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When inserted, it looked like a smaller version of the round canister from a 1920's era Tommy Gun had been attached to the bottom of the pistol grip. Those spiral clips held 140 rounds, which extended your burst capability on full automatic to a grand total of seven seconds. Mistress Melinda’s shoulders slumped. “I’m dead anyway,” she said flatly as she turned to aim at the chef. I screamed “NO!” and dove to tackle her. It wasn’t until I was on top of her on the ground that I could see the bright silver Volkov Kollar around her throat. “Clear,” I said loudly, as I pushed her weapon over onto the grass. And then even more loudly, I yelled to the other Masters and Mistresses, “Help me get her into the display tent! Now!” Without knowing why I wanted it, they hurried to help me drag her toward the second tent. She was basically limp in our arms, quivering slightly as she waited for the knife wire to trigger. As we lay her on the grass that was the floor of the tent, I noted that– despite my instructions– one of the other Masters was armed and had pulled a small automatic from a concealed holster above his waist. I wasn’t angry. I couldn’t blame him. It’s what I would have done in his place. I shook Mistress Melinda hard and said forcefully. “There is no electronic signal that can open the collar.” She squirmed beneath me as if trying to escape and brought her hands up to her neck trying to tear the collar from her throat. “This tent,” I said firmly, “is flooded with rf at the control frequency of your collar. It thinks it is still attached to whoever is controlling it, but their signals are swamped out. You are safe inside this tent.” “But there has to be a key,” she said tearfully. “You got the collar off of Loraine.” She smiled at me with a strange mixture of fear and hope on her face and added, “... like I knew you would.” “I couldn’t,” I replied. “But I knew someone who could.” “So chubby where is the key?” she asked. “You’re lying in front of it,” I said. “Boris and Natasha went through all the code that controls the collar and found that there was no command that would open it or shut it down. That can only be done from the control panel on the neck side of the collar. There was a place in the memory for a True or False variable that would open the collar, but there was no way to access that part of memory. Volkov intended it to be the perfect slave collar. It was permanent and the only way to escape it was death.” Mistress Melinda looked very confused. “But you opened Loraine’s collar?..” she sputtered. “There has to be a way.” “It is very hard to explain,” I said, “but the memory slot that keeps track of how many orgasms you have had in a day is right next to the memory slot that says to open the collar. And your orgasm memory slot overflows if you have more than 15 orgasms in a day.” “That’s impossible,” she said, her shoulder slumping even further. “I can have sex that many times, but there’s no way I would orgasm every time.” “That’s where my Orgasmatron bbw comes in,” I said, “... and a heavy fat dose of rasagiline.” She looked at me even more confused and I said, “It’s a Parkinson’s drug with the side effect of giving women spontaneous orgasms.” “I owe you,” she said. “No,” I said, “you owe all the subs and switches that you tricked into slavery. The conversation got round to the bands that were performing and one of the guys told everyone about one bbw thing that happened at the same concert last year. Throwing her down onto the bed I was able to look at her properly for the first time. chubby "Try it here." she said, so Sarah took off her fat panties to stand nude except for her mask. “I love you.” I barely spoke it. Imagine that.” She retorted. Then with her hand gently patting my balls she said “It smells real good.” She lowered her head further sniffing the precum and licking the head. Ash and I both came to realize that. “Sammy, Bobby this is my wife Jill. I put it on his hard cock and laid back on the bed. Just as she thought, he looked at her and then the phone, then at her again.

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“I don’t think I want to get Corruption out of you,” Brandon grinned down at me, “I think I want her to stay right where she is.” “You’re a piece of shit.” I laughed, touching his cheek affectionately. “That’s high praise coming from you.” Brandon chuckled. We stared into each other’s eyes, both knowing beyond any doubt chubby that this would end horribly, both not caring in the least. It was a bastardization of love, an abomination manufactured by a being that only sought chaos and destruction, but it still compelled fat me. Why should I fight it? Why should I try to define where my soul ends, and Corruption’s begins? I’m not Willowbud Autumnsong, not anymore, and I probably won’t ever be again. Astrid is losing the will to save me, Angela probably never could, and Brandon wants me as I am. I feel good with him, I feel love with him, so why should I care whose love it is? I am Corruption, and Corruption is me. Corruption loves Brandon, and so do I. Our lips connected in the dark, and our tongues found their way between them. Our mouths spoke the language of love, and our bodies translated it as we pulled clothes from flesh. Somehow, I knew Brandon didn’t love me like I loved him, but he’d learn. He’d learn, or he’d die. CORRUPTION Memory is a fleeting thing. Even the deepest scars of the mind will fade with time, and I am rich with time. The eternal sentience cycles through decay and renewal, and old memories are turned-over for the virgin seeds of thought. I know that I am ancient, but I do not know how old. Tens of thousands of years string together and fray, blur and clarify like an bbw ebbing stream. I know that I am evil, but I do not know why. They whisper my name with fear on their lips, and that fear breeds my label, but I care not. The laws of morality are as fleeting as memory, and are redefined with each successive generation. I’ve borne witness to countless iterations of slaves, shackled to the stones of their passing morality. I am a liberator. I do not have a purpose, as purpose is a lie. Purpose is the thing mortals sum their lives to, a convenient label to attach to their existence. It is the brand of their shackles, and those who are fortunate enough to love me, are unchained. I am a compassionate woman. I desire only that the world be driven to chaos, that the confines of law be stripped from the minds of man, that the lie of morality be burned free from their hearts. Take what you desire without shame, indulge in your passion without guilt, destroy what you hate without fear. The mortal life is as fleeting as memory, and it is pure insanity to waste it on trivial matters of codes and rule. How can you not scream to the sky? How can you not break your self-made chains in rage? Do you not see that death is coming for you, and that every second you waste in fear of yourself is a loss more precious than mountains of gold? Burn alive with life! Rage with the feelings gifted to you! Do not try to grasp what is unobtainable, do not try to control what is wild! But you… you are a memory that never died. A memory that smolders in the ashes of forgotten dreams, an ember that was never extinguished. I still know your touch, I still hear your whisper, I still taste your kiss. You were my lover once. You were the heat between my legs, the wetness between my lips, the moan between my breaths. You were my lover once, but you did not love me, Life Giver. I loved you, though. I loved you with every inch of my being, with every beat of my heart, with every piece of my soul. Mind if I borrow that?" “Yeah, I guess so but we did finish cleaning the carpets.” Billy said. From the deck I was on I could see down too most of the pool area. "I was asking if you came from Sri Lanka, and where." fat “Oh, you're in me and it feels great. calm, gentle and collected? “What else?” She complimented the outfit with high heels. I could feel her tongue roving all over the shaft and making it wet. He had chubby always loved to fantasize about young girls and here was one right bbw now in front of him. "Yes, Master very much." Marcus sits on the floor with his back against Jennifer’s legs. My upstairs office had a connection to my main office which office is hidden and so I could do a lot of my work without entering the hidden one. When they did flow she struggled to swallow every drop. “It’s too pretty to eat!” That my pussy cunt was itching right now.


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