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From: Jack de Molay <jsawnn@outlook.com>
Thread-Topic: The Destruction of Stella: Part 1
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Subject: {ASSM} The Destruction of Stella: Part 1
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Date: Fri, 30 Oct 2015 20:10:02 -0400
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Good afternoon.  I have attached a text file of the first installment of my
story, "The Destruction of Stella," for your consideration.
   As this is my first submission, I am unsure of everything that is
required of me.  Kindly let me know if there's anything further I need to
supply.  Thank you.
   Jack de Molay (you can use this as my author name)
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<1st attachment, "stella_asstr.txt" begin>
Stella slowly awoke, unsure of where she was or how she got there.
   It took a few moments for her situation to register, as she was in
something of a fog.  She knew she was naked, cold -- that much was
apparent. Her body felt heavy, her mind cloudy.  She didn't remember
falling asleep and had no sense of what time of day it was -- or even what
day it was, for that matter.  But slowly, Stella started to make sense of
her surroundings -- and her predicament.  Coming out of her haze, she
realized she was not in her bed -- or even in her own home -- but in an
unfamiliar basement, surrounded by gray concrete walls and no visible
windows.  The room was pitch dark, save for a pair of small flood lights on
stands, pointed directly at her, creating a small, concentrated pool that
illuminated her pale, curvy body, seated on the cold cement floor.  It was
hard for her to make out any details beyond her meticulously-shuttered
island of light in the middle of the room -- and she wasn't wearing her
glasses -- but she could just detect the outline of a door, in the darkness
just beyond the harsh floods.  It was then that she became aware of the
fact that she couldn't move; her wrists were cuffed around a metal support
behind her, while her feet were shackled to the ends of a metal spreader
bar, that left her legs gaping open.
   "What the fuck," she thought to herself with a mixture of confusion and
irritation.  Her mind started to race, as the veil of drug-induced sleep
continued to lift.  She looked around the room for someone -- anyone -- who
could explain what was going on, but the lights in front of her were
blinding and elsewhere was darkness.  Stella strained to see behind her,
but the bar holding her legs in place was secured to the floor by a short
length of chain, limiting her range of motion.  Her breathing quickened,
filling her nostrils with the basement's heavy, dank air and the smell of
dust and mildew.  She was very much alone.
   Wondering if this was someone's idea of a cruel joke, Stella's anger
began to rise.  Anger was always her go-to position when things were going
wrong -- a personality flaw she successfully managed to hide from pretty
much everyone, except her ex-husband, Jack.  She struggled again to free
herself from her bonds, but the cuffs and chains that held her proved to be
far too real.  Escape was impossible.  She tried to yell out for help, but
she immediately awakened to the presence of the insertion gag in her mouth,
which caused her to choke and drool uncontrollably.  Anger quickly gave way
to panic; a hot, tingling wave of fear suddenly shot up the back of her
neck, and she could feel her heart racing.  There was a metallic taste in
her mouth, and it mixed and competed with that of the damp leather from the
gag.  Stella tried to catch her breath, but that only made her choke and
cough more, shooting saliva from the edges of her stretched lips.  It was
then that Stella became painfully conscious of two other objects invading
her body; looking down, she beheld the large, white Hitachi vibrator,
clamped firmly in place against her neatly-trimmed pussy by a black leather
belt around her waist and sporting what appeared to be a "rabbit"
attachment and -- God, no -- something buzzing deep in her ass -- the ass
that she never allowed anyone access to, not even Jack.  The electrical
cords from the two devices were securely duct taped along the floor, before
joining with an extension cord a few feet away, which disappeared into the
blurred grayness beyond the lights.  Lastly, amid this confusing flood of
sights, sounds, tastes and sensations, Stella noticed the sharp pinching of
the two clamps on her nipples, connected by silver chains to the one
painfully squeezing her clitoris, which was slowly becoming red and swollen
as it begrudgingly submitted to the vibrations of the "rabbit."
   Stella's panic increased, as her head tried to make sense of it all. 
"Can this be happening?  Is this a horrible dream?" she wondered.  She
struggled harder against her restraints, trying to reach the extension cord
with her feet, to at least stop the buzzing toys that were dueling inside
her, but it was useless; it only added to their stretching and stimulating
of her warming pussy and ass.  The seriousness of her situation had become
clear.
