“Oh yes,” purred Selene. “The most beautiful girl in the world. The sexiest. The most wanted. And you could even sleep with my boss. Would you like that?”
Be fucked by Master? Was such a wonderful event even possible for Jacqueline? That would be beyond her wildest dreams.
“Oh,” Jacqueline gasped softly. “Oh my, yes. Do you really think so?”
Selene slid off the the chair and approached Jacqueline, and began to gently massage the brunette’s heavy, gorgeous tits through her dress. Jacqueline moaned happily, soft tingles of pleasure pushing through her body. All the while, Jacqueline continued to stare happily into the crystal.
“Yes. Of course, you’d have to be much, much prettier. You’re simply not pretty enough at all, are you?”
Jacqueline hesitated now. “I mean...that is, I do get paid to be pretty...”
“But you’re not as pretty as I am, are you? And my boss fucks me constantly.”
That made perfect sense. Selene was so very right.
“Oh. Oh, right.”
Selene stepped away for a moment, opening the door and conferring with someone. The crystal was gone. A fog felt like it had been lifted away from Jacqueline’s head. There were so many new thoughts swirling around, spiraling in her mind. She wasn’t...wasn’t pretty enough. She shouldn’t have to sort through all these thoughts until she was pretty, like Master wanted. Right?
Wait...what? No, that was wrong. That was all wrong. That wasn’t—
But then, Selene returned, a transparent plastic cup in hand, filled to the brim with a spiral-patterned black-and-white shake. In the face of her unadulterated love for Selene, Jacqueline lost all doubt once more. The crystal, still shining, dangled between Selene’s breasts, somewhat obscured by them.
“Here. Drink this.”
Cautiously, Jacqueline took the shake. “I...I’m not sure. What’s in this?”
“Beauty juice.”
“Beauty juice?”
Selene shrugged, her perfect, naked breasts bouncing happily. It was the single most beautiful action Jacqueline had ever seen anyone taken. “Oh, that’s just what I call it. Go on, have a little.”
Jacqueline took a sip. Then—emboldened by its delicious taste, she took a much larger one.
“It’s a more refined version of what we used to call the Spiral Twist,” said Selene. “We took out all the alcohol and added some much more effective narcotics. Soon, you won’t doubt anything I say, and your body will only be useful for hard, forceful fucking by my boss, and some of the other men around here.”
“Huh? Whazzat?”
Jacqueline giggled. This drink was positively loaded with deliciousness!
Selene pushed Jacqueline back into the corner with all the pillows, tugging away at the brunette’s tiny dress. Soon it was gone—and soon after, so were her panties and bra. Completely naked and completely dripping wet before the hot, luscious suddenly naked body of Selene. The crystal was gone, but it didn't matter. Jacqueline would do anything Selene said, now.
Jacqueline’s body changed before her very eyes—her tits growing, her skin becoming shinier and even more flawless. She watched with some amazement as the mole on her left shoulder fled her body, floating like a leaf for a few moments before dissolving entirely. Her hair, already long and luscious, became amazingly, intrinsically soft—and full of pleasure. Selene, smiling, ran her hands through the thick locks, and Jacqueline moaned in instant orgasm just from the small thrill of having her hair adored.
Oh god. She had been turned into a complete sex toy just for Selene...and just for her new Master, Mister Craft.
That was so fucking wonderful.
Selene lowered her face down between Jacqueline’s legs and started to lick. First the inner thighs, then the sweet, pink folds, and then finally burying her beautiful face completely, lapping at Jacqueline's clit. Jacqueline, gasping hotly, felt the warm perfect tides of bliss float over her body. Selene’s tongue on Jacqueline’s pussy was magical. Pure delight. Jacqueline had no idea anything could be so good.
“Oh my god,” Jacqueline moaned. “Oh god...you’re so good. You’re so good, baby...oh god!”
Bucking and panting, she came, and came again, losing track of her orgasms. She didn’t even know her body could take so many. Selene did not seem deterred in the slightest by all the movements of her hips or her constant, loud screaming.
