Entire SMUT CATALOG: Volume 2

by Kimberly Gray

  More whistles and wax burns followed. It seemed to last forever. She could hear the crowd roaring with laughter, lust and insults hurled in her direction. A couple of people from the crowd spit on her while she was being whipped and burned.

  Suddenly Alice was spun around she until facing right-side up. She felt dizzy but the six men did not let her collect herself.

  The next moment Alice was unchained and on her knees with a cage on her head. She felt more whips on her backside.

  She was pushed onto all-fours then someone’s penis entered her cunt.

  Other men were sticking dildos between the cage bars and making her take turns sucking each one.

  Flashes from various cameras erupted as the crowd began taking pictures of Alice's naked body.

  Some of the women began spitting at Alice's face and hair.

  One of the masked men laid beneath her and pulled her on top before entering her.

  Alice felt more spanks on her ass.

  Suddenly she felt a second cock stretch her out as two men began to fuck her. She felt like she was being split open.

  She knew the two men were going to destroy her pussy before the night was over, and she didn't care. The pleasure of the moment was too immense for her to say stop. The pain from Alice's caning had reached a level of euphoria. The feeling mixed with the pleasure of having two hot cocks deep in her pussy.

  Alice's thoughts reverted to a more primitive, animalistic-desire. She wanted only sex and to be used as an anonymous hole for someone's–anyone's–pleasure.

  As the minutes passed Alice began to understand what a true slut was. She looked through her caged helmet at the hundreds of onlookers filming her clit being stretched by two cocks balls deep in her pussy. Alice realized there was no more doubt: she was a complete whore, inside and out, and it was exactly what she wanted.

  The men turned Alice onto her back and released her from the cage.

  They pressed her ankles up until they were behind her ears. They fixed her ankles to two “D” rings fastened to the floor.

  One of the men pulled out a long stick with a wooden dildo toy at the end. The man toyed with Alice by letting her suck emphatically on the adult toy. A minute later he pulled it out and let it slide into her asshole; using Alice's saliva as the lubricant. He began to fuck her asshole slowly, watching her facial expressions change with the euphoric sensations traveling down her spine and throughout her body.

  Alice could feel how much she loved being fucked in the ass and suddenly realized she was an ass slut. This revelation made her smile.

  Two other men knelt on either side of her head and took turns letting her suck them off. Alice's hands had a firm grasp on two other cocks from the other men. She didn't dare stop or slow down stroking them. She knew from the redhead the night before what happened to naughty sluts like who put on a sub-par performance.

  One of the men began slapping her tits, cheeks and ass.

  Tears began to well up in Alice's eyes. Maybe it was from the pain of the slaps, or maybe it was from the overwhelming joy she felt from becoming a sex slave, of sorts, for life.

  Alice felt Craig was somewhere in the crowd watching her. Did he approve of what she was doing? She thought she loved that man, and deep down, she still did. But for once in her life she wanted to be a slut to 'Érotique Ministerium' more than anything in the world; perhaps even more than she wanted to be with him. Alice could feel herself being mentally broken down and shaped into something new. She felt free from the agony of choice, free from the stresses of daily life. Alice had a singular purpose now: she was a sexual organism; born to suck and fuck whenever commanded.

  The men stepped away from Alice and admired her embarrassing position. The crowd laughed at her and took more pictures.

  One of the masked men told her to lick her own cunt. Alice lifted her head and tried with all her might. The tip of her tongue curled at the attempt to taste her own juices, but ultimately failed. The men only laughed at her more.

  After this short humiliating break a new round of tortures began. The 'Maître Rouge' approached her and studied her for a minute then addressed the crowd of onlookers.

  “Thank you, ladies & gentleman, for attending this show! Now please, help yourself to our newest prospective member, miss Alice! She is yours to play with all night! I expect everyone to get their fill from her.” The 'Maître Rouge' announced.

  The crowd went wild. The members of the Ministerium had drinks in their hands, others were smoking; they each looked leisured and festive. Craig was not among them.

  Alice was untied and the six muscled men disappeared into the crowd.

  Nothing happened for about a second and then the crowd rushed towards Alice like hungry sharks.

  She was immediately entered by a black guy. A fat obese lady with a hairy cunt sat on Alice's face. Four or five other men were hitting Alice’s body with their erected penises and masturbating.

  The black man stood up to make way for someone else's hand who began working one finger at a time into her anus. The feeling of five fingers working their way deep into her ass caused Alice to moan with rapture. She felt like she was in heaven, with a dozen hands having their way with her body all at once.

  The cocks and cunts were changing in numerous numbers. Alice became a “thing”, an object that anyone could play with to their satisfaction.

  Couples were making out nearby. Several groups of orgies began to form until they linked together into one large sexual creature.

  Alice was fucked, fucked and fucked again nonstop. Time seemed to slow to a crawl for her as she found herself lost in a carnal cacophony of a hundred different lovers.

  The pleasure felt never-ending; Alice found her meaning in life had been simplified into a single purpose: sexual gratification. It was all she knew now. It was all she wanted.