   Tears began to well in Stella's big, brown eyes.  She wondered who would
do such a thing to her, and what could he want.  She tried to recall the
events that led to her current situation, but she couldn't; the last thing
she remembered was arriving at the restaurant and waiting at the bar to
meet a man she'd connected with on an online dating site.  Was he already
there when she arrived?  Could he have slipped something in her drink,
before she even saw him?  She gagged again; her spit bubbled from the edges
of her mouth, down her chin and onto her creamy breasts and slightly round
belly.  Unconsciously at first, she started to squirm, as the sensations
from her clit, cunt, ass and nipples began to get the better of her. 
Eventually realizing the tension that was slowly building throughout her
body, Stella tried to resist, to fight the sensations growing in her core,
but the torture continued.  Briefly, she felt she needed to pee, but she
quickly remembered the one or two times Jack had actually made her squirt
by stroking her G-spot with his fingers (which made her feel particularly
dirty, and not in a good way), and she realized the Hitachi wasn't just
working on her womb and clit, but that hidden button, as well.
   Stella did not want this and continued to fight it with everything she
had.  Despite her efforts, her breathing quickened, her skin felt flushed.
The heat was spreading up and out, into every corner of her being.  She
squeezed her thighs together -- at least as far as they would go -- to try
to force the vibrator out of her highly-sensitive cunt, but it wouldn't
budge.  She tried to push the second one out of her pain-ravaged rectum,
but that was futile, as well.  "Please, God, no," she said to herself,
hoping to will the carnal responses away.  She didn't want the inevitable
to happen.  She didn't want her body to betray her this way.  She was a
good woman -- a mother, a respected professional, she thought -- not a
whore who could be made to cum under such horrible circumstances.
   Only then, with her eyes finally adjusting to the room, did Stella
notice the tiny red lights of the cameras.  There were at least three of
them -- two on tripods, one down on the floor -- all pointed at her.  Her
panic increased exponentially at the thought of being seen, naked,
demeaned, with the growing lust in her body fighting against her will.  The
last thing in the world she wanted was to be seen like that; in almost
fourteen years together, she never allowed Jack to photograph or videotape
her in any situation that could be seen as even slightly provocative -- let
alone being naked, chained and sexually debased like some common whore. 
She thought about how such images could destroy her spotless reputation,
the reputation she worked so hard (to the point of divorcing Jack and
ruining his life, because he knew her dirty little secret) to maintain.
   Stella tried once more to scream, but she choked yet again on the gag
and only managed to force more spittle out of the corners of her stuffed
mouth.  Her jaw and tongue were becoming sore from the invading gag.  Her
nipples were stiff and swollen and burning red from the pressure of the
clamps.  The vibrators in her now-slick, throbbing pussy and stretched
virgin ass continued to work at her mercilessly, rattling against each
other inside her belly, while the rabbit buzzed away at her painfully
engorged clit.  Soon, she couldn't fight it any longer; the sensations were
too powerful for Stella to resist.  Wave upon wave of sexual heat coursed
from the ground zero of her loins through the length and breadth of her
soft, white body, and she simply could not stop it.  Her skin was becoming
electric.  The muscles of her womb and rectum tightened, as if they had
minds of their own, clenching and pulling the invading devices even deeper
into her.  Stella was going to cum -- oh, dear God, she was going to cum.
She grimaced as she forced her eyes shut, a muffled "No!!!  NO!!!"
emanating from somewhere in the back of her throat.  But the awful,
degrading moment she had been dreading had arrived.  Her chest heaving as
she fought for breath, she squirmed against the restraints, making a series
of sqealing sounds that increased in pitch and intensity.  Suddenly,
Stella's eyes flew open wide.  She had lost.  Thrashing her head and
violently arching her back, Jack's holier-than-thou ex -- the judgemental,
uptight priss the whole world saw as a respected professional, devoted
friend and doting mother -- exploded in a long, shuddering, grunting,
squirting, shameful orgasm, there, alone, on a filthy cellar floor.
   Spent, Stella slouched in the aftermath of her climax, her skin flushed,
her mound and thighs splattered with her own, unwanted ejaculate.  She
began to sob quietly, humiliated by her body's corruption and by the
thought of others -- she had no idea who or how many -- possibly having
witnessed it.  After a moment, she tried to regain her composure, praying
that whoever had put her there had had his fun and would now let her go. 
