Naked and trembling, little Lola mouse stepped forth from the dressing area, with only a thin black choker bearing a name tag and registry number. Large, round ears drooped submissively as she passed through the entrance, taking note of the many cameras with their shining red lights--indicating live filming--and timid, shaky footfalls led her slowly towards her fate ... but she shook not from fright, but restrained excitement.
This was the moment she had anticipated for months; the moment she had carefully dieted for, planned for, and prepared herself for: it was her time for the Cull, her time to become a star, to be admired and lusted for and, ultimately, cum for. Once a month, it had been ordained, the population of the Lesser species must be culled, to be reduced and slashed until it could again become manageable. Rampant overpopulation had demanded it, and modern depravity had twisted it into a game of lust, of sex, and of gory delight. In short, she would be sacrificed on the totem pole of a bull's member, impaled and stretched until she burst and, quite simply, died from the fucking.
Maybe it should have been normal for a girl to have a sense of self-preservation, to want to survive and thrive and grow into old age ... but this was a great event, a festival of sex and degenerate lust, and a celebrated ending to a short life; she would be a trophy, a prize, and a star in every right, with the event televised across the world to an audience millions strong, man and woman alike waiting and edging and watching as one of the arena's stars ripped her apart upon his powerful member. Indeed, it was a volunteer's event: prey were groomed and trained and even bred for this, and often the line to apply grew longer than the list of available positions; victims could even choose from their death options, and the options soon had to be expanded to include the creative, and for mass executions--firing squad, hanging, beheading, spitting. It had become an honor, a violent and sexy ending to a life that would otherwise have no meaning. Lola had chosen the personal option, the one hardest to earn, to whom only the most "gifted" of girls could be chosen: public arena copulation.
As trembling legs brought her forward, she did her best to hide a blush, appearing to be demure and shy under the bright lights of the arena in playing to her audience--doubtless an adoring one, or so she hoped--and she had to catch her own voice to avoid an audible gasp once she turned to face the throne; for seated atop it was the arena's top male draw, the bull named Tawr, an eight-foot monster of a man whose two-foot member already stood at half-erection, the long and thick pole lifting itself barely inches off the ground before him. "Oh, thank you! Thank you, Overseers!" she thought, swallowing an excited gasp and fighting against an excited squeal, until she was forced to lower her gaze submissively, else she break character before her audience.
She approached the throne, her eyes drifting up to see Tawr's cock rising before her, veins throbbing and pulsing and sending an excited flutter into her heart, and a cold chill of sheer arousal through her veins and loins. Clasping her hands over her lap, she tried to hide the thick wetness pouring down her thighs--streaming out in thin and steady squirts of pussy-juice--and stopped before the foot of the throne, where she licked her lips ever so thinly, eager to taste of his flesh and milk. As the light gleamed from the cock ring clamping down near his base, she nodded her head down when his authoritative and booming voice suddenly commanded, "Stand over me."
She glanced up to his stern, hardened gaze and knew he meant not for her to stand her tiny, four-foot frame over his hips ... he meant for her to stand over his member. Swallowing again--lest she lose control--she did as commanded, stepping carefully and demurely over his length until she stood near his pelvis, her face barely reaching up to his chest, even as he remained seated. Her tail twitched in spite of herself, and as he again spoke juice dripped from her lips onto his cock, slickening its length until it glistened under the hot studio lights. "I'm still soft ... stroke me."
"Gracious!" she exclaimed inwardly. "He looks hard as rock already!"
She began to kneel, reaching down shyly with her hands, when he stopped her again with his commanding voice. "No. Sit on me. Stroke me with your lips. Drag your juice over me."
She swallowed an excited moan, instead breathing out heavily, and knelt slowly down over his length ... and when she had touched her lips to his pole looked up to him with barely-concealed excitement in her eyes. His face never changed, however, and his hard gaze upon her only quickened her arousal, until her heart raced in ecstasy and her cunt throbbed with pained, tortured lust. Slowly she drug her lips over him, rocking her hips back and forth and supporting herself on her thighs; but her salacious nature soon took hold, and she soon leaned forward to place her hands first on his stomach for more leverage, and then upon his massive, engorged balls, each of them larger even than her breasts. With greedy fingers she grasped them, kneading and pushing into the thick, puffy flesh and working the cum up through the shaft until small globs of it pushed through the end of his dick; and when he moaned quietly--low and powerfully beneath his breath--she knew she could drive him to frenzy, into that state of mind that would make him want to destroy her, to rip her in two and end her in one single, giant thrust that would surely drive her to the greatest and most powerful orgasm she could possibly imagine.
Beneath her legs she felt him thicken, and harden, and even lengthen just a tiny bit; in but a moment he'd grown to a hardness much like steel, so hard and taut and unforgiving that its merciless power lifted her and supported her weight. She paused to breathe and rest, panting and leaning forward with her weight now balanced on his pole and balls, her fingers greedily kneading his sack while her legs dangled just inches off the dais, when again his powerful and growling voice commanded simply, "Stand."
She glanced up with a pant, then swallowed and did as ordered; but his pole had risen so far she could barely oblige: her feet barely touched the ground, and she coyly touched a finger to her lip as she turned to look behind her, seeing his pole now standing fully at attention, its length hovering parallel to the ground between her legs. She wrapped her tail around it and stroked it gently, no longer caring if her character had been broken; she wanted to feel it, to enjoy it, to stroke and caress and love it with what little time she had left on this Earth. In the moment, she wondered how it must look, tucked between her round ass cheeks and thick thighs, slick and gleaming with her juice and standing at full erection over the ground ... and she knew he felt her rapidly twitching cunt when he moaned again. "Turn."
