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And Pillage { MF MD MC 1st reluc magic growth } codes codes
defined at /~UtherPendragon/code/scfr.htm

Synopsis: Violent fantasy of a small breasted woman.

Enhanced by graphics at /~benwa/ and at
angelfire/film/benwa/ - NOT YET, BUT SOON
Ratings and Comments available at above websites.
Plain Text at /files/Authors/benwa/
and at and ://./pub/Authors/benwa/

====================================================

Boring Legal Stuff: Under the terms of the Byrne convention all works
by this author are ed. Re-posting, redistribution, inclusion
in another work, or any other use of it is strictly prohibited without
the express, written permission of the holder, except
that it may be posted as part of a review or posted to a free-access,
noncommercial archive site.

DISCLAIMER: The following is a work of fiction and any resemblance
between characters in this work and actual persons living or dead is
entirely coincidental. This work contains scenes of explicit sex
between adults and is intended for the entertainment of adults only.
If you are offended by depictions of adult intercourse or if you are
less than the age of majority in your jurisdiction then LEAVE NOW!
Please do not read or download this file. Because this is a fantasy,
characters in this work may engage in unprotected sex in a universe
where AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases do not exist.
In reality sex without protection is unwise and nothing in this
work should be taken as condoning such activity, or any of
the other activities depicted herein.

====================================================

And Pillage (Violent fantasy of a small breasted woman)

My village had been attacked and destroyed by the oncoming barbarian
horde out of the East. We had no warning and no serious defenses.
The village had been overrun in minutes.

I was thrown to the dirt in the tent of the barbarian. Just two hours
before, this monster had raped my mother, forcing a passionate
response. Then he killed both my parents before my eyes.
Now I was alone in the world.

I had disguised myself as a skinny young lad, hoping to escape.
Indeed I looked like a boy of 13 or 14 summers with narrow hips
and no breasts. To complete the illusion, both my hair and clothes
were cut in the male style.

Although approaching my eighteenth summer, my body had not
developed like the other girls in my village. While many of them
were already married with children at my age, I had never had a
single suitor. Those girls who had been captured could shortly
expect only brutal rape.

My own captor was a common foot soldier. So low in rank that
he had not rated any of the many young captive girls now being
distributed for the enjoyment of the army. Instead he had been
given a young boy (me) as booty to vent his lusts on.

I was dragged to my feet by my clothes. He spoke in his barbarous
tongue, but I could not understand. In response I vowed, "I will kill
you for what you did to my family. You have to sleep sometimes.
Then you will die by my hand." He was unable to understand my
threats, or he might have killed me on the spot.

Apparently, he had wanted my clothes removed. Now impatient by
my failure to respond properly, he took action. Bunching his large
muscular arms. He ripped my clothes to shreds. I was naked before him.

My attempts to cover the signs that I was not a lad proved useless.
He dragged me to a low couch and facing me down tied my wrists above
my head, rendering my helpless. He was preparing to take me from
behind as if I was a boy.

Looking down at my exposed form, it was only then that he realized
that we were not the same sex. After a moment of astonishment, his
large hands clasped me between my legs. A deep belly laugh rumbled
through him at the confirmation that I was female.

As easily as a leaf, I was flipped onto my back and my legs tied well
apart. The same hand returned to the juncture of my thighs. His other
meaty paw began exploring my flesh as if trying to determine how I had
managed to masquerade as a lad for so long.

I steeled myself against the harsh rape I expected at the barbarian's
hands. I knew it would hurt terribly as the savage ripped the
virginity from my defenseless bound body, but I would survive. Later,
I would remember my pain and use it to forge my righteous revenge.

"Use me quickly, animal, and be done," I declared. He did not. Instead
his hand ran up and down breasts, belly, and thighs. My breathing
deepened. I thought that it must be the chill air that was causing my
nipples to tighten.

The hand between my legs had not stopped moving. Indeed, a single
finger had slipped into the crack between my nether lips and was
gently rubbing the entrance to my maidenhood.

I told him grimly, "I may be bound, helpless, and at the mercy of your
hands, but you cannot force me to respond to your barbarous touch."
Even as I spoke those defiant words, I felt a dampness coat the finger
that was ceaselessly rubbing my most delicate treasures.

The ruffian now tried to undermine my determined resolve. His head
lowering to my breast, he captured on one of my straining nipples
between his lips and began to suck on it. His rough beard was
irritating the underside of my meager, but susceptible breast.

Such sensations I had never felt. It was as if he were gently tugging
on a rope tied from my nipple to the juncture of my legs. I felt a
greater wetness there soaking the inciting finger.

I now knew what the barbarian had forced my mother to feel, why she
had trembled under his touch, then moaning powerlessly, impaling
herself again and again upon his foul tool.

I understood that at the end my mother's screams were not of pain,
but of passion and need. A weak female, she had been reduced to
begging to be used again.

My father and I were tied only a few feet away watching her
debasement. Even knowing that, she could not control the
lascivious sensations that he coerced from her.

