Johann Strauss was born to a prostitute, who lived in one of the many whorehouses in the city of Concor, capital of the Kingdom of Concorro. As a child, he grew up with dreams of living a successful life, taking care of his mother, and maybe even raising his own family in a small house outside the city. He knew it would be difficult, but he wanted to try regardless if only to prove his pessimistic mother wrong.
As he grew up, he began to learn. He learned how to earn money through street games and scams and theft. He scavenged through the garbage and brought home books and scrolls to teach himself how to read and write. He learned how to act and speak in a way that made others pity him enough to give him spare change.
He made acquaintances (no friends for there was no friendship to be found in the streets), made enemies (desperation was motive enough to drive anyone to do something stupid), found love (it wasn’t a crush god fucking damn it!), and a hundred and one other things besides.
He also learned that innocence was a fool’s word. And that he was better off without it.
When he was twelve years old, Johann Strauss took his first life.
He had been part of a gang at the time, a polite term for a group of street urchin. The motley ensemble was led by a particular piece of work, with the inability to accept failure and a sword sharp enough that no-one dared cross or defy his commands. Under his leadership, the ‘gang’ had made a plan to rob the Adventurer’s Guild, seizing the monthly gold earnings just as it was to be transported in the late hours of the night and making off with it before any of the Adventurers could rally and put up a fight.
Turns out several dozen underfed, under equipped street urchins were nowhere near enough to take on a dozen men and women armed with monster-slaying weapons and had decades of battle experience.
Johann saw his ‘gang’ members slaughtered to the last, the pleading cries of the dying silenced with firm stomps to their head. He only had a dagger to him name at the time, an old thing that was more rust than actual steel. He abandoned his post as a ‘distraction’ ran for one of the carriages transporting the gold, stuffed his pockets with as much as they could carry, and fled.
Or, at least, tried to. Someone grabbed his arm.
“Where do you think you’re—“
The voice sounded familiar, but it was distant and muted. A whisper compared to the screams of the dead and dying and the sound of his blood rushing through his ears. He turned without looking, and brought his knife down on the hand stopping him from escaping. The hand let go and Johann ran as fast as his legs could carry him.
He ran and ran and ran and ran and ran until the screams became distant whispers and his lung burned from effort. He ran through the late night crowd, who were drawn to the mess at the Guild like moths to a flame and grew in number with every passing second.
He ducked into several alleys and took as many turns as he could before diving into a ramshackle tent. One of many that lined the various back alleys of Concor. It was home to the homeless and dispirited. The broke and broken of the Concorro. Unfortunates who didn’t have the resources or ability to make a living of their own.
His entrance into the tent awoke its occupant; a girl, about his age, with matted hair and dull eyes and pasty skin dressed in rags that might have been mistaken for clothes. She blinked a few times at his sudden appearance through the fog of sleep, trying to see or comprehend what was happening to her in the dark confines of her home. Then her senses came to her and she opened her mouth to scream.
Heart pounding in his ears and fear gripping his heart like a vice, Johann leapt for her and backhanded her face.
She fell on her front, scream cut short and a sob coming out in its place. He sat on her back, wrapped both hands over where he thought her mouth and nose were, and squeezed.
“Shh.” He begged. “Be quiet.”
The girl fought back, struggled. But her frame was skinny and weak while Johann’s was built from hardship. He was stronger than her, heavier, and his strength was amplified by the fear being caught and killed like the other of his little merry gang. She couldn’t escape.
“Please.” Johann begged again. “J-Just stay quiet, a-and I promise—“
Footsteps. Heavy with slight jingling of metal on metal. Johann fell quiet and squeezed the girl under him tighter, determined to keep her from giving him away through whimpers or cries for help.
“Did you find him?” a voice asked, young but gruff.
“No.” a second voice answered, unmistakably female. “Witnesses said he went in here.”
“Couldn’t have gone far. Should we check the tents?” the first voice asked. Johann’s heart leapt to his throat and his grip on the girl under him tightened.
