Cracked Porcelain (3 page)

She was a pale-skinned doll with all of the dangerous features that accompanied that. Her dark, ribbon
y mane hung drape-like, tickling the top of her chest and cradling her lower back. She swayed gently there, thanks to the Gatekeeper, but Mardo’s eyes delighted in every bit of her.

Mardo stood up and put his thick, strong hands on Maximillia’s shoulders, towering over her. “You’re beautiful. Do you know that?”

All she could do was smile in her stupor as he cradled her tiny face in between his palms, his thumbs gliding against her cheekbones. “I’ll ask one final time. The choice is completely yours. Do you want to join us?”

“Yes,” she boldly pronounced.

“Are you ready to prove yourself and give your gift of love to the family?”

“Yes.”

“Close your eyes.”

Maximillia obeyed and the silver-haired, barrel-chested brute tilted her face up to his and wrapped his lips around hers,
kissing her softly at first but then with a growing voracious hunger. She didn’t resist, yet struggled to keep up with him. Between his size and clear strength, she was just a frail, conquered creature in his grasp. It was apparent that she had little experience in kissing but played up a false confidence.

Everything was happening so fast that she felt as if she was being swept along by an uncaring tide. Being so far from home and deeply into the strangeness of this alien place bombarded her senses with a constant
wave of fascination, from the lingering industrial scents wafting invisibly by, to the rolling clamor thumping faintly from distant speakers and then this thick, grey-capped monolith of a man who was laboring to consume her.

She didn’t know what to feel when Mardo’s muscled fingers snaked around behind her, clenched her ass and began to knead her virginal flesh. His breath was mildly pungent and would otherwise be instantly repugnant, but for some reason she accepted it and this added to the wild unlikelihood of the situation. There she was, this lost girl, now in the arms of a man she’d just met, their mouths entangled and his strong hands massaging her backside to breathtaking effect.

Mardo effortlessly lifted the little nestling off the ground forcing Maximillia to throw her arms around his neck to keep from flopping backwards. He gently laid her on her back on the couch. She was limply splayed out across the cushions, completely sedate yet gazing up at him with a quiet acquiescence. The Gatekeeper had done its job beyond expectations. Maximillia was little more than a conscious marionette. He laid next to her, tucking his arm under her head to pull her close, and began to kiss her again, slyly snaking his tongue into her mouth. She moaned, surprised, but didn’t relent in kissing him back.

Maximillia’s knees were still together as she clung onto the last vestiges of her self-control, but the Gatekeeper had slowly eroded her every inhibition. Mardo pawed at her knees, pulling them apart and then ran his fingers up and down her inner thighs. Growing impatient, he brought his hand up and began to cup her crotch, his fingers worming against the fabric of her sweats and panties. She moaned into his mouth, seemingly trying to resist but was mentally unable to get her body to comply with her momentary burst of gumption.

Her bent legs were completely bowed out and spread as Mardo continued to massage her exposed crotch. His erection was brazenly pronounced, bulging up against his pant leg.

She finally put her hands on his chest, prying her lips from his. “Wait,’ she uttered breathlessly. He’d have none of it and kissed her again, not slowing the pace or pressure of his massaging fingers against her nubile sex. Her nipples had hardened into stiff little nubs. There was good reason for all of this. Unbeknownst to Maximillia, there was a component in the blue liquor that was a potent aphrodisiac taken from the petals of an Arcean flower. It effectively kicked her hormones into a supercharged state of arousal.

Mardo climbed off the couch, leaving Maximillia with her eyes shut, drunkenly enraptured. He tucked his fingers down past the waistbands of both her sweats and panties and slowly peeled them both off in one smooth motion until her lower body was naked to the air, save for a pair of sneakers. Spreading her thighs to get a clearer look, he cocked his head back, taking in the sight of her dewy gash, which was wreathed in an unkempt mane of dark, frizzy hair. He sighed, containing an intoxicated awe.

“Now, would you look at that? No need to die because I’ve already seen Heaven,” he grinned.

Mardo ran his fat middle finger along the crest of her engorged crevice, finding the tip of his finger dabbed with goo. “You’re wet already! That didn’t take much.”  Leaning forward, he pressed his cheek against the cool skin of her inner thigh, dragging his tongue along her sodden slit and letting her curly pubes tickle his nose. Maximillia gasped as she felt his tongue curl along her moistened flesh.

