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o o
o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o
o They have been submitted by people from all over the world. Also o
o from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no particular order o
o other than offering them to you in alphabetical directories. o
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o All works are copyrighted to the author and may not be used for o
o profit without obtaining the author's permission in advance. o
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o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult entertainment o
o and should not be read by minors. o
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Japanese Fuck-Toy (MF, rp, v, hum)
By Cumloads of Joy
(c) 1997 Free Distribution -- with all rights reserved
***
Terry trembled on the end of the cock filling her cunt, her hands
and knees bruised by the hard tiled floor of the office. Her
small, lithe Japanese body dripped sweat onto the ground while she
grunted to the man's thrusts behind her, her small, round breasts
pulled from her body by gravity to swing back and forth. She felt
her body flutter as the man began filling her with his seed, and
she clamped down on her pussy, a flush of pleasure filling her
body.
Her mind rebelled: oh, god, she thought, how could she be
enjoying this? What kind of whore was she?
She had been working late; at 28 years of age and just two years
out of law school, she was a go-getter. Every day in a dark blue
suit, which turned her trim, attractive figure hard, matching
nylons accenting her well formed legs, made more appealing by the
two or three inch heals she wore, and her long, straight, black
hair pulled back from her face to fall in a French braid down her
back, making her high cheekbones, petite features, and flashing
eyes seem severe, she strode through the halls of her office with
confidence and an attitude.
They called her the dragon lady behind her back, but she didn't
care: she was going to make junior partner in one of the most
prestigious law firms in the country in record time, and from
there, partner. It wasn't unusual for her to work late, but it was
unusual for her to be disturbed by the janitor waxing the floors.
The noise was driving her to distraction. Angry, she stood and
strode down the hall, approaching the man standing behind the
waxing machine, her heels clacking authoritatively against the
floor. "Turn that machine off!" she snapped at the man. With a
flip of the switch he killed the machine, looking over this woman
who was so imperiously glaring at him.
He almost smiled as he slowly looked her over, noting how at 5'3"
she challenged his well muscled 6'1", and especially noting how
attractive she could be if she didn't try so hard to be such a
bitch. "Pardon me, ma'am, but I have a job to do."
Noticing him look her over, she began to tremble in rage, "I have
a job to do, and you're keeping me from it," she spat out. "Now
you can either find something else to do, quietly, or you can find
a new job."
His face slid from amusement to a hardness. 'Bitch,' he thought,
'fucking bitch.' Telling him his job, threatening him, thinking
she was better than he was.... "You can't fire me," he said, his
voice dangerous.
"Try me," she turned on her heel and headed back down the hall to
her offices.
Red colored his vision as he stood there frozen, watching her hard
back move away from him. Don't let that cunt get away with
treating you like that, his mind yelled, pushing his body into
motion. With four quick strides he caught up to her and snarled
as his hand grabbed a fistful of hair, the muscles in his arm
bunching as he swung her hard into the wall, a sense of elation
filling him as she became merely and extension of his arm, his
strength becoming his power over this cunt.
As she turned on her heel, her anger had become hard: she had
shown him, she thought. Suddenly she felt movement behind her and
yelped as she felt her hair grabbed. Her hands flew up to her
hair and then in front of her as she was thrown off balance, her
ankle twisting to one side as her shoe twisted beneath her. She
had lost control of her body and the wall slamming into her came
suddenly and shockingly, stunning her as she bounced away from the
wall. Again she was thrown against the wall, this time
realization overcoming the shock of it all and she felt the pain
of the contact as her mind blazed in fury and fear.
'That son of a bitch,' her mind screamed, 'I'll kill him. I'll
have him fired, blackballed, and arrested,' and then her forebrain
stopped working and her brainstem took over as she was tossed like
a rag doll onto the floor, landing hard, knocking the back of her
head against the tile, temporarily dazing her.
God it felt good, he thought as adrenaline rushed through him, and
he slammed her into the wall again, thinking bitch, fucking bitch.
