The Breaking of Mother Night 10

by Mr. K. 

Click on images to enlarge.

You remember being back in the velvet-lined box. The display box. It was the kind of box you would use for a rare and priceless item that you still wanted to take out and use.

You remember awakening in the box. You remember blinking, and looking around. You could feel the ordeal in your body. They had fucked you in the cunt and in the ass for all they were worth, and you could feel it.

You remember awakening in the box, your cervix still throbbing. You could feel how your asshole had been stretched and entered over and over. It still ached and burned.

You remember awakening in the box. There was the softness of the velvet crushed and closed around you. There was the acrid smell of varnish. There was something else, though.

You recall, now, while your new captor is moving up your body and launching streams of semen on your belly and breasts, how you felt something new in that box. Yes, you were still in your costume, but it was no longer torn open at the ass and crotch. Your costume was completely repaired. It was beyond repaired. It was as though it had never been torn. You were completely clean of the dark and the white semen.

“I woke up and I felt … Something had changed,” you whisper as the new captor cums in your hair.

You ass still throbbed and your cunt still throbbed, but your body felt back under your control. Their hold was broken. You could move. You could feel The Darkness surging in your body again; your power was back. They were no longer in control of Mother Night, for some reason. There was no reason to ask or wait; you sat up, thrusting the lid off of the box, and you flew. Still in that strange liminal space, surrounded by chess boards, you soared.

You took flight and rushed at your captors.

Your freedom lasted roughly a minute.

“They made sport of you, right?” the new man asks. He is rolling you on to your stomach. His hands are finding the curve of your ass.

“They did,” you sigh.

One woman, the Black Queen, opened her mouth. She was a slim beauty with quaffed grey hair and a lean, sinewy body. Out shot a long thick stream of some sort of cord. Some sort of rope or webbing. She made eye contact with you as she showed you her strange power.

Black cord. Black rope, of some sort, came from not just her mouth now, but seemingly her whole body. The air was full of this black cord.

“It bounced off the walls, split into multiple streams, and completely encircled you,” your new captor laughs as he smears cum across your ass. You can feel the heat through your costume.

You remember how the black cord, seemed to come from every direction, then. It leapt, slithered and coiled on its own. It caught you in midair, coiling around your throat and pulling itself between your thighs. As if guided by a hand, it found the thick cleft of your vulva and pulled up hard between the lips. Even through the sheath of your costume, it found the bud of your clit.

It wrapped around your breasts and squeezed them. It snared your forearms pressing them together, and wrapped around your waist. It lashed your ankles together and wrapped itself into your hair. It choked you. It pulled you from the air.

“You were a mummy when you hit the floor,” he laughs, picking you up again.

“I … screamed. There was just this agony everywhere those cords touched me. It was something beyond burning. They wrapped me up and … I felt my powers ebb again. I …” The feeling of his cock against your ass stifles your speech.

As he begins to grind his cock against you, again, you remember being able to rally that one last burst of your power. You remember breaking free, feeling the cords fall away from your body, and starting to fly again. There was a surge of power … until the Black Queen spoke.

The Black Queen, who had wrapped you up in fiercely painful cords that seemed to sink through to the bone, cords from which you had broken free, spoke to you and ended your fight. Like you, she was mature and curvaceous. Her hair a dramatic grey, her features square and feminine- striking. Her voice was librarian-gentle as she said “Mother Night, you are breath-taking.”

She waved a hand in the air.

“I couldn’t breathe, suddenly. My throat closed,” you explain through gasps as he takes hold of your hips and rams you through your costume again. You remember how you fell, and lay on the floor gasping for breath. You remember your limbs growing heavy. “She would give me my powers back, my air back, let me feel them, then snatch them away, making me helpless again. She did breath play with me. “

You remember grasping your own throat, squirming helplessly as you were choked from across the room. You remember your air coming back along with your powers. You remember feeling the surge of life and power, taking flight, then having it snatched away again.

