I hope you don't think I'm a sick pervert after you read this. I
mean, I consider myself to be more or less a normal, healthy young
woman. Well... actually, I consider myself to be a little above
average. After all, I've been a straight A student all my life and am
in one of the finest universities in the country on a full
scholarship.
I've never been the kind to sleep around. But that wasn't because I
didn't want to. It was more because I didn't want to get a reputation
as a slut. I had too much dignity for that. Unfortunately, along with
my dignity comes a much higher than average sex drive.
I lost my virginity very early in my teens. I wasn't forced, or
seduced, or drugged or drunk, far from it. I made a conscious
decision, picked out the guy I wanted to deflower me, and set
everything up. It was all very... efficient.
Unlike most girls, I didn't lose my cherry in the back seat of a car
under a grunting, groaning idiot. I lost mine in my own living room
in front of a crackling fireplace with a guy who knew his way around
a girl's body.
Maybe that was why I became so fascinated with every aspect of sex.
Also, the guy was much older than me, and much, much bigger, which
may be where I developed my love of big, muscular men.
I know a lot of girls don't think much of the big muscular guys. You
know, the ones that really work at it and bulge with muscles all
over. They like smaller, slimmer guys like Brad Pitt. Not me. I've
always had a thing for big guys with lots of muscles and few brains.
Of course, being as smart as I am, most guys are dumber than me, and
being as small as I am, most of them are bigger. That's been mostly
enough until lately, but after I entered college and began studying
my major, which is the European dark ages, my fantasies about big
muscled men became stronger and stronger.
I suppose I should describe myself at this point. My name is Julie
Conners. I'm just over five foot two and weigh about ninety five
pounds. I have a really nice body, with a really nice tight little
bottom and larger than normal breasts that despite their size(38DD),
don't sag an inch.
I have a sweet little heart shaped face with a small upturned nose
and big blue eyes. My hair is a bright golden blonde and I keep it
straight, and shoulder length. I part it on the right and sort of
toss it back across my forehead just above my eyes.
Now don't get me wrong. I like my body. It's attractive, fit, and
healthy. I kind of like the attention I get most of the time,
especially when I'm on the beach in my bikini.
But I'm no dumb bimbo. I have a hundred and forty IQ, I can read,
speak and write four languages and know more about the world, its
geography, history and politics, then ninety eight percent of the
population.
Unfortunately, with my looks, very few people who don't know me well
treat me with much respect. Because of that I've learned to be
aggressive when I want something.
Anyway, I thought, fantasised, and dreamed about being a kind of
slave girl to some big monstrous barbarians, you know, the Conan
types, for a long time. In my fantasies I gave up the aggression in
favour of a meek, servile sex slave who was used and abused by these
big horny men...
The thick stone echoed with the screams and clashing steel of many
swordsmen as the barbarians ran through the castle. I flattened
myself against the wall, then hurried further along, heading for my
father, the King's secret tunnel escape.
Then there was a scuffle and I sensed movement behind me. Something
caught my long hair and yanked violently. I screamed, dragged
backwards by a huge, laughing man. He was bulging with muscles, his
face a twisted ugly mask of hate and lust, a dark, nasty scar running
across it.
He whirled me around by the hair and then threw me through a doorway
into a chamber. It was one of the sitting rooms and I fell against a
gilt edged table, only to be grabbed and thrown across a big chest.
The hard wood slammed into the back of my thighs as he came at me,
his huge, ugly body clad only in furs and shaggy boots, his hair,
longer than mine, falling in a dirty tangle around his unshaven face.
He grabbed my gown and ripped it apart, tearing it like thing paper,
and leaving me clad in shreds and my thin shift. then he grabbed the
shift, tearing it down the front, baring my soft young body to his
lewd and carnal gaze.
I screamed again, beating at him with my small fists, but he merely
howled in laughter, slapping my face so hard he knocked me back onto
the chest. He gripped my slender legs and ripped them open, jerking
my buttocks to the edge of the chest.