Now he was doing the same to me. Inflaming my unprotected and
bound flesh with his large, powerful hands. Was the daughter
as weak as the mother? Would my unsullied body soon be
writhing in passion, begging for defilement?

"Stop! Stop now, you foul swine," I commanded, gasping for breath.
He took my meaning, I think, although the words were foreign.
He decided to punish my insolence.

"ooooohhhhhhHHHHH", I cried out when he touched the center of
my thoughts. I'd believed that no one else knew of my secret spot.
He used well it against me, sapping my strength and will to resist.

Soon my resistance crumbled under his relentless attack. The demon
won by arousing me to undreamed of heights of passion.

I was forced to surrender to his assault. My hips thrust up to push
him more firmly against my burning slit. I was unable to form words.
Only moans came from my lips.

My own body had betrayed me. It leapt to his touch, headless of my
will. Not a strapping lad was I, but a weak female. How easily I had
been conquered by his strength.

His conquest was not yet complete. Removing the hand between my legs,
he replaced it with his hard wand. The heat of it inflamed me further.
I rubbed my wet slit against the demon's pole.

He moved to wedge the bulbous head between my nether lips. Once there
he stopped. To my shame, I felt my own hips thrust upward to push his
hard manhood inside of me.

I thus was obliged to impale my own maidenhood on his fleshy lance.
He merely lowered himself slowly, allowing me to do the work.
The obscene needs that inflamed my inexperienced body were
too overwhelming to resist.

We both felt him push against my maiden's barrier. The pain,
although mixed with keen pleasure, was enough to slow my
thrusting. It was time for the barbarian to take full control.

Placing his hands on my hips to hold them steady, he withdrew his
lance until only the head remained within. My hips desired to thrust
up to recapture him, but they were immobilized by his iron grip.

With a grunt his lance drove forward, spearing through my maiden's
barrier. "aaaaaiiiiiIIII", I sobbed in pain and loss, tears filling
my eyes. The shredded tissue would never again offer protection.

I had dreamed of giving my virginity freely under the moon of a
warm summer's eve to a boy who whispered how much he loved me.
Instead it had been cruelly ripped from me by the foul smelling
animal between my splayed legs as I lay crushed beneath his bulk.

In four strokes I felt his loins meet mine. Although he did not stop
his thrusts, my pain quickly disappeared. His finger lifted to rub
my hard nipples between them. The uninvited passion surged through
me once again. My hips, now freed, matched the rhythm of his thrusts.

Resistance long forgotten, I could not think of my village, my
friends, not even my lost family, only the unthinking primitive
urgency to engulf the demon spear. My carnal need consumed me.

Now the barbarian possessed me totally. I became a rutting animal.
Heaving my sex unendingly against his. My thighs lifted to clasp
his maleness closer. With each stroke I struggled to push my
"secret spot" against his hardness.

I felt an overwhelming sensation build in my belly. I feared it
greatly, but was powerless to hinder the unstoppable force.
It grew until I could think of nothing else.

Then it exploded from within, destroying my mind, consuming my
body in fire and ice. I screamed and clamped down on the hardness
within. His tool spewed hot lava into my virgin womb igniting a
second explosion that shook me to my core.

His dead weight collapsed on my slight frame. I could barely breath.
Finally, he saw my distress. He reached between us. As he withdrew
his shrinking tool, he gathered the mingled juices that began leaking
from my slit.

Lifting up, he performed a ritual of his tribe. He smeared the blood
stained juices across my forehead, my belly, and my breasts marking
me as a female whose maidenhood he had claimed.

Lastly he pressed the juices through my lips, onto my tongue,
that I might remember the taste of my sundered virginity.
After many years, I still recall the slightly salty, tangy
flavor mixed with the blood taste of my ruined maidenhood.

Would I be killed now? He had done to me what he had done
to my mother. He had not kept her alive for his sordid
pleasure after she had yielded to him. I had no reason
to believe my end would be different.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He took a small
gourd from a chest and mixed the remainder of our mingled
passion into its contents. Reaching into my slit many times,
he gathered more to be added to the mixture.

When that was done, strange words were uttered and mystical passes
made. There was a flash and puff of smoke from the gourd. I was made
to repeat his words as he smeared salve from the gourd deep into my
slit, onto my breasts, within my mouth, and across my forehead.

I'd felt a deep soreness between my legs. Its first invader had
well stretched my virgin slit. That now abated and I fell into a
deep sleep. When I awoke, my breasts felt hot and puffy.
My slit was sensitive and wet.

I marveled at how he suddenly looked so powerful, so dominating. I
knew that I was female, I must submit, I wished for him to possess me.

Upon seeing me awake, the barbarian fell upon my bound body
once again. This time, despite being entered quickly, my
body immediately responded.

I was hot and needful for his spear to plunge within my depths. When
his lusts were sated, he performed the same mystic ritual again.

Each time I awoke, my breasts seemed bigger and more sensitive.
My body responded more quickly and passionately as his manhood
plumbed my depths.

I lost count how many times he had me. How many times had I repeated
the magic words that were transforming my body and my mind?

I became eager for his touch. Reveling in the feel of his tool and
how he possessed me totally. When next I awoke, I was unbound.
I stood to examined myself then gasped in astonishment.

