Okay, here I am again with a second story. This one will take considerably more time, though. It's a slow burner, a work in progress. I'm still actively writing and rewriting it. But I thought I'd share the first chapter with you. Just let me know what you think, I hope you like it.


TO THE END AND BEYOND
A Sidneyverse Story

Cast:

Natalie Robinson (daughter): 12 years
Michael Robinson (father): 40 years
Stephanie Robinson (mother): 27 years
George Robinson (brother of Michael): 42 years
Laura Robinson (bride and daughter of George and Paula): 17 years

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Yo. Recently found this wimmelbilder by Salisha and the Taystie Park community and for some reason it just clicked for me. I know all of us have thought of a world or a place where murder rape and free use is normal, but again, for some reason this specific artwork did something to me and now I want to write it out

I'm a novice by all means, and my style is unusual for this place afaik, so if you have any critisism, I'm mature enough to take it. Ty

Salisha - https://www.furaffinity.net/user/salisha/

Taystie RP on discord (they didn't let me in) - https://discord.gg/taystie

“Come in.” Mrs Thomas smiled at the young girl on the doorstep. “Thank you so much for coming over.”

“Is everything okay?” Beth asked a little nervously, stepping into the large, elegantly-decorated hallway. She had been babysitting for the Thomas family for almost two years. She loved the children – five year old twins Percy and Jennifer, but had always found the parents a little intimidating. In truth they had been nothing but kind and polite to her but they were a fair bit wealthier than her family and she had never seen Mrs Thomas without full makeup and dressed as if she expected to be called to a wedding with only a few minutes notice. She worried they judged her for her more modest background, older clothes and usual lack of makeup.

Beth was fifteen years old, a few months shy of her sixteenth birthday. She was not especially tall but neither was she remarkably short either. She was just average. That’s how she viewed everything about herself really. Her red hair had a natural curl to it but no particular style, her lightly-freckled face was pretty but was unlikely to ever grace a magazine cover. She was actually quite proud of her figure which was trim yet curved in the right places but tended to hide it most of the time behind tom-boy clothing. She did well enough in school but was not top of the class, was a fairly good drawer but nowhere near professional standard and could sing passably but nobody ever suggested a music career for her. Beth was almost aggressively average, and happy that way.

She normally babysat for the Thomas twins two nights a week, Thursday and Friday. Thursday night was the parents’ dance class that they attended together and on Friday they each had their own social clubs they liked to attend. Occasionally she would be asked to watch the children on other nights and was even sometimes invited to the family’s garden parties but more, she realised, as someone to help keep the children occupied than out of any genuine desire for her company.

This was the first time she had been asked to come over on a Saturday, however, and she was a little worried. She had played Friday evening over and over in her head ever since she got the call, trying to think if she had said anything to one of the children, chided them too sharply or perhaps over-indulged them in some way that might have given the parents cause for complaint. Nothing she could remember seemed out of the ordinary. She had given them dinner, put them in the bath but never left them unsupervised and then the three of them had watched a Disney movie on the sofa until it was bed time. The small children had gone to bed without complaint and enjoyed the story she read them – one of their favourites from a book she had ready many times before, and had been asleep when she went back to check on them around twenty minutes later, little more than half an hour before Mrs Thomas had got home, paid her and seen her out with the usual cheery farewell about seeing her next week.

But then the phonecall had come. Mrs Thomas has said there was something they needed to discuss quite urgently and could she come over? Although she had no particular plans for the day, Beth had still not particularly fancied taking time out of her Saturday to call by, especially if she was going to get shouted at. She has asked if it was something they would maybe talk about on the phone but Mrs Thomas had insisted it be face to face and, as if to get round any potential objections she may have, told Beth that the conversation would likely not take any longer than an hour and that she would pay for her time at the usual rate. Figuring that she might as well go and find out and that, if her employer was upset with her, she wouldn’t have offered to pay her to come over and would most likely have driven round to her parents house to have it out with her there, Beth had agreed and told Mrs Thomas she would see her in about half an hour.