He opened his codpiece and took out his manhood, swollen with lust,
dark angry red with purplish lines and veins. I gazed at it in horror
as he brought it towards the softly curled hair surrounding my tight
thin cleft.
He pushed the knobby head against me and thrust forward, slapping my
face again as I sought to rise. I cried out again, falling flat atop
the chest, sobbing with fear and pain and outrage. His organ thrust
forward again, one of his hands holding it like a weapon as he ground
it into me, forcing it slowly into my virginal body.
I wept with pain and misery as his prong forced open my womanhood and
twisted forward. He grabbed me about the waist then, jerking my light
slender body towards him as he lunged forward with his hips. His hard
lance drove into me, driving deep into my belly.
I cried out, my sex screaming in pain as it was so harshly, so
cruelly wounded. I expected to see blood pouring from my opening, but
there was none. He guffawed, then threw his hips forward again, and I
felt his hard, throbbing weapon thrust further into my body.
I gasped as I felt the end of the monstrous thing far up inside me.
My eyes opened in wonderment as my hands flattened on my belly,
seeking to feel the terrible thing inside me, but I could not, not
with my hands, yet it was there, and I could feel it inside me,
pulsing with life, hard against my soft inner organs.
He drew it back, then thrust forward again. His mighty tool impaling
me, slamming deep into the very bottom of my love chamber. I could
feel it grinding against that inner part of me that marked the center
of my being, and groaned from the pain and horror.
The cruel, savage man continued to laugh as he assaulted my
defenceless body. His hands mauled my breasts, squeezing and tearing
a them, his large powerful ffingers digging deep furrows in the
malleable flesh.
He buried his face in my throat, biting and sucking and licking like
a maddened beast.
His loins drew back, then thrust forward again, tearing his male
sword about in my belly, thrusting it back and forth as he pulled and
jerked on my hair and forced my face up against his. His lips came
down on mine, no matter how I sought to avoid their contact.
Then they were locked tightly against my own soft, sweet lips,
pressing hard, bringing new pain to my tormented body. My eyes opened
in revulsion as I felt his tongue push into my mouth. I would have
bit it but was afraid he would murder me at once.
I fought down nausea as he began to rut into me like a maddened
thing. His hips rutted in and out, plunging his terrible back and
forth in my sore, agonized chamber. I groaned and whimpered as he
used me, his member pummelling me as he grunted and cursed.
Then he groaned and his eyes closed briefly as he held himself still
inside me. I felt a kind of seeping wetness deep inside my guts and
new that his seed had gushed forth into my belly. I sobbed in misery
and disgrace, my chest heaving as I wept.
He laughed again, tearing his softening thing from my crotch and
shoving it back inside his breeches. He grabbed my silken hair and
dragged me off the chest, shoving me in front of him, then pausing
long enough to rip the fragments of my gown and shift from off my
wounded body, leaving me clad in nothing but my skin.
Then he tightly bound my wrists behind me with leather and shoved me
forward into the hallway. I moved hopelessly along, my head bowed as
he prodded at me with his dagger. He brought me down into the throne
room, where my father had once, but no longer, ruled.
His barbarian comrades were all about, laughing, screaming and
dancing, tearing at hunks of meat with their teeth as they abused the
younger noblewomen and serving girl.
Naked, I was led into the room and thrown to my knees before the
pirate lord who led this horde of savages. His eyes gleamed as he
gazed down at me.
My flesh crawled, already dark red and hot with humiliation at being
so crudely stripped and used, then displayed to the gathered throng.
The leader stood up, standing before me. He said something in his
barbarian tongue but I did not understand it.
Then the man behind me gripped my hair, savagely forcing my head up
and back. The leader fondled my breasts, a smirk of cruelty on his
face, then he drew out his manhood from his breeches to much laughter
from his men.
As the man behind held my hair, the organ was placed against my lips.
At first, I did not know what he wanted or intended, but his thumbs
forced my jaws apart and then his organ actually pushed into my
mouth!
