Awakening of the Goddess

Justine spent a long time sucking the master's cock. As much as Trent was so upset, he was also transfixed by how erotic she looked. She made loud, slurping noises as dollops of pre-seminal fluid dripped down into her cavernous cleavage. Trent couldn't help but watch as little streams would trickle down her huge tits, disappearing around the sides or down in between them.

The master shuddered and began to cum, and cum hard. Trent winced as she slid her mouth off and a little bit of the juices all over his cock flicked onto Trent's face when the master's cock sprung free from her lips. While jacking the master's cock, Justine guided the thick ropes of cum that shot out so that he came all over her tits. Thick streams of gooey, slimy cum splattered all over Justine's tits. With one hand pumping the master's cock, she used the other hand to spread the cum across her cleavage and around her massive breasts. She seemed intent on making sure her tits had an even coat of slimy, sticky cum all over them, especially down the between them, and there was plenty of cum to accomplish the task. The master grunted and growled as if it were painful to let so much cum out.

Justine turned to Trent and licked her tongue lowly across his face, from chin up over his right eye, leaving a trail of slimy goo. Trent thrashed to move out of the way but he couldn't.

"Did you enjoy watching that?" Justine said coyly. "Must be hard to know that's what you've been missing out on all this time. Ha ha ha!" The master laughed too. She brought her legs up so that she could slid her tiny panties off, and then she stood up with her legs in a wide stance and her hands on her hips in a powerful stance. Her statuesque body looked like that of a goddess. A goddess of pure sadistic evil. The master, standing behind her, had his arms around her, under her arms, and each hand held up a massive breast, each breast spilling out over top his wide spread fingers. Her breasts didn't need any support, but the master was enjoying the feel of their weight and size.

Trent looked up at her, and that's when Justine and the master both noticed the tears trickling down his face from his red eyes. "You see, Justine," the master said, "you can see it on his face. He wants to hate you but he can't. He loves you too much. He's loved you too long for his heart to give up on you, even now that he can see your true self. He doesn't want to believe it. He holds onto the hope that somehow this isn't real, or that this isn't really you. You can literally see his heart shattering into pieces as his hopes fight with the reality." Justine listened intently to the master's words, and enjoyed them almost as if they were a form of sex themselves. She writhed her body slightly, rubbing up against him.

She leaned forward so that she had her hands on Trent's shoulders and she brought her face right in front of Trent's. "Is that true honey?" she said in a voice that was a wicked simulation of sympathy. "It's okay, honey, you don't need to answer. I know you better than you know yourself. I know you still love me. You poor, pathetic little man. This must be so awful for you." Trent looked right back into her eyes, and there was no hiding his feelings. He was so confused. How could one be so in love with someone who was enjoying breaking one's heart?

She was standing so that with her legs straight and bent over as she was, the master was in the perfect position to slide his long rock hard cock into her and she cooed with delight. Then she said to Trent, "Poor little boy, let mommy comfort you a little. You've always found comfort by snuggling against my big breasts, haven't you?" She was being rocked back and forth by the thrusts of the master's cock, but even so, she slowly arched her back up so that she brought her huge, wobbling breasts up to the same level as Trent's face. Slowly and deliberately she brought them toward his face, enjoying that he was realizing what this was about. He looked at her breasts, covered in the masters cum. He thrashed as if there was something he could do to avoid it, but of course there wasn't. She then pressed her breasts into his face, which resulted in Trent being smothered all over his face with the slimy cum covering her tits. She held the back of Trent's head to ensure he was snugly pressed in between her soft pillowy tits. He struggled and shook his head, but that only resulted in him being more covered with goo. He got some up his nose, and he could taste it in his mouth as all the movement caused it to slip in and around his ball gag. He grunted and howled with anger while Justine moaned with ecstasy.

