outnumbered, she knew she was facing a losing proposition.
How long could she hold out? She had to come up with some way to escape,
before...before the unthinkable happened.
That's
when she realized that something didn't feel right. Or more precisely,
something was beginning to feel altogether too...good. The twin assault on her
breasts, totally against her will, was having a profound effect on her body.
Her breasts felt as sensitive as they'd ever been in her life, and as the two
lovely ladies continued to inflict their insidious tongue lashing, a warm,
irresistable lethargy began to spread from her abused chest. It was getting
harder and harder to keep her head up. The mattress was soft, the feeling of
the coarse pelt made her skin tingle. And at the tightly-pressed juncture of
her thighs, her trecherous pussy began to pulsate.
As a
familiar, terrifying pressure began to build, Miss Americana's eyes suddenly
grew wide, and her head rose up to look down at the leering Sandra waiting
patiently before her trembling knees. "Oh...no...!"
The
blonde smirked. "Something wrong, Miss Americana? Poor darling. I don't
think you've thought this little plan of resistance all the way
through..."
Miss
Americana groaned in despair, tears welling in her blue eyes, as the truth
began to sink in. The constant friction of pressing her thighs together was
stimulating her heated sex. She could feel the hot wetness trickling out of her
aroused pussy, where the movement of her legs forced it to churn...soaking her
aching pussy lips, and making her trapped clitoris throb with unanswered need.
The harder she fought to keep Sandra's fingers at bay, the more she ended up
stimulating her own cunt. She was slowly but surely driving herself to a
devastating climax.
She
reflexively relaxed, just for a split second, to try and relieve some of the
wicked pressure, but Sandra, poised like a waiting serpent, was ready. In the
momentary breach in her prey's defenses she was able to slip her long, slender
fingers until they were heart-stoppingly close to Miss Americana's aching sex
before the prone heroine gave a warbled cry of denial, and clamped her legs
back together.
Sandra's
tinkling laugh made her heart sink.
"Oh,
almost!" the blonde grinned, "A heartbeat later and I'd be all over
that pretty pink pussy of yours right now." She gave her fingers an
experimental flex, then leered at Miss Americana, seductively chewing on her
lower lip. "But maybe...this is close enough?"
Those
fingers began to move again, only this time, to Miss Americana's horror, they
were far more mobile. They were scant inches away from her throbbing cunt...and
were now sliding through the trails of slick wetness leaking from her aroused
pussy. The lubrication let her glide sensuously against the heated, pressing
flesh of her inner thighs, massaging her, projecting pangs of wicked delight
into the very heart of her womb. She could feel those wriggling fingers sliding
closer and closer to her reluctant pussy with every halting, heart-stopping
push. Insistant. Aggressive. Demanding access to her vulnerable sex. The
sensation was unbelievably erotic. Miss Americana let out a long, agonized
moan, and though she still tossed her head in denial, she could feel her
resolve wavering. The strength was beginning to drain out of her aching thighs.
Sandra
gestured once more to waiting companions. It was time to crush the last of Miss
Americana's feeble resistance.
The
helpeless heroine let out a gasp of undeniable pleasure as her abused nipples
suddenly popped free of their hot, sucking lips as Angie and Carmen fell beside
her on the bed. She watched felt them press up to her, and an instant later
felt their hot, cinnamon breath as they brushed their succulent lips against
her incredibly sensitive ears. A shiver of unmistakable lust shot down her
body, and she let out a reluctant, all-too-turned-on moan.
"Did
we make you feel good?" Angie whispered hotly, tracing her lips
tantilizingly along Miss Americana's earlobe, making her neck and sides erupt
in goosebumps. A second later Carmen's voice was in her other ear, and she
shivered anew.
"I
loved sucking on your tits," the woman moaned, "Please, may I suck
them again? I'll make it good for you. So, so good..."
"Oh
please," Miss Americana gasped, "please stop, I--"
"You
what?" Angie said, "Like it too much? Then why fight it?"
"We
just want to pleasure you," Carmen sing-songed sweetly, taking possession
of Miss Americana's vulnerable tit again with her searching hand. She gave it a
loving squeeze. "And we know just what a sex-hungry woman wants...don't
we?"
"N-no...!"
Miss Americana moaned, her eyes slowly beginning to droop. "Can't...let
you...rape...me..."
"You've
got it all wrong, honey. It won't be rape," Angie whispered, blowing into
her ear and making her moan against her will. "We're going to make you
feel so good, you're never going to want us to stop..."
"Spread
your legs, baby," Carmen sighed dreamily, "You've been fighting for
so long...just relax...let yourself fall open...relax..."