“Is this the first time a man has ever licked you down here?”

With her eyes still shut, Maximillia nodded. He went back to prodding her delicate canal with his monstrous tongue, violating her soggy hole. She began to squirm, grabbing at the sheets on the couch. He willfully snaked around inside of her quivering gash, dragging her deeper into a cloudy morass of faded inhibitions.

Still drunk on the sensation of having her nethers so sloppily lapped at, Maximillia’s eyes lazily yawned open to the sight of Mardo’s rotund frame casting its shadow atop her
, perched between her legs. He partially collapsed across her mid-section, keeping himself propped up on one wobbly arm, his other arm anxiously fishing around inside his trousers. With a complete lack of cool measurement or romance he pulled his thick erection free, his chest worriedly heaving and his guttural breaths labored and beast-like. Her slim thighs were still gaped open, leaving her pussy dangerously exposed as Mardo hung over her with predatory anticipation.

Maximillia peered down between her legs only to see a quickly hardening appendage shimmying closer to her unprotected pussy. The silver-tongued cur’s trunk of a cock was monstrously thick and tangled in a stringy network of bloated vasculature. It made no attempt at chivalrous gentility, rather it lumbered towards its prize guided by a single-minded stupor. Mardo took it in a firm grip and licked the blood-swollen head along the length of her
dew-dabbed labia. Her eyes widened and her breathing shuddered, unable to protest, speechless and awestruck at the sight of this turgid monstrosity which intended to violate her immaculate canal.

The sheer dimension
s of the head of Mardo’s spear seemed that it would be an impossible feat to guide it through Maximillia’s tight opening, lubricated or not. He stroked it a few more times to ensure its rigidity and slowly pushed the tip against her, splitting open her defenseless petals. She gasped, her eye lids fluttering uncontrollably. He groaned with animalistic satisfaction as he sank deeper into her. The pressure of his girth splitting her open was tempered by the numbing effects of the Gatekeeper. Before long Mardo was almost fully buried into her and he was boisterously thrusting forward into his petite, pale-skinned toy.

Mardo rutted
into her unchallenged, and with an excited savagery. One of Mardo’s
dirt-caked acolytes, having not immediately recognized the intimate ravaging in-progress, haphazardly peeked into the room, knocking softly on a pipe to announce himself. Then, he noticed Mardo’s bare rump cresting above the back of the couch and driving down with fervent purpose.

The acolyte noticed too late. “
Out!” Mardo growled angrily with a dismissive flap of his arm, sending the wincing acolyte scurrying off.

The portly regent continued to pump away into a largely wilted Maximillia
, whose crinkled face registered an incapably feeble protest. His shuddering movements accelerated into a spastically urgent display. His groans became shorter, louder and more demanding. He threw his face into her neck and slobbered into it as his blunt member rolled around inside of her, releasing a lazy drool of pre-cum.

“Tell me you want this,” he grunted, his nose
mashed against her ear.

She was too inebriated to process his request. “Huh?” she asked.

“Tell daddy you want this,” he persisted.

Maximillia couldn’t answer. Mardo suddenly belted out a vicious rolling grumble, hunched forward and began to convulse. She suddenly felt warm pulses washing around inside her as he bucked achingly atop her. Her pussy became inundated with a peculiarly slick substance that came in sloshy waves. She knew something monumental was happening, but was confused by this carnally mechanic consummation. It was a painfully exciting sensation. She was worried, repulsed and e
xcited all the same, helplessly inundated by a torrent of irresistible impulses.

As his spasms finally ended, he kissed the side of her sweat-dabbed head and let his now flaccid meat sloppily slip out of her. His thick, syrupy seed drooled out of her, pooling onto the cushion beneath her. His chest was heaving and his lungs were pushing fire, but Mardo weakly pushed himself erect, looking down on his conquered, ruined prey. He looked over his shoulder to find several of his male acolytes peeking sheepishly into the room. They bore the masks of hungry, deprived children. Mardo chuckled to himself, signaling them to enter with a welcoming tilt of his head. “You look hungry, boys. Time to feast.” They looked at each other, wily grins rising on each of them revealing maws of yellowed teeth.

