The arrival of new slavegirls at a Coven Brothel was always clamorous – but carefully so. Miss Coven had planned it so that upon their disembarkation, the already-distressed young abductees were even further disoriented by a suddenly imposed regimen of screamed orders, pulled hair and heavy blows by Miss Coven’s skilled ‘greetings’ crews. The slaves had no time to think or consider their predicament; the determined ‘greeters’ met them with a savage onslaught that only would only let up when the crying girls began to clearly display signs of total submission.
It was in the first few days and sleepless nights that any will or self respect that these slavegirls had would begin to wilt. They would learn the value of the words, “Yes, Mistress” and “Right away, Mistress” and would start to realize that only by making their Greeters happy would they experience better treatment.
Since the founder of the Coven Lesbian Brothels lived in the States and because of the clearly larger demand for American slavegirls, the Caribbean brothel ( Brothel No. 1 ) was the largest of the three establishments. Strangely immune to discovery or interference, this Island brothel for ladies regularly took in a new shipment of approximately fifty or sixty scared young women almost every week. And Miss Coven’s were upon them the moment the slaves landed.
In a moment that illustrated the many individual personal stories amid the controlled mayhem of the Arrival, the petite nineteen year-old girl named Patsy cowered against the wall, closely overshadowed by the big Greeter woman, Nadine. “Please don’t hurt me anymore, Mistress,” the teary-eyed slave pleaded. “Please! I’ll do anything…!”
“Mmmmm… I know you will, honey,” Mistress Nadine agreed soothingly as she pressed her fattish, sweating body close against Patsy’s. “Just an hour more and I’ll unshackle you and you and me can go somewhere private. Then you can show me how cooperative you can be….”
Miss Coven’s younger sister, Miss Dolm, was one who was steeped in the Unnatural Arts and being so, immediately recognized the value of enslaving twin sisters. Having a twin as one’s personal slave brought with it an unfathomable increase of pleasure that was almost threefold that the normal slavegirl could provide. An enslaved Twin Slavegirl brought with her an ability to obediently bring an enhanced lady like Miss Dolm to orgasms that were tumultuous – almost malevolent – in their nature; sending someone like Miss Dolm or Miss Coven into throes of hours-long orgasms. Clawmarks on the walls. Wild screams and howls. Pleasure that was unimaginable to normal women.
A beautiful English twin had been captured by an alert minion of Miss Dolm in the States and quickly delivered to her under the most extreme secrecy. Taking delivery of this valued girl was quite a chancy and perilous move for Miss Dolm. Her older sister was twice as powerful, having lived for almost two centuries longer, and Miss Dolm had no doubts that Coven would consider this as an offence worthy of Miss Dolm’s demise. The English girl was Leanne; Miss Dolm had briefly considered also keeping Leanne’s twin sister but the aura of the twins together in one place would reach Miss Coven’s alert senses – and there would literally be Hell To Pay. The other twin was now serving in the Eastern European brothel, her memory erased. Still such a chance…..
But this was here and now. Miss Dolm must have this beautiful twin for herself for life. There were spells that would arrest Leanne’s aging enough that it would be yet another couple of centuries before the first wrinkle appeared. So much time and pleasure. And danger….
The powerful Miss Dolm held Leanne tightly as the slave, her mind already beginning to cloud, haltingly read out loud from each page of the book of Spells that Dolm had chosen.
“Yes, yes, keep reading. Soon you will remember nothing except your eagerness to do as I say.” Miss Dolm’s voice was hoarse from all the screaming orgasms that Leanne had given her the previous nights. In fact, her big nipples stilled pulsed and large drops of Miss Dolm’s pussyjuice still made audible splattering sounds as they leaked to the floor. “Keep reciting the words chosen just for girls like you and you will belong to me.”
Miss Dolm’s fingers dug into into the soft yielding flesh of Leanne’s breasts and her breathing was harder now. The dripping from her now-demanding cunt was becoming more thick and more rapid as she whispered vile things in the slave’s ear.
“Hurry. Hurry…” Miss Dolm urged.
Although she had been born into a quite powerful Latin American family, Manuela Milagros had suffered from insults about her unattractive looks throughout her pre-adult years. Many times she had broken into tears at the catcalls of ” Monkey Face ” and “Ugly” and all the rest – usually from other females. Her family had tried to console her by lavishing her with money, expensive clothes and trips around the world. But the damage had been done. But Manuela also was one who not only remembered the names that she had been called – but those girls who had called her the names. Imagine their humiliation, Manuela had thought, at being enslaved by the very woman that they had previously ridiculed; at having to service her hairy pussy and rank asshole with their tongues…..
Manuela’s thoughts found an eager audience among the other women who had suffered through similar circumstances in their early years. So these women formed a special group that extracted personal revenge upon those females who had had their lives miserable.
For Manuela, a proud, snobbish blond named Leticia Albana would be her first revenge victim. Yes, Leticia had been defiant when she was first brought in and saw Manuela. “I should have know an sorry-looking puta like you would be behind something so childish as this! I demand you release me at once!” were Leticia’s first words. But Manuela had wielded her whip and paddle like a real pro, punishing her tormenter’s pale body with a quiet fury that soon resulted in Leticia pleading and begging for mercy. Leticia’s humiliation was then just beginning.
Yet again, Mistress Manuela had reserved a secluded cell when she came to Brothel No. 2 to visit her personal slave of revenge, Leticia. For the slave, that meant long sessions of Manuela’s leather paddle followed by much longer sessions designed to educate her in the duties of a Humiliation Slave. Manuela was careful not to have broken her slave. No, she wanted her personal slave to still be able to experience the shame of being forced to do things like using her tongue to clean out Manuela’s asshole at the end of each night of sex and punishment.
Yes, slavegirl Leticia was not so proud now. She was very different from the snob who had made fun of Manuela’s less-than-attractive looks throughout their childhood years…..
“Mercy, please, Mistress! Please forgive me for the things I said to you. I was so wrong! I know that now. Please…”
“I know how sorry you are, bitch. Now stick out your tongue for me. You have such a pretty, long tongue. I like it very much”. Nothing the slave could say would ever change anything. Ever.
“Hmmmm…” Mistress Manuela’s moaned with anticipation and desire and her saliva ran thick as she slurped noisily on Leticia’s offered tongue.
In the her native Romania, Aurora had to be very careful at parties or social functions at which alcohol was available or served. Having had just one drink, she was practically guaranteed to have yet another and another until she was roaring drunk. And her kind of drunk was the toppling, falling-down, sick-in-the-stomach kind which served to make her persona non grata: No invitations for Aurora to join the parties; not even from her closest relatives. And the girls, those beautiful girls whom Aurora worshipped and wanted, were repelled by her alcohol-ravaged face and her stupefied manner; landing any of them in bed was out of the question.
But Aurora now had her friendly, welcoming Coven Brothel available at any time she could manage to travel there. They were happy to have her as a customer, even when she drank. Of course they paired Aurora up with any other heavy-drinking customer who happened to be in attendance. Besides, the Brothel made quite a handsome profit providing Aurora with the quality wines and champagnes that she tended to favor.
And there were those beautiful female slaves…
Aurora never had to worry about being judged or turned away by the compliant sex slaves at the Coven Lesbian Brothel of her choice, no matter how obnoxiously drunk she might be. No matter how sickly drunk. She and her almost equally soused drinking partner had chosen an English girl as their overnight pussy-eater – and the English lady had been very pleasuring and earnest in her duties. No, no complaints with this slave so far, no even when Aurora and friend had indulged themselves in several long belt-whipping sessions that had marked and reddened the English girl’s pal skin. But now came the part that Aurora really enjoyed…
“Open your mouth wide, pretty English girl,” Auroa commanded. “Yes, just like that. This your chance to show your love for me by swallowing all my puke, okay? You will love the taste! You want to do this, yes?