The master fucked Justine like this for what seemed like forever to Trent. Justine came like Trent never imagined she could, screaming wildly, and she came again and again. Then the master said, "Justine, why don't we give him a full view of how you look when you are being truly pleasured?" The master slid his cock out of Justine's pussy, and then the two of them stepped over to the white leather bench directly across from Trent, no more than a yard and half away from him. The master sat and Justine lowered herself onto his cock, facing toward Trent. In this way, she bounced up and down on his shaft, so that Trent could see the whole thing. Her tits bounced and her face showed such pleasure that she was erotic to look at. Trent hated that it was turning him on to look at her. He wanted more control over his feelings, but it seemed like she owned every part of him, and he felt what she wanted him to feel.

The master and Justine chatted while they fucked, talking about all the ways she had betrayed Trent. They would reminisce about amusing moments, and then laugh at Trent.

"Can you imagine," Justine said toward Trent, "while you sat at home with your hand on your cock and sending me messages to tell me, the master's cock was deep inside me just like this."

She revealed to Trent how the master's cum was a significant part of Trent's diet by him putting it in the food Justine prepared. Trent felt sick to his stomach. Every detail, every little anecdote they amused themselves with was like another punch in the gut.

They would change positions, and the master came on Justine a few times, so that she was covered in his gooey liquids and the whole room smelled of semen. In each position, they made sure Trent had a good view, and laughed at how he couldn't take his eyes off them, and that his cock was hard despite how frustrated with rage he was.

After what seemed like ages of this to Trent, he felt a rage fueled strength build up inside him. At that time, Justine was on her back and the master was fucking her tits. Trent howled with anger so much that he chocked and spittle ran out the sides of his ball gag. He pulled and strained and twisted side to side to break free. The restraints and chains wouldn't budge, but after thrashing side to side, the chair started to come loose from the floor. Sensing that something was about to give, he pushed harder and harder with his legs to life the chair upward. There was a creaking sound as the braces that bolted the legs of the chair to the floor started to bend. Trent made a strained growl of effort as he made his strongest effort yet.

The noise of the bolts breaking made Justine and the master stop to watch. At this point they had become lost in their own ecstasy, so it was like they had been reminded Trent was there. They both turned, pausing in mid motion, with the master's iron hard cock between her huge tits, and Justine squeezing them together to smother his cock lovingly. Although they paused, they didn't look worried, they merely looked curious.

With a loud pop that sounded almost like a gun shot, a bolt holding a back leg of the chair came out of the floor board, and the chair lurched forward. The second brace on the other back leg broke immediately afterward. Trent hoped that once the chair was free of the floor he could break the chair apart. He twisted and grunted with another effort, taxing his strength, and with that, one of the front leg braces twisted free.

Then Trent fell forward, his face smacking into the ground. His nose began to bleed, and he let out a howl of pain, and anger at his efforts not being enough. He tried to shift and push with his whole body so that he could wrench free from the last brace that held the last chair leg against the ground. However, even though the metal brace was twisted and folded, it held firm. Also, now that he was on the ground, he lost all leverage against it, and so all his effort amounted to nothing more than squirming. The most he could do was turn his head to the side so that he wasn't lying face down.

Justine and the master looked at Trent, then at each other, and then burst out laughing. They both relaxed their positions because they were laughing too much to maintain it. They laughed so much that they teared up, and couldn't form words. After what was an agonizingly humiliating long time, Justine and the master got up and stepped over to Trent. Justine crouched down so that she could pat him on the head.

"Oh, Trent," she said, "what a sweet little loser you are. That was so adorable. And I agree with your that this is a much better position for you." Justine, seizing the moment, positioned herself so that she was on her knees, with her legs either side of Trent's head. Her hands were on the two back legs of the chair. Her dripping pussy was right above Trent's face. The master followed her lead and, kneeling down behind her, entered her pussy, mere inches above Trent's face. The spatter of juices that came down like a rain from where the master was slamming his cock in and out of Justine's pussy. Trent flinched and winced at every drop, and there was a constant rain of drops.

This went on so long that Trent got soaked. And when the master at long last came, he pulled out enough so that all fell with an audible splat onto Trent's face as well, and dribbled down into a puddle where his cheek was resting against the floor.

