Sex Stories by Letter ] [ Sex Story of the Week ] [ Story Forums ] [ Adult Personals ]
Sex Toys & Videos ] [ More Sex Stories ] [ Submit Stories ] [ Links ] [ Webmasters ]
Archived Sex Stories

BROWBEAT3 hurt except the throes


Disclaimer:(standard) Do not screw up. Do not do anything illegal.
This includes specifically (but not limited to) reading on if you are
under 18- 21 in some localities If you are underage you must leave
now. If you're young and curious, this is not the place to get the
straight story. You act like this and people will look at you strange
and give you a wide berth. Also, don't try this at home. Some of this
stuff is just plain wrong, most of it is unsafe in the present viral
climate and some of it doesn't work in this universe. They are stories.
They deal with ideas, fantasies and thoughts that might not even be
pleasant in real life. Thoughts are like that. Fantasies are there so we
can toy with the sensations without feeling or inflicting the pain,
despair or humiliation. End Sermon.

Browbeaten III
Denise, you fucking slut- dig us the dirt!
Jim Manners is a dork. I guess most women would find him
cute and a good catch because he's so steady and sincere, but he's a
dork. I'm a fucking note on men's room walls world-wide and it takes
him almost a month of working with him one on one in a small office
for him to get in my pants. And that after I'd fucked nine of his
colleagues at a Christmas party. Most other women might say that was
cute, but even they prefer a dog of a guy that they can pussywhip into
Not that I'm saying Jim is a bad person. He tries so hard to be a
nice guy that he's a nebbish. It's just a little frustrating and boring to see
him try to bend and twist himself around me when he should spend his
time just boning me until his balls shrivel.
I'm comfortable with that. I've always tried to be a sex toy. It is
true that men want a sex toy, but don't know how to really play with
one, but Jim goes beyond that. I guess he wants to be the knight in
shining armor rescuing women or something. Unfortunately, I don't
like that game.
But deep down there is a man in that body. I just have to
frustrate the engineer to get to him. That was the case when I screwed
up his test data for the third time and he started it all. A little of the evil
boy showed through when he took me home the first time and had me
service him, but then I had to frustrate him again. I thought he was
going to bone me up the butt, but the 'nice guy' took over again and he
just screwed me.
He works too hard at trying to communicate with me when he
should be just telling me what he wants. What's mutual about orgasm?
It must be some stud thing to have a woman screaming for your sex,
but it's not in my head. God damn! I make it easy, why can't he be
happy with that?
I even went so far as to give him his damn report, being careful
to stay in my idiom and damn little came from that. Christ! My history
is the history of a sex toy and all he wants is for me to parade around
naked once a week or so. Maybe fantasies are great, but I can't believe
they're better than actually boning me six ways to Sunday.
Whatever. I don't have to frustrate myself. I just chalk it up to
his being a dork and wait for the next thing to happen. Perhaps down
the road he will get with the program. He shows flashes of promise
from time to time, but there's too much of the other for my taste.