“Good, goooood, you are so obedient. Just the kind I like. Maybe I buy you, keep you in my place with other bitches I own…. Okay, keep mouth open! You are hungry, yes? Here it comes! Ugggggghhhhhh…… Uggggghhhhhhhh…… Swallow quick, here comes more! Yyyuhhhhhh….”
Payback was being a Mistress’s bitch. This was especially the case for Celeste, who had no idea that someday she would pay the price of her ill-advised comments at a party that she was invited to while vacationing in Argentina. Slightly under the influence of a few cocktails, Celeste had spotted Paula Alvarez across the room and uttered loudly enough for those around her to hear:
“That’s one/ ugly/ bitch over there.”
It didn’t take long for Miss Alvarez, always very sensitive about her lack of good looks, to be informed of Celeste’s rude remarks. Those close to her at the time saw that she was clearly hurt but stoic, refusing to show her reaction to the insult aimed at her. But Paula Alvarez was not one to forget or forgive, as Celeste would soon find out when the masked men abducted her from her hotel room later that night.
Now Celeste would be spending the rest of her life in Coven Brothel No.2 being /Paula’s /bitch.
She would crawl across the floor to meet Mistress Paula upon her arrival, kiss her feet and present her buttocks for the Mistress to spank. Her Mistress took great delight at having Celeste constantly telling her how beautiful a Mistress she was. Sometimes the slave had to spend as much as three or four hours lavishing Paula with compliments before Mistress Paula would finally reward her sincere submissiveness by opening her thighs to let Celeste use her lips and tongue. Only by fulfilling her duties at pleasuring would the slavegirl be able to avoid the painful bondage and punishment that Mistress Paula was only too glad to subject her to whenever she felt she wasn’t getting all that she wanted.
Paula gently guided Celeste’s sobbing mouth to one of her tits. “Ohhh, it’s alright, my bonita. Julie here is also from the States and she just doesn’t like you for some reason. She wants to beat you so much that it would be impolite for me to give her permission to go at you every once in a while. You understand, don’t you? ”
“See how she suckles my tits, Julie? I really like how she does it. Always makes my pussy sopping wet, ready for her to take care off. Want her to suck on your tits, Julie?”
“Shit, I’d enjoy whipping on that ass of hers some more; reminds me of someone I hated when I was young. Okay, but can I beat her if she doesn’t get me off?”
Within the dulled and darkened walls of Brothel No. 3, there occurred many heartwarming instances of slaves finally giving into and accepting their new roles in life. Roles that were based on the principles of loyalty and service and the time-honored theory of finding solace in providing pleasure for others.
It was not that the slavegirls were forced to do things against their wills. It was rather that they were part of the natural order of Superiors having their special needs and Slavegirls being positioned to service those needs. Of course, the slaves needed to be corrected when first brought into service; the bad habits of independent will and thought were inconvenient barriers to their advancement in their new roles.
Teuta was an example of a young college student who had yet to realize how much happier and content she’d be once she was forced to readjust her thinking. It was her fate to be discovered by one of her university professors, a certain Miss Yllka. The sharp-eyed Miss Yllka had immediately spotted the potential of the petite Teuta’s lovely mouth and shapely, compact form. But Teuta had rejected the advances of the somewhat unattractive older instructor and thought that was the end of it. But it was not. Miss Vllka was determined that it would be she who show the girl how perfect she was for service in Miss Coven Lesbian Brothel. A couple of calls and it was done. Miss Yllka, as the discoverer of this new slave, had the right to claim sole rights to Teuta. But although she could easily afford it, Yllka declined the offer – choosing instead the exclusive rights to train the new slavegirl. Yllka was a natural teacher and took to her new duties with an almost ecstatic pleasure.
