Version 3.4 of my Omnibus is up!

As always, my linktree is the best place to find links to all my work.

You can access my Omnibus here - Warning, it now only downloads the HTML file. Just open it in the browser of your choice and it will work exactly as it did before as everything is self-contained in one file.

Anything tagged with an * cannot be found on Reddit.

Version 3.4
Continued to revise, tag, and date older stories
Added the following stories...
*Welcome to the family (Read the tags)

Version 3.3
Continued to revise, tag, and date older stories
Added the following stories...
*The breaking of the Batgirl (Added chapter 2)
*The Truth (extensive update)
*How I started online (extensive update)
She knew who she was

Version 3.2
Continued to revise, tag, and date older stories
Added the following stories...
It wasn't supposed to be like that
The breaking of the Batgirl

The breaking of the Batgirl

Chapter 1 - The beginning of the end (Violent, stabbed, beaten, virgin, rape)

My first real genre work - not much sex in this first chapter. Warning, keep an eye on my omnibus or on AO3, as later chapters will NOT be posted here - My first real genre work - not much sex in this first chapter. Warning, keep an eye on my omnibus or on AO3, as later chapters will NOT be posted here -

Barbara rappelled down the building, landing softly against the rough brickwork. She tapped the side of her mask and the new tech Bruce had installed instantly enhanced her vision, letting her see easily in the dark. It, no, her entire new suit was amazing and light years ahead of her homemade costume she had worn originally. It had taken months in the field to earn his respect and to be brought into the fold. When he had shown up, as Bruce Wayne no less, to reveal himself to her, it had been mind-boggling. The first thing he had done was offer her a new suit, one that was tailored to her talents, but offered fabric and protection her off-the-shelf components couldn't match.

She lowered herself down the wall, scanning and noting the location of Two-Face's men around the warehouse. She had been tasked with reconnaissance while the "Dynamic Duo" dealt with the more immediate issue of another Joker rampage. Unlike Robin, Dick Grayson, she was less impulsive and didn't mind following Batman's direction and leadership. On the other hand, Dick had years more combat training and more practiced skill, despite both of them being eighteen. She trumped him easily in technical skills, but much like Bruce, she couldn't lay a hand on him unless he let her. Not that she couldn't fight, and lately her physical training had been greatly accelerated under both of their tutelages.

She was about to finish up when she saw Two-Face and some of his men inside the warehouse. She was under direct orders not to engage him or the location on her own. Under normal circumstances, she would have followed that order without hesitation. But her imager showed two people tied up and being beaten, one of whom she recognized as a beat cop. What they were doing there, she had no idea, but she couldn't just abandon them. She tapped her earpiece and called for Bruce, but there was no response. She would have tried Alfred but he was out of Gotham on personal business. Dick didn't respond either which meant they were likely dealing with the Joker or were someplace where the signal was blocked. Barbara glanced around then decided she had to go in. Not to take Two-Face down, but to get those people out safely.

The thug on the roof never even saw her coming. He hadn't even heard the grapple grip into the concrete. A jump kick to the face and he dropped like a rock. She dragged him behind a vent and secured him, tossed his gun away, then went inside. Thankfully, security was light overall at the moment. She had been casing the place so that Bruce could decide when would be the best time to strike, maximizing their damage to Two-Face's smuggling operation if they didn't manage to capture him. One floor down she easily took down another thug when she heard the gunshot. She enhanced her vision and saw where the hostages were and saw that one of them was dead, the cop. Two-Face was threatening the remaining person, cuffing their head with his gun. So much for subtlety, she thought, as time was no longer on her side. She switched off thermal vision and ran as quietly as she could. When she rounded the stairs, the guard there barely had time to process seeing her before she slammed his head against the wall. Too much noise, she thought, wincing as he dropped, but it couldn't be helped. The stairs behind him were open and dropped down to the main warehouse level below where several henchmen and Two-Face, along with the remaining hostage, resided. No time to make a plan, no hesitation, just action.

She remembered Bruce's lessons as she leaped over the railing, her modified batarang in hand. She hurled them, along with smoke pellets, disarming the closest enemies. She could almost hear Bruce's voice talking to her.

"When outnumbered and in a dangerous situation, don't be flashy. Economy of movement, of attack, with a constant focus on your surrounding. Only taunt, mock, or distract your opponents if you have distance. If you're in the fray in a bad fight, just focus on the mission above all else," he had said to her.

"I hear you, Bruce," she thought to herself as she landed. Two more batarangs flew from her hands, disarming two more gunmen. She had lost sight of Two-Face in the smoke and melee. He might have run, but that was probably hoping for too much. "Focus on your surroundings, don't be fancy. You can't outfight all these men. Strike hard, disable, escape," she reminded herself.

Two precise punches, one to a throat, the other to a groin dropped two more of the grunts. They weren't beaten, but they didn't have to be. Footsteps rushed behind her and she spun, kicking one in the head and bringing him down hard. Almost a fraction too late, the other dove for her in the smoke. Twice her size, she couldn't let the man grab her, or she would be in trouble. She rolled back, grabbing his wrists and kicking her feet into his gut, throwing him behind her. She pulled two metal balls from her pouch and hurled one at a man screaming for additional help. She almost winced at the thud it made as she knocked him out with it. The other she threw after spinning around, at the man she had just flipped over her. A quick scan of the place found every man on the ground, wincing or whimpering. Now was her chance. She reached the hostage, trying to ignore the smell of brains on the floor beside her. The hostage was hysterical as she slit through the rope and freed her. It was a woman, someone on the city council she believed. It didn't matter who they were, she had to get them out. They bolted past multiple men slowly rising when their exit door was kicked open and three more men stormed inside.

"Keep running, don't stop for anyone!" Barbara yelled and thankfully the woman obeyed. The men, recognizing Batgirl as the more immediate threat, all charged her. She slid low, her feet catching two of them in the kneecaps, their screams echoing in the warehouse. The other grabbed her and threw her against the wall. Barbara grunted as she hit it and slid down, before being grabbed again. His hands were tight around her throat and she almost panicked, before again hearing Bruce's voice.

"Never panic, no matter how much it hurts. Focus. Even the biggest of men have a weak spot," he had told her. She couldn't break the man's grip, but she didn't have to. She only had to make him let go of her. She shoved her hands towards his face, her thumbs slamming into each eyeball. He screamed and dropped her, stumbling back as she spun and kicked him unconscious to the ground. She saw the open door and started for it when the shot rang out.

Two-Face hadn't retreated. That didn't mean he was eager to get involved in the fight, however. He wouldn't hesitate if he had to, but he had let the coin decide as the smoke had filled the warehouse. Instead, he watched and waited for the Batman and that insipid Robin to join the chaos. But they didn't, it was only Batgirl, likely drawn out by his murder of the meddlesome cop. He watched, with a measure of respect, the girl take down his men. Prepared, he had to admit, she still might have taken them down, but with surprise and rescue on her mind, they hadn't stood a chance. Only when his hostage escaped did he flip his coin again. His finger rubbed the rough X carved on one side as he lifted his gun and fired.

