Blogger & the Football Team (feat. Conceptfan) Part 2
Written by Totally Kyle :: [Tuesday, 16 November 2021 17:11] Last updated by :: [Saturday, 22 January 2022 20:31]
Blogger and the Football Team, Day 2
The bold text was written by Conceptfan. The regular text was written by me. This was completely improvised, except for the noted sections of out-of-character discussion.
Half of the men on the bus are shaking like leaves. Two of them are crying over their fallen teammate. One of them actually threw up. But despite this, all of them are fully erect. They can't deny the fact that, despite their fear and their pride, a small part of them wouldn't mind having sex with this incredibly desirable woman, even if it means being raped by her. They're all struggling to cope with their conflicting emotions, their eyes bouncing between their dead, naked comrade and the superhuman's irresistible naked tits.
"Let see..." she muses out loud, turning her head leisurely as she gazes, imperiously, arrogantly... dominantly over the collection of prime, professional athletes all cowering before her, all naked at her command, all awestruck by her unworldly sexuality. "...where shall I start?" Her beautiful eyes settle on a young man a few rows back. "You!" she smiles as he trembles under her gaze. "Approach me."
As a professional sportsman, with a modelling contract on the side, this young man has never lacked confidence with women. But he's scared now, as he cautiously makes his way out of the seat into the aisle directly in front of her naked magnificence. Disobeying her order was not an option. He's already witnessed the murder of a couple of his colleagues. So, he stands before her, erect despite his shock and terror, about to take a small, hesitant step in her direction.
His feet are moving automatically. He isn't even sure what he's feeling right now. It's as if this woman has completely taken over his body and is forcing him to walk towards her whether he wants her to or not. He's not sure what's compelling him to move. Is it fear of her power? Or desire of her body? It could be the latter. He can't keep his eyes off of her beautiful face, her massive breasts, her slim waist, or her round waist.
"Not like that!" she declares, almost in disgust. "On your knees."
He falls onto his knees immediately. He doesn't recall making the decision to do that, either. It's like he's under a spell... Somehow, he doesn't even feel any humiliation as the proud athlete literally crawls on his knees towards a woman who should in no way be a threat to him. He doesn't feel shame over being naked in front of his friends. He doesn't feel shame over the complete subservience to this terrifying woman. He just knows that he has to obey her.
Is it a mind-trick she is using? Does she have power to control him? Or is it pure immeasurable sexuality creating lust that overrides everything else? Some say it is a combination of terror and that overriding lust, a unique state of mind she inspires in men at times like this. He crawls towards her, a worshipper nearing the feet of his god. When he is close enough she raises her foot like a dancer, holding it in front of his face. Nervously, he leans in and gently kisses her smooth big toe. The taste of her perfect skin! Its scent! His member is already beginning to throb as he kisses her foot again and again, glancing up anxiously to try and detect a reaction on her lovely face. She does not even deign to look down at him.
The sense of shame and humiliation that he should be feeling is slowly being overwritten by a sense of completely shameless desire as he actually touches this woman for the first time. By now, he is convinced that he is in the presence of somebody who is far above him, and it would be a privilege to make love to her. And perhaps, if he's lucky, following her every command might lead to that. But his heartbeat betrays his primal fear, even if his overwhelming lust is trying to bury it. If he could see his own eyes, he would be able to see the eyes of a man who is licking the feet of god in a desperate attempt to stave off his wrath. But also, he can't help himself from wanting his tormentor. He hates her, but he wants her. He puts more effort into licking her feet. His world is becoming a blur. He isn't even sure what is motivating him right now, but he feels that he can't stop.
He remains on his knees but lifts his hands from the ground to caress her silky dainty ankle. Terrified he might have overstepped a mark, he shoots a look at her, only to see that she has locked eyes with another of his colleagues and is licking her lips seductively at him. He feels relief that she is not displeased with his move, but mostly jealousy of his teammate who seems to be hogging her attention, even while it is he who is the one trying to please her with his lips and tongue.
