A Bender Gone Wrong, Part 1

Content Warnkng: Watersports, Rape, Abuse, Sexual Torture, Mindbreak


[2016/03/13]Alison McCormack: Alison looked out over the dance floor of the deeply strobe-lit nightclub. There was a VIP section to her left with many incredibly rich Megacorp execs drinking and feeling up women paid more than most people who worked for said executives, there was the previously mentioned dance floor, full of 20somethings and 30somethings partying their hearts out to forget about the dystopia they lived in. There was a 'private area' a bit to the right of the dance floor that held privacy booths full of men fucking women, women flogging men, men doing drugs off other men, you name it. At the doors stood two tall, powerfully-built bouncers, one an orc, the other a particularly buff human. Some rather adorable tiny creatures, probably hand-picked goblin ladies, skittered around on the floor bringing drinks, showing incredible grace and skill for their stature and race. She took a slow, deep draw off her cigarette, the pounding of rain outside her polarized glass window muting the sound two stories below, the noise of her wonderful little hellhole. Glancing around, she saw a buxom young elven woman entering the club, already quite drunk. She didn't need to be God to know that the girl was smashed off her fat tits... it was written all over her wobbly gait, her too-boisterous laughing, and even the way the girl's mouth was moving. Of course... it helped to be God, when you guessed at things.

The purple-haired beauty stepped up to the sheet of one-sided mirrorized plate-glass and looked down at the party. She was glad to give these people the ability to let down their hair. She pulled a scrunchie out of her own, the long purple locks falling from a tight ponytail down into flowing waves. Shaking her head back and forth, her hair tied itself up into a bun, and a pair of chopsticks slid through it, holding said bun in place perfectly. She placed a pair of half-rim spectacles on her nose, as if from nowhere, and spun to look at herself in the mirror. Her attire consisted of a white blouse with light gray stripes going along it, and a pair of black slacks that hugged her hips and ass like it was going out of style. Her crotch was conspicuously flat. This was going to change quite soon, but for now... surprises were fun. Her tongue flicked out of her lips and slid along the pale gates, and as it did so, said lips were painted a soft lavender, a compliment to her hair and eyes. She sighed in pleasure at the visage of herself, decked out in attire that screamed "No nonsense business bitch," and yet still held the elegant charm she craved. Tonight would be fun.

She stepped down into the stairwell that lead from her above-club apartment into the place itself, and pushed open a dark purple door that read "NO ENTRY - NO EXCEPTIONS" in bold neon pink lettering, spattered on almost like blood. She unbuttoned the top 4 buttons of her blouse, revealing in no small way a valley of titflesh to rival the girl she had her sights set on, and she began to slink over. She wasn't surprised to find that the girl was already 3 bottles of booze deep when she arrived, sitting at the far end of the bar. She slid one of her favorite bartenders a couple of high-value Nuyen notes that she was unsure of the value of - She had long ago given up caring about monetary values. She was in this world for the pleasures she had kept out of Heaven, to keep her creations pure. It was several million years later, and for the past... oh, 3000 or so years, she'd been sampling the fruits of her week long labor. And were they ever sweet...

Her eyes trailed over the luscious blonde as she had yet another bottle of some liquor or alcohol of another description brought over, and Alison clicked her tongue. At this little motion, the credit cards in her wallet - all of them stolen from her father - had their funds wiped clean. Not the accounts, simply the link to those cards. Alison, in her mind-diving ways knew that the girl's father had intentionally left them out. The man was, to be quite honest, a pushover. He'd given her the position she had out of love and a desire for affection, and if Alison dared dive a little deeper, perhaps he wanted to breed that little girl some day. But she wasn't interested in the petty desires of men. She was only interested in the petty desires of herself. The girl had come into the wrong bar at the wrong moment, and caught the eye of precisely the opposite person you ever want to do so with, and now she'd have to pay the price. A steep price at that. With those thoughts tingling in her mind, Alison waited and watched as the girl, after another 10 minutes, seemed to be standing, though if it was to leave or simply to do something else, she couldn't be sure.

[2016/03/13]Party Girl Ilyria had been damn near hammered when she walked into the high end club, cruising on borrowed money from Daddy dearest. It didn't take a business genius to recognize the Goldenoak family Heiress, Ilyria had managed to stumble into what would become the most memorable night of her life, simply by rolling around town, drinking, drugging, partying her heart out, as the news so very much loved to report on the day after one of her legendary benders.

