41
Celebrity Pictures & Gifs (Real) / Re: Sophie Turner
« Last post by MiamiLyfe on February 20, 2026, 07:09:26 PM »
Recent Posts
42
Sports Talk / Re: Daily Sports TL;DR 2026
« Last post by InThe313 on February 20, 2026, 04:40:37 PM »Feb. 20 headlines
- Cunningham, Pistons dominate Knicks for 3rd straight game
- Mathurin electric off bench, Clippers hang on against Nuggets
- Spurs run win streak to 7 games, improve to 39-16
- Kevin Durant puts up 35 to lead Rockets past Hornets
- American Alysa Liu wins gold medal in women’s figure skating
- USA defeats Canada in OT to win women’s hockey gold
43
General Chat / Re: Extreme1's question of the night
« Last post by Money on February 20, 2026, 11:54:58 AM »This is a tough one for me but I'll go with Jennifer Lopez mainly so I can find out if her diva antics are real or if it's just an act for the cameras so far I can't tell so I can sacrifice 1 day to have some questions answered
44
Celebrity Pictures & Gifs (Real) / Re: Nicola Cavanis
« Last post by Angry Dutchman on February 20, 2026, 11:10:10 AM »
45
Celebrity Pictures & Gifs (Real) / Re: Anna Sawai
« Last post by MiamiLyfe on February 20, 2026, 10:57:14 AM »
46
Wrestlers / Re: "Liv's New Bitch" with Liv Morgan and Roxanne Perez
« Last post by TheLW on February 20, 2026, 10:48:38 AM »Liv's New Bitch #3
With Liv Morgan, Raquel Rodriguez and Roxanne Perez
Written by TheLW
Codes: FFF, Anal, Rough Sex, Strap-on, Tit Play
Disclaimer: This FICTIONAL story was written for entertainment purposes only.
(Roxanne Perez, Liv Morgan, Raquel Rodriguez)
Several weeks have come and passed since "Dirty" Dom, and the other guys of Judgment Day (Finn Bálor and JD McDonagh), had used Roxanne as their personal fuck toy, passing her around until she was little more than a trembling, spent thing on the floor of their dimly lit clubhouse.
In the time that followed, Roxanne’s world had narrowed to one person, that of course being Liv Morgan.
She carried Liv’s travel bags through crowded airport terminals and arena corridors, her arms aching under the weight but never complaining. She drove Liv from show to show, from city to city, arena to hotel, hotel to airport, hotel to next arena, her hands steady on the wheel while Liv lounged in the passenger seat, one boot propped on the dash, scrolling through her phone or occasionally reaching over to rest a possessive hand high on Roxanne’s thigh.
Every night they shared a hotel room. Always one bed. Always Liv’s rules.
Liv would kick the door shut behind them, toss her jacket onto a nearby chair, and turn to Roxanne with that predatory smile. She fucked her good and hard with a strap-on, sometimes fast and brutal against the wall with Roxanne’s wrists pinned above her head, sometimes slow and deliberate on the mattress with Roxanne’s face buried between Liv’s thighs until Liv was shaking and pulling her hair. Roxanne learned every sound Liv made when she came, learned exactly how Liv liked her tongue, her fingers, how she liked her body to be used. She learned to beg without being told, to arch into every slap, every thrust, every humiliating word Liv hissed into her ear.
Night after night the routine carved itself deeper into Roxanne’s body.
Somewhere in those weeks the last pieces of resistance crumbled. The shame that once burned hot behind her eyes dulled into something quieter, something that felt almost like relief. She stopped flinching at the sound of Liv’s keycard in the lock. She stopped pretending she wanted to leave. She stopped pretending she hadn’t already surrendered everything.
By the end of those few weeks Roxanne had accepted it completely.
Roxanne was Liv’s now, Liv’s bitch, Liv’s toy, Liv’s shadow. She knelt when Liv snapped her fingers. She came when Liv permitted it. She carried the bags, drove the car, spread her legs, and thanked Liv for every degrading thing done to her.
And when Liv looked at her with those sharp, satisfied eyes and murmured, “Good girl,” Roxanne felt the word settle inside her chest like truth.
She was irrevocably broken. And she belonged.
As it turned out, the three women had a rare stretch of days off, no flights, no arenas, no cameras. Liv had insisted they spend it at her place, a sleek modern house tucked away just outside the city. No Judgment Day drama, no prying eyes. Just the three of them.
Roxanne carried their bags inside like always, setting them neatly in one of the bedrooms, before dropping to her knees the moment Liv snapped her fingers. The routine felt natural now.
Liv circled her slowly, fingers trailing through Roxanne’s hair. “You’ve been such a good little bitch these past couple of weeks. No fighting, no whining, just perfect obedience. I think it’s time for an upgrade.”
She opened a sleek black box on the nightstand and pulled out the new collar. Thick, supple black leather lined with soft padding, designed to sit snug against the throat, no give, no room to forget its presence. Across the front, in raised, shiny chrome letters big enough to be seen from across the room, it read... LIV’S BITCH.
Liv fastened it around Roxanne’s neck herself, buckling it tight enough that Roxanne’s breath hitched with every swallow. The fit was perfect, intentionally restrictive. She clipped a sturdy leather leash to the heavy O-ring at the front.
“Better,” Liv murmured, giving the leash a sharp tug that jerked Roxanne forward onto her hands. “This one’s permanent. You wear it whenever we’re alone. Under your gear if we decide to play at the arena. Everyone will know exactly who owns you.”
Raquel leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching with a predatory grin.
"Looks good on her. Matches the plug she’s been wearing all day.” Liv smirked. “Show her, Roxy.”
Roxanne’s face burned, but she didn’t hesitate. She turned, lowered her shorts, and bent forward, presenting her ass. The base of the plug gleamed, a heavy stainless steel bulb seated deep inside her, the flared jewel end etched with bold, interlocking letters LM. Liv Morgan’s claim, permanently displayed on the only part of Roxanne that had once belonged solely to her.
Once they were all naked, and Roxanne was on all fours on the king-sized mattress, the real fun began.
Liv straddled Roxanne’s chest, wrapping the leash once around her fist and using it to choke her while grinding slowly against her stomach. The collar dug in deliciously, restricting airflow just enough to make Roxanne’s vision blur at the edges.
Raquel moved behind her, one big hand fisting in Roxanne’s hair and yanking her head back hard, arching her spine. The other hand cracked sharply across Roxanne’s left breast, once, twice, three times, leaving bright red handprints that stung and throbbed.
Liv leaned down, teeth sinking hard into Roxanne’s right breast. She bit down just above the nipple, then caught the sensitive peak between her teeth and pulled, stretching it cruelly while Roxanne whimpered and shook. Liv released it with a wet pop, only to bite again, harder, leaving deep, teeth imprinted marks around the areola.
“Whose tits are these?” Liv growled against the abused flesh.
“Yours,” Roxanne gasped, voice hoarse from the leash choking her. “Liv’s... Raquel’s...”
Raquel slapped the left breast again, harder this time, making it bounce. “Damn right. Say it louder, pet.”
“Yours!” Roxanne cried out, hips twitching helplessly. The plug shifted inside her with every movement, a constant reminder of ownership.
Liv gave the leash a vicious tug, cutting off Roxanne’s air completely for several long seconds while she bit and sucked fresh marks into the right breast. When she finally loosened her grip, Roxanne sucked in desperate lungfuls of air, tears streaming down her cheeks, not from pain, but from the overwhelming flood of surrender and need.
Liv smiled down at her, eyes dark with satisfaction.
“Such a perfect little toy. We’re going to spend these next few days reminding you exactly where you belong... over and over again.”
Roxanne could only moan softly, pressing her marked breasts upward for more, the new collar snug and heavy around her throat, the LM plug seated deep, and the words LIV’S BITCH shining bright against her skin.
She was exactly where she was meant to be.
Eventually Raquel slid off the bed for a moment, only to return with a wicked glint in her eye. She reached into the same nightstand drawer where the collar box had been waiting. Her hand came back with two harnesses, thick, black leather straps already fitted with heavy silicone cocks. One was a deep crimson, ridged and girthy, clearly Raquel’s preference. The other was sleek black with subtle veins, slightly longer, the one Liv always chose when she wanted to make Roxanne feel every inch of surrender.
