Author Topic: Hating her Self-Discovery  (Read 1233 times)

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June 21, 2017, 09:45:37 PM

Offline SoftGameHunter

Hating her Self-Discovery

The three men had been rampaging in Kylie’s house for hours by the time she began to think she might survive. She was sitting against the wall in her basement, her naked body sore and ravaged, handcuffed to a pipe in the wall, when it occurred to her that they were just passing time. If they wanted to shoot her, they would have done it. They would have shot her dead when she tried to bite one of them rather than suck him. Their fists on her mouth put that idea out of her mind forever, but though the big gun was in her own mouth for over a minute, the man had not pulled the trigger. Nor had the large knife actually slid up her pussy. They were merely threatening it. So she realized she would live, and after hours of whimpering and crying and suffering in pain, she began to think coherently again. She discovered that her thoughts were becoming extremely disturbing.

She was stretching out her body, after sitting curled up by the pipe, letting her muscles move. But the door upstairs opened and she heard footsteps coming down the plank staircase, out of her sight until they reached the corner halfway down. And on hearing them, her pussy began to twinge. Something was happening. Something good, and pleasurable. And that was just so wrong, but it was undeniable. Two of the men came down the steps and sauntered over to her. One of them held up a cell phone and clicked her picture on it. “Smile baby,” he said as he took it. Then he glared at her and nudged her thigh with his foot. “I said smile baby!” he repeated. Kylie managed a fake smile, feeling the dried cum on her face crack as she moved her cheeks and jaw. He took more pictures. Her pussy was moistening up already. She was actually turned on, and they weren’t even touching her yet.

As the third began his descent down to join them, the two there pulled her legs out, pulling her body away from the wall except for her chained wrists and pulled her legs apart. Rather than beg and cry, Kylie just groaned and took it. The first of them slammed into her, finding her cunt wet and ready. “Hey, the bitch is into this. You like this, don’t you?” he said as he pounded into her. “Don’t you?” he repeated, pausing to slap her face hard.

“Yeah, I like this,” she said, and the way her body was trembling and sexual sensations were shooting through it, she wondered if it could even be true. This was the least sexy fuck she’d ever had, sprawled out on the cement floor, filthy, and her arms twisted upward painfully. Her throat was dry and her head hurt. But her body was telling her it was party time in Kylieville. It was hard to escape that notion. One of the other men produced his gun and pressed the barrel to her face, just below her left eye. He pulled the hammer back, cocking it. She let out a loud whimper of terror even as her body soaked her rapist’s cock in sexy juices from her cunt, itself shooting out joy and happiness to her brain.

“Fuck, she’s into this now,” her rapist said. “She was kind of moist before, but she’s a fucking river now.”

“You decide you like it? Huh? Did you just become a little fuck slut?” the one with the gun asked.

“Yeah. I’m a little fuck slut now,” she said, not sure anymore if she was lying anymore. She knew the female body’s response to assault could be a self-defensive lubricating. But she was going nuts now. The feel of the criminal cock hitting her was driving her nuts. Knowing two more rapists were watching and taking pictures was driving her insane. Was she going to turn into one of those non-existent fake women from male fantasy that could be raped into loving rape? Loving real, actual, non-fantasy rape? She didn’t even care for the fantasy kind.

“Oh, baby!” her rapist grunted, shooting more of his hot, hot jizz into her belly. Did it actually feel good? It felt good. Damn it all, it felt good to her. She liked jizz in general. But not these men’s. That was just wrong! But there it was, in her womb, feeling soothing and making her hotter.

“Ass time!” the next one said, flipping her over, twisting her arms especially painfully on the pipe.

“Agh! No! You weren’t going to do that!” she cried, but her body was suddenly extra warm and tingly. She felt the cock at her anus, lubed from her pussy juices leaking out during the last fuck seconds earlier. He pressed and pressed. Kylie felt pain. Serious, genuine, excruciating pain. She’d never done anal in her life. Didn’t want to. Couldn’t stand the thought of it. She’d even managed to talk her three rapists out of it earlier, until now. But now, there it was, a cock in her ass. A cock stretching her apart, tearing, spraining her muscle. And her body reacted by turning to jelly.