He sets to work licking her foot, her sole, up to her ankle, his hands now stroking her glorious legs slightly below the knee. Behind him, the second chosen one - the recipient of that irresistible movement of her sexy tongue a moment ago - has shuffled out of the seats into the aisle. She shoots this new arrival a look of stern disapproval which he immediately understands as a rebuke for remaining upright in her direct presence. He hurried falls to his knees and begins to crawl towards her.
He has to crawl around his teammate to reach her. Even in the context of everything they had witnessed in the past few minutes, it is still a shock to everyone but her when she simply raises her other foot to the second man, literally floating on air. Now the men truly realise that they are in the presence of a god. There are gasps, of awe and of lust. Number two begins to caress her pretty toes and the rest of her sexy foot with his hands and his lips and his tongue. She lifts her long, shapely arms, and locks the fingers of each hand together, placing them behind her head, tilting her chin upwards as if relaxing on an invisible pillow. Her gorgeous lips part, revealing her stunning teeth.
The first man who started serving her feet is now so completely and utterly overcome with hormones over the feeling of her smooth, shapely leg, that he suddenly realizes that he's about to cum on the floor. In a panic, he looks up towards the goddess in some desperate hope that she somehow knows he's about to spill his load and somehow can move fast enough to get him inside of her in the brief moments before it happens.
She has seen that look before. Thousands of times. A lazy flick of her foot catches him under the chin, knocking him on to his back. He's winded and hurt, perhaps momentarily concussed. It's enough to postpone his orgasm. Her hands stay behind her head, her glorious chest thrust out, as she floats on air towards the stunned prone man. The sportsman still clutching her foot finds himself pushed backwards along the floor of the bus, his weight seemingly irrelevant to her decision to move. She slowly extends her leg with his hands clutched tightly around her ankle. He has to bend backwards as he remains on his knees. It's becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He's about to concede and re-adjust his grip so he can re-straighten his back, when the foot pushes forward without warning and he is thrown down onto the back of his skull making him briefly yell in pain.
Both men are now lying side by side. prone, suppine.
The first man wasn't sure what was more shocking: the fact that this woman's gentle flick of her ankle felt like getting hit by a sledgehammer, or the fact that the resulting pain actually answered his prayer of delaying his orgasm. The second man was shocked moments later when the woman started to move. He shouldn't have been surprised after how many times he saw her strength with his own two eyes, but it was still another thing entirely for him to feel her slim little leg drag him across the floor of the bus as if that sexy leg had the power of a ten-ton industrial machine! It was even more unbelievable when she started to straighten her leg. Now, it really did feel like he was trying to fight against a piece of heavy machinery, wrapped in the soft skin of a beautiful woman. His back was starting to bend painfully backwards, and there was nothing he could do to stop it, no matter how hard he fought. Then, she gives him a little kick, and it suddenly felt like he was run over by a train. His body is viciously shoved downward with a force that simply should not be possible for any woman to achieve, let alone a woman with a body like hers. He cries out in pain, and fear is once again starting to creep back into his mind.
The two pained, stunned men look up from their stations lying on the ground. They see the incredible girl, hovering in the air above them. Above them in so many ways. She straightens her legs in the air, lifting her feet until she is almost "sitting", her fantastic super-firm rear three feet above the floor of the bus. Slowly, she begins to separate her feet. The men on the floor and many of the others in the bus can see her intimacy. She lowers herself, moving towards the right side of the aisle, continuing to open her legs as she makes it clear her target is the once-more-throbbing erection of her first-chosen male.
There is an audible gasp from almost everybody on the bus. Even though they're in the presence of a woman who just coldly murdered one of their friends (possible two, if she was telling the truth about the bus driver) not a single one of them can resist her superhuman beauty.
She lowers herself over number one. Her heels are hovering either side of his shoulders. The core of her intimacy is less than twelve inches from the tip of his desperate erection. She slowly bends her legs at the knee. There are fresh gasps as her heels touch the floor and the metallic frame of the bus groans. Then, with a terrifying "clunk!" that shakes the whole vehicle, she presses her little feminine feet right through the bottom of the bus, her calves now carving a channel in the chassis as she keeps bending her knees. Now the bottom half of her legs is outside of the bus. She is straddling him, floating on air with her labia directly over the tip of his shaft, her hands still behind her head.
