We’re Fucked, Pt. 28 (Fiction)

Jacqueline squeezes my right ass cheek through my dress, digging into the flesh with her nails. I wince, and my pussy quivers. She pushes me gently until we stand between the cameras that face the mirrors at the head of the bed, with its flamingo pink comforter and matching pillowcases. Two puffy toss pillows of faux fur are propped against the regular pillows, and their colors, baby blue and turquoise, make me wonder from which alien creatures they were skinned.

“Take off your shoes, push them under the bed, and sit down,” Jacqueline orders me huskily. “The cameras need to start recording. Quite anticlimactic, isn’t it?”

When my ass sinks into the plush comforter, my mind floods with images of me lying under the bedding while Jacqueline smothers me against her breasts. The pair of cameras are glaring at me through the rings of light like cyclopean, robotic police officers interrogating me for messing up their futuristic dystopia.

I feel drugged. I blink repeatedly to snap out of it, and I realize that Jacqueline has stooped behind one of the cameras. Her raven black locks frame the lense and its ribbed focus knob as she twists the machine on the tripod. The way her tits hang makes my neck shiver. I lick my already wet lips as I hope that her nipples, that bulge in the reinforced cups, slip out. I’ve become a kitten who is searching for anything to suckle on, except that I’m three steps away from the most appetizing breasts on Earth.

Ah, I’m supposed to take off my shoes. I fear that I might collapse onto the hardwood floor, so I bend over carefully to remove my left sneaker. To take off the other, I dig in with my freed toe. The rainwater must have seeped into my shoes, because my socks are moist. I peel them off. I smell them, but as I grimace, Jacqueline grabs the socks and tosses them aside.

She pulls me up then turns me around so I face the mirrors at the head of the bed, where her silky negligee glimmers in the soft radiance of the mounted ring lights. My beloved looms behind me, several centimeters taller, as I shyly hold my own reflected gaze. Dressed in my high-waist, tiered dress with a square neckline and puffed sleeves, I look like a teen, or a worn out thirty-year-old woman cosplaying as a teen, who went out for a stroll on a Sunday only to be lured into a house of sin where she’s about to be defiled. A surge of tingles in my tummy threatens to flow down to my crotch.

Jacqueline slides her hand under my hair. As she combs it, she strokes my scalp with gentle motions. I shiver. My neck loosens, my gaze unfocuses. The fingers of Jacqueline’s right hand rest on my chin, then she tilts my head to examine the self-inflicted wounds on my neck closely.

“Poor thing, stabbing yourself with a fork,” she coos.

“How do you know I used a fork?” I ask, surprised. “I don’t recall telling you.”

“What other implement of that size has four prongs?”

“Ah, you are so intelligent,” I say dreamily.

Jacqueline chuckles. Her breath stirs my hair.

“And you, baby doll, should aim better when you attempt to impale your food.”

“No, I intended to kill myself painfully.”

Jacqueline’s fingers, that were caressing the skin around my puncture wounds, freeze. She wraps an arm snugly under my chin.

“Yes, I know.”

After she plants a soft kiss on my wounds, she licks them up and down, coating them with her warm saliva. I squirm as a heat rises in my loins. Jacqueline wraps herself around my torso, pressing her breasts into my back and nuzzling her nose against the side of my neck. Her nipples poke me through her negligee. In the mirror, my beloved resembles a wild beast that longs to sink its fangs into its prey.

“You know you are safe with me, right?” she whispers. “You don’t need to worry about anything.”

Her hands brush lightly over the undersides of my breasts, then she pinches my erect nipples through my dress and bra. After she plays with my nubs for a few seconds, Jacqueline takes a step back. She unbuttons my dress near my nape, grabs the sides of my garment and pulls it upwards, exposing my panties.

“C’mon, lift your arms and shimmy,” she orders me with a wicked smile.

I raise my hands and wiggle my butt. The front of the dress glides over my closed eyes like a veil. When I open them, I find myself staring at two wads of armpit hair like clumps of daddy long legs. I lower my arms reflexively.

“F-fuck, I forgot to shave my armpits!” I blurt out.

I blush deeply and I avert my gaze from my panicked reflection, but Jacqueline laughs. She traces a pattern across my back with her fingertips, leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake.

“It’s just a bit of hair, sweetie. No need to look so ashamed of yourself. But look at this…”

Her red nails dig gently at the valleys between my prominent ribs.

