THIS STORY CONTAINS MATERIAL OF A HIGHLY ADULT NATURE. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR ANYONE UNDER THE AGE OF 18. The following story is a work of fiction containing graphic descriptions of sexual interaction between consenting adults. The names of famous media personalities have been used in this story purely for entertainment purposes only. The author does not intend for this story to reflect the actual lifestyle or behavior of any of the well-known individuals whose names have been chosen for this work of fiction. After writing Part Four, I'm starting to think that I might have a hard time topping all that action. I had a lot fun writing that chapter. I haven't heard as many comments on it as I did after Part Three, but that's okay. It seems like people are reading the stories and that's what matters. Trust me, this series is far from over. Part Six will return with more girl-on-girl action featuring Terri, The Kat and "Mamacita." Stay tuned for that! As far as Part Five goes, all I can say is Part Five is completely different. It's also extremely long. I hope the length doesn't turn anyone off. I just wanted to try something on a larger scale, something with more depth. What's important to me is telling the story as well as I can without rushing through all the context. So, if you like your erotic stories short, sweet and to the point, you might want to skip this one (or at least scroll down about halfway). This chapter is intended for people who like to take their time and enjoy the whole story. It might be more appealing to women or couples. But all you horny guys out there need not fear. I'll have more of that wall-to-wall hot nasty action for you real soon. For now, I hope you'll give Part Five a chance. It's still a pretty hot story. End of speech. Here's more of . . . The Sexual Adventures of the WWF (Part Five) Stephanie's Sweet Surrender By The Thought Police It was Monday night, just another day at the office for Hunter Hearst Helmsley. "Raw is War" came to a rousing conclusion after a knockdown, drag out battle between Triple H and The Rock. For most of the match, Hunter tossed the so-called "People's Champion" around the ring, smashing the Brahma Bull down to the canvas with clotheslines, back breakers and pedigrees. Hunter would have easily won the match if not for the last second interference of those damn Dudley boys. Devon tried to distract Hunter long enough for Buh Buh Ray to grab Stephanie and put her through a table. Yet, X-Pac and Road Dogg came to the rescue, chasing the Dudleys off. Unfortunately, Hunter made the fatal mistake of taking his eye off The Rock, giving the Great One just enough time to set Helmsley up for his patented "Rock Bottom." Once Triple H was laid out, The Rock delivered "the People's Elbow." An easy three-count enabled The Rock to successfully defend his WWF title. Of course, the battle may have been over, but not the war. Running down the ramp to join the fray was Shane McMahon, with his partner-in-crime, Chris Benoit, the rabid wolverine. The Rock was blindsided by Shane, who hit him with a steel chair. The Rock fell to his knees. Benoit pounced, locking the champ in his vicious "Crippler Crossface." Hunter pointed to the table sitting outside the ring. Shane and Benoit knew what he had in mind. The audience screamed for their battered champion, as Hunter and Benoit hoisted The Rock to the top rope. The crowd gasped as The Rock was sent hurling down backwards, his spine splitting through the hardwood with a thunderous crash. Joined by Stephanie, DX, Shane and Benoit, Triple H marched down the ramp in celebration, taunting the audience as his theme music blared in the background. Backstage, the atmosphere changed right away. For the sake of the fans, Hunter and Stephanie put on a good show. Once the show was over, they immediately went their separate ways, not even speaking to each other. Hunter had no explanation for screwing Trish Stratus before the show. So he kept his distance. That was fine with Stephanie, who was busy plotting a vicious scheme of her own. As Hunter made his way through the labyrinth of backstage corridors, heading home for the night, the affable Kurt Angle caught up with him. "Hey Hunter," Angle called out. "Do you have a second? I was wondering if we could talk." "Can't this wait, Angle?" Hunter argued, walking impatiently. "All I want to do right now is go get some sleep." "I can totally understand that, Hunter," Angle replied. "But I wouldn't be bothering you if it wasn't important. It's about your wife." "My wife!" Hunter stopped short, his eyes igniting with rage. "Angle, don't even think about trying to have a conversation with me about what goes on between me and my wife! What happens between me and Stephanie is none of your fucking business! And if you ever try interfering with my marriage, I'll rip off your fucking arms and beat you with them. Do you understand me?!" Kurt lifted his hands in submission. "All right, Hunter. I'm sorry. I don't mean to be out of line," Kurt relented. "If you feel it's none of my business, I can respect that. Of course . . . my friend here might not be so agreeable." "Your friend? What the fuck . . ." said Hunter, turning around to see Chris Jericho swinging a steel chair. The blow struck Hunter in