Chapter 47: Deadstick

edited by Master Ken

As Wormwood raged across the world, the chaos served the Tyrants interests. By January, Canada and Mexico had fallen under their control. As governments struggled to maintain control of their populations in the devastating wake of the plague, Warlocks arose. Men and Women who swore dark Pacts to Lucifer. Oppressed peoples and beleaguered governments turned to Mark and Mary Glassner. And the Tyrant's price was simple—submission.
–excerpt from 'The History of the Tyrants' Theocracy', by Tina Allard

Thursday, May 1st, 2014 – Mark Glassner – Air Force One, Over the Bering Sea

"My Lord," Cindy, one of my maids, said through the door to my private cabin on Air Force One, "it is time for your broadcast."

"Okay," I yawned, rubbing my eyes. I lay sandwiched between Korina and Lillian, napping after fucking both sluts. I slid out of bed; Lillian sleepily cuddled up to Korina.

The last six months since the plague had broken out had been hectic, and I was flying home after a trip to Japan. I had to deal with a Warlock that had been trying to reinstate the Bushido code, and had conquered half of Japan. He was easy enough to attend to, I challenged him to a duel, and his blade was unable to penetrate my Celestial Gold armor. After he was dead, I spent a week in Japan and brought the country into the Theocracy. Warlocks across the world had taken advantage of the plague to try and carve out their own kingdoms. While the disease seemed to have finally run its course in April, there didn't seem to be an end to these Warlocks.

I wished my wife was here, but Mary was too close to her due date. She could give birth any day now, and had to stay home. She was busying herself decorating the mansion. It had been finished right before I flew out to Japan. I'm glad it was completed before our daughter was born so she could grow up in a proper home, and not the hotel we spent the last six months living in.

Korina, April, and Violet all bore their children in April. Korina gave me a son named Silas, named after her father, and April named our daughter Andrea. Violet's daughter, Delilah, turned out to be Mary's daughter, not mine. It was pretty obvious when we saw her green eyes. Mary had been so happy when she held little Delilah. She never said anything when Silas and Andrea were born, but I knew she was just the tiniest bit jealous that other women bore me children first.

I left my two sluts to sleep and passed through the main cabin. It was full of my servants. The fifty bodyguards that protected me in foreign countries; Leah, my chauffeur; ten or so maids, the women and teens that Willow recruited through her clinic; and a few former, female Air Force officers that ran the plane's systems. All the women were bound to me and sluttily dressed; chokers about their necks. Some were sleeping on the rather comfortable seats, while others were talking quietly with each other, playing a game of cards, or watching movies on portable DVD players.

'Masters', 'my Lords', and 'sirs' followed me up the aisle and I smiled at my servants. They were all beautiful, and my cock stirred as I admired an entire plane full of women who were all more than willing to please me. The boldest women would even reach out and give my cock a stroke, smiling archly up at me.

Once through the main cabin, I climbed up a tight stairs to the plane's communication suite where three women – dressed as sexy stewardesses with very short skirts and low-cut blouses – manned the equipment. All three used to be in the Air Force, retiring to serve me and run the gear. One of the women turned in her swivel chair, her mostly bared legs crossed. She had a small, predatory smile on her doll-face, framed by platinum blonde hair.

"Sir, we're all set for you," she purred.

"Thank you, Roni," I smiled. Her full name was Veronica, but everyone called her Roni.

She stood up from her seat, her naked ass flashing before her short, navy-blue skirt fell down. I sat down, and she plopped down on my lap, wiggling her ass against me. Her blue eyes were full of heat. My cock became rock hard beneath her ass, and I gave her a kiss on the lips. She rose up, grasped my cock and sat back down, sliding my cock into her juicy cunt.

"Umm, doesn't that feel nice, sir?" she asked, squeezing her cunt on my cock.

"It's alright," I said as casually as I could.

"Hmm," she frowned, rose up, and shifted a bit. When she came down this time, my cock pushed into her tight ass. Her eyes widened, and a soft moan escaped her lips. "How about this?" she asked, her voice an octave higher.

I smiled, "That's more like it."

Roni handed me a headset, and I placed it over my head and adjusted it. Then she handed me a set of notebook cards. It was Polish written phonetically in English. I didn't know exactly what I was reading, but I knew the gist: worship Mary and me, obey our laws, do not make pacts with demons, love and respect your fellow human. Standard stuff, but if a person didn't speak English, our powers were useless on them.