No one could possibly mistake me for a boy. Dark tresses fell to my
slender waist. My hips and backside were well rounded. My breasts
full, firm, and tipped with large ruby red nipples that were well
distended.

I had become more voluptuous then any other woman I'd ever seen.
How could I sneak through camp and escape looking like this?

I heard a barbarian word spoken. My mind did not understand his
command, but somehow as if by magic my body did.

I fell naked to my knees facing my captor. I thrust out my chest
to display my breasts. My knees spread wide to display my wet
sex. My hands rested palms up on my thighs. I knew this was
the first position for a slave girl.

As he spoke each command, my body shifted into other slave positions.
Head bent forward ready to be collared. Wrists crossed behind back
ready to be bound. I obeyed each command instantly, unthinkingly. My
body becoming more aroused each time I submitted to his domination.

With the last command, I found myself face down, back on the couch.
My head down and rear quarters high in the air with knees spread.
Perfect position to be taken from the rear.

I knew then that I had been transformed into a pleasure slave.
My dripping slit anxiously anticipated being cloven by his spear.

As my Master possessed me, I reveled in the feeling of being
owned, of being dominated. This is what I needed. I was happy.
My former life quickly fading from my memory like a bad dream.

the end

====================================================

Enhanced by graphics at /~benwa/ and at
angelfire/film/benwa/ - NOT YET, BUT SOON
Ratings and Comments available at above websites.
Plain Text at /files/Authors/benwa/
and at and ://./pub/Authors/benwa/

Your comments welcome! An author needs constructive
criticism to improve. Contact me by using the form
at /~benwa/contact.html
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at benwa, please include Story Name

And Pillage { MF MD 1ST reluc magic growth } codes codes
defined at /~UtherPendragon/code/scfr.htm

====================================================

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Thursday, July 29, 2004

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Monday, July 26, 2004

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Letters to Myself, by Medea (medeafk)

June 3rd

Dear Alexis,

Remember this: it didn't happen the way you told everyone else. Memory
fades with time, and it becomes easy to accept the account that you've been
telling over and over, but it's not the truth. And you need to remember
the truth.

You liked the bruises, the scratches, the way your body ached in the
morning after he left. You wanted him to hurt you, and oh, you loved him
for it. When he left you, left town, your friends thought it was cause for
celebration. It was easier to take the role of the abandoned, battered
girlfriend, than to explain what really happened.

It wasn't his fault. He was a nice guy, probably too nice to stay. You
watched the way his conscience ate at him for hurting you, but you asked
for more anyhow, you pushed him to do it. And that's the real reason he
left. He couldn't deal with it anymore.

The friends, they'll comfort you all the same. You don't have to tell
them what the tears are really for, but try to remember, for yourself.

June 16th

Dear Alexis,

Can't stop thinking about him, can you? He called last night, asked how
you were doing. He was so apologetic, so sweet... You wanted to tell him
to come back, especially when he said he missed you. Instead you just
wished him well with his new job, and tried to pretend that everything was
fine.

But it only made you miss him more. After you hung up, you went to bed.
Half-asleep, you dreamed/remembered him, grabbing your hair to twist your
head around and pinning you against the wall. You dreamed about that fire
in his eyes and the way his fingers would dig into your body. You'd yell,
"Fuck you! Is that the best you can do?" when he was rough but you needed
more, until finally he'd had enough, and angrily ripped your clothes off
and fucked you, your body slamming into the wall. The next day, you'd be a
wreck, with bruises across your shoulder blades and marks on your neck
where he bit you. The pain, the pleasure, that's what you live for, that's
what makes you feel alive.

It's gone now, though, and you have to find something else. The moping
around worries your friends. Do you want to have to explain to them the
real reason you're depressed?

June 20th

Alex,

You throw yourself into work, hoping that a new distraction will drive
out everything else. And it does, a little. It's easier when you don't
have free time to think. You're feeling more in control now. Hold onto
it. The rest, well... There will be other men, right? Just keep going.

July 8th

Dear Alex,

That guy Amy introduced you to at her 4th of July barbeque is something,
isn't he? You had dinner with him last night, and you talked about all
sorts of things. You wonder if Amy realizes that he's kinky as hell. He
picked up on what sort of girl you are almost immediately.

After dinner, you went back to his place. You don't usually sleep with
a guy on the first date, but this was different. He offered what you
needed and you took it.

When he held you down and you yelled at him, he only smiled, letting you
work up that anger. You started to think he was just teasing, that he
wouldn't follow through after all, but then he smacked you back down and
you knew it was going to be fine. He stripped you and tied your wrists
together and hung you from a ceiling hook, toes barely touching the ground,
then he used you like a pi�ata, beating you with that blunt little cane.
And when you were about ready to collapse, wobbling on the rope, he lifted
you from the hook and you had sex, lying across a table. He way he pushed
your shoulders into the hard surface as he thrust into you created soreness
you still feel now, like bruises too deep to see. And it was perfect.

This time you'll learn how to hide the marks better. This time he's not
afraid to hit you harder.

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