And now...: the last chapter, folks. Karma is appreciated! Enjoy...
--
Meanwhile Bethany reached the white wall which show the remnants of previous tortures. There is blood and filth splattered all over the cold stones, telling reminders of Bethany's nasty habits. The president has been attached to the wall with ropes, and he is more dead than alive. Two of Bethany's assistants hurry over to offer her refreshments--all sorts of fresh cocktails, champagne, iced tea--and goodies like caviar and fresh strawberries. They also bring towels. And gloves. On top of these towels everyone can her see her long, black leather gloves. It is torture time.
- Just like you asked, Miss Bethany. It's your favorite Dom Pérignon. The 2009.
- Thanks. Help me with the gloves.
The servant immediately complies: he hands over the tray to his colleague who is carrying the towels, and he grabs the shiny leather gloves. With tender care he pushes the gloves over her vascular forearms, deeply tanned miracles of hyper-muscularity, slick with the oil they have been rubbed in with. Every inch is hummed with choking power. The leather is beautifully stretched over her forearms which are thicker than his legs, brutally jacked, totally yoked! He feels himself getting lost in the sultry pumped-up muscles of the gorgeous sex goddess standing in front of him. There is no way to avoid catching a glimpse of her big boobs, so proudly jutting forward, screaming for some loving attention. And then he sees her upper-arms up close, the humongous biceps and triceps bulging with power, comic-book shaped, exaggerated mounds of female beef with thick veins snaking over their bulging surface. She flexes her bicep and watches it ball up, then split and peak with size that would put heavyweight male bodybuilders to shame. To say he is totally intimidated does not begin to describe how belittled, submissive and petrified he feels in her divine muscular presence. And at the same time, she drives him mad with an animalistic lust, an arousal so big he has to concentrate on not creaming his pants there and then.
- You like them, don't ya?
He is not sure whether she refers to her arms, boobs or to her gloves, but yes, he likes them all.
- O yes! I do.
Bethany savagely pulls off his shorts and releases his beautiful erection from its tight confines. His huge cock stands rigid as a pole, ready for action, ready to serve his mistress. His glans is all wet with pre-cum, which has not gone unnoticed by the female predator. You can literally see his dick throb with excitement.
- Mmm, I see you do. Don't cum or I'll bust your skull.
Her gloved hand grabs his cock as she mockingly tilts her head sideways and sexily flutters her eyelashes. Her broad shoulders ripen into stuffed orbs that rival her powerful biceps. The engorged, shining delts dramatically show the destructive power thumping inside them. He feels the sensational touch of her hand is inevitably going to drive him over the edge--she is not even jerking. Not even a little.
- O Miss Bethany, could you stop ... ? ... Touching my ... ... ...
Suddenly his world explodes: her free hand punches him just below the ribs. It is a brutally powerful fist that smashes into his kidney area. It makes him grunt in agony, racked with pain. He starts to shake with short, racking sobs. And then she lands another gloved fist onto exactly the same spot. Restrained and controlled, but devastating nevertheless. He gasps for breath. Delirious with pain which is overtaking his nervous system. The hand that held his penis, is now holding his throat, easily keeping him from collapsing onto the floor.
- What is it you say? You fucking think you're in a position to ask me something?
The third blow breaks him. Bethany hits him on the same spot but this time with less restraint, brutalizing his kidney, squashing the side of his abs which are unfit to neutralize such onslaught. His penis has gone flaccid immediately.
- Did I tell you to lose that hard-on? Huh? Did I?
Tears run down his cheeks, he screams like a pig, unable to cope with the excruciating pain inflicted by the busty bodybuilder. His body convulses and shakes uncontrollably. The side of his torso has turned ugly red, blue and black, severe physical trauma is all too obvious, much to the satisfaction of the young sadist. Without the slightest remorse she hits him again, loving the way her gloved knuckles impact on his soft flesh. Bethany knows that each extra hit does not so much increase his suffering--he has reached the apex of his agony and more pain would make him pass out. She just loves the sight of her ballooning arm muscles flexing dangerously as she drives her gloved fist into his side again with unabashed power. The huge veins crisscrossing her thick muscle-packed forearms beautifully show through the shiny leather of her gloves. She is so freakishly intimidating. Years of heavy weight training have created a walking wet dream, a body so excessively muscular and yet so perfectly proportioned and curvaceous, that it appeals to the deepest male fantasies. Every bulging muscle and sexy curve is built to produce arousal, to drive men mad with lust.
She loves the audience too: carefully selected men whose sole purpose is her pleasure and whose lives she has made a living hell. They are monitored 24/7, touching their cocks is forbidden, masturbation is entirely out of the question and they are bombarded on a daily basis with individually tailored porn. They are so freaking horny they would fuck a wall, but the terror facing Bethany keeps them in line. The inhibition takes its toll however: with a gorgeous babe like Bethany around they nearly cream their pants by just meeting her or merely watching her walk. It is a constant challenge with her deliberately strutting around in all-revealing, skimpy outfits, oiled and groomed to perfection, her kinky and provocative attitude only adding to her aura of sex goddess. And of ultra-violent, mega-sadist assassin of course. Because if men fail to live up to her expectations, they pay a price. A horrible price.
