Message-ID: <5528eli$9711081440@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: zturgeon@aol.com (Zturgeon) Subject: Repost of She Wins II (cbt, F/m) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <19971108084100.DAA13261@ladder01.news.aol.com> The following is violent and offensive to repressed people. If you're uptight, Southern Baptist,etc., abort now. She Wins (Part II) "Man." She sat with her childhood photo album, occasionally stripping away the plastic sheet to remove a shot. "Man..." Wearing tight, white Fruit-of-the-Loom underwear - and nothing else - I scrubbed the hardwood floor of her apartment. I heard the sound of another photograph being ripped up. "Man." She tossed the shredded bits of FujiFilm paper onto the floor, and I hustled over to collect them, and put them in the trash bin. She didn't like her place to get messy - even when she was creating the mess. I looked at the fragmentary images as I gathered them from the floor: her father, her uncle, her older brother - whom she used to routinely beat up - her step-father, an old boyfriend... "If only I could've known then," she said, "What I know now." I was silent. I could just imagine her, a sixteen-year-old, sitting in a car with some poor, love-struck chump: he - his hand trembling - reaching over to kiss her - a shy, inexperienced boy - and she plunging her tongue into the full depth of his mouth, pressing her hand into his crotch, gripping his balls and demanding, "Big enough for me, boy?" -his surprised whimper mingling with her full, proud laugh. She mounting his erection, pounding her hips against his prone body, tugging his hair back to see his face of submission. Moments later smacking him around for ejaculating too soon - beating him to tears for not satisfying her. Grabbing him by the balls, demanding one good reason why she should let a flaccid twerp like him go on pretending to be a man - in her world. Why she should - "You idiot!" She yelled at me: the buzzer in the kitchen had gone off. I felt myself begin shaking. I scrambled to my feet to take her cake out of the oven. I tried to get into the kitchen as fast as I could, but she bounded off of the bed and intercepted me at the kitchen door. "I told you not to let it burn, you fucking moron!" I was shaking; I felt myself go pale. "I'm sorry: I was...I was trying to clean a spot off the floor, so I-" "That's no fucking excuse!" She reached around my head and grabbed the back of my hair. She jerked my head back violently - I heard myself let out a cry - then she smacked my cheek with her palm. My face stung. "You brainless, fucking coward! You miserable, stupid goon! How dare you ignore my demands!" I quivered: I knew that wasn't the end of it. She slammed her fist into my stomach, and - gasping for air - I doubled over. Gripping my hair with both of her hands, she held my head right in front of her pussy. She pounded the back of my head with her hand three times, then held my face there -- right in front of her pussy -- for about a minute. Then she spoke again. "Put your hands on the floor." I felt tears well up in my eyes: I knew what was coming. Dutifully, I touched my fingers against the floor while keeping my legs straight. I stayed like that - bent over - while she went to the closet. About two minutes later, I heard her footsteps move up behind me. She stripped down my underwear. I was crying; I heard myself beg: "Don't," I was saying, "Please don't, Ma'am, please don't - I'm not so bad, Ma'am...please don't..." She wasn't listening. She was smearing jelly on the twelve inch dildo strapped around her waist. While I continued my whimpering, she reached around my waist and grabbed my testicles. "You fucked up again, boy." With my masculinity being crunched in her fist, I felt the tip of her rod between my cheeks. "You need to be reminded." I couldn't stop shaking. She held my balls with one hand, and a lock of my hair with the other. Pulling back my head, she slammed into me: she broke the gates of my body, and laughed as I tried to muffle my scream. On the first thrust, she hammered the dildo into me to the hilt. I felt like I was being ripped apart inside - my whole backside hurt terribly, almost up to my stomach. She pulled half way out, then pounded into me again. I heard myself wailing as she pulled out, then impaled me again; pulled out, then drove into me again... When she finally got bored of me weeping and begging, she pulled out all the way. I fell to the floor, clutching at my body. After she removed the strap-on, then grabbed me by the arm and forced me to lie on my back, facing up at her. She yanked my legs apart, exposing my limp, limp cock. My jelly-like balls. And she moved down on me, laying her hot, moist vagina against my genitals. She grabbed a lock of my hair, forcing me to make eye contact with her, then slapped me across the face. She pounded her mons against my penis, then reached down and yanked at my testicles, only releasing them right before, I'm sure, they were about to come off. She spat at me: "Man." She made me get hard, then she raped me. When she was done, she made me finish cleaning the floor. By the time I was done cleaning the floor, the cake was completely burned. She took it out of the oven; she removed it from the pan, set it on a plate, then placed it on the floor. Its charred surface still smoking, she made me sit on it - nude - for thirty-five minutes: the exact time it should have been in the oven. While the cake burned against my ass and my scrotum, she took several Polaroids of me sitting there. She put the Polaroids in her photo album, replacing the old pictures of the men she had ripped up. End Part II (of three) -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /