Angela and the Robo-Warriors

Angela wept as the bulbous, flared out tip of Sir Rape-a-lot’s mace cock, beared down against the sensitive folds of her cunt. Her slit was too small for it, even as it was forced to painfully stretch around the invading club. She felt herself being split open, the cum that stained out of her provided virtually nothing in terms of lubricant, just acidic whitish-yellow gloop that stung like the inside of a battery. “Y-yes… p-please put it inside me…”

She howled when Sir Rape-a-lot did just that. A loud piercing screech that could cure any case of erectile dysfunction. Angela’s entire body shook as the mace was slowly inserted into her, steel flanges angling out like talons, spreading her pink pussy lips as they grated into her flesh. The robotic knight grasped her hips in its vice like gauntlets, leaving bruises and threatening to cause bone fractures.

“No! I’ve c-changed m-my mind!” The dumb slut cried, snivelling as she felt herself being torn apart. “Don’t-don’t put it inside me! It-it h-hurts—!” If she thought that being anally raped by this thing was bad, the damage it was doing to her cunt was ten fold. Her delicate pussy had hundreds more nerve endings to act as pain receptors, perfect to make her feel every rip and tear as the bludgeon slammed inside her.

And that was just the beginning. Once the tip of the mace found its way through her cunt, Sir Rape-a-lot took hold of her waist and started to ramming. Hydraulic powered thrust spiked its cock, completely wrecking anything that got in its way. Blood gushed out like a fountain, a period from hell, the metal pillar disappearing deep into Angela’s body. “AAAARGHH! NO-OOO! ST-STOP IT!” Her limbs thrashed against the machine, trying to squirm away as the impalement reached its thrilling climax.

A thunderous thump echoed through the Robo-Warriors’ arena, followed by complete silence. Angela’s eyes widened in panicked terror, wider and wider until it looked like her eyeballs were going to pop out. Her mouth gasped open, spittle and vomit erupting from her lips. Sir Rape-a-lot had just slammed its mace cock into Angela’s soft cervix.

“AAAARGH! F-FUCK FUCK! NOOOO!” She screamed, bawling her heart out as pain overwhelmed everything. The mace rammed into her womb again, punching through it! Each lancing thrust caused her mind to white out, her spine arching as it stabbed into her over and over, pounding the life out of her.

“Fuck the bitch up, Sir Rape-a-lot!” The commentary team cheered, demanding that Sir Rape-a-lot manhandle her even more brutally. They were the sort of men that liked a bit of rough sex, the kind that left their wives and girlfriends very sore—or in Angela’s case, completely wrecked. “Hey, where’s the moaning that you promised? We can’t hear you over the sound of your cunt being pulverised.”

Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!—The sound of the mechanical whamming that her pussy was taking. Angela screamed again, seeing stars as her vision turned blurry and red. Her eyes rolled back into her skull, her eyelashes flickering like a flirting schoolgirl. She saw herself on the jumbotron that dominated the ceiling, cunt impaled on a rapid pistoning shaft that was smashing her insides to pieces.

The sexy redhead that Angela saw on the screen, looked like she was screaming so loud. Her face was so pretty as tears streamed down her cheeks. It was really funny how much her legs were shaking. It looked for all the world like that worthless slut was orgasming. What a stupid cunt, Angela thought to herself. Nope. No reward for you, whore. Go on Sir Rape-a-lot! Really make the bitch suffer!

And here comes Bimbo-Brander with a red hot iron to tattoo the ginger whore’s bum with fire. Oh it’s really getting good now. That’s it! Brand her!

Angela just couldn’t look away! Normally, she found this sort of thing disgusting. The kind of thing that only gross psychopaths could enjoy. Maybe she was going crazy. Yeah. She had to be. Her eyes had to be playing tricks on her because the girl being rutted to death and about to be branded, looked exactly like her. She had the same red hair. The same bouncy tits. The same ass that was quivering with cold sweat as she felt the heat of Bimbo-Brander’s glowing hot stamp.

Wait a minute… That was her!

Bimbo-Brander drove straight and pressed the burning iron into the soft fat of Angela’s left asscheek. For the second time tonight, her skin sizzled, fire spreading through every nerve. Piss emptied out of Angela’s bladder and her bowels almost did the same. Funnily enough, Angela didn’t consider, not shitting herself on live television, as a victory worth celebrating.

