February 14, 2015
"I will fuck you up. I will beat you into a fucking pulp. Untie me right now."
Rose grins smugly at Alabaster as she tightens the restraints pinning his wrists behind the chairback. With his arms and legs properly secured, there's nothing he can do. He's totally at her mercy.
Little ever thrills her quite like this feeling.
"You stupid cunt. If you don't untie me, I'll--"
Rose slaps him in the face. His groan of indignation gives her the opening she needs: she shoves a wadded up pair of yesterday's socks into his mouth. He says something, unintelligible, through the gag. Not that he needs words for her to understand. The undiluted rage in his eyes says it all. It's the best sight on Earth.
"What's that?" Rose says, liltingly, mockingly. "I can't quite hear you."
More muffled curses and impotent threats. Even Rose can tell how bad those socks stink... it must be unbearable for him.
"Speak up, please. Is there a problem?"
He keeps going as if he can make himself be understood, the darling.
"I know, Alabaster, I know. It's so degrading, isn't it? Being overpowered by a girl. Being gagged and bound! Oh dear."
She circles the chair, lazily runs her hands over his chest. She puts her cheek to his and whispers: "But secretly... you know this is how it should be, don't you? You know you deserve this..."
His neck muscles are straining, his face is deeply red.
"Pretend you don't like it all you want," she sneers. She reaches down and cups his crotch obscenely. "If you don't like it, why is your cock hard? Disgusting little pig~"
Ding-dong, comes the doorbell.
Rose makes a sour face, but ignores that. Probably some missionary or something. The last thing she has time for, right now, is a missionary.
She slowly, agonizingly slowly, unzips his zipper. As much as the two of them have danced and skirted around this moment, they've never--
Ding-dong, comes the doorbell.
Rose closes her eyes, sighs deeply, shakes her head. Go away, whoever you are, she thinks.
Anyway. As much as the two of them have danced and skirted around this moment, they've never crossed the rubicon like this. She has never seen that disgusting part of him that he keeps hidden from her as if he deserves such decency. A worm like him, walking around with a thing like THAT between his legs... he needs to punished. And she intends to punish him.
Alabaster fights her, but feebly, rocking side to side as if trying to escape. But there is no escape. She's going to have her fun with him whether he wants it or not. But of course he wants it. Men are all the same. Their cocks make them stupid. Alabaster would debase himself in any way she wants if she promised just to touch his cock. She licks her lips at the thought as she fishes around inside his fly.
Ding-dong, comes the doorbell, and this startles and frustrates Rose so much that Alabaster manages to knock her back. He headbutts her, uses the momentum to keep going, and tips himself to the side. The wheeled chair topples over, Alabaster with it, landing with a hard thud. Rose, also falling, lands on her butt and groans.
Quickly gaining her bearings again, she clambers to her knees. Alabaster is still secured, and immobile, just rotated 90 degrees. He's even still gagged. And Rose's ultimate prize is visible, jutting out from the fly of his jeans, only the thin and darkly stained fabric of his boxer shorts separating her from it...
Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong
"FUCK!" Rose yells.
She quickly hurries downstairs to an obnoxious and unwelcome encounter with... that girl. What a stupid, nosy, desperate little CUNT-- that she thinks she even has a CHANCE with Alabaster-- calm yourself, Rose...
She sets the dish of cookies on the countertop in the kitchen, intending to get rid of them later, but first things are first. Mom and dad could be back any time. She needs to finish what she started.
She goes back upstairs to Alabaster's bedroom. "Now where were we..." she says, voice airy and sly, and full of anticipation. "I think there's a little piggy who needs some discipl--"
The chair is empty.
Her eyes bulge in sudden animal fear. The beast has escaped. She wheels, makes a dash for her bedroom, where she foolishly left the pepper spray. But there, in her door, is Alabaster.
"Looking for something, bitch?"
She screams -- can't help herself -- turns and tries to flee downstairs. But Alabaster is so much faster. He grabs her by the shoulders and hauls her back, spinning her like a top, and lands a punch to her gut. She hacks up a wad of spittle, clutches at her stomach, and falls to her knees. Now Alabaster is looming over her, he's got her taser in one hand. He arcs it a few times sadistically just to demonstrate what the business end of it looks like.
But Rose strikes back. Alabaster's fly is still undone and she quickly gets her hand in it, finding what she's looking for: the weak point. She squeezes, hard and unmerciful, flooring Alabaster instantly. He squeals like a little girl at the pain of it. Rose climbs over top of him, pinning his wrist with her knee, and confiscates the taser. Close one. She needs to make sure he learns his lesson so something like this doesn't happen again. She jabs the taser into his stomach: click, zap. His whole body goes stiff and he grits his teeth. Foam forms at the corners of his lips. Rose puts a hand to her cheek and coos. What a pretty sight. She should do this way more often.
"You're so cute when you're in pain--" Rose begins. But that's all she can say before she feels something on her ankle. Alabaster's hand. They lock eyes: Alabaster is smirking through the mask of electric pain.
He tugs her, sliding her knees out from under her. She lands on her belly on top of him. He heaves her off.
She's instantly on her feet again, like a cat springing back up from a fall, looking all around frantically for the taser she dropped. But too late. Alabaster charges her, and thus her only option is to try to respond in kind. They collide, their momentum unequal, Alabaster's overpowering hers, and they fall backwards -- back, back to the edge of the staircase, and then too far. They tumble down together. Hand over foot, face over elbow, tit over dick: they roll like two clumps of playdoh molded into a rough approximation of a sphere, down an entire flight of stairs, then somehow around the landing, and down a second flight of stairs, all the way to the foyer. The house's foundation rumbles in their wake. One or both of their skulls leave a hole in the drywall at the landing. Picture frames fall from the walls.
Rose, owing maybe to her lower weight and smaller profile, is a little less beaten than Alabaster. She stumbles upright first, punch-drunk and woozy yes, but upright all the same. She totters half-blindly forward, in the direction of the kitchen, looking for an implement of self defense. Alabaster is on her heels, literally, and she has no time to search. The first thing she can lay hands on is the pyrex dish full of Valentine's Day cookies. Swinging around with form befitting an Olympic hammer tosser, she cleanly connects with the side of Alabaster's head and sends him falling to the right. The dish clatters to the ground, cracks the tile floor, and sends heart-shaped cookies all over.
Alabaster is not to be deterred by something so minor as blunt concussive forces. He finds his way to his feet again, finds a tuft of Rose's hair in his grip, and brings her face down hard into the countertop. "CUNT!" he yells savagely. "FUCK YOU!"
Rose falls, right into the scattered pile of cookies, and then Alabaster is over her, kneeling -- astride her.
There they are: Rose and Alabaster beating the living shit out of each other as they lie on top of a literal pile of broken hearts, three dozen frosted shortbread heart-shaped cookies crumbling to dust beneath their mutual abuse. She kicks and fights gamely back, but it's over, the ref is calling it and the judge's table has ruled it a TKO. Alabaster wins.
Finally feeling it himself now, Alabaster has to relent from his flurry of punches and slaps, has to pause a moment. Still kneeling over Rose, he straightens his spine, takes a breath. Then feels dizzy and collapses. He's on his back now, right beside Rose, and they're both moaning in agony.
Some minutes pass. Rose comes back from the edge of consciousness first. And the very first thing she does is get on hands and knees and crawl over to Alabaster.
"G--" he grunts. "G-get away--" He swats at the air but he's too enervated to mount a real fight. Round two promises to be tilted in Rose's favor.
But instead of striking him, she's pawing at his jeans again. His heart shudders and the fear grips him. She's going to torture him like THAT again. "W-wait--" he says, picturing a future life of infertility and missing testicles, "P-please-- please, no..."
Not too proud to beg. But Rose is after something else.
She frees his cock. It's hard like she knew it would be. She's not going to bother with any more window dressing, she's too fucked-up right now to try the domineering, humiliating mocking, she just wants to get his cock in her mouth. Is that too much to ask? Christ. She runs her nose along it, relishing its disgusting scent, this slimy hunk of meat that makes this idiot think he's better than her. She doesn't know why it smells so good or why she wants it so bad, she'll have time to punish him for all that later. Right now she just needs to enjoy the opportunity while she's got it. She takes deep, lingering and shuddering breaths. She closes her eyes and lets that smell linger in her frayed mind.
"Stop-- s-stop it," he pants, but he's not doing anything to stop her, and if he really wanted her to stop then he would. See? Men are all the same.
The smell of his nasty prick makes her mouth tingle. The glands underneath her tongue produce saliva, and now she lets that saliva pool, and opens her mouth, and lets it run in a steady laminar stream -- from the bottom of her bruised lip to the tip of his straining cock. It's disgusting and she loves it. The way her spit makes the shaft slick, the way it glints in the sun through the kitchen window. The primal heat of it.
"Your parents -- could be back --" Alabaster protests in between ragged breaths.
"Shut... the fuck... up..." she mutters, hardly able to speak herself.
She gets her lips wrapped around the head. It's absurd how well-endowed Alabaster is, how thick this piece of trash between his legs is, and her lips are stretched to straining as she tries to take it. She's aware of a small trickle of blood down her forehead now, hers or Alabaster's she isn't sure, and doesn't care. The searing warmth of the underside of Alabaster's dick against her flattened tongue is the sensation she's more focused on right now. She needs more of it... and deeper...
"Turn around..." Alabaster says.
"Mmn-mnng--" Rose mumbles, too transfixed to take his dick out of her mouth and respond properly. But it gets the message across: the answer is a flat no. Alabaster's cock is as delicious as it smells, like a concentrated version of his essence. And so she imagines that she can suck his essence up like this, take everything that makes him him and make him hers instead. That thought makes her pussy clench and ooze. She wants to take his entire being away and claim ownership of him... wants to make him depend on her for everything...
Alabaster still has an obnoxious amount of free will though, and strength, too. He manages to sit up, to grab her, to force her bodily to turn. She is so focused on keeping his dick firmly in her drooling maw that she can hardly resist him. He gets her skirt up around her waist, has his disgusting fucking hands on her panties, and she's powerless to stop him. She wants to stop him. She's revolted by the idea of what he's about to do, by the fact that he'll be able to see her private parts, but she has to make a choice. To fight him off or keep her mouth around his cock. And, well, she really need to have his cock in her mouth right now. She suffers the humiliation with a shiver as Alabaster roughly tugs her panties down. The cool kitchen air hits her steaming pussy.
Then his hands are all over her. His fingers are playing over the lips of her vulva, and the hard little clit. Not trying to give her pleasure but just exploring for his own sick enjoyment. Poking and prodding at the opening, that stubborn hole she wills to stop leaking but can't. And even more humiliating, further back he reaches, to her anus -- poking and prodding there too the fucking ape, the fucking pig, the fucking WORM... so why do his invading fingers make her even wetter, why do they make her mouth drool more and inspire her to force herself deeper down on his meaty prick even to the point of gagging around it?
Then his mouth is clamping onto her, his lips are sucking on her. He makes soft little groans and grunts as he licks her pussy. He bucks his hips against her face while he molests and violates her. She can't believe this is happening. She can't believe Alabaster is eating her out and she's LETTING it happen... but she can't stop, not now, not with this delicious prick pushing past her tonsils and into her esophagus, not with this spongy head nestled in her gullet, pulsing so pleasingly, filling her so nicely. Not with this wonderful, gross, bitter slimy precum dribbling straight into her hungry tummy. She's not going to let him go until she claims her prize. She's not going to let him go until he fucks her mouth full of cum.
This thought really gets her cunt off. The idea that she'd willingly debase herself, lower herself to Alabaster's level like that -- it's practically bestiality, to do this with a boy like him -- and her clit tingles with waves of pleasure, aided along by Alabaster's curious tongue. He hasn't eaten pussy before, that's for sure, the fucking virgin -- not that she's sucked cock, either -- but their inexperience is more than compensated for by their eagerness. He seems as intent on getting her to cum on him, as she is on getting him to cum too.
The kitchen is filled with the lewd sounds of these two cousins sucking on each other's genitals greedily, writhing around in their little pile of sweets. Rose is really juicing now, Alabaster is actually gulping as he tries to keep up with her sopping wet cunt, and Rose is stuffed so full that her gagging has become a deep, guttural heave emanating from below her diaphragm. The sensation of her gagging on it must feel good against Alabaster's prick because he picks up the pace, and his heavy balls tighten back towards his body. Rose's head bobs up and down, half against her will as Alabaster fucks her face. Meanwhile his tongue is as deep as it will go inside her, raping her... he's RAPING her... and that's when he lets loose without warning. He kicks his legs around and locks his thighs around her neck, forces her down, down, down -- and spews a putrid load of sperm into her face like it's his own masturbation sleeve -- the one he hides under his bed and thinks she doesn't know about. It's because of that masturbation sleeve that she knows what his cum tastes like already, but she's never had it fresh from the source. The salty taste and aroma of it, the texture, the heat, drives her over the edge. She cums, hard, and sprays all over Alabaster's worthless fucking face. She grinds her cunt against his mouth and savors this insane pleasure, so wonderful that she almost faints. Or maybe that's just the lack of air.