LitShark
Predator
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2002
- Posts
- 3,612
Kit Snickett, Larry Your-Waiter, Duncan Quagmire and Olivia Caliban
Kit led the cadre of Volunteers into the dance with her pistol drawn, quickly looking for the long-suffering orphans. What she saw made her stop short. Violet, who was well known for her ingenuity, resourcefulness and courage, was lewdly thrusting herself against the leg and sucking the tongue of a rather unremarkable young man who ought to have been unable to even talk to a beauty like Violet.
It reminded her of…
“Care to dance?” Count Olaf snatched her hand with the pistol before she saw him, he’d been lying in wait—a specialty of his. Before she could even cry out an objection, she was in his arms and their bodies were gliding across the dancefloor. Muscle memory betraying corners of her heart she’d been hoping to hold back.
As hackneyed as his acting was—Olaf could always dance.
“Bastard,” Kit hissed, unable to resist being dipped and catching an upside-down view of the big henchman grasping Olivia’s throat in one of his massive hands—just from her expression, Kit recognized the loss of one of her few allies.
“That hardly seems fair. You’re the one who brought a gun to the dance. A lot has changed around here, but that’s still a big no-no. You’ll need to be punished.”
Kit grit her teeth and looked away, doing a bad job of hiding how much she enjoyed being treated this way. She wanted something sharp to say, she was usually good with that kind of thing. But all she could do was spin out and roll her hips back into Olaf as her hands landed on the back of his neck.
“What are you going to do to me?” Kit’s voice was meek, she was helpless. She wanted to be punished. To be made back into Olaf’s costar. To betray her husband while he sat up with the baby. Each level of depravity making it more taboo and delicious.
“Kit! What are you doing?” Larry whined, pathetically. Guys like him always ended up on the losing side because they never quite understood what battle they were charging into. He was holding a harpoon gun, for crying out loud. He didn’t even realize that he’d already lost.
Duncan found Klaus still kneeling on the dance floor, he tried not to notice Violet and Billy. He would get to them after he rescued his sister. He wasn’t even sure what he would do if and when Isadora came with them—but once they were far away, he’d figure it out.
“Klaus. Where’s Isadora? Where’s my sister?” Duncan asked over the loud music.
Klaus looked up with tearful eyes behind his glasses.
“She went… with him..”
*-*-*
Collie, Fernald & Steve
Behind the speakers and mostly blocked off from the rest of the dance by the bleachers, most of the transfers and some other dubious-looking criminal types were all smoking and doing lines and drinking the Virulently Fouled Drink—which they had dubbed the spiked punch.
“Yeah, and you’re going to get it, slut.” Collie closed the curtain behind them as he led Isadora inside.
Fernald was there, waiting. He slid the cold, steel grasping hooks down the front of her dress and deftly pinched her puckered nipples between them. As Fernald worked the top of her dress down, Collie was hiking the bottom up, allowing her to stuff his hard cock inside of her wet pussy.
“We’ve decided that you’re going to marry Klaus tonight,” Collie grasped the leather straps running between her thighs, pushing her lips together as he tugged her back into the thrust of his big cock, “but not in the way he’s thinking. He’s going to be your little Cuck, hubby, Pay Pig. He is going to use his fortune to buy to a five-sail frigate for a wedding present.”
“And we need you to decide who is going to be captain, and who is first mate,” Fernald intervened, hopeful that she somehow could remember him as her original Daddy—even if Collie had tampered with the brainwashing process.
“Yeah, but I know who you’ll choose enjoy yourself first…” Collie nodded to Steve who brought a full glass of the Virulently Fouled Drink and poured it into her mouth as Collie fucked her and Fernald pinched her nipples tighter, “nobody can hear us behind these speakers. You can be as loud as you want.”
With that, Collie tugged again on the straps like reigns on a mule and leaned into his deep thrusts, pounding places he knew Fernald couldn’t reach.
“Slut,” Collie added, for good measure.
Kit led the cadre of Volunteers into the dance with her pistol drawn, quickly looking for the long-suffering orphans. What she saw made her stop short. Violet, who was well known for her ingenuity, resourcefulness and courage, was lewdly thrusting herself against the leg and sucking the tongue of a rather unremarkable young man who ought to have been unable to even talk to a beauty like Violet.
It reminded her of…
“Care to dance?” Count Olaf snatched her hand with the pistol before she saw him, he’d been lying in wait—a specialty of his. Before she could even cry out an objection, she was in his arms and their bodies were gliding across the dancefloor. Muscle memory betraying corners of her heart she’d been hoping to hold back.
As hackneyed as his acting was—Olaf could always dance.
“Bastard,” Kit hissed, unable to resist being dipped and catching an upside-down view of the big henchman grasping Olivia’s throat in one of his massive hands—just from her expression, Kit recognized the loss of one of her few allies.
“That hardly seems fair. You’re the one who brought a gun to the dance. A lot has changed around here, but that’s still a big no-no. You’ll need to be punished.”
Kit grit her teeth and looked away, doing a bad job of hiding how much she enjoyed being treated this way. She wanted something sharp to say, she was usually good with that kind of thing. But all she could do was spin out and roll her hips back into Olaf as her hands landed on the back of his neck.
“What are you going to do to me?” Kit’s voice was meek, she was helpless. She wanted to be punished. To be made back into Olaf’s costar. To betray her husband while he sat up with the baby. Each level of depravity making it more taboo and delicious.
“Kit! What are you doing?” Larry whined, pathetically. Guys like him always ended up on the losing side because they never quite understood what battle they were charging into. He was holding a harpoon gun, for crying out loud. He didn’t even realize that he’d already lost.
Duncan found Klaus still kneeling on the dance floor, he tried not to notice Violet and Billy. He would get to them after he rescued his sister. He wasn’t even sure what he would do if and when Isadora came with them—but once they were far away, he’d figure it out.
“Klaus. Where’s Isadora? Where’s my sister?” Duncan asked over the loud music.
Klaus looked up with tearful eyes behind his glasses.
“She went… with him..”
*-*-*
Collie, Fernald & Steve
Behind the speakers and mostly blocked off from the rest of the dance by the bleachers, most of the transfers and some other dubious-looking criminal types were all smoking and doing lines and drinking the Virulently Fouled Drink—which they had dubbed the spiked punch.
“Yeah, and you’re going to get it, slut.” Collie closed the curtain behind them as he led Isadora inside.
Fernald was there, waiting. He slid the cold, steel grasping hooks down the front of her dress and deftly pinched her puckered nipples between them. As Fernald worked the top of her dress down, Collie was hiking the bottom up, allowing her to stuff his hard cock inside of her wet pussy.
“We’ve decided that you’re going to marry Klaus tonight,” Collie grasped the leather straps running between her thighs, pushing her lips together as he tugged her back into the thrust of his big cock, “but not in the way he’s thinking. He’s going to be your little Cuck, hubby, Pay Pig. He is going to use his fortune to buy to a five-sail frigate for a wedding present.”
“And we need you to decide who is going to be captain, and who is first mate,” Fernald intervened, hopeful that she somehow could remember him as her original Daddy—even if Collie had tampered with the brainwashing process.
“Yeah, but I know who you’ll choose enjoy yourself first…” Collie nodded to Steve who brought a full glass of the Virulently Fouled Drink and poured it into her mouth as Collie fucked her and Fernald pinched her nipples tighter, “nobody can hear us behind these speakers. You can be as loud as you want.”
With that, Collie tugged again on the straps like reigns on a mule and leaned into his deep thrusts, pounding places he knew Fernald couldn’t reach.
“Slut,” Collie added, for good measure.