Trent and the master got up. Trent couldn't turn to see Justine or the master as the weight of his body forced him to lie with one side of his face on the floor. He tried looking up to the side, but they were on the other side of his head, so he could only hear them. They were chatting idly to themselves, as if Trent weren't even there. Trent could hear them kissing gently while they talked.

"Was torturing him as fun as you had hoped?" the master asked.

"Mmmm, better" Justine purred in agreement, her mouth attached to the master's. Then she said, "Should we get going? I want to be well rested before we meet everyone for brunch tomorrow." Trent felt a shock that fueled his anger. She was talking as if tomorrow she would just casually go off and meet friends and have wine and good times, as if stomping on his heart wasn't life changing for her as it was for him. He would remember every second of all that happened here in excruciating detail for the rest of his life, and she was talking as if her life was going to merely go on being fun and at her leisure. The imbalance was infuriating.

"Yes," the master said, "but first I need to use the washroom."

"Oh," Justine said, "there's a room with showers and, oh! You mean," and then Justine stopped speaking suddenly and giggled. There was no sound at all for a few moments, and Trent couldn't tell what was going on. Then suddenly he felt a stream of piss hitting his head. "Oh, you're so bad!" Justine said playfully.

"NNNNRRRRR!!" Trent howled through his ball gag, and made the entirely futile attempt to move in any direction at all that would get him out of the way. However, all he was able to do was shake his head spastically. The master aimed his stream of piss to make sure Trent's hair was soaked, and that it dribbled down all over his face. Trent's hearing was obscuring by the sound of piss swirling in his ear. It got in Trent's nose, and around the ball of the gag, and he could taste its acidic burning taste. "HHHHNNN!! LLGLGNNN!!" Trent's tears of rage and futility were masked by the urine burning his eyes.

"Ha ha hah!" Justine laughed with delight. "Poor baby!" she said in her evil, motherly tone. The master chuckled as well, and took his sweet time until the last drops spilled out onto Trent's cheek.

There was a bit of silence, and Trent wasn't sure what was going on. Then suddenly, her wedding ring dropped right in front of his face, bouncing slightly, but not rolling away as its motions were slowed by the puddle of cum, pussy juice, and piss that Trent's head was lying in. He watched it roll a little and then come to a stop in front of his face.

The world seemed to go silent for a moment as he watched the ring come to a stop. It was the perfect symbolic finish to Justine's game of pain and agony. Trent was so focused on the ring that it took him a moment to hear Justine and the master open the door to leave the room.

"I want to do that again," Justine was saying, "to other men."

"You will, Justine," the master said, "you are goddess now, and we will make many sacrifices to you."

Justine laughed a charming, flattered laugh and then the lights went out and the door closed. It was perfectly silent and dark. Trent didn't move at all, even within the constricted bounds that he could. He couldn't believe he was just going to be left there. Did they intend for him to die there? They weren't going to unbind him?

Suddenly Trent went mental, fighting as hard as he could against the restraints and screaming out. "HHHRRRRRPPPP!! HHEEEEEENNNNNP!!"" He called out in hopes of someone hearing him despite the ball gag. He got nowhere with the restraints or chair. No one came in answer to his cries.

He had no idea what time it was. He guessed some time after midnight, but it was hard to say when. He tried to get calm and think about the situation. If it was the middle of the night, then there wouldn't be many people around. The best thing to do would be to rest, conserve energy, and then in the morning when there might be people passing by close enough to hear him to use his strength to make as much noise as possible then.

He tried to will himself to sleep, despite the brutally uncomfortable position, and the acidic smell of urine right under his nose. He went through a few waves where he had a steely determination to get out of this and he imagined what he might be able to do the next day to get his revenge. Then his feelings would swing like a pendulum the other way and he felt so used, helpless and that he was trapped and it was all futile. He wailed and cried, knowing that there was no need to try and hold onto his manly pride by not crying. He knew Justine and the master were far away by now and no one at all was listening to him. He would let go, and just feel the pain.

