textfiles/sex/EROTICA/0/1donna.txt

From ???@0x00002A6E Mon Sep 15 21:32:44 1997
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From: Story Master <velvet@znet.com>
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Subject: story RP- author : Daney Dewitt - Donna's Humiliation 1 - donna01.txt
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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.

Comments are invited via E-mail to: an376445@anon.penet.fi.
 if you want more of this story.
_________________________________________________________


Donna's Humiliation
A Nasty Girl Story

by Dafney Dewitt
Part 1/12


        Breakfeast
    Donna has dog breath

Donna was finished making breakfeast.  She was a
tall blonde woman with medium length hair and well
shaped pointed breasts.  The early morning kitchen
smelled of coffee, heated maple syrup, and fresh
pancakes.  Everything looked perfect.  She placed
her left hand over the top of her coffee cup, feeling
the moist heat while her right hand worked rythmically
out-of-sight below the table between her legs.

In the quiet of early morning, Donna had resorted to
masturbation.  It was a act of desperation fueled by
the frustration of sexual failure.  Now not even self-
manipulation could stimulate release.

Her mind flirted with the memories of failure.  Like a
moth drawn to light, her mind circled, powerless to
escape the voices.  Her love for her husband had been
defaced by the voices like gang members spraying obscene
graffiti on a church wall.  She felt defiled.  Her
desire waned.

 Her hand trembled.

She gave up. It wasn't working.  The voices had returned.

 "Begin action",  the voice said, soft as a whisper,

She called out to her husband and kids.
"Let's go.  Your breakfeast is ready."

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

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

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

For Bob, Cindy and Tommy, the voices didn't seem to
exist.  They ate breakfeast without concern. Only
Donna was worried.  She was anxious to get her husband
off to work and the kids packed onto the school bus
before something bad happened.

The voices were 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 was fulfilled at
he expense of control.  Donna was forced to submit.
Without submission she was denied pleasure.  Without
pleasure her love was empty, and sex was reduced to
a mechanical act without meaning.

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

As if reading her mind, Bob looked up. "A little more
coffee, sweetheart."  Donna poured the coffee as Cindy
pushed away her plate, "Sorry, Mom, I have to watch my
weight."

Donna, her light blond hair pulled back and tied with
a red ribbon, attended to her family like a waitress.
She felt like hired help, a maid.  She wore an old pink
bathrobe instead of a white maid's uniform. Underneath
the robe was nothing but her white bra and panties.

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

There was a rushing sound in her ears as she bent over.
It sounded like muffled laughter from a room full of
people.

Her robe fell open exposing her breasts.  As she hesitated
before closing her robe, Donna felt a distinct sexual surge.
She looked up and saw her son Tommy look away and leave
the table as she cinched the blue belt more tightly around
her waist.

As Tommy turned to leave, he thought "What a slut mom's
turned into, what a tease."  He averted his eyes from
his mother's exposed breasts and left the kitchen quickly
before saying something out loud that he might later
regret.  Someday he vowed, he would get even.

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


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

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

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

Donna stared at him.  It was the eyes that caught her
attention. They appeared dull, lifeless, and even dead.
It was some time, before she noticed the black object in
his right hand. It was a camcorder.

The voices commanded her "Obey the boy."

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

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

Bowser, a large black doberman, bounded toward her.
She patted him on the head with her left hand and set
the food bowl down on the roof of the car.  With the
food left out-of-reach, Donna proceeded to satisfy the
dog's other hunger. She slid her right hand under his
belly, slowly massaging, rubbing his already engorged
penis. It was warm, red and very stiff. Her hand pumped.
The dog's dick slowly responded to her ministrations.
She jacked it off into the empty water bowl. Her actions
were mechanical and pre-rehearsed.  She knew what the
voices wanted.

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

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

"I'm not a dog", Donna said suddenly as she voiced her
thoughts out loud.
"Do you like fresh dog cum in the morning ?" -said one of
the voices.
"Well, I never . . . " Donna faltered for a lack of words.
"You never tried dog cum ?  Hmm, we can fix that."

