Old School Stories - Donna's Humiliation.txt

[TheWiz]

Please do not read any further if you are below the age of 21.
The following story is sexually explicit, and not appropriate
for minors or some young adults. I know you are curious, but
if you are below 21, please have the responsibility and self-
control to exit immediately.

I'm not the author of this story. I've tried to include the
original headers of the story so you may contact the author.
Since this is from my personal archive the author address
may be very old. I do not take requests for stories from my
archive. I just don't have the time. You may find the items
you are looking for on www.asstr.org.

The Wiz (Connoisseur of Fine Erotica)

WARNING: Standard Disclaimer

The following story is purely a work of fiction. It contains scenes of
adult nature, so if you are under 18, stop reading now. This story contains
scenes of non-consensual sexual behavior, rape, sodomy, bondage,
bestiality, and incest. If you are offended by such activities, do not read
any further. This is purely a fantasy. Any resemblance to any person,
living or dead is purely coincidental. The author is not responsible for
any damage resulting from reading this work.

Copyright 1995, the author. All rights reserved. Any reproduction of this
work outside the confines of the usenet news group, alt.sex.stories,
without the explicit permission of the author is prohibited. Archiving of
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including but not limited to commercial use of this work is prohibited
without the permission of the author. The author may be reached at the
anonymous address contained in the header of this post.

Comments are invited via E-mail.

_________________________________________________________

The Cast:

Bob -the husband, a possessive, punctual, angry, naive man

Donna -the wife, a tall, self-conscious, intelligent, mother

Cindy -the daughter, a compasionate non-sexual do-gooder.

Tommy -the son, a streetwise, self-gratifying opportunist.

The Baby -a total innocent still being breast fed.

Bowser -the dog, a total animal, unfettered by morals.

This story is intended as a satire of erotic submission tales. If you are
not overcome by lust, the lampoon will become obvious and unavoidable.

Donna's Humiliation

A Nasty Girl Story

by Dafney Dewitt

Part #1

Breakfeast

Donna has dog breath

Mixing the thick white batter for the pancakes, forces Donna to think of
sex. She is making breakfeast, letting the batter drip slowly from the
wooden spoon. Donna daydreams that she's mixing a large bowl of cum. She's
a tall blonde woman with medium length hair, well shaped pointed breasts,
and a strange way of smiling by tilting her head slightly to the left.

Donna has never been comfortable being tall. She is sitting down. The early
morning kitchen smells of coffee, heated maple syrup, and fresh pancakes
batter. Everything looks perfect. Donna covers the top of her coffee cup
with her left hand, feeling the moist heat while her right hand works
rythmically out-of-sight, beneath the table, between her legs. She tilts
her head slightly to the left in a quirky smile.

In the quiet of early morning, Donna has resorted to

masturbation. It is a act of desperation fueled by the

frustration of sexual failure. Not even self-manipulation

can stimulate release. Like an addict hooked on drugs, she

requires more. In the quest for satisfaction, the price of

pleasure increases

Her mind flirts with the memories of failure. Like a moth drawn to light,
her mind circles, powerless to escape the voices. Her love for her husband
is defaced by the voices like gang members spraying obscene graffiti on a
church wall. She feels defiled. Her desire wanes.

Her hand trembles.

She gives up. It isn't working. The voices have returned.

"Begin action", the voices say, soft as a whisper,

She calls out to her husband and kids.

"Let's go. Your breakfeast is ready."

Her husband, Bob is the first to the table followed by Cindy and Tommy, the
twin teenagers. The baby, Leslie, just 8 months old is still being breast
fed, and will be nursed after the others leave.

"Oh, Mom" complains Tommy, "Why does it always have to be pancakes on
Thursday ?"

"Stop your whining, and eat your pancakes before they get cold," Donna
scolds.

For Bob, Cindy and Tommy, the voices don't seem to exist.

They eat breakfeast without concern. Only Donna is worried. She is anxious
to get her husband off to work and the kids packed onto the school bus
before something bad happens.

The voices are like seductive whispers. Gentle at first. Promising to make
her happy, to give her new powers. The power to fill the sexual needs of
her dark side. But this sexual thrill is fulfilled at the expense of
control.

Donna is forced to submit. Without submission she is denied pleasure.
Without pleasure her love is empty, and sex is reduced to a mechanical act
without meaning.

Before the voices, Donna understood the difference between love and sex.
Now she isn't certain of anything. She loves her husband. Bob, but hasn't
had an orgasm in over six months. In her most intimate moments, in the
privacy of her own bedroom, she has been unable to climax.

As if reading her mind, Bob looks up. "Heat me up a little, sweetheart."
Donna pours the coffee quickly. Bob is a kind and loving husband, but he
has a quick temper. He expects a good breakfeast with good service. She
does not want to make him angry.

Cindy pushes away her plate, "Sorry, Mom, I have to watch my weight."

Donna, her light blond hair pulled back and tied with a red ribbon, attends
to her family like a waitress. She feels like hired help, a servant. She
wears an old pink bathrobe instead of a white waitress's uniform.
Underneath the robe is nothing but her white bra and panties.

While Cindy shuffles off to the bathroom, Donna bends down beneath the
kitchen sink to fill the dog's food bowl.

There is a rushing sound in her ears as she bends over. It sounds like
muffled laughter from a room full of people.

Her robe falls open exposing her breasts. As she hesitates before closing
her robe, Donna feels a distinct sexual surge. She looks up and sees her
son Tommy look away leaving the table as she cinches the pink belt more
tightly around her waist.

As Tommy turns to leave, he thinks "What a slut mom's turned into, what a
tease." He averts his eyes from his mother's exposed breasts and leaves the
kitchen quickly before saying something out loud that he might later
regret. Someday he vows, he will get even.

"I'm going out to the garage to feed Bowser", Donna announces to no one in
particular. Her husband, Bob is in the bathroom brushing his teeth and
Cindy and Tommy are collecting their school books.

Stepping down into the early morning darkness of the garage the sudden
coolness lifts up under her robe making her nipples harden as she yells out
"Here Bowser - Breakfeast time !"

>From then on everything seems to happen in slow motion.

A tall skinny teenager with a forehead full of angry red pimples and pale
dead blue eyes rises from behind the car. His eyes are blank, empty
looking, and he had a faint whisp of a blond mustache.

Donna stares at him. It is the eyes that catches her attention. They appear
dull, lifeless, and even dead. It is some time, before she notices the
black object in his right hand. It's a Sony camcorder.

The voices command her, "Obey the boy."

Moments later, Bowser bounds out from behind the car. His penis is red,
engorged, and dangling below his belly almost scraping against the concrete
floor. The boy must have been exciting him.

"Jerk off the dog," the boy tells Donna, raising his camcorder.

Bowser, a large black doberman, lunges towards her. She pats him on the
head with her left hand and sets the food bowl down on the roof of the car.
With the food out-of-reach, Donna proceeds to satisfy the dog's other
hunger. She slides her right hand under his belly, slowly massaging,
rubbing his already engorged penis. It is hot, red and very stiff. Her hand
pumps. The dog's dick responds to her stimulation. She jacks him off into
the empty water bowl. Her actions are mechanical and pre-rehearsed. She
knows what the voices want.

Donna watches as the dog's throbbing penis spits out a stream of yellow
white cum into the green plastic water bowl. It squirts out in a thick
gooey ribbon.

"Breakfeast time, here Bowser !" -the voices, echo in her mind, mocking her
own voice.

"I'm not a dog", Donna says suddenly as she expresses her thoughts out
loud.

"Do you like fresh dog cum in the morning ?" -says one of the voices.

"Well, I never . . . " Donna falters for a lack of words.

"You never tried dog cum ? Hmm, we can fix that."

Donna says nothing thinking of the dripping pancake batter.

"Take the bowl and slowly pour the dog cum into your mouth, keeping it
there, inside your mouth."

The voices had spoken. She already knew the consequences of disobedience.
They would humiliate her even more, debase her, punish her beyond belief,
and with no remorse.

Donna made no response. She seemed frozen in time. Her eyes glazed over.

She thought to herself. "How did I ever get myself into this situation ? Is
there any way out ?"

Her thoughts darted about in confusion.

Her husband is brushing his teeth just a few feet away, Tommy and Cindy are
getting ready for school, and she is about to drink fresh dog cum.

"My, God" she gasped. "Please, let me do something else, anything."

She instinctively drops to her knees, begging, looking toward the blue eyed
boy with the red pimpled forehead. In response, he turns zooms the
camcorder in on her face, but remains silent.

"Do it," repeat the voices.

She tilts the green bowl toward her open mouth saying "My God, I'm a slut"
and slowly dumps the slimy goo onto her upturned tongue just before saying
again "I'm a slut".

It tastes repulsive to her. Hot, wet and slimy it rolls off her tongue onto
the under side of her mouth like a fat garden slug. She resists the impulse
to vomit by turning her head down so the cum won't slide down her throat.

The voices calm her.

They are condescending.

"That's a good girl"

"Now be a good mother, and say goodbye to your husband and kids."

She turns automatically toward the kitchen door like a zombie.

Back in the kitchen, Donna's world explodes into activity. Cindy yells out
a quick "Goodbye, I love you Mom !" while Tommy avoids looking at Donna and
just says a quick "Bye".

Bob is busy stuffing his cell phone into his briefcase.

Apparently, no one notices that Donna is white as a sheet and appears to be
in shock. For a moment, she grows angry that no one in her family pays
attention to her.

"They don't really care about me at all," she thinks.

She is numb-struck by an overwhelming sense of abandonment.

That feeling is quickly replaced by fear. Bob is at the door expecting a
guick goodbye kiss. What if he sticks his tongue into her mouth and tastes
the thick pungent dog goo ? How can she ever explain it ? How could he ever
forgive her ? Maybe, she really is a slut.

"My God" she says silently to herself. She feels confused and lost as Bob
turns his face toward her for a kiss. She keeps her lips tightly pressed
together. His tongue tries to force its way between her lips.

Breaking out of his embrace she backs up one step and mumbles, "Sorry, bad
breath." Donna hopes her apology will be enough. Bob has a quick temper and
tends to grab what belongs to him. He likes to take what's his.

"Dog breath," the voices shout so loudly that Donna is afraid her husband
will hear.

Bob grabs her left breast and squeezes it twice as a substitute for his
kiss.

He leaves.

There is a sound of light laughter in Donna's ears.

She feels faint.

The moment passes.

Donna's Humiliation

Part 2

Brunch

Donna's Hot Dog Snack

Her heart is thumping wildly as she locks the front door and returns to the
kitchen.

Donna runs straight to the kitchen sink and opens her mouth over an empty
baby bottle. The dog cum and a considerably amount of saliva drips down
into the bottle. It forms a string between the bottle and her lips which
she had to break with her fingers.

Donna inhales deeply. She feels as if she's been holding her breath. She
wants desperately to wash the dog cum flavor out of her mouth with hot
coffee, but the voices are demanding hotdogs.

Donna opens the refrigerator door. She finds a package of Oscar Meyer
Hotdogs, removes one, and pops it into the microwave for 1 minute.

"Exposure time," the voice whisper.

Donna slips her robe off her shoulder and drops it onto the kitchen floor.

She is 32, with a slim youthful looking body, medium sized pointed breasts
that showed no signs of drooping after nursing 3 kids. The nipples were
erect and tender from the daily sucking given by the baby. She has blond
hair tied with a red ribbon in back and light blue eyes, but was far from
anyone's idea of beautiful. Her nose was too long and her eyes were set
apart too wide on her face. She wore oval shaped brown glasses that gave
her a librarian look. She had quit her job selling real estate to take care
of the unexpected baby. She thought of herself as a good mother.

As if in after thought, the voice say, "Oh, and remove your panties."

She let the white cotton panties fall to her ankles.

She pushes open the microwave door. The hotdog feels good to hold. It is
warm. Donna smiles tilting her head a little to the left. She sits down on
the hard cold linoleum floor holding onto the hotdog with all four fingers
to feel the warmth. Slowly, spreading her legs, Donna mechanically inserts
the hot dog into herself in the same way that she would insert a tampon in
the privacy of her bathroom.

Naked except for her bra, legs spread wide, her cotton panties dangling
from the ankle of her left foot, sitting in the middle of the kitten floor
with a hotdog protruding out between her legs, Donna waits. She feels
stupid sitting on the floor. The whole situation seems silly. She tilts her
head to the left in a quirky smile at the absurdity of it all.

>From behind Donna comes the sounds of toenails clicking on the floor as the
black doberman walks into the kitchen. Donna can't turn around, but she
imagines the camcorder zooming in on the dog. Doing a close up comparison
between her widely spread legs, the dog approaching behind her, and then
cutting to her face.

She is at a disadvantage.

The doberman has never seen Donna naked or in such an exposed position with
her legs spread wide. His keen nose immediately catches the scent of her
open cuntlips and the snub of red hot dog protruding between them.

Bowser pushes his cold nose between her legs.

Startled by the dog's cold nose in contact with her most sensitive private
parts, Donna starts to push the dog's head to one side. But the dog is
insistant and pushes back.

"Bowser, please ... no " she pleads.

None of this had any affect on the dog. It growls at her, and barks once
before resuming its probing. Donna's objection to the dog's cold nose is
replaced by fear. What if it bit her ?

How could she ever explain a dog bite on her private parts ?

What would the pain be like. How much damage would it do ?

Was taking the chance of being bitten worth the resistence ?

Donna relents to the dog's curiosity. She relaxes placing both her hands
behind her, palms down on the floor to keep her balance against the dog's
head shoving into her open legs.

It caught the scent of the hotdog and was now licking her cunt. The licking
continues in a methodical way. The rough rasping pink tongue lapping at her
exposed cunt.

"Oh, no, please stop," Donna continues her pleading,

"No Bowser, please stop"

But she no longer attempts to push his head away.

The viewpoint changes.

It alternates from focusing on the mixture of saliva and cunt juice
dripping from the dog's tongue to close ups of Donna's humilated face
pleading for the dog to stop its licking. Finally, exhausted by pleading,
she goes into a trance-like state and relaxes, trying to shut her mind off,
to believe that none of this is happening. She gives a quirky smile
thinking about how much she loves her baby, and taking comfort in the
thought that she's a good mother.

Natural lubrication starts pushing the hotdog out of her cunt and dog
begins taking small bites out of it. Donna's face twitches involuntarily
every time the dog takes a bite, hoping that those sharp canine teeth will
only sink into the hot dog and not her most precious parts. By the time the
doberman has eaten all of the hotdog, it seems like an eternity has passed.