You remember choking as your ability to fly faded. The strange cords reformed themselves and wrapped you again. The lights went out in your head, and you tumbled. You were Mother Night, unconscious, mummified, again.

“She used her powers … to wake me … I started to stand … to fight her,” you groan. Your clit is in agony, swollen and throbbing, from his assaulting it through the sheath of your costume again. Still, you explain how they tortured you.

"She would whip me around. She would lift me up and twirl me in circles. When she finally let me fall..."Your words peter out as your new owner - this man who is making you recall your defeat- slams home on your clit. You bite your lower lip.

“And this is when she really mummified you. You were encased in those agony cords of hers. This is why she is one of the Queens; she has complete power,” he laughs, thrusting. He is making you tell the story, and, as you do, his momentum grows harder and faster.

"Used the cords to move me around like a puppet."

She didn’t mummify you yet. You remember how she pulled you upright. Each cord tightened and yanked. They twisted around your breasts and squeezed and squeezed you for all she as worth. You felt the cords yank up against your big vulva and squeeze your ribs. They constricted around your breasts and pulled. You felt the yanking and the twisting; you saw stars as the cords closed around you like a fist. Again. Again.

She held you up the air, and you were losing consciousness again. These cords, whatever they were, were tightening. They burned. You suffocated. You remember the galaxy of agony.

“Here. Have your powers,” you heard the Queen say.

What else could you do? You had to play this game. You broke free again. This time, she let you take flight higher. This time, she coiled the agony cords around your legs. They snapped tight around your thick thighs, your knees, your ankles.

“I screamed as I fell,” you tell your captor as rolls you back on to your back.

You remember how the Black Queen spoke gently to you. She knelt down and brushed a hand over your hair.

“So, as you can see, there are more pieces here than one would have on a chess board. I am the Black Queen, yes, but I am also the teacher of queens. These young women are my proteges,” you remember her saying, sweeping her hand to draw your attention to the younger women standing behind her. Some wore t-shirts and jeans. Some wore white catsuits. Some wore black catsuits much like yours.

“Every piece position has its active representative, and the people that are waiting to step up. We are queens. There’s a certain ‘something’ that I look for in my queens-to-be. You see Jessica here?” she said as she grabbed a handful of your hair and held your head up. She forced you to look at a beautifully slim redhead. She looked to be of about college age. Maybe, just out of college.

“She has just graduated to her queen status. She has the powers now. She is my counterpart. She is the new White Queen.”

Your new captor is smearing his semen on your face as you recall how the Black Queen moved back, the black binding melted away, and the young White Queen opened her mouth. Again, there was that stream. It came from her, and then from everywhere.

“I was wrapped in white cords now, and the pain was …. Worse.”

You smell and taste and swallow his cum, but your mind is back on the bone-jarring pain; pain and the sudden stiff paralysis of the white cords. Your body became rigid and searing pain dug down to your bones. You saw a rosy color rise in her cheeks. You saw her lick her lips.

The cords pulled you down on all fours. They dragged against your body, making you crawl. They forced you to struggle your way across the board, and they lifted you once you reached the other end.

You recall for your new captor "They held me up, spread eagle. The white cords strung me up and held me there for the longest time. The White Queen took the time to enjoy me. She went slowly, starting ... starting with my breasts. My nipples. She could feel the outline of my nipples through my costume. She started by pinching and twisting them. Her ... face was a mask of concentration. She spent time just hurting me."

As you talk to him, you remember the sharp daggers of pain that ran through your body as the young woman closed her fingertips tighter and tighter on your big, swollen nipples. She finally twisted and turned them in just the right way, making you scream. Your body wanted to react. Your body wanted to wrench her hands free, and to flex the big muscles in your legs. You couldn't. The white cords held you in place.

You remember how, eventually, the cords let you down, wrapped you up, and laid you down the chess board. It was almost gentle, the way they did it. The women gathered around, and one in a catsuit leaned over you. There was a moment when you were simply laid out on a chess board, bound, with her looming. You were helpless, and you moaned as she helped herself to you. She spent time just enjoying your pain and your curves.

