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Humiliating Anal Slavery

Four tales of humiliating and degrading anal slavery

Published by Blair Karina at Smashwords

Copyright 2017 Blair Karina

All rights reserved



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Table of contents

Author's Note

The Beach

No Sir, Please, Not My Phone

Memoirs Of An Anal Slave

The Most Exclusive Sorority On Campus

Author's Note

(WARNING: strong literary depictions of violent sexual torture. All characters depicted are consenting adults over the age of 18.)

I find my stories to be polarising. Readers either love them or are repulsed by their extreme nature. I think one of the most interesting and compelling things about fiction is that it can be hyper-real, as it only requires two things to be able to intensely depict a situation; my writing and your imagination. If what I can conjure up resonates with one of your fetishes, it may well take you to a new height in fantasy fulfilment. If you do like what I write, please leave a review. It encourages me to put in the effort to write more, as I have loads of ideas.



There are eight facets to a girl's anal slavery.

Friction, stretching, sphincteral trauma, depth, temperature, pressure, electricity and chemical irritation. It can take years of torturing a girl's asshole to finally combine the limits of all eight…

The Beach

Australian summer. The passing of solstice is accompanied by stinking hot days, late sunsets and a widely celebrated drinking and beach culture. Australia Day is one of our more questionable public holidays, as it is the most effective in bringing out a tragic cross section of our lowest common denominator to drunkenly revel in our strange brand of nationalism.

Residents that live near our endless coastline typically follow a ritualised sequence of events;

Drinking usually starts at midday, followed by an early afternoon barbeque, swimming, more drinking and sunbathing (whilst drinking). Their recreation is calculably predictable. The occasional girl would invariably pass out sunbathing and prove to be immobile enough to be abandoned on the beach by their friends at sunset.

My idle mind had begun to wander in my early retirement. A man's happiness can be linked to the rate of change of some key defining characteristic. A careerist, an artist, a materialist... for the most part people wanted to increase their position in life and some associated metric of inadequacy persistently flowed through their tickertape of consciousness.

More money. More possessions. More friends. More influence. More power. More recognition. More.

The more people had, the more they wanted. I understood the human condition acutely. To stagnate was to die, for the rate of change of that metric a person covets is the strongest determining factor in their happiness, and I was no exception…

However, I am not normal. I have no want or need for shiny new things to show the world how successful I am.

I… am a sadist.

I savour suffering. No longer satiated, I had developed a junkie like tolerance to what I once considered tantalisingly vicious dry anal rape.

I had made an observation a couple of months ago on a hot Saturday evening. Flying my seaplane at a low altitude along the shoreline, I could survey miles of secluded beach and spot the occasional isolated girl sunbathing on the beach. I had inadvertently discovered a new mechanism for panning for victims in an efficient manner, much like at outdoor concerts.

My yearning for escalation in cruelty immediately salted my observations. Without consciously forming a plan, I already knew what needed to be done. I landed back at my jetty, shutting down the aircraft's systems in a flurry of purposeful order. I jogged impatiently to my workshop, tearing off a sheet of my finest grit sandpaper which I rolled into a cylinder around my cock.

Jerking off with it wasn't more abrasive or difficult than the violent dry anal rape I had become accustomed to, but I knew that what I had planned would require a protracted escalation over the coming months.

I fastidiously jerked off every day with increasingly coarse sandpaper, which gradually formed a protective callous on my cockhead and shaft. It hurt, but I enjoyed premeditation and the payoff would make it so very worthwhile.

As I had predicted, Australia day left many girls littered along the endless stretch of rural coastline at dusk. Binoculars had proved to be cumbersome and ineffective in my investigative scouting runs, so I had installed mounted camera system in the belly of the aircraft. It would affix and zoom in on potential victims so that I could more efficiently survey them as I greedily aimed to optimise the combination of physical attributes that I lusted after the most.

I flew slowly at a low altitude, staring at the camera feed with delirious intent. I had spent so long arduously preparing for this day that I felt an excited nervous anticipation in my stomach that I hadn't felt since my first sexual experiences.

I anxiously watched my fuel gauge slowly sag as I passed many adequate looking victims in my quest for perfection. I began to grow mildly dismayed that I might have to settle, until I came up past a ridge to the next beach to spot the most exquisite visage of beauty.

My heart fluttered and my mouth became parched as I soaked up her shiny brunette hair, perfectly symmetrical facial features, small perky tits, flawless milky white skin, and tiny ass covered by a skimpy pink bikini bottom which delicately hung across her thin frame. The sun had almost set and I could see the bottles and other remnants of her beach party strewn about near her. Her bikini top lay discarded nearby as she lay on her back alone, clearly unconscious. I cut the power to my engines and plummeted into the nearby water with swift purpose, quickly slowing as my undercarriage dug into the gentle waves.

Casting my anchor into the sand, I threw my shoes onto the seat and jumped into the calm shallow water. I could feel my cock hardening as I waded ashore, picking up speed as the water shallowed.

Rushing across to her, I knelt next to her perfect face and body, savouring her undisturbed innocence. The soft ocean breeze pushed her long straight hair across her face as she gently snored, oblivious to my vicious intent. I had procured a paralysing serum that I could use to render parts of her body immobile when injected subcutaneously. It would rob her of regional control of her muscles without removing her ability to feel. In fact, my vendor assured me that it would serve to amplify nerve sensations in affected areas due to the brain's tendency to overcompensate when faced with an acute loss of localised motor function.

