Her life is a big dark room. Ink black hair lays on alabaster skin. A boisterous, suburban girl in search of a few thrills. She wanted to straddle the fence, a taboo she could not resist. Raised with lies, scripts, and denial, temptation wins in the end. Kennedy knows the truth, she bows to one she serves. She offers me alms and access, I am the Goddess Kennedy prays to. Her body is mine to play with—tight waist and an ass that defies convention. Countess Blackwell’s little helper, Kennedy bends over where I tell her. She renounced the world that made her cause she’d rather worship Satan.

There is power from the bottom, as you learn watching Kennedy work. She handles what I dish, she wants as much as she can withstand. Cuts, scrapes, and bruises are part of her fucking brand. Consent is the King, and I am a fucking Queen. Her titties are fucking plush, that ass hangs out of those shorts. Fishnets over her thighs, tattoo around her neck where Kennedy wants my hands. Black talons for nails, and piercings all over her body. 

For Kennedy, pain is pleasure, I am pleased to oblige her. Sadism is kind of my thing, call it a knack or a talent. Kennedy hands me the keys to her body, then tells me Do What Thou Wilt. Her throat is in fifth gear while I take her for a spin. I place her over my knee, her ass is a strawberry field. Kennedy giggles and writhes with delight as she sinks deep into that place. Where time no longer exists and reality is a blur. Kennedy is in another dimension, she is a long way from home. She owned by Countess Blackwell.

What lies behind those bookish frames and pinned hair? Conservative looks with lascivious glances. Unassuming in the street, cock gobbler in the sheets. Kennedy is my private dancer, her secret is safe with me. I encourage her worst behavior, shy and demure otherwise, librarians gone wild. Sheer shirt with no bra, nipple piercings on display. Her tits bounce while she rides, Kennedy wants as much as she can handle. Arch that back so I can blow it out like a candle. Bend over, let me see it, Kennedy wants me to live inside her.

She says take what is already yours, I fuck her like I’m playing for keeps. Eyes in the back of her head, hands gripping the sheets. I know her mouth well, and that pussy is even better. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Countess Blackwell is what they call me. There other names in there too, but that’s another discussion. Her secret is safe with me, my closet whore Kennedy.


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