Amy's Midnight Discipline

The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that only comes when a child has finally drifted off to sleep after a long, stubborn battle with bedtime. Amy sighed, leaning against the wall outside the kid's room, her heart still racing from the endless rounds of "just one more story!" and "I’m scared of the bogeyman!" She’d laughed it off earlier, dismissing the child’s fears with a wave of her hand. The bogeyman? Really? That’s just something parents make up to scare kids into behaving. She’d even said as much, her voice laced with that smug confidence only a 19-year-old could muster. Little did she know, she was about to learn how very wrong she was. Amy made her way to the basement, the dim glow of the overhead light casting long shadows on the concrete walls. The washer and dryer sat in the corner, humming faintly. She’d promised to move the wet clothes to the dryer before the homeowners got back, and she wasn’t about to break that promise. Bending down, she reached into the washer, pulling out armfuls of damp clothes and tossing them into the dryer. The air in the basement felt cooler than usual, but she chalked it up to the late hour and the basement’s natural chill. Reaching for the last of the clothes, she frowned when they didn’t budge. What the hell? She tugged harder, but the fabric seemed wedged between the spinning barrel and the back of the machine. Annoyed, she let out a frustrated huff and leaned further into the washer, her upper body disappearing inside the machine while her lower half remained awkwardly exposed, her ass sticking out in the air. This is ridiculous, she thought, wriggling her arm deeper to free the stubborn clothes. The basement felt colder now, the chill creeping up her legs, but she was too focused on her task to give it much thought. Finally, with one last tug, the clothes came free. Thank god. She started to pull herself out, but then— Her waist was held firm, an invisible force pinning her in place. Panic surged through her as she tried to move, her legs kicking uselessly in the air. What the hell is happening?! She twisted and turned, but whatever was holding her was impossibly strong. Her heart raced, her breathing shallow, as she realized she was completely trapped. And then she felt it—the unmistakable presence of someone—or something—behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as icy fingers brushed against her ass, squeezing and caressing her through her jeans. "Stop! Please, just help me!" she pleaded, her voice trembling. But the hands didn’t stop. Instead, they moved lower, one cold hand rubbing her pussy through the fabric of her jeans. She gasped, her body betraying her as it responded to the touch, her core growing hotter despite her fear. The rubbing was slow, deliberate, and maddeningly effective. Amy tried to remain unaffected, to stay calm, but her body trembled, her breaths coming in short, shaky gasps. The hands stopped just as she felt herself teetering on the edge of release, leaving her frustrated and desperate. Before she could recover, a sharp, stinging slap landed on her ass. "What the fuck!" she cried out, the pain mingling with the arousal that still pulsed through her. Another slap followed, then another, and another, each one harder than the last. Tears welled in her eyes as the spanking continued, the pain and humiliation overwhelming. "Okay! Okay! I’m sorry! I don’t even know what I did, but I’m sorry!" she sobbed, her voice breaking. The spanking stopped abruptly, and for a moment, there was only silence. Then, those icy hands returned, but this time, they were gentle, caressing her ass as if to soothe the sting. Amy’s body relaxed slightly, the touch oddly comforting despite everything. But the reprieve was short-lived. The hands yanked her jeans and panties down to her knees, exposing her pussy to the cold air. She shivered, her core still wet and aching. She felt a cold, wet tongue lick her folds, teasing her with just enough contact to send sparks of pleasure through her body. Just as she started to moan, the tongue pulled away, leaving her wanting more. "Please—" she started to beg, but her plea was cut off by the sudden, brutal intrusion of something thick and icy deep inside her. Amy cried out, the pain and pleasure overwhelming as the entity thrust into her with no warning, no mercy. She was completely at its mercy, her body pinned in the washing machine as it pounded into her relentlessly. The iciness of its cock was a stark contrast to the heat of her core, the sensation driving her wild. She couldn’t hold back her moans, her pleasure spilling out in broken sentences and gasps. The fucking seemed to last forever, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. Amy felt her body giving in, her mind clouded with pleasure as the entity pushed her closer and closer to the edge. Just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, it pulled her leg up, spreading her wider and driving even deeper. The rhythm became erratic, the thrusts harder, faster, until finally, it came inside her, filling her with an icy release that sent her over the edge. Amy’s vision blurred as the pleasure consumed her, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. She felt the entity’s grip on her loosen, and then everything went black. When she woke up, she was lying on the basement floor, her legs still bare, her pussy still dripping with its cum. She sat up, and a rush of it spilled onto the floor, a stark reminder of what had just happened. Before she could process it, she felt that familiar chill, and a whispered voice in her ear sent a shiver down her spine. "Do you believe in me now?" Amy swallowed, her voice barely a whisper as she answered. "Yes." ***Or do you prefer this sex scene*** The dark figure, amused by her plight, stepped closer to the washing machine, the sound of its mechanical guts echoing through the dimly lit basement. The sight of her ass waving in the air as she struggled only served to heighten his excitement. With a sinister chuckle, he knelt behind her, his cold, inhuman hands reaching out to caress her curves through the fabric of her jeans. "Please, stop," Amy whimpered, her voice a mix of fear and arousal as she felt his touch. The figure's grip