Her parents had been in the living room when she went to the door, watching her rather unexpected little brother play with wooden bricks on the carpet and making sure he did not try to shove them too far into his mouth!

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Tage - Cannibal/consensual/semi-con/teen/boy/dolcett/snuff

Boy Barbecue
By
Edward Hyde
“Have you heard of a Sidney party?”

The question had seemed innocent enough, asked of Timothy by his mum over dinner on an otherwise unremarkable evening about two weeks earlier.

“Yeah,” he had replied without thinking about it too much, “it’s a party for a girl who’s going to cook soon where she gets together with her friends and everyone dresses up like Sidney and they play dumb games and have some fun.”

“Ah, right!” His mum had nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense! Janice at work was telling me about trying to organise a Sidney party for her Megan and I know they’re planning on cooking her for their wedding anniversary in a few weeks.”


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The chalk snapped against the blackboard as Mr. Harlow wrote out the exam results in his usual neat, looping script. A few rows back, Leonie chewed her thumbnail, her knee bouncing under the desk. Next to her, Samantha was doodling spirals in the corner of her notebook, the pen pressing hard enough to leave indents on the next three pages. Two desks over, Emily sat perfectly still, staring at the board like she could will the letters to rearrange themselves. And beside her, Hannah twisted a strand of honey-blonde hair around her finger, tighter and tighter, until the tip turned pale.

"I know we didn’t do great," Samantha muttered under her breath, nudging Leonie’s foot with hers. "But how bad could it—"

"Class," Mr. Harlow interrupted, turning to face them. His tie was crooked, as always. "These scores are unacceptable. Truly." He sighed, rubbing his temple. "You know the rules."

A heavy silence settled over the room. Someone’s chair creaked. Outside, a magpie landed on the windowsill, tilting its head at them before fluttering away.

Hannah's breath hitched. The magpie's shadow flickered across her desk as it flew off, and for a stupid, fleeting second, she wished she could follow it. Mr. Harlow cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. "Hannah, Emily, Samantha, Leonie—you four scored below the threshold. The rest of you, pack up. We're proceeding to the execution room immediately."

Leonie's knee stopped bouncing. Her hand slid off the desk, limp. Next to her, Samantha's pen rolled onto the floor with a plastic clatter no one bothered to pick up. Emily's shoulders tensed, but she didn't blink. And Hannah—Hannah untwisted her hair, the strand falling straight and numb against her neck.

The class shuffled out in eerie quiet, shoes scuffing the linoleum. No one spoke. No one even looked at them. The magpie cawed again, distant now, as they turned down the hallway lined with framed portraits of past headmasters. The execution room door loomed at the end, polished oak with a brass handle worn shiny from use.

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TAGS - (non-con, rape, beheading)
Author - Iwyd

(This is my first story!
Please let me know if you enjoyed reading it.
Feedback means more to me than you know!)
Jenny was a beautiful young girl who had just started high school.

Her father's death had left her and her mother poor, so their home was in a bad area and teeming with drug & gang violence.

This made her easy to stalk,
and one day she caught the eye of a predator.


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(M/f, casual, breast destruction, decapitation, gutting, necro, dolcett)

The sun was warm, the sand was warm, and the sound of the surf was relaxing as he lay on his towel under the tree. He heard the bus rumbling near, the hiss of its brakes and cough of its engine as it shut down, and then the giggle of a gaggle of young female voices.

He paid them no mind, it didn't disturb his relaxation in the slightest. The beach was a place for happy people, after all.

After a while, he heard the soft crunch of sand and a happy laugh getting closer. He cracked an eye to glance around.

Down the beach, maybe three dozen girls were splashing in the surf, moving rocks, piling driftwood. Some were waving over in his direction.

He shifted his gaze closer. Another girl was walking closer, looking back and waving to her friends.

