The Broken Doll

Tinkerbell had done her work well. The mixture of her saliva and Wendy's own fluids glistened on her inner thighs, catching the moonlight like liquid silver. She was trembling violently, her chest heaving, her knuckles white where she gripped my hand. Tink was at her head, stroking her matted hair, whispering things I couldn't hear, promises of pleasure, or perhaps warnings of pain.

The head of my cock rested against her entrance. Up close, the sight was eroticism in its purest form. My broad tip pressed against her delicate, pale pink labia, parting the soft folds. She was so small, so untouched. The lubrication Tink had provided allowed me to tease the opening, sliding just the very rim inside.

"Look at me," I commanded again.

Wendy **** her eyes open. They were wide, terrified, and swimming with tears. She stared up at me as if I were a storm about to break. "It's... it's too big," she whimpered.

"Breathe."

I pushed. I didn't slam into her; I was a slow, inexorable ****. I sank into her inch by agonizing inch. I felt her tight, virgin sheath stretch taut around me, struggling to accommodate the invasion. She let out a high, strangled cry, her back arching off the sand, her toes curling. I hit the barrier. The part of her that was still a girl, still a "Mother" in a box.

I broke through. With a wet, tearing sound, I buried myself to the hilt. Wendy screamed, a raw, sharp sound that was swallowed by the vastness of the night sky. Her body went rigid, locking around me in a spasm of shock. She was incredibly tight, a velvet vice that pulsed around my length.

I held still, looming over her, letting her adjust to the fullness. "There," I growled, wiping a tear from her cheek with my thumb. "The box is broken. You're free."

"It hurts," she sobbed, clutching my wrists. "I feel split in two."

"The pain means you're real," I said. "Now feel the rest."

I began to move. At first, I was gentle, rocking my hips to grind against her clit, letting the friction build. Wendy’s sobs turned into jagged breaths. She started to move with me, instinct taking over where experience failed her. Her legs hooked around my waist, pulling me deeper.

But gentleness wasn't what she needed. She needed to be owned. I pulled out almost all the way, then slammed back in. She gasped, her eyes rolling back. "More," she slurred, the pleasure centers of her brain finally firing, overriding the pain. "Fill me."

"Turn over," I ordered.

I pulled out, leaving her gaping and empty for a split second. I grabbed her hips and flipped her over like a ragdoll. She was weak, pliable, surrendering completely to my handling. She rose to her hands and knees in the sand, her back swaying. I grabbed her waist and pulled her hips back. She lowered her head, burying her face in the cool sand, presenting herself to me. From behind, the sight was breathtaking, her pale, round ass cheeks dusted with sand, the pink slit glistening and open between her thighs.

I lined up and drove into her from behind. It went deeper this time. Much deeper. Wendy let out a muffled wail into the sand, her fingers digging furrows into the beach.

Suddenly, a soft, warm weight pressed against my side. Tinkerbell. She crawled up next to me on her knees. She didn't want to be left out. She pressed her lush, naked body against my arm and ribs. I felt her heavy, perky breasts squish against my bicep, the nipples dragging across my skin.

"Look at her," Tink purred, her voice thick with lust. "She takes it well for a doll."

I didn't stop thrusting. My hips slapped against Wendy’s ass, smack, smack, smack, driving her forward with every stroke. I reached out with one hand and grabbed Tink’s perfect, heart-shaped ass. I kneaded the soft flesh, squeezing her glutes, my fingers digging in deep. Tink moaned, leaning into my touch, arching her back to give me better access.

She turned her face to mine. "Kiss me," she demanded. "While you wreck her."

I leaned over and captured Tink’s lips. We kissed savagely, tongues battling, exchanging saliva, while below us, Wendy served as the vessel for our passion. The duality was intoxicating, kneading the Fairy Queen’s ass and tasting her mouth, while burying myself inside the Lost Girl.

I broke the kiss to look down at Wendy. She was a mess of sand and sweat. I gripped her hips tight, anchoring her in place. I drove in hard. I bottomed out completely. The head of my cock slammed into her cervix.

Wendy’s body jerked. She let out a choked, **** sound, half-pain, half-ecstasy. The deep, bruising impact hit a nerve that sent shockwaves through her entire system. I did it again. And again. Battering her deepest point, bruising the cervix, forcing her to feel the absolute limit of her depth.

"Oh god!" Wendy cried into the sand, her voice cracking. "It’s hitting my heart! You’re hitting my heart!"

"Take it," I snarled, my hand tightening on Tink’s ass, my hips piston-firing into Wendy. "Take every inch."