Rusty Nails Dominates Women (1 Viewer)

[Chainsaw]

A loud Squeal and a sharp grunt followed the fist that buried deep into Pelica's stomach. She fell to her knees and gazed upon her tormentor.

She had dismissed him as just another 'fan' itching to step into the ring with a boxing superstar. Pelica 'the destroyer of men' was now being destroyed by one.

His name was laughable but his power undeniable. He called himself Rusty Nails.

Pelica got up, dusting herself off and stood. She took a boxing stance and gloated to her would be attacker.

"Lucky shot!" She scowled. He smiled.

His small, lithe form moved in ways unimaginable. His feet were lightning, his fists hammers and her domination absolute.

Pelica's head mimicked the motion of a clock, twisting and turning as his glove thudded into her skin. Soon a bruise, then a busted lip, followed closely by bleeding nostrils and a black eye were all hers to take and his to give. Her back slammed into the corner and her hands covered her face in a vain attempt to stop the punishment, Rusty simply changed his target.

"Ahhh!" She groaned when his glove buried into her gut.

He was relentless, striking with fury and precision. He abused her six-pack till his gloves left their imprints on her skin and then switched targets once again.

Her breasts swayed, then swung, dancing to the tune of his fists. Pelica screamed in rhythm to his blows, each shriek higher in pitch than the last. Rusty played Pelica like an instrument, tracing a line of abuse from her stomach to her chest. Then he tore his gloves off.

Off came her top with a loud yank. With her round breasts now in full view, Rusty began a new composition of squeals, screeches and shrieks. He connected the dots with her hollow yelps and yawp's and then painted the mat with her drool.

Pelica's muscular arms hung limp over the top rope. Her swole legs buckling under the pressure. Her head twirled like a top and her long black hair whirled to match their motion.

"Please..." She said softly.

"Stop"

Her pleas fell to deaf ears and Rusty continued his symphony. Next on the agenda was her minge.

Pelica gasped, her blue eyes wide as she saw her shorts ripped from her body.

Her cries began anew as cold fists and knees rained on her cunt. Rusty made her sing, her screams and yells vibrating at various registers. Then like an opera, she sang the highest note she could muster and passed out.

She woke in a cold sweat, hoping that it was all a bad dream. Her hopes were dashed when she found her hands tied to a punching bag. Her feet were spread, held apart by rope that wrapped around her ankles, nailed down to opposing walls on either side.

She heard soft piano play in the room, distant at first but slowly getting closer. Then she saw him enter.

Rusty was nude, his proud member on full display and his taste for Coletti laid bare on the stereo in his hands. He placed it on a table nearby and got to work.

He timed his shins to her battered stomach with precision, making Pelica scream to the pitch of his favourite tenor. His kicks ebbed and flowed to the music, conducting Pelica's pain in accordance to the tempo. Rusty divided her body in accordance with the dynamics of the music.

Her stomach stood in for the 'Sforzando's' and her breasts represented the 'Forte'. Her screams denoted the 'Mezzo Forte' and her snatch played nicely with the sections denoted by 'Fortississimo'. Pelica's body convulsed and twitched as the Opera neared the 'Crescendo' and with one final note, she stood silent.

She woke again to find herself on bed. Her naked body spread and held by tight satin cloth.

Pelica lifted her head up to see Rusty walk in and climb on the bed. He placed his bare buttocks on her chest and guided his phallus into her mouth, ready to make her sing a different tune for the night.

 

[Chainsaw]

Not long after Pelica's brutal defeat, a young Asian stepped into the ring to face Rusty Nails.

Kuniko took her time to strip bare, confident that a glimpse of her ripped body would distract the man that made Pelica his bitch. He stood with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed upon each muscle on her body and a vile smirk on his face. He waited impatiently as Kuniko wiggled her braided, purple pigtails and took selfies while making silly faces. She gloated an assured victory to her many followers.

Rusty began the fight with a boot to her face.

