Alpha Annabelle vs. Omega Stephen
By Littlesilverstar, silverstar222b@yahoo.com
Alpha bitch Annabelle beats and humiliates loser Stephen again


WARNING: This story contains a nasty female-on-male rape scene. If that is not
what you're into, you have been warned.

* * *

Annabelle smiled as she looked out the windows of her corner office at the
city down below. Her year-long contract as official spokesmodel for Triumphant
Sporting Goods was off to a great start. Three days ago, she had done her
first photoshoot with the company, posing in tight workout clothes that showed
off her muscular, feminine body. The final draft of the ad with her pictures
that would be placed in magazines would be ready soon.

She looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror she had had installed.
She was half Filipina and half white, and genetically she had received the
best of both worlds, with a height of 5'8" and beautiful, darkly tanned brown
skin. Her 128-pound figure with 25-inch waist and 35-inch hips was perfectly
proportioned. She wore black leather pants, knee-high black leather boots, and
a white blouse. The sleeves of her blouse were rolled up to display her
muscular forearms, which were further accented by the man's Rolex watch on her
left wrist and the studded black leather bracelet on her right. Long silky
black hair and an elegant, high-cheekboned face completed the sexy picture.

Although she spent little time in the building and was only a temporary
contract employee, they had given her this corner office, being very impressed
with her accomplishments as a model. Even better, she was already part of the
"inner circle" with top management. Yesterday, she had gone out to the golf
course with the CEO and two of the company's senior vice presidents. Just her
and three well-paid, well-connected guys. They had freely gossiped to her
about all the juicy incidents that were happening there - who was about to get
fired, who was cheating on their spouse, etc. She loved being accepted as "one
of the guys" while still being extremely feminine. The alpha bitch freely
rubbed her status in the faces of male middle managers who had tried and
failed for years to gain that kind of respect and attention from the top dogs.
And, to top it off, she had finished with a better score on the golf course
than all three of her male companions.

The knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. "Come in," she called out.

A young male intern entered, carrying a tray. "Your grilled cheese sandwich
and mango margarita, Miss Almoite," he said, with just the right balance of
professionalism and submissiveness, and respectfully using her last name.
"Where would you like it?"

She gave him a warm smile and saw him blush. "Just put it on the table over
there. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Miss Almoite." He made only brief eye contact with her face
and none with her chest, despite the fact that her low-cut white blouse was
showing off part of her firm, round, perky 34B tits. As he left, she nodded in
satisfaction. This one was so much better than the old intern, Stephen.
Stephen was a wimpy, chickenshit douchebag who had thought he could use her to
get off on his creepy fetishes about being dominated and shown up by a sexy,
muscular, athletic, feminine woman. She smirked to herself as she remembered
how she had publicly humiliated him, tricked him into participating in a gay
sex act, and left him stranded in the middle of nowhere completely naked. A
passing highway patrol car had finally picked him up and delivered him to his
parents, she had heard. Stephen, unwilling to admit that a girl had bested
him, had made up a story about being jumped and robbed by a motorcycle gang.
And of course he had quit his job at Triumphant Sporting Goods. She sighed.
She would miss mocking him, that was for sure. He had been the perfect target
to torment.

But it didn't have to be in the past tense, Annabelle thought. Just because
Stephen didn't work at the company anymore didn't mean that she couldn't still
have fun with him. She could track him down. She grinned wickedly as she began
clicking away at her computer.

* * *

Stephen sat miserably at his desk. After quitting his job at Triumphant
Sporting Goods due to his extreme humiliation at the hands of Annabelle, his
parents had given him a brutal lecture, then made him get another summer
internship. This one was just as bad as the first - the same tedious work and
demeaning tasks. In addition, the majority of his coworkers were male, making
the competition for the few hot girls who worked there extremely stiff.

