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  1. Brigitte Lindholm's Training Regimen
  2. Brigitte Lindholm's Training Regimen Ch. 02

Brigitte Lindholm's Training Regimen Ch. 02

Categories Fiction, BDSM, Fiction, Group Sex

Author: lustypenny

Published: 21 March 2018

  • Font:

“Form an orderly queue! She’s not going anywhere until you’ve each had a go!” Clanged the announcement that Brigitte’s one-stop-shop spread legs were open for business. At that, a scuffle erupted behind her. Helpless to whatever outcome with her body caught up in the ropes and her pasty, nordic white girl booty on offer, Brigitte Lindholm could do nothing but hang there and listen. Pushing and shoving, growling and snarling, and fervent bickering was all Brigitte could use to gauge just how fucked she was – naturally, in more ways than one.

From behind her, she could hear numerous bodies sliding their way into the practice ring-turned-venue for Brigitte’s publicly humiliating comeuppance. Sounds of animalistic grunts flooded the cramped space as an innumerable amount of village men lining up to have their recompense tousled over the order of the queue. Brigitte began flipping back through the rolodex of her memory to try and tally up the number of limps, bruises, and bloody noses she had caused over the past week. In an attempt to use her engineer’s mathematical brain in a way she never expected to, Brigitte tried to estimate how long it would take her to fuck her way back into good standing in the eyes of the people of this rural hamlet, and of lady Justice.

Unsurprisingly, the prospect of getting their cocks wet inspired a positively democratic formation of a ‘hierarchy of cumdumping,’ of sorts, after the initial kerfuffles were sorted. As she hung there on the ring ropes, Brigitte started to consider the implications on world peace and prosperity that this brought. Unable to do much besides bounce on her restraints, the wily nord opted to try and diffuse the situation with her words, rather than her fists – or, hopefully, her ass.

“Look, I single-handedly overthrew the raiding party that had taken over your village! I know that I wasn’t being a particularly good ‘shield,’ when I was using you all as punching bags, but be reasonable!” blurted the exasperated and defenseless Brigitte.

There was a pregnant pause in the room, and the idle footfalls pushing down on the springy training ring floor ceased. Brigitte darted her eyes side to side, unable to see anything going on behind her, but thought for a moment that maybe, somehow, the men would see reason. It’s not like she wouldn’t honor her promise – she had given her word, after all – just perhaps not all at once here in the ring?

“Look at that! The carpet does match the drapes!” exclaimed a voice who Brigitte presumed to belong to the first swinging dick up to bat and who was standing in between her spread legs. The comment that the furry patch of hair above her pussy was, in fact, red to match her hair’s hue drew out a raucous chorus of hearty laughter that shot through the shoulder-rubbing occupants of the ring.



“Fan..” Brigitte swore under her breath. Her Swedish swears tended to slip out in the most trying of times, much to the disappointment of her pappa, Torbjorn Lindholm. Diplomacy dashed, she knew that there was little she could do to prevent what would come next.

The pre-cum dripping head of a cock probed at her groomed entrance, stroking up and down before settling up, aligned with the quivering lovetunnel that its owner was owed. His thrust forward made Brigitte’s bound body bounce forward and then rebound backward into him. She groaned out as his cock sunk its way up into her guts and settle into a steady ‘clap, clap, clap’ rhythm. She clenched her fists, trying to keep ahold of herself – if she lost her composure and devolved into a gasping, moaning mess in front of all of these people on the first dick, how would that affect her image? Her bottom lip was the hardest button to button. She kept it in check with her top teeth, but that restrained portion of an expression of ecstasy just gave lift to her eyebrows and fluttered her eyelids. A blush on her ruddy, angular nordic cheeks made them flush to an even warmer shade of copper, and each fleshy smack of whomever pounding away at her pussy brought a restrained ‘mm-ph!’ from out of Brigitte’s clenched teeth.

She had to hold herself together. She owed these men a round with her – even if she had complaints with how she was being made to give it to them – but she didn’t need to debase herself into an expletive-spewing, moan-shrieking, cock-crazed whore. She was a warrior, hand-reared by Reinhardt Wilhelm and the daughter to Overwatch veteran Torbjorn Lindholm. In a month’s time, she would be on the front lines with her mentor and her father, battling back the force that sought to plunge the world into chaos. She did not need any kind of press about her getting a train run on her, for one, and that would only be made worse if the front-page headline was her mouth open, tongue out, ahegao expression. Thankfully for her, it was unlikely that any of these backcountry bumpkin types had a functional connection to the internet.