Even while he lay there, the master's words burned into him. It was true what he said that even though Justine had been so cruel, that Trent wouldn't be able to stop loving her. Trent had years of building a relationship with her. A powerful, deep loving relationship. It didn't just go away. Instead, it was there in his mind and his heart, right beside the new reality that she was sadistic and evil. The two feelings fought, and his whole psyche was caught in between, feeling unrelenting pain. He tried to believe she must be brainwashed, she must be drugged, or something that would explain that it wasn't really her and that maybe he could get his Justine back.

Although he had doubts about whether not he'd be able to sleep, the emotional turmoil was more exhausting than he would have imagined, and just from pure exhaustion he passed out sometime in the night. It was a fitful sleep, filled with nightmares that were just images and feelings, where he would see Justine and want her so bad, and she would laugh at him.

Some time later which must have been very early in the morning, Trent was discovered by two Mexican cleaners who did not speak English very well. They woke him up and were confused and concerned, and asked if they should call the police.

Trent, however, was absolutely raging with anger. He thought they might somehow be connected with Justine and the master, so he got ready to attack them the moment he got free. He couldn't quite pounce from how he was released from the chair, but he still grabbed one of them, and started yelling about where was this "master" person. However, after some confused pushing and shoving, it was clear they had absolutely no idea what was going on. They just worked at that building or were contracted to clean up this room, or something along those lines.

With gestures and simple English, he convinced them not to call the cops. He told them not to because he wanted to handle this himself, like a man. He thought that very day he might go out and buy a gun and use it to kill Justine and the master, and anyone else he might find her with at the time. Although even that plan was confused. He also wanted to save Justine from the master. The master must have done something to her. In any case, whoever Trent had to kill, he didn't care if he went to prison or even if he died in the process. The things that were done to him deserved absolute vengeance.

Trent's clothes were in a pile in a corner of the room. He convinced the two cleaners to leave the room for a while as he dressed. He also wanted the time to get his bearings. He looked up at the two video cameras and felt a wince of anger. When he first came into the room, he wondered if they were on. Now he was certain they were, and they were going to play it back and laugh at his pain. He wanted to destroy the cameras, even though he knew the video they had filmed was somewhere else. He had nothing that could reach them, though, and so, even though he still smelled of urine, he left.

He had his wallet and phone in his pants pockets, so he called a cab to take him home. The driver was obviously a little put off by the way Trent smelled, but Trent told him to shut the fuck up and drive, and that was the end of that conversation.

Trent came home to discover the apartment in a mess. It looked like there had been a party there. There were bottles and glasses everywhere, cigarette butts, some left overs from some drugs that had been used. A lot of things were broken. Some of it looked like it was broken incidentally, but some of it looked deliberate.

When he got into his bedroom, that's when he noticed a lot of Justine's clothes missing. There was a huge empty space in the open closet, but Trent wasn't interested in looking to see exactly what she took and what she left. It didn't matter.

What was more pressing was the fact that his clothes had been dumped into a pile on the bed, and pissed on. They were soaked, so it had been a group effort. It had to be people doing this for Justine and the master while Trent was in the room with them. Trent realised that his own clothes had been pissed on so that he would have to spend the time washing them before he went out again. Not to mention the humiliation of having his belongings being pissed on. He pulled out some clothes, trying to ignore their dampness and smell, and threw them in the washing machine.

While the washing machine ran, Trent had a little time to look around a little more. It became clear that Justine had taken whatever she felt was sentimental, like some photo albums and keepsakes, but left most of her things, like she was leaving most of her life, behind. There were some details to that were designed to rub salt into Trent's wounds. He found that of the pictures that were left, his face was burned or torn out of all of them, leaving only images of Justine behind. It seemed she left behind anything that was a memory of him, but also ruined it so all he had was images of her. The message was clear. She mattered to him, he didn't matter to her.