Chapter 9
The guards have come to the realization that you enjoy most of the abuse they've been heaping on you. That led them to start searching out more and more depraved ways to torture and use you, in hope of finding your breaking point.
One of them stumbled across the work of Dolcett on the internet and wondered if they could do it to you.
As much as the idea of impaling you on a spit and roasting you alive sounded like fun they decided they have to keep you alive. Too much paperwork if you die. And besides they're having far too much fun torturing you to have it end so soon.
Instead, they decide that they are going to impale you in the spit and roast you but only for half an hour.
There's a company picnic coming up for the 4th of July so it's the perfect time to barbecue you.
The picnic is being held in a clearing in the woods. It's warm and sunny and all the guards are relaxed, drinking, and happy. It would be a wholesome scene except for the naked sissy slut bound to the trees at the edge of the clearing. Standing, spread eagled, wrists and ankles tied to two trees.
The fire pit has been lit. They're just waiting for the fire to burn down and the coals to get hot.
While you're waiting to be "cooked" the warm summer breezes caress your naked, slutty, thicc body. Your nipples have grown hard, and your pathetic little cock is starting to stir too.
As the fire starts to die down your untied and led to the picnic table and told to climb up onto it. On your hands and knees, ass in the air, they start to prepare you for roasting.
Your hair is soaked and tied up. Herbs and onions are shoved into your boipussy. For flavour. An apple is pushed into your mouth. Not so much for flavour but only to make you look a like a roasting piglet.
They make you lay flat on the table and a large, round, stake is laid the length of your body. Ropes soon secure you to it. A wooden Frame is laid across your shoulders and you're soon bound to it as well. Lastly, a thick, long wooden stake is pushed deep into your gaping cunt and attached to the spit.
The entire time they're preparing you the guards talk about you in the 3rd person. They refer to you as "her" sometimes, but usually, "it".
Two burly guards grab each end of the spit and hoist you off the table. It's uncomfortable, but not quite painful. More than anything it's humiliating. You're a piece of meat, yet again, for their amusement. This time quite literally.
The heat hits you immediately when they put the spit in its rack. A small motor is going to rotate you over the fire, just like a fucking animal to be consumed.
It doesn't take long for the heat to start making you dizzy and light headed. It's also turning you on.
The heat licking at your useless cock with each rotation. The guards laughing at you and enjoying the spectacle.
After a few minutes they break out the barbecue sauce and start pouring it all over your limp body. Covering you, head to toe in sticky sweet sauce. A bottle gets shoved up your ass and the sauce pours in to mix with the other ingredients already inside you.
You've lost track of time. You're hoping you don't have to endure too much more. You can feel your cock and balls starting to singe. Your tits are glowing hot. The pain is becoming almost too much to take. Your screams and pleading are muffled by the apple in your mouth. Not that any of them would take pity and offer you relief.
The last thing you remember hearing, before you passed out, is one of them saying "Three more minutes and then we'll take the meat off the fire."
You're awakened by a bucket of cold water being thrown on you. Every inch of your body feels like it's been sunburnt. To make matters worse you're covered in sticky sweet barbecue sauce.
The guards want to get you cleaned up a little before the next stage of the festivities bit there's no hose to spray you down with. Then a brilliant idea emerges.
You're tossed on the ground, still tied to the spit, and the four dogs that have been hanging around are called over. They quickly begin licking the sticky sweet sauce off of you. Their rough tongues dragging across your burnt body is agonizing. Because you're a sick fuck, you like it. You start to moan and wiggle around to give the dogs access to more of you. Especially your pathetic little cock.
A couple of the guards notice what you're doing and start to laugh. They point out to everyone that you're fucking enjoying it. Everyone agrees that you're the most depraved, filthy, amoral, piece of fuck meat they've ever seen. They're excited about it. It means they can do anything to you. No matter how depraved, degrading, disgusting, violent, or taboo.
While they are chatting about what to do next, one of the dogs lifts his leg and starts pissing on you. The hot stream feels scalding on your burnt skin. It splashes across your stomach and chest. Some of it gets up around your neck and you open your mouth, hoping to be able to drink some of it to relieve your incredible thirst.
Everyone has gone silent, watching in amazement. When the second dog starts pissing on your chest you wiggle around to take it in the face. The hot dog piss in your mouth giving you relief from the thirst and a fantastic thrill at being able to be so fucking filthy. It's at that moment that the last 2 dogs start pissing all over your hard, but pathetic, cock. Your moans of pleasure leave the guards, and their wives, laughing and cheering.
Because it's the 4th of July the guards have brought along a bunch of flags, firecrackers and decorations to celebrate the day.
The dogs have licked you clean and lost interest in pissing on you so everyone is looking for a new amusement.
It's time to do some decorating.
You're untied from the spit and another bucket of ice cold water is thrown on your limp body. As you lay there, dazed, aroused, humiliated, you wonder what fucked up thing they could possibly have in mind.
A kick to the ribs gets you on your back. A couple more kicks and you're spread eagle in the grass.
One of the wives has brought a bunch of small flags. The paper ones with a wooden stick. She wants to shove them in your piss hole. The only problem is you've gone limp. It would be much easier if your clit was hard. It only takes her a moment to figure out how to get you hard again. She drops her panties, lifts her dress, squats over your face and starts to piss. It works like a charm. You can't help yourself. You open your slut mouth and drink it all down as quickly as you can. The shame and humiliation does what it was intended to do. Your useless cock is nice and hard again.
With her cunt still firmly pressed to your face she begins sliding the stick of the flag down into your cock. You're so embarrassed and ashamed at how much you're loving this treatment.
She manages to push two more flags into your pisshole. As she hops off your face she tells you to get the fuck up. You're exhausted and hesitant. A quick kick in the head and a slap across the face gets your moving. Your struggle to your feet.
She instructs you to show everyone how patriotic you are and to start waving the flags. Your efforts aren't even close to what she wants and she kicks you in the ass, over and over, making you stumble around, and making your faggot clit wiggle. The laughter from the crowd is so fucking humiliating and you wonder what the fuck is wrong with you that you love it.
That's when someone suggests that they should tun you into a proper flag pole.
Chapter 10

Having grown tired of watching your futile attempts to wave the little flags jammed in your pisshole the wives have decided to turn you into a “proper” flag pole.

A shovel is tossed at your feet and you’re ordered to start digging. They want a hole two feet deep and 3 feet wide. And you had better hurry the fuck up. Your efforts are decent to being but because of all the abuse you’ve endured so far today you start to tire and slow down. A crack of the whip then the sting as it bites into your ass. You dig faster. Another crack and another stripe across your sissy ass. You don’t speed up digging but your clit starts to involuntarily grow. This prompts laughter and ridicule from the guards, and particularly, the women. They can’t believe just how much of a pathetic, pain and abuse craving, sissy slut you really are.

Before too long the hole is complete. She shoves you to your knees at the edge of the hole, facing it. Turning to one of the other wives she says, “Jenn, bring the big flag and pole over here. We’re going to do this up right. Real patriotic.” She shoves you forward, so that you fall into the hole. Because of the size of the hole only your upper body fits. Your ass is in the air, sticking straight up. Completely gaping and exposed.

As she hands over the flagpole Jenn says, “I don’t think it’s going to fit. It’s way to big.” It’s not going to matter if it’s too big or not. One way or another it’s going in your cunt. Lubed, dry. No one cares.

The fat, wooden, flag pole is pushed up against the entrance to your cunt and pressure is slowly applied. It’s starting to work its way in. You do your best to relax and push out, to get the pole in your cunt without too much pain and tearing. It helps, but there is still so much of the huge pole to go.

She starts to lose patience with the progress and starts shoving harder and harder. Your cries for her to please stop are, obviously, ignored and you’re told to shut the fuck up and take it. You’re reminded that you’re only there to entertain them. Your pain doesn’t matter. Besides, she says, your hard clit says you’re enjoying it. She makes you admit you like it. You have to yell, loudly, for everyone to hear, that you like having the flag pole shoved up your ass.

Jenn starts to help. Between the two of them they’re able to force the pole deep into your cunt. Judging by how full you feel, you think there’s about two feet of hard wood up inside you. You’re ashamed of yourself for being proud of how much you can take.