Mary and I try to spend at least an hour a day doing these broadcasts, trying to put more people under our power. It worked; crime in the US has plummeted. Anyone arrested doesn't get released from jail without hearing our broadcast. All government employees had to listen to them, and public school students. There were still holdouts, of course, mostly Christians and Muslims who fled the cities for rural communes, but they were harmless and isolated. If it wasn't for Lilith and the Patriots, America would be a perfect country.

The Polish broadcast lasted 15 minutes. It was monotonous, and Roni became quite distracting before the end as she raised and lowered her tight ass on my cock, flashing saucy smiles over her shoulder, and cooing with obvious pleasure. I'm sure you could hear her moans over the broadcast.

"It'll be a few minutes before Germany is ready, sir," Roni panted, bracing herself on the console to pump her ass on my cock. "However shall we pass the time?"

"Saucy, little whore," I growled, and her grin deepened.

"For you, my Lord."

She rode my cock, moaning loudly, still bracing her hands on the console. The plane shook, hitting a patch of turbulence, and she gasped as my cock was driven deep inside her tight ass. She let the rough air do the work, bouncing up and down on my cock for a minute as I sucked on her neck above the silver choker. My hand reached around her body and shoved roughly down her bodice to grasp her ripe breast.

"Oh, my Lord!" she gasped. "Your cock is driving me crazy! Is my ass pleasing you?"

"Yes, it is, slut!" I gave her tit a squeeze; her ass tightened on my cock as I rubbed my palm across her hard nipple.

A particularly hard turbulence dropped the plane a few feet and Roni nearly came off my cock, only the very tip still stuck in her ass, before she slammed back down hard on me. "Holy shit!" she cried out. "Yes, yes! I love your cock! Gonna cum!"

"Cum, my saucy, little whore!" I growled.

"Fuck!" she howled, and her bowels became a vice as she bounced up and down on my cock. Between the turbulence and her orgasm, she thrashed wildly atop me and stoked the fire in my balls. I grabbed her and shoved her down, holding her tight as I erupted three large loads into her ass.

I gave her tit one last squeeze, and said, "Nice fuck."

"Thank you, my Lord," she panted. "Umm, they're ready for you in Germany."

"Good." I gave her ass a pinch. "Get off and..." I looked at the other two communication sluts, "Ami, come suck my cock clean."

"With pleasure, my Lord," a petite Japanese slut said, a smile on her delicate face. Like Roni, she was from the Air Force, a Forward Air Controller.

Roni grunted as she slid her ass off me and took Ami's chair. The Japanese girl knelt before me and gently licked at my dirty cock, her almond-shaped eyes looking up at me. She looked younger than her twenty-seven years, and could easily pass for a Japanese schoolgirl. She looked so cute as she daintily licked my cock, a mischievous glint in her almond-shaped eyes. Roni handed me cards written in German, and I started reading through them.

By the time I finished my first commands, Ami had sucked my cock into her tiny mouth. It was so obscene watching her suck my dirty dick into her mouth and hear her purring moan. Her tongue felt wonderful, and half-way through my third reading, I trailed off and came in her mouth. She smiled up at me, licking her lips clean. I rubbed her short, black hair affectionately.

After Germany, I did the Spanish broadcast, covering Spain and much of Central and South America. Finally finished, I yawned. There was still another five hours left in the flight, and I walked back to my cabin to get some sleep. More of my servants were sleeping as I passed through the darkened cabin. The bodyguards had earned their rest, they had to be alert most of the time in Japan, and were finally able to relax on the plane ride home.

I found Lillian and Korina awake when I entered the cabin. Korina leaned against a pile of pillows, cradling Lillian's head to her breast. Korina's doll face was contorted in pleasure as Lillian's fingers worked her cunt. Between her fluttering eyelids, I saw her blue eyes; she smiled at me.

"Umm, my breasts were getting full," Korina purred, hefting her left breast, a drop of white milk glistening on the dark red nipple. "Would you like to help, Master?"

Lillian looked up from Korina's other big teat, smiling lustily at me; white milk stained her lips. Her black hair, streaked with blue and purple highlights, fell loose about her shoulder. Normally she wore them in pigtails, but not to sleep. Silver piercings dotted her face: on her lip, her eyebrow, and nose. Both sluts were naked, wearing only their gold chokers.

