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Ariana Grande's Only Sex Tape {darkest_fate&Joshua Sankt Johannes}

As the bottle pulled away, Ariana coughed, feeling that lightheaded feeling returning. Definitely not enough alcohol to do anything so... so why was he doing... Oh God, another ice cube drew along Ariana's nipple. Her whole front felt frozen right down where the water had plastered her top against her. So cold that it hurt, made her shiver and her teeth chatter. The ice cube moved across her flesh, and Ariana felt her nipple pebbling, felt her body's natural heat warming. That heat mixed with the cold, making the poor girl moan all the more.

And his mouth! God, he proved just as talented at working her breasts as he had everywhere else. The one tingled and surged so much that Ariana thought it might shoot off her chest into the air. Blood surged, pounding into the nipple, drawing it painfully, ever so painfully tight, making it an easy target for a ringing tongue and gracing teeth. Every sensation worked more heat into her, heat that pooled between her loins, where it worked to melt the cube collection that lay between her legs.

Then the other breast. Ariana swore he could take a whole breast in his mouth, teasing and playing with her nipple with expert skill. The one he'd left ached, the fabric dragging along. Oh God, the fabric. Each swirl of the tongue drew the fabric over her tender flesh, forcing more stimulation. That same fabric held the moisture: first the frozen cold, then a wet, damp heat that came from his mouth. Ariana found herself leaning back, her hands going to support herself, her head lolling behind her. A suck, and Ariana groaned. She felt her thighs spreading of their own volition, the ice shifting down her legs, cold meeting hot.

"Ahhh," came out of her lips, her head lolling to the side, her eyes forcing to look at him, disbelief and lust intermingled in her orbs, practically demanding an explanation while at the same time yielding so completely.
 
Manuel could feel her legs spreading on the counter, and he slid his hand between those slender thighs, finding the heat between them. The motion was causing the ice cubes to spill but he managed to grab one off the counter. Almost cruelly, he slid it towards her pussy, the frozen surface just barely kissing the clammy skin of her sex. He even lifted his mouth from her breast for a moment to watch her reaction: he was overjoyed her wearing that yearning, pitiful look of submission mixed with lust, and he nodded keenly.

“No, I think we both know you are a cocktease, Ariana.” His voice was hushed but clear as he worked the ice cube between her legs deeper into the embrace of her tight pussy, feeling the radiating heat causing baubles of melt water to spill down his hand. “I bet you tease your boyfriend's friends, too, your girlfriends' boyfriends? Such a tease for them, I am sure. Maybe there is even one you like, one you think maybe has a cock a little bigger than your boyfriend, and you make sure you tease him all the more?”

He nodded knowingly, as though imparting some form of expert diagnosis. “Your clothes are all wet, kitty, wet and ruined. You need some new clothes, don't you? So what I think is: you call one of the boys you are teasing, not your boyfriend, but someone, eh, a little bigger down there, no little shrimp-dicks for kitty, huh? You tell him to come here, to bring a sexy outfit for you to wear. And you can show him you're not such a tease anymore.”

Pressing forward, his face loomed into hers, a slow smile spreading across it. “That's what I want you to do, kitty, and that's what you're going to do. Now – say, 'yes, Daddy'.” As the sinful words broke, his finger pushed the ice cube all the way inside her, his finger tip holding it there so the cold would torment her until she complied.
 
Words came again: tease, cocktease, the ice moving down her hot thighs. Ariana moaned as she felt her heated flesh melt it, the cool sinking in to her. It moved closer and closer, and she shook her head, suddenly almost afraid. Sure enough, the ice pressed against her hot lips. Ariana let out a little squeal, tried to squirm away, though with Manuel's hands there, it proved to be quite useless, just making her squirm on the counter.

"I don't!" she tried to protest, the words sounding sad even to her ears. She felt the cube enter her sex and she let out a sharp gasp. Wet, ruined, call... cal someone? Call a boy she'd been teasing? Who had she even been teasing? And ask him to... to bring an outfit. No doubt she'd have to change in front of him but... but what did he mean by not being a tease... did she...