Three bottles in, she'd lost track of why she was even here, which meant it was time to pay her tab and skip to the next bar. A clutch that must have been something top of the line and high fashion emerged from beneath her ultra mini dress, the beautiful blonde producing from it one of nearly five cards, passing it to the bartender, utterly unaware of Alison's intervention. Naturally, she was stunned when the barman passed the card back. Golden eyes, bright as the sun, shot open, shock lancing through the drunken haze as she took a single step back, a hand over her perky chest. "W-what? Here, try this one..." She mumbled, cheeks burning as she passed card number two, then three, all of her father's cards, and all of her own declined, leaving her standing, lovely jawline marred by the slackjawed stare she sported, nearly dropping her clutch as she felt numb with shock, mind racing as only a scared drunk's mind could, figuring out improbable escape routes while she fumbled for answers.

[2016/03/13]Alison McCormack stepped up at that moment, coasting perfectly out of her seat and up behind Ilyria, as though she was a ghost, whisping along on some unfelt breeze. She ghosted her fingers along the girl's back, and smiled devilishly at the bartender behind the counter. "It's alright, Randal... I'll handle her." She smiled, and pulled the girl around to her, the stunned woman twisting about in Alison's fingers. She licked her lips and swallowed visibly, intentionally. There was nothing more succulent than watching a rabbit wondering what it's predator was about to do...

Ali sucked on her tongue for a moment before she wrapped an arm cordially around the girl's waist. "Oh, I'm sure you've got the money, right? You must have a few thousand Nuyen right there in your pocket!" She smiled happily, obviously knowing that the girl couldn't pay anything. She then tightened her arms for another moment. "Mmn... So then. You're going to have to work out a way to pay your debt to me, aren't you. After all, it would be bad if it was heard that the great Goldenoak clan is... completely broke... wouldn't it~?"

[2016/03/13]Party Girl Ilyria felt herself spun, snapped from her stunned state by the intimidatingly tall, beautiful woman, feeling fingers casually alight upon her bare back. Up close, Ali saw the ink, a lovely little heart shaped tattoo between Ilyria's perky breasts, the elf still wide eyed, sounding scared and unsure. "D-don't tell anyone, please. I know I wasn't maxed out on those, but... But don't let word get out." She pleaded softly, staring upwards with those lovely golden doe eyes of hers. Every squeeze brought the distressed damsel closer to Ali, helpless and fearful of what would become of her if she really had managed to max out all those cards in just one night.

"You can call my father, he'll wire you the money, or, or hold my car, or something, but please don't let word spread." Desperation tinged her voice, plans changing as the poor dear shook like a leaf. Take away her power and privilege, and all that's there is a pretty little treat just waiting to be snapped up. "I'll do anything but don't let word out..."

[2016/03/13]Alison McCormack shook her head slowly as her eyes slid over that lovely tattoo, and on such a nice, massive bed of titflesh...~ She took a soft breath in, and then reached down, letting her fingers slowly begin to trace that buxom heart...~ "Oh... You'll do anything, I do believe that." She then reached down and took Ilyria's hands within one of hers, holding both wrists tight. She pulled the young elf away from the crowded room, and into a privacy booth. They were silent, is why. She wanted to see the look on the girl's face, hear what she might have to say. "You're going to work for me." She waited a beat to hear the girl's reaction to having a new 'job', and then smiled. "No no, darling... Not that kind of work. You're going to work. For me." She nodded and then stroked the girl's cheek. "I've needed someone to fill the position for a long time..." She nodded again, humming lightly. "Have you any inkling what I'm talking about, miss Goldenoak?"

[2016/03/13]Party Girl Ilyria felt fingers upon her tattoo, the gentle, yet undeniably intimate, possessive stroking preceding the poor thing being all but hauled into the private booths. Just like that, all she had was the silence of the room, and the smokey, enticing tones of Ali's voice pressing her into work.

Work. It was an alien word to the beautiful elf, who'd never done a day of it in her life, but it was so delightful to watch her tilt that cute little head aside. Blonde hair spilled off her shoulders, answering the question with a mumbled "No..." Even as she answered, her eyes flicked up and down, nerves fraying rapidly, her tongue circling her lips as she wracked her alcohol soaked brain for some kind of solution, some answer, even a spell that might help the amateur sorceress out of her problem. "What am... Am I going to be doing? I don't really have any... Any work skills."