“Alright, I’mma tag out here,” grunted the man ploughing her, “I don’t ‘wanna cum too soon – I’d rather savor her like she savored her fist.. in.. my fa– you know what I mean. Next!” With about as much grace as Brigitte had when she sent him back to his wife with a fat lip, the older gentleman yanked his cock out of her gaping snatch. Within seconds, dripping hole left was filled (and then some) by another cock. The second one slid in between her lips as casually as the first, as if Brigitte was expected to save their town and serve as the equivalent of a demo model for the pocket pussies for sale at the county sex shop.

“Afternoon, missy. Unlike that last guy, I’m planning on being the first one to pump a load into you.” At least he was straightforward about it, the vigilante-turned-fleshlight acknowledged with a roll of her eyes. As far as she could tell, this second guy liked seeing her squat-sculpted rump jiggle when he applied the flat of his hand to it in an open-handed smack, because he did it over, and over again. Spank after spank, the bratty swede felt her doughy buns grow increasingly intense shades of pink. Every time he plunged his cock down into her cunt, he would clap a hand down onto her bubble-butt. Anticipating each strike, Brigitte would brace herself as to not give him much satisfaction beyond a mousy squeak of discomfort.

“Not even pappa would spank me this hard..” Brigitte whined in her own inner child’s voice. In fairness, pappa also didn’t give her a punishment-fueled dicking whenever she overpromised and underdelivered.

“Can you– mmph! Can you, like, finish up?” complained the bungee cord bound Brigitte as she springed out over the edge of the ring only to be elastically reined back over the side and, consequently, slamming onto the base of the ram rod having a round in her quivering, fucked-raw pussy.

“Pipe down, Over-skank! I’ll be done with you when I’m d– uhh.. oh, fuck..” moaned the anonymous pipelayer hollowing out her tunnel. Without any more warning than that, Brigitte felt the first sticky tide of stringy gel slosh down into her pussy. The warmth flowed down inside of her, splattering the walls of her cum-spackled pussy in fresh plaster. Brigitte felt the verile batch of spunk fill her up while the man delivering his DNA stamped his foot and spasmodically thrust another couple of times to make sure not a drop missed its mark.

“Fuck, that’s it..” groaned the man as his cum-spasms slowed to a halt. “Hey, make sure I’m not the only one that cums in this hussy so when she gets pregnant I’m not on the hook.” A chorus of acknowledging grunts rippled through however many dozens of men Brigitte had in the waiting line for their turn with her. With his parentage concerns alleviated, and the woman he may have just knocked up forced to face a brick wall and continue taking oodles of random cumshots into her fertile babyroom, he unceremoniously jerked his cock out of her oozing snatch and stepped out of the way.

Brigitte’s humiliating bound gangbang continued on into the late afternoon much in the same way. Cock after cock would replace each other. Some would deposit a fresh batch of steaming spunk into her womb, and some wouldn’t, but after the baker’s dozen cumshot, she could feel a gooey torrent of babybatter pouring down the inside of her thigh. Each patron of her pussy that was being used to issue refunds for all the cans of ass-beating she brought to the able-bodied fighters of the township had something different to bring to the table.

On occasion, she would have her hair tugged on like a horse bridle while they humped at her well-worn backside. More than a few thumbs were pushed into her puckered butthole whilst they worked up another inbound batch of swimmers to join the fracas of nutbutter pooling in her creamed cunt. On top of having both of her asscheeks spanked until a tender, raw shade of pink colored every spare inch of skin, she could’ve sworn she received a couple of donkey punches to the small of her back. Considering the amount of whoppers she had given out, she couldn’t say she didn’t deserve it. However, through it all, she maintained her composure. If she was enjoying her dicking – and, truth be told, after the humiliation subsided, she kind of was – she didn’t give her captors the satisfaction of showing it. All in all, she was proud of her performance as a ringside free-use fuckslut.

“You took it like a true champion of the people, Ms. Lindholm,” spoke the familiar voice of the ape who had started this debaucherous domino effect. She felt the bungee cord ring ropes that had secured her in place lift away from her. A bear paw-sized hand closed around her shoulder and tugged her backwards. Unfortunately, after not standing for hours and taking a non-stop barrage to the pelvis, standing wasn’t an ability currently off of cooldown for the budding hero. After bungeeing backwards off of the untwisted ropes, she landed flat on her back and, at the same time, at Sven’s feet.