Barbara felt it before she heard it, but it still took a second to register what had happened. She felt something punch her head and she had crashed hard against the floor, sliding against some boxes. She heard someone screaming as she tried to get her body to respond. Her head throbbed in pain as she touched herself and felt where the bullet had grazed, glanced off her. If she'd been wearing her old costume, she would have been dead. No question. Even now, the bulletproof weave had only managed to blunt and deflect the bullet that had jarred her brain. She managed to crawl a bit, hands and feet barely working, struggling to do anything as the room spun around her.

Two-Face strode toward Batgirl, somewhat surprised to see her alive and relatively undamaged. He picked up a crowbar as he got closer, tired of all those fucking Bats and the trouble they caused him. He grabbed the little bitch and pulled her up before letting go and swinging the crowbar hard into her side, cracking a rib and slamming her against and over some crates.

Barbara yelled in pain as she hit the concrete. Her side was killing her and it took everything for her to stand up. She had to get out of there and fast. She barely saw Two-Face round the corner and swing, dodging his attack at the very last second. Two more swings narrowly missed her side and head, before she ducked under a wild swing and punched him in the face. Taking her moment, she spun to run away and everything went sidewise, spinning wildly again. She managed five steps before losing her balance and falling down. One of his henchmen came out of nowhere and kicked her in the side and flipped her onto her back.

"Get the FUCK away from her, you stupid piece of shit! This bitch is mine!" she heard Two-Face say as he walked over. She managed to roll out of the way of the crowbar again but the movement made her dizzy and she took the next blow right in the small of her back. She screamed again as he brought it down on her shoulder blade as she weakly kicked back at his feet.

"Oh no, you're not tripping me up, you meddlesome cunt," he screamed at her as he kicked her in the ass, shoving her forward. He then held her cape and jerked her back up, standing and spinning her around quickly. He had noticed how easily she had gotten disoriented and figured the gunshot had done more than graze her. Probably had rattled her brains good, he thought to himself. One powerful swing brought the bar right into her gut and then he savagely backhanded her with the prybar to the side of her head. She was still standing, which he had to give her credit, any of his men would have already been on the ground. Despite that, she didn't move when he pulled his switchblade out and stabbed it deep into her side, before shoving her to the ground.

Barbara didn't hear anything he said at first. She had felt she had fight left in her at first, but when he had hit her head again, she barely managed to stand and nothing else. Then, her side burned painfully, and she fell back to the ground. Two-Face's mouth was moving but she couldn't focus on it, him, anything. She touched her side and something was there, she felt wrong, as blood leaked out her nose. Her hands were slick for some reason as she uselessly tugged at the object hurting her. Nothing made sense anymore. Two to four Two-Face's bent over her, planting their feet on her chest. They talked, but it was a jumble.

"Do you understand?" he said, repeating himself again to her. "We're going to let fate decide what I should do with you. Because of you, that council bitch is going to cause problems for me and this warehouse will have to be abandoned. Thankfully, the explosions Joker has been setting off should give us some time to get out of here with everything. As for you, you cost me millions," Two-Face said, kicking at the switchblade in Batgirl's side, making her cry out in pain.

"But I'm nice, I'm giving you two chances. First flip? Well, let's see if I let you go or not?" After saying that, he flipped the coin and Barbara watched as five coins spun in the air before somehow all being caught by him. He made a tsk tsk sound before kneeling and showing Barbara the coin and the X scratched into it, barely an inch from her face.

"Not good Batbitch, not good at all. Now, what to do with you?" he said, flipping it again. He slowly swam into focus for her as he knelt down once more. Barbara noticed before where he had been focusing his scarred visage towards her, the other unblemished side now turned toward her. There was a horrible sadness on his face as he cradled the coin, the X side up once again. His hand stroked her face gently as he whispered in her ear.

"I'm sorry, I really am," he said softly, before standing up and calling to his men. "Strip the bitch, but leave her mask on. I don't give a fuck who she is under that. Use the knife to cut her out of that shit if you have to," Two-Face said, to the cheers of the men there. Barbara tried to roll over and crawl away, but she was quickly held down by several men. She sobbed as the switchblade was pulled out and her costume was slowly ripped open where it had been before. Any time she struggled, someone slapped, punched, or shoved a finger in her stab wound. It was still just a struggle to think but it seemed like it took only moments before they had stripped and torn her clothes free. The last to be removed was her boots, the knife slicing through the laces before they and her socks were tossed to the floor, leaving her bloody, bruised, and naked on the floor. She still kept trying to crawl away, her chest dragging against the cold concrete.

"Get her boss!" someone yelled as Barbara was pulled up by two men. They held her arms tightly, taking no chances, as they displayed her for Two-Face and all the men there. Barbara cried softly, the room still spinning around her. She always knew this was a possibility, but had never taken it seriously. Death or injury, yes. But this, no. She now understood the strange sadness that had been on his face briefly. This was more about his men than her. About something more important than just raping her. She barely muttered a weak "Please, don't" as Two-Face inspected her.

She was fit, obviously. But there was an innocence to her body, the kind that only came from someone still growing up. He had known the boy blunder was a kid, but the girl was clearly one as well. Blood ran down her left side and leg. It looked nasty but he knew he hadn't hit anything serious there. Other than her ribs and belly swollen red from the crowbar, she was mostly unmarked. Except for her nipples. They were puffy and raw from her dragging them against the concrete when she had tried to crawl away. He nodded and the men spread her legs wide and he smiled. She had just a little landing strip, groomed probably in the hopes of someone she had a crush on. Robin, he wondered. Or the Bat? He reached down and suddenly, the Batgirl was gone and there was just a kid in front of him.

She couldn't help it. It was humiliating enough when they spread her legs, but when he touched her, she cried. She cried as she was fingered by a man for the first time, as she heard him gasp and scream "We got a virgin!" to his men. It was only a moment and she stopped, but she felt humiliated as the men dragged and pulled her over a crate, still holding her tightly.

"We got a virgin indeed, boys!" Two-Face yelled to his men, smiling at them. Then he parted her legs as the men held her down. "That is, we HAD a virgin!"  he laughed as he thrust forward.

Barbara screamed. As the men around her cheered on their monster of a leader, she screamed.  Her arms and legs were held firmly, their fingers digging brutally into her skin. But she barely noticed them. She only noticed that he had spread her lips, the cold air flowing against her nether region, the heat of the men around her, their cheers and laughter. And then, the pain. He hadn't used any lube on her vagina. Not even spit. He hadn't eased into her, stretched out the moment into eternity to humiliate her. He hadn't done any of those things. One moment, she was still a virgin, the next, a grown man's cock was impaled deep inside her. She screamed and struggled in pain but then, part of her just went away. The hands on her relaxed, by order, not that she noticed. She didn't see or feel anything around her except for the cock that was ramming itself in her, raping her. She just held onto the rough wooden crate, stoic at first, then softly crying, tears staining the wood under her face as she was used to a cheering crowd. Every now and then, he would punch her side or her back, and then when he got close, her hurt her even worse.

"GAAAAAAAAAAA," she screamed as his pace quickened, slamming into her harder and harder. She felt his hands slide against her hips, up higher, and then his finger found her stab wound and was shoved inside her. She tensed and thrashed and all the men laughed as Two-Face said something about making her "tight". Then he slammed deep into her, once, twice, and she felt him spill his seed inside her. He pulled out and she saw flashes as the men took pictures of her defilement. Someone grabbed her leg and jerked her off the wooden crate, scraping her belly and breasts against the wood before dropping her to the floor. Dazed, she trembled as Two-Face stood over her, looking sad again.