Once it’s firmly in place a flag is attached to pole. It gently unfurls in the breeze. The wind playing with the cloth makes the pole move around in your cunt, pushing it from side to side. It feels like the wind is fucking you.

Your told that you cannot let the flag fall. It’s disrespectful. If it falls you’ll be beaten unconscious.
The group goes back to drinking, snacking and playing games, leaving you there. An object to amuse them.
After about half an hour you notice the dogs are sniffing around you, curious as to why you’re there. Realizing you’re not moving much they conclude you’re not a person and start pissing on you, like they would any tree, bush or shrub. At first they piss on your ass, because the flag pole is a natural place for them to piss. Eventually though they piss on your shoulders, back and face. Because you’re in the hole it’s really convenient for them to piss all over you.
Everyone sees it happening but there’s no way they’re going to stop it. It’s way too funny. Hell, not only are they not going to stop it, they’re going to join in. For the next hour you endure an almost non-stop rain of piss. All over your back and ass, all over the back of your head. In your face. So much in your face. Each time someone pisses in your face you open your mouth and drink in as much as you’re able. You try to be subtle about it so they don’t see you drinking it but eventually you’re caught. It’s decided that if you’re going to do that you might was well be a urinal for them for the rest of the evening. From that point on all of the piss, and theres so much because of all the beer drinking, is aimed at your mouth.
The sun is starting to fade from the sky. The coming darkness signals the next stage of the days festivities. The fireworks display is going to be amazing this year!

Jamilla’s crucifixion

Jamilla was already awake when the sunlight entered her cell. After the Romans had captured her a week ago at the villa of her master, they had locked her up in there. They had stripped her and tied her up tightly, her hands behind her back, she was forced to sit here in this dark cell. She have had a lot of time to think about what has happened, and, more important, the things to come. At first she had been scared to death by the thought of being crucified, but right now she had found peace with it. Jamilla knew what she had done, and she also knew that she deserved nothing better. There was no doubt that, if she was to be killed, it would happen out there for every one to see. She was just to beautiful to let her die in here. After all she was the most beautiful girl in and around the city, In fact the thought of starving in here scared her even more than a public humiliation. Being tied up all the time and at least raped and tortured, imagine taht! No, no, all well considered, crucifixion was the best she could hope for. At least her pain would be over in a few days instead of years. She didn’t dare to think that the soldiers wouldn’t come for her.

But then the door opened and a couple of men gave entered her cell and removed the ropes from her hands and feet. Jamilla felt some sort of relief when she left the cell. They would not let her starve. Thus far she had been very lucky. It was only now that she realized that nobody had abused her until now. She wasn’t raped, she hadn’t been whipped. The fact of being nude don’t scare her, as a slave girl she has experienced this form of humilation many times, it was usual for the female to walk nude trough the city up tot he crucifixion side, while the men are allowed to wear a loincloth.

As they came out of the dark hallways into the inner yard of the camp, Jamilla spotted a long, thin, wooden cross lying on the ground. “Pick it up!” one of the soldiers said. Jamilla walked towards the cross and lifted it on her shoulder. There was no use in trying to resist, which would only make it worse for her. Two soldiers came standing next to her and one of them hung a wooden plate around her neck with her name, her age and her crime carved in it. Jamilla expected them to push her forward in to the streets of the city, but they didn’t. Both of the soldiers were looking at a little door behind them. As Jamilla looked at it as well, she saw an other soldier coming out with a hammer, a ladder and a basket with nails. Long heavy spikes…

“So it ’s going to be a full nailing” Jamilla said to herself. Until now she had hoped that they would only use ropes or at least only nail her hands, but as she could count more than two nails, she knew she wouldn’t be that lucky. The soldier loaded the gear on a donkey and the other two gave Jamilla a gentile push on her shoulder. “Let’s go.” They said and the campgates opened.

Jamilla carried her cross through the narrow streets of the city. It wasn’t very heavy but despite the early hour the sun was already shining hot. As she came closer to the crucifixion site, more and more people were watching and following her, yelling things at her. She noted the views of the men, on her slim body, her well-shaped breasts, with the long nipples. Her master has pierced them years ago, she has to wear rings there, and the nipples has grown considerably. Except her long hair, her body has been shaved completely, even if the pubic hair has started to grow back, her crotch is visible for everyone.

“Look at you, you stupid basterds,” Jamilla said to herself “ shouldn’t you be working? No you just want to see me suffer, you want to hear me scream on the cross, you want to see the extreme fear in my eyes when they nail me to it. Well screw you! You think I’m afraid but I’m not, you think I’ll beg them for mercy, beg them not to nail my feet, but you’re wrong, wrong, wrong! I won’t. In fact I’ll show you that it doesn’t scare me, I’ll show you how a proud girl faces her destiny!”

As she took the last turn to the marketplace, Jamilla felt this strange sensation in her underbelly. She knew she was walking her last few steps ever. On the market place, one of the soldiers gave the order to stop right in the middle of the square. She let her cross slip to the ground, took a few steps back and looked at the people that came to see her humiliation. One soldier held a hand on her shoulder and took back the wooden plate as the other one unpacked the gear. The third one began to declare her verdict and why she deserved it. During that time Jamilla realized that the strange feeling in her underbelly wasn’t fear as she thought it was, but pleasure. Her crotch has become wet, she noticed it. Every single person on the square wanted to see her young, nude body exposed on the cross. She knew she turned on every man that came to see her today, but none of them would ever have her. She would remain an unreachable ideal forever. She knew she could give them a spectacle they would never forget, that would make every other women look like durt.

Right now Jamilla realized that her time had come. The third soldier reached the end of his speech.

Jamilla knew what she had to do, she would show the crowd she was not afraid. Slowly she walked towards the cross, looking at the soldiers. Then she turned around, looked at he crowd and went lying down on her cross. Before one of the soldiers could grab her, she placed both of her wrists on the crossbeam, waiting for the nails.

The soldier that was going to nail her held back his two accompagnons. “No, no, don’t grab her. I want to see if she really can take this.” Jamilla looked at him as he put the first heavy spike right on top of her wrist. There was no one holding her wrists in place, yet she did not pulled them away, when the soldier raised his hammer for the first blow. Jamilla looked closely as the point of the first nail was driven into her wrist. “Aagh!” The pain was more than unbearable, it didn’t just stay in her wrist. Like water spilled on a flat stone, the pain started to run in various directions, all through her body. Yet the nail had only cut a few muscles and flesh. Right now he was only pushing on her wristbones, slightly driving them apart. As much as Jamilla was suffering, she couldn’t move her arms. She could only watch how the hammer came down a second time. This time the nail crushed her wristbones. Jamilla could feel the couldnes of the steel against her bones. Again she could not hold back a short scream. The pain had now turned into a supernatural form of agony. One of the soldiers who was standing next to the cross, noticed how Jamilla was rubbing her beautiful bare feet over the sand in a useless attempt to lighten the pain. Although the nail hadn’t reached the beam yet, she managed to keep her tortured wrist in place. Her most beautiful body was already covered with sweat when the hammer came down for the third time. Finally the nail came out of her wrist again and made his first contact with the crossbeam. Jamilla felt a bit relieved because she thought the wrist part was over. Once the nail was through, it would be easier to bare. But she was wrong. The hardness of the wood made it very hard to finish the job. The executioner needed six more blows to get her wrist fully nailed to the beam, every blow causing Jamilla more and more pain in addition to the already unbearable agony…

At the first blow, Jamilla had pulled back her second wrist. “Aagh!” A short scream escaped her mouth every time the nail went deeper. Finally the last blow was given and the executioner stood up. Shortly he admired his work, then he walked over to the other side of the beam to nail her other wrist. Jamilla didn’t know how she did it, but she had managed not to cry. Although only one of the four nails was in place, she was already covered with sweat. She looked at her unnailed wrist once more, then she placed it on the crossbeam as she saw the executioner approached with the second nail. He looked at her beautiful young face while he went across her wrist with his fingers to locate the bones. When he found the right spot, he place the nail on it, held his hammer high up in the sky. Then he waited for a moment to see if Jamilla really wouldn’t pull down her arm now that she knew what it felt like to have one nailed wrist. Then he started his horrible job.

