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 need was fed (MM/F, impact play, consensual abuse, humil, scat, piss play, piss drinking, DDlg)

Last week was rough. Hit after hit, I felt rejection after rejection stab me in the heart. Reddit spit in my face and didn't even give me an excuse. Copyright violations, as if hundreds of subreddits don't do more daily. BDSMLR did the same. After years with them, they looked at me and told me to fuck off. BDSMLR didn't even lie, I'm not worth a reason. Just denied and rejected.

I thought I was doing well, keeping myself busy. But then it caught up with me. I got angry, almost violently so, fury and anxiety combined to rage inside me. Thursday, I screamed it out and cried myself to sleep. Purged myself. Friday started and I felt better. It was a good day and then I found out about my BDSMLR. It was the straw that broke my back. My good mood was gone and all I felt was rejection. Thursday night I had asked to hurt, but Jack had told me no. I had punched pillows and yelled until my voice was raw, then held tightly when he went to bed. But Friday, it broke me.

I held it together throughout the day, if only barely. Shaking, pretending to be proper, not just a broken cunt. I took care of the kids and held myself together. But I let Jack know my cup was running over. I needed more than being held. I needed more than to cry it out. I needed a release or I would explode. He understood, bless him, and told me he would. That eased the raging monster inside me, dampened the voices, and gave me the strength I needed to wait a bit longer.

It was a long day for them, summer always is. The kids played, I chewed my nails and checked on the crockpot. Eventually, two trucks pulled in, and two men came into the house. My Owner, my husband, Jack, and his best friend Tony. I belong to both, always free access, free use, just not publicly or in the open. One of our many dirty secrets that helped keep me sane. Tony took the kids, entertained them, their big stupid big kid of an "uncle", pretending to be a monster and chasing them about. Their squeals should have made me happy, but I was struggling. Instead, Jack took me to the bathroom and used me as a toilet. His cock was warm, limp, and salty from sweat as he relieved himself in my mouth. Warm urine poured down my throat and I took his offering, holding his legs. Just happy to have him home.

Then, instead of showering, he cuddled with me in bed. I hear the occasional laughter outside and the grill starting up. Tony is cooking burgers, no doubt. Held tightly, I just cry, shuddering against Jack. His arms, his musk, keeping me safe as I tremble. I could lay there forever with him, but I can't. Eventually, I get up as he takes a quick shower. I get out plates and buns and prep the green bean sides that I had cooked in the crock pot. I kissed Tony and thanked him for watching the kids. He didn't mind, always happy to play with the little ones. It's so much easier when you only have to do the fun parts with kids and never deal with the bad parts.

We settle down the kids and eat and enjoy the backyard. It's warm outside but not too bad. The kids play and chased lightning bugs as I got us drinks and shared a cigar with the guys. Eventually, it's bathtime for the children. I helped them wash and read them stories until they passed out. I checked that the baby monitor was on, then headed downstairs with more drinks to our sound-baffled basement.

Downstairs, the fun started almost instantly. My men knew I needed to feel, to have my mind made quiet. I had barely touched the last step before they were on me. Both men gripped me tightly, pushing and pulling me. They took the drinks from me. Most were put on the table, but the vodka was poured down my throat and spilled all over me, as I was stripped and shoved to the ground. I screamed as the bottle was shoved in my ass briefly, vodka burning my bowels. Everything was a blur of slaps, bites, kisses, and chokes. Fingers were shoved in me, my mouth, gagging me, and pumped in my holes. I stroked them, overwhelmed, but I was fucking happy. My brain should have been racing but it's shut off, quiet.

I'm shoved against the wall, hands over my head. They hit me, in my gut, again and again. I can't drop as I'm held up. I'm screaming but it's primal. I could drown in the abuse. The use. I felt alive. My tits are mashed by large hands and I pumped their cocks as fists kissed my body. Then I was spun, face against the wall, standing as I was taken. I'm not fucked or made love to. I'm a half-drunk set of holes, a breathing masturbatory aid, exactly what I needed to be. They aren't gentle with me. Fingers raked my back as I was smashed into the wall. After hot cum spurted into my ass, I was tossed to the floor. Legs folding in half, pressed against my chest, I was pounded harder and harder against the thinly covered concrete. I ached beautifully. And then, white filled my cunt.