Carefully positioning the needle between her breasts, I jabbed her whilst grabbing her mouth with my palm in unison. She immediately awoke, flailing her arms in confused protest. I sat on her stomach to hold her down and felt her arm muscles weaken, flopping lifelessly to her sides after a few seconds. I could feel the vibration of her screaming against my palm as her eyes widened with terror and she flailed her legs violently, ineffectually digging her heels into the sand. I slid off her whilst pulling upward on her towel to roll her face down into the sand, degradingly repositioning her paralysed arms so that they were held out from her body.

Digging my knee into the small of her back, I pushed on the back of her head, planting her face firmly in the sand, which forming a sound isolating ridge around her head. I slid further down to sit on her thighs, so that she could only flail the lower half of her legs.

Sensing her inability to breathe, I dug away slightly at the mound to expose her nostrils. Sitting in this position, I couldn't make out her muffled protests and wailing, but I could tell that she had already degenerated into ceaselessly begging me to stop, interspersed with a sobbing hyperventilation and screams for help.

They always do.

I applied a second injection to the small of her back, causing her flailing legs to slowly power down and lifelessly drop back into the sand. I stood up next to her, poking her ribs with my toes to confirm her complete incapacitation. Her torso and neck twitched and contorted as she ineffectually attempted to lift her head from the sand in spite of her selective paralysis.

"You're probably wondering what I'm going to do to you."

I knelt next to her, extending my small switchblade with its unmistakable click. I ran it down the sides of her neck and body, slowly tracing its flat face across the centre of her back. I dragged the knife across the mound of her ass cheeks, slipping the blade between her ass crack and allowing its cold steel face to rest against her sphincter.

Her muffled screaming intensified. I had just confirmed her worst fears. I lightly pressed the sharp tip into her anus, delicately digging the blade into the lower edge of her sphincter.

"That's right, I'm going to violently rape your virginal little shithole."

I pushed the blade further past her ass crack so that the sharp edge rested against the narrow crotch region of her bikini that covered her taint. Pulling the fabric across it, I easily cut the garment into two pieces, turning it into a front and rear flap of immodest fabric now only joined by a thin band around her hips.

"You probably haven't been sodomised before. Guys have begged you for it, but you think that it's beneath you. You've heard that it hurts and it is a selfish act that only pleases the perpetrator."

I lifted the fabric up so that the rear portion flopped up against her lower back, I parted her ass cheeks with my left hand, carefully inspecting the exquisite spiralled pink folds of her perfect untouched asshole which seamlessly faded into her creamy iridescent ass cheeks without the slightest hint of brown colouration. I could see her lightly coloured anus hair gently dancing in the breeze under the fading direct sunlight. A small amount of blood leaked into the cracks in her sphincter where I had let the knife rest.

I delicately pressed at her sphincter with my index fingertip, taking a moment to appreciate the perfection of her tiny pucker.

"Well, you're right princess. I want nothing more than for you to suffer for my amusement. The more miserable and ashamed you are, the harder I will get."

I scooped up a large handful of sand into my right hand. I could feel the texture of the coarse grains sifting through my fingers, each one unique in size and shape. Further parting her ass cheeks with my left hand, I slowly drizzled the sand onto her exposed asshole and crack.

"However, I have this theory. Deep down, I think most girls enjoy being anally humiliated and tortured once they have been exposed to it. Like a fast acting Stockholm syndrome, when presented with no options under extreme duress, the only way for you to cope is to find some morsel of pleasure in your suffering."

I dropped my shorts onto the sand, kicking them away behind me.

"When completely helpless and deprived of any choice but to endure humiliating anal torture, the shame and agony fills you up until you learn to crave it. It's only natural. The only way your brain can deal with being forced to endure agony is to adapt. You learn to love it."

I pushed her legs together with my knees and straddled her thighs. Her wailing re-intensified. I twisted her long silky hair around my hand numerous times to create a strong reign to tug on.

Without warning, I stabbed my rigid cockhead into her sand covered anus, yanking on her hair in unison, which momentarily pulled her head out of the sand and allowed her to let out her first un-muffled blood curdling scream.

I felt my calloused cockhead stifle against the dry sand and her defiantly clenched sphincter.

"You see, I need to hurt you like you have never been hurt before. The natural conclusion of this theory is that I can rape and shatter the virginal shithole of even the most pampered princess and still make her come… eventually."

I jabbed again, pushing more sand into the entrance of her asshole as my cock gained the slightest amount of purchase into her sphincter. I could feel the sand trying to enter my urethra as my cock violently forced the jagged grains across the thin puffy skin of her sphincter, lacerating the edges of her tender ring.

I stabbed forward again, using the momentum in my lower body to really drive my head into her defiantly clenched asshole. My cockhead drove slightly further into her entrance, dragging a coating of sand with it.

I felt her body go limp as she began to pass out from the pain and asphyxiation resulting from her re-intensified screaming.

I paused my thrusting and lifted her head out of the sand. I slapped her awake, twisting her head so that I could stare into one of her eyes that had rolled back into her head. I spat in her eye, confirming that she was conscious by her blinked wincing in response. She began to tiredly spit out gobs of wet sand from her mouth as she regained sentience.


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