"Take the bowl and slowly pour the dog cum into your
mouth. Keep 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 was brushing his teeth just a few feet away,
Tommy and Cindy were getting ready for school, and she was
about to drink fresh dog cum.

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

She instinctively dropped to her knees, begging, looking
toward the blue eyed boy with the red pimpled forehead.
In response, he turned zoomed the camcorder in on her face,
but remained silent.

She tilted the green bowl toward her open mouth saying
"My God, I'm a slut" and slowly dumped the slimy goo onto
her upturned tongue just as she was saying "I'm a slut"
again.

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

The voices calmed her.
They were condescending.

"That's a good girl"
"Now be a good mother, and say goodbye to your husband
and kids."

She turned automatically toward the kitchen door like a
zombie.

Back in the kitchen, Donna's world exploded into activity.
Cindy yelled out a quick "Goodbye, I love you Mom !"
while Tommy just said a quick "Bye".
Bob was busy stuffing his cell phone into his briefcase.

Apparently, no one noticed that Donna was white as a
sheet and appeared to be in shock.  For a moment, she
grew angry that no one in her family paid attention to
her.  "They don't really care about me at all," she
thought numb-struck by an overwhelming sense of
abandonment. That feeling was quickly replaced by fear.
Bob was at the door expecting a guick goodbye kiss. What
if he stuck his tongue into her mouth and tasted the
thick pungent dog goo ?  How could she ever explain it ?
How could he ever forgive her ?  Maybe, she really was
a slut.

"My God" she said silently to herself.  She felt confused
and lost as Bob turned his face toward her for a kiss.
She kept her lips tightly pressed together.  His tongue
tried to force its way between her lips.

Breaking out of his embrace she backed up one step and
mumbled, "Sorry, bad breath."

"Dog breath," the voices whispered.

Bob left.  There was a sound of light laughter in her
ears.

She felt faint. The moment passed quickly.


--------------206B3E8875EE--



From ???@0x00001C3A Mon Sep 15 21:32:45 1997
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From: Story Master <velvet@znet.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: story RP- author : Daney Dewitt - Donna's Humiliation 2 - donna02.txt
Date: Fri, 05 Sep 1997 13:22:55 -0700
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Donna's Humiliation
A Nasty Girl Story

by Dafney Dewitt

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
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.
_________________________________________________________
Author Note:  If you like this story, please send
an E-Mail to the author at: an376445@anon.penet.fi


--------------450352802528--



From ???@0x00001949 Mon Sep 15 21:32:45 1997
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From: Story Master <velvet@znet.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: story RP- author : Daney Dewitt - Donna's Humiliation 3 - donna03.txt
Date: Fri, 05 Sep 1997 13:23:10 -0700
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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.


Comments are invited via E-mail to: an376445@anon.penet.fi.
 if you want more of this story.
_________________________________________________________


Donna's Humiliation
A Nasty Girl Story

by Dafney Dewitt

Donna's Humiliation
Part #3/12

        Donna Feeds the Baby
          Rubber Bands


Donna gradually became aware of the voice.  It was hard to
hear over the crying of the baby.  It was repeated several
times before she understood and responded.

She searched the opened the junk drawer in the kitchen.
It held all the odds and ends that seemed to pile up.  It
was filled with an assortment of tacks, screws, paper clips,
rubber bands.  Near the front were a pair of scissors, and
a set of very small screw drivers.  She grabbed a handful
of the rubber bands.  Next she went to the refrigerator door.
On the door were several magnetic fasteners shaped like
clothes pins holding discount pizza coupons.  She opened
the fastener and let the coupons fall the to floor.  Donna
watched as a Compbell's soup coupon fell into the wet spot
where she had sat and slowly turn dark as it absorbed the
wet goo from the dog's saliva and her pussy juices.

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

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

She gently supported the baby's head with her right hand
and scooped him out of the crib.  The baby stopped crying.
She automatically took her right breast out of the bra cup
and offered it to the baby's mouth.

 "Stop action," the voice commanded.

She abrutptly pulled the baby away from her exposed nipple.

