Author Topic: How I met your mother  (Read 2096 times)

Offline Alexander51

  • Perfect Gentleman
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How I met your mother
« on: August 14, 2013, 10:39:18 AM »

“Hit her again. Harder this time.”

She looks at him for a moment, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. Her mouth moves as if to speak – to ask why he still wants this. Hadn’t he done enough damage already? But no. Nothing. They both listen in silence as the sounds of the street rush on by behind the curtained window. He watches her – she just stares vacantly – into nowhere.

He crosses his legs and sips from the crystal glass cradled loosely in long, well manicured fingers reaching from the sleeve of a dark business suit. His keensharp eyes demand her attention. After a time an insistent, yet low and assured voice bridges the small space between them.

“Hit her again.”

She’s tired and afraid. He can see that. Her drawn face, red with sobbing. Her whole body slumps lifelessly. Nothing like the pert little fucktoy he’s been used to seeing these past few weeks. Quite clearly, today was a different day.

“Can’t you see she’s fucked already?”

“Now.” His voice more insistent. Slightly raised.

Defeated by just one word, she reluctantly turns towards the bedraggled body hanging helplessly from the rudely fashioned X-shaped cross propped against the wall. Arms spread high above its head, fixed in place by soft leather cuffs. Legs wide apart, ankles similarly fixed. Head now slumped, masses of matted brown hair, once straight - now frizzed curly by the heat and perspiration of its ordeal tumble over its face and shoulders. Head slumped on its chest, spit and vomit drooling from a gaping mouth. Vacant eyes with that 1,000 yard stare into nothing. Most likely there are bruises but the tattered cotton blouse and frilly babyblue bra provide small modesties. The skimpy denim skirt is less effective, riding up as it does with the front hem stuffed roughly into the waistband of matching blue boy shorts. Pretty white bows across the top.

If poor, sweet ally was able to speak or even nod, she’d agree she is most definitely fucked. Three hours ago she arrived straight from school to see Daddy as she always did. Three hours ago she was grabbed by the hair without a word, herded into this room and wordlessly hoisted up to hang like a piece of meat.

Three hours ago her life began to change forever.

The fucktoy had been kneeling alongside the chair when all this happened, naked like the good little cunt she is. She watched bug-eyed and cuntwet as ally was strung up, vicariously enjoying the roughhouse treatment, even wishing it were her being handled so unceremoniously.

Now? Now she hates every breath she is taking, accomplice to the meat’s misfortune. She lifts the paddle and swipes it across a half covered breast. The meat grunts softly as the backhand return strikes home fast. Nothing this time. Ally was gone for all money. Maybe even unconscious.

“I can’t”, the fucktoy sobs. “I’m sorry.” The paddle falls to the ground for lack of the will to hold it. And there she stands.

Silence again save fucktoy’s sobbing and the meat’s half human noises.

The ice clinks as the glass comes to rest on the drink coaster. His suit pants rustle slightly as he rises from the chair, adjusts his shirt sleeves, then strides the three steps to stand behind fucktoy. One hand twines through her hair and yanks her head back hard. She likes how she fitted snugly under his chin when he snuggled her late at night. It made her shiver when he used her hair to pull her one place or another. So she smiles when she looks up at him.

Just for a moment. Just before his spit hits her face. Just before he drags her down to her knees in front of him. Just before his hand cracks across her cheekbone sending her crashing to the floor. Just before…..

“You useless cunt. Can you not get one thing right? Are you not able to follow the simplest of instructions?”

Just before his boot sinks heavily into her stomach and she curls up in a ball, gasping for air in between the continual sobbing.

No longer measured. He’s back to how he was hours ago when she was kneeling by the chair, watching him abuse ally. Reducing her to a sobbing mess. Whispering foul things in ally's ear that only she could hear, punctuated by firm and regular slaps across one only cheek, her head bobbing to one side under the impact.

Slap. “Dirty little cunt” Slap. “Useless piece of shit whore” Slap. “Any man’s fuckpig” Slap. And so it went on until ally finally broke. Ally thought this must be what water torture was like. Relentless. Soul destroying. She loved it when he did that. It sent her flying. She adored her Daddy. Trusted him completely.

That was then. Now was different. He’d never done this to her before.

