Page 9

D on’t Breathe

Azazel exits the highway and maneuvers their vehicle through the city streets with practiced ease, eventually pulling into a secluded area on the outskirts, bringing the car to a gentle stop. The location is quiet, isolated, and illuminated only by the soft moonlight, casting an eerie beauty upon the surroundings.

“Here we are," he announces, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. "Our very own private playground."

“A graveyard? Finally!” Cherrie enthuses. “My milkshake brings all the crazies to the yard!” Cherrie sings as she skips away

Azazel works on pulling the target out of his trunk. They check their weapons, ensuring they’re prepared for whatever lays ahead, and then, they venture deeper into the graveyard, dragging their victim along.

"Where am I?" The target mumbles, his voice strained with fear. "Why am I tied up? What do you want from me?" Suddenly, he senses movement, and a woman's voice, sultry and dangerous, whispers in his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

"Shhh, my dear. All will be revealed in due time. For now, just know that you're exactly where we want you to be," Cherrie says.

The victim feels a hand, calloused yet gentle, stroking his cheek, and a man's voice, deep and commanding. "Cheating on your wife, then trying to have her killed? Naughty naughty." The man struggles to try to free himself.

“No, you have to…” The victim tries to spit out

Cherrie jumps in. “Shh… shh. Quiet now, or I’ll have your tongue. You are ruining mine and Daddy’s date night.”

“Now, now, my little demon, this was a special order, buried alive so he can… reflect,”Azazel reminds her.

“Fine, let’s get on with it. Just buried alive and no playtime.” Cherrie sighs.

They place him before an antiquated tombstone, its surface weathered and etched with the names of those long departed. The air hangs heavy with the scent of damp earth and the promise of impending doom. The man's blindfold is removed, and he finds himself facing a grotesquely painted effigy, its hollow eyes staring back at him, reflecting the moonlight in an eerie semblance of life.

With shaking hands, he reaches out, his fingertips brushing against the cold, hard surface, only to feel the sudden, sharp bite of restraints being tightened around his wrists. "Welcome to your worst nightmare," Azazel whispers, his hot breath fanning over the man's ear. "Your wife says she’ll love you for all eternity by the way."

As the man processes Azazel's words, his heart pounds in his chest, and his eyes widen in terror. He thrashes against his bindings, fear coursing through his veins. "No, please, don't do this! Let me go! I'll do anything!"

Cherrie, her eyes alight with a mixture of excitement and cruelty, steps closer, running a finger along his cheek. "Anything? Are you sure about that?" she purrs. "Because we'd be happy to oblige. All you have to do is play along."

The man's breath hitches, his gaze bouncing between his two captors, his eyes pleading. "Please... just tell me what you want."

Azazel smiles, an unnerving curve of his lips as he draws closer, his voice silken and dangerous. "We want you to scream, to beg, to plead for your life. We want to watch you squirm and struggle against your restraints. And in return..."

Cherrie continues, her voice honeyed and laced with temptation. "In return, we'll bury you quickly. " The man's eyes dart between the two. His breathing becomes labored as he starts to scream for help and fight against his restraints.

Cherrie giggles and squeals. “Daddy I love this part!”

Azazel, currently digging says, “I’m so glad you’re enjoying yourself, my ball of chaos, but any chance you want to help me dig?

“First, no playtime…second, do hard labor. You’re pushing your luck, Daddy.”

The two dig a ditch deep enough to place the victim inside. Azazel unchains the captive's wrists, only to secure them with fresh ropes, binding them tightly behind his back. The captive's breath quickens when he feels himself being lowered into the grave, the cold, damp earth wrapping around his body.

“Do you feel that?" Azazel's voice echoes above him. "That's the weight of the soil, the world closing in around you. The very earth wants to consume you, to make you one with it."

The captive shudders once the soil is shoveled onto his body, covering his legs, and his chest, inch by inch. Cherrie's laughter rings out, her mad cackle sending a chill down his spine. "You like that, don't you?" she teases. "The feel of the earth, the knowledge that you're buried alive." The captive's mind spins as he experiences the sensation of being entombed, his body trembling. He knows this is their ultimate fantasy, to drive him to the brink of madness and back. "Please," he tries to get out, his voice hoarse with and fear. "Mercy..."

Azazel's face appears above him, his green eyes glittering with possession. "Mercy is for the weak," he growls, his voice filled with lust. "And you, my dear captive, are anything but weak. You're ours now–body, mind, and soul."

As the captive's cries for mercy echo through the graveyard, Azazel and Cherrie’s final shovel of dirt is laid, sealing their captive's fate. Azazel and Cherrie step back to admire their handiwork. They stand above the grave, their bodies bathed in the moonlight, casting long shadows that dance among the headstones.