"I was the newest pawn," you whisper. You remember her cupping your breasts, pressing them together, and squeezing the mass of your thighs.

"Nice," she whispered as the cords lifted you into the air again.

When she finally released you, you collapsed on the floor in a heap. Your long black-clad body was simply a heap. You remember feeling strong feminine hands slide under your body. They took hold of your legs, spreading them. They lifted your shoulders from the floor. They let your arms sag, but the cupped your buttocks and squeezed them; they lifted you up and they carried high in the air.

"We have Mother Night," you one feminine voice cheer.

As they carried you, your head was tilted back, upside down. You saw women gathering toys, gathering what they had set aside for use on you. They pulled them out of velvet-lined boxes. You saw them fitting belts with dildos. You saw slathering lube on toys. You hear them chatting.

"So, we get to fuck her? Mother Night?"

"We can do what we want with her."

"She really is a mother isn't she?"

"She is. Hexx is her daughter."

"We will have her also."

"I want to eat her. I want to eat both of them."

"I think we all do. She's so fucking hot."

It was their turn to rape Mother Night.

"They crowd-surfed me, passing me overhead. I felt women's hands pressing up against my ass. They carried me, enjoying the different configurations of my body."

You recall how at one point some older ones and younger ones carried you on your back, your head tilted back. They giggled and laughed, showing you off to the other queens. Now, as the new owner pulls you up by your red hair, letting you dangle, you recall how they shook you to make you your breasts jiggle and undulate. You remember how one of the grey-haired women stopped them in mid stride. With your head tilted back, she cupped your face and jammed her tongue into your mouth.

"The queens ... All of the women in line for the thrones were really into kissing me. That was how they drugged me. Somewhere along the way ... I realized one of their powers was the ability to ... something in them was a natural drug. I was compelled ...."

His cock is suddenly in your mouth. You feel yourself gagging, suffocating, even as your mind goes back to your captivity in the hands of the Chess Queens. You remember how they carried you around the room like a prize.

"Who wants some superheroine?"

At one point, they stopped parading you around so that another woman - someone you could not see - could get between your legs. They held you that way, up in the air, and laughed as the woman pressed her mouth up to your camel toe cleft. You moaned as you felt her murmur against your vulva. It was almost as if she were whispering, telling secrets to your cunt. Your hard clit and your sopping lips trembled as they absorbed the vibrations. There was a pause, you recall, and you felt her open her mouth. The women that carried you gripped down harder on your body as her teeth sank on your big pussy lips. Her mouth ignored the slick, black covering of your costume and dug her teeth into the outline of your cunt. You felt the sharp edges dig against your sex, and you were Mother Night, screaming.

Your body tried to react, sending the message to your arms and legs to tremble and revolt. They held you in place.

"Let her hurt you," said one of the older women. The tension in your body fell away.

She persisted, closing her teeth as though she were going to take a bite out of you. You raised your head as best you could, looking between your breasts and down the length of your captive body. Your eyes met hers. She was one of the white-haired women. Her eyes were wide and livid as they met yours. The biting became harder, deeper.

Your screams were louder, your breathing halted.

You remember noticing, of all things, how throaty and husky your voice sounded as you howled.

You still simpered and gasped as her mouth released your cunt lips.

The man who has you now has worked up rhythm, jamming the head of his cock into the back of your throat. You are thinking about how they used you next. You can say nothing, but his interrogation of you still has your mind rolling through how Chess destroyed you. Wrecked you.

The ones that had carried you passed you to one of the redheads, one of the young women. You remember how hot, slick and ... minty .... she was. Her mouth tasted and tingled like mint. She was a slight woman, but her body exuded massive strength. She joined her mouth to yours and searched you with the probing pinkness of her tongue.