So, when Bethany throws her diligent servant on the ground, he resorts into a fetal position immediately. His suffering is obvious. The effects of her blows have totally incapacitated him. His body is broken. He can hardly breathe.
- Get up! And make sure you're erect.
The servant has registered her order, but he is physically unable to get up quickly. You can see he uses all his willpower to manage to get on his hands and knees. She disdainfully mocks him.
- Yeah, crawl like the dog you are. Is that all you can offer me, huh?
He knows she wants him to have an erection, but he is unauthorized to touch his cock. A few jerks would help to comply with her demand, but the rules of the house are so deeply ingrained into his brain, he refrains from touching his dick. Bethany grins evilly, as if she is able to read his concerns.
- How long has it been?
He answers with difficulty, the pain preventing him from speaking fluently. Even his voice fails him from time to time. Traumatized. Terrified.
- ... Six ... ... weeks ... and three days, ... M... Miss Bethany. ... ... M ... My ...G ... Goddess... ... ... Last time you edged me ... ... f ... for ... ... t ... two hours before you allowed me to cum ... ... all over ... ... your perfect boobs. ... ... Then you took me to a meeting, pushed me under the table ... ... and f ... ... f ... forced me into c ... ... cunnilingus ... ... for more than two hours. ... ... The two ... two ... ... most precious hours of my life. ...
Bethany's gorgeous face lightens up as she remembers the situation. It was a meeting with top Russian foreign agents, mostly ex-KGB, and they were discussing the possibility of ensuring a constant and cheap supply of Russian prisoners to populate their Detention Centers, ultra-modern buildings being constructed all over the country devoted to interrogation and torture. Places of female muscle worship. Places of mass slaughter. Factories of death. Of horrific experimentation. Ten DC's, each fit to deal with and dispose of 10,000 corpses a day. China and India already agreed to ship dissidents and criminals to the US--nothing better than an over-crowded Detention Center. With the Russians joining forces there would be a permanent supply of men to "work" with. They did join forces, eventually. The debate was not so much about the supply of men--the Russians did not care--, but about the extra fee for the intel: Bethany wanted 50k for the results of an interrogation and an extra 50k if they wanted live footage. Per interrogation. They found the amount extraordinarily high. It was not until Bethany showed footage of previous interrogations, that they agreed. The prospect of receiving more footage of this gorgeous hyper-muscular bodybuilder in a tight-fitting black leather catsuit brutally humiliating and torturing men quickly drew them over the line.
These sadistic Russian ex-KGB-officers knew Bethany very well--she had been trained by the KGB and often stayed in Moscow to perfect her interrogation skills. Whenever she was in Moscow, hundreds of dissident voices of the regime were interrogated by the half-naked American bodybuilder. Needless to say they revealed every possible secret to her: in between their screams of agony they blurted out plans, places, names. Everything. And more. Names led to new arrests and to more interrogations. She sometimes did more than 250 men per day! Bethany was responsible for single handedly eliminating every opposition to the totalitarian Russian regime. Important dissident voices were brutally silenced, critical journalists were arrested and butchered to death--footage of their last hours was broadcasted through official government channels. Bethany's reputation as merciless and ultra-sexy killing machine was quickly settled in Russia. She wore a mask on videos, but there was no way she could hide that outrageously muscular pornstar-body of hers. She also featured in talk-shows and entertainment programs on official government channels, always dressed up in outrageously provocative outfits, talking dirty, boasting about her work for the Kremlin, doing all kinds of unexpected and crazy things on television, such as stripping naked or blowing the host of the show! Rumors went that sometimes she had to be restrained not to slaughter everyone on the set. She quickly became notorious as a ruthless killing machine, as a sadistic government assassin, and as an over-sexed, totally crazy bodybuilder whose ultra-muscular physique was not just for show. Everybody knew her. Everybody feared her.
One day things got out of hand. Bethany joined the regime forces to make an end to a peaceful public protest in Moscow one Sunday afternoon: more than 100,000 people were peacefully marching against the disappearance of so many opponents of the regime. From the control room she ordered the police and military to block all roads so that the marching crowd was trapped. Wearing nothing more than a black leather thong and these characteristic knee-high high-heeled platform fetish boots she got out, each hand carrying a heavy machine gun, two belt-fed monsters that would normally be placed on a bi-pod but which looked like children's toys in Bethany's hands. It took more than ten Russian soldiers to carry the rounds of ammo behind her. That afternoon she killed more than 80,000 people by pumping them full of bullets: she fired thousands and thousands and thousands of rounds into the panicking crowd. Bodies were ripped apart, mutilated beyond recognition, bullet-holes as big as bowling balls. Her ultra-trained muscles easily neutralized the heavy recoil of these nasty monster-guns. When both guns suddenly failed due to overheating, she elegantly tumbled into the masses and started kicking people to death. Each kick as lethal as a gunshot; each kick sealing the fate of a protester. Each kick making her more aggressive, more aroused. When she was finished, the streets were deadly silent, bodies everywhere, piled and scattered all over the streets, blood flowing like a river, her huge shapely body shiny with the blood and viscera of her victims. A post-apocalyptic scene. Since that day Russians lived lived in constant fear. Putin's reign of fear was replaced by a reign of terror.