Donna glances up at the kitchen clock.

It's only 8:15 am. She looks down between her legs. Her open pussy lips are
dripping onto the kitchen floor mixing with the dogs saliva, making a small
wet pool between her legs. A muscle twitches on the inside of her left
thigh from the exertion of keeping her legs so widely spread wide so the
dog could eat her. It was going to be a long day.

Donna looks drained. "I'm exhausted," she sighs.

It is the baby crying that brings Donna out of her trance.

Donna's Humiliation

Part #3

Donna Feeds the Baby

Rubber Bands

Donna gradually becomes aware of the voices. It is hard to hear them over
the crying of the baby. The instructions are repeated several times before
she understands and responds.

She opens the junk drawer in the kitchen and searches. It holds all the
odds and ends that seemed to pile up. It is filled with an assortment of
tacks, screws, paper clips, rubber bands. Near the front are a pair of
scissors, and a set of very small screw drivers. She grabs a handful of the
rubber bands. Next she goes to the refrigerator door. On the door are
several magnetic fasteners shaped like clothes pins holding discount pizza
coupons. She opens a fastener and lets the coupons fall the to floor. Donna
watches as a Campbell's soup coupon falls into the wet spot where she sat
on the floor as it slowly turns dark absorbing the wet goo from the dog's
saliva and her pussy juices.

Breaking free from her fascination with the slowly darkening coupon, she
grabs the baby bottle out of the kitchen sink following the sounds of the
crying baby into the nursery.

The nursery is docorated in pink with pictures of Disney characters pasted
on the walls. A wind up music toy hangs from the ceiling just above the
baby's head in the crib. A diaper changing table and small single bed are
to one side of the crib.

She gently supports the baby's head with her right hand and scoops him out
of the crib. The baby stops crying. She automatically takes her right
breast out of the bra cup and offers it to the baby's mouth.

"Stop action," the voice commands.

She abruptly pulls the baby away from her exposed nipple.

She lays the baby down on the bed. It begins to cry immediately.

"Use the rubber bands, the voices suggest.

Donna takes several rubber bands and puts them around her right breast. The
affect is immediate. They constrict her breast making it bulge. It looks
grotesque and unnatural. Another rubber band, she doubles and triple wraps
around her right index finger until it is snug. She points the finger at
her nipple and uses her other hand to roll the the rubber band off her
finger and onto the base of her nipple. The nipple grows red and turgid. It
is now a minature reflection of her boob, a small red fleshy bulb
constricted at the base. The blood can't circulate so it bulges. It looks
grotesque.

She hesitates, horrified by her deed.

"Feed the baby," the voices encourage her into action.

She scoops the baby off the bed and puts it to her nipple. It stops crying
at once. It sucks vigorously at her engorged nipple. It hurts Donna.

She grimaces. "Ouch !," she shouts. "Slow down !"

The baby is sucking too hard. It's tearing up her nipple.

It will never get any milk. The rubber bands are too tight.

"No, please." She begs.

"I don't want to feed the baby"

"My nipple, it hurts."

There is a faint sound of laughter in her ears.

The baby keeps sucking.

Donna's face contorts, twisted in pain, but she holds the baby to her bosum
allowing it to tear at her raw much abused nipple.

After what seems an eternity, the voices let her stop.

Donna slides the baby off her chest to a position between her legs. With
the back of the baby's head resting on her mound, she considers turning it
around, letting it suck on her clit, making the baby suck her off. Donna
tries to dispel these evil thoughts by screwing a nipple on the baby bottle
holding the mixture of dog cum and her own saliva. She turns the bottle
upside down, watching as the slimy mixture sinks into the rubber end of the
nipple.

The baby begins crying again.

"Put the rubber nipple in the baby's mouth" She hesitates, "Please don't
make me do this. I'll let you do anything to me, but just ...." She can't
even finish before starting to cry.

"Do it." the voices demand.

"Please."

"Do it now."

"I'm a good mother," Donna says before relenting.

She can't stand to hear the baby crying. She pulls the baby onto her
stomach, cradling it in her arms and offers it the rubber nipple. It
eagerly sucks up the dog cum. The baby smiles at Donna as it sucks up the
vile fluid.

It is the smile that brakes Donna's heart.

Donna's Humiliation

Part 4

Donna Watches TV

With The Brothers

After feeding the baby and putting it back in its crib, Donna crawls on her
hands and knees to the bathroom. In the hallway, she meets up with Bowser,
her black doberman, who seems mystified by the crawling woman with the
stinky cunt juices running down the inside of her thighs. He makes a clumsy
attempt to mount her, but she pushes him off.

She takes the rubber bands off her tit and feels instant relief as the
blood rushes back into her breast.

The voices allow her to take an uninterrupted shower without molesting her.
The hot soapy water felt good and helps wash away some of the tension from
just having fed her baby dog cum instead of breast milk.

After showering, she walks back to the bedroom.

The voices tell her how to dress.

"Put on pantyhose, but no panties, a nursing bra that

opens up exposing the nipples, a white blouse, pleated black skirt, a
string of pearls around your neck, gold hoop earrings, and high heeled
shoes."

The voices surprise her again by telling her to put on her brown oval
glasses. She looks like a librarian or a school teacher wearing the
glasses. She doesn't feel at all attractive.

Expecting to go somewhere, Donna heads for the bedroom door, but the voices
tell her to sit down on the bed.

"Cut the crouch out of your pantyhouse"

"Cut the crouch out of your pantyhouse"

The voices repeat this several times before Donna responds. Taking the
sissors off of the bedside stand, Donna reaches beneath her skirt and grabs
the reinforced crouch section of her panthose. With just one quick snip of
the sissors, she cut it off leaving her pussy exposed to the air and
whatever else might come along.

Lowering her black skirt, she lays down on the bed smoothing out the skirt
so it won't wrinkle.

It seems like she barely closed her eyes before hearing the voices again.

"Keep your eyes closed and listen. Nod your head if you hear me."

Donna nods once.

"You're going to get up in a few minutes and wall into the living room.
Some things may surprise you but you will not talk. You will sit on the
couch and wait.

"Do you understand ?"

"Yes" she whispers.

"Ok get up and walk into the living room."

The camcorder shows her walking out of the room.

The living room is dark. The curtains are drawn closed and about 7 men are
watching something on T.V. No one pays any attention to her. It is a porno
movie of some woman masturbating, legs spread wide. After her eyes adjusted
to the darkness, she notices they aren't men at all. They're just kids.
Black teenagers. Their hands are bobbing up and down. They seemed to be
keeping time to the music. As her eyes adjust to the dark, she realizes
they are masturbating.

She is sitting in the dark of her own living room with 7 young black men
who are stroking their dicks watching a porno movie.

A cold shiver of fear passes through her body. She rubs her legs together.
She does this whenever she gets nervous. The feel of nylon pantyhose
rubbing against her thighs comforts her, makes her feel safer. She tries
comforting herself with reassuring thoughts. She can turn on the lights and
ask them all to leave.

"I'm a well dressed fully grown white woman," she thinks.

"I am in my own house."

"I can handle myself," she repeats.

"I will be ok"

Her confidence level soars, and then abruptly plumments.

To divert herself and help maintain composure she concentrates on the TV
screen. There is something strange about the picture.

It shows a close up view of a black doberman between the legs of some
woman. The viewpoint changes to an above the head shot, but the screen
remains on extreme closeup. The dog is eating or licking something. The
magnified sounds of the wet licking tongue of the dog are electrifying. The
sounds make the picture erotic. Without the sounds, it is difficult to tell
what the dog is doing. Suddenly the picture zooms out. Donna recognizes the
dog. She recognizes it instantly. With the picture on extreme zoom, it is
only a picture of a dog's tongue licking an exposed cunt. It is safe. It is
anonymous. Now it is real. It hits Donna right between the legs like a
hammer blow. It's her dog.

Her cunt.

As the camera angle changes it zooms to a close up of her own face.

Her face.

"My God", she thinks. What if the boys turn around and recognize me ?

Moments before she was thinking of turning on the lights, of asking them
all to leave, and taking control. Now she is hoping the porno movie will
never stop. It will keep their attention focused on the TV screen so they
won't notice her. There is still time for her to slip silently out of the
room.

Donna makes her move.

She is just starting to stand up and leave the room when the voices speak.

"Lights on set," a voice says.

The inevitable finally happens. The porno movie comes to an abrupt end.
There is the sound of zippers as the kids tuck their dicks away. Someone
switches on the lights.

Donna is caught standing up in front of the sofa when the lights click on.
She is frozen in place.

Still no one turns around. Donna thinks her heart will burst.

When the kids do see her, the tension in her neck subsides.

"Oops, hey guys there's a lady here."

All of the boys turn toward her looking embarrased.

Donna looks imposing. Dressed in a black full length pleated black skirt
with white blouse, high heels, panty hose, pearl necklace hanging to the
tops of her breasts. Her blonde hair carefully combed back. She looks out
at them through her brown oval glasses looking important and dignified. Not
the sort of woman they would even dare make catcalls to on the streets.
This is one of those wealthy looking white woman with creamy complexions
that they might see naked in Penthouse Magazine. Nice looking, but clearly
untouchable. For them, Donna is totally out-of-bounds.

"You'll have to leave now." Donna tells them.

"Ok, lady, were leaving"

They all turn to leave out the back door when one of them stops

and says,

"Wait a minute, You're the white bitch in the porno video."

The other kids hesitate, but look unconvinced.

"Prove it, Jamoke, or we be jettin"

Jamoke takes up the challenge. He returns to the TV set, pushes the rewind
button on the VCR remote, and re-starts the tape.

Suddenly, he hits the pause botton freezing it on a close up of Donna's
face. All the kid's heads turn toward the TV image and back to Donna's
face. Their black eyes focus on the TV screen and bounce back to Donna's
face.

They are identical.

Donna feels her heart accelerate with fear.

One of the shorter boys takes out a switchblade knife. The group of black
teens slowly starts closing in on her. She is surrounded. The circle keeps
getting closer. For Donna, there isn't any way to escape. There doesn't
seem to be any way out. They are getting ready, but haven't quite gotten up
the nerve to assault her. It is one of those moments, frozen in time, just
before unspeakable acts happen to good people. She can smell their body
odors. It is only a matter of time.

Donna is certain they intend to cut her, violate her body in the most vile
ways possible, and take black revenge on the white goddess.

Donna retreats and falls back onto the sofa, her legs slightly parted, with
the slowly closing circle of black heads towering above her.

Donna's thoughts careen wildly. "If only I weren't alone" she thinks
desperately. "There's the baby and . . ." She suddenly stops in
mid-thought.

The loudness and authority in her own voice startle her as she calls out,
"Here, Bowser, come here Bowser !"

Suddenly, there is an explosion of barking, toe nails clicking and sliding
on the kitchen floor. In an instant, 150 pounds of black muscle come
bounding into the living room.

The circle of boys draws back as if they are being pushed by an inviible
hand. They back off as the dog comes to Donna. The look of malicious intent
in their eyes is replaced by uncertainty, and fear.

Donna's virtue is saved.

She gives the boys a smile with a quirky tilt of her head. The boys don't
smile back. From ancient times, the dog has been a protector of men.
Unfortunately, Donna is very much a woman.

The dog does what evolution has pre-destined. It looses control in a way
that destroys Donna's soaring confidence. Its keen nose picks up the scent
of sex. Like any male in search of a bitch in heat, the dog seeks out the
source.

The dog barks once again pushing the boys back farther, and quickly ducks
its head beneath Donna's black skirt before she can close her legs
together. The dog finds the cut out crouch panel on Donna's pantyhose. Its
cold nose pushes forward until it touches Donna's sensitive lips. Then the
dog starts licking.

"Look at dat dog eat the white bitch," said one of the black teens.

"Yeah, we's gonna have us a show, said another.

Donna hears the sound of someone's zipper opening as she feels the dog's
wet tongue licking through the torn crotch of her pantyhose, seeking out
the exposed lips of her pussy.

The gang of black boys grows closer drawn by the frantic activity of the
dog. With a new boldness, they stand over her stroking their dicks while
the dog buries its nose into her exposed crouch.

The dog's tongue relentlessly works its way deeper into Donna's pussy aided
by the secretion of her cunt juices making the passageway slippery. Donna
has no control over the changes in her body. Biology only knows the
stimulus and not the source. She could have been in bed with her dream
lover having consensual sex. Her body would respond to the tongue not
knowing if it was a man's or a dog's. Blood rushes to her pussy, engorging
the lips into an open hole like the puckered lips of a girl getting ready
to kiss. Donna's juices flow. She is very wet.

The camcorder zooms in on her open legs and the slurping noises of the
dog's tongue.

Donna makes an attempt to lower her skirt over the dog's head, covering
herself, regaining a little dignity. The skirt keeps riding up over her
thighs. The dog removes its head from between her legs and barks. It barks
at her, not at the threatening boys, flashing its pointed canine teeth
outside the black rimmed mouth, it's tongue dripping saliva onto her
thighs. It is hopeless. She gives up.

The dog's will wins over her own. A brute dumb animal, controlling her,
having its way with her most intimate parts, while she is fully dressed
surrounded by a group of black teenage boys stroking their dicks off in her
face.

Donna's thoughts are confused. At first she fights the dog's efforts to
arouse her. She has her pride. How can she allow an animal to sexually
excite her in front of others ? She expected the black teenagers to gang
rape her, but they seem content to watch the dog. As long as they watch,
she is safe. By sacrificing her pride, she can save herself from the
debasement of rape. It is a last desperate attempt to regain control.

Donna is out numbered, surrounded by a group of sex crazed teenage blacks
who's lust has been fueled by watching porno movies. Donna has a choice to
make. Allowing herself to be debauched by a dog might save her from a worse
fate. If she can make the black kids jack off completely while they're
watching, there will be no rape. Can she divert them into shooting off
their wad's prematurely ?

Donna makes a decision.

She will let them watch.

She will make a show.

She will moan and groan.

"Ooh, aahh", Donna sighs, throwing her head back on the sofa, pushing the
dogs head into her pussy.

"Eat me baby", she begs.

Stimulated, to a fever pitch by the strange sensations of the rasping dog's
tonuge sloshing within her tremulous cunt, Donna lifts her hips, throws her
head back exposing her vagina in the most abandoned manner she knows. The
dog encouraged by her actions increases its licking with a series of rapid
and deeply gratifying strokes.

"Fuck my pussy with your tongue", she gasps.