"Give
in," urged Angie, "Let yourself go...you want it so bad..."
Miss
Americana could barely articulate words of resistance any more. As the girls
continued to whisper sweet seductions into her defenseless mind, she could feel
herself slowly drifting further and further away. Her body no longer seemed
like her own; it responded to their whispered calls with trecherous obedience.
Her back arched, offering her mountains of heated tit-flesh to their marauding
hands. Her stomach fluttered and spasmed. She could hear her heartbeat
throbbing in her ears, felt it in her engorged nipples, in her rigid little
clit. And gradually, irresistably, her taught thighs began to relax...and to
spread.
Sandra
grinned lascviciously as she effortlessly parted the beguiled heroine's
trembling thighs, pressing her wide. Miss Americana let out a groan of defeat, shutting
her eyes as tears of shame rolled down her face...but she made no move to try
and close her spread legs, revealing the engorged, soaked lips of her bare
pussy to the hungry eyes of the evil blonde kneeling between them.. Her sex was
literally throbbing with unwanted arousal, humming in time to her frantic,
pumping heartbeat.
"Now,
your pretty little pussy is all mine," Sandra breathed, sinking her
fingernails into Miss Americana's firm, sumptuous ass like a lioness snaring
its prey. She lowered her head, fixed her cat-like stare on the helpless
heroine's swooning face, and slowly dragged the tip of her tongue along the
spasming length of pussy laid out before her.
The
effect on Miss Americana was electric.
Her
hips heaved, and a strangled moan of unwanted ecstacy ripped from her slender
throat. Her eyes snapped open to watch helplessly as Sandra reversed the
motion, tracing along and between her swollen pussy lips, mewling like a cat at
a bowl of cream. Every long, smooth, muscular stroke of that devilish tongue
sent a wave of knee-shaking pleasure coursing through her prone body, battering
her will, hammering at her reluctance and rewarding her submission with
forbidden bliss. Despite herself, Miss Americana was soon reduced to a panting,
gasping, sordid mess under the devious lesbian's lingual lashing. Beside her,
Angie and Carmen pleasured themselves as they watched their mistress's assault
on the defenseless heroine. Their moans and sighs rang in her ears, joining her
own in a chorus of female ecstacy that filled the candlelit cave. All the
while, Sandra watched as Miss Americana fell further and further into her
sexual control. She teased and tormented, licked and sucked, driving up her
arousal, all while carefully avoiding that rigid nubbin of flesh that throbbed
and begged for her attention. Soon, Ms Americana lacked even the strength to
hold her head up to watch the blonde temptress work over her feverish cunt. It
tossed in hopeless denial on the soft gray pelt, even as her trecherous hips
rolled her pussy again and again into Sandra's hot mouth. She couldn't stop
herself, her body had a mind of its own. Her poor clit ached in neglect. Just a
touch would send her over the edge, would end her misery. Her shame was being
burned away by the pleasure resonating between her legs. She wanted to
come...needed to come!
She
felt hands on her breasts, caressing, squeezing, manipulating her tits with a
warm familiarity that made them tingle...and she realized they were her own
hands, suddenly released her lesbian captors. Her wontoness made her blush with
shame, pushing back the haze of pleasure that had fallen over her addled mind.
She winced, summoning the remainder of her will, and shoved her hands over her
weeping sex, blocking off Sandra's clever tongue.
The
blonde arched her eyebrows at her, breathing heavily. "What's this? Still
trying to fight? Oh darling, that's adorable."
"I
won't...I won't let you just have your way with me," Miss Americana
hissed, hoping she sounded braver than she felt. It was all she could do to
keep her hands still against her throbbing pussy, when it veritably screamed at
her to touch herself, to stroke herself, to satisfy the evil urges Sandra's
cunt lapping had set it motion.
The
blonde just smiled, and lowered her face back to the slender fingers blocking
her from her prize.
"That's
a shame," she breathed, planting grazing kisses on the backs of Miss
Americana's trembling hands. "I was just about to start on that delicious
little clit of yours. I'd been saving it for the end. Why, it must positively
ache right about now..."
To her
chagrin, Miss Americana had to concede that the witch was right. Her poor clit
stood rigidly out from its protective hood, throbbing. The heat from her hand
was making her squirm. Suddenly, she felt Sandra's tongue swipe at her fingers.
"S-stop that!"