“Time to really break you in for the weekend, bitch.” Liv’s smile turned feral as she released the leash.
Raquel stepped into her harness first, buckling it low on her hips with practiced ease. The crimson dildo jutted out obscenely, already glistening with a fresh coat of lube she’d squeezed straight from the bottle on the nightstand. She gave it a stroke, eyes locked on Roxanne.
Liv followed suit, making Roxanne watch every motion as she secured the black strap-on, adjusting the base so it pressed right against her clit with each thrust she’d give later. She gave the shaft a single, firm tug, testing it.
“On your knees, Roxy. Ass up, face down. Show us that pretty little butt plug.”
Roxanne obeyed instantly, scrambling into position on the mattress. The plug shifted inside her as she arched. She spread her knees wider without being told, presenting everything.
Raquel positioned herself behind Roxanne, knees sinking into the mattress as she gripped the younger woman's hips with bruising force. The crimson strap-on hovered for a teasing second before she pressed the blunt head against the jeweled base of the plug, nudging it just enough to make Roxanne moan into the sheets.
"Stay still," Raquel ordered, voice low and rough. One hand slid up Roxanne's spine to fist in her hair again, yanking her head back so her throat arched under the tight collar.
Raquel's other hand wrapped around the flared base of the plug. She twisted it slowly, once, twice, drawing out a long, broken moan from Roxanne as the heavy steel bulb shifted inside her. Then she began to pull.
The extraction was merciless. The plug stretched Roxanne's rim wider and wider as it emerged, the jewel catching the bedroom light one final time before sliding free with a wet, obscene pop. Cool air hit the suddenly empty space, Roxanne's hole clenched reflexively around nothing, gaping slightly, already twitching with the loss.
Raquel didn't give her time to adjust.
She lined up immediately and thrust forward in one long, unrelenting thrust, burying the full girthy length of the crimson cock deep into Roxanne's ass. No preamble, no gentleness. The sudden fullness made Roxanne's entire body jolt forward, a choked cry tearing from her throat.
"Fuck, that's tight," Raquel growled, hips snapping forward again, setting the pace for what was to come. Each thrust slapped skin against skin, driving the ridged silicone into the hilt. "No plug to share the space now. Just me owning this hole."
Roxanne's arms buckled almost instantly, she collapsed onto her elbows, face pressed into the mattress, ass still high and presented like an offering. Every slam rocked her forward, only for Raquel's grip on her hair to yank her back into position.
Liv watched for a moment, eyes dark and hungry, then moved to kneel directly in front of Roxanne's face. She fisted the leash again, giving it a sharp tug that forced Roxanne's head up despite the pounding from behind.
"Open your mouth, bitch," Liv commanded, voice velvet-wrapped steel. "You're not done serving."
Roxanne's lips parted immediately, automatic, trained.
Liv guided the sleek black strap-on to Roxanne's waiting mouth. She didn't ease in. She pushed forward steadily until the head hit the back of Roxanne's throat, then kept going, deeper, until Roxanne's nose was pressed against Liv's pelvis and her gag reflex fluttered helplessly around the intrusion.
"Good girl," Liv purred, holding her there. "Choke on it while Raquel wrecks your ass. That's all you're good for right now, two holes filled, collar tight, marked up like property."
Raquel's pace never faltered. She drove in harder, faster, the slap of her hips against Roxanne's ass echoing through the room. One hand left Roxanne's hair to crack down sharply on her already-red cheek, once, twice, leaving fresh handprints that burned.
"Push back," Raquel ordered. "Show me how much you want it."
Roxanne did, hips rocking backward desperately despite the brutal stretch, despite the way the collar restricted every gasp for air, despite the black cock stuffing her throat until tears streamed freely down her cheeks.
Liv began to move then, slow thrusts into Roxanne's mouth that matched Raquel's rhythm from behind. In and out, in and out, spit dripping in thick strands every time she pulled back far enough for Roxanne to breathe.
"Look at me," Liv hissed, yanking the leash tighter.
Roxanne's eyes lifted, locking onto Liv's sharp, satisfied gaze even as her body was rocked between them.
"Whose bitch are you?"
Roxanne tried to answer, muffled, garbled around the silicone filling her mouth, but the intent was clear. Hers. Always hers.
Liv smiled proudly.
"Damn right."
Raquel reached around, fingers finding Roxanne's clit and pinching hard, just enough to make her buck and whimper around the cock in her throat.
"Don't come yet," Raquel warned, voice thick with exertion. "You wait for permission. Always."
They kept her like that, Raquel pounding her ass with punishing force, Liv fucking her throat with controlled cruelty, until Roxanne was nothing but sensation, the burn of the stretch, the ache in her jaw, the bite of the collar, the sting of fresh slaps and bite marks, the overwhelming pressure building low in her belly.
Only when her whole body was shaking, thighs trembling, tears and spit soaking the sheets beneath her, did Liv lean down close.
"Come for us, slut," she whispered against Roxanne's ear. "Come while we use every fucking inch of you."
Roxanne's body seized, as her orgasm hit. Muffled moans vibrated around the black silicone buried in her throat, her ass clenched hard around Raquel’s thrusting cock, milking it involuntarily while her hips jerked and bucked against the fingers still pinching at her clit.
Liv held her there, throat stuffed, until the worst of the spasms began to fade into trembling aftershocks. Only then did she slowly withdraw the strap-on, letting it drag wetly across Roxanne’s lips before tapping it lightly against her cheek.
“Good girl,” Liv murmured, voice soft now, almost tender. She wiped a thumb through the mess on Roxanne’s face, smearing it deliberately. “You take it so fucking well.”
Raquel eased out next, letting Roxanne feel every ridged inch slide free from her stretched, aching ass. The sudden emptiness made Roxanne whimper, a small, broken sound that earned her a low chuckle from both women.
“On your back, pet,” Liv ordered. “Legs up. Show us that pretty pussy.”
Roxanne moved without hesitation, rolling onto her back even though her limbs felt like lead. She drew her knees toward her chest, then hooked her hands under her thighs to hold them high and wide, presenting herself completely. The position left her exposed, vulnerable, marked breasts heaving with every ragged breath, bite marks darkening around her nipples, red handprints blooming across her skin, collar snug and shining, ass still slightly gaping from Raquel’s earlier use.
Liv didn’t waste time.
She shifted between Roxanne’s raised legs, gripping the backs of her thighs and pushing them even wider until Roxanne’s hips tilted up off the mattress. The sleek black strap-on, still slick with spit, hovered at Roxanne’s entrance for only a heartbeat before Liv lined up and slammed in.
Hard. Fast. No warmup.
Roxanne’s back arched, the sudden stretch burning through her oversensitive core. Liv didn’t ease up. She set a punishing pace immediately, deep, hard thrusts that bottomed out with every snap of her hips, the base of the dildo grinding against Roxanne’s clit on every inward stroke.
“Fuck... yes,” Liv hissed, eyes locked on Roxanne’s face. “Look at you. Soaking wet, taking it like you were born for this.”
Raquel moved to kneel beside Roxanne’s head, one big hand wrapping loosely around the leash while the other fisted in her hair, tilting her face toward her.
“Eyes on Liv,” Raquel growled. “Watch who’s fucking you right now.”
Roxanne obeyed, eyes fixed on Liv’s determined expression as the smaller woman drove into her again and again. Each thrust jolted her body upward, her breasts bounced with the force, fresh welts stinging. Spit still glistened on her chin.
Liv leaned forward, changing the angle so the strap-on dragged against that perfect spot inside Roxanne with every stroke. She braced one hand beside Roxanne’s head, the other sliding up to wrap around her throat, fingers pressing just above the collar, adding pressure without fully choking.
“Whose pussy is this?” Liv demanded, voice rough with exertion.
“Yours,” Roxanne gasped, voice hoarse and wrecked. “Yours... always yours...”
Liv fucked her harder, faster, hips snapping with wet, obscene sounds filling the room. Raquel reached down, pinching and twisting one of Roxanne’s abused nipples, then the other, drawing fresh whimpers that melted into needy moans.