Mardo walked out leaving Maximillia still splayed out on the couch, a seemingly boneless heap of cum-dripping maidenhood as the marauding acolytes closed in on her.

Over the next few hours she fell in and out of consciousness, often tumbling into consciousness to find a nameless, faceless, filth-coated mongrel of Mardo’s hunched over her, his anxious flesh needling into hers. Only moments later she’d hear a vicious, incomprehensibly lust-drenched proclamation before the man would quiver atop her, her insides coated with an unwanted warmth. The carousel of men spun round and round, the faces equally unrecognizable yet demonically threatening.

Maximillia awoke
in darkness, eyes crusty and throbbing and her chest thumping. She gasped, her lungs filling with a crushing chill. Looking around, she realized she was in a section of the Bruisers’ compound which had been fitted into a slovenly-designed sleep chamber. She was, however, apparently, completely alone.

An electric jolt smashed into her brain as a searing sensation rippled up her back originating from between her
thighs. She spread her legs gently, reaching down to pull the skirt aside from the gown she’d found herself in. The gown’s material near her crotch was already dabbed in a suspiciously red hue. Pulling it aside she found herself wearing no panties and feeling as if a fire had been set between her legs. She winced, pain emanating from her nethers and spreading outward. There were a litany of fingertip-sized bruises around her hips and her labia was flared, dabbed in splotches of red. Whatever had happened the night before was a monstrously wanton affair. Upon realization of this, she let out a silent shriek, horrified. She became so hysterical that, rather than a scream, she could only loose a hoarse, quivering, high-pitched squeak.

Several women dressed in long, flowing gowns rushed in to console her. They dropped to their knees and raised a glass decanter filled with more of the Gatekeeper. She resisted at first, but in her weakened state she could only tilt her head back as they gently yet firmly fed her the tangy blue liquor. Its effects were fast-acting and within moments the soothing merriment of stupefaction infected her once more and she collapsed back into the piles of linens that constituted the makeshift bed beneath her.

The next time she awoke, the wounds in her nethers had been tended to, possibly by the gown-wearing women from before. Whoever dressed and treated the wound did a passable job. Her crotch was still tender and sore, but the fierce, stabbing pain had subsided. She remained cognizant long enough to realize what had happened with Mardo. An immediate, anxious nausea overtook her and she felt certain she was going to throw up, but managed to resist the urge. Her mind spun at the thought of everything she’d done.

Maximillia noticed that the room she was in was larger than first expected. There were rows and rows of girls asleep
on bedrolls on the floor beside her. Most of them had similar body types to hers; petite, slinky and long-limbed. Many of them had their hips and crotches bandaged the same ways hers were. She noticed Taryn fast asleep just a few beds away.  She was one of the few girls whose nethers weren’t wrapped in gauze. The door to the bed chamber rattled so Maximillia threw herself down, pretending to be asleep. She peeked through narrowed lids at the door which slowly creaked open only to see Chota walk in.

The bald Bruiser shut the door behind him and tip-toed, careful to tread as silently as possible, walking past her and towards Taryn. Chota crouched down and grabbed Taryn by a knee, lifting it and rolling her onto her back. Still seemingly ensconced in a deep slumber, Taryn whined in protest, even as he peeled her panties off. Maximillia gasped to herself, horrified at what she knew was about to transpire. Chota yanked down his pants until all Maximillia saw was his bare ass. He draped Taryn’s legs across his shoulders and leaned forward, pinning her thighs to her chest. Taryn was still fast asleep.

As he hung over Taryn, Maximillia noticed Chota’s trunk of a cock swaying low from between his legs like a thick, brown vine. It swung hungrily above Taryn’s bare, tender gash. The bruiser took his meat with a firm grip and in one motion slid his rigid truncheon deep into her fleshy socket. Maximillia covered her mouth but couldn’t look away as Chota stabbed into Taryn with ravenous gusto. Her pale thighs shook with each of his thrusts and within just a few minutes he tensed up and convulsed, freeing a rolling groan as he no doubt spilled his seed into her unprotected womb. After extracting his flaccid, cum-coated member, he licked the side of her face and yanked his pants up, trundling off towards the door and shutting it behind him as he left.

