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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
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Taylor Swift Meets Satan
by Tag Johnson (tag_johnson1960@hotmail.com)
***
Singer Taylor Swift finally succumbs to madness and the
forces of darkness; commits rape and murder and fucks
the Prince of Darkness. This is a fantasy; please do not
do any of this stuff. (MF, FF, nc, bd, intr, preg,
occult, v, sn, celeb-parody)
***
Part One: Paris Hilton
Taylor Swift waited in the darkness. The garage attached
to the mansion was not particularly big by Hollywood
standards, but easily holding twenty sport and luxury
cars she was impressed and wondered how long it was
going to take to go on the open market after tonight and
how much it was going to go for? The opening of the
garage door shut her day-dreaming down.
A seemingly block long Mercedes limo pulled in and
parked. A gigantic black man in a dark suit stepped out
from behind the steering wheel and opened the back door.
She stepped out, flawless, breathtakingly beautiful,
wearing a short, golden, shimmering, silk dress. It was
Paris Hilton; heiress to the Hilton Hotel fortune,
millionaire many times over, pseudo-celebrity, slut and
whore. Taylor clicked the safety off on her silenced
nine millimeter and prepared to make her move but the
bodyguard’s sudden action froze her in place.
The bodyguard grabbed Paris by her long blonde hair and
shoved her to the floor. She glared up at him and he
responded with, “Strip bitch.” Paris rolled onto her
back and pulled her dress over her head revealing a not
unexpected lack of underwear; still on her back she
kicked off her high heels and clumsily yanked off her
stockings. She looked up at her bodyguard panting.
“Crawl, you white bitch,” he commanded.
Naked, Paris got on all fours and began to crawl towards
him while he laughingly slowly stepped backwards keeping
pace with her. When he stopped, the two of them were
almost on top of Taylor. “Nigger lover and her nigger.”
Taylor thought and almost killed the bodyguard then, but
decided to watch what was going to happen next.
Grinning, the bodyguard said to his charge, “You know
what to do next, you white whore.” Paris crawled to his
feet and began licking and kissing the floor at his
feet, she moved to his shoes; licking, kissing and
sucking them.
She got on her knees, unzipped his pants and jerked her
head back to avoid the monstrous cock that shot out. The
bodyguard grabbed her by her hair with one hand and his
dick by another and began slapping her across the face
with it. “Beg for it bitch,” he ordered.
“Please let me suck your dick master. Please let your
white whore suck you big black dick. Please master,
please I love you master. I love your dick, I want it so
bad. I’ll do anything for you master,” she sobbed.
The bodyguard slapped her across the face with his
massive cock one more time and ordered her, “Suck it,
you cheap little whore, suck my cock, swallow my come,
and don’t lose a drop.”
Paris frantically grabbed his dick with both hands and
shoved the head in her mouth. Taylor Swift was impressed
with her enthusiasm and technique even though she
couldn’t get even half of the monster down her throat.
Closing his eyes, the bodyguard rolled his head back,
his moans and grunts mingling with the obscene slurping
sounds Paris was making.
He came with a grunt and looked down on his mistress and
when he gave her a bestial grin and opened his mouth to
speak, Taylor Swift stepped out of her hiding place,
placed the silencer against the base of his skull and
unceremoniously pulled the trigger.
Despite the silencer, the sound echoed throughout the
garage as the bodyguard, stiff as the proverbial board
fell over. Paris opened her mouth to scream but dazedly
fell in a heap when Taylor smashed the butt of her
pistol against her temple.
As Paris lay there she groggily looked up as her
attacker. Stunned, she recognized the singer with her
magnificent mane of golden blonde hair that fell well
past her shoulders and confusedly took in her all black
SWAT type outfit and the pistol with its silencer.
“What?” She asked, momentarily forgetting that the man
she had just blown was lying dead just a couple of feet
away.
Taylor answered by burying her boot into the prone
woman’s belly. As she lay there gasping for air, Taylor
explained. “You’re a whore and I’m sick of whores like
you.” She placed her pistol back into her shoulder
holster and stood above her helpless victim. Paris
stared in shock as Taylor unzipped her pants and a large
plastic strap-on popped out. “You like sucking dick
whore? Then suck mine.” She commanded the cowering,
terrified, naked woman.
Terrified and stunned, Paris scrambled to her knees and
frantically began sucking her captor’s plastic cock.
After a few minutes, Taylor pulled her dildo out of
Paris’s mouth, she grabbed Paris by her mouth and spit
into her face and slapped her hard and shoved her on her
back.
Taylor knelt between Paris’ legs and yanked them apart.
She lay on top of Paris and shoved her big plastic dildo
up her dry, unprepared, cunt. Paris cried out in pain
but dared not move as Taylor moved in and out. Taylor
grunted as she raped Paris’ cunt, her own pussy growing
wet from the pressure the base strap-on made against her
pussy; the joy of punishing the whore, the excitement of
killing the nigger, and above all the charge of knowing
what was to come. So to speak.
