Cum Soaked Underwear And A Cold Ass

"Prophecy Dave is foretelling a new prophecy," one of the initiates says. Her eyes are wide like she's just told the world's greatest secret. Her blonde hair falls across her shoulder in waves as she sits on the ground next to you in a flower-print dress. She's probably the one who threw chloroform over your mouth.

"Who the fuck is Prophecy Dave?" you ask, confused. Around you is a dingy basement that stinks of BO. Small candles line the wall and provide a small amount of light. The world is still foggy, but you eventually discern the shapes of hippy-like people in the room. They're talking to each other with wide mouths and small words.

"He's the one who foretells the end of the world. And the beginning." She strokes her hair waiting for your response.

Your eye twitches. You were just kidnapped into a cult of some kind. Why must she have glommed onto you? You say, "How would he foretell the beginning of the world if he wasn't in it yet?"

Her wide eyes travel down as she goes to the floor, and she brings her hands together to pray while looking at you. You get the impression of two big, annoying moons setting. "That's sacrilegious," she says. "You shouldn't say that."

"Why not?" You're new here, although not by choice, but still genuinely curious.

"Because." She sends up a couple prayers, probably for you more than herself. You roll your eyes.

"Which one is Prophecy Dave?"

"The naked one."

"Oh, gross, the one with the tiny, brown cock?"

She inhales. "You shan't say that about his sacred tool."

You laugh. How can you not. This girl is either crazy or high enough to scare a mountaineer. She frowns. She doesn't like you. You can tell. But still, she opens her mouth and says, "I'm just trying to save you from yourself." She sounds defensive, as if you've slighted her greatly by laughing at the prophet's tiny cock.

"I'll be fine," you say. But the thick, abrasive rope around your hands makes you reconsider your words. It burns your agitated wrist as you adjust while awkwardly looking away from her. But she keeps staring at you. You can feel the whites of her eyes following even in your peripheral, eyes like a painting.

"You'll die one day," she says after a while. Her voice is low, her throat strained, like it pains her to say this.

You look at her. She looks away, finally. You try to pay attention to something else, anything else. The sconces on the wall seem to be burning low. One is entirely out. The giant burlap sacks you and your compatriots were brought in. Damn, it's all so boring.

Finally, you settle on the stonework. The stonework of this place seems to have been made with a direction in mind, as if the builder was going towards a certain point. It's hard to say why you feel this way. It's small things that make you feel this. A chip in one direction of a handful of bricks and only in that direction. The way that mortar seems to be thinner on one side.

Your eyes follow the pattern and end up back on the girl. She is watching you again. You feel a chill run down your spine. You don't like the way she looks at you. It's like she thinks you're something to be ogled; something different than a human with boundaries. Like you're meat.

She smiles at you. "I know why you're upset." Her hand goes to your shoulder, then down your torso and onto your leg. You fidget at first, but the curiosity in you makes you wonder what she's up to. Surely, she isn't...

She grabs your cock through your dress pants. You jump, but your cock responds eagerly, an animal instinct. She slowly retreats her fingers, gently brushing you through the fabric as she does so. You strain against the material for more feeling, more of her soft hands. It feels good.

And then she stops. Her hands end up folded in her lap. It's hard to tell in the low light, but it looks like she's blushing.

She doesn't say anything, and you certainly aren't going to complain. Eventually the moment fades and you go back to pretending you weren't kidnapped. But there is now a buzz in your head. You're horny. And this crazy girl you've been with is actually quite delectable now that you notice. Her silky hair and innocent face are perfect.

Prophecy Dave comes over. Even before his first words, you can tell he's drunk. The way he sways when he walks, the way his eyes seem to pass over something before settling back on it. He says in a slight slur to you, "Welcome to my humble home." He holds out his arms like he's showing you a grand palace instead of a dingy basement. "You," he points at you, "Look like you can run the pants off this place. Ha! See what I did there?" He winks at you like a used car salesman would, greasy and with an ulterior motive.

You start to speak, but the crazy girl elbows you in the side. You put your arms towards her, and she batters at you with a low growl, like an aggravated cat. You say through the flurry, "What is this place?"

Dave's blank face seems to not register this for a moment. Then he pinches his face like he's in intense thought. "You shouldn't talk to me unless I speak to you. That's rule number one," he holds up a single shaking finger. He looks at the crazy girl and gestures like, 'What are you going to do?'

She turns to you, a wicked smile on her face. She lunges for your belt. You're caught off guard and don't react in time. She has your belt off before you can react. You turn between the two of them, confusion on your face. What you think is happening really isn't happening, right?

Dave says, "I'm sorry, my son." He turns and walks off, his bare butt cheeks soft and mushy in the low light.

As soon as he's gone, the crazy woman attacks you. You're more ready this time, but the energy is her attack surprises you. With one swift move, she pops the button on your pants. You have no idea how she did it. She darts behind you, her fingers glancing across your back and shirt. You try to face her, try to get a hold of the situation. But your tied hands make it difficult. She pulls on your shirt as your turning and your momentum carries you to the floor.

Before you can do anything, your pants are around your ankles. The situation has made you semi-hard. It's embarrassing having a raging boner in front of a dozen people you don't know. But something about what feels like playing with this cute girl has your feelings on a knife's edge between fear and aroused.

The girl makes eye contact with you with those wide eyes, then lowers her gaze. You try to contort, hide your straining package. She says, "You have nothing to be ashamed of." Her voice is smooth, sultry. Your cock pulses. You want to fuck her until she screams.

She seems to realize she's captured you. She crawls forward on her hands and knees, her dress trailing along the ground. Her eyes don't bother to feign interest in your face anymore. Her eyes are firmly focused on your throbbing dick.

She reaches for you. You don't try to stop her. You look around. There are people. Around a dozen of them. Initiates of some kind, perhaps some prisoners. It's hard to tell. They're lounging on dilapidated couches or beat-up metal folding chairs. All of the faces turn away from you as you look in their direction. Oh God, they're watching. Something about that is hot, and in a way you've never felt before. Something in you burns like fire.

She grabs your hard cock through your silk underwear. It feels heavenly. A moan escapes your teeth as her small hand wraps around your shaft.

Now's the time to say stop, you think. But you don't. It feels too good. You bite your lip to stop yourself from making small sounds of arousal.

Your eyes traverse the room again. You're nervous. Her head cocks like a curious dog. Her big eyes are beautiful, so beautiful. You look back at her. She smiles, displaying a set of crooked teeth. They somehow add to her overall charm, like an antiquated building in a rebuilt section of town. Her hand starts to gently slide back and forth.

You catch your breath. Fuck, that feels good. The positive and negative emotions in your head swirl in a whirlpool of endorphins. Your breath catches and your head rocks forward to get closer to her.

She sees this and pulls her hands back to her lap. You stare at her in a savage way. Through your eyes alone you make it entirely clear what would happen in you weren't tied up. She smiles her innocent smile.

The moment passes. Your balls hurt like hell. They pulse with every beat of your heart. You lower your head to your chest, trying to ignore the pain. She says, "Having fun?"

"No," you say. "Finish what you started," you plea.

She'll have none of it. She straightens her back, her beautiful spine powerful beneath her tight dress, "No."

Her hands rub the inner parts of her thighs not covered by her dress. You breathe heavy watching her. And then there was a knock, as if on a heavy wood door. In the cramped basement, it seems it's coming from all around. The girl darts forward and forces your pants back on. You protest, but she doesn't listen. Better to have your pants on anyway, you reason.

Dave scratches his back and slurs something you can't interpret. One of the other young initiates, also an attractive female but with auburn hair instead of blonde, pulls open a slanted basement door you couldn't see before.

A sophisticated-looking man in a pinstripe suit with a stethoscope on his shoulder comes down a clattering set of stairs. You recognize he's a doctor. He looks perplexed, even disturbed.

Dave, who seems to disturb the man the most, leads him down the basement hallway. They chat about something you can't understand until they get closer. Dave says, "Yeah, yeah, why not? Just make sure he's okay and you'll go along just fine. We're not like the others." He gives the man a heavy wink.

The doctor reaches into his bag and wipes at sweat droplets appearing on his face with a hankie. "Oh dear," he says, looking at you, "Why is he tied up?"

"Because-" you start to say, but are cut off by Dave. He says, "They're violent when they're sick." The blonde girl scoots to your side.

You say, "No, that's not..." you stop. You feel something sharp on the side of your abdomen. You wince and your eyes flick to the girl. She is looking at the ground like she's lost something. One hand holds something sharp to your back you can't see. Her other hand traces shapes into the grime on the floor.

The doctor frowns. He leans in as if to hear you better. "Yes?"

"Nothing," you say. The powerlessness of the situation washes over you like a wave. You're not getting out of here. You can feel it. She controls you. The girl can do what she wishes. You just hope it doesn't hurt.

The doctor's expression is flat, unreadable. Then he turns to Dave. His eyes are narrowly focused on his face, like a horse wearing blinders. "What shall I do?" he asks. He dabs at his face again.

"Full checkup," Dave says, waving his hand at you. "Make sure he's healthy, and if he's not, give him what he needs."

"And the nature of my payment."

"Ah." Dave yells, "Angela!" The girl with the auburn hair walks over. Curiosity is in her gaze as she watches you. Then the moment is gone, and she examines the doctor with the same foxlike expression. Dave tells her, "Fetch some money for this man. I have a $100 bill. Grab that."

The doctor's eyebrows shot up to the ceiling. "Oh, no, that's far too much, sir. It's only a routine checkup."

Dave nods his head like he agrees. Then he waves Angela away and swats her butt as she leaves. She jumps and then goes off into the basement. Dave says, "Good help is worth the money. Now, fix him up please. Make sure I see you before you go." He leaves in the direction Angela went.

You feel the sharp thing leave your side. The blonde girl squeezes your shoulder and spins away like a child acrobat. The message is clear. Don't mess this up or you'll end up dead.

The doctor kneels down, opens his bag. He selects a wooden spoon-like object and sticks it under your tongue after some confusion. Seemingly satisfied, he puts the stethoscope to your chest. He comments that you must have a weak heart, it beats so quickly. But nothing he can do. He selects your wrist and feels it for a while. His face contorts this way and that and you can't follow what it means. But then he drops your wrist, closes his bag, and is up on his feet knocking the dust off of his knees.

"You're healthy," he says matter-of-factly. His gaze drifts to the girl, who watches him with intense interest. He clears his throat, then says, "Well. I'm off to procure the payment." He bows his head to both of you. "Best of luck." He walks off towards the other two.

Now that you two are alone again, the blonde girl creeps closer. She stays at a range where she can examine you, but you couldn't possibly retaliate if she tried anything. It makes you feel weak. Powerless.

"You're cute," the girl says.

"Thanks," is your automatic reply. She smiles. She's still charming despite everything.

"What do you want?" she asks, her eyes flicking downwards and back to your eyes lasciviously.

You swallow. It's dry. "Some water."

She laughs. It's a free laugh. It makes you feel good. "Okay," she says. "I'll find you some. You think about what happens next, my little play toy." She winks and saunters off.

All these people are nuts, you decide.

She comes back in a moment with a wrinkled plastic bottle filled with cloudy water. Her fiendish smile incites your nerves and your desire. She pours the water down your throat, her hand on your chest as you drink.

When you're done, she crumples and throws away the bottle. Then she lays across your lap, her breasts below your face. You try not to stare even through that's the point, you're sure. Her hair smells like strawberries. She looks at you with puppy dog eyes.

"Do you want me?" she asks, her voice dripping with sensuality.

"Yes," you reply. You mentally kick yourself for saying it, but her face lights up and she laughs, arching her back and bringing her breasts closer to your face. You do want her, and bad. Your dick gets hard against her taut back muscles.

"What would we do first, handsome?"

"I would fuck you."

"Yes, but how? And no foreplay?" She playfully beats at your chest.

"Whatever you want."

"I like to be tied up."

"Funny how that works, I think I've got some rope around here somewhere."

She gives you a coy smile. "You're getting out of those pretty soon, by the way. Dave likes you. You're going to be a breeder."

Of all the things you've heard today, that surprises you the most. Your eyes go wider than hers. She laughs that intoxicating laugh, pulls at your shirt. "I want to be first."

You remember your balls now. They ache like you've never felt before. "Help me out," you say, motioning to your pants.

She wags her finger. "No, no. Dave's got to say it's okay first. He'll get a prophecy about you. Or he won't."

Great. Your survival is based on some guy's horny dreams. "When will I know?"

She crawls up your shirt to your ear, whispers, "Soon. Very soon." She changes her position to sit in your lap. Her ass feels so good. Your dick hurts it's so swollen. It twitches, begging for release.

Across the basement there is a shout, then a thud. An ominous silence follows. You feel you know what happened, but don't want to believe it. You shake your head. There's too much going on right now.

Dave comes back in after a while. He seems more flustered than when you saw him last. His hair doesn't sit quite right, and he seems fidgety. He says to you, to the girl, "Are you fit? He fixed you up, right?"

The girl cuddles again your chest, wrapping her thin arms around your torso. She nods. You say, "Yeah."

He nods, eyes darting around the room in surprising clarity. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He lets it exhale slowly, opening his eyes to face you. He says to you, "That's good. You're fit." He turns to the girl. "Zoe, do as you wish." With that cryptic response, he leaves. You don't question it.

Zoe snuggles into your chest even more. She's so warm. Her hand feels your shoulder, back, then starts to go lower. You flinch and catch your breath.

She gives you a look then slides off your lap, takes her smalls hands to your pants and tugs at them, all the while keeping eye contact. You help her slide them off. You flex your tied hands, wishing you could run them through her silky hair.

She hooks her thumbs under your underwear. She blinks at you. You growl at her. You lift yourself off the ground and she slides your underwear down until it's under your backside and bundled around your crotch, like your dick is a package waiting to be unwrapped. She stops there and you set yourself on the grody ground. Something sharp sticks your butt and you start and reposition in place. She sees this and pinches her lips. She stands up and runs to the other side of the room. She pulls a blanket from next to a couch. People watch her, and you.

She comes back and sets it under you. Her hand brushes your package while she does so, and you stake a sharp intake of breath. It's throbbing.

She sits in front of you, her hand tracing your thigh. She kicks a leg up, her dress draping out of the way and letting you see her neatly shaven pussy. There's a dripping stream of wetness from her that flows into her crack. You lick your lips. You want a taste.

You want to fuck her so bad. But she controls you. There's something incredibly erotic about the situation.

Her smile tells you she knows this as well. She wraps her smooth hands around your silk-packaged crotch and rubs around it. You feel something kick in your loins. It feels damn good.

She keeps going, moving at steady pace and with her moon eyes attached to yours. You say, "I'm going to come if you don't stop."

She giggles and goes at an even faster rate. You breathe heavy, trying to stop the dam you can feel rushing forth. You throw your head back. You let a sharp moan out. You release spurt after spurt of hot cum into your underwear, a grunt with every release. She pulls her hand back as you come, and you glare at her. "Help," you say pitifully. She gives you a sly smile.

The bliss fades after a minute and she stands up. "No, you can't leave me like this," you say. You look at your underwear. They're soaked in a Rorschach pattern of cum. The warmth of your insides is already starting to fade, replaced by the cold reality of your situation. The hippies watch with goofy grins.

She pushes to her feet, throws you once sultry last glance, and then skips away and into the annals of the basement. Her dress floats up revealing her tight ass. You watch her around the corner.

She will be yours. You know it. You can feel it. But for today, all you have are cum-soaked underwear and a cold ass.