"I'm sorry Batcunt, but this, this was just the beginning." Then he raised his foot and stomped on her face as everything faded away. The men dragged her limp body to a van and tossed her inside. Then, once everything was cleared out, they torched the place, leaving her costume, the cop's body, and her earpieces behind. Barbara's body bounced in the van as they drove off, her fall from grace only just beginning.

She understood it was time - Revised (M/F, kidnapped, manipulated, beaten, broken, dehumanization, hung, snuff)

She quivered as he stepped away and let go of her hair. Her head slumped forward, limp. She panted and wheezed as her arms were pulled tight behind her, chained to the concrete wall. Blood from her nose and mouth dripped down her chin, making little splashes of red as it hit the floor. She could barely think, lost in a sea of pain, abuse, and need. Her body trembled as he reached down to stroke her hair. She looked up at him, her broken and bruised face desperate for his approval. He smiled and she grinned a bloody smile back.

“That’s a good cunt,” he said, stroking her dirty and matted hair almost lovingly. “I told you one day you would understand. I was right, wasn’t I?”

She nodded, the simple act causing pain that made her dizzy and want to vomit. And it was true. She did understand now. It had taken time, of course. It had taken perhaps 6 months to beat her name out of her. Until she responded to cunt as if it was her birthright. By then, and not much longer, she regularly came to his abuse, without him having to use vibrators to force her to cum. Another month or two and she regularly played with herself to the videos streamed to the basement. Violent depraved acts, prior girls, some younger, some older, used up again and again.

Now? Now she just wanted his attention, to feel something, anything. So, when he came down and hit her, punched her face, her body, skull fucked her against the hard concrete wall, she got wet, needy, all but begging for the abuse. She’d scream, of course, buck and fight even, but she’d cum to it just like the cunt she was. She no longer doubted what she was. She didn’t even hate herself. She was just a needy thing that existed only when cumming or crying. Everything else, the quiet moments left to herself and what remained of her soul and thoughts, that was the real torture. That is what she sought to avoid.

Lately, he’d been using her harder and harder, with no recovery time in between. She’d seen the videos of the other girls, the ones from before. She knew what was coming. But she didn’t care. The parts of her that would be horrified had already been snuffed, fucked, and raped out of her. What remained needed him. Only with him could she feel. Only with him could she one day never feel again. He was her God and if he unlocked her chains and told her she was free, she’d never have left the basement. She wanted him, and when he no longer wanted her, she wanted it to be done.

“I think it’s time, don’t you cunt?” he asked. He pointed to the video camera, the setup he must have rigged while she was half passed out, half asleep. Time was funny in the dark and from all the hits to the head he gave her.

“I love you,” she said. She meant it honestly, not to delay his actions. She knew he didn’t love her. He loved what he had done to her perhaps, but not herself. She knew cunts were disposable.

“I know you do,” was all he said as he unchained her body from the wall. She’d been about 140lbs when he’d taken her, now she barely weighed 90. He helped her walk and stand up on the stool, then tightened the hanging rope around her thin neck. She was crying softly, and he kissed the tears away. “It's better this way,” he said, and she barely nodded when he kicked it out from under her. The video was streamed to his online audience as she kicked, arms still tied behind her body. He grabbed her flailing legs and pulled her against him, pushing his cock into her ruined cunt. All her remaining weight was held up by the rope tight around her neck. He fucked her with all his might as she spasmed, watching her busted-up face as she came again and again. He had wanted to ruin her innocence and now there was none left in her.

As he felt her slow down and start pissing herself, he quickened his pace. When he finally came in her and let her go, she swung back and forth, her body limp, not moving. White dripped down her leg, mixing in with the yellow, as he walked over and turned off the video stream.

Afterward, he burned a DVD and wrote down her address, a final gift for her parents. He had sent them dozens of videos, but they never went to the police with them. She was too eager in them in the end. And before, maybe her dad enjoyed them a bit too much. He knew she would never be as loved as she would be now. Immortal, wanted, as thousands watched her go away again and again, at her most useful.

And now, he would have to start again, ruin another innocent girl, and make her realize she was a cunt. Next year was going to be wonderful.

If you enjoy my work, everything I write and do can be found here -

She shouldn't have done that - Revised (M+/F, beaten, nc, anal, suffocated, snuff)

She grabbed violently at the plastic bag over her head, screaming and panicking, as several men tore at her clothes. She didn’t know what was going on, why they had attacked her. She had been walking home, minding her own business, and listening to music when it had started. A thick plastic bag had been pulled over her head as she was jerked into an alley.

She tried to scream, of course, but someone hit her gut, punching her again and again. She had tried to double up, but what had to be multiple people held her up as she retched bile against the thick dark plastic, smearing it all over her face. She kicked as she was lifted up, heard a door open, and then it slammed shut, right before her body was tossed to the ground. Everything went even blacker for a moment as her head bounced off the floor, her body momentarily limp and dead to the outside world.

And then, ripping sounds as her clothes were torn off, her young body groped and manhandled. The stale air in the bag stank of puke as she tried to tear it off. Someone grabbed both her hands and held them tightly and someone else punched her face, making her go limp again.

When her eyes opened again, she was breathing weakly. The bag over her head wasn’t being held tight anymore but her face felt sticky and she tasted copper. Her body hurt as she realized someone was fucking her, raping her, wherever they were at. She just started sobbing as the man grunted and bragged about her tight cunt. He shuddered and filled her with heat, defiling her.

She started to scream again but she was punched once on the side of the head, then several times in the gut. Another man mounted her, folding her legs against her chest, and start pumping in her, slamming as hard as they could. Her back burned against rough concrete and soon, she screamed weak protests as he hammered against her tender cervix. She felt unbearable agony during one thrust that made her feel like she was being torn apart, then they humped faster and came in her. They stood up and let her fall limp.

“Fuck man, what did you do? She’s bloody as fuck!” one of the men said. She didn’t care, she just hurt as she wheezed for air. She felt herself being rolled over onto her bruised belly, someone spitting on her, their finger probing her ass. And then white-hot pain. She wailed all of ten seconds before they slammed her head on the floor. She laid there, sobbing, barely getting any air as her ass was fucked. She didn't move after they came, her body limp, as they complained about the mess she had made. She felt ruined and empty.

It was quiet for a minute and she leaned up, crying, as she pulled off the bag, the light burning her red eyes, wiping the blood and bile off her face. She froze as she saw three men staring at her, zipping up as if to leave. No one moved for a long moment, then one of the dirty-looking men sighed.

“You really should have kept that bag on honey,” he said as he stepped toward her. She screamed and felt his punch as the bag was pulled back over. It was tight now, much tighter than before, as someone hit her gut again and again. She couldn’t breathe as the bag dug into her throat, crushing it. She kicked her legs wildly, thrashing, as she felt pressed between the man moving under her and one getting on top of her. She felt them thrust in, crushing her between the two of them. She clawed at one of them, at the bag, but she couldn’t get any air. She kicked harder, clawing uselessly at the bag that was too thick. Things started to get hazy and she couldn’t focus anymore. She knew the men were in her, fucking her, but she couldn’t feel anything. She wanted to cry. She wanted her teddy bear. She wanted to go home. And then, she wanted nothing ever again.