“I think a few extras slipped into the rabble, but I don’t think you mind, no?” inquired the brawler. Brigitte laid sprawled-out on her back next to the railroad ties that the beast looming over her considered legs.

“Yeah, well, no shortcuts; only hard work,” she replied with another roll of her eyes and a huff of breath. “I’m just pleased that everyone got what they needed.” As she settled there on her back, she could feel a steady flow of stale spunk flowing out of her abused cumdump pussy and added another dark stain to the canvas ring mat.

“Not everyone,” retorted the enormous figure standing over her. Her eyes springing open wide, she watched on as he reached up and undid the rope holding up his tattered, fraying shorts and tugged them down around a cock that must inspire envy in horses and nearly rivaled one of those fence post legs it hung between. Brigitte was speechless – and sore, from being railed for hours – but mostly speechless.

“Holy– oh my God..” was all she could manage to breathe. His dick seemed to stretch on upwards without end from where she was laying at the man’s feet.

“The wager was that if I beat you, I could do ‘whatever I want to you,’ no? I first opted to share you with the rest of the men you beat in your ‘training regimen,’ but now I want what’s owed to me.” Sven, apparently, was not going to wait for her response, and was not at all deterred by the fact that Brigitte wasn’t in much of a condition to move at this point. He knelt down, took up her toned waistline into either immense hand and lifted her entire body off of the mat.

“What do you think you’re doing!?” the flailing shield-maiden shrieked as she was hoisted up into the air. Her legs kicked meagerly, her arms thrashed fruitlessly, and she soon found herself facing the same wall she had grown comfortable with over the past several hours. The apple-sized head of Sven’s bitchbreaker slipped in between the loose pair of lips that marked the entrance to her abused hole. Her feet dangled several feet above the mat. Brigitte craned around, squirming in Sven’s overpowering grasp.

“I think you should know by now, Ms. Lindholm,” swept the soft, almost soothing voice from behind her.

That was when he let go.

Brigitte was no stranger to taking a fall. She leapt off of rooftops, down from cliff sides and out of windows, all in the name of justice and taking care of the powerless. So, when she fell the roughly two feet before coming to an abrupt halt, it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. However, in all of her combat training to prepare to take up the mantle as Brigitte Lindholm, shield maiden and protector of the people, she hadn’t thought to prep for the possibility of being dropped two feet onto an enormous, throbbing dick and to allow gravity to impale her on the thing.

Brigitte saw white for a moment, and her mouth dropped open – though she couldn’t be sure if she was making any noise through it or not – while Sven let her dangle there on his rock-hard pike rammed up into her body. Brigitte hung there, well and truly a fleshlight at this point, without any assistance from Sven. His giant donkey dick was all that was needed to keep her off the ground.

“You’ve got a tight pussy, Ms. Lindholm,” remarked Sven.

Brigitte wanted to quip back something witty to the effect of “yeah, with your dick replacing my fucking spine,” but when she opened her mouth to deliver her snappy comeback, what managed to escape her lips wasn’t exactly what she was planning to say.

“Fuck me..”

“What was that, Ms. Lindholm?” Sven probed curiously.

“Fuck me, please.”

“You’re going to have to spea–”

“PLEASE!” Brigitte pleaded. She was no longer concerned with keeping up appearances for the common folk. She didn’t care if her slobbering, cock-crazed gaze was front page news with the headline “Famous Overwatch Member’s Daughter Gone Cock Crazy!” All she wanted was for Sven to pound her senseless.

And pound her senseless he did. First replacing his hands on either side of her taut waistline, Sven took his time sliding her back up almost completely off of his deep-pussy divining rod only to essentially drop her again. Each trip up into the air, Brigitte would feel her heart jump up into her throat in anticipation for the next stomach-bulging drop. Finally, she would rush down his length like a carnival thrill ride until she crashed into the base of his cock. Her head would rattle around like an inanimate bobblehead for a moment until she gained her senses again, and by then she would be due for another womb-punishing plunge. Up and down, Brigitte was tossed around like a rag fuckdoll with her fair-skinned and well-endowed chest bouncing wildly.

“You know, Ms. Lindholm, for someone who claims to be a protector of the little folk, you make for a much better cocksock,” snickered Sven just before driving Brigitte back down the way she came and burying his two-foot bone in her cunt.

