12 comments/ 50794 views/ 9 favorites Heart Like a Lion By: CyranoJ CONTENT WARNING: The following story includes parodic depictions of white supremacist persons, language and political views which may make some readers uncomfortable. Similarities to any actual persons or organizations are, beyond the broadest political concepts, purely coincidental. Depicting these views does not imply endorsing or condoning them in any way, nor does it imply painting all skinheads with a white supremacist brush. This story also contains strong Non-Consent / Reluctance content and depictions of blackmail, questionably-consensual sex and BDSM and various other nasty and reprehensible acts. Depiction of these acts should likewise not be construed as condoning them; no real person should ever be subjected to these kind of acts in the real world. Be warned before you read on. All characters depicted in sexual scenes or referred to in sexual contexts are over the age of 18. Heart Like a Lion The sight of that cock packing her friend's tight little pussy from behind, the knowledge of how torrid and sinful and satisfying it must feel, drove Cami over the edge. Her pussy clenched and clenched and her juices flooded around Arran's pumping fingers as she threw her head back in abandon, her body arching and shuddering with the intense sensations as his fingers kept on squelching in and out of her and drew her mewling cries of pleasure out: "AHHHH-HHHAhhh-HHHaaahhh-HHHaahhhh-HHHaahhh..." As she finished cumming all over the hipster's fingers with his cock still pulsing in her hand, as she watched Lennie luxuriate in getting fucked like a bitch in heat on the ground in front of her, as she listened to Ty's hips slapping against her gorgeous friend's flesh and watched her soft ass ripple and her big titties sway with his thrusts, a realization broke over Cami's mind with the clarity of panic. I want a hard cock inside me, too. And another: I'm about to let Arran lay me out on the ground and fuck me stupid. And another, throwing cold water on all the rest: I've got to stop. This is wrong. I can't betray Eoin. I've got to stop. The blonde's mind reeled through these facts rapidly before coming to a conclusion: the brass knucks still sleeping in her pocket. It was time to put her original plan into action, if she could just find the will and the space to do it. Even as she was trying, though, the rush of desire still had a momentum of its own. Her hand was still absent-mindedly pumping Arran's prick, and he was bringing his fingers dripping with her sweet juices up to her mouth, and she was moaning and licking and sucking them clean and her resolve was starting to scatter. But then an idea broke across her brain with the electric force of inspiration, and as Arran's fingers popped out of her mouth she grinned salaciously up at him, looked into his lust-bright eyes and said: "See how fuckin' slutty my little friend's being?" He looked over and back, nodded like a man hypnotized, absorbing the suggestion without fully being conscious of it, his actions still on their original set of rails. He was coming in for another kiss as she said: "I think she's so slutty she could use a second cock. What do you think, babe?" That stopped him abruptly. Looking at the flushed, sweaty form of Lennie braced on her forearms with her head down, taking a vigorous doggie-style pounding like a champ, his brain laboriously switched gears and served up the image of that gorgeous bitch taking it at both ends. The thought clearly pleased him; she felt his cock throb in her hand as a little growl of lust escaped from between his teeth. "Well, if that's what she needs," he said, the idea taking hold of him: "Who am I to disappoint? You don't... mind, huh?" He wasn't even looking at Cami as he asked the last question, probably didn't even hear her say: "Don't worry about me..." In a moment he was standing away from the tree, coming around from behind Cami as his cock -- stiffened to powerful turgidity by her ministrations -- swung free in front of him. She watched as Lennie's head came up, her eyes glazed and her mouth agape with pleasure as Ty's cock powered into her fuckhole with strong, deep strokes... and as she saw Arran going to his knees in front of her and his tumescent tool presenting itself to her mouth, the brunette's eyes went wide in a Christmas-just-came-early kind of way. She wasted no time in reaching for it, pulling back the foreskin from its blunt purple head, running her tongue around it and then engulfing it in her warm, wet mouth -- and just like that Lennie was getting spit-roasted like a true "fuck pig," as the pornos the boys were fond of watching would put it, the cocks of the two bearded hipsters matching rhythms as they sawed into her, pleasure clearly arcing through her writhing, shapely young body from where Arran's balls were slapping her dripping chin to where Ty's nuts were rhythmically tickling her clit, the double helping of prick driving her into a well-deserved Nirvana. Cami felt a twinge of sharp regret as she brought her breathing under a shaky species of control and fumbled in her pocket for the brass knuckles. Her clit was still pulsating with the after-effects of orgasm, her wet pussy still yearning for more, and she could see a very clear mental picture of herself lying prone on the grass with her legs splayed, wearing nothing but her docs and her knee-highs, as Arran took her tight teen pussy thrust by thrust up the stairway to Heaven with his hot dick. She knew to a certainty that she could still have that, even now, if she really wanted it. She really wanted it. She could admit it to herself now. Ohhh, she really wanted it. But not at any price. She remembered her first kiss with Eoin, the kiss that stole her soul. And her soul still belonged to him, whatever her traitorous body wanted, however low life might have brought him in this moment. He deserved better. There were certain lines she just wouldn't cross. Her resolve hardened, but she wasn't totally without compassion. She watched the three of them writhe and thrust together like pieces of a well-oiled fuck machine, watched as Lennie's eyes rolled back in her head and her tight pussy squirted all over Ty's pistoning tool -- always a squirter, that little tart, she thought fondly -- watched as the waves of orgasm caught her bestie up in their whiplash power and sent her over the edge into the depths of ecstasy. Watched as the dudes' thrusts started to quicken to that telltale frantic pace, the moment of their crisis drawing nearer... and nearer... And then she thought: Nahhh, fuck them. Lennie got her jollies -- and that's all these bozos are fucking good for. That... and those sweet, sweet bikes. This was the best moment, they were as distracted as they'd get. She pulled out and gripped the brass knuckles, centred her attention on the task at hand, and stepped forward to get it done. Heart Like a Lion "You never have to." Marcus picked up the letter. The sheer effort it took him not to crumple it into a ball radiated off of him in waves. "Just tell me. Did you deliberately try to influence her to this?" "And just why the Hell would I do that," said Sonny, letting scorn into his voice despite himself. "This is exactly the kind of responsibility I try to avoid. You know that. Any of these decisions come up, you know, issues of care, housing, investments, whatever... well, read the letter. My only real function is to make sure she never has to deal with lawyers directly. The compensation it outlines is there for me to hire local representation to handle those details." "Because you'll be far away from here," rasped Marcus bitterly. "Avoiding the responsibility. Making smut for the pervert masses--" The beginnings of a full-blown rant, but at that moment, the day swung on a hinge. As they'd talked, the brothers hadn't noticed sudden signs of commotion outside the office window: Max leaping to her feet with breasts bouncing, a flush in her face and her lonely salad forgotten, the Mormon boys practically tripping over each other out to the front desk to answer a call. Sonny was just about try to say "I'm sorry" to his brother and mean it when that commotion came bursting in on them: Teyson hammering excitedly at the door and shouting "Boss! Boss! Boss!" The James brothers looked at each other a moment more, the silence drawing out, before Marcus called out: "Come, Teyson!" The kid burst in. "Boss, we've got a situation at the south doors. They're trying to get in--" "They've got in!" amended Kyson from the hallway. "They're racing around the first-floor concourse right now, the regulars are shitting themselves!" "Who've got in?" said Marcus impatiently. "Streakers, Boss! Two girls on bikes! They're calling us in!" The energy among the best and brightest of All-American Mall security was as electric as if someone had just announced the sighting of a sniper or a suicide bomber. Even Marcus came alive as if at the flip of a breaker, the fervent light of conviction instantly melting away the black ice that had frozen him, his every muscle tensing in readiness for action... and a split-second glance of searing intensity passing between him and Max. But he held back a moment more, saying to the Mormons: "Okay, you two get out there. I'll follow you and provide backup, Max will hold the fort here." No sooner had he spoken than the young men were gone like bolts launched from a crossbow. Marcus was up to follow them. He stopped to give Sonny a last look and said: "Look, I don't give a damn who you doubt or what you believe. I'm going out there and do my job. I'll expect you to be gone when I come back, you understand me? You and I are done." Then he was gone, the last words hanging behind him with a knell of brutal finality. Sonny stood there feeling disoriented at the sudden shift in gravity. Then he looked around to see Max watching him, her green eyes bright. This time she didn't look away. She walked up close to him, making it a struggle to keep eye contact as those enormous breasts jounced rhythmically under her uniform shirt. There was something curiously magnetic about her, like the hypnotic quality of an approaching cobra... and for all her pulchritude, Sonny was still disquieted to find his cock stiffening as she insinuated herself into his personal space. "You shouldn't worry about anything," she said. There was a slightly husky tone in her voice. "Everything will be as it should. Your brother is a strong and righteous man. He knows how to show wayward souls the error of their ways... how to teach them truth and consequence." She pointed behind her, over her shoulder, at the Bible verse on its backdrop of clouds. "Stern discipline awaits those who leave the path." - Proverbs 13:10. He looked at it, looked back at her. Sonny didn't know much about holiness, but he knew enough about certain other things to know that the fervour looking back it him was anything but religiously-inspired. The words streakers and girls on bikes flashed across his mind, with the details of a certain other story -- one the police hadn't believed -- swirling in their wake. He saw Max watching him, reading his reaction, with a curiously knowing and sinister little smile creasing the corner of her mouth. "Truly, don't concern yourself," she said, her voice lower now, almost sultry as she came closer yet. Her curvaceous little form was near enough for him to feel the warmth of her, those supple breasts grazing against him with disturbing intimacy. "Marcus is in good hands. And so are those girls out there. Trust us... trust me." It's funny, he thought. The more I hear you talk, the less I feel like trusting you. But what he said was just: "Marcus wants me gone. I don't see any reason to disappoint him." That knowing little smile didn't budge as she stepped back. And just like that, Sonny was running as fast as he could out of the R.A.M.S. squad's offices... with a weirdly uncomfortable boner tenting his dungarees, the eyes of Marcus' mysterious colleague following him, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach and no clear idea of just what he intended to do. Heart Like a Lion Her vision was dim and otherworldly as she looked up through her tears and saw him standing over her, that pitiless gaze deepening her dread as she struggled desperately to make her arms and legs move, to get to her feet. And then for just a split-second, she caught sight of someone over his shoulder: a man standing on the second floor above them, looking down at them over the railing, his face a dead ringer for her assailant but his hair long and piled above his head, and his bespectacled eyes full of emotions that brought the words pity and regret flashing across her mind. The brief vision swam in and out of focus and was gone, and all that was left was the big black bruiser standing over her, methodically pulling his taser out of his belt. Looking up at him, a last flare of defiance sparking within her, she managed to choke out the words: "Fuck you... fuckin'... fucker..." at him, trying to invest them with as much venom as she could manage as she dared him to do his worst. But he just snorted dismissively, and said something very curious. "Stern discipline awaits those who leave the path." His voice was a deep basso rumble. He added: "You may not understand it now, but this is for your own good." And he pointed the taser at her. No-no-no-nononoNONO! Cami's mind screamed as she cringed away from the infernal machine, but there was no stopping it. She felt the prickle of needles in her forearm, and the world was bathed in whiteness and pain, and everything went spiralling down, down, down into the black.