After several minutes of delight, however, Selene switched gears and began to finger Jacqueline’s drenched pussy.
“You love me, don’t you, dear?”
“Yes! God yes!”
“You'll do anything for me, won't you?”
“Yes, please! Anything!”
“You love my boss, don’t you sweetie?”
Selene was so calm, so serene, that she could have been typing a letter or organizing a nest of folders.
“Oh yes! Love you! Love your boss!”
“You’ll do anything for Him, won’t you?”
“Definitely!” Jacqueline panted.
“He’s your Master, isn’t he?”
“Master, yes! Please let me serve Master! I need him so bad!”
“Give me a nice cum, then, Jacqueline. Give me a cum to let me know you're a slave, just like me.”
Obey, oh yes. Her first command to obey. Jacqueline was so grateful for the chance. With a riotous, toe-curling scream, Jacqueline came—and then came again right after that as Selene continued her hot, wet fingering session.
After she calmed down, steam rising up from their bodies in the cool room, Jacqueline curled up next to Selene, the two new lovers cooing and kissing with perfect, hot affection.
Selene kissed Jacqueline on the top of the head. “You’re going to be such a good slave for your new Master, doll.”
* * * * *
Marisol Garza, second most-highly paid supermodel in the world, smiled wide as she greeted the photographer, Hans, in the empty casino floor. It was a bit odd that the casino was empty—a Saturday seemed like a natural day for a casino to do booming business—but whatever, that wasn’t her specialty. Marisol was used to businesses and locations shutting down just for her—even though it embarrassed her quite a bit. Unlike the haughty Jacqueline or self-possessed Vivian, she had never quite gotten used to her supermodel status.
“I’ve heard so much about your work,” she enthused, stepping around the empty roulette table where the shoot was due to take place. Tall lights were positioned all around it. “And I just loved that spread you did the other month with the leather.”
This was an old tactic. Of course, she had never heard of Hans or seen any of his work. But every one had heard at least something about everyone else in her industry—either at openings, parties, gossip, or otherwise—and every photographer had done something recent with leather in the last year. Leather was in—Marisol certainly had worn quite a bit of it, covering her gorgeous, trim body in leather skirts, leather hot pants, leather corsets, leather boots...really, whatever there was to wear made of the stuff. It made her a good deal of money over a series of shoots. People didn’t seem to be able to get enough of her in tight, hot clothing.
She didn’t quite understand the notion herself—she thought her body was too curvy, surrounded by so many rail-thin models all the time. The bouncy, bubbly quality of her 36E breasts got her quite a lot of attention in the modeling industry, though, especially coupled with her amply long legs and beautiful, naturally red hair.
The two shook hands and he took a long view of her, up and down. Marisol was used to the attention—though she had never quite gotten to the point of enjoying it. Small goosebumps crawled down her spine.
“I’m glad you like my work. I’ve been looking forward to displaying you for some time.” He smiled, opening his hands out to the roulette table. “Shall we get right down to it? I’m sure you’ve got a busy schedule. Don’t want to wait all day for me, all of that.”
He had a peculiarly American accent for someone who was named Hans.
His brown hair, narrow jaw, and dark eyes didn’t speak to anyone especially German either. But, what did Marisol know? She barely had an accent anymore herself, after spending years modeling overseas.
“That sounds great,” she enthused. “I’m already in wardrobe, so...bring it on.”
Beneath her comfy, plush robe, Marisol had on a tight black lingerie—panties, bra, stockings. Emerald stones decorated her elegant neck, matching the gems inlaid on her expensive heels. She let the robe drop, tossing it casually on a stool nearby. Normally, these sorts of sets had personal assistants floating around...but no matter. She was an adult. She could take care of tossing a robe.
It was chilly in the casino. Her nipples began to stiffen noticeably in her tiny lace bra. A little self-conscious, she wrapped her arms around her tight, toned tummy.
“So,” said Hans, clapping his palms together. “This shoot is all about greed. We’re gonna bring some guys in, and they’re gonna be greedy for you. You represent wealth. Not to be crude, but we want to show a lot of cleavage.”