She was tall and skinny, maybe lanky, and almost six feet tall he guessed, though the tall wedged wooden beach sandals gave her five or six inches. Her skin was dark brown and shiny like melted chocolate, gleaming in the afternoon sun. Her hair was black and tightly curled, tied with streaming red ribbons to form two large round puffs high at the back of her head. Nearly as large were her bouncing, wobbling breasts, too firm and spherical to be natural.

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As you approach the theatre, you begin to wonder whether this show will really offer any more than the fakery of the regular one, or simply the same illusions with a better salesmanship. Of course, you'd attended one of the regular shows: Despite the outrage, almost everyone had, although few other women dared to go unaccompanied. The show had been entertaining enough. The screams and the purported mutilations had been surprisingly convincing, but the illusion was never quite complete. As the same 'dead' actresses kept returning for the next torture the pretence became ever harder to maintain and you left not entirely satisfied.

After this you had started taking an interest in the rumours of a special staging of the show, more
secretive and exclusive, offering a more 'authentic' experience. It took a lot of subtle enquiries, but eventually Lord Halesworth let slip that he was able to obtain an invitation, and you were able to persuade him to take you to the next show.

When the evening came, you took special care over your appearance. Lord Halesworth will likely expect some reward for this favour and you expect the show to put you in the mood to oblige him. After putting on a pair of white stockings and silky white knickers, you took a moment to admire yourself in the mirror, pleased with your flat stomach and pale, lightly freckled skin. At 27 you consider your physical appearance to be near its peak: still youthful but no longer a girl, your skin smooth and unlined, and your average sized, but well-shaped breasts still high and firm. You put on a sheer white brassiere and a corset before putting your long red hair up and adding some light makeup. Finally you donned an evening dress in a green silk that matched your eyes and low-heeled shoes of the same colour.

You enter the theatre and wait while the couple in front presents their tickets. The usher holds out a velvet bag from which the woman draws out a white ball. She hands it back to the usher as he guides them into the theatre.

"It's nothing to worry about." says Lord Halesworth, seeing your enquiring look. "Just a little game all female patrons are expected to play."

You hadn't been worried, merely curious, but now you start to wonder if you should be. Arriving at the front of the queue, Lord Halesworth shows your tickets and the usher offers you the bag. After a moments hesitation you reach in and draw a black ball. Taking back the ball, the usher directs you towards a plain door that obviously does not lead to the auditorium. Looking around, you see a pair of muscular men standing either side of the exit and watching you closely. They are wearing suits, but do not seem sufficiently well-dressed to be patrons. Now you really are worried, but decide it's best not to make a fuss.


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Peixe Afogado
Capítulo 1: Lembranças sobre uma mesa de espelhos

Carl, um homem de meia-idade com a perna inutilizada, observava a silhueta de um cão à margem do córrego. A alguns metros dali — a distância exata era um mistério para seus olhos cansados — uma figura semelhante a um espantalho movia-se lentamente em direção ao bosque. Carl ergueu-se, sustentando o peso do corpo nos troncos das árvores, as mãos ásperas servindo de muletas improvisadas. O desconhecido despertava nele um misto de pavor e euforia.

Quem seria? Uma mulher perdida naquele vácuo sem sinal de rede? Ou um homem seguindo o cão? As perguntas borbulhavam em sua mente como vermes. Ele estava longe de casa, fugindo da imagem que o assombrava: o rosto de Moomiha prensado contra as grades do portão. Lembrava-se dos olhos dela, saltando levemente das órbitas; dos lábios inchados, roxos como uvas maduras; do nariz torto, como vidro quente mal moldado sob a fúria de seus punhos.

