1. The Succubae Seduction: Chapters 25-29


    Date: 10/18/2015, Categories: Fantasy, Anal, Bi-sexual, Group Sex, Hardcore, Mind Control, Author: SSelxuyt, Rating: 92.3, Source: sexstories.com

    over, unable to move. “Lyden?” Becky’s fearful voice reaches me, but I can’t turn to look in her direction. From a grunt next to me, I can only assume that Captain Jewkes is in the same predicament. With an unsettling feeling in my stomach, I’m hoisted into the air with invisible hands, and follow the dark man, the letters S.W.A.T. painted in white on the back of his body armor. Two more men join us, neither as large as the first man, and both are dressed in casual clothing. When I see Becky, Lisa, Brooke, and somehow Jennifer join us, floating over the ground like me, I begin to struggle against my bonds, but to no avail. Somehow I’m able to breathe with no problems, but my arms and legs refuse to obey. We stop only long enough for a self-satisfied Miranda to plant herself in front of me. “You are a sick and disgusting creature, Mr. Snow. I will not be sorry to see you die.” Her full-armed slap across my face stings more than normal, as my face can't move to dissipate the pressure. Then she turns and walks away. The man closest to me chuckles, until the large man in front turns to look at him. “Put them to sleep, wizard. I’ll deal with our audience while you transport them back to base.” “Where did their car go?” I hear another voice ask, right before I lose consciousness. * * * Horrific pain in my mouth wakens me, and I sit up screaming. Or trying to scream. My tongue feels like it’s still on fire, and nothing I can do blocks out the pain. Dimly I’m aware of people coming ...
    in and striking me, but compared to the pain of my burned tongue, I barely even notice them. How long I lay here in agony, I don’t know, but the moment something pours into my mouth and the pain abates, is when I become fully aware of my surroundings. A balding man in tan corduroy pants and a flannel shirt, looking like he belongs back in the early eighties, is bending over me, a plastic cup in his left hand and my head in his right. By the gray brick walls and dark metal bars, I figure I must be in some sort of prison. “You burned your tongue pretty bad,” the man is telling me softly. “I’ve seen this in burn victims before, where you don’t feel the full pain right away, but after a bit, the agony is horrendous.” His voice is calm and soothing, almost kind even. “What I gave you won’t heal you, I’m afraid. None of us have the skill to heal a wound that bad, but we can mitigate your pain at least. I’m afraid your tongue is nothing more than a blackened husk. Normally I’d recommend having it removed, but you’ll likely be dead soon enough anyway.” He sounds almost sad at this news. I nod that I understand him, moving my mouth, and noticing that it feels large and empty inside. I can’t even feel my teeth or cheeks. “Is the bastard done yelling Emmet? I was getting sick of the sound of his girlish screams.” The new voice comes from the other side of the bars, and where Emmet’s tone is kind, this new guy’s inflection is cruel. “Yes, Brock, he should be able to rest peacefully now.” ...
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