It’s not a cult. I don’t know why I even need to clarify this. I did come back from the dead, yes, but that’s not that uncommon nowadays with shock paddles and CPR. I’m just a guy who made a more-than-full recovery after a car accident.
Like puppies hearing the jingling of their master’s keys, the entrance to my apartment was crowded with excited girls on their knees. I’m their whole world. They cook and clean. They wax their pussies and put on subtle makeup to make their eyes and lips pop just for me. They buy obscenely sexy outfits for me to enjoy for a few minutes before they find themselves on the floor. Yet I don’t remember all of their names.
My pants tightened watching my girls playfully elbow each other for the first taste of dick, their hungry mouths open like a brood of baby birds, so I pulled them down to offer my adoring fans what they had been missing for only a few hours. They might only care about sex but I like to go out with friends once in a while. The young brunette... Amelie? Emily? The one wearing a tight dress with so little chest coverage that her bouncing breasts were held by suspenders over her nipples managed to hungrily throat my cock, her lips pushing away some other girls’ tongues on my shaft. It was not a problem; they just migrated to my balls. Everyone was happy to have my lips to kiss, or my asshole to tongue, or to simply rub their breasts against my skin. It’s not a cult because I never ask them to do any of these nasty things.
“We have a surprise for you,” Angeline whispered in my ear with a soft, sultry voice that always drives me wild even when I’m already getting my pipes cleaned. Today she was wearing red see-through lingerie that clung to the curves of her hips. Never the same outfit twice.
Surprises were always one thing, and as soon as my suspicions were raised, the muffled screams waning into whimpers coming from my bedroom were loud and clear above all the moans, licks, and sucks. I must have subconsciously chosen to ignore them.
“Goddammit, Angeline. Not again...”
“Well, yes. But that’s not the surprise.”
I had to deal with this now. It wasn’t easy to push suspender-girl off my cock. Not only because she sucked like a hoover, but my arms were wet noodles in defiance of my decision to stop such an amazing blowjob so near completion. These girls had decided to dedicate their entire lives to my happiness, so they know exactly how I like my cock sucked.
I remembered Angeline’s name because she was my first girlfriend since the accident. I had to do a lot of rehabilitation to walk again and I was really worried I wouldn’t be able to... perform at maximum capacity with the ladies, so my insecurities kept me single for a while until my angel reached out to me on a dating app. She was funny, witty, and prettier than I thought I deserved, and one evening she decided to spend the night.
No performance issues after all. She was really into it. Like really into it. She went nearly catatonic from the orgasm I gave her minutes after penetration, then was desperate to return the favor. I got to cross out most of my sexual bucket list in one night with this girl I had mistaken for sweet and innocent. The next morning she wanted more. And whenever I was tired, she was more than happy to let me rest with my cock in her mouth.
It’s not that constant sexual devotion gets old, but two months of living with an insane nymphomaniac will make you wonder if she’s dragging you down the path of sex addiction with her. It took me another month to work up the courage to break up with her, anticipating a tearful begging session. But she shrugged it off, saying she didn’t mind being my live-in maid instead. She would pay for food and the entirety of the rent with her rich parents’ money just for the opportunity to give me blowjobs whenever I wanted and to keep me company in bed if I was ever in the mood for more.
Like I said. I’m not a god. Just a man. So of course I accepted that deal. She ordered herself an actual sexy maid outfit. Dusting high, dusting low, Angeline was always reminding me that her tiny black skirt didn’t come with panties. Nothing really changed between us other than my freedom to see other women, which I eventually made the mistake of doing.
Getting girls is much easier with the confidence of knowing you’re amazing at sex. Of course I didn’t want to bring anyone home to meet my sex slave roommate, so I ended the night at my date's place. And guess what, she couldn’t get enough of me either. Another nice girl turned into a complete sex maniac a few pumps into the act.
I’m slow on the uptake, but that’s when I suspected that something had changed since my accident. Something about the stem cell experiment that gave me back the use of my legs must have altered something else in the area.
My two friends with many benefits got along swimmingly; they had a lot in common after all. For me, life stayed mostly the same but with twice the breasts, twice the lips, and four times the intensity due to a healthy amount of competition between my girlfriend and ex-girlfriend.
As happy and fulfilled as they both looked, I often wondered if I had technically ruined their lives. Regardless of the answer to this ethical dilemma, I didn’t want to turn more girls into sex zombies. But then Angeline’s sister wanted to know why she had abandoned her friends and possessions to live with some plain-looking (ouch) guy she just met.
Angeline somehow persuaded her sister to spend a night with us and I might not have objected as clamorously to the foursome as I should have. I still didn’t really believe I had some sort of crotch superpower. No way would this pretty, young thing completely out of my league fall from grace in the same way. But her attitude vanished and she melted in my arms as she sat her tight pussy on my cock, and I knew I had inadvertently caught another one in my net. Another one I couldn't release back in the wild.
Similar situations arose a few more times after that. Eleven more times... So this wasn’t the first time there was a nervous, reluctant stranger in my bed, but it was the first time she had to be bound and gagged naked to prevent her escape and facilitate her conversion.