  As the hours went on, she had been fucked doggy style, double penetrated and anal fisted. She licked ladies shoes and men's assholes. The guests would spit in her mouth, fuck her in the throat, choke her and stretch her pussy with toys in all her holes.

  People took turns writing on her body various insults such as “fuck slut”, “pig” and “cum dumpster”. She knew every one of them were true–and then some.

  Alice had heard about ‘breaking the sub’ before, but never knew that the experience would be so much more mental than physical.

  ***************

  By sunrise a large cup had been passed around the hall from one guest to the other. Each man masturbated into the cup and every woman at the party squirted her secretions into the cup, as well. By the end of it every guest present had contributed some of themselves into a large milky-white cocktail. The crowd stood Alice up on her knees, handed her the cum-fused elixir and began to chant “Chug! Chug! Chug!”.

  Without question or hesitation, Alice opened her throat and chugged the nearly half-liter of liquid. She was careful not to spill a drop.

  Drinking all of it left her belly feeling full. The crowd went wild.

  Suddenly two masked men grabbed either arm of Alice, holding her in place. A third man with a red-hot iron approached her from behind and pressed the small iron, about the size of a coin, into her left shoulder. The hot iron sered her skin. Alice let out a scream of surprise and terrible pain. She had been branded, and now knew there was no going back.

  Alice had found her life's purpose.

  Craig appeared out of the crowd and helped her to her feet. Her makeup was smeared, her hair disheveled, and every inch of her body red from whips, flogs and fuckings. Alice weakly smiled at Craig.

  “Congratulations, Alice. You did it! By passing the test, drinking our most sacred of elixirs and taking on our symbol, you are now officially a member of the 'Érotique Ministerium'! I love you so much,” Craig said before embracing her warmly in a hug.

  A moment later Craig surprised Alice once more by kneeling to one knee and pulling out a small velvet box.

  “Alice, I love you more than
anything in this world. I'm so happy you decided to become one of us. Alice, will you marry me?”

  Alice's eyes widened the size of saucers. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Was she hallucinating? Was she delirious from the lack of sleep? Or was this really happening? She broke down and began cry.

  “Yes! Yes! Of course I'll marry you, Craig! Yes!” Alice said with all her heart.

  ***************

  Six months later, on the white beaches of Morocco, Craig and Alice joined hands together in holy matrimony. The wedding was filled with hundreds of friends, family, and fellow members of a secret society that will remain unnamed.

  ###

  THE END

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  ***************

  As it bore into her, it vibrated against her G-spot. Her body instinctively became aroused and began growing wet around the sex beast. Becka's girl cum began dripping to the floor.

  The stellar sex saga from out of this world is about to get a whole lot weirder! We last left off with Becka becoming the latest inhabitant of the tentacle alien's pleasure palace in the sky. Now she joins her lady friends in a freaky group sex-fest! With all of the women in place and deprived of all their senses (other than touch), they are about to experience hours of galaxy-grade pleasure, like never before experienced in this universe! Becka meets Reyna, an evil woman who helps the tentacle creature round up more women, in exchange for endless fucks and milkings of her creamy tits! Will Becka stop this traitorous bitch, or will she finally give in to the fires burning in her loins?

  ***************

  Becka rose from the contoured floor and stood herself up, the floor leveling and becoming firm under her feet. She had repeated this routine for what seemed an eternity. There was no sense of time for her here, a captive in a metal cell.

  Becka took food and water, delivered from the holes that lined her cell walls. Her tits were enormous, bloated with milk, though this had been artificially induced by her captors. She was in no way pregnant. Her regular flow attested to this.

  After she had taken her fill she turned and laid her back against the wall. The now familiar “milking” apparatus emerged from holes in the wall. The two slim, metal tubes with their suction cup tips and the metal cock, delivering its jolts of electricity. The bindings of the tentacle-like material held her firmly in place as the machines placed themselves on, and embedded themselves in, her body.

  Becka didn't struggle.

  All those devices were gone now, and hadn't returned in some time. Only the sound of the suction pump filled the cell.

  When Becka had been returned to this cell, after being violated by a creature who inhabited this ship, covered in sweat, cum and alien fluids, defiance and escape occupied her mind. As time passed and she began to accept the futility of her efforts, and the incredible ecstasy of the alien's out-of-this-world cock, she fell into what could only be described as a walking “coma”.

  She had begun to accept her fate, and the perks that came with it.

  During her first days, her mind returned to its straight razor precision. She continued to probe the thousands of holes covering the rounded walls of her cell, looking for any weakness, any opportunity. She began a rigorous, daily workout routine. She took note of her surroundings and the operations of the machines, lurking silently behind the cell walls.

  The first thing she had noticed was time didn't exist here. The lighting always remained muted. Food was provided to her twice a day, but in a limited amount. A single hole continuously dripped water in a slow, fine stream that hugged the wall, with intermittent surges in the amount of water delivered. Now, rather than the fine stream, an outpour took its place. Becka drank her fill from this, every time it was offered. This change in volume seemed to occur at regular intervals. Becka had counted out the time between two cycles.