[2016/03/13]Alison McCormack shook her head again, this time laughing in the way only a much wiser person can. "You... have many skills. You simply never thought that you could use them to keep that pretty little face from getting all..." Bringing a fingernail up to Ilyria's cheek, she brought it across light and soft... And then brought it up in front of the girl's eyes. On it rested a bit of blood. Alison's tongue reached out a bit and licked the crimson droplet, and then pushed it past Ilyria's lips. She'd sampled so many drugs tonight, had so much booze... but Alison was positive this would stick in her brain no matter how destroyed it was. "Of all the girls I have tasted this evening, Ilyria... You are the most rotten." Her eyes were not full of humor. They were deadly serious. "You owe me thousands... And you will pay back your debt." She reached down and gripped a small brown box. Out of it, she drew a pair of well-used leather wrist bindings. She wrapped them around the girl's wrists and tightened them. The elf was now bound almost entirely with just one movement, but Alison wasn't done. She was going to bind the girl up to be a perfectly usable piece of equipment.

She grabbed a pair of bindings almost identical to the first, and then gripped Ilyria by her hair, tossing her onto the 'bed'. She'd be moving her upstairs shortly, but her binding was to be public. Name and face unknown, but she'd serve as an example to the patrons of the bar. She had the girl tightly bound, her wrists and ankles tied together with a rope attached in the middle. Alison had inhuman strength, of course. She lifted the girl up by the rope that she dangled from, and held her up to the window. It was a mirror on the other side, like most of the glass in the bar. "Do you think they can see you...? The notorious Ilyria Goldenoak... Tied up and now her makeup is running, oh dear... You're not crying, are you? Have you figured out what your job here is going to be?"

[2016/03/13]Party Girl Ilyria scarcely had time to process what had happened, feeling warmth that wasn't tears on her cheek, the sight of her own blood bringing forth the very depths of her fear. She was vulnerable. She was a victim... And, though she struggled, her wrists would be bound, ankles following soon after. Heels worth thousands of Nuyen adorned her feet as her mascara ran, ugly, terrified sobs escaping the elf.

"No... No no... You don't have to! My car! My car is worth three hundred thousand at least!" Protested the poor princess, sobbing and hiccuping, radiating fear. She'd been marked, bound, she'd made so many wrong decisions, and here, now, she'd be paying for them. No panties beneath her dress, as was obvious when Ali finished trussing up the tart, carrying her like slutty meat, the whining, pleading, begging positively infuriating to have to listen to.

[2016/03/13]Alison McCormack opened the door, but not before slipping a sack that smelled... well, to be quite honest it smelled like Alison's cock. This was the private booth she used. She licked her lips slowly, and pushed the door open. "People of the Fuck me In~!" What a name for a bar, hm? She held the fuckmeat up, displaying the whimpering, spinning girl. No gag. The need for her voice to stay silent was entirely her own, and if she spoke, it only hurt her. "This is an anonymous fuckpig. A slut at my bar who thought she was going to get away without paying for her drinks. She had a tab of over 5,000 Nuyen alone." She nodded, and spun the girl by a knee to display her quivering slit. "She is mine. My fuckmeat. If I find anyone else's saliva or any fluids, anything on her in my private domain, you can bet you will look much worse than she will..." She nodded, and then began to look around slowly. "Know this. I do not tolerate theft. And drinking my booze, on my property, then trying to skip town? Unacceptable." She brought up a riding crop that Ilyria couldn't have seen her grab due to the sack, and she slapped the girl's pussy with it. It wouldn't be used very often, though Ali did want to see just how the little rich cunt reacted to this~. A public pussy spanking.

[2016/03/13]Party Girl Ilyria probably wouldn't have screamed so loud were she not terrified. Instead, she heard snickers, laughs, people calling her slut and fuckmeat. Her sobbing grew louder, but before she could even protest, the crop struck! Pain, pure, hot, humiliating, blinding pain from a superhumanly strong strike directly on her poor pink pussy made her violently shake, the pain too much for the pampered, spoiled socialite slut to bear! Howling in agony, her body shook, toes curling, fingers clawing for something, anything to hold onto as she lost control of herself under duress.

What came was not arousal, no... It was urine. Hot, golden, acrid urine, Ilyria wetting herself in terror and pain as she babbled apologies and pleas to be released. "I swear I have money! I swear! Don't hit my cunt anymo-ho-hore!" She begged, even as her bladder emptied itself shamefully of a night's worth of drinking, her squirming utterly useless.

