Do you think you’re up for it, little girl? You’ve watched ever-increasingly harder pornography through the years and fantasized about this for such a long time, thinking you can handle a real man being rough with every inch of your body. You’ve told yourself that this is what you wanted. Rubbed your little pussy over and over to the thought of having a Daddy hurt you, all for his pleasure and your training.
And now you’re here, arms bound behind your back, eyes stinging from a mixture of your own tears and my spit, cock driving deep into your throat, causing you to gag and make your voice hoarser than you ever thought possible. Daddy pulling out and slapping you hard across the face, followed by more spit and degradation.
You feel yourself beginning to cry, but you’ve wanted this for so long so you don’t want to give up. You’ve got something to prove, to this strange man raping your face, to everyone who knows you who thinks you’re just a wallflower, and to yourself. Your just a little girl, but you always thought you were so strong. So grown up.
"Isn’t this what I always wanted? Why does it hurt so much?”
No matter, the tears begin to flow and the corners of your mouth begin to sag down. Fear and little whimpers begin to build up inside of you. It’s too much for you to handle and you begin to cry. And as you look up, you see it only bringing a wider grin to my face. My laughter unsettles you, as you hoped I’d take pity on your plight. Instead, I open my mouth to say…
"Ahh… Is the stupid slut getting more than what she bargained for? Pull yourself together, you dumb whore. It’s only been five minutes, and we’ve got hours to go. I haven’t even started pounding your tight little girl asshole, yet. That’s when the real fun, and crying, begins."
You’re a big girl, now, sweetie, and you’ll never be the same after I’m through with you. You may not understand everything that is happening to you, but this is exactly what you wanted. Now, turn off your brain and enjoy the terror. We’re going to be here for awhile and there’s nowhere for you to escape to.
This is her purpose in life.
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Had the loveliest dream last night. Me and three other sluts were chosen to be part of a ‘contest’… we were brought to a fancy looking house, what seemed to function as an office during the day time and a place for parties at night. We, during the day, were locked in a tiny room— hardly large enough for the four of us to sit. Throughout the day the office whores would come and use us as they pleased. Then, at night, the contest began— we each had to try and get as many loads of cum dumped in us as we possibly could. The winner got to be the party whore for all of the rich men at the house… and the losers were sent to the shadiest local bars, to be used as urinals and holes for all the drunks.
"Tell me again."
The voice cut through the haze of sensation. Whenever she spoke, the clouds seemed to lift for a moment, the all-consuming pleasure from the fingers toying with her slit dampening a little.
"I’m…..I’m not a lesbian." Fingertips brushed her clit, and her back arched.
"You don’t like other women like that."
"I…." Time had lost all meaning. She’d met up with her new roommate, barely had time to wonder why in a dorm for five only she had been there, before she’d found herself being led to the other girl’s room. "I… I don’t like other women like that….."
"You aren’t turned on right now."
"I’m not…." But she was. The fingers running through her folds were delicious, better even than when she herself played with them, and she had no excuse for why her hand clutched at one breast, rolling her nipple. Every now and then she’d tried to leave, but then the fingers had slid within her, and all she could manage was to buck her hips, forcing herself further down onto them.
"You’re not my slut."
"I’m not…" Rebecca had almost spoken the words before her brain fully understood them. Briefly the certainty that she needed to get out of there flickered vaguely through her mind, but as if responding to it the fingers delved again, a thumb brushing her clit, and it was gone.
"You’re not my slut."
"I’m not your slut…." She’d left the door open. Any of their other roommates walking past would be able to look in and see the two of them, the cool, collected woman sitting on the bed, and her, desperate, crying out, lying there. Maybe she’d already got to them. At the moment she wasn’t sure which would be worse.
"You’re not my slut."
"I’m not your slut." She was getting there, she knew. New waves of heat were rolling down her body. She tried tearing her sight away from the woman seated over her, tried to focus on men, on dicks, on something - but each vision swam before her eyes and became shorter, curvier, and beautiful.
"When you cum… it will have no effect on you."
"When I cum…" It was there. Her hand no longer tired to force the other away, but keep it in the so delightful place. The other crushed her breast to her body, kneading, trying to wring every ounce of sensation from her hot, slutty body.
Before she answered, the last thought the old Rebecca would ever have floated in front of her addled mind; she hadn’t even found out the woman’s name yet. “Yes?”
Bright lights exploded in front of her eyes, and she was gone.
Becky woke up, stretched, opened her eyes, smiled. Her goddess was there.
My friend Betsy had me tie her up this way in her boyfriends bedroom before he got home from work.
"It’s Friday, how do you know Chuck will come straight home after work? You could be waiting here a long time!" I said.
Betsy just smiled and said, “Waiting builds anticipation and that’s where the fun is. Plus, if he comes home a little buzzed, he’s more likley to go crazy on me, which is what I desperately want.”
So I left and Betsy told me the next day that she fell asleep after waiting four hours only to be woken by her boyfriends cock entering her from behind.
Her pussy went from dry to soaking wet in a matter of seconds as she realized what was happening and he slipped inside her.
He fucked her like an animal for over an hour and they never said a word to each other other than moaning and grunting.
Betsy said it was the hottest sex she’d ever had!
Little Tammy was a contract capture. The man who had paid for that sweet pair of tits had been taken for a ride by the young harlot. He’d only had one night with his investment before she moved out, along with a travel bag full of valuable items.
It was time for her to return home, pay her dues and then some. It would be a two day trip to get her back to Florida, but their employer had told them that he didn’t mind a bit of backseat hanky-panky as long as they didn’t use her mouth.
"That lying tongue is mine. Enjoy the rest."
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