The man under her felt hot piss run over his cock and he exploded in her, watching her body go completely limp. He pulled his cock out of her bloody cunt as the other man finished in her ass, wiping any blood on her torn clothes. He pulled off her bag and despite the broken nose and bloody mouth, despite the pallor of her face, she was beautiful. The other guys would complain, but he was glad she had seen them. They dumped bleach on and in her, wrapped her up, and tossed her in the trash. He smiled as he walked out on the street, sated. For now.

If you enjoy my work, everything I write and do can be found here -

Cunt, not Angela - Revised (M+/F, kidnapped, beaten, nc, dehumanization, scat, prostitution, snuff)

“What is your name?” her captor asked. It was a game they played every day. She looked up at him, answering the same as she did each day. It was the only defiance she could offer as he barely fed her, regularly beat her, and constantly raped her.

“Angela,” she said, right before he pulled back his fist and punched her right in the nose. Blood exploded and he drew back, punching her right eye and the side of her head. She toppled over and tried to crawl away, but she was chained to the floor in his basement where he had kept her for an unknown amount of days. A kick to her ribs and she doubled up, whimpering and sobbing. Then he mounted her, fucking her against the rough concrete until he dumped his load in her cunt. No, her pussy. She had a vagina. She wasn’t ever going to use his word.

“Your name is cunt. That is all you are, a warm set of cunts, cunt.” He then kicked her one more time and left, turning out the lights. She sobbed in the dark, her body in agony. In the dark the hours blended together. She felt so much despair. Her only hope was his promise of taking her to the city. She might escape then. She hadn’t left the basement in at least 2 months she figured, maybe more. She wondered if anyone was looking for her anymore. She wondered if they’d even recognized her.

She had been a healthy, athletic 120 pounds, a trim runner, with long blond hair, blue eyes, and perky 34C breasts. She knew she only weighed 100 pounds now as he beat her if she weighed an ounce more. She got no exercise unless countless rapes counted as exercise. Mostly she ate cum, piss, and dog food. As for hair, the first thing he’d done was shave her head. Sometimes he’d put wigs on her, he loved bright vivid colors, but then, he’d take them off afterward. Every bit of hair on her body had been shaved. Her prior pale skin was often more bruised or bloodied than white, especially her face. Her nose had been broken repeatedly, lips busted, she’d lost two teeth, and the headaches. She didn’t like to think about the damage the repeated head blows had done. Some days, it was a struggle to remember “before”.

Later the door opened, and he mounted her, washed her with a hose after, and let her eat some actual, honest to god, real food. He told her tomorrow would be a special day, they were going to the city. She nodded, being extra submissive. She even offered to please him orally and she did, at least until he decided he’d rather piss down her throat, but she took that too. Make him let down his guard and escape from this hell. He turned out the lights and she laid down, sleepy suddenly as everything went black and she couldn’t open her eyes any longer.

When she woke again, she was confused. It was loud, there was a bright light coming from her right on the wall, and the sound of fucking and moaning was around her. She was shaking on the floor, a hard floor but not rough concrete. There was a man over her, not her captor, grunting as he thrust in her, again and again. The light focused and it was a movie being projected on the wall, some young woman getting gangbanged and begging for more. There were seats to her left, theater-style ones, and men watching her and the movie.

“Moan, whore!” the man fucking her said, slapping her, as she grunted as he shoved into her, thrusting faster and faster. He spasmed, then came deep in her and stood up. Her captor walked over to her, grabbed her cheeks, pulling her head up.

“Welcome to the big city, cunt. That was number three by the way. We have a very long night planned for you,” he said. Then he shoved her head down hard on the floor, making her dizzy, and another man mounted her. Before long, he was done, and another man flipped her over and pushed into her ass. At one time that would have been a challenge, but her captor had ruined her ass and cunt both, fucking them violently. She bled a lot in her early days, and he’d treat the wounds. And as soon as she healed even a bit, he’d tear into her again. It still hurt to have her ass fucked, and when he was done, he grabbed her head and made her clean his cock. She’d tasted more shit than she had ever thought possible in these past few months.

The next couple of men were rough. One choked her until she passed out, another punched her gut and tits, and when she cried, they only seemed to get more excited. Soon she was given some pills and he had her snort something, making her warm, amped, and sweating. No matter how much she engaged, fucked, or resisted, they treated her the same. A thing, getting no rest as man after man fucked her tits, mouth, ass, or cunt. Several pissed on or in her, she was slapped hundreds of times, her nose started bleeding again, and soon both lips were swollen and bleeding.

Eventually, they wanted more. They fisted her, kicked her, and shoved objects in her, as phones recorded her humiliation. She was made to eat several asses and late in the night, someone sat on her face and shit on her.

As she was being washed off with a water bottle, she begged the man cleaning her to kill her. Instead, he raped her mouth hard against the wall, slamming her head into it brutally with every thrust until she almost blacked out and threw up all over him. Someone shoved a foot into her ass. It was too much. She begged for more, hoping to goad them, and during a brutal fuck, as a man almost crushed her windpipe, she came and blacked out.

Sometime, around 5 AM, she woke. She had been dropping in and out of consciousness ever since the man had choked her and she could barely breathe. They hadn’t slowed down though. Every inch of her was bruised, bleeding, or both. She rolled over and dry heaved as the room spun. She couldn’t think, she could barely move, and when her captor stood over and kicked her bloody, swollen shut cunt, she orgasmed and cried.

“What’s your name?” he asked, standing over her wrecked and ruined body.

“Cunt,” she barely whispered.

“Yes, you are," he said as he walked off and returned a few moments later with a metal prong. She was too tired to ask and expected some kind of shock. She doubted she could even scream. But she did. Before she felt the sear of her flesh, she heard the sizzle and smelled it. She doubled up before they straightened her out. Some cream was put on it and he carried her out the back of the adult theater and tossed her in the trunk of a car. Later that night, she would see her name seared into the skin. CUNT above her cunt. Cunt for a cunt with a cunt. She laughed when she saw it. She cried too, but she laughed.

A month later, she would hear gunshots and the basement would be opened as FBI agents raided what she found out was a farm. They would save her and return her to her family. But it was too late. She couldn’t talk to them. They didn’t understand. One night she tried, confused, to kiss her dad. They didn’t understand what she needed. She wasn’t Angela. Angela was dead. She was cunt. So, she left one night, driving away. She went to a bar, a nasty run-down one, and let several men use her in the toilet. For the first time since her captor died, she had briefly felt something. She started working the streets, and one night she got jumped and raped and came so hard. After that, she knew what she needed and posted about it online. Men paid her well, sometimes, to rape and beat her. Sometimes, they didn’t pay. But she would briefly be alive as cunt, even as they broke her body more and more.

Her family never saw her again, which was probably for the best. The thing that was once Angela and now cunt ended up in California, doing more and more extreme videos and fucks, until one night, a biker gang got out of hand with her. They hadn't even realized they had killed her at first, breaking a rib into her lung as a heavy fat slob of a man crushed her as he raped her ass. She came as she struggled to breathe, more free than she had ever been. Then they tossed her, empty, cold, into a dumpster where she belonged.

They never identified her body, but they knew her name, imprinted on her.