[2016/03/13]Alison McCormack looked at the girl. She'd already spoken. It was no longer a secret. Already now, everyone in the bar had figured out who she was. Her smile only widened, and she reached up with the cro hand and untied the sack. She dropped her onto her knees and pointed. "This is the whore who tried to skip out! And when she tried, she was forced to give it all back. What do you say, ladies and gentlemen? Should we see just how much she really loves her booze?" The screams and roars from the crowd were unintelligible. A lot of lame insults calling her a slut, meat, a fucktoy... But Alison had no interest. She simply knew that she'd be getting more visitors from now on. Perhaps she'd have to make this a regular event. Torture a girl until she pissed herself, and make her lick it up. She pointed the crop at Ilyria's face. "You wanted my booze so much, why don't you lick it up you pathetic little jizzhole?" She brought her leg up and revealed to the crowd a shiny purple-leather heeled boot, which she pressed into the back of the little crying elf's head. "Drink your fucking miss you insolent bitch." She had a plan for once the girl had begun to lap up her rather large piss puddle, as well.

[2016/03/13]Party Girl Ilyria bawled as she licked, horrid gagging escaping the abused elven Heiress. Her night of fun had come to a screeching halt, and all she wanted now was the go home and cry to her Daddy. Every second was humiliation and pain, every staring, leering eye making her want to just go back in time... But instead, she was here, her face buried in fear piss.

The acrid scent soaked into her, overriding the lovely perfume she once wore, and her cunt ached from pain and shame, Ilyria's gagging licks being met with cheers and scorn in equal measure as she cleaned her mess, sobbing. "I just wanna go hoooome.... I just wanna see my Daddy again... I'm so-horrry!"

[2016/03/13]Alison McCormack used one of those boots to press Illy's head down into the piss-soaked stage... and then she stepped behind the girl. "I think this young lady has gone too far. She's sullied my stage, and now she's begging to see her daddy. Oh dear oh dear. What shall I ever... Do." The word was punctuated as her boot was lifted up, Alison pressed the tip of that spiked heel against Illy's pussy, and then tilted her foot a bit, and kicked forward hard with the heel of her foot. This jammed about 6 inches of real leather down the girl's quaking urethra, which caused whatever was left in her poor pissholder to simply dribble out pathetically onto the stage. "Wow. You've got a deep urethra. My bootheel is only mostly in though... There's still a bit more, don't you think, ladies and gentlemen~?" The entire crowd, once again, exploded into cheers and jeering. It was at this point Alison withdrew something from her cleavage. A pretty purple leather collar with gold embossing on the front, letters on it reading 'Ilyria Urinesoak'. "What do you think? Is this a better name for this stupid slut? Ilyria Goldenoak... No, I think it sounds much better as Urinesoak!" She held the collar up. "Should I put it around her neck?" She waited to see what Illy's reaction to this was, before she decided to take it any further. Enough humiliation could make a girl pass out, after all. And she wanted her conscious for when she broke her holes.

[2016/03/13]Party Girl Ilyria howled in agony, face down in her own vile piss, nearly retching as she was ground into it. Agony lanced through her, blinding her, but not deafening her. No, she still heard, still felt and smelled and tasted. Everything was still painfully stark humiliation as her urethra got RUINED by Ali's boot heel.

Quietly, she prayed, begging and pleading for someone, anyone to rescue her, daring not look up even as she licked and drank. What a shame that God didn't care. That God was the source of her torment, really, that she'd been targeted for the crime of being to pretty and in the wrong place... But such was life. Ilyria Goldenoak wished nothing more than to wake up from her nightmare, and it would never come, even as she stared at Alison fearfully, eyes dilated in pure, animal panic, very nearly broken by her agony and abuse.

[2016/03/13]Alison McCormack she gave her bootheel a hard drive forward, and buried it in, the tip of her heel pressing her bladder outward a bit. She removed it just as painfully fast, and looked. The pretty purple leather was stained an ugly color by the girl's piss-slit. "You fucking whore. Fix this. Lick my fucking bootheel until your filth is clean from it. Unless you'd rather I shove it into your ass and make you clean that off of it. Perhaps you'd like to test if what you've said on TV is really true. 'I hear it said all the time!' Alison mocked, using a very clearly cruel tone. 'My ass is so clean, there's no way it could stink!' After she'd gotten off the hook for a DUI charge. Alison giggled at the serendipity of the situation. She probably wouldn't make Ilyria lick her own ass off her bootheel... Probably.

[2016/03/13]Party Girl Ilyria didn't think she had it in her to move so quickly, hauling her protesting body around to lick the boot heel, whimpering and gagging as she tasted it. Her poor pisshole still gaped, her mascara running with tears as she lapped and licked, sucking and cleaning, hoping she'd perform well enough to avoid more pain.