The phone slipped from her hand, bouncing on the canvas and lodging itself in the corner to record the beating of a lifetime.

It began with her stomach. The many sit-ups, crunches and sets that took to get a six-pack like Kuniko's meant nothing to Rusty. He attacked with cold fists, burying each knuckle deep and making Kuniko sing a familiar tune.

Her "Ooh's and Aah's" and then "Uff's and Argh's" were the beginnings of a new symphony of torment. Rusty composed with an eye for detail, striking each pec in her abdomen to elicit the perfect response. Hard fists to her sides made her go "Uff!" while straight crosses deep in her hard belly gave him the "Aah's!". "Ooh's" were what followed hard shots to the kidneys and "Argh's" were the tedium born from her pain.

Soon, Kuniko sported some new 'fist-shaped' tattoos on her stomach, the indents of Rusty's boot a close second.

Twisting her nipples gave Rusty the coveted high squeal and a knee to her pussy, raised that pitched higher. For a while, her tits and crotch came under Rusty's lustful scrutiny and he didn't stop till they matched the colour of her hair.

Placing a firm hand at the back of her head, Rusty slammed her face into the canvas. Her body lingered for a moment before it joined with a resounding thud. He pressed her face into the ring like drowning her in water and Kuniko's limbs kicked and punched the mat to give Rusty the tribal percussion he searched for.

He raked his fingernails across her back, feeling each muscle go hard then soft as he traced lines of abuse on her muscular form. Her high pitched squeal confirmed Rusty's suspicions, this girl had no bass.

He studied her fallen form laying on the canvas, adjusting the notations in his head and re-arranging the notes he wanted.

He grabbed her twin ponytails and pulled the young Asian to her feet.

Rusty slammed Kuniko's back into the turnbuckles, giving him the guttural 'Ungh!" he desired. Then he went to work on her face.

Kuniko's head moved like a compass, North, east, west, south and every direction in between. He controlled each degree of her movement with considered punches, making sure his goal to fill the empty spots for bass notes didn't go unchecked. A mixture of sweat, drool and blood flew through the air as Rusty pounded her head.

"WHOOSH!"

Came the sound as air left Kuniko's lungs and Rusty's boot slammed into the centre of her chest.

"UNGHHH!"

She growled as another fist buried deep into her belly.

And then with a final "AHHHH" as his knee struck her crotch, she passed out.

A few hours later, Rusty walked into a familiar sight of a young woman tied in the basement. She hung in place of a boxing bag. Kuniko's thick legs hovered in the air and her muscular arms were stretched overhead, tied to the ceiling.

She appeared to have made peace with her destiny, gazing at the floor in shame. Then Rusty showed her something that made her eyes go wide. He whipped out her phone, letting her see the video of her brutal beating, her camera had captured the whole fight.

He smiled when she saw his finger hover over the 'Share' button. Kuniko begged and pleaded not let her beating be known but Rusty turned a deaf ear to her plight and pressed it. She cursed him with each painful breath, sobbing at the thought of her video spreading to her followers. Then she remembered the men she had done it too, Karma truly was a bitch.

Kuniko saw Rusty throw the phone away and pick up a pair of boxing gloves from the table. She dropped her head and resigned to her fate. Rusty used her body to compose a new sonnet of pain.

The bed seemed like a cruel reprieve after the countless painful beatings she had to endure. Rusty held nothing back as he fucked her in the ass. Her once proud muscular form was now its knees. Kuniko's hands were tied behind her back and Rusty's heel pressed her face into the mattress.

On the table, the camera recorded the final leg of her humiliation and thousands of her followers watched her butt ripple as Rusty thrust with unbridled force. Kuniko's domination was now complete.

 

[Red Death]

Nicee thiugh it'd be better if there are some pictures or more descriptions on the characters

 

[Chainsaw]

Thank you for the feedback. I definitely agree I leave a lot to be desired when it comes to descriptions. I will try to improve them as I go along. Can you suggest a good source for some pictures?

 

[Chainsaw]

Jenna fell to her knees.