“If he’s in one of them, then the people inside would’ve said something already wouldn’t they?” the second rebutted. “No beggar would let some random bloodstained kid in their tent if they could help it.”
“But he’s got gold. He could’ve paid them.” The first protested.
“But would he? A kid’s that desperate enough to steal from the Guild wouldn’t be stupid enough to pay a beggar to keep quiet.” He second scoffed. “He’s probably wading in the sewers or something by now. Probably even turned into rat chow.”
“The old bastard’s gonna have our heads if we don’t get the gold back.” The first grumbled.
“What’s with you? It’s just gold. We can replace it with ours later.” The second pauses. “Unless…”
“Oh Gods, the brat got you?” the second laughed. “I can’t believe this; a Silver-rank like you got cut by a street urchin? Show me.”
“Fuck you.” The first curses, walking away. “C’mon, let’s get outta here.”
“Don’t be a pussy bitch, show me the cut!” the second laughs, trailing after. “Matt’s going to lap this up…”
Johann waited for a full two minutes, listening to the sounds of his breathing and the pounding of his fearful heart. He counts to a thousand, and then a thousand more just to be safe. Then he lets out the breath he’s been holding and slumps to the ground, on the girl he sat on, the relief too much for him to bear. He feels a lot of things then; joy, awe, insanity. He wants to jump around screaming and crumple to the ground crying. He wants to go straight home and sleep off the fatigue in his arms. He wants to eat, a proper solid meal rather than the gruel and slops his mother hands him for dinner.
Then he remembers the girl he kept quiet.
He scrambles away, every positive emotion that was festering in his heart disappearing in an instant. He stares at her, notes how he chest isn’t rising or falling, or how he can’t seem to hear her breathe.
He reaches out with a hand and pokes her calf. She doesn’t respond.
He pinches her thigh. She doesn’t respond.
Taking a deep breath, he flips her to her back and stares at the corpse strewn in front of him.
His vision had adjusted to the low light after some time in the dark and he made out several features on her that he missed. She had long brown hair and dull green eyes at reminded him of a forest. The right side of her face sported an ugly bruise that was beginning to form, but if he ignored it then he could have said that she looked pretty. Her clothes had shifted in her struggles, revealing a developing chest with bright pink nipples. Her skirt had ridden up to her thighs, and Johann caught a glimpse of her young womanhood under it.
He didn’t know what made him do it, but he reaches out with a shaking hand to caress the corpse’s thigh. He felt the skin, soft and plump under his calloused hands, and noted how they were still warm. He didn’t think when his treacherous hand wanders higher, under the skirt and brushing against the girl’s womanhood.
It felt wet.
Johann—no, the thing that was Johann grew bolder, reaching higher under the dead girl’s dress-rags to grope at what lay beneath; more soft and supple skin, several small scars, defined ribs and hipbones. His hands reached the corpse’s chest and found that the dress-rags were keeping him from going further. He growled and tore the cloth scraps, revealing the entirety of the corpse to his hungry eyes.
Her body was too healthy to have been a mere street urchin. Her flesh too plump and soft to be a born on the streets. The child of a disgraced noble, then. Such a person winding up on the streets weren’t uncommon; noble families rose and fell like the tide, there one moment and gone the next. Sometimes, these families make heirs, and those heirs only ever manage to enjoy a fraction of luxury before being thrown out into the harsh world beyond their manor walls. Sometimes, those heirs survive their life on the streets to claw their way back into nobility. Most of the time, they die alone and forgotten, like the girl Johann was violating.
The world fell away, leaving behind only Johann, the tent he was in, and the dead body he was violating. Her flesh was warm and unyielding, plump and ripe like fresh fruit in the market. He kissed her, and tasted faint vanilla and tangy cinnamon. He smelled, luxuriating in her scent and devouring it like a starving dog. He felt his manhood harden to life, brushing against the dead girl’s womanhood.
Johann twitched, and grabbed his throbbing member with a shaking hand. Something deep in him spurred him, made him move, made him want. He guided it to the dead girl’s entrance and thrust his hips forward.