“You don’t come again until I say,” Liv warned, even as she ground deep and circled her hips, stirring the silicone inside Roxanne until her walls fluttered helplessly. “You beg for it. Loud. Like the desperate little slut you are.”
Roxanne’s pleas started almost immediately, broken, breathless, spilling out between gasps.
“Please... Liv... please let me come... I need it... I’m yours... please...”
Liv’s smile was sharp, satisfied.
“Not yet.”
She kept the fast pace, pounding Roxanne into the mattress while Raquel alternated between tugging the leash and slapping lightly at her inner thighs, keeping her spread, keeping her present, keeping her on the razor’s edge.
Roxanne was a mess beneath them, trembling, sweating, marked, collared, owned. Every thrust drove her higher, every denial made the coil in her belly wind tighter.
Liv finally leaned down close, lips brushing Roxanne’s ear.
“Come for me, bitch. Now. Show me how much you love being used.”
The permission snapped the last thread.
Roxanne came again, harder than before, screaming Liv’s name as her body locked up, pussy clenching rhythmically around the thrusting strap-on. Waves of pleasure crashed through her, leaving her shaking, sobbing, utterly spent.
Liv rode her through it, slowing only when the spasms began to ebb, grinding deep one last time before easing out with a slow, deliberate drag.
She collapsed beside Roxanne, breathing hard, one hand possessively splayed across her stomach.
Raquel watched with a hungry grin as Liv eased out of Roxanne and let her legs drop back to the mattress. Roxanne lay there panting, thighs trembling, her pussy still fluttering and glistening from the hard fucking.
“My turn,” Raquel said, voice low and commanding. She unclipped the leash temporarily but left the collar on, then reached down and scooped Roxanne off the bed like she weighed nothing.
Roxanne gasped as strong arms lifted her clean into the air. Raquel manhandled her effortlessly into position, standing tall in the middle of the bedroom, feet planted wide. She hooked Roxanne’s legs over her forearms, hands cupping firmly under Roxanne’s ass, spreading her cheeks. The crimson strap-on jutted upward, thick and ridged, already slick with lube from earlier.
This was the “Yourself on the shelf” position, Roxanne suspended in mid-air, body folded slightly forward, her weight supported entirely by Raquel’s powerful grip under her ass. Raquel growled with a dark smirk, adjusting her hold so Roxanne’s slick pussy hovered right above the head of the crimson cock.
Raquel lowered her just enough for the blunt head to breach her entrance, then held steady.
“Bounce,” she ordered.
Roxanne obeyed instantly, using the leverage of Raquel’s arms to push up and drop back down, impaling herself repeatedly on the girthy strap-on. Up and down, again and again, her tits bouncing with every descent. The position left her completely at Raquel’s mercy, legs hooked and spread wide, ass held high, pussy stretching around the ridges as she fucked herself in mid-air.
The slap of skin on skin filled the room. Roxanne’s moans grew louder, more desperate with each bounce. Raquel’s hands squeezed her ass hard, fingers digging in, occasionally delivering sharp spanks that made her jolt and sink deeper.
“Fuck, look at her go,” Liv said from the bed, watching with dark amusement, one hand stroking her own strap-on. “Such an eager little slut. Bounce harder, Roxy. Show Raquel how grateful you are.”
Roxanne did, faster now, thighs burning, breath hitching against the tight collar. The angle hit deep inside her with every drop, the ridges dragging perfectly against her inner walls. Sweat beaded on her skin. Her clit ground against Raquel’s pelvis on the downstrokes.
Raquel adjusted her stance slightly, bouncing Roxanne a little with her own hips to drive the cock even deeper. “That’s it. Ride it. You don’t stop until I say.” Raquel’s grip tightened. She started lifting Roxanne higher on each upstroke, nearly pulling her off the dildo entirely before letting her slam back down, teasing, controlling, owning.
“Keep bouncing. Milk that cock.”
Roxanne cried out, bouncing frantically despite the burn in her legs, chasing the edge. The pressure built to a breaking point, her pussy fluttering wildly around the silicone. Raquel felt it. At the exact peak, she lifted Roxanne completely off the strap-on in one smooth motion, holding her suspended, pussy clenching around nothing, legs spread wide.
Roxanne squirted hard, clear fluid gushing from her in powerful spurts, splashing onto Raquel’s thighs, the floor, and the base of the crimson dildo. Her whole body convulsed in Raquel’s arms, a raw scream tearing from her throat as she soaked everything in sight.
Raquel held her there a moment longer, before slowly lowering Roxanne back onto the bed.
“Messy girl,” Raquel murmured approvingly, brushing damp hair from Roxanne’s forehead. “Good fucking girl.”
Liv chuckled from the side. “That was beautiful. Look at the mess you made, Roxy.”
Roxanne could only whimper softly, body twitching with residual pleasure, the collar still snug around her throat.
The room smelled of sex and sweat, thick, heady, inescapable. Roxanne lay sprawled across the center of the bed, limbs heavy, skin flushed and slick. Her chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm beneath the collar. Bite marks bloomed dark and angry around her nipples, handprints layered red over red across her breasts and thighs, and between her legs everything glistened, her own release still streaking her inner thighs, Raquel’s crimson strap-on abandoned on the nightstand beside the discarded butt plug.
Liv sat on the edge of the mattress, one leg tucked under her, watching Roxanne with that same sharp, satisfied look that had started all of this weeks ago in hotel rooms and dimly lit corridors. She reached over brushing sweat-damp strands of hair from Roxanne’s forehead with surprising gentleness.
“You did good tonight, Rox,” she said quietly. “Real good.”
“Better than good,” Raquel added.
Roxanne’s eyes fluttered open at the words, still floating somewhere between subspace and reality. But when she looked up, first at Raquel, then at Liv, there was no fear, no look of resistance.
She swallowed against the snug leather, voice hoarse and small.
“Thank you... both of you.”
The End
With Liv Morgan, Raquel Rodriguez and Roxanne Perez
Written by TheLW
Codes: FFF, Anal, Rough Sex, Strap-on, Tit Play
Disclaimer: This FICTIONAL story was written for entertainment purposes only.
(Roxanne Perez, Liv Morgan, Raquel Rodriguez)
Several weeks have come and passed since "Dirty" Dom, and the other guys of Judgment Day (Finn Bálor and JD McDonagh), had used Roxanne as their personal fuck toy, passing her around until she was little more than a trembling, spent thing on the floor of their dimly lit clubhouse.
In the time that followed, Roxanne’s world had narrowed to one person, that of course being Liv Morgan.
She carried Liv’s travel bags through crowded airport terminals and arena corridors, her arms aching under the weight but never complaining. She drove Liv from show to show, from city to city, arena to hotel, hotel to airport, hotel to next arena, her hands steady on the wheel while Liv lounged in the passenger seat, one boot propped on the dash, scrolling through her phone or occasionally reaching over to rest a possessive hand high on Roxanne’s thigh.
Every night they shared a hotel room. Always one bed. Always Liv’s rules.
Liv would kick the door shut behind them, toss her jacket onto a nearby chair, and turn to Roxanne with that predatory smile. She fucked her good and hard with a strap-on, sometimes fast and brutal against the wall with Roxanne’s wrists pinned above her head, sometimes slow and deliberate on the mattress with Roxanne’s face buried between Liv’s thighs until Liv was shaking and pulling her hair. Roxanne learned every sound Liv made when she came, learned exactly how Liv liked her tongue, her fingers, how she liked her body to be used. She learned to beg without being told, to arch into every slap, every thrust, every humiliating word Liv hissed into her ear.
Night after night the routine carved itself deeper into Roxanne’s body.
Somewhere in those weeks the last pieces of resistance crumbled. The shame that once burned hot behind her eyes dulled into something quieter, something that felt almost like relief. She stopped flinching at the sound of Liv’s keycard in the lock. She stopped pretending she wanted to leave. She stopped pretending she hadn’t already surrendered everything.
By the end of those few weeks Roxanne had accepted it completely.
Roxanne was Liv’s now, Liv’s bitch, Liv’s toy, Liv’s shadow. She knelt when Liv snapped her fingers. She came when Liv permitted it. She carried the bags, drove the car, spread her legs, and thanked Liv for every degrading thing done to her.