Donna closes her eyes and concentrates on the sensations emanating between
her legs. It's no longer a dog, or a tongue. Her world melts. Her feelings
take over. Not even the black dicks jerking off in front of her face
matter. Her entire world is focused on just one spot, the wet hot spot. The
spot which will make her climax.

Her eyes close in concentration.

Her legs shoot out stiff and straight, she arches her back forward, as the
orgasm shudders, rippling through her tummy. Her cunt spasms several times
before she drops back down onto the sofa, spent, and exhausted. Donna
closes her legs, the dogs head slips out, the licking stops. An eternity
passes. Time stands still.

Donna opens her eyes.

The boys are gone.

She is alone.

Donna's Humiliation

Part 5

Tommy Gets Out of School

Donna smooths out her skirt, sits up straight, and listens. She doesn't
move. There are no noises in the house, only the sound of the clock
ticking, and the whimpering of her dog. She is alone.

After several minutes, she rises unsteadily to her feet,

the lingering after affects of the orgasm making her

stomach feel queasy. Walking into the kitchen, Donna

resumes her domestic duties. She scraps the remains

of the pancake breakfeast into the garbage

Picking up her son Tommy's plate, she rolls one his uneaten pancakes up
like a burrito. She grabs it, holding it like a cock, and squeezes softly,
feeling the softness of the pancake, letting it squish slowly between her
fingers, thinking of her young son Tommy's cock and what she would like to
do with it.

A sudden picture flashes before her. It is Tommy. Her son.

"Hi, Mom." says Tommy lunging into the kitchen, "I'm home early".

"Well, this is an unexpected surprise," Donna says abruptly dropping the
curled pancake from her hand into the garbage, "What happened ?"

"Our teacher was sick. Are you sick too Mom ?",Tommy asks unexpectedly.

"No, I feel fine, thanks."

"Then why do you have a wet spot on the back of your skirt ?" leers Tommy
suggestively as he rubs the tight crouch of his jeans.

Ashamed beyond belief. Donna turns quickly, headed for the bathroom and
looks at herself in the full length mirror on the door.

She did have a wet spot.

A dark, irregular stain, clearly visible on the black pleated skirt. It was
a blacker black strategically located below her posterior, the result of
her dripping pussy, leaking through her skirt, being soaked up by the
cotton material of her dress.

Her fingers fumble with the buttons on the side of her skirt, trying to
remove it, when Tommy appears at the door.

"It's ok, mom. Leave the skirt on." he commands brazenly.

Donna whirls around incensed that her son has invaded her privacy in the
bathroom, angry that he is telling her what to do, ashamed that he has
noticed the spot at all.

"Mind your own business," she shouts with all the authority of a mother
toward her kids.

She looks him directly in the eyes.

"You are going to behave yourself," she adds confidently.

"I am your mother," she continues as her eyes slide down his body noticing
his fly is unzipped and the tiny pink head of his flaccid penis peaking
out.

Her first reaction is to laugh out loud, to relieve the tension she feels
building up inside her, but she realizes instinctively that something
horrible is wrong, a barrier broken. Her status as a parent is in jeopardy,
the caring relationship between a mother and her son, something is terribly
wrong. How can Tommy dare expose himself like this in front of her unless
he knows she won't report it to her husband who will punish him severely
for the such a raw indiscretion.

She looks up into his eyes again. His eyes lock onto hers.

In an instant, she knows that he knows.

"The VCR," is all he says, turning his back on her with that supreme
confidence of males everywhere knowing that as a woman she will follow.

The TV is on.

Donna's eyes star at the screen image of herself dressed in white blouse
and black pleated skirt laying back on the couch, her legs splayed apart,
her skirt hiked up to the waist, the dog licking her, and a closeup shot of
black dicks being stroked off in front of her face which is twisted into an
odd scream of silent ecstasy.

Tommy suddenly hits the remote control sound.

An obscene blare of amplified sounds burst into the living room.

"Oohh, that's it suck me, lick me," Donna's image shouts from the T.V.
screen. "Fuck me with your tongue," she screams, crudely thrusting her hips
forward to meet the dog's tongue.

Between shouts can be heard the sounds of the dog's tongue lapping into the
juices of her cunt magnified to separate each individual slurp, lick, and
sucking sound. The amplified sound makes it even more obscene, vulgar, and
pornographic then the mere visual image.

Tears of shame well up in Donna's eyes.

"Turn off the sound," she orders Tommy

"No Mom."

"Turn it off," she begs him.

"No."

"Please, turn it off," she gives up.

"Ok, Mom." Tommy flicks off the sound, but the muted picture continues.

"What do you want ?" Donna asks turning her eyes away from the lurid
pornographic images on the TV, and looking into the calm, innocent blue
eyes of her son Tommy.

In answer, his eyes flick down toward his open fly. Donna shakes her head
silently from side to side in protest.

"I'm your mother," she objects.

"On your knees Mom," Tommy commands.

Donna sinks to her knees onto the living room carpet in front of her son
unsure of what will follow. Her mind numb with the possibilities. She is
kneeling in front of her own son, only 16 years old, staring into his
unzipped fly with unfocused eyes. Not really seeing, not really believing
that any of this can be happening. She waits helpless, hoping for a
reprieve, maybe her son will not use the video tape to blackmail her. If
her husband ever sees it, she will be destroyed, their marriage ruined, the
entire family torn asunder because of one foolish moment of erotic release.

Maybe he will laugh, tell her to change her skirt; hand her the tape; tell
her to forget about the whole thing. Hoping against hope, Donna prays on
her knees. She prays to God that he will not force her into this ultimate
degradation. This incestuous obscenity. Her hands at her sides. She waits
for a miracle that will never come.

"Do it Mom," Tommy finally orders.

"Do what ?" she answers innocently.

"Do me Mom," he repeats.

Donna's lower lip trembles. She bites into it with her upper teeth. Maybe
the pain will wake her up, deliver her from this nightmare. Tommy saves her
from the making a conscious moral choice. He hastens the debasement by
placing both his hands on the back of her head, forcing her mouth forward
onto the head of his penis.

"Suck me, Mom" Tommy encourages her.

Donna pulls him into her mouth.

"That's it suck me, hard."

She starts sucking.

"I always knew you were a slut."

Her head bobs back and forth.

"Suck me off like the whore that you are."

Her tongue swirls around the head of his cock.

"Tommy's little Mommy whore."

Donna makes a series of slurping noises.

Tommy keeps up a steady stream of vile, debasing comments as Donna sucks
off her son's cock making it grow long and hard in her mouth. Suddenly,
much sooner then she ever would have expected, it is all over.
Inexperienced with the strong sensations produced from Donna's tongue
circling his cockhead and the hot silky smooth suction of her mouth, Tommy
climaxes almost immediately. He starts spurting into her mouth, Donna gags,
he pulls his cock from her mouth dripping saliva onto her white blouse, and
continues spurting onto her face.

A large glob of cum lands on her hair and slides down the left side of her
forehead onto her eyebrow. Tommy grabs his dick with one hand and wipes the
dripping head of his cock against her hair, using it like a dish towel.

"Thanks, Mom" Tommy says zipping up his pants.

"I'm going to go shoot some hoops. See you later."

Donna is left kneeling on the living room floor as her son exits the front
door with a basketball. Even before the door closes, the pale pimple faced
boy with the dead pale blue eyes appears with the camcorder. He zooms in on
her face capturing the still dripping strings of cum sliding down her
cheeks. The exposure is too much for Donna, the debauchery by her own son
too personal, her lip trembles and she brakes into tears. She cries
shamelessly.

The camera zooms in on her eyes, relentlessly.

Donna cries for her son. With her tears she tries to wash away his shame.
The effort is wasted. Tommy feels no shame. Tommy is gone. Only Donna is
left indelibly marked by his defilement. Mixed with tears, the cum drips
from her cheeks. She cries for her own redemption.

The camera zooms in recording only the visual, missing the subtle change in
motivation.

All the dropping tears look alike.

Donna's Humiliation

Part 6

Donna Takes Out the Garbage

Gradually, Donna regains her composure. Her legs are numb from kneeling.
Her left leg has fallen asleep. She is forced to sit on the floor until the
blood rushes in reviving it sufficiently so she can stand.

Looking at her cum covered tear stained face in the bathroom mirror, Donna
thinks, "What a slut I've become. I've got to get a grip on myself. I've
got to clean up." She washes off her face, but not the mess in her hair.

Donna hurries into the kitchen, finishes emptying all the plates and starts
the dishwasher. She grabs the garbage bag from under the sink and walks out
the back door.

When she first spots the large white man with the potbelly, and dirty
undershirt at her garbage can, Donna thinks it must be garbage day. She has
already started to hand him the bag in her hand before she realizes her
mistake.

"Here, wait, I have some more garbage," shouts Donna.

Startled, the man looks up. His first instinct is to flee until he notices
a string of semen hanging from Donna's hair just above her left ear.

"Lady, don't worry, I'm not going to take your garbage, I was just looking
at it." the man mumbles in a low voice.

"Looking at what ?" asks Donna suspiciously realizing her mistake. This is
no garage man. He smells like a wino.

"Looking at this," answers the man removing a discarded aluminum TV Dinner
tray from the top of the garbage can. Underneath is a swarming mass of
buzzing flies.

"Watch this," says the man, waving his hands to disperse the large black
flies from the rotten hamburger underneath.

Donna watchs the hamburger move. At first, she doesn't understand what
she's seeing. Then she realizes the hamburger is maggot infested with small
worms wriggling in and out of the putrid meat. There are so many worms that
the entire lump of hamburger meat appears to be alive and moving. The flies
soon return, hiding the worms from view again. Donna feels nauseated.

"You're sick," says Donna.

The wino stares at the cum in her hair.

"Stop messing with my garbage."

The wino backs up.

"Get out of here."

The wino hesitates.

"Leave now," Donna insists shaking her head so hard that the string of cum
falls off.

The wino watches it fall to the asphalt before he slowly takes a large
rusty kitchen knife out of his back pocket pointing it directly between
Donna's breasts, the tip almost touching her blouse.

"Lady, don't tell me what to do."

Donna backs up.

"I'm tired of everyone telling me what to do."

Donna continues walking backwords.

"No bitch is going to tell me anything."

The point of the knife follows Donna all the way to the back door of her
house.

With the knife at her throat, the wino mumbles something which Donna
doesn't understand.

"What ?" she asks.

"On your knees, bitch"

"Please, don't hurt me," she begs as she kneeling on the hard concrete pad
at the back door. Small bits of sandy grit grind into her knees.

"Unzip me."

She unzips his pants.

"Take it out."

She reached in and withdrew a wrinkled, smelly penis that is uncircumsized
and bent to the left. It looks and smells as if it hasn't been washed in
years.

"Suck on it, bitch."

She takes the vile piece of flesh peeling back the foreskin over the pale
white head of the penis and stares at it. The full light of the morning sun
shining on it, makes it look like pale anemic appendage that isn't even a
part of the wino's body. The rest of his skin is either dirty or darkly
tanned.

Desperate for some escape, Donna hesitates.

"Someone might see us, wouldn't it be better to go inside the house ?"
suggests Donna.

The wino pauses for a minute, grabs Donna by the back of her hair and
forces her mouth onto his hardening cock. He uses his handhold on her hair
like an extension of his own hand, he fucks her mouth without any
cooperation from Donna. She is just a object to be manipulated. After ten
good thrusts into her open mouth, he pulls back on her hair, releasing his
still semi-limp cock from her mouth. It drips saliva onto her black dress.

He pulls up on her hair until she is standing and forces her into the
house. He takes her directly to the bathroom, forcing her onto her hands
and knees in front of the toilet bowel.

"Bitch, you suck good, but I've been drinking too much wine. I've gotta
pee," mumbles the wino.

He grabs her hair again forcing her head over the toilet bowel and lets
loose.

A hot steamy stream of yellow urine floods over Donna's face matting down
her hair so that it hangs in strings over the toilet bowel.

"Open your mouth bitch"

Donna opens her mouth just a little and urine flows in onto her tongue. It
is warm, yellow, vile, and smells of ammonia. Donna gags and is on the
verge of vomitting. She wants to vomit. It would redeem her, make her pure
again, replace some of her lost dignity. If she can't even puke when a wino
pisses all over her face, maybe she really is a slut, incapabble of
redemption, beyond saving. To be saved, she must feel enough shame, enough
innocence to vomit. However, the gagging susbsides. The momment passes.
Donna doesn't vomit. She is a slut beyond salvation.

A sudden noise explodes into the bathroom. It sounds like the arrythmic
heartbeat of a giant. Both she and the wino can hear it clearly through the
open bathroom window.

"Thump, Thumpity, Thumpity"

"Thump, Thump"

It echoes throughout the bathroom. At first, Donna can't place the sound.
She will never know if the wino knew what it was. All she knows is the
noise is loud and unexpected enough to frighten him off. The wino leaves
her there with her head over the toilet bowel. Her hair soaked with his
urine. In a way it is the ultimate degradation. Even a garbage scrounging
wino does not think her worthy of fucking. He let her wash his dick off by
sucking, or urinate on her, but didn't bother to screw her. He didn't flush
the toilet. He left the toilet seat up. Donna is disgusted.

The thumping continues unabated. It is her son Tommy, home from school,
playing basketball in the driveway.

Exhausted by the ordeal, Donna strips off her clothes, showers, puts on a
nightgown, crawls into bed, and falls asleep instantly.

She has been saved by her son's love of basketball.

Donna's Humiliation

Part 7

Donna's Bondage Torture

Her nose itches.

Donna tosses her head from side to side without waking up. A large black
fly circles slowly around her head several times before landing on her nose
again.

Donna tries to raise her right hand to her nose. She tries to move her left
hand. Neither hand will move more then a few inches. Suddenly, she opens
her eyes, seeing the fly on her nose. She shakes her head vigorously and it
flies off. The fly is the least of her problems, for she soon discovers
that she's tied up. Both hands and feet bound, spread out on her own bed.
The bedspread is covering her, tucked under her chin, so she can't see the
ropes, but she can feel them.

Her mind races with fear.

"Who tied her spread-eagle to her own bed?" she wonders.

"Could it be a burglar ? Could it be a rapist ?

Could it be ..."

Donna's thoughts are interrupted with the answer.

"Good afternoon, Mom" greets her son Tommy.

"Tommy, untie me, now"

"Not quite yet, Mom."

"Tommy, please, let me loose" she softens her tone.

"That's much better, but not good enough, Mom"

Tommy bends over the bed, looks directly into his mother's eyes, and deftly
flips off the bedspread in one quick stroke.