He felt warm and wet and glorious. He felt alive and let out a deep moan to signify it. He felt the unyielding meat below him wrap around his member in a soft embrace, felt every inch of it undulating to his every move and twitch, felt something hot pool in his balls and shooting out--
He fell on the corpse, spent and panting. He stared into its dull eyes, felt himself harden to life yet again as a familiar fire settled in the pit of his stomach. He began to move again, thrusting against, hiis gaze never straying from that pair of dead eyes that gazed blankly back.
If his mother asks, then he could always say that he got a little too caught up in his 'gang's plans and wound up sleeping on the streets.
She wouldn't need to know about the corpse he spent hours fucking.
This was good, very very good. I dont even have anythibg to say agaibst it that wouldbt be minor nitpicking.
Feel bad for the girl though
Hope there will be more this was good start
When Johann Strauss turned fourteen, he found work as a Cleaner.
His mother, however attractive she was, didn’t always earn enough money from her job at the brothel. More than once did they both go to bed on an empty stomach, and more than once was the young boy forced to steal or cheat for his and his mother’s next meal. When he came ‘home’ with a pouch full of breads and dried meats, his mother wouldn’t say a thing about it or the occasional bruises on his face.
But he eventually grew sick of stealing and cheating; not because of any inherent dislike for it, but because it was getting harder and harder for him to make clean getaways. Often times, he’d get caught and beaten up. Sometimes the beatings would go too far and he’d end up with a broken nose or swollen eye. Finding a job, however small the pay, was the next best thing after trying to make a life off the streets.
Being a Cleaner was simple and the pay was decent, but very few people actually wanted to do it.
The secondary reasons were varied and many; it was a thankless job, the working environments were unacceptably filthy, the equipment faulty and sometimes even unsafe for use, the management being lenient to the point of not caring, and the risk of being robbed during the job was always present.
The main reason being that it involved the collection and disposal of dead bodies.
Despite its outward appearance as one of the most well-known and heavily populated cities in the Realm, Concor couldn’t clean itself and the homeless died easier than those who had sturdy roofs over their heads and thick walls around their beds. Someone had to do the task.
Johann showed up at the Cleaner’s headquarters one morning and asked to work. The manager, a lovely older woman in her early twenties, tossed him a spare uniform, and jerked her thumb at black-colored cart loaded with several brooms, shovels, buckets, and a rusted mace.
“You’re assigned to the Red Light district.” She told him. “Get going.”
“What’s the mace for?” he asked. The woman levelled him a look.
“To finish what last night’s cold didn’t.” she turned around and walked into the building. “Get to work, boy.”
Johann’s first day as a Cleaner was mostly uneventful. Nothing more than just food scraps and various pieces of miscellaneous trash laying about the street and various alleys he checked. But it was the last alley that taught Johann the most important lesson as a Cleaner; never work without your mae.
The boy made a round at the last alley of the Red Light district and found it filled with broken bottles, blood splatters, and several dead bodies of men and women slumped over or just plain sprawled out on the ground. From their positioning and the lack of odour, he concluded that they must’ve been in a fight and died the previous night. Why no-one bother notifying the law was beyond him, but it wasn’t his job to think about the stupidity of certain people. He was ony there to clean up after their messes.
The boy dismounted and swept the small debris like glass shards and broken cups and plates into large box, to be sorted and recycled for later use. Then he began hauling each and every one of the bodies onto the Cleaner’s cart. First then men then the women with small breaks in between, he thought to himself. It would make things easier and he’d at least have some good eye candy for his troubles.
He was about to haul in the last two bodies, a man sprawled atop a woman, when he caught a sound.
“W-Who’s… Who’s there?” a young voice whimpered. It came from the bodies.
Johann rushed over and found a small hand grasping out from under the dead woman, groping the ground almost drowsily. Without thinking, the young man pushed the dead bodies off to see who it was.
“Are you alright?” he asked. “Are you hur—“
Was as far as he got before something lunged and a weight knocked him to his back. Johann screamed and struggled, arms flailing and legs kicking as small hands grabbed at his uniform and mouth.
“Shut up!” a voice, young and desperate, demanded. “Shut up and give me your money!”
Johann scream louder and kicked the weight off him. He scrabbled backwards and got to his feet in time to see his attacker stand up.
A young girl, brown hair matted and dirty, dressed in rags. Her teeth were bared and she held a rusty knife in her hands. She was hunched over and panting, drool leaking from the corner of her mouth and dripping over the dried blood that caked her face. A dim, almost beady hazel eye glared through the matted lock to look at Johann with desperation and madness.
“Gimme!” she demanded again, brandishing her rusted weapon threateningly. “Your money! Gimme and I won’t hurt you!”
“I-I-“ Johann swallowed. “I-I don’t have any—“
“You’re lying!” the girl lunged forward. “Gimme!”
Johann ducked to the side, instinct and reflexes honed from a harsh childhood in the streets mating with adrenaline to push his movements faster than that of the girl’s. The assailant fell to her face, her weapon slipping from her fingers. The young Cleaner saw his chance and ran for the cart.
For his mace.
The boy reached the cart and groped for the rusted weapon amidst the bodies he’d collected in his cart. Behind him, he heard the scrabbling of bare feet against stone.
He turned around to look. The girl was closing in with the knife in her hands raised to slash. At the same, his hand closed around something cold and sturdy that wasn’t the stiff limb of a corpse.
Without thinking, he jerked his right arm loose and swung.
The mace struck the girl’s left temple and she fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
There was a moment of silence, one where Johann’s mind tried to make sense of what happened. Tried to stop his hands from shaking, tried to wipe off the blood on his face. He’d just struck someone, a child no less, on the head with a mace. He was a murderer. A killer.
Then he remembered that night two years ago.
He dropped the mace and advanced to the girl on the ground. She was writhing in agony, her hands clutching the temple Johann’s mace had hit and leaking blood, toes curled and legs tucked to her stomach. She looked so vulnerable. So weak.
So ripe for the taking.
Johann grabbed her ankle and pulled her into the alley, far enough to hide from prying eyes. She struggled, but it was in vain.
Once he was sure they were out of sight, Johann dropped the girl’s leg and took off his pants to expose a hardening member. She saw this and whimpered, trying to crawl away. Johann pulled her closer and the grabbed the lapels of the rags she wore.
“W-Wait,” she pleaded. “I-I’m sorry-!”
The boy growled and tore it open with a good jerk of his arms, exposing a childish physique that hadn’t eaten anything in three days. She had no breasts, but her nipples had begun to harden from exposure to the cold. Her hips had only begun to curve, and her legs were skinny like twigs. She must not have been older than ten years.
The girl tried to scream, but a vicious backhand to the face cut her off.
“P-Please...” she croaked as Johann roughly grabbed hold of her hips and thrust himself into her. “Aah!”
The thing that was Johann growled and clamped a hand over the girl’s mouth to muffle her screams. He thrusted harder, faster, uncaring for the little bitch that moaned and buckled under him, whose hands and nails dug deep into his chest and arms. The pain spurred him on, made him thrust harder and deeper as he neared his first orgasm.
The girl seized up, back arching and her womanhood squirted its juices all over Johann’s lower abdomen. Her eyes were wide and the bleeding from her head injury intensified. Her inner walls clamped around Johann’s manhood, but it wasn’t quite enough to bring him to orgasm.
He pulled out of her and rolled her onto her front. He ignored and pained mewls and pleas, spreading her round butt open and ramming himself into her asshole.
This time, Johann managed to clamp his hands around her mouth before she screamed.
He raped her, hard and fast. Not caring for the hands the claws at his for release, not caring for the fluids his victim was leaking all over the cobblestone. At one point, he grabbed the girl’s hair and pulled her back as far as her back could bend without breaking, forcing her to look into his eyes as he fucked her like some animal.
That seemed to do the trick, as her struggles ceased and her voice lost its sound. Her hands fell limp and she stared blankly at him. He let go of her hair, letting the receptacle fall face-first onto the cobblestone as her asshole tightened and more fluid squirted out from her womanhood.
