eh, weird, but there's a kink for that, I'm sure!

One of my hands was gripping my hair tight, trying but failing to keep it from falling down in the murky water. My other hand clung on to the toilet seat in a pathetic attempt to stabilize myself as I doubled over, retching into the toilet.

The world was spinning around me, it felt like I was dissociating in and out of consciousness with every spurt of vomit that came up and out of my throat. The occasional feeling of water splashing back on my face kept me there in the moment though, It was like I was being forced to endure every second of it.

It wasn’t like I couldn’t handle a good face-fucking, it was my job and sole purpose in life to be good in bed and on camera. But I’d been throwing up all day, just a little here and there while my mouth was stuffed to the brim. I’d been forced to swallow it down and pretend like I wasn’t choking on my own vomit, and I’d reached my limit.

I’d felt sick all morning but that didn’t matter, it never mattered with Valentino. If I could take dick, I was well enough to work. How I felt was irrelevant.

Even in my disorientated state, I could hear his footsteps echoing through the hallway, getting closer and closer to me in my vulnerable state. I couldn’t remember if I’d locked the door or not, but knowing him that wouldn’t matter. Regardless of how compromising my position was, he’d barge in if he wanted to.

The door swung open and I looked up with teary eyes to see him standing above me, his expression eerily calm and collected as he took in the sight of me.

“Need me to hold your hair for you baby?”

I blinked, the tears that had pooled up in my eyes falling down my face. He was being so gentle, so kind to me, but I knew it wouldn’t last long. But I clung on to this side of him like a lifeline, enduring everything he put me through just for moments like this.

So hesitantly, I nodded. And I felt his hand gently gripping my hair, holding it up for me.

“What’s wrong baby? Is your tummy bothering you? Got a little morning sickness?”

My heart almost stopped when I realized he knew- He knew I was pregnant. There was also something about the way he said it that wasn’t helping, because despite his kind, concerned words, his expression wasn’t so nice. No, he looked at me like he was analyzing my every move, his gaze nothing but cold.

But I wanted to hold on to some semblance of him giving a shit about me, so I pushed that down and told myself that he was trying his best, that he actually cared. So I cleared my throat, trying to muster up a sentence.

“I uh… I think so? Please don’t be mad.”

“What? Of course I’m not mad at you baby. No, Daddy just wants to help…

Well, help in the only way that I know how to.”

“What?”

I felt his grip tightening on my hair, pulling my head back uncomfortably. I felt like I was paralyzed with fear, knowing damn well that his idea of ‘helping’ me would be less than ideal.

“I said, I’m going to help you. I’m going to help tou forget all about your little ‘morning sickness,’ and I’m going to help you get rid of this problem.”

My blood ran cold at the thought of that. Get rid of it? I’d been trying my best to hide my pregnancy for the last few weeks. I still wasn’t even sure if I wanted to keep it or not, but the idea of being forced to terminate the pregnancy… It horrified me.

And the way he said it, so casually and cold- it was deeply unsettling. It had me questioning if he meant what I thought he meant, or if I was just severely misunderstanding him; taking what he’d said out of context.

“Come on Cariño, let’s get you off this nasty floor.”

He helped me up to sit on the toilet, even going as far as to close it before I sat down on the cold, white porcelain.

“Let’s get you out of these soiled clothes, yeah?”

I knew deep down what was coming next, but I truly wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he just wanted to help me discard my vomit-soiled clothes and nothing else. I didn’t want to think that he would take advantage of me in this state; I wanted to hold on to my belief that he gave a shit about me.

So even with alarm bells going off in my head, I raised my arms for him, letting him take off my shirt. His claws pricked my skin, making me gasp, but I shut that down immediately, not wanting to give him the wrong idea.

“Someone’s all worked up…”

“Val, I didn’t mean to, I mean… I don’t want to-”

His hand went over my mouth, silencing me. Despite how gentle his touch was, it still felt threatening, as I knew all too well what he was capable of.

“Shhhh. It’s those pregnancy hormones, baby. You don’t have a clue what you want, but Daddy knows best…

…Just keep your pretty little mouth shut and let me help you out.”

With that, his hands went to pull up the hem of my skirt, revealing my panties; soiled and stretched out from the long day I’d had. But he didn’t seem to mind, if anything he liked it.

One set of hands gripped my hips, holding me in place. The other set slipped underneath my panties, one hand rubbing me and the other teasing my stretched-out, leaky entrance.