Jamilla thought she knew what she had to expect, but no one could ever get used to a sudden explosion of pure pain like that. Again her short screams filled the air, again her beautiful bare feet rubbed against the sand, but yet the agony seemed like at least a thousand times worse. Again she felt how the nail crushed some of her bones and drove others apart. It was in this pure sensation of nothing-but-absolute-agony- that Jamilla realized something strange. With every blow she screamed her little “AaAgh’s” as a message to every one on the square that she couldn’t take it any more. But now she realized, as her pain reached a new, horrible peak with every other blow that she wanted more. Though the agony made it quite impossible to keep her wrist in place, as long as the nail hadn’t pinned it to the wood, Jamilla realized she was able to do so, because she loved it. From this moment one, she could kill and love the executioner for what he was doing to her at the same time. She hated and admired him because he was able of hurting her like this. Though her agony reached unknown hights with every blow, she couldn’t wait for the next one. She watched closely how the nail disappeared deeper into her wrist and into the wood. When the executioner stood up after the nailing, Jamilla felt relieved and disappointed at the same time. Her body was under tension, shivering, excited, despite the heat her nipples remain hard all the time, and she notes that her juice has started to leak.

Jamilla looked at her beautiful nude body as the soldiers made preparations to pull up the cross. With her arms spread out like this above her head and her legs a bit opened to feel the sand under her feet for the last time, both her beautiful small breasts with their long and hard nipples and shaven pubic were exposed to the crowd. Yet Jamilla felt no shame, she felt only pain and a deep desire for more pain. Two soldiers were tying ropes to both ends of the crossbeam while the third one was placing some small pieces of wood at the bottom of the longpole so that the cross wouldn’t slide over the sand when they tried to raise it. Then they attached the ropes to their donkey as well. Then the executioner kneeled down at Jamilla’s feet. He grabbed them by the ankles and measured the length of her legs. He placed her feet on the longpole, right next to each other, so that her legs were slightly bent. He looked at it, changed the pose a bit, released her feet and carved a little bit of wood out of the pole, where he wanted her feet to be when he nailed them. Jamilla had observed his actions very well. For a moment she thought he was going to nail her feet before they raised the cross. She had loved the feeling of his hand around her feet. The two soldiers made the donkey pull up the cross while the executioner made sure the longpole would slip into the hole that was dug for it. As they raised her cross and her feet left the ground for the last time, Jamilla felt how her weight was no longer carried by the thin longpole but only by the two spikes that pierced her wrists. She had to scream. Little yelps of both extreme agony and pleasure escaped her mouth while the donkey was raising her cross. As her cross was almost in a complete vertical position, Jamilla spotted the carve made by the executioner to indicate the intended position of her feet. While the soldiers were making sure the cross wouldn’t fall back if they cut the ropes, Jamilla tried out her final footpose. With her feet against the longpole and her legs opened widely because of the roundness of the longole, she decided that it was both a humiliating and an exciting pose. Jamilla looked at her elegant ankles and her adorable toes. Soon her most beautiful feet would be nailed. To feel once more the pain of really hanging on a cross, she moved her legs away from the longpole, so that they were just hanging on either side of it. Now the executioner placed his ladder against the cross and climbed up to fulfill his duty.

As the executioner reached the final step of the ladder, Jamilla lowered her left foot and placed it right on the spot the executioner wanted it to be. He put the nail right on the most central spot of her foot, slightly adapted its pose so that the toes were really pointing towards the ground. Then he began the nailing. Once again Jamilla experienced a wave of fresh agony running through her body. Again she felt how the nail pushed against the bones of her foot and crushed them with the second blow. Again she let out her little yells every time the nail went a bit deeper. Even when the nail entered the wood after the third blow, she didn’t dare to put any weight on it. Her foot was causing her the same amount of agony as both her wrists. Oooh, she loved crucifixion right now; She thanked the people that invented this heavenly torture from the bottom of her heart as the final blows were given. As the executioner finished the nailing of her left foot, Jamilla felt a bit sad. Now her other foot was the only thing left. After that, her agony would slowly fade away … So she put her other foot right next to her nailed one. The executioner brought out the last nail. Jamilla closed her eyes as her bully raised his hammer. Very intensely she tried to analyze the waves of pain that were caused by the final spike. As the bones of her right foot were crushed she couldn’t hold back a small yelp. Also when she felt how the nail tore the skin of here sole apart, she simply had to release a little “ Ôah!” As the nail was driven further into her foot and the wood of the longpole, Jamilla first realized she was being put to death in the most cruel, horrible and agonizing way known in the whole of the Roman Empire, and that she just loved it. The soldier smashed the nail a bit deeper for the last time. Then he went down a few steps and nailed the wooden plate that quoted Jamill’s crime, name and age to the longpole, right underneath her beautiful, nailed feet. “Jamilla, twenty one year old, blonde slave, murder, theft and arson.” Then he stepped down, took away his ladder and together with one of his fellows he went back to the camp. The third one staid to guard Jamilla so that no one would get her down of there.

Although it had seamed a lot longer, her crucifixion had only taken half an hour. Now most of the spectators resumed their work on the market. For Jamilla, the real horror of crucifixion was about to begin. Right now she realized that the pain in her wrists became too much to bare, even for someone who loved it, so Jamilla had to push up on her feet. Putting her entire weight on the nails piercing her feet caused her a wonderful amount of pain, yet she had to let go, if she didn’t want to faint, and she fell back on her wrists. But very soon, again, the pain in her wrists forced her to retry the push up. The Romans had spiked her in a very ingenious way. By bending her legs just a little bit, Jamilla had to face the problem where to put her weight, but she couldn’t suffocate that easy. As she looked around to see what the other people who had watched her crucifixion were doing. Some people were still looking at her, pointing out to each other how well she was nailed. Jamilla herself was also admiring the work of her bully. While she was at it, she saw that she wasn’t bleeding as much as she thought. The only blood Yamilla saw was the blood that had run out of the wounds when the nails were still driven in. Meanwhile the soldier that staid behind walked over to the fountain and took a drink. He didn’t return to the cross but went strait to one of the stalls on the market. He decided to watch over her from there, in the shadow. On the cross, Jamilla was exposed to the sun. Very slowly her bronzed skin was burning. As she saw the guard take a drink, Jamilla became aware of her own thirst. She wondered whether she could ask for some water as well. After a while her thirst became so big she decided to risk it. “Can…can I have some water to, please…?” she moaned. The guard fulfilled her request and put a cup filled with water on the top of his spear. Jamilla drunk it all and asked for more several times, especially around noon when the sun was burning every drop of liquid out of her.

Jamilla now realized that the pain wasn’t fading away at all. She didn’t know why but the spikes kept hurting her as much as they did when they were driven into place. She looked once more to the nails piercing her body. As she could clearly feel, al four of them were smashed through some bones. “I wonder…” she thought. Jamilla tried to move her fingers, but some of them didn’t react to her command. Also her toes weren’t completely movable. The sight of the spikes entering her feet and wrists fascinated her. Jamilla tried to reach the head of the nails in her wrists. Her fingers could only touch the top of the nails. Her excitement still remains, and her crotch has started to leak, she notes the liquid running down the lips, and the it drops down to the sand.

As the sun went down and the market became empty, Jamilla first realized she would never leave her cross again. Even her corpse would be left up there after she died. She wondered what it would be like, if she died. Would she pass out and never awake again? She didn’t know.

Jamilla’s first night on the cross was filled with agony. There was now way of getting some sleep up there. If the pain didn’t keep her awake, then the coldness of the night would make sure she didn’t sleep. The hours passed slowly, way to slowly, but when Jamilla finally thought she was used to it, the first rays of sunlight announced a new day….

As the market became crowded again, people returned to her cross to see how she was doing. "You 're realy enjoying this, aren't you?" Jamilla managed to ask her public. Of course they did. "Guess what," Jamilla moaned as a reply, "so do I..."

