Pounded In The Butt By My Own Butt Novels & Stories

But instead of falling forward—I slipped backward. "Fuck!" My back hit the hard floor with a thud, knocking the breath out of me. I saw stars. My vision blurred, but I wasn't unconscious. Not yet. I started punching the ground. Over and over. Fists crashing against the stone like they could break me open. Like maybe if I broke enough bones, it'd be penance. "Fuck!" I shouted, the tears already burning my eyes. "I can't do it myself!" My voice cracked, the words shattering from me like glass.

— AARON — I have fucked up. I fastened my movement and punched the bean bag harder with my gloves. Sweat prickled from the roots of my hair, making its way down my face. My arms hurt but I still went on. I could only release my frustration through this and punish myself for what I had done.

The memory ignited something deep within me, a fury so consuming that it drowned out any sense of restraint. I brought the hammer down with force on his left kneecap. The sickening crunch of bone echoed through the room, followed by his piercing screams. They were loud, desperate cries of agony, but they didn't stop me. I lifted the hammer again, slamming it down with even more force. The kneecap shattered completely under the repeated blows, fragments of bone pushing through torn flesh. Blood splattered everywhere, but I didn't care.

He asked as I nodded, I wondered why he cared, or maybe he didn't care; perhaps it just irritated his sight. His hands moved to my itchy butt; as he grabbed it hard, his finger pierced into my flesh more profoundly, he was hurting me so badly. "Ouch! I feel hurt, king Archer. Please release me!" I cried as he spanked my butt hard. "You've got a squishy bum " the sound of 'bum' made me feel embarrassed, but that wasn't the issue; my butt hurt so badly. He quickly came down from the bed. I heard a sound coming from wherever. I wondered what he was bringing out and what it would be used for.

The sight disgusted him. He turned abruptly and hit the wall with the side of his fist, the sound echoing through the empty room. “Damn it!” he shouted. The sting on his knuckles didn’t matter; the pain almost grounded him. He hit it again, harder this time, until his skin throbbed. “You weak fool,” he muttered under his breath, teeth clenched. “You couldn’t even control yourself for one night.” He stood there, breathing raggedly, fighting the wave of shame threatening to choke him.

Another slap on the left butt cheek. A soft moan slipped past my lips, wetness pooled. When I didn't answer, his hand came down with a sharp, slap across my right butt cheek . I flinched, gripping the desk. God, my body betrayed me—I couldn't stop the rush of heat that flared inside.

Arrogant, self-centred little cuntwaffe. I run at him and jump, wrapping my legs around his ribs and punch him in the face. I keep punching and squeezing. His hands move to my legs as I lock my feet around his back. I jab my thumb into the pressure point behind his earlobe and he screams and I smile. Got ya.

That muscle pig is literally beating that poor boy and here I'm shamelessly drooling over him, Feeling bad for the other guy , I decided to call for someone, maybe a professor? I tried to pass through the crowd but in all that push and shove , someone pushed me hard and I landed on my face pretty bad, I was literally thrown… that too in the middle of the beating session, "Ouch!!" I screamed in pain as I felt my hands on the ruff ground and the skin on my knee literally peel off, A silent form at the moment as I got everyone's attention on me now, I could hear the gasp and faint murmuring of people around me. What is wrong with these people? Can't they just help me up? I'm literally dying fro

Again he walks, looks back, and is hit by the same bus. I turn back to run and again 've met face to face with myself. “What kind of joke is this?” The other me walks through me again, and again, and again, endlessly. Over and over I'm watching myself be hit by a bus in a bloody scene. I drop to my knees, and the back of my hands hit the floor, I look up and close my eyes and scream. I scream as loud as could, hoping someone, or anything can hear me. I fall to the floor, laying there, staring into the distance, watching the same scene of myself getting hit over and over.

I mutter. The words echo back at me. Empty. Pointless. And I let it happen. I watched. I stood there. I did nothing. My jaw tightens painfully. “Coward.” The word slips out before I can stop it. My hand curls into a fist tight. And then I hit the wall. The impact is sharp, immediate, sending a jolt up my arm as skin splits across my knuckles. I don’t stop. I hit it again. And again. And again.