“Of course.”
Like with any part of her body, she had never felt all that comfortable with her breasts being on display—but only because there was so much of them. She felt rather jealous of models like Jacqueline or Vivian, whose proportions were so insanely perfect and feminine.
Of course, she had heard many say that she was the model of femininity herself—a perfect representation of the fertile female form. But, that kind of wording tended to throw her off. Fertility! Pshaw. At twenty-five, she hardly wanted to get pregnant any time soon. She had never even had sex bareback before.
It was odd to her that there were going to be “some guys” in the shoot, though. Where were they? Why hadn’t she been notified? She would have enjoyed talking with them before hand to try to build up some kind of a line of communication.
Oh well. Leaning forward, she posed on the roulette table as Hans prepared his camera, sticking her behind way, way out and arching her back. Modeling was all about angles, letting the audience see you from the most perfect view possible, and altering reality just enough to make you seem hyper-real. Bigger than life.
Hans’s camera was strange—Marisol had never seen anything quite like it. There were lots of strange spinning lights on the front of it, and the flashes from each photo felt like they were striking straight into her brain. It disoriented Marisol somehow, even though she felt herself thinking perfectly clearly.
Flash. Flash.
“I’m going to ask you to do some new stuff, but you don’t have a problem with that, do you? You’re a model, right? A professional? It’s all a show.”
Yes, Marisol nodded happily.
“A big show,” she said.
Flash, flash.
“That’s great,” said Hans. “And you’re really, really happy, okay? You’re practically falling in love with yourself. You’re just ecstatic, keep smiling, yeah?”
Smiling brilliantly, Marisol let out a long, delighted laugh. Totally! She was having a great time. This place was fantastic.
“Really tug at your bra, okay?” said Hans. Flash, flash, flash. “Push your cleavage together. Show off those tits. I know you love them.”
Smiling happily, Marisol did just that. She did love her tits.
Flash.
“That’s great. You look gorgeous. I know you love showing off.”
Marisol giggled happily, her pussy starting to get warm. She really did love showing off like this. It was her favorite thing in the world.
Flash, flash, flash.
“Do me a favor? Get really, really turned on? I want you to feel it. I want this to be making you a horny little sex doll, all right?”
Oh, sure. Marisol could do that. She could be a horny sex doll. Why not? This was all modeling, after all. Just acting.
Her pussy flooded with hot, easy arousal, lines of wetness beginning to drip down her stockinged legs. She licked her lips. Her fingers grazed against her nipples, and then pressed harder, tweaking them between her soft digits. Her legs splayed open, baring her barely-clad pussy to the camera.
Hans stopped for a moment, texting something on his phone. Marisol waited, feeling hot and bothered, but still brilliantly happy. She had never felt so good in her life.
Through the double-doors nearby, five strapping young men walked in, each one bigger and studlier than the last. Each was heavily muscled—and completely ripped, not a shred of fat on them. They all wore tight boxer shorts, the kind that let Marisol know exactly what kind of package they sported. Each must have been a monster...and at the sight and proximity of the beautiful redhead, two or three of them seemed to be stiffening rapidly. Smiling broadly, they surrounded her—so very large compared to her minute model beauty.
“Okay, fellas,” said Hans. “Drop your pants.”
Giggling at the absurdity of the statement, Marisol scanned the faces of the handsome men around her, searching for someone else sharing her mirth.
But then...then they actually did drop their pants. Just like that. No hesitation—they had nothing to hide, and lots to show off. Oh god.
Each cock was bigger than the last, just like the men.
Oh god. So many big, hard, supreme cocks surrounding her. Fuck. How the hell had this happened?
She was so fucking turned on. Why couldn't she calm down? Everything was so arousing all of a sudden.
“Wh-what’s happening?” she said to Hans, who had shifted forward through the ring of muscled men with his camera. “Why are they...why um, like, are the hot studs all naked and stuff?”