Her eyes slid shut. She crushed you in a bear hug pulling you close and squeezing until you heard the blood pounding in your head and felt your limbs growing heavy. You were a tall, muscular redhead in black being crushed. Just as you were about to black out, the lithe girl released you and pressed you up above her head. It was effortless and smooth. She laughed as she pretended to exercise with you.

After a few reps, she pulled you down, gripped your hair, and tilted your head back. Again, she joined your mouths and raped you with your tongue.

The new captor is pulling his cock out of your mouth, streamers of cum and spit trailing it. They dribble and spume down across your wide bust. You pick up the story where your mind left it.

"She kissed me and kissed me for the longest time. They passed me around after that. Some kissed me, licked me. All of ... all them liked that thing where ... They took turns pressing me up in the air. They would say 'pass it to me.' They almost a ... They wanted to see which of them could press me up and twirl me around. They started ..."

You remember being tossed from one woman to another. The next one - usually one of the grey-haired bitches - would catch you, kiss you, and take her turn pressing you up in the air.

Eventually, she released you. Another woman quickly subbed in, scooping you up and squealing with glee as she pressed you up above her head.

There was a point at which they took you in pairs. It was always an older and a younger. They played the same game, holding you up in the air, but they soon flipped you on to your back and laid you on a chess board. Again, you felt unforgiving teeth sinking into your body. Your nipples were hard, your breasts swollen, and you gritted your teeth as they bit and sucked. When they sucked through the sleekness of your costume, they made sure to do it through their teeth.

You looked down as best you could. You saw the younger woman, the older woman, both with their eyes closed and their mouths joined to the mounds of your breasts. You saw their cheeks puff and hollow, puff and hollow as they bit and sucked your hard nipples.

You were Mother Night, being sucked by two women at once.

"Let's show some proper respect. Here, let me be romantic with her," laughed a woman from across the room. Your breasts throbbed as the mouths left you and the women carried you to your new lover. They gently placed you in her arms.

"Mother Night, you've probably never felt so powerless," the grey-haired queen soothed.

"She kissed for what seemed like an eternity. She fingered me. That was when I realized they had reconfigured my costume. She opened a slit that they had designed into my repaired costume," you tell your new captor as he rains cum on your neck and shoulders.

"She looked over to two ... She asked these two girls whether they were ready for me. They said they were, and I was carried again."

You remember being scooped up and delivered to the twins.

That's what they were - two gorgeous young women that were identical.

They were twins. They were redheaded queens, and they were twins. Both had those lean, slim bodies and pert beautiful faces that I'd come to expect from the queens. There was silence and the smell of lilacs as they took hold of you. They had you lean up against a chess table.

"There you go," one of them finally said.

The young women made it a point to stand still in front of you, displaying the thick strap-ons that they wore. One wore a stark white one, one a black one. They were thickly-veined and had huge, wide mushroom tips.

"Turn around and spread those nice, thick legs of yours," the same young woman said. She was already taking what she wanted, grabbing your hips and spinning you around. There was a joyous moment as they bent you over a chess board. They giggled and laughed. They opened your costume. They grabbed your hair.

"This cunt is old enough to be our mum," she laughed. Her hand was between your thighs, spreading them wide. "Body of an athlete, though. So fit. I think we should take a hint from the boys."

You heard her work up a gob of spit. You felt it crash into your vulva. As she spat again, her sister reached under the table and produced a small jar. It was translucent, and you could see some sort of gel in it.

"You're going to help us rape you, ok?" she smiled.

"Yes, miss," you heard yourself say. She was already unscrewing the lid. You looked in, saw the clear gel, and scooped two fingers into it. You were still leaning forward over the table, and you rubbed your palms together as more and more spit slathered over your asshole and cunt. Coated with lube, your palms found the long, stiff strap-on of one of your captors. You found a rhythm, saturating it with gel. Once, it glistened, she traded places with her sister. You lubed this new domina while the other dribbled spit down your cunt lips.

She was the one who slide into you first. You felt yourself open for her - for her strap-on cock. It didn't tear and burn like when the pawns fucked you. The mass of her simply slid into you, filling you. You moaned for her as she filled you, as she rotated her hips and drove them forward.