the forehead before he saw it coming. Angle picked up a garbage can, smashing it against Hunter's back. Triple H dropped to the floor. Jericho grabbed Hunter around the neck, pounding his fist into Hunter's skull, striking him several times. Angle stepped in, stomping his heavy boot into Hunter's ribs. Jericho lifted Hunter's legs in the air, feet first, bending his knees and locking them between his own arms. Jericho pivoted so Hunter's head faced the opposite way. Then, Jericho applied pressure to Hunter's spine in a maneuver known to Y2J fans as "the Walls of Jericho." As Hunter squirmed in excruciating pain, Angle looked on, taunting him mercilessly. "Still gonna rip my fucking arms out, Helmsley?" Kurt mocked. "I don't think so. In fact, let me tell you what you're gonna do. You're going to start treating your wife with a little more respect. Stephanie told us about your little tryst. Quite frankly, Chris and I think it's disgusting. It's true. We really do. So, at Mrs. Helmsley's request, we came to deliver a little retribution for your infidelity." "That's right," said Jericho, as he finally let go, dropping Hunter in a heap of sore bones and muscles, writhing on the floor. "That's just a taste of what you'll get if we ever find out that you hurt Stephanie again." Hunter gripped his back, blood dripping from an open wound on his forehead. He would kill them both, if he could only stand. "What's the matter Hunter? Does it hurt? Is The Game feeling a little pain?" Jericho chuckled, stomping Triple H in the mid-section. "Well, you know what they say Hunter. Life's a bitch . . . and then you marry one." Hunter's face turned red. He gnashed his teeth, spitting with venom and rage. His eyes blazed, his face trembled. "Oh, and another thing, before we let you go home and get your rest," said Kurt. "Don't go thinking about trying to get revenge on Chris and I. You see, there's going to be some changes made in the federation pretty soon. So, if you like your job, you might want to avoid being on Stephanie's bad side anymore than you already are. Think about that before you try anything stupid. Goodnight, and sleep well." With that, Angle and Jericho made their escape before security could catch up with them. When the officials arrived, all they found was Triple H lying on the floor. "Mr. Helmsley, are you all right?" They asked. "I'd feel a lot better if you guys had shown up five minutes ago," he snapped. "Do you need a stretcher? Should we call an ambulance?" They wondered. "Don't bother. I'll be fine," he told them. "Just do me a favor and hand me my gym bag." They passed him a large nylon duffel bag. Hunter reached inside, pulling out his mobile phone. He flipped it open, dialed and raised the phone to his ear. "Hey," he said. "It's Hunter. We need to talk. Angle and Jericho just jumped me in the hallway. I'm sure it was all Stephanie's idea. Sounds like she's cooking up something big. I don't know what. Uh huh. Exactly. If we don't do something soon there could be trouble. Right. Can you handle it? Good, good. All right. Just call me back when everything's under control. Later." Hunter snapped the phone shut, stuffing it back in his gym bag. Two guards helped him to his feet, as Hunter grimaced in pain. He limped his way to the parking lot, gingerly climbing into his truck. He drove off into the night with one thought on his mind. Payback. * * * * * * Stephanie was riding back to her hotel in the corporate limousine. Things couldn't be running smoother, she thought to herself. Through a third party, she had anonymously sent Trish Stratus a message that Hunter wanted to see her in his dressing room. Fully aware of their mutual attraction, Stephanie was sure that sooner or later Hunter would take the bait. The plan worked even easier than Stephanie suspected, since Hunter couldn't resist helping himself to a hot slice of Trish. When Trish went into the dressing room, Stephanie made sure she was waiting outside the door, timing her entrance perfectly so there was no denying what was going on. At that point, Stephanie had all the ammunition she needed to manipulate Hunter any way she wanted. She knew the only man Hunter truly feared was her father, Vince McMahon. Stephanie was Daddy's little girl, the apple of Vince's eye. If word of Hunter's indiscretion found its way to Mr. McMahon, Hunter would surely lose his career, if not his life. The wheels were now in motion for Stephanie to take aim at her true obstacles, her mother and father. Stephanie wanted complete control of the World Wrestling Federation. In order to gain that kind of power, her parents had to be forced out of the picture. She had a plan for that already. It was a simple strategy of divide and conquer. Surely, Vince would never suspect that his innocent daughter could be so conniving. Her brother was less of a problem. She knew he wasn't clever enough to outsmart her. She also knew Shane's loyalty could be easily bought with money, fame or even sex. She was prepared to give him all three, if necessary. Stephanie didn't worry about Shane. As Stephanie mentally congratulated herself for her own devious brilliance, her thoughts were interrupted by a phone ringing in the front seat. She listened as the driver began speaking. "Good evening, sir." The driver said. "Yes, sir. We