She layed the baby down on the bed.  It began to cry
immediately.

"Use the rubber bands, the voice suggested.

She took several rubber bands and put them around her
right breast.  The affect was immediate.  They constricted
her breast making it bulge.  It looked grotesque and
unnatural.  Another rubber band, she doubled and tripled
around her right index finger until it was snug.  She
pointed the finger at her nipple and used her other hand
to roll the the rubber band off her finger and onto the
base of her nipple.  The nipple grew red and turgid.  It
was now a minature reflection of her boob.  A small red
fleshy bulb constricted at the base.  The blood couldn't
circulate so it bulged.  It looked grotesque.

 She hesitated.  Horrified by her deed.

"Feed the baby," the voice encouraged her into action.

She scooped the baby off the bed and put it to her nipple.
It stopped crying at once.  It sucked vigorously at her
engorged nipple.  It hurt Donna.
 She grimaced. "Ouch !," she shouted.  "Slow down !"

The baby was sucking too hard.  It was tearing up her
nipple.  It would never get any milk.  The rubber bands
were too tight.

"No, please." She begged.
"I don't want to feed the baby"  "My nipple, it hurts."

There was a faint sound of laughter in her ears.
The baby kept sucking.
Donna's face contorted, twisted in pain, but she held
the baby to her bosum allowing it to tear at her raw
much abused nipple.

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

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

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

     "Do it." the voices repeated.
     "Please."
     "Do it now."
     "I'm a good mother," Donna said before relenting.

She couldn't stand to hear the baby crying.  She pulled
the baby onto her stomach, cradling it in her arms and
offered it the rubber nipple and it eagerly sucked up the
dog cum. The baby smiled at Donna as it sucked up the
vile fluid.

It was the smile that broke Donna's heart.


--------------412DED5BD--



From ???@0x000031D1 Mon Sep 15 21:32:45 1997
Path: newsfeed.san.rr.com!peerfeed!newsfeed1-hme1!newsfeed.internetmci.com!205.252.116.205!howland.erols.net!newshub2.home.com!newshub1.home.com!news.home.com!news.rdc1.sdca.home.com!not-for-mail
From: Story Master <velvet@znet.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: story RP- author : Daney Dewitt - Donna's Humiliation 4 - donna04.txt
Date: Fri, 05 Sep 1997 13:23:25 -0700
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-- 
 /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
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  Free Stories & Pics from our BBS, Links & Live Video  
 \/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

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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.


Comments are invited via E-mail to: an376445@anon.penet.fi.
 if you want more of this story.
_________________________________________________________


Donna's Humiliation
A Nasty Girl Story

by Dafney Dewitt

Donna's Humiliation
Part 4/12


         Donna Watches TV
         With The Brothers

After the baby had been fed and put back in its crib, Donna
crawled on her hands and knees to the bath room.  In the
hallway, she met up with Bowser, her black doberman, who
seemed mystified by the crawling woman with the stinky cunt
juices running down the inside of her thighs.  He made a
clumsy attempt to mount her, but she pushed him off.

She took the rubber bands off her tit and felt instant
relief as the blood rushed back into her breast.

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

After showering, she was allowed to walk back to the
bedroom.
  The voices told 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 her neck, gold
   hoop earrings, and high heeled shoes."

The voices surprised her again by telling her to put on
her brown oval glasses.  She looked like a librarian with
or a school teacher with the glasses on.  She didn't feel
at all attractive.

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

  "Cut the crouch out of your pantyhouse"
  "Cut the crouch out of your pantyhouse"

The voices must have repeated this several times before
Donna responded. Taking the sissors off of the bedside
stand, Donna reached beneath her skirt and grabbed the
reinforced crouch section of ther panthose.  With just
one quick snip of the sissors shw cut it off leaving her
pussy exposed to the air and whatever else might come
along.

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

It seemed like she had barely closed her eyes when she
heard a voice again.
 "Keep your eyes closed and listen.  Nod your head if you
  hear me."
  She noded 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 wispered.

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

The camcorder showed her walking out of the room.