grew firmer, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh of her cheeks as his other hand slithered down to her crotch. He began to rub her clit with a slow, deliberate pressure that sent waves of conflicting emotions through her body. Ignoring her pleas, he continued his sadistic foreplay, enjoying the way her breath hitched and her body quivered with each touch. The figure's icy fingers slipped under the waistband of her jeans, sliding down to squeeze her ass and pussy with a cruel fondness that made Amy's body betray her. Despite her fear, she couldn't help but get wetter with every second that passed. But just as she felt the beginnings of a powerful orgasm building within her, the figure abruptly stopped. He stepped back, and the coldness of his absence was as palpable as the sudden silence. Amy's body tensed in anticipation of what was to come next, her mind racing with dread and desire. Without warning, she was slapped hard across the ass, the sting of the blow resonating through her body. "What the fuck!" she screamed, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls. The spanking continued, each smack harder and more punishing than the last. The pain brought tears to her eyes, but she remained stuck in the cold embrace of the washing machine, unable to escape. The figure's motives were as chilling as his touch. He watched her squirm, listened to her cries, and took perverse pleasure in her pain. As she begged for mercy, the spanking stopped as abruptly as it had started. The cold hands returned to her body, but this time they were gentle, stroking her skin as if to soothe her. The gentle touch was a stark contrast to the brutal treatment she had just received. It was confusing, but it also brought a sense of relief to Amy. She took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure, when suddenly, her jeans and panties were yanked down to her knees, exposing her to the frigid air. The figure took a moment to appreciate her bare ass, which was now a rosy shade of pink from the spanking. He reached out again, this time with something much colder and more intrusive. A thick, icy cock nudged against her wet pussy, and with one swift motion, he impaled her. Amy's eyes widened in shock and pleasure as the cold cock filled her up. She had never felt anything so intense, so foreign. Her body was a whirlwind of sensations, the coldness of the cock mixing with the heat of her arousal. The figure didn't hold back, pounding into her without any care for her comfort or consent. The sound of their bodies colliding filled the basement, punctuated by her moans and gasps. Despite the fear that still gripped her, she couldn't help but revel in the feeling of being so completely used and dominated. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once, a dark dance that she never knew she craved. The coldness of the cock inside her was a stark reminder that this was no ordinary encounter. It was as if she was being claimed by something not of this world, something powerful and primal. And as the figure thrust into her again and again, she felt herself losing control, her orgasm building to a crescendo that threatened to consume her. The figure knew exactly what he was doing, his rhythm unrelenting as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. And just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, just when she was about to scream out in pleasure, he pulled out, leaving her panting and desperate for release. He chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down her spine. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "Now, let's try this again." Before she could protest, the icy cock was back, slamming into her with renewed fervor. Amy felt like she was on fire, her body begging for more of the frigid touch that sent her spiraling into ecstasy. Each thrust was a delicious mix of pain and pleasure, pushing her to new heights she never knew were possible. Her hands balled into fists, gripping the sides of the washing machine as she tried to brace herself for the onslaught. Her breasts bounced with each impact, nipples hard and sensitive. She could feel the wetness of her desire pooling on her stomach, the sticky evidence of her arousal. And through it all, she remained trapped, her legs uselessly kicking the air, her voice a series of breathless moans and whimpers that seemed to only fuel the figure's desire. As the figure took her, the coldness of the room seemed to melt away, replaced by the heat of their combined passion. The coldness of the floor beneath her and the metal of the washing machine against her back did little to dull the fiery need that was building inside her. It was as if she were in a world of pure sensation, a world where fear and lust danced in a delicate ballet. The figure's hands remained firmly planted on her hips, guiding his thrusts, ensuring that every inch of him filled her. Amy felt the pressure building, her body tightening around the alien intrusion. She knew she was close, so close she could almost taste it, but she was afraid. Afraid of what this person would do to her when she came, afraid of how much more she could take before she broke. But she also knew that she couldn't stop it, couldn't hold back the floodgates any longer. The figure sensed her impending climax and sped up, his hips moving in a blur of motion. She could feel his excitement growing. It was like he was feeding off of her, drawing power from her passion and pain. With a final, brutal thrust, Amy screamed as she came, her body shaking violently. The figure groaned, his cock pulsing inside her, releasing his orgasm and heavy load into her quivering pussy. The coldness of his cum was a shock, a final jolt of sensation that sent her over the edge into oblivion. For a moment, she was lost in the waves of pleasure, the pain and the fear forgotten. But as her climax subsided, she felt the coldness of the floor seeping into her back, a reminder of her vulnerable position. She tried to push herself up, to get away, but the figure held her in place, his cock still buried deep within her. "You belong to me now," he whispered, his voice a cold caress against her ear. "And I will come for you again." With that, he withdrew, leaving her feeling empty and used.