Everything hurt though. Everything ached, and her still fresh cut burned from being rubbed in piss. She wanted to sob and hug her stuffed toys and sleep, she wanted something, anything but this... But she obeyed. She licked, she cleaned. Eyes screwed shut, she stomached every last acidic drop of piss until that shiny purple leather was slick with her spit instead, Ilyria panting, staring upwards, daring not speak for fear of further pain and abuse.

[2016/03/13]Alison McCormack grinned a bit. It had taken less than a second for the girl to spin around. She appraised her boot, and gave it a passing grade... And then she lifted the girl up by her hair. "Unfortunately, ladies and gentlemen... The next part of this session is a private show, only for myself, and this whimpering, crying little Elftoy I have. I hope you all enjoy yourselves... Have another round of drinks, all of you... On Ms. Goldenoak's tab." She giggled lightly and threw the weepy girl over her shoulder, now carrying her around her waist. She turned and let her ruined urethra sit and show just how destroyed it was to the whole of the audience. It was probably going to heal... at which point, Ali would jam her heel down it again and make Ilyria lick it off once more. But the day was still young for things to be done now!

The two of them found themselves in Alison's silent abode now, overlooking the club which had gone back to normal, mostly. A few 'cleaners', girls who had proven their desire for filth, for refuse, for trash and discarded undesrireds, spilled drinks... that they themselves got paid to lick the floors clean... And of course, they tonguebathed the lady in her chambers. For now, though, that particular job was going to fall onto Ilyria, perhaps...~

[2016/03/13]Party Girl Ilyria didn't utter even a sound, save for her sniffling, hanging limp like a sack of meat as Alison dragged her upstairs. Her tab grew to obscene values that night, something not even selling her car would pay off, the poor little heiress staring at Alison, those panicky, animal looking motions, the way she tried to look everywhere at once, to find escapes... She was nearly feral.

Ferals needed taming, though. They needed a strong command, something to focus on, and when Alison made it clear Ilyria would be cleaning her with her tongue alone, the elf toy obeyed. Obeying meant the pain didn't become worse. And so, she licked. Every last inch would be groomed at but a moment's notice, the mostly obedient bitch sitting there looking like a dumb, ruined slut.

[2016/03/13]Alison McCormack nodded happily. The girl started with her face. An interesting, but not altogether surprising choice. Alison licked her lips again, and the purple paint that had been applied with a lick earlier on was removed the same way. She sat up in her comfortable lounge chair, and stripped the tight blouse off, her breasts falling perfectly, bouncing almost like one would expect them to in a hentai. She sighed, and motioned to her chest. "My tits are sweaty, Ilyria. Or... Do you need further motivation?" She smiled. The girl was going to have to worship her tits, and then she'd get to see Alison take off her pants... But Ali was 100% sure that the girl was not ready for what hid behind those magic pants. "Tonguebathing must be thorough. Your Mistress must be clean. You should be able to eat off of me. Which means you'd best be careful where you hang that broken cunt."

[2016/03/13]Party Girl Ilyria was so very thorough! What an obedient bitch, licking her way down. Every last inch of glorious titflesh was cleansed, the thick, musky scent of sweat invading her nose. It was an almost addictive scent, and Ilyria quivered violently, shifting so she dared not make a mess with her bitch cunt. Special attention was paid to the heaving, perfect spheres of titflesh, tongue ran along the undersides to get the sweat off, and the newest fuckpuppy even ran her tongue along Ali's armpits. Not before inhaling her scent, though, worshipping her body and her scent and taste and imprinting it on herself.

[2016/03/13]Alison McCormack smiled. "Alright, pup... You've done good. Sit." She pointed to the floor at her feet. "There's still another half of me to clean, though. More than half, if you're lucky." She nodded, and then placed her hands on her lap. Her pants... disintigrated, and the dust vanished into thin air. What was left was Alison's perfect, naked, alabaster-skinned body. She ran a finger over her stomach, to keep her pup's eyes on it, and then down toward her crotch. It was from there, she decided, that she would let Ilyria discover that four massive, two-liter-bottle-thick feet of shemale dick for herself. And if the poor Elf had thought her pitmusk was powerful... Wait until she took a whiff of that extremely rancid cockstench. How could one not have a dick that smelled like it was the rotting, dying dreams of a thousand marriages when they were as utterly perfect as Alison?

Editor's Note: Removed OOC Chatter and System spam, added warning tags at top