“Maybe he’s right..” though Brigitte – though her acknowledgment of her other career calling was in thought only, as her mouth was too busy letting out another ecstasy, lust-backed shriek. She was an intimidating combatant out on the fields, and could stand toe-to-toe with war veterans by the likes of Reinhardt Wilhelm who served as a sparring partner to her prior to resorting to picking fights. In the hands of Sven, however, she was little more than blow-up doll. At least, that’s how he was using her as he dragged her up and down on his shaft while his gorilla-sized hands closed almost completely around her waist.

“I overheard the other men placing bets over whomever managed to put a baby in you, you know,” Sven piped up after railing the ragdoll swede on his upside-down jackhammer of a cock he was using to prompt Brigitte to reconsider her calling in life.

Brigitte did know; she heard it all the while being on the receiving end of a shotgun-blast of baby-making. Through a faceful of her matted tawny hair, she nodded and hoped Sven would get the message. She didn’t want to stop moaning in order to say anything.

“I think I’m about to throw my hat in the ring.”

Brigitte gulped. It didn’t do much to quell the rising tide of cum splurting from the swollen of Sven’s cock he had lodged up against her cervix. A panging throb emanated from the dong crammed up inside of her to signal the forthcoming gush of gunk flooding up into Brigitte’s womb. Brigitte, meanwhile, was tumbling heels-over-head down the rabbit hole of pleasure as she served as Sven’s catch-all cumdumpster for whatever potent deposit he had for her sperm bank. Her mouth was locked open, her fists twisted and clenched, and her hips were gently bucking along with each pulse of the meatpole she was spiked on.

Mercifully, Brigitte felt herself craned up into the air once again and slowly be lifted off from around the head of the double-foot inseminator before it fully softened. Shaky footing found the mat, sticky as it was, and the worn-out gladiator clung to the top ring rope to steady herself.

“How are you feeling, Ms. Lindholm? I suppose this makes us even, no?” approached Sven, resting a hand on the shoulder of the woman he made more than a respectable attempt at impregnating.

“Y– yeah, it does..” Brigitte murmured almost too quiet to be audible. “.. and you know what?” she continued, slipping one of her hands in between her legs to draw out a heaping mixture of stale and fresh spunk onto the tip of her fingers. She turned around to face Sven with a fierce lust behind her eyes and a wanton grin playing on her lips. Making a show of it, Brigitte popped the gooey tip of her finger in between her lips and slurped the concoction from it.

“.. and I’m ready for more.”

***

“Famous Overwatch Member’s Daughter Gone Cock Crazy!”

Brigitte regarded the headline cooly for a moment. Below it was a picture of her from the shoulders-up. For her first time making the news, the image was far from what she had expected. In her mind, it would be of her gallantly charging into battle, shield brandished, flail whipping across the scene as it crashed into the metallic skull of a rogue Omnic. Her flag would be raised on her back, rallying her squad to her position as they advanced with her out onto the war-town landscape. Her hair would be whipping in the wind.

Instead, her first headline photo was of her eyes rolled back, her tongue-out, and drooling a generous mixture of spit and spunk down off from the tip. It was abundantly clear that the ‘Famous Overwatch Member’s Daughter’ was cumming hard all over something that was going to town on her.

At least this rag hadn’t gotten wind that it was actually multiple ‘something’s causing her to borrow the expression of a free-use pass around slut. The article that did follow, however, wasn’t what she would call flattering. It went into vague detail of Brigitte’s noble deed of ridding the town of their bandit infestation, and about as gratuitous as a journalist could get on the debaucherous activities (ones that the author described as “Lindholm’s unique ‘celebration’ style”, which she resented) that followed.

“This really isn’t fair, you know! This isn’t the whole story!” Brigitte called out, tossing the news-reader tablet down onto the nearest surface.

“What, do you want them to have the whole story, Ms. Lindholm?” returned the answer to her whines.

“I mean, maybe not the whole story, but still..” Brigitte acknowledged, shifting around on the sofa was relaxing on. “I guess they could leave out this next part,” she giggled, her voice growing seductively sultry.

“Which part would that be, then?” Sven asked, returning from around the corner in the small cottage.

Brigitte leaned back and spread her legs, placing either heel up onto the table where rest the tablet she had thrown down. With both hands, she reached down and spread her thoroughly pleased pussy. A dribble of cum leaked from it and down onto the rug.

“The part where you took me home and fucked me again, and then again, and then again..” Brigitte said before nibbling onto the tip of her finger, staring at the hulking and impossibly well-endowed man she had decided to hole up with for a while.

“After all, I could use the stress relief..”

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