He still isn't completely wiling to accept what he just heard and felt, but a small part of his brain, growing louder by the second, is starting to scream at him that he should run away as fast as possible. But for now, his horniness for her wins out as the closeness of her pussy is enough to once again put him on the edge of orgasm. He reaches out with both hands to grab her ass, unable to stop himself any longer. But again, if he could look at himself in the mirror, he would see the smallest glint of terror in his otherwise hungry eyes.
When she feels the male's weak hands on her perfect rear, she opens her eyes. Unlocking her hands from behind her head, she calmly reaches down behind her and takes each of the wrists connected to an ass-grabbing hand between the thumb and forefinger of each of her own hands. With her hold unbreakable but not crushing, she pulls each of his arms away from her behind, placing his captured wrists either side of his head, leaning slightly over him as she pins him down. She is in complete, total and unbreakable control. Of everything. She begins to lower herself to his shaft at her chosen pace.
The terrified voice in the back of his head gets slightly louder when he finally gets a firsthand feeling of just how strong this woman is. But the brain in his skull is being completely overridden by the brain between his legs as she finally spears herself down onto his hungry cock. Once again, he almost cums right then and there. But he's able to stop himself, just barely. But he can't stop himself from noticeably shuddering in absolute pleasure. This was heaven.
Still, the voice in the back of his head is getting louder. Still, he chooses to ignore it.
He's not bad. For a weak, fragile, pathetic man... he's not bad. She's careful to grip him tight enough to stop him shooting immediately but not to damage him so soon. She pulls herself off him, carefully judging his length so that she keeps just his glans trapped for a few seconds before lowering her whole body to engulf his entirety once more. She is definitely getting in the mood. He winces as she lowers her divine ass onto his thighs. The pleasure of her warm, staggering tight canal outweighs the discomfort of the pressure. When she raises herself once more, the friction making him certain he would explode - and yet, somehow the grip she was exerting seemed to prevent it, almost as if she was able to control even that aspect of him, as though her power that overwhelmed every other aspect of his being could dictate even the timing of his own release... He realises that the raising is about to be followed by another, painful, thrust downwards. That little voice in his head is screaming now, in warning, in terror, in helpless panic. But the sensations as she takes him in once more occupy his thoughts completely once again for a few seconds until... Oooof! She slams her ass down on him, pressing him into the floor of the bus. His face contorts in pain. Hers looms overhead, a small smile appearing in response to his agony.
The ejaculation denial wasn't enough to start making him panic, and neither was the moment when her round ass slammed into him hard enough to knock all of the wind out of him and make him wince in pain. But the woman's reaction to his pain; that truly and utterly terrifying smile, was what finally made him realize that she isn't even using a tiny fraction of her strength to hurt him, and she is positively reveling in that fact. He starts to try and free his hands from her grip, and his lower body starts to buck and flail around underneath her. He finally realizes that he needs to get this woman off of him at all costs!
"H...help...!" he starts to struggle. But it comes as little surprise to him by this point that she can't be moved even a single hair.
His muscles - pretty to look at, and also pretty devastating on the sports field - bulge as he tries to free his hands from her, but all his efforts achieve nothing. As if in response, she quickly moves her hands so that she is now keeping both of his wrists immovably imprisoned with just one of her hands. His frantic struggles are just as fruitless against a single hand as they were against two. She pumps him again, increasing the frequency a little, her incredible breasts now bouncing rhythmically just a few inches from his ever more bulbous eyes. Each downward push leaves his thighs more and more bruised. He's desperate to cum, and yet, he just... can't. It's like she has to grant him permission. Meanwhile, her now free hands sweeps towards the body of number two, his colleague still lying beside them.