“You are so skinny, Leire. Your diet must be atrocious. No wonder you seem woozy half of the time! You need someone to take care of you, don’t you? And who better than me?”

Jacqueline closes her eyes and buries ner nose in my hair as she wraps her arms around my torso, squeezing me against the cushions of her breasts.

“Yes, skinny and pale like a lost little girl,” she whispers.

My breath hitches as Jacqueline’s warm saliva dribbles down my neck. She’s a freak. My eyes water, but I blink repeatedly to clear the tears away. I’ve never felt so relieved. Another freak could take me as I am. Another freak could even love me.

She unclasps my bra and pulls it off as if she were undressing a doll. My breasts fall free. Jacqueline purrs as she kneads my chest with both hands, and she pulls lightly at my nipples with her thumbs and index fingers as if testing their firmness. I whimper and tremble with pleasure.

“I love your boobs,” Jacqueline says.

“Not as much as I love yours,” I reply hoarsely. “But yeah, mine are pretty cool.”

“Oh? I was sure you would have grown to dislike them somehow.”

“I could never dislike breasts, even my own. They are my only good trait. My oddly big, pleasantly-shaped breasts. If only I had the confidence to parade them around like you do with your titanic tits, I bet my life would have fared better. But I also wouldn’t have ended up here…”

“So what do you see when you face the rest of yourself, Leire?” Jacqueline asks seriously.

I glance at my skinny body in the mirror.

“I see a walking corpse. Everyone can tell how crazy I am just by gazing into my sunken eyes.”

Jacqueline’s breath tickles my neck. I hear how hard her heart beats.

“Such disdain for yourself… I want to put more meat in your bones, for sure. But first, let me show you how you look like to me.”

Her wet mouth closes around my neck while she circles my areolas with her index fingers like a blind person reading the bumps. She runs her palms over my breasts as her hands travel downwards, then her fingers trace over my sunken abdomen down to my navel, where she presses a thumb into my belly button. A wave of hot tingles travels through my pelvis.

The painted nail of her middle finger tugs lightly at the waistband of my panties. Jacqueline cocks her head playfully and licks her lips at me in the mirror.

“Your pussy has soaked through. It’s aching for someone to eat it out, isn’t it? And maybe fingerfuck it too?”

I nod silently, but I swallow hard and try to steady myself, because I’m getting light-headed.

Jacqueline massages my mound firmly through the thin material, spreading my folds. She grinds her palm against my throbbing clit.

A thousand tiny sparks of heat ignite within my body. My legs quiver uncontrollably, and are folding inward as if about to crumple under my weight.

My beloved wraps her left arm under my chin while with her right hand she slides a finger inside my panties. She drags it down the length of my slit teasingly, making my sensitive flesh shudder. She starts rubbing my clit with circular motions. My pussy throbs and twitches, and I’m writhing about as her tongue wets the ridges and grooves of my left ear.

Jacqueline slides the finger out until her hand leaves my panties. I’m trembling and panting. When she ceases to hold me, I nearly collapse onto my knees.

She brings the index and middle fingers of her right hand to my lips. I smell my pungent musk.

“Open your mouth, sweetie,” she orders. “Taste what is happening to you.”

In the mirror, Jacqueline’s cheeks are flushed with arousal. As she slides her fingers into my mouth, I imagine her forcing them down my esophagus, pushing her entire hand into my stomach. She’d plunge her fingers into my bowels, where her sharp nails would sink into the walls of my intestines and rip them open. Those bloodied fingers would rummage through the viscera to grasp at my ovaries, until they found their target. She would yank at them and drag my reproductive organs out of their natural habitat so that they could be inspected, analyzed, manipulated, while my gaping vagina poured the contents of my body in thick strands of magma.

I suck my slick, salty juices off Jacqueline’s fingers, making slurping sounds. She hums with pleasure. Once I’ve finished cleaning her fingers thoroughly, she takes them out of my mouth and lowers them to my waist. Both of her index fingers tug at my underwear as Jacqueline squats, sliding the panties along the curve of my ass. They drop onto the hardwood floor, and I step out of them.

“Now you are going to be a good girl and lie on your back,” Jacqueline orders me, “sinking that pretty head of yours in a pillow.”

I crawl onto the mattress, exposing my asshole to her lust. I position the baby blue, fluffy pillow so I can lie down in perpendicular to Jacqueline. I roll onto my back and let half of my head sink into the toss pillow as if I were to take a nap against the belly of a fat sheep.

