Path: newsfeed.san.rr.com!news1.rto!newsfeed1-hme1!newsfeed.internetmci.com!205.252.116.205!howland.erols.net!newshub2.home.com!newshub1.home.com!news.home.com!news.rdc1.sdca.home.com!not-for-mail From: Story Master Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: story RP- author : Daney Dewitt - Donna's Humiliation 13 - donna13.txt Date: Fri, 05 Sep 1997 13:26:12 -0700 Organization: http://sd.znet.com/~velvet/ - The Velvet Playground Lines: 407 Message-ID: <34106AE4.5E93@znet.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: cx28316-a.dt1.sdca.home.com Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: multipart/mixed; boundary="------------4BE269A546E8" X-Mailer: Mozilla 3.0 (OS/2; I) Status: N This is a multi-part message in MIME format. --------------4BE269A546E8 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit -- /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ The Velvet Playground -- http://sd.znet.com/~velvet/ Free Stories & Pics from our BBS, Links & Live Video \/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/ --------------4BE269A546E8 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii; name="donna13.txt" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Disposition: inline; filename="donna13.txt" Author Note: If you like this story, please send an E-Mail to the author at: an376445@anon.penet.fi I am attempting to improve the level of erotic literature in Alt.Sex.Stories. Let me know specifically what types of scenes you would like and they will be included in the next story. ___________________________________________________ Donna's Humiliation A Nasty Girl Story by Dafney Dewitt Donna's Humiliation The End Of the Begining Part 13 (The Unlucky Last Part) The rape proceeds in stages. It is not quick, brutal or predictable. A total of 13 hundred men abuse Donna before it is over. This is an unlucky number, but not an unusual number for Donna part #13. Sitting on the sofa, Bob experiences a wide range of emotions. He wants Donna punished. He feels betrayed. He knows she has lied to him. He wants her to pay for being a slut. Donna belongs to him. Bob feels it is his choice, his duty, to put her in her place. He will show her who's the boss. Bob watches as the police officer removes the baton from Donna's ass allowing the Biker to approach Donna from the rear. He has a huge member. Donna begins to moan. The bitch is getting aroused. "Stop it ! Stop ! Stop ! Stop !" Bob yells from the sofa. Bob is torn by conflicting emotions. The Biker freezes. He is outraged at the invasion of his privacy, of his home, of his wife. At first, he wants to fight, to kill the policeman, the biker, and the black kid, and stop the assault, but the video tapes have revealed to him an unknown darker side of his wife. He is thankful to the black teenager, the biker, and the policeman for revealing the true nature of his wife. "Stop ! Stop ! Stop !" Bob yells. "This is Wrong !, wrong !, wrong !," He repeats his words like he is talking to children to get his point across. Bob knows that sexually excited men have shrunken brains centered in their other little heads. They are pleasure driven and have trouble thinking. Repetition is the cure. Climax is the end. Bob has seen, heard, and been down this path himself many times before. It is a road to boredom. Fun and pleasurable while making the trip but ultimately too predictable. A predictable punishment is no fun, is not true punishment. Donna knows the begining, middle, and end. True punishment would confuse all these. A real punishment for the slut will be to scramble her sense of order, make her loose her balance, take away the sexual roadmaps, push her into the unknown, a sexual TwiLight Zone of dread, suspense, and total surprise. An unending punishment would be best. "First we plug her ears," Bob says On all fours, waiting for the biker to plunge his giant cock into her rear, Donna turns her head staring at her husband with a newly found respect. "I've had all my holes plugged, but never my ears," Donna tells Bob. "Even when I was made airtight with men in my mouth, ass, and cunt my ears weren't plugged. I've even been blindfolded, but no one has fucked my ears." "Shut up bitch," says the biker who is clearly frustrated. He gets up off the floor and joins the other men in a huddle. "I can't wait for you to stick it in my ears," says