According to some spectators who had seen a few crucifixions already, Jamilla was “dancing” real nice. She was pushing herself up on the spikes piercing her feet and falling back on her wrists al the time. Even if she didn’t had to push up to get some fresh air, she still forced herself to do so. It largely increased her pain. It was her second day on the cross, but Jamilla felt far from exhausted. Now she knew why she hadn’t been raped or whipped: If she were still strong when they nailed her to her cross, she would last longer. Once again Jamilla looked at her beautiful body. The nails fascinated her, how they disappeared in her wrists and feet. Only four nails, but they put her in hell. Right now the thought crossed her mind that despite of the fact that she had been drinking quite a lot yesterday, she didn’t have to pee. The sun burned away every single drop of liquid, even the water from the fountain. In the afternoon, Jamilla felt how she was becoming weaker and weaker, how the pain slowly faded. Right now she wished she could live through it al again, from the cell, to the first nail, the moment of triumph when she exposed her completely nude body to the overwhelmed crowd, the nailing of her wrists and feet, her complete crucifixion. Later that day Jamilla lost conscience. She didn’t saw how a rich salesman paid of the guarding soldier and ordered his men to get Jamilla down from her cross. She didn’t even realized the nails were pulled out.

Jamilla looked out of the window as the sun came up. Six months had passed since her crucifixion. Her wounds had completely healed. The salesman had dropped her of at one of his houses in a small village while she was still unconscious. An other girl slave had told her everything. She had never seen him until now. He was standing in the inner yard, saying goodbye to someone. Then he entered Jamilla’s room. “You’re so beautiful” he said. “You’re so beautiful that you can ask me anything. Ask me and I’ll do it!” Jamilla looked at him as he touched her face. “Well, there is one thing you could do…” She answered.

Later that morning, the entire village watched how Jamilla publicly undressed herself. Completely nude, she walked over to the cross and went lying down on it. She smiled at the salesman as he approached with the hammer and the nails. “Nail me!” she said.

I must confess that I know my lover reads the boards here and he knows I do the same. It's both titillating and nerve wracking, as a woman always wonders what kinds of trouble her man might go looking for, but I do my best to be well-adjusted about it and understanding. I mean, I have my little bit of strange I'm into, so why shouldn't he? That doesn't mean I don't think about what I would do if I caught him doing more than he would ever be comfortable with me doing here...

I guess that's where the fantasy aspect of it comes into play. If I ever caught him exchanging more personal information, getting a little one-on-one time with a chic here, I would find ways to punish him with my body that would leave him never wanting to fuck around anywhere else in any way. I fantasize about waking up late at night, finding him hunched over both computer and phone, one open to email and the other text, pictures and messages from other girls spread across both, and his dick visibly hard. I would grab him by the hair at the base of his neck, pull his head back, and demand to know what the hell he thinks he's doing. I would walk around to the front of the chair, still using his hair as a handle, and force him to look at me while I shove his computer out of his lap and his phone to the floor. I sleep naked, so he would be forced to face me, him clothed and me not, while I accusingly inquire as to what those sluts have that I don't, and again, using his hair as handle, make him eye every inch of my well-curved, naked body. His wide eyed stare would take in my round 32D breasts, no longer pushed up by a bra, but sitting tantalizing ripe and full, no restraint. His eyes would slide down along the smooth indentation of my waist, lingering where the swell of my hips begins, then continue to mark the slight growth of hair at my pussy, just barely grown back from the last brazilian. His gaze would begin wandering down my legs before his eyes shift back to my pussy and my tits, and I would accusingly growl, "That's right. Get your fill, motherfucker. I'm about to fuck any other bitch's body and words out of your head."

Grabbing his hand, I'd drag him back to the bedroom, push him down on the bed, him stammering out apologies, explanations, anything to try to keep me from doing anything too rash. Once on the bed, I'd slowly crawl my way up his body, hands positioned just outside the line of his body, on the bed, with my nipples dragging slowly up his legs, his torso, his chest, until they were positioned just above his lips and almost eye-level. I can feel his cock begin to stir again and harden against the length of my body as I hover, wanting to suffocate him with my tits. Before giving into that desire, I crawl the rest of the way up his body, straddle his face, tops of my feet pressing down on his chest as I use my knees to keep his head focused up the length of me. "Any last words before I ride your face and obliterate your dirty fucking mind?" He'd shake his head as much as my knees and thighs allow and then I'd smother him with my pussy.

I can feel his lips hungrily working at my clit, and I angle my ass back some to give him greater access. I grind my hips in a circle eight, clit catching just the edge of his teeth as he opens his mouth to begin licking at my now swollen lips. Using the headboard as leverage, I gyrate against his mouth, sliding up to his nose, circling it with my clit and dipping it just a bit into my pussy, before sliding back down the lower part of his face, rubbing against the scruff of his chin. The friction is amazing and I can tell that he's forgetting this is a form of punishment. His hands release their grip on the sheets to steady my hips. He's aiming for a better position for himself and his enjoyment, but this isn't about what he wants. I force his hands off my hips, reposition myself at the best angle for my release, and ride his face until he is soaked with my pussy juice and panting from the punishing rhythm I'm keeping. He begins to groan, which I know means he's so fucking hard it's almost painful, but I'm a long way from easing that pain. He continues to groan, licking and sucking on my clit and pussy lips like his life depends on it (which, in some ways, it kinda does at this point), and I begin to feel that building momentum and heat. I slide down again to the scruff on his chin, taking a moment to revel in the friction that's building. He realizes that I'm closing to coming, works his hands free, and grabs my hips to angle my pussy right on his mouth as he tongues me until I cum, clawing at the headboard to keep myself mostly upright. My breathing is ragged, but I'm nowhere near satisfied.

I glance over my shoulder towards his cock, and I see it is fully curved forward, straining its length across his belly. I want to torture it with tongue and mouth, keeping him on the brink, dick so hard he can't even think straight, until he is begging for me to finish him. Considering the best way to do this, I shift off of his face, sit by his right side, and face the length of his body. Without straddling him again (I don't want to get too distracted), I grab the base of his cock with my left hand and smoothly and fully slide my mouth down the length of him, lips sealed around him until they meet my hand. I balance myself with my other hand and begin to pull my way gently up his cock, savoring just how fucking hard he is. I begin with a slow rhythm. My hand pulls up on his shaft while my mouth slides down it. I keep this slow pace until my hand is dripping with saliva because he is so fucking hard it's literally making me drool. Carefully, I draw my lips back a little, letting my teeth graze his dick. I catch the base of his head a little as I come up, circle it with my tongue, then slide my mouth back down his length, teeth grazing the whole way down. Holding my hair with my left hand, I turn my body until he can clearly see what I'm doing. Giving him this view, I begin to slide more quickly up and down his cock, teeth still lightly grazing, but toward the base, I seal my lips around his dick and shove him as far into my mouth and throat as I can. I can feel my eyes water as he touches my throat, and I swallow. I fucking love the feel of him so hard in my mouth, my throat trying to close around and swallow up his dick. Exhaling heavily, I slide back up to his head. He is so hard it's purple and so slick from my mouth. I meet his eyes, and they're wide, so wide, and his breathing is hitched and catching; hard exhales and long, breathy inhales. I can read his body so well and he needs to be fucked.

Sliding my mouth down the length of his dick one last time, I shift my body again, this time facing my ass toward him and straddling his waist. I drop his dick from my mouth and it bounces against his belly. I inch my hips and ass down his body, catching his dick in one hand while bracing myself on his right leg with the other, and I shove myself onto him, hard. I can feel his dick hit the end of me, and I begin to ride him. I force myself to keep a punishing rhythm, up and down, hard, hard, hard, feeling his balls tighten up and hit my clit. I adjust my hips so my ass is back a little farther and I feel his hands come up and grab my hips. He's trying to push them back straighter so he can get a deeper angle, but I keep with the angle I've got. I want to feel as much of his balls against my clit as I can for as long as I can take it. The pressure is beginning to build again and I want him to cum when I do, so I let his hands adjust my hips. By now he is practically sitting up, shoving me down on his cock, while I brace myself with my hands, down around his legs. His hips are lifting as he forces his way further and further into my body.