Stephen was obsessed with the opposite sex, mainly because he had never gotten
any kind of positive attention from them. He was a virgin, of course, but
worse than that, he had never had a girlfriend, never been kissed, and had
never even had any female friends. Bitterness burned through him whenever he
heard his male coworkers grumble about being "friendzoned" by a girl. He would
give anything to just be friends with a sexy woman.

It was easy to see why Stephen was such a loser with females. He simply had
nothing to offer them. He was scrawny, completely unathletic, lazy, totally
lacking in confidence, dim-witted, simply unable to carry on a normal
conversation with a pretty woman, ugly in the face, and filled with
girl-repelling bitterness. At only 5'5", an inch shorter than Napoleon, he
found himself looking up at most of the women who worked at the company. Each
day, he became a little more bitter after seeing the taller, stronger, more
confident guys easily flirt with the girls. He grew more desperate, pleading
with whatever god was up there to grant him just one gesture of kindness from
a sexy female, or bump him just one rung upward on the male status ladder. But
his prayers always went unanswered. He was at the absolute bottom of the totem
pole. If he could just be one notch above the bottom, he would be content. But
he wasn't. He was constantly getting reminded of how low he was.

Like today, for example. Just before noon, the receptionist, a sexy young
Latina, had gone through the cubicles, whispering something to each person,
but pointedly skipping his. He had later found out that she was letting the
others know that there was free pizza in the break room. By the time he
learned of it, the pizza was all gone. Then, later, the pretty redhead from
accounting, who was leaving on a two-week vacation, had hugged all the other
employees goodbye, including the fat IT guy and the new guy, newer than him,
who she barely knew, but very blatantly skipped him in front of everyone, her
eyes seeming to say, "Like I'd ever let you make physical contact with me,
loser."

When work was finally over, Stephen sat in his shitty old Nissan Versa and
brooded. Why couldn't just one girl be nice to him? And why did sexy Annabelle
have to be such a bitch and go out of her way to humiliate him? She was
supposed to understand him! She was half white and half Asian, just like him.
They were supposed to bond over something like that, at least according to the
stuff he read on Tumblr. But instead, she had mocked and ridiculed him worse
than anyone else.

At last, he decided to go to the mall. He was desperate for any kind of
friendliness from a pretty girl. Just the tiniest gesture, he begged whatever
god was up there, and he would be satisfied.

Stephen looked in the various shops, trying to find a sexy woman. Finally, he
saw a hot, fit, buxom, Middle Eastern-looking girl with a dark brown tan and
long black hair. Her nametag read "May." All he wanted was a tiny bit of
friendly conversation with her. He wasn't even asking for flirting, let alone
anything sexual. He had lowered the bar so far, even he could jump over it,
right?

Wrong. He smiled at May as he walked in, but she didn't smile back, nor did
she even say hello. Instead, she simply went back to the pile of clothes she
was folding. Stephen felt his face turning red. But he wasn't going to give up
yet. He would buy something expensive. She would have to be nice to him then,
right?

Wrong. He picked out a shirt and took it to the counter. "You ready?" was all
she said, in a cold and emotionless voice.

"Y...yes," he stammered. He never could talk right with a hot woman. He tried
to think of a topic of conversation, but nothing that would make him seem cool
came to mind.

"Your total is $91.67," May droned in the same monotone. He held out a $100
bill. She carefully took the bill, making sure her hand never made physical
contact with his, and put his change on the counter instead of handing it to
him. "Your change is $8.33."

Stephen felt anger flow through him. He had just spent over ninety bucks on
some dumb shirt, and this bitch wouldn't even give him a smile or a thank you.
He decided to go big or go home. Taking out his phone, he said, "Can I take a
picture of the two of us with my new shir..."

May didn't let him finish. "I have a boyfriend," she snapped.

"But I...it's not like...I just wanted it as a thing between frien..."

Again she interrupted him. "Get the fuck out, you creepy weirdo. And if you
ever come back I'll call my boyfriend and tell him you're a degenerate sex
pervert. He'll know what to do with you."

"But..."