He was close now. So close. Just a little bit more and he would cum.
He pulled out of her, and walked forward. Johann grabbed the girl’s hair, pulled up until her gaping mouth was lined with his manhood, and thrust forward.
Immediately, the girl gagged and her once unresponsive limbs jerked to life. She tried to scream but couldn’t with the cock in her throat. Her hands reached up to push Johann off, but it merely forced him to act harsher.
The boy wrapped his hands around the girl’s neck and squeeze until her throat was wrapped around his length like a vice. His victim’s struggles went ignored as he fucked her mouth hard and fast and deep, aiming for to orgasm so hard that his seed would shoot into her stomach. He was so close, so damn close—
Johann moaned, and held the girl to the base of his length as he emptied his balls into her stomach. She twitched, hands digging into Johann’s stomach and she squirted again. Then she ceased moving, eyes rolling into the back of her head and arms dangling limply at her sides. Johann pulled out and let her fall sideways to the ground.
For a moment, he stared at the body and noticed it’s chest was still rising and falling. He kicked it once, then kicked it harder when it failed to respond.
The girl coughed, semen spraying all Johann’s legs as she scratched at her bruised neck. She tried to scrabble away from her tormentor, but Johann took a step forward and grabbed her hair to stop her from moving. He tugged once and the girl winced, ceasing to fight for fear of what her tormentor would do if she resisted.
“What’s your name?” Johann asked.
“…Cynthia.” The girl croaked, semen and blood dribbling down the corners of her mouth.
“Nice to meet you Cynthia. I’m Johann.” The young Cleaner smiled thinly. “From today onwards, I am your owner.”
can't wait for the next part
can't wait for more
After cleaning up the rest of the bodies, securing Cynthia with makeshift bindings and a gag made from the clothes of the deceased, and manhandling the young girl into his wagon, Johann reported back to Cleaner HQ and told his boss what happened. The older woman asked him to show her the girl and Johann complied, pulling her out of the wagon for inspection. The older woman walked around her and nodded to Johann.
“She’s healthy and remarkably free of diseases.” She looked him over. “I take it she tried to rob you?”
“Tried.” Johann stressed, nudging the young girl with his foot and making her squirm. “And failed.”
“Not bad for your first day here.” The older woman tossed him a small bag of coins. “I’m Amanda. I’ll be your boss from here on out. Come back here every other day to work and we’ll keep paying you good money.”
“I will ma’am. Thank you.” Johann glanced at Cynthia. “But what about her?”
“You told her yourself; you’re her owner now. She’s your responsibility.” Amanda smiled. “She’ll have to be registered and branded though. Luckily, this sort of thing happens frequently enough that we have the papers necessary for slave registration. Follow me and we’ll get you and her sorted out.”
Cynthia struggled in her bindings, screaming into her gag. Johann cast a look in her direction and grabbed her head, forcing her to look at him.
“Ma’am,” her said to Amanda, eyes not turning away from Cynthia’s. “Does the slave registration office have a means to keep rowdy slaves quiet?”
“They cut off their tongues most of the time.” The older woman answers, approval in her voice. “But I hear they have a promotion of silencing runes. They’re branded on the tongue and inflict pain if the slave speaks out of turn.”
Cynthia quiets down and Johann lets her slump dejectedly on the floor.
The trip to the slave registration office takes no longer than an hour. The paperwork is done quickly and slave mark is branded onto Cynthia’s left shoulder despite her muffled protests. To celebrate Johann’s first slave, the office gives him a set of metal collars for free. Supposedly, these collars would shift in to accommodate its wearer; smaller if it was a child and larger if it was an adolescent or adult. They would also discipline the slave should they fall out of line with an application of electricity.
Johann dangled the key in front of an increasingly depressed Cynthia before tying it into a necklace and hanging it around his neck.
“Come now, Cynthia.” Johann ordered. “Let’s go home. I have to introduce you to my mother.”
Introductions went about as well as he expected they would.