Noise on the baby monitor, someone was up who shouldn't be. Jack went to go check on them. I was left alone with Tony. I was happy about that as I was hungry. I was starving and I wanted to be fed. I didn't care how. I told him I wanted him to hurt me. He laughed and that made me rage. I called him a pussy, a little bitch, and spit on him. I saw his own fury then, barely contained and I slapped at him. He caught my arm, twisted it, as his fingers dug into my flesh and his fist raised up. I stood there shaking and hoped to be dashed to the floor. His hand shook almost as much as I was, then he put his hand down and shoved me to the floor.

"You want to be hurt cunt?" he asked me.

"Fucking pussy," was all I said back. I expected a punch but instead, he grabbed my nose. I screamed and then he slapped down on his hand that held my nose. Then he did that again. He balled his fist in my hair and held it tight with no give to move my head. He put his fist right over my nose, maybe an inch from it, and bopped me. Once, twice, thrice, then slapped me even more. He repeated that again and I was sobbing. My nose hurt and then he popped me good and laughed at me as I held my nose. I was shaking and crying when I felt the sticky red leak out. I was angry and wanted to push him until he shoved me off the cliff.

"You're a fucking piece of shit, Tony," I told him as I half wiped, half smeared the blood from my nose on my face and hand. He asked me if I was crazy. The answer to that at the moment was probably yes, but I kept on. "I just want to be fucking nothing. Treat me like shit you fucking piece of shit. You wanna shit on me again? Do it, fucking do it!" I screamed. Or something like it, because at that moment, I was probably a little crazed.

And Tony, it was like something unlocked in him. He was suddenly unchained, grabbing me by the neck and shaking the hell out of me. Shoving me flat on the floor, slapping my face, my bloody nose, again and again. Jack came downstairs and Tony told him what I had said.

"Go for it then. She wants to be shit, she can be shit," he said, standing back. I didn't notice it then, but he actually got some cleaning supplies out as Tony slapped me and punched my gut before placing his knees on my hands. I was thrashing under him, screaming and writhing, wrenching my muscles. Tony? Tony just sat there with a stupid look on his face. And then, I realized, he wasn't thinking but concentrating. Adjusting himself over me. Raising up, not over my chest. I screamed and thrashed harder. I shouldn't have.

The heat was the first thing that hit me. Wet, thick, earthy. I guess I should have been thankful for that. On my neck, then my chin, and I should have stopped screaming. I didn't. Thick, dense warmth. Above my chin...

The second thing that hit me was the smell, briefly. Because I was screaming. Then the taste got me instead. I know shit, I've tasted it. I've licked it as I've rimmed asses and sucked clean dirty cocks. But as in all things, there comes a difference with volume. No amount of drool or slobber can cover up a clump. I gagged immediately but Tony spun around and held my mouth. I slapped at him as my face was smeared with it, as he reminded me I wanted to be shit. Eventually, my gag reflex failed. Out through my nose and mouth, I got sick, curling up on my side. Tony, for his part, was mad I had got sick on him and gave me a kick on my side. Whatever mess was on his hand was smeared on me. My chest and my face, the rest wiped clean with my hair. And then, I was kicked again.

And again.

And again.

Don't picture kicks that would have sent me flying across the room. Nothing so violent or dramatic. I think, mostly, they (as Jack had joined in), didn't want to get any shit on their hands. Kicking me and my disgusting body as I gagged and retched. I sobbed, I bawled, and I couldn't get the taste out of my mouth or the smell off of me. I was literal shit. And it was fucking cathartic. Feet hit my ass, my side, shoved my head, slapped against my hanging teats, as I shook violently. I rubbed my soaked cunt and just screamed on all fours as I was kicked about. And then, they just stopped. I didn't think about it. I was too busy all but fisting my cunt.