Donna gasps, "Ooh, noo" as the warm protective cover of the bedspread is
whipped off her exposing her to the cooler air of the bedroom. Donna feels
a distinct sexual thrill flow through her body like an electric current. At
first blush, she thinks she is naked, but sighs with relief to see she is
wearing her blue nightgown.

"Tommy, don't," Donna warns, although she has no idea what he is going to
do.

"Please don't touch me," she adds in her nicest voice.

Tommy smiles.

"I wont touch you. I have a surprise for you Mommy. Don't you want to know
what's in the box ?"

Tommy rests a small cardboard box lightly on her stomach.

It doesn't weigh much.

Donna's heart pounds. She doesn't want to know what's in the box. Seeing
the gleam of mischief in her son's eyes, she knows that whatever is in the
box is repulsive. Tommy wants his mother to suffer, be degraded, debased,
in the most vile manner imaginable.

"You're a big tease, Mom."

"No, I'm not."

"Your a slut."

"I'm not."

"You're not my sex slut, are you ?"

"No, I'm not."

"But you will be after I'm done with you."

Donna stops answering. She's confused. She denied everything her son Tommy
has said. Yet, she feels tricked by his questions, as if he has forced her
to say something she has not intended. He could force her to have sex, tie
her up, rape her, but he could not control her thoughts, her feelings.
Donna feels proud. She is a victim, tied up, in a situation out of her
control.

She is blameless.

Whatever happens is not her fault. As long as she is master of her own
mind, she feels good about herself. Tommy may have her at a temporary
disadvantage, he may tease her, he may tickle her, he may spank her, he may
even molest her just a little bit, but as soon as the ropes are untied he
will loose his control. He doesn't own her. He can't force her to do things
against her will. Once Donna is unbound, she will be free to soar like a
bird. He will be powerless to prevent it. All these thoughts evaporate as
if they never existed when Tommy opens the box.

Inside are two quart mason canning jars. One is filled with a swarming mass
of black flies. The other has a fist sized lump of maggot infested
hamburger. Both jars are tightly covered with metal lids. Donna knows that
Tommy has collected them from the garbage can. She takes no comfort from
this knowledge. The insects seem even more repulsive inside her bedroom.
They are out-of-place, obscene, dirty looking, and disgusting.

"Mommy, tell me you want to be my sex slut."

Donna stares at the two jars on her tummy.

"Talk to me, Mommy."

"I'll tell you whatever you want, just get those jars off me."

Tommy sets the two jars down on the night stand to the right of the bed.

"Ok, lets start talking dirty. Do it just like one of those sexy telephone
services." Tommy unzips his pants and picks up an imaginary telephone with
his left hand, and starts stroking his cock with the other hand.

"Hello," he talks into the phone while staring at his mother.

"Hi there sexy boy. I'm your phone fuck slut. I'd love to suck your cock.
Do you want me to suck your cock ?"

"I'm stroking my cock. Do you want me to put it in your mouth ?"

"No. I mean yes, but not now or I can't talk."

Tommy smiles are her. "Maybe, I can do something for you, he suggests with
a lewd wink.

"Oh, yes, you could fuck me, screw me senseless" Donna says without passion
or enthusiasm.

The mechanical, passionless nature of this conversation is not lost on
Tommy. He is not amused.

"Goodbye, sex slut." he hangs up the telephone.

His dime has been wasted.

Donna looks worried. She watches her son open her bottom dresser drawer
where she keeps her underwear. He reaches to the back of the drawer and
pulls out her battery powered Magic Fingers vibrator. Donna is mortified.
How did her teenage son know about this most intimate instrument of sexual
satisfaction. She had deliberately hidden it away out of sight underneath
her lingerie.

Tommy quickly attaches the vibrator to his wrist and fingers with the
velcro straps. Donna knows what it's capable of doing. She has used it many
times to reach orgasm.

Slowly, savoring the moment, Tommy lifts Donna's blue night dress up around
her waist exposing her trembling thighs. She has on white cotton panties.
For the first time, Donna is relieved that she is tied up spread-eagle. The
panties will stay on. They can't be removed without untying her.

Undeterred by this problem, Tommy turns on the Magic Fingers confident in
its ability to achieve his goals. First he gently cups her pubic mound with
the vibrations on low intensity, it feels good but far from the intense
sensations Donna is use to experiencing. Privately, she begins to doubt
that her son will have the knowledge or ability to bring her to a excite
her. The vibrator will help, but it's still in the hands of a child. A tool
is only as good as the person using it.

Slowly, inexorably, the vibrator is having its affect on Donna. As much as
she denies it, her pussy is getting wet. Not so much from the vibrations,
as from the thoughts of all the previous times the Magic Fingers has been
used to bring herself to climax. It is a proven electro-mechanical orgasm
aid.

Before long, her white cotton panties are soaked through, shamelessly
revealing the outline of her pussy lips. Donna's sex is now totally exposed
to her tormentor. Tommy, switches the vibrator knob to intermittent pulse.
He places his index finger directly on Donna's clit, pressing down
relentlessly.

Buzz.

Release.

Buzz.

Release.

It is sexual torture.

Donna's back starts to arch up and her legs stiffened as she feels an
orgasm building deep inside her loins.

"Oh, yes," she moans

"Do you like that, Mom ?"

"Yes, Oh, God yes."

"Can I fuck you, Mom ?"

"Yes, yes, anything, just don't stop."

Donna's hips are bucking wildly trying to increase contact with the
vibrating finger giving her so much pleasure. Suddenly, the buzzing noise
stops Tommy turns off the Magic Fingers.

"You bastard, turn it back on"

"Sorry, Mom"

"You can't leave me like this."

Donna's hips are bucking wildly trying to regain some friction on her
swollen clit, but it is hopeless. She begs her son for release.

"Please, Tommy, I'll be good, I'll be your sex slut," she moans with a
convincing sigh. This is the kind of lust Tommy tried to arouse with his
sexy telephone call. Good vibrations fill words with passion. Shaken by the
depth of his mom's sincerity, Tommy relents.

"Ok, Mom, I'll get you off."

Tommy turns the vibrator back on. The first touch of his finger is
electric. Donna shudders violently. Her pussy lips are soaked with
moisture. Tommy keeps his promise. Donna's body is racked by a powerful
series of earthquakes.

"Ooh, fuck me," shouts Donna as she orgasms. Tommy watches as her pussy
lips spasm repeatedly from the rolling waves of the climax.

Her heart hammering, the vein in her neck pulsing furiously, Tommy waits
impatiently for her to calm down. Exasperated by his mother's selfishness,
Tommy finally interrupts.

"Ok, Mom, it's my turn."

Tommy pulls Donna's cunt soaked panties to one side and slips two fingers
into her wet pussy. He wonders what it will be like to slide his dick into
that wet hole. Sliding his fingers in and out, he notices that her cunt
lips, engorged with blood, stay wide open. They are puckered together like
a porno star's lips in a pornographic movie, mugging for the camera, all
poised to kiss.

"It's wet," Tommy confides to his mother, smiling as she involuntarily
shakes from an orgasm aftershock.

Tommy knows he's turning her on. He takes his time. He enjoys watching.
Beneath him is his own mother, someone much smarter, older, and bigger then
he is, but totally under his control. This is the same mother who use to
spank him for misbehaving. She use to control him through pain. Now he
controls her through pleasure. Beneath him, Donna is shaking, quivering,
and waiting for him to stick his cock into her pussy.

"It's wet," he says again maneuvering into position.

His mother waits.

Without warning, he plunges his cock into his mother, thrusting deeply into
her hot clinging pussy, making moist obscene sucking sounds each time he
withdraws. He is amazed at the pressure her cunt exerts on his cock. It
adheres to his cock like a sucking mouth. Which gives him an idea. Tommy
withdraws entirely, crawling over his mother's helpless prostate body until
his cock dangles in front of her face.

"Suck your pussy juices off my cock," he commands.

Donna looks up at the enormous cock hanging over her face, dripping with
her own bodily secretions. Helpless, tied hand and foot, her body spread
out before him, she has no choice. Impotent to say no, defenseless against
her son's sexual demands, Donna complies.

She opens her mouth and sucks on his wet, syrupy cock.

Again, Tommy suddenly withdraws and lowers himself down into her open cunt,
plunging in deeply and pulling out with a satisfying sound of sucking
liquids. From then on he alternates quickly between fucking his mother's
cunt and thrusting into her open mouth.

Cunt.

Mouth.

Cunt.

Mouth.

He builds up a steady rythum until he cums. His climax starts just as he
withdraws from her pussy. He spurts a heavy load of cum on the outside of
her open cuntal lips, moving up quickly to dump another load on her open
mouth.

"Spit it out," Tommy commands.

Grateful for her son's concern for her welfare, Donna spits out the cum
immediately. It dribbles down the side of her mouth into the hollow in her
neck. Donna is relieved. She hasn't been forced to swallow. Tommy has
climaxed. Sex is such a simple thing for men. Just a spurt or two and it's
finished. Now her torment is over. Tommy will untie her and she will regain
a partial semblance of dignity.

"Ok, you can untie me now," sighs Donna expectantly.

"Sorry, Mom you promised to be my sex slut."

"But, I did ...." Donna sputtered in protest clearing her throat of the
last of Tommy's jissum.

"Not good enough, Mom," Tommy answers coldly reaching for the glass jars.

His dad, Donna, ruefully laments, would have been completely satisfied with
her performance. Donna's heart bursts with pride that her son, Tommy holds
her to a higher standard.

He raises the fly filled jar, rolling it along the left side of her face.
Donna can hear the buzzing of the flies, she can see the green iridescent
bodies out of the side of her eyes. The flies are trying desperately to
escape their glass prison. Tommy leaves her like that, in the company of
flies, with goo on her lips, jissum in her cunt, and a furious buzzing in
her hears.

When he returns, Tommy is fully dressed again followed by the pimple faced
boy with the pale dead eyes. As always, he carries a camcorder and starts
filming.

Tommy slowly unscrews the top of the mason jar containing the flies. He
sets the jar down on Donna's stomach and watches. For a while nothing
happens. The flies act as if they are still trapped. Gradually, one fly
escapes, quickly the other flies follow. They disappear into the vastness
of the bedroom searching for an open window, looking for an escape. It
isn't long before the flies return. They start settling on the nether parts
of the hapless female, tied spread-eagled to the bed. Flies are naturally
attracted to a freshly fucked vagina. They land directly in the glistening
white slime. The flies have a green iridescent band around abdomens of
their segmented bodies. One fly walks over the edge of Donna's gaping red
pussy lips and into the love canal. It buzzes furiously, bumping against
the sides of her pussy going in deeper while trying to find the way out.

The video camera zooms in as the flies cluster between Donna's legs.
Climbing around her cunt lips, they tickle. Another large fly walks over
the edge, dropping into the dark hole of the open gaping lips of Donna's
vagina. It buzzes against the walls furiously, trying to get out. Other
flies land directly in the sticky goo of the jissum, spreading it around.
Flies fly directly from Donna's cunt up to her face. They crawl fearlessly
over her face, her lips, her eyes. At first, they fly away briefly when
Donna tosses her head to shake them off. Gradually, they stop flying off
when their tiny brains realize that this woman is helpless. Like men they
take advantage of the weaker sex. Donna's eyes shift rapidly from side to
side in panic. She hates flies and now they are crawling all over her body,
invading her most private parts, spreading goo from her pussy to her mouth.
Donna starts begging.

"Please, get the flies off," tossing her head to no avail.

"Help me, heaven help me," she pleads.

Heaven looks down with benign indifference. All God's creatures being
equal. Only Tommy provides succor.

Finally, Tommy relents. "Ok, Mom, whatever you say."

He lifts a fly swatter and holds it over her head.

"Noo, Nooo," Donna moans.

She imagines the sting of the fly swatter hitting her directly in the face.
The flies smashed against her cheeks, pushed into her lips, the crushed
bodies of the flies clinging to the filthy swatter as it descends once
again toward her reddening cheeks, being slapped by the wire meshed swatter
smearing the dead remains of the flies across her face. Her face stinging,
the beating will continue with her helpless to prevent it. Who will want to
tenderly kiss her lips ? Who will love her ? Who will save the flies ?

None of this happens.

Donna's entire body spasms involuntarily as if she has been struck. Struck
by an inopportune orgasm aftershock, she feels debased and abandoned. Her
body shudders before the first blow is struck. She shakes uncontrollably.
Tommy hesitates confused by Donna's shaking, but is undeterred.

Without warning, Tommy brings the fly swatter down with a resounding smack.

It lands directly between her legs.

Donna screams. The fly swatter stings her most intimate parts, repeatedly
smashing the flies into her cunt, crushing the flies into the pools of
jissum, pushing the flies into her open pussy lips. The fly swatter
descends over and over. Donna tries to brace herself for the impact, but it
always seem to catch her unprepared, vulnerable, exposed, pitiful. Donna
weeps openly, pleading, beseeching, imploring her son, her Tommy, to stop.

Gradually, as the flies are killed, the whipping stops, the pain subsides,
Donna collapses onto the bed. Her whole body has broken into a sweat from
the whipping between her legs. Never in her life has she felt such
exquisite pain in such a small area of her body. Never had she expected to
be repeatedly lashed with a dirty fly swatter on her most intimate private
parts. Donna looks exhausted as if she were recovering from a fever.

Tommy pats Donna's sweat soaked face with a bath towel. He soothes her
sympathetically, calming her.

"It's over Mom."

He whispers in her ear.

"The whipping is over."

He pats the sweat from her face.

"It's all on video."

He wipes the cum off her face and removes the dead flies smashed between
her legs.

"You will be my sex slut,"

He whispers gently patting her face.

Once Donna's breathing slows, Tommy introduces a new horror.

Tommy pulls a white latex glove over his right hand as if preparing for a
gynecological exam. Exhausted by screwing, he starts unscrewing the top of
the other glass mason jar. Reaching into the jar, he slowly massages the
squirming mass of maggot infested hamburger. Keeping it inside the jar, he
brings it close to his mother's face.

"Watch the maggots, Mommy"

"Please don't, I'll do everything... anything, I'm your sex slut."

"I could take these maggots and jamb them up your cunt. If these worms
crawl through raw meat like hamburger, just imagine how they would thrive
inside your warm wet pussy."

Tommy squishes the infested hamburger letting it squeeze out between the
fingers of his latex glove covered hand as worms fall back into the jar.

"I could fist fuck you, slam these worms all the way to your womb. You'd
never get them out. Imagine Dad withdrawing his dick after fucking you and
finding a worm on his cock."

Donna is out of control, her whole body trembling, shaking, like an
uncontrollable epileptic seizure. She is incoherently babbling.