“I wonder what this one says?” The play-by-play announcer remarked giddily. “PAIN… well I guess that’s a statement. I was expecting it to be a bit more creative and degrading—oh wait, Bimbo-Brander has another one for Angela’s other cheek.”

She screamed again, her buttocks hissing as the smell of her own burnt flesh made her gag violently. If there was any vomit left in her stomach, it would have been hurled all over Sir Rape-a-lot as the house robot held her still, mace still buried in her cunt. “P-please… m-make it end… s-show m-mercy.”

“Ah. That’s more like it! PAIN SLUT burnt across Angela’s sexy tush. Along with RAPE ME branded above her cunt, everyone is going to know exactly how to treat her.” The narration taunted, the tone belonging to a comedy show rather than this sadistic wholesomeness. “Luckily for Angela, she’s inside the Robo-Warriors’ arena where our marvellous machines will give her what she deserves.”

“And w-what is it ex-exactly that I d-deserve?” Angela unknowingly wondered out loud. “What ooh so-o wise lesson, am I—AAARGH!—meant-t to be l-learning?” She whimpered, her voice cracking and breathless. “Th-that it’s so easy to h-hurt me? That I-I can’t d-do anything to st-stop you all from raping me? That I b-bleed so easily? That I shouldn’t-t b-beg Sir Rape-a-lot to f-fuck my cunt with its mace b-because I thought it would hurt less th-than if it goes in my ass?”

That last one wasn’t bad advice. A real hidden meaning of the story type thing. Hindsight being 20-20. A life lesson that might let Robo-Warriors be classed as an educational program if a spokesperson really sold it. Angela decided to act on it. What else was she supposed to do?

“Rape-a-lot! P-please ass rape me! I changed my mind!” She bitched and whined, wailing as Sir Rape-a-lot spiking its cock brutally into her cervix. Her muscles involuntarily clenched every time the club ripped through her, her cunt clinging to the mace as it tore out of her, only to be punched back inside. If this kept going for any longer, her slit was going to end up as a gaping, bloodbath of a chasm. “P-please rape my ass! Please rape my ass!”

“Too late, Angela. Your whore ass is about to belong to a different robot. Don’t worry. Fuck-Master is here to make your anal fantasies come true.”

A massive monster dildo poked against the entrance of her anus, the tip trying to stab into the clenching ring that trembled in horror. “Nooo! You c-can’t. Not at the s-same time!” It was the dildo that was still covered in the world’s hottest chilli extract. Angela felt the heat instantly as the giant traffic cone sized cock pierced her tiny asshole. The pain of being double penetrated by two savage demolition machines was beyond imagination. The twin stuffing made both of her holes tighter, her torso only able to hold so much volume before her insides split.

Fuck-Master worked its ass destroyer into her guts, stretching her guts to shreds. All whilst Sir Rape-a-lot continued to bruised and rupture her cervix, punching into her womb with each ramming thrust. She wailed, calling out for her mommy as she swore to God that this was going to kill her. The good lord must have been listening because he/she blessed her with the miracle of not just surviving, but continuing to suffer through the unfathomable torture.

“I-isn’t there a t-time limit for—GAARGH-H!—f-for how long the house robots c-can—AAAHH!—keep r-raping me?” The limp, flopping, piece of fuck meat asked. “P-please make them stop-p…”

Consorting with the rule book, there was indeed a 5 minute time limit on how long a house robot was supposed to keep punishing Angela. But seeing as everyone was having so much fun, the commentators chose to not mention it. “Christ all mighty! Fuck-Master managed to force the entire length into her ass.”

The chilli lubricant lit up Angela’s bowels like liquid fire. The lining of her digestive system burned ablaze, heat borrowing through her poor shitpipe like an infestation of insects. And then came the full throttle, gear spinning, hell smashing. Both Fuck-Master and Sir Rape-a-lot collided their cocks into her. Bone shattering thrusts crashed into Angela’s cunt and asshole. She felt their cocks pounding her organs, slamming into her with the force of two full speed bullet trains.

“Look at how hard they’re raping her! She’s foaming at the mouth!” The fans went into a frenzy, their eyes glued to Angela as she spasmed from her glorious rutting. “This is the extreme, mechanised mayhem that we love to see on Robo-Warriors!”

