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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

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

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

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

"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

"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.

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

"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

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

"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

"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

"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

"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?"


"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

"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

"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

"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

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.


"You're supposed to wait until I say it's okay," he reminded her.

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."


"Well," he added. "You're going to have to let me fuck you in the ass."


"Are you going to cum for me right now?" He asked.


"Cum Stephanie." Said The Undertaker. "I order you to cum right now!"


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

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