Horror Story: I Made Him A Zombie to Worship His Ass

His Ass Cast a Spell to Make Me Worship It

His ass cast a spell on me. One day, I was sipping chai in a cafe. Three weeks later, I was purchasing illicit substances from a strange woman in a voodoo shop. 

We’ll call him Corey. Corey’s ass is incredible. He knows it’s perfect.  It started as an eye candy crush. Let’s start with the why. Why would I abandon my relatively wonderful life as a community helper to kidnap a barista? Let’s say I’m not used to being told, “No.”

When I ask a random if I can suck the skin off his cock, that man says, “Fuck yes.” Then, he spends the next few minutes driving his cock into my tonsils. I particularly love ass worship. Most men never say no to ass worship. 

The Barista’s Ass

Corey’s ass looks like he should be modeling underwear, stripping, or being a full-time sugar baby. Although his pants were black, it was obvious that he had a considerable bulge. The bulge was so massive that I had to double-check. His smile melted my cold bitch heart.

I think butterflies fly out of his curly locks when he tosses it. Kidnapping was the only way I could fulfill my lust. I had to have his cock inside me. Corey became something more than just eye candy. I had to get to his cock, lick his ball, suck his asshole. 

Had to. 

Ultimately, I make sure to tell them the joy it brings me to be anointed with their thick, hot cum. There are no victims. The ropes of cum shot into my face and mouth give me the greatest hit of dopamine than exercise ever could. I returned to my mundane life with satisfaction and being alive. I would do anything to keep that feeling alive…including kidnapping. All he had to do was say “yes” or nothing, but not no.

Technically, it’s his fault he’s a zombie.

The New Orleans Shop

I went to New Orleans for a conference. Spooky Tours is one of the best pastimes. New Orleans is full of companies that offer a chance to explore cemeteries, plantations, and locations that report spiritual disturbances. It’s good fun. One of my good friends said that she needed to get back at an ex-boyfriend. So, she wanted to stop at the HooDoo shop. Hoo Doo. Not voodoo. Voo doo isn’t something the uninitiated can do. Hoo Doo on the other hand would allow an ordinary person the ability to do anything.

The shop owner greeted me by name. My vanilla name. Then, she handed me a jar with white powder inside. She said, “This is for the barista.”  My friend didn’t say a word. The shop owner told us both goodbye. My friend grabbed my arm and hauled me out of there.

Later, we sat in Jackson Square staring at the jar. “I didn’t pay for this.” My friend looked at me with a blank face, “Yes you did.” “Don’t you need to get some ex-boyfriend love potion?” She shook her head.  “When something like this happens, you just go with it.” “What is this?” “Zombie powder. Let’s you put anyone under your spell.” “Is there enough for both of us?” She shook her head. “She said it’s for the barista, so, it’s for the barista.”

On the way home, I thought about the zombie powder. Keeping it from TSA was my sole focus. Corey’s ass was fixed in my mind. Could I really make him a zombie? I wanted to worship his ass, but more importantly, I needed him to cum.

Why He Had to Become A Zombie

First, I thought I could forgo the zombie powder. Telling a man you wanted to lick his taint and asshole couldn’t go wrong. He would say yes, zombification would be unnecessary. Is being a zombie sexy?

One day, I blurted all of this out. He stood there smiling like a goof for about twenty seconds. When the light left his eyes, I knew he thought I was insane. I could never go into that cafe again. Kidnapping was my only choice. He had some blonde girl be a lookout for me, but no one ever looked at poor people at bus stops. So, I stood there in sweats and a hoodie watching him. By the time the needle was in the neck, all of his vigilance had lulled him into a false sense of security. That worked for me. 

I palmed the zombie powder and blew it into his face.  Corey crumpled into his trunk. Examining him, I realized…he’s paralyzed. Zombie might be a misnomer, but its efficacy is real.

He rolled into his trunk like a sack of potatoes. I drove his car. When kidnapping a victim, you have to follow all road rules. We arrived at the secluded place. I tied him up.

The Worship of my Zombie God

My best friend helped collect him from the car. We bathed him and oiled his body. Prepared him for worship.

His legs were spread eagle. His arms crossed over his chest. It was important for me to be able to worship his perfect ass hole and taint. When his eyes fluttered open, he pulled at his restraints but it was too late. The zombie powder made him too weak to get free but allowed him to feel. I didn’t take my eyes off his beautiful ass. I shoved my face in between his cheeks and spelled my name with my tongue. 

Corey loved it.

His cock grew harder. It rose from its sleep. Thick. Veiny. Long. I took my time sucking his ass. After this, I pushed a vibrator against his taint while I sucked his balls. He groaned and moaned. I don’t think he was capable of words. He howled when I sucked both of his balls at once. I licked all of the precum from his cock. Then pressed my mouth around his cock and pushed in my throat until tears sprang from my eyes. I rubbed my clit as he fucked my face. Finally, he anointed my throat with his cum. I didn’t waste a drop.

Call me, Karina, at 1-888-338-2515 for more hot fantasies.