And when Liv looked at her with those sharp, satisfied eyes and murmured, “Good girl,” Roxanne felt the word settle inside her chest like truth.
She was irrevocably broken. And she belonged.
As it turned out, the three women had a rare stretch of days off, no flights, no arenas, no cameras. Liv had insisted they spend it at her place, a sleek modern house tucked away just outside the city. No Judgment Day drama, no prying eyes. Just the three of them.
Roxanne carried their bags inside like always, setting them neatly in one of the bedrooms, before dropping to her knees the moment Liv snapped her fingers. The routine felt natural now.
Liv circled her slowly, fingers trailing through Roxanne’s hair. “You’ve been such a good little bitch these past couple of weeks. No fighting, no whining, just perfect obedience. I think it’s time for an upgrade.”
She opened a sleek black box on the nightstand and pulled out the new collar. Thick, supple black leather lined with soft padding, designed to sit snug against the throat, no give, no room to forget its presence. Across the front, in raised, shiny chrome letters big enough to be seen from across the room, it read... LIV’S BITCH.
Liv fastened it around Roxanne’s neck herself, buckling it tight enough that Roxanne’s breath hitched with every swallow. The fit was perfect, intentionally restrictive. She clipped a sturdy leather leash to the heavy O-ring at the front.
“Better,” Liv murmured, giving the leash a sharp tug that jerked Roxanne forward onto her hands. “This one’s permanent. You wear it whenever we’re alone. Under your gear if we decide to play at the arena. Everyone will know exactly who owns you.”
Raquel leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching with a predatory grin.
"Looks good on her. Matches the plug she’s been wearing all day.” Liv smirked. “Show her, Roxy.”
Roxanne’s face burned, but she didn’t hesitate. She turned, lowered her shorts, and bent forward, presenting her ass. The base of the plug gleamed, a heavy stainless steel bulb seated deep inside her, the flared jewel end etched with bold, interlocking letters LM. Liv Morgan’s claim, permanently displayed on the only part of Roxanne that had once belonged solely to her.
Once they were all naked, and Roxanne was on all fours on the king-sized mattress, the real fun began.
Liv straddled Roxanne’s chest, wrapping the leash once around her fist and using it to choke her while grinding slowly against her stomach. The collar dug in deliciously, restricting airflow just enough to make Roxanne’s vision blur at the edges.
Raquel moved behind her, one big hand fisting in Roxanne’s hair and yanking her head back hard, arching her spine. The other hand cracked sharply across Roxanne’s left breast, once, twice, three times, leaving bright red handprints that stung and throbbed.
Liv leaned down, teeth sinking hard into Roxanne’s right breast. She bit down just above the nipple, then caught the sensitive peak between her teeth and pulled, stretching it cruelly while Roxanne whimpered and shook. Liv released it with a wet pop, only to bite again, harder, leaving deep, teeth imprinted marks around the areola.
“Whose tits are these?” Liv growled against the abused flesh.
“Yours,” Roxanne gasped, voice hoarse from the leash choking her. “Liv’s... Raquel’s...”
Raquel slapped the left breast again, harder this time, making it bounce. “Damn right. Say it louder, pet.”
“Yours!” Roxanne cried out, hips twitching helplessly. The plug shifted inside her with every movement, a constant reminder of ownership.
Liv gave the leash a vicious tug, cutting off Roxanne’s air completely for several long seconds while she bit and sucked fresh marks into the right breast. When she finally loosened her grip, Roxanne sucked in desperate lungfuls of air, tears streaming down her cheeks, not from pain, but from the overwhelming flood of surrender and need.
Liv smiled down at her, eyes dark with satisfaction.
“Such a perfect little toy. We’re going to spend these next few days reminding you exactly where you belong... over and over again.”
Roxanne could only moan softly, pressing her marked breasts upward for more, the new collar snug and heavy around her throat, the LM plug seated deep, and the words LIV’S BITCH shining bright against her skin.
She was exactly where she was meant to be.
Eventually Raquel slid off the bed for a moment, only to return with a wicked glint in her eye. She reached into the same nightstand drawer where the collar box had been waiting. Her hand came back with two harnesses, thick, black leather straps already fitted with heavy silicone cocks. One was a deep crimson, ridged and girthy, clearly Raquel’s preference. The other was sleek black with subtle veins, slightly longer, the one Liv always chose when she wanted to make Roxanne feel every inch of surrender.
“Time to really break you in for the weekend, bitch.” Liv’s smile turned feral as she released the leash.
Raquel stepped into her harness first, buckling it low on her hips with practiced ease. The crimson dildo jutted out obscenely, already glistening with a fresh coat of lube she’d squeezed straight from the bottle on the nightstand. She gave it a stroke, eyes locked on Roxanne.
Liv followed suit, making Roxanne watch every motion as she secured the black strap-on, adjusting the base so it pressed right against her clit with each thrust she’d give later. She gave the shaft a single, firm tug, testing it.
“On your knees, Roxy. Ass up, face down. Show us that pretty little butt plug.”
Roxanne obeyed instantly, scrambling into position on the mattress. The plug shifted inside her as she arched. She spread her knees wider without being told, presenting everything.
Raquel positioned herself behind Roxanne, knees sinking into the mattress as she gripped the younger woman's hips with bruising force. The crimson strap-on hovered for a teasing second before she pressed the blunt head against the jeweled base of the plug, nudging it just enough to make Roxanne moan into the sheets.
"Stay still," Raquel ordered, voice low and rough. One hand slid up Roxanne's spine to fist in her hair again, yanking her head back so her throat arched under the tight collar.
Raquel's other hand wrapped around the flared base of the plug. She twisted it slowly, once, twice, drawing out a long, broken moan from Roxanne as the heavy steel bulb shifted inside her. Then she began to pull.
The extraction was merciless. The plug stretched Roxanne's rim wider and wider as it emerged, the jewel catching the bedroom light one final time before sliding free with a wet, obscene pop. Cool air hit the suddenly empty space, Roxanne's hole clenched reflexively around nothing, gaping slightly, already twitching with the loss.
Raquel didn't give her time to adjust.
She lined up immediately and thrust forward in one long, unrelenting thrust, burying the full girthy length of the crimson cock deep into Roxanne's ass. No preamble, no gentleness. The sudden fullness made Roxanne's entire body jolt forward, a choked cry tearing from her throat.
"Fuck, that's tight," Raquel growled, hips snapping forward again, setting the pace for what was to come. Each thrust slapped skin against skin, driving the ridged silicone into the hilt. "No plug to share the space now. Just me owning this hole."
Roxanne's arms buckled almost instantly, she collapsed onto her elbows, face pressed into the mattress, ass still high and presented like an offering. Every slam rocked her forward, only for Raquel's grip on her hair to yank her back into position.
Liv watched for a moment, eyes dark and hungry, then moved to kneel directly in front of Roxanne's face. She fisted the leash again, giving it a sharp tug that forced Roxanne's head up despite the pounding from behind.
"Open your mouth, bitch," Liv commanded, voice velvet-wrapped steel. "You're not done serving."
Roxanne's lips parted immediately, automatic, trained.
Liv guided the sleek black strap-on to Roxanne's waiting mouth. She didn't ease in. She pushed forward steadily until the head hit the back of Roxanne's throat, then kept going, deeper, until Roxanne's nose was pressed against Liv's pelvis and her gag reflex fluttered helplessly around the intrusion.
"Good girl," Liv purred, holding her there. "Choke on it while Raquel wrecks your ass. That's all you're good for right now, two holes filled, collar tight, marked up like property."
Raquel's pace never faltered. She drove in harder, faster, the slap of her hips against Roxanne's ass echoing through the room. One hand left Roxanne's hair to crack down sharply on her already-red cheek, once, twice, leaving fresh handprints that burned.
"Push back," Raquel ordered. "Show me how much you want it."
Roxanne did, hips rocking backward desperately despite the brutal stretch, despite the way the collar restricted every gasp for air, despite the black cock stuffing her throat until tears streamed freely down her cheeks.
Liv began to move then, slow thrusts into Roxanne's mouth that matched Raquel's rhythm from behind. In and out, in and out, spit dripping in thick strands every time she pulled back far enough for Roxanne to breathe.