should be there in just a few minutes. Oh, I see. No, that's not a problem. Yes, of course. Right away, sir. Goodbye." Stephanie couldn't help nosing in. "Excuse me," she said. "May I ask what that was call was regarding?" "Of course, ma'am." The driver explained. "Instead of going directly to the hotel, Mr. Helmsley wants me to make an additional stop." "Mr. Helmsley?" She repeated with disbelief. "So you're not taking me to the Four Seasons?" "Per my instructions from Mr. Helmsley, ma'am" said the driver. "I'm supposed to take you to 66 South Sixth Street. He said it was very urgent." "Really?" She replied, pulling out her own mobile phone. She dialed Hunter's number but got no answer. "Hunter, what are you up to?" She wondered out loud. Minutes later, the limo pulled over in front of a large Victorian house. Stephanie read the sign in the front yard. "Sixth Street Mortuary," she said to herself. As she pondered the sign, her passenger door was suddenly opened. A large hand reached inside the back seat, grabbing Stephanie by the arm. She was pulled from the car out onto to the sidewalk. She struggled against her assailant when another pair of hands grabbed her other arm. Then she noticed who the men were. It was Bradshaw and Faarooq, the Acolytes. "What the hell is going here?" She shouted. "Why won't you assholes let go of me? Are you forgetting who the fuck I am?" "Shut up, bitch," Faarooq barked. "We know who you are. If we was kidnapping Britney Spears, than your ass wouldn't be here. I guess it's just your lucky night. Now, shut up and keep walking." She knew resistance was useless. If she ran, they'd just catch her and do God-knows-what to her. Stephanie hated physical confrontations. She decided to see what this was all about, figuring she could use her wits to find a way out of it. The Acolytes led her into the damp, creaky and musty-smelling house. As they stood in the foyer, an older, gray-haired gentleman wearing a dark suit and eyeglasses greeted them at the door. "Good evening, Mrs. Helmsley," the older man smiled. "Could we just get on with this please? I'm a very busy woman." "Very well," he continued. "My name is Dr. Kenneth Johannsen. I'm a licensed parapsychologist from Austria." "A licensed what?" She said, looking puzzled. "I'm a doctor," he explained. "I'm an expert in the fields of mental health and psychic phenomena." "Well, that's great," Stephanie smirked. "Listen, I'm not stupid. This is a funeral home. You can't fool me. Any second now The Undertaker is gonna come walking through one of these doors. So let's just get on with it. What does he want from me?" "The undertaker," said the doctor. "You mean, the mortician? He actually lives just a few miles down the road, but I can't imagine why he'd show up at this hour. This place is only open until nine o'clock. I'm only here because Mr. Helmsley wanted me to meet you here." "Mr. Helmsley, huh," she said incredulously. "So how do you explain why you needed the goon squad to drag me in here?" "Oh, yes. I'm terribly sorry about that," the doctor confessed. "Mr. Helmsley gave me the impression that meeting with you might be dangerous. So, I hired the Acolytes for my own protection." Stephanie giggled. "You mean to tell me that you hired the Acolytes to protect yourself from me? That's the funniest thing I've ever heard," she said, giggling to herself. "Well, be that as it may, I'm under the impression that violence tends to follow the people in your organization," said the doctor. "So if it's all the same to you, I'd just assume not take any chances." "Suit yourself, Doc. But I assure you, I wouldn't hurt a fly," said Stephanie. "I still think there's something you're not telling me, but you've got me more than a little curious. So what are we here to talk about?" The doctor smiled, leading Stephanie to a smaller room with dark mahogany walls, a large Oriental rug, a leather love seat and three wooden chairs. The doctor asked Bradshaw and Faarooq to wait outside. He shut the door, asking Stephanie to sit on the love seat. Then, he pulled up a chair for himself. "Stephanie," the doctor began. "I know I just met you but it seems to me that you're under a great deal of stress, being a woman with so much responsibility. Am I right?" "Of course," she answered. "Staying on top of all these guys is extremely hard work." "I bet it is," said the doctor. "Do you ever find time to relax?" "Well," she thought. "Not very often. But sometimes." "Really. That's good," he said. "What sort of things help you feel more relaxed?" "Oh, I don't know," she paused. "Lots of things. I like swimming, fishing, sailing, walking on the beach. Stuff like that." "So you feel very relaxed around water," the doctor reasoned. "Mmmmm yes, very much. I love the ocean." The doctor stood up, walking across the room to a cabinet with a stereo inside. As he turned it on, Stephanie heard the crashing sounds of rolling waves, the chirping of seagulls and the soft howl of the wind. "Do you recognize these sounds," the doctor asked. "Yes. I love all those sounds," she told him. "Good. I want you to just sit back and listen to those sounds for awhile. Clear everything else out of your mind." Stephanie didn't answer. She leaned back, closed her eyes and rested her head up against the wall. For