She leant back on the middle rope and her sinewy arms straightened across its length. Her palms gripped the ropes tighter and tighter each time Rusty's heel slammed into her cheek.

He stood on one leg, the other bent at the knee and controlling the movement of his shin as his foot slapped one cheek and then the other. Jenna's dreadlocks danced, each strand standing up and then falling.

Jenna was a smart young girl, she knew the risks, she had seen Kuniko's video and yet she dared to step into the ring with Rusty Nails. Now he was making her pay. Her green eyes shivered in terror and her muscled body trembled with pain.

Beads of sweat and drool lathered her ebony skin while a splatter of blood lined her green headband. She gritted her blood-red teeth and her muscles strained to weather Rusty's onslaught. Her green tube-top lay discarded in one corner, so did the rest of her wardrobe.

A cacophony of sounds escaped her full red lips, from loud grunts to soft groans and everything in between. Jenna's cheeks turned a dark shade of purple, blood flowed down her nostrils and a cut on her forehead painted her face red.

Her luscious breasts called for attention and Rusty obliged. Rusty's heel squished her soft skin, Jenna's beautiful mounds trampled under his foot. He stomped her chest like a raging elephant, alternating between her globes till he bruised her shiny, black skin.

When he stopped, Jenna's body was bent on the rope. Half in and half out of the squared circle.

Her arms hovered in the air limp and her head hung upside down over the apron. Her dreadlocks obeyed the laws of gravity and her battered breasts heaved with each shallow breath.

She responded with a sharp "Eek" when Rusty grabbed her hair and pulled her back into the ring.

Rusty threw her into the corner dismissively. She plunged into the turnbuckles like a discarded piece of meat, her hands now limp and spread around the top rope. She shook her head and pleaded as Rusty spread her legs, positioning each of her thick thighs on opposite sides of the middle rope.

He took a step back, using his fingers to "Shutter" an image of her beaver and then ran in at full speed. His feet puffed up some dust on the mat as it swung, his heel barrelling towards its target as Jenna braced for impact.

Rusty's heel made contact and a shrill emerged from the pit of Jenna's stomach but died as it made its way up to her throat. It was on the tip of her tongue but Jenna's jaw was shut tight and clenched. Veins in her neck popped from exertion and her green eyes opened wide, tearing up at the edges.

Another foot to his target broke the wail free from its cage. Jenna threw her head up, her mouth opened wide and her eyes closed. The shriek hit the ceiling and made one of the lights shake.

Rusty continued with kicks, shins, knees and fists all aimed at her soft pussy. With each blow Jenna screamed louder and louder but then Rusty stopped. In between, her piercing cries was a note he hadn't accounted for. He kicked her one more time to make sure.

There it was again, nestled between a howl and a yell, a soft moan.

Rusty looked up to see her expression change. Her green eyes went soft and her lips were in the clutches of her blood-stained teeth. He kicked again and Jenna let out a yelp but then moaned. Once again and the result was the same.

Could it be? A willing participant in his symphony? Her shivering lips then confirmed his suspicion.

"Please Stop..." She begged. "You are going to make me-"

The exotic brawler's body convulsed and shook as another heel crashed into her snatch. Her hips clenched and her pelvis tightened before the floodgates opened.

Rusty smiled. His opponent was a closeted painslut.

Jenna was just as surprised as he was, possibly embarrassed. Her cheeks would have blushed red if they had any colour left on it. She realised there was a cruel irony to all of this. Jenna was The Federation's mauler, the beater of men big and small. She shuddered to think of the consequences if word got out, then realised this was Rusty, he couldn't give less of a fuck.

Jenna's domination was even more painful now with the clout of a nasty revelation looming overhead. He left spaces for her to "sing", melding genres together to turn her destruction into a duet. An erotic soft moan followed by a painful "AHH", a shudder of her hips followed by a nasty blow and the convulsing of her body following another shameful orgasm.

