The Machine


She is bound to a bench, blindfolded. She is laid out on her stomach, legs and arms outstretched. She is naked, she is helpless, she is beautiful. She is incomplete.

She is here to learn.

The Machine is brought to her, she can hear the scraping as it is positioned.

"Please..." she says. "Please, let me go..." she is crying. The Machine is placed at her anus, the mighty phallus glistens in the light. She cannot see, it is ready for her. The Machine pushes into her, her virgin asshole vainly attempts to resist.

"No!" she screams, but the Machine is deaf to her pleas for release. She is here to learn, it is the Machine that is to be released. "Please! Stop!" she screams and the Machine continues. The Machine never stops.

Her pain fills the air, tangible in its glory. The Machine pushes onward, inward, her newly broken ass heroically accepts its mighty phallus. Now the Machine is prepared but she is not. She is left to cry in her darkness while her will conforms to the Machine.


Now she is ready, now she begins the lesson. Now the Machine begins to take her. Slowly she is reamed, the Machine owns her ass forever.

The Machine never stops.

"Please stop," she sobs. Her cry is feeble, She has already begun to accept but she does not yet understand, she is here to learn.

The Machine is patient, methodical, she must be stretched to perfection not ruination. Her asshole grows wider, her tolerance deeper, it's only a matter of time. The thrust is timed to monotony, her rhythms will adapt to the Machine. In and out, deep to shallow, undulating asshole. Glorious asshole.

It is lathered to ease her pain, but she will become accustomed.

She is here to learn.

"Please... stop... no..." she voices her defiance, it is to be expected. She has only just begun. Her ass will take the Machine, and it will be better for it. She will be improved, empowered, her ass will take it all.

The Machine keeps the pace, thrusting into her anal abyss, it will be a great cavern of please when she has learned.

She is left to love the Machine in solitude, it will continue the lesson. The Machine never stops.


She is found in the embrace of the Machine, her desperate sobs are belied by her gentle thrusts. She is accepting the Machine's love. She is truly blessed. She has wet herself, the stench is thick. She is hosed down, the Machine likes her clean. She is fed through a straw, a liquid diet. The Machine likes her lean.

"Please, no more, stop... please..." She is taken by the joy, her words are denied her, eloquence fails in light of the Machine's pleasure. The Machine takes her harder, faster, deeper.

"Nooooo!" she wails to her darkness, "no, no, no...." it is the embrace of the Machine, it is demanding, it is hungry, insatiable. The Machine never stops. She is lathered to ease her pain, to aid the passing of the Machine into her glorious emptiness.

"Please," she stutters. The Machine has taken her breath, her cries come in fits and shudders. "Please, help me..." it is her moment of weakness. She does not believe she can serve the Machine, that she is unable to satisfy it. She is afraid that she is not up to the task.

But the Machine knows, it has taken her, she will take it in turn. She is here to learn.

She is left to the love of the Machine, as it pushes her harder, faster, beyond what mortal man could dream. The Machine is eternal, mighty and majestic.

And the Machine never stops.


She is unconscious. The Machine has brought her to rapture. The first of many. She is to receive the bliss that only comes from serving the Machine. But the Machine never stops. It ploughs her helpless, sedate form, her body a rag doll at the mercy of the Machine's power.

She wets herself again, unaware as she is her body must continue it's own functions. They do not interfere with the Machine and the light it brings to her depths. Her asshole is strong elastic, its cleaves to the mighty phallus of the Machine. It does not wish to surrender it from inside herself. It is good, it is accepting.

The Machine thrusts faster. She is awake, she is dazed, it is bliss brought on by the Machine.

"Aaaaah, no, what?" she is nonplussed. She is confused at the purity of the bliss, that such could be a gift to her, she feels it undeserved. But she is worthy, she will understand.

"Please, not my ass..." Her tune has changed. It is to be expected. Bargaining, uncertain of her worth, her value to the Machine. It is part of the process. The Machine will take her and she will know herself. She will find peace and joy and love. Plus, the Machine never stops.


She is left to the will of the Machine. Her asshole shows the early signs of the great cavern it will become. The Machine spreads love as well as assholes. To bring a serenity to her, the emptiness in her ass, it will be a great cavern of joy and beauty, of peace and acceptance.

It will take time, it always takes time. Flesh is yielding yet resilient, the Machine is patient, methodical. It will split her asshole wide with time. She is left to its devices, the Machine works its way inside her. Every thrust brings her closer to perfection.


She wets herself, she is hosed. She is fed her liquid diet. She accepts the routine, her hips respond to the Machine, even if her mind yet resists. She must love herself before the Machine can truly help her. She must realise her worth, the Machine loves her, that is all she needs.

"Please no, not my ass, please..." her ass grows wider still, she is ashamed. She will not be so forever. Because the Machine never stops.

"Please, not my ass, pussy... please" she has begun to accept, but not understand. She accepts the will of the Machine, but not the love. She will with time, she seeks it now, she will need it later.

"Please take it out of my ass," she has found her words again. She has become one with the Machine, she has adapted her body, her breath is steady as the Machine thrusts her harder, deeper, faster. She is living inside her darkness now, she will succeed, she will grow with the love of the Machine.


Her asshole grows ever wider, now to loose elastic, it is close. The cave has been carved inside her ass, now it needs strength to bolster its walls. The Machine plunges deep into her, to her very core. Her pain fills the air, she is lathered to prepare the final lesson.

The Machine dives into her, it fills her with love, and begins to twirl inside her cave. The dervish dance that will strengthen her resolve and make her cavern stand eternally, ever ready to accept love.

Rapture overtakes her, she is again unconscious, joy overwhelms her body and bliss is attained at the will of the Machine. The long grind of the Machine continues to build her cavern walls. The Machine never stops.


"Please put it in my pussy, I want it in my pussy!" Fear has driven her to fury. Fear that she is not ready, that she is unworthy, that she is unable. She is here to learn her capacity, the Machine breaks all boundaries within her and builds her up again, stronger. She tries to thrust herself on the mighty twirling phallus. She tries to escape its embrace, to no avail.

She struggles, but she is forgiven. The love of the Machine is powerful and frightening, it blows through pain to crush fear. It leaves its impression, the great emptiness that she is now experiencing. She is almost ready, she is nearing the perpetual bliss the Machine brings.

She is left alone to receive the Machine into her glorious asshole, now stretched wide and holding strong. Time has brought her around, she is willing now.


She is awake, in the embrace of the Machine, rapture has come upon her.

"Please," she moans to her darkness. "Please.... more...." The Machine obliges, twirling faster and thrusting too, hard, deep, fast.

"YES!" Hallelujah! "Fuck me! Please!" It is come, the glorious asshole in divine bliss. Peace has come her, she has accepted, she understands. The Machine is one with her cave, her glorious asshole bearing witness to the great emptiness within her.

"Fuck me!" she squeals and writhes and drools and laughs. She wets herself repeatedly, she does not care in the embrace of the Machine. Rapture overtakes her, again, again, again. She laughs, cries, screams, her joy is in the air, tangible now as her pain and fear once were. They are banished now, the Machine ploughs her depths, this is all she needs.

She is left to the love of the Machine. She is left to the throes of passion.

For a while.

The twirling ceases, the thrusting desists, The Machine is withdrawn from its disciple. Her cavern stands gaping and glorious, her emptiness revealed to all.

"Please," she whimpers to her darkness, "put in my ass."

The Machine never stops.


She is found in the dirt by a road. She is found in blurry light, she is found naked, bound.

"Please," she whispers to the brightness, "put it in my ass."

She is there to learn.

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