"Get out. NOW!" She clenched her fists, causing her forearm muscles to ripple.
Her forearms were much bigger and more defined than his, and he knew she could
do serious physical damage to him if she wanted to.

Filled with fear and shame, Stephen shuffled out of the store rapidly. As he
was leaving, another guy walked in - not hot or fit, kind of nerdy looking.
Maybe May was just bitchy in general, or at least bitchy to all dorky-looking
guys, which would make it a little better as it wouldn't be just him, Stephen
thought. But then, he heard her greet the new guy with, "Welcome! Can I help
you find anything?" in a warm voice.

That did it. Stephen raced out of the mall, plopped himself down on the
nearest bench, and burst into tears.

* * *

"Yo. Are you okay?"

It was a female voice. Stephen wiped away his tears as best he could and
stared. She was young, pretty, and athletic-looking, with shoulder-length
blonde hair and green eyes. "N...no," he stammered.

"What's wrong?" she asked in a voice that sounded genuinely compassionate.

All his emotions came flooding out like a waterfall. Without thinking, he
poured his heart out to her, telling her about mean, bitchy May at the store,
the mean, popular men and women at work, his humiliation by Annabelle, and a
hundred other things that were making his life miserable. When his mind
finally processed what he was doing, he froze, suddenly realizing what a loser
he must have sounded like.

The girl, however, didn't lose her look of compassion. "Wow, that's terrible,"
she said. "No one deserves to have that happen to them."

"T...thank you," he stammered. The tears began flowing again.

"What's your name?"

"S...Stephen. And y...yours?"

"Cassandra, but just call me Cass." She seemed to go deep into thought for a
moment. "Look, Stephen, being lonely and depressed is no way to go through
life. I've had a pretty good life and I feel like I should do something to
help you. I'm busy tonight, but how about you let me take you out to dinner
tomorrow? Just as friends."

Stephen sat bolt upright. An actual woman - an actual HOT woman, even -
inviting him on an actual date (well, sort of)? Sure, she was making it clear
they would be just friends, which would annoy a normal guy, but Stephen was
not normal. Just going out to dinner with any woman (other than his mother)
would be a brand new experience for him. "I'd love to!" he squealed like a
little girl who had just gotten a brand new doll for Christmas.

"Great. Just give me your address and number and I'll pick you up at seven."
Stephen eagerly scribbled them on a piece of paper and handed it to her. She
smiled as she took it. "See you tomorrow." Then, with a swirl of skirts, she
was gone.

Stephen had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. After all his
misery, his prayers had finally been answered! He skipped to his car, singing
the song "Miracle of Miracles" from "Fiddler on the Roof." People pointed and
laughed at his skipping and singing, but he didn't care. He had been invited
on a (sort of) date by a hot chick.

On his way home, he stopped at a restaurant to treat himself to a dinner of
steak and lobster to celebrate. He didn't care that the sexy hostess didn't
smile at him or greet him. He didn't care that a group of teenage girls
pointed and laughed at him for eating alone. He wouldn't be eating alone
tomorrow! And he didn't care that the pretty woman who was supposed to be his
waitress switched him to a male waiter just to avoid him. Well, he cared a
little, but he quickly consoled himself with thoughts of, "I'm going out with
sexy Cassie."

The next day at work was as miserable as ever, but again, he didn't care.
Tonight was the night. He could wear his new shirt. When the sexy receptionist
and one of the popular guys began laughing at him because he had accidentally
said, "Fuck yeah! I'm finally in the friend zone! I'm moving on up!" when they
were within earshot, he decided that it didn't matter because Cass was hotter
than her.

When work was over, Stephen drove home more excited than he had ever been in
his life. He changed into his new shirt and waited impatiently for seven
o'clock to arrive, alternating between thinking about what his closest thing
to a real date would be like and trying to distract himself by thinking of
other things. He went through his mail, frowning at his bills. He had just
blown big bucks on that shirt and that steak and lobster dinner. What would be
the best way to handle tonight? Cassie had said she was taking him out, which
meant that she would be the one paying, right? But he was supposed to be
practicing at being a real man, and a real man didn't let the girl pay. Oh,
how he wished he could afford a second fancy dinner out in a row on his
minimum-wage salary. If only he hadn't bought that expensive shirt from that
mean hot May chick. He had only done it to try to get her to be friendly to
him, and then Cass had come in and done it for free. It made him think of that
line from that Alanis Morissette song: "It's a free ride when you've already
paid."

