The Benvolio's slayer...

"I can't do it anymore. I have to bring the flowers to the wedding", Faustina Benvolio spoke out of breath. Strong hands turned her over, causing her to land on four in the back of Julius's cabriolet. She crushed the blossoms with her knees.

"A little more, baby. After all, you always wanted it", Paris said, pumping her from behind, The strapon on his belt bounced to the rhythm of his moves.

Faustina agreed to frolic, only to draw the villian as far away from the bride as she could. Unfortunately to her horror, she found that since she had an outer club, ramming her remaining hole became much more enjoyable, than when she only had her old rose. Paris, in opposition to her feelings, took nothing from the act, just his twisted mind rewarded him for humiliating others. Even though he lost his chivalry at the bottom, he still pretended to be the same man he was before, wayward, greedy and steeped in the complexes of his lost masculinity.

Miss Benvolio moaned in pleasure, as she drifted away more and more. The flowers lost their importance, especially when her male juice poured over them, staining the reds with white.

"Come with me. I'll show you something you'll never forget", Paris seized Faustina from the car. He pulled her into the bushes, hiding them both away from anyone's attention.

Neither of them noticed Rosaline approaching the vehicle, and instead of blossoms, she was interested in something more sinister.