Not good enough for her? Well, he'd have her singing a different
tune; he flung her down hard onto the tiled floor and watched for
a moment as she bounced once, her head striking the tile with a
thud, and then he fell on top of her, straddling her stomach and
waist.
Everything had happened in a blur, and the hormones coursing
through her body made her tense and panicky. Her breath left her
as he sat heavily on her waist and stomach. Son of a bitch, she
thought, recovering, and tried to hit him. His face was locked
into a grinning rectos and fear fluttered through her breast as he
knocked her hands away easily, and then slapped her hard on the
side of the head.
"Ah! Ah!" she exclaimed as each blow fell against her head and
face, futilely trying to fend the vicious slaps off with her
hands. The blows stopped and in the second it took her to recover
she felt her shoulders and back jerked off the ground as he ripped
her white blouse violently open. "No!" she cried as she fought to
keep his hands away from completely tearing away her blouse, her
narrow, firm stomach and ribs exposed to his view. He slapped her
upside the head again and shifted his weight, and for a moment she
was free, scrambling to get out from under him, but then she felt
his strong hands on her shoulders as he flipped her over onto her
stomach, knocking the wind from her as the cool tiles pressed
against her stomach as he settled his weight down on her lower
back.
The bitch fought like a wildcat, but his blood was up, and the
feeling of his open palm against the bitch's face was
unbelievable, as was the sound of her little cries and the
satisfying smack as he landed each blow. It wasn't enough,
though; he had bigger and better plans for this little bitch. He
reached down and ripped open her blouse, watching in delight as
her head snapped back as her shoulders flew off the ground. One
hard yank and it was open, and he caught himself at the sight:
her stomach was flat and firm and her waist waspish, and her
breasts, still encased in a white bra, were perfectly proportioned
to her small ribcage, her olive skin smooth and without blemish.
Her struggles increased as he tried to pull off the blouse, so he
flipped her over onto her stomach and dragged the blouse back
until it was only her around her lower arms. His cock was rock
hard now, her struggles turning him on as she thrashed beneath
him. She'd have it filling her belly before long, he thought, an
ingenious idea coming to him at that moment.
He twisted the torn blouse around her lower arms and hands,
wrapping them up tight; it would make things easier for him,
although she was sure to get out of the tangle sooner or later.
Breathing hard now, the struggle began to take its toll on her: he
was so much stronger, there wasn't anything she could do. When
she felt her arms pulled behind her as he struggled to pull off
her blouse, she paused for an instant, catching her breath, before
trying yet again to buck him off.
She moaned out loud as she felt him wrap the blouse around her
arms, pinning them there, and she began screaming and yelling.
"Let me go! You bastard! Let me go! Son of a bitch!"
Ignoring her screams-no one could hear them anyway-he tore her bra
from her, using a small pocketknife he always kept with him. By
then she had almost worked her hands loose, but he still had time
to get the bitch's skirt off before he'd have to deal with that
problem. He half stood, half crouched over her, stepping back and
grabbing the waist of her skirt in both hands. With a jerk, he
pulled it up and back, yanking the whore's whole body off the
ground and making a satisfying ripping sound as the garment
slipped off her hips.
When he yanked her bra from her, her mind was a pit of rage and
fear, and she began frenziedly working to free her arms. Suddenly
his weight was off her and she tried to squirm away when her body
was jackknifed into the air as he yanked on her skirt. She heard
the ugly rip of fabric and felt her skirt slide down to her
buttocks. Finally her arms came free and her hands and feet
scrabbled on the tiles as she tried to crawl away from this man.
She felt her body jerked back one, two more times, each yank
forcing the air from her lungs, and her skirt was around her knees
and she was desperately scrambling away from him, her skirt
slipping from around her feet, dragging her shoes with it.