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A fantasy trip to the bar - Revised (rapebaiting, drugged, M+/F, nc, beaten)

She nursed her beer in the ratty bar, her heart fluttering a bit as she glanced around. She’d only been there for a short bit but she was clearly out of place and not the normal clientele. Things had cooled down at her home ever since she’d had the baby. They’d always been an open couple, kinky to the extreme, and while they still had fun, it hadn’t been the same lately. Her husband no longer saw her as a dirty needy cunt, or his little to use. He saw only his wife, the mother of his children, and thus, she felt ignored and abandoned.

That was why she was here. The voices raged in her head, more and more, her neediness building up to near uncontrollable levels. Her own hands and self-abuse were no longer enough and if her husband wouldn’t use her, she’d go elsewhere. It had always been a fantasy, of course. She’d been all but raped a few times, had two CNC encounters, and she knew what it was like to be slapped and even hit. And by god, did she miss it. She missed, however wrong, the feeling of no control, the violence of sex, of having power taken away. She needed to be less, even if only briefly. And so, she sat and drank.

The bartender kept feeding her drinks and she finished them quickly, at first. Then, pacing herself, she glanced around, offering drunk smiles that emboldened a few of the men there. She ignored the first couple, they were too nice. They only wanted to fuck and she could get that anywhere. She was dressed to be raped and nothing less would do. She was still a D cup, if only barely, from her pregnancy. That helped her fill out the too-small black dress nicely. No bra or panties tonight, just the dress and heels and a slim purse with a fake id. She wasn’t crazy, she knew she might be robbed or worse if things went south and she wanted to protect her family. Just cash and an ID and a broken need to be hurt.

The third man, however, was different. He didn’t come up and chat, didn’t ask her name. She knew he was there by his unasked-for hand on her ass, gripping it possessively. She suddenly acted drunker than before, slurring her words, as she playfully slapped at him.

“Hey…watch it, mister,” she said and was surprised by his size. Not that he was some Adonis. He was more like a retired linebacker, now overweight, but you could tell he was once the specimen. Now greasy, a bit smelly, reeking of cigar and stale beer. She found herself instantly wet as the 6’+ 300lb man slid his hand up her back from her ass. She froze, as he grabbed her chin and told her to finish her drink. Hand almost shaking, her nature went into automatic, downing the vodka before she even thought about it. He then turned to the bartender.

“Get the pretty thing here some whiskey,” he said as he sat down by her, resting his hand on her thigh. “Don’t see such pretty things here often,” he said. She stammered, her face flushed, losing control already as her brain dialed down and her need cranked up.

“I’ve already had a few drinks,” she said, trying to limit herself as the shots were set out. He gave her a look that said shut the fuck up as he handed her the shot, so she drank it, her throat burning. He then offered her the other shot and she shook her head, before he grabbed her chin again, firmly.

“Drink it pretty thing,” was all he said, but with again, a look that dared her to challenge him. She did, noticing it was bitter, and the smile he gave her as she finished it. He stroked her leg as he talked briefly, giving her his name, and telling her about his day. Never once in the short conversation did he even ask her name or what she did. She felt a bit fuzzy and clamped her thighs as she felt his hand slide up them, and when she spoke, he kissed her deeply. He took the opportunity of the closeness to jam his hand up against her cunt and finger her briefly, roughly. He grabbed her head and pulled her head back, just smiling at her rapidly dulling eyes.

“Just what I thought,” he said, pulling her unsteadily up. “Follow me pretty thing,” he said, and she did. He gripped the back of her neck and guided her along to the bathroom. They walked in and she tried to tell him no. It was a crappy men’s room, with no stalls, just a toilet and urinal. He locked the door and shoved her onto the toilet, as everything swam now. Panicked, she slapped at him as she tried to stand, but he backhanded her to the toilet and almost fell off it. Then he unzipped and drove his cock into her mouth, hand painfully tight in her hair.

“You know what you came here for bitch, no backing out now,” he said cruelly. His free hand pawed at her chest, mauling it, making her breasts spray. “Holy fuck, you’re lactating!” he said, laughing at her. He sucked on her breasts as she cried, drooling and coughing up some, when he stood her up. He shoved her against the rough wooden wall and she felt him press against her wet cunt.

“Co…Condom, please,” she whimpered, and he grabbed her head and slammed her cheek against the wall.

“Fuck you, you stupid cunt. You wanted to get fucked and you’re getting it,” he said, and he thrust into her 5’6”, 110lb frame, smashing her between him and the wall with violent thrusts. To her shame, she had her first orgasm almost immediately. That only encouraged him, rutting into her, shoving her about, mashing her swollen tits, until he came deep in her cunt. He pulled out and shoved her to the floor and she hit the toilet, clinging to it. Then he grabbed her hair again and shoved it in her mouth as his cum leaked onto the floor. His cock cleaned, he grabbed her purse and left. She clung to the toilet, adrenaline fading, breathing raggedly, as everything slowly lost focus.

Images were all she got after that. Serious pain woke her once, the floor wet and cold. Warmth on her cheek, a few blurry faces grunting over her. Then, reality came back to her when her face was submerged in cold water, jerking her briefly awake and in more pain. Then nothing.

She woke later, confused, in a dark bedroom. She got up slowly, dizzy, found the bathroom, and threw up, her body aching and hurting. She used the toilet and the pain was almost unbearable, her stool bloody. She jerked as the light was turned on, the large man from before standing before her.

“Awake, are we? I was surprised to find you in the bathroom, looks like you had quite the fun night. Fuck, you look like used-up shit. Don’t get up,” he said as he pulled out his cock and pissed on her, too weak and tired to fight. He finished in her mouth, then pulled out, reaching down to feel her cunt.

“You’re already wet,” was all he said as he grabbed her by the hair and jerked her off the toilet, throwing her on the bed. He pinned her with his weight and shoved inside her injured ass, fucking her violently as she screamed herself raw until she was too weak to resist, cumming once again before he did. When he was done, he pulled out and made her clean his dirty and bloody cock. After that, he gave her a pill, and soon everything was fuzzy again. She remembered him hitting her, fucking her, choking her, and then nothing.

She finally woke, her body shaking, freezing cold. Her eyes fluttered, and a man was over her, filthy, fucking her cunt in some alley. She jerked weakly under him as he finished and got up, leaving her half-naked and alone in the alley, where she had been dumped. She got up, her body bruised, swollen, and aching, as she finally got someone to walk over and make a quick call. Thirty minutes later, her husband picked her up. She was too ashamed to say anything until they got home.

“You didn’t even think about me or our baby, did you?” was all he said. She shook her head no, ashamed and broken. She didn’t even see the slap before it sent her to the ground. “It seems I’ve been neglecting you, is that it?” He asked. Before she could say anything, his belt was free. She screamed and cried as he gave her what she needed. He put on a condom before fucking her. It wasn’t loving, he pounded her until he came, not once caring if she did. That alone almost caused her to orgasm. He told her things were going to change. If she was pregnant, she was going to keep it. If she had an STD that was serious, she was going to be thrown out. Regardless, she was going to learn her place.

The tests came back, no serious STDs though she did get the clap and had to take medicine. After that, her old love was back, a bit angrier perhaps, harder, but he no longer saw just his wife and the mother to their child, but a needy cunt that must be hurt. And once again, she was happy.

