The Devil's Pact Servants' Chronicles Chapter 4: The Artist's First Day - Sex Stories

Sex Stories, Erotic Stories, Porn Stories, XNXX Stories, Adult Stories, XXX Stories

Sex Stories Categories: Fiction, Blowjob, Anal, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Cum Swallowing, Fantasy, Incest, Hardcore, First Time, Dark Fantasy, Young, Group Sex, True Story, Romance, Masturbation, Domination/submission, Male/Female, Teen Male/Teen Female, Written by women, Teen, Erotica, Lesbian, Mature, Bi-sexual, BDSM, Exhibitionism, Virginity, Taboo, Humiliation, Female/Female, Cheating, Reluctance, Male/Teen Female, Rape, Threesome, Bondage and restriction, Gay, School, Voyeurism, Non-consensual sex, Cruelty, Love Poems, Violence, Teen Male / Female, Ass to mouth, Coercion, Wife, Male / Females, Job/Place-of-work,
Best Porn Sites

The Devil's Pact Servants' Chronicles Chapter 4: The Artist's First Day

Date: 12/26/2016, Categories: Fantasy, Female Domination, Female/Female, Lesbian, Oral Sex, Water Sports/Pissing, Author: mypenname3000, Rating: 66.7, Source: sexstories.com

there all day. I was ordered to clean you and the room up.” Another look. I frowned, thinking. “Who’s the gift from?” Her shoulders hunched, hugging the gift to her lap. “I'm not going to take it from you. I just want to give you a clean bed.” She didn't answer. Sighing, I sat on the other bed, grabbing my sketch pad. I couldn't fail at my first assignment. There had to be a way to get her to move. I couldn't manhandle her; she was bigger than me. And she was a trained cop. I remembered how she had easily controlled me when she had searched me at the museum. She had been so strong as her fingers penetrated my ass and pussy, stirring me up and making me cum. She had dominated me, forced me to submit to her lusts disguised as a simple pat-down. It was one of the best cums of my life. She forced me to live out all those dark fantasies trapped in the depths of my soul. The ones I had been too afraid to let anyone know. I was a girl—we weren't supposed to have deviant desires like a guy. I started sketching her. I often found that when I sketched, and didn't really focus on my drawing, my mind would wander and I would often find the solution to problems. I cocked my head, my charcoal pencil scratching as I drew her. Even dirty, there was a beauty to her: plump lips, dark eyes, round breasts, curvy hips, and gorgeous, sleek legs that just seemed to go on forever. “What are you doing?” she asked. “Immortalizing the squalor you are sitting in,” I absently answered. “It's a great ... study. You capture self-pity perfectly. I...” “Wallowing!” she flared. “You think I'm wallowing?” “What are you doing?” “Grieving!” “For?” She glared at me. “Stop drawing me!” “Then let me do my job,” I answered, continuing to sketch. “And don't move. Keep staring down at that gift. You are perfectly capturing self-indulgent pity.” Her face darkened. “You don't understand!” “No,” I answered. “You're just one of the whores running around here.” “Yeah.” My cheeks burned; I still wasn't used to being called a whore. She shifted, staring at me. “Are you blushing?” “Yes.” I looked down at my sketch pad. “I'm new here...” “You said you were my gift?” She examined me. “I remember you. Mary commanded me to watch over you carefully. She told me I could do whatever I wanted to you, balim.” My cheeks felt like they were on fire. “Such a pretty mouth. Jan would have loved to piss in it.” My eyes widened. I had witnessed the God's sister piss in the mouth of my fellow artist that day, and I shuddered. It sound so degrading and humiliating to be forced to drink another person's pee. I glanced up from my sketch pad and saw something stir in her dark eyes as they looked at me. “Jan and I would love to share pretty girls like you, balim.” Why did she keep calling me that? She called me that the day she frisked me. “We'd take them into our shower, force them onto their knees and take turns pissing into their pretty, little mouths.” She shifted on her bed, setting the gift on the nightstand. I ...