Maximillia should’ve been completely overcome, drowning in a sea of abject fear and confusion, but she wasn’t. For some reason she realized that her mouth was extremely parched. Even with Taryn rolling back over, succumbing totally to sleep once again as Chota’s cum trickled out of her battered pussy, Maximillia could think only of her thirst. It was that savory blue drink she instantly thought of and strangely lusted for. The thought of it crowded out all other thoughts and fully occupied her mind.

Maximillia rose from the linen-covered floor and inched her way to the door, careful not to awaken any of the other girls. Opening the door, she trudged along the corridor’s creaky, rusted floor grates. At the end of the corridor was a plastic tarp acting as a partition. She pushed through the tarp and found herself in Mardo’s love-den. The smell of Gatekeeper wafted temptingly through the still desert air. She scanned the room with an uncharacteristic vampiric intensity, but couldn’t spy a single decanter that contained the sweet juice. She hunted for it, head forward, neck outstretched, back hunched like some prehistoric reptile seeking a furry sack of organs for a late-night bite.

“There she is,” a gaudy voice shot out.

Maximillia swung her head over to find Mardo sitting on the couch, sipping daintily from a stained glass. She instantly froze, becoming timid, feeling hundreds of eyes on her, even though her only company was Mardo. He patted the seat next to him. “Come, Maximillia. Papa’s not going to hurt you. I hope you slept well! You slept like a rock.”

She inched her way towards the couch, still visibly antsy. He noticed her bandages and chuckled to himself. “I hope you’re feeling better. It looks like we got a little carried away the other night.”

She sat on the edge of the cushion next to him, still a bit groggy, her eyes unapologetically puffy and bloodshot. “The other night?”

“Yes. Like I said, you slept like a rock into the night and into the day and... here we are!”

Maximillia looked down at her bandaged lap, then back to him. “We...”

As her words lingered aimlessly, he cut in. “After a few drinks you became quite aggressive. It was... magical. I’m not swinging around the biggest club in the cave, but you are mighty petite, my dear, so I’m afraid we caused a bit of damage down there. Nothing that we weren’t able to take care of.”

“The women in the gowns?”

“Like I said, we have everything you could ever need in our little paradise, including nurses.” He patted the backrest beside him, encouraging her to sit back and get closer.

Maximillia consented with a marionette’s easy disposition. Mardo threw his thick arm around her and yanked her uncomfortably close, yet she didn’t resist. She was visibly uneasy but almost helpless to protest. “I’m so thirsty.”

“Really?” he asked, sipping at the brown liquor from his glass.

She looked at his drink. “Is that what I had the other night?”

He tilted his head back, grinning. “Gatekeeper? No.”

She looked up at him with a pathetic desperation. “Can I have more of that? I’m so thirsty. Since I woke up it’s all I can think about.”

“It was good, wasn’t it?”

“After I drank it everything was so...”

“Beautiful?” he interjected.

She nodded, the simple word resonating perfectly. “Yes. Beautiful.”

“Maximillia, why don’t you lie face down here on the couch. I want to keep my hiding place for it a surprise.”

She blinked slowly, still a bit drowsy. “Okay.” At the prospect of tasting the precious Gatekeeper once again, she acquiesced without question, rolling over onto her belly, turning her head to the side and shutting her eyes. Mardo didn’t let the opportunity slip to lift her gown and take a handful of her bare ass cheek in hand. She gasped at the sensation of his cold paw clamping onto her flesh. He chuckled, gently slapping her rump. She winced, not enjoying the gesture but not voicing protest, lest she be refused the Gatekeeper herself.

After a few seconds he patted her on the butt again. “Okay, my dear. Here we go.”

Hearing those words, Maximillia, eyes bulging with anticipation, energetically shoved herself up, turning to Mardo. He was holding a small shot glass filled with the glimmering blue liquor whose intoxicating flavor had bored itself into her mind. Barely a single gulp’s worth of the drink. Her disappointment was clear. “That’s all?”

He pulled her close. “There’s much more where this came from, my dear Maximillia. Much more! You trust me, don’t you?”

She didn’t truly, but felt the need to keep him as at ease as possible. “Yes, I guess.”

“You don’t know how honored I am to be the man who claimed your purity. You weren’t lying about that, were you?”

She shook her head. “No. Of course not.” She was no professional, but his wasn't the first bare cock that her body had cradled. Not that Mardo needed to know this.

“Did you enjoy it?”

