Strap-On Slut-Slayer [ Psyche x Chammy ]

[Chamorus the Cat]

A story about revenge.
[ Female x Female ] [ High School ] [ Light Bondage ] [ Verbal/Physical Abuse ] [ Torture ] [ Bizarre Insertions ] [ Strap-on/Dildo Play ] [ Vomit ]




Emily L'blanc's Italian leather heels clicked against the linoleum gym floor. A haughty bitch, she was entitled to everything she wanted; she got the best plastic surgeon Daddy could buy at the legal age of 16, just so that her tits could be bigger than Sally McGregor's. She worked out, ate smart, and occasionally purged in order to keep the shapely, adult figure she'd gotten. What she hadn't been naturally blessed with, she made up for with long legs, wide hips, and an ass that had enough fat to keep it wiggling when it moved.

Yes, Emily L'blanc was a prep, a yuppie, a spoiled brat; most of all, she was a slut. A stuck-up slut with pretty blue eyes and the long face and high cheekbones of French-mixed blood. She had the snappy comebacks that came to her mouth in an instant and a low-cunning mind that almost never failed to hatch the perfect plan.

Most of the time.

See, Logan Forester had a boy's name. It was so easy to pick on the bitch that it was shameful for Emily to try. It didn't stop her, but she still felt it was too easy, using Logan's tomboyish-ness against her. (However, when you're 5'4 and the only thing keeping you from dressing in Girls' Petites was your huge rack, everyone was tomboyish.)

Logan seemed unfazed and that irritated Emily. That irritated Emily so bad, that one day, she did something she shouldn't have.

She brutally fucked Tommy (Logan's boyfriend/boy-toy), riding him with all the passion and hatred she could for Logan. She sucked his load down and gargled it for him, just so that she could make problems. Tommy wasn't that big of a deal, though.

Logan was a big girl.

But perhaps Emily should have considered that there are just some thing you aren't allowed to get away with...

 

[Psyche]

Her name was Emily L'blanc. Emily fuckin' L'blanc. Who the fuck even had a name like that, right? Queen Bee, head hancho, girl with the perfect ass, perfect tits. Perfect plastic fucking face, perfect fucking hair. Perfect fucking car. Perfect fucking smile. Perfect at fucking too, or so Logan had heard. And Logan...Logan had heard a lot. That's what Logan was good at.

Logan Forester was quiet, bookish. Sweet. Had long dark hair, a round face, full lips. Full breasts, soft curves, petite frame. Looked more like a china doll than the sharped-boned, long-legged, bronzed warriors Beverly Hills seemed to manufacture nowadays. She was the type to be seen, not heard. So she took advantage of her unnoticeable self and tried to stay out of the spotlight which worked out, most of the time.

Except for when it came to Emily. Emily L'blanc.

See, normally, girls like Logan didn't react. Didn't make scenes, didn't get riled by the name-calling or the hair-pulling or the constant, unwanted attentions of those ignorant enough to place so much weight in the material, but then...then Emily had gone and fucked one fuck too many. That's right. She'd gone and slept with Logan's boyfriend. LOGAN'S BOYFRIEND. Could she get no lower? Of course, Logan had dumped Tommy as soon as she'd figured out what was what, but still.

That bitch.

And now it was her turn to pay. See Logan, like most, knew that Miss Emily was captain of the cheer-leading squad and knew that on Fridays, Emily liked to practice after hours at the High School gym. Which meant she'd not be found until--but no, Logan was getting ahead of herself. Right now, she just had to reach out from the locker room door, grab that pretty blond head, and press that cloth soaked in chloroform over the skank's mouth.

Emily went down harder than Logan expected, for such a lithe girl. Had Logan known she'd fall to the side, she might have even stopped to support her. But as it was, Emily slipped, fell, and lay crumpled on the tiled, dirty bathroom floor. Oops.

When the bitch woke up, Logan thought she'd have a wonderful surprise. Not only would she be handcuffed--oh no--but Logan had already began to methodically strip off Emily's clothes. And if that didn't shock the little wore, then maybe the fact that she'd be tied to one of the locker room's support beams would. An then if that didn't work, maybe when Logan shoved one of the four--Logan was getting ahead of herself again. Damn.

