Hey readers, thanks for stopping by. In my writing, sometimes I like to dive headfirst into a scene, with no preamble, no backstory, nothing. This is a small collection of said scenes. They all vary in theme and content, although they all share a similarity in female submission. (although there is one at the end which is male submission). I'll give a list of tags before each scene so you can skip it if you think it'll be triggering/unenjoyable for you.
If any of these stories particularly piques your interest, please let me know in the comments. I may build it into a full story.
***
The breeding cow:
Hucow, female submissive, double penetration, nonhuman, excessive cum,
***
The milking stall reeked of sweat, slick, and the unmistakable tang of heat-fueled desperation. Every inch of her skin was glazed in a shimmering sheen--oil, cum, milk, or a mix of all three--it didn't matter anymore. She was more beast than woman now, bent over the padded breeding bench, arms cuffed forward, legs spread by cold metal bars, and her ass pushed so high it practically pulsed with need on its own.
Behind her, the heavy clank of hooves echoed as the prized stud approached. Massive. Feral. Not human. His hybrid form was all muscle, slick black fur along his arms and thighs, a heaving chest, and a cock that defied anatomy--longer than her forearm, fattened with ridges and veins, the head flared and drooling precum down to the dirt.
She didn't speak anymore. She couldn't. The ring-gag locked her mouth open, and it had been hours since she was allowed silence. Her throat was raw from use, her tits raw from suckling machines, and her pussy... god, her pussy was soaked, stretched wide open, twitching in rhythmic spasms, still hungry despite the gallons already pumped into her.
The stud growled low. He mounted fast--no teasing, no gentleness. His thick fingers dug into her hips like handles, and with one brutal thrust, he speared inside her, forcing her forward with such force her knees left the ground. Her scream came out as a gurgle through the drool-choked gag. Her belly bulged instantly, stretched tight by the obscene girth.
He didn't pause. He
fucked
.
Hard. Furious. Relentless.
Each thrust slammed her forward against the bench, the leather creaking under the abuse. Her body rocked like a ragdoll, tits slapping against the padding, ass jiggling under each thunderous impact. Her juices poured down her thighs in a steady stream, pooling with the dripping from earlier, the scent heady enough to fog the mind.
She came fast. Convulsing, clawing at the bench, drool pouring from her gag, eyes rolling back. But he kept going. He didn't care. He wasn't trained to stop. And she didn't want him to.
Behind her, a second stud stepped into the stall. This one taller, leaner, but just as eager. Her ass was full, but her throat was open--and he took it. No prep, no pause. Just shoved that slick beast cock straight through the ring-gag and down her throat in one violent push. Her eyes bulged, but her body welcomed it.
Now she was a hole at both ends--
gutted and plugged
, her belly ballooning with every brutal thrust from behind while her throat stretched obscenely to accommodate the front. Her body was a fuck toy, a breeding sow, the Farm's favorite.
She came again. Then again.
Then again.
Her mind blurred. Every thought drowned in heat and submission. Her body shook, overloaded with sensation--double-stuffed, overused, dripping from every hole, sweat and fluids flying with every slap of hips against her flesh. The sounds were pure filth: wet squelching, gagged moans, deep growls, the slapping of skin on skin, and the low electric hum of the milking machine still tugging at her nipples like greedy mouths.
Then, suddenly, the stall erupted in a roar.
The stud behind her hilted fully--slammed in deep enough to knock the breath from her lungs--and came. Hard.
Violently.
Hot cum flooded her womb in thick, boiling spurts. She could feel it fill her, stretch her further from the inside, bloating her belly with obscene pressure. It poured out of her too--down her thighs, splashing on the hay-covered floor in great sticky ropes.
Seconds later, the one in her throat stiffened--and
he came too
. Her eyes rolled, cum flooding her mouth and pouring past the cock stuffed in her throat, bubbling out of her nose. She choked on it, swallowed some, let the rest leak. She didn't care. She loved it. She was made for it.
The machine beeped.
She was full.
But the lights above her flashed red--another stud was already on his way.
And she smiled.
***
Power of the forest:
Nonhuman, huge cock, female submissive, noncon
***
Her ankles were already shaking, toes digging into the mossy floor of the glade, but the centaur wasn't even close to done. His massive body loomed behind her, sweat slick along his muscled flanks, arms braced on either side of her waist as he buried himself into her again--
deeper
than any man ever had, and impossibly thick. She cried out, the sound swallowed by the trees.
"More," he growled, voice like thunder rolling over her spine. "You'll
take
all of me this time."
She couldn't answer--not with her jaw slack, drool dripping from the corner of her lips, eyes fluttering. Her body felt ruined, wrecked, so stuffed full she was sure she could feel him in her
chest
. Each thrust sent her forward on her elbows, fingers clawing the earth, whole body jolting like he was resetting her bones.
"You wanted to see a centaur," he snarled into her neck, biting down hard enough to bruise. "And now you belong to one. To me."