At the same time a razor sharp dagger was placed against my throat,
leaving me with no confusion about what would happen to me should I
do harm to him.
He began to slid the thing in and out of my mouth, snarling at me in
his awful language. One of the men looked over his shoulder and made
strange looking faces, his cheeks puckered, mouth round as he
pretended to suckle on something.
He pointed to his lips and I got the idea, reinforced by several
angry blows to the head. I closed my lips tightly around the lord's
member, suckling on it as a babe would on its mother's teat. He
grunted in satisfaction, slowly moving the instrument in and out of
my mouth as tears of mortified misery slid down my cheeks.
Abruptly, he pulled his instrument loose. I was whirled around, my
face forced down against the cold stone. He knelt behind me and then
thrust forward, his manhood driving deep into my exposed loins. There
was a cheer from his men and a round of deep laughter.
He began to use me then, riding me like a bitch dog as the onlookers
cheered. I felt a terrible numbness at such utter depravity, and
yet... something... somehow... inside me there was pleasure, not a
pleasure of the mind by any means for I was in deepest misery, but my
body felt a strange, unfamiliar tingling that was far from
unpleasant.
The tingling grew and grew, a buzzing vibrating thing that seeped
outward from my womanhood. His organ continued to churn inside my
belly as he rutted into me with careless brutality. And something
inside me, down between my legs, responded to it, responded not like
a lady, like a Princess, but like a raw, wanton animal.
I moaned in denial, trying to fight it back, but it was no use. It
grew, its heat engulfing me, flooding through my body, sending wave
after wave of numbing, terrible bliss and joy through my trembling
frame.
I grunted in mindless happiness, my own loins unconsciously jerking
back against him, my love chamber seeking more and more of his
pummelling, punishing organ. I moaned in pleasure, my body trembling
and shaking. A hand in my hair dragged my face off the stone, pulled
my body upright as he humped into me.
Exclamations from the watchers showed they recognized my pleasure,
yet I could do nothing, could not help myself, could not even think
of anything save the craven satisfaction of my own burning lust. He
pulled harder on my hair, bowing my body back as he drove himself
into me harder and faster.
Then there was a blinding light and I screamed aloud, my body racked
by convulsions as my belly exploded with maddened pleasure. I felt
his seed spraying up inside me, and rather than disgust, felt a kind
of gladness.
Then I was shoved forward onto the stone, laying there for only
seconds before being seized by the gathered barbarians. I was flung
on a table and another barbarian stepped between my legs, then thrust
into me.
Again and again my body was used, all through the night and into the
next day. I lost count of the men who had used me and the times I had
cried out my happiness.
In the morning I would walk in chains, naked among the other slave
girls as I was marched southwards towards the waiting ships, to be
taken over the seas and sold as a sex slave. Instead of terror, an
odd kind of freedom sang in my breast. Then I cried out as yet
another massive eruption of ecstasy flared within me.
I'm sure other girls have the same sorts of fantasies, though perhaps
they don't dwell on them as I do. I had a quite a difficult time with
mine as well because of how, well, how crude and degrading they were.
After all, I'm a feminist and I know I could do anything a man does.
If any man dared treat me anything like they way they did in my
fantasies I'd be furious. I don't even tolerate it when they're
condescending. So you can imagine how guilty and stupid I felt after
these masochistic fantasies.
How it was that these awful fantasies about being abused and molested
and raped aroused me so was beyond my understanding. I tried to
resist them, really. But they began to assume more and more power as
I studied the history texts and read all about that period.
Not long into the term, I mailed away for, and received, handcuffs,
leather bondage equipment and a big dildo.
I would chain my legs to the bottom legs of my bed, slowly force the
thick dildo into my sex, and then manage to chain my hands to the
upper corners tightly enough that I could pull hard and not come
loose, but in a way that I could twist my hand around and get free
when I wanted.