The living room was dark.  The curtains had been draw and
about 7 men were watching something on T.V.  No one paid
any attention to her.  It was a porno movie of some woman
masturbating, legs spread wide.  After her eyes adjusted
to the darkness, she noticed they weren't men at all. They
were just kids. Black teenagers.  Their hands were bobbing
up and down. They seemed to be keeping time to the music.
As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she realized they were
masturbating.

She was sitting in the dark of her own living room with 7
black teenagers who were watching a porno movie and
stroking their dicks.

A cold shiver of fear passed over her body. She rubbed her
legs together.  She did that when she was nervous.  The
feel of the pantyhose rubbing against her thighs comforted
her, made her feel safer. She tried comforting herself with
reassuring thoughts.  She could turn on the lights and ask
them all to leave.

 "I'm a well dressed fully grown white woman," she thought.
 "I am in my own house."
 "I can handle myself," she repeated.
 "I will be ok"

Her confidence level soared, and then abruptly plummeted.

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

A black doberman walked up to the masturbating woman on the
TV screen. She recognized it instantly. It was her own dog.
All she could see was a close up of the dog's tongue
licking an exposed cunt.

     Her cunt.

As the camera angle changed it zoomed to a close up of her
own face.

     Her face.

"My God", she thought.  What if the boys turn around and
recognize her ?

Moments before she was thinking of turning on the lights
and asking them all to leave. Now she was hoping the porno
movie would never stop.  They would keep their attention
focused on the TV screen and not notice her.

She was just starting to rise up off the sofa and leave
the room when the voices spoke.

  "Lights on set," a voice stated.

The inevitable finally happened.  The porno movie came to
an abrupt end.  There was the sound of zippers as the kids
put their dicks away.  Someone switched on the lights.
Still no one turned around.  Donna thought her heart would
burst.

When the kids did see her, she felt instant relief.

 "Oops, hey guys there's a lady here."
 Several of the boys turned toward her looking embarrased.

Donna looked 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 looked 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 was 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 totally out of bounds.

   "You'll have to leave now." Donna told them.
   "Ok, lady, were leaving"
They all turned to leave out the back door when one of
them stopped and said, "Wait a minute, I recognize you.
You're the white bitch in the porno video."

The other kids hesitated, but looked unconvinced.
     "Prove it, Jamoke, or we be jettin"
     Jamoke took up the challenge.  He returned to the
     TV set, pushed the rewind button on the VCR remote.

Suddenly, he hit the pause botton freezing it on a
close up of Donna's face.  All the kids heads turned
toward the TV image and back to Donna's face.  They
were identical.

Donna felt her heart accelerate with fear.

One of the shorter boys took out a switchblade knife.
The group of black teens slowly starting closing in on
her.  She was surrounded.  The circle kept getting
closer.  They were getting ready, but hadn't quite
gotten up the nerve to assault her.  It was only a
matter of time.  She could smell their body odors.

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

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

Soon there was the sound of a barking dog and toe nails
clicking and sliding on the kitchen floor.  In an
instant, 150 pounds of black muscle came bounding into
the living room.

The circle of boys drew back as if they had been pushed
by an invisible hand.  They backed off as the dog came
to Donna.  The look of malicious intent in their eyes
was replaced by fear and uncertainty.

Then the dog did something that destroyed Donna's soaring
confidence.  It barked once again and quickly ducked it's
head beneath Donna's black skirt before she could close
her legs together and started licking her pussy.

"Look at dat dog eat the white bitch," said one of the
 black teens.
"Yeah, we's going to have us a show, said another.

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

The gang of black boys stood over her stroking their dicks
while the dog buried its nose into her exposed crouch.  Its
tongue relentlessly working its way deeper into her pussy
aided by her cunt juices making the passageway slippery.
Blood rushed to her pussy engorging the lips into an open
hole like the puckered lips of a girl getting ready to kiss.

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

Donna had made a half-hearted attempt to lower her skirt
over the dog's head, covering herself, regaining at least
a little dignity, the skirt kept riding up over her thighs.
It was hopeless.  She gave up.  The dog's will won out over
her own.  A brute dumb animal, controlling her, having its
way with the most intimate parts of her body, while she was
fully dressed surrounded by a group of black teenage boys
stroking their dicks off in her face.