Obediently she did as commanded, stepping a leg up and over as she turned, holding her hands coyly out as a timid little girl should; but she felt her tail gripped in his fingers, and when she looked back he spoke. "Stand over me."
A gentle tug told her the details, and she submissively stepped backwards, lifting a leg over his member and bent, sitting thighs so she could straddle his pelvis. There she waited, quietly panting in her excitement, when he reached around her and beneath his pole, producing a short chain attached to the cock ring. "Lift it."
How she had missed it earlier was beyond her--perhaps in her excitement, she wondered, she must have not thought to stroke beneath the ring--and she took it in both hands, giving it a futile tug on the first try, then wrapping it partly over her knuckles until she could lift the massive thing upright, where it stood tall enough for her lick. She paused to do so, in fact, and had licked her lips in preparation of the act, when his massive hands grabbed her about the waist and lifted her up with such ease and power as to seem effortless; it was a kind of strength that rendered her suddenly awestruck, and instilled a sense of helplessness and vulnerability that she found utterly arousing. She almost let the chain slip from her grasp, but his stern voice warned her against such a notion. "No; hold me up. Hold me between your legs. Hold me where I can split you in two."
"Oh, yes!" she almost squealed excitedly, but again restrained herself; the character, the character must be maintained. She held him up, and as she hovered over the tip expectantly an excited flutter again rushed through her heart, and she failed to prevent a series of panting, tiny yelps from escaping her lungs between gasps, and her cunt clenched tightly in anticipation of the merciless cock soon to ravage and rend her loins ... when he lowered her down and pushed her onto his tip with careful and deliberate power. It pressed into her crotch, at first only smooshing her lips out flat, but he twisted, worked, and pushed gently harder and harder, until he finally pressed her down, the tip splitting into her cunt and peering inside as he penetrated her sex. Unable to contain herself any longer, her bit-lip yelps became tiny, gasping moans as he worked his way inside her, and as he pushed and pressed harder she found herself yanking and pulling on the chain, driving herself mercilessly down upon him and doing all she could to force him further and further inside.
And then, with a crack of bone and sinew, she finally did. She breathed a gasping, wide-eyed yelp, and her pelvis shattered in one loud snap as he ripped into her womb. It stretched taut about his member, and as he pressed her down her cunt split up the middle towards her belly, and her stomach bulged out as he ripped into her body. Barely restrained, moaning cries of tortured pleasure came from her as he began to slide her up and down on his sex, and her belly stretched and bulged repeatedly as he used her like a toy; a bleeding, cumming, screaming sex toy chosen just for him. The image filled her with such excitement that she felt her tiny little heart would explode from her chest, and freshly-cropped, bobbed hair bounced and swayed with the increasingly gruff and violent motions; soon flailing wildly as he yanked her helpless body up and down over him, forcing squirts of cum from her shredded cunt as the fat, round, balloon-like balls of her double-H breasts bounced and slapped and popped rhythmically against the protruding mound of flesh in her belly, while her ass clapped repeatedly against his lap and every excruciating chill of pain pushed her further and further toward wild and savage ecstasy.
Her tiny yelps became elongated moans, and still she gripped the chain, yanking and slacking in rhythm with him, and her excitement reached a fever pitch when she felt him moaning deeply in his chest ... and then--as he grunted a series of increasingly loud snorts--she felt his member harden further, and further, and further still, and she knew with a rush of lustful glee that he was ready to explode, to rip his horny slut in two and give his whore of the moment the death she deserved, his pole tightening still further until it felt like a steel rod tearing into her body; when, abruptly, it did. With a wet pop of flesh, blood, and gore his member ripped through her belly and snapped upright in the air, stabbing out like a round, gory totem of sex and horror and spraying blood forward before the throne. Breathing first a pained cry, she gave a wide-eyed, agape expression and stared only at the pole standing out of her body, excited beyond all capacity for reason, and when she remembered the cameras ... well, she lost all control.
Abandoning the shy and timid character of before, she gave in completely to her lust and breathed moan after long moan, increasing in intensity until they became pained cries of raw pleasure as the excitement of the public display--the thought of dying at full, unbelievable orgasm before millions of live viewers--took hold until it was all she could think of. A mighty, fiery orgasm tore through her loins, causing her cunt to clinch down in tight and unforgiving spasms, so tautly she felt him groan in pain; a thought that only fed her hunger. A spray of cum shot from her torn cunt, and she sprayed her love juice all over the throne, a stream of pussy milk that mixed with blood spraying from her belly and loins, and soon a messy carpet of gore and milky cum covered the ground while a broken stream of thick, milky-white semen shot into the air from Tawr's dick; and when he forced her ass balls-deep onto his pole, she felt his sack clenching and spasming with each orgasmic sprit. With one hand she yanked herself down on the chain, and with the other she reached down to knead and squeeze the cum from him; all of it, she wanted all of his cum!
An eternity of orgasmic ecstasy passed, but as she began to think of the kinds of roaring, powerful orgasms she may have given so many millions of viewers exhaustion took hold, furthered by the violent wound in her belly and the loss of blood to the event, and she collapsed over his tall and throbbing, pulsing member, her round and full lips tiredly kissing and suckling on his bloodied, exposed tip as consciousness slowly left her ... leaving her excited and sated as the last remnants of orgasm filled the corners of her dimming mind with contended and pained pleasure.