Degrading Annabelle , livre ebook

Degrading Anabelle
Dee Voyse




First published in 2021 by
House of Erotica
www.houseoferoticabooks.com
Digital edition converted and distributed by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
Copyright © 2021 Dee Voyse
The right of Dee Voyse to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any person who does so may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.



Confessions
“Take me from behind, baby,” Annabelle said, breathlessly. It was another marathon of lovemaking for Annabelle and her boyfriend that evening, but there was something missing for the young lady. In fact, something had been missing entirely since they had started sleeping together and Annabelle didn’t know how to tell him. She wanted to be roughed up. No, she needed it.
They changed positions and he started fucking her faster, while gripping her hips. Annabelle moaned and wiggled her bottom, hoping that he might get the hint and start spanking her, but no luck. The best she could hope for was him digging his nails into her upon climax, which she could tell he was nearing. She bit her lip and rolled her eyes at his attempt at dirty talk. “Oh, you like that?” wasn’t exactly enough to turn her on, but she was afraid to reveal to him the things that she wished he would say to her. Brazed words like “slut” and “whore” flashed through her mind while she continued to be on the receiving end of what she considered a very subpar fucking. He could last, she would give him that. And he had a thick dick that she loved sucking. But he was always just too nice for her tastes. She didn’t want to just suck his cock. She wanted to be forced to suck it. She wanted him to make her his sex slave and use her for his pleasure with little to no regard for her own. She felt herself get wet at the mere thought of him fucking her ass for a change. She knew that he thought of her as a “good girl” and she was afraid that if she were to open up to him and show him that deep down, all she wanted to be was his no good little bitch, that he would run the other way. She had led him to believe that she was relatively “vanilla” out of fear that her kinky side would be too much to handle. In fact, in her wildest fantasies, she imagined that it was not just him “handling” her, but rather a group of people. She thought about how she desired to be used by both men and women. She wondered so much what the taste of another woman would be like on her tongue. She imagined being double-teamed by large and unfamiliar cock and being utterly helpless to stop the assault. She could feel her boyfriend’s thrusts quicken and knew she was nearing the end of yet another unsatisfying session with him. His orgasm came and went with a few grunts and groans as he shot his load inside of her and then pulled out and removed the condom.
“I’m gonna go clean up, babe,” he said to her and she nodded in reply.
Annabelle lay in bed imagining a wonderful situation in which she was bound and gagged and forcibly fucked for a crowd. Without thinking much of it, she began to touch herself. This mindless self-pleasure went on for a short while, with Annabelle closing her eyes and trying to imagine every little disgusting detail that she lusted for. It didn’t even stop when her boyfriend walked back into the room and caught her masturbating.
“Ahem,” he said, not wanting to necessarily stop her actions, but to at least make his presence known.
Annabelle’s cheeks flushed bright red and she stopped dead in her tracks. She didn’t know how to explain herself. She thought perhaps she might apologize, but figured that would be an exercise in futility. After all, she had been caught masturbating, not committing a crime. She looked at her boyfriend and merely shrugged, catching the scent of herself on her wet fingers. He grinned and sat down on the bed next to her.
“Why did you stop?” he asked.
“I...don’t know. You’ve never seen me do this before and I thought that mayb--” Annabelle began.
He put a finger to her lips and chuckled.
“So...what were you thinking about?” he asked.
She shrugged again and shook her head “no”, hoping that the subject would not be pressed upon.
“Oh, c’mon. What was it?” he continued, hoping that perhaps he might be able to solve the mystery of why she always seemed so removed and disinterested in their lovemaking.
He loved her very much and was willing to do anything to see her happy. He just didn’t know what would do it for her.
Annabelle looked at him and thought to herself, ‘Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I told him. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?’
She sighed and said, “I was thinking about...rope?”
“Rope?” he asked, “What for?”
“To tie me up,” she said with a slightly more confident tone to her voice.
He laughed slightly, until he saw the seriousness in her eyes. Clearly this was something that she really wanted.
“So, you want to be tied up?” he asked.
She nodded in affirmation.
He raised an eyebrow and asked, “What else?”
“I don’t know,” Annabelle replied, realizing that his curiosity was, in fact, genuine and cursing herself for suddenly clamming up.
“Oh, I think you do,” he said, leaning in closer, his voice deepening.
She closed her eyes and bowed her head, thinking of the worst possible scenario that her devious mind was able to conjure up.
She opened her eyes and locked her gaze with his.
She told him everything.



Annabelle’s Capture
“Look at me, slut,” said a male voice from the darkness.
Annabelle had found herself in an oddly compromising position during her evening walk home from work. Two men had come up behind her, grabbed her, thrown a burlap bag over her head, and thrown her into the trunk of a waiting car. The car sped off, taking Annabelle away into a night which held much more than just mystery.
The car had arrived at an abandoned warehouse-turned-dungeon. Annabelle was not aware of her surroundings as she was blind to the world and frightened beyond belief. There she sat: tied to a chair with her legs spread open and her hands cuffed behind her back. She looked down at the floor, trying to allow her eyes to adjust to the one bright light that shone from above in an otherwise pitch black room. She had no idea who was talking to her and she surmised that the only thing she could do at that point was to beg for her life.
She looked up at the distant dark figure, making out only the whites of his eyes, and spoke: “Please...sir? I think you’ve got the wrong girl.