"I'll suck, fuck, you, your friends.... lick cum off the floor...swallow
your loaded condoms.... suck Donkey Dicks .....please, I'll get you other
women, let you watch me fuck other men...."

"What about my sister, Cindy ?" interrupts Tommy.

"Cindy ?" says Donna confused.

"Yes, mom, Cindy"

"Cindy, what ?" cries Donna

"You know...."

"You want to fuck Cindy, your own sister ?"

"No, Mom, I want you to fuck Cindy."

Tommy is joking. He had no way of knowing that his mother will take it
seriously. Under stress, Donna's mind is receptive to any suggestion. A
joke unravels the key to her heart and mind.

Donna collapses. How can she fuck Cindy ? She isn't a man. Only men have
the power to fuck. She is pathetic, she is in a semi-psychotic state of
incoherent blubbering. Only men can rape, not women. She is his.

Her mind has shattered like a dish.

She will never be in control again.

Donna has broken.

Part 8

"No, Mom," Tommy answers coldly reaching for the glass jars.

He raises the fly filled jar, rolling it along the left side of her face.
Donna can hear the buzzing of the flies, she can see the green irridescent
bodies out of the side of her eyes. The flies are trying desperately to
escape their glass prison. Tommy leaves her like that, in the company of
flies, with goo on her lips and jissum in her cunt.

When he returns, Tommy is fully dressed again followed by the pimple faced
boy with the pale dead eyes. As always, he carries a camcorder and starts
filming.

Tommy slowly unscrews the top of the mason jar containing the flies. He
sets the jar down on Donna's stomach and watches. For a while nothing
happens. The flies act as if they are still trapped. Gradually, one fly
escapes, quickly the other flies follow. They disppear into the vastness of
the bedroom searching for an open window, looking for an escape. It isn't
long before the flies return. They start settling on the nether parts of
the hapless female, tied spread-eagled to the bed. Flies are naturally
attracted to a freshly fucked vagina. They land directly in the glistening
white slime. The flies have a green irradescent band around their abdomens.
One fly walks over the edge of Donna's gaping red pussy lips and into the
love canal. It buzzes furiously, bumping against the sides of her pussy
going in deeper while trying to find the way out.

The video camera zooms in as the flies cluster between Donna's legs.
Climbing around her cunt lips, they tickle. Another large fly walks over
the edge, dropping into the dark hole of the open gaping lips of Donna's
vagina. It buzzes against the walls furiously, trying to get out. Other
flies land directly in the sticky goo of the jissum, spreading it around.
Flies fly directly from Donna's cunt up to her face. They crawl fearlessly
over her face, her lips, her eyes. At first, they fly away briefly when
Donna tosses her head to shake them off. Gradually, they stop flying off
when their tiny brains realize that this woman is helpless. Her eyes shift
rapidly from side to side in panic. She hates flies and now they are
crawling all over her body, invading her most private parts, spreading goo
from her pussy to her mouth. Donna starts begging.

"Please, get the flies off," tossing her head to no avail.

"Help me, heaven help me," she pleads.

Finally, Tommy relents. "Ok, Mom, whatever you say."

He lifts a fly swatter and holds it over her head.

"Noo, Nooo," Donna moans.

She imagines the sting of the fly swatter hitting her directly in the face.
The flies smashed against her cheeks, pushed toward her lips, the crushed
bodies of the flies clinging to the filthy swatter as it descends once
again toward her reddening cheeks, being slapped by the wire meshed swatter
smearing the dead remains of the flies across her face. Stinging her face,
the beating would continue with her helpless to prevent it. Who would want
to tenderly kiss her lips ? Who would love her ?

None of this happens.

Donna's entire body spasms involuntarily as if she has been struck. She
feels debased and abandoned. Her body shudders before the first blow is
struck. She shakes uncontrollably.

Without warning, Tommy brings the fly swatter down with a resounding smack.

It lands directly between her legs.

Donna screams. The fly swatter stings her most intimate parts, repeatedly
smashing the flies into her cunt, crushing the flies into the pools of
jissum, pushing the flies into her open cunt lips. The fly swatter descends
over and over. Donna tries to brace herself for the impact, but it always
seem to catch her unprepared, vulnerable, exposed, pitiful. Donna weeps
openly, pleading, beseaching, imploring her son, her Tommy, to stop.

Gradually, as the flies are killed, the whipping stops, the pain subsides,
Donna collapses onto the bed. Her whole body has broken into a sweat from
the whipping between her legs. Never in her life has she felt such
exquisite pain in such a small area of her body. Never had she expected to
be repeatedly lashed with a dirty fly swatter on her most intimate private
parts. Donna looks exhausted as if she were recovering from a fever.

Tommy pats Donna's sweat soaked face with a bath towel. He sooths her
sympathetically, calming her.

"It's over Mom."

He whispers in her ear.

"The whipping is over."

He pats the sweat from her face.

"It's all on video."

He wipes off the cum and dead flies.

"You will be my sex slut,"

He whispers gently patting her face.

Once Donna's breathing slows, Tommy introduces a new horror.

Tommy starts unscrewing the top of the other glass mason jar. He has pulled
a white latex glove over his right hand. Reaching into the jar, he slowly
massages the squirming mass of maggot infested hamburger. Keeping it inside
the jar, he brings it close to his mother's face.

"Watch the maggots, Mommy"

"Please don't, I'll do everything... anything, I'm your sex slut."

"I could take these maggots and jamb them up your cunt. If these worms
crawl through raw meat like hamburger, just imagine how they would thrive
inside your warm wet pussy."

Tommy squished the worms and let them squeeze out of the sides of his latex
glove covered hand.

"I could fist fuck you, slam these worms all the way to your womb. You'd
never get them out. Imagine Dad withdrawing his dick after fucking you and
finding a worm on his cock."

Donna is out of control, her whole body trembling, shaking, like an
uncontrollable epileptic seizure. She is incoherently babbling.

"I'll suck, fuck, you, your friends.... lick cum off the floor... swallow
your loaded condums.... suck Donkey Dicks .....please, I'll get you other
women, let you watch me fuck other men...."

"What about my sister, Cindy ?" interupts Tommy.

"Cindy ?" says Donna confused.

"Yes, mom, Cindy"

"Cindy, what ?" cries Donna

"You know...."

"You want to fuck Cindy, your own sister ?"

"No, Mom, I want you to fuck Cindy."

Donna collapses. How could she fuck Cindy ? She isn't a man. Only men have
the power to fuck. She is pathetic, she is in a semi-psychotic state of
incoherent blubbering. Only men can rape, not women. She is his.

Her mind has shattered like a dish.

She will never be in control again.

Donna has broken.

_________________________________________________________

This story is intended as a satire of erotic submission tales. If you are
not overcome by lust, the lampoon will become obvious and unavoidable.

Donna Rapes Cindy, Or Does She ?

Cindy is a compliant girl. Unlike her brother, Tommy who is always getting
into trouble, she wants to please her mother. At five feet six inches, one
hundred and five pounds, she is on the thin side. Her ample 36 inch bust
more then makes up for her thin legs and waist. She doesn't have blue eyes
like her mom. Her eyes are hazel, but her hair is blond. Cindy never gives
her mom any trouble. At the end of every school day, she bursts into the
kitchen at 3:30 pm, shouting out for her mother.

"Hi, Mom," Cindy yells, bursting through the back door to the kitchen.

Donna is sitting at the kitchen table, her hands at her sides, silently
weeping. It is such a strange scene that Cindy is momentarily transfixed.
She stares at her Mom's large blue eyes and watches the tears well up and
drop to the table top. It is several minutes before she can rouse herself
enough to speak.

"What is it Mom, what's wrong ?"

Donna's looks up into her daughter's face letting out a fresh burst of
tears.

Cindy puts her arm around her Mother's back to comfort her.

"It's ok Mom, maybe I can help."

"Would you ?"

"Yes, of course, Mom what's the problem ?"

"It's your Dad, Cindy."

"Daddy ? Has he done something to you ?"

"No, no, look at these."

Donna shoves an 8 by 10 manila envelope over to Cindy.

"Go ahead open it."

Inside are 8 X 10 glossy photos of women bound and gagged in various stages
of undress. They are artistically poised to arouse sexual desire.

"I found these hidden, by your father, in our bedroom ."

"Yes, Mom, but they're just pictures."

"Don't you understand, pornographic pictures like this lead to the abuse,
degradation and eventual rape of women." says Donna, her voice filled with
parental indignation.

"Well, maybe," says Cindy doubtfully, "but what can we do about it ?"

"You can help me trick your Dad into forsaking these pornographic photos
forever."

"Mom, we could cut the pictures up, destroy them."

"No, if we simply destroy them, he will buy more and hide them from us,
looking at them secretly. We need to teach him a lesson."

This appeals to Cindy's sense of decency. She is all in favor of teaching
Dad a lesson. Many times in the past, her dad has bent her over his lap,
spanking her bottom. She remembers the pain.

"Yes, but how Mom ?"

"These are pictures of someone's wife or daughter. We need to make him
realize that."

>From that point on, it was simple for Donna to complete the logical
argument. Convincing Cindy to pose for some bondage pictures that would be
buried, mixed up with her husband, Bob's private stash. He would discover
them as he was masturbating, seeking dirty thrills, sexual excitation,
discovering, at the last minute, near the moment of climax, that he was
staring at pictures of his own daughter. This would give him a badly needed
shock. He would realize the corruptive, filthy, nature of porno and put an
end to his deviant practices.

Donna enjoys twisting her daughter Cindy's natural desire to sympathize
into a perverted consent to expose herself for pornographic photographs.

Cindy imagines the reaction of her father viewing her in a series of
sexually blatant poses designed to excite his passions.

Niether Donna nor Cindy can imagine how horribly carried away the situation
will become.

Donna ties up Cindy with all her clothes on, hands tied behind her back,
school books spread out on the floor between her spread legs, her blouse
unbuttoned suggestively, but only barely revealing her bra straps. Donna
does a good job with the ropes, following the instruction of the voices
exactly.

It isn't until Donna opens the refrigerator that Cindy first begins to
worry.

"Let's see, we need a small raw egg"

"Where's the camera ?" Cindy asks nervously

"Open your mouth"

"What for Mom ?" Cindy's eyes shift betraying the first signs of mistrust.

"We need to make it just like the other pictures."

Donna pops the egg into Cindy's mouth and ties the gag around her head. No
more comments from her. This helps accelerate the story by eliminating the
need for dialogue.

Now the ruff stuff can begin. Rape with vegetables. Cindy never did like to
eat her vegetables. Now they would be her instruments of torture. Carrots,
cuccumbers, and Donna was certain she could do some creative things with
zucchini.

Cindy strains against the ropes. Her mom is not even attempting to take
pictures. The polaroid camera lays forgotten on the kitchen sink. Something
is wrong.

The recipe given to Donna by the voices is exact. She follows the
directions just as if she were preparing to bake a cake. Measuring cups,
blender, and turkey baster are all careful set out on the counter top.

First she places two cups of cold water in the blender, adds four handfulls
of crushed stinging nettle, sets the switch to mix, and turns it on for 5
minutes. After it turns green, she lets it settle. It seperates into two
distinct layers. Almost all of it is pale green water with a thin yellow
transparent oil layer floating on top. She picks up the turkey baster
carefully sucking up the oil layer, and transfering it to an empty
children's vitamin bottle with an built-in eye dropper lid.

Cindy no longer trusts her mother. Mixing up what appears to be weeds in
the blender can't possibly have anything to do with tricking her Dad.

Like a mother, administering iodine or neosporin to a cut, Donna carefully
squeezes out 5 drops onto each of Cindy's exposed nipples. She even adds a
few extra drops to the center of the bra cups before making Cindy decent
again.

Fortunately, Cindy is still calm. At first, her eyes are filled with fear
of the unknown substance dripping onto her nipples. Her imagination runs
wild. Is it some kind of exotic potion to enlarge her breasts ? Would it
make her nipples harden or make them rigid for the photos ? Could this be
some kind of acid ? Or maybe it was just intended to redden her nipples ?
However, the unknown liquid didn't seem to be having any affect at all.

It is in this state of erie silence, with the egg in Cindy's mouth that
Donna carefully lifts her dress, lowering her panties just far enough to
apply 10 more drops directly to her clit and pussy lips.

Donna takes two quick pictures with the polaroid camera from different
angles before untying the gag and asking Cindy to spit out the egg.

"Wha..t, Whaat," sputters Cindy

"Now we just wait"

"What have you done to me ?"

"Soon you'll be transformed."

Cindy certainly didn't feel transformed. She felt itchy, hot, and flushed.
Maybe it was just her imagination. Soon it's unmistakable, a hot mindless
itching on her breasts and between her legs.

"Please let me go, Mommy"

"Why ?"

"Please, I'm itching."

"Where ?"

"My breasts, my nipples, they feel like they're on fire."

"Oh ?"

"I'm burning between my legs."

Cindy's body is on fire. The most sensitive parts of her body are on
burning. She squirms in the chair, straining against the ropes. She has to
scratch. She itches terribly.

Donna grabs a kitchen knife. She slides it underneath the right leg of
Cindy's panties, slicing them off, leaving them dangling.

And d

a

n

g

l

i

n

g is how this section of the story will remain because the author fell
victim to a need more basic then sex. She got hungry for pizza. For readers
demanding the intimate details, the author was full of flesh from this tale
of Donna so she ordered a Large Vegetarian.

Donna's Humiliation #9

The Family Revenge

Donna doesn't want Bob to go hunting. She's afraid of being left alone with
her own children. Tommy and Cindy are like two demon kids, just waiting for
the right opportunity, the chance to get her alone, the time to extract
their revenge. Donna knows what she has to do. It is desperation that
forces her to lock the bedroom door, confronting her husband with a choice.

"Please, Bob," Donna begs, "Please don't leave me alone."

"But I like hunting."

"You like me too don't you," Donna says dropping her panties to her ankles
and suggestively lifting up her dress showing him her blond thatch of pubic
hair.

"Yes, but hunting is a man thing."

"I'll show you a man thing," Donna says unzipping his pants.

She gently fondles his dick, bending down to take it into her mouth.

Donna runs her tongue around the tip of his cock until it swells. She pops
it into her mouth with a series of quick short strokes until it's rigid.
She can feel it pulsing in her hand. Then she lets Bob thrust it into her
mouth. She has never allowed Bob oral sex before. She wants him to know
that he can use or abuse her sexually in exchange for staying home. Bob
face fucks her with a vigor Donna hasn't felt since they were first
married. Her wanton willingness to please him, her need for him to stay,
her sexual surrender, has ignited his passions.