As seven o'clock drew closer, Stephen became more and more nervous. What if
Cassandra stood him up? He had invested so much into this emotionally. If she
didn't show he would be even more devastated than he had been before.

Seven came and went. Then 7:05, then 7:10. He wished he could call her, but
she hadn't given him her number, she had just gotten his. Why hadn't he
insisted on getting her number? He could have finally had a woman in the
"Contacts" list of his iPhone that wasn't his mother, sister, aunt, or
grandmother.

Finally, at 7:13, his phone rang. "Unknown Caller" flashed on the screen. He
snatched it up eagerly. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's me," came the familiar, feminine voice from yesterday. "I'm right
outside."

Stephen sighed with relief. "I'll be right down!"

"Actually, can I use your bathroom before we go?" Cassie asked.

"S...Sure. I'll buzz you in." Stephen pressed the button. He didn't really
want to, as his place was a tiny, cheap, shitty studio apartment, but he
figured that if Cassandra had been nice enough to sympathize with him
yesterday instead of laughing in his face, she wouldn't laugh at his apartment
either.

He prayed as he waited for her to come up. "Please let this night go well.
Please let this be an experience I can get happy memories from. Please, Lord,
I'm not greedy! I'm not asking for sex or a makeout session or any of that
shit! All I'm asking for is warmth and positive attention from a hot chick.
Please, Lord, let it all go as planned. Please. Amen."

He heard heavy boots coming up the stairs. Then there was a knock on the door.
He looked through the peephole. There she was. Cassie. His Cassie, if just for
tonight. Just the two of them. He unlocked the door eagerly. "Hi, Cassandra."

"Hey, Stephen." She was wearing a long, elegant black dress and looked even
sexier than she had yesterday. Slender but muscular at 5'6" and 120 pounds,
her sleeveless garment showed off her toned arms. She was only an inch taller
than him, Stephen thought with some relief. And she had been courteous enough
to wear nice, dainty flat shoes insted of high heels...

Wait a minute. If she was wearing those dainty shoes, why had he heard heavy
bootsteps? A cold chill ran down his spine as he realized he was in an Admiral
Ackbar moment. "IT'S A TRAP!"

Stephen tried to lock the door, but before he could get there, it swung open
and there stood Annabelle. Of course it was Annabelle. "Hey there...short
cock," she smirked. She stepped inside and kicked the door shut behind her
with her booted foot.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" This time it was that Luke Skywalker/Darth Vader/"I am your
father" moment. Stephen began to cry like the little bitch he was.

Annabelle stood over him. Her knee-high black leather boots gave her that
domme look she was known for in her modeling. A black miniskirt, a white
blouse, and black leather gloves completed her outfit. The sleeves of her
blouse were rolled up to show off her thick, heavily muscled, dark brown
forearms. She was still wearing her man's Rolex watch on her left wrist and
her studded black leather bracelet on her right.

The Filipina beauty viciously punched Stephen in the face, opening a painful,
bloody cut on his cheek from the rough leather of her glove and knocking him
to his knees. She turned to the blonde. "Thanks for roping this dweeb in,
Cass."

"No problem, Ana. It was a good chance to practice my acting skills. Looks
like they worked like a charm. This dipshit fell for it hook, line, and
sinker. Oh, and he was crying like a faggot when I came up to him. Some hot
chick at the mall rejected him."

"What, he actually tried to ask her out?"

"No, he just wanted a picture with her, and he couldn't even get that! What a
loser."

"Yeah, how pathetic." Annabelle hit Stephen again, this time with her knee.
Blood bubbled from his nose as her knee smashed into it. His hands flew to his
face. Both girls laughed loudly.