That was when it started raining. Hot piss on my back, in my hair, as I sobbed harder, even needier, more desperate than ever. I was drowning as I was drenched in not one but two piss streams. I think I was half drunk, but I simply didn't care anymore. Because I shuddered, spasmed, and lost control of my body. I slumped, legs twitching uncontrollably, on my side, opening my mouth for their piss. At that moment, I would have done anything. No line couldn't have been crossed. I was just trembling, every part of me hurt, and I reeked of shit and piss on the padded concrete floor.

And then, I just sobbed. I don't mean a little cry. I don't mean a heavy one. I mean every single frustration, every anxiety, every bit of anger came flooding out of me. I didn't know it, but they started cleaning as I cried and after a minute, Jack picked up my disgusting self and carried me up the stairs. Tony stayed downstairs, cleaning. I clung to Jack. He told me to suck my thumb and I did, safe in his arms. He carried me to our Master bathroom and sat me in the tub, running hot water, but not filling the tub. I held my knees as he pulled the shower head free and hand-washed me, cleaning away the filth. When he told me to open my mouth I did as he hosed it out, shampooed my hair, and massaged my sore skin.

Only after I was clean did he put in bubble bath and filled the tub with warm water. My platypus water stuffie was put in my arms, he kissed me on my forehead, then went downstairs to finish cleaning. My tears stopped as I sucked my thumb and held my stuffie, mind empty, simple, and free. And then, Daddy came up and kissed his baby girl, and I was happy. He washed me with soap and loofa, stroked my head, and touched my ouchies and naughty bits. Then he got me out, dried me off, and carried me to our bed.

There, he gently spread me on the bed. His thumb in my mouth, he entered me, loved me slowly. I wrapped my legs around Daddy, sucked his thumb, felt his love, until he filled me with it. Afterward, we spooned, held against his chest, his thumb in my mouth, and I slept the sleep of angels. Curled up, safe, right where I belonged.

If you enjoy my work, everything I write and do can be found here - https://linktr.ee/badsammie

The light of day - Revised (kidnapped, rape, humiliation, dehumanization, torture, conditioned)

She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen light. Days, weeks perhaps. Maybe even months. All without any light. All she knew was the concrete room she was in. It was small, with rough walls and one heavy steel door. The floor held a small grate and there was a faucet that ran only cold water in the corner. Sometimes a hose was attached to it, to clean her. Otherwise, she had to do her business over the grate and then use cold water to clean herself. Lastly was a mattress that smelled of rape, sex, violence, cum, and piss. A blanket draped over it smelled the same. Hour after hour, day after day, that was what consisted of her world. Dark and cold and alone.

Except for when he visited her. The first inkling she would have was the footsteps. Heavy, slow, and methodical. Telegraphing her impending rape. Then the door being unlocked. It was as dark outside the door as inside. She tried charging it once. He’d broken her nose and beat her bloody with a belt. She didn’t try that anymore. She didn’t know how he saw, something on his head she’d felt, cold and metal against her skin. He’d rape her, tease her, abuse her, and leave her sobbing. Hours later, food would be brought in. If she had pleased him, it would be warm. If she had been a bitch, as he said, it would be cold and covered in cum or piss.

She’d had a life once, but it was hard to remember. College, a job at the mall, a life. Now, she had and was nothing. He told her she would be forever his. That she would live as long as he wanted her to. That she would suffer when he wanted her to. And she had. The rapes had been enough, humiliating and degrading. But that hadn’t been enough for him. He pissed on her, making her reek of it. Her bed stank of it. His sour smell permeated every inch of her body. She hadn’t thought he could have hurt her more. And then he’d shaved her head.

She didn’t know why that had hurt so much, but it had. In all honestly, it was the last time she’d felt like a woman, like a human being. After he’d shaved her head clean, the spark had left her. When he pinched her nipples and pierced them with thick heavy bars, she’d wept silently. When he did the same to her cunt, she accepted it. She had accepted that she was never going to be human again.

Day after day, darkness, pain, and violent sex. Other than him having a large cock and being overweight, she couldn’t have even said if he was black or white. Sometimes he hit or bit her. Other times he stroked her hair as she sucked his cock. Toys were often inserted into her for hours or days. If he was in a foul mood, he would punch her stomach a dozen times. She felt powerless through it all and barely felt like a person. Even her name, Terri, had lost all meaning. She was slowly becoming an “It”, only an “it”. An "It" that had a mouth, tits, ass, and a cunt. Nothing more.