Donna's thoughts were confused.  At first she fought the
dog's efforts to arouse her.  She had her pride. How could
she allow an animal to sexually excite her in front of
others ?  She had expected the black teenagers to gang rape
her, but they seemed content to watch the dog.  As long
as they watched, she was safe.  By sacrificing her pride,
she could save herself from the debasement of rape.  It was
a last desperate attempt to regain control.  She was out
numbered, surrounded by a group of sex crazed teenage blacks.
Donna had a choice to make. Allowing herself to be debauched
by a dog might save her from a worse fate.  If she could make
the black kids jack off completely while they were watching,
there would be no rape. Could she divert them into shooting
off their wad's prematurely ?

Donna made a decision.

She would let them watch. She would make a show.
She would moan and groan.

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

"Eat me baby", she begged.

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

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

Donna closed her eyes and concentrated on the sensations
emanating between her legs.  It no longer was a dog, or
a tongue.  Not even the black dicks jerking off in front
of her face mattered.  Her entire world was focused on
just one spot, the wet hot spot.  The spot which would
make her climax.  He legs shot out stiff and straight,
she arched her back forward, as the orgasm shuddered,
rippling through her tummy.  Her cunt spasmed several times
before she dropped back down into the sofa and relaxed.
Donna closed her legs, the dogs head slipped out, the
licking stopped.

Donna opened her eyes.

The boys were gone.
She was alone.


--------------2ED1B7BF90--



From ???@0x00002612 Mon Sep 15 21:32:45 1997
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From: Story Master <velvet@znet.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: story RP- author : Daney Dewitt - Donna's Humiliation 5 - donna05.txt
Date: Fri, 05 Sep 1997 13:23:42 -0700
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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.


Comments are invited via E-mail to: an376445@anon.penet.fi.
 if you want more of this story.
_____________________________________________________


Donna's Humiliation
A Nasty Girl Story

by Dafney Dewitt

Donna's Humiliation
Part 5/12
              Tommy Gets Out of School


Donna smoothed out her skirt, sat up straight, and
listened.  She didn't move. There were no noises in the
house, only the sound of the clock ticking, and the
whimpering of her dog.  She was alone.

After several minutes, she rose unsteadily to her feet, the
lingering after affects of the orgasm making her stomach
feel queasy.  Walking into the kitchen, resumed her
domestic duties.  She scrapped the remains of the pancake
breakfeast into the garbage

Picking up her son Tommy's plate, she rolled one his
uneaten pancakes up like a burrito.  She grabbed it,
holding it like a cock, and squeezed 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 flashed before her. It was Tommy. Her son.

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

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

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

"No, I feel fine, thanks."

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

Ashamed beyond belief.  Donna turned quickly, headed for
the bathroom and looked 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 buttom, the result of her dripping pussy, leaking
through her skirt, being soaked up by the cotton material
of her dress.

Her fingers fumbled with the button on the side of her
skirt, trying to remove it, when Tommy appeared at the
door.

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

Donna whirled around incensed that her son had invaded
her privacy in the bathroom, angry that he was telling her
what to do, ashamed that he had noticed the spot at all.
"Mind your own business," she shouted with all the
authority of a mother toward her kids.

She looked him directly in the eyes, "You are going to
behave yourself," she added confidently.

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

Her first reaction was to laugh out loud, to relieve the
tension she felt building up inside her, but she realized
instinctively that something horrible was wrong, a barrier
broken.  Her status as a parent, the relationship between
a mother and her son, something was terribly wrong.  How
could Tommy dare expose himself like this in front of her
unless he knew she wouldn't report it to her husband who
would punish him severely for the indiscretion.

She looked up into his eyes again.  His eyes locked onto
hers.  She knew that he knew.

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

The TV was on.

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

Tommy suddenly hit the remote control sound.

