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

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.

Cunt.

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

Damaged Goods - Revised (impact play, bruised, M+/F, nc, beaten, torture, anal, scat, collared, branded)

My hand trembled a bit as I sat down in my bedroom, getting ready for my date. I shouldn’t go, not again, not after how the last date went. “Date” was perhaps too strong of a word, I thought to myself, as I looked in the mirror. My black eye had faded to a more ugly yellow and the swelling in my nose was almost completely gone. He had laughed about the swelling giving me a “Jew” nose. It was funny to him. The past few days at work I’d had to use copious amounts of makeup to hide what had been done. Thick lipstick to cover my split lip, eye shadow, coverup, heavy eyeliner. Of course, that was just to hide what was visible from my co-workers.

The bruises under my dress, that was a different matter. Teeth marks on my breasts, bruises, still very purple, hid under my bra. My butt and thighs matched my breasts in marks and color. My male co-workers thought I was jumpy and easy to startle since I often jerked or flinched around them.

The truth of the matter was that the man I had been dating was the cause. Him and his friends. I got to meet them on the last date. They must have thought I was funny as they laughed almost non-stop. When they weren’t choking, slapping, punching, or raping me. Maybe that was it. I was the literal punch line?

I steadied myself. I couldn’t be crying again. It would streak the makeup so I cleaned myself up again for him. Why? I didn’t know. I knew I barely cried anymore, at least on the outside, as that just encouraged him. Enraged the monster within him to beat the innocence out of me. A dark twisted symmetry. Maybe he reminded me of my stepdad or my first boyfriend. Or my first boyfriend’s friends. Or the guys at that frat party my first year of college. They all gave me what I wanted, right? They all knew what I was. They all told me what I was. And the fucked up thing is, they were right. Maybe not at the start, but they were right.

I checked my makeup as I finished and hoped that it looked good enough for my date. I honestly did want to look pretty for him. I walked nude to the closet and started going through it, looking for the dress that he liked. The one from our first date.

I had met him online because those men that came before him were now right about me. Fully and deeply, I was a broken clock that was only right when I was the rapebait they wanted. I had tried dating normal guys but that just turned my dull, flat gray into meaningless ash. I’m sure they were wonderful guys who would make a woman happy someday. Just not a woman like me. I had tried plenty of drugs and alcohol and they were all temporary fixes, although the molly I regularly took was good. For a little while, I didn’t care about anything because as the Lego Movie said, everything was awesome. But eventually, even that went flat and left me even more numb than before.

So, I met him. He’d had me take plenty of pictures of my limited wardrobe and picked out a red dress that he liked. It was a bit tight on me now, as I’d gained a bit of weight, making me bulge in both the right and wrong places. Heels along with it, the tallest I had at five inches. No bra, no underwear though. Despite everything, that had brought a tingle. He was exactly as he described, about ten years older than me, smart-looking, distinguished, clearly a professional. He had asked about what places I wanted to eat and when he picked me up in his BMW, I thought I had hit the jackpot.

We didn’t eat out that night. He drove me to a cheap ass hotel, the kind that you paid for by the hour. He said he had to have me before we ate. I started to argue and he slapped me, grabbed my jaw, and said “We’re going here first, understand?” He then nodded my head yes and in we went. He asked me if I’d had anal before and I told him I hated it. He said ok, shoved me to my knees, and fucked my mouth. A sharp kick to the gut doubled me up a few minutes later, and as I sobbed, he stepped behind me and shoved me forward. He mounted me, pressed at my ass, as I screamed, kicked, and tried to pull away. He said something to me, cruel sounding, but I couldn’t process it as he slammed me headfirst into the floor not once but twice. Then he spat on my ass and slowly, painfully, forced his way in as I cried, confused. There was nothing but a haze of pain as he reamed my ass, covered my mouth, and pumped deeply in me. After a short bit, my guts were flooded with his cum and he pulled out of me.

What happened next was my fault, I should have prepped I guess. It was always my fault. His cock was messy. I’d bled on him and worse and he slapped me again, again, and again. Finally, as snot flowed down my face, he forced me to clean him. He was a gentleman though. He pulled a bucket over for me when I got sick as I cried and looked at him with brown stained lips. Eventually, I was done, he was clean, and my stomach was emptied out. I went to the bathroom to clean myself up and put a tampon in my ass to stop the minor bleeding. When I came out he was gone. That should have been the last night but it wasn’t. No matter what else had happened that night, I had been alive. I had felt something. So I walked stiffly to the bus stop and cried the whole way home.

I looked at the dress now and I touched myself to that memory, felt my wetness. I absentmindedly licked my fingertips and then put the dress on, and then the heels. I looked around for my purse. It was hidden somewhere here. My apartment was a mess; it was always a mess, more chaotic than my thoughts. I panicked for a moment because I needed to find the collar. He’d given me it on our second date, just a few days ago. My heart raced until I found it by the trash can. I picked it up and held the small black collar that simply said “Slut”. If he'd given that to me, it meant he had to care, right?

I shouldn’t have answered when he called but I did. He told me he had a blast last time. I was on auto-pilot and meekly nodded and agreed as he said he wanted to have me over, for a real dinner this time, home-cooked. I should have said no or hung up, but I didn’t. Instead, I told him sure, and I’d be ready. This time he picked out a halter top and my shortest skirt, along with those same heels. He said we’d have a blast this time and they did.

When we pulled up to his house, the first thing I noticed was all the cars. 5 or 6 cars in his driveway. I asked him if he was having a cookout or something and he slapped me, telling me that “No one wants to hear your thoughts, you stupid bitch,” which was true and I shut up. Until we got in. He said the entertainment had arrived and I guess it, or I, had.

I’m still not sure how many were there. I think there had been 8 or 10. All his “friends” or so he claimed. He told me to do some lines and then strip for them, but it wasn’t like any strip show I’d ever seen. I was surrounded on all sides as I danced and striped and whimpered as they pawed, clawed, and groped me. Not even five minutes there and I had multiple fingers from multiple men in my pussy and ass, my mouth, all over my body. Not one of them cared about me. But he did. Because he wanted to share me. He had to care, otherwise, why would I feel so alive only with him? And so, when I got pushed down, I took it, each man, taking their turns. When they flipped me over because my cunt was leaking cum, I took it. Not that my eventual hysterical sobbing deterred any of them. Eventually, even my ass was leaking cum. My hair was matted, and my makeup was ruined. And then, they got creative.

I breathed slowly as I held that collar, then kissed it and pressed it to my cheek. My hands shook with the memory as I put it on. I felt the emptiness flow away as I became special.

I had to be special didn’t I, why would 10 men want to do all the things they did if I wasn’t unique and funny. They laughed when they shoved a beer bottle easily in my cunt. My ass proved more difficult even with the abuse and they spread my legs wide and one man just kicked it, again and again, until it was almost all the way in. I screamed as they tugged and jerked at my tits and my cunt lips, pinched my clit until it felt like it was going to explode.

Then the biggest joke of the night, that they found the funniest. Someone had a couple of fleshlights and they took out the beer bottles shoved in me and replaced them. Then some of them fucked me, or more accurately the fleshlights, again. They told me how tight I was now, no longer a used-up, fucked out cunt. I came still, somehow, from that alone. Some of the guys left after that, but one guy wanted to have more fun. He asked my date if he could hurt me (as if they’d been playing patty cake before) and was told to do whatever he wanted. He started by punching me in my gut and tits and slapped me around. The last thing I remembered until morning was him holding me up by my hair and punching my nose and face.

I woke up the next morning with a swollen eye and sore nose that my date mocked. He took me to the mirror and told me it was the most beautiful he’d ever seen me. Then he kissed me, led me into the bathroom, and pissed on me. He then shoved my head in the toilet, which had not been flushed since someone had last peed in it, and fucked my ass as I choked on the water. The cold numbed my face as I swallowed in a desperate bid to breathe. Occasionally he’d flush and give me a few brief seconds to breathe before I was under again. I didn’t feel him cum this time, he just pulled me up and make me suck his bloody, messy cock. He told me to shower and when I got out, my dress, torn, was there and he had a small box for me. I opened it and he took out my collar and said my life was never going to be the same. I knew he was telling the truth. It was why I cried so much as I left there, on the drive home, and in the cold shower at my apartment.