-----------------------------the revelation of St. Dick the erect-----------
1. He wants a fucking sex slave, not a love doll. I'm supposed to
do for him rather than let him do to me. That is bogus and it won't fly.
2. Halleluia! I've found the key. Just to the east of the evening star
and on to morning. He has to write me off as a salvage project and see
me as a lump of meat. Frustration is the key.
3. Take my hand and we're halfway there. Frustration may have
been the key, but pissed off kicks the door open. Bouncy and attentive
and looking like a real girl, I still don't respond except to a command and
it really gets his goat. Evil Jim takes over and I'm in heaven.
4. He's bought the barn. I'm not Denise anymore. I don't go to
work anymore. I am Denise (understood) in any command aimed near
me and I only go to the office to sit naked in a corner in case he wants
to bone me.
5. It's a fucking dream. Has he given up hope of redemption and
given over his soul to his evil lust? Has he given up the thought that I'm
redeemable? Has he progressed to thinking of me as an office
accessory? I don't care! He tells me where to stand and he takes me the
way he wants. All in all it is very satisfactory.
----------------------------------Denise the office cunt----------------
Mr. Manners is far exceeding my best expectations. In the past,
the ones with the greatest potential were the quickest to go and those
that were drawn to my willess submission had little imagination in how
to use me. Mr. Manners had adapted well to the problem of fun and
games with a sex toy. I sense no self-consciousness and as much
realization that I am a being in the games he devises for himself.
He is careful not to hurt me except in the throes of excitement,
and in that case he doesn't have a chance of doing me any damage. He
gives his all, but I am certainly tough enough to take more than he can
give me without being even ruffled. And I suspect he's been doing
some reading because he becomes more adventurous.
Well, that's the reward I get for my years of acquiescence! I
have finally been shown the point of bondage. Each time before, the
man was derailed by my calm acceptance. Mr. Manners found the way
to make that less than a footnote. He wasn't dealing with me anyway,
just the body in his control.
With his planning skills, you could trace his thinking. It started
in the support contraption. It looked like it had just popped off a
blueprint from the office. I know Mr. Manners and I know it was
designed to hold three times my weight- maybe three times our
combined weight. And of course it was adjustable to fractions of an
inch. It was also comfortable- if you can say that of a device designed
to hang you by your wrists and ankles.
Anyway, the contraption itself was not painful. Mr. Manners
had designed supports that gripped without pulling and the only tension
was on my shoulder and hip joints which were supporting my body.
Then he folded something and my ankles were raised higher than my
head and pushed back a bit. He had found the way around my
In my present position, compliance was a moot point. My
bottom was offered to him for his free use. I understood my
helplessness better swinging unsupported and open for that use.
Struggling may have made it more enticing, but the way he took me
told me having the cunt for his convenience was good enough.
I couldn't have stopped swinging in the chains if I had tried. He
banged into me while holding the chains that supported my ankles and
every thrust rocked me up and let me fall back to slam against him
advancing at me again. He was quite energetic with his quick, double
thrusts and I felt this scene was releasing the animal in him.
In a sense, he had reduced me to what I had reduced myself to.
I was a sheath to take his sword. A very-warm-place to hide his tally-
whacker, his personal divine two square inches, I was just a cunt for
him to fuck. This contraption made it convenient for him to fuck me
and it occurred to me that this was the point of this bondage stuff. I
was reduced to cunt and he had a cunt to fuck. Just him and his cunt to
Somehow bondage and I were a perfect match.
It wouldn't have mattered to me how he had done it. I would
have bent over for him or laid on my belly. He didn't need even that
much compliance. He put the ankles back a click and I felt his cock
pressing at my anus. With my ankles over my shoulders, I couldn't
have been more open. I don't think I could have opened myself as
wide. Not that it mattered. He pushed past the first resistance with
steady pressure and then teased me by moving it up and down as he
waited for the sphincter to relent.
It was quite easy then. He must have added some lubricant to
the secretions of my pussy because it was an easy, smooth slide until I
felt his pubic hair tickling my cunt. And he much liked it. There was
not so much swinging as he pounded against my bottom. His thrusts
were so much up into me that only his thighs bumping my buttocks
made me sway ever so slightly. For my part it was an eye-opener. It
was a different direction from any rabid butt-fucking I had had before.
All the other butt-fucking brutes had bent over my back and pounded
toward my spine. In my present position, Mr. Manners was pounding
up into my womb and female plumbing and it gave me an eerie feeling.
That was as nothing when he moved my ankles back. Now his
thrusts ran along all my female organs and his belly rhythmically
brushed my clit. The eerie feeling rose toward climax. The animal
loose, he used my breasts like appliances, grabbing them and using
them to pull me onto his fierce attack. I was losing the urgency of
orgasm, but he fixed that as he neared his own peak. Poised on his
climax, he thrust long, hard and deliberately into me as his thumb came
down to rub my clit. When he brought me to my shuddering
conclusion, he made the desperate thrusts that took him over the top,
jolting me in my chains so that I flopped disjointedly in my bonds as he
buried his bone and anointed my colon.
He had come quite a ways from strip and stand around naked.
He showed me how a cock felt ramming down my throat as my head
hung down and my body rocked in the chains as well that night. But he
had just arrived in the land of right thinking. Now over his silly
attempts to make me a person, there were many treats in store.


Sex stories by alphabet: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z


© 2003 Sex Stories Archive. All rights reserved.