1. A Scarred Wonderland


    Date: 8/22/2015, Categories: Hardcore, Author: MadMartigan, Rating: 18, Source: LushStories

    Wormholes. They’re wormholes connecting to a higher plane of existence. Heaven. No. Not heaven… and not really hell either. This is something entirely different. A world of sweet, delicious sins that’d make even the devil himself burn to ash. O/o\O They appear like phantoms from the mist, spectral shades of semi-translucent skin, raven locks of hair cascading down sculpted shoulders. I can see the blood rushing through their veins, the sparks of electricity that flare to life as nerve endings communicate. It’s captivating and frightening and disturbingly arousing. They are… Adonis breathed to life, blown from shimmering crystal glass into a dozen beautiful copies. A hundred. A thousand. I don’t know. I don’t care. They glide through the void with unnerving, inhuman grace, tumescent cocks bouncing between muscular thighs. This can’t be real. “Of course it is,” that youthful voice teases. Her fingers trace my lips. “What did Guildenstern hypothesize, darling?” Another set of fingers pinches my clit and I shudder. “I don’t know,” I whimper. “Of course you do,” she husks. “The more witnesses there are to your true, filthy nature, the more real this all becomes.” Her cold fingers hook inside me. “Or something like that.” My skin burns. My cunt drools. My toes curl. The heat inside me radiates out, becomes a feverish itch. Then her fingers are gone. The demon in me howls in angry need. Icy mint breath caresses my ears. “Why don’t you let it out,” she singsongs. “You’ll feel so ...
    much better.” I’m afraid. I’m beginning to realize what the monster inside me is as it pulls at its leash like a rabid dog, jaws snapping, mouth foaming, barking profane lusts. “Afraid of what?” she giggles, reading my mind again. “Losing yourself?” “Darling, you’re already lost.” I hate you. She cups my cheek, presses her thumb against my lips. “I know.” She pinches an erect nipple, squeezing until I yelp in pain. “And I hate you. That’s why this will be so…” a throaty purr,” fucking…” another pinch,” amazing.” She pulls away, leaving my body tingling, my legs splayed open like a worn down whore offering free rides. The symphony of alien voices grows in richness as they creep closer, their movements terpsichorean. I try to look away, count the heartbeats that aren’t there. Twelve beats. The symphony grows louder. Thirty-nine beats. I see symbols etched into their bodies like brands. Seventy-eight. Clubs. Hearts. Eighty-three. Spades. Diamonds. Ninety-nine. Their pale blue eyes piece me and the lies shatter like glass. I mewl like a needy kitten, hips arching up. One hundred. Silk cloth drops over my eyes and the phantoms wink out. “Liars don’t need to see,” she whispers. Something damp and musky is pushed into my mouth. “Liars don’t need to speak.” My moans of protest are muffled and halfhearted. “Liars don’t need to hear.” Something fills my ears and all sounds are snuffed out like a flame reaching the end of a match. The corset, unlaced by the masked girl, is ripped violently ...
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