Common Sense Altering System

They quit talking to the empty air. No more names thrown at somebody who couldn’t answer. Just breath, wet skin, and the sofa complaining under them.

Ray pulled out with a filthy sound and sat back against the cushions, cock slick and standing. He grabbed Prilly by the waist and hauled her with him. She didn’t need a speech. She swung a leg over, reached back, and sank onto him facing away first — reverse, ass in his lap, that same tight pussy swallowing him in one drop.

"Fuck—" It punched out of both of them.

She started bouncing. Not cute. Heavy. Hands on his knees, using his thighs like a seat, slamming her ass down until her wetness smeared his lap. Ray’s hands found her small tits from behind again and just held on, letting her work. Every drop made that slap louder in the empty shop. She leaned forward, then dropped back against his chest, grinding in circles when her legs started shaking.

He didn’t last long like that. He hooked her under the thighs, stood up half a step with her still on his cock, turned, and dumped her onto her back on the sofa. One of her legs hooked over the backrest, the other he shoved wide. Missionary, messy, her ass half off the cushion so he could get all the way in.

He drove in and stayed close — chest to chest, mouth on hers, one hand braced by her head, the other under her ass tilting her up. The angle hit different. Deeper. She clawed his back and moaned into his teeth. No talking now except broken *yeah* and *don’t stop* and her name when he bit her lip.

He folded her further. Grabbed both legs, pushed them toward her chest, and started pounding straight down. Short, nasty strokes. Her tits bounced. The sofa legs scraped the floor. She was soaked enough that every thrust made a wet punch.

"Look at me," he muttered.

She did. Eyes glassy, mouth open.

He dropped one of her legs, hooked the other over his shoulder, and reached down between them to rub her clit while he fucked her. That finished her. She clenched hard, shook, tried to curl in on herself, and he just held her open and kept going through it.

His rhythm broke. Hips got sloppy. He dropped over her, buried it as deep as it would go, and came.

He didn’t pull out. He locked her hips and pumped it in — thick, hot, pulse after pulse, filling her until it had nowhere to go and started leaking around his cock onto the sofa. Prilly gasped and grabbed the back of his neck, holding him there, feeling every twitch.

Ray stayed inside, breathing like he’d run, forehead against hers. Cock still kicking a little. Creampie already slipping down her ass.

Neither of them said Milady’s name.

Just the shop, the wrecked sofa, and Prilly’s pussy holding what he left in her.

Prilly was still on her back, messy, his cum already leaking out of her when she grabbed his wrist.

"Take pictures," she said. "Now. While it’s still me."

Ray blinked at her, still catching his breath. "For what."

"Leverage. On Milady. Something she can’t talk her way out of."

He let out a short, ugly laugh. "That’s pointless, ain’t it? She gets in my head, she mind-controls me, she makes me delete the whole thing. What’s a photo gonna do?"

Prilly stared at the dirty ceiling of the empty shop for a second. "Hmmm... don’t worry about that." She looked at him. "You call my name if she tries. My name. Not hers."

Ray frowned. "Call your name. That’s it. That’s the whole plan."

"That’s it."

"That don’t even make sense."

"You don’t have to get it. You just have to do it."

He sat there with the phone in his hand, jaw tight. It still sounded stupid. But he’d been looked down on by Milady long enough. Sick of being treated like a dog she could whistle at.

"Fine," he muttered. "Hold still."

He came back over her, cock still wet, and laid it on her cheek. "Look at it. Yeah. Like that."

Click. Click.

"Open your mouth."

She did. He slapped her with it — wet, heavy taps against her cheek, her lips, the side of her face — and hit record.

"That’s it. Don’t look away from the camera."

The sound was nasty in the quiet shop. He dragged it across her mouth and let it smear.

Then he moved the phone down. One hand filming, the other on those small tits.

"Stay like that. I want her seeing this."

He squeezed, thumbed a nipple, mashed them together. A few more stills after that. Her on her back. Legs open. His cum obvious. His hand on her throat. His cock resting on her stomach.