His mother was largely indifferent to Cynthia, but she had helped her get settled into their home. As they only had two rooms, the girl was forced to bunk in with Johann and share his. Some discussion had led to his mother agreeing to take their new slave out clothes shopping and two weeks later, she had all but integrated herself into the Strauss family.
Not content to have her lazing around, Johann spoke with the matron of the brothel and Cynthia was easily put to work as a serving girl in he brothel. It was a certainly a godsend as the matron had recently decided to renovate the front half of the establishment, turning it into a bar of sorts to entertain people who were waiting for their favourite whore to finish with their current customer. It was a wise decision in Johann’s opinion, and gave him a reason to watch his slave as she worked.
Which was what he was doing now; evaluating her performance as she served meals and drinks to patrons while guided those with an itch to scratch to the rooms further back. She was acceptable, being polite with customers and careful with the meals she had to bring. Every now and then, she could even muster the strength to smile a little, endearing her to some of the customers she served. She was still young, but she had potential; her curves were still developing and her hair was still a mess, but proper feeding and a few good baths could change that. Then he’d have his own pretty woman to service him. Heh.
“Johann.” the young man blinked and turned to the speaker. It was the matron, an attractive middle-aged woman with blonde hair done in curls wearing a loose dress not unlike the kind he’d seen on nobles. She had a pipe hanging from the corner of her mouth and it stank of cheap tobacco. “You’re a Cleaner, aren’t ya?”
“I just started, but yeah.” Johann nodded. “Why?”
“One of the girls around back is dead. Siria.” The matron exhaled a cloud of smoke into Johann’s face and the young man breathed it deep. “One of the regulars did her in, that lousy shit. I’ve already hired some adventurers to bring him in and replace the girl he killed, but the body’s still around back. I’m closing the place for today to let everyone catch their breath.” She met his gaze. “Her room is the one marked with a red sign. Take care of it.”
“…Sure.” Johan stood. “Anything I should note?”
“The girl had a daughter and she saw the whole thing. She’s scared outta her mind and won’t let go of her dead mommy’s hand.” The matron walked away. “Take care of her too.”
Johann nodded and proceeded to the back of the building, where the service rooms were located. He padded down a hallway and found the door in question; sign hanging from it read ‘in use, stay out’. The young man took a deep breath and stepped inside.
The room was a mess, with the bed upturned and the various make-up and contraceptive products strewn all over. The wooden floor and some parts of the walls feature deep grooves and indents leading to the bathroom; traces of a struggle and where nails had been dug in as the woman in question was likely dragged off to her doom. Johann padded into the bathroom.
There he saw a young woman, give or take eight to five years from his mother, laying on the tiled floor next to the filled bathtub with wide eyes and a blank face. She was topless and wore a skirt without panties, and cum leaked out from her used holes. She had rich brown hair, blue eyes, flawless white skin, average breasts, and toned pale legs. Her face sported a beauty mark on the upper left corner of her mouth. In his mind’s eye, Johann could easily see her laying half-naked on her side, a finger tracing her lips and lingering at her beauty mark as she smiled seductively.
Her body was wet from the waist up, and water slowly seeped out of her open mouth. She was drowned.
Sitting beside the body and holding its hand was an adolescent girl, fifteen to seventeen years old, dressed in a nightgown. She shared a strong resemblance to the dead body laying on the floor, and Johann knew that she was Siria’s daughter.
“She’s dead, you know.” Johann noted absently as he reached for one of the towels. “Holding her hand won’t bring her back.”
The girl said nothing.
“You could easily take her place. Wear her dresses, entertain the same men, use the same make-up she did.” Johann approached quietly, towel wrapped around his hands. “You’re really pretty. I could see myself being one of your regulars.”
The girl did nothing.
“What’s your name?” Johann asked as he raised the towel.
“…Amy.” The girl said.
Johann lunged and wrapped the towel around Amy’s neck. The girl choked and struggled, letting go of her mother’s hand to scratch and grab at Johann’s hands. She bucked and kicked like a wild mule, sending beauty products everywhere and generally making a mess of the bathroom. Johann held strong, keeping the towel wrapped around her neck as he leveraged his greater height and weight to force Amy on her knees right over her mother.