As I crawled on the bed, Lillian grabbed my head and aggressively kissed me. Her mouth was full of sweet breast milk, her hand sliding wet down my torso, leaving a trail of Korina's pussy juices on her way to grasp my cock.

"Umm, doesn't she taste wonderful?" Lillian purred.

"She does," I smiled, enjoying her hand stroking my cock. "I bet she tastes even better fresh."

"She does," Lillian purred.

Together, Lillian and I each took one of Korina's large tits. The pregnancy had swelled them from her D's to DD's and her nipples became redder. I latched on, tasting a trace of her sweet milk. I sucked; Lillian's hand still pumped away on my cock, while I enjoyed Korina's warm breast milk squirting into my mouth. I nursed, reveling in the delicious flavor.

My hand slid down Korina's taut stomach, down between her legs and felt her hot, wet, and shaved cunt. "Oh, yes, Master!" Korina gasped as I slipped two fingers up inside her, probing her wet depths as she writhed on the sheets.

Lillian jerked me off faster, her hands tight silk as she rubbed up and down. Korina's arm wrapped around my head, stroking my cheek as I kept nursing, swallowing mouthfuls of her sweet milk. My thumb found her clit and she bucked, went rigid, and gasped loudly as she came. I pulled my fingers out, smeared her musky juices on her nipple, and enjoyed some pussy cream with my milk.

Somehow, sensing I was about to cum, Lillian quickly moved down; her wet mouth engulfed my cock, and I filled her with my cum. I rolled onto my back, breathing hard and feeling tired after my cum. I lazily watched Lillian crawl up Korina's body, and share my jizz with the doll-faced slut. Korina slid down the bed, and Lillian straddled her face. Korina noisily began to munch her muff. I closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep to the sweet sounds of women making love.

Noel Heinrich – Unalaska Island

The wind was cold, whipping off the Bering Sea as we stood on the lichen covered rocks of Unalaska Island, one of the larger islands of the Aleutians. I gripped a pair of binoculars, scanning the sky to the southeast, looking for Mark Glassner's plane. It would be easy to spot, since it was being escorted by a squadron of F-22 Raptors and accompanied by several C-130s and a KC-130.

"Where is his plane?" Davin asked. "I'm freezing my dick off."

I glanced at the heavy-set, shivering, African American. "Why didn't you wear a jacket?"

"Didn't think it would be this cold, Noel. It's May for Christ sake. He better show up soon!"

"Maybe they had a headwind," I suggested. Mark was flying back from Japan, and his flight path should take him over the Aleutians pretty close to where we were. We knew what time he took off from Tokyo; he should be flying over any minute now.

Mark had to be stopped. Soon. America was a shadow of its former self. Once we were strong and independent—we had freedom. Now most of the Country meekly did whatever he said. They were just drones, happy to follow his commands. There was no passion, no heart or soul anymore, just polite people. Mark had robbed the Nation of its will. Despair had broken my heart.

For sixth months we have been trying to kill Mark, and failed every time. He was powerful. He had more tricks up his sleeve then any of us were ready for. Even in the chaos of the plague, our best attempts had failed. We came close in February to taking out Mary, but we only managed to kill a few of their bodyguards.

Every day our cause grew more desperate. If one of their Thralls – and that was three-quarters of the country at this point – saw a person using magic, they would immediately call the Warlock 1-800 number and turn you in. Many of us lost loved ones during the Plague because we couldn't heal them without exposing ourselves. And despite our careful precautions, they were tracking us down one-by-one. Alison and Desiree, with their commando squads, were roaming the nation, capturing or killing any Warlocks they found. Ten of us had already been eliminated by those two whores.

"There they are," Wyatt said. He was my old mentor from my FBI days, as well as my second-in-command of the Patriots. He had been very successful in the private security market, and his fortune helped to bankroll our operations.

I grabbed my binoculars and spotted the approaching planes. We wouldn't have much time. The brazier was already lit; a greasy, black smoke rose thickly into the air. Drawn around the brazier was a circle and a pentagram along with many Hebrew markings—a summoning circle.

"Aerials, I summon you!" I shouted, mouthing the formula we found in De Operatione Daemonum. "Cloak your forms in smoke and appear before me!"

