Anonymous asked: would you be able to do a bit about a guy with a use/degradation kink, please?
Anonymous asked: actually, could you make that last ask anonymous pls??
Jennifer Johnson said: This one might upset some folks. People hate when I write stories about sadistic men who steamroll younger women. People also hate when I use bondage in such a story. There's always someone saying, "This isn't BDSM!" and I hate to break it to people, but this is BDSM, it's just not the safe and sane kind that goes "by the book." This is a reminder that this is fiction and written for a request. These characters are not real, although they do resemble people who really exist. Consent is always necessary in real life and this is not an example of how you should conduct BDSM practices in real life. It's a nasty, terrible story that gets people off.
*Trigger Warning* Dubious Consent: Sex in this story is presented as nonconsent, but later the main character gives consent. Please read with caution, and if you are triggered by rape fantasy stories or rough sex, please avoid this story. Real rape is wrong. Do not rape people. This is just a story written for people who enjoy rape fantasy as a fantasy and understand the difference between fantasy and reality. All characters are over 18.
Born to be Used
I was used to being pushed around all my life by my four older brothers and my father. My mother left shortly after I was born, and I became the servant of our household. I was taught to cook and clean for all of the boys, and I was expected to do whatever they asked, no matter the task. I never really thought anything of it until I finally moved out. I moved to a small town in Kentucky and got a job as a cleaning lady for some rich folks who had recently married and would soon welcome a new baby.
I was only nineteen, and though I'd lost my virginity, I didn't have much sexual experience. I was shy when it came to sex, yet I knew there was something perverted in me. I never talked about sex, but I listened as others gave their accounts of sexual encounters. Some of my friends from high school talked openly about their sex lives, but none of it sounded very appealing to me. I wasn't sure what I wanted from men, but I knew it wasn't love. I didn't know how to accept love.
"Dahlia! Get in here! Now!" Mr. Schooner, my boss, called.
"Coming!" I ran as quickly as I could to the bedroom, smoothing my braids before opening the door. As soon as I entered the room, Mr. Schooner closed the door.
"Sit down on the bed. We need to have a little talk."
"Okay," I said, sitting down. I wondered why he looked so tense. His shoulders were pulled up toward his face, and the expression he wore was one I couldn't read. I wasn't afraid, but maybe I should have been. Looking back, I can see that Mr. Schooner had plans for me. He hired me for a specific position, which was on my knees.
"I hired you for a reason," he told me. "It's because you're young and beautiful. My wife isn't either of those things anymore, so I thought you could help me out."
"With what?" I asked innocently.
"With this," he said, pulling his dick out of his pants.
"Oh my God! Eww!" I screamed. I didn't have much experience with penises, and I had never seen one that was old and used like Mr. Schooner's. He was probably in his late fifties, judging by his gray hair and how he walked with a limp because of his arthritis.
"Shh. Dahlia, calm down. We can help each other. I'm sure you would love to earn a little more money, wouldn't you?"
"More money?" I asked carefully. I figured he was about to offer me money for sex, and I already knew that my answer would be no.
"Yes. There would be a couple of stipulations to our agreement, but you would earn more money for performing more services."
"What kind of services?" I couldn't look him in the eyes, and I fixed my gaze on the ground in front of his shoes.
"I need a young woman who can serve as my slave. Whenever I ask for something, you will need to do it for me. That doesn't sound so hard, does it?"
"N-n-no," I stammered. My heart was pounding.
"Get on your knees. Right here in front of me."
"But-"
"I said get on your knees!" Mr. Schooner screamed, and it scared me the way he was looking at me like he might kill me if I didn't agree to let him abuse me. I wanted to run, but I didn't. Instead, I sunk to my knees in front of him, his old, wrinkly dick in my face. "Now, close your eyes."
I closed them, and he tied something around my head like a blindfold. I couldn't see when I opened my eyes. I was scared, but I didn't cry out. I felt him push something into my mouth, and it tasted slightly salty.
"Open your mouth wider, Dahlia. I want you to take it all."
I knew it was his dick, and I was disgusted but afraid to run away. I was scared to do anything but what he was telling me to do because of how I'd been raised. My brothers made me do their bidding, but they had never done anything like this to me. Mr. Schooner held my head as he stabbed the back of my throat with his dick.
"I'm going to train you to be my little cum whore. Would you like that? Would you like to be my special little princess?"
I didn't answer because he was fucking my face.
He made me lay down, draping my head over the side of the bed so he could get his cock further down my throat. I choked so much that I puked a few times, but he wouldn't let me stop. I screamed as he throat-fucked me and tried to wriggle free.
"I didn't say you were done!" He screamed at me. "Open your fucking mouth!"