two whole minutes, she focused on nothing but the soothing sounds of the sea. "How are you feeling, Stephanie?" Asked the doctor. "I feel calm. I feel free." "Excellent," he told her. "Now, Stephanie. I want you to imagine that you're surrounded by water. I want you to imagine that your whole body is immersed in calm soothing water. Now, tell me how you feel." "It feels like I'm floating. Like I'm just floating through space." "Are you scared?" "A little," she told him. "Don't be afraid, Stephanie," he assured her. "You're in the safest place you could possibly be. You're surrounded by positive energy. You feel like you're being cradled to sleep. You feel completely at one with everything around you. Your soul is at peace." "I'm scared," she told him. "I feel lost. Like I'm about to drown." "That's good," he told her. "Those feelings tell you that your soul is closer to total freedom. It's natural to be afraid. Just remember that I'm with you. All you need to do is concentrate on the sound of my voice. My voice is your lifeline. My voice can pull you through any fearful situation. Everything will be just fine." "Everything will be just fine," she repeated. Doctor Johannsen nodded, smiling to himself. She was almost ready for total submission. He just needed to push her a little further. "Stephanie," he asked. "Where are we now?" "Floating in a peaceful ocean," she told him. "And who am I?" "You're my lifeline," she answered. "Are you still afraid?" "No, I'm not afraid," she told him. "Why not?" He asked. "Because I can hear your voice. So I know you're with me." "Excellent," he told her. "Stephanie, you're doing very well. You must be feeling very good about yourself right now, aren't you?" "Yes, I feel very good about myself." "That's right," the doctor told her. "This freedom, this open feeling you have inside. It makes you feel warm all over, doesn't it? It feels like the best high you've ever had. The more you let yourself go, the more all the molecules in your body start to feel like sparks of electricity tingling all over you. It feels like a thousand orgasms exploding inside you, doesn't it Stephanie?" "Mmmmmmm," she moaned. "This is wonderful." "Yes, it's pure bliss. You don't ever want to lose this feeling," he told her. "But the only way to keep this wonderful feeling is by listening to the sound of my voice. Keep your mind free. Keep your thoughts open to anything I say. Will you do that for me, Stephanie?" "Yes," said Stephanie. "No," he warned. "I don't think you heard me properly. Please listen. I'd hate to see you drown in the water because you failed to listen." "I'm sorry," she cried. "Please don't leave me alone. I'm listening. I'm listening." "All right," he told her. "I'm going to test you to see how well you listen." "Okay," she said. "I want you to stand up now," he instructed. With her eyes still closed, Stephanie rose to her feet. "Excellent," he told her. Stephanie loved hearing him say that. It gave her a tremendous rush to know she was pleasing him. "Stephanie, I want you to take off your top," said the doctor. Slowly, Stephanie crossed her arms over her chest, grabbing the bottom of her baby blue cotton tee shirt. She pulled the shirt up over her head, dropping it next to her on the floor. Underneath the shirt, she was wearing a teal-colored satin wonder bra. The doctor openly admired the way her milky white skin seemed to glow in the dim light. "That's excellent, Stephanie," he praised. "Now, I want you to slip down your skirt." She reached her right hand behind her back, pulling down the zipper. The doctor watched as Stephanie slid down her leather miniskirt. He especially enjoyed the way she wiggled from side to side to peel the skirt over her hips. With the top and skirt now lying on the floor, Stephanie stood before the doctor in a satin bra, matching panties and strappy high heels. The door suddenly opened and another man stepped into the room. "My Lord," said the Doctor. "Everything's been prepared for you." "Thank you, doctor. You've done well." The doctor turned back to Stephanie. "Stephanie, I'm very proud of you. You should feel very proud of yourself. You're doing very well," he encouraged. "I want you to know that there is another gentleman here who is also very proud of how well you're doing. In fact, he's so proud of you that he would like to talk with you as well." "Who is he?" Stephanie asked. "Stephanie," the doctor admonished. "If you ask questions, your feelings of bliss and serenity will be lost forever. You will be left isolated, forced to confront all of your darkest fears. You don't want that, do you?" "No, I don't want that." "Excellent," the doctor praised her. "Now, you have to trust me. You have to listen to everything I say. Even if that means listening to someone else. Now, tell me that you understand." "I understand," she repeated. "I won't ask any questions." "Excellent," said the doctor. "Now, Stephanie. This man who has just joined us is someone very special. He's more than a man. He's like a god. You know how I told you that I was your lifeline. Well, this man is my lifeline. So you can imagine how powerful this man must be. He is the Lord of Darkness. He is our savior. He is The Undertaker." "The Undertaker," Stephanie mumbled. "Our savior." "My Lord," said the doctor. "I