She was halfway to her feet when a body surged up behind her and
hands gripped her waist, pulling her back down to a kneeling
position. Her pantyhose were yanked down around her thighs, and
she felt the hands around her waist again, flipping her over hard
onto her back. What a hot body, he thought, flipping the cunt
over. Bitch must work out. He grinned at the thump she made as
she landed on her back, and at the desperate look of anger and
terror on her face as she flailed her arms and legs at him. He
stood and tore off her hose and panties with one motion, leaving
her completely naked.
There was no doubt about it: he was going to rape her. That
fucking bastard-what right did he have? She felt her hose and
panties come off and rolled over onto her hands and knees, trying
to flee this son of a bitch.
With a "Whoomph" she crashed hard onto her stomach as he brought
his full weight down on her, crushing her to the floor. She felt
his knees force her legs wide while his own hands freed his
manhood from his jeans. She felt it flop against her bare ass and
redoubled her efforts, but realized it was futile when he grabbed
her hips in two hands and jerked her violently to her knees. "Get
ready, bitch, for the fucking of your life!"
"Noooo!" she screamed as she felt his cock prod at her vagina, her
effort to escape turning into a frenzied blur, until she froze as
his cock slid painfully into her small tunnel, a smooth invasion
of her cunt. He loved this part, loved sticking it to them. The
tighter the better too.
It wasn't so much the sex, or even the way his cock felt, pulsing
like it was going to explode deep in this cunt's twat; it was the
power, the domination, the forcing of himself into their body, the
violation of something so intimate to them. He was surprised at
this cunt, though: her cunt was slick, making his entry smooth
and pleasurable. Her body was soaked with sweat from her
struggles too, and he felt her skin slip against his hands as he
pulled her doll-like body against his. Her mind emptied of all
thought and passion as she realized he had done it-he had
penetrated her.
It felt so strange, too, unreal, to be held like this, forced like
this, his prong stretching her. She had had sex before, had used
her body like she used her brain to get to the top, and she knew
she was good, for she wouldn't have accepted less of herself-the
right tool for the right job. But it had always been cold,
emotionless, on her part-everything choreographed just so,
everything arranged just so that she would have what she wanted
when she was done. This though was different, something to which
she could feel her body responding as he began to brutally fuck
her from behind, dragging tortured gasps from her straining lungs
as he pounded into her.
Oh god it was so good he thought as he looked down at his prize.
The bitch wasn't giving him shit now that was for sure. She
wasn't too good for him after all. He gave a small chuckle as he
heard her gasp from a particularly brutal thrust, and began
fucking her more vigorously. As he increased his pace she closed
her eyes and gritted her teeth, the sensations from her cunt
beginning to overwhelm her, but she wasn't about to let that
bastard see her debasement. But it was like nothing she had ever
felt before, she thought, as her body began moving to its own
rhythm, her ass jerking back against his hips as he crashed into
her, her moans a counterpoint to the harsh smacking of flesh
against flesh. The bitch was getting into it, he saw, but they all
did. They all loved a big hard cock reaming them out; they were
all whores.
A few more thrusts and he came, the sensation overwhelming,
followed by her cunt spasming around his still shooting member.
Fucking bitch got off, he thought as he leaned over her, one hand
on the floor as he recovered.
"Hello Ted," a voice said. Ted quickly jerked himself from Terry
and spun around, standing and trying to put his cock away at the
same time, to face Mr. White, the senior partner. When Terry heard
the voice panic screamed through her consciousness followed
quickly by shame and then relief.
She had been raped and now here was someone who would save her.
She slid quickly over to her clothes and covered herself up,
drawing her legs together and up. "Mr. White," she started. Ted's
mind was racing furiously. Mr. White was a big man, but almost
sixty. He couldn't stand up to Ted, and then he would be free.
Damn that bitch! Ruining everything!
"So how was she Ted?" Terry was stunned. Had she really heard
what she thought she heard? She glanced at the janitor and saw
surprise and shock on his face also.
"Wha?" he asked.
"I asked if she was good, Ted," Mr. White repeated patiently.
"Nooo!" Terry cried, scrambling to stand and run before this
insanity went any farther.