Stephen tried to wipe away the blood. "Why?" he cried. "What did I ever do to
you guys?"

"Why?" Annabelle smirked. "Because you're a loser."

"Because you're still lusting after us. Don't even try to deny it," said
Cassandra.

"Because we're alpha bitches, and this is what alpha bitches do," Annabelle
added.

"Because you were retarded enough to fall for my act. If you had any logical
sense in your brain, you would have realized that there was no reason for a
hot, successful, popular woman like myself to want to go out with a total dork
like you," Cass sneered down at him.

"And finally, the best reason," said Annabelle. "Because we can." She kicked
him in the head with her size 10 boot as she spoke, knocking him down
completely.

Stephen sat up, holding his head in pain, crying, bleeding, and trying to
think of a way to get these two hot, wicked girls to show mercy to him. "Ana,
please..." he began.

Annabelle smashed her elbow down onto the top of his head. "Don't ever call me
by the diminutive form of my name. That's a sign of affection. That's a sign
of friendship. That's something a pathetic geek like you can NEVER have with a
woman like me. Right, Cass?"

"Right, Ana."

Stephen waited for his head to clear from the strength of Annabelle's vicious
blow, then continued his strategy. "Annabelle, please..."

The hot model kicked him in the back. "Don't use my full first name either. A
loser like you can never be on first name terms with a woman like me."

"Miss Almoite, please. Look at us. We're both half white and half Asian. We're
both trying to find our place in between two worlds..."

"Oh my God," giggled Cassie. "Are my ears not working right, or did I just
hear the race card?"

"You sure did. Holy shit, that was pathetic, even for him." Annabelle kicked
Stephen in the ass, then grabbed him by the hair, yanking him upward and
glaring directly into his face. "Maybe you're some loser who can't find his
place. Scratch that, you're DEFINITELY a loser who can't find his place. I'm
not. I'm accepted as "one of the group" in the Philippines, I'm accepted as
"one of the group" here in America, and I'm damn proud of both of those facts.
Don't you EVER try to pretend that a complete, total omega male loser like you
has ANYTHING in common with an alpha female like me." She released him to let
his head bounce hard on the wooden floor.

Stephen let out a moan. Holding his aching head, he slowly staggered to his
feet. Just when he had finished standing up, however, Cassandra suddenly did a
standing back handspring, kicking him in the face and knocking him back down.
The blonde glared down at him. "Did we give you permission to get up, loser?"

Stephen let out another moan. Annabelle stomped on his face with her big black
boot. "When one of us asks you a question, you will answer it, cocksucker."

"No! You didn't give me permission to get up! I'm sorry, Mistresses!" he
shrieked in fear.

Both women laughed. "What a wimp," snickered Cassie. "An adult male afraid of
two skinny girls."

"Yeah," Annabelle sneered. "Can't even handle a girl doing a backflip. Nice
flick-flack, by the way."

"Thanks. Those dance classes really came in handy. So, what are we going to do
with this wuss?"

Annabelle's elegant, high-cheekboned face had a wicked grin. "Well, since he
looks like a bitch, acts like a bitch, and cries like a bitch, I think it's
only fitting that he gets fucked like a bitch." She reached into her large
purse and took out a small video camera and a large double-sided dildo.

Stephen's eyes went wide with horror. He struggled to his feet and began to
run for the door.

Annabelle simply smirked. Raising her muscular arms, she threw herself into a
tumbling pass, starting with a roundoff and then going into a series of back
handsprings. She could backflip faster than an unathletic man could run, and
she caught her victim easily after half a dozen handsprings, crashing into
him, knocking him down, and leaping onto him, pinning him with her relatively
light but very efficient weight. She drove a powerful punch into Stephen's
right eye, turning it black. As he cried out, she balled her other hand into
another leather-gloved fist and swung it at his face in turn, this time
stopping at the last second, laughing as he flinched in fear. She performed a
graceful looking back walkover to get back to her feet.