The first man is quickly getting more and more desperate. It feels like he's being hit by a truck over and over again. He is completely helpless to stop his whole entire body from being violently slammed into the floor of the bus again and again and again. But strangely, the woman's soft (or so it seems) bottom seems to be hurting him more than the cold steel that his backside is being violently pounded against. He starts to cry out in pain. "S-stop...! It hurts!!" He tries even harder to push her away. He's starting to see red from the sheer effort that he's putting into his well-trained muscles. But, even though the girl is pinning him with only one hand now, it makes no difference. She seems to be all-powerful. But how...? How can she be so strong...?
Meanwhile, the second man was moments away from being spurred to action from his teammate's cries for help, but the woman's free hand flashes towards him before he can even react. His blood runs cold. What is she going to do to him...?
He curls her fingers under his upper arm, her grip tight enough to make him wince but then, when she pulls her arm, he realises just how powerful that grip is. His whole body is pulled up to her, as if he were weightless. She's manipulating his entire, heavy, muscled form as if he were made of hollow paper. She pulls him up to her face and he finds himself being raised and lowered in time with her thrusting on his teammate, forced along for the ride like a helpless rag doll in the hand of a kid on an amusement park machine.
She pulls him to her, pushing out her lovely lips into his. He cannot help but respond to the kiss, trying to meet the force of her lips with his own. Quickly he realises that her lips are far too strong, and are simply smothering his. He feels a sharp pain in his jaw and then the erotic sensation of her tongue probing the inside of his mouth. And the taste of blood. He knows she has knocked a few of his teeth aside with her tongue and in terror tries to pull his face away, to break off the kiss. Her lips remain locked as she continues to possessively run her tongue around his mouth.
Finally, just as he thinks he is about to pass out, she ends the embrace, pulling him away from her face rather than moving her own head. He can see his blood on her lips. She licks it off showily, making it clear how much she enjoys the taste. All the while she is bouncing on his teammate. Now, number two feels her irresistible strength once more as she starts to lower him, bring his head down, past her neck.
(Hey, would you mind writing this more from her perspective, exactly like you were writing one of her blog posts? Unless you'd rather keep doing it this way, which is also fine.)
Once I'd had enough kissing I pulled his face from mine and made sure he got to see me enjoying the taste of his blood as I licked it from my luscious lips. Then I pushed his head down.
The second man in this psychotic woman's involuntary rape harem is instantly put through even more pain than the poor kicker underneath her. He instantly learns that this isn't a woman. This is a monster. With a level of power that is completely and definitively NOT human, he pulls him towards her, his frantic struggles not even showing a single hint of slowing her down, and then sticks her tongue in his mouth. Her tongue runs over his teeth... and somehow, her squishy pink tongue, which felt no different from any other woman, starts ripping his teeth out as it passes through his mouth. He tries to scream, but her mouth is sealed over his. He continues to fight harder and harder, screaming louder in louder in both pain and exertion of his muscles. But finally, it ends. But not because he wanted it to. But because she chose to stop. His heart goes cold when he sees her actually smile as she licks his blood off of her flawless lips. Then, he finds his head being pushed down past her neck. Tears start to form in his eyes as he continues to struggle with 100% of his strength, anything to get away from this sexy, sadistic fucking monster!
Both of them were beginning to struggle a bit now. The one underneath me was clearly getting battered by my lovely arse. The other one wasn't exactly calm about the damage my tongue had done to his teeth. He should have made sure they weren't in my way when I decided to stick it in his mouth. Anyway, I was really enjoying the way they were trying, uselessly, to resist. It's so much more fun when they fight against me. It's not like it makes any other difference. Overpowering them whether they try and push back or not is effortless either way.
I was still taking the one on the floor in and out, so when I lowered number two's face a little further, it came into range of my bouncing left breast. Each time I rose up slightly off number one, the natural undulations of my big, round, firm tit smacked number two in the cheek. I hardly felt it each time, but judging from the screams and the huge dark bruises that appeared almost instantly, the same couldn't be said for number 2. In fact, I had to move him away after a while because I was worried he'd be knocked permanently unconscious before I'd got to see what he could do with his cock. So I dropped him back onto the floor where he landed with an "Ooofff" beside me. I kept on riding number one but after a few seconds, number two looked like he was trying to gather himself to sit up. I curled my spare hand into a fist, extending just my little finger and used it to press number 2's chest on the ground and prevent him from moving.