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Changing myself for him - Revised (M+/F, manipulation, consensual abuse, beaten, snuff)

It started so small, so simple, in the beginning. Little things, that didn’t matter but made him so happy. A little bit of makeup, smoking a cigarette, dressing up as a little girl. Little things, like I said.

And you know what, I loved doing them for him. The clothes he bought me, the inhalation of smoke, being naughty, being trashy, being anything but me. Pleasure and escape, all wrapped up in one beautiful package.

Later, I would learn other escapes, pain, use, impact play, choking, dropping out; more and more things that both he and I enjoyed. All the while he kept pushing me, my limits, further and further. Changing me.

At first, little things, once again. A small gemmed plug. It was cute, and wearing it made anal later in the day easier. It made me feel special, it made me feel sexy. It made him happy. Thus, it made me happy. Just a little change.

The dress-up and role-play continued. I no longer dressed little, no. It was more than that, it was now truly an escape. I didn’t just dress up little, I WAS little. Each time feeling smaller and smaller, younger and younger, safer and needier.

He wanted piercings. Never ordered, never demanded, but hinted and I knew it would make him happy, so once again, I changed for him. A small change. I got my hood pierced for him and he loved it and thus, I loved it. I truly did as it made sex better and more intense. Even walking upstairs felt better now.

Not everyone approved of my changes. It caused problems and concerns. My newfound love of pain, of intensity, drew questions and doubts about the marks and bruises left behind. They couldn’t understand how happy they made us. So I told stories, made excuses, and cut ties. It was better that way. Eventually, I moved in with him. No more commutes, no more long periods without my reason and joy.

That, of course, led to more changes and bigger asks of me. He worked on my body, my “capacity”, enhancing both what my ass and my cunt could take. I don’t even remember the day I stopped calling it my pussy. There was a day there when I called it both, depending on my mood, but no more. A small change. Toys, fingers, and larger and larger plugs, enhancing me for him. Making me better. More what he wanted and needed. And that made me feel more complete as well. Until one day, my fist fit in my cunt and later, his would as well. The same for my ass, though that took much longer. But now my holes can be used by him however he wants, cock or fist, both can use me.

Another small change was his sharing of me. First, it was just random cocks fucking my mouth at bars or adult theaters. Then his friend, then his friends. They didn’t get just my mouth, but all my holes, to use as often and as hard as they wanted. It made him happy and thus made me happy.

We escalated, again and again, rough sex, rape play, and CNC. Limits faded away. What once was simple slaps became more. Slaps became backhands, backhands became punches, and like an addict, I needed more and more just to function, to feel. I no longer wanted to be choked, I no longer wanted to be edged along the edge of consciousness. I wanted to feel the black crawl in and fade away, passing out as he pounded me. Just another small change.

I worked out most days, losing weight, getting fit, getting stronger and faster and slimmer. More endurance meant I could take more, which pleased him and thus, pleased me. He’d smile just the right way that made my cunt wet when he remarked on my fitness.

I got more piercings as well, my nipples, first bars, then when healed, rings. It made him so happy and I wanted, I needed, to be better and better for him, it’s what he wanted but he never demanded. I simply gave it to him. Some might have called it a spiral, but I called it small changes, just another one here, another one there. When he wanted more piercings, I got them. A small stud on my nose, a lip ring, my tongue pierced. All made me better for him, all simple changes.

The tattoo came after that, “Daddy’s Girl”, right over my cunt. I started my sleeve then. Around then was when I dropped out of college. I had stopped lying to myself by then that that was what I wanted. Instead, I took care of his home, and his friends, and sometimes, his debts. I worked sometimes in other ways, but it was ok. It was a small change and it made him happy and thus, I was happy as well.

Then I gave him my birth control and he, or one of his friends, got me pregnant. A beautiful girl. 6 months after that, I was pregnant again. I stayed pregnant, raising his children, educating them, raising them, loving them.

And when he started bringing younger girls home, well, I played with them because it made him happy and if he didn’t want me to join in, that was ok too. His friends still needed release and even if they were more violent than before, I could take it. Sometimes it meant I got hurt bad, but it made them happy and thus, I was happy.

I made videos for them. I played with their pets and when they were angry, I let them vent on me. And it made me happy. And when he started hurting me, breaking me, branding me, burning me, and cutting me, I loved it because I knew he loved me and needed me. His darkness had grown along with mine and he knew I would do anything for him and I did. No limits. Concussions, broken noses, and black eyes brought orgasms to me and all his friends, but when he said he wanted to move on, I understood. I just asked him to finish the job before he took in a new girl, half my age. We made love one more time as he used my fucked out holes and when the cord tightened, I came so many times and he did as well. Just one last change. And then, I was still. But he was happy, and thus, so I would have been.

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My choices never really matters, part 3 of 3 - Revised (M/F, beaten, nc, tied, burned, cut, choked, masturbation)

I sat and waited in front of the laptop for his call. He had sent me an email about work and since I’d lost my job, I’d pretty much burned through most of what hadn't been robbed. Without something fast, I wouldn’t be able to pay rent. Not that I cared too much about that. The money helped me get things that made me feel or go places where I could find men who could do the same. I knew I was spiraling but it didn’t matter anymore. Only the rush did and that was never long enough. That’s what I was after more than the money. I knew his job would make me feel. Finally, five minutes late, the screen flashed as he contacted me on Skype. He didn’t want to call anymore, he wanted to see me. See what had happened since we last talked a week ago. I was a mess and he knew I would be. I hurt so fucking bad all over but I knew I was beautiful. Finally beautiful.

His shadowed image appeared on the screen. In the corner, I could see my own battered form.

“Damn cunt, are you going to be ok?” he asked. I didn’t mistake his question for concern. I simply knew he had gotten me a job and wanted me to be up for it. I told him I was and he told me to turn on the lights in the bedroom and spin around slowly for him. I did and grew wetter by the minute. I knew he was recording all this. Beyond the previous injuries and marks, I had added to my collection. My lips were swollen bad; split and busted. My nose was broken and just a bit crooked now. My eye was swollen shut. I’d had bad headaches for the past 3 days.

My body, on the other hand, was painted in a swirling mass of blacks and blues and yellows. My back had several fist-sized bruises and handprints, along with some very thin crisscrossed scars that were still healing. My sides were much the same. My ass had several burns, including one on my sphincter that still hurt badly any time I moved. Where it wasn’t burned, it was bruised. Then I showed him my front, light bruising to my neck, several Band-Aids on my tits, and a couple more burns and cuts on them than before. My belly was bruised extremely bad and still hurt. Next, I showed him my legs. Besides some bruises and burns there, they were mostly fine. But my inner thighs were bruised badly and my cunt hurt. I felt so alive because of that hurt. There was a burn on my clit, swollen and angry. Above my cunt was carved “Whore” and my lips were swollen and dark.

“I’m alive” is all I told him, wincing as I sat back down.

“For how much longer at this rate cunt?” he asked, and then hand waved it away. “Never mind that. I want all the details, but first, in one week you’re to go to the address I’m sending you. Memorize and then delete the email. They’ll pay you there, five grand. But don’t do anything beyond getting drunk until then. Otherwise, I don’t get my cut. Understand cunt?”

“Yes sir,” I answered, meekly. The money sounded wonderful, but I didn’t trust him to get me that much. I only trusted him to ensure that I felt something besides gray. I didn’t want to avoid feeling that long as my thoughts had grown very dark lately, but things had gotten bleak and beyond my control no matter what I did.