So, the KGB knew of her beastly habits. Of her ultra-sadistic appetites. She never ceased to amaze. It was not that no man got out alive, but they were slaughtered in ways that would be considered even too gross for over-the-top horror-movies! Bethany remembers how her Russian colleagues had noticed the man under the table and that they knew what he was doing. She did not hide how she enjoyed his services. But what could they do? They feared for their lives as well. She was notorious for her impulsive whims, often involving crushing or squashing of male organs...
- Glad you think about it that way. You served me well. Let me return the favor.
Still on his hands and knees, he glances around and starts to blush. It dawns on him just now how totally out of the ordinary, how utterly strange this situation is. He is facing a half-naked alpha-female wearing these ultra-sexy black and shiny dominatrix platform boots and long leather gloves. Everyone is anxiously watching them. Her sexually forward attitude continues to amaze him. She is totally uninhibited when it comes to sex. Well, when it comes to anything... He hears himself saying, as if in a dream:
- O Goddess, yes. You are the best!
- That's what all men tell me.
And then, in an incredible explosion of force and obviously enjoying it, she kicks him in the balls from behind. As he is on his hands and knees, her booted foot disappears into his crotch. Really INTO his crotch. He doubles over in pain, gasping for breath as his hands cover the destroyed area in an automated defensive reflex. He does not even register the extreme damage her kick has caused: she simply destroyed his cock and balls, crushing them to a bloody pulp, breaking his pelvis. The man lies on the ground. In shock. Writhing in complete agony. Spasming. His face is drawn in a grimace of horror.
- Take him inside the house and tie him to one of the chairs I reserve for disobedient servants.
Two men come to carry him away. No one dares to ask what kind of disobedience he may have committed. They just do as they are ordered to, happy not to be the one she kicked the testicles to pulp. When you are put into the chair, you are doomed. Your fate is sealed. The chairs are such horrible devices, four of them placed in the central hallway of the mansion, a place everyone needs to pass several times a day. They are permanent reminders of how sadistic Bethany is, of how painful the consequences are of any mishap, any mistake, however small. Not showing up in time for a meeting, not being hard when you are supposed to or being hard when you are not supposed to. No one survives. The only question is how long it will take to die.
- Mmm. Always good to come home. I want absolute obedience. Strict discipline.
Bethany faces the president again and loosens the ropes he is tied up against the wall with. The man feels a glimmer of hope that she will release him, but that hope vanishes as quickly as it appeared: with visible pleasure she starts nailing the crying man to the wall, arms high above his head, legs widely spread. Nasty little detail: Bethany does not use a hammer, but simply pushes in the thick six inch nails with her thumb! Her servants watch their sadistic mistress in awe. For most of them this is not the first time they see her in action, but people never get used to her sessions. The sheer brutality and barbarity of the tortures and the otherworldly beauty of the muscular torturess are hard to digest. Bethany elegantly back-springs towards a collection of baseball bats hanging on the wall and picks out a huge steel bat.
- It wouldn't stand a chance against my pussy, but it'll just do fine here with this fucking asshole.
She elegantly struts back and starts playing. Matt mutters in horror:
- ... Holy shit...
The president wails and screams his lungs out with every strike of her bat. It is insane.
--
- Want out?
It is the melodious and sexy voice of Denise. It is a gorgeous sound in the midst of the horrific cries of Bethany's victim. In between his desperate pleas for mercy and her girlish giggles, Matt hears the blows of the bat landing on the president's body again and again. The enormous thuds are followed by heart-rending squeals of such an intensity, of such animal-like ferocity, that Matt is sure he will collapse any moment. Only to hear the impact of another blow followed by an even scarier squeal. Matt is a total wreck when Denise helps him out of the trunk. He is still naked. His body hurts everywhere. Especially the side of his torso feels excruciatingly painful--it has turned blue and he has trouble breathing.
- Yeah, baby. It can take some time. She's taking him on quite the ride. She's crazy. Wanna watch? She won't kill him yet, you know. She'll just break every bone in his body and then take him inside to feast on him. It'll be hell for him. And worse.
- O God... O my dear God. ... I don't want to watch this, Denise. Please.
- And she's so unpredictable. One moment she may be jerking you off promising you a world of sexual bliss, a moment later she starts tearing off your arms and squashing your balls. Only to start nagging about a blood stain on her leather pants a couple of seconds later. And punishing you for it.