She remembered the first time that she realized she was losing her sense of self. The steps had come and the door had opened. Without thinking, she was kneeling, head down. She knew that always made him happy. She had twitched a bit when she felt him stroke her hair. He told her to put her hand out and she had. She touched something wet and cold. He told her to eat slowly and when she tasted the spoon in the dark, it was ice cream. She had sobbed hysterically as she ate that. Then, after she was done, there was a long silence. Then she had spoken, telling him thank you. She heard his zipper pulled down and soon smelled him taking a dump.

“Clean me, and you can have another bowl,” was all he had said. She didn’t cry, though she had nearly thrown up several times. She had gripped onto him and cleaned his ass, all so she could eat ice cream once again.

After that, rewards had come more often, but only if she was enthusiastic. One day, she threw up the pizza he’d given her and he raped her ass and choked her until she had blacked out. Cold soup with piss and cum was all she had eaten that week. But she never threw up food again.

No matter what he asked her, she did it. Even though it didn’t matter in the dark, she smiled as he fucked her, fisted her, and punched her. When he told her she could have a steak if she asked him to brand her, she had done so. It hurt bad and she had passed out from the pain, but the steak had tasted so good. Eventually, she even started orgasming from his use of her.

The day that his footsteps made her grow wet, it was no longer even capable of understanding what had been done to it. When he started bringing other men and even women, it did all that they asked, and they gave it treats and made it cum. Its existence shifted to one where the only sound it craved was the sound of him coming for it. It no longer wondered how many days or months it had been there. It was alive when he came, and it didn’t exist when he was gone.

Eventually, it was ready. He came one day and took it to the door. It was wet, but crossing the threshold terrified it. It screamed when he told it that it was coming upstairs now and for the first time in months it said no. The barest hint of light was too much, but eventually, it relented. He offered it solid black contacts so that it would never have to see and then brought it up. It stayed in its’ new room, never venturing out except for play, almost childlike in its desire for rewards and special foods.

All it knew was use and abuse, pain and suffering, and food and orgasms. It never thought of the time before, just of his presence. For it was now fully his, and it would never see, or want to, the light of day again.

If you enjoy her work, everything she writes and does can be found here - https://linktr.ee/badsammie

My destruction begins - Revised, part 2 of 3 of the Spiral saga (M/F, rape, body writing, humiliation, fear, strangled, threats)

The waiting was the hardest part. After my rape and assault behind the bar in the alley and the filth, I was in constant fear. I woke up crying, shaking and soaked in sweat and juices. Every night resulted in guilty masturbating and self-loathing. I saw him and his dark figure abusing me when I closed my eyes. He was everywhere, always just out of the corner of my eye, as the days counted down. He said it would be one week, and I was popping my meds like candy to keep my anxiety down. They didn’t help.

Finally, the night came and I dressed in just a t-shirt as he had ruined my clothes last time. Twice that night I had to bolt to the toilet to dry heave, the weight of it all crashing down on me, every creak of the house sending excitement and terror through me. But, slowly, hour by hour, the night dragged on, and at some point, I passed out from exhaustion, both physical and mental. I woke the next morning, confused and strangely feeling rejected. How crazy is that? Rejected by your robber and rapist and feeling bad for it.

Later, when I came home from shopping, I found that perhaps I hadn’t been so much rejected as spared. In the mailbox, left sometime after I had checked the mail from the day before, an envelope had been left to me. It contained my cards and ID. The cards had been canceled quickly, so they were useless to me anyway, but the ID was nice to have back. The card had only been used once the night I had been raped. A small tool store, but I heard nothing back from the bank regarding it.

So soon, with the end of the school year approaching, I went back to focusing on my classes and finals. Nothing existed but them most days. Yes, the odd sound or movement out of the corner of my eye would make me shudder, but each day, things receded to the past. Fear went the way of daily monotony and grind, as finals passed and the school year ended. I would need to work for the summer and had a job lined up, and it would be nice to have a break from everything.