God, she hadn’t meant to sound like such a ditz. But these cocks were so big...some of the men were stroking them, too. And they were just getting bigger and bigger, stiffer and stiffer, and starting to ooze out hot glimpses of precum. They kept rubbing their cocks, sliding the precum into their meaty flesh, making the cocks shiny and wet. Marisol let out a hot, needy moan.
“I thought,” said Hans, flashing the camera at her, “that you were a professional. Aren’t you?”
“I...I-I am, it’s just...”
“Then you ought to let them fuck you. Just look at the camera, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”
Look at the camera. Don’t worry.
Flash. Flash. Flash.
Every flash eroded another piece of her will. She didn’t have to care, didn’t have to worry. There were so many strong, strong men around. Certainly, they could take of everything for her.
Flash. Flash.
Marisol dropped to her knees, pushing her face toward the nearest cock she could see.
Something about that camera flash was affecting her, she realized, bringing a hand up to thoughtfully slide over the cock she had gotten so close to. It was making her all...all weak-willed and silly.
It was making her act like a proper little girl for once. She was so happy to act like a real woman should—submissive and sweet.
And fertile, too, she realized. Incredibly fertile.
“You’re incredibly fertile,” said Hans, again, even though she just now realized he had said it the first time. There were so many flashes, so many new thoughts. It was so difficult to keep up with all of them. “You’re such a beautiful, fertile woman. You’ve been wasting it, though. Shouldn’t you be fucked by all these men and see how fertile you really are? They’ll give you lots of cum, all unprotected. You’ll feel more warm and filled than you ever have.”
Marisol whimpered with need, holding her big tits tight. That was exactly what she wanted.
But still, there were...there were so many of them!
They would break her in half!
Flash. Flash.
Oh god. There were so many of them. So many hot, male bodies, with such cut muscles and svelte hips, pressing in on her, pushing against her. They were so strong, so masculine. All of them with such hard, hard cocks, exclusively for her.
They would break. Her. In. Half.
She let out a hot, shuddery moan, her breath coating the co
ck in front of her face as she stroked it harder.
So many men. So many cocks. She was just a weak little girl, made to submit and give in to her superiors. How could she say no?
“I’ve been jerking off to you for years,” said one behind her. His cock pushed hard on her shoulder, nudging her further down on her knees, further down to her place.
“You’re the girl I thought of when I fucked my wife on our wedding night,” said the man in front of her, stroking her hair as she stroked him.
Her pussy dripped hot, and, unable to help herself, she ventured out her tongue to slide over the sexy, thick tip of his cock. She moaned with ecstasy.
It. Tasted. So. Good!
“Please, Sirs,” she moaned. “Please, teach me how to be a good girl for all of you!”
Quickly, they tore off what little lingerie she had on, leaving her only in her jewels and heels and stockings. These were her ornaments, while they could ornament her with their cocks. Their hands crawled over her tight, lush body as she moaned in open submission to their combined will.
The stud in front, still holding her hair, nudged his cock against her lips. Happily, she slurped it down, moaning and licking like a good girl.
She couldn’t possibly only take care of him, though—or at least, she couldn’t and still be a good girl. She grabbed the cocks of the two men at his side, gently but forcefully stroking their premium dicks—but then she realized that the last two were left out.
Happily, she laid herself out on the floor, pulling two studs down at random with her so they sandwiched her. One quickly entered her hot, willing snatch—and the other stuffed himself inside of her tight asshole. Double penetrated, just like that.
God, she was such a good girl to be able to take so much cock. And she wanted even more. Twisting herself around, she was able to moan—almost overcome with pleasure at this point—and beg for one of the studs to fill her mouth. Of course, one agreed happily—and entered her from above, so that his hot, thick balls slapped against her forehead. That way, his cock could easily drive into the vacuum of her throat, where she sucked and slurped eagerly. The other two were satisfied with her hands on their cocks as they knelt over her incredible chest, twisted upward just for their enjoyment.
Hypno Casino: The Bundle (The Shining Spiral Saga) Page 7