Rough BDSM Artwork

Jennifer didn’t know that Mark was married, if only she’d known. He was so rich and handsome, he bought her all kinds of gifts, and his cock felt so good inside her. Then Mark’s wife found them together…
“So my husband says you wouldn’t let him fuck you up your ass. What, are you too good to let him fuck that pretty little ass?” That’s what she had asked as she was shoving the splintery wooden dildo up Jennifer’s ass, forcing her delicate sphincter to stretch further and further over the brutal wooden tip.
“I know what you’re thinking.” She said. “You thought Mark loved you, that he would protect you forever. Well unfortunately for you the only thing Mark has got going for him is a huge cock, which is the only reason I keep his stupid ass around. I make the money in the family, he just mooches off me like a fucking parasite. Of course I also get the added pleasure of torturing his girlfriends every time he fucks up, so you know it’s really not such a bad marriage. And like I said, that cock. It really is amazing isn’t it? I bet it got you all hot, huh? Well now I’m going to get you even hotter.”

His warehouses were run in strict military fashion. The slaves and their guards were controlled carefully. Sexual impulses were not allowed and were punished very severely if they occurred. Those slaves that he selected for pleasure rather than work were placed in the care of Mistress Adia, a famous whore who passed on her long experience in pleasing men…
Decius Portius imposed the same strict discipline on himself. He treated the slaves like commercial goods, even when he was conducting a physical examination of a new slave. He ordered each girl to strip naked, and then he ran his hands all over her body, pressing her buttocks and breasts, lifting them to judge their weight and firmness, and sticking his finger up their anuses and into their vaginas. He tested the slaves’ sensitivity by licking their nipples and blowing on them, and by feeling their clitorises and examining their cunt lips to see how quickly they were lubricating and opening. He especially valued a prominent clitoris that stuck out from its protective hood because it meant that the girl was very sensitive…
Unlike all the other slave traders, he never had sex with a slave himself. He used the information from his physical examinations only to put the girls into the right categories.

The cum dribbling from her ass and pussy sizzled and evaporated as it dripped down towards the blazing brazier between Tiffany’s legs. The pair of psychos had just finished double teaming her, her holes still aching from their brutal rhythmic fucking. Now they were content to watch her squirm and squeal as heat from the brazier cooked the girl’s raw, dripping flesh.
“Woooohhheeee! Look at her twitch and dance!”
“Yeah, look at those pussy lips, they’re lathered in sweat and jiggling like jello! HAHAH!”
What was wrong with these maniacs, why were they doing this!?

“PLEASE! NOT AGAIN!” Maddy shrieked as the man began dragging her into the ‘playroom’, as her captor called it. He’d grabbed her three days ago when she’d been working the late night shift at the barista stand. He just kicked in the door, threw her in the trunk and drove off. It’d been three days and no one had found her yet! Where was everyone!?
“No, oh God please, no!” Maddy sobbed as he began binding her hands and legs, “Please, I’ll be good. I’ll fuck you good, please. Let me suck your cock, anything!”
“Now now, you know how I love to play our favorite game…” The man said, gently rubbing the flogger against her sore swollen tits.
“Pleeeeaassseeee…”

Rebecca tried to tell herself it was all a bad dream. That soon she would wake up in her comfortable bed, in her fancy apartment. But she knew that wasn’t true. The truth was her old life was over. She was no longer Rebecca Warren, successful New York lawyer. She was just Specimen 12, fucktoy to a bunch of horny alien monsters. This was her life now, and there was nothing at all she could do about it.