Jacqueline’s bust protrudes from the bottom of my vision as she gazes at my naked flesh. I’m a piece of artwork, or an animal sacrifice presented before a goddess.

“D-do you want me to spread my legs?” I ask weakly.

She narrows her eyes at me and brandishes a hungry smile.

“No, stay like a corpse in its coffin.”

I nod.

“A suitable pose.”

Jacqueline climbs onto the mattress and straddles my waist. A light sheen of sweat shimmers on her forehead and cleavage. Her cobalt blues have gone glassy with lust. She looks down at me as she smiles with smug satisfaction while her raven black hair falls across her face, obscuring it with shadows. The midnight black negligee hides her crotch, that’s breathing warmth onto my navel.

My thighs are quivering with nervous energy. My mind is a blank slate except for one word repeated endlessly: fuck.

Jacqueline scoots closer to my brain. Although I try to hold her gaze, the heavy globes of her breasts cover my vision as if I stepped under a fleshy awning. I’m captivated by the enticing fragrance of Jacqueline’s cuntal secretions.

She straddles my face, and I find myself staring at her pink, swollen pussy lips. Her vagina radiates an oven-like heat against my skin, while its nectar oozes out like wax dripping off a candle onto my mouth with wet squelches, coating my lips, teeth and chin. At the top of her slit, the hood has drawn back over the throbbing clitoris, a gargoyle perched above a fountain that spews a warm, thick, gooey, sour and intoxicating liquid.

Jacqueline presses the velvet cushions of her thighs against my ears, sealing the holes, deafening me, protecting me from the maddening din of the outside world. As she lowers her pussy onto my mouth, its silky folds surround the edges of my vision like the canopy of heaven.

I stick out my tongue and taste her warm, slippery labia. It stretches apart inviting my organ to crawl inside and loll around within the confines of her saturated vaginal walls. Her pubic hairs brush against my nose and cheeks. As I wrap her throbbing clit with my lips, I slurp greedily at her wetness, intending to draw out all her fluids.

Jacqueline is balanced precariously on her knees while she rides a steady rhythm. Her muffled voice breaks as she says, “My poor baby girl, you must have been starving.”

I consider opening up about my dietary habits, but my tongue is busy. My hands are kneading at Jacqueline’s muscly ass cheeks as if to mold dough into rolls, then flatten them and cook them with hot oil until they get crispy brown.

Her thighs are trembling, and to support herself she leans with both hands against the mirrors propped up behind the pillows. Her clit has become hard as a diamond point. Her moans grow louder, her hips start to rock faster, and she’s panting with excitement. She’s reaching the heights of her climax.

Jacqueline shudders and spasms as she empties her juices into my eager mouth. She cries out hoarsely, trying to suppress the volume. I swallow her salty fluid as it spills down my throat. It’s mixed with a hint of copper and a trace of bitter chocolate.

She grinds to a stop at my lips. The muscles in her thighs tense and release as she comes down from her high. She lifts herself off my face, dampening my hair with her juices. She slides to my side, then she leans upon one elbow to look at me. Her face has flushed red, her cobalt blue eyes glisten, and a pearly drop of wetness clings on her lower lip. Her breasts heave heavily, about to slip from the cups of her negligee, as she tries to regain control of her breath.

Jacqueline takes a long, shuddering sigh. She leans dreamily over my face, then she thrusts her tongue into my mouth, invading me. She sucks on my organ, drawing it deeper into her warm cavern, that must be flooding with the taste of her own pussy. When she pulls away to catch her breath, she licks her lips clean and shoots me a satisfied glance.

“You are a natural slut, sweetie.”

My chest swells. What is that? Pride?

“I’ve always known I was depraved. But thank you for the compliment, Jacqueline.”

She kneels on the mattress. Her tits wobble heavily as she arranges the pillows so she can lean back against them. I become aware of a pattering on the window of the balcony, and of the background din of a downpour. It’s been raining the whole day, hasn’t it?

Something about Jacqueline’s pose reminds me of how my mother used to sit in the bathtub in the middle of winter because she was cold, until the day when we found her frozen stiff; the water had gone ice cold overnight. Icicles hung from the taps like stalactites from a subterranean cavern. We didn’t find any signs of foul play, or of a struggle; my mother had never struggled in life. She had never experienced what it meant to be afraid of death, because she had already been dead.