The Mistress took her time in breaking Teuta. She was an experienced lesbian of over a hundred years and she knew how to slowly inflict the most delicious of agonies upon her slave. At the moment, it was Mistress Yllka’s clinched fist that was the cause of Teuta’s agony. Yllka herself was nearing her own orgasm as the slavegirl’s body bucked and quivered as Yllka worked her fist deep into the slave’s asshole.
“AAAAGHHHHHHH….. NOOOOOOO! AAAAAIIIIIEEEEEE…!”
“Mmmmm,’ the Mistress’s voice was throaty from her building lust and passion. She worked her fist around, this way and that, as she gradually forced it in further. She would take a full half-hour to work it up to her elbow. And causing Teuta such overwhelming pain and suffering in the meantime….
“Oh my dear, sweet girl…!” Yllka moaned as she began to feel the first of a series of small orgasms run through her body. “Sweet….. Soooooo sweet…”
The Werwitch Season Begins.
Miss Jamecha was one of the Brothel Helpers who enjoyed working with the Werwitches when they arrived for their annual initiations of their just-turned-adult daughters into their first experiences of Werwitch sex and death rituals.
Some helpers had a problem with observing and listening to the extreme pain and suffering of the young virgins who were provided for the Werwitches’ pleasure; Jamecha, though, was not one of them. Maybe it was that her own nature and darker desires were similar….
The Werwitches were an isolated lot, feared and resented for their close ties to the Master of All – who looked over them (in his own way) in return for their tireless service of obtaining for his use only the freshest and most beautiful 18 year-old virgins from all over the world. They carried the curse of ugliness; unattractive facial features; bad skin with puss-running sores that dotted their deformed bodies -even around their hair pussies and assholes- and a rotten odor about them that could not be rid of, no matter how well they bathed.
But Despite their physical curse, the Werwitches, born lesbian at birth, were blessed with having access to the most attractive and innocent girls; girls who spent the rest of their lives -however short- doing nothing but giving the most deviant of pleasures to their Werwitch Mistresses. It was said that during their adult lives, which spanned centuries, a Werwitch averaged at least fifty orgasms a day, every day. Their network of Sister Werwitches and their devoted, well-paid informers keep tabs on countless numbers of eighteen year-old virgins; careful selection and planning keeping both them and the Master well-satisfied…..
Now Miss Jamecha smiled broadly as she brought in yet another virgin into one of the reserved Werwitch rooms.
“Hello, Sister Hezola. I see that your roommate there is already having fun with her girlfriend. Well, here’s yours, a cute little university freshman from the states. Totally innocent, religious family and upbringing. Just right for all your wants and needs. Does she meet with your approval?”
“Hmmmm, yes, this one is nice. Nice selection, I approve! Bring her in here to my bed.”
“You and I are going to get so well acquainted, my sweet girl – I promise that you’ll never forget! And don’t pay any attention if you start to hear screaming from my Sister’s side over there. Just obey and do what you’re told. There will be plenty of time later for you to scream when it’s your turn….”
Slave Donna’s Tongue Makes An Impression.
Apprentice Werwitch Tasha’s mother and aunts had gathered to witness and celebrate her first slave-induced orgasm. Petite 18 years-by-a-week Donna had endured Tasha’s bad-breath, spit-drooling kisses and had obediently kissed her back, forcing herself to accept the big witch’s tongue deep within her mouth and to answer back with her own.
Donna had sobbed quietly and thanked the young Werwitch as she rocked Donna’s body with heavy, strong-armed swings of that wooden paddle and had raised marked by her relentless spanking of Donna’s well-formed little butt. Donna wanted to live. From the hall that housed the various suites, she had heard the pitiful, full-voiced screams and final throes of some of her fellow slavegirls and knew that her only chance to survive would be to show that she could be counted on to be an above-average giver of pleasure. Apprentice Werwitch Tasha was a big, strong young gal and she now enjoyed Donna’s suffering as she stood over the pretty girl, whipping her with her favorite belt, muttering, “Yes, yes. yes…!”