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

"Oohh, that's it suck me, lick me," Donna's image shouted from
the T.V. screen. "Fuck me with your tongue," she screamed.

Between shouts could 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
making it even more obscene, vulgar, and pornographic then the
mere visual image.

Tears of shame welled up in Donna's eyes.
"Turn off the sound," she ordered Tommy
"No Mom."
"Turn it off," she begged him.
"No."
"Please, turn it off," she gave up.
"Ok."  Tommy flicked off the sound, but the muted picture
continued.

"What do you want ?" Donna asked 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 flicked down toward his open fly.
Donna shook her head silently from side to side in protest.
"I'm your mother," she objected.
"On your knees Mom," Tommy commanded.

Donna sank to her knees onto the living room carpet in
front of her son unsure of what would follow.  Her mind
numb with the possibilities.  She was 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 could be happening. She
waited helpless, hoping for a reprieve, maybe her son would
not use the video tape to blackmail her.  Maybe he would
laugh, tell her to change her skirt; hand her the tape;
tell her to forget about the whole thing.  Hoping against
hope, Donna prayed on her knees.  She prayed to God that
he would not force her into this ultimate degradation.  This
incestuous obscenity.  Her hands at her sides.  She waited
hoping for a miracle that never came.

"Do it Mom," Tommy finally ordered.
"Do what ?"  she answered innocently.
"Do me Mom," he repeated.

Donna's lower lip trembled.  She bit into it with her upper
teeth.  Maybe the pain would wake her up, deliver her from
this nightmare.  Tommy saved her from the making the moral
choice.  He hastened the debasement.  He placed both his
hands on the back of her head, forcing her mouth forward onto
the head of his penis.

"Suck me, Mom" Tommy encouraged her.
Donna pulled him into her mouth.

"That's it suck me, hard."
She started sucking.

"I always knew you were a slut."
Her head bobbed back and forth.

"Suck me off like the whore that you are."
Her tongue swirled around the head of his cock.

"Tommy's little Mommy whore."
Donna made a series of slurping sounds.

Tommy kept up a steady stream of vile, debasing comments
as Donna sucked off her son's cock making it grow long and
hard in her mouth.  Suddenly, much sooner then she ever
would have expected, it was all over.  Inexperienced with
the strong sensations produced from Donna's tongue circling
his cockhead and the hot silky smooth suction of her mouth,
he climaxed almost immediately.  Tommy started spurting into
her mouth, she gagged, he pulled his cock from her mouth
dripping saliva onto her white blouse, and continued spurting
onto her face.

A large glob of cum landed on her hair and slid down the
left side of her face onto her eyebrow.  Tommy grabbed his
dick with one hand and wiped the dripping head of his cock
against her hair, using it like a dish towel.

"Thanks, Mom"  Tommy said zipping up his pants.
"I'm going to go shoot some hoops."
"See you later."

Donna was left kneeling on the living room floor as her
son went out the front door with a basketball.  Even before
the door had closed, the pale pimple faced boy with the
dead pale blue eyes appeared with the camcorder.  He zoomed
in on her face capturing the still dripping strings of cum
sliding down her cheeks.  The exposure was too much for
Donna, the debauchery by her own son too personal, her lip
trembled and she broke into tears.  She cried shamelessly.

The camera zoomed in on her eyes, relentlessly.


--------------1F3AA2355A3--



From ???@0x00001F68 Mon Sep 15 21:32:46 1997
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From: Story Master <velvet@znet.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: story RP- author : Daney Dewitt - Donna's Humiliation 6 - donna06.txt
Date: Fri, 05 Sep 1997 13:23:59 -0700
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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.


Comments are invited via E-mail to: an376445@anon.penet.fi.
 if you want more of this story.
_________________________________________________________


Donna's Humiliation
A Nasty Girl Story

by Dafney Dewitt

Donna's Humiliation
Part 6/12

         Donna Takes Out the Garbage

Gradually, Donna regained her composure.  Her legs were
numb from kneeling.  Her left leg had fallen asleep.  She
was forced to sit on the floor until the blood rushed in
reviving it sufficiently so she could stand.

