Unknown - Driving Daisy Crazy

Spilling semen into her fertile crescent.

"Uuuuu-eaugh."

Belladonna drooled as Chivito wrapped the leather strapping about her neck. He drew her across the moist soil toward Florencita's canopied divan, upon which the sexmistress sat cross-legged.

"Make no mistake, my gringa nectar-bud," Florencita said.

"And you shall walk away with what you came for. One mistake more, and you will never walk away: You will be my sex slave for eternity."

Belladonna kept her yip shut. There were all sorts of things she might have said. All she wanted was a fucking belt, after all. Something fancy to have someone hit her with.

But there was something about all the ritual, mystery-this sordid fantasy-that Belladonna saw as a route to the pinnacle of orgasm.

That elusive ultimate climax-the search for which had driven Belladonna to the depths of nymphomaniacal debauchery and depravity. Had left her desperate and deprived, so that even her yampirish depredations of flesh and sensual dissolution left her unsated by the fuck and suck.

So Ixchel was said to reign over daytime delights, her rainbow belt offering the frolics of pissmist, fancy-weave bondage. The belt of Ixtab held darker joys. For Ixtab's domain was the night, her belt of beaded jewels the starry Milky Way. As lxchel the rainbow was mother to the arts of refined weaving, decorative leather, metal, and gems, so Ixtab was sister to the oiled cord, the slimed twine. ixtab was the singing water snake who strangled as she suckfucked. Her devotees were denizens of the evening-hunters working their bows, blowguns, snares; assassins; persons with a mission.

And that mission was Belladonna's.

Lips gripped in determined paroxism, Belladonna dripped her snout at Florencita's briarpatch. Felt Florencita encircle her shoulders in embrace. Twitched to Chivito's switch of pliant leather against her rosy rumpmeat.

And the entry of hardwood pecker into her from behind. She lost her mind and whined.

Chocolatey labia now encased her face. Pyramidal nippletips hardened in her grasp.

Animated asscheeks.

Menacing mouthlips.

Labyrinthine labia.

Pullulating penis.

Pyramidal nippletips.

Orchidine ballocks.

All of this was hers.

All of this and more.

But it was leather she craved for.

Leather they gave her.

And Belladonna was grateful for this. For the belt of many powers thwacked across her face was Belladonna's filament of grace.

"When do I get it?" Christabel sniveled.

"I want one of those belts."

Yancey spoke to her gently.

"When you have earned it."

Christabel came continuously. Fountains of foam frothed over her fecund froufrou. Mount Venus ran with rivulets of cuntjuices into the dank delta of the fertile crescent.

Yancey tipped the nib of his penis from Christabel's quim. The glans was festooned with cuntcome from the crown to the root. Now that he was lubed, Yancey planned the next moves.

He'd break it to her gently.

Then get tough.

After Christabel was all juiced up from forcefucked bitchrut, Yancey would Frenchfuck Christabel. Give her hell.

Christabel's nakedness whipped, warped over the sides of his fountain. Climax to the ritual of belted bitchbinding. The ultimate kindness.

For Christabel wanted to reign as cuntqueen of belts. Mistress of welts.

And she evidently thought she should be so honored for the sake of her wild beauty and ravening fucksuck alone.

But vain novices like Christabel had a lot to learn. One wasn't simply bestowed the belt in accord with one's whim.

That prize had to be earned.

"What do you mean-earn?" Christabel said, shedding her final wash of orgasmic sweat.

"I mean, I thought I could buy one. You know-figured I'd have to bargain a little bit and all that-"

"Shut your fucking trap," Belladonna said. She slugged Christabel upside the head with a sap.

"No problem there," Christabel said.

"I got plenty mazuma. You got the belts."

Wap!

Belladonna gave another slap as Christabel fought back.

"Ow!"

Belladonna jammed Christabel's lower jaw upward. Choppers clinked.

Christabel's eyes squinted.

Blinked.

Tears slinked down the sides of her facecheeks.

"Got the bit, Buster?" Belladonna blared.

"This beast needs to be muzzled. Bridled."

She turned to Christabel.

Sneered.

"Hope you're not scared."

"What is this?" Christabel brayed.

Buster shoved his thumb and fingers between Christabel's jaws. Broke the clench of her lip. Slid the metal tongue between her teeth.

"There, there," Lucrezia said, patting Christabel's sweat-strewn flanks.

She gave Christabel's pussyfuzz a yank.

"Nnh."

Tore hair out in hanks.

"Thanks."

Dominique took a tittie.

Gave it a crank.

"Agha!"

Lucrezia held Christabel by her mane. Dorrtinique reined Christabel's head lower, working the bridle.

Meanwhile, the men were not idle.

Buster bit Belladonna.

Yancey was on her.

"Give me some hump," Christabel sniggered through her bridled muzzle. Dominique pushed her pussy into Christabel's face. Christabel champed at the bit. Yammered upon Dominique's clit.

Churlish lips snarled. Tongue lassoed lassie lace layered over labia.

Christabel's asterisk itched. Oral appendage apprehended Christabel's hinders. Lucrezia trimmed the brim with lizard tail limn. Stretched out the crinkled wrinkle like a rubber rim.

Lucrezia licked liquid circles about Christabel's bickering asshole. Anus opened wide like the eye of a fish. Ampersand twitched as tongue slid in.

"Mouth-to-ass resuscitation," Christabel chewed.

"I always thought women having sex with women was about as sick as you could get."

"It is," Belladonna assured, in the midst of being skewered.

"But I always say that good sex is like good food."

Christabel giggled.

"Oh, puke me out, filly. Why doncha pass me the barfbag while I gag?"

"That's right, you slit-smothered cut-mad snit," Belladonna upchucked.

"The most refined culinary delicacies of the world make commoners vomit. Exquisite sex is the same thing."

Fresh from Belladonna's ass, Yancey closed in fast.

"Speaking of which-" he said as Christabel threw a fist. Yancey slapped Christabel's head with coiled garotte. Cropped the line of her jaw with the side of his palm. Slipped the bit and bridle from her jowl.

He searched her eyes for emotion.

Found not a trace.

Christabel spat in his face.

"Frisky," he said.

Christabel dove again into the foaming surf.

Muff-dove in droves of wavy fur.

Freed from the restraint of the bit, Christabel was ready to feed indeed.

"Time for the next course," Yancey chuckled.

He tapped the throbbing crown of his King Kong dingdong.

Then could not resist hanging his banger for a few more ruts in Belladonna's bum.

"Ngh. Eaugh. Unh."

Yancey next yanked his twanger from between Belladonna's buns. Dingdong gleaming, teeming with the dense blood of erection.

He waved his kingly scepter by the corona.

Ogle-eyed Christabel's maw at work.

Mincing womanflesh.

Salivating on the slick seam between Dominique's spattering jimjam and yawning blowhole.

Wriggling her fanny as Lucrezia reamed her with twisted fingers. Christabel cackled, asscrack corked by packed phalanges.

Lips loaded with blubbering labia.

"Anybody here want a belt?" Yancey drawled. Somebody say something about a belt?"

Christabel went fuckblind.

Whiteness pervaded her sight. Rush of orgasmic blood coursed through her ears like the swoon of a waterfall. If she got the belt-any belt, she now felt-she'd have it all.