But Tasha got much more enjoyment from the slavegirl’s determined servicing of her hairy pussy and asshole. Slave Donna caused the fat Tasha’s blubbery body to shake and quake as she licked that appreciative huge young clit and cunt to one orgasm after another. The Werwitch’s pussy smelled and tasted foul, but the slavegirl forced herself to keep her mouth and lips working feverishly. Tasha’s voice was bass as she kept Donna’s head smothered against her pussy with those strong hands….
It was all Donna could do to resist the use to flinch or pull away as the big Werwitch’s sloppy pussy shot thick streams of rancid, dark cunt-juice into her mouth and to force her tongue to keep licking even as those purple-red boils broke under it’s pressure and leaked out their supply of stinking, yellow pus. One by one, the boils popped their pus on Donna’s tongue – but she dared not do anything less than lap it all up.
Werwitch Tasha’s female relatives had been watching closely and were impressed with the slavegirl’s willingness to please her. They came closer, inching in to get a better look.
“This sweet little slave might be worth keeping,” one aunt said. “Look at how hard she works on our girl’s pussy! If she can keep that up, she might be a good addition to our harem back home.”
“Maybe,” opinioned another Werwitch. “We’ll see. Bitch, you lick good – but now take that tongue of yours and shove it as deep as you up my niece’s asshole…. Ummmmm, just like that…now roll it all around and suck it out……. Yes, make that butt-hole all nice and as clean as you can….. Mmmmm, that’s it, darling, keep sucking it out…”
A Nice Gift.
Werwitch Mistress Ola was having a fine time. She had been thoroughly enjoying seeing her beloved daughter experiencing her first slave-induced orgasms and had attended pleasure-flushed girl’s first
Love Sacrifice – a bit noisy and a little too much needless waste of blood, but still a mother’s proud moment. But Ola had gotten even more more thorough pleasure from the young slavegirl she had spotted down at the open auction a few hours before. Usually Ola was content to partake of whatever the Brothel would supply in terms of young girls, no complaints there. But when the crying young 18 year-old virgin slave named Rolanda was marched up on the auction stage…………
Most Werwitches valued lust over love. They used up hundreds of young virgin slavegirls every year, content to use them up and then absorb their souls when they became boring or unable to survive further. Love usually came along one or twice in a century or even a Werwitch’s entire four-to-five century lifetime; if at all, in some cases. But Mistress Ola’s love-time had come as soon as she saw Rolanda.
Her winning bid for the girl was high, but in such cases, money was not a consideration. Such a sweet, lovely girl. And the only daughter of a devout preacher from the Southern part of the States! The Dark Master would probably personally approve! In such cases, He might even honor Ola with a rare personal visit in order to impale Ola’s prized slavegirl on His mighty goat-cock. Perhaps even pump her full of His black cum and gift Ola with a powerful Demon Werdaughter, a situation that would elevate Ola into the very top ranks of the Werwitch Sisterhood itself. But she was not thinking of all that when she bid on the petite Rolanda. All she wanted was dragging the girl back to her bed….
And the slavegirl didn’t disappoint Ola. Not in any way. So many orgasms. So much pussy juice. That sweet, submissive mouth. Learning fast at licking her insistent clit and at loosening Ola’s bowels with that wet, vacuuming-type sucking of Ola’s asshole……. especially Ola’s asshole. Ola was in ecstasy as she more than once arched her ancient body, pushing her quivering ass back towards the slavegirl’s subservient head – and that obedient suckling mouth……… Ola’s eyes rolling and her lips slack as she groaned, “Ohhhhh…Huhhhhh….!”
Yes, Rolanda was one who would be kept and trained to excel in the most perverse and deviant sexual arts; one to whom Ola would rush home in order to be serviced for hours…
The other Witches could plainly see that Ola had obtained someone special, not just any slavegirl.
