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A small town reporter gets a taste of fame.

"Here's the deal, honey. I'll take out my fingers and my thumb, and you do the honors. Take off the skirt, and get one, two, and then three fingers, working into your sweet pussy. You're gonna fuck yourself for me." The order brought iron to my weapon.

"They won't fit." In a flat voice; maybe she was trying to sound like there was no fight in her. At that moment I jabbed my two slimy fingers way up into her rectum; the agonized shock on her face! So deeply invaded, her body twisted, she screamed, and then calmed herself. "Yes, I'll do it," she said, panting from the shock. "Your deal."

That sight would turn the old python to rock, I knew.

I removed my fingers, and sure enough, when two of her digits disappeared in there, he jerked up to full attention. She saw the pole jutting out of my pants, and her eyes glazed. As if she were trying to sleepwalk through the situation.

"Put your fingers in my mouth for a sec, let me see," I said, and the taste of that funky twat filled my mouth. "Third finger in ya now, bitch." She's barely tryin'-a slap'll jerk her to attention. Whack, looked like it hurt. She quickly shoved the third finger just inside the inner lips. There were more tears. Yeah this misery thing is really gonna get to me. I said, "Tell me what you're doing and why, why you're doing it for me."

She hesitated, and I slapped her and raised the two fingers that had been in her ass, and she understood they'd be back in it in a second. "I got my three fingers in here for you honey," she said. "The honey pot's getting juicy. It wants your cock, there, see how juicy I'm getting. My pussy's never been stretched like this, but for you, lover." About as convincing as a three dollar bill sporting Bush's head. She looked calmer; "I know what you want now." Right. A whore's mind. "Dip into my honey jar, my lil' garden." Recited like a schoolgirl expecting a goddamn apple.

"Miss Manners, so prim. It is your gash, your cunt, your leaking twat, slimy poon." Repeat. She was ready to erupt, but couldn't seem to find the right words.

"Don't hurt me. I don't know what the hell to do." Eyes downcast. She defers to me.

I knew where she'd be going. "Say what you want, Ms. Poon-for-Sale."

"I want you inside me," she began, like we're on Temptation Island or something, and I gave my two fingers a quick lick, and deep into her ass they went. She yelped and looked at me; eyes now tearful. The situation was slipping from her understanding. "Just do me," she said quietly, "if that's what you want." I removed my fingers. "What you after?" Small voice, quite shaken. Still trying to figure where the violence was going.
"Say about the fuck ya got for me. No more sweet girl, momma's dearest angel." Her reaction was a surprise.

"Leave my momma outa this!" She was seething; the anger would be useful in her degradation. So I let it slide.

"OK, bless your loved ones-say the dirty things you gotta have."

Her voice, indignant, suddenly stronger, took a harsh unyielding tone that did wonders for my cock, "You're going to fuck me, fuck your whore, nail this slut's pussy."

"Work your clit with your thumb."

"What?"

"Rub that button you ain't 'sposed to touch. Rub it lightly." When she did, her eyes closed and her face took on a rapt expression. I can control her pleasure, too. "You like it." The firm statement got to her, for she colored more darkly. I saw her start to shake her head, but she must've known what I say in her eyes, for she stopped.

The python was pricking up his ears, "Time for three, honey, all the way.

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