The smoke twitched, swirled about, forming into a black vortex. It grew wider and wider, then crashed into an invisible wall—the edge of the circle. A piercing, roaring howl grew and grew, full of anger and frustration as it pounded against the wall. The vortex swirled faster, then begun to break apart into smaller and smaller vortexes, contracting and shaping into vicious beings. The air crackled and eyes formed, white-yellow lightning. There were dozen of them, howling and chittering like monkeys as they swirled about the circle.

"Release us!" they boomed like thunder in one voice.

"I have a task for you," I answered, putting all the authority and confidence I could muster into my voice.

"Release us! The pain!"

"No! You can rot in that circle!"

"What is your task?" their multitude voice snarled.

I pointed to the sky. "Take down Mark Glassner's plane!"

Muttered hisses crackled in the circle. "Agreed! Release us!"

I swiped my foot through the circle, breaking the plane. The Aerials, like a swarm of vaporous monkeys, shot into the air, cackling with laughter. There were innocent people on his plane, but I hardly felt any guilt. Anger had burned away my conscience. Freedom had its price. I was more than willing to pay it.

In fact, I already had. My hands could still feel the garrote.

Mark – Air Force One

A metallic, tearing sound shuddered through the plane, dragging me up from sleep. The plane rocked violently and fear clutched my heart. Korina hugged me tightly, panic shining in her blue eyes. I struggled to get up, tangled by my slut's panicked limbs.

"What's going on?" I muttered. There was another ripping noise and the plane shook violently.

"Everyone fasten your seatbelts," Joslyn barked over the plane's PA. "We're experiencing some mechanical difficulty."

As I headed for the door, there was another violent shake and I was thrown into the wall. "Fuck," I muttered; a long cut oozed blood on my forearm.

The door banged open, reveling a pale looking 27. She was in command of the bodyguards on this trip; 51 was too far along in her pregnancy to travel. "Sir, there's ... something on the wings, ripping off pieces of the plane," she said, sounding calmer than she looked.

"What?"

"Spectre." The code word for minor demons—a Patriot attack. "Made of smoke, we haven't seen these kinds before. They're ripping the plane apart."

I followed her up the fuselage, gripping the sides of chairs to stay upright as the plane shook and shimmied violently. Peering out of a porthole window, I saw what looked like smoke monkeys tearing into the wing, and more were on the cowl of the engines. Black smoke issued from one engine. Was the plane on fire? Adrenaline surged through me, a cold wave that sent my heart beating frantically.

"We need to get out there!" I exclaimed. "Shoot out the windows or something!"

"The plane's going too fast and we're too high up!" 27 objected. "A living person can't go out there. And even if we could hold on despite the speed, we can't breath at this altitude!"

No-one living could. "Tsalmaveth!"

The temperature in the plane dropped as the silvery mist sprang up and twenty-one figures coalesced out of the fog. Thanks to the Patriots, another six of my bodyguards fell defending Mary and my little sister in February.

"Master," Chasity greeted with a smile. With her blue eyes, blonde hair, and Nordic cheekbones, she was the spitting image of a Valkyrie. "We'll sweep these vermin off the plane." Ten ghosts went right, and ten others went left, passing through the hull of the plane out onto the wings. Karen stayed with me.

I bent down, staring intently through the window as the ghosts fired their silver 9mm's at the smoke monkeys. Through the airplane's fuselage, their gunshots sound like small pops. None of the spirits – or the smoke monkeys for that matter – seemed affected by the 500 mph wind rushing by them. Even when the plane would rise up and down in the air as the pilots struggled to keep us flying, the ghosts stayed in the same place on the wing like their feet were glued to it.

"Aerials," Karen said, bending down next to me. "Lesser demons of air, Master."

"Where did they come from?" I asked the ghost.

"From one of the the islands we're flying over." Karen concentrated. "Unalaska Island. But the summoners have already fled."

"The Patriots?"

Karen nodded.

Every time a silver bullet struck one of the smokey aerials whatever force animated their vapors let go, and a small cloud of black would zoom away from the plane. The aerials seemed to ignore the ghosts, instead focusing on ripping apart the plane.

"Why don't they fight back?" I wondered.

"They weren't ordered to," Karen explained. "They were only commanded to bring down the plane."