Donna oozing with expectation for the kinky and bizarre. "You stupid cunt," says the police officer. "No one is going to insert anything in you." "Here you go," says Bob grabbing the sound protector ear muffs he uses during target practice, and slipping them over Donna's Head. Donna's world falls silent. She watches as the men talk about things that women never hear. Ignoring her. She raises her nightgown exposing her thighs to get their attention back. The Biker smiles. She raises it higher. Then she notices that the biker is smiling at the other men not at her. All the men are smiling now. Donna drops her nightgown. Let's leave Donna's world and return to the world of men, sound, and fury. "What we need to do," says Bob carefully, "is the unexpected." "Lookat tha bitch, she's beggin' for it." The Biker smiles at Donna. "We're gonna mind fuck her," says Bob returning the biker's smile. Suddenly, all the men smile together like small boys at a circle jerk. Donna drops her nightgown. "Like a reverse gang bang ?" asks the police officer. "Yes," says Bob "No woman would ever expect a reverse gang bang." "Do that mean she fucks us ?" asks the black teenager still inexperienced in ways of the flesh. "No," says Bob "That means that we fuck with her mind and not her body." "Yeah," says the policeman jumping into the stream of the conversation "Deep brooks run silently". "Don't go Freudian on me," says Bob. "We need lots of hard cocks, not soft words." Bob gets on the telephone. He makes a silent call. Donna never hears the plan, never knows she will be the victim of a reverse gang bang, she only knows what she can see, shortly after Bob hangs up the phone more men pour through the front door of her home. Whatever is going to happen will involve lots and lots of men. Bob removes the ear protectors from his wife Donna, and turns the television on to MTV Music. "Okay, slut let's see what you can do." Donna is frozen, confused by the sudden blaring of noise. She looks out at the faces of men crowding her home. There's old wrinkled men, young muscular guys, heavy fat men, skinny middle aged fellows. All shapes, all sizes, and all colors. "Come on slut, strut your stuff, get us off," Bob encourages her. The men unzip, taking out their cocks. Donna feels intimidated looking at this sea of cocks. Whatever happens, Donna wants to meet this challenge head on. She plunges in bravely. It is a time to sink or swim. Donna can't afford to sink. If she drowns, it won't be from water. Other men's voices join in. "Com'on slut take it off" "Dance for us bitch !" "Juice me up baby !" Donna starts dancing like she's wading through water. In slow motion, out of sync with the music, her motions are in counterpoint to the quick tempo of the MTV music. Her arms spread out to the sides like she's doing a breast stroke pushing her tits into the faces of the admiring men. Dancing is not enough. Men always demand more. She starts stripping. Slowly, Donna lowers the straps on her night- gown down over her breasts. She wiggles it down to her waist letting it fall to her feet. Donna tries to enflame the minds of men. She will seduce them with her charms. Nudity is not enough. Donna strips buck naked. Showing her all. Giving everything. Letting the men's eyes feast on her nakedness. She even spreads her pussy lips with her fingers so they can see inside. Words are not enough. Jerking them off with words, Donna tries teasing them into fucking her. She begs them to fuck her, to let her suck their cocks, to fill her up like a camper van stopping at a gas station. Nothing is enough. Nothing Donna does can get the men to fill her with their cocks. Donna does not get to suck or fuck. In the end, she gets nothing. The men tease her with their cocks. "Beg for it, bitch," a fat man sneers. Donna begs. "Please... please give it to me," she whimpers. "Give you what, slut?" "Please, please fuck me," Donna pleads. "Fuck you? You want me to fuck you slut ?" "Please," she sobs. "Say it, bitch, say fuck me !" "Please fuck me ! Please fuck me !" "Tell me where you want it, you whore." "In... in my hot pussy. I want it in my pussy !" "You want me to fuck your juicy cunt ?" "Yes," she moans. "Stick it in my cunt! Donna collapses onto the floor shivering with desire. A tall black man with bad teeth walks over to her. He bends down close to her face like he's going to kiss her. He's so close Donna can smell his sour breath. He whispers. "Wanna suck my cock ?" A shiver trickles down Donna's back from the feel of his hot sour breath. She can feel the air of each word against her ear. She lures the man over into a corner. Her knees go weak with desire. The mans long black cock dangles in front of her face. She can see it, smell it, taste it. Donna opens her mouth and closes her eyes. She wants to inhale it into her body. She is ready to suck it off like no cock has ever been sucked. Her lips are open wide surrounding the tip of the cock. She can feel the heat radiating from the cockhead. She's ready to clamp down on it with a silky smooth suction that will make him blast his load into her mouth. Just as her lips close, the cock withdraws, the man backs up. Donna's lips close on empty air. She opens her eyes in shock. Donna watches at the tall thin man jerks his cock off into a familiar looking plastic mixing bowl. She sees the hot white ejaculate explode into the bowl, dripping down the edges, the last few drops of cum dropping like molten lead. Spurt by spurt. Other men follow the lead of the tall man. They spit their sperm into the plastic mixing bowl. Forming a line, taking their turn, they let go with streams of stringy white jissum. Spurt by spurt. Donna watches the line of men move forward. The contents of the bowel rise as the line dwindles. It reminds her of something. Maybe egg whites, maybe fondue. She can't take her eyes off the bowl. Spurt by spurt. Donna is allowed to hold the bowl while the men jack off. She can feel the warmth rising along the sides. She can feel the weight of the bowel, she can smell it, she can hear wet spurts of cum. Spurt by spurt. Her hands grow sweaty. She fears dropping the bowel, spilling out millions of sperm upon the carpet. She grips it more tightly. This isn't just some inert liquid. This is live sperm. She can almost feel the bowl vibrating. The bowl is vibrating, but Donna realizes she is shaking, nervous with anticipation wanting to soak her face into the goop, wanting to drink it, pour it into her pussy and dump it onto her breasts. Spurt by spurt. Donna no longer trusts herself to hold the bowl without dropping it. She carefully, and reluctantly sets it down on the table. This is too important for a woman to ruin. Spurt by spurt. The men exit the house after dumping their loads. Donna is sad to see them go, but glad to see the bowl filling up. This will ber cum to drink, pour into her mouth, spread on her breasts, dump into her aching cunt. When all the men are gone the bowl will be hers. Spurt by spurt. The hours pass. As the line of men decreases, the volume of the bowl increases and the reverse gang bang come to end. Donna puts back on her white bra and panties. She slips into her old pink bathrobe in resignation that her efforts to excite men have failed. Her mind flirts with the failures of the past like a moth drawn to a light. Spurt by spurt. As the last man leaves, Bob closes the front door. He turns off MTV and turns on the VCR and goes to bed. The house returns to normal. The video tape of Donna flickers to life. Like an old porno movie, Donna's life is caught in a loop. Donna watches the TV which becomes her reality. Donna, her light blond hair pulled back and tied with a red ribbon, attends to her family like a waitress. She looks like hired help, a servant. She wears an old pink bathrobe instead of a white waitress's uniform. Underneath the robe is nothing but a white bra and panties. Donna dunks a wooden spoon into the thick white goo, letting it drip slowly from the spoon. She is making breakfeast, but the bowl forces her to think of sex. Donna daydreams that she's mixing a large bowl of cum. Donna has never been comfortable being tall. She is sitting down. The early morning kitchen smells of coffee, heated maple syrup, and fresh pancake batter. Everything looks perfect. Donna covers the top of her coffee cup with her left hand, feeling the moist heat while her right hand works rythmically out-of-sight, between her legs. She tilts her head slightly to the left in a quirky smile. Her hand trembles. She gives up. It isn't working. The voices have returned. "Begin action", the voices say, soft as a whisper ..... ________________________________________________________  --------------4BE269A546E8--