"Look at me," Liv hissed, yanking the leash tighter.
Roxanne's eyes lifted, locking onto Liv's sharp, satisfied gaze even as her body was rocked between them.
"Whose bitch are you?"
Roxanne tried to answer, muffled, garbled around the silicone filling her mouth, but the intent was clear. Hers. Always hers.
Liv smiled proudly.
"Damn right."
Raquel reached around, fingers finding Roxanne's clit and pinching hard, just enough to make her buck and whimper around the cock in her throat.
"Don't come yet," Raquel warned, voice thick with exertion. "You wait for permission. Always."
They kept her like that, Raquel pounding her ass with punishing force, Liv fucking her throat with controlled cruelty, until Roxanne was nothing but sensation, the burn of the stretch, the ache in her jaw, the bite of the collar, the sting of fresh slaps and bite marks, the overwhelming pressure building low in her belly.
Only when her whole body was shaking, thighs trembling, tears and spit soaking the sheets beneath her, did Liv lean down close.
"Come for us, slut," she whispered against Roxanne's ear. "Come while we use every fucking inch of you."
Roxanne's body seized, as her orgasm hit. Muffled moans vibrated around the black silicone buried in her throat, her ass clenched hard around Raquel’s thrusting cock, milking it involuntarily while her hips jerked and bucked against the fingers still pinching at her clit.
Liv held her there, throat stuffed, until the worst of the spasms began to fade into trembling aftershocks. Only then did she slowly withdraw the strap-on, letting it drag wetly across Roxanne’s lips before tapping it lightly against her cheek.
“Good girl,” Liv murmured, voice soft now, almost tender. She wiped a thumb through the mess on Roxanne’s face, smearing it deliberately. “You take it so fucking well.”
Raquel eased out next, letting Roxanne feel every ridged inch slide free from her stretched, aching ass. The sudden emptiness made Roxanne whimper, a small, broken sound that earned her a low chuckle from both women.
“On your back, pet,” Liv ordered. “Legs up. Show us that pretty pussy.”
Roxanne moved without hesitation, rolling onto her back even though her limbs felt like lead. She drew her knees toward her chest, then hooked her hands under her thighs to hold them high and wide, presenting herself completely. The position left her exposed, vulnerable, marked breasts heaving with every ragged breath, bite marks darkening around her nipples, red handprints blooming across her skin, collar snug and shining, ass still slightly gaping from Raquel’s earlier use.
Liv didn’t waste time.
She shifted between Roxanne’s raised legs, gripping the backs of her thighs and pushing them even wider until Roxanne’s hips tilted up off the mattress. The sleek black strap-on, still slick with spit, hovered at Roxanne’s entrance for only a heartbeat before Liv lined up and slammed in.
Hard. Fast. No warmup.
Roxanne’s back arched, the sudden stretch burning through her oversensitive core. Liv didn’t ease up. She set a punishing pace immediately, deep, hard thrusts that bottomed out with every snap of her hips, the base of the dildo grinding against Roxanne’s clit on every inward stroke.
“Fuck... yes,” Liv hissed, eyes locked on Roxanne’s face. “Look at you. Soaking wet, taking it like you were born for this.”
Raquel moved to kneel beside Roxanne’s head, one big hand wrapping loosely around the leash while the other fisted in her hair, tilting her face toward her.
“Eyes on Liv,” Raquel growled. “Watch who’s fucking you right now.”
Roxanne obeyed, eyes fixed on Liv’s determined expression as the smaller woman drove into her again and again. Each thrust jolted her body upward, her breasts bounced with the force, fresh welts stinging. Spit still glistened on her chin.
Liv leaned forward, changing the angle so the strap-on dragged against that perfect spot inside Roxanne with every stroke. She braced one hand beside Roxanne’s head, the other sliding up to wrap around her throat, fingers pressing just above the collar, adding pressure without fully choking.
“Whose pussy is this?” Liv demanded, voice rough with exertion.
“Yours,” Roxanne gasped, voice hoarse and wrecked. “Yours... always yours...”
Liv fucked her harder, faster, hips snapping with wet, obscene sounds filling the room. Raquel reached down, pinching and twisting one of Roxanne’s abused nipples, then the other, drawing fresh whimpers that melted into needy moans.
“You don’t come again until I say,” Liv warned, even as she ground deep and circled her hips, stirring the silicone inside Roxanne until her walls fluttered helplessly. “You beg for it. Loud. Like the desperate little slut you are.”
Roxanne’s pleas started almost immediately, broken, breathless, spilling out between gasps.
“Please... Liv... please let me come... I need it... I’m yours... please...”
Liv’s smile was sharp, satisfied.
“Not yet.”
She kept the fast pace, pounding Roxanne into the mattress while Raquel alternated between tugging the leash and slapping lightly at her inner thighs, keeping her spread, keeping her present, keeping her on the razor’s edge.
Roxanne was a mess beneath them, trembling, sweating, marked, collared, owned. Every thrust drove her higher, every denial made the coil in her belly wind tighter.
Liv finally leaned down close, lips brushing Roxanne’s ear.
“Come for me, bitch. Now. Show me how much you love being used.”
The permission snapped the last thread.
Roxanne came again, harder than before, screaming Liv’s name as her body locked up, pussy clenching rhythmically around the thrusting strap-on. Waves of pleasure crashed through her, leaving her shaking, sobbing, utterly spent.
Liv rode her through it, slowing only when the spasms began to ebb, grinding deep one last time before easing out with a slow, deliberate drag.
She collapsed beside Roxanne, breathing hard, one hand possessively splayed across her stomach.
Raquel watched with a hungry grin as Liv eased out of Roxanne and let her legs drop back to the mattress. Roxanne lay there panting, thighs trembling, her pussy still fluttering and glistening from the hard fucking.
“My turn,” Raquel said, voice low and commanding. She unclipped the leash temporarily but left the collar on, then reached down and scooped Roxanne off the bed like she weighed nothing.
Roxanne gasped as strong arms lifted her clean into the air. Raquel manhandled her effortlessly into position, standing tall in the middle of the bedroom, feet planted wide. She hooked Roxanne’s legs over her forearms, hands cupping firmly under Roxanne’s ass, spreading her cheeks. The crimson strap-on jutted upward, thick and ridged, already slick with lube from earlier.
This was the “Yourself on the shelf” position, Roxanne suspended in mid-air, body folded slightly forward, her weight supported entirely by Raquel’s powerful grip under her ass. Raquel growled with a dark smirk, adjusting her hold so Roxanne’s slick pussy hovered right above the head of the crimson cock.
Raquel lowered her just enough for the blunt head to breach her entrance, then held steady.
“Bounce,” she ordered.
Roxanne obeyed instantly, using the leverage of Raquel’s arms to push up and drop back down, impaling herself repeatedly on the girthy strap-on. Up and down, again and again, her tits bouncing with every descent. The position left her completely at Raquel’s mercy, legs hooked and spread wide, ass held high, pussy stretching around the ridges as she fucked herself in mid-air.
The slap of skin on skin filled the room. Roxanne’s moans grew louder, more desperate with each bounce. Raquel’s hands squeezed her ass hard, fingers digging in, occasionally delivering sharp spanks that made her jolt and sink deeper.
“Fuck, look at her go,” Liv said from the bed, watching with dark amusement, one hand stroking her own strap-on. “Such an eager little slut. Bounce harder, Roxy. Show Raquel how grateful you are.”
Roxanne did, faster now, thighs burning, breath hitching against the tight collar. The angle hit deep inside her with every drop, the ridges dragging perfectly against her inner walls. Sweat beaded on her skin. Her clit ground against Raquel’s pelvis on the downstrokes.
Raquel adjusted her stance slightly, bouncing Roxanne a little with her own hips to drive the cock even deeper. “That’s it. Ride it. You don’t stop until I say.” Raquel’s grip tightened. She started lifting Roxanne higher on each upstroke, nearly pulling her off the dildo entirely before letting her slam back down, teasing, controlling, owning.
“Keep bouncing. Milk that cock.”