believe she's ready. If you'll excuse me, I'll leave you alone." "Is the camera rolling?" Asked The Undertaker. "Yes, my Lord," said the doctor. "I started filming when I turned on the stereo, but we can edit the tape anyway you'd like." "Very good," said The Undertaker. "Leave us." As the doctor quietly made his exit, the Lord of Darkness turned his attention to the young, nubile Mrs. McMahon-Helmsley. He reveled at the thought of playing with his new toy. "Stephanie," he spoke. "I'm honored that you could join me here this evening. You look very beautiful." "Thank you," she replied. "Stephanie, I don't want you to be afraid," he assured her. "Everything that happens here is going to make you feel better than you've ever felt in your whole life. Do you understand that?" "Yes." "How are you feeling right now?" He asked. "I feel very good . . ." "You may refer to me as `my Lord,' " he instructed. "Yes. I feel very good, my Lord." "Are you feeling aroused, Stephanie?" "Yes, my Lord. I've never been so excited in my life." "Excellent, Stephanie," he nodded. "That's excellent. Will you do me a favor, Stephanie?" "I'll do anything you tell me, my Lord." "Will you open your eyes and look at me," he suggested. "I want you to stare deep into my eyes. I want you to see that there is nothing to fear. As you look at me, I want you to feel incredible arousal, total inhibition and absolute devotion. Do you understand?" "Yes, my Lord. I understand," she confirmed. "Open your eyes," said The Undertaker. As Stephanie's eyelids slowly lifted, she viewed the towering frame of a seven-foot, 300-pound beastly looking man, draped in black leather from head to toe. His mane of black hair was matted and mangled. His arms were long and wide as stone pillars. His eyes glowed with the singular focus of rabid sexual hunger. As if possessed by some sinister force, the demonic Undertaker's pupils rolled back into his head. Entranced by the luminous whites of his eyes, Stephanie couldn't look away. The Darklord watched as Stephanie grew visibly excited, openly caressing her own body. Her flesh was inflamed, throbbing with sexual arousal, aching for release. The Undertaker instructed her to remove her underwear and return to a seated position on the love seat. When she did so, he told her to touch herself wherever it pleased her. Stephanie gently fondled and massaged her breasts with both hands. She sighed as she used the tips of her fingers to tease her erect nipples, tugging and pinching until her nipples were red and swollen. With one hand playing with her nipples, her other hand slid down to play with her clit. The Undertaker watched as Stephanie rubbed her whole hand over the tiny pink button. She pressed harder, adding friction to her circular hand strokes. Her mouth gaped open as she hurriedly exhaled, panting and gasping from the pleasure she gave herself. "Tell me how good it feels," ordered The Undertaker. "Ohhhhhh!" She called out. "Ohhhh it feels so good! Mmmmm! I can't describe it. Ahhhhhh! I just love it, my Lord. I love it so much!" "You love letting men watch you masturbate, don't you Stephanie." He suggested. "Yes, my Lord," she confessed, spreading her pink pussy lips apart for his inspection. "It makes you feel like the dirty little whore that you are, doesn't it Stephanie." He added. "Yessss!" She moaned. "Ohhhh yes, Lord! Ahhhh! I like being a dirty little whore! Mmmmm! Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhhhh God!" "Stephanie," the master dictated. "You're not allowed to cum unless I give you permission. You are my slave. I determine how much pleasure you're allowed. Do you understand?" Stephanie cried out in agonizing frustration. She was on the verge of a mind-numbing orgasm, but she held it back as long as he made her do so. The Undertaker walked back to the door, calling the Acolytes to join him inside. Each gentleman grabbed one of the three wooden chairs, seating themselves side-by-side in the middle of the room. Faarooq and Bradshaw couldn't help getting huge erections when they saw Vince McMahon's adorable little girl spread out on a love seat, humping her pussy with her own hand. "This outta be fun," said Faarooq. "Hell yeah," replied Bradshaw. "Too bad we don't have any beer. Then, it'd be perfect." The Undertaker sat between his two friends, smiling devilishly. He pointed his forefinger towards Stephanie, then crooked it, motioning for her to come closer. "Stephanie, I want you to get down on your hands and knees and crawl over here towards me." "Yes, my Lord," said Stephanie, as she slid to the floor. She glanced at Bradshaw and Faarooq, pausing briefly. "Do you know these men, Stephanie," asked The Undertaker. "Yes, my Lord. They're the Acolytes." "I see," said The Undertaker. "Do you dislike these gentlemen?" "Yes, my Lord. I'm afraid of them." "What did Doctor Johanssen tell you about being afraid?" "He said I had nothing to fear as long as I'm with him. Or with you, my Lord." "And why is that," he continued. "Because everything that happens here is going to make me feel better than I've ever felt in my whole life." "Excellent," he said, giving her ego an important stroke. "Now, come closer. These gentlemen want to make you feel as good as I do." "Yes, my Lord," she obeyed, crawling over on her hands and