Embriagado, ele destruíra a única pessoa que o amava. A mulher que dera à luz a criança que ele abandonara em becos sujos. Agora, o peso da consciência era um saco de areia sobre seus ombros. A visão escureceu, o estômago roncou e, subitamente, o mundo de Carl apagou.

logo mais posto o resto

(Hanging, necro-but only for a bit, beheading, blow job)

Jack thought he heard the front door opening. But he didn’t care enough to investigate. Right now the only thing that mattered was his own cock and the rope tightening around his neck. He could already see spots as his body began to suffer from the lack of air. It was a race to see if he could finish before he completely passed out. So focused was he on his task that he didn’t notice when the bedroom door opened. But even in his half conscious state there was no ignoring when another person entered the room. Jack focused his eyes best he could to take in the newcomer. A robber? Though how many robbers came in wielding machetes? Then again Jack couldn’t think of any reason why someone out here in the city would have a machete. Though he was finding thinking hard to do at the moment. His consciousness was beginning to fade. Jack kept his eyes locked on the stranger for as long as he could while he stroked himself through an orgasm, before finally blackness overtook everything.

Marcus had broken into many homes over his murderous career. People did strange things when they believed themselves safe in the privacy of their home, and he’d seen it all. At least he thought he had. Until he opened the door to see the man he’d come to murder already killing himself. That in itself wasn’t too strange. It certainly wouldn’t be the first suicide he’d witnessed. No, what was strange was that the man was masturbating while hanging himself. Marcus paused in the doorway, unsure of what he was supposed to do with this situation. The hanging man noticed him. Green, half-lidded eyes struggling to focus. He seemed surprised but not enough to stop his self pleasuring. If anything it seemed having an audience was exciting him even more. The dying man kept his eyes on Marcus while his body trembled through its last orgasm. Marcus couldn’t stop watching either, his own cock beginning to grow in his pants. Eventually the man's hand fell back to his side. His eyelids fluttered closed as his brain shut down from the lack of oxygen. After a few minutes Marcus approached the still form.

The man's black hair was stuck to his sweaty forehead. Now that he was closer Marcus could see a number of freckles along the man's pale cheeks. The man’s cock was still erect, covered in slick. Raising his machete he cleanly cut through the rope holding the body up. The dead man fell to the floor with a thump. Marcus lifted the slender body up and deposited it on the bed. He undid his belt, finally freeing his own cock. He had come in here with the intention to rape and kill the resident. While the man's behavior had thrown him off, ultimately it just meant he was saving the time and energy he would have spent killing him anyway. Flipping the man over onto his stomach Marcus wasted no time pushing his aching cock into the still pleasantly warm body. He became lost in the haze of pleasure as he fucked into the tight hole harshly. So much so that he didn’t notice when the body beneath him began breathing once more, nor when the man's eyes fluttered open again. But when a second set of grunts joined his own he snapped out of it. Frozen he looked around the room for another intruder. He knew this man lived alone. He always studied every potential victim extensively. There would be no way another person should be in here. “Nngh..hey..why’d you stop..?” Marcus’s horrified eyes turned to the body splayed out beneath him. The not so dead anymore man stared back at him. With a yell Marcus ripped himself away.

Confusion washed over Jack as he came to. The first thing he noticed were the soft sheets beneath him. He’d wondered when he had gotten onto his bed. Last he remembered he’d been hanging from the ceiling. He tried to remember more, but his mind was still foggy. In that state it took a while for him to notice the second, and possibly more pressing thing. A warm hardness ramming into him so harshly he was surprised the bed was still standing. Looking back he saw a familiar looking man. Now it was coming back to him. Someone had broken into his home while he was hanging himself. They must have cut him down after he died. The other mans eyes were closed as he kept fucking into Jack without a care in the world. Jack felt his cock twitching against the bed sheets as his sweet spot was hit again and again. The intruder was certainly handsome. At least by Jack’s standards. Brown curly hair, a square jaw covered in stubble, and a sturdy, strong frame. Jack couldn’t help staring. He didn’t realize the noises escaping his own lips. He wouldn’t have been able to stop it if he tried. But the man noticed, and in the blink of an eye he was on the other side of the room. Leaving Jack empty and in need. With a sigh he pushed himself up. At least he tried to. But a sudden pain in the back of his head brought him to his knees and suddenly the room was spinning.