Denise embraces him, the familiar hardness and warmth of her dense muscles, which otherwise would turn him mad with lust, now make him wince in terror. Even the closeness of her orgasmic tits engenders fear and horror. He is pushed onto that awesome bosom, each breast larger than his head. Sluggishly and with much pain and effort, he actually manages to move his neck, tilting his head upwards to look into the eyes of his tormentor:
- Will I live through this, Denise?
His pleading look is answered by a very matter-of-fact answer:
- No.
Matt expected punishment--even quite severe punishment--but no death penalty. The smirk across her sexy lips
- ... O ... O God, no. Please. ... Why, Denise? ... Why? I didn't do anything to upset you.
- I could say that you disobeyed me. I'm very strict about obedience, you know that. Or that you cheated on me. Bethany told me how you lusted after her and came more than once in front of her.
- That's not true! You know it is not...
- You call Bethany a liar? Do you have the guts to repeat that statement while she is standing in front of you?
Matt shivers in mortal terror. He is petrified of that woman; totally traumatized by what he has seen her doing just an hour ago and by the spectacle she is putting up now. Of course he does not have the guts. Not to a girl who can rip him in half without even breaking a sweat. A Pentagon-trained killing machine whose curvaceous body is like an adult amusement park, but nobody survives the intimate encounter. The amusement is all hers, and hers only. He starts shaking uncontrollably.
- ... Please, Denise. Don't do that. ... For old time's sake. I loved you, you know.
And he quickly adds, while staring at the ground in dejection:
- And I still do. ... O babe, I still love you. Bethany will kill me. Torture me. She promised me. Please, help me.
- O baby. I can see she made quite an impression. She's a fucking piece, isn't she? Hehe. I admit: she is one the most violent and aggressive girls you'll ever meet. But then again, all chicks on the 'Pentagon 7 Program' are outliers when it comes to violence. But you know what, Matt? There is one outlier among the outliers. ...
Matt looks at her incredulously. She cannot be serious.
- Indeed, that's me. My resumé reads like a horror movie. Well, like a thousand horror movies. And I don't need a fucking reason to kill. I just kill. Big time. For you Matt, I have something special in mind, a long journey. I'll put you so full of drugs to make you hyper-sensitive and to make you last longer. Fuck, I'll make you last, Matt.
Matt is mentally broken when he feels Denise's hand traveling down his abs and starting to massage his crotch in a way only these bodybuilder women can. Their sexual skill is from another world. She gets him hard in no time and smiles evilly.
- Thing is: I've got other boyfriends. Bigger cocks, more stamina, bigger muscles. And I engaged a new IT-guy, the beta nerdy-type, PhD in engineering from MIT, glasses and all. Totally into muscle. A cutie. I don't know how long he'll last, but the rough hand-job I gave him, has already paid off in several millions of virtual cash and in a surveillance system that surpasses the Pentagon's in accuracy and efficiency. I wonder what he'll offer in return when I will ride his cock...
- Oh baby, don't kill me. I'm more valuable to you alive. I'll work with this new IT-guy. Let me serve you. O God, let me eat you out...
- Fuck, Matt. You make me wet by just thinking about it.
She releases him from her embrace and as he wants to dive into her perfectly shaven wet pussy, he sees Bethany walking by. She holds a battered bleeding pseudo-corpse in her hands. Every inch of his body is black, blue and dripping with blood. He is totally wrecked. His arms and legs are obviously broken in many places: they are hanging loosely from his torso, flesh has been ripped leaving muscle tissue to be visible and bones are sticking out in awkward angles. Matt is shocked. When he finally notices the knob of the bat sticking out of his ass, he starts to puke. She must have rammed the barrel all the way up into his abdomen, leaving the knob and a couple of inches of the grip sticking out. The president is still moaning softly, the pain must be totally overwhelming his nervous system. Matt feels sorry for him, but the idea that the man will die within a couple of minutes is the soothing thought that keeps him going. Without much ado, Bethany puts him in a plastic wrap, keeping his head clear and throws his mangled form into the trunk again.
- Fuck, that felt good. It is not always the number of killings that counts.
- Jeez, B. Looks like you're giving him some quality time.
- Yeah, didn't crush any vital organs. But I changed my mind: I'm not going to do him here. I'll take him to one of the nearest Detention Center and take him on a torture trip. I'll ask Dayana to do his cock.
- Then all this is insignificant foreplay? God, B., you're sick! Dayana's cock-work makes even experienced assassins at the Pentagon weak in the knees. We got his money. He is no longer the President of this MMA league. He is broke. Why Dayana?
- Broken, you mean?
- Hahaha! Yeah, you broke his bones all right. In a hundred places.
- I promised Dayana. I owed her a favor for dismembering her ex-boyfriend during a nightly fuck-fest last week. Got carried away a little bit, I admit. Fuck, there is so much I can learn from her. She is so talented! The level of precision and her eye for detail continue to amaze me: she drives her men mad with pain from the first minute and she continues to increase their pain levels to unimaginable heights keeping their tortured cocks erect all the time, appealing to their deepest sexual fantasies! She is so fucking imaginative, so resourceful.