knees. The three men enjoyed the view as her ass bounced up and down, while her tits swayed from side to side. The Undertaker told her stop when she was positioned between his legs. "Now," he said. "Are you ready to take the next step towards ultimate inner peace, pleasure and happiness?" "Yes! Please, my Lord. I'll do anything to keep feeling this way," Stephanie begged. Clearly, she had never needed anything more. Pleasing her master gave Stephanie a high that transcended all of time and space. Stephanie imagined this powerful all-consuming stimulation as the closest sensation to being in the presence of God himself. The Undertaker slowly unzipped his black denim jeans, sat up and pushed them down to his ankles. As he sat down, he noticed Stephanie turning her head to avoid looking at his cock. "Stephanie," he asked. "Why won't you look at me?" "Because, my Lord," she admitted. "I'm a dirty little whore. I'm not worthy of seeing your naked body, my Lord." The Undertaker nodded, smiling to himself. Even the Acolytes were surprised. "That's true," said The Undertaker. "A dirty little whore like you is not worthy of me at all. Still, your devotion pleases me." Hearing his praise made Stephanie so incredibly wet that her pussy starting dripping on the rug. Every fiber of her essence needed to please her master, to make him as happy as he made her. "As a reward for your devotion, I'd like to give you a small treat," said The Undertaker. "I'm going to let you suck my cock. Then, as a bonus, you can give blowjobs to Bradshaw and Faarooq as well." Stephanie's lips quivered with excitement. She sized up the three men she was about to serve. Her mouth watered. Bradshaw and Faarooq pulled their dicks out, openly stroking their fat, meaty cocks just to tease her. For a moment, Stephanie wasn't sure where to begin. Then, she realized her master had to come first. She scanned his cock with her eyes. It was beyond big. It was unreal. It had to be at least 12 inches long. In her whole life, Stephanie had never seen anything like it. Even Triple H couldn't compare. "My Lord," Stephanie gasped. "I've never been with a man who had such an enormous penis." "I hear that all the time," he told her. "You're looking at a 13-inch cock. I like to think that it's 13 inches of good luck." "Mmmmmmm," Stephanie drooled. "Yes, my Lord. I'm a very lucky girl." As The Undertaker proudly presented his phallic scepter, Stephanie lunged at his cock. She wrapped both hands around the base, but she still couldn't cover the whole shaft. She stuffed the bulbous mushroom tip in her mouth, sucking on the head like a baby bottle. Her hands started stroking up and down, twisting and gliding over the foreskin. She attacked his cock with unbridled joy, reveling in the sturdy shape, the salty taste, the musky scent and the sheer potency of such an awesome instrument. Her mouth made loud sucking and popping sounds as she struggled to fit his distended dick between her lips. She frowned in frustration when she found that his cock was simply too big for her to deep throat. She felt like a failure. "My Lord," she pleaded. "Please forgive me for not serving you properly. I've dishonored you." "Actually, you're doing very well," said The Undertaker. "I know you're trying as hard as you can. That's all I expect. I'm not going to punish you. You'll soon see that there are many ways a slave can please her master. For now, take care of my friends." With that, Faarooq and Bradshaw stood up, pointing their throbbing cocks right at Stephanie's face. They were both nicely hung, but nothing Stephanie couldn't handle. She looked up at Bradshaw. He looked down at her through gritted teeth. She looked over at Faarooq. His lips were pressed tightly. His eyes burned with savage animal lust. Stephanie had never sucked a black man's cock before. Where she grew up in Greenwich, Connecticut, sucking black cock wasn't the kind of thing that a proper young lady would do, but Stephanie wasn't a proper young lady anymore. With one gleeful gulp, she ingested his long, bloated black dick straight to the root. She slowly slid back, smearing her lipstick all over the shaft from the earnest pressure of her hot sucking mouth. Her left hand gripped his shaft, causing a notable contrast between her delicate ivory fingers and his stout ebony tool. She lubed her fingers with his pre-cum, shuffling her fingers over the veiny ridges and the swollen crown. The innocent Stephanie her parents knew would never be down on her knees happily sucking a black man's cock. Yet, Stephanie had never felt so free, so reckless and so alive. She swabbed Faarooq's cock with her soft pink tongue. She flapped her tongue against the open hole where his pre-cum dripped out. She scooped his semen on her tongue, letting it tickle her taste buds. Then, she closed her whole mouth around the head, giving him quick, shallow sucks that made him groan out loud. Not one to leave anyone out, Stephanie reached for Bradshaw's cock with her right hand. The heat of his flaming rod surged through his cock into Stephanie's tender fingers. Her body tingled from head to toe from the thrill of servicing her two studs. Two cocks in her mouth were definitely better than one, she thought. She kissed Bradshaw's dick with her pouty lips, humming and moaning