Marcus stared in horror as the man who should be dead pushed himself up off of the bed. Without giving it another thought he grabbed his weapon and swung it down on the man's head. There was a sickening crunch as the blade became embedded in his skull. The man fell to his knees, swaying for a bit in his knelt position before his head hit the mattress once more. Marcus got his panicked breathing back under control while he watched the body. For what felt like an eternity he eyed it for any sign of life. But nothing happened. Cautiously he stepped forward again and checked the man’s pulse. He was certain the other was dead this time. Marcus braced a foot against the dead man’s back while he yanked his machete back out of the other's head. To his horror once the weapon is removed the wound begins to close. Marcus backed away in a hurry as the man stirred again. “Wh-what are you!? Stay away you..you monster!” This was it, karma for all those people he murdered. The universe sent this demon to kill and torment him. His eyes darted to the door but this…creature was standing right in his path. He raised his weapon, ready to fight for his life. But oddly enough the other simply raised his hands in a non-threatening gesture and spoke.

“Okay, first of all, rude. You’re the one who came in here to kill me.”, Jack had to stop himself from laughing. Here he was, naked and unarmed, and the machete wielding beef-cake was treating him like the most terrifying thing in the world. “Relax, I'm not gonna hurt you.”, the other didn’t seem to believe him. “Seriously. I’m not mad, and I'm definitely not dangerous. Look at me, I’ve never lifted anything heavier than a grape.” he laughs, gesturing to his own skinny body. The man relaxed a bit, but kept the machete pointed at Jack. “What are you?”, that question again, but asked much more calmly this time. Jack shrugged, “Just a guy… who happens to be immortal.”Jack sat back down on the bed in a relaxed pose, and smirked a bit when he noticed where the man's eyes travelled. “So, here’s the deal. I won’t turn you in to the police if you don’t tell anyone else about me..and..if you do me a small favor…”

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(Ultracasual, Incest, Loli/Shota, F and M guro, Cannibalism, Pissing, Edging, Trains)


PART 1

Morning light entered the train station building and created magnificent rays. The air was filled with usual noise and clutter. Speakers announced the departure of a train. An old lady was mopping blood from the floor. She was indifferently putting pieces of the girl into a bin. It was just a boring Saturday morning.

The cleaning lady noticed another family entering the building. She glanced over a woman in her fifties and a bunch of children. ‘She was busy’, she thought to herself counting children, ‘how the hell wasn’t she snuffed already?’ There was also no husband to be seen.

The woman, wearing a blue sundress and a straw hat with a wide brim, had one of her breasts exposed. She was breastfeeding a baby while the other children were carrying the luggage. Her body had a nice shape, but despite a good diet and regular exercise, was giving up to age and many childbirths. Her name was Hanne.

“I still think it’s unusual for us to go on a vacation,” said John, the eldest son. He just graduated as a senior high school student.


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I forgot my passkey thing but I'm PullApart.

I'm posting this story in snuff spaces and it's getting ignored for being pony, and in pony spaces and it's getting shat on for being snuff. Sad!

***

A human wakes up in Equestria with a splitting headache and a kind, concerned pony tending to him.

Unfortunately for Fluttershy, the human thinks he's dreaming.

Doubly unfortunately, he's a sadistic snuff freak who's been beating off to the thought of raping and murdering ponies for a decade, and he thinks this is a harmless, consequence-free place to indulge his fantasies.

