1. The (Sex) Toymaker


    Date: 7/21/2015, Categories: Dark Fantasy, Body modification, Humiliation, Lesbian, Male/Teen Female, Toys, Author: abroadsword, Rating: 62.5, Source: sexstories.com

    Oleg suggested. The girl waddled like a pregnant duck. “You might try you dopy bitch,” Oleg suggested. “Oi wanker, shut it,” she replied pleasantly. “For fuck’s sake!” Oleg replied, “I thought you said you had a well worn slut?” “You said no one will know she has bomb inside,” an ISIL official countered. The Institute was an old boiler house at Ilkley Main Colliery. It was built like a brick shit house but stronger. The walls were four feet thick. Back in the 1960s it had been converted to a social room when they had an electric winding engine installed. Now it remained as the only building in a wasteland where even the slag heaps had been levelled. Oleg had his boxes in the back room, the kitchen, a four foot thick wall away from the main hall, “You come with me!” he ordered and he hustled the girl through the door. He grabbed her crotch. She squealed. He groped wildly for the slippery black monster which he then tugged from her cunt. “Aw!” she wailed. Oleg twisted the end cap, the battery fell out and then he grabbed his bag, he pressed four buttons on a key pad and the world exploded. He could not hear or see, he thought he was dead. He felt something. Something warm. A girl. Her tears fell wetly on his face. “Its OK.” he said but he heard nothing. Then the ringing in his ears diminished. The girl was sobbing, everything was covered with dust. A light bulb glowed faintly through the dust laden atmosphere. Everything was quiet. ...
    “What happened?” the girl shouted. “Thunder,” Oleg laughed. Part of the ceiling had collapsed. As the dust settled they saw the kitchen door was off its hinges. The big refrigerator had been knocked sideways and leaned drunkenly against a sink unit. Water poured from a ruptured pipe. Oleg picked up his bag. “Time to go.”he said looking for a way out. The window over the sink still had some glass left in it so Oleg smashed out what was left and they climbed out. “You OK?” someone asked from the shadows. “Headache,” Oleg said. The girl just sobbed, “Look after her,” Oleg asked. “No, you take her home, we’ll clear up here,” the shadowy figure insisted. Oleg never saw the remains of twenty seven ISIL fighters spread like strawberry jam around the old Institute building. The collapsed ceiling or the fallen roof joists and tiles. Nobody said thank you, he didn’t even get paid for the dildoes and vests which blew up. He just found an extra £ 270 000 in his Swiss Bank account next time he checked. And he had the satisfaction of a job well done. And a girl who’se life he had saved. She thanked him. She thanked him several times. She really showed him how grateful she was when he stopped at his house to let her get cleaned up. She let him fuck her bareback. No one except her dad and Uncle John fucked her bareback. But she trusted Oleg. He took her home a week later. Her pimp beat her up and broke her collar bone. Not all stories have a happy ending.
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