After several minutes of this, Taylor rolled Paris onto
to her stomach; she kicked her legs apart and as she
pinned her arms together over her with one hand, she
guided the head of her plastic dick to Paris’ tiny
virginal asshole. Paris’s eyes bugged out and she cried
out. “Please no not that!” And screamed in agony as
Taylor’s artificial cock tore her open. Taylor closed
her eyes, reveling in the pain she was causing and
luxuriating in Paris’ screams.
In and out she slammed her rock hard, plastic dick into
Paris’ ass and was shocked when she felt an orgasm
explode through her. She collapsed on top of Paris,
catching her breath, recovering from the surprise orgasm
as her prey continued to sob in pain, humiliation, and
horror. After a few minutes Taylor felt recovered.
She rolled Paris back onto her back; she thought about
how beautiful she seemed; soaked with sweat, her face
smeared with tears and makeup. Taylor stroked her face
and gently brushed her hair out of her face. “It’s
almost over,” Taylor assured her.
“It is?” Paris plaintively asked in a little girl’s
hopeful voice.
“Yes,” Taylor replied, and with one lightening fast
move, pulled a long, needle like dagger from her belt
and rammed it up Paris’s chin and well into her brain.
Paris convulsed once, almost throwing Taylor off of her
and died.
Taylor Swift stared at Paris for a long time; her eyes
were bulged open, her mouth was wide open as if she was
still trying to scream. Taylor incuriously noted you
could see the blade of the dagger in Paris’ mouth. It
reminded her of a similar scene from Dune. Bored now,
she got up, pulled her pants down, squatted over Paris
and let loose a long relaxing piss and wondered what
time it was.
Part Two: Lindsay Lohan
Taylor Swift waited, hidden in the bushes, armed only
with a blackjack and a pair of handcuffs. As she waited,
she fantasized about what she wanted to do to the little
whore she was waiting for. For years she had watched
Lindsay Lohan waste her talent and potential, showing
her ass sometimes literally on Entertainment Tonight and
in the tabloids. “Well that was about to come to an
end,” She thought. She smiled as the Ferrari pulled into
the driveway.
Annoyed although not surprised, she watched as Lindsay
stumbled drunkenly out of her car. “This was going to be
too easy.” She thought as stepped up behind Lindsay and
brought the blackjack down on the back of her skull.
Lindsay groggily awakened the next morning. For a moment
she thought she had passed out someplace strange, an
event that had become more and more common over the last
few years. But her eyes widened as she looked around
her; the room was clearly a dungeon, stone walls, floor,
and ceiling with one wrought iron door.
There were only three objects in the entire room; a
strange X-shaped table, set of torture instruments on
the wall, and a pair of iron cuffs hanging from the
ceiling. The door opened and in walked the most
terrifying sight she had ever seen in her short and soon
to end life.
She recognized her instantly of course, Taylor Swift was
one of the most beautiful and famous women in the world.
But no one had ever seen her like this; she was dressed
only in knee high, shiny black leather, high-heeled
boots and matching elbow length gloves. But it was the
huge strap-on dildo she was wearing and the long coiled
whip that she carried that froze Lindsay’s blood in her
veins.
“What is this, what are you doing?” Lindsay shakily
asked as she rose to her feet.
“I’m going to rape you, torture you, and kill you,”
Taylor replied. Before Lindsay could reply, from twenty
feet away, the whip whistled from Taylor’s hand and
wrapped around Lindsay’s ankles and a flick from
Taylor’s wrist yanked her crashing to the floor. With
another flip of her wrist, the whip was again coiled in
her hand. “Now strip!” Taylor commanded.
A hesitation of Lohan’s part and again the whip struck
with the speed of a cobra, it almost consciously wrapped
itself around Lindsay’s waist and when withdrawn it spun
her around and sent her crashing to the cold stone floor
and left a bright streak around her waist.
Lindsay screamed and screamed and frantically tried to
undress as Taylor brought the whip down over and over.
Even after she had ripped off her clothes, the whip
found her leaving its mark. Finally tiring, Taylor
stopped and looked at Lindsay, bloody and begging for
mercy. She ordered Lohan to the cuffs hanging from the
ceiling.
Taylor fixed the cuffs tightly enough on Lindsay’s
wrists just cut off circulation and adjusted their
height so that she was standing tiptoed. Without
warning, she slammed her leather clad fist into
Lindsay’s stomach.
Lindsay wretched and gasped; Taylor put her hands up and
began beating the helpless woman like she was a boxer’s
heavy bag. Again and again she slammed her leather clad
fists into her; her stomach, kidney punches to the small
of her back and hooks to the ribs, slapping her big fake
tits but carefully avoiding her still beautiful, tear
stained face. Again tiring, Taylor undid the cuffs and
Lindsay collapsed to the floor. She stared down at her
with contempt for a minute.
The day before she had been an arrogant, spoiled,
Hollywood brat. Now she lay curled up at her feet crying
piteously, her beautiful body covered with bruises,
welts, and ugly bloody red stripes. Taylor yanked her to
her feet by her hair and shoved her towards the
unusually shaped table. “Get on it. Face down,” Swift
commanded.