"Strip, loser," she ordered her male victim.

Stephen just lay there, groaning. Annabelle nodded at Cassie. The blonde
roughly grabbed Stephen's legs and yanked them apart. Meanwhile, Annabelle
drew back her right leg threateningly.

"If you don't start stripping right fucking now, I'll start kicking your nuts
with my boots and keep kicking until they're turned into paste," the
brown-skinned beauty snarled.

That got him going. He yanked off his clothes as fast as he could, curling up
into a ball when he was nude, trying to hide as much of his unattractive body
as possible.

Annabelle kicked him hard in the side. "Get up, wimp."

Stephen let out a pathetic whine, his body badly wounded by the power of
Annabelle's dancer-trained kicks. Cassie snickered. "What a retard. Gets up
when he's not supposed to and can't get up when he is supposed to."

Stephen struggled painfully to his feet, his hand covering his groin area.
Annabelle laughed. "What good is hiding it going to do? I already know how
tiny your little-boy cock is, and so does she. Now move your fucking hand."

Fearfully, he obeyed, exposing his exceptionally small penis for both sexy
women to see. Shamefully, he was hard, and his raging erection had a length of
only three inches!

Both girls burst into loud laughter. "Oh my God," giggled Cass. "He's fucking
hard and still that tiny? My boyfriend's cock is bigger than that when it's
completely soft."

"Yeah, and why is this dipshit hard in the first place?" sneered Annabelle.
She glared at her male victim angrily. "Well, answer me, douchebag. And it
better be good."

Stephen decided to just tell the truth. He was sure his tormentors would be
able to tell if he lied, anyway. "W...well, Miss Almoite, it's...it's mostly
the way you're dressed. I l...like your domme-looking big black boots, your
feminine miniskirt, and your white blouse that shows off how dark your tan is.
A...and I especially like your thick muscular forearms exposed by your
rolled-up sleeves, and the way y...your leather bracelet covers up the
thinnest part of your w...wrist and makes it look even bigger. A...and of
course your back handsprings are always h...hot."

Both girls looked at each other and rolled their eyes. "Of course," said
Annabelle. "You and your stupid fetishes. Maybe if you could actually do back
flips like a man - tumbling is a lot easier for guys to learn than girls - you
wouldn't get so turned on schmoe-style by seeing a woman do something you
can't do. And maybe if you actually had arms like a man instead of the weak,
skinny, girly ones you have, you wouldn't have such a fucking boner over mine.
They aren't even that big, anyway." Annabelle's forearms, although big for a
woman, were still smaller than the average guy's. But Stephen was not average,
of course.

The Filipina model held out her right forearm with its rolled-up sleeve and
studded leather bracelet. It looked strong and powerful without being
unfeminine or out of place on a woman. Her prominent veins were easily
visible, and her dark brown skin perfectly accented her impressively defined
forearm muscles.

She then roughly yanked Stephen's arm out to compare it to hers. His thin,
girly forearm with no muscle tone looked pale and weak next to hers. She
laughed. "If a male has a thinner arm than a slender female model, something's
seriously wrong."

"Shit, I think his is even thinner than mine," said Cassandra. "Let's check."
She held her arm out. Cassie's forearm, although thinner and less tanned than
Annabelle's, was still distinctly larger and darker than Stephen's. Smirking,
the blonde taunted him. "Even my wrist is thicker than yours."

"Since he has wrists like a girl, I think he needs to dress like a girl," said
Annabelle. She slid out of her black miniskirt, exposing her lacy red panties.
"Put it on," she ordered him. A moment's hesitation on his part was followed
by the hot babe clenching her leather-gloved fist. That spurred him to
obedience immediately. Crying with shame, pain, and humiliation, he pulled the
skirt on.

It looked weird and awkward on him. The garment, made for Annabelle's slender
waist, was tight on his, as he had somewhat of a gut from not playing any
sports and eating too much fast food, despite being so scrawny. And because
his legs were so short, the skirt looked midway beteen a miniskirt and a
knee-length skirt on him.