Donna denies him nothing. Bob can do whatever he wants with her body. He
can fuck her face, take her from the rear, twist her nipples, ejaculate on
her face. He can do it all, if only he will stay. If he won't abandon her
for the weekend, she will sexually submit to his desires.

Sensing the submissive change in his wife, Bob decides to abuse her
verbally while he fucks her.

"You're a whore"

With his meat filling her mouth, Donna shakes her head in denial.

"You're my slut whore," Bob repeats taking advantage of her silence. Donna
opens her eyes, but can only see his pubic hair pushing into her face.

"Suck my cum, slut," Bob insists. With a quick jerk he withdraws and spurts
a small load of hot jizzum onto her face.

"Turn over bitch," Bob tells her.

Donna turns, letting his cock slide a trail of cum across her face.

Bob leaves her on the bed, heading for the bathroom.

Donna is relieved. She had been ready to submit sexually to any demands,
any perversion, as long as Bob stayed with her, as long as he didn't leave
her for a weekend of hunting, but now she is comforted that his lust has
apparently been shortlived. She is still exhuasted from the sexual abuse
inflicted on her by her son, Tommy. She can use the rest.

Just as Donna's body is relaxing Bob returns.

"I'm back, slut."

Donna turns her head to see him holding a jar of Vic's Vapor Rub. Bob
plunges his index finger into the open jar of mentholated petroleum jelly
and gently inserts it into Donna's asshole. He repeats this several times.

Poke the jar.

Poke her anus.

Poke the jar.

Push his fingers into her asshole

Poke the jar.

Slide his hand into her hot ass.

Every repetition makes her ass burn more. It keeps getting hotter, burning
like a fire inside. Gradually, Bob increases the insertion to include all
of his fingers. After he has plunged all five fingers in and out
repeatedly, he attempts pushing his entire fist into her.

Donna screams.

"Aaah !" she shrieked as Bob's fist buries itself into her virgin ass.

"Oh, No ! Oh, No ! She wails.

His fist, hard and unyielding plunges into her asshole, stretching it
without relenting. It is no longer poking, sliding, or plunging into her.
Bob's fist is punching into her. His fist is being swallowed by her
enlarged anus with each blow. It makes an obscene sucking sound with each
withdrawal. Bob notices his fist making a wet "slurp" sound on each
withdrawal and a "splat" sound with each insertion. Within a short time, he
develops it into a study rythum of sound.

"Slurp" goes his fist coming out.

"Splat" goes his fist going in.

"Slurp"

"Splat"

"Slurp"

"Splat"

For Donna it quickly develops into an unrelenting rythum of sound and pain.

Pinned to the bed by the pumping fist, Donna feels waves of fear ripple
through her belly. This is a hard long piston, churning up her insides.
There will be no quick climax. There will be no climax at all. Her entire
ass is on fire.

After an eternity of torment, the hand withdraws for the last time.

Donna's asshole spasms, the sphincter muscles contracting arythmically.
When they stopped her ass remains open. There is a black hole the size of a
dime. Noticing this hole, Bob reachs into his pocket, extracts 4 dimes and
2 quarters. He flips a quarter onto her ass. It's bigger then the opening.
He slides the quarter aside and flips a dime, but it catches on the grease
of the Vic Vapor's Rub. Grabbing the hem of Donna's dress, he uses it like
a towel to wipe the grease off her butt. The next dime flops onto her ass
and slides directly into the hole entirely disappearing. Bob flips in the
remaining 3 dimes before leaving on his hunting trip. Exhuasted by her
ordeal, Donna falls asleep. She slept dreaming that Bob is laying on the
bed beside her. She slept thinking she is safe from harm.

After Bob leaves, Cindy and Tommy spring into action.

It's the pale boy with the lifeless blue eyes and angry red pimples on his
forehead who gives them the implements for their revenge. In exchange, the
boy will be allowed to videotape the torture. A modified cattle prod with a
remote control is slipped into Donna's open asshole as she sleeps. It is a
self-protection device for women called "The Defender" capable of
delivering over 100,000 volts of painful but harmless electric shock. After
the severe ass pounding by her husband's fist she never even feels the four
inch long thin metal tube slip inside her.

Tommy wants to activate the remote immediately, waking his mother up with a
jolt of 100,000 volts of low amperage electric shock. It will feel as if
her insides are on fire. Her body will convulse with pain. She will be
under their complete control. The boy with the angry red pimples restrained
him. If they wait, Donna's anus will slowly contract until the prod is
firmly embeded inside. By waiting, Donna's own body will work against her,
sealing the prod inside her bowels, preventing it from accidentally being
expelled. To help hurry the process, Cindy hunted through the spice cabinet
in the kitchen. Armed with a small can of alum, she sprinkles it inside
Donna's open hole. Within a short time, the alum has puckered her anus
until it closes into a tight puckered depression.

"Mommy, Mommy, get up you sleepy head"

"Mommy, Mommy, it's time to get dressed"

Donna hears the voice in the distance. It sounds familiar. She's so tired,
so exhausted that she ignores it. She feels safe and warm, the burning in
her buttom has susbsided. She feels good and just wants to keep on
sleeping. She is safe. Her husband Bob will keep her from harm. Her husband
who has pumped his fist into her ass will stay by her, asleep at her side,
until he needs more sex. She will give it to him.

"Mommy, Mommy, it's time to get up," the voice repeats itself until Donna
drifts into consciousness.

It's Cindy. She's shaking her Mom's shoulder trying to wake her up. Donna's
eyes fill with fear as soon as she sees the empty bed space beside her.

"Where's Bob ?"

"Oh, Daddy's gone hunting."

"But he promised me he'd stay home."

"Sorry, Mom, but he's gone."

Donna sits up in the bed. Maybe everything will be all right. Cindy
certainly doesn't look threatening. Donna decides to get dressed and take
control.

"I'm going to get dressed, would you please give me some privacy ?"

"Ok Mom," Cindy relents leaving the bedroom.

Once alone, Donna quickly gets out of bed. She selects a plain blue dress
with colorful flower print. It buttons down the front for easy access.
Donna needs easy access for breast feeding the baby. Her breasts are
swollen and heavy with milk. She needs to breast feed 5 or more times per
day to reduce the swelling and even then sometimes her breasts become so
painfully full of milk that she needs to use a breast pump to siphon off
the excess.

Donna wants to breast feed the baby but she is puzzled by the actions of
her son Tommy and daughter Cindy. It's her custom to breast feed the baby
sitting on the sofa in the living room so she can watch the local news.
Tommy is running the vacum in the living room. This in itself is unusual.
Tommy never cleans house unless he's forced to do it. Donna is suspicious
and uncertain.

She certainly can't listen to TV over the noise of the vacum cleaner.

"Tommy, turn off the vacum, please" Donna shouts.

To her surprise, Tommy shuts the machine off immediately.

In the silence that follows she hears the first squeals.

"What's that noise ?" Donna asks.

"What noise ?" Tommy answers vaguely.

"That squealing noise.

"Just some new pets."

Curious and intrigued, Donna follows the sound of the squeals into the
kitchen. In a box shoved in the corner next to the door, she finds a batch
of squirming baby pigs. They look too small to be away from their mother.
Thye're just a bunch of cute little piglets, the same size as a guinea
pigs, but all pink, hairless, and harmless.

"Do you like them ?" Cindy asks

"They certainly are cute " Donna answers non-commitally.

"They're for you," says Tommy.

Donna looks at him and notices a strange gleam of mischief in his eyes.

"Well that's nice," Donna answers, wondering what they are up to, "But
right now I have to feed the baby."

Donna returns to the living room, turns on the TV with the remote,
unbuttons the front of her blouse, and shoves the babies puckered lips
toward her the erect nipple of her right breast. A short time later, she
would switch to the left breast.

Just as the baby begins feeding, Tommy turns on the vacum cleaner. "Turn it
off," yells Donna, feeling at a disadvantage making commands while her
nipple is being sucked.

Tommy twists off the rug attachment at the end of the long metal vacum tube
as if he is going to disassemble it, but he doesn't turn off the motor.

"Turn it off," Donna yells again.

Tommy points the metal vacum tube at her like he's holding a rifle.

This act of defiance infuriates Donna.

Tommy is toying with her.

She lays the baby down carefully, covering her breast before turning to
confront Tommy. She reaches out to grab the metal vacum tube. Donna is
furious. She's going to grab his gun. She's going to teach him a lesson.
She is going to take control.

She never sees her daughter Cindy standing behind her with the remote
control. Just as her hand closes around the metal cylinder, Cindy presses
the button. A terrible electric shock emanates from the very bowels of
Donna's body knocking her off her feet. Donna's first thought is that the
vacum cleaner has developed a short circuit. It is total unexpected.

The power of the shock takes her breath away.

"Take your breasts out, Mommy," Tommy leers at her.

Donna shakes her head in refusal.

Tommy touches the vacum tube to her left knee just as Cindy hits the remote
control button for the electro shock tube imbeded in her anus.

Donna jerks back like she's been slapped by an invisible hand.

An accidental short circuit does not explain Tommy's actions.

"Take out your tits, Mommy," Tommy repeats

With trembling fingers, Donna unbuttons her dress and scoops both her
breasts out, letting them hang over the top of her bra cups. They hang out
on top of the bra, obscenly swollen looking. The nipple of the right breast
is still turgid and red from the baby's sucking.

"Your breast looks swollen. Would you like some help ?"

"No, please, don't do this to me," begged Donna.

Tommy ignores her pleas.

He waves the vacum cleaner tube back and forth in front of her like a
python, a snake bobbing from left to right waiting to strike.

Tommy pushes it closer and closer to her chest until she can feel the
suction. Suddenly, without warning the end of the vacum sucks up her right
nipple. Donna braces herself expecting another heart rendering shock, but
none comes. The only change is in the hum of the vacum cleaner motor
switching to a high pitched wine as the machine attempts to suck up her
breast.

"Vooom, Varoom,"

The sound of the vacum changes to a high pitched wine as it tries to suck
in Donna's Breast. Pulling back on the vacum, Tommy stretches the breast
until the suction connection breaks off allowing the unobstructed flow of
air to return the normal deep humming sound of the engine.

Donna looks at Tommy with a new fear, a new respect. He seems to possess a
strange unknown power that totally unerves her. This is something new and
different. A strange force that she doesn't understand. He can administer
an electrifying pain, a pain so intense it appears to originate from deep
within her bowels. The cause of the pain is a mystery. It's the unknown
that makes it all the more fearful.

Donna's Humiliation #10

The Family Revenge

Tommy rehearses his actions as if he's engaged in some sport.

He concentrates on his efforts. He keeps repeating himself.

"They need to be longer."

"They need more stretching."

She watches as Tommy pulls back on the vacum cleaner like he's reeling in a
fish. The hum of the motor lowering each time the suction is broken leaving
a nasty red ring around her nipple where the vacum has sucked in her flesh.
Her milk heavy breasts stretch a little longer with each wave of the metal
wand.

"Spread your legs"

Donna hesitates.

Like an alien intruder, the metal wand of the vacum swings between her
knees. The threat of electric shock hangs heavy in the air. In a gentle arc
that gradually widens, the tube swings back and forth, forcing Donna to
spread her legs wider and wider. Fearful of being shocked again, Donna
spreads her legs until they are fully open.

"Lift your dress."

Donna lifts her dress up to her waist exposing her panties.

"Push your panties to one side"

Donna catches the edge of her panties with two fingers and pulls to the
left exposing the lips of her vulva."

Tommy lowers the vacum tube between her legs. He is careful not to touch
her. The power of the sucking air makes her pussy lips flutter with an
intense vibration.

"Please, don't do that" Donna moans.

Tommy keeps the tube between her legs.

"Blurrp, Slurrp," The obscene sucking sound continues unrelentingly.

"Oh, my God," Donna yells, on the brink of orgasm.

Just before she can climax, Tommy withdraws the vacum pointing it at her
left breast sucking up her nipple, extending both breasts and nipples out
to new lengths.

Tommy alternates between vibrating her pussy lips to sucking the milk out
of her breasts. The vacum cleaner abusing her body like some strange snake.
With every withdrawal it drips milk onto her dress and leaves bright red
rings around her nipples.

Donna's body shudders into an involuntary climax forced to orgasm by the
double sucking action on her breast and pussy.

Tommy turns off the vacum cleaner when he notices Donna's body stiffen with
a climatic spasm. He has no intention of giving her further pleasure.

"Button up your blouse and walk into the living room." Tommy tells her.

Donna stuffs her swollen breasts back into her bra and buttons her blouse.
She rises from the sofa as if she were resigned to her continued
humiliation. Carefully concealing her anger, Donna walks toward the dining
room. She glances back at Tommy willing him with her mind to follow her.
Donna draws him away from the instrument of torture. She draws him away
from the vacum cleaner.

Tommy follows Donna until he is five feet, seven feet, and finally 10 feet
away from the vacum torture machine.

Without warning, Donna turns on Tommy.

"You little bastard," she shouts grabbing Tommy by the neck.

Cindy watches with the remote control in her hand curious as to what her
mother will do next. Tommy tries ducking to escape his mother's grasp. He
is too slow, totally taken by surprise.

Both of Donna's hands tighten around his neck.

"I'm going to strangle you," Donna threatens.

Both her hands tighten around Tommy's neck and begin throttling him.
Donna's body surges with a power she didn't know she had. Tommy can't break
his mother's grip. It feels as if she's been possessed with the power of
demons.

Cindy is enjoying herself. She feels powerful like she's holding the remote
control for some advanced 3-D Holographic Television Show. She wants Tommy
to suffer. She wants him to remember this attempt to strangle him. Later,
when he remembers how Donna has choked him, he will show her no mercy.
Cindy waits to press the button.

Tommy is certain that his mother intends to kill him. He can't breathe. The
room is starting to spin. His legs are wobbly.

The electric shock hits Donna just before Tommy starts to pass out.

"Aargh !," Donna screams totally taken by surprise Donna's hands fly from
Tommy's neck.

Tommy rubs his neck gasping for breath.

"On your feet bitch," he gasps.

Donna staggers to her feet.

"Take out both your breasts."

Donna unbottons her blouse and takes both breasts out of their cups letting
them hang out over the top of her bra. She stands there until Tommy's
ragged breathing calms down.

"You will not touch me again, bitch" Tommy shouts slapping her exposed
breasts with his hand like you would slap a face.