Twenty year-old Irene had always been a nice, decent girl. The kind of girl who obeyed her parents every wish and volunteered to help those in need. Just the kind of innocent young thing that the Penance club was most interested in. Irene was fated to pay penance for having such a good stable life and also pay for being such an innocent in a world in which most of it’s inhabitants are selfish or evil or both.
Irene’s protests against her treatment served only to make things harder on her; the Penance women enjoyed hurting her and making her accept her place. But those experienced ladies knew that pain and suffering weren’t enough to overcome Irene’s learned and innate innocence; only when she was subjected to repeated and nonstop humiliation and realized the hopelessness of her situation would she be ready to begin her new life as a whore.
For the next phase of Irene’s training, Wilbur had been chosen to help prepare her. Wilbur. Short, dumpy, doughy and dim-witted Wilbur. Wilbur drooled and couldn’t carry on a decent conversation, but Wilbur had a fat, ten-inch cock and a set of low-hanging balls that seemed to churn up an almost endless supply of thick cum that made him a terrifying late-night visitor to any slavegirl’s cell. And even more of a horror to Irene when she was given to him to share his cell and serve as his steady girlfriend.
We advise you to treat Wilbur well, they told Irene. He gets frustrated easily and can get very unpleasant if he doesn’t get everything he wants from a girl. That’s why he was in that asylum for the criminally insane where we found him.
Irene could only tremble fearfully that night when Wilbur came back to his cell to meet his own personal girl. “Wilbur hurt you,” the slug-like man muttered, drooling. “Then Wilbur fuck you.”
“No! No, Wilbur! You don’t need to hurt me,” Irene pleaded. She desperately laid down on the stained mattress and spread her legs.

“What are you doing!? Tom, please! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Mary cried.
Tom had flipped her onto her belly and, digging his knee into her lower back, wrenched her arms behind her back and began binding her wrists with thick rope.
“You’re gonna fucking learn! You don’t fuck with me by fucking other men! I’m gonna take you someplace where you’ll learn to become a proper fucking wife!” Tom said, slapping some duct tape around her eyes.
“Please, Tom, you’re scaring me! Just divorce me! Please, I won’t contest anything! I swear!”
“Shut the fuck up, you dumb cunt, I’m tired of listening to your fucking whining!” Tom said, covering her mouth with more duct tape. “Now get up and let’s go.”

“You fucking treacherous SLUT!” Tom yelled, punctuating his sentence by viciously backhanding his wife.
“AIEEEGHHH!” Mary screeched as she went down. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest she felt like it would burst, the blood roaring through her ears so loudly she couldn’t even hear what Tom was saying now.
She curled up into a ball, clutching her face and sobbing into the carpet.
“You dumb piece of shit, you fucking cow, how could you do this to me? You just stay right there you fucking useless whore!” Tom said, leaving her cowering on the floor.
Mary couldn’t even understand what was happening, Tom had never hit her before. He’d never even raised his voice. That was the whole reason she’d married him, because he seemed like a harmless old man with lots of money. She didn’t even recognize the Tom she had just seen…

“Oh, please, Uncle Neil! Please let me go!” Natalie’s pleas came between disjointed breaths caused by Neil’s jolting fucking that rocked her body to and fro.
“Uhhhh, Uh, Ahhhhhh..,” distant Uncle Neil grunted as he nuzzled Natalie’s sweaty neck while continuing to plow her 19 year-old tight pussy with his sizeable cock. He was proud of the size, girth and hardness of his cock. Bigger than most younger guys and able to maintain it’s hardness a lot longer, too. Right now he was giving this semi-niece of his a thorough demonstration of just how vigorous a fucker an old man like him could be….
It had all began when Natalie had called her Uncle Neil to ask if she could stay at his place temporarily while she searched for a job and her own place in the city. She had only met Uncle Neil a couple of times when he had traveled downstate to attend family parties or gatherings at her house. She had noticed that a few family members – including her mother – seemed to be openly hostile toward Uncle Neil and there were a couple of whispers about some less-than-steller deeds committed some time in the past. But gossip and backbiting were common at those family gatherings and Natalie put it down as things that could be ignored. A wrong assumption.
Arriving at Uncle Neil’s place of residence, Natalie was initiallytaken aback at the derelict-looking building in which he had a basement apartment. But Natalie was more concerned with having a place to live than the looks of the place. Only when Uncle Neil opened his door did Natalie get her first feeling of uneasiness.
“Uncle Neil, what’s with the chains on the door and all the handcuffs and stuff?”
“Got them just for you, sweetie,” Uncle Neil laughed as he grabbed Natalie by her throat…

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