The trade-off was smooth and fast, one sister traded for the other. One powerful set of pumping hips for another. They traded back and forth, pulling your hair and fucking you, until you were Mother Night, orgasming for them.

Your new captor is dragging you by your hair, but you continue telling your tale.

"One of the older women had me next. Her dildo was longer and it had ... ridges, bumps, knobs. It was meant to hurt me, and it did. I could feel it assaulting the most sensitive parts of my cunt. She said she loved my throaty screaming. After her, they passed around. They took their time making sure each one had a chance with me.

Your body was at their mercy, beaten and limp. They could have done what they wanted, and they did. Some kissed you and tousled your hair, treating you like a lover. Some choked you, and choked you, and choked you until your eyes fluttered and grew vacant. Some choked you until you passed out.

One - a mature blond in a catsuit that mimicked yours - cupped your face and gently showered kisses on your skin. "You are perfection," she whispered.

"Are you my slut?" she asked. "Of course," you whispered.

"Lay down on the board so that you can give yourself to my sisters," she whispered.

"Let me!" said one of the younger women. She was suddenly beside you, being just as gentle as the last woman. "Shhhhhh," she hissed and you melted into her arms. She pulled you to one of the massive boards and laid you out.

Another woman in a sleek catsuit climbed up on to the table with you. She smiled broadly and brought her lips down to yours. As she captured your lower lip in her mouth, you felt her press her mound against yours. You felt her start to grind her hips.

"She started slowly at first. I could feel her mound, even her clit, pressing into my vulva. She moved faster, then faster. She found just where she wanted to be, her lips riding the crease of mine. I was ... I so spent, but I came for her. She tribbed me. She fucked me with her cunt until I came again," you tell your captor.

The Black Queen who tribbed you cupped your face and let her mouth melt against yours. Even now, in the clutches of the man who is using you as toy, you remember how your clit hardened and throbbed as she raped it with hers. Her mouth was hot and needy. Her cunt was gushing. The power of the queens had engulfed you, and broken your will. They made lust consume you.

“I love how big you cunt lips are,” the woman smiled, parting from your mouth. She was still riding your camel toe.

Your body was limp and you were at her mercy. You were Mother Night, used as a toy.

Next, a blond in a white catsuit grabbed your hair and pulled you upright. She paused for a moment, looking you up and down.

"She seemed fascinated by my breasts. She grabbed let go of my hair and took hold of them. It ... It felt like my tits were trapped in a machine or something. I ... I couldn't even scream. The pain ... When she finally released me, she ... she slapped me."

You remember how the lights went out in your head. It was a single slap with an open hand, but it left you tumbling back into darkness.

"And when you awoke, there was nothing," he laughs.

"I was alone on the chess board. I started to move," you say.

You started to move back then, only to feel the of the Queens' magic. You heard the word "Crawl. Crawl like a bitch." Your body was compelled to do as told. Aching, your head down, you crawled on all fours from one side of the board to the other. You crawled until you felt something snap around your wrists. It was tight and unforgiving.

Something wrapped around your neck. Something wrapped around your waist.

"There were chains out of nowhere," you explain."It was their magic. They ... these chains just held me in place. Then there were hands."

The hands. You felt something, then another something, then another grabbing every inch of your body. They pulled your hair and grabbed your breasts. They pushed themselves into your mouth and pinched hard on your clit. The choked you until you felt yourself about to blackout again.

"And how did they finish you off, slut?" you new dom asks you.

The chess board started to hiss, to heat, to bubble. What was solid and smooth started to shift and soften. The chains were gone and the hands were gone, but the board had you. Steaming hot black-and-white fluid bubbled around you. It splashed on your face. Your hands, your legs, all of you began sinking into what had been the giant chess board.

"They turned it into some sort of sucking liquid ... some sort of quick sand," you tell him.

"It consumed me whole."