as she playfully teased his cock. Her left hand curiously pumped Faarooq's shaft, exploring the rugged texture, feeling her away around his throbbing black genitals. Stephanie's lips were still stuck to Bradshaw's swollen knob, giving his unit a sloppy spit and polish. Her tongue darted up and down the length of his tool, keeping his cock slick, shiny and wet. She let him enter her girlish mouth, the heat of his shaft warm against her tongue. She loved how his thick cock filled the empty space in her gullet. She used suction, forcing air through her mouth and blowing it through her nose. Her head bobbed back and forth as she built up speed. Stephanie slurped, sucked and swallowed Bradshaw's cock so intently, she almost came before he did. She knew she couldn't do that without her master's permission. So she pulled her mouth away, eager to sample more savory dark meat. The Undertaker looked on quietly, relishing his handiwork. This powerful suburban Princess was no match for the evil forces controlled by the Lord of Darkness. Stephanie was easily bent to his will in a matter of minutes. Now, here she was, orally servicing two men whom she normally treated less than dirt. Daddy's little girl couldn't swallow enough black cock, while guzzling Bradshaw's longneck with equal thirst. Stephanie did it all with panicked, desperate urgency. She was The Undertaker's dirty little cock-sucking whore. She couldn't dream of being anything else. "Stephanie," The Undertaker called. "Crawl back over to the love seat. Rest your head on the cushions, but keep your ass in the air." "Yes, my Lord," she willingly obeyed. As Stephanie assumed a rather prone position, The Undertaker admired his prey. Her feet were small, dainty and clean, adorned by her trendy leather heels. Her ankles were slim, calves slender, thighs alabaster. Her asscheeks curved like half moons. Her moist slit was completely bald, the outer lips glistened with dew. The Master's pole rose to full mast. He patiently approached. Bending his knees, he crouched behind her, gripping her by the waist. Stephanie wept with euphoric anticipation, tears streaming down her face. As the tip of his cock found the hole, her pussy lips parted hospitably. The shaft entered gradually, allowing her to ponder every inch of penetration. Finally, his cock bottomed out around ten inches. The Master was completely inside her. His immense penis invaded whole her body, capturing, taming and fulfilling her. Stephanie cradled his cock in her pussy, nursing it and rocking it with contentment. The Master was completely enveloped by her womb. Stephanie was something special. As Stephanie adjusted to her master's girth, The Undertaker hastened his stroke. He drilled his pump deep inside her, thrusting and churning his shaft with manly force. His powerful upper thighs smacked against her pelvis. With each thrust, the loud slapping of skin on skin came faster and faster. Stephanie was in pure ecstasy. Every stroke was a seismic tremor, sending wave after wave of burning, spine-tingling sensations coursing through her body. The harder he fucked her, the more she sobbed out loud, begging to have her pussy pounded by his wooden hammer. "Mmmmmm! Ohh! Ohh! Ahh! Ahhhh! Huhhh! Huhh Huhhh! Unnnnggghhh!" Stephanie cried. The Undertaker owned Stephanie's cunt. He fucked her with demonic fury, throwing his hips into her, spitting, snarling and growling every second. He pulled her by the hair, yanking it hard. He rode her with every bit of strength in his enormous body. His shaft blurred like a piston, driving in and out with tireless speed and violent force. Stephanie felt like she would die if she couldn't cum right then and there. Then, with no warning, The Undertaker pushed his finger up Stephanie's ass. "OHHHHHH MYY GAAWWDD! OHHH FFUUUCCKKK!! MMMMM!! OHH!! AHHH!! AHHH!!!" She wailed. "OH GOD I CAN'T TAKE IT! PLEASE I NEED TO CUM! PLEASE LET ME CUUMMMM!!!" "You're supposed to wait until I say it's okay," he reminded her. "I KNOW! I KNOW! BUT! OHHH GOD!! I JUST CAN'T HOLD IT! PLEASE!!! OH MASTER PLEASE!" She sobbed. "Well," the master thought aloud. "If I let you cum now, you're going to have let me do something else." "MASTER! ANYTHING! I'LL DO ANYTHING!!!" She screamed. "Well," he added. "You're going to have to let me fuck you in the ass." "YESSS!!! YESSS!!! FUCK MY ASS MASTER!!! FUCK MY ASS!!" "Are you going to cum for me right now?" He asked. "MMMMMM!!! YESSSS!!!! OHHHHHH GAAAAWWDD!!!" "Cum Stephanie." Said The Undertaker. "I order you to cum right now!" "HHUUUUHHHHH!!! HHUUUUHHHH!!! OOHHHHHH!!! YEEAAAAHHHH!!! UUUHHHHHH!!!! AAAAHHHHHH!!!! OHH YEAHHHH!!! OHHH GOD I'M CU . . . I'M CU . . . CUMM . . . CUUUMMMEEEEEENNGG!!! UNNNGGGGHH!!! HHMMMPPPHH!!! HMMMPPPHHH!!! HMMPPHHH!!!" Stephanie's screams and hollers shook the whole room. The Undertaker held on tight as she bucked and squirmed beneath him. The Acolytes were silently riveted to the whole scene, jerking off just inches away. The Undertaker decided not to delay his violation of Stephanie's asshole. Her orgasmic condition would make anal penetration much easier, especially with a 13-inch cock. He drooled hot spit from his mouth to her asshole, rubbing it in for lubrication. He used her slippery pussy to wet his fingers, poking two digits in her rectum. He stretched her