Oh God, the cube was inside her now. The painful cold was an immediately shock to her system. Ariana let out a squeal, her head going from side to side in a hurry. She'd do anything, say anything to get that out of her. She whimpered and looked up at him. "Yes Daddy," she whimpered, her hips rolling to try and escape the cold that started to leak down her thighs. "Yes Daddy, I'll do what you want, but... but I don't know who to call and--and even if I did I---the outfit I--- please just take the cold away," she practically whimpered the last, squirming. That cold seeped everywhere but, well, she couldn't help but find it... well, arousing as well. Maybe it was his demeanor? Possibly? she didn't know, didn't understand. She just wanted the ice out of her increasingly pained sex.
 
Manuel pressed his finger, keeping the ice cube in place. Watching her squirm was fun, but he believed her: the feeling had to be unbearable, and she was clearly too panicked to think straight. So, much as he relished the thought of his suggestion, a different kind of plan formed in his mind, and he slowly acquiesced. Prying the ice cube from her, he knocked it to the side, and bent down at the hip, burrowing his face between her legs and giving what felt like an icy cold opening a long, warming lick. The taste of the cool water was still on his tongue as he rose.

“That's OK then, kitty, you don't have to do it, it's OK,” he whispered, leaning in to peck a kiss on her cheek. Stroking the back of his hand across the skin, he smiled soothingly. “Shhhh, Daddy's here.”

He continued stroking until he felt she'd calmed down a little. Then he plucked another ice cube. He didn't even do anything with it: but he knew that simply holding it posed the threat of more teasing, more torment, in a way he hoped would have an immediate hold on her. Leaning in closer to her, the sense of looming danger growing, his soft smile leered into more of a smirk.

“We'll just call one of my friends instead!”
 
The cube left Ariana and she let out a very pathetic, girlish whimper. Her sex felt immediately better, though she had the urge to start rubbing it. Just barely had that urge arisen, however, when a tongue instead touched her. Ariana let out a little gasp, her hips rising to meet it. Heat surged immediately to her folds, that tongue bringing forth not only the physical reaction but her memories of what it could do. She had to fight back another whimper, feeling well and truly pathetic.

More words, then a peck on the cheek, even a promise not to do it. Ariana let out a sigh at that. The stroking helped calm her, though she wished she could get out of the outfit. She still felt cold, too cold, and clammy, which made her feel all kinds of unpleasant. Her outfit stuck to her like a wet rag, outlining her and seeping the chill into her. Her pussy still ached a little, though it warmed more with each passing second. Only her nipples felt at all comfortable, and both of them tingled so much that Ariana seriously considered playing with herself.

Then a cube, and Ariana froze, her eyes locking on it. She'd promised! She meant it, though she still didn't have the faintest clue who to call. She'd get on her phone and start dialing boys at random if that was what it took. He leaned forward and Ariana's pretty eyes widened with fear. Then the words, and she let out a soft "What?" one of... another... she could barely handle Manuel and... oh God, the thought both terrified and excited her. Well, maybe he'd just bring in someone he owed a favor to, get a quick blowjob and be gone.

Ariana couldn't even convince herself of that one.
 
Snarling, Manuel was on her wolf. One hand pinning her hip down so she couldn't squirm away, the other thrusting the ice cube between her thighs, pressing it against the very crest of her sensitive mound. He wasn't slapping her or spanking her or choking her, but what he was doing was likely more painful, more humiliating, than any of those. His face glowered directly in hers as he showed his displeasure.

“No, you don't say 'what?', you say 'yes, Daddy',” he intoned severely, as he pressed the ice cube hard against her, rubbing it in a small circular motion to heighten the intensity. He told himself he didn't want to discipline her like this: but as their relationship took on a new dynamic, it was important that he reminded her of where the power really lay. In his moments of anger, his French accent got even thicker. “We will be calling my friend, and I do not want you embarrassing me in front of him! So no more acting like a little brat, no more 'what?', just good little kitty, just 'yes, Daddy'.”

Only once he was sure the message had been hammered home did he relent, tossing aside the ice cube to allow her skin to breathe and wiping his hands off. He grabbed her by the ponytail and pulled her down off the sideboard, dragging her to her knees. “Hands behind back, looking up, good kitty. Stay like that. Stay.”

He made for the bedroom, where he retrieved his phone and, after some searching, hers too, returning with both of them in hand. In his, he'd looked up his friend, James, who he thought would be perfect for this. He checked that Ariana was still on the floor, patted her head, offered her a little, “Good girl,” and hit Call.
 