She was enjoying it. She was actually fucking enjoying it, and the idea made her want to cry. She didn’t have time for tears, as the third cock went to her mouth. She opened wide. The thought of cock in her mouth didn’t bother her. It was better than her ass. Hell, she now wanted that cock in her mouth. It seemed to be where it belonged, and she began to suck it as she knew how. Her body was aquiver under their assaults, but it was her brain betraying her. Not her body. Her brain. Because when she thought about it, she hot wetter. When she dwelled on what was happening to her, the waves of pleasure got stronger. When they called her a whore and a cunt and a filthy piece of fuck meat, she felt twinges. There was no doubt anymore. She was suddenly, inexplicably, and horrifyingly loving being raped. The last and final thought leading to her ultimate degradation came to her as she realized by their quickening pace that they were nearing completion.

She wanted more. This wasn’t her body’s self-defense anymore. How could it be, when what she wanted was more of it? She wanted them to stay longer and do it more. She didn’t want them to leave. After praying for their departure all day, she wanted them to stick around. Or even worse, but just as good, to take her with them wherever they were going.

How could her body be more charged during her rape than during good sex? How was that even possible?

Somehow the two rapists finished at the same time, filling her with more disgusting, wonderful spunk. They pulled out, leaving her alone to flop to the floor and turn herself back over. She swallowed the cum in her mouth without waiting for the order. She wanted it. She was still cuffed to the pipe, naked, beaten and raped and with no way to get away. Were they done yet? They stood over her, casually dressing while she sat and watched.

“What should we do with her?” one of them asked.

“If we’re done with her,” one replied, taking out his gun and aiming at her head, “Put her down like a dog.”

“Oh please, don’t kill me!” she sobbed. “I’ll do anything you want! I want to! Can’t you see how wet I am? I want to be your slave! I like what you’ve done to me! I want you to rape me more! Please!”

“Yeah, right,” the gunman said, cocking it.

“Hold on, she really was pretty fucking soaked down in her cunt,” her last cunt rapist said. “Maybe she really does get off on this.”

“You some kind of natural slave slut?”

“Yes! Oh god, I didn’t even know it, but yes! Please, I’m a real slave slut!” she sobbed wildly. True or not, and it seemed like it was true, she was going to say it if it kept her alive.

“She’s not coming with us, that’s just a given fact,” one said. He had the keys and unlocked her handcuffs. “Get up, slut!” he said. Kylie struggled to her feet after hours of sitting on the floor. All the men were taller than she was, and she stood surrounded by them, very aware of how helpless she was and what a revolting turn-on that was for her.

“What are you going to do to me, sirs?” she asked meekly. As long as she lived through it, she didn’t even care what the answer was. His response was to grab her hair and pull her over towards her washer and dryer units. Then he opened the top lid of the big washer.

“Get in,” he said. She looked at it, terrified, but more so of them. She hopped up to a sitting position atop the machine, but the central agitator looked like it would keep her out. She was a small woman, but not that small.

“He said in!” one of the others yelled, shoving her. Her ass fell down into the tub, but sure enough she could not easily push herself down through the gaps along the side. That was when one of them, the shover, began to push her down hard, forcing her pelvis and her chest, and then her head down through the gap so she fell hard to the bottom of the tub area, twisted up tight. She could hardly move, and now she felt more trapped than with the handcuffs. “That’ll keep her for a while.” They put the lid down and she heard them walking away. After a couple minutes, nothing. She was alone, and had to get herself out.

“Help!” she finally screamed when it seemed safe. God, she had actually wanted to go with them. She had actually wanted to be sexually abused and used and humiliated. And now. Now her cunt was just as wet, but she mostly felt fear. Fear that she couldn’t extract herself. Fear that she would die there.

And then she heard some footsteps. One person. The lid opened up and she stared up to see her would-be killer standing above her. She began to cry again.

“Not going anywhere, eh?” he asked. He looked lost in thought for a moment, and then he put the gun away. She saw him reach up and over the machine, and suddenly she coughed and wheezed as he dumped the entire box of detergent onto her body, pouring out everything atop her. She gasped for air as the power dust filled the tub. The door closed and she heard him turning the knobs. Her brain couldn’t comprehend at first what was obviously going to happen. Not until the machine came to life and the water jet began spraying water onto her soaped body. Hot water. She screamed as the very hot water flowed down and all over her. Soon she was submerged in it, and the soap was forming thick suds. She screamed and sputtered, trying to claw her way up the confining cylinder.