Despite how good he was with his hands, I was still nauseous, and still sore from all the hours I’d put in that day. I felt horrible, physically and mentally exhausted knowing I couldn’t do anything and that if I spoke up I’d just be in a worse position.

“Look who’s all worked up… I told you, it’s just those hormones of yours.”

I knew he was right, and I hated it. I hated how he was touching me, and yet my body was still responding to his touch. It was like an out of body experience, watching someone use my body and being unable to do anything at all. Except it was in real time, and I was forced to endure every second of it.

”You don’t have to worry baby, I’ll be gentle.”

Another lie, because there was nothing gentle about the way he pushed inside of me, going balls deep in a single thrust. It felt like my insides were bruised, and every thrust of his hips made me relive that pain over and over.

I thought maybe if I just sat there and took it like a good whore, he’d go easy on me. Maybe he’d get tired and let me go.

But any hope I had went right out the window when his knee made contact with my stomach, insistently kicking me over and over. I felt bile rising up in my throat again, and a hot, gushing feeling between my legs.

I looked down in absolute disgust, thinking I’d come from that. But what I saw was even worse.

When I looked down, I saw thick, clotted blood gushing from between my legs, painting his cock red as it continued to go in and out of me. But he didn’t seem too bothered, he just kept on going, giving me the most brutal fucking I’d ever endured.

When he saw the blood gushing from between my legs, he stopped kicking me and instead grounded his knee against my battered stomach, making it feel like my insides were being mixed up. Having me pinned down with his knee, he let go of my hips and brought his hand to my face, making me look up at him as he wiped away my tears. He had an amused expression on his face as he spoke;

“Shhh, shhh now baby… Daddy’s just doing what had to be done. You know being pregnant would be bad for business.”

Emilute where Emily tries so hard to make things work but Lute is well, Lute and constantly makes her want to break things off because of her psychotic behavior.

Emilute where Lute is extremely possessive with Emily after the mental trauma of losing Adam, and she’ll ‘punish’ her for doing as little as being out of her sight for too long.

Emilute where Emily is a kissless virgin and Lute is an experienced sexual sadist.

Emilute where Emily is too innocent to fully grasp what Lute is capable of in the bedroom, until she’s tied up with a knife to her throat.

Emilute where Lute gets off on seeing the fear in her eyes when she presses the sharp end of a blade to Emily’s clit, never actually hurting her but threatening to do so if she ever leaves her.

Valentino hadn’t been too kind to me the night prior but none of that mattered now, not with how nice it felt being in his arms. He let me lay across his lap while he smoked, occasionally looking down at me. He reached out a clawed hand, offering his joint to me.

“No thanks, I don’t smoke.”

“You don’t smoke or you haven’t smoked?”

“…”

“Aww, Chiquita’s never even smoked. Isn’t that just the cutest thing ever…” he chuckled, grabbing me by my chin, the feeling of his sharp claws against my skin making my heartbeat speed up. He removed the joint from his mouth and placed it in my own, his fingers gracing my lips for a split second before he pulled away.

“You’ll take a hit for me, won’t you? Don’t worry Bebita, I’ll take suuuch good care of you…”

“I don’t know…”

“What? Don’t you trust me?” He prodded me, looking down at me with a smirk just as arrogant as it was condescending.

I knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to trust him, that it was a bad idea letting loose around him. But I was more afraid about what would happen if he got pissed off at me for not doing it.

So, taking a deep breath, I took a hit. And the second I finally did, I could see that pleased look on his face through my teary eyes while I coughed, struggling to keep from throwing up. The taste was pungent, filling the air around me so that I tasted it even when I tried to gasp for air.

“Good girl.”

Despite how much I hated smoking, I knew I’d do anything to hear him praising me like that. That’s how I ended up sitting on his lap, one set of his hands on my hips holding me down while another hand held the joint to my lips.

It was one hit then another, He’d used excuse after excuse to pressure me into taking another hit. Before I knew it, my body was limp in his lap and I’d lost count.

“There, now doesn't that feel nice? Just one more hit babygirl, come on, you can do it for me.”

“You said that the last time… and the time before that…”

“Shhhhhh, your head’s just getting fuzzy baby. You don't know what you’re talking about.”

Sighing, I took another hit, this one longer than the last.

“Such a good girl, letting her Papito do all of her thinking for her.”

My stomach flipped when he said that, and in that moment I knew that I’d do whatever he asked of me if it meant staying in his good graces. Even if that meant intoxicating myself past the point I was comfortable with, just for his own sick viewing pleasure.

I felt my mind going fuzzy, barely able to register what he was doing when his hands crept under my skirt, toying with the lacy hem of my panties. I could feel how hard he was, how much he was getting off on corrupting me.