"I
don't really think you mean that," Sandra smiled, slipping her tongue into
the slim gaps between Miss Americana's slender digits, seeking again the hot,
gushing pussy hidden just behind. The sensation of that strong, wet muscle
trying to get past her final, defiant gesture was undeniably arousing,
disturbingly so. Miss Americana had to grit her teeth to stifle the moan that
welled in her throat. Sandra's golden eyes were drawing her in, making her head
swim...she shut her eyes tightly, shaking her head in defiance.
"Just
one lick," Sandra whispered, pushing harder, feeling the gaps widening
under her questing tongue. She could now graze the heated labia with the tip.
"You're so hot honey, so turned on. Do you really want me to
stop...?"
"Stop
it....no...please no..." Miss Americana pleaded, her brow creased. Her
will was wavering. The tip of that invading tongue traced fire on the sensitive
lips of her pussy, making her gush with renewed need. Her clit pressed
insistently against her slick palm. Her pleading grew hoarser, her breathing
heavier, as Sandra began to wear down her last ditch effort to resist. She
could easily slip her tongue between slack fingers to lap against the juicy
prize beneath. She sucked on her fingers, stroking them like tiny cocks. Miss
Americana groaned.
"Just
one, honey," Sandra breathed, slowly maneuvering that guarding hand out of
the way more and more. Her quarry was panting, her eyes shut tight, trying
desperately to keep her raging need under control...she didn't realize how far
back Sandra had moved her hand. Her fingers barely covered her swollen mons,
and her labia were almost completely unguarded. Worst of all though, her fingers
had spread wide enough now that her clitoris was dangerously exposed to the
evil blonde's insidious attentions.
The
blonde saw the tiny, pulsing nubbin of flesh at the apex of her prey's dripping
sex, and finally brushed it with her insidious tongue.
"OH!"
Miss Americana gasped, her hips heaving. "OH don't...stop!!"
"Don't
stop?" Sandra giggled, "I don't intend to..."
Her
tongue snaked down, lashing at that engorged button, making Miss Americana cry
out. Every wet caress sent a whip of electric pleasure convulsing up her body.
Her hands flailed uselessly, settling on her blonde assailant's head. She knew
she should fight, should try to push her away...but her hands wouldn't listen.
They spasm-clutched at those curly blonde tresses, luxuriating in their soft
thickness, but couldn't force her away from her relentless assault.
Sandra
was in no hurry. After tonight, she knew the buxom beauty would be unable to
deny her anything. She'd be her sister, her slave, her plaything...just like
the Master had promised. Her skilled tongue caressed the seat of Miss
Americana's pleasure, circling it, flicking against it, forcing the dazzled
superheroine to experience sensations she had never imagined a tongue could
elicit from her rigid love button. Sandra listened as the moans became pants,
and the pants rose to desperate whimpers. She coaxed that sensitive nubbin of
flesh as Miss Americana's hips began to heave, raising them up, up, pressing
into Sandra's insidious mouth. When it was clear her beautiful prey could take
no more, Sandra sank her claws into her tense ass, and went for the kill.
"Now,
you're all mine," Sandra breathed victoriously, took Miss Americana's
throbbing clitoris between her soft red lips, and began to suck. Hard.
"OHHH!
OH MY GOD!" the overwhelmed superheroine could only scream as the orgasm
that she'd just barely held at bay came crashing through, arching her back,
making her muscle seize uncontrollably. Her clitoris exploded under Sandra's
loving minstrations, her pussy spasming as the pleasure wracked her body.
Sandra rode the orgasm expertly, prolonging it, trapping her prey on its
ecstatic plateau for as long as her body would allow. When at last Miss
Americana's thrusting hips gave out, collapsing back to the bed, the devastated
super heroine was a flushed, panting, trembling mess.
Tears,
both of pleasure and of shame streaked down her face. She'd lost, totally. It
didn't matter how hard she fought, how hard she tried to deny it, in the end,
she'd been overwhelmed by the three vixens and drawn into their web of lesbian
torment. And though tried to deny it, the warm glow that suffused her now was
all that was left of one of the biggest orgasms in her life. It shook her to
her core.
What
kind of a hero was she? How did she expect to save these girls if she couldn't
even save herself?
"You're
not a hero at all," came a deep, mesmerizing voice from within her
subconscious, "You're just another weak female. A slut...my slut."
"Y-your...slut..."
Miss Americana repeated helplessly, her eyes glazing over, the glow from her
orgasm reinforcing the post-hypnotic words the Beast had planted in her
fertile, sex-addled mind.
Sandra
saw the glassy look, saw how the prone heroine's skin erupted in a fresh,
radiant blush, and smiled at her companions.
"Call
the Master. She is ready."