As the hot water covered her and foamed up with excessive soap, she found that at least she had buoyancy enough to help float, and the slick sides now allowed her to push herself up a bit. She had to. The water was rising quickly. She continued to scream, hoping against hope a neighbor might hear her. She lived in an ordinary subdivision, the next house over was only twenty feet from her own. Could old Mrs. Tewksbury hear her screams? Even if she were outside? Kylie clawed at the walls and the agitator, trying frantically to pull herself up ahead of the steaming hot water, choking on the thick soapy foam. She finally was able to reach up and touch the top lid. She banged it several times. At first it didn’t lift enough, or it bounced back down, but she finally got it to stay open, giving her light. But the machine continued to fill until she was up near the top. She only had to push her way past the top of the machine, through the opening that was too narrow for her body to easily get through.

As the machine began to run, the agitator spun back and forth along her body wrapped around it. She tried to get a grasp on anything, but the soapy water made getting a grip impossible. She continued falling back in. She was desperate, knowing she would fall to the bottom again if the tub drained. Figuring to hell with further injuries, she got her best leverage and just pulled, getting any part of herself possible out the top. Slowly she extracted herself from the hot, swirling, soapy water. She leaned over the front as she tried to pull her legs free. They bent the wrong way for that to be easy. She turned herself over, slid them out, and fell headfirst to the concrete floor in front of the machine.

She lay there for a few minutes, her head in excruciating pain, but at least she hadn’t broken her neck. She allowed herself a final cry as the machine next to her went through its cycle, empty, but loud. When it finally stopped, she was lying soaped up in a silent room. She finally crawled up and got to her feet. She shambled upstairs. It was only one in the afternoon. It had all been just for the morning. She made her way to the shower to rinse off. There was no point in getting a physical exam now. All the evidence was scoured by laundry soap. And she just didn’t care. As she cooled off and cleaned up, her mind wandered back to her extreme, excessive arousal during her ordeal.

She couldn’t deny it. She didn’t try. She had found herself genuinely liking it all. She wasn’t just wet as a defense against harm. She was soaked in the crotch the more they abused her. The more they threatened her. The more they degraded and berated her. Nothing else mattered. Nothing she’d ever experienced had ever given her such a strong arousal.

She finished and went downstairs, not even dressing. Why should she? Now she got a look at her home. They’d gone through everything. All the electronics were gone. All her valuables. Some of the nicer furnishings even. She plopped down on the sofa to think and to soak it all in. Again she cried for a while. She did not, not, want to be one of those horrible phony male-fantasy women that loved rape! What was next, walking naked down a dark alley whistling at night? Walking into men’s locker rooms in a bikini and mouthing off, so the men could ‘correct’ her? Maybe she could put her address up on men’s room walls with an invite to just walk on in and fuck her. Surely that would send the right kind of men running for her.

She sat. In her broken-up living room, naked and wet, she sat staring into her own mental abyss. Where was this going to end? Was she going to be the bringer of her own doom? Now that she knew such an awful secret about herself, how could she continue? And how could she make it pay off for her new, depraved personality, the happy-to-be-raped girl? Darkness had fallen by the time she stood up again.


There will be more to come.

June 22, 2017, 07:49:11 PM
Reply #1

Offline SoftGameHunter

She did end up calling the police, to report the burglary. She needed to for insurance, and maybe they’d even catch the fuckers. She went back and forth in her brain, pro and con, good or ill, and just couldn’t report the rape. How could she explain it? Besides, the evidence was gone, washed away in a Maytag. Watching them watch her, she couldn’t be sure if they suspected her of anything, like being a rape slut. Did they suspect anything? Did they care? When they left, it was late, and she stared out the window at the neighbors’ lights. It was an okay neighborhood. Not great. Not terrible. She left the door unlocked. For the first time, at least deliberately, she left the door unlocked. Just thinking about the unlocked lock gave her a twinge. She figured it would. And it did.

She went up to her bedroom. She could binge watch stuff there as well as in the living room, and it would feel less weird being naked in her bedroom. Especially if now she was supposed to want someone to break in. It wasn’t primary in her thoughts. Maybe that just meant she was now a rape slut, but a bad one. A good one would invite them in. A good girl would lock her front door. Kylie, apparently, was neither, at least not right then. She laid down and put on some Rick and Morty to get some sanity back in her thoughts. She fell asleep eventually as the cartoons played.