Manuel snarled, he glowered, and Ariana grew frightened... and aroused. She wasn't even sure where the second sensation came from: her mind told her to panic, to cower before him, to whimper and plead and possibly grovel. Yet some section of her reacted, remembered this as the man who so easily took her, could work such pleasures. Plus, the commanding tone, the repeated label... it all made Ariana feel, well, like she should obey.

Then the cube. Ariana whimpered and shook her head as she felt it. Her sex had just been warming up, getting back to normal, but now it instantly dropped. She couldn't stop herself from whimpering and actually felt tears starting to rise. "No more what," she promised, squirming again, "I promise Daddy," she practically pleaded, her glittery lips pouting out as she fought to beg. She'd used those big eyes on her real father, and they did seem to work on Manuel from time to time. Yet she felt that their relationship had already started to shift, and she couldn't help but feel nervously excited about the prospect.

Down on the knees, dragged, though Ariana quickly moved. A few ice cubs fell clattering on the floor, mostly shards thanks to Ariana's heat. Soon her knees hit the ground as well. Without thinking, her hands went behind her back, her head snapped up, her eyes going to Manuel. "Yes, Daddy," she practically whimpered, squirming a bit. She forced her hands to lock as best they could, figuring that would help.

Then Ariana sat. She sat and waited, wondering. Should she get up? Move? She didn't want more ice on her sex or... or something worse. Though Ariana's brain struggled to come up with anything worse then... then that. Still, if anyone could come up with something...

He came back; Ariana was still there. She let out a sigh, then looked, seeing her girly phone and his much, much more professional one. And she whimpered again.
 
Manuel and James had worked together before on numerous shoots. They respected each other professionally, and were friends off-set, too: and both had a taste for the kind of depravity that would really work in a situation like this. Hearing the American actor answer, Manuel quickly explained his situation:

“Are you free? I have something you might enjoy, only I need some help: maybe you can drop by the studio on your way here?”

The predictable questions came next. Bending to one knee so he was level with Ariana, he handed over the phone. “Tell him you're a messy little kitty who's got her clothes all wet and needs some new ones so she can look pretty for her Daddy,” he whispered. “Tell him exactly that, and if he asks you anything else, you're to treat it exactly like it's me asking you, understand?”

With that task underway, he grabbed her phone off the counter, and began looking through until he found her manager again. He grinned to himself.
 
Ariana watched Manuel call, wondering who his friend was. She knew nothing of the man's social circle, or even who he regularly shot with. She'd only done that preliminary search, and now she was most definitely convinced that she should have found a tamer client. Then again, she might not have gotten to have her virginity taken in an absolutely raw, powerful manner.

Questions came, and Ariana looked, wondering. Then Manuel came down, handing over the phone. Ariana hesitated only a moment before taking it. She said nothing until he spoke, then swallowed, knowing a line read when she heard one. Ariana took a deep breath and smiled. "I'm a messy little kitty who got my clothes all wet and I need new ones so I can look pretty for Daddy," she intoned with a chipper manner and a smile. Some part of her winced, almost died inside, another part wanted to giggle, and a small, wicked part felt just a rush of pleasure.

Though her eyes went to Manuel, wondering what he was doing, seeming to have found her phone. was he looking for boys to call or something? Or maybe one of her friends...? Ariana wished she at least knew how Manuel thought; every time she thought she did he surprised her.
 
He took the phone back from her and finished up the call, confirming the details of the address. That had been easy: he wondered, though, whether the ditzy little teen whore kneeling obediently on the floor for him realized that one of the roughest actors in all of porn was on his way here to make her thankful that Manuel had been so easy on her. If anything would make her pine for her Daddy, surely seeing just how crazy things could get with someone like James at the helm would.

But if she thought their relationship had changed because of one phone call, the second would really confirm it. Kneeling, he explained the situation. “We're going to call your manager. I'm going to do most of the talking, but so that he understands, I want you to explain first that he should listen to me, and do whatever I say.”

He hit Call, and handed her the phone that was about to change her life.
 
Ariana handed over the phone, nearly sighing with relief. At least she'd managed to handle that without making any mistakes. She plucked at the negligee for a moment while she still figured she still could before moving her hands back behind her. Her dark eyes kept following Manuel, wondering what it was that he had planned. He'd called her manager for some reason, which struck her as slightly odd, considering that he'd called him earlier.

Still, Ariana nodded. Then she took the phone. "Hi, it's me," said Ariana, nodding and letting the tail bob. "I'm going to be putting Manuel on the line soon, and you should listen to him and do whatever he says."