Donna confused, and demoralized by what seems to have been a unexpected
return of Tommy's power over her, stands before him without resistence. Her
eyes are focused on the vacum cleaner with a look of hopeless
incomprehension.

"You will never touch me again, bitch," says Tommy, slapping her first with
the front of his hand and then returning the slap with the back of his
hand.

Tears well up in Donna's eyes from the breast pain.

"Not my breasts, hit me anywhere, not my breasts ...," she begs.

Tommy keeps slapping until Donna's breasts are red. The red welts left by
his fingers are clearly visible on her breasts. Donna's eyes fill with
tears from the beating on her milk swollen breasts.

Carried away by his anger, Tommy slaps at the breasts repeatedly until they
are swaying in rythum back and forth like a punching bag. He continues
hitting her until his hand gets tired.

Tommy finally relents.

"Crawl into the Dinning Room like a cow and lay down on the table"

Donna heads for the dining room, on all fours, like a cow. She is totally
subdued. Her breasts sway back and forth as she crawls on all fours. After
crawling into the living room, she makes one last inadequate attempt to
preserve the remnants of her dignity as a mother, and as a woman, by
unconsciously tucking her painful breasts back into her bra and buttoning
up the front of her dress. All thoughts of resistence literally beaten out
of her. Her entire world is focused on her aching breasts.

The dining room table has been pulled apart to make room for a center leaf.
Instead of inserting another leaf three of the leaves have been shoved to
one end leaving a 5 inch gap on the far end. Donna is forced to lay on the
table so her breasts hang through the gap between table leaves. Her body is
full supported except for her breasts.

Cindy crawls under the table and unbuttons her mother's dress. Gently, she
removes both breasts from the bra cups and lets the heavy mounds jiggle out
hanging freely.

What new torture will they subject her to? she wonders. Will they try to
smash her milk heavy hanging breasts by closing the table together like
some gigantic clothes pin ?

Despite Donna's speculations, no attempt is made to close the table. Her
breasts hang freely, unpinched, unbeaten, and unmolested. Donna rests.

Cindy moves the card board box into the living room beneath the dinner
table. Donna can hear the squealing piglets but can's see them. Tommy takes
a large dictionary down from the bookshelf and several other large books.
He places them on the floor beneath the table. It takes some adjusting
before the cardboard box is the right height.

The hungry piglets soon discover the two mounds hanging down into their box
and the two nipples. They begin a frenzy of sucking to get at the milk.
There are 8 piglets and only two nipples to suck. On an adult mother sow,
they would have a choice of up to 12 tits to suckle on. They fight each
other.

Donna feels them pulling, bitting on her nipples, sucking out the milk
meant for her baby. The constantly changing mouths of the piglets
struggling to suck the milk from her intensifies into a wild feeding
frenzy. The competition between the piglets continues for hours. Donna has
nothing to mark the time except the squealing sounds of the pigs and
constant pulling on her nipples. She passes out in an attempt to escape the
horrible reality.

Donna's dreams are filled with sounds of barn animals. She is laying on a
pile of hay in the corner of a barn surrounded by a mass of squealing pigs.
Her breasts are fully exposed to the mindless hungry animals. She has been
reduced to a human suck station for pigs.

The pale blue eyed boy films the dreamy far off look on her face, dropping
the camera below the table for shots of the piglets swarming over her
hanging breasts. The close up zoom shots are almost unrecognizeable. The
pink hairless pigs, squirming over the mounds, pulling their bodies out of
the box suspended only by their sucking mouths attached to the nipples, it
is a surreal scene. It is not clear at all if you are looking at the
magnified nipples of some animal or if they are human breasts. Only the
clear shots of Donna's face make it obvious.

The contented cow look on Donna's face is too much for Cindy. She goes into
the kitchen, takes a can of with a picture of fried chicken on it out of a
cupboard, and puts in on the floor. It's a can of Crisco. She takes the mop
from behind the door, turns it upside down, smashing the handle into the
white Crisco lard.

Tit torture is not enough for Cindy. She repeatedly jabs the mop handle
into the can of Crisco until it is coated white with goo. and shoves it up
Donna's cunt while asking Tommy to unzip and force Donna to suck his dick.

Tiring of this, Tommy suggests that they make the torture automatic. They
blindfold Donna and lightly very gently, tickling her with some sort of
leaves. It feels good. She doesn't know they're using clear plastic gloves
on their hands to hold it. She can't see them. She doesn't know that in
about a half hour her breasts will feel like they're on fire. She doesn't
know they are brushing her breasts with poison ivy.

Part 11

Donna's Gang Bang Rape

Bob's hunting trip has been unsuccessful. Somehow he feels less a man for
returning without a deer. It is a man's job to hunt, to track down the
prey. Women stayed at home or became prey themselves. There is a sensual
thrill to the hunt. It isn't just in the killing. The kill is actually a
disappointment. There is a connection, an invisible bound of fear between
hunter and prey. You can see it in the eyes of the prey. It's a quick flick
of the eyes, a slight movement of the head. If you don't know what your
looking for, it's easy to miss, but once you experience the thrill of the
hunt you can never forget it. It's the fear of being pursued. The fear of
being tracked by a force more powerful then yourself, the fear of being
caught, and the ultimate fear of submission. It is these intimate moments
when the prey conects with the hunter that Bob savors the most. He
understands the bond between hunter and prey. He enjoys the torture of
pursuit.

Tonight, Bob is going to make his dear Donna the prey to make up for his
disappointment with deer.

This isn't a conscious decision. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he
knows that Donna is taunting him, thinking him less a man for returning
empty handed. He intends to teach her a lesson, to show her just how very
wrong she is by ravaging her sexually. He will go a bit beyond the normal
limits.

Bob always feels in control, able to handle any crisis.

That is why the rape comes as such a surprise.

Bob is a bit old fashioned. He feels that his home is his castle, and his
wife is part of his property. He is quick to defend her from the catcalls
of other men on the street. He loves Donna. He loves his kids. He thinks of
himself as her protector and provider. Maybe he doesn't always bring home
the bacon, but he could still feed her the pork.

It is late. A dark and moonless night. Cindy & Tommy have already gone
upstairs to bed. The doorbell rings a little after 11:30 pm.

"Honey, would you see who's at the door ?" asks Donna.

"I'm going," said Bob always willing to act as the protector.

Bob turns on the porch light before opening the front door.

"Step back," said the stranger.

Bob slowly steps back into his house.

A black teenager walks toward Bob. A thin short boy wearing a white T-Shirt
and blue jeans. He couldn't have weighed more then 135 pounds. Bob could
easily pick him up and toss him out of his house. He doesn't care much for
blacks. He isn't prejudiced or anything. He just doesn't like the way they
smell. He doesn't like the way they sniff after white women on the streets
downtown like dogs following a sexual scent. He doesn't like the way they
date white women. They're like animals. Bob would have never invited blacks
into his house.

The sawed off shotgun pointed at his face serves as the black boy's
invitation.

Bob forces himself to move his eyes from the barrel to the base of the gun.
The safety is off and the black finger is inside the trigger guard.

Bob is almost ready to take the risk, to grab the end of the shotgun
shoving it to oneside, but as he takes the second step backwards a huge man
dressed like a Hell's Angel Biker steps through the front door. It's at
this moment that Bob realizes he is no longer a hunter, but merely prey.

They waste no time in tying Bob up to a kitchen chair, and gagging him. No
attempt is made to blindfold him. They position his chair so that he is
facing away from the bedroom.

"Bob, is that you ?"

He can hear the uncertainty in his wife's voice as she calls out from the
safety of their marital bedroom. His wife is like a deer bedded down in the
brush feeling safe but uncertain.

This strange salt and pepper combination of the huge white biker and the
slim black teenager has Bob puzzled. He imagines they are an odd
residential robbery team. The biker and black teenager watch him. What
happens next totally takes Bob by surprise.

A uniformed police officer walks through his front door, tips his hat in
greeting toward the biker, and continues on into the bedroom. Bob hears the
bedroom door open. He is tied up facing away from the door so he can see
nothing, but hear everything.

"Excuse me, Miss, Police Department."

"What are you doing in my bedroom ?"

Donna is worried. She sits up in bed clutching her nightgown around her
breasts. The voices have not returned. She is uncertain what to do next.

"We got a call of a disturbance."

"Where's my husband ?"

"I'm sorry, but in all cases of domestic disturbance . . ."

"No, Ooh, noo,"

". . . we are forced to detain the husband."

"What do you want with me ?"

"Just a statement."

"Like what ?"

"Well...like, was he hitting you ?"

"No, he wasn't."

"Not so fast," says the policeman.

He pulls out a black nightstick from his duty belt. Using it for a pointer,
the policeman resumes his questioning.

"Did he hit you here ?" says the policeman pointing to Donna's

left breast.

"No."

"Are you certain ?"

Bob's concentration on the conversation coming from his bedroom becomes
obsessive. He wants to see; he wants to know; he doen't want to be reduced
to just listening like a sex telephone freak.

"Yes."

"Are you telling me that it's not even sore ?"

The police officer pushes his nightstick into Donna's breast in a circular
motion, pressing hard to make his point.

"No, I mean yes. Yes, it is sore."

To be truthful, Donna's breasts ached. They were sore and tender beyond
belief. The probing motions of nightstick make Donna's breast throb.

"Oh, so he didn't hit you, but now you admit that you're sore."

"Well, I, I'm .... I"m a mother," Donna finally replies in way of
explanation.

She is embarrassed. She doesn't want to tell the police officer that her
breasts are sore because of pigs sucking on them.

"Well, now we're getting to the truth."

"No, you don't understand."

"Are you sore down here ?" The officer suddenly thrusts the nightstick into
the covers between Donna's legs.

"Oooh, yeesss." Donna yelps out moving back toward the headboard of the bed
to avoid the hard probing actions of the nighstick.

Outside the bedroom door, Bob is absolutely livid. He is tense beyond
belief, straining against the ropes, waiting for the inevitable, hoping for
a rescue, concentrating on each word and every sound.

"Now, I'm starting to understand.

"No, the truth is, it wasn't Bob."

"Who's Bob ?"

"My husband."

"If it wasn't your husband, who was it ?"

Donna shakes her head silently from side to side refusing to answer. The
police officer jerks the protective bedcovers off Donna and jabs the
nightstick between her legs until it hits home leaving Donna gasping.

"Who was it ?"

"It was my son, Tommy," Donna pants whincing with pain.

Outside, Bob can't believe what is happening. Is Donna lying to protect him
? Is she saying this so he won't go to jail for Domestic Abuse ? Maybe, the
police officer is forcing her to say these things. Or maybe, Donna did have
an incestuous affair with her own son. With a pride reserved for men, Bob
wants to believe that he is the one who made Donna sore. He remembers the
fist fucking he gave his wife. It has to have been him who made her sore.
No one could have devastated Donna like he did. He is convinced she is
lying. She has to be lying.

"You're lying," says the policeman.

"No, I'm telling the truth."

"You're lying to save your husband."

"Yes, I want to save my husband, but only the truth can save

a marriage."

"Prove it."

"There's a video tape hidden in the bookself behind the TV set."

Unseen by Donna the small black boy goes into the living room searching
behind the books and finds the video tape. He turns the sound on the TV off
and puts the tape in the VCR machine. The biker lifts up Bob, chair and all
and positions him so he can view the television.

After a long silent pause, the police officer answers slowly pronouncing
each word with special emphasis.

"I.. think ..you're.. lying.. because.. you.. love.. your.. husband."

"I do, I do love my husband," Donna nods vigorously in agreement.

Bob stares at the TV screen with betrayed eyes watching his own wife, Donna
suck the dripping cum off her son Tommy's cock. He notices the smile on
Donna's face. The same smile quirky, tilt of the head, smile she gives him
when they finish making love. This is no faked video. His wife was getting
off on sucking Tommy's cock. At the same time, he can hear Donna in the
next room saying that she loves him.

"Do you love your husband enough to prove your love ?"

"I don't need to prove my love, Bob knows I love him."

Bob watches the TV as Tommy's hand enters Donna's cum smeared pussy
carefully cupping the jissum with his fingers, Tommy brings it up to
Donna's mouth, and she licks his fingers clean.

"Are you sure you don't need to prove your love ?" says the police officer
pushing the nightstick beneath the strap of Donna's nightgown and forcing
it down over her shoulder exposing the top of her breast.

"Yes, I'm sure," says Donna thinking of how she submitted to her

husband fist fucking her in the ass so he wouldn't go hunting.

Donna is certain that her actions prove she loves her husband.

"You would never betray your husband by degrading him ?"

"Oh, no, I would never do that," Donna shakes her head innocently.

Bob watches the TV as Donna jacks off their dog, Bowser, tips the waterbowl
to her lips and drinks the dog cum. Donna goes directly to the front door
and kisses him goodbye with her mouth full of dog goo. Bob's reaction is
visceral. He almost vomits into the gag.

"You're sure you would never betray your husband ?"

"Yes, I'm positive."

Bob watches the TV as Donna eats out the pussy of his daughter Cindy who is
tied to a chair in the kitchen while Bowser, their dog, humps Donna from
behind. He sees the dog's toenails leave scratches on Donna's sides. The
dog humps her with a glassy-eyed stare, panting from the exertion, his
tongue drooling saliva down Donna's back.

"Well, ok." The police officer relents.

"Is that all ?" Donna asks re-assuming an assertive attitude.

Not all of Bob's body is tied. He notices that despite himself his cock
seems to have a mind of its own. It is growing hard. He has a raging
hard-on from watching the dog fuck his wife.

"Yes, but we'll need to confirm your answers with your husband."

The black boy hits the remote control shutting off the TV. Bob's mind is
devastated by what he has seen and heard.

The biker removes the gag from Bob's mouth.

Bob remains silent. Just ten minutes earlier, before the TV had been turned
on, Bob could think of a million things to say, and warning to shout. Now,
he was stunned speechless. He was in shock from seeing too much, seeing an
unimaginable evil beyond any husband's worst nightmares, and hearing his
wife's denials.

Bob no longer looks upon the black boy and biker as enemies. True they
forced their way into his house. Housebreaking is a vicious act, but it
seems to have been for a greater good. This odd couple is opening up his
eyes to the greater evil of his wife, Donna.

Donna's Humiliation

Part #12

Donna's Gang Bang Rape

Unable to lift him, the police officer drags Bob into the bedroom still
bound to the chair to continue the questioning.

"Well, Bob, your wife Donna has made a number of allegations."

"Yes," says Bob staring at Donna.

"She claims that your son Tommy took advantage of her, but that she truly
loves you, and does not need to prove it."