“Val, I’m way too out of it for this…”

He shushed me, grabbing the joint from my hand and taking a hit of it for himself before blowing it in my face, leaving me a coughing mess. I could taste his sickly sweet pheromones mixed with the pungent, skunky smell of the weed, and it made me sick to my stomach.

“Too out of it for what? You don’t know what you’re talking about Baby, just calm down and let your Papito take care of you.”

I could feel his arms around me, lifting me up. Everything was a blur, then I felt my back hitting the bed. Before I could even process what was going on, he was behind me, spooning me and holding me down with his four arms.

“Val, I’m really not comfortable doing this while I’m high like this…”

“Doing what, Babygirl? I’m just going to take your clothes off, you’re overheating. Guess somebody can’t handle her weed..”

It was almost laughable how he lied to my face, knowing I didn’t believe him but still daring me to call him out on it. Though I was less focused on that and more focused on the way that his hands felt roaming all over my body. His hands pulled at my clothes and groped at my curves, lingering on the areas that had me squirming in discomfort. As much as I wanted to struggle, I couldn’t do much in my intoxicated state.

“Val… stop.”

My plea fell on deaf ears, because he was already reaching under my skirt, pulling my lacy panties down until they hit my knees. No matter what I said or did, he wouldn’t care- because he had one goal in mind.

And that goal was getting clearer and clearer to me by the second, between the sound of him undoing his belt and the way he grabbed my arms and held me down, I knew what was coming next. And all I could do was lay there and take it, too intoxicated to fight back.

I should’ve been more careful with my practice, if I had then maybe I wouldn’t have accidentally summoned him…

Pink smoke filled the room, clouding my vision. Everything was a blur, until I felt a strong, slender hand gripping my chin, my body going limp in its grasp. I started choking when the figure blew smoke in my face, coughing and sputtering so badly I would have keeled over if it hadn’t been roughly holding me in place by my chin.

When the smoke cleared up a bit and I was able to open my teary eyes, I was met with a sight I’d never even dreamed of- a tall, lavender-purple mothman in a pimp suit. My mouth went dry, because as absurd as it was, it was terrifying to have this easily ten foot tall monster looming over me.

Seeing him grinning down at me, my body froze, and I was unable to move out of pure fear. I wanted to back up, but I couldn’t, so I just stood there, unable to break eye contact with those piercing red eyes of his.

That’s when I felt his hand trailing from my chin, down to my neck. I wanted to push him off, but I physically couldn’t. It was at that moment that I realized that it wasn’t just the fear that was keeping me from moving my body, I was being possessed.

So all I could do was stand there, my face pale with fear as his hands ran over my body, feeling me up and down. He groped at my curves through my clothes, mapping out my body.

“Hmm, I’d usually be mad at a human for summoning me, wasting my time and all that… but with a body like this, you’ll be worth my time, Princessa.”

My stomach churned when I registered what he’d said. I tried to protest, but my mouth opened and nothing came out. My body only moved when he grabbed me and forcibly shoved me up against the wall.

I could feel his hands on the back of my thighs, one set of arms pulling down my pants while the other groped at my behind. As soon as he got my pants down past my rear, one of his hands was already between my thighs, mapping out the space between my clit and my entrance as he touched me.

“You’re trembling, Bebita… You need to calm down, I’m not going to hurt you.”

The sound of him chuckling at my fear and mocking me made my blood boil, but I knew I couldn’t do anything about it. With so many emotions bubbling up inside of me, I did the one thing that I could do in my restrained state, and I cried.

I quickly forgot all of that, my fear, my anger, all of it when he thrust two fingers knuckle-deep in my virgin cunt. I’d fingered myself before, but his fingers were so long, they were stretching me out so much that this was nothing like that.

As if the stretch of his fingers wasn’t enough, he started scissoring them, preparing me for the inevitable that I knew was coming. I didn’t want to give in, but my body was already reacting to his touch, and I felt myself getting wet.

I could hear my cunt squelching around his fingers, and I was so disgusted with myself that I wanted to throw up. Was I actually enjoying this? Was I actually getting wet from having him touch me without my consent?

I knew he heard it, and I hated that he could feel that I was wet. I knew that wasn’t all he could hear either, he had to hear me crying, he had to hear the sound of me hiccuping and sobbing as I silently pleaded for him to stop. But he didn’t care, if anything it made him enjoy it that much more.

And he enjoyed every second of forcing his way into me, taking my virginity as payment for me summoning him.