Dayana is specialized in cock torture--she interrogates thousands and thousands of men at the Pentagon and never fails to get the intel she wants. A black beast. Black Death, they call her. This nickname is aptly chosen: at the age of 19 this muscle babe is responsible for the death of over a hundred thousand people! Wherever she goes she leaves a trail of corpses behind--all brutally castrated. Notorious for her prison camp fantasies and for keeping her victims erect during their endlessly long hell-ride. She has no mercy whatsoever, no remorse, no compassion for her victims. Men find themselves in the hands of a crazy and extremely talented sadist, a muscle babe whose soul is as black as her flawlessly oiled, super-sexy black skin. A muscular psychopath with a taste for erect cocks, but the pleasure is hers. Hers only.
- I'll call her. What are you up to, Denise? Can I take Matt with me? I'll treat him well, you know.
Denise notices how eager she is to take Matt to her lair, probably to fuck-torture him. But Denise wants something special for Matt, and when Bethany is that eager, she tends to lose patience very quickly and things get out of hand too rapidly. She will enroll him in the protocols of the 'White Room' herself, the special room in her torture dungeons where men are slowly and systematically transformed into sorry heaps of gory misery. Denise has also noticed Matt's terror every time Bethany is involved: she simply scares the shit out of him!
- Sure, yeah! I'll join you to the Center. Inform D. she may have two cocks to play with.
Bethany jumps with glee. Like a child who has been promised a new toy. The hulking beauty quickly gets into the car and texts Dayana. Matt is devastated and pleadingly looks into Denise's dark brown eyes. Like she expected, his whole being screams for mercy, a shadow of mercy, for some glimmer of hope.
- Come on, Matt. Bethany is not that bad. I'll ask her to be kind. Dayana's not bad either. I'll make her stick to the scenario. No excessive cock torture. OK? Now, get into the car. You can eat me out during the ride to the Center.
Her gorgeous face expresses the sadistic joy she feels in so effortlessly ensuring herself of the best cunnilingus in weeks. Denise grabs Matt's crotch, splaying her fingers to get an even grip on his balls and slowly starts pressing them together. Unnecessary hard. Loving the pain he is in. Reveling in the power she holds over him. She continues to torture his testicles, nearly squashing them. He wants to scream his lungs out, but she bends forward and pushes her substantial breasts into his face. The perfectly round, melon-sized mounds give a little. The ample flesh--tightly contained within the confines of her tight-fitting halter dress--squishes pleasantly against either side of Matt's head, closing over his ears, cheeks, and mouth. The substantial mass of her gorgeous tits muffles his cries, but she continues to press her soft assets against his skull, the hard cranial structure being no match for the cushioned vice ready to cave in his head, to squash it like a grape. The talented fingers holding his sack squeeze his balls, moving them against one another, causing him to wince in pain. She aggressively hisses into his ear:
- Compared to what Dayana will do to your cock, this touch is orgasmic. Orgasmic! So, make me happy. Your life depends on it.
She releases him from her vice-like grip and kicks the damaged side of his torso again. The side where Bethany left her mark. Denise's kick is as controlled and restrained as Bethany's fist strikes. The elegance of that ultra-muscular, glossy leg moving through the air is pure poetry. At the moment of impact the massive monster is perfectly stretched and rams into his side with unstoppable force. There is so much muscular mass shifting and bulging under her smooth skin, there is so much power behind the kick, that Matt not only hears his ribs crack, he feels a sharp and burning pain, causing him to nearly pass out as he goes limp and collapses on the ground. His handsome face is tear stained as he meets the familiar gaze of his tormentor, a pro bodybuilder, a hot-blooded dominatrix, a horny sadist, a drop-dead gorgeous porn-star. Denise is the total package!
- You have no idea what's waiting for you...
Matt is down. Her kick has knocked him out. Wrecked him. His breathing has become labored, but he knows that if he does not recover quickly, she will continue to beat the shit out of him. With a malicious grin she glances how he gathers all the force left in his beaten body, and manages to plead, to beg:
- ... No, please, Denise... I love you! ... ... I'll ... do ... anything, ... Anything ... ... but don't kill me. ... And ... ... ... don't hand me over to Dayana and Bethany. ... Please! ...
He starts sobbing and crying like a child. He collapses mentally. She picks him up by his throat, pulls him close and sexily licks the tears from his face, savoring his fear. Enjoying the power she has over him. The fear she causes.
- Look at this from the bright side, Matt: you'll have three busty muscle babes devoting all their attention to you. Hahahaha! I wonder what Dayana will insert this time. You know that she has a whole box of these long, thick steel rods used for sounding, all electrically wired. Boy, and then these other custom-made paraphernalia screaming to get used. The weirdest dildos for pegging or these prostate stimulators. Men go mad.
