Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Ma/ft, Extra Sensory Perception, Paranormal, Incest, Mother, Father, MaleDom, Snuff, First, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Voyeurism, .
Desc: Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A very submissive young woman, with a long abused mind. The dead Serial Killer, who is now tied to her in his after-life. What can go wrong here? Codes will be added as they become relevant.
The hardness of the linoleum floor hurt her knees, but she would never complain. Not that she could speak anyway. Her mouth was full of her Manager's cock. It wasn't very big, but it was full of cum and very demanding that she relieve it of said substance.
Not that she had a choice really. Her Manager's hand was on her head forcing it to move so that her mouth did all of the right things. He was not being gentle about it, either. Not that she would complain. Girls like her don't complain when a man is using her. Her mother taught her that.
"When fat ugly girls get attention from a man, you do your best to please them any way they want you to."
That phrase ran through her mind anytime she even thought of complaining.
Her skirt was pulled up showing her naked fat rear end. She knew better than to wear panties around her Manager. He wanted her ready to use at all times. Sometimes, she would wear them just to make him mad, and he would beat her. Not that she would complain. Attention is attention, and she better be glad for it. Just like her Mother said.
When he hurt her, sometimes she would feel a little tingle in her secret place. She lived for that tingle. It's what kept her going. It kept her sucking his cock. Because the way he made her do it, made her tingle. His hand had grabbed her hair now and was making her head move much faster. She knew it wouldn't be long. She hoped it would please him. She needed him to be pleased.
It made her tingle.
"You only feel pleasure when he feels pleasure. Fat little sluts like you only get to feel good when you make the man feel good. When you please him."
Her mother was always right. ALWAYS! She had learned that very early on, as well.
Her Manager now had both of his hands gripping her hair. She must be making him feel really good.
She felt the cock in her mouth swell, and knew that she was about to please this man.
He pushed her head down with both hands and held her there, as he shot spurt after spurt of cum into her rapidly swallowing throat. She used that throat almost as if it
was a second mouth, still sucking the cum out of his cock. He groaned, and the tingles got so strong in her secret place that she knew she was wet.
It always felt like it could go just a little further, like something really big was waiting to happen, but she had always been told to be happy with just the tingles. Not that she would complain. The tingles were her reward for pleasing a man like a good, fat little slut should.
The Manager had given her all of the cum he had for now. He marveled at how her mouth stayed wrapped around his cock, even after he had removed his hands. He always loved this part. He knew that she wouldn't remove her mouth off of him until he told her she could. Her aching knees be damned. Her mouth would never move, unless of course he got hard again. She knew what to do then.
She knew to never remove her mouth before the man she was pleasing allowed it.
Her father had taught her that.
There were beatings that made her tingle, but there were also beatings and other things that hurt so bad, that she learned her lessons well. Those didn't make her tingle at all.
Her father drove this point home in the most convincing way, until she would die before she would remove her mouth from her father's cock without permission. She had once stayed on it for three hours while her father did paperwork at his desk. He had even gotten hard, and she had been allowed to please him once again during that time.
Not that she would complain. She had those tingles the whole time.
"Fat ugly girls are only good for pleasing a man. Especially if that man is her father." So her mother had also said.
Her Manager had enjoyed making her stay there on her knees on many a night, but he was short handed on this shift and needed her out front, working tables.
"Get the fuck up, and get to work, you whore. You better do a good job tonight. And don't you dare drink anything. I want you to taste my cum in your throat until I tell you different. Now, Get out!"
She stood up quickly and straightened out her skirt. Without a word, she turned and left her Manager's office to go wait tables in the shabby little Diner.
At least the tingles were there. Not as strong, but enough that it made her feel good inside. So did knowing that she had to keep the taste of the cum in her mouth. She must really have pleased him for her to be allowed to do that.
That was another thing her father had taught her. He only allowed her to keep the taste when he was pleased with her performance. She had learned to love those nights.
When father wasn't pleased with her performance one night, he made her go a whole week without being able to please him. By this point in his twisted training of her, that was enough to almost break her little heart. Plus, it meant no tingles.
She couldn't live without those tingles.
She had confessed that to her mother one time, and her mother just said, "If a fat ugly slut even gets to have tingles, she is a lucky girl. You remember that. Please a man, and just maybe, little ugly girls like you get to have tingles. But keep them secret. If you tell anyone about those tingles and how you get them, I'll make sure your father never let's you please him again!"
She begged her mother not to let that happen. So, that was the day her mother taught her how to give her those tingles. Her mother didn't shoot into her mouth as strong as her father did, but there was still a lot and it tasted different. Her mother held her head there until all of her tingles were over. Then her mother sent her to her room.
She couldn't understand why her mother's tingles seemed so much stronger than her own, but she knew to be thankful that she had any tingles at all.
Her father had learned that she had given her mother those tingles, and for one of very few times, he called her a "Good Girl." He allowed her to please him three times that night. He was that happy with her.
Her tingles were very strong that night, but it still felt like it could be even stronger.
Not that she would complain, anyway. Those tingles were enough.
Just like the tingles she had now.
She went to her designated area, and worked her tables to perfection. She really was good at her job.
She wasn't "Fat and Ugly", not really. Maybe it was more like "Pudgy and Plain."
She was maybe two inches over five feet tall. That short frame carried about 25 more pounds than it should. Mostly in her ass, and her DD breasts. There was a pleasing little plumpness in her stomach area. But over all, she carried the extra weight well.
Her face was just plain, probably made more so by her complete lack of use of Make-up. She didn't even use lipstick. Her eyes were a pretty blue, but set just a little too far apart. Her cheeks were just a little puffy, with more than her share of freckles. All of this was framed by long dark black hair. It was up in a pony tail at the moment, because she was working. But even when she let it down after work, it just kind of hung there. Even if she could afford to get it styled, she wouldn't know what to ask for.
The only thing it seemed good for anyway, was for men to grab when she was pleasing them. She did have to put it back up after her Manager let her please him, because he always insisted that it be down. On the few dates she had been on, they just grabbed it, however it was.
However they used it, it made her tingle. She lived for those tingles.
In reality, she was just a very submissive, very naive girl. In her messed up and long abused mind, all that she knew was that if she was allowed to please a man, he might go out with her again.
If she pleased him really good, she got those tingles.
She was really just a casualty in waiting, looking for a place for that casualty to happen.
She had "VICTIM" written all over her.
I should know. She was to have been my eleventh victim.
I say "was" because I never got the chance to do it.
You see, I'm dead.
Yes, you read that right.
I'm fucking dead, and it's all her fucking fault!