“Ok, tell me about the guy from the bar. When did he visit you again?” he asked. Again, I heard the telltale sound of him unzipping his pants, the squirt of lotion or oil. The sound as he started to jerk off to my so-called life. I’d have laughed if I could feel that way anymore. I had gray and the ecstasy of pain. Nothing else.

“He didn’t come back for a few days. For myself, I was either home in pain, hurting myself, hitting myself, choking myself, or out at the bar. That night he was waiting for me. I had been at the bar. I’d let guys buy me drinks all night, blew a few of them, got some pills, and headed home about 2 am after some guy had reamed my ass behind the bar.”

“You’re pathetic, do you know that cunt?” he asked rhetorically. Despite him not really wanting an answer, I whimpered a small yes. “Did you even use protection? Or did you come back to your apartment leaking cum out your ass?”

“No protection. I know I should have but…”

“The risk, you’re just a drug addict for use and pain,” he said, jerking harder as if he wanted to punctuate that statement with his cock.

“I guess. I don’t know,” I said, lying. I knew what I was, what I had been doing. I just couldn’t stop myself anymore, just a numb cunt watching a dark passenger drive me off a cliff. “So, yeah, I walked back a mess, cum leaking out of me, bruises mostly faded to an ugly yellow. But as soon as I stumbled in, he jumped me. No, jumped isn’t the right word. He grabbed me and hurled me to the ground. Then he kicked me, again and again. I rolled on my back and he kept kicking at my sides and when I protected them, he stomped on my stomach, again and again. I thought my guts were going to burst out and it hurt so bad I actually wanted to live, so it could go on forever. Then he reared back and kicked my head and everything went blank.” I went silent, remembering that darkness that had enveloped me. A complete absence of anything.

“That’s twice you’ve been knocked completely out in about a week cunt. How’s that brain? Damaged?” he asked, jerking off harder as he chuckled at his play on words. He wasn’t too far off, however.

“I’ve had some issues, confusion, and dizziness. Headaches a lot,” I said. I wanted to cry at the damage I’d endured to my body, but I couldn’t. The pain was the only reason I felt anything. The constant drip-drip kept me moving to the next high and through the next bout of gray. “Anyway, I woke up strapped down on the kitchen table. My wrists and ankles were all tied down with some sort of Velcro strap shit. The light from the ceiling fan was blinding and I felt all sorts of wrong. In my head I mean. Thinking hurt more than my body did at that moment. He had stripped me and when he saw me waking up, he came over. I started screaming as he got closer because while I couldn’t focus too well, I knew what a soldering iron looked like.”

“You’re burning out fast, aren’t you cunt?” he asked. I noticed that he had jerked off faster when he heard about that.

“Yes,” I said quietly. “He was already hard and just shoved in my pussy, fucking me with ease. I don’t think he had lubed me. I was just already that wet. At first, he didn’t say anything, just fucking me, grunting, eyes full of hate for me. Then he lowered the iron, poking my body with it as I screamed. If I lived in a decent neighborhood, someone would have called the police. No one did. He burned my arms, my sides, and my tits. Slowly marking me, enjoying my body convulsing on his cock. I almost blacked out when I came and then he unstrapped me and flipped me over. My body instinctively just balled up, the pain overwhelming me. The smell of burnt skin permeated the small kitchen. It was the most horrible and wonderful pain in my life. He then strapped me down and fucked my ass. It was still gaped and leaking cum from the man at the bar. He then started burning my ass, again, and again, and again. Wailing in pain, clutching his dick tight in my bowels. It wasn’t too long before I came again and he filled my ass right after. Then he kept burning me until he touched my puckered cum leaking hole itself. I nearly tore free of the restraints then, screaming bloody murder. I never felt so alive. Is this what the life of a candle is?”

He chuckled at that, jerking off faster. “Candles burn bright and fade away cunt. There was and will never be a bright moment in your life. Just darkness,” he said. Go on.” I sighed and continued.

“After that, he unstrapped and beat me. He held my head almost tenderly in his arms as I sobbed, and then would just randomly punch me in the face. Tender, then pain. Pain, then tender. I was on the floor, sobbing, curled up in his arms. My nose was bleeding bad, busted, same as my lips as I looked up at him in awe. He was my God, Sir, giving my life meaning. I wanted so much to die there or somehow live forever in that moment with him. He’d stroke my hair, my face, and then another pop. Another explosion of meaning and need fulfilled.” I leaned over, sobbing suddenly, lost in my recollection, overwhelmed by it all. This was my life now and I was disgusted by my need. I touched my injured nose and the pain made those thoughts of self-doubt about my life go away. I pushed on it and cried and swallowed the high the endorphins gave me.

“Eventually, he dropped me and left me on the floor, kicking my body a few times. He ransacked my kitchen and got out a steak knife and an ice pick. Then he rejoined me on the floor. I pissed myself as he approached. Even if my body craved him, a primal part of my mind was screaming no, lost among the cacophony of pain I was happily drowning in.”

“Is that why you have Band-Aids on your tits cunt?” I nodded on the webcam and peeled one of the bandages away. A small red spot on my damaged chest shone back at him.

“He pushed the pick into me several times, only my tits. He said he didn’t want me dead but that was a lie. He just didn’t want to go to jail for it. Otherwise, I know I wouldn’t be here. It doesn’t slide in at first you know. Despite how sharp it was, if you push slowly, it hurts more. The flesh of your tit dents in, more and more, stretching inward until it finally breaks. Then, it’s scary how easily it goes through you. He licked my tears and kissed me as I screamed. He tasted my blood, on my face, on my chest. My offering to him.” I brought out my Hitachi and pressed it against my bruised cunt, turning it on. Both of us were getting off on my misery and pain now.

“He was ready after that, cutting me some, mostly my tits. Marking me, he said. He punched me again, my body, getting up and stomping my cunt until I thought I was going to be destroyed. I came once during that, I think. Then he slammed into me, fucking me as he choked me, slamming me against the floor again and again. He only slowed down once, when I was about to pass out. That’s when he used the iron on my clit. I orgasmed and I was so full of life even as my flame was flickering out. Then he tossed it aside and choked me and I tried to kiss him desperately as he did so. I don’t know why. Maybe one final gentle moment. I saw the look in his eyes, I know what was coming. I embraced it and the world went away and I was happy as I disappeared forever,” I said, cumming and sobbing hysterically. I listened as he came as well, white flashing up in the air as he got off.

“But you didn’t disappear cunt, did you?” he said, panting, wiping his hand clean in the shadows.

“No, I woke up and he was gone. I hurt so bad I could barely breathe and struggled to crawl to the shower. I turned it on and half wished I had a tub to lower my head into. I didn’t though. I’m not brave enough. I need to hurt, forever. Later, when I finally got out of the shower, I saw what he had carved onto me. Everything he did to me, including writing that above my cunt, was putting the truth of me on my body. He wanted me to be the only me I ever have truly been. My body is what I have always been now. Pain. Can you believe Sir, I’m happy. I know I shouldn’t be, but I touch all my hurts and I’m finally happy.”

“I believe it cunt. You’re sick and abuse is the medicine you need. The only thing you can and will ever understand. I’m proud of you. It’ll be perhaps the only time someone will ever be proud of you, but I am.” I started bawling again as he said that because I knew he was sincere. I glanced up as he snapped his fingers and yelled at me to pay attention.