Her talented hand travels over his abs to his penis, gently wrapping her strong fingers around it, fingering the glans with her long and ultra-sharp fingernail, sending the familiar shivers down his spine. Matt has never met a girl who is so ridiculously talented in sex. Her skills in the sac continue to blow his mind. She is a maniac. A fucking machine. Her skillful grip holds his throbbing cock at the base, gently massaging his balls, and then stroking it upwards, slowly and delicately. Matt moans in delight when she presses back down deep into his swollen balls, keeping her hand firmly around his shaft. She immediately drives his arousal sky-high and he has to devote all his attention to not cumming, to neutralize the tsunami of sexual energy she is forcing upon him.
- - Jeez, gotta love your cock! So responsive.
She repeats her slow jerking movement, gently pulling upwards and driving her hand down again, firm and forceful. His throbbing dick is fully erect, nearly exploding, leaking pre-cum onto her fingers.
- Admiring my dexterity, huh? You know the works: don't cum.
Feeling her big, curvaceous and muscular physique pressing against his body does not help to comply with her command. Being surrounded by these fantastic tits, a protruding double-D almost bursting out of her tank top and nearly touching his face, and this sculpted ocean of bulging and glistening muscles is a lot to digest. Denise is kinky. She oozes raw sexuality. He knows that under her dress, her boobs are slippery with the oil they have been rubbed in with. Someone has had the privilege to massage these orgasmic mounds, giving her that ultra-sexy shiny stage-look she is so notorious for.
- I know what you think, Matt. He came three times. As we speak, Karen is showing him the error of his ways. She is re-designing his body: she'll turn him into a limbless eunuch, spending the rest of his miserable life in a wheelchair, not even able to feed himself. Ever had a spoon inserted in your cock? No? You can imagine that when she will be finished, he won't even have a shaft left... How pathetic. Hahaha!
She feels him trying to pull away his pelvis, his body writhing and squirming. Denise forces her tongue into his mouth and aggressively kisses him, her tongue snaking into his mouth, dominating his, leaving him short of air. Her hand continues its magic, his penis firmly clenched in her grip, her virtuoso fingers shattering his hopes of controlling an orgasm. Matt feels her sensual mouth smile and chuckle through the kiss as she increases the pumping rhythm, sadistically yanking harder and harder until pleasure becomes pain. Until her fists start slamming into his swollen balls every time she moves down her hand. Mercilessly. The pain prevents him from cumming. His glans is wet with pre-cum, which makes the ferocious jerking just bearable.
- You didn't really think I'd leave you alone, did you? I could jerk it off, you know. Just pull OFF your cock. So easy--done it so many times, but then Dayana would be out of work...
She throws him a smoldering look, her pouty lips so enticingly sexy. Suddenly he startles when he feels fingers entering his ass, two or three, stretching his asshole, filling him up. He sighs and moans in response to suddenly feeling her fist inside him. It all happens in a couple of seconds. When she pushes her forearm in and he feels her fist up his bowels, he fears for the worst--the intrusion is painful, awkward and arousing all at the same time. His cock remains erect. Throbbingly so.
- Good boy. A good thing your ass is bleached and groomed. You know how much I love pegging the shit out of you. Or fisting you until you cannot even remember having an asshole. Hahaha!
But this time Denise is not interested in a fisting fest, but she savagely grabs his neck and crotch and throws him in the direction of the car, its engine running. Matt feels himself flying through the air and violently lands next to the open back door, barely able to use his hands to break the force of the crash.
- Get in, fucking asshole! Make sure you're ready to have a lot of pussy. It's gonna be a l-o-n-g f-u-c-k-i-n-g ride.
He hurries to his feet and gets into the car. The gorgeous bodybuilder roars with laughter before she calls all servants to report outside and line-up against the wall. The men quickly form a line, happy to oblige. Twenty or so men look at the muscular bimbo ready to obey her commands. There is an air of expectancy, of fear and excitement.
- I'm in a good mood and I want to show you how grateful Bethany and me want to thank you for serving us so well. I know that you're not allowed to masturbate around here. Well, you can now.
The men look in disbelief at the ultra-hot babe in front of them. Then they look at each other, unsure about whether the big-boobed bodybuilder is serious or not. The next thing is that they see Denise sexily strutting towards the Porsche, swaying her lush hips, showing off her lush physique in the skimpy dress. The weeks of abstention have left their mark and the servants start jerking off like maniacs, pants down on their ankles, the ultra-sexy muscle monster the object of their smoldering desire. She chuckles evilly.
- Let me do some shooting too.
