Witch Hunter. Willow Sears

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СКАЧАТЬ all cowered around him. He realised his bald head, bony and white as a polished skull, was as good a calling card as any. His eyes were what had always marked him out but their effect was almost too shocking. They wouldn’t allow him to survive an identity parade. They needed to be used only when necessary, revealed at critical moments so as to have the same withering effect on his adversaries as if he had pulled out a gun.

      He first shaved his head on the day he was ejected from university. He had celebrated his new look by punching a tutor to the ground for awarding a low mark to an essay he had put minimal effort into. He didn’t care about his expulsion. He had only gone to university to teach himself how to use his brain properly. He found that academic qualifications were just that: academic. He realised that there were better ways to make money than through kowtowing to the strictures of society. If university taught him anything it was that that the youngsters of today, and of any day, thirsted for more than knowledge. With the birth of rave culture and all-nighters, everyday youth wanted something more than a few beers down the pub. They wanted drugs, in great quantities. So he decided to make it his life’s work to give them exactly what they wanted. And he did far, far better out of it than they ever would.

      Now he was safely within the confines his own realm the Ray-Bans could come off and the eyes could again be revealed to give him his full power. The way the girl regarded him showed her overwhelming desire to be put to his sword. Her eyes were fiery, wild, and her mouth was open in a wicked grin. She was in awe of all she surveyed as she busily stuffed herself with the raspberries. Some of the ooze inside her had already leaked and ran blood-red onto the cushion beneath her. He judged she was now full enough and bade her stop. He grasped his prick and moved slowly forward so that she knew what was coming. She breathed harder, gasping with the anticipation, parting her thighs even wider to welcome him in. Her fingers stayed at her crotch, ready to hold herself open to aid his penetration.

      It was not his favourite position but it was the only way she could take him this first time. He guided the fat head of his prick up between her pale lips and saw an immediate trickle of her red juice upon it. As oily-wet as she was she still had to stretch herself apart as he pushed slowly forward. When the whole glans had been engulfed he steadied himself, grasping tightly under her hips to make sure she stayed exactly in position. He could feel that the mixture inside her was warm, so he knew she was ready. He then plunged inside her in one beautifully controlled thrust. It was slow at first, then built steadily into an unstoppable lunge, finishing with a loud wet slap as his balls and crotch met her soft opening.

      Her wails increased as he drove into her, culminating in a shriek as he slammed home and forced the first burst of oily juice from inside her. He could feel the squash of fruit within, the tiny explosions as he filled her so suddenly and crushed the berries. He felt the splash on his belly and knew his balls would be dripping with the blood-red concoction. He saw the spatter shoot up her alabaster thighs, the oil making it cling to her skin before it gradually ran down.

      He withdrew slowly so that she could witness his full length thickly covered in the gleaming claret mixture. Her eyes were wide and she was trembling with bliss. He drove home to the hilt once more. Another great splash of fruit juice shot up her inner thighs, leaving small lumps of the broken fruit upon her pristine white skin. She wasn’t just trembling now but shaking. It had to be the nastiest thing she had ever seen, and he knew she adored it.

      He gave her several more thrusts until her cream started to take over and make the secretions too opaque to look like fresh blood. Then he withdrew and replaced her upon the dais. He manoeuvred her onto him and she was quick to impale herself once more, sliding down hard upon him to expel the remnants of the pulped fruit. She felt tight still, clenching his shaft as she eased herself up and down or rocked against him to press her swollen bud into his crotch. He grasped her plump bottom to aid her movements, squeezing the soft flesh as hard as possible. He hated skinny, bony arses. He hated huge, flabby arses too. They had to be just right, and this one was, which is why she had been initiated in the first place.

      It was good to watch her with her head thrown back, those perky breasts bouncing up and down. He could eat those tiny, sugar-mice-pink nipples. In fact he just might. Everything about her was good enough to gulp down.

      He put his arms around her and gently brought her down, arresting her bouncing movement. Her eyes had lost their fire and were glazed with ecstasy. He pulled her flat against him, still buried inside her. Her breasts squashed into him just above his belly and he could feel the hard points of her nipples pressing upon his muscle. He revelled in the fact that even tall girls like this still felt so small beside him. Her face was against his chest and she would be able to hear his heart pounding with divine passion.

      She had forgotten all about the lads but now it was time to bring them into play. His hands went back down to her buttocks to squeeze them again and to ease them apart. Without even delving into her he could feel it was slippery from the oil enema that Morgana had earlier administered. He gave terse commands for the lads to stop their sucking and gather around him. They stood in a semicircle regarding her, all slowly stroking their erections and awaiting his command. He pointed to the eldest of the lads, the first he had brought under his wing.

      ‘You,’ was all he needed to say.

      The lad climbed onto the platform and crouched down behind her. Although all the slaves were primarily there to service rather than take their own pleasure, during the various rites and orgies this lad used his seniority over the others to ensure he dealt out just as many buggerings as he received.

      She couldn’t even squeal any more; her only audible emission was a gust of breath from her open mouth. The Master knew that she would have been wishing for him in her tightest passage.

      He let the first lad pump away until his initial rapid pace showed signs of slowing. Then he was ordered off and the next lad took his place. Each took their turn above him as she flooded his prick and drifted ever closer to unconsciousness. Each was replaced as soon as their pace flagged. She just lay there and took them all, burbling her new-found bliss. Each fresh lad could enter more easily. The last, the newest recruit, taken in barely a fortnight before, slipped into her with no pause whatsoever, even though it might have been the first time he had ever committed this delicious act.

      Once they had all been through her he eased her off and left her face-down upon the platform. Although it looked as if she might expire if she received any more pleasure, he wasn’t quite done with her yet. He pulled her hips back so that her bottom was at the edge of the platform, moved his way between her thighs once more and plunged deep into her sex. She had no resistance to offer. This was his favourite position: like a beast from the rear, holding her cheeks open, his heavy balls slapping her intimate flesh.

      She found her voice once more, emitting a piercing scream that told of her joy. He roared in triumph as his balls tightened painfully with the force of his ejaculation. She was completely spent, beyond euphoria. He clutched and waggled his softening prick, like a fat python in his hand.

      The girl would be taken back to Morgana and granted a good two weeks’ respite. It would be a chance to stoke her rude passions again. When she was once more granted licence to have sex she would be mad for it. She would do it with rabid abandon, fuelled by drink and Morgana’s herbal brews. She would dance until possessed and then erupt with sexual fury. He considered no sight more wonderful than that of a young girl utterly lost to wantonness; these seemingly pure girls, with their faultless white skin and their neat, delicate, innocent-looking quims, all suddenly transformed into lust-filled savages; their young perfect rumps, as smooth, ample and apparently guilt-free as those of the bacchantes who adorned his Lalique vases, suddenly being squashed and ground into the face of their victim, or driven down with shuddering force upon a hard cock or anything else that might do for one.

      He knew all about the Bacchanalia from his classical studies at university, although back then he had only vague dreams СКАЧАТЬ