Faulkner's thrusts grew relentless, his hips slamming into Sylvia's quivering body. The bedroom door creaked open, revealing Fiona Frost in white lace thigh-high stockings. Her tattoos glistened under the dim light, exposed and obscene. A young man gripped her arms, his thick cock plunging into her dripping pussy. Each thrust sent her gasping, her folds slick and swollen. He snarled filthy insults, calling her a desperate whore.
Sylvia watched, her lips curling into a depraved smirk. Fiona's state didn't stir pity; it ignited hunger. Sylvia's tongue flicked across her lips, her eyes ravenous. Her own pussy throbbed, soaked from Faulkner's brutal pace. The air reeked of musk and sweat.
"Miss Fiona, look at your colleague now," Faulkner sneered, his voice dripping with malice.
"Is it? Can't believe Miss Fiona's still such a bitch," Sylvia gasped, her voice trembling.
"Exactly. This slut craves cock every second. My security team had to tame her," Faulkner said.
"That's good. It's her fate, ugh, my pussy's so fucked I can't hold it!" Sylvia moaned.
"No, I'm gonna cum!" Faulkner growled, his balls tightening.
His cock pulsed, unloading a torrent of hot cum deep inside Sylvia's clenching pussy. She shuddered, her walls milking every drop as she climaxed. Her eyes rolled back, mouth agape, drooling in bliss. Fiona's partner grunted, slamming into her with feral intensity. His cum erupted, flooding her musky pussy, her face smeared with garish makeup.
"So, Sylph, how'd you do with my task?" Wells asked, stepping closer.
"Judging by your look, you did well, right?" Faulkner added, smirking.
"Hehe, of course. We caught all three women," Sylvia purred, still panting.
"What did you say?!" Fiona snapped, her voice sharp despite her haze.
"Bitch, you'll see them soon," Faulkner said, his tone cold.
"I sent your subordinate to check them first," Wells added.
"What?!" Fiona's eyes widened, panic flickering through her lust.
Sylvia's mind cleared slightly, unease creeping in. Faulkner's grip tightened, guiding her from the bedroom. She wore only black lace garter stockings and red heels. A leather collar chained her neck, marking her as Black Cross property. Her tattoos drew leers from men, their crude chatter echoing. Her pussy still dripped cum, leaving a trail.
They descended to the basement, Sylvia's heels clicking painfully. Faulkner yanked her collar, forcing her through an iron door. A projector played vile porn, an office lady ravaged by men. Sylvia's eyes locked on three bound figures. Her breath caught, recognizing them instantly.
"Camilla, Millie, and Melinda!" Sylvia gasped, her voice trembling.
"What did you do to them?!" she demanded, glaring at Faulkner.
"Just preliminary brainwashing. They're enjoying hardcore porn to stoke their lust," he said.
"They're naked, vibrators teasing their armpits, breasts, pussies, and assholes," Wells added.
"What?! You're training them like this?!" Sylvia's voice cracked.
"More intense training's coming. You'd lose your mind," Faulkner sneered.
The women's white breasts heaved, pink nipples erect under buzzing toys. Their eyes were glued to the screen, lustful and vacant. Their pussies glistened, dripping with need. Sylvia remembered their normal lives, now shattered. They looked like porn stars, moaning obscene pleas for more.
"They're even pissing. So fucking slutty," Wells laughed, sniffing the air.
"Honestly, Sylvia, don't you feel your body heating up?" Faulkner asked.
"No way!" Sylvia lied, her pussy betraying her with a fresh gush.
"Don't lie. I smell that whore stench from your crotch," Faulkner growled.
"No, don't do this in front of them!" Sylvia begged, her face flushing.
"I love it this way. What can you do?" Faulkner grinned, grabbing a studded dildo.