“Sister Ola,” asked one. “Do you intend to keep that pretty little bitch or just use her for a long time?”
“No, she will be mine forever. I will make her my sweet bride and she will remain young as she is throughout the rest of my days. See how she is already so devoted to my needs? Open your mouth and bring it closer, slave – show my friend here what a good girl you are. Yesssss…. Ahhhhhh…. See how she drinks my piss? Ahhhhhhhh…..!”
An Unforgettable Lesson
Although the Werwitches were known for their rather extreme practices and tastes, it was the firm policy of the Coven Brothel ownership that all Apprentice-level Werwitches be accompanied and instructed by an experienced Blood Mistress if they carried out their first Love Sacrifice on Brothel grounds. The young witches, their bodies and minds clouded by their first days and nights of non-stop orgasmic ecstasy, would make a mess if not properly guided, instructed and restrained. Past centuries had shown that experienced Werewitches were themselves very poor overseers of their younger Sisters when it came to guiding them through the Sacrifice; an act that would establish them as a blooded and True Sister Werwitch.
A Blood Mistress, an independent witch who specialized in the more extreme forms of lesbian sadism, was the type who kept control of her urges, savoring every last morsel of her subgirls’ pain and agonies. Mistress Lilian was a three century-old Blood Witch who had overseen the Love Sacrifice initiations of hundreds of apprentice Werwitches; teaching them how to extract the very last vestiges of life-force from their chosen ‘girlfriends’.
It was not easy for a Apprentice Werwitch to control herself once she started to experience the onrush that surged through her entire body as her victim screamed and thrashed in her last throes. If not restrained, the young Sister-to-be would literally tear her suffering girlfriend to pieces within a matter of minutes, allowing shreds of the girl’s soul to scatter out into the air around them instead of being able to leisurely absorb every last delicious morsel of her submissive spirit. Mistress Lilian was generously compensated to see to it that
her Apprentice would enjoy every last bit of soul-force possible that her girlfriend had to give her.
Apprentice Sister Mikashia was trembling with anticipation as she held the specialized hand-saw. Restrained below her was her chosen ‘girlfriend’ Diana; a long-time object of Mikashia’s affection since childhood. Diana, who had submitted so thoroughly and who had surrendered her pretty mouth and tongue to Mikashia’s
appreciative pussy and asshole all the previous nights…..Lovely Diana……Diana, whose spirit Mikashia would absorb and keep as a trophy of love and lust, captured within her for all the upcoming centuries of her Werwitch life. Yes, there would be so many girls and souls to enjoy in the times to come – but only one Diana…
“Are you ready?” Mistress Lilian asked the Apprentice beside her.
Beneath them, securely restrained, the beautiful, perky, freckle-faced Diana cried and begged, “No, Nooooooo! Don’t! Donnnn’ttttt…..!
“Oh, yes! Yes, I’m so ready……”, Apprentice Mikashia eyes were glassy with lust; she licked her swollen lips.
“Now, now, my sweet, restrain yourself. Take your time. First, get her hair out of the way, so you can work on that pretty little neck of hers. Touchdown first with a light pressure and then just move it back and forth, okay? Nice and slow. No need to hurry. Your beautiful girl there will start to jerk around, so just concentrate at keeping a slow, steady pace…..
“There you go, that’s the way…”
“Noooo! Aghhhhhhh! Ohhhhhh Godddd….!”
A Fateful Reunion
It had been some two years before that Vickie had demonstrated her kind spirit and generous nature when she had firmly admonished her cheerleader friends when they had loudly began making snide remarks about the tall, strange-looking , tattooed waitress who served them breakfast at the restaurant near their high school.
“Ewwwwwww!” muttered one girl. ” I don’t know if I wanna eat food from a plate that’s been near that woman! Look at the sores on her face! She’s got godamn pus running from some of them! Ewwwwwww!”
“Looks like somebody from a zombie movie,” laughed other.