She had to remember: first things first.

 

[Chamorus the Cat]

Emily's head felt like someone was taking a rubber mallet to it. The chemical had knocked her out, cold, just as it was intended to and, now, with her hands above her head. Almost as bad as the headache were the shiny steel handcuffs cutting into her wrists. She pulled against them, to see if her slender hands would slip through, but someone had made sure she wouldn't.

She nearly toppled then; despite the four-inch fuck-me-heels, she was on her tiptoes. She wobbled, caught herself in the struggle and righted herself. She felt tendons between socket and shoulder stretch dangerously, nearly snapping from the light weight her body put on those slender arms.

She whimpered. She was well and truly fucked. And cold.

Her skin prickled, puckering so tight that she felt little tingles run up her spine; her nipples stood on end, achingly hard from the cold. She gave another shiver, cautious this time, so that she didn't tumble.

When she finally realized her captor wasn't a male, wasn't intending her to enjoy this, and definitely didn't admire her, her heart sunk in her chest and then rose up into her throat. Probably the only thing that kept her from nervously disgorging her lunch.

"Y-you bitch," she snapped, fighting against the chains to try and kick at Logan. She yowled like a fighting cat and twisted against her bonds. "Fuck you! Let me go!"

 

[Psyche]

The little slut was awake. Good. Pretty blue eyes she had. Pretty blond hair. Pretty tan skin. Opposite from Logan in every way. Logan had brown eyes. So brown, so dilated with the rush from seeing that traitorous, lean body strung out in front of her that they had turned nearly black. God, this was gonna be fun.

Logan had always wondered why and what and how boys (and girls) had seen what they did in Emily. Naked, spread open, vulnerable... Eyes filled with fear, thinly muscled body squirming, hair shining. Leg muscles straining to keep herself upright, full lips slack with the weight of post-drugged confusion. Logan guessed she saw an inkling of what one might call "Beauty," but mostly? Mostly Logan just saw an exposed bitch in handcuffs, about to be fucked to death.

Of course, Emily wasn't the only one who was scantily clad--but Logan didn't want to be tracked or anything, so she'd taken a few...precautionary measures. Latex gloves, combat boots, hair pulled back. Strap-on strapped-on.

"Hello, Emily," her light, pretty voice bounced off of the tiled walls and floor, reverb causing it to sound augmented and menacing. "Glad to see you're awake."

Oh, but the kitty had claws! Logan chuckled, hand lightning fast as she reached out and smacked Emily hard as she could across her come-loving face. Then she drew in close, reached behind Emily's head, and grabbed a fistful of shiny blond hair--pulling Emily's head back, exposing that long neck. With a snarl, Logan whispered in her ear, "No, Emily. Fuck you. Fuck. You. See, Emily, I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you for every time you fucked with me. I'm going to shove every inch of everything I have inside of your cunt, your ass. Your mouth. I'm going to force my hands inside of you, and I'm going to fuck you, Emily. I'm going to fuck you, and you're going to like it, you filthy little slut."

Then Logan, just to punctuate her statement, took her free hand and fired of repetition of spanks onto Emily's pussy while she laughed into the bitch's ear.

 

[Chamorus the Cat]

Emily's body rocked each time that hand slapped against her shaved-bare pussy. She would teeter on her tiptoes, barely righting herself, time and time again. Despite how much she hated this girl, she felt the tingle of sensation well inside of her. Those blue eyes were filling with frustrated, shameful tears. "Stop it!"

When the assault didn't cease, she screamed again, pain tearing at the edge of her voice. "Stop it, please!" Begging so soon? Where was the girl's dignity? Surely one would think she wouldn't have broken quite so easily.

Despite that, a hint of moisture had formed between her legs; she'd gotten the nerve to close her thighs and clamp them shut. One might laugh; it was likely the first time she'd not opened her legs to another.