Ariana nodded, then handed the phone up to Manuel. She hadn't thought or hesitated for a moment. After all, what could he possibly do at this point?
 
“Hello – yes, me again,” said Manuel, taking the phone and patting Ariana on the head as acknowledgement of having done her part. “I was wondering whether you could tell me her schedule for next weekend.”

He listened to the dull recitation, repeating them: “Date with her boyfriend, dinner with her father, live appearance, meeting with some fans, interview for a magazine. Uh huh, no, I understand. Cancel them. Cancel all of them. No, really, this is what Ariana wants. Instead, book a suite at – I don't know, whichever hotel you guys use. Yeah, that one will be fine. Listen, just do it, OK? I don't care about that – book the room, cancel everything else, and any other appointments she has. Yes, all weekend, that's right: Friday to Monday.”

Letting those words sink in, he shot Ariana a grin. “Hang on, before I go: I just thought. Don't cancel the interview. But have the reporter come to the hotel room. Oh, whatever time's good for them.”

He knew that for a pop starlet, image was everything. Skipping a date with her boyfriend was no big deal, but blowing off fans? It was the sort of thing that could damage her career. He also knew that he didn't care. He'd just made himself a much more important appointment with her. He ended the call and tossed her phone to the counter.

“There, that wasn't hard, was it?”
 
Ariana blinked as Manuel talked about her schedule for next weekend. She seemed to vaguely recall a few things, including a planned dinner with her father and... wasn't she due to sing at an opening or something? Sure enough, several things were listed. Ariana nearly blushed at the mention of a date with her boyfriend: She'd actually cleared quite a bit for that already. In fact, the idea had been to show him this video and then, well, then actually lose her virginity.

Oops.

All canceled. Ariana's eyes went wide, those pretty, glittery lips parting in shock. A whole weekend? And in a suite? Sure, she could afford it. She could technically afford to take several years off without damaging anything, possibly longer if she still did a few things here and there. But, well, the whole weekend? What was Manuel doing?

He had to be planning something... a whole weekend of... of this? At a hotel? The idea burned within her. She could feel it nestling near her loins, prodding her, suggesting how that could be. it also frightened her. They'd only gone a few times now, just this afternoon and, well, she already felt exhausted and wasn't more planned? What would it be like for a whole weekend...?

Not like she could argue though... wait, still the interview? Her eyes went wide. She could probably pay off a reporter from getting things too revealing; wouldn't be the first time. Still, she couldn't say anything. She knew her people would spin it.

Wasn't hard. Ariana shook her head and swallowed. "No, it wasn't. Um," she fidgeted, "could I please have a drink of water? To, um, actually drink. I'm really thirsty, and, please... Daddy?" maybe that little addition and the look. Ariana just knew that she really, really didn't want to end up passing out from dehydration. The little beer would help some, but not enough. In fact, part of her wanted to ask if there was a power bar she could munch on as well, but she didn't want to push it.

She might, however, make sure the hotel had such things in stock.
 
Manuel smiled sympathetically. She had been through a lot, and she was about to go through a lot more. Besides, she'd been very polite: there was something undeniably powerful about having a girl of her power and status meekly yield up a 'please, Daddy' to him. He helped her stand up, surveying her dishevelled state, sticky, plastered top, and tired eyes. They hadn't washed after their oily anal bout, either. He decided he could afford a little generosity without ultimately weakening any of his position over her.

“You can have some water because you asked the right way,” he explained. “And I think you'd better clean up, too. You can take your water to the bathroom, and wash yourself off. Get rid of that wet top. James will be here soon with some fresh clothes for you, and you want to be nice and clean so you can thank him properly and show what a good kitty you are, don't you?”

He gave her a playful swat on the ass. “Now, scoot along kitty. Daddy has some calls to make to a couple of people he's going to want you to meet next weekend.”
 
A hand helped her up, and Ariana wobbled as she got fully upright. She couldn't help it: she just felt so lightheaded, so dizzy, so confused. The fucking and the calling and the ice cubes, it had all made her quite befuddled. Manuel looked down at her; she looked up at him. Then she sighed with audible relief as he gave her permission.

Before she could offer her thanks, she got another order, one that sounded quite agreeable: get out of the clothes, get cleaned up, ready. She nodded as he finished, more then pleased to follow those orders. For the first time in a while, everything Manuel wanted lined up perfectly with everything Ariana desired. Then came a little swat, which had her letting out a coo.