At the last minute, I decide this isn't what I want, so I slide off him. He makes a noise like, "Whaaa?" wondering what the fuck I'm doing, but he sees that I'm going for one of my favorite positions, face down, ass up. He immediately gets to his knees, fits himself behind me, and slams his way into my tight pussy. From this position he hits all the right spots and I'm almost certain that if he keeps it up, I'm going to squirt. He slams into me, harder and harder. So hard that I'm whimpering, moaning, begging him to fuck me, fuck me so hard that I cum screaming. His rhythm is speeding up, shifting, and he's getting a little ragged around the edges. Just as I think he's going to beat me to it, he rams into me one more time and I'm over the edge. I can feel my pussy squeezing him as he pumps into me, once, twice, and then I can't control it anymore. I can feel that extra wetness rising and his balls and thighs get soaked by my pussy. As he realizes what happens, he slams into me again, and it keeps my orgasm going. My legs are shaking, but I don't care. I can barely keep my ass in the air anymore, but the bed is now soaked. I feel him slam into me one more time, and we both topple over onto the bed, not giving a fuck how messy it's becoming.

He wraps his arms around me, pulling me back against the length of his chest. He kisses me and tells me how much he loves me, how he's sorry for crossing a line, but that he might just have to do it more if it means I'll fuck him like I just did. I don't know quite how to feel about that... I don't want him to message other chics... I mean, I'm right here, and if I can do this shit to him, what the hell does he need anyone else for? Right?

The perfect match

When he saw him the first time in the court of the capital, he was fascinated by her: A slim, elegant woman, with long, well-groomed hair. She always wore feminine and elegant dresses, and despite the cold at this height, she always wore sandals, without stockings. Although she was a descendant of one of the country's traditional families, she led a modest life, had a small car and often went to the market to shop, dressed in jeans and a sweater, and always with modest sandals on her perfect feet. He was fascinated by her appearance and dreamed of her feet and what she would do with them if she were her hostage one day.
And when the cuartel ordered to kidnap her, because her work as a human rights lawyer disturbed the business too much, he took over and was part of the team that entered the room of the small hotel where she slept during their stays in the capital. She was very happy to see that even though it was very cold at night, she was sleeping naked. Once again he was fascinated by her beauty, her long arms and legs, with fine and elegant hands and feet. Her breasts weren't very big, rather small and they hung a little bit. She had big nipples that were obviously raised from the cold. She was chloroformed and tied, rolled into a rug, and taken to the tropics to an isolated house in the country. There it is his turn to take care of her.
Two months have already passed, and from the day of the kidnapping, she remains tied to her wrists and ankles with soft and wide ropes, he himself took care of tying her, he tightened the ropes carefully, so tight so that she always noticed her ties. Her head remains hidden under a red hood, they put a large ball gag her mouth, and her eyelids were closed with black tape. And she was permanently naked all the time. He has explained the situation well to her, all for her safety and to prevent problems with her body and its needs.
Her regularly checks her for binding problems. The ropes with which the wrists and ankles are tied for so long have already irritated the skin there, which is red and chafed. Every movement of her hands and feet should cause her some pain.

Every morning he wakes up naked next to her, they sleep side by side in a bed. Feeling her body firm and warm at night causes him a massive erection, which lasts for a long time. As he begins to gently caress and kiss the woman next to him, she awakens as well. She likes this treatment, she begins to tremble weakly all over her body and when he touches her private lips, she notices that they are very wet. He massages her bound hands, which are swollen and feel cold. His penis seems to explode after a while, and he kneels close to her bound feet and after sucking and licking her toes he rubs his member between them, until he comes.
Then they get up and he brings her to the bathroom. He puts her in the shower, standing her up, which is not easy because she has difficulty staying upright. After removing the hood, he moistens her with warm water and soaps her entire body, cleans and dries it thoroughly. He brings her into the kitchen where she is placed onto a chair, her arms dangling over the back. He takes a rope and ties her hands and feet together, like in a hogtie, to prevent her from moving. He tightens the strings as tightly as possible and she moans into her gag. Then he kisses and caresses her, later getting ready in the bathroom, he showers, dresses, and starts making breakfast. He sits down on the table next to her and removes her gag. She sighs and opens her mouth, he feeds her and gives her to drink, water and coffee. After putting the gag back on, and the hood over her head, he unties her from the chair and brings her back to the bathroom to evacuate. He cleans her private parts carefully, her lips are swollen and moist and when he touches her there she trembles again. She has raised and hardened nipples almost all the time despite the heat here and it is clear that the situation is very hot for her. But until now he has not penetrated her and he is not going to do so, he just has to look at her, tied like this, no more.
During the days, he puts you in hogtie. The first time, when he brought her tied hands tied to her feet, she began to moan rapidly, because her muscles were tightly tensed, something she was not used to. He was cautious, he left a lot of space between her hands and feet and after an hour he untied her. After moving her to another place, he realized that her sheet was wet and it was clear to him: She also likes to be tied in this way! From that day on, the time she had to spend in hogtie has increased hour by hour and her ankles and wrists were brought together closer and closer. Now it is possible for her to stay tied like this all day, from breakfast to dinner, when she unties him. The fingers of her tied hands can now touch her heels with ease. She supports the strong tension in her arms, legs and back for a long time and when she begins to moan, he caresses her and kisses her, gives her to drink and washes her warm body with warm water. So the hours pass, and finally he dedicates himself to her feet, which are swollen, pale and very cold: He gives them a massage and after sucking her fingers he licks them completely with dedication. It is not long until she reaches an orgasm, with strong contractions throughout her body, and he quickly unleashes her. When the strong tension that tortures her body disappears, she stretches her legs and arms with an intense sigh. He prepares her for the night, gives her to eat and drink again, dries the sweat that covers her body and gives her a complete massage, from the feet to the head. She relaxes, stretches and he lies down next to her, embracing her in his arms, they both fall asleep quickly.
She is his perfect match. But how long is their relationship going to last? Nobody knows....;

Pauline The Slut - Part 33: All The Family 
 

The next morning my father pissed in my mouth forcing me to swallow before he showered and headed down for breakfast. By the time I went to breakfast everyone was on the beach. Donal came into the house and looked me up and down. He disappeared and came back with a lead. I'd fogotten that I was still wearing his collar. 
 

 I was stripped and forced to walk on all fours down to the beach as he led me by the lead. Everyone thought it was great fun as he paraded me in front of them and had me fetch a stick and perform tricks. It was so humiliating in front of everyone. 
  

 When he stopped my mother rubbed sun lotion into my body. I closed my eyes as she messaged the oil into my body she then turned me on to my back. When she finished she slipped her hand between my buttock and started to finger my anus. When I tried to get up she pushed me down with her other hand and said "Stay there slut." 
  

 Everyone was looking at us. Her oiled fingers easily slid in and out and it wasn't long before she was fisting my ass. I was screeching and grunting as she punched in and out. Every time she pulled out my body lifted off the sun lounger before she pushed back in again. Donal knealt in front of me, pulled my head up and offered his cock to my mouth. I opened and sucked him. He was followed by my father and then my husband. My mother didn't stop fisitng me until all three of them had cum. 
 

 When they'd finished with me, they all went into the sea for a swim. It took me some time to recover and struggle down to join them. We remained on the beach until lunch. The two naked twins served lunch on the patio. After lunch people lazed around outside while the twins cleared up.  
 

 I had fallen asleep on a sun lounger when I was awoken by severe pain in both my nipples. The naked twins were standing over me each pulling a nipple. "You're to come with us" one of them said and then grabbed my arm and dragged me into the house. No one else took any notice.  
 

 They brought me into a darkened room and tied me against the wall with my arms and legs spread eagled. They then attached two cylinders to my breasts with handles at the end. They turned on a projector and a film started to play on the opposite wall. There was a woman about my age being dragged from a house by four men. Two other men stood by the house door watching. The camera zoomed in on them. One, presumably her husband, was handed a bundle of $100 notes. "You will never see her again. We will see that she is well looked after." the second man said as they both laughed.  
  

 The next part of the film showed the woman tied to a bench and a man walk over to a fire and take out a burning branding iron. The woman started to scream and struggle against her ropes as the man walked behind her. The pain in her face was terrifying as he pressed the iron into her left buttock. Her screams reverberated around the room as you heard her skin sizzle from the burning heat. I looked away but one of the twins grabbed the handle on one of the breast cylinders and turned it. I screamed as sharp pins pierced my breasts. She forced me to look back at the screen as the woman's screams continued as she was turned over and the word slut tattooed on her labia.  
  

