Pounded In The Butt By My Own Butt Novels & Stories

Zero qualms about doing it. I rub my butt where it smarts, cursing internally and scowling at him from my angle, the heat rising from where he struck it and shove the back of his head with my palm in retaliation. “Asshole.” I throw at him, screwing up my face in annoyance. “Brat! Keep it up; I can do this all day, Huffy pants. I can bench press four of you, Sophs.” I slump down his back in complete defeat, getting an eyeful of that hot Carrero rear and smack him back hard enough to make my palm sting. He slightly tenses in reaction, and I get a sense of satisfaction. Smug at retaliating for once.

BAM! Once again, I throw a punch on the wall of the ‘hunting ground’ with my fist. …I could no longer feel my hands in those punches earlier. How many times has it been…? A hundred…? I have been throwing punches on that exact same spot. And for the first time, there’s a tiny visible crack on it. Seeing that crack made me throw more punches on the same spot. BAM— BAM— WHAM!!!!!!!! “Enough already— Big brother…!!!”

********************************************** *PUNCH* Motherfucking! *PUNCH* Arrogant! *PUNCH* Self-absorbed! *PUNCH* Italian! *PUNCH* Prick! *PUNCH* Sweat ran down my face as my fist continued to make contact with the punching bag. It continued like this for another 30 minutes before I yelled out in frustration and roundhouse kicked the bag harder than necessary, causing it to break the chain connecting it to the ceiling and split in half on the gym floor. One freaking month. Thirty goddamned days!!! That’s how long it’s been since the little excursion with Ace in the basement. My fists clenched at the memory:

Goodbye, thumbs. Biting his tongue against the anguish he knew was to come, he banged his hands, thumbs out, into the headboard. Crunch. The bones broke with that very first punch. He sucked in a breath, but, like Grace, he did not mumble a sound. Punch, punch. Each new hit caused even more pain, ripping tendons, tearing muscles, and mashing bone.

Damn it! I hissed in pain as I struggled my way to help myself to sit on the ground when I felt my body become lighter. Someone carried me like they were carrying a sack! I AM FUCKING INJURED, CAN'T THEY SEE? Can you be a bit gentle, especially with this battered body of mine? Is that too much for me to ask for? Of course, the middle age butler couldn't hear my internal complaints, and even if he did, for sure he won't listen to me anyway.

No sound. Just pressure. I try to inhale … but nothing happens. Panic claws up my throat. Breathe. Breathe, you idiot. From the corner of my vision, the Homers are moving. I didn’t finish them. Fuck. Stupid. Left-Homer swings for my head. Right-Homer comes from the side. My body reacts before my brain does. I roll. Push up. The second my boots hit concrete, I drive a punch straight into Left-Homer’s liver. Deep. Precise.

"She is fat. What is she doing to herself being here!" "She looks like she is fifty." "The weather is cold. Ain't anyone so wrong to try their luck. Just maybe, maybe you would see them." "F*ck you, nigga! She is bloody shapeless, like an inflated football." The bickering continued, the weight of their words pressing me harder into the floor. Unable to bear how much pain it was dealt at the same moment, my body went still. Pressing my palms hard into the floor, I pushed to lift my weight, the most rigorous task I've ever had to do.

"Ouch!" "Fuck!" We groaned in unison as our heads collided, causing us to fall to the ground. My butt hurt from the impact. I couldn't help but hold my head when I felt a slight pain, and I didn't expect it to hurt even more when I touched it. I had touched the sore part of my head. I was stupid to think that the pain would go away if I touched it! Damn it. Fuck! I might even have a bump in no time because of this damn guy! I gave him an irritated look and turned to his direction, and there I saw him sitting on the floor, holding his head and grimacing in pain.

PENELOPE'S POV~ "One... Two... Three!" I shouted, my fists slamming into the punching bag with a ferocity that mirrored the torrent of emotions raging within me. Sweat poured down my face, and my muscles burned with exertion, but I continued to channel my inner turmoil into each powerful strike. The leather bag swayed violently with each impact, the force of my punches sending shockwaves through the air. The rapid rhythm of my fists pounding against the bag echoed through the room, a testament to my unwavering determination.

My buttocks were lifted high by the man behind me, and my pussy was exposed to the air. Because of nervousness, a stream of water gushed out of my vagina. Before I could even feel shy, I heard the sound of swallowing saliva coming from above. Immediately after, a pair of rough and big hands landed on my buttocks. After a few strokes, he started vigorously kneading. Suddenly, a few slaps landed on my buttocks. He used great strength, and I felt that my buttocks must have become red and swollen. I let out a scream and said, "Ah! Don't hit me! It hurts so much!"