Page 51 of Horror and Chill

“She’s our girl,” Garron snaps, leaning forward, the chair groaning under his weight. “No secrets, or we can’t share.”

That gets Corwin to glance at us, finally, and the grin stays right where it is. “They look good though, don’t they?” He runs his tongue over his lips slowly, like he’s tasting the memory.

On the screen, she’s showing off her perfectly round breasts, the silver barbells gleaming under the lights. The sight is a punch straight to my gut. It’s not just the piercings; it’s knowing she let him do it and still looks right into the camera like she’s daring all of us for more.

“You better hope I don’t get an infection since I’m assuming you’re no professional. You didn’t even clean them after, you psycho. If I lose a tit, you’re losing a ball.”

The words hit and my cock stiffens instantly. I’m not the only one. Garron shifts in his seat, eyes fixed on her like she just issued a challenge none of us are willing to ignore.

“She’s a dark queen,” I murmur. “Our dark queen.”

And in my head, I’m already seeing her with all three of us; bound, marked, and still staring at us like this. Like she belongs here. Like she knows it.

TonyFromAccounting:Marry me.

ViceViper:She’s savage.

NotACopIPromise:I’d still ruin her.

She smirks. “If you want it, come and get it. Bring your friends. It’s time we talk.”

She slides the ring onto her thumb, then tilts her head. “Now, the rest of you have been so patient and nice while I temptand tease the devils. So let’s get back to the regularly scheduled program.”

She stands, leaves the frame for a moment, then returns holding something. A tentacle dildo. Black and white, long enough that I know the base will barely fit inside her.

CreepCreepCreep:I’m dead. I’m dead.

SoftlySadist:Oh, she’s gonna cry on that.

MouthFull:Fuck yes, queen!

ThighHighPriestess:Make it disappear.

She slams it on the floor so the suction cup sticks, then hooks her thumbs in the waistband of her panties. She slides them down slowly.

“Oops,” she says, grinning. “Forgot the tunes. You know we can’t have a show without music.”

“Cry Little Sister” by The Dirty Youth pumps through the speakers. She steps over the toy, planting her cute black-painted toes on either side of the frame, and lowers herself until the tip presses against her.

She rocks in short thrusts until the thick base works inside her.

SinEater:Oh my fucking god!

DaddyVoid:Bottom it out.

SnackPackSlut:That’s it. Take it all.

BloodMoon69:I’m not surviving this.

“Yes,” she gasps, head falling back.

We are lost, watching her on her knees, thighs spread wide as she pleasures herself with a tentacle for all her fans to see. It isn’t just performance…it’s control, and she’s wielding it like she was born to. The music pulses under her moans, a beat we can feel in our bones. She rocks her hips forward and back, testing how much she can take before she has to breathe through it. Her thighs flex and her toes curl.

Every bounce draws a sharper sound from her throat, her lips parting just enough to show the edge of her teeth when she gasps. She’s wet enough that the toy glistens each time she rises, the thick suctioned base rocking just slightly with the force she’s using to drive herself down.

Her VCH catches the light every time she moves, a flash of silver in the slick between her folds. I can see the way it tugs when she grinds in small circles, chasing more pressure, teasing herself with the drag of the piercing over the ridged silicone.

The chat on the side of the feed is a mess of filth and pleading. None of it matters. My brothers aren’t talking. Garron hasn’t moved. Corwin’s breathing heavier than he should be. And me, I’m fighting the urge to lean forward, to close the distance between me and the screen like I could step right through it.