Michael licked his middle finger and rubbed it against the sleek spot between my legs. My body squatted, swayed back and forth, barely kept its balance. Once again, I sensed what was about to happen. The unbelievable. The unthinkable.

There was no sign of an opening in the place where my genitals had been. Just a bald swelling, like the ball of a shoulder. But as I watched, Michael slowly, gradually buried his finger in the flesh. He began to slide it in and out. My body begged for more.

He turned his head and shot me a quick glance. His face was slack, lips parted, eyes flashing with triumph. As if to say: See what I can make you into? See how badly you want it?

As he finger-fucked me, he reached around with his right hand and began to push the disembodied cock—my cock—into my squatting ass. All nine inches, all the way to the balls in one steady shove. He pressed his palm over the crack to hold it in.

My hips squirmed on his finger, pushed back onto my cock. Michael removed the finger, and my groin tried to follow, ready to abandon the cock up its ass for more of his hand. Again, I could see no opening there.

But when he grabbed my tit to pull my body forward and down, his cockhead slipped inside. And my body squatted deeper, desperate for it, until Michael’s thick shaft was completely swallowed.

Michael gasped and rolled his big shoulders with pleasure. Closed his eyes and hissed inaudible obscenities. Or incantations.

And my body—the body he had handcuffed, beaten, clamped—decapitated, emasculated—subjected to something unspeakable and inhuman—it rode his fat cock and screwed back onto the shaft he held up its ass. Mindless but hungry. More a whore than a slave. More animal than human. A creature of dark magic. His creation.

I was thankful that body had no head. It gave me a way to fool myself. To say that it wasn’t me.

There was a sudden ghost sensation, more vivid than the others—a flash—as if I felt my cockhead rubbing against his, deep inside my bowels. It jolted me, like two charged wires touching. I felt feverish. The lights dimmed.

For a long time my consciousness came and went. My eyes would flicker open, glimpse grappling bodies, hear Michael’s sexcharged groans. Scenes in the mirrors: Michael’s beautiful ass, fucking wildly, my legs wrapped tight around his hips—Michael on his back on the bed, my body on its knees above him, fucking itself on his cock while he pulled on my tits—My body, shoulders on the bed, Michael standing between my drawn-back legs fucking with long strokes while he used my hard cock like a truncheon across my stomach and chest—