Regime Change Pt. 12

Darkling was oblivious to the strange anomaly of the second mirror's appearance because five sets of commanding hands were caressing her smoking hot bod.

The sextuplet grand guignol slammed sighing Sahara's booty penetrating the deepest part of the soul of her harried wet cunt. He slammed taut the unbreakable bonds of sin that fettered her to the ironwood workbench.

Each wedge churned the enchained whore's insides into a frothy witch' brew.

"Fuck her in the ass," Darkling cattily recalled out high fiving her husband when she sodomized five months pregnant Sandy Cappodocia's fat ass with her favorite strap-on.

"Evil bitch," someone whispered behind Darkling's back.

Sahara started to vividly to relive every second of her sexual history. Each oscillation of seconds grew into a shiny pearl of memory. Then each pearl was threaded onto a string. It became of pearl necklace of curiosity, adventure, discoveries, uncoverings, sluttiness.

She relived one by one every taste, texture, smell of every man who had fucked her and the lipstick lesbians who ate her pussy. She relived her first time, under the stars on a hot summer's night. She relived when that private detective agreed to her role play fantasy and broke into her apartment in the middle of the night wearing a balaclava and had his way with her. She even relived every wet moment when she touched her self fantasupersizing, such as being fucked by Hellboy or skewered by Hellboy and Spawn.

The pearls grew superimposed. Sahara relived every second of her sex life from the inside and out. She could somehow see herself getting fucked and at the same prime time reliving being in the moment of all those men all up inside her. The ho hum sex, the gross sex, the good fucks, the fantastic fucks blurred into psychedelic fractals. The kaleidoscope of banging bouncing pounding reminded Sahara of the photo of erotic sculptures of a temple in India that kinky writer from Spain who liked to talk dirty showed her to get her in the mood. She simultaneously relived every moment Lance Del Toro pistoned her cunt stripping her soul bare. She relived every time a man shot his hot load into her quivering quim, on her jiggling tits, on to her panting face.

All this simultaneity climaxed in Sahara reexperincing every orgasm of her life! Wailing out an ear splitting scream as if hit by lightning at the moment of a grande mal seizure, Sahara thrashed wildly in her ropes and chains, her limbs convulsing, her cunt spasming and gushing on the fire engine red cock jackhammering it like there's no tomorrow. Sahara felt she was spinning ass over tea kettle inside the funnel of a tornado. Her howl of pleasure came from deep inside her hot wet cunt.

Her feverish eyes snapped opened wide and she was confronted by the reflections of infinite grinning demons mercilessly rough riding the wriggling ass of infinite Saharas. Her skin was scarlet, drenched with sweat. Her tits flopping higgledy-piggledy. Her mouth was agape, her faced filled with utter hopeless abandon. Her forehead taut from the hot huge hard hands pulling her long, thick auburn hair.

In sync with the unrelenting quickening demonic clomp-clomping of her cunt, Sahara started chanting desperately in a wobbly voice: "Fuck! Me! I'm! A! Fuck! Ing! Whore! Fuck! Me! I'm! A! Fuck! Ing! Whore!!"

The demon fucking opened up his V8 engine plowing Sahara's cunt so fast and hard her writhing tits and ass became a delicious blur. Sahara was beyond words.

The second the roaring demon's geyser of jizz hit Sahara's quaking cunt she gushed all around it. Her orgasm was mind blowing, earth shattering, paradigm shifting, a supernova. All her nerve endings sizzled and popped. The deep dicking spurting flooded her womb warm creamy rogue wave. She screamed with joyous out of this world agony, relief, release, fulfillment and loss. He kept unyieldingly pumping loads of loads into the cock drunk cunt of the enchained whore.

When the sextuplet pulled his cock out of Sahara's spunk saturated flaring cunt she let out a deep, soulful whimper. He let go of her hair and her head slumped to the left. Sahara closed her dark blue eyes, panting deeply.

After a pregnant pause the demonic lover gave Sahara's left ass cheek a hard slap making her squeal, her head snap back, her eyes flash and suck her lower lip. Other men had slapped her ass like this before; the dicks, the pricks, the studs, the...bulls. The slap sent an unambiguous message: "Great fuck, but your nothing but a cumdump to me, so get lost before my girlfriend [or from time to time wife] comes back and catch's us."

Being slapped that way always gave her a sharp perverse thrill. She shared a secret of a raw, primal intimacy with these men. These men knew Sahara would never reveal their secret to anyone. These men knew her biblically. Sahara knew these men fucked her in ways they never could fucked their girlfriends or wives. It was a secret knowledge Sahara shared with no one else, not even herself, until she became a bond-maid to the Casa Del Toro and got on her knees in front of the lance of the Lord of the manor on her first day on the job. The sextuplet's slap was well and truly earned.

Sahara Service dangled in her chains, panting, slumped her head forward, eyes hooded, dead to the world.

Darkling had watched Sahara's orgasms in stunned silence. Only now did she become aware she had a red hot poker in each of her hands. Hard hands were fondling her tits, squeezing her perfect ass. Watching Sahara getting fucked had brought Darkling to the verge of cumming.

Darkling, quavering, groaned hoarsely, sounding like Elizabeth Ashley in her prime: "Boys, I'm very flattered, truly, and thank you for showing what's behind the green door, that cumdump got what she deserved, but I'm married, you need to let me go, do you know who my husband is?"