As the audience and commentators cheered, Angela realised that hell was real. She was trapped in it. The two bollards ravaged her utterly. The left side of her body went completely limp, twitching as her face went droopy. The force of her double torture rape was giving her a mini-stroke. “Haha! Look at the faces she’s making!” Came laughter from all around her, the voices sounding like it was underwater. “Go on, Angela. Say something funny. Like how we shouldn’t do this to you. Or that it hurts. How you can’t take anymore of it.”

Her public execution went on for a full half hour, only coming to a pause once smoke started coming from Fuck-Master’s piston mechanism. “Aw shit!” Robert cursed, rapidly smashing a button on the controller to try and get drive back into the overheated shaft. “The bitch broke our robot!”

“Maybe we can switch her onto the other dildo?” Alec suggested, reversing Fuck-Master out of Angela’s ruined asshole. “Yeah, that one is still working but the controls are unresponsive.”

Fuck-Master struggled to reposition its turrets, swivelling them in all directions before finally sticking both of them directly upwards. Chivalrously like the knight of the realm it was, Sir Rape-a-lot, ripped Angela off its mace and then skewered her on top of Fuck-Master. Her stretched out and bleeding holes slotted into the vertical rods, the dildos steaming with melted rubber.

“W-where… where am I?” The barely conscious and hardly sane redhead pleaded. Her eyes darted around the arena, her brain having been rattled one time too many from the proper shunting that she had received. She shook the cobwebs off and looked to the fans as Fuck-Master paraded her around like a trophy. “Oh? I guess I’m still being r-raped and t-tortured by robots.”

“That’s right, Angela. Now are you ready to swallow the rest of Cum-Pumper’s tank?” Sounded off an announcer, further adding to her misery.

She shook her head at first. “H-haven’t you done enough to m-me?” Fuck-Master’s malfunctioning turrets slammed her face first into the concrete floor. She peeled off it when the machine lifted her up again, nose cracked, forehead bruised and swollen. Now delirious, Angela eagerly nodded her head and licked her lips. “Fill me up, Daddy!”

She willingly opened her mouth like the cock hungry slut she was, allowing Cum-Pumper to force the nozzle of its hose down her throat. She even sucked on it, lips wrapped around the foul pipe, tongue lapping the underside. “Mmmmhh Aaahhkk! Ggrrss…” The taste of rancid cum brought her back to her senses but it was already too late. The motorised pump, pressure blasted out litre after litre of spunk down Angela’s gullet—force feeding her like if Vincent was trying to farm foie gras from her liver.

Mouthful after mouthful of rotten, stomach turning, testicle cheese was churned inside her throat, rushing down to her stomach like goopy turds. It came back up through her nostrils as she violently vomited, completely flooding the cavity of her broken nose. A heaving hack of cum infused bile then spayed down her neck and chest as she choked on a used condom that was now clinging from her tonsils. Gallons of it entered her stomach causing her belly to painfully swell, resembling an overfilled garbage bag more than it did a pregnancy. Angela didn’t know whether or not to be relieved that she didn’t look she was about to give birth. It was honestly the least of her concerns. Some of the cum had congealed in her mouth, sticking the nozzle to her lips like glue. She couldn’t open her jaw to let go of it. Not even when Cum-Pumper reversed and ended up ripping her free from Fuck-Master’s twin monster cocks.

“We all know you want more, Angela but Cum-Pumper has run out of the white stuff that you love so much. Jeez. You would think 20 gallons would be enough for a slut.”

“I-itzz s-stttuuurrff!” The sobbing, utterly degraded and now ginger fatso, mimed with her hands, begging for help to remove get the nozzle from her mouth.

“Is she saying, it’s sturdy?” George asked from the control area. “No, I think she’s telling us that it sucks,” Alec then wrongly assumed. “Vincent, does Cum-Pumper have a reverse suction feature?”

“Actually, I believe she’s saying, it’s struck.” Vincent guessed, being more familiar with the faults of his robot than the others. “Not to worry. I have a solution.”

And indeed, what a solution to a problem he created, it was. Steering Cum-Pumper into a spin, he dragged Angela around in a circle. The two of them danced slowly at first—a calm ballroom waltz. But then it got faster and faster, flinging the redhead off her feet. Being spun from a cock shaped nozzle that was struck in her mouth—was a strictly unpleasant experience for Angela.