He made her cum again, and again, and again. He prolonged her punishment, holding back his blows just enough to where they would sting and then followed them up by an even harder blow meant to incite the perfect response. Soon, Jenna's body was a mess of pleasure and pain, her wet pussy dripping and her battered body exhausted from trying to keep up.

A blow to her sides made her moan, then a cold fist sunk deep in her belly to make her scream. A punch to her tit made her shriek and then a knee to her pussy made her cum. He arranged his composition in a rhythmic pattern, similar to a samba, moments of vile intensity followed by the quiet of pleasure.

Then with one more painful orgasm, she passed out.

As with the others, her destruction continued at his home. She swung with his punches, tied from the ceiling. She swayed by the cruel orgasms. Rusty made sure to record it all.

Then as the night wound down, Jenna lay bare on the sofa. Her breasts draped over his knees and her hands tied behind her back. Her head stayed still to take his cock in her mouth and his thrusts grew in intensity as he watched her beating on the giant TV. He came every time she did and spent the rest of the night being used like his personal flesh light.

------------------------------

Rusty held the round, wide bowl-shaped glass in his hand. His fingers twirled the base causing the red viscous liquid inside to swirl into a whirlpool of hate. He looked down to see the wine spin, the circle widening from the centre like his memories that stretched to years past.

He was a different man then. A dominated man. A pet.

Rusty withstood years of systematic abuse at the hands of many women in The Federation. They beat him to a pulp, abused him, pegged him and-

His mind shuddered to the think of the rest.

He sat in his chair, one sinewy leg folded on top of the other and stared out at the window. He could hear the clock's hand move and with each tick and each tock, the images burned into his mind returned to haunt him.

"Bend over soyboy" He remembered a woman saying.

"FUCK HIS ASS!" came another cry.

Rusty took a sip of the wine to wash down his bitter memories and looked at the clock. He picked up his binoculars and trained them at the entrance of the arena opposite to his cheap motel room. For all the abuse and all the beatings he took, there was one name that stood taller than the rest.

"Sierra," He said softly, watching the wavy-haired brunette get down from the limousine.

"Sierra Thorne!"

 

[Kalizar99]

I am really really liking this. The portrayal of the woman’s suffering as a song is super unique and creative. I love the fast pace of the story too and the way you write the womens reactions. There’s a really expansive and unorthodox vocabulary being used here. I hope this series continues!

 

[Chainsaw]

Hey man, thank you for the kind words. I am struggling with this one to be honest, there are only so many ways you can write a song before it starts to become stale. I guess I am waiting for some good ideas before I continue.

I am really really liking this. The portrayal of the woman’s suffering as a song is super unique and creative. I love the fast pace of the story too and the way you write the womens reactions. There’s a really expansive and unorthodox vocabulary being used here. I hope this series continues!

 

[Chainsaw]

They say he had the magical touch. That he could make women scream.

"AHHHHHHH!"

They were right.

Rusty's fist thudded into Krissy's cheek with the authority of an 18-wheeler. It racked her brain, making her cross-eyed and forcing her throat, to stick her tongue out.

"AHHHHHH!"

She screamed again. Rusty orchestrated his percussion with a strict beat, landing his fists on the beat of the rhythm, that was pounding in his head.

"AHHHHHHH!"

"One..2....3!" He counted out as he bruised Krissy's cheeks and gave her a nasty cut on the lip.

"UFFFFFFF!"

The air rushed out of her lungs, when Rusty changed targets and decided to add an impromptu bass note, eliciting a deep grunt that would serve as the bassline for his arrangement.

"AHHH! AHHH! UFFF! AHHH! UFFF! AHHH!"

He ravished her with hard strikes, bruising her muscular abdominals. The former fitness model, turned street fighter had fought men all her life. But none were as brutal and calculating as Rusty was.

"AHHH! UFFF! AHHHH! UFFFF!"

He didn't stop till her cheeks swelled, and blood dripped down her nostrils. He didn't stop till his fists left a horrifying tattoo of themselves on her fit stomach. He didn't stop...till the blonde goddess fell to her knees.