Something woke her. She didn’t know what, but she was awake again with her blood flowing hard in her veins. But what was it? Her skin was crawling in goosebumps and her hairs were edge. It took her a moment to figure it out. The TV was silent. Not off, but silent. It had been muted, with the word ‘muted’ written across the corner. But she hadn’t done it, and the remote was on her nightstand. Maybe that had women her up. So maybe whoever muted it had done so just seconds ago, and maybe was still in the room with her. And she was just lying atop the bed, naked, vulnerable. And as that thought came to her, wet. Of course.

“Don’t fall back asleep,” the man’s voice came to her, quiet, but memorable enough. He came back.

“I won’t,” she replied, not daring to move. He was to her right, blocking her path to freedom, or to the bathroom. “Are you going to rape me again?”

“Yep,” he said without hesitation. “And it’s not going to be like this morning was. This time it’s going to matter. Neil thinks he’s the badass, waving that gun. Going back to drown you. But he’s wrong. I’m going to take it up to eleven on your body.”

His tone was coldly serious. Kylie couldn’t move. She knew she had nothing. Now was the time to figure it out. Did she want this or not? Did she like it or not? Was she a real woman, or one of those fake male fantasy women? She was trembling. Real. She was soaking. Fantasy. Was he going to say anything more? She was just lying there, her position unchanged from when she awoke, on her back, legs somewhat parted.

Suddenly the silence was busted up by the sound of metal and leather landing at her side, hitting her chest as it fell to the bed. “Pick it up with your right hand,” he ordered. She did so. “Hold it to the light. What is it?” The only light came from the TV, silently looping through dazzling flashes of cartooning. She held it up for the silhouette. “I don’t know what it is,” she said. Some kind of leather toy. She didn’t know them.

“Put the dildo part in your mouth now,” he said. She stared at it but opened her mouth to take it in. “Rotate the item clockwise,” he said, and she began twisting it in her mouth. “More, more, more, stop,” he said. “Use both hands. grab each side. Lift your head. Wrap the sides around your neck. They meet at two clasps behind your neck. Fasten them by feel.”

So it was a gag. A gag with a dildo. As he ordered her actions so coldly, Kylie did as she was told, helping him to make her more helpless. The clasps were tricky at first, but she got them. Not that she couldn’t undo them herself. But that, she recognized, would take time. Time she would probably not get from this man. The gag fit tight, filling her mouth and not wiggling much at all.

“Do you like being raped?” he asked. “Answer with a nod or a head shake.”

She nodded. She didn’t know what else to do. And her cunt was flowing. Her body was tingly. Her brain was utterly terrified, and her body trembled.

“Do you want to be a slave girl? Do you want to be held captive somewhere? Forever? Lost? Forgotten by the world? A toy to be used? Naked for the rest of your slutty life?” Kylie suppressed her sniffled and nodded yes each time. God it turned her horny to think that way. Horrified, but horny. “Do you want to service a hundred men, on your knees? Drinking their piss? Taking it on your face? On film to be sold online? Do you want your cunt pimped out to greasy Arabs and unwashed Mexicans? Do you want…” He paused. “What do you mean no? How dare you say no? Which one was a no?”

She could see him in her peripheral vision, to her far right, moving closer in the shadows, lit only by the TV. But she didn’t move her head. “Arabs? No Arabs? Aren’t you some PC hippie cunt bitch?”

Now he was moving out from the wall. Kylie could see him clearer, still backlit by the rapid flickering. He tossed another item at her. “Pick it up, slut,” he said. She knew this one. It was just a dog collar. “Put it on, leave an airway, but tighten it up on yourself.” She did so, feeling the stiff leather around her neck, at her throat.

“Are you even a human being anymore?” he asked her. She hesitated, but shook her head. Well, she wasn’t. She was some quivering fuck toy with no morals or sense of self-preservation. What kind of slut wanted a real rape? He threw her another item. This one was easy, a leash. On his order she fastened it to her collar. Now he approached closer to the bed. She still couldn’t see his face, though hers was plainly visible to him. Another item came, a blindfold. Soon she was blinded, and it didn’t matter what he looked like. He grabbed the other end of the leash and suddenly yanked it, hard, enough to slide her along the bed by her neck.

“Let’s go!” he said, louder now, as Kylie scrambled to get up. She hadn’t gone two steps when he turned and right crossed her, colliding with her nose. She cried out and fell down, weeping on the floor as her nose bled fast. “Crawl, you rotten little fuck toy!” he shouted down at her. Now Kylie gasped and wheezed, trying to breathe around her gag. The dildo was thick, but still narrow enough to allow some air around it. She struggled up to her hands and knees, then felt the harsh tug of the leash on her collar. Her body quivered and shivered in pain and arousal. With her nose still gushing, she followed along behind him, crawling down her own hallway and down her own stairs, and finally out the front door. It was cool and silent outside. Her knees hurt on the walkup.