I opened my mouth and let him fuck my throat until I puked several more times. Eventually, there was no more vomit left in me, and though I retched, nothing came up. Now, he could fuck my throat as hard and fast as possible. I did my best to take the assault, but I started to cry when he came all over my face, getting cum in my eyes.
"Why are you crying!" he screamed when he finished his orgasm. "Just for that, you're going to do it again."
I started to get up. "I need to wipe my face!" I whined.
"No, you don't! I like your face messy like this! I love the way you look coated in my cum. This is your job now. You are my sex slave, and you won't tell Mrs. Schooner. If you do, I will make you very, very sorry. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I said, my voice small and insignificant.
"Get back on the bed the way you were. I'm not done with your mouth." He pointed to the bed, and I did as he asked. I endured hours of him fucking my throat and cumming all over my face.
I left his room that day defeated, and I suppose I could have quit, but I was used to being the obedient daughter and sister that did anything for the men around me. I was a perfect candidate to be Mr. Schooner's little victim. The face fucking went on for several weeks. My throat constantly ached from being fucked so hard and fast. I had dried cum and spit all over my face most of the time, but Mrs. Schooner never seemed to notice.
Mr. Schooner soon grew bored of fucking my face and moved on to my ass next. I'd never had anal sex, but he had a special stool that he made me sit on that made it easy for him to adjust my height to get different angles when he fucked my asshole. At first, it was so painful that I could barely breathe. I held onto the sides of the stool and begged him for mercy. It's too bad he never showed me any.
"Mmmm, your tight, little asshole is so much better than my wife's. You know, she won't let me fuck her in the ass anymore? Since she's been pregnant, she won't let me use her. Good thing I have you to use. Do you like it when men use you, Dahlia?"
"I don't know," I answered.
"Yes, you do, you little whore!" he screamed, and he covered my mouth with one hand and wrapped the other around my chest, pinching one of my nipples. He fucked my ass harder than ever, and I screamed into his hand, tears running down my cheeks. "This is what you're good for, Dahlia. You're a set of holes and a heartbeat. That's it. Men only want you so they can use you like this. Do you like being used, Dahlia?"
"No!" I whined.
Mr. Schooner reached up and slapped me upside the head. My head whipped to the left, and I cried out.
"Wrong answer! Try again!"
"Yes!" I spewed as if it were a curse word.
"I like when you cry like that. Do you feel how hard my cock is getting? That's because of you."
"It hurts!" I whined, and I noticed his dick got even harder. He was getting off on my pain and suffering, and I hated it.
"Tell me how bad it hurts."
"No!"
"Fine, then. I'll make it hurt worse!" He gripped me by the shoulders, steadying me so he could pound my asshole harder than he ever had. I screamed as pain seared through my asshole and spread to my brain like a wildfire.
"Stop! Stop!" I growled. I sounded like a cornered animal, and I thrashed against the force of his cock.
"Take this, you slut! Take my dick in your fucking ass! Scream for me!"
I couldn't stop screaming. I was lost in a sea of pain, being pulled under. The pain became so intense that it shifted into something I could never have imagined. I felt like I would die if he didn't stop, but just when I thought I was finally leaving this earth, something miraculous happened.
"You whore!" Mr. Schooner screamed.
"No! No!" I screamed just before my entire world began to shatter. Something inside of me broke, opening the floodgates between pleasure and pain. They met in a sick, twisted union inside me until I felt like I was about to explode. I was panting like a dog in heat, growling from deep within. I didn't sound human anymore, but it didn't matter. I could no longer remember where I was or what I was doing. All I could feel was pure pleasure, which emanates from deep within and whispers the truth of all moments to your soul. I howled as the pleasure moved through me, though I couldn't remember who was doing this to me or why.
I couldn't hear myself screaming until my orgasm was over. I'd never had a real orgasm before, and I'd been told that I would know it when I had one. I definitely knew that it had finally happened.
"Dahlia! Answer me? Are you okay?" Mr. Schooner asked me, lifting the blindfold off of me. His dick was no longer in my ass, and I was face-down on the bed, my ass still in the air.
"I think so. I think I had an orgasm." I admitted.
"Good. I'm glad you can cum from anal sex, and I'm glad you're okay, but I'm not done with you. Today is the right day for me to finally fuck your pussy. I want all of your holes to be completely mine. Flip over. Open your legs," he ordered.
I flipped over and opened my legs. I was no longer afraid of him. Now, I was in awe of him and what he had done to me. I welcomed his cock into my pussy and moaned with excitement as he pressed his cock into my tight hole.
"I'll go slow for a few pumps before I fuck you the way I want to fuck you," he told me.
"How is that?"
"You'll find out, you little whore."