The second man, whose face is now just as bruised as it is bloody, sees the woman try to pin him down with only a single pinky. It felt like an act of pure humiliation, and he couldn't help but respond with one final act of defiance. He puts both of his hands on her one hand and pushes his shapely biceps to their absolute limit, roaring in the pure, masculine effort of putting everything he has into moving her single finger, all while the rest of his body is also putting everything it has into sitting up straight.
The first man is now longing for the sweet embrace of death. His pelvis has turned so black from its bruises, that he's now convinced he's going to die from internal bleeding in a few hours, assuming that this sick, twisted woman doesn't break him in half first. But not only is he denied his freedom and forced to keep living with the pain. But he is also not allowed to cum, no matter how desperately he wants to. Besides, maybe after she finished using him for her own selfish desires, maybe she'll leave him alone...
Meanwhile, the other athletes on the bus watch in mute horror. None of them dare to interfere with the woman who punched her little feet through the floor of the bus like it was made out of aluminum foil.
The sound of the roar of masculine desperation as number 2 fought uselessly against my smallest single finger, using all he had to achieve nothing whilst I was merely resting my finger in place without any effort, was a big turn on. I started to pump number one more insistently, aware that there probably wasn't much more I could extract from his shaft before I ended up killing him with my rear, or maybe having his heart explode from my stopping his orgasm for so long. That happens a lot, especially if I'm not bothering to listen out for the tell-tale signs. It's a delicate art, calculating exactly how much a male can take before expiring. And when I'm in the throes of my own lust, sometimes, I just forget to practise that delicate art. Other times, I don't forget. I just choose, deliberately, to take things that tiny bit too far. Purely for my own amusement. And because it turns me on, not just to hold absolute power, but to actually demonstrate it.
Number one fell into that second category. By the time I released my inner grip on his shaft, allowing him finally to orgasm within me, I had already crushed his pelvis well beyond recovery. He was barely conscious as the mighty spasm of his eruption lightly tickled my most intimate places. He continued to cum for several seconds whilst I continued to ride his shaft, but I doubt he knew much about it.
He was a completely broken man. Not only was his body violently violated beyond what any woman should be capable of doing, but she also teased him with her supreme beauty, driving him utterly wild with the prospect of making love to her only for the final satisfaction to be denied. His aching penis was still being squeezed like a vicegrip as his vision was quickly being overtaken by darkness. He felt so sore. So tired... He was finally allowed to fire the strongest cum shot of his entire life into his tormentor. He was finally given release. But he didn't even notice.
The second man continues to thrash and scream underneath her, wrestling against her slender frame with all the might of his trained body, getting increasingly angry and also increasingly panicked at how this woman is overpowering him with only a single finger. She isn't even looking at him. He quickly realizes that even this is easy for her. What the fuck is she? How is she this strong??
Meanwhile, one of the men closest to the front of the bus starts looking outside of the windows, looking for some place to run away and hide. But they're on a fairly deserted highway in between towns. He can't see any civilization on the immediate horizons.
I was getting warmed up nicely. I rose of number 2's body, noticing just how severely he had been wounded by my bouncing rear. He looked like he'd been crushed between a wall and the front fender of car. Repeatedly. But my attention was already on number 2. I uncurled a second finger from my hand and now with two digits on his chest, I teased him with my strength by "walking" those two fingers up and down his torso for a while, grinning at his pathetic struggles to remove either of my fingers or to move his body from under them.
Whilst I toyed with him, I decided to line up the next playthings. I used my other hand to beckon silently at the two next most attractive athletes, delighting in the sense of my power over the crowd when they both instantly began to shuffle out to the aisle. They didn't even need reminding to drop to their knees once they were free of their seats. They started to crawl obediently towards me as I began to walk my imprisoning fingers towards number 2's groin, my dainty fingertips leaving small circular bruises on his muscled abdomen.
