The Dread of Damned

My hands roamed over the girl's trembling body, her skin slick with sweat and tears, her sobs a broken melody that filled the air. The silver chains formed around her ankles gleaming as they pulled her legs apart, the metallic clink a harsh counterpoint to her cries. She was exposed, vulnerable, and utterly at my mercy.

I turned my attention to the woman on the floor, her face streaked with a yellowish liquid that clung to her hair, turning it a sickly, yellowish-white. She looked up at me, her eyes hollow, her spirit crushed. There was no defiance left in her, only the mechanical obedience of a broken creature. My boot connected with her head again, not hard enough to injure but enough to remind her of her place.

"Hey," I said, my voice cold and commanding, "clean your daughter for me."

The woman didn't hesitate. Her tongue shot out, thick and clumsy, as she began to trail it up her daughter's leg. The girl's sobs grew louder, her body trembling as her mother's tongue moved over her skin. I watched with a detached fascination, my toe hooking into the woman's nipple rings and pulling sharply. She cried out, a sound that was almost musical in its pain, but she didn't stop. She knew better than to stop.

"You're making her more dirty," I said, my voice dripping with disdain. "Don't let your face touch her."

The woman obeyed, her movements slow and deliberate, her face a mask of shame and resignation. The girl's body shook with each touch, her sobs growing more frantic, but there was no escape for her. The chains held her in place, their cold, unyielding grip a reminder of her captivity.

I turned my attention back to the girl, my fingers tracing the curve of her ear, the delicate shell adorned with beautiful earrings. They were intricate, a pendulum with a silver ball hanging at the end, and they caught the dim light as I leaned in, taking one between my teeth. The girl stiffened, her breath hitching as if she knew what was coming.

"No, please, no," she cried, her voice trembling with fear.

I smiled, savoring her desperation, and pulled sharply. The earring tore through her flesh with a sickening sound, her ear-splitting as the metal came free in my mouth. She screamed, her body thrashing against the chains, her breasts swaying wildly with the movement. Blood trickled down her neck, a crimson trail that contrasted starkly with her pale skin.

I held the earring in my hand, the silver ball swinging like a pendulum, and trailed it over her body. Her skin was soft, almost too soft, and I marveled at the way it yielded to the cold metal. I reached her breasts, the pink nipples already taut with fear, and caressed them gently before pressing the sharp end of the earring against the soft flesh.

She stiffened, her cries growing louder, her legs trembling as she tried to pull away. But the chains held her fast, and I pushed the earring through her nipple in one swift motion. The flesh gave way with a sickening softness, the sharp end emerging from the other side as she screamed, her head falling back, her body convulsing in pain.

More liquid trickled down her thighs, a mixture of urine and fear, as she thrashed against the chains. Her breasts swayed with the movement, the earring swinging grotesquely from her nipple, blood welling up around the wound. I watched with a twisted satisfaction, the sight filled me with a primal pleasure.

"You're making your mother work hard," I said, my voice soft but laced with enjoyment. The woman continued her task, her tongue moving over her daughter's skin, her face streaked with tears and filth. The girl's sobs were almost deafening now, her body trembling as she tried to endure the pain.

I repeated the process with her second breast. 

reveling in her response.

I gripped her neck harshly, feeling her skin press against me as I pulled her back into my chest. Her body stiffened, but she didn't resist—she couldn't. The silver chains around her ankles kept her spread open, her vulnerability on full display.

"It's going to take some time for your mother to clean this filth," I sneered, driving my knee into her pussy. She recoiled, a sharp cry escaping her lips, but I didn't let up. "So I'll have to make do with this."

I didn't need to explain further. My dick, already slick with her mother's saliva and juices, pressed against her asshole. She shook her head weakly, her voice long since gone, but her silent protest meant nothing to me. I gripped her breasts, squeezing hard enough to make her whimper, and pushed myself inside.

The tightness was extreme, but the force of my thrust tore through her resistance. She cried out, her body trembling as blood trickled down, mixing with the slickness of her mother's earlier efforts. It was enough to ease my movements, and I didn't stop.

"The more you resist, the more it hurts," I growled, my hands still gripping her breasts, tugging at the rings piercing her nipples. Her mother, obedient and broken, crawled closer, her tongue trailing up her daughter's thigh. The sight of them together—mother and daughter, both under my control—sent a surge of satisfaction through me.

I coiled my legs around the woman, pulling her head between her daughter's legs and beneath me. "Lick it," I commanded, and she obeyed without hesitation, taking my balls into her mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, her desperate sucking sending waves of pleasure through me. She choked herself, her airway blocked, but she didn't stop. She knew the consequences of failing me.

The daughter's flesh clenched around my dick as I thrust deeper, her cries mingling with faint moans of pain and humiliation as the mother worshipping my balls and a tingling current filled my body it traveled from my very bones to my balls before I shot my load inside her ass. 

The pure force rocked me as I continued thrusting, roped after rope of cum filled her ass before I finally left her ass with an audible plop, her muscle clenching.

The white cum trickled down her asshole mixed with blood. 

"Don't waste it," I ordered, and the mother immediately moved to obey. She pressed her mouth to her daughter's asshole, sucking the mixture of cum and blood with a desperation that bordered on worship. The daughter's expression was glazed, her body limp, as fluids—piss, cum, mixed with another liquid now and blood—trickled down her thighs and pooled beneath her.

The sight of them like this, broken and submissive, sent another wave of desire through me. Without pause, I thrust into her pussy, not caring about the mess or her condition. Her insides were slick, whether from her own release or her piss, I didn't know—and I didn't care. I rammed into her, the silver chains dissipating as I threw her to the ground. She was in no state to fight back, her body battered and broken, so I punched her, the impact echoing in the room as I continued to fuck her.

Her mother, ever obedient, crawled behind me and took my balls into her mouth again. The dual sensations—her daughter's tightness and her mother's worship—drove me to the edge once more. I came inside her again, my violent needs fulfilled, but I didn't stop. I kept using her, her expression blank, her body limp like a broken doll. I slapped her breasts, leaving purple imprints on her soft flesh, as she flinched in response, the force tearing her soft skin in places.

Time blurred as I alternated between them, fucking the mother before returning to the daughter. By the time I was satisfied, both women lay sprawled on the ground, their bodies marred with fresh and old scars. Blood streaked their skin, purple handprints covered their flesh, and the rings in their nipples pulled at their swollen breasts.

"Now you truly look like mother and daughter," I laughed, kicking the mother's stomach and watching her recoil. "Train her well," I said, my voice cold. "Teach her how to be a good pet."

With that, I walked out of the room, closing the door behind me. The sound of their ragged breathing and faint sobs followed me.