And now, I looked at myself in the mirror, my dress pulled up as I touched myself, and waited for him to knock. He didn't. I heard my door being unlocked and I never gave him a key. He smiled at my surprise and stroked my face and my nose, saying “You can barely tell you got a black eye”. I nodded.

“Close your eyes,” he told me and I did. I barely felt the punch in my good eye as I stumbled back, hit the wall, and slid down it dazed. He picked up a long bag he’d brought and took it to me, as I flinched in the corner, holding my face. He told me he has a present, and he did. It was a brand. The words “Damaged Goods” are spelled out on it and he told me that I would be his forever. I smiled as I cried, shaking on the floor.

He was right. They were all right. And now my life was going to change forever and at least I'd never feel empty or gray again.

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

Broken, ruined, and desperate - Revised (M/F, Impact Play, Manhandled, BJ, puke, Rough Sex, Violence, Anal, Scat, Choked, Slave)

It comes and goes, that need, that primal urge that can overwhelm me. I try to be a good girl, I truly do. Yes, I’m a slut, I’m a skank, and I’m a cheap set of holes. All that and more. And there come some days, rare ones, where I want to be so much more and so much less.

I want him to walk through the door and see me, except he doesn’t. He sees a warm mouth, C cup tits with pierced nipples, and two holes, one wet, one warm and tight. He doesn’t see me and honestly, there isn’t a "me" to see. I am what he makes me and over time I see it. Broken, ruined, and desperate.

He grabs me by my neck and lifts me up, choking as he pulls me to his mouth, kissing me deeply. No love, just need. Then with fearful strength, he throws me against the wall and I slide down, stunned. He needs to vent then and my body is the canvas to paint upon. I struggle to stand up, but he kicks my cunt, doubling me over. He needs it swollen, tighter. It’s never tight enough anymore unless his fist is shoved in it. He grabs my head and jerks it back up against the wall and rams his cock in my throat.

It’s not gentle or deep. He pounds hard, my head bouncing between his crotch and the wall, as he batters my throat until my gag reflex hits, puking upon it, and him and me. He’s mad, furious as he hits me, once, twice, three times until I am tasting blood and my eye is swollen. I can’t focus but I don’t need to. That’s not why I am there.

He grabs my hair and jerks me forward, throwing me face-first into the floor. I try to get up but he stands on my head, kicking my legs apart with his free foot. Then he steps off my head and jerks up my hips and slams into my ass with no lube. It barely needs it anymore; with enough lube, he can even fist it now. Like me, my holes are broken and ruined, desperate for his need and use so that he’ll love me again. He pounds me brutally, occasionally slamming my head against the floor. I still think too much sometimes and that cures it.

He slows and I understand when the belt is thrown around my neck and tightened. Then he starts pounding again as he pulls, so tight that it feels like my neck is about to snap. It’s ok if it does. I love him. My neck doesn’t snap, instead, as he speeds up, the world turns gray, then black, as I cum from his destructive need. I slump as hot cum gushes in my battered ass.

I wake up being dragged to the bathroom. I smile because he’s still not done with me. I still have use and maybe this will earn his love. His shit-covered cock is rammed down my throat and I clean it as he drains himself and then he uses the toilet. My bathroom doesn’t have toilet paper. He doesn’t need it. He grabs my head and I wipe him clean with my tongue. I gag and get sick a couple times in the toilet, but that's ok. When done, I’m a mess so he shoves my head in the toilet and flushes several times to clean me. He loves me so much, it shows.

He then vents on me more, giving me wonderful bruises all over until he’s done and shaking hard. The room spins but that doesn’t matter. My inability to stand or speak doesn’t matter. He feels better and that makes me better. I love him and as he leaves his garage, my home, to eat with his wife, I know he loves me the most. Because he visits me every day and every day isn’t the last, so I’m still worth something to him, and that’s enough.

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