Thread: The Handmaiden's Tale (Wander and Chanti)

Was it possible to feel so much hatred and not die of it? Was it possible to feel such overwhelming shame and fear that she could barely hear over the roaring of the blood in her ears and not melt from it? His mocking laughter was the tipping point, and her shriek of rage turned into a shriek of pain when his fists cruelly twisted in her silken hair, ripping her head back so her scream bounced off the ceiling. And then he was in her. The pain was horrific, literally taking her breath away. Sucking the air from her lungs in a choking gasp of misery as his swollen cock tore brutally into her virginal channel. He shred her virginity under his rampaging cock, forced her tiny hole to stretch to its limit and beyond. It was an animalistic howl of sheer agony that tore out of her strained, bent throat as she felt something inside her tear, felt the hot gush of blood that coated his engorged flesh inside her. He was killing her, she was certain of it. Every inch of her body screamed to escape this torture, but the cruel grip on her hair causing her scalp to burn ensured she did not. She was no longer angry. No longer outraged. No longer fighting. Now she was a trapped female animal impaled on the mighty male cock, splayed out like a bleating, bloody sacrificial lamb before an omniscient and cruel god. What an irony of humanity that her agony could provide her attacker so much pleasure! From her sweat-slicked naked satin skin to her silken hair twisted in his fingers, to the soft firmness of her ass that thumped against his bellyand certainly that hot tight cunt, wet and slick with her blood, wrapping around him and squeezing him each time he slammed into her with a bloody squelch. For each triumphant slap on her ass that reddened into the shape of his handprint, she squealed like the stuck fuck-pig she had been forced to be. Underneath her the soft white sheets were blotched crimson, stained with her salty sweet sweat. She howled, grunted, cried and swore. No longer the dignified noble lady of Greece. Now pretty Sophie was a slave slut, forced to bow to her masters cock, forced to give him the pleasure he took. Grecian soldiers walking outside the room heard her howling cries and grinned, content that another Trojan bitch was serving her new Grecian master. But if they had known it was a fellow Grecian woman suffering in that room they would not have cared. The blood of the conqueror ran hot in their male veins, and any woman was a ready victim tonight. Nothing was required of them but to suffer. And suffer Sophie did. Like she never had before in her life, even when her former mistress had been at her cruelest. Each relentless thrust was a stabbing pain deep into her loins, bruising her from the inside out. She was so tight that her slick walls clung to him when he pulled back, peeling away only reluctantlywelcoming him back with a spasm of agony as he slid back into her bloody, drooling cunt. The red streaks lining her creamy inner thighs and plump pussy lips gloated over her pain. Her agony was so acute she could not even think, could not hear anything said. She could only feel. Feel the burning, aching pain in her scalp. Feel the numb bruising pain in her stretched neck. Feel the hot strokes of bruising pain that thrust into her. Feel his strong possessive hand on her ass, slapping her repeatedly, burning those tight jiggling cheeks. Feel the wobbling of her naked breasts that shook with the power of his thrusts. She cried for mercy and did not even hear her own pleas. She begged him as she had refused to do before. Begged him not like a noblewoman, but like a miserable, pathetic slave-girl serving her master with her pain. She used words she would never in her normal mind admit to knowing. She offered him anything, anything at all, as long as the pain stopped. The small bit of pain other women had spoken of when they first laid with a man was nothing like what she was experiencing. Because this was not love, or even simple lust. This was battle, the age old battle between a man and a woman that had been fought out over centuries. The battle that nearly always left the man the victor. This was not love, this was war. And war is bloody and painful and brutal. The pain does not stop until the battle has been fought and is over.