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She has no idea you’re rubbing my pussy.”“No idea,” I whimpered.“Mmm, say what you are,” Melody purred and then jammed her fingers into my pussy.The shock of her penetration made me rise on my tiptoes. I groaned, my pussy clenching down on her fingers. I copied her. I jammed my digits into her juicy depths, submitting to her. Her cunt engulfed me. I wiggled them inside of her, making her smile.“Say it,” Melody hissed, the heel of her hand ground on my clit.“Minako is a little lezzie slut,” I moaned, my pussy squeezing down on her fingers.She massaged my bud, making me tremble. I let out a deep whimper of delight. I gasped and shuddered, my entire body shivering in delight. It was so amazing. It was so delicious. I couldn’t help but squirm in wondrous delight.Pleasure washed through me. I groaned and gasped. My eyes squeezed shut. My entire body trembled. Her fingers pumped faster and faster, stirring up my cunt. I wanted to moan, but I couldn’t. I had to be calm. I couldn’t look like. Joansissyfelt a moment of joy, of revenge. You stole my life."Are you saying fuck me?" Goddess Chanazine's eyes narrowedinto squint. "Are you really saying fuck me, joan uselesspiece of crap sissy?"John Phillips couldn't speak. His hand wavered, but hebrought up the other one and now gave her two fingers.Goddess Chanazine sat back. She smiled and began to laugh,softly at first, then wildly. Then tears began to fall fromher eyes from her laugh that came from so deep within. Soonthe Mistresses and then the sissies joined her, realizingthe absurdity of his action.Like a blink, Chanazine changed her mood. She hissed, "I'mthe one doing the fucking around here, you piece of shit.I'm fucking you. Can't you feel it? Can you feel the plug?That's me. Can you feel that corset? That's me. Can youfeel those nice new tits you have? They are mine. Thoseheels? Mine. Fuck me? Fuck you!"John Phillips saw her flush, stand and grow shrill."Prisoners who are taken, say they will never talk. Butthey do..
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Holy hell he’s strong I thought and I danced away, looking for distance. We did the dance several times over, he’d hack at me, I’d barely defect the blow, and my arm was weakening. I was just as good with my left as my right and could switch if he’d give me a break, but he didn’t seem to tire. For all the times I had courted death and dreamt about it, something in the fight made me want to live. Maybe it was that he was nothing more than a butcher and his gods were similar, or maybe it was just that I refused to die simply because I was tired, cranky, and had to piss badly, but whatever it was, I found myself move to attack. It left me open and to twist away from his machete shortened my strike and I missed. It changed the rhythm enough I switched hands and he frowned and I smiled with a s much malice as a bedraggled redhead could muster. I held the slight edge for a moment but then he was back and his strength seemed doubled. The bastard had been holding back. Though it shamed every.

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