"Yes," says Bob staring at his wife with a blank numbness.

"Well, do you agree ?"

"Agree ?" Bob's mind is clearly not tracking the thread of conversation.

"Yes, don't you think the burden of proof lies with your wife ?"

"Untie me."

"That's not the answer. Only the truth will set you free."

"Untie me, now."

"Ok."

Donna's eyes flicker with fear. First she was afraid when she heard her
husband had been detained. Now she's afraid because the police officer is
releasing him. As the ropes drop away from her husband, Donna shrinks
farther and farther away to the far side of the bed. Donna knows Bob has a
bad temper. She isn't certain what Bob might do. She is certain she doesn't
want to be around when he does it.

Bob stands up. He walks over to the bed, grabs Donna by the wrist and drags
her off the bed forcing her to stand.

"The police officer's right. We need proof."

Donna's mind races with fear. Her eyes flick unexpectedly to the police
officer's fly. It is partially unzipped. Donna sinks to her knees in front
of the police officer, thinking the worst, expecting no better. Thinking
she will be forced to suck the policeman's cock, she assumes the position.
Before she can reach for his zipper, Donna is stopped.

"We need proof," repeats Bob jerking Donna to her feet.

"I thought ...." begins Donna, clearly so embarrassed by her thoughts that
she fails to complete them.

"Where is the video tape ?" asks Bob pushing Donna out of the bedroom.

Donna stumbles into the living room followed by the police officer and her
husband. She gets on her knees a second time, but this time she is facing
the bookshelf. She searches this wall of knowledge frantically for the
tape, her hands working the books like she would a cock, jerking them off
onto the floor.

"Where's the evidence ?" asks the police officer.

Without thinking, Donna jerks off the best of men. Shakespeare, Aldous
Huxley, Betrand Russell . . . all these books fall out onto the floor as
Donna continues her mindless pursuit of truth.

"Where's the tape ?" asks her husband.

Surrounded by fallen books, her legs splayed out on the floor, Donna looks
up at her tormentors who remain unsatisfied by her efforts.

It would be easier for Donna to simply suck the officer's cock. She is in
an impossible position, forced to prove she engaged in an incestuous affair
with her own son, or viewed as a liar by her husband. In her heart, Donna
knows she's a slut. What pains her is to be thought of as a lying slut. The
least she can do is cling to the dignity of honesty. She truly wants to be
an honest slut. Like women everywhere, she sees a way out.

Donna suddenly changes her mind.

"I was lying. There is no tape. I never did anything bad with Tommy," Donna
says.

Bob looks down on Donna with contempt. He can no longer believe anything.
Unknown to Donna, he has already viewed the tapes. He has already seen the
evidence. All he is left with is the chance to teach Donna a lesson. She is
much to big to spank. The punishment must fit the crime. He looks to the
police officer for help.

Pulling up on his duty belt, the police officer swaggers over to Donna
rubbing his big black nightstick.

"You're lying Donna. You're lying, aren't you ?"

"No, I'm telling the truth," lies Donna attempting to hide her legs
underneath her inadequate nightgown.

"Did you enjoy sucking Tommy's cock or ... ?"

To illustrate his question, the police officer takes the black baton,
placing it between his legs, and makes a gesture like he's masturbating in
Donna's face.

"No, Noo, Noooo," says Donna shaking her head.

"...or would you rather suck a black cock ?"

As if on cue, the black teenager walks out of the kitchen and stands in
front of Donna. A black silence fills the room.

"Sit back on the sofa Bob, you're going to enjoy this." says the police
officer.

The silence is replaced by the sound of a zipper, by black hands slapping
the jiggling flesh of Donna's breasts, of her nightgown tearing, and the
wet fluid sounds of sucking.

"Suck that black cock you bitch," says the police officer as he plunges his
nightstick into Donna's pussy. She is positioned on all fours sucking on
the black teenager's long thin cock and being impaled from the rear by the
long hard baton.

The policeman times his thrusts to coincide with Donna's sucking. Each time
the black penis is fully buried in her mouth, the officer jabs the
nightstick all the way into her cunt.

Bob watches from the sofa.

The rape proceeds in stages. It is not quick, brutal or predictable.

Donna's Humiliation

A Nasty Girl Story

by Dafney Dewitt

Donna's Humiliation

The End Of the Begining

Part 13 (The Unlucky Last Part)

The rape proceeds in stages. It is not quick, brutal or predictable. A
total of 13 hundred men abuse Donna before it is over. This is an unlucky
number, but not an unusual number for Donna part #13.

Sitting on the sofa, Bob experiences a wide range of emotions. He wants
Donna punished. He feels betrayed. He knows she has lied to him. He wants
her to pay for being a slut. Donna belongs to him. Bob feels it is his
choice, his duty, to put her in her place. He will show her who's the boss.

Bob watches as the police officer removes the baton from Donna's ass
allowing the Biker to approach Donna from the rear. He has a huge member.
Donna begins to moan. The bitch is getting aroused.

"Stop it ! Stop ! Stop ! Stop !" Bob yells from the sofa.

Bob is torn by conflicting emotions.

The Biker freezes.

He is outraged at the invasion of his privacy, of his home, of his wife. At
first, he wants to fight, to kill the policeman, the biker, and the black
kid, and stop the assault, but the video tapes have revealed to him an
unknown darker side of his wife. He is thankful to the black teenager, the
biker, and the policeman for revealing the true nature of his wife.

"Stop ! Stop ! Stop !" Bob yells.

"This is Wrong !, wrong !, wrong !," He repeats his words like he is
talking to children to get his point across.

Bob knows that sexually excited men have shrunken brains centered in their
other little heads. They are pleasure driven and have trouble thinking.
Repetition is the cure. Climax is the end. Bob has seen, heard, and been
down this path himself many times before. It is a road to boredom. Fun and
pleasurable while making the trip but ultimately too predictable.

A predictable punishment is no fun, is not true punishment. Donna knows the
begining, middle, and end. True punishment would confuse all these. A real
punishment for the slut will be to scramble her sense of order, make her
loose her balance, take away the sexual roadmaps, push her into the
unknown, a sexual TwiLight Zone of dread, suspense, and total surprise. An
unending punishment would be best.

"First we plug her ears," Bob says

On all fours, waiting for the biker to plunge his giant cock into her rear,
Donna turns her head staring at her husband with a newly found respect.

"I've had all my holes plugged, but never my ears," Donna tells Bob. "Even
when I was made airtight with men in my mouth, ass, and cunt my ears
weren't plugged. I've even been blindfolded, but no one has fucked my
ears."

"Shut up bitch," says the biker who is clearly frustrated. He gets up off
the floor and joins the other men in a huddle.

"I can't wait for you to stick it in my ears," says Donna oozing with
expectation for the kinky and bizarre.

"You stupid cunt," says the police officer.

"No one is going to insert anything in you."

"Here you go," says Bob grabbing the sound protector ear muffs he uses
during target practice, and slipping them over Donna's Head.

Donna's world falls silent.

She watches as the men talk about things that women never hear. Ignoring
her. She raises her nightgown exposing her thighs to get their attention
back. The Biker smiles. She raises it higher.

Then she notices that the biker is smiling at the other men not at her. All
the men are smiling now. Donna drops her nightgown.

Let's leave Donna's world and return to the world of men, sound, and fury.

"What we need to do," says Bob carefully, "is the unexpected."

"Lookat tha bitch, she's beggin' for it."

The Biker smiles at Donna.

"We're gonna mind fuck her," says Bob returning the biker's smile.
Suddenly, all the men smile together like small boys at a circle jerk.

Donna drops her nightgown.

"Like a reverse gang bang ?" asks the police officer.

"Yes," says Bob "No woman would ever expect a reverse gang bang."

"Do that mean she fucks us ?" asks the black teenager still inexperienced
in ways of the flesh.

"No," says Bob "That means that we fuck with her mind and not her body."

"Yeah," says the policeman jumping into the stream of the conversation
"Deep brooks run silently".

"Don't go Freudian on me," says Bob. "We need lots of hard cocks, not soft
words."

Bob gets on the telephone.

He makes a silent call.

Donna never hears the plan, never knows she will be the victim of a reverse
gang bang, she only knows what she can see, shortly after Bob hangs up the
phone more men pour through the front door of her home.

Whatever is going to happen will involve lots and lots of men.

Bob removes the ear protectors from his wife Donna, and turns the
television on to MTV Music.

"Okay, slut let's see what you can do."

Donna is frozen, confused by the sudden blaring of noise. She looks out at
the faces of men crowding her home. There's old wrinkled men, young
muscular guys, heavy fat men, skinny middle aged fellows. All shapes, all
sizes, and all colors.

"Come on slut, strut your stuff, get us off," Bob encourages her.

The men unzip, taking out their cocks.

Donna feels intimidated looking at this sea of cocks. Whatever happens,
Donna wants to meet this challenge head on. She plunges in bravely.

It is a time to sink or swim. Donna can't

afford to sink. If she drowns, it won't be

from water.

Other men's voices join in.

"Com'on slut take it off"

"Dance for us bitch !"

"Juice me up baby !"

Donna starts dancing like she's wading through water. In slow motion, out
of sync with the music, her motions are in counterpoint to the quick tempo
of the MTV music. Her arms spread out to the sides like she's doing a
breast stroke pushing her tits into the faces of the admiring men.

Dancing is not enough.

Men always demand more. She starts stripping. Slowly, Donna lowers the
straps on her night-gown down over her breasts. She wiggles it down to her
waist letting it fall to her feet. Donna tries to enflame the minds of men.
She will seduce them with her charms.

Nudity is not enough.

Donna strips buck naked. Showing her all. Giving everything. Letting the
men's eyes feast on her nakedness. She even spreads her pussy lips with her
fingers so they can see inside.

Words are not enough.

Jerking them off with words, Donna tries teasing them into fucking her. She
begs them to fuck her, to let her suck their cocks, to fill her up like a
camper van stopping at a gas station.

Nothing is enough.

Nothing Donna does can get the men to fill her with their cocks. Donna does
not get to suck or fuck. In the end, she gets nothing.

The men tease her with their cocks.

"Beg for it, bitch," a fat man sneers.

Donna begs.

"Please... please give it to me," she whimpers.

"Give you what, slut?"

"Please, please fuck me," Donna pleads.

"Fuck you? You want me to fuck you slut ?"

"Please," she sobs.

"Say it, bitch, say fuck me !"

"Please fuck me ! Please fuck me !"

"Tell me where you want it, you whore."

"In... in my hot pussy. I want it in my pussy !"

"You want me to fuck your juicy cunt ?"

"Yes," she moans. "Stick it in my cunt!

Donna collapses onto the floor shivering with desire.

A tall black man with bad teeth walks over

to her. He bends down close to her face

like he's going to kiss her. He's so close

Donna can smell his sour breath. He whispers.

"Wanna suck my cock ?"

A shiver trickles down Donna's back from the feel of his hot sour breath.
She can feel the air of each word against her ear. She lures the man over
into a corner. Her knees go weak with desire. The mans long black cock
dangles in front of her face. She can see it, smell it, taste it. Donna
opens her mouth and closes her eyes. She wants to inhale it into her body.
She is ready to suck it off like no cock has ever been sucked. Her lips are
open wide surrounding the tip of the cock. She can feel the heat radiating
from the cockhead. She's ready to clamp down on it with a silky smooth
suction that will make him blast his load into her mouth. Just as her lips
close, the cock withdraws, the man backs up. Donna's lips close on empty
air. She opens her eyes in shock.

Donna watches at the tall thin man jerks his cock off into a familiar
looking plastic mixing bowl. She sees the hot white ejaculate explode into
the bowl, dripping down the edges, the last few drops of cum dropping like
molten lead.

Spurt by spurt.

Other men follow the lead of the tall man. They spit their sperm into the
plastic mixing bowl. Forming a line, taking their turn, they let go with
streams of stringy white jissum.

Spurt by spurt.

Donna watches the line of men move forward. The contents of the bowel rise
as the line dwindles. It reminds her of something. Maybe egg whites, maybe
fondue. She can't take her eyes off the bowl.

Spurt by spurt.

Donna is allowed to hold the bowl while the men jack off. She can feel the
warmth rising along the sides. She can feel the weight of the bowel, she
can smell it, she can hear wet spurts of cum.

Spurt by spurt.

Her hands grow sweaty. She fears dropping the bowel, spilling out millions
of sperm upon the carpet. She grips it more tightly. This isn't just some
inert liquid. This is live sperm. She can almost feel the bowl vibrating.
The bowl is vibrating, but Donna realizes she is shaking, nervous with
anticipation wanting to soak her face into the goop, wanting to drink it,
pour it into her pussy and dump it onto her breasts.

Spurt by spurt.

Donna no longer trusts herself to hold the bowl without dropping it. She
carefully, and reluctantly sets it down on the table. This is too important
for a woman to ruin.

Spurt by spurt.

The men exit the house after dumping their loads. Donna is sad to see them
go, but glad to see the bowl filling up. This will be her cum to drink, pour
into her mouth, spread on her breasts, dump into her aching cunt. When all
the men are gone the bowl will be hers.

Spurt by spurt.

The hours pass. As the line of men decreases, the volume of the bowl
increases and the reverse gang bang come to end. Donna puts back on her
white bra and panties. She slips into her old pink bathrobe in resignation
that her efforts to excite men have failed. Her mind flirts with the
failures of the past like a moth drawn to a light.

Spurt by spurt.

As the last man leaves, Bob closes the front door. He turns off MTV and
turns on the VCR and goes to bed. The house returns to normal. The video
tape of Donna flickers to life. Like an old porno movie, Donna's life is
caught in a loop.

Donna watches the TV which becomes her reality.

Donna, her light blond hair pulled back and tied with a red ribbon, attends
to her family like a waitress. She looks like hired help, a servant. She
wears an old pink bathrobe instead of a white waitress's uniform.
Underneath the robe is nothing but a white bra and panties.

Donna dunks a wooden spoon into the thick white goo, letting it drip slowly
from the spoon. She is making breakfeast, but the bowl forces her to think
of sex. Donna daydreams that she's mixing a large bowl of cum.

Donna has never been comfortable being tall. She is sitting down. The early
morning kitchen smells of coffee, heated maple syrup, and fresh pancake
batter. Everything looks perfect. Donna covers the top of her coffee cup
with her left hand, feeling the moist heat while her right hand works
rythmically out-of-sight, between her legs. She tilts her head slightly to
the left in a quirky smile.

Her hand trembles.

She gives up. It isn't working. The voices have returned.

"Begin action", the voices say, soft as a whisper .....

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