"Thank you, Daddy," she said, figuring that the little addition would help. Then she hurried, not wanting him to change his mind. Ariana forced her sluggish body to a near sprint, heading to the fridge. To her relief, an actual bottle of water stood in there, though she wondered why Manuel hadn't grabbed that before the ice immediately coming to mind. She grabbed it and hurried back to the bedroom.

Ariana had cracked the bottle as she went, taking a deep swig of it, swallowing greedily. She washed her mouth out with a swig as well, spitting it into the sink. The second she'd finished that, off came the negligee, peeled from her skin. Ariana purposefully tossed it into the tub, desperate to get the wet away from her. Then she very quickly located more of her makeup removers. She got them ready, cleaning and getting everything together to rub herself down. Extra attention went to her sex and ass, which had both started to restore. Ariana actually covered her pussy for several long seconds, sighing with relief as the heat started moving.

Then she tossed those, moving to once again adjust her makeup, which took significantly less time this time around, and redo her hair. Then she ran her hands along her body, nodding. Save for some redness and widening, she looked nearly as good as new. Then, however, Ariana looked around, realizing that all the outfits had been gone. Her first outfit, the dress, lay there, which would be preferable to redressing in the soaked one, but something told her that wouldn't do. She looked back the mirror, seeing herself there. She felt more womanly, though she supposed she had the same, lithe teenager's body as before. Perfect curves brought on by hours of dance, a taut little tummy, the perky breasts that might have been small but were perfectly shaped. She took a deep breath, nodded, and exited, looking for Manuel.

"Um, Daddy?" she asked, figuring she should stick with that label for now. "What did you, uh, want me to wear?" though it had been so long since she'd gone in there, that for all Ariana knew, it wouldn't just be her "daddy" she addressed...
 
Indeed, it was not. Once he'd made his calls, he'd grabbed a quick shower and emerged to find James ringing to say he'd arrived. The two were lounging in the living room swigging beers when that picture of teenage beauty drifted in like some kind of vision from a dream. James's eyes widened: a small part of him had thought that his friend was bullshitting when he'd said who it was he'd been banging, or at least that the girl had lied. But this really was Ariana Grande, in the flesh – literally. Manuel, who was wearing a robe he'd found somewhere in the house, loosely cinched at the waist, could not have scripted her arrival more perfectly.

Setting down his beer, he picked up the bag James had brought, and walked it over to her. “Here are some clothes James brought for you, kitty,” he explained. “This is James. Isn't that nice of him, to bring you some clothes all the way from over the other side of the city? Are you going to say thank you to him?”

Placing a hand at the small of her back, feeling the soft, bare, warm skin, he guided her steadily towards the seated newcomer. Lowering his mouth to her ear, he whispered: “I think it would be nice to invite him to stay so you could show him how you looked in those clothes, don't you?”
 
Someone else was there. Ariana didn't recognize him, though she did acknowledge that he looked closer to her age and, well, relatively cute for all that. In fact, James looked almost like the kind of boy that Ariana might consider asking out on a date, though she doubted that he'd be the kind she'd want to take home to her mother.

Manuel's words shocked Ariana out of her stupor, and she realized that she was, in fact, standing there naked before him. She smiled regardless, her hands moving along her body, seeming to want to cover up but fearing what should happen to her if she did. Manuel walked over, and Ariana took the bag he offered. Her mouth opened for the thanks, but already she heard the whisper, felt the hand on her back.

"Thank you for bringing me clothes, James," she said, smiling at him. "Would you like to stay so I can show you how I look? I'm sure I'll look very pretty," though she didn't even know what kind of clothes he'd brought. Ariana resisted the urge to look in the bag. Knowing Manuel as little as she did, she half expected him to have invited another porn star, and hadn't he said something about "swinging by the studio?" Ariana could feel her heart fluttering, excitement and nerves warring within once more.
 
James didn't need to look at Manuel to confirm his role in this. Rising to his feet, he approached the naked starlet. He was not a tall man, but given her petite stature and barefoot status, he easily loomed over her. Leaning close, he nodded, keeping the affectation of a stern, cold visage. He seized her by the throat, and pushed her back until she slid up against the wall, lifting his hand to tilt her head back until he was pressing his thumb into the underside of her chin.