Denise grabs two guns that lie on the front seat of the car, two custom made H&K MP5's with silencers attached, and she starts shooting the men, easily holding the guns, her impressive arms stretched, the bulging muscles twitching beautifully with every burst, easily handling the recoil. Despite the heavy recoil from the powerful bursts of fully automatic fire, her markswomanship remains perfect, every single round finding its mark, destroying frail male penises and testicles or the frail hands that try to cover them, shredding male flesh into a bloody paste... Denise's thick wrists and super-humanly strong forearms can control recoil far better than any man. For a girl with her physique, shooting guns like that is play. Just easy fun. These automatic guns are mere toys. They are just means to show off her outrageously developed, ballooning arms and striated shoulders. Just a means to make her look good, to show that her physique is not just a joy to look at, a feast for the eyes, but that she is as strong as she looks. That her muscles are as powerful as they intimidatingly sexy! The men's legs are simply ripped off their torsos. It is one bloody massacre, death still being hours ahead. Their screaming is horrifying and Denise clearly enjoys their agony.
- Mmmm. Looks like my guns are far stronger than yours...
She leaves one lucky servant alive. The man is in shock, petrified, shivering and shaking in terror. Much to Denise's amusement he has pissed himself.
- Make sure this mess is cleaned up when we return. When you're finished, report to Karen. Make sure your cock is rock-hard and your ass is plugged when you face her or she may get angry. And I assure you, you do not want Karen to get angry. She may re-design your body too, you know. Hahaha!
With a last burst of bullets, casually shooting both MP5's from the hip, she destroys one of his hands, ripping it to shreds. The marksmanship needed to fire shots like this, is out of the ordinary. Combining this amount of firepower with such accuracy is even beyond sniper-level.
- Failing to comply buys you quality time with Karen. I hope you love the challenge. Or do you want me to shoot your other hand too?
The man howls in pain.
- I'll take that as a "yes".
Short bursts from both guns seal the fate of his other hand. Heavy bullets reduce it to paste, totally annihilate it. Instinctively, he uses the stump of his other hand to try to fend off the brutal attack, but it is utterly futile. Her marksmanship and surgical accuracy of the attack are amazing. With both hands reduced to gory pulp, he cries in desperation. Cleaning up this mess will indeed be quite the challenge. Denise approvingly watches him writhe in pain, gasping for air, trying to cope with the shock. She chuckles.
- Make sure it's clean, asshole! Karen will be expecting you. Don't try anything stupid: there are cameras everywhere and as you can imagine, my servants are very eager to observe and report anything suspicious. The prospect of an intimate encounter with my biceps makes them quite fanatic.
With these ominous words she snap-flexes her super-sized upper arm into a textbook example of a two-headed monster peaking at more than 29 inches. Denise elegantly gets into the car and in a flash you can see her impossibly thick arm with a beautifully swollen and throbbing biceps close the door.
- Make yourself useful, Matt. I'm horny and wet.
With screeching tires the Porsche leaves the premises.
--
A brand new building situated close to the harbor of a big city. A Porsche parks in some sort of Emergency Center drive-in. Men in blue uniforms hasten to open the doors and trunk and take Matt and the sack with the former President inside the building, which has the aura of an exclusive, luxurious hospital. Everything happens so quickly and methodically that you would almost miss Matt's drenched face, a feral grin painted around his mouth. His face is dripping with pussy juice. His eyes are deeply hidden in his sockets. He looks exhausted. Spent.
Bethany and Denise enter the spacious reception lobby, confidently strutting like IFBB pro Bikini competitors. They share the super-confident sexy strut and the over-inflated boobs with Bikini pros, but all likeness ends there. Their silhouette shows this outrageous x-frame, their muscles are rippling with development, bursting with power, blown to heavyweight pro male bodybuilder levels. A man in a white uniform hands them an iPad. You can see Denise asking him something, grabbing the back of his head and then smashing his face against her thigh, time and again. She does not stop until his head is completely squashed, crushed against her quads and knee, blood dripping over her glossy leg. Immediately two men in blue uniform nervously clean up the gory mess without daring to look at the two giggling females towering above them. Whenever the girls are around, every employee is on edge, terrified of ending up in the lethal hands of these terrific bodybuilders.
Then the automatic doors leading to "Torture Rooms 1-15" open and a huge, curvaceous black amazon appears. Her outrageously muscular physique is dripping with blood and viscera. It is a formidable sight to behold, causing quite a stir among the male personnel in the lobby. Everybody is scared as shit, knowing about her ultra-sadistic appetites. Yesterday all screens at the Detention Center--all network computers, laptops, and the large information screens--showed recorded footage of her activities in the torture rooms. It was repulsive, abhorrent coverage in which she brutally butchers thousands of "residents"--mostly Chinese prisoners--to a horrific death. It was some sort of perverted best-of compilation, in which the gorgeous black bodybuilder shows no mercy whatsoever for her crying, begging and screaming victims, whose erect cocks feature prominently in her horrific torture festivities. But it is the images of the tortured employees that haunt every employee's sleep. It is the fact that even personnel is not free from being humiliated and from being transformed into gory heaps of heavily mutilated human misery, that haunts these men. The guys in blue uniforms have the horrible task of cleaning up and dispose of the huge quantity of corpses produced at the Detention Center. They work long shifts. They work diligently, scrupulously, discretely. Yet, they still fall victim to their employers' moody whims. The sheer level of sadism, of controlled aggression, of perversity, of finding sexual pleasure in slowly snuffing out their own personnel, petrifies everyone.