Sometimes I would lie there, my eyes closed, my arms and legs
constantly pulling at the bonds holding them, my muscles squeezing
and clasping down on the dildo inside it. I would often arch my back,
and raise my groin upward so I could bring my sex down against the
bed and force the dildo back into me after perverse, certainly they
would not sympathise. So I bore them alone and in silence, fighting
them during the day and giving in during the night.
I felt the slap of his hard body against my buttocks as he grunted
from behind me. My tightly bound hands twisted and pulled at the
tight rope binding them and tears of humiliation coursed down my
cheeks. Never had any man dared so misuse me.
Yet despite my horror and degradation, I felt my woman's body
respond, as it inevitably must, felt myself drawn into arousal by the
force of his rutting and the fiercely plunging organ within my tight
sheath. There was nothing I could do of course, for my body responded
quite naturally to the lewd sexual poling he was giving me.
I felt the heat burning within my loins as his manhood moved inside
me, felt his hands roving over my body, pawing and squeezing, then
holding my hips as he drove himself even harder into me. I came then,
crying out in helpless ecstasy as the burning heat flared throughout
my body.
My head ground into the dirt as it twisted and jerked in a mad
paroxysm of sexual pleasure. My body shivered and trembled, and my
loins drove backward to meet his hot blooded thrusting, then I felt
his man's seed spew down the length of his tube and gush into my
belly.
There was nobody I could talk to about these, well... disgusting
erotic fantasies. My friends simply wouldn't understand, they'd think
me sick, perverse, certainly they would not sympathise. So I bore
them alone and in silence, fighting them during the day and giving in
during the night.
One day, the idea came to me about how I might be able to fulfil my
fantasies. It wasn't intentional, coming quite by accident.
It was late at night in my dorm room. I had been up all evening
studying and had just finished at about three in the morning. My
three roommates were all asleep long since, and I was quite tired. I
remember I was wearing a pink jumpsuit and t-shirt.
Tired as I was, I wasn't about to go to bed without a shower. It had
been quite a hot day and though the dorm was air-conditioned, I'd
played tennis earlier and hadn't showered yet.
So I stripped, put on my robe, grabbed my towel, along with my little
bag of toiletries, and made my way down the dimly lit corridor to the
common showers we use in the dorm.
We're very into feminism, equality, and all that kind of stuff here,
and so the bathrooms are co-ed. Now, that's not as bad as you might
think. There are toilet stalls for privacy, and going past them you
come to the showers.
The showers are four little stalls, each about two feet by two feet
square, You go in, close the door, lock it of course, then strip.
There's a little counter to put your toiletries on and a hook to hang
your clothes out of the way of the shower head's stream of water.
I pushed my way into the empty bathroom, went past the stalls and
down to the showers and got into one. I closed the door and locked
it, then opened my robe, putting it up on the hook. It was then that
I remembered that it was three in the morning and the water would
come out ice cold.
I grumbled at my own dopiness, pulled on my robe again and stepped
out of the stall. I leaned in and turned on the water, letting it run
until it was really hot. Then I turned the stream to the opposite
wall, stepped in and closed the door again, putting my robe back on
the hook.
I turned the showerhead back to me and let the hot water soak me
really good. When I was dripping wet, I pulled the lever that shut
off the water and soaped up. Now I don't know about you, but when my
body is really tired it sometimes gets quite aroused, as well. As I
stood there, my body completely slick with white soap, sliding my
hands up and down my firm, smooth body, my mind flicked to my
standard fantasy.
I kind of leaned back against one of the corners of the stall,
sliding my hands up and down my body, cupping and caressing my fat
breasts, and sliding my fingers back and forth between my oily pussy
lips.
I was running through a village under attack by big, muscular savages
with their long steely swords. One of them caught me, dragging me up
across his horse as he howled with triumph and raced out of the
village.
There were a lot of them, and I wasn't their only prisoner, but I
mostly kept the rest in the background, most of my concentration on
my own captor. He was huge, almost seven feet tall, probably three
hundred pounds of solid bulging muscles. He had a granite jaw, long
gorgeous blonde hair, and piercing blue eyes.