 

[Psyche]

"You little bitch. Closing your legs to me, after all I've planned for you?" Logan brought her hand down hard, first on one of Emily's firm, round tits, and then the other. "Open them." Logan managed to wiggle a few digits in between her pretty little legs, close enough to barely touch her pretty little clit.

With anger enough to fuel a jet-bomber, Logan curled her fingers, other hand slapping at those tits harder, much harder than before. "I SAID FUCKING OPEN THEM."

Another curl of her fingers and Logan's tone went sweet, soft. Kind. "Come on, Em. Open your legs. Do it for me, hmm? I know you want to."

 

[Chamorus the Cat]

Confused by the barrage of pleasure and pain, Emily's mind started to break along with the rest of her. She gave in, fear leaving her somewhat; she was still bound, unable to move or protest, so there was still the fear of letting go. She panted with each brush of a fingertip against her feminine hood, the little nub poking its head out eagerly.

Slowly, those thighs trembled open, her hips jerking. Just spreading her thighs made the slut horny. A squirt of juices dribbled out and spattered on the cool tile beneath their feet. She was begging for something different now.

"More... m-more, Logan!"

She had no idea what she was asking for.

 

[Psyche]

But the whore asked anyways.

She didn't know what she was about to get and Logan was glad. It made her smile. Made her happy. Made her almost malicious as she slipped ring and middle fingers inside of Emily's little shaved cunt, stretching and flicking and curling. It was short and it was cruel and this contact lasted maybe ten seconds before Logan grew bored and drew away, using that same, juice-covered, gloved hand to slap the blond bitch across the face. "You're so wet, Emily. You know you liked that." Another slap, before she could have had time to even think of an answer. "It wasn't a fucking question, slut." Logan didn't even care if Emily hadn't tried to speak--she needed to be slapped around more. It built character.

But Logan wasn’t being entirely nice; wasn’t being entirely kind. Maybe she should? Maybe she should give Emily a glance of what Logan had never been given? Stepping close, Logan smoothed Emily’s hair back from her sharp, stained, beautiful face.

“You want this, don’t you? You need me to fuck you? I’m going to, love, and I’m going to give you a choice. I’m going to be kind.” Loan paused, smiling sweetly. “Now Emily, I can either fuck you with my hand—now, when I say hand, I mean all of it—or I can use the strap-on. I’m going to do both, of course, but I’m going to let you decide which will be first.”

Another sweet smile, if not a little demented. “What would you like?”

 

[Chamorus the Cat]

The slap brought her from her reverie. She was beginning to realize that this wasn't supposed to be fun. "Y-you slapped me," she managed. She seemed rather surprised; it wasn't one of those girl-fight slaps.

She quickly began to understand. She shook her head. "No, no, I don't want to fuck," she asked, her body at war with her words. Her body was geared up, ready to fuck, and goddammit, it wanted to fuck.

"I... I don't want either! I want to go home!"

 

[Psyche]

"Well that's to bad, isn't it?"

Really, it was. Seeing as she'd never be going home. Not after this. With little more thought on the subject, Logan walked over to the locker bench where she'd left her...tools. One ruler, for later. Two gags. One a ball gag, the other a dick-gag (Logan had to get hers too, and riding the bitch's face might be fun). Four dildos, perfect for a strap on. One was huge--more like a torture device than a dildo--the next was regular size, though still large, the next was longer than what seemed possible, and the fourth...the fourth looked like some sort of medieval weapon. It was bumped and ribbed and spiked, metallic finish over the stiff rubber form. It was also Logan's favorite.

She screwed it into it's place at her belt with barely a second thought, grabbed the ball gag and walked back to Emily. Slapped her hard so she wouldn't have much time to stop Logan from strapping the leather about her face, grinning as those scared eyes stared up at her. "I know. You think you're fucked, right? Well, you're not. But you will be."

Logan didn't have time to wait for her little pet's knees to open this time. She couldn't fucking wait. Logan took her leg and wedged it between the other girls', slowly working it up until she had to raise her leg for Emily to be pressed against it, dripping wet. Logan was merciless. She pressed hard--pressed hard enough to make it seem like she was trying to fit her knee inside of the little slut. "You like this, you sick bitch." Logan grinned as she moved forward, wedging her hips between Emily's. "You fucking like this."