His voice hissed with menace. “Your Daddy told me you were a good little kitty, but all I see is a spoilt little brat. Don't make me regret coming here, little one. I don't like having my time wasted.” He emphasised his threat by seizing her bare nipple and squeezing down on it, not an outright pinch, but definitely hard enough of a pluck for her to feel it very clearly. Once that had registered, he practically shoved her away by her throat.

Manuel smirked at the little display. She could barely handle him alone: how was she possibly going to cope with two of them treating her like this. “Meet us in the upstairs bedroom when you're dressed, kitty, and don't take long now, or we'll have to come looking for you.”
 
Ariana kept her smile as the man approached, though she felt a creeping sensation of fear running down the length of her spine. She looked up at him, fighting the urge to tremble. Then his hand shot out and Ariana let out a yelp. Before she could fully process things, her bare back hit a wall, driving the breath from her. Then another hand came up, tilting her pretty face up to look at him. Ariana's eyes had gone wide, shock covering the slight pain of being manhandled like this.

She wanted to whine, to insist that she was, in fact, a good little kitty, especially if that got the man to back up. Before Ariana could form words, a hand went to a nipple. She let out a little squeal as he held it, making her feel the tingle. Then she nearly fell over as he stopped, though her eyes went to Manuel. Two? Two like this? If anything, James seemed almost rougher then Manuel, which Ariana hadn't even thought possible. The command came, and Ariana nodded.

"Yes, Daddy," she said, before taking advantage of the time to hurry off. She practically threw the bag into the room, rummaging around. Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open as she sorted through. The outfit was scandalous to say the least. Clearly designed to mimic the cat theme, which meant that they'd had that around, it straddled the line between adorable and risque. Ariana spent several seconds goggling and sorting through, not believing all the piece. There was just no way she could get into this in a hurry, not without help.

It even had a tail! Ariana turned it around and saw the tail attached to the frilly skirt. All done in black, looking surprisingly real. The frilly pink looked ever so flirty, and Ariana noted that if she bent, it would most definitely show everything. A wispy thong came with it, one that made what she'd worn originally look daring. No top, of course, not with that.

No more time to goggle. Ariana hurried. She stepped into the main dress, pulling it up till the skirt flared around her, the lace ruffles showing. The interwoven pink ribbons criss-crossing the black helped cinch her shapely form even further. A light black top went over her shoulders, though she almost wondered about that. Next, Ariana slid the stocking, black except for pink bows, up to just above the knee, leaving an expanse of tanned thigh between pink bow and pink frill. Next came the strange, fingerless gloves, which she adjusted to as best she could. Finally, another set of cat ears atop her head. No, not finally. Ariana swallowed as she stared at the collar, feeling as though it was loaded. She held it with trembling hands and fumbled as she got it around her neck. Then she spared a look at herself: she looked hot, like a teenage wet dream poured into a fantasy costume.

Swallowing, Ariana hurried up the stairs, her stocking feet barely making noise. She looked around, quickly finding the bedroom and approaching cautiously. She hoped she hadn't taken too long, though something told her that things weren't going to go well for her regardless.
 
James and Manuel were waiting for her in the main bedroom. James was leaning against the end of the large double bed, his shirt and shoes removed to leave him bare-chested in his jeans; Manuel had brought his bag up and was sorting its contents out on the desk, still dressed only in the robe he'd found. The air was heavy with anticipation, a hint of menace lying in the electric tension that crackled as their little plaything arrived. James looked up with a smirk, ogling the sexy teen starlet; Manuel turned to approach her, gathering her up in his arms and pulling her tight against him. James pushed off the bed and stalked up, facing her, closing in until she was practically sandwiched between the two.

Not a word passed between them yet. They were simply examining their prize, like sorting through joints of meat at a butcher's shop. Manuel's left hand gripped her skinny arm, pinning it hard behind her back, his right stroking up her flank, past her shoulder, to her neck, where he drew his finger slowly across the line of the little black collar around her throat. James's hands were equally busy, one taking a small breast through the material of the tight black top, feeling out its shape with a light squeeze, the other prying her thighs apart, feeling the warm, bare skin atop the stockings, sliding up until his finger was grazing against her skin.

The wordless examination continued. Manuel's hand seized a buttock, squeezing hard, while he took a grip of her throat until her pulse vibrated against his thumb; James now had both hands on her breasts, groping, feeling, rolling his thumbs over the impressions of nipples. Their bodies were pressing forward, crushing her petite frame between them, the distinct shape of two very large bulges poking at from front and back. Soon their hands were moving so fast, so free, it was impossible to tell which pinch, grope, squeeze, slap, prod, grasp belonged to which lecherous beast.