The right wing was cleared by the time Karen finished talking, and I crossed the fuselage to peer out at the left wing. Huge chunks of it were missing, exposing the hydraulics and wires of the wing's innards. I didn't see any of the aerials. The ghosts were firing at the back of the plane now.

Karen stuck her head through the side of the plane. "There's a few more on the tail."

I heard worry in her words. "What?"

"There's a missing elevator, Master." She looked at me with concern. "You should buckle up."

I swallowed, sitting down and strapping in. 27 sat next to me and I reached out and grabbed her hand; she squeezed me back. The plane dropped, diving forward for a moment, the engines whining in protest. Everyone screamed, including me. The plane leveled for a moment, then pitched up and down rapidly, the fuselage groaning under the stress.

"It's not that bad, dieing," Karen said with a comforting smile, sitting down on my lap, hugging me with her cold body. "It's like falling asleep."

Joslyn – Air Force One

"Mayday, mayday, mayday!" I calmly broadcast over the radio, fighting with the control stick, pulling the plane out of the steep dive. I glanced at the altimeter, 20,750 and descending, but not as fast as we had a minute ago. "This is Air Force One declaring an emergency!"

"Copy your Mayday, this is Anchorage control! What is the emergency?" It was reassuring hearing how calm the air traffic controller sounded.

"I have one dead engine, and multiple control surfaces damaged, descending through angels twenty."

"Engine three is on fire," Lydia reported, reaching for the flashing red knob and pulling the fire extinguisher.

"Feather three," I ordered, my hands gripping the yoke with a death grip. My right thumb keyed the radio button on the yoke, "Air Force One; we've lost a second engine. We need a bearing to the nearest runway."

"Copy that, Air Force One," Anchorage control responded. "Turn to heading 47, you're 102 miles out from Anchorage."

Shit! "We'll try to hold it in the air that long. We've achieved stable flight for the moment."

"Copy that. Coast guard has been advised and is sending a cutter if you have to put it down in the water."

I glanced at Lydia. "Throttle up."

"Raider 3 to Air Force One, your plane has been swept clean of the ... uh ... gremlins," one of the F-22 pilots reported. "Be advised, you are missing the port elevator and I see a lot of damage to your flaps. Good luck."

"Thank you, Raider 3."

Ten years of flying planes, training in simulators, and I never thought I'd actually have to worry about gremlins ripping my plane apart. If it wasn't for all my training, I would be falling apart right now. I glanced at my co-pilot, and she was as pale-faced as I felt.

I keyed up the PA, "We're heading to Anchorage for an emergency landing. It's twenty minutes out; we may be ditching in the ocean."

Things went relatively smooth for the next ten minutes. My heart never once stopped hammering as my eyes kept checking the PFD and EICAS panels every second. I had the yoke in a death grip, fighting to keep the plane leveled. There was a loud, shuddering clunk and then the warning lights started flashing—fire in engine one. Lydia quickly pulled the fire extinguisher and feathered the engine. I couldn't take my hands off the yoke, or we'd pitch down into the ocean.

The last engine whined, damaged by those fucking gremlins, and we slowed down. The whine seemed to grow worse and worse; the intake fan blades must have been damaged. Maybe a piece of the wing had been sucked inside. Ahead, the coast of Alaska grew larger and larger, the Alaska Range towering beyond, white and gray above the green forest. We crossed over land, coming closer and closer to safety.

Engine four gave one last, loud whine, then went silent. The only sound in the cockpit were the many warning alarms. "Are we gliding?" Lydia asked.

"Yes. Pitch for glide," I ordered.

Lydia reached for the hydraulic controls and extended the flaps, maximizing our wing surface as we glided in. It was all up to inertia now. If we had enough air speed we could make it to the airport. Our altitude started dropping faster.

"There's the airport," Lydia reported.

I keyed the radio, "Air Force One to Anchorage Tower."

"We see you, Air Force One," the tower controller radioed. "You're coming in a little shallow. Recommended you throttle up a bit."

"We are deadstick, Anchorage." No engines, no power.

"Well ... uh ... good luck, Air Force One."

"Gear down."

The ground was rushing up fast. The calm, monotone computer's voice announced our Above Ground Level: "500. 400. 300. 200."