Jacqueline says my name as she lifts her breasts to entice me.

“You’ve more than earned these, don’t you think?” she whispers seductively. “You’ve been eyeing them for months at work, and now they’ll be yours.”

She crosses her arms to grab the sides of her negligee, and before I realize it she has pulled the garment off her torso. Her breasts spill out heavy and pendulous. I gawk in awe as my mouth floods with saliva. My gaze is glued to the taut, creamy skin, with bluish venules visible beneath it, of each large, pillowy orb of flesh. Jacqueline pushes her tits together, which emphasizes her pink areolas and nipples hardened to pointed nubs, like bullets ready to be fired into my brain.

I’ve turned into a dog who’s been offered the most appetizing treat of its servile existence. I worship breasts. I live for breasts. They are the center of everything that moves and breathes in this universe.

Jacqueline takes my right hand from my thigh and lays it gently on one of her tits. When I recover from the shock, I knead at the doughy globe, making it jiggle. I stroke at its base to test the weight of the flesh, to feel it resting on my palm. I run the tips of my fingers over her creased areola, and I lick my lips at the nipple that invites me to feast at its juicy depths.

“I’ve… never seen anything this beautiful,” I mumble.

My beloved grabs the turquoise toss pillow and places it on her lap, covering her crotch. She flattens the faux fur, then pats the pillow invitingly as she offers me a sultry smile.

“Come, my girl. Lie down sideways.”

As I crawl into Jacqueline’s lap, I’m breathing heavily, inhaling her strong and arousing scent, fresh sweat mixed with a whiff of musky perfume. A string of drool falls from my chin onto her stomach. I’m about to wipe it with my hand when Jacqueline cups the back of my head and pulls me into the fragrant valley of her cleavage. Her tits almost engulf my face. An intense heat radiates from the mounds of fat and firm flesh and silky skin.

Her heart beats like a drum inside her chest. I press her soft orbs tightly to my cheeks with both hands while I lick the salty sweat of her cleavage. I’m panting, as I can barely pass air through my nose due to her enormous tits.

“So cozy, aren’t they?” Jacqueline asks sweetly. “Like a blanket on a winter night.”

The ends of Jacqueline’s locks brush against my face like silken feathers as I nuzzle my way to her left breast. My tongue slithers over her erect nub, and my beloved squirms with pleasure.

“Let’s see you suckle on it properly, baby girl,” she whispers, breathless. “Don’t just smear your precious saliva on it.”

I press my lips tightly around the teat, latching onto the smooth flesh. When I suck deeply at the hard tip, Jacqueline lets out a low moan. Her taste makes my eyes water. I’ve been deprived for so many years of what sustains human beings alive.

Warmth suffuses all of my muscles, making me weak. A flood of calm acceptance envelops me. Although I’m a worthless piece of shit and an embarrassment to humanity, right now I can be grateful.

“You look so relaxed, Leire,” Jacqueline coos as she strokes at the crown of my head. “Like a baby about to fall asleep. But not just any baby, my very own.”

Her throat makes small noises that vibrate through her chest.

“I wish I could fill that sunken tummy of yours with my milk,” she whispers dreamily. “You’d drink up as many liters as you needed until nothing in you remained empty. I would love if I did little else in life than run my fingers over your scalp as you suckled on my breasts.”

Jacqueline’s fingers comb my pubic hair, then she teases me by running them along my inner thigh.

“Why would a little sweetheart like you hate herself, huh? Don’t worry, mommy will take good care of her girl and make her feel like she deserves.”

She slides a long finger down the crease of my pussy. I whimper softly. I’m so wet that my inner folds are oozing juice like a leaking tap.

“Look at me, Leire,” Jacqueline whispers hungrily. “I want to look into your pretty eyes while I feed you.”

I tilt my face upwards. In the blur of her face, her cobalt blues burn brightly.

I fall down a well of endless time while Jacqueline’s loving fingers stroke my clit. My whole body quivers and twitches with pleasure. An orgasm builds up within me, threatening to explode, until my eyes roll back and my vision whitens as I come in a giant wave of ecstasy.

Finally, a good death.

2 thoughts on “We’re Fucked, Pt. 28 (Fiction)

  1. Pingback: We’re Fucked, Pt. 27 (Fiction) – The Domains of the Emperor Owl

  2. Pingback: We’re Fucked, Pt. 29 (Fiction) – The Domains of the Emperor Owl

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