 The next scene showed the woman hanging from a bar and being tortured in ways I never thought manageable. I tried closing my eyes but the other twin turned the handle on the second cylinder repeating the piercing of my breast. My screams were competing with the woman on the screen. The film continued for another 30 minutes finishing with the woman's nipples been ripped from her breasts as she swung from two hooks.  
  

 My husband and father arrived as the film was ending. They started telling me how the woman's husband had sold her and described how the rest of her short life was spent. I was shaking as they continued explaining that if I did not follow their exact orders over the coming days the same thing would happen to me. They told me what was to happen over the next few days and how I was to act. They left the room as the twins removed the cylinders from my breasts, lowered me to the ground, squatted over me and urinated.  
  

 I went upstairs, showered and put on a pair of shorts and a bikini top as instructed by my husband. As I was heading back downstairs I met my mother. She was in a white summer dress. You could see she was wearing a bikini bottom underneath and nothing else. "Just do what you've been told and everything will be ok." She smiled. My husband and Beth were waiting down stairs. He was in a T-Shirt and shorts, she was still in her bikini.  
  

 We all sat on the patio watching Donal and Therese swimming until we heard a car come up the drive. Beth headed down to the sea while the three of us went inside. My mother went to the front door as my husband and I stayed out of sight.  
  

 Hello everyone." I heard my mother say and then I felt sick as I heard Anne and her daughters greet my mother. There was great joy and then as my husband and I went to the door I seen the blood drain from Anne's face. Her daughters, squealed with joy when they saw us.  
  

 " didn't know you were going to be here." Anne said coldly.  
  

 "Oh it was a surprise" I said. "Mom and Dad invited us."  
 

 "It will be great to have all the family together."my mother said "It's just such a pity that Jim couldn't make it."  
  

 Debbie, 20, the second eldest ran to my husband and hugged him. She always had a thing for him. He seemed to squeeze her a little too tight and Anne came over to gently push her away. Hannah, who had just turned 18 a few days earlier came over to us and hugged and kissed both of us.  
  

 "Where's Linda?" my father asked.  
   "She won't be here until early tomorrow." Hannah said. Linda was the eldest daughter, 22, working as a model and trying to make it as an actress. 
  

 Just them Donal and Therese arrived. The girls ran to them. "Why don't we bring the bags upstairs" my mother suggested. While the young ones headed down to the beach. We brought the bags upstairs. The girls were sharing a room with Therese.  
  

My father brought Anne's bag to his room. When Anne walked into the room she looked at him. Before she could say anything my husband and father dragged her to the bed and ripped her clothes from her body. She started to scream and begged my mother and me to help her but we didn't move.  
  

 "Suck this" my father demanded as he rammed his cock into her mouth while my husband got between her legs and fucked her. She tried to pull her head away from my father's cock but he grabbed her ears using them to force her mouth back to his cock. After some time they swapped positions. After giving her mouth and cunt a good pounding they began to cum. When they'd finished my mother got down between her legs and cleaned out her cunt while I fingered her ass.  
  

 Anne was in tears. The two men left and my mother and myself were left to explain everything to her.  

 
https://motherless.com/G8ACCD78
 

I confess that I like to go on websites like omegle and do the "Omegle Point Game".
I also like to go on the chat section and have fun. Today I went on and there were a large amount of racists. I am EXTREMELY against racism. I decided to let my anger out when me and the other guy both agreed that the person should burn in hell. This was the result:

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

Question to discuss:
your girl fucked a nigger..

You: thx
Stranger: Really now?
You: i would like to cut you open and burn your organs
You: while your alive
Stranger: Good for her.
Stranger: I heard they have big dicks.
You: you racist homo
You: awk...
You: we had a bit of different ideas...
Stranger: LEt's make fun of him a little
You: yes
You: but how...
Stranger: Well, it's easy.
Stranger: The fucker is watching rightn ow, unable to talk.
You: yes
Stranger: You can say whatever the hell you want to him!
You: and unable to skip the question
Stranger: Absolutely.
You: ok well
Stranger: Go ahead.
You: i am in a particulat mood where i want to describe a vicious torture/murder
Stranger: Ooo I like those.
You: so with my fucked up-ness, i got this 1
Stranger: Please, by all means, go ahead!
You: so, first I would sedate you with some cloriform. I would then bring you to an abandoned place and tie you down
You: i would then wait until you woke yp
You: up
You: *
Stranger: Please, I would wake him up bitch slapping him!
You: i would then rip off all of your fingernails and toe nails with pliers
You: i would then take a sanding tool and grind your feet down to nubs
You: then I would take your penis and rip the skin off of the head
Stranger: Let me dog have his dick please.
Stranger: my dog*
You: i would then burn his testicals with hydrochloric acid
You: and let strangers dog eat his dick while its stilla ttaahed
You: attached*
You: i would then bust out all of his teeth with a chisle
Stranger: What about hsi eyeballs?
Stranger: his*
You: gata save the vital organs for last
You: want him to live
Stranger: Nice thinking!
You: then shall procede by getting a weed wacker and using it on him
You: mostly on his stomach
You: after that I will take a lighter and burn his armpit
You: (the most sensative aprt of the body)
You: part*
Stranger: I didn't know that...
You: i will do this to both of his armpits until they are bubbling
You: i will then sedate him to the point where he will not move, but will feel everything
You: i will heat a piece of metal until it is orange hot
Stranger: I want his toes...
You: i will put it into his mouth and let it burn
You: but remember we grinded his toes off =\
You: you can have his fingers
Stranger: Oh, gladly!
You: ok i rip off all of his fingers with pliers and give them to stranger
You: and also we coterise the wounds so he won;t die from bleeding out
Stranger: We wouldn't want that!
You: we then pull his hair in small climps out
You: (if you try to pull too large of clumps out it will rip his scalp off)
You: after the hair has been removed it is time to go for the vital orgams
Stranger: finally!
You: make shure he is sedated enough to not move and can still feel pai
You: pain*
You: we must then cut him open
You: we can either go with pain via objects or burning
Stranger: I want to open him up like they do when they perform an autopsy.
You: which would you like?
Stranger: Objects!
Stranger: Sharp objects!
You: that would cause too much bleeding though
You: we want him to suffer through it
You: small incisions is the key to torture
Stranger: Let me carve a word on his chest!
You: please do
Stranger: "Racist"
You: yes
You: also before we cut him open, i want to burn in "i like black people" on his back
Stranger: By all means!
You: so while he is open, we need to insert some sharp objects
You: i'm thinking we should use staples and thumb tacks
Stranger: Staples! Good idea...
Stranger: I have some nails and a hammer, will they do?
You: they won't do much while they are in there, but if he moves at all they will bcut him a lot
You: well you can use those on less vital organs
You: like the bladder and intestines
You: and we will burn the wounds closed
You: so he can suffer
You: i would then like to finish him off
Stranger: I want to nail him on a cross.
You: unless there is something else you want tod o
You: ok perfect
You: we can sew him back yp
You: up
You: and put him on a cross
You: though i want him do burn
You: as the KKK used burning crosses
You: to symbolise that we are not the kkk, we will turn the cross upside down
You: and burn him
Stranger: I was gonna suggest that.
Stranger: To put a KKK white hood on his head.
You: yes
You: i want to staple that hood to his face
Stranger: Please do!
Stranger: I hope the fucker's reading.

mmmm... Let me know if this puts a tingle in daddy's naughty little girl tight wet pussy. If it does, then Daddy will send you a real stories, about My wife and stepdaughter..