Never a slow learner, Lindsay immediately obeyed. Taylor
tightly and brutally fastened the table’s straps on
Lindsay’s wrists and ankles leaving her in even more
pain. She then walked to the wall display of torture
instruments and after making a show of examining them
removed a large, black leather paddle covered with studs
and having a short wooden handle. She walked behind
Lindsay where she couldn’t see her; Lindsay opened her
mouth to beg for mercy but screamed as Taylor brought
the paddle down.
With a savagery that even surprised even her, Taylor
whipped the helpless young woman, beating her ass to a
pulp. Lindsay had stopped screaming or making any sound
for several minutes before Taylor noticed. She stopped
and dropped the paddle and walked around and lifted
Lindsay’s head by her hair.
She stared into Lohan’s glazed unfocused eyes and
realized that although she was still technically
conscious, she was too far out of it to feel anything.
Disappointed, she dropped her head and undid the straps.
She left the room and returned a few minutes later with
two dog bowls; one with dog food in it, the other with
water. Lindsay was still hanging from the rack so she
left them on the floor. Having plenty else to do, she
left the room and locked it behind her.
When she returned that evening, both bowls were empty
and Lindsay was cowering in a corner. Whimpering, she
pleaded, “Please don’t hurt me anymore; I’ll do anything
you want. Please, no more.”
Taylor smiled reassuringly. “Don’t sweat it. I’m not
going to hurt you. Now crawl over here on your hands and
knees.”
Weakly smiling, Lindsay complied and at Taylor’s command
got up on her knees and in terror stared up at her
captor.
“Don’t worry, I said I’m not going to hurt you anymore
and I’m not. NOW DIE BITCH!” she screamed, and with
lightening speed grabbed her throat and began to
squeeze.
In terror, Lindsay tried to pull away, she tried to pull
Taylor’s hands off, her eyes begged for mercy but there
would be none coming. After a while, her hands fell
away, her head slumped forward, her body relaxed and her
bladder let slip a long stream of piss.
Taylor let her fall to the floor. She nudged her body
with her boot. She noticed how Lindsay’s eyes were still
bulging in terror and her tongue was hanging out of her
mouth in a manner Taylor thought vaguely reptilian.
Startled, Taylor realized she had no idea what to do
with the body.
Part Three: Satan
Nude and alone, Taylor Swift knelt inside the large
pentagram and chanted the spell she had been taught. The
cave was in complete darkness except what feeble light
the five black candles, each set at a point of the
pentagram gave off. She felt the cave grow warmer. A
long red crack appeared in the very air before her, a
blast of incredible heat hit her and she began to hear
what sounded like distant screams.
The crack opened and the nightmare vision of the most
horrifying sight she or any human had ever seen stepped
out of it. He or was it more appropriate? Towering;
easily eight feet tall, a horned goat’s head with evil,
inhuman, unblinking, eyes, a monstrously muscled, re-
skinned human man’s torso, heavily furred goat-like legs
with cloven hoofs for feet. But it was the obscenity
between his legs that filled her with a fear that even
her twisted madness and devotion to the darkness
couldn’t protect her from. A foot and half in length,
over half as much in girth, greasy, red, with a pyramid
shaped head the size of a soft ball, snakelike it
obscenely turned and seemed to look around the cave
before it seemed to turn and look at her.
His lips did not move but; “Who summons Satan?”
boomingly filled her ears.
In unfamiliar Latin she replied, “I, Taylor Swift
summoned you my lord.”
“What do you seek from Satan?” The voice again filled
her ears.
“I seek to give you a son,” she replied.
“Then prepare yourself,” the voice commanded.
Unhesitatingly, Taylor picked up the silver dagger and
rammed into in her abdomen. In agony she leaned back
spread-eagle so that her arms and legs were lined up
with the upper points of the pentagram the black candles
just out of reach and the bottom point between. She
sobbed in pain as she felt her life slip away and then
there was darkness.
***
She awoke screaming in pain. The whole world was filled
with fire and the screams of the damned. She felt
herself hanging in mid-air as the fires burned but
didn’t consume her. She looked down between hers legs
and saw him standing there. He slammed his cock into her
tearing her open. His cock was like a like a sharpened
iron stake. Eternally he raped her, now his cunt. For
what would have been thousands of years on Earth, his
obscenely raped her. And when he came, he filled her
with a fire that burned through her.
When she awoke, she was back in the cave. Sweat-soaked,
steam arose from her body though she shivered from the
cold. She looked around and saw the pentagram, blood-
stained dagger, and saw from the still burning candles
that only a few minutes, if that had passed. She ran her
hands over her body finding no mark from either the
dagger or the Fires. She wondered if all had been a
dream. But she ran her hand over her abdomen and jerked
her hand away at what she felt.
She smiled at feeling the twisted life growing inside
her and knew it was all real.
THE END?
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
any way, shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any
of the scenarios in this story should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
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