I glanced at the PFD; our airspeed was 173 knots. Too fast; a rough landing. Since we were coming in shallow, I wasn't sure if we were going to land on the runway, or in the grass before it, so I couldn't afford to slow down. "Assume brace position," I ordered through the PA.

"100. 50. 40."

I flared the plane and we touched down hard, the yoke jerking in my grasp. We both started flipping the air brakes, and I pushed on the break pedal. The plane squealed across the runway, the terminal growing larger and larger. We weren't slowing down enough; we didn't have the engines, so there were no reverse thrusters to help slow us down. And the end of the runway was coming up fast.

A loud, metallic, shearing sound shivered through the fuselage; the plane lurched suddenly to the left, off the runway. The plane's wheels hit the dirt, and the front landing gear folded. The nose dropped, and pushed into the ground. Clods of dirt and grass flew up like the bow wave of a ship, and we came to a shuddering stop.

"I think we're alive," Lydia breathed. She looked out her window. "Holy shit! Half the right wing sheared off."

I swallowed. That's why we lurched left, only the left wing had been providing drag. If the wing had failed while we were still airborne, we would all have died. I let go of the yoke and my hands shook as I massaged my palms. Off in the distance sirens blared, rescue coming.

Mark – Mall Field, WA

The backup VIP plane touched down safely at Mall Field, a new airport built by the Army Core of Engineers. With Seattle fallen to Lilith, Boeing Field was in her hands and Sea-Tac lay too close, so we had the airport built where the South Hill Mall used to lay before being bulldozed down last December. We had claimed most of South Hill for the Theocracy, as our empire was being called, moving out the residents. We were pouring resources into building up the seat of our government. Mall Field was half completed; temporary buildings had been erected to serve as the hangar and terminals, and only one runway had been constructed so far.

No-one was seriously injured in our crash landing in Anchorage, and within the hour we were airborne on the backup plane, an almost identical version of Air Force One. It was part of the fleet of planes that traveled with me, ready in case something went wrong with the main plane. The remaining flight down to Washington State was thankfully uneventful.

"Mark!" Mary shouted, waddling as fast as her pregnancy would allow.

I hugged her gently, cautious of her round belly pressing against me and not wanting to hurt our unborn daughter, then I kissed her and rested a hand on her belly. Mary's hand rested on mine, and baby Chasity gave a kick. "She's as excited to see you as I am," my wife laughed.

I smiled, and wrapped my arm around her shoulder.

The women traveling with me were greeted by their loved ones. Leah was wrapped-up into a three way hug with her spouses, Jacob and Rachel, and one of the maids hugged her husband, who worked maintenance on our planes. Not wanting to split up couples, we found work for any of the maids' or other employees' spouses. Xiu embraced Korina warmly; the two sluts had become close the last few months. Violet found her girlfriend Cindy, one of the maids who accompanied me. April watched the pair with a disgusted look on her face.

From what I gathered, Violet and April started dating last August, but it all fell apart in February when Violet was caught cheating on April with Cindy. Since then, April has spent many nights crying on Mary's lap.

Jessica gave me a warm hug and a kiss, followed by April. Alison and Desiree weren't here, they must be out hunting down Warlocks. They only stopped in once every few weeks; both women had changed, becoming more graceful, lean, and confident, but there was a hard edge to them. After Desiree's rape by Brandon last September, both had a bitter hatred of other Warlocks.

"Welcome back, Master," Violet smiled, pointedly ignoring April, and throwing her arms around my neck and kissing me.

Mary, the sluts, and I piled into the back of one of our armored limos, with Mary cuddling up next to me. April and Violet, shooting each other dirty glances, sat as far apart as possible. I was getting tired of it. I wanted my sluts to love each other. "April, Violet."

"Yes, Master," they said, almost in unison, then glared at each other.

"I want you two to sit next to each other." Neither looked pleased as the sluts rearranged themselves. "Now, you both are slut-sisters, and it's time you forgave each other."

"Why do I need to forgive her?" April pouted. "She cheated on me."

"I'm sorry," Violet whispered. "It's just there's something really special about Cindy. I didn't want to hurt you or disappoint you. I still care about you."

"Whatev," April muttered.

"April, she can't help whom she falls in love with," Mary gently said. "You'll meet someone special and understand. I've seen the way Hayfa looks at you." Hayfa was one of Willow's nurses, a willowy Arab woman who made the most delightful moans when she cums.