Number two is somehow feeling both fire and ice in his gut at the combined sensations of helplessness and rage. It's obvious to him, now. She is mocking him. She is fucking with him. And she's enjoying it! His arms try to wrench her hand away from his chest for a little bit longer, somehow finding even more strength than before to fight against her for one final push. But that final push was short-lived. His arms, which are accustomed to many hours in the gym, are finally too exhausted to fight any longer. They drop limply to his sides, all while the naked woman on top of him continues to mockingly hold him down in the most comically easy way she can think of, with a pleased smile on her face.
He collapses against the metal floor, completely spent from all of his struggles and feeling increasingly emotional over how it got him nowhere. He's angry that she's doing this to him. He's depressed because he finally understands there's nothing he can do. This super woman is a completely evil bitch who doesn't deserve to just take what she wants. But she's going to get it anyway. After a few seconds of pained, labored breathing, he looks up at her and says, with 100% conviction, "Fuck... you..."
"Yes," I chuckle at number 2's useless resorting to verbal insults. "You're about to." I use just one of the two fingers to brush his member, knocking it against his thigh from which it bounces up, immediately stiffened. I notice the dark blue spot forming where I touched him. It matches some of the marks on his face where I'd let my breast bounce against it before. His arms are exhausted from all that wasted effort spent trying to move my little finger a millimetre. I don't bother to pin them as I manoeuvre myself mid-air, ready to straddle him with my knees either side of his hips. I finally release the pressure of my finger tips, lifting them both off him and taking the gentlest, three finger hold of the length of his manhood. Immediately, I can feel it throbbing in response to my touch. I use the hold not to crush him but purely to hold his shaft in place as I lower the outer edges of the entrance to my sex over it. Nonetheless he yells out in pain. "Shh." I command as I use my powers of flight to bring myself onto his erection, removing my fingers at the last moment so that I can encase him right down to the hilt, embracing him tightly with my love so that his male body doesn't overload and start spraying DNA at the first contact.
The fact that she's raping him without touching the floor feels like the cherry on top of the complete superiority this woman has over him. Even if it is, admittedly, incredibly erotic, it's yet another reminder that he is so far beneath this woman that there was nothing he could ever do against her from the very start. But just as he is once again thinking that it can't get any worse, he immediately feels himself being overwhelmed by her beauty and is about to cum inside her mere seconds after she goes down on him. But then, he finds his dick somehow being squeezed by a set of vaginal walls that are so impossibly tight that it's stopping his release! He instinctively tries to free his dick from the painfully tight prison between her legs, but his spent body gives out after a few mere seconds and flops back down uselessly to the floor. He's too exhausted to fight back… not that it even mattered in the first place.
Meanwhile, her next pair of victims are more terrified than the last. They've seen what this woman has done to their friends, as well as what she is continuing to do because it looks like nothing can stop her. They can only crawl on their knees and pray that they survive this.
At the same time, that athlete at the front of the bus, scared out of his wits, makes a run for it. Even though he doesn't see any place where he can go, his terrified brain is only focusing on one single hope:
Maybe speed isn't one of her powers.
I can hear the guy huffing and puffing as he climbs his way through the broken window at the front of the bus. He isn't even in the top ten of my initial scan, so I decide to not to interrupt the fun I'm currently enjoying to deal with him. He's now, of course, right at the bottom of the list. I know, even if he sets a new world record for running, that I can find and capture him in seconds. Giving him a head start right now is just adding to my sport later. With every passing minute, I'm more and more pleased that this bus nearly splashed me with a puddle. It's proving to be a very pleasant diversion.