His hand gripped her hair, yanked her up into a brutal arch, chest out, stomach taut as he pistoned into her from behind. The smack of his hips against her ass echoed once before being lost in the trees. Her breasts bounced with every thrust, nipples raw from the earlier attention of his tongue--long, inhuman, too clever for her sanity. She was babbling now. Half-prayers, half-begging, a string of nonsense that broke off in screams as she came again. She didn't even realize it was happening until she felt the gush down her thighs.
"More!" he ordered. "Take all of me, little human slut!"
She sobbed out a "yes"--or tried to. It was hard to form words around the delirium. She was so full. Too full. And he wasn't even close to finishing. When he leaned forward again, she felt the heavy weight of his cock twitch
inside
her, stretching her more than she thought possible.
Then his fingers reached around to her throat.
"Squeeze," he whispered, voice suddenly low. "Clench for me. Make it hard for me to leave."
She came so hard she
blacked out
. And when she blinked back into consciousness, he was still rutting into her like it was the first thrust of the night.
***
Dad's best friend, the DILF:
Younger woman, older man, female submissive,
***
I should not have worn these shorts.
That was the first thought I had when I saw him--shirtless in the driveway, washing his truck like a scene ripped straight out of a trashy calendar your mom pretends she doesn't own.
Mr. Barnes. My dad's best friend. The guy who used to call me "kiddo" and toss me into the pool when I was nine. Except now he was looking at me like he'd toss me onto something
else
.
"You've grown up," he said, which, sure, is what
everyone
says after your first year of college. But when
he
said it, it didn't sound casual. It sounded like a warning.
His eyes flicked down to my legs. My thighs. The edge of the shorts where denim turned to ass cheek. I watched him swallow.
And maybe I leaned forward just a little too much when I reached into the fridge for a drink.
"Still drink beer?" I teased, pulling one out, arching my back like a brat who
knows
what she's doing.
He didn't answer. Just stepped closer. Close enough that I could smell sweat and leather and something darker.
"Those aren't the kind of games you want to play with me, sweetheart," he said, voice rough.
Oh.
Okay.
I took a slow sip from the bottle, lips wrapped around the glass, eyes locked on his. He watched every second of it, like he wanted to bend me over the counter
right there
.
"Maybe I do," I whispered.
The first time he touched me was two minutes later. I was sitting on the kitchen counter, pretending not to be throbbing. He stepped between my knees and just...
held
my thigh. Big hand, rough palm, fingers pressing in like he was claiming territory.
"You really want to fuck your dad's best friend?" he asked, low and dark and very much not a joke.
I bit my lip. Nodded.
He shook his head like he was disappointed in me. And then
slapped
me across the face.
Just once.
Just hard enough to make my whole body light up like a Christmas tree.
"Then say it."
I blinked. Breath caught.
"Say what?" I whispered, heart in my throat.
"That you're a filthy little slut who wants to ride the cock of a man who used to babysit her."
My whole soul disintegrated. I was
soaked
instantly. I couldn't believe how badly I wanted it. How much it turned me on to be talked to like that--
about
that.
"I'm a filthy little slut," I said, cheeks burning, thighs already opening wider. "And I want to ride your cock, Mr. Barnes."
He didn't kiss me.
He
manhandled
me.
One arm under my knees, the other around my back, and suddenly I was being thrown--yes, literally fucking
thrown
--onto the couch like a girl half my size. The shorts were gone before I could blink. The thong? Ripped in half.
"College didn't teach you shit," he growled, yanking his belt open. "But I will."
And then he was inside me.
No teasing. No fingering. No asking.
Just thick, unrelenting cock slamming into a girl who
definitely should've known better
and
definitely didn't care.
I screamed. Like,
honest-to-God screamed
. It was too big, too much, too fast--and it felt
so fucking good
I thought I was gonna die with a smile on my face.
"God, you're tight," he grunted, hips slapping against me. "Still just a fucking brat with no idea how to take cock like a good girl."
He reached down and slapped my pussy.
I
exploded
.
I came so hard I went cross-eyed, nails dragging down his back as he fucked me through it. Didn't stop. Didn't even
slow down
. Just kept using me like a girl who finally got what she'd been teasing for years.
And when I came again--loud, messy,
shaking
--he shoved a hand in my mouth.
"Shut up," he muttered. "You scream like that again, and your daddy's gonna come in here and see what a little whore his daughter turned out to be."
I moaned into his palm.
Because the idea of being caught?
God, it made me want to come again.
His hand was still over my mouth when we heard the front door.
Keys.
Footsteps.
My father's voice, casual and clueless. "Honey? You home?"
I froze. Mr. Barnes didn't.
He
thrust
.
Hard.
I let out a muffled scream into his palm, thighs clenching tight around his waist. My body betrayed me--spasming, gripping him like it wanted him
deeper
, like it
loved
the idea of being ruined within earshot of my own goddamn father.
"Shh," he whispered, grinning as he pulled back just enough to slam forward again. "You make
one
sound, and he finds you spread open under his best friend. You want that?"
I didn't answer. Couldn't. His cock was hitting something unspeakable inside me, and my mind had already left the chat.
He pulled his hand from my mouth, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to see if I could be