Suddenly the booming voice of the senior partner stilled her as
his gnarled hand shot out to point at her. "You stay right where
you are, young lady, if you value your job!" She froze. What was
he saying? For the first time in years she was confused and
unsure of herself.
"Now, Ted, you still haven't answered me."
"Oh, she was damn tight all right, Mr. White."
"Nice and tight?"
"Sweet like teenaged pussy." He was grinning now. Mr. White
wouldn't turn him in.
"Good." Mr. White turned toward Terry, "Now don't you think you
had better clean him up?" She was horrified by this nightmare;
this couldn't be real.
"NO!" she shouted, standing, torn between staying and running. Mr.
White's voice grew hard.
"I don't think you understand, you little piece of ass. I can
blackball you, I can make it so you never work again, I can make
it so that you wish you were a janitor. If you don't do exactly
what I say right now, and do it well, I will crush you like an
insignificant piece of trash. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"
She stood there looking at him stunned.
"I said, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"
She nodded.
"Then go ahead, give the man a blow job." She dropped, dazed, to
her knees and looked up into the grinning visage of the janitor as
he smirked at her, unzipping his pants and pulling out his now
limp cock. When she placed her mouth over it she tasted her own
juices on it, but didn't let that stop her. Slowly, under her
skilled mouth and tongue, it grew until she could only fit half of
it in her mouth. She wondered if Mr. White wanted her to deep
throat it-she could, but it hurt. He had said make it good, so
she swallowed, steeled herself, and jammed his cock down her
throat until her nose smashed up against his pubic hair.
Ted moaned as the cunt took him down her throat. Who would have
thought the bitch could do that? Then something struck him as he
looked over at Mr. White: "You planned all this, didn't you?" Mr.
White laughed.
"What do you think? I put a hot looking Jap queen bitch and an
ex-con put away for four counts of rape against Japs together and
you think I didn't plan this?" He laughed again. "Why the hell
do you think I hired you? After the first year I knew this ice
queen wasn't going to make it-she was too aggressive, to
domineering, and that doesn't even work for men. I kept her
anyway, and got you. You got it?" Ted smiled.
"I got it."
"Good."
Terry heard all this with growing horror. Her world was crashing
down around her. She wasn't good enough for partner? Not even as
an associate? She was only kept on so that this, this, janitor
could rape her? There was nothing, nothing left to her, she
thought, her head bobbing up and down, sliding the cock back and
forth in her throat.
"Back to business," she heard Mr. White say. "Ted, don't you
think it would be nice if you could watch Terry there play with
herself while she blew you?"
"Ya. I'd like that."
"You heard the man, Terry."
Terry flushed crimson throughout her body. Mr. White was
humiliating her-she couldn't believe it, still couldn't believe
this was happening to her.
"Don't forget, Terry," he said, "you don't do a good job, you're
out anyway. And don't even think about going to the cops- who're
they going to believe, you or me?" She knew he was right, knew
that if she wanted to retain any little scrap of her previous life
she would have to do as he said.
Slowly she let her right hand slide down her stomach to her still
sensitive labia and clitoris. Rubbing herself to coat her fingers
in her own lubricant, she began sawing back and forth at her clit,
spreading her legs so that she could get better access.
Masturbating herself, her throat around the janitor's cock, she
felt a strange rush of pleasure.
The humiliation of doing something like this against her will, in
front of Mr. White, to a janitor, was somehow exciting. Sex had
never before been exciting, and she felt her body flush with
pleasure as her mind thought of what she must look like. She
began to masturbate in earnest, sucking even harder on Ted's cock.
She felt his hands grip her head and he began fucking her face
violently, but she didn't care: she reached down now with both
hands and shoved two fingers up her twat while she furiously
rubbed her clit. She came hard, her stomach knotting up in
pleasure, as she felt Ted's come slide down her throat.
"I think she'll do," she heard Mr. White say. "Bring her to my
car; I think my son and daughter in law would like to play with
her tonight."