And with that, she was poised at the slut's entrance, tip of her silicone and rubber-blend self just barely nudging against Emily. And then, Logan pushed forward, slowly, watching as her too-big, too-textured dildo sunk inch by inch inside the dirty whore's cunt.

 

[Chamorus the Cat]

Never had she been treated so cruelly. The only thing that Emily had going for her was the fact that she hadn't outright screamed for mercy. Now, that opportunity was taken from her. The restraint wedged between her lips, holding her slutty mouth open while keeping her almost silent.

A muffled squeal came from her as she was made to grind against Logan's knee. She whined and shook her head as Logan tried to convince her how much she liked this rough treatment.

The toy was soft enough, but those spikes were made for the masochistic. Her legs trembled as she was penetrated. Her walls clenched tight, trying to push the invader from her sex. It wasn't helping; quite the opposite.

Too big; it's too fucking big!

She wiggled her hips, moving about, away from Logan as best she could; Emily, though, couldn't seem to get far enough away, now that that alien toy had stuffed itself inside, its spikes working like barbs to keep her stuck on the fake penis.

Emily continued to whine and whimper through her ball gag.

 

[Psyche]

And Logan could do nothing but enjoy herself. Really, this was rather fun. And the look in Emily's eyes, so fearful, so full of pain...It was a good change. One Logan could get quite used to. Her hands, so very small and pale and delicate, gripped Emily's hips so hard her knuckles turned white...and then she proceeded to pull her barbed dick from the slut's cunt, cackling softly at the wet sound it made, at the bit of blood it drew.

"Oh, look at how wet you are, Emily." Logan grinned as she pistoned herself back inside her captive, hips jerking in motions that weren't meant to be anywhere close to smooth. Over and over and over she invaded the bitch, skin slapping against skin, her gloved hands gripping the girl's hips, tugging her this way and that.

What a good slut Emily was, wiggling and crying like she did, putting up that little fight that Logan so liked to see. Logan had fought, too. Had been fighting for years. But someone always had to lose, and this time...

This time, it was Emily's turn.

 

[Chamorus the Cat]

That heart-shaped rump jiggled from the hard impact against Logan's legs. She squealed in pain; each thrust and pull was dragging the sharp points along her inner walls, perforating the skin. Though her eyes were bleary with tears, she would not give this bitch what she wanted. She wouldn't let a single one fall.

Her muscles would spasm and she'd start to sag, giving up, just letting the girl fuck her; that was for the best, right? Just... let her do her thing and maybe Logan would leave her alone? She tried biting into the gag, to focus on anything but the pain.

Face flushed bright red from the pain, she felt hot and gross, her hair sticking to her skin. Would this end? Would she show Emily any mercy? She remained as still as she could, legs trembling as she fought against the push and pull Logan exerted on her.

A rip. A tear. Blood flowed out of her, down her thighs, and despite herself, despite the curdling scream that the ball gag muffled, she felt her juices trickling out of her. The pain was enough. Adrenaline flowed long enough for her to wrench herself off of the big prick and pull herself away; bloody thighs clenched together.

A stand-off. For a moment, there was no feeling... just the light throbbing of her blood in her veins and then... adrenaline sickness. She stumbled, falling towards her knees. The bindings around her wrists stopped her, of course, more ligaments tearing in her shoulders from the drop.

Don't think about puking, don't think about puking, don't think about-

Acid in her mouth, her lunch, nasty bile, too. She looked up, shamed, hurt, and those tears began to fall. Only a bit of that nasty concoction had made it past the air-tight ball gag. The rest she held in her mouth, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk sporting a haul of acorns.

She couldn't depend on Logan for any mercy. Trembling with the effort, Emily swallowed what was in her mouth, one gulp at a time. When she was done, the flavor remained; she sobbed then, hanging from her restraints. She wanted to ask what she'd done to deserve all of this. Perhaps she was lucky she couldn't ask. Logan was pissed off enough already.