.. Evening, my naughty little girl. You doing okay tonight? Bet you been a bad little girl. Thanks for the number. I might have a hard time texting you. I stopped using my cell a while back.I live out in the country by a lake. Never had good reception out here, so it seemed a waste of money to me. So you like to be dominant at times? Thats kwel. Back when my wife was alive, we would spend some time on those phones sex date hookups. After my wife discovered that she enjoyed playing the role of Daddy's little girl, I would tell her there's a lot more out there that either have done it or its a fantasys they go back to when they are getting themselves off. She didn't really believe me. She just thought it was her..lol Anyway, about that time the chat lines were just starting up. Wewould both get on there so she could listen. My greeting was always" were's my naughty little girl that was looking in my room last night, watching me tie up the young, petite little girl that I brought home, who wasn't much older than her? After a while I had a small following. Would ask some of them what was their fantasies was and would tailor a story for them. Loved to talk a girl thru a body racking orgasam. Was really good when I told them how I would slid two finger into their tight little pussy. Palm up,my finger tips sliding around inside their pussy, rubbing the the inside top until i felt that spongy little muscle. I said, you know, your special little spot, your g-spot.Would ask them if they have someone make the squirt. Most haven't, but most knew of that one very special spot that would send them over the top. My Wife loved to hear me talk a girl into coming. Most of the time she would be working on my cock and the girls would ask who was there? I would tell them it was my Stepdaughter. That would really get them going..lol That went on for awhile . One of the chat lines gave me a passcode so I could get on for free, I had such a good following, the more girls, who got on for free, the more guys would buy the membership. Sometimes I would Dave the slave. Would tell the girls that I wanted them to make me Jack off in front of them, maybe even some of their friends. I found that the girls that really hadn't planned on having phone sex, once they heard that she wasn't really doing anything bad, it was me being naughty, they were hooked. Listening to ny breathing and asking them if they wanted me to either describe what I was doing to my cock, or would they like to hear me stroke my hard cock. Wasn't to soon that I could hear their breathing getting louder. By the time I would ask them what I would see if I was standing thereat the foot of their bed,, slowly sliding hand up and down my cock? I would tell them that they were under, the covers but I could see on hand was at their breast,slowly squeezing, while I watched the other hand slowly make its way down their body,down between, by then, their widely spread apart with the knees slightly bent up towards the ceiling. All the while your transfixed on my hand slowly stroking up and down my cock, My mushroom head disappearing every time my hand slid up, pushing my foreskin up and over my beet red head. Their eyes widen as I stoped jacking my precome covered cock and slowly reached down to grab the covers with two hands and slowly pull it towards me. Slowlyndown past their titties with thier rosy red nipples that were like hard little pebble pointing upwards. I would torture them by stopping and asking them if they had their fingers inside that nhot pussy, or were they rubbibg their clit. Well, lol It was so hot coxing a girl that never dreamed that they would ever, ever masterbate, let alone come all the while begging me to come so see could see it while sheis fingering herself like a bitch in heat.
Man, I can't wait to hear your voice, to hear you get excited nasnI tell you what to do.. hmmmm... Let me know what you would like for me to do, since In can't text before I call. By the way, do you have a boy/girl friend that you get to role play with? Just to let you know, I love assfucking with you on your back, legs on my shoulders or your feet pressed against my chest, drawing your ass up and tight on my cock. Finger your pussy, yes, right on your G-spot. Daddy's going to Make you squirt all over me.... Night night my dirty little girl..

It all started when I had become single for the first time in nearly three years. I had dedicated three years of my life to one woman and I had done very well at being faithful even through the hard times. There were plenty of opportunities. I consider myself to be an attractive man, and being slightly above average with words I have this way of saying things that make everything sound that much more enticing. I am a liar, but I am a damn good one. More than once I have convinced a woman to love, or lust for, me through words alone. It disgusts me, but at the same time it gets me what I want more often than not. I am manipulative, but I am damn good at it.

As with any long term relationship breaking up, there was a lot of hurt. You've just spent three years with someone who already was, or had become, your best friend. You try to do the "staying friends" thing, but it never works out and you end up either never talking to each other again because it hurts too much, or you never talk to each other again because you can't stand to. In my case, it was both. It hurt a lot, and even the thought of talking to her made me so angry it would throw off my mood for the rest of the day. So in step my friends. And I have to tell you, I have a great many good friends that know very well how to distract me.

There's the booty call friend who has always wanted me and is not going to miss out on this chance she has. I am a serial monogamist and she knows it. I don't stay single for long.

Then there's the really good guy friend who invites me over for anything, whether it be to down a few brews on the front porch, play some games, or even just shoot the shit for no good reason. He's the one that's there. He's the one I depend on a lot even though he doesn't know it or feel like I am.

There's the soul mate that lives two thousand miles away, stuck in a relationship she herself has said she isn't happy with. She is trying to make things work, but the going is slow. We would be perfect together, but two thousand miles is a long walk.

There's the girl that is offering a steady relationship, but I don't want to get into one right now. I keep the flame kindled just enough for when I'm ready to take that step again, but no more.

Then there's the best friend since childhood and his wife. They have offered me a place to stay, but I don't want to do that just yet. I'm good with moving back home for a few months to get back on my feet after moving out of the Ex's place. He has always been there for me when I needed him most, and he's there for me now. They take me out to dinner, keep me entertained. Providing that distraction is invaluable and they both know it. But the wife has this way about her of having fun with that distraction. We are both flirts to the N'th degree, and my best friend finds it hilarious when we flirt with each other. But lately, or so since I have become a single man once again, that flirting seems to have increased to a fever pitch. It's not like it was before. It's more..... involved.

It was innocent enough to begin with. Always in my friend's presence, and always good for a laugh. A short reference to gay sex between my friend and I, based mainly on the fact that we joke around about it often. Then an reference to her interjecting between us, perhaps a threesome. "No," I say, "that wouldn't happen. I would steal all of the attention!" More laughs.

Then it was like a spike on the Richter Scale, we both kind of turned it into high gear. References to private time. 'What would happen if-' type things. She was growing closer every time we were around each other. We were getting to be around each other more and more often. We both knew it was innocent, but something would nag in the back of our minds that kind of doubted that entirely. It was always there, we both knew it. Then she invited me over to talk while my friend was out of town. He goes out of town quite a lot for business working for a professional show company. Suddenly I got this uneasy feeling. This was my best friend's wife inviting me over while he is out of town. I know he knows though. She tells him whenever we are hanging out and where it will be. He has joined us on occasion. But this felt... different? I had it set in my mind that I was not going to do anything and I was going to shut down any advance that might happen.

Nothing happened. We talked about it, because the tension was there. I explained that she was my best friend's wife and that nothing would ever bring me to sever my friendship just for a good piece of nookie. Nothing. She agreed, stating that she would never sleep around on him. It was just the "Game" that was fun.

By "Game", I merely mean the entirety of flirting. Many people flirt with an agenda. Whether it to be a kiss at the end of a date, or to sleep with a stranger based on suave alone. I happen to enjoy flirting just to flirt. A party that reciprocates that flirting is always preferred, because it makes both of us feel good to know that we can be found attractive. Flirting makes you feel great, and makes everything seem that much more fun. I call this the "Game"; the entire act of flirting just to flirt. No agenda to be had. No intentions of getting into anyone's pants. Just having a good time and seeing who bows out first. It's a game.

A week or two later, myself, my good friend that invites me over all the time, his fiance, my best friend, and his wife are all at a Mexican restaurant for Karaoke night. My best friend's wife is sitting next to me, and my best friend is sitting across from her. The flirting is inevitable, and it starts up almost immediately. It's an absolute blast, and I get quite a few margaritas in. My best friend gets up to sing a song, and his wife brings up the night I previously addressed. I told her how nervous I had been about coming over, and in my drunken state, with my filter switched off, I let slip that in another lifetime where she wasn't my best friend's wife, there is no doubt that I would be all over her in a heartbeat. She's an attractive girl with a great body. A man would be a fool not to be.

From then, the details get hazy but a few things I remember distinctly. In my mind, I am dead set against anything happening between the two of us. Then I feel a foot running up and down my calf from my left side. It sends a shock wave right through me and I catch my breath a little bit in surprise. I look at her and whisper stop. She does, for a while. It doesn't take long before she gets back to it, and I give her a menacing glance. She apparently finds it playful and continues, so I wait until her husband isn't looking and run my hand up her inner thigh just high enough to get my point across. She then stops, looking at me with surprise and starts laughing a bit. I play it off.

I get far too drunk to drive that night, and they took me to their place, saying they would bring me back to my car the next day. I don't remember much from that night other than some more flirting. A reference was made to her cats liking to jump onto the bed and sleep between her legs. I remember replying with something along the lines of "Wish something else could be between your legs," and she lifted her eyebrows and just gave me an "Mmmmmm" before handing me a pillow and a blanket. I lock myself in the guest bedroom for the night and take care of the raging erection I had been fighting to hide from the moment I had gotten her text in the car saying "What you did was not fair!" There was a short exchange of texts, but that was all it took.