"He's such a loser that he's a scrawny wuss AND has a gut," Cassie laughed.
"That's like being bald AND having dandruff."

"And he's a short-ass ugly shrimp, too," Annabelle added. "I saw the driver's
seat in his shitty-ass Nissan Versa. It was pulled all the way forward because
his legs are so short like a little boy's." She smirked as she compared her
body to his, knowing that hers was the perfect combination of femininity and
strength, while his was the worst of all worlds. "Now we just need a bra to
complete fag-boy's girly outfit. Hope you have one, Cass, because I'm not
wearing one." Annabelle's 34B breasts were firm and perky enough not to
require a bra.

"Luckily, today, I am, Ana. Usually I don't wear one, but I have a sports bra
on because I was working out earlier." Cassie slipped the top part of her
black dress down, then removed her blue sports bra. As she was pulling the
dress back up, she noticed that Stephen was staring at her temporarily exposed
round firm perky 32B tits.

The blonde's green eyes flashed with anger. "Did I give you permission to look
at my breasts?" Before Stephen could answer, she cartwheeled towards him too
fast for him to react, then smashed her fist into his face, knocking out one
of his teeth. She followed her brutal attack up with an elegant leg sweep,
tripping her male victim hard to the floor. She kicked him in the head. "Now
put the bra on, cocksucker."

Terrified, Stephen obeyed submissively, furious and humiliated but also
strangely turned on by the abuse. What was happening to him? What was wrong
with him? He wanted to be a real man, to fight back and beat these bitches
down, but he knew he could never defeat even one of the girls in a fight, let
alone both. And the other part of him, the schmoe part where he liked getting
beaten by a woman, was growing stronger.

Annabelle looked at her men's Rolex watch, slightly loose on her muscular but
feminine wrist. "Well, enough foreplay. Time to get to the fucking." Without
warning, the Filipina beauty suddenly executed a tumbling run, starting with a
front tuck somersault, then going into a cartwheel followed by a series of
blindingly fast flick-flacks directly at Stephen.

Stephen just lay there, frozen like a deer in the headlights. He knew running
would be useless, as she had caught him easily with her tumbling when he had
tried to flee the last time. Annabelle reached him less than two seconds later
and ended her tumbling pass with a full twisting layout, landing in a full 180
degree split hard on his face, brutalizing his mouth and nose. Bringing her
legs together, her toned, tanned, muscular thighs looking great, she then did
a kip-up to get back to her feet.

Annabelle pulled off her underwear, exposing her pink pussy lips. Her black
pubic hair was neatly trimmed into a heart shape. She inserted the shorter end
of the double-sided dildo into her vagina until all eight inches were inside
her. Meanwhile, Cassandra was filming with the video camera.

The other end of the dildo was twelve inches long and painted dark brown,
almost matching Annabelle's darkly tanned brown skin. It had imitation veins
on it to resemble a real cock. Stephen, crying and trembling, stared in horror
at the gigantic tool above him.

"Turn over," the pretty brunette ordered him coldly.

He began to beg, crying and pleading for her not to rape him. She simply drew
back her right leg with its booted foot. "If you don't turn over, I'll kick
your groin with my boots until you do, or until I've kicked your balls into
ovaries, whichever comes first."

That got him going. He turned over, the skirt riding up, his pale, flabby ass
pointing vulnerably into the air.

Annabelle smirked in triumph. This was what she lived for. Total domination
and humiliation of a stupid, arrogant weakling male who thought he could use
her to get his disgusting, tiny pecker off to his creepy-ass fetishes. She let
him wait, helpless and unable to see what was happening, for about thirty
seconds before suddenly ramming the massive dildo into his asshole.

"AAAAHHHHHHH!" Stephen screamed as he felt his rectum being brutalized by the
girl's unyielding penetration. He sobbed as she violated him in the lowest way
possible. Annabelle thrust harder, forcing the rape-instrument in deeper,
using her powerful hips developed by years of dancing to deliver the necessary
force. She taunted him as her thrusts increased in power. "You like that,
Stephanie? You like taking it like a good little bitch?"