But that was only the beginning, she soon discovered.  Nobody came to
release her.  No one even made his or her presence known.  She remained
there, chained to the post, spread-eagled, wet and sore and tired, in that
basement, for what, to her, felt like an eternity -- and the torment did
not stop.  Even after her humiliating orgasm, the vibrators continued their
relentless abuse of her holes.  Grool oozed from the edges of her
glistening, swollen pussy; her rectum burned from the device churning
inside it, which was battling against the massive length of silicone that
was thrashing on just the other side of a tender wall of delicate tissue.
The unyielding abuse of her stiff, red clit was unlike any pain she'd ever
known.  Without a chance for her to rest and regroup, the shameful
sensations eventually started their evil crescendo again, deep in her core,
and once more Stella tried to squelch them through sheer force of her will.
   In all their years together, Jack could count on one hand the number of
times Stella had allowed him to give her more than one orgasm at a time;
she nearly always complained of being "too sensitive" after she came, often
leaving her husband to tend to his own needs -- or, worse, going to bed
frustrated.  But this time, she wasn't allowed that luxury.  As she fought
against the fresh tension building in her loins, Stella's teeth clamped
down on the stiff leather of the gag, nearly biting through it.  For a
second time, the searing pains in her most sacred parts conspired to turn
her flesh against her, and she was poweless to do anything about it.  The
lust reached its boiling point and jolted through her.  Her body bucked,
her hips rose off the floor.  She grunted, like an animal, as she came
again...and again and again -- so many times she eventually lost count. 
Once or twice, she even lost consciousness after a particularly intense
climax, only to be jolted awake by the next torrent of disgusting lust
ripping through her pale, Rubinesque body.  She hated herself more each
time she came; each wave of pain/pleasure was a dagger in her duplicitous
heart.  Her eyes rolled back in her head every time her muscles convulsed.
Her tits, slick and shining with her spit, bounced and swayed every time
her body twitched.  Her muffled cries were now little more than low,
animalistic noises originating deep in her throat.  Eventually, as if
trying to save itself, Stella's mind disengaged from her body, which by
then was dripping with sweat and spit and tears.  Her mascara ran down her
cheeks in charcoal-gray streams; her curly, brown hair -- usually so
well-coiffed -- was tousled and sticking to her damp forehead.  Her pale,
middle-aged body lurched uncontrollably with each new orgasm, then
collapsed from exhaustion and defeat, and she could feel the cold
stickiness of her pussy juices, leaking from her abused gash, clinging to
the insides of her thighs and pooling beneath her on the hard, cold floor.
   Stella's torture continued this way for a while longer, until it was
clear that she was broken, until it was obvious one more orgasm, one more
vibration, one more tiny sensation would drive her into madness.  She had
cum at least twenty times -- though a few of those appeared to have been
rapid-fire multiples, so the final tally was likely a good deal higher.  It
had been nearly two hours of constant abuse of the woman Jack once loved --
the woman who broke his heart and destroyed his world with her lies and
manipulations.  Once proud and strong, Stella had been reduced to a
sweating, drooling, mindless animal, chained in a basement and wallowing in
a puddle of her own sex and shame.
   From his seat in front of the line of video monitors, Jack reached over
to a power strip and flipped the glowing red switch, shutting off the
hard-working devices in Stella's ass and pussy.  Everyone saw her used body
immediately go slack; her head dropped forward as she let out a tiny grunt,
her messed curls obscuring her once cheerful face.  They all watched as two
long strings of drool slowly dropped from her mouth onto her naked tits,
glistening in the lights as they trickled along the soft curves of her
chest.
   Jack stood up and turned to the other men in the room, who had been
quietly watching the proceedings with him, so as not to be discovered. 
Most of them already were in various states of undress -- as was Jack --
and the majority of them were sporting large, stiff cocks.  A few of them
were monstrously large and looked as though they could do some damage --
which was exactly what Jack asked for in his Craigslist ad.  There were at
least two dozen of them in the room, in every shape, size and color, and a
good number of them had been drinking while they watched Stella's abuse
play out on the screens.  They all wanted a shot at Jack's used, sloppy,
humiliated, dehumanized ex.
   "Okay, guys -- it's party time," he said, as he set his hand on the knob
of the door that led to the adjoining room.  "Let's get to work."
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<1st attachment end>
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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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