About a month later, I came home, tossed my purse down by the chair, and slowly stripped, heading to the shower. I had barely been in it for a minute, enjoying the heat washing down my body when the curtain was ripped open. I stared dumbfounded at my rapist as he sneered at me and I barely reacted as he grabbed my wet hair and jerked me out of the shower. I slipped and hit the toilet hard, some hair ripping out as he jerked me forward on the cold hard tile, dropping me to the floor. I whimpered, already sobbing pathetically.

“Surprise you stupid bitch. How was the waiting? Were you terrified? Were you wet?” he asked as he spun me around and shoved three fingers deep into my soaked cunt. “Wet. You’re fucking pathetic, you know that?” I could only sob and nod my head, my body aching from the fall as he hooked his fingers inside me. I was exposed in my own bathroom, by a man who had likely been watching me for a month. Waiting patiently for me to let my guard down and assume it was all over. Now I feared it may never be over. I then screamed a muffled scream as he shoved his thumb in my ass and he dug his fingers and their nails into my soft walls and shoved me over to the toilet. He shoved my head in and his fingers left my cunt and instead were shoved brutally back in my ass, 3 of them at least as I screamed and choked on cold toilet water, bubbles escaping around my mouth. Just twisting and torturing my ass as I swallowed toilet water in a desperate bid to breathe. Finally, he jerked me out of the toilet, throwing me hard against the tile as I slid and hit the wall, holding my head and retching up toilet water. “I bought you a present by the way,” he calmly said as I cried and coughed. “Well, more like you bought it since I used your money. Call it a parting gift.”

I screamed as he showed me my gift, a short length of smooth black rope. I tried to back away but he punched me in the gut and air exploded out of me. He took that opportunity to flip me over as I was doubled up and wrapped it around my neck. I felt him part my legs from behind and easily thrust up in me as he pulled the cord tight, strangling me.

“Mmmmm, what a delicious sick fucking cunt you are. You’re a failure at being a human being, you sick fuck. You’re only a success at being a warm hole and then for how long?” he asked, as he pulled even tighter on the cord.

My eyes bulged and I tried to move but he pulled me back on his cock using the cord. I swear I felt something pop in my throat as the cord was drawn tighter and tighter, digging and tearing at my throat. No air, no blood was coming to me as his cock battered me, slamming in with all his strength. I faded fast as black closed in on all sides. I felt only pain and fear and then, my cunt spasmed, gushed, and even as I was being choked to death, I came. I fucking came hard and I thought, “Please God, don’t let me die like……” ……………………………………………………………………… ……………………………………………………………………

I woke up an hour later or so, naked and freezing on the floor of the bathroom. My nose hurt and when I pushed up I felt the dried blood on it where my face must have hit the floor when I passed out or when he pushed out of me. It didn’t feel broke though. My throat, however, did. Every breath was a ragged wheeze and my neck felt swollen. I struggled to get up and saw the puddle under me, his cum. I never even checked myself for STDs last time. I didn’t want to know. I flicked on the light and cried as I looked in the mirror. I had been written all over, in what appeared to have been a permanent marker.

My forehead said empty. My mouth said whore with my lips forming the O. My arms had cumwhore written on both. Ankles said slut and bitch. My thighs said “Cum and piss go here” with arrows pointing towards my cunt and ass. My breasts had fun bags written on them, and glancing down at my pussy I saw written “Her entire worth” written over it. Something was written on my back, but it was my belly that scared me the most. He had taken his time to leave me a note.

“Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. That might be a lie. But not quickly. I can’t wait to destroy you. I’ll see you in a week, Sammie.”

I was shaking as I walked out of the bathroom. My house had been trashed, and my mail went through. He had marked me. I couldn’t go to my job like this; would it even come off without scrubbing my skin? Every room had been gone through. He had used me and discarded me once again and he had promised to destroy me. I didn’t know what that meant. I could barely talk and there was no way to hide the bruise that ran around my neck. What would I do? I sat down and cried, cried hard. Then I parted my legs and fingered myself, hating everything about me. I tasted his dried cum on my fingers and I gushed in my chair, wondering what worse he could do to me…

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