Roxanne cried out, bouncing frantically despite the burn in her legs, chasing the edge. The pressure built to a breaking point, her pussy fluttering wildly around the silicone. Raquel felt it. At the exact peak, she lifted Roxanne completely off the strap-on in one smooth motion, holding her suspended, pussy clenching around nothing, legs spread wide.
Roxanne squirted hard, clear fluid gushing from her in powerful spurts, splashing onto Raquel’s thighs, the floor, and the base of the crimson dildo. Her whole body convulsed in Raquel’s arms, a raw scream tearing from her throat as she soaked everything in sight.
Raquel held her there a moment longer, before slowly lowering Roxanne back onto the bed.
“Messy girl,” Raquel murmured approvingly, brushing damp hair from Roxanne’s forehead. “Good fucking girl.”
Liv chuckled from the side. “That was beautiful. Look at the mess you made, Roxy.”
Roxanne could only whimper softly, body twitching with residual pleasure, the collar still snug around her throat.
The room smelled of sex and sweat, thick, heady, inescapable. Roxanne lay sprawled across the center of the bed, limbs heavy, skin flushed and slick. Her chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm beneath the collar. Bite marks bloomed dark and angry around her nipples, handprints layered red over red across her breasts and thighs, and between her legs everything glistened, her own release still streaking her inner thighs, Raquel’s crimson strap-on abandoned on the nightstand beside the discarded butt plug.
Liv sat on the edge of the mattress, one leg tucked under her, watching Roxanne with that same sharp, satisfied look that had started all of this weeks ago in hotel rooms and dimly lit corridors. She reached over brushing sweat-damp strands of hair from Roxanne’s forehead with surprising gentleness.
“You did good tonight, Rox,” she said quietly. “Real good.”
“Better than good,” Raquel added.
Roxanne’s eyes fluttered open at the words, still floating somewhere between subspace and reality. But when she looked up, first at Raquel, then at Liv, there was no fear, no look of resistance.
She swallowed against the snug leather, voice hoarse and small.
“Thank you... both of you.”
The End
47
Actors & Actresses / Eternian Nights with Camila Mendes and Morena Baccarin
« Last post by TheLW on February 20, 2026, 08:11:33 AM »Eternian Nights
With Camila Mendes and Morena Baccarin
Written by TheLW
Codes: MFF, Blowjob, Oral
Disclaimer: This FICTIONAL story was written for entertainment purposes only.
The soundstage lights had finally dimmed to a low, eerie blue glow, the kind that made Castle Grayskull look like it was breathing. It was past midnight on a Thursday, and the Masters of the Universe set at Pinewood felt abandoned except for the faint hum of dying fluorescents and the distant clank of someone, me, coiling the last of the overhead rigging cables.
I'd been on this production for four months, hauling truss, focusing Fresnels, dodging PAs who thought "grip" meant "go-fer." The crew called me "Sparks" because I handled the electricity, but mostly I just kept my head down. Until tonight.
Camila Mendes and Morena Baccarin had wrapped their big mother-daughter scene an hour earlier, Teela confronting the Sorceress in the throne room. Camila, 31, played Teela with that fierce, compact energy, 5'2" of toned muscle from fight training, dark hair still in half-braids, sweat making her olive skin shine under the practicals. Her Teela costume, leather corset laced tight over a cropped top, armored skirt that barely reached mid-thigh, clung to her like it was painted on.
Morena, 46, was something else entirely. The Sorceress gown flowed white and ethereal, but the fabric was thin enough that every shift revealed the outline of full breasts, hips that swayed with decades of confidence, long legs carrying her 5'7½" frame like she owned the gravity in the room. Brazilian to the core, both of them, Camila with that fiery, youthful edge from her Riverdale days, Morena with the sultry maturity that had made her unforgettable in everything from Firefly to Deadpool.
They'd lingered after "cut," laughing in Portuguese while the director gave notes. I'd caught Camila's eye once, a quick, teasing look toward me as I adjusted a key light. Morena had smiled slower, almost appraising. I told myself it was nothing. Famous people being polite to the crew.
Then the stage cleared. Director Travis Knight left with his entourage. PAs vanished. Even the crafty table was deserted. I stayed to finish derigging the overheads, safety first, always. That's when I heard the sounds of heels on concrete.
Camila emerged from behind the throne prop first. She'd shed the armored pauldrons but kept the corset and skirt, the leather creaking softly as she walked. "Still here, Sparks?" Her voice carried that slight lilt, Brazilian roots mixed with American polish.
Morena followed, the Sorceress gown now open at the front like a robe, revealing a black lace bralette and matching thong beneath. The white fabric framed her like moonlight on skin. "We were hoping you'd stick around," she said, accent thicker, warmer. "The set feels... empty without someone strong to hold things up.”
My heart slammed against my chest. "Ladies, if this is about extra lighting for reshoots...”
Camila laughed, low and throaty. She closed the distance in three strides, a small hand pressing flat against my chest. "No reshoots tonight." Her fingers curled into my shirt. "Just us. Unwinding.”
Morena stepped in from the side. She traced a nail down my arm. "We've seen you watching us all week. She leaned close, lips brushing my ear. "Brasileiras like a man who can keep up.”
I swallowed hard. "This is insane. Security...”
"Security left at eleven," Camila cut in. She tugged me backward toward the massive padded throne prop, built oversized for dramatic shots, easily big enough for three. "We told them we'd lock up ourselves.”
Morena's hand slid lower, palming me through my jeans. I was already half-hard from the proximity. "Relax," she said. "Let us show you how we celebrate a good day's work.”
They pushed me down onto the throne. The velvet upholstery was still warm from earlier lights. Camila straddled my lap immediately, knees sinking into the cushions on either side of my hips. Her weight was perfect, light but solid, thighs flexing as she ground down once. The leather of her skirt rode up, exposing smooth, toned skin. She wore nothing underneath, I felt the heat of her bare against the rough denim.
She kissed like she’d been waiting her whole life to taste me, lips soft but consuming, tongue plunging in with practiced arrogance. I opened up out of shock, then hunger, heat spiking as her body ground hard against mine. My hands shot to her waist, sliding up to where her ribs flared under the leather, thumbs tracing the rim of her breasts. Camila moaned into my mouth, tilting her hips to make sure I felt just how wet she was, and for a second I almost came in my jeans from the surprise, her, in control, but also on fire.
Morena knelt between my spread legs. Her fingers worked my belt open with practiced ease, zipper coming down. "Olha isso," she whispered to Camila in Portuguese, voice husky. "Look at this. Already so ready for us."
She freed me, cool air hitting hot skin. Her hand wrapped around the base, firm, confident, stroking once, twice, thumb circling the head to spread the bead of pre-cum. Then her mouth descended. Warm, wet velvet. Tongue flat against the underside as she took me deep, cheeks hollowing. No teasing; she sucked with purpose, head bobbing in a slow, rhythmic glide that matched the samba sway of her shoulders.
Camila broke the kiss to watch. "Deus," she breathed. She reached down, fingers joining Morena's, stroking what Morena's mouth couldn't reach. Then she leaned forward, kissing Morena around me, their tongues meeting in a slick, obscene slide over the head of my cock. I groaned, hips jerking up involuntarily.
Camila pulled back, her gaze intense. "Your turn to taste." She shifted upward, guiding my hands to her costume's intricate fastenings. I yanked them loose, the leather parted, revealing her firm breasts. She arched forward, offering herself. I sucked greedily, tongue flicking, teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp. Her hips rolled faster against my thigh now, leaving evidence of her arousal on the denim of my work pants.
Morena released me from her mouth, a glistening thread momentarily bridging the gap between us. "Switch," she said simply.
They traded places fluidly. Morena straddled me now, gown falling open completely. Naked beneath except for the lace thong, which she pushed aside. Her figure was magnificent, more generous, more commanding than her co-star's, with dusky aureoles contrasting against her sun-blessed complexion. She sank down slowly, inch by inch, until I was buried to the hilt inside her tight, wet heat. She was soaked, the slide was effortless, but the grip was vise-like.
"Caralho," she hissed, head falling back. "So full."
Morena started riding, tentative at first, her body hips finding a mesmerizing cadence Brazilian rhythm, ass rising and falling like waves. Each downward thrust slapped skin on skin, echoing in the empty stage. Her hands braced on my shoulders, nails digging in. I matched her movements from below, feeling her respond with an intimate tightening each time we fully connected.