“Enjoying yourself, whore? Getting turned on even more?” She sobbed and nodded her head. He could easily check. She was obviously loving it. It had to be late if no one was seeing this. She heard a car trunk open. Suddenly her collar yanked her upward and she fumbled her way into a car trunk. “Don’t bother looking for a hatch release,” he told her as he flipped her onto her belly and put handcuffs on her wrists, holding them behind her, and locking her ankles together. She let out a loud whimper of terror. Liking it was one thing. No fear was another. The lid closed on her, and soon the car was moving, taking Kylie to whatever he had planned. Probably either a long, long kidnapping somewhere, or a short and brutal last day on Earth.


There is more to come at some point.

June 23, 2017, 02:13:40 PM
Reply #2

Offline SoftGameHunter

They drove for a while. Kylie’s nose stopped bleeding, but her cunt didn’t stop leaking. She was loving it far, far too much, even as her logical brain told her she was in real trouble. Every time she thought of the trouble, hands grabbing and manhandling her, cocks plowing her, face slapped, tits mauled, whatever it was it made her hornier. She writhed in her bonds, not for physical release but for sexual release. Slowly she fought back her terror. She was still scared, but it was under control. ‘I love it!’ she said to herself, forming if not mouthing the words. ‘I really fucking love it. Fuck! Why?’ She strained again at her bonds, not knowing if she wanted them to break or not.

Then she heard the siren. It was behind her. Not a fire truck, it was a police car. And after a few moments of breathless anticipation, they began to slow down. She felt the car pull over to the side. She could be free! She just had to pound on the trunk. Or she could decide if she meant it about liking being raped for real. About being kidnapped and abused and degraded against her will. Or it could mean death, if she pounded on the trunk and her captor shot the cop. That was enough to chill her. It would doom her chances of survival and tell him she couldn’t be trusted. Oh, her pussy ached so much with desire to be stuffed and smacked about. She heard voices, the cop talking to her kidnapper. She couldn’t tell what was said at all. There was a pause, then more talk, then another pause.

And then they were moving again. She clenched her eyes shut in a mad mixture of grief and relief. She had had her chance at freedom, and her own actions told her she blew it. Her own actions confirmed what she suspected. She wanted to be a sex slave, a raped woman, and a piece of meat. It wasn’t what she’d ever thought she wanted. She never even liked the bondage idea. But there it was. Indisputable.

By the time the car stopped and the trunk lid opened, Kylie’s face was red from crying. All she saw was a bit of light from the edges of her blindfold, but she could feel his eyes on her. “Little fuck slut,” he said to her. “Looks like I’m just giving you what you want anyway, huh?” She nodded, not sure if he was even really asking. He released her hands and feet and gave the leash a tug. “Get out, cunt!” he said. Kylie stretched her limbs out and crawled over the trunk edge down onto the ground. She remembered not to stand, even though it meant taking a bit of a fall down the last few inches or so.

Then he tugged the leash and Kylie followed him. Across matted grass. Up some rough wooden steps and inside through a rattling storm door. Down some wood floored hall maybe. Then up onto a small bed.

“Spread yourself out like a whore,” he told her, and Kylie responded by stretching her arms and legs out. She found the corners of the twin sized bed and held them there, expected to be tied soon. She was right, and he soon had her lashed securely to the bed, spread wide, utterly helpless. He stuck a couple of fingers into her cunt and splooshed them around noisily. She was drenched even then, after hours of travel.

She felt him taking off her gag, and then her blindfold. She squinted but looked around. It was a bare, small bedroom, maybe in a cottage, with an open closet and a modest dresser against the other wall. A wall light was mounted above her head.

“You can trust me,” she said. She didn’t know why she said it. She probably shouldn’t say anything unless he asked. But she said it anyway. “I want this,” she continued when he didn’t reply. “I like this. I really do. I like being treated this way.” Still no reply. Maybe he was just seeing what she had to offer. He was staring at her body, though, making her quiver. She was so helpless, so naked, so owned. “Please don’t kill me,” she finally said.

“That’s what it comes down to, eh, slut face?” he asked.

She nodded. She didn’t want to die. Death was terror. