Club Fatale, Pt. 8 - Sex Stories

Club Fatale, Pt. 8

... eyes, I knew, she could read the truth. “But Evan,” she wined, tears coming to her eyes, “we were...” “What?” I demanded. “Lovers? Yes. Man and wife? Certainly not. But not to worry. I’ll have from you what no other man has had.” I wrapped my hand around her neck. “Your final moments. Your ultimate gift. And...” I turned her around; showed her the blonde advancing towards us. “I’ll have your daughter’s soul.” “Oh, Gillian...” It was indeed her daughter that strode towards us with purpose: she was slender and blonde, naked but for the thigh-high white stockings. “But first,” I said, “some light entertainment.” I forced Vivian to her knees, gripped her hair and yanked her head back. “Viv, I want you to violate your throat upon me, right now. Right here in front of your daughter.” I released my throbbing cock from my pants and watched the sobbing mother comply, throating herself deep upon me. “Gillian,” I ordered, in a voice filled with malice, “kneel and suck these men until they come inside your worthless head.” I watched as the girl followed my order. One at a time she throated them, taking each cock all the way down. She didn’t hesitate at all. I could see that she had learned well over the past week. Angling into her mother’s throat, I delivered my penetrating thrusts with maximum punishment behind them, throatbashing her. Squeezing her neck, I pressed in deep until she gagged and hacked. I pulled back to allow her a moment’s respite, then thrust in hard and rapidly ...

... stroked her throat with long thrusts. I pulled out and yanked her to her feet. Bending her over a nearby chair, I entered her from behind and rammed in deep. I fucked her while we watched her daughter pleasure the four men surrounding her. Locking my hands into Viv’s raven hair, I gloried in the feeling of complete dominance over her. A quick twist and the last thing she would ever see would be the abuse heaped upon her only daughter. The last thought she would ever have would be the knowledge of her daughter’s imminent demise. It was so very tempting. “Holy god,” Weiss breathed, as he came upon Gillian’s youthful, adoring face. “If only I could spin for your fate, little one. I would be a happy man.” Cooper turned to his own companion. “Fuck, baby. I need some release. It’s time to see what will become of you.” Swiftly, he relinquished his place to Kensington and guided the dark-haired Femme, whose name I remembered him telling me was Lacey, to ‘The Wheel.’ ‘The Wheel of Fate’ was colorful and wooden, like one from an archaic game show, inscribed with a score of methods guaranteed to pleasurably end a woman’s life. Pleasurably in the eyes of her master, at least. “Let’s see what fortune holds for me,” he said and spun. The Wheel revolved quickly, rapidly passing through all twenty options: once, twice and thrice before wavering on ‘The Blades’ and ending up on ‘The Sink.’ Lacey’s hand went to her throat, as if she could already feel it closing up. “Alright then,” he said, happily. ...