The following is a 300+ pages illustrated story. all characters are over the age of 18, and the story surrounds two step-sisters that are not of actual blood connection. The story contains several dark parts and has different horror and violent aspects to it. None of which is for the purpose of cheap snuff, but rather, to depict the cruelty and merciless nature of the underground world of debauchery. The world is a fictional one, and it does not share our world's history or development.
Page 037
"Wakey wakey, bitch. It's time for Trevor to get his share of the spoils." He whispered in a hostile manner.
Firmly holding on to the whip in his right hand, he slowly approached the unconscious body of the fragile girl.
There was a reason for why he had removed the collar.
Dying from anticipation, he wanted to savor this moment of calm before she awoke.
His cameras were all recording. His little studio was built for this sort of gig.
Page 038
Sadie groaned.
through the veil of a heavy headache ...
A short story to accompany "A Sister Of Battle, A Slave Of Slaanesh". (Now with pictures included!)
(WARNING: Contains Dubcon, Mind Break, and Tentacle Sex)
Sister Serena knew she should have purged the heretical text with cleansing fire the moment she set eyes upon it. But something drew her forward, closer to the black altar and the daemonic tome that lay upon its obsidian surface. Had she not been cut off from her Battle Sisters on the surface and trapped alone in this subterranean lair, she would have resisted, bolstered by their presence. But the breathless whispers she had heard since setting foot in this profane temple spoke to… deeper, hidden parts of her. Those whispers now coalesced into images at the forefront of her thoughts; promises of fulfilment she had never known and dreams made reality. Yes… the dreams. She knew of what the whispers referred to; sinful thoughts that she had kept hidden from her Order since she was a Novice, that would have seen her condemned to a Penitent Engine were they ever discovered. Lustful fantasies that crept into her mind in the dead of night as she lay alone in her cell, no matter how hard she prayed or tried to supress them. Fantasies not of simple ...
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I watched Molly walking down the aisle, delivering something - paperwork of some kind - to one of the guys in the engineering bullpen. Molly gave me a warm smile as she passed, and instead of just gawking as I once would have, I smiled back, just as warmly, and briefly ran my tongue along my lip. I had had a few lesbian fantasies about her, as well as Linda, Emma and Theresa, but they had remained strictly that - fantasies, in the privacy of my head. I remembered the look on Molly's face when I came in, two weeks ago to the day, for the first time in my career not looking like a refugee from Nerd Central. Instead of my usual shapeless, baggy outfit, I'd dressed up - sheer blouse, pencil skirt, heels - and people had noticed, oh yes indeed.
Those shapeless, baggy clothes were gone - well, okay, I'd hung on to a couple pairs of jeans and comfy shirts, in case I needed to get my hands dirty - but everything else ...