Camila positioned herself at the nexus of our bodies. She kissed Morena deeply, open-mouthed, tongues tangling. One hand traced delicate circles between Morena's thighs while the other reached lower, cupping my balls, rolling them gently as Morena rode. As Morena continued her rhythm above, Camila's attention drifted downward, her tongue exploring the place where our bodies connected, alternating between teasing Morena's sensitive flesh and tracing the length of me as I pistoned in and out.
The sensation was overwhelming, caught between Morena's embrace and Camila's fervent attention, their pleasure becoming mine as we moved together. Morena spoke in rapid Portuguese between gasps, "Mais forte... assim... porra, que delícia", urging harder, faster.
I gripped Morena's hips, slamming up into her. She moaned out in pleasure, body shuddering as her first orgasm hit, her inner walls fluttering, milking me. She ground down hard, riding through it, juices coating us both.
Camila drew away, a hungry smile playing on her wet mouth. "I need you now," she whispered.
Morena eased herself up, our bodies parting with a soft, slick sound. Camila moved into position, this time looking down at me as she lowered herself. Being smaller-framed, she tensed as she took me in. "Fuck," she gasped, eyes fluttering closed. "I can feel every inch of you."
She rode differently, sharper, more athletic. Hips snapping forward and back, grinding herself against me with each downstroke. As her chest swayed with her movements, I leaned up to taste her skin, my fingers finding where our bodies met to intensify her pleasure with gentle, focused attention.
Morena moved behind Camila, her body flush against Camila's spine. Her hands found their way forward, pinching Camila's nipples, twisting them. Then lower, one hand joining mine at Camila's clit, the other sliding between us to tease where I entered her. Morena kissed Camila's neck, biting softly, whispering encouragement in Portuguese.
The release claimed Camila suddenly, her muscles tensing, legs quivering against my sides, her voice breaking into a sound that filled the space above us. The intensity of her pleasure nearly undid me as she tightened around me, but I steadied my breath and maintained control.
They weren't done.
Morena guided Camila off me, then pushed her gently onto all fours on the throne cushion. "On your knees, querida," Morena said. Camila obeyed, ass up, back arched. Morena knelt behind her, spreading her cheeks, tongue diving in, lapping at her from behind while Camila moaned into the velvet material.
I stood, cock aching, slick with both of them. Morena looked back over her shoulder. "Come here. Take me while I taste her."
I positioned myself behind Morena. She was on her knees too now, ass presented, gown pooled around her waist. I slid in deep, one long thrust that made her moan into Camila's pussy. The sight was obscene, Morena's tongue between Camila's thighs, giving and receiving in the same moment; and myself, moving with a pace that connected us all, feeling the echo of each thrust ripple forward through Morena's body into Camila's.
We found a rhythm, hard, relentless. Every thrust into Morena pushed her tongue deeper into Camila. Camila reached back, fingers tangling in Morena's hair, holding her there. "Não para... assim... sim!"
I gripped Morena's hips, pounding harder. Her ass jiggled with each impact, skin flushing. She came again, sudden, violent, body spasming, her vaginal walls pulsing around me. The squeeze was too much, I felt the build, unstoppable.
"Where?" I gritted out.
"Inside," Morena gasped. "Fill me up."
Camila twisted to watch, eyes blazing. "Do it. Come in her."
With one final surge forward, I found my limit. Pleasure crashed over me in waves, my entire body tensing as I poured myself into Morena. Her muscles clenched around me rhythmically, drawing out every sensation. Between shuddering breaths, she continued her attentions to Camila, whose second climax arrived like a whisper, intense but quieter than before, leaving her collapsing forward with a sob.
We remained entangled for what felt like forever, our breathing gradually slowing, skin cooling where we touched. Eventually Morena shifted her weight, first leaning to press her lips against Camila's, then turning back to me with the same gentle attention. The evidence of our passion glistened on her inner thighs, Camila traced her fingertips through the wetness, then brought them to her lips with a mischievous glint in her eyes that said everything words couldn't.
"Best wrap party I've ever had," Camila murmured against my neck.
Morena chuckled, tracing patterns on my chest. "And we have night shoots all next week. Plenty more chances to... rehearse."
I laughed, dazed, already stirring again at the thought. The set lights flickered once, like Eternia itself was winking.
By dawn, we'd cleaned up, costumes straightened, the throne wiped down. No one would know. But I carried the memory like a secret power surge, two Brazilian goddesses turning a fantasy set into something far more primal.
And yeah, I volunteered for every late-night call after that.
The End
With Camila Mendes and Morena Baccarin
Written by TheLW
Codes: MFF, Blowjob, Oral
Disclaimer: This FICTIONAL story was written for entertainment purposes only.
The soundstage lights had finally dimmed to a low, eerie blue glow, the kind that made Castle Grayskull look like it was breathing. It was past midnight on a Thursday, and the Masters of the Universe set at Pinewood felt abandoned except for the faint hum of dying fluorescents and the distant clank of someone, me, coiling the last of the overhead rigging cables.
I'd been on this production for four months, hauling truss, focusing Fresnels, dodging PAs who thought "grip" meant "go-fer." The crew called me "Sparks" because I handled the electricity, but mostly I just kept my head down. Until tonight.
Camila Mendes and Morena Baccarin had wrapped their big mother-daughter scene an hour earlier, Teela confronting the Sorceress in the throne room. Camila, 31, played Teela with that fierce, compact energy, 5'2" of toned muscle from fight training, dark hair still in half-braids, sweat making her olive skin shine under the practicals. Her Teela costume, leather corset laced tight over a cropped top, armored skirt that barely reached mid-thigh, clung to her like it was painted on.
Morena, 46, was something else entirely. The Sorceress gown flowed white and ethereal, but the fabric was thin enough that every shift revealed the outline of full breasts, hips that swayed with decades of confidence, long legs carrying her 5'7½" frame like she owned the gravity in the room. Brazilian to the core, both of them, Camila with that fiery, youthful edge from her Riverdale days, Morena with the sultry maturity that had made her unforgettable in everything from Firefly to Deadpool.
They'd lingered after "cut," laughing in Portuguese while the director gave notes. I'd caught Camila's eye once, a quick, teasing look toward me as I adjusted a key light. Morena had smiled slower, almost appraising. I told myself it was nothing. Famous people being polite to the crew.
Then the stage cleared. Director Travis Knight left with his entourage. PAs vanished. Even the crafty table was deserted. I stayed to finish derigging the overheads, safety first, always. That's when I heard the sounds of heels on concrete.
Camila emerged from behind the throne prop first. She'd shed the armored pauldrons but kept the corset and skirt, the leather creaking softly as she walked. "Still here, Sparks?" Her voice carried that slight lilt, Brazilian roots mixed with American polish.
Morena followed, the Sorceress gown now open at the front like a robe, revealing a black lace bralette and matching thong beneath. The white fabric framed her like moonlight on skin. "We were hoping you'd stick around," she said, accent thicker, warmer. "The set feels... empty without someone strong to hold things up.”
My heart slammed against my chest. "Ladies, if this is about extra lighting for reshoots...”
Camila laughed, low and throaty. She closed the distance in three strides, a small hand pressing flat against my chest. "No reshoots tonight." Her fingers curled into my shirt. "Just us. Unwinding.”
Morena stepped in from the side. She traced a nail down my arm. "We've seen you watching us all week. She leaned close, lips brushing my ear. "Brasileiras like a man who can keep up.”
I swallowed hard. "This is insane. Security...”
"Security left at eleven," Camila cut in. She tugged me backward toward the massive padded throne prop, built oversized for dramatic shots, easily big enough for three. "We told them we'd lock up ourselves.”
Morena's hand slid lower, palming me through my jeans. I was already half-hard from the proximity. "Relax," she said. "Let us show you how we celebrate a good day's work.”
They pushed me down onto the throne. The velvet upholstery was still warm from earlier lights. Camila straddled my lap immediately, knees sinking into the cushions on either side of my hips. Her weight was perfect, light but solid, thighs flexing as she ground down once. The leather of her skirt rode up, exposing smooth, toned skin. She wore nothing underneath, I felt the heat of her bare against the rough denim.