The muscles in Krissy's back flexed as she coughed, holding on to her abdomen and trying to crawl towards the ropes.

Rusty grabbed Krissy by one of the pink boots she wore, that had "BAD" written on one, and "BITCH" written on the other. Both of those things were oddly true tonight.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

She emitted a radiant cry of agony, when rusty forced the tip of her pink thong into her crotch, giving her a hard wedgie. He counted the measure of her cry in his head, mapping out their place on the mental tablature, smiling as he had an idea and flipped her around.

Krissy emitted a shrill shriek of astonishment, when Rusty tore her top off, leaving angular lines at the tear and small strands of fabric on her skin. Her hair threw off sweat, when his fist collided with her chin and knocked her head up.

"ARGHHHHHHHH!"

She cried when both his fists collided with her breasts. Rusty adjusted her note by a quarter, to keep the piece in time and with even bars. He filled the next note with another loud outcry, and then ripped off her thong.

"OOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!"

Krissy cradled her pussy while the pain forced her to keep her mouth open, her knees bent and touching each other before she collapsed to the mat on her face. Rusty let out a laugh, and walked to the corner. He adjusted the wraps on his hand, and reshuffled his loose briefs.

Rusty searched for places to put more notes on his tablature while Krissy lay motionless on the mat. Her hands were still between her legs, her cheek resting on the mat. Her eyes were half-open, exhausted by the beating her body had been put through.

Krissy remembered the boasts for the camera, "I'm gonna be the first woman to beat Rusty Nails, that two-bit bitch doesn't know what's coming to him! I'm gonna make him cry his mama's name under my ass tonight!"

How wrong she was.

"AH-..." She emitted half a cry when Rusty spanked her jelly-like ass and grabbed her hair. Krissy gave in to her fate, and danced to his tunes for the rest of the fight.

Krissy smiled when she woke up. She knew where she was. Everybody knew about "Rusty's dungeon". She really had thought that she could beat him, only to be left smiling at her cruel fate. She knew what was going to happen but she had no fear from it. Krissy was a woman of her word, she knew the stipulations, she knew the risks. She wasn't going to run away from it, she was going to take it on the chin.

What frightened her, was how turned on she was in all of this. She had lost to men before, but never in her life had a defeat been so one-sided. Rusty made her his bitch in the ring and Krissy was going to own up to it.

Rusty walked in bare, grasping an old stereo in hands. The first thing that caught her eye, was the size of his erection, making her eyes go wide in shock.

Her arms were tied from the ceiling, while chains wrapped around her wrists clanked together. Her legs were spread, held in place by chain around her ankles and thighs.

Her chest heaved with nervous breath, her lips twisting between her teeth and a soft moan on her lips. Rusty placed the stereo down and went to work.

Krissy's stomach took the brunt of the punishment, turning red then purple as it bruised.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Her breasts were next on the list.

"UFFFFFF! AHHHHH! UFFFF! AHHHHH!"

Rusty alternated between them for a while, making a triangle around her torso, going back and forth between her abdomen and chest. Krissy took it like a champ, gritting her teeth and welcoming the punishment. After a strenuous few minutes of playing call and response with her pussy, Rusty took a small break to change the side of the old cassette.

Krissy's feet wanted to buckle and fold, but the chains keeping them in place, held too strong. Her hands were practically limp but forced into staying straight above her head. Her blonde hair stuck to her skin, mixing with her sweat and glistening under the dull light of the basement.

She knew there was no way out of this. Krissy knew what she had to do.

Rusty pressed play and walked over, smiling at her half-open eyes and licking his lips. But he stopped midway, hearing a soft whisper from her.

"Master," She moaned, biting her lips and completely turned on by her domination.

Rusty smiled and kissed her, untying Krissy from her binds and carrying her into the bedroom. He tossed her on the bed and took her raw with primal aggression as Krissy moaned in pleasure, and Rusty composed a happy coda for their fight.