The gorgeous black amazon is wearing these high-heeled shiny black leather boots. Long leather gloves are beautifully stretched over her thick and vascular forearms. She looks like an ultra-fit demon from hell, a hyper-muscular behemoth, the Devil's dominatrix. She leaves a trail of blood on the floor as she comes closer to greet her sisters in arms. The smallest movement of her index finger is enough for one of the blue uniformed men who is cleaning the floor, to notice. He quickly gets up from his cleaning work and she barks him an order--you cannot hear her voice but you see the disdain on her gorgeous face, her long black hair tightly fixed in a bun, her large dark eyes not even granting him a look. He starts cleaning her intimidating torso, an amazing v-taper accentuated by these big ballooning breasts. He moves his towel over her boobs which are covered with blood, some of it still wet, some already crusted. You can see her gloved hand grabbing his crotch as his face transforms in a mask of agony. She chuckles evilly. The next thing you see is her other arm snaking around his waist. An arm that looks like it is carved out of marble, every muscle standing out visibly and there is a hell lot of muscle! The arm starts digging into his back and he feels himself being pressed against her hard body and huge breasts. He screams and--before you know it--she crushes his torso to gore, snapping his spine, tearing his body in half, wetting her athletic body with fresh blood. She rips off his cock and holds it as a trophy for everyone to see. And you see her thick, ultra-sensual lips say: "You're not here for your pleasure. You're here for mine. Let's play."
The other two muscle goddesses elegantly tumble towards the large lobby desks, where the rest of a dozen or so employees are seated, and start what has become known as "the massacre at D.C.", slaughtering all men present that day. Well, all except for Matt.
--
Two weeks later. Same Detention Center.
- He still has an "on" switch.
The gorgeous black bodybuilder wiggles her talented gloved finger into the mutilated asshole of what was previously known as "Matt". A limbless form is attached to a wall, his blackish-blue torso is covered with numerous signs of long, painful but superficial torture. Some tissue that started to heal, has been brutalized again. Other tissue is beyond healing. Every wound on his body shows the signature of a pro. His cock has been transformed into a bleeding, gory rod that has been pierced with dozens of needles. Yet, it remains erect! And when Dayana works her anal magic, his penis twitches in delight.
- Mmmm, Dayana. He loves your touch.
When the black beast starts fisting him, rupturing his ass further, tearing it apart. Her blood-soaked glove gets covered with shit as she savagely punches her fist further up his abdomen. Matt opens his heavily deformed mouth to scream and you can see that all his teeth and tongue have been removed. His face has been transformed into a horrific torture zone. He looks more like a monster from hell. He produces no sound.
- It's so good you removed his vocal cords, Bethany. Well, you actually removed everything from his torso, piece by piece, bone by bone.
The beautifully oiled brunette grins. She looks stunning! Her fluorescent pink micro-bikini shows off all her voluptuous curves and bulging musculature, her high-heeled pumps only adding to her image of the stylish domme, the ultra-rich bitch who does not take a no for an answer. Her showy, flashy make-up and her oiled up physique are obvious traces she just finished a photo-shoot with a famous bodybuilding website. It was about training arms, but it soon turned into a shoot which showcased every sexy inch of her hypertrophied dream-body. The photographer creamed his pants twice, much to Bethany's amusement, but she let him get away with it. He is so cute, and he writes her these love letters full of poetry. Moreover, he is so talented in picturing the modern amazon--his photos of Bethany ooze sex and power--she decided to give him a blowjob. He lasted two seconds. And he asked her on a date tonight, a dinner, a movie, that kind of romantic soul.
- Yeah, that's a classic. Nails, finger bones, hands, lower arms, upper arms, etc. And then start all over again with other arm. Just got to make sure you stop the bleeding, or they miss all the fun. Show me your trick, Dayana. I have a date waiting for me and I still have to get dressed.
Dayana stops violating his asshole and selects a couple of rods she likes to use as cock insertions. Needless to say they are long, thick and electrified.
- A date? Get dressed? Who is the lucky one? Is it that talented photographer you talked about?
- Mmm, yes.
- Well, one thing. You gotta teach them who's in charge on the first date.
- Hahaha! Sure what else? He wants to go to the movies. I'll give him his first sperm fest: I'll jerk him off from start to finish. Hope he goes for a long movie. O yeah, you push it in like that.
Bethany watches how Dayana's talented fingers insert three rods into his urethra without splitting the shaft-- a feat in itself!
- Yeah, it needs to be erect. Sometimes you need to use a butt-plug to make it stay hard enough, but Matt here knows the drill. He has been hard for days on end now--drug-induced of course. He is wasted.
Bethany is wondering whether she will try out this penile torture fest on her date, but decides against it. Not on a first date. Well, perhaps on a second--if he survives the first, that is... He did not.
THE END.
