Broken [Pt. 3-4]


Mariah Carey – BROKEN


Mariah lay there. Shivering. Her skin still so sensitive to atmospheric change. Her nipples aching. Metal studs through them. Her arms pinned behind her back and cuffed with a simple, effective plastic slip-tie.

Her mouth wrapped in duct tape, the bulge of a dildo in her throat.

She wore only her silver pumps, and her silver-white panties. The panties helping to reinforce the ass-plug they’d put in place earlier.

Her eyes glazed, and yet sharp at the same time.

Then they were
falling on her again. She felt a tug and release as they pulled they studs from her nipples. A strange, tingling pain, ethereal and very present both at the same time.

Strangely she found that pain turned her on as well.

They replaced the piercings carefully. The studs removed, THICK metal hoops in their place.

Her breasts ached with sensation. Not the misery she would have expected. No. With desire.

She was gruffly helped to her feet, led to another room.

The room was mostly dark, a few spotlights lit the very middle of the chamber. The stood with her in the light. They ran their hands all over her body. She virtually purred for them.

They watched as her hips gyrated, almost fucking at an unseen man.

The first abductor motioned for the second’s attention. “This bitch is ready.”

In the center of the light, she was forced to bend over at the waist. Her tits hung enormous.

Her arms, already slip-tied behind her were raised backward behind her up her from her back. Putting enormous strain on her shoulders. The binding was attached to a chain from the ceiling.

To diminish the pressure on her shoulders she raised herself with the pull. She would not long have that opportunity.

They ran a chain, a sturdy length of chain through the hoop on her right breast and then through the hoop on her left breast. Pulled tight. It connected to the ground. It would always be taut. It was measured. Everything was planned out perfect. For maximum efficiency.

Her arms raised behind her, her nipples pulling toward the ground. She couldn’t stand up and she couldn’t lean down. There was no way to relieve the tension.

She hung there. For one moment.



And then they were back in the light, one behind her with his hands on her waist, the other in front peeling off the duct tape. He unwrapped her lower face. Her hair fell free, her skin could breath.

The dildo was removed from her mouth.

She felt her panties being slid down off her tight ass. She felt them fall and stepped out of them.

She felt a pulling sensation in her ass . . . and the buttplug clattered to the floor.

The man in front of her handed the dildo across her to the man behind her.

She felt that man take stock of her pussy. She felt his hand running over her. And then she felt his dick inside her tight pussy. She felt herself clamp down on him, she started to fuck herself on and off his cock.

The man in front of her offered her his cock and Mariah took it and swallowed it down.

She was getting filled out. And loving it. She had no control. And that meant she need assume none of the responsibility.

She fucked them.

She fucked them.

She felt something at her backdoor. The man behind her used the same dildo from her throat to invade her anal passageway. She had helped lubricate it at the same time they’d prepared her throat for the deep throat fuck the man in front was giving her.

He fucked her ass with the dildo. Hard. Harsh. He fucked her cunt the same way with his dick.

The dick in her throat was amazingly comparable to the dildo she’d been coerced to swallow. They’d prepared her well for their good time.

Wouldn’t do to have a fuckslut who couldn’t perform.

Pt 4

Carey on the ground, on her knees. Her arms stretched behind her back, above her. Her tits attached to a chain run through her nipple rings, being stretched painfully down toward the ground, hooking on to loops in the floor. But … there was freedom in it.

How could that be?

She felt free to allow all of her sexual urges to run rampant. Unencumbered by things like the false morality that desolates, she felt free to experience everything that was happening to her.

She felt the cock in her pussy. She felt tighter than ever today as he pumped her double time, his cock in her cunt, a plastic simulacrum in her tight, tight ass. There was only so much room down there. And it felt like every micron was being taken advantage of.

She squealed. She grunted. She panted through her nose.

Her neck bulged considerably. Like there was an alien lifeform inside. And, in a way, she was swallowing a snake.

It pulsed. Spasmed.

She worked it, careful to try to avoid the rapist’s orgasm, too much she was enjoying being filled out like a check to let this experience end.

She had no idea even if they would let her live…

That thought occurred to her and scared the shit out of her.

And also spurred her on.

She felt tight. She felt like razorblade ice. She got off on what was happening to her, in some strange way it was freeing her to be the person she’d always fantasized she could be.

The man in her throat came large. She swallowed every drop, held him deep in her songstress throat. She sucked him, desperate to keep him a player in this game.

He came again.

But this time it was warmer.

Oh my God. He hadn’t come again at all. He’d let loose and was pissing in her throat. He said so and the other man began to fuck her pussy harder. It was a real thrill to the man, having her completely depersonified like that. She felt the drugs still in her system. She felt her tension grow as the man behind her worked her ‘gina and her bungus with his plastic phallus. She felt the strain of her nipples against the chains.

She swallowed every drop of piss she possibly could.

The man behind her pulled out and came all over her back.

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