85 lines
3.6 KiB
Plaintext
85 lines
3.6 KiB
Plaintext
MRS. X AND MRS. Y
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by V.P. Viddler
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I can't tell you their names because you would recognize who
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it is and such grand famous society women can't have that. Mr.
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Big told them nobody would find out and nobody will. Nobody knows
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anything about it, and when those fancy columns talk about them,
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always with pictures, of course, for these are young, beautiful,
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lovely aristocratic fashion ladies, nobody can imagine what they
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did.
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What we did to them.
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So I'll call them Mrs. X and Mrs. Y. But you know them, the
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young sleek fashionplates, slim, tan, smiling. Young Mrs. X and
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young Mrs. Y.
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What Mr. Big did, he put Mrs. X in the living room, just
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sitting there because Barry was sitting and pointing a gun at
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her, and Mr. Big wanted Mrs. X to listen to what was going on in
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the bedroom. Which she did.
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What was going on was Mrs. Y screaming as Mr. Big broke all
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of Mrs. Y's fingers.
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Oh yes, Mrs. Y was tied down, spread eagled on the bed,
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stark naked, and I was on top of her, lying on that soft body
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with my cock in her cunt. And Mr. Big was standing by a corner of
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the bed, holding Mrs. Y's hand, which couldn't get away on
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account of how her wrist was tied to the bedpost, and Mr. Big was
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breaking the fingers on that hand, one by one, slowly, pulling
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them back and back, harder and harder until they wouldn't go any
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further, as Mrs. Y cried and babbled and tried to talk, to say
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no, and then that finger would snap as it broke and Mrs. Y would
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scream crazily and that body would spasm and jump and jerk
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around, and each finger going brought that fantastic motion, and
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it was fabulous for me.
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And Mr. Big, finishing with that hand, went to the other
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side and started in on the other hand. Pull. Snap. Spasm. Scream.
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Babble. Plead. Pull. Moan. Snap. Scream. Body thrashing against
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me.
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Fantastic.
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And after finishing with Mrs. Y's hands, Mr. Big moved again
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and started in on her toes.
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It went on and on, ten more times, screaming and spasming
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and snapping. Until finally I had to come in Mrs. Y's jouncing,
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writhing cunt.
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That wasn't all, though. Mr. Big was mad as hell at Mrs. Y
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for not doing what he told her in the first place, and he made
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Mrs. Y do a lot of stuff, broken fingers and toes and all. Which
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Mrs. Y did, flopping about with her agonizing useless hands and
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feet, crawling and rolling and sucking Mr. Big's cock and fucking
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us all and all that time screaming with pain, screaming and
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screaming in agony and horror and pain.
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And this is what Mrs. X had to listen to in the living room.
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For hours.
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So that when Mr. Big got to her, Mrs. X was ready to do
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anything, she was so scared. Mrs. X was shaking and moaning, but
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she did just what she was told.
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Mrs. X was crying as she took off her clothes for us and
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displayed that soft smooth tan sensuous body. She was still
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crying as she was crawling around the room on hands and knees,
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and sobbing hard as she was sucking Mr. Big's cock, exactly as he
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told her to, slavishly following his commands, licking,
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tongueing, sucking, swallowing.
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And then Mr. Big made Mrs. X fuck us all, again and again,
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with cunt and mouth and ass, and Mrs. X got on top of me and put
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my dick into her pussy and bounced up and down for my pleasure.
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And I told Mr. Big I would love for him to break Mrs. X's fingers
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as she was fucking me and she screamed and said no no no please
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no and promised all kinds of dirty things but Mr. Big did it
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anyway and Mrs. X was howling and twisting and I shot and shot
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and shot...
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