The two nice-looking ones crawling nervously towards me are not within reach yet. I mean, I could freeze them solid with a casual exhalation or turn them to ash with just a flash of my eyes, but I wasn't playing that game at the time. I wasn't trying to kill them, I was fucking them. If they ended up killed, that was fine, as long as I'd had some fucking first. So I gave them a little more time to reach me. I could tell they were more scared than hypnotised by my superhuman sexual appeal so I made a point of catching the eyes of each of them in turn and pushing out my lips as if offering a kiss and winking seductively, just to make sure they were as overwhelmed by desire as they were by fear. Boys are a lot more amusing to play with when their minds are constantly being blown in different ways.
Whilst I listened to the quickening of their heartbeats that told me I had succeeded in firing their lust to new levels, I started to generate a nice, steady up-and-down rhythm on number 2. He was no longer fighting me now, lying passive and exhausted, perhaps completely broken in spirit. I carefully grabbed his chin and titled it dominantly towards me as I leant in, letting my hair fall onto his face. I stared into his eyes, still undulating my hips, drawing my sex up and down his length whilst maintaining my controlling grip. I moved my lips closer to him, making sure my mouth almost filled his vision, gifting him the close-up sight of my perfect lips and my sexy teeth . "I own you completely," I told him, letting my warm, fragrant breath blast his features.
After being manhandled into her line of sight once again, number 2 briefly doesn't even know how to respond to that assumption. It takes his tired brain a few moments to even realize that it wasn't even an 'assumption', it was a statement. And as he struggled to find some response to her; any response to her, he slowly started to believe that it was true. In fact, in the brief moment where he was forced to stare into her captivating eyes and feel her warm breath waft over his face, his desire to burst inside of this sex goddess made itself even more clear.
His lip start to tremble. His throat starts to swell up. And slowly but surely, he just starts to cry, because he knows deep down that this woman does own him completely. And even worse than that is the fact that his body wants to be owned by her, no matter how completely and utterly unfair it is that this is his fate now.
My superhuman nostrils detect the fact he is about to cry many seconds before the first tear even appears. I keep my face so close to his as I continue to grind up and down on him, knowing I have long since pushed him past the point of orgasm, and that I am now merely holding him on the brink for my pleasure. And amusement. The tears are the final sign that I have achieved a dominance over him so complete, so wide-ranging, so absolute, that he has ceased to exist in his own right, and now merely exists as a product of my whim.
I lean in, slowly, sensuously parting my lips, showing my teeth for a moment before, with deliberate care, extending my tongue. Making sure I barely hurt him, I languidly lick a few of the tear drops from his face. Even his despair is mine.
The taste of complete defeat stirs something in me. I decide to release my inner hold, and let his jets of built-up come shoot into me, the sensation as his body jerks violently in what is surely the most intense orgasm of his life by a factor of 10, actually stimulating me into a mini pre-orgasm of my own. Quickly, though the series of pulses of cum dies down to nothing. Just as I'm now finally getting really in the mood. The man beneath me is spent, exhausted and broken in so many ways. X-ray vision reveals he's physically broken too with a fractured pelvis. I wasn't even pounding him hard! But right now he is finished as a plaything, and I need more. More. Now.
I look up at the next two approaching on all fours.
The next two men were still feeling more horny than scared, because that one seductive look she gave them earlier stirred up even more powerful emotions inside of them than the sight of their second friend being raped into unconsciousness before their eyes. They continue to crawl towards her with equal parts of fear and desire.
But then, a third man, one of the fat defensive linemen, stands up.
He's had enough of watching his friends be raped by this sick woman. He doesn't know what the hell she is or how the hell she seems to be so strong, but he's decided that enough is enough.
"On 'three', everybody tackle her" he orders. "She can't beat all of us."
Almost everybody on the bus hesitates at first, but they all start to stand, as well.
I'd been expecting an uprising at some point
When you've raped as many buses full of men as I have… sports teams, prison transfers, soldiers being moved to bases or front-lines, priests on day trips…. you start to notice patterns. Sometimes, they don't really revolt until there's only a few left and they finally realise there's a strong chance they aren't going to make it out alive. Sometimes it's right near the start when I kill the driver in front of them to set the mood…
"One" shouted the fat rebel leader as he stood up. The pair on their knees hesitated with all the shuffling and movement behind them. The men were getting up, sliding out of the seats and beginning to fill the corridor of the bus.