She nodded shyly. Another lie.

He peered down into her ample, almond-shaped eyes, those dark jewels that exuded innocence, and something stirred in his loins. He was struck with a rare moment of honesty. “You are such a raw beauty, my Maximillia. You are mine. You know that, yes?”

She hesitated for a few moments before finally nodding slowly, almost surrendering against her own compromised will. “What happened to Flower? You were calling me that before but not anymore?”

He chortled. “Maximillia, I can’t very well call you a flower since I plucked you. Plucked flowers wilt and die. I want much more for you than that. Now, do you want your drink?”

Finally. She perked up, nodding with unrestrained gaiety. He marveled at her giddy honesty.

Captivated by Maximillia’s seraphic naivety and struck by an epiphanic courage, Mardo lunged forward and kissed her. She was repelled and instinctively backed away, but he persisted. When he slipped his tongue into her mouth she knew that the stomach-churning events to follow most certainly had to be preceded by her finally claiming her thirst-quenching prize. He anxiously grasped her hand and guided it to his crotch, which was unpleasantly inflated by the undoubtedly turgid erection swelling beneath it.

She pried herself from his face. “I’m thirsty. Can I have my drink now?”

“I’m going to give you a drink, my dear. Then you can have some Gatekeeper.”

Mardo peeled off his pants and stood up, letting his erection flop out. His romantic veneer having melted away, he clasped the back of her head with one hand and guided his veiny spear towards her lips. A part of her mind resisted this awful suggestion but the dominant portion of her Gatekeeper-starved mind lusted for the drink and was prepared to compromise her body into whatever lecherous depths would deliver it. She closed her eyes and braced herself as he slipped the head of his cock past her lips. He sighed in relief at the sensation of having his meat deeply sunken in this young girl's warm and wet mouth. Maximillia, on the other hand, was on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. She wasn’t intoxicated like the first tryst with Mardo so every moment clung precariously on the edge of physical trauma. She tried with every fiber of her being to not vomit as he prodded her delicate gullet with his single-minded cock.

Mardo proceeded to slowly fuck her mouth for several minutes. She gagged continuously throughout, not knowing what to do with her hands. Between holding them up with flat palms aiming outward, clearly signifying her effort to maintain herself, and placing them on his thighs to brace herself, he was greatly entertained.

“You ready, sweetie?” he asked without provocation.

Maximillia, confused, tried to look up, but was burdened with a throat full of cock and could only gurgle an answer. He finally grasped the back of her head, holding her
firmly in place as he tensed up, hunched forward and grunted madly, his prick angrily spilling hot streams of cum against the back of her throat.

She gagged ferociously, coughing, but he kept her mouth wrapped around his meaty girth as he emptied his balls. Finally, he pulled himself free and she lurched forward, coughing and gasping for breath as she slobbered a bubbly wash of spit and cum. He smiled with sadomasochistic pride over his spoiled angel until finally offering her the shot glass of Gatekeeper. Seeing it, she forgot about the throttling he’d just given her and snatched up the glass, downing its contents.

Maximillia noticed him filling up a tall glass with a decanter filled with Gatekeeper as she licked the shot glass clean of every drop. The effects of the drink crawled down her spine with electric potency and possessed her immediately. She eyed the tall glass with an obsessed alertness.

“You lack skill, but there is potential. There is one thing you’ll need lots of, though...” he said as he dunked his flaccid cock in the glass, soaking it to the hilt in the blue liquor.
“...practice. Lots of practice.”

Over the next few hours he sprayed the back of her throat with ropey blast after ropey blast of his thick juices. The Gatekeeper crawled into her frontal lobe and constructed itself a deeply-set fortification.

Days and weeks flew by in a dreamy, muffled haze. Maximillia remembered little; passing, blurry visions of Mardo’s sweaty rotund frame hovering over, laboring to empty himself into her once more. Sometimes it was just him, other times she recognized Chota sitting against a far wall watching his portly potentate violate her sodden crevices. There were visions of foggy silhouettes voyeuristically entertained by her carnal humiliations. Sometimes, as she felt Mardo’s slimy girth worming around inside her she’d see an unidentified cock dangling towards her face. As a prisoner to the Gatekeeper, she’d willingly take this anonymous member into her mouth until it sprayed its warm contents across her cheek or forehead.