Chapter 1 - Fluttershy's Brutal Anal Extermination

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I'm half back^^"
I'm still too busy to write anything, expecially not the next part of my story. but I've been toying a bit with AI recently and here's what I ended up with. this was done first written By AI and then Almost completely rewritten by me. hope you like it. any form of constructive critic is always welcome!

for context, this story takes place in a casual snuff version of the DC universe.

the Joker is sprawled on an old couch in an abandonned warehouse transformed in makeshift base. his leg hangs over the armrest. He's fucking bored. “Harley, sweetie. Do a strip-tease for me.” instantly, Harley gives a small shrug and a small but genuine smile. Just as if someone only asked her to pass the salt. “Oki doki, Puddin’.” She stands up with no hurry and places her mallet against the wall. She sways sexily to the middle of the room, where she baths under the yellowish light coming from the single functionning lightbulb, dangling precariously from the roof.

Harley's chalk-white skin is already visible, since her clothes don't cover much to start with. She starts the second she reaches the center of the of the room. She has more than generous curves but that's not everything. Harley is still a high-level athlete and an expert performer. Her strip-tease is much more spectacular than one from any random strip-club. She starts by dancing, shaking her heavy ass and impressive breasts, as she slowy removes both of her fingerless gloves. She casually throw them behind her back, while she seductivly moves her thighs when sending her shoes flying. Harley's body is now only covered by her stockings, shorts, and crop-top. The stockings are especially difficult to remove as there isn't anything for her to seat on. Fortunately she's really flexible, Harley lifts her left leg and press it against her chest. She can stay perfectly still on one leg with no problems, so she takes her time to remove her red stocking, revealing her naked leg and bare foot. For the right stocking, this time she do a spilt. Left leg behind, right leg in front, she extands and pulls on her whole body to reach her right foot and take off the black stocking. Twisting her legs in unexpected way, she gets back up on her bare feet in less than a second, all while dacing with professional mouvements. With nothing much on her body, her light skin is almost luminous when it stands out sharply against the shadows across the walls. This is where the show gets real, and Harley doesn't hesitate a split second.

She slowly passes her right arm through the sleeve of her red-and-black crop-top. She repeats with the left arm, and just like that, the tight fabric peels away in a split second. Her heavy, full breasts spring free with a soft bounce. With her boobs now free, Harley keeps dancing, she gives a small push as she slides her hands behind her back and brings them up though her own hair, shaking her breasts all along. With graceful steps of her long legs, she turns, showing her tight shorts wrapped around her generous bottom. Harley then rolls her hips flirtaciously. This makes her round and plump ass shift under the snug shorts. Her pale white flesh jiggles clearly with every elegent movements of her dance.

With one of those elegent moves, she casually slides her shorts down her thick thighs to her ankles. With this piece of clothing down, it reveals the black-and-red diamond tattoo on Harley's hip, the ink faintly gleaming on her milky-white skin. With her shorts now around her ankles, with her bare foot, Harley kicks it away in the middle of a dainty dance movement, letting her fully nude, as she shows her shaved pussy. Harley's dance continue: she keeps undulating, arms raised above her head, letting her generous curves dance. Her massive breasts jiggled with each languid step, pink nipples hardened by the cool air, slapping lightly against her ribcage when she arched her back. She gave some louds slaps on her now-uncovered boobs and rump. The slapping sound create a catchy music to go along with her strip-tease.


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Lily's Story - The Playground

The fog was thick enough to swallow streetlights whole, turning the campus paths into pale tunnels of sodium glow and shadow. Lily had already been walking for almost two hours—same slow, deliberate circuit she’d been tracing almost every restless night for weeks. The oversized charcoal hoodie hung open down the front, unzipped to her navel; beneath it the sheer white micro bikini was already drenched, not from rain but from the steady leak of her own arousal. The triangular patches had long since turned transparent, framing dark, swollen areolas and clinging to the puffy outer lips of a cunt that refused to close all the way anymore.

She was 5'2" of compact, exaggerated curves: narrow waist, heavy C-cups that jiggled with each step, wide fertile hips and a plump ass that rolled visibly under the thin fabric. Weeks of escalating exposure games—public edges, toys left in too long, deliberate stretching—had left her perpetually puffy, perpetually slick, and perpetually unsatisfied. Tonight the familiar ache had sharpened into something crueler: a deep, animal need to be filled, to feel something massive hold her open until her mind cracked. The little vibes and plugs she usually carried weren’t enough anymore. She wanted ruin-level fullness. She wanted to feel her own body give up.