He plunged the dildo into her soaked pussy, twisting it deep. Sylvia's moans filled the basement, her hips bucking against the textured shaft. Her clit throbbed, swollen and sensitive. Each thrust sent jolts through her, her body melting into depravity. Her screams grew louder, obscene and desperate.
With a final brutal thrust, Sylvia's pussy erupted, squirting a hot fountain. The musky scent flooded the room, her body trembling in shame. Faulkner's grin widened, savoring her fall. She collapsed, panting, her mind drowning in lust.
"The smell's so strong," Faulkner said, licking his lips.
"You're a slut now. A slut needs a stinking pussy," he added cruelly.
"Next, you'll experience something worse," he warned.
"What?!" Sylvia's voice shook, dread rising.
Two muscular men stepped forward, their cocks hard and glistening. Sylvia thrashed, but their grip was iron. They dragged her screaming from the basement. Faulkner watched, already planning to break Camilla, Millie, and Melinda further. The bound women climaxed again, their pussies squirting under relentless vibrators.
Weeks later, Faulkner lounged in the villa's living room with Wells. Their laughter filled the air, discussing their captives' fates. The women's training had intensified, their bodies honed for pleasure. Faulkner's experiments had twisted them into perfect tools.
"What do we do with these three next?" Wells asked, sipping wine.
"Send them to a Black Cross brothel. Their trained pussies will be popular," Faulkner said.
"I can't wait to see them fucked by big cocks," Wells chuckled.
"But the West nation won't notice our moves, right?" Faulkner mused.
"Today is your end!" a sharp voice cut through.
"It's you! Yor Forger, the West's assassin!" Faulkner gasped.
"Where are my guards?!" he shouted, panic rising.
"They're dead. Your guards were pathetic," Yor said, her black dress sleek.
"Since you know me, today you die!" she declared, hairpin weapons gleaming.
Faulkner dodged behind furniture, Yor's strikes deadly precise. Wells fumbled for a phone, but Yor's kick sent a medical kit crashing. Syringes spilled, and Faulkner lunged, grabbing an anesthetic. As Yor charged, he stabbed it into her back, injecting Nostro 1. Her body stiffened, eyes flickering with surprise.
"Nostro 1 works well," Faulkner panted, relieved.
"Without it, I'd be dead," he muttered.
"What do we do with her?!" Wells stammered.
"Train her. The Thorn Princess will pay," Faulkner growled.
Yor's mind raced, feigning collapse. Her fingers found the Vita-9 vial in her dress. She crushed it, the counteragent surging through her veins. Her senses sharpened, adrenaline burning away the drug. Faulkner turned, unaware, as Yor sprang up, hairpin flashing. She drove it into his throat, blood gushing.
Wells screamed, but Yor's second hairpin pierced his chest. Servants fell under her swift strikes, the villa silent. She searched, finding Nova 1 in Faulkner's lab. In the basement, Sylvia and Fiona leered, drugged and tattooed. Yor knocked them out, freeing the bound women. Their white breasts and pink nipples trembled, bodies slick with cum.
Yor drove them to the West nation, contacting operatives. Sylvia and the others entered detox, battling Nova 1's lingering lust. Sylvia's pussy ached during therapy, Fiona fought sudden urges, and the others blushed, craving release. Yor's Nova 1 sample sparked a covert war. Assassins dismantled Black Cross, while scientists crafted Clara-5, curing the women.
Months later, Sylvia led missions, her wit sharp again. Fiona resumed fieldwork, her focus lethal. Camilla, Millie, and Melinda ran a café, their laughter warm. Their tattoos faded, symbols of strength. Black Cross fell, Nova 1 destroyed. Yor watched, her friends whole, their happy ending earned through her cunning and Vita-9's spark.
~The End~
Interested in a different story? There's a separate dark ending, almost seven chapters long, available as a PDF. Join the "Short Tier" chat on Patreon[E2749] to learn how to get it.
I hope you enjoyed this piece. It's one of my earlier works and I'm glad to finally share it back.