  Becka viewed the time between sleep as “days”, though she had no idea if this was a 24 hour cycle. Her circadian rhythm was unaffected. A human's circadian rhythm was its bodies clock. It judged time from external clues, such as light and darkness, as well as from repetition. If this rhythm was interrupted or altered it could result in a myriad of maladies, from insomnia to psychosis.

  Given this, Becka came to two conclusions. One, her “days” were 24 hour periods of time. Two, the aliens had altered her body chemistry to adapt to her surroundings. She chose the latter. Since there was no differing light, no changes in temperature nor any other environmental triggers to allow her body to set a rhythm, something must have been done to her by these.....”things”.

  After noting the cycle she had been adjusted to, she noticed that her workout routines were fatiguing her more and more. She quickly reached the point where she physically could no longer continue. Her mind was still sharp and the answer was quick to come.

  Calories, or, specifically, the lack of, Becka surmised, the food must be designed to only provide the amount of calories she needed to survive and lactate, no more. Becka was forced into mild resistance exercises, just enough to retain her muscle tone.

  Her will to escape began to falter.

  Becka spent her time, incarcerated in her metal cell, by switching between physical and mental exercises. She would do her limited clenches and pushes, then run math tables and create algebraic equations in her mind, solving for each.

  She ate, she drank, she was milked. Each day was the same.

  Her final observation of herself and her surroundings was inescapable. Her lactation was lessening. She could feel the volume of milk extracted from her growing less and less each day. The milking machines spent less time on her.

  Again, Becka would count out a time each day. They definitely needed less time to milk her dry, even with the increase in shocks from the metal cock inserted deep inside her.

  “If I can't lactate and give these fucks milk, I'm of no use to them,” Becka thought grimly.

  She began to contemplate her circumstances.

  Through the almost unending silence of her cell she occasionally heard sounds. Wheels. Her mind went immediately to the eight wheelers, the human transports, with their curved backrest.

  “More girls?” Becka wondered.

  She started to listen intently to every sound she could hear.

  “More girls,” she told herself, “definitely more girls.”

  She had heard at least a dozen different voices. She may have heard only short moans or single words, but she was able to burn the tone, pitch and any other nuance into her mind.

  Shuddering just a little, visions of the room in which her, and three other girls had been fucked by that hideous alien burst into the forefront of her mind.

  Becka paced her cell when the sound of an eight wheeler entered the cell. And it was getting louder.

  **********

  The core monitored all. The reduction in output from Becka had been noticed and analyzed. From her excrements the core was able to take reading of every chemical, protein and enzyme in her body, including the synthetic molecules that were now a part of her body's systems. It compared these to optimal, and to maximums she had outputted. It took nanoseconds to complete the analysis and select a treatment.

  Output must be kept optimal.

  Becka, back pushed hard against the far curve of her cell wall, stood face to face with an eight wheeler stopped directly outside the cell door. She could hear the whizzes and whirs of its internal machinery humming. It was here for her. In a ballet of precision the door to the cell opened as the metal stands of the transport ensnared her.

  She didn't stand a chance.

  After another ride through the curved corridors a
t breakneck speed, Becka arrived at her destination. A small, innocuous door was all that stood between her and...what?

  The door opened silently revealing a small, circular room, perhaps five meters in diameter. It was completely empty. Only the floor, ceiling and walls existed. Looking closer, she saw that each of these surfaces was covered in holes of differing dimension.

  Panic rose inside her, the type of panic that was instinctual–uncontrollable.

  The transport dropped her on the floor of the room. Becka leaped to her feet, eyes wide, turning from side to side. Her fear was tangible.

  She could smell it in her nostrils and taste it on her tongue. Her body was a tense as steel cables, her mind blank.

  Then it came.

  Without warning, strands of the tentacle material silently entwined themselves around her body. They moved like pale, silent snakes.

  Once she had been immobilized, a circular dais rose from the floor in the middle of the room. It was just large enough to hold Becka's body. She began to struggle against her bonds, but to no avail. Once again, she was helpless against the power and will of these creatures and their machines.

  It started.

  Becka was moved to the dais, being passed from strand to strand, very much like riding a “wave” during a rave or concert. As she was placed on the dais, her body fell deeply into it. To Becka, it was like lying down in Jello.

  Once the malleable metal that comprised the dais had contoured to every curve, every shape of her body, it once again hardened to a dense, waxy consistency.

  She pushed against her body mold. It didn't give an inch. From here, her fate was not her own.

  Becka's legs were spread as wide as they could go. Her arms outstretched at right angles to her body, deeply embedded into the dais.

  The soft sounds of precision machines coming to life escaped her. She could hear nothing, she couldn't move, and all she could see was the dimly lit ceiling and the many holes that populated its surface.

  From holes in the ceiling and the wall nearest to her feet emerged metal tubes and rods of varying diameters. She was reminded of tube worms. The metal tentacles from the ceiling touched her body. They immediately flattened like the hood of a Cobra.