I did nothing. "Two" he said, his voice wavering a little, seemingly gaining confidence from the show of support all around him, and also losing it due to the unnerving nature of my show of disinterest.
I waited until the last moment. Until as many of them had got into the corridor as were going to join the rebellion. Until the fat man started to call out the final attack cue.
"Thr-" he began
At that moment, I pursed my ripe lips and effortlessly blew at the nearest men in the aisle. The power of my lazy breath hit the men at the front and pushed them back instantly. They hit the ones behind. My breath simply overpowered those as well, pushing the new bigger clump into those further down the aisle, the increasing mass of 'big, strong' helpless naked men still no challenge whatsoever to the force of my exhalation. In less than two seconds, I had nearly thirty men pinned to the back of the bus and I wasn't even putting any effort into my puff. If anything, I was holding back so as not to squeeze the group of men too hard between the rear of the transport and the wall of my breath.
As they struggled against the hurricane that pushed them with more strength than they could muster with their bodies combined, I made a point of showing them how comfortable and dominant I felt dealing so easily with their revolt by placing both of my hands on my hips. For good measure, I leant a little towards them, thrusting out my breasts as I continued to gently channel a tornado through my lips.
The men closest to the super woman were unexpectedly blown off of their feet right before they were about to charge. And everybody behind them were unexpectedly blown off of their feet due to being bowled over by the bodies in front of them. Within seconds, everybody was screaming in pain from the crushing weight of her gale. The men at the front were struggling against a wall of air that feels just as immovable as a wall of bricks. And as you got further and further to the back of the line of naked men, the screams of pain got louder and louder. The guys in the back had it the worst, as they were being crushed underneath the weight of about thirty other men, half of them well above average weight. One of their noses breaks. Another one feels like his bending ribs are about to crack at any moment. Desperate struggling and pain screaming fills the back half of the bus.
I can hear the creaking and cracking of bones even above the roar of my super breath because I'm listening for it with my superhuman hearing. It's what tells me, not that I am blowing too hard, but rather that I have a decision to make. No outside force in existence can persuade me one way or the other. The decision is mine, and purely mine, and the sheer idea of it existing, thrills me. At that moment, I have to decide whether to keep on blowing as softly as I am and have a few more ribs and noses break, and maybe a suffocation or two at the back of the crowd, to stop blowing altogether and allow the men a chance to breathe and survive - for the moment anyway - or to just start blowing a tiny bit harder and to start hearing whole skeletons crumble and see bodies pressured into bursting under my power.
I decide that it'd be more fun to rape them than to murder them all with just a puff of breath. So for that reason, and no other, they are all still alive when I close my lips. The end of the hurricane causes most of them to stagger forwards. Some slump to the ground, gasping for air. None of them look like they are keen to attack me, but I feel like making sure of their cooperation from here on in.
I float up from the floor, this time raising my hands above my head, arching my back and bending my knee to show off my beauty. With my palms upturned I press them into the roof of the bus, listening to the way the thin metal groans under stresses it was not manufactured to resist. I'm careful, applying my flight powers little by little, letting the roof bubble slightly above my hands but not tearing right through it. The whole bus judders for a moment as I take command of it away from the forces of gravity. The men at the back are still recovering from being gently blown at but I can see the two at the front, still on their knees, have noticed. They glance at each other in shock and terror. I continue to exercise my powers of flight with my hands pressed against the roof of the bus from the inside.
Gradually, the ones nearest the windows start to notice. The shock and panic spreads fast through the team. I'm holding the bus, under the power of my wonderful body, a thousand feet above the road. It's effortless for me too. The huge vehicle with its steel chassis and its big engine, the forty larger-than-average men… I could hold it in the sky like that forever. Although the flimsy roof would probably fail pretty quickly…
"Feel free to leave if you don't want to play my game anymore," I tell them. No-one moves. The frame of the bus creaks above me. The wind howls through the smashed windscreen.