He threw me to the ground and stripped off my long gown, then with a
grin of mastery, he forced my legs apart and entered me. He was huge
of course, his cock tremendously long and thick and it slid into me
like a log, thrusting deep, spreading me wide open.
My legs were held wide apart as his huge, powerful body covered me.
He grabbed my hair, twisting my head up as his lips crushed mine. His
tongue thrust into my mouth, whipping and wriggling around as he
sucked and mashed his lips tightly against me.
Down between my legs, his hard throbbing cock thrust deep into my
belly and my cry of pain was swallowed up by his hungry mouth. I
slapped at him but he easily held my hands away, forcing them up
above my head as he began to work his massive organ in and out of my
virgin pussy.
All around us were screams as other village girls were rudely raped,
but my concentration was on my pussy, where his fat prong was rutting
back and forth with such force my body was being jerked and mashed
against the sweet yellow grass beneath me.
His hard, muscular hips hammered down against my soft, tender thighs
as he drove his spear down into my belly. He pounded into me with
hard, even savage strokes, his cock thrusting with long even
movements, sliding back and forth inside my belly.
His hard body crushed down on top of me, flattening my fat breasts,
rasping against my soft skin as he rutted against me. His hands
worked under me, sliding beneath my ass cheeks and he started jerking
my ass upward to meet his brutal downward thrusts.
As the fantasy played before my closed eyes, my fingers worked harder
in my soapy pussy. I had three fingers thrusting rapidly in and out
of my cunny, grinding over my clitty with each stroke. My other hand
mashed and squeezed my breasts as I moaned and grunted in pleasure.
The big barbarian pulled out of me, turning me over and forcing me
onto my hands and knees. He knelt behind me and thrust deep into my
pussy with a single stroke, his cock knob slapping against my cervix
with painful force.
In the real world I never fucked doggie style, considering it far too
degrading. I'd seen porno movies of girls getting it like that and it
was always so clear who was the boss. How could a guy respect a woman
as his equal when he's had her on all fours, her asshole winking up
at him as he thrusts into her?
In my fantasy though, my degradation was merely a sign of his power
over me and my impotence.
I knelt like a dog as he mounted me and pounded his cock into my
velvety pink pussy box. Men stood around watching as he used me, his
hands firmly around my hips or waist as he drove his staff into me
with hard, measured thrusts.
In the shower stall, I turned around, pressing my face into the
corner. I was incredibly high, my mind buzzing with lust, my body
throbbing and pounding with desire. I panted and groaned helplessly,
my vision blurring whenever I opened my eyes.
I was hotter than I'd been for ages, my body pulsing with sexual
heat. I bent over, sliding downward onto the floor of the stall,
consciously or unconsciously positioning myself in real life as I was
in my fantasy. I knelt on the floor, my shoulders pressed to the
floor as I mauled my breasts with my right hand and fingered my clit
and pumped my fingers into my pussy with my left.
I was trembling with erotic desire, my knees sliding on the floor, my
face lowering so my cheek was against the tile. My left arm was down
between my legs, three fingers pumping in and out of my sex as I
spread my legs and raised my bottom into the air.
Other images flew through my mind, including one of my favourites,
where my hands are bound behind me and I'm being pulled along behind
a barbarian on his horse, a rope around my neck as I trudge along a
few feet behind him.
I whimpered and mewled as my body was overloaded with sexual heat. I
felt my orgasm approaching as I pounded my fingers into my box. My
eyes were clenched tightly closed as I panted for breath. The sound
of my own breathing and my own heartbeat loud in my ears.
Now, the thing was, when I'd gone out of the stall to start the water
up and then come back in, I'd forgotten to lock the door. Maybe it
was because I was tired and it was three in the AM, who knows. But
the door wasn't locked, and that was to be my undoing. For my fantasy
was about to become reality.