Four weeks earlier

He found her wasted in a bar she frequented when she wanted to forget who she was. Well, not in the bar so much as just outside. He was walking by as she stumbled out and ran right into him – never even saw him until she looked up from the pavement after she’d hit the deck.


“Get up.”

“Wha…whaaat you sayin?”

“I said get up.”

Bending at the waist he grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet. She teetered on her heels. He steadied her.

“Whoo are youu?” Slurred. Stupid. Senseless.

“I’m your lucky charm.” He began walking again, fingers still tight around her upper arm.

“Ouch. You’re hurting me.” She whined. He hated when they whined.

“Shut the fuck up.”

And they walked on, him making the pace – her dragging along after him, focused entirely on not falling again.

They reached his car after two blocks, parked in a side street off the through way. He let her go and watched amused as she staggered two steps backwards, before sprawling face up across the trunk, legs angled awkwardly in a drunken attempt to stay upright.

He looked her over slowly. Just the type he liked. Young, pretty and a decent pair of tits. Drunk, he could take or leave but tonight he didn’t really care. Fingers edged slowly along the vee in her pants, pressing lightly up in between her wide-open legs. She moaned some before a useless attempt at turning away.

“Hey! Wharryoudoooinn…” One ragdoll arm waving languidly towards his arm before flopping onto the car. The other trying to somehow prop herself up before the support collapsed, landing her with a thud on her back on the trunk.

“I’m going to fuck you.”

One hand pressing on her hip to keep her laid out flat on the trunk. The other hand emerges from his trouser-suit pocket. The click of the knife springing open rings in the empty street. She begins to wriggle until the glistening steel presses lightly into the softness of her throat.

Frozen still.

“Behave and you won’t get hurt.”

Mewls as her buglike eyes stare at his face…looking in vain for any sign of kindness or laughter. Nothing but darkness.

“Oh, dear Jesus, no. Please no. You can’t.”

“Shut the fuck up.” The glint of the blade flashes in the night down over her tits…still bursting out of the gentleman’s white shirt and loosely tied tie she had decided to wear with the black cotton pants. Buttons spring off as the knife slices swiftly downwards, offering him a clear view of already firm buds that had been rubbing all night on the shirt. No bra. One reason he liked them young.

More noises from her. Suddenly more sober.

“Please don’t do this. I’m sorry. No. Please, you can’t.”

Enough. He hates her begging. Disgusting.

He leans forward; two fingers force her mouth open and slide deep inside. Pressing on her tongue way down back in her throat. She squirms, fights and finally gags. He presses down harder. She vomits all over herself. Tears spilling down her face. Spit and drool hang from her mouth. He pats her cheek softly, fingers pushing in between her legs, working up into her cunt.

“That’s a good girl. Be still. Now I’m going to fuck you.”

It’s hopeless. Sobs now ring through the night as he deftly slices her trousers open and finds the warmth inside. Ramming up inside her. Short sharp uppercuts laced with corkscrew fingers jolt her body into life.

“Oh, dear god no.”

It’s way too late for that. His cock is out and worming its way inside. There’s nothing but animal in him and all he needs is a warm place to plant his seed. He fucks her violently as her gasping sobs fill the street. Grunting just before he rams up high and explodes.

She’s a mess. He couldn’t care less. Wipes himself on her pants and shoves it into his pants, zips up and grabs her hair.

“Get in the car.”

She starts to protest, her hand rising to his in some attempt to stop him. One good slap across her face shuts her up.

“For fuck’s sake.”

He throws her in the car, buckles her in and takes off.

“You raped me!”

“I did. You were asking for it.”

“Was I?”

She’s in bed when she comes around. He’s alongside in a large comfy chair. She looks at him as one hand rises to her forehead to cover her eyes.

“Who are you?”

“Alexander. Who are you?”

“Alice. Where am I?”

“No place you know.”

She falls back on the bed. Begins another question…

He slaps her again. “Don’t you ever shut up?”

“I want to go home.”

“No. Drink some coffee.”
I met a woman the other night who told me she liked her men to be spontaneous and humorous.

Until I show up at her kitchen window last night wearing a clown outfit and then it's all screaming and panic.

Offline seeder21

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Re: How I met your mother
« Reply #1 on: August 11, 2016, 05:19:12 AM »
different to me. Thank you.