Then we find ourselves out to dinner, just her and I once again. This happens relatively often when my friend goes out of town, just kind of a "Hey keep me company for a bit" thing. But this dinner feels slightly more intimate than the others for reasons that should be obvious. Our conversation tended to stay around sex, with her explaining that I happen to be a pretty good influence on her sex life with her husband. I asked how, and she went on to say that when I am around and I get flirty, or touchy-feely like I did the one time at the Mexican place, it turns her on to the point that she jumps her husband as soon as they get private time. I actually take a bit of pride in that. Mainly just know that I can turn someone on that much.

Once dinner is over, she asks what we should do next. He wasn't going to be home until late that evening, so we had more time to kill. She suggested a movie, so there we ended up, sitting awkwardly next to each other in the theater. I had already raised the arm rest between us, stating that I wasn't against a cuddle during the movie, but we still didn't make any move toward each other. But my hands were burning. I wanted to touch her again. I would find out later she wanted to touch me again as well. The empathy was almost unbearable in its scope, and eventually I took her hand in mine and started giving her a gentle hand massage just to occupy myself. After a few moments of this, I put her hand down on my leg, letting it rest there and I put mine on hers. We kind of looked at each other, both of us appearing very comical in our 3D glasses, and the game of Chicken was on. Almost immediately she move her hand farther inside my thigh, close to the knee but enough to get the point across. I gripped her thigh tighter in return.

Her arm was draped over mine, so my reach was slightly diminished. I was already halfway up her leg whereas she was closer to the knee. She had a head start this way, so to take things slowly I just started rubbing her thigh gently, scratching with my nails against her tight jeans. When I made a lot of slow and tantalizing movement, I saw her breath get more labored and slightly faster. I knew she was already getting turned on.

As she moved her hand farther up my thigh and deeper inside, I responded by doing much the same, a lot of the time I would grip slightly harder on her inner thigh as I got closer and closer to her most private parts. I was turned on, and it was showing but I don't think she noticed. After all, we were close to each others' forbidden zones, but neither of us had made contact yet. I was so close to her vagina I could feel the heat she was giving off and it was intoxicating. I was maybe an inch away.

I leaned away slightly, pulling my hand up her leg and ran my pinky in the crease between her thigh and pelvis, moving away before I made contact with anything in between and resumed my spot an inch or so away from her moist pussy. She responded, moving another millimeter up my leg, but adjusted her arm and hand slightly. I don't think she realized it, but when she did, I felt her finger make the absolute lightest contact with my right testicle. I wrote it off as a mistake.

In my mind, I was racing through all the possibilities and outcomes, all of the different things I could do to her, all of the vast pleasures I had learned to inflict over the years. I fantasized about taking her when we got back to the truck, both of us climbing into the back seat with its tinted windows and giving in to this madness we had been brewing. I moved my hand another millimeter closer.

She let out a very very quiet little moan, and again my mind was back to the what-if scenarios. I could run my hand over her pussy, feel it through her jeans and press firmly against her clit. I could, but I don't.

It was all a rush of exhilaration. This forbidden thing we were on the verge of doing, and yet both of us holding our ground in this horrible and torturous game of chicken we had started. My jaw was clenched shut. I couldn't go any farther. Something was holding me back. I like to believe it was guilt. I have this problem with conviction. I tend to feel guilty. I blame my morals growing up, the southern gentleman way I was always raised with.

The movie ended, and at the same time, both of us stopped our game and made ready to leave. She needed to visit the restroom, so I waited outside. When we finally exited the place and were walking to the truck, I asked "So how bad was it?", referring the wetness I had worked her into. "I wouldn't necessarily call it bad," she responded, giving me a wry and playful smile. I laughed as we got into the truck.

She had lifted the center console away and bolted into my lips before I had even gotten into the seat fully. I didn't resist. Hell, I started fighting her for domination in the kiss, jockeying for position as I adjusted myself to counter her weight pressing against me. Her hand bolted down to my crotch, where I was already well on my way to another erection and she gently coaxed it into full being. I grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her higher as I returned the favor and got my other hand against the crotch of her tight jeans. She was so wet I could feel the moisture through the denim. Logic and Reason had come to a boiling point in their war within my subconscious, and logic had just made the final killing blow. I was doing this. Fuck the consequences.

We found ourselves clamoring over the seats after we moved them forward, giving as much space as we could in the back seat before stumbling back. As we did so, both of us were fumbling with our clothing, half tearing, half removing them as carnal instincts began to take full effect. Once we found ourselves in the back seat, I put the center console, a leather box type deal, about a foot and a half wide, back down and forced her onto it, pants off, panties lost somewhere along the way. I lifted her legs high, burying my mouth into her with a fiery vigor I hadn't used since my teens. She tasted fantastic, practically leaking her juices all over my chin and into my beard. I just kept lapping up everything I could, teasing and nibbling, sucking on the clit then flicking my tongue over it quickly and heavily. Her tits were hanging out, the D cup bra also lost in translation somewhere alongside her panties. I hadn't even caught their color or style in the process of removing them.

"Fuck me," she moaned. "Gladly," I said before lifting her up, turning her over so her chest was resting on the console. I sat back on the back seat, taking my rod in my hand and guiding it into her waiting hole. She sat down and stayed there for a moment, clenching around me before she came almost instantly. I grabbed her hips and pulled her as far down as I could, shoving myself into her as deep as possible. I felt her cervix pressing against the head of my cock. She seemed to like it, but it may have been the orgasm too.

After letting her get the first rushes of her orgasm, I began using my arms to raise and lower her hips, forcing her to ride the rest of her orgasm out. There were people walking around the parking lot, but we were near the back and she was trying her best the be quiet. Some things you just can't hold back, and there was more than one profane word stated loudly. She started to take over on the riding, slamming herself down onto me over and over and over. I hadn't seen a woman so eager for cock since the beginnings of my previous relationship. She was crazed. I was okay with that.

I can't say how long we went like this before we peeled away from each other and she turned around, mounting me once again, this time pressing her breasts against my face as she rode. I grabbed both of them, just now realizing that it was the first time I had truly paid attention to them since they had been freed of the bra. She had immaculate breasts, still perky and youthful in her mid twenties. I ran my tongue around a nipple, sucking on it while she rode me gracefully and with just enough force to keep getting me closer and closer.

Finally, I leaned her away from me, she reached back to brace herself on the passenger and driver seats as I put one hand on her pelvis and the other on her ribs and started bucking myself into her hard and fast. I could feel it coming, and it was going to be god damn wonderful to let this aching load go. Harder and faster, I plunged again and again until I felt it explode deep inside. God damn it felt like heaven. I saw stars, rainbows, and fucking unicorns, but I didn't stop fucking her. Again and again, I released spurt after spurt until I was dry firing and still I fucked her. The oversensitivity was all but unbearable but I didn't care. I could feel her getting close to a second orgasm and I wanted her to come again.

She obliged a few seconds later, reaching down and violently rubbing her clit as she came all over my dick. As she was cumming, she was letting out these sounds somewhere along the lines of a whining plea for more and a scream of "YES!" I kept fucking, my erection staying solid as a rock. I haven't been this turned on in years and by God I was taking full advantage of it.

She leaned forward, once again our lips found each other, kissing hard and long as both of us twitched. I was still inside of her, slowly growing soft as I felt my cum leaking out around my shaft. I stopped kissing her. We were both sweaty and I leaned my forehead against her shoulder as she ran her fingers through my hair. We were both breathing hard. "Oh fuck...." I said, letting it hang there. My conscience was starting to come back, Reason coming back from the dead with a vengeance and tearing down the fort that Logic had built in its absence.

She seemed to get my drift. "Our secret?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said. I was starting to get physically sick at what I had just done.

"Yes," she said, I could hear it starting to effect her words as well. "Our secret. It will never happen again. We just go on with our lives the way we always have, and that's it. This is over."

"I suppose you could say that... I hate it. I hate myself. I hate this. Why are we here? What have we done?" I'm starting to panic. She grabs my head in both hands, looking me dead in the eyes.

"Stop it. This never happened." she says

"No," I say, setting my jaw, "It didn't."