OUROBOROS

by Mr. K

7.
     

They crucified Lonestar. She was an afterthought, really, as nobody expected to have to deal with her when they came for Maxim. It was just as well, though; she could watch.

 

“This is the girlfriend, right? Maxim’s little pussy-eating girlfriend?”

 

“Correct.”

 

“Ok, then, make sure she can see the big-tits girlfriend down there.”

 

The blond was at the mercy of this couple.  She could feel female hands and male hands, tight grips, all powerful and demanding, grabbing her and slamming her back against the cold flesh of a wrought iron fence. This was part of an ornate old apartment building once, and now it was just a palace of debris. This was a heavy iron fence on the top of a dead, empty hotel from the 1950’s, and it was positioned just right to bind a superwoman.

 

They set her up, bound to the unyielding iron so that she could watch her lover suffer in the alley below. She was powerless, and beaten, her limbs mere objects as the victors pinned them to the beams of the cross and lashed them securely.

 

“Turn her this way so that she can see. There….”

 

Maxim came down the trash shoot.

 

Across the alley, in the darkness, in the rear of Foxglove’s high-rise apartment, there was a trash shoot. It was a long, metal tube that fed from each floor of the building and sprouted like an elongated anus from the loading dock of building. It spat its load into the stinking green dumpster that was positioned just below it.

 

Maxim came down the trash shoot.

 

She was Claudia again, and fully conscious as she smoothly slid down the metal shoot and dropped, head-first, into the trash dumpster. On the top floor, a satisfied smile on his face, Lethario briskly wiped one hand against the other. That bit of business was done.

 

Now, the woman stayed with Lonestar, touching her, toying with her nipples and running her hands all over skin-tight blue, as her husband grabbed hold of a zip line that they had set up. He slid from the rooftop on which Lonestar was imprisoned to the dumpster in which her lover lay.

 

He climbed up and fished her out, dumping her roughly on to the concrete. Without pausing for a moment to enjoy the image of a broken woman, splattered in semen and gazing at the stars, he picked her up and slammed her down into a dirty, lop-sided office chair. It was a broken, old throw-away that would now be the throne for Maxim. 

 

He flung her back hard. He picked up the dirty, old chains that he had put aside in a corner of the loading dock. The woman in white and red simply sat there as the chains formed and X between her breasts and wrapped behind her.

 

It was a joy to be used by Lethario. It was a joy to be tossed in the trash by him. As this latest villain wrapped chains around me, pinning me to the dirt, old office chair, I still reveled in my treatment at the hands of Lethario.

 

I lay on my back, on the floor, as a cascade of rose petals showered my face. I loved him for that. He made me feel like a woman right then and there.

 

His musk was in my system, I loved him, and my whole body was committed to serving him.

 

The thick chains were digging hard against her waist and wrapping tightly around her neck. 

 

I was happy to lie down on the floor and accept the pain as a heavy, male shoe came down on my right tit. He mashed and pressed, grinding his weight down on to my breast. A smile spread across his face as he stepped up with the other foot and laid his full weight on my torso. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then moved around, trading one for the other. He trampled me and I came.

 

Iron Sights stepped back and looked at his work. A beaten woman was chained to a chair in a dirty, lonely alley. Her girlfriend was chained up and watching, helplessly. His wife was watching in gleeful anticipation.

 

The marksman caressed Maxim’s face as he turned away from her, and took a few strides in the semi-darkness. He turned, looked at the heroine with her head sagging down and her nipples hard in her second-skin body suit, and pulled his pistol from his thigh holster.

 

He brought the sights up across her chest and shot Maxim.

 

Ouroboros VII

 

The demands were simple, and I felt a strange new energy rise in me as I carried them out for him. Lethario wanted me to lay still as he trampled me, and I did. He grabbed me by the hair and yanked me up to my knees, then spun me around to all fours.

 

“Yessir. Whatever you want, sir.”

 

He wanted me to spend some time kissing and licking Fox Glove’s ass through her stockings. I did so. I crawled up behind her like a dog as she pressed her ass back towards me. First, it met my tongue, and then my lips. I kissed her ass, then pulled back a bit so that I could lick the fabric and the firm curve of her ass.

 

Now I could hear him grunting as he stroked his cock.

 

Her mind was still so enraptured by her previous captor that it hardly noticed a dart plunging itself into her just above the right breast. It was just becoming present to the quick, little intruder when another found her. Now her other breast. Another dart, tiny and just as full of toxin as the last one found the six-pact definition of her abs.

 

“Hey, honey!” called Iron Sights. “Come down and pay some attention to our guest, baby!”

 

She couldn’t really hear him all that well, but she knew it was time to leave her torment of Lonestar and get on the zipline.

 

Another dart sank into the definition of her left arm. Another found her right arm. She moaned when another buried itself in the thick muscle of her right thigh.

 

I ran my tongue across the texture of her stockings, trying to drink in the heat of her ass through the web of nylon. I wet it with my mouth. Even as Ironsights shot me over and over with his poison darts, I could only think about licking and kissing and sucking her ass through the stockings.

 

Lethario was still behind me grunting and stroking his meat. When he shuddered and came, when he splashed my back with semen that was so hot I could feel it through my costume, all I could do was rejoice.

 

Boa was slinking up next to her husband now. He greeting her, but kept shooting. It was trick shots now, behind the back, over the shoulder. Each one hit its mark somewhere on my body.

 

“She’s all drugged up, baby?” she asked.

 

He only smiled in response.

 

“Then it’s my turn.”

---

PREVIOUS CHAPTER WIZARD'S LAIR MAIN PAGE   Mr. K'S STORY PAGE  NEXT CHAPTER