When he stopped recording, Ray sat back on the sofa and exhaled hard.

"There," he said. "Finally got something."

Prilly sat up slow, reached over, and wrapped her hand around his cock again. Lazy. Slick. Just playing with it.

She smiled a little.

"Good luck..."

Ray frowned. "The hell does that—"

The grip changed.

Same hand. Different pressure.

Milady was back.

Her eyes glassed over almost instantly. Wet. She was squeezing his cock and staring at him like she’d walked in on a crime scene she was already inside of.

"You ungrateful dog," she whispered. Voice thinner than Prilly’s. Sharper. "You don’t know your place." Her fingers tightened around him. "And now you’re threatening me."

Ray didn’t yank away. "Yeah. I am."

Milady let go of him like his skin burned, scooted back, and sat beside him on the ruined sofa. Not touching. Knees pulled in. Bare. His cum still on her thighs.

They sat there like that. Two naked people in a mess they couldn’t clean up yet.

Ray was the one who broke it.

"You shouldn’t be a parasite," he said. Not yelling. Just tired and mean. "Not in a girl like Prilly."

Milady flinched.

"Don’t say that name." She grabbed her own head with both hands, fingers in her hair. "Don’t."

"Why. That’s who I was just with."

"I’m the original," she said. "She’s the fake one."

Ray turned his head. "Don’t li—"

"This is the reality."

"The hell it is."

"It is." She kept pressing at her skull, staring at the floor. "You think she woke up first? She didn’t. I did. This body was mine before she had a mouth."

Ray snorted. "Then why’s she the one who feels real."

"Because I made a hole," Milady said. "And she crawled into it."

"Talk normal."

She swallowed.

"Level fifty. That’s when I could use the system on myself. Not on other people. Me. I didn’t want it for fighting first. I wanted it for what was already in my head."

Ray watched her. "What was in your head."

"Abuse," she said. Flat. "The kind that doesn’t stay in one memory. Then the street after that. Homeless. Bad nights stacked on bad nights until my own past felt like a room I couldn’t walk through."

"So you wiped it."

"I buried it. I lived as Milady after that. Clean name. Cleaner head. It felt like getting out."

Ray frowned. "And that backfired."

"Yes." Her voice thinned. "Another identity showed up in there. Talking. Wanting the body. Wanting a name."

"Prilly."

Milady’s hands tightened in her hair. "Don’t."

Ray leaned forward a little. "Hold up. The system told you the side effects, right? It had to. Systems always run their mouth about that shit."

She nodded once. Small. Miserable.

"It did."

"And you still did it."

"I already couldn’t take it," she said. "So I chose anyway. I buried my own past. I don’t even remember it now. Not really. And after that I felt free."

Ray was quiet for a second.

"Free how."

"The worst parts got deleted," Milady said. "The rest I just... blurred. On purpose. So I wouldn’t turn into somebody else."

She let out a thin breath, still holding her head.

"Didn’t work."

Milady’s head dropped. Tears hit her dirty thighs. She didn’t wipe them. She just sat there naked on the wrecked sofa, pussy still full of his cum, shoulders shaking like she hated every second of it.

Ray was hard again. He hated that too.

He looked at her — this rough, psycho girl suddenly crying in an empty shop — and the pity almost got him. Almost. Then his mouth went the other way.

"Tch." He leaned back. "Then that’s good. You’re too damn evil."

Milady’s breath hitched.

"And why the hell did you make me a slave, huh?" Ray said. "Your past might be real. I don’t even know. But that don’t make what you did okay."

She lifted her face. Makeup gone. Eyes red. Still crying — and pissed.

"Then what are you?" Her voice cracked. "You’re dirty too. You liked the oral. You liked another man’s wife’s pussy. What are you, huh? A hero?"

Ray went quiet for a second. He didn’t dodge it.

"Nah. I liked it," he said. "I’m not gonna sit here and play holy. I enjoyed it. So what. I don’t care."

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