She was a slim beauty queen with long blond hair. Massive, soft-looking teardrop breasts were squished between her knees, which were tied behind the back of her head along with her wrists. She was spread open like a BDSM slave, and once my eyes managed to detach themselves from the amazing tits and the thin pink line of her spread pussy, I noticed the face. A very pretty face despite all the running mascara, but one I unfortunately recognized.
The wet ballgag behind her teeth stopped vibrating and her eyes stopped darting around the room when she spotted me. I wasn’t the one who kidnapped her so she thought maybe I had come to her rescue? But then she saw my erection. Her pleading eyes resumed their darting and the ball-screaming started again.
I had to say something to calm her down: “I’m not hard because of you. I came here mid-blowjob. Not that you’re not attractive of course. I... I love you in every role. I don’t mean that I love you; I’m not a creepy stalker...” I was very bad at this so I redirected my frustration on Angeline whose breasts I felt caressing my back. “What have you done? That’s Sydney Sweet!”
“You got throbbing hard when you saw her on TV yesterday,” she said in between goosebump-inducing kisses on my neck. “I should know because I had had your cock in my ass at the time. We talked about it and decided you deserved a present for all your hard work.”
“So you somehow found out where she lives and kidnapped her and now you think I’m going to rape her?”
“Rape? That’s not what I call a mind-bending, eye-opening life experience. Stick it in and she’ll stop crying right away.” Angelina used her sultry voice from behind while brushing my wet dick with her fingers.
“I know she will. That’s not the point. What about her career? Her relationships?”
“No matter how happy she thinks she was, it is not even one percent of how happy she will be with you. Trust me on this. Trust us.” Behind Angeline, a baker’s dozen of my concubines were impatiently waiting for the inevitable orgy to begin.
What choice did I have? This was a sex-symbol celebrity. Even if I somehow avoided jail time by pinning the blame on fourteen clearly-brainwashed young women, half of whom I deflowered, there was no way to let Sydney go now without facing a worldwide witch-hunt fueled by every tabloid and social media site.
Unfortunately still as hard as ever, I edged closer to the bed. She was absolutely stunning in person. She would be my bustiest girlfriend yet. How many people in the world had dreamed of massaging these melons? And I would be able to treat them like cushions or stress bags depending on my mood and to be rewarded with erotic moans no matter what I did to them.
She had clearly been prepped and perfumed by my girls, her pussy perfectly smooth, her spread buttocks... “Is that a buttplug? Was she not angry enough?”
“Yeah, a really big one,” said Angeline. “But, don’t worry, we gave her a thorough enema. It’s there in case you want to convert her anally. Just pull the plug and stick it in. No struggling to make your big wonderful cock fit inside an uncooperative hole.”
I spent a few moments bobbing my erection around the room trying to think of a way out of this, knowing and secretly hoping there was none. “Let’s just get this over with,” I said after a solid 30 seconds of soul-searching. “Sorry, Sidney. I will let you go after this no matter what, OK? I promise.”
With a sigh, I crouched over her forcibly spread legs. There was a horrific repulsion on her face that I just couldn’t reconcile, so I flipped her over. The buttplug was pointing right at me; I figured I might as well take advantage of Angeline’s efforts.
It was indeed a huge arrowhead buttplug and the clenching anus forced me to sink a hand in Sydney’s juicy ass to yank it out. The exhausted celebrity found the strength to scream through her raw throat and gag louder than ever before when the plug plopped out, leaving a pulsing, gaping hole quickly collapsing. I stuffed it with my cock before it got too tight and painful for her. She would soon embrace any pain as long as it was a side-effect of intercourse but I didn’t wish her any harm even during this first minute.
Maybe I was half-hoping that it wouldn’t work, that I’d finally pay for all the unintentional crimes I committed, but I still sighed in relief when I started hearing the tonal shift in the gagged moans and felt the relaxing of her anal cavity, giving my cock a greater range of motion. Then came subtle hip thrusts to make sure I bottomed out in her rectum. Sydney didn’t jerk away when I moved my hands from her hourglass midsection to the dangling udders rubbing nipples against my bedsheets. No matter how hard I dug my finger into the oh-so-squishy flesh (they're real in case anyone was wondering), it just made her respond to my cock with more urgency. Sydney was not an exception. She came so hard her body shook for three straight minutes. She was mine.
The groan I made sending a bucket of wet seed down Sydney's bowels was accepted as a signal for all my girls to join us in bed.
I was still getting my dick milked by Sydney’s ass when they untied her, cleaned her face, and removed her gag.
“This is so amazing,” she cried joyfully once she recovered from the orgasm. “I never want anything else in my life.”
“See? We told you.” Angeline said, rolling up the rope carefully for future use. She was talking to the actress as if they had been friends since the abduction.
Sydney happily cleaned the ass-tainted cock with her mouth while receiving instructions on how to best suck me off. She would become a throating expert in time, but her eager tongue-work was more than enough to keep me hard. Then I fucked her moist, welcoming pussy for a while, watching her breasts bounce whenever I had the will to not use them as handlebars. Long gone was that look of horror. She was all smiles and crying tears of pure joy.
Fifteen was a nice round number. But twenty was even rounder and I could easily think of five other celebrities I wouldn’t mind joining our cult... I mean family... No, that doesn’t sound right either. Let's just say I like to stay friends with my exes.