Spinning and teetering off balance, Cum-Pumper was out of control as it tornadoed across the arena floor. But she could feel the nozzle ripping free from her lips. She just had to endure the torturous, puke inducing ride for a couple more minutes. The pressure in her ears made them pop like what happens when a plane drops altitude. She had always hatred rollercoasters and this ordeal was not helping change her mind.

Finally she tore off and spun from the stupid, ridiculous cum tank of a robot. But given her luck, it was only right that she would end up in Bitch-Beater’s corner rape zone. Lashing belts pelted her tits, making them bounce madly as studded leather straps whipped the hell out of her. Angela was choking on too much cum to even scream properly. She just gagged and retched while Bitch-Beater pinned her against the arena’s plexiglass wall. It was all far too much for her to take. “P-please show-w mercy. M-my poor pussy and ass is already r-ruined! What more are y-you going to do to m-me?”

“Whatever they want,” the commentary answered, egging on the robots to produce a grand finale. As Bitch-Beater made Angela’s chest flat, cracking her nipples until they bled red milk—the crowd chanted for Bimbo-Brander as it heated up another iron.

The circular brand burnt to smoking point, dark wisps rising from the white hot metal. “W-wait! Bimbo-Brander, George! I-I’m not your type. M-my curves are too small to be called a b-bimbo. D-don’t burn me again.” Angela tried pathetically to reason. “If you don’t… I promise I’ll find you a—a big tittied slut. I have friends with huge breasts. You can hurt them instead of me—What-t? What are you doing? No! No! N-not there!”

Angela did everything she could to get away, feebly weeping as Bitch-Beater laid into her tits. Cum-Pumper and Fuck-Master used their bodies to pin her arms against the wall, preventing Angela from being able to protect herself. Instinctively, she attempted to close her legs but Sir Rape-a-lot’s apocalyptic lancing had left her hips bow-legged. Her tendons screamed at her when she tried to move, only for Bitch-Beater to punish her thighs, forcing her legs to stay spread wide and open.

“Bimbo-Brander is going to brand Angela’s cunt!” The commentators rose to their feet, eyes wide in eager anticipation. The entire building’s focus honed in on the smoking branding iron, not wanting to miss a single detail of what was about to happen. “Let’s find out if she has one last scream in her! 10! 9! 8!”

“No! You can’t!” She screeched, her head frantically shaking, legs quaking.

“7! 6! 5! 4!”

“Please! P-please have mercy! I’ll do anything!”

“3! 2! 1!”

The branding iron was rammed deep into her gaping cunt. Smoke hissed from her gasping hole as the iron pressed against her cervix and permanently scarred it. The scream that Angela let out was the loudest yet. You could hear her from a mile away.

“The cameras can’t see it, but this iron features my initials.” George explained as he made Bimbo-Brander keep the iron pressed against the end of Angela’s sex. “But I’m hoping to feel it when I’m raping her later!” He laughed, treating what he was doing as a joke.

When Bimbo-Brander finally withdrew, the completely exhausted and thoroughly battered—ginger rape toy collapsed. As just to unconscious as the unbearable pain would let her be, her body refused to move anymore. Everything felt wrong and broken, her heart beating fast and irregularly, her lungs failing to draw in air. Even her skin felt hot as a fever burnt all throughout her, making her dizzy head spin.

She couldn’t respond to the klaxon as sounded out in the arena. A flashing red siren of death as she lay face down, incapacitated and barely breathing. Officially, the match was now over but as all five of Fuck-Master, Bimbo-Brander, Cum-Pumper, Bitch-Beater, and Sir Rape-a-lot, surrounded Angela, she knew that the Robo-Warriors were going to squeeze out every last drop of suffering that she had left to give. More rape. More torture. All while she was barely clinging on to life.

It was safe to say that the debut episode of Robo-Warriors was a ratings annihilating success. A milestone in televised entertainment. Angela Slutlon had just became the nation’s favourite abuse target.

TUNE IN NEXT TIME TO SEE ANGELA TAKE ON THE ROBO-WARRIORS ONCE AGAIN! WILL THE DUMB CUNT FARE ANY BETTER OR WILL THE MACHINES DIAL UP HER DESTRUCTION?