She kissed like she’d been waiting her whole life to taste me, lips soft but consuming, tongue plunging in with practiced arrogance. I opened up out of shock, then hunger, heat spiking as her body ground hard against mine. My hands shot to her waist, sliding up to where her ribs flared under the leather, thumbs tracing the rim of her breasts. Camila moaned into my mouth, tilting her hips to make sure I felt just how wet she was, and for a second I almost came in my jeans from the surprise, her, in control, but also on fire.
Morena knelt between my spread legs. Her fingers worked my belt open with practiced ease, zipper coming down. "Olha isso," she whispered to Camila in Portuguese, voice husky. "Look at this. Already so ready for us."
She freed me, cool air hitting hot skin. Her hand wrapped around the base, firm, confident, stroking once, twice, thumb circling the head to spread the bead of pre-cum. Then her mouth descended. Warm, wet velvet. Tongue flat against the underside as she took me deep, cheeks hollowing. No teasing; she sucked with purpose, head bobbing in a slow, rhythmic glide that matched the samba sway of her shoulders.
Camila broke the kiss to watch. "Deus," she breathed. She reached down, fingers joining Morena's, stroking what Morena's mouth couldn't reach. Then she leaned forward, kissing Morena around me, their tongues meeting in a slick, obscene slide over the head of my cock. I groaned, hips jerking up involuntarily.
Camila pulled back, her gaze intense. "Your turn to taste." She shifted upward, guiding my hands to her costume's intricate fastenings. I yanked them loose, the leather parted, revealing her firm breasts. She arched forward, offering herself. I sucked greedily, tongue flicking, teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp. Her hips rolled faster against my thigh now, leaving evidence of her arousal on the denim of my work pants.
Morena released me from her mouth, a glistening thread momentarily bridging the gap between us. "Switch," she said simply.
They traded places fluidly. Morena straddled me now, gown falling open completely. Naked beneath except for the lace thong, which she pushed aside. Her figure was magnificent, more generous, more commanding than her co-star's, with dusky aureoles contrasting against her sun-blessed complexion. She sank down slowly, inch by inch, until I was buried to the hilt inside her tight, wet heat. She was soaked, the slide was effortless, but the grip was vise-like.
"Caralho," she hissed, head falling back. "So full."
Morena started riding, tentative at first, her body hips finding a mesmerizing cadence Brazilian rhythm, ass rising and falling like waves. Each downward thrust slapped skin on skin, echoing in the empty stage. Her hands braced on my shoulders, nails digging in. I matched her movements from below, feeling her respond with an intimate tightening each time we fully connected.
Camila positioned herself at the nexus of our bodies. She kissed Morena deeply, open-mouthed, tongues tangling. One hand traced delicate circles between Morena's thighs while the other reached lower, cupping my balls, rolling them gently as Morena rode. As Morena continued her rhythm above, Camila's attention drifted downward, her tongue exploring the place where our bodies connected, alternating between teasing Morena's sensitive flesh and tracing the length of me as I pistoned in and out.
The sensation was overwhelming, caught between Morena's embrace and Camila's fervent attention, their pleasure becoming mine as we moved together. Morena spoke in rapid Portuguese between gasps, "Mais forte... assim... porra, que delícia", urging harder, faster.
I gripped Morena's hips, slamming up into her. She moaned out in pleasure, body shuddering as her first orgasm hit, her inner walls fluttering, milking me. She ground down hard, riding through it, juices coating us both.
Camila drew away, a hungry smile playing on her wet mouth. "I need you now," she whispered.
Morena eased herself up, our bodies parting with a soft, slick sound. Camila moved into position, this time looking down at me as she lowered herself. Being smaller-framed, she tensed as she took me in. "Fuck," she gasped, eyes fluttering closed. "I can feel every inch of you."
She rode differently, sharper, more athletic. Hips snapping forward and back, grinding herself against me with each downstroke. As her chest swayed with her movements, I leaned up to taste her skin, my fingers finding where our bodies met to intensify her pleasure with gentle, focused attention.
Morena moved behind Camila, her body flush against Camila's spine. Her hands found their way forward, pinching Camila's nipples, twisting them. Then lower, one hand joining mine at Camila's clit, the other sliding between us to tease where I entered her. Morena kissed Camila's neck, biting softly, whispering encouragement in Portuguese.
The release claimed Camila suddenly, her muscles tensing, legs quivering against my sides, her voice breaking into a sound that filled the space above us. The intensity of her pleasure nearly undid me as she tightened around me, but I steadied my breath and maintained control.
They weren't done.
Morena guided Camila off me, then pushed her gently onto all fours on the throne cushion. "On your knees, querida," Morena said. Camila obeyed, ass up, back arched. Morena knelt behind her, spreading her cheeks, tongue diving in, lapping at her from behind while Camila moaned into the velvet material.
I stood, cock aching, slick with both of them. Morena looked back over her shoulder. "Come here. Take me while I taste her."
I positioned myself behind Morena. She was on her knees too now, ass presented, gown pooled around her waist. I slid in deep, one long thrust that made her moan into Camila's pussy. The sight was obscene, Morena's tongue between Camila's thighs, giving and receiving in the same moment; and myself, moving with a pace that connected us all, feeling the echo of each thrust ripple forward through Morena's body into Camila's.
We found a rhythm, hard, relentless. Every thrust into Morena pushed her tongue deeper into Camila. Camila reached back, fingers tangling in Morena's hair, holding her there. "Não para... assim... sim!"
I gripped Morena's hips, pounding harder. Her ass jiggled with each impact, skin flushing. She came again, sudden, violent, body spasming, her vaginal walls pulsing around me. The squeeze was too much, I felt the build, unstoppable.
"Where?" I gritted out.
"Inside," Morena gasped. "Fill me up."
Camila twisted to watch, eyes blazing. "Do it. Come in her."
With one final surge forward, I found my limit. Pleasure crashed over me in waves, my entire body tensing as I poured myself into Morena. Her muscles clenched around me rhythmically, drawing out every sensation. Between shuddering breaths, she continued her attentions to Camila, whose second climax arrived like a whisper, intense but quieter than before, leaving her collapsing forward with a sob.
We remained entangled for what felt like forever, our breathing gradually slowing, skin cooling where we touched. Eventually Morena shifted her weight, first leaning to press her lips against Camila's, then turning back to me with the same gentle attention. The evidence of our passion glistened on her inner thighs, Camila traced her fingertips through the wetness, then brought them to her lips with a mischievous glint in her eyes that said everything words couldn't.
"Best wrap party I've ever had," Camila murmured against my neck.
Morena chuckled, tracing patterns on my chest. "And we have night shoots all next week. Plenty more chances to... rehearse."
I laughed, dazed, already stirring again at the thought. The set lights flickered once, like Eternia itself was winking.
By dawn, we'd cleaned up, costumes straightened, the throne wiped down. No one would know. But I carried the memory like a secret power surge, two Brazilian goddesses turning a fantasy set into something far more primal.
And yeah, I volunteered for every late-night call after that.
The End
48
Sports Talk / MLB 2026
« Last post by InThe313 on February 20, 2026, 05:58:43 AM »It always amazes me when baseball comes back because it feels like last season just ended. Major League Baseball is back as the preseason starts today in Sarasota, Fla. Let this be your home for news and notes from around the diamond all season long.
49
General Chat / Re: Extreme1's question of the night
« Last post by extreme1 on February 20, 2026, 03:36:46 AM »Here's your question for the night (From Cadeauxxx, thanks!): Name a celebrity or media figure who you disagree with everything on, yet would like to hang out with them. Someone you don't like at all for their content, but wouldn't be opposed to spend a day doing something with them.
I'm going with Vincent Gallo, never liked his movies and he seems like a repugnant person.
But he's enough of a lunatic that I bet picking his brain for a day would lead to some very interesting places.
I'm going with Vincent Gallo, never liked his movies and he seems like a repugnant person.
But he's enough of a lunatic that I bet picking his brain for a day would lead to some very interesting places.
50
Celebrity Pictures & Gifs (Real) / Re: Victoria Justice
« Last post by MiamiLyfe on February 20, 2026, 02:03:33 AM »
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