“Remember cunt, memorize that address and then destroy the email. Do that and go there and you will get paid and I promise you, you’ll feel more alive than you ever have before.” I trembled as he said that, feeling half-insane as I nodded yes. I was already numbing to the gray again, knowing I was going to be lost in it until then, outside of the touches I gave my broken body myself. I opened the email and saw that it was not local. He had attached another email with plane tickets. I saw that address and I felt numb. I knew that address, had lived there, had conceived, and miscarried there.

At long last, I was going home.

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My choices never really mattered, part 2 of 3 - Revised (M/F, nc, beaten, knife play, abused, peed on, robbed, burned)

“So, has it been everything you expected cunt?” the man on the phone asked. As he did so, I heard the unzipping of his pants and could almost feel him panting as he stroked his cock. I felt demeaned for some reason by that. He was already jerking off and I hadn’t even spoken yet.

“Yes and no,” I muttered weakly into the phone. “I expected some things to get out of hand maybe, but I don’t know. I didn’t expect it to fuck up my day-to-day life so badly.” I started crying at that a bit and I took a long swig of the bottle of vodka I was working on. I already knew it wouldn’t be the only bottle tonight.

“Awww, poor cunt. Is your pathetic excuse of a life falling apart?” he said, mocking me. “Turn on the camera, let me see you cunt.” So I turned on the webcam on the laptop. My room was a mess behind me as I had all but stopped doing any form of maintenance for it or me. It didn’t matter anymore. I didn’t matter anymore. Everything was only a long period of gray until the next man came. I centered the camera on me and heard him moan on the phone. I could see my image on the screen; he wasn’t going to show his face. My face, however, had seen better days. My full lips were fuller now and busted on one side, where my lip had been split. My nose was tender as well. My right cheek was bruised heavily and scraped where I had been thrown into my wall. And my left eye was all but swollen shut. I looked like shit but that was the price to feel alive.

“Someone or someones has fucked you up proper haven’t they cunt?” the masturbating man asked. “How long before the first rape after I dumped your info on the internet?”

“It was only a week,” I said. That had been only two weeks ago. It had taken just one week for my hard-fought life to be destroyed and me along with it. The first few days had been hard. I had expected someone to jump me at any moment. But no one did. I told him as much, detailing everything. It had taken a total of 6 days for the first man to make his move. Whether he had waited and watched me first or did it on impulse, I didn't know. I just knew I came home to find my apartment trashed and ransacked. Some money was stolen, and everything went through. I was raped and violated without him even touching me. And then, as I tried to clean up, he returned. I never saw his face; he was very careful about that.

“What did he do to you cunt?”

“He hit me from behind, hard,” I told him. “That took pretty much all the fight out of me. I almost dropped right then, and he gave me this,” I said, pointing to my swollen and bruised cheek, “by throwing me into the wall”. He hiked up my skirt, held my neck tight, and shoved in me.”

“Were you wet?” the man asked, pumping harder.

“Soaked,” I admitted, ashamed. “He gripped my neck tighter and tighter, smashing my face against the wall. I don’t know how long he fucked me like that but it wasn’t long. I was barely conscious when he came in me, and after he slammed my head into the wall, that was it. I woke later, concussed, confused, and robbed. All the money in my wallet, my cards, and my car keys were gone. All for a thrill that only lasted a few minutes. I should have canceled my cards right then and there, but instead, I masturbated and slapped my bruised cheek until I was a sobbing and orgasmic mess.”

“Did you hate yourself cunt at that moment?” he asked. More thumping of his hand on his cock in the background of the phone.

“No. I probably should have, but I just felt sad and empty afterward. The next day I called and canceled my cards, and got the bus. I didn’t report the car. Not that it mattered. None of my choices matter or have mattered.”

“Quite right cunt. Go on. What happened next?”

“Work, riding the bus into work. The glances at my bruised face. It was hard, being exposed in that way. I’d kept my head down, deep in the gray so no one knew me well enough to ask if I was ok. No one cared enough about me. Not until the next day, when a man came asking for me. I didn’t know him, but he told me to come with him. I expected to be led out of the office and raped, but no. He took me to an office bathroom. It was over quickly and in more ways than one. He shoved me down on the toilet and skull fucked me, pinching and pulling my nipples through my clothes, making me cry, and yell. If I had been anywhere else, no one would have known or noticed.”

“But your co-workers did, didn’t they?”

“Yes. The ones that didn’t hear me gagging, choking, and moaning in pain, saw me after. I got fired on the spot. See, he wasn’t content to cum in my mouth. No, he pulled out and came on my face and hair and chest. I wanted to wash up but he wouldn’t let me. Instead, I was meek and empty and so fucking alive as he dragged me out and just left me there, without a word. I had cum dripping from my hair and chin as everyone stared at me. The manager came out and told me to get the fuck out of there and never come back. I’m living off my savings right now, what little I have.”

“And then what cunt? Whoring? Stripping? Maybe I can help,” he said, grunting harder. I could tell he was getting close.

“Help how?” I asked, but he told me to keep talking. “Ok. After I got home, fired, I just got drunk. Every day, at home and the bar. Every night at the bar I ended up in a bathroom stall, getting railed by some drunken bastard or two. Brief moments of life before drowning myself in the gray again. Until two days ago.”

“What happened two days ago cunt?”

“I was at the bar, drunk, around 11 pm or maybe midnight. I had brought a guy into the small dirty bathroom and had been blowing him when he pulled me up. He had already given me some pills and a few bumps of coke. I was flying high, smiling when he pulled me up. I didn’t see the dark in him until he punched me right in the nose. I stumbled back and fell on the toilet seat as my nose gushed blood everywhere. He then grabbed my head, told me to stop my wailing, and that he was going to make me pretty. Then he punched me right off the toilet onto the floor. Not that I noticed, I was out. Right until he pissed on me. Then he dragged me through the bar, bloody and reeking of piss. No one said or stopped him. They knew I wasn’t worth it. Me? I was soaked. He brought me back to my place, without asking me where I lived, and just fucked and beat the shit out of me.”

“Show me cunt,” he said, panting hard. So I did. I stood in front of the webcam and stripped. My body was tight but perhaps a bit too thin. My breasts were covered in bruises and a couple of cigar burns. My body and sides were just a mass of black and blue and yellow, with multiple cuts and burns on me. None too deep or serious, all would heal with at most minor scars. Maybe.

“He liked my burns on my arms, so he gave me ones on my chest. He cut me with my kitchen knife. Small cuts, on my tits, and he gently spread my cunt open and cut me, not deep, but on the inside. Then he fucked me bloody on and off all that night. The last thing I remember was him deep in my ass, punching me, again and again, and then one hit on my head, then another, and then…it was much later. The next day. He was gone, and I was a wreck.”

“Are you pretty? Be honest cunt,” he said. So close now, grunting hard.

“I’m beautiful, I feel alive, and he’s coming for me tomorrow,” I said, crying hard.

“And what is he going to do cunt?” he asked. As he asked, he grunted hard and I could tell he had orgasmed.

“I don’t know,” I said as I finished off the first fifth of vodka for the night. “I don’t know. And that’s why I finally feel alive.”

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