Faith felt no sensation in her artificial penis, for it lacked nerves and could feel nothing. She felt deprived. In playing the male, she'd like to feel what a man felt, not merely a simulation or a facsimile of what he felt. She wanted to feel the actual feelings themselves. Instead, her cock-that-wasn't-a-cock, although it poked and slid and, eventually, would pierce and slide, fucking like a real prick, it would remain what it was-a mere dildo, unable to join, to feel, to overcome the gulf that she forever felt between herself and others. In the final analysis, the strap-on dildo was artificial, not actual, and it kept her apart from Xander rather than uniting her with him.

On the other hand, precisely because the dildo maintained, rather than dissolved, the estrangement that Faith felt between herself and others, between herself and even a young man she was going to fuck-in a moment, would be fucking-in the ass, it was sexy. Its inability to truly unite her with Xander-or with whoever she was fucking-was exciting. It was arousing. Already, her cunt was liquid with passion. The dildo's inability to feel or to join reminded Faith that it was merely a thing, an instrument, a tool and that, as such, it gave her only the semblance of power. In the final analysis, she remained as impotent in overcoming the separation between herself and others as she was as a woman or as a Slayer. Power could never overcome the gulf that yawned between one person and another.

Some claimed that love could do so. If love could accomplish such a feat, that would be a miracle. But faith had never known such love. She'd never known love at all until it had been too late for her to believe in it, to embrace it, to accept it. All she'd ever known was power, the ability to dominate and to control. Power, though, was, at best, a mere substitute for love, and, worse yet, power was something that destroyed but could not create, something that could bring pain but not pleasure, or that could cause death but not life.

The tiny opening into Xander's innermost depths would open to admit her. She would shove the purple phallus through his anus, past his sphincter, and into his bowels, and she would fuck him fast and hard and long. She would possess him, master him, stealing his self-respect and what was left of his manhood, reducing him to tears. In lieu of love, that had to be enough.

Faith wiggled her hips, and the end of the eternally hard, nine-inch dildo settled into the tiny depression of Xander's anus. She eased her hips forward, and, this time, the artificial prick did not slide away from its target. It slid home, stretching the circle of Xander's anus wider than Faith would have believed possible, and she watched its thick length slide through the sphincter, vanishing between-and into-Xander's impaled buttocks.

Instinctively, Xander tried to lunge forward, but he had little room, and Faith followed his lead, plunging the phallus even further into his skewered ass. He moaned, surrendering. His muscles went limp, and Faith heard him whimpering. He'd made up his mind to be her bitch. He'd submitted. His soft sobs told her of the anguish in his mind and the torment of his soul at being unmanned by her, a woman he knew was stronger and more agile, had greater staying power, and could move faster and more precisely than he could ever hope to be or to perform.

His moans were music to her ears, and Faith smiled as she drew back her hips, watching the dildo emerge through his speared asshole, becoming visible, inch by slow inch, as she withdrew it, slowly, between his buttocks. "Bitch!" she cried, triumph and derision equally present in her tone.

The dildo quavered, its pink glans still inside the circle of Xander's wide-stretched anus. His cock and balls hung, limp and soft, between his legs. Faith reached around him, cupping his genitals in her hand. She gave them a hard squeeze. "You'll get hard," she predicted. "Before I'm through with you, you'll be stiff with desire, slut!"

The dildo's head still inside Xander's asshole, Faith tightened the muscles in her own buttocks, the sinews in her thighs and belly constricting as the Slayer prepared to drive the thick, firm prick back into his buttocks, filling him to the very hilt, until the fake balls at the base of the fake cock pressed firmly against the bottom curves of Xander's ass, flattening his butt-cheeks between the crushing force of her groin.

However, before the Slayer could accomplish her intention, the wall of the motel room, the window in its center, part of the splintered doorframe, and the combination air conditioner-heating unit exploded inwardly, showering the startled couple in bed with glass, wood, and metal debris.

"What the hell?" Faith thundered as she saw the demon-things step through the hole they'd crashed through the side of the room.

Covered in shaggy hides, with bulbous heads amid wavering tentacles; broad shoulders; deep chests; short, but powerful, arms; and thick, squat legs, there were three of them-all with huge erections and balls the size of a punching bag. They were amazingly fast, too. Before Faith could do more than cry out, the fiends were upon her. With a mighty swipe of an arm, the first to arrive at the side of the bed, batted her away from Xander, the end of the dildo popping from his reamed asshole, and, ignoring him altogether, seized Faith by the neck. The others were upon her as well, within an instant, before Xander realized that Faith was no longer in bed with him and her dildo was no longer lodged inside his bottom.

. . . to be continued. . . .

Vote for this story:

Please rate this story:

You need to log in to be able to post a message.