"Now, my dear Cherrie, let us show our captive just how far we're willing to go." His voice is a low growl, resonating with power. "Let's give him a taste of our love... Right here, next to his final resting place."

Cherrie, her eyes sparkling with mischief, bites her lip seductively. "Oh, Az, you read my mind." She steps closer to him, pressing her body against his. "I want to feel you inside me, right here where death looms." Without another word, Azazel pulls Cherrie against him, their lips crashing together in a passionate kiss. Their tongues dance wildly, tasting each other with fervency. Cherrie moans into the kiss, her hands roaming over Azazel's muscular body, feeling the power that lay beneath.

Azazel's hands find Cherrie’s hips, squeezing and caressing them with reverence.

Cherrie arches her back, offering herself to him, her nipples hardening in the cool breeze. Azazel takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing it with his tongue, causing Cherrie to gasp and squirm. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” Azazel growls, his voice thick with admiration and lust.

Cherrie shivers, her eyes fluttering closed. “Say it again,” she murmurs, her voice a seductive challenge. “Say it like you mean it.”

Azazel’s smirk deepens, his green eyes darkening with desire. “You’re perfect, Cherrie,” he repeats, his tone low and commanding. “My perfect, unhinged, fuckin’ masterpiece.”

Azazel's mouth trails down Cherrie's neck, leaving wet kisses and gentle bites along the way. His hands find the zipper of her jeans, tugging it down swiftly. Wearing only her lace panties, a delicate contrast to the harshness of the grave. Cherrie pushes Azazel back against a nearby headstone, her eyes burning with desire.

She kneels before him, her hands reaching for the buckle of his belt. With deft fingers, she undoes it, then lowers his zipper, revealing the bulge in his pants. She wastes no time in freeing his throbbing dick, stroking it gently as it springs to attention. Azazel hisses at the sensation, his head falling back as he enjoys the pleasure Cherrie provides him.

Her lips wrap around his length, taking him deep into the warmth of her mouth. Her tongue swirls and teases, her lips tight around him as she sucks eagerly.

"Fuck, Cherrie...your mouth..." Azazel groans, his hands tangling in her hair. He thrusts his hips gently, guiding her movements as she bobs her head up and down, taking him deeper with each stroke.

Cherrie moans in response, the vibrations sending shivers down Azazel's spine. Her lust-filled eyes gaze up at him, pleading for more. She wants to taste him, to feel him explode on her tongue.

Their passionate display continues, their bodies pressing against the cold headstones. The cemetery becomes their erotic playground–each grave, a reminder of the fragility of life and the intensity of the moment.

As Cherrie continues to pleasure Azazel with her mouth, he reaches down to caress her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples. He tugs gently on her hair, encouraging her to take him even deeper. The sound of their moans and gasps fill the night, a symphony of desire echoing among the graves. But their climax is yet to come. Azazel pulls Cherrie to her feet, pressing her against the headstone.

He lifts one of her legs, hooking it over his hip, exposing her wet pussy. With a swift motion, he slides inside her, their bodies joining as one. Cherrie cries out, her nails digging into the stone when she feels Azazel fill her completely. He begins to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, then building in intensity. The sound of their flesh slapping together mingles with their moans, a rhythmic accompaniment to their passionate dance.

"Oh, Az...yes...right there..." Cherrie pants, her breath coming in short gasps. "Fuck me...harder."

Azazel obliges, driving into her with forceful thrusts. The headstone provides a stark contrast to their soft, sweaty bodies, each impact sending tremors through their very cores. Their mouths seek each other out, kissing deeply, tasting the sweat and passion on each other's lips.

Azazel and Cherrie reach the pinnacle of their passion, their movements becoming frenzied. Azazel pounds into Cherrie with unrelenting force, his balls slapping against her ass with each thrust. Cherrie cries out, her nails scratching at the headstone, leaving marks on the ancient stone.

"Cum for me, baby." Azazel growls, his voice hoarse with desire. "Let me feel you come around my dick." Cherrie screams as her orgasm rips through her, her body shaking uncontrollably. She tightens around Azazel, milking his dick with her pussy. Azazel grunts, his own release building as he drives into her one last time, spilling his seed deep inside her.

They hold each other, their bodies slick with sweat, chests heaving as they catch their breath. The cemetery is silent again, as if the night itself holds its breath, witnessing the aftermath of their erotic encounter. Azazel and Cherrie, satisfied for the moment, straighten their clothes and share a wicked smile.

“Daddy, do you think our cum can be used as fertilizer? And Look at that, Daddy, done just in time for dinner! Your treat!” Cherrie screams as she jumps on Azazel’s back.

Azazel catches her and locks his arms while holding cherrie’s legs, laughs, and says, “No lovebug, I don’t think so. And would I be the gentleman that I am if I didn’t treat my little nightmare?” Cherrie kisses Azazel’s neck. “That’s my daddy.”