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

Donna hurried into the kitchen, finished emptying all the
plates and started the dishwasher.  She grabbed the garbage
bag from under the sink and walked out the back door.

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

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

Startled, the man looked up.  His first instinct had been
to flee until he noticed 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 mumbled in a low voice.

"Looking at what ?" asked Donna suspiciously realizing her
 mistake.  This was no garage man.  He smelled like a wino.

"Looking at this," answered the man removing a discarded
aluminum TV Dinner tray from the top of the garbage can.
Underneath was a swarming mass of large black flies.

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

Donna watched the hamburger move.  At first, she didn't
understand what she was seeing.  Then she realized that
the hamburger was maggot infested with small worms
wriggling in and out of the putrid meat.  There were so
many worms that the entire lump of hamburger meat appeared
to be alive and move.  The flies soon returned hiding the
worms from view again.  Donna felt nauseated.

"You're sick," said Donna.
The wino stared at the cum in her hair.
"Stop messing with my garbage." "
The wino backed up.
"Get out of here."
The wino hesitated.
"Leave now," Donna insisted shaking her head so hard that
the string of cum fell off.

The wino watched it fall to the asphalt before he slowly
took 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 backed up.
"I'm tired of everyone telling me what to do."
Donna continued walking backwords.
"No bitch is going to tell me anything."
The point of the knife followed Donna all the way to the
back door of her house.

With the knife at her throat, the wino mumbled something
which Donna didn't understand.
"What ?" she asked.
"On your knees, bitch"
"Please, don't hurt me," she begged as she knelt on the
hard concrete pad at the back door.  Small bits of sandy
grit ground into her knees.

"Unzip me."
She unzipped his pants.
"Take it out."
She reached in and withdrew a wrinkled, smelly penis that
was uncircumsized and bent to the left.  It looked and
smelled as if it hadn't been washed in years.

"Suck on it, bitch."

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

Desperate for some escape, Donna hesitated.

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

The wino paused for a minute, grabbed Donna by the back of
her hair and forced her mouth onto his hardening cock.  He
used his handhold on her hair like an extension of his own
hand, he fucked her mouth without any cooperation from
Donna.  She was just a object to be manipulated.  After
ten good thrusts into her open mouth, he pulled back on
her hair, releasing his still semi-limp cock from her
mouth.  It dripped her saliva down onto her black dress.

He pulled up on her hair until she was standing and forced
her into the house.  He took 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," mumbled the wino.

He grabbed her hair again forcing her head over the toilet
bowel and let loose.

A hot steamy stream of yellow urine flooded over Donna's
face and hair dripping down into the toilet.

"Open your mouth bitch"

Donna opened her mouth just a little and urine flowed in
onto her tongue.  It was warm, yellow, vile, and smelled
of ammonia.  Donna gagged and was on the verge of vomitting.
She wanted to vomit.  It would redeem her, make her pure
again, redeem some of her lost dignity.  If she couldn't
even puke when a wino pissed all over her face, maybe she
really was a slut, incapabble of redemption, beyond saving.
To be saved, she must feel enough shame, enough innocence to
vomit.  However, the gag susbsided.  The momment passed.
Donna did not vomit.  She was a slut beyond salvation.

For some reason, the wino left her there with her head over
the toilet bowel.  Her hair soaked with his urine.  In a
way it was the ultimate degradation.  Even a garbage
scrounging wino did not think her worthy of fucking.  He
would let her wash his dick off by sucking, or urinate on
her, but couldn't bother to screw her. He didn't flush the
toilet. He left the toilet seat up.  Donna was disgusted.

Exhausted by the ordeal, she stripped off her clothes,
showered, put on a nightgown, crawled into bed, and fell
asleep instantly.

_______________________________
Continued in Donna7.txt

--------------635246257588--



From ???@0x00005097 Mon Sep 15 21:32:46 1997
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From: Story Master <velvet@znet.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: story RP- author : Daney Dewitt - Donna's Humiliation 7 - donna07.txt
Date: Fri, 05 Sep 1997 13:24:25 -0700
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Donna's Humiliation
Part 7/13

         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.

