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Old 03-12-2013, 01:29 AM   #3
darkstalker
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“No,” says the other woman, tossing the garment aside. “In fact,” she says, walking briskly towards Clare. “You won’t need any clothes today!”
With barely a word she pushes Clare’s hand aside, gripping the center of her bra and wrenches it off Clare’s chest, putting her foot on Clare’s stomach and kicking her back on the bed. Clare bounces on the bed, her breasts flopping out from their confines.
Ophelia waste no time, straddling the girl, who tries to push at her frantically. “No...! stop it!”
“These are nice,” says Ophelia, her delicate hands cupping Clare’s breasts, squeezing, nails digging into the tender flesh.
“Aaaahhhh!” Clare yells, the pain on her chest a new sensation.
“Good enough to bite!”
With barely more a word, Ophelia leans forward, her mouth opening wide, teeth biting down on Clare’s left breast. Clare cries out, her neck arching back, eyes looking towards the ceiling. She feels as Ophelia pulls at her breast before letting it flop back on her chest, now coated in sticky saliva. “Mm...” she says, running her tongue over her lower lip. “You are quite tasty!”
“Noo....” Clare gasp. “Why... why are you doing this?”
Ophelia stares glumly, arms pressed against Clare’s chest. “You are a little slow here, aren’t you?”
Clare simply stares, shivering. Ophelia taps her lightly on the nose. “You, you’re going to be my personal fuck slut starting today. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“No,” Clare whispers. “No!”
She struggles against Ophelia, trying to beat at her, her legs kicking out, flaying wildly on the floor. The punch is sudden and Clare cries out from pain as the blow lands on her right eye. She barely has time to react to it before it’s followed by another blow, and then another. And another. Ophelia punches her five times before gripping her throat and lifting her onto her feet. Her eyes already puffy, Clare stares with a half open mouth.
“I can beat the shit out of you,” Ophelia growls. “Or...”
Her hand reaches down Clare’s skirt, going under her panties and finding her intimate organ. Clare’s legs squeeze shut on automatic as she feels the woman’s fingers probing at her sensitive slit. “Or we can do this the nice way and maybe you’ll enjoy it. What’s it gonna’ be?”
“Fuck you,” Clare chokes out, struggling for air.
“Well yes,” says Ophelia nodding. “That would be the idea. Glad you’re finally getting it!”
She tosses Clare back onto the bed, turning her quickly, her hand pulling the skirt up, hand reaching for the panties. Clare tries to fight her off, to keep her garment on, but with one hand pressing into her back, Clare finds herself in an awkward position to keep her panties on and Ophelia is unconcerned with simply tearing them off. Which she does, promptly.
The thin garment snaps off, exposing Clare’s most intimate regions to the elements. Or more frighteningly, to Ophelia.
She hears Ophelia sniffing and tries to struggle back up, frightened that the woman can hold her down with one arm. “Mm....” says the woman. “Smells heavenly. Like newly made virgin. Are you a virgin Clare?”
“No!” Clare screams. “Stop this.”
Her hands flay at the bed, trying to find purchase. Something to give her leverage against the woman’s unusual strength. But none are to be had. Ophelia simply chuckles behind her.
“That’s too bad. I was hoping to deflower you. I’d love to have that dildo coated in your blood and then make you suck on it afterwards, drinking in your own spunk.”
“You’re sick!” Clare yells.
“As a hatter!” says Ophelia without hesitation. Oh my god, thinks Clare, what is she going to do to me?
Ophelia runs her fingers down Clare’s slit, making her yelp, the sliding motion stimulating her body. “Aw,” says Ophelia, “don’t tell me you’re already getting off on it?”
Clare feels something sharp jab into her organ and she yelps, her back arching. “Now that’s better,” says Ophelia, twisting her fingers in Clare’s organ, her nails scraping against the walls. “It’s more fun when they fight.” The nails come scraping back in, jabbing at Clare’s tender walls, making her yelp again. “Isn’t it Clare?”
The tears are pressing against her eyes, and she grits her teeth trying to ignore the pain she feels in her sex. “You know Clare...” says Ophelia, sliding her fingers in and out of her body, in and out with sharp jab, but she can already feel her body moistening, trying to lubricate itself against the pain she feels. “I’ve been looking for a new slut since I broke in the last one. What was her name...? The phantom or something?”
“You’re lying,” Clare growls, unwilling to believe Miria, the phantom on track and field and high preppy elite woman could have been taken in by such a monster like this. She hears a chuckling sound as Ophelia giggles behind her. “Oh it’s true! She fought... quite a bit more then a mouse like you... and screamed. Oh, how fun it was to break her in and make her cry. Just like I’ll do to you my sweet.”
The fingers are jabbing more sharply into Clare’s sex and Clare cries out with each thrust. “Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Stop it! They hurt! Ow!”
“Ah, poor little thing,” says Ophelia mockingly, jamming her fingers in faster and faster. “Am I hurting you? Hahahaha! Good!”
Clare buries her face in the sheets, feeling her hips burning, the wet slapping sounds coming from Ophelia’s fingers against her organ. She grips the sheets, clawing at them sharply. It last for several minutes, Ophelia taunting her along the way, but never stopping, only seeming to jab her harder.
When Ophelia jerks Clare’s head off the sheets the sheet below is damp with her tears and drool. “Look what you did to my sheets you dirty little slut. Could almost say that’s a stain, couldn’t you?”
“S-stop it,” Clare gasp, no longer feeling those sharp nails driving into her sex. “Stop hurting me!”
“Look at this Clare...” says the woman, spreading her fingers in front of Clare, wet and sticky. “You’re all wet down there. Your lips maybe saying no, but your cunt is saying yes.”
“Let go!” Clare wails.
“Why don’t you taste it,” says Ophelia, completely ignoring Clare’s protest and jamming her fingers into Clare’s mouth, making her taste the salts of her own sex. Clare gags around the fingers pushing into her mouth, brushing against her inner cheeks and pulling at her lower lip. “How does it taste Clare,” she says. “All those lies you’ve been giving me? If I was wrong then why are my fingers so wet?”
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