asshole wide open, dipping his fingers in nice and deep. He couldn't resist bending down for a few hot licks, rimming her constricted little bunghole. Stephanie always enjoyed a wet tongue in her ass. She pushed her cheeks up against his face to make sure he got a good taste. Once Stephanie's anus was lubed and stretched, The Undertaker placed the tip of his massive cock on her rubbery asshole. He gently pushed forward, breaking the airtight seal. Stephanie bit down on the sofa cushion as The Undertaker slipped his 13-inch python through Stephanie's backdoor. It wasn't the first time Stephanie had taken it up the ass, but The Undertaker still made her feel very much like a virgin. Yet, Stephanie was still compelled to please her master with every part of her body. She delighted in knowing how much she could please him, no matter how much discomfort she might experience. She focused on being a good slave, started to relax and gave herself over to the Darklord completely. "Master, please use me anyway you want," she pleaded. "Fuck my asshole with your huge cock! Fuck my ass hard! Really hard!" The Undertaker grinned wickedly. Her submission was complete. He held her by the hips, plowing his club deep in the little girl's butt. Stephanie let out a blood-curdling scream as The Undertaker reamed her ass like the devil himself. The Acolytes watched Stephanie get cornholed, slapping up and down on their meat and loving it. Stephanie reached between her legs, jamming two fingers up her cunt, thrusting fiercely. The Undertaker held her by the shoulders, slamming his bat all the way home with deep backbreaking power strokes. Stephanie was being ripped in half by a monster with a log between his legs. She was taking everything her master could dish out. She had finally proven herself worthy. She had finally reached her goal of ultimate inner peace, pleasure and happiness. When The Undertaker suddenly pulled his cock from her ass, Stephanie didn't have to be told what to do. She spun around and sat on her knees. The Undertaker rose to his feet, with Faarooq and Bradshaw standing on either side. Stephanie knelt in the center of the circle, her eyes glazed over with the look of crazed lust. Bradshaw was the first to pop. His cum dripped all over Stephanie's chin, sliding down her neck and all over her tits. Stephanie's rubbed the jizz on her skin like lotion. When Faarooq grunted that he was about to cum, Stephanie didn't waste the opportunity to swallow a black man's load. She leaned towards him, letting him aim right into her open mouth. Faarooq called her a filthy slut as he filled her mouth with his creamy nut. Stephanie swirled the cum around in her mouth, showed it to Faarooq, then gulped it down her throat. With the Acolytes out of the way, Stephanie set her sights on the Master himself. Out of respect, she dared not look him the eye. Instead, she kept her eyes glued to his disturbingly large cock. The Undertaker stroked it back and forth, waving it over her eager-looking face. Stephanie couldn't take being teased like that. She grabbed his cock in her own hands, jamming the head in her mouth. Stephanie didn't care how big it was, she needed to prove she was totally devoted to serving him properly. She slurped, puffed and sucked his cock like a machine. Her hands flew up and down his shaft, skillfully working his giant tool. She coated the head with gooey saliva, swirling her tongue in a frenzy. She dove down between his legs, bobbing his balls between her lips. She slid down and wiggled her tongue up his sweaty ass, while jerking him off to perfection. Finally, she realized only one thing would get the job done. She opened her jaw, gorging herself on his hot sausage, pushing his cock dow n her throat until her eyes watered. She gagged on her master's cock, choking herself as 13-inches of pulsating cock disappeared down her greedy throat. She sobbed ecstatically as The Undertaker fucked her face, trembling with desperate anticipation. The Undertaker roared like a grizzly. His pupils rolled back. His eyes went white. Stephanie swallowed hard as the master fed her his seed. Rivers of boiling hot cum flowed down her throat. Stephanie could feel it filling up her stomach. The intensity was simply too much. The room started spinning all around her. Then, suddenly, she blacked out. When Stephanie woke up the next day, she found herself lying in the bed of her hotel room. She had a terrible headache. She couldn't remember anything that had happened since she left the arena the night before. She was completely disoriented. She thought about calling Shane to see if maybe he could help her remember anything. When she rolled over, she found a large envelope resting on top of the unused pillow. She sat up, grabbed it and tossed the contents on the mattress. What fell out was a single VHS videocassette and a note. Stephanie quickly examined the tape in her hand. Then, she read the note. "Dear Stephanie," it read. "Judging from this tape, it looks like I'm not the only one in this marriage with something to hide. Maybe this will teach you not to fuck with me from now on. Sincerely . . . Your loving husband, Hunter." End of Part Five Copyright@2000 The Thought Police Send your comments and suggestions to thoughtpolice2K@hotmail.com Thanks for reading!