Martha Kringle is Kris's new wife. She is running the entire operation because the Big Guy is not in good spirits. The elves are not able to satisfy her sexual appitites so she has taken Gunther the reindeer handler as her new lover. His ability to degrade her makes her hum with anticipation whenever she is near to him. Her stepdaughter Krystal holds her in contempt until she falls under the spell of Martha's special TLC.
A young graduate in Gothic Art and practices is seduced by her tutor and taught to become a first class courtesan with her full acceptance. Her naive, shy and submissive nature make her the perfect subject. At no time is she raped: this is a true romance.
After losing wife and mother to cancer, a father and daughter finally try to attend a promised profesional football game. Unfortunatly they never make it to the actual game. Insted they are captured by a group of unsavory fans of the opposing team. For their untimate release, the daughter pays with her virginity, both of them.
A submissive returns for more of the treatment that she craves from her Master. Viewed through the dominants eyes, she is put into her place and finds release in a variety of ways.
Thanks to a brand new reality, Buffy is feeling mighty horny these days... fucking Spike, Giles and Faith along the way! Just what has happened in Sunnydale to cause all this?
Sex Contents: Much Sex | Genre: Erotica Tags: Ma/Fa, Rape, MaleDom, Spanking, Rough, Humiliation, Gang Bang, Interracial, Black Female, White Male Downloads: 4021 | Votes:* | Score:* Size: 64KB | 12,429 words |
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A Story in Hungry Guy's Fembot Universe
What is a femborg? Unlike a fembot, a femborg is a real human woman who can see and hear and is aware of everything around her, but has no control over her body. Rather, a wireless servo control module is spliced into her spinal cord just below her brain, and her body is controlled remotely by her owner with a hand-held remote control. This is usually done to condemned criminals in lieu of execution, but "back alley" doctors serving the white slave market will sometimes do it for a fee.
In the dark of her bedroom, Lisa could feel, rather than see, the red flush of mortification crash over her body, like an Atlantic roller against a November shore. It may seem odd that she noted this particular physical sensation at all, considering the competing stimuli: her own bony knees pressing into her cupcake breasts, the sour, whisky-tinged breath wafting into her face, and the hundred-and-eighty pound man pinning her down.