_________________________________________________________
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.

Author Note:  If you like this story, please send
an E-Mail to the author at: an376445@anon.penet.fi
_________________________________________________________


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From ???@0x00003BFA Mon Sep 15 21:32:46 1997
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From: Story Master <velvet@znet.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: story RP- author : Daney Dewitt - Donna's Humiliation 9 - donna09.txt
Date: Fri, 05 Sep 1997 13:24:57 -0700
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_________________________________________________________
Author Note:  If you like this story, please send
an E-Mail to the author at: an376445@anon.penet.fi

I am attempting to improve the level of erotic literature
in Alt.Sex.Stories.  Let me know specifically what types
of scenes you would like and they will be included in the
next story.
_________________________________________________________


Comments are invited via E-mail to: an376445@anon.penet.fi.  if you
 want more of this story..
_________________________________________________________

Donna's Humiliation
A Nasty Girl Story

by Dafney Dewitt

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.
__________________________________________________

--------------60F331A5271A--



From ???@0x00002D83 Mon Sep 15 21:32:46 1997
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From: Story Master <velvet@znet.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: story RP- author : Daney Dewitt - Donna's Humiliation 10 - donna10.txt
Date: Fri, 05 Sep 1997 13:25:19 -0700
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_________________________________________________________
Author Note:  If you like this story, please send
an E-Mail to the author at: an376445@anon.penet.fi

I am attempting to improve the level of erotic literature
in Alt.Sex.Stories.  Let me know specifically what types
of scenes you would like and they will be included in the
next story.
_________________________________________________________

By Dafney Dewitt
A Nasty Girl Story

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.


--------------366C139DEEE--



From ???@0x00003460 Mon Sep 15 21:32:46 1997
Path: newsfeed.san.rr.com!news1.rto!newsfeed1-hme1!newsfeed.internetmci.com!205.252.116.205!howland.erols.net!newshub2.home.com!newshub1.home.com!news.home.com!news.rdc1.sdca.home.com!not-for-mail
From: Story Master <velvet@znet.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: story RP- author : Daney Dewitt - Donna's Humiliation 11 - donna11.txt
Date: Fri, 05 Sep 1997 13:25:35 -0700
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Donna's Humiliation
A Nasty Girl Story

by Dafney Dewitt

Donna's Humiliation

______________________________________________
   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.

______________________________________________________
Author Note:  If you like this story, please send
an E-Mail to the author at: an376445@anon.penet.fi


--------------625868564F12--



From ???@0x00001C8E Mon Sep 15 21:32:46 1997
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From: Story Master <velvet@znet.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: story RP- author : Daney Dewitt - Donna's Humiliation 12 - donna12.txt
Date: Fri, 05 Sep 1997 13:25:56 -0700
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____________________________________________________
Author Note:  If you like this story, please send
an E-Mail to the author at: an376445@anon.penet.fi

I am attempting to improve the level of erotic literature
in Alt.Sex.Stories.  Let me know specifically what types
of scenes you would like and they will be included in the
next story.
____________________________________________________

Donna's Humiliation
A Nasty Girl Story

by Dafney Dewitt

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
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.
________________________________________________________

--------------6A44626C4A4D--



From ???@0x000035BF Mon Sep 15 21:32:46 1997
Path: newsfeed.san.rr.com!news1.rto!newsfeed1-hme1!newsfeed.internetmci.com!205.252.116.205!howland.erols.net!newshub2.home.com!newshub1.home.com!news.home.com!news.rdc1.sdca.home.com!not-for-mail
From: Story Master <velvet@znet.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: story RP- author : Daney Dewitt - Donna's Humiliation 13 - donna13.txt
Date: Fri, 05 Sep 1997 13:26:12 -0700
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-- 
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Author Note:  If you like this story, please send
an E-Mail to the author at: an376445@anon.penet.fi

I am attempting to improve the level of erotic
literature in Alt.Sex.Stories.  Let me know
specifically what types of scenes you would like
and they will be included in the next story.
___________________________________________________


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 ber 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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