One of the sextuplets behind the naked red head stroked her neck and stated flatly: "The prick who gave you a mafia divorce."

Two sextuplets effortlessly lifted Darkling up between them into a sitting position, their huge hand under her spread thighs. She involuntarily put her arms across their brawny shoulders.

They carried her betwixt the facing mirrors. Sahara and the work bench had disappeared. Darkling didn't delve into that mystery because another mystery appeared to be about to delve into her.

A large red sofa with a back that looked the outstretched wings of a bat was set between the facing looking glasses. And set in the middle of the sofa sat back a sextuplet with a thick, red wicked looking hard-on looking very pleased with himself.

The man mountains held the weakly struggling Darking directly above their erect brother.

The last time Darkling had been fucked by a man other than her husband was the day before she met Lance Del Toro. After that day she was never interested in another man. After their honeymoon her husband gave her permission to keep fucking women if she so desired. Darkling was a loyal slut wife who betrayed dozens to prove her devotion.

Darkling's bare bottom dangled above a red pillar.

"Not my ass! Not my ass!" Darkling's panic was cut short by a sextuplet standing before her raised thighs and using his impervious fingers to open a bubblegum pink cleft the midst of her bush.

Darkling arched her eyebrows, solidly focused her eyes on her partying wet lips and let out long drawn out ascending, "oooOOOHHH!"

The hard tip touched the wet lips.

The sextuplets holding Darkling up pushed her down balls deep on to their brother's fire engine red rod.

The sextuplet inside the former Mrs. Del Toro slid his tree truck arms behind her knees and grasped the nape of her neck, putting her into a fulsome nelson.

***

Darkling awoke from a dreamless sleep enchained. She was now right side up, her wrists manacled to chains that disappeared in the Stygian depths above her. With her arms stretched out by the rusty chains, she looked like a perp surrendering to the police. She was standing in a wide stance, each foot 's manacled ankle chained to a bolt driven into the stumps of Lebanese cedars that seemed to have grown through the floor.

She was spread eagle, an open fan of human X X X's looming in the facing mirrors, her sweat glistening body filigreed with scarlet streaks. A rope was looped around the nape of her neck, which loosely cross-crossed around each of her breasts and around her back. Darkling felt the hard ancient wood under the soles of her bare feet, the chains clinking.

Sahara was beside her, to her left, exhibited in the same manner, beads of sweat sliding slowly off her large, pink nipples. Like her companion, globules of seed were visible in her bush. Sahara looked at her display with dreamy contentment.

One of the sextuplets popped his large head around from the back of the mirror in front of the chained red heads, his dark eyes twinkling mischievously and with a knowing smirk crooned, "You'll forgive if I don't stay around to watch, I just can't cope with the freaky stuff." And then Legion was gone in a flash.

There was no sound but the clanking of the chains as the naked women ruminated on the glowing throbs left in their ruined cunts. Darkling could see and feel that her perfect ass was beet red.

Sahara felt a twinge in her womanly tummy. Sahara let out a long, wide eyed, querulous sigh, "What's happening to me?" Her belly and tits began to swell, to expand. Soon she had a large rounded belly.

And as her bell shaped tits became pendulous and her nipples darkened, the ropes got tighter and tighter and tighter until screaming orgasmically Sahara squirted milk from her left breast at her shuddering reflections. The spurt fell just short of the surface of the mirror. Panting like a thoroughbred the auburned beauty writhed in her bondage, her tits and belly bulging. With a profound moan both of Sahara's dark nipples spurted milk.

"Demon seed!" she howled at the series of bouncing bulges shimmering in the mirrors.

Darkling had watched Sahara's ordeal with growing, growling terror. She cast her eyes down to her flat Pilates stomach and a second later it began to swell. She yanked hard on the chains. Her small round tits expanded.

"No, no, no, no, no--this can't be happening!"Darkling asserted in panic. She had been trying to process her new irreality, struggling to wrap her mind around the meaning of the last hour of her life: "has Lance really divorced me? Given my cunt to Master Layman? Was this a LSD hallucination? Or has Layman kidnapped me in a power play? Is this an Incident at Owl Creek plot device?"

The red heads sobbed out as their jugs simultaneously spurted the milk of inhuman unkindness at the dangling infinitude of their whoredoom.

Darkling shrieked: "This cannot be, how can this be, this can only be if?" Her university atheism melted in the furnace of her crucifixion.

Darkling shrieked: "This is Hell! Hell is real! I'm in Hell!"

Inside the whores, the memories of how they'd been sent here and who did it, until now occluded, lunged up with a vengeance.

The whores screamed in horror.

A hidden orchestra started playing Carmina Burana.

Sahara and Darkling had be reborn in Hell infinitely fertile, always ovulating. The terrestrial laws of biology are moot in the infernal realm. What takes nine months on earth to happen, takes only an hour in Hell.

Soon the bound whores would suffer a pain they had never experienced on earth, but from now on would experience an infinite amount of times after being fucked by demons an infinite amount of times, in an infinite amount of configurations.

Each of their babies would rapidly grow up to be a horny handsome devil, each the splitting image his father.

The auburn whores' water broke at the same time.

All for the pleasure of the heavenly host.

THE END