Anal Roughie Fun In A Secluded Barn
Wednesday, July 17th, 2024 -- by Bacchus
Whilst rummaging through one of my older backup folders, I happened upon an original sex story that was posted by its author to alt.sex.stories.moderated back in March of 2000. Because I saved it (for some long-forgotten reason that no doubt boils down to “I’m a data hoarder”) in its original Usenet email-like format with all headers, I’ll link to a copy of that .txt file for archival benefit, and for the edification of readers who were not around back then and may never have seen such a thing.
The story is titled “The Barn” and it’s by Paulinus Fang (aka “The Dirty Dentist”). A quick search of Google, Bing, Duck Duck Go, and Yandex turns up no trace of this story left anywhere on the searchable/living web, but the original ASSM posting contains a .sig/tagline with a link to Mr. Fang’s story page on Lycos. (Amazingly, the Internet Archive’s Wayback Machine has a pretty good 2001 copy of his page, which is why I was able to drop that link.)
I’ll also post the story below, with fair warning that it’s a heavy BDSM/kidnap story that presents as noncon (which is to say, it reads as if it were depicting kidnapping and rape). Its original tagging includes a “NC? anal” tag, and that question mark is significant. As was common in those times, a plot twist late in the story implies, but does not 100% establish, the consent that initially seems absent from the text. In this, the story is truly an authentic artifact of its time and place. If you don’t want to read a story like that, now is your time to stop. (The full set of tags included in the original posting looks very incomplete to modern eyes; it was in its entirety “nc? anal, bdsm”.)
The Barn
The candles flickered as the air currents moved, stirred by the swing of the girl suspended by her wrists from the hook long ago driven into the beams of the old barn.
She waited, limply, no longer willing to try to break the bonds linking her to the ancient structure.
Few thoughts passed through her brain, her mind long since blank through deprivation of her senses. The blindfold smelt of him, the one who had dragged her to the barn, bound her and hung her like curing ham. She remembered it being placed around her face, the red pattern blurring as it passed closer to her, then only the dull light passing through the cloth.
She heard footsteps in the edge of her senses: was he back? What would happen? A sound, something hitting the floor, yet what? She did not know, would never know.
Hands touched her face, tracing slowly down her cheek below the blindfold, a finger nail scraping slowly down her neck. She shivered, shrank back, yet could not because of her bindings.
The hands were gone, silence, then they returned to her neck, touching her dress, two hands in the neck of the simple cotton dress. The fingers tightened then moved apart, stripping the dress from her back, tearing textiles asunder. The shriek of the cloth, destroyed, was the only noise.
The cooler air caressed her back, chilling the beads of sweat breaking her skin. The wait, the dread, the thoughts of what could happen, what price he would extract from her, were almost unbearable.
She felt the warmth of his breath on her ear before he spoke, softly to her. “You shouldn’t be here, you know that, don’t you?” he hissed. She swallowed, unable to speak through her dry mouth, but nodded her head.
“Nobody knows that you’re here,” he paused, the breath returned to her other ear, “you’re just a missing person. I can do as I please.” She felt him move away from her. Her ears strained for sounds indicating his intentions, but she heard nothing, only silence.
She arched her back, wracked with pain. Her brain screamed with shock yet was unable to register the site of the pain. After a few seconds the burn shot across her shoulders, followed instantly by sweat on her top lip. A second bolt of pain across her buttocks caused her to jerk again, then relax. She swung slowly, revolving on her rope with the tips of her toes touching the dusty floor. Then silence.
Braced for the next blow, she waited; the seconds passed slowly, becoming minutes, still waiting. Would she be released? Would she be free again? When would he strike her again? What had he used on her?
Still hanging by her wrists with the ache in her arms returning after becoming overridden by the two blows, she felt his presence. She thought how strange it was that she should become so tuned in to her environment even when deprived of the use of her eyes.
His hands were on her hips, turning her on the end of the rope, holding her firmly. Was this when he would finally cut her down? No! She felt his warm, naked body press against her from the rear, his fingers searching between her buttocks, touching the delicate flesh, the paper thin skin in her cleft, the thicker feel of his penis, the blunt end pushing, probing, searching. She clenched her buttocks, determined to stop his entry but could feel his fist, wrapped around his penis, holding it in position against her anus, his knuckles pushed into her firm buttocks. He pushed, slowly, steadily against her anus. Unable to resist the force her anus stretched until, with a sudden pop, he was inside her, his groan drowned out by her cry.
The sharp stinging of her anus increased as he entered her, turned to a burning, then eased as he slid in, his penis disappearing as he pushed. She felt full, full enough to burst, slightly uncomfortable with the fullness yet he unexpectedly did not start to thrust, he just waited with his penis buried deep in her rectum. The tears soaked into the blindfold.
After a few minutes he started to move slowly, backwards and forwards, sawing into her, deeply, his breathing rate increasing audibly behind her. She was powerless to offer any resistance, with her hands tied above her head and her feet hardly touching the ground. He stopped; she felt him adjust his position, then holding her firmly he started to move her forwards and backwards, pulling her further onto his penis, then pushing her away: it was as if he were masturbating with her anus. The sensation of fullness changed with her swinging motion on the rope. The rate increased until her held her firmly against him, his penis jerking in her bowels and he shot deeply into her. He pushed her forward, and his penis withdrew from her anus, the semen leaking out.
The girl was left hanging for a few moments, then without warning she collapsed to the floor, tasting dust in her mouth from the barn. She could feel the severed rope around her wrists being untied, as the pressure was released she felt the blood rush into her hands, the tingling pins and needles adding to her day of discomfort. As feeling returned, she reached up and slid the blindfold up her forehead. The light bursting into her eyes caused her to close them. Slowly she squinted though eyes half closed, adjusting to the light, trying to focus on her captor who stood over by a table, packing a riding crop and rope into a bag. He turned, saw her looking at him and spoke again in his soft voice. “Is it next weekend that we are going to visit your parents?”
And there you have it: an authentic sample of BDSM porn the way it was, back at the dawn of the new century!
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