He kicked one of her legs until she knelt over the dead body, then pressed down and forced her to straddle it. Johann leaned forward and slowly forced Amy to lock lips with her dead parent.
She struggled mightily for a few moments more, and Johann kept her down as her movements slowed and her gurgling stopped. When they did, Johann removed the towel, pulled Amy up by the hair, grabbed her chin, and smashed her temple onto the edge of the bathtub hard enough to make her skull to crack.
He heard a gasp and looked up. Cynthia was there, looking at the scene with wide, hazy eyes and a hand between her legs.
“What’re you doing here?” Johann asked, voice casual and smooth even after he just murdered a young woman on her mother’s corpse.
“T-T-The matron s-sent me t to help you d-dispose the body…” Cynthia looked at Amy’s dead form in Johann’s arms. “Well, b-bodies, now.”
“Hm.” Johann nodded, but his eyes were glued onto Cynthia’s hand that was between her legs. His gaze flicked up to her eyes and saw hesitation in them. “You liked what I did, then?” Johann smirked and Cynthia blushed hard. The young man dropped Amy onto her mother and roughly pulled down the adolescent girl’s panties. “Then you’ll like this.”
Johann propped Amy’s rear up and pushed her nightgown past her hips. He pulled out his cock and pushed in, savouring the feeling of her tight pussy as he bottomed out. Cynthia stared for a moment then looked away, but her hand worked harder.
“Eyes on me, slave.” Johann ordered and the obedience collar came to life, shocking Cynthia just enough to make her jump in pain. She turned to him, tears prickling her eyes but no less frantic in her efforts to get off. “That’s it, take it all in.”
Johann began to thrust, slow and languid at first but slowly gaining speed.
“Watch me fuck these dead bodies raw.” Johann growled, his grip tightening on Amy’s lifeless form. “Look at how they flop around. Look at how they stare blankly ahead. Look at them, Cynthia, and remember that this could’ve been you in that alley two weeks ago.”
Cynthia began to pant and lowered herself to her knees, a hand on the doorframe as your rampant thrusting moved Amy’s body so that her face was tucked into the crook of her mother’s neck and forced air in and out of her dead lungs in a faint mockery of moaning. From where she was, Cynthia could’ve mistaken the two being lost in the throes of pleasure.
Johann groaned and came hard into Amy’s pussy, filling her up. He pulled out and a strand of cum stuck to the tip of his cock.
“Come here.” Johann commanded and Cynthia crawled over, her legs useless from the amount of masturbation she did. “Take off your panties and sit on Siria’s face.”
Cynthia obeyed shakily, pulling down her underwear and sitting on the dead whore’s face. Johann growled and tugged Amy’s body off, letting it flop lifelessly beside them. He pushed into the dead woman’s cunt and thrust hard enough to make the body slide over the wet floor; stimulating Cynthia who immediately began to rub herself on the dead woman’s face, grabbing her breasts to steady herself.
“You like this, don’t you?” Johann growled. “Violating dead bodies with your master, and then playing the victim while you’re being dominated? You live for this, don’t you?”
“Yesssss…” Cynthia hissed as she pressed herself harder against Siria’s face. “More…”
Johann reached forward, grabbed her face, and pulled her in for a kiss as he came. He thrust hard enough that the sudden friction rubbed against Cynthia’s clit, making the slave girl cum as well. She moaned into the kiss, her grip on the dead woman’s breasts tightening.
When the two finally relaxed, they stared into each other’s eyes and grinned.
“We’ve got a few more hours.” Johann said as he shrugged off his shirt and pants. “And Siria and Amy wouldn’t mind if we played around for a few more rounds.”
“Mmm…” Cythia hummed as she pulled off her dress. “Could you do me from behind? I wanna eat out the younger one’s cunt.”
this is good
Excellent! Looking forward to continuation the story!
Very sweet and lovely story. Thank you!