She wasn’t looking for anything in particular. Just walking. Letting the night air lick the wetness on her inner thighs, letting the occasional security light catch the sheen on her mound, letting the risk of being seen keep her clit throbbing. The circuit usually took her past the rec center, the redwood grove, the empty bus stops. Tonight, restless and unsatisfied, she drifted farther than usual—past the new student housing construction zone, through a gap where the chain-link fence had been pried back and never repaired.

She didn’t notice the change at first. Then the shapes resolved out of the mist: peeling blue paint, cold galvanized steel, the skeletal remains of an abandoned outdoor fitness course scheduled for demolition. Balance beams half-rotted, parallel bars sagging, and—-dead center—-a tall pull-up station. Three horizontal bars. One thick vertical support post running through the middle. Three full inches in diameter. Smooth rounded cap on top.

Lily stopped breathing for a second.

The post rose well past the highest bar, terminating in that blunt steel dome maybe eight inches above the rail. It looked industrial, merciless, exactly the kind of thing that could finally satisfy the screaming void inside her tonight.

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I kicked the classroom door shut behind me with a lazy heel, the bang echoing down the empty hallway like a gunshot nobody gave a shit about. Third period was over, kids had scattered like roaches when the lights flick on, and I’d told the last stragglers to fuck off early. The room still smelled faintly of teenage sweat, cheap body spray, and the chalk dust that never quite settles. Mine now.
Lena was already bent over the supply cabinet in the back, ass up like she thought the black leather skirt would hide how much she wanted it noticed. Goth assistant, my personal little shadow for the last six months. Medium tits pushed against a ripped fishnet top, silver rings through both nipples glinting every time she breathed. Black lipstick smeared just enough to look like she’d already been face-fucked once today. Probably had.
I leaned against the teacher’s desk, arms crossed, watching her pretend to organize markers.
“Yo, Morticia,” I called. “You gonna keep wiggling that pale ass at me or actually do something useful?”
She straightened slow, dramatic, the way goths do when they think they’re in control. Turned. Smirked. “Sir, I’m cataloging your dry-erase carnage. Very useful.”
“Catalog this.” I unzipped, pulled my cock out, already half-hard from the walk over just thinking about what I was gonna do to her. “Get over here and wrap those pierced tits around it. Let’s see if the metal makes it sting nicer.”
Her eyes flicked down, then back up. Tongue darted across black lips. “Thought you’d never ask.”
She crossed the room in those clunky platform boots, dropped to her knees without being told. Good girl. Always was when it came to dick. She cupped her tits, squeezed them together so the nipple rings kissed, then slid my shaft between the warm, soft valley. The metal clicked against skin. Cold at first, then warming fast as she started pumping.
“Fuck yeah,” I muttered, grabbing a fistful of her dyed-black hair. “Look at you. All spooky makeup and razor-blade jewelry, but you’re still just another tit-fuck hole with a pulse. Bet those rings are the only thing keeping your nipples from falling off after how many times I’ve twisted ’em.”
She moaned around the compliment, tongue flicking the head every time it poked through the top of her cleavage. “You love it, sir. You love breaking the pretty ones.”
“Damn right.” I yanked her head back hard enough that her neck popped. “But today I’m not breaking pretty. Today I’m breaking useless.”
I hauled her up by the hair, spun her, slammed her chest-down across the wide teacher’s desk. Papers scattered. A coffee mug hit the floor and shattered. Didn’t care. I ripped the fishnet top down the middle—easy, already half-torn—and those pierced nipples popped free. Dark areolas, stiff from the cold air and the fear she was trying to hide behind bravado.
“Hands behind your back.”

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