But Vickie, true to her nature, had silenced them all with her shock at their rude behavior. “Shut up, all of you,” she told them. “That woman can’t help how her face looks! She’s not nearly as ugly as the bunch of you at this moment!”
“Oh, take it easy, Vicky! We were just joking…..”
“That’s not a joking matter! You all should be ashamed of yourselves.”
The waitress had maintained her straight face, acting as if she had not overhead the conversation. When she went back to the counter, she asked, who’s that pretty blond cheerleader sitting at the right? She seems so nice.”
“Oh, that’s Vicky Mathison. Yeah, she’s a really decent girl. Goes to Church all the time. Teaches Sunday School. Everybody likes her. They don’t get any nicer than that…”
Werwitch Hendrea, smiled as she adjusted her waitress’s apron. A couple more years ……..
And so it was one day after Vicky Mathison’s birthday that she disappeared from her college domitory room. Three days later when she begged for mercy as Merwitch Hendrea took her time with that leather whip, applying it so expertly across every part of Vicky’s bound young body.
It was the four day that Hendrea lowered her hungry, needy cuntlips down toward Vicky’s beautiful mouth. ” This is my pussy, Vicky. See how it’s already so wet? It needs you to lick it. Eat my pussy, Vicky….”
“No, please! It’s so wrong! I remember you! I was nice to you! Why are you doing this to me? Oh, God, why?”
“Your God’s got nothing to do with this,” the Witch cooed. “He can’t help you now. You belong to me now. I’ve waited so long for you. Do you want me to string you up and whip you again? Mmmmmmm, I thought not. Now eat my pussy, sweet Vicky……….. Uhhhhhhhh, yeahhhhh. Yessss, just like that! You’re gonna be such a nasty little girl, Vicky…..so nasty…!”
It was a week of humiliation and suffering before Vicky began to exhibit the signs of true submission that her Werwitch Mistress had been looking for. Yes, soon it would be time for Vicky to give her all, to give her Mistress the gift of every last vestige of her body and soul. Soon it would be time for the Love Sacrifice.
“Oh, Vicky, you’re so good! Such a good girl,” the lesbian Witch Hendrea murmured as she lay atop of her slave. We’ll rest for a while, then I’ll sit on your pretty face again so you can service my pussy and ass one more time tonight – and then it will be time for me to Sacrifice you and take your soul. You’re such a good girl and you don’t deserve what’s going to happen to you. I’m going to enjoy it so much..
“Oh, I love how you cry, Vicky. I want you screaming and crying when you go, I’ll make sure of it, okay? It will make me cum and cum, baby. Yes, girl, you’re gonna suffer so much! Yes, Yesss, that’s it. Keep crying so I can lick away all those tears! Mmmmm… they taste so good…”
A Werwitch Mother’s Pride
Elder Werwitch Geradine sat back watching the scene of her lovely daughter Mikashia having her fun alternating back and forth between paddling and examining the beautiful, well-shaped blond English slavegirl that she had personally selected to take back home with her. Sure, Geradine thought, every young witch should start up her own harem as soon as possible. The nights can get so cold and lonely without the use of several lovely mouths to keep a witch’s holes all warm and satisfied. And nothing better to calm you down after a stressful day than a long, hard whipping of a suspended slave-bitch.
And her daughter was now blooded and a full adult member of the Werwitch Sisterhood. Maternal pride flowed through Geradine’s veins – and blood flowed toward her cunt as she fingered herself faster and faster.
It was time for her to cum. She needed to cum, she needed to pee…….
“Mikashia, I know you’re having a good time playing around with that pretty bitch of yours – but your dear old mother’s pussy needs a good tongue workin’ on it right now. Bring her over here!”
“Ohhh, Mommmm….Can’t you wait? She’s got the prettiest, tight little pussy and I was about to see how far my fist….”
“No, I want her now, girl! Don’t make me mad! Get her over her fast! I gotta piss real bad!”
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