They built to a humiliating crescendo, whereupon Ariana was suddenly shoved roughly to the floor. A hand grabbed her ponytail and yanked her up, but another levelled a crisp strike across her cheeks. “Up, kitty,” a voice growled, yet another hand shoved her back to the floor. A yank, a slap, a shove. They wanted her to blush, to squirm, to cry. A really hard yank dragged her all the way to her feet, an ever harder shove knocked her back down, a cruel spank following her on the way down. They wanted to break her – and then having a lot of fun enjoying the pieces.
 
No words, none. The two men just silently approached Ariana. She found herself fidgeting nervously, at least at first, wondering if she'd been too slow, not said the right thing, stood wrong, something. Both men, larger then her, came up to her, each standing on a side. Ariana gasped as she felt Manuel draw her into his arms, practically crushing her. James came up from the other side, and soon Ariana found herself the meat in a sexy sandwich.

Hands trailed, new ones this time, causing Ariana to squirm. Her legs fidgeted, her arms slid about, her lips parted to let out little noises. They may be able to be silent, but not her, not Ariana. Those hands moved. Ariana gasped as her arm drew behind, pinned almost painfully. Another drew up her side, making her tremble. The trembling increased as those hands drew along her neck. The collar; he had to like the collar. More hands, still moving, feeling out her perky breasts, squeezing and taunting, then insistent hands, parting her thighs. Ariana could feel those hands moving, dragging up her sensitive thighs, causing her to shiver and shake. The fingers slid up stocking, then up flesh, drawing little goosebumps as they went. Why weren't they saying anything?

"Why aren't you talking?" came out before Ariana could stop. The men kept going, a grip on her throat, another on her per ass, squeezing the bared flesh. Ariana squirmed, feeling a shot of arousal shoot into her loins. Hands on breasts, twin nipples jutting out like eager peaks, ready for inspection. Bodies pressed, Ariana losing room. Twin bulges on either side. Hands, never ending, always moving, circling her body. The girl could not hold still. She squirmed, she danced in place, almost looking like a little girl that needed to use the restroom but was too afraid to ask the mean adult. Except little girls did not grow aroused. Their nipples did not stick out like bullets, easy to find even in padded clothing. Their pulse didn't race as they were stroked. Heat and tension most certainly didn't arise in their little loins. Their cute little pussies did not start to throb.

Then Ariana gasped as her body dropped, hitting the floor hard. "Ow!" came out, again before she could stop. She actually moved to stand, only to find her pony pulled. Ariana whimpered on the way up, the "what did I do?" coming to her lips. Another blow, and Ariana nearly spun to the ground. Her balance left her with a shove, and she landed. Her heated body sent mixed signals, blood again racing throughout her. Pain swept up arousal, carrying the two like drugs throughout her system, poisoning her reasoning. Another yank, a push, a shove, and Ariana whimpered and cried out, begging to know what was going on. Then a yank, all the way to her feet. Tears started to form then, the girl openly blubbering. This was not good. The pain was starting to beat out the arousal, too powerful, too strong. A sharp crack on her ass, red blossoming on tan.

"Stop, please!" she begged, turning her teary face to Manuel. "Daddy, I don't know what I did wrong! Please!" she danced then, practically stomping her feet. Somehow, escaping or saying stop didn't occur to her. Perhaps she subconsciously realized what was likely to follow. Certainly she didn't enjoy the treatment. But perhaps, just perhaps, some part of her realized this was all part of the game she'd entered now.
 
Seeing the young woman hopping on her stockinged feet, tears in her eyes, a whine entering her trembling voice, should have brought heartfelt pity; instead, it brought only arousal to the bestial aggressors bearing down on her. James was practically ripping his jeans off, hardening cock springing out; Manuel had shrugged off his robe. So although both softened their approach – the slaps ceased, the scowls faded away – they cut no less an intimidating a sight as they bore down on her, backing her towards the wall.

James grabbed hold of her wrist and dragged her towards him. He yanked her ponytail back so he could lean down and whisper right into her face. “I was told you were a dumb, docile, empty-headed little kittybrat who was only good for sucking cock,” he hissed angrily, “But instead you kept us waiting while you got changed, and when you arrived, you didn't even get down on your knees where you belong.” Then he shoved her away in disgust, sending her reeling towards Manuel, who snatched her up.

“I'm sorry, babygirl, but Daddy's friend gets angry when his little kitty-slut isn't a good girl,” he whispered sternly into her ear as he pawed at her body, groping clumsily at her breasts in his maddened lust. “So I think you'd better start behaving, or else Daddy and his friend will have to punish you.” It was a weird sort of good cop/bad cop routine, although the line between good and bad was pretty thin at this stage.
 
Clothing came off the men, cocks springing forth. Ariana only caught a glimpse of James' before he moved, grabbing her wrists, pulling her close. Another yelp left her lips as he pulled her ponytail back, the tears again rolling down her prettily made face. Words hissed into her ear and Ariana whimpered on their arrival, squirming and dancing in place yet again. Didn't get on her knees: how was she supposed to know to do that?

A shove, and Ariana lost her balanced, practically tumbling into Manuel. He scooped her up, the hands coming to work at her. Her heaving breasts once more found themselves the target of attention, and she found her chest heaving. Already her breasts felt tight, almost as if they would burst free from the tight prison of the top. Start behaving, commanded Manuel. But how?

"Yes, Daddy," whimpered Ariana. Not knowing what else to do she tried sinking down to her knees. That had been what James had suggested, and she supposed that they probably wanted her to start sucking them off or... wait, how was she even going to manage that? She'd barely dealt with Manuel, and now she had a second cock to tend to? She only had one mouth. Still, she sank to her knees, hoping that would be enough, but somehow thinking that it certainly wouldn't.
 
She was rewarded for her submission with a pat on the head from Manuel, but James was in a much rougher mood. Yanking on her ponytail, he pulled her face towards him, as he took a firm grip on his cock and waved it in her face. The hard, thick rod slap-slapped against her cheeks and lips as he almost angrily tried to stuff it into her mouth. If she moved too slowly, a sharp slap on her cheek or tug on her tight ponytail served as a kind of brutish correction. Yet Manuel's hand stayed on her head, stroking softly. It was a particularly unfair form of emotional push-and-pull, the younger man snarling at her that she was a dumb whore, the older man calling her a good kitty in soothing tones.

The two had planned their attack a little, but they also had a wealth of experience of shooting these kinds of scenes – admittedly with much better prepared partners than poor Ariana – to fall back on, meaning that they fell into a quick rhythm. They were crowding her, their two bodies oppressively surrounding the kneeling young woman, Manuel's huge cock intruding on her face, slapping against her cheek even as James demanded the attention of her mouth. There was a hand in her hair, yanking, and a hand in her hair, stroking. It was all quite deliberately overwhelming.
 
The event had barely started and already Ariana found herself overwhelmed. A cock pressed against her glittery lips and her newly developed reflexes just barely saved her from possibly bruising. Soon those glittery pinks had wrapped about the thick shaft, sucking mightily upon them. Ariana's cheeks felt a little raw from the slapping, and now they moved to match. Though she couldn't do much: the pulling on her tail served to continually shove her pretty face down into the cock.

All the while, Manuel stroked her, confusing the easily confused girl. Her head had been spinning for so long that she nearly felt dizzy, and it didn't help now. Dumb whore... good kitty... dumb whore... good kitty... dumb kitty... good whore... it all mixed in her brain as they assaulted her flesh. Her teeth couldn't help but graze against James' cock as it thrust within her, a tired jaw just barely parting. Moisture already started to leak, bits of saliva flying out from time to time. The usual squeals and moans had turned mostly into a series of half-choked "glugs" witch each bob of her head.

Another cock slapped her cheek. Ariana felt it each time, just as she felt the hands working her hair: some stroking, some pulling. Her head felt tight, dizzy. She struggled to swallow and take more cock, though she gave up moving her head on her own: she did not want to fight against James' insistent movements. The girl barely managed to relax enough to let him terrorize her throat. One of her delicate hands went up to touch Manuel's dick, figuring that he probably wanted attention.

The slender fingers just managed to barely wrap around the length. Ariana gave it a few experimental tugs, not certain if this was what she should do. Water flowing in her eyes made accuracy difficult, but she could still work the shaft to some degree. She needed her other hand to help keep balance, her dizziness making falling over a very real threat. Yet she worked, worked to loosen her jaw, worked to stroke the cock, worked to be a good whore and a dumb kitty...
 
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