Cassandra, moving to get a better angle, could barely hold the video camera
steady because of her laughter. Annabelle continued brutalizing Stephen
physically and mentally, her voice growing louder and huskier as the other end
of the dildo did its work inside her cunt. "You're such a good catcher,
Stephanie. I bet your attraction to girls with masculine traits is a cover for
your secret attraction to boys. Do you want a big, strong daddy to fuck you?
Is that what widdle Stephanie wants?" By now, all twelve inches had been
rammed up Stephen's ass. His pain was excruciating, but the mental agony from
the complete and utter humiliation was far worse. Finally, Annabelle came
hard, squirting all over her end of the dildo. She pulled out of her victim
roughly and slid the other end out of her. That side was now covered with
sticky girl-cum, while the other was covered with Stephen's blood and shit.

"Now suck my dick, bitch," she ordered.

Stephen moved to place the side with her cum in his mouth. She yanked it away
quickly and spun the dildo around. "Not that side, cocksucker. Choke down your
own shit, faggot." She shoved it into his mouth, laughing as he gagged at the
taste of his own feces, thrusting in and out as she forced him to give his
makeshift blowjob. She continued her cruel act for three or four minutes,
continually taunting him, sadistically enjoying the absolute physical and
mental dominance she had over him. Finally, she suddenly pressed a button on
the dildo and a thick white liquid shot into Stephen's mouth. Taken by
surprise, he choked and gagged before involuntarily swallowing.

"This is a special hollow dildo," the sassy brunette informed him. "It can be
filled with any liquid I want. Such as semen I collected from the several male
partners I fucked before coming here. Congratulations, fag. You're now
officially a swallower." Stephen looked like he was about to throw up.

Annabelle wasn't quite finished. For the coup de grace, she pulled the dildo
out, aimed it at Stephen's face, and pressed the button again. A massive load
of cum squirted all over his face, soaking him, marking him as her eternal
bitch. Cassandra took a close-up view with the video camera of his facial for
the "money shot."

"Well, Cass, I guess that's a wrap," Annabelle smirked.

"Right. Nice finisher, Ana." Cassie turned off the video camera. "I'll get
this ready to upload so we can sell it to our list of cuckold/femdom/gay porn
sites. Same deal as last time?"

"Right," said Annabelle. "70% of the profits for me, 30% for you, and none for
the cocksucker." Stephen lay on the floor, moaning. He just wanted this
nightmare to be over.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Cassie opened it and in walked May,
the hot Middle Eastern girl from the mall!

"Hey, May. Glad you could make it," said Cassandra.

"NOOOOOOOOO!!!" Stephen screamed. "How..."

"I went to the trouble of following you, including your trip to the mall,"
said Cassandra. "When I saw you get rejected for a simple picture I knew I had
to invite her to the party." She and Annabelle both high-fived May.

"And I went to the trouble of tracking you down at your new job," added
Annabelle. "I'm going to make sure that every single person there sees this
video. You thought you were a loser before? You ain't seen nothing yet."

"Hey there...cocksucker," smirked May, sneering at Stephen. She did a
cartwheel towards him, then bitch-slapped him across the face. "Guess who else
is going to be seeing that video? How about every hot chick and muscular guy
who works at the mall? You're going to have a very large fan club very soon.
Although not the kind of fan club anyone would ever want. That's what you
deserve for being such a weakling with such creepy-ass fetishes. Normally I
have my boyfriend take care of guys who perv on me, but you're such a wuss
that I can handle you all by myself. You should be filled with shame over
that, not being able to handle a girl, you pathetic turd. In fact, we need to
make another video. I want to get in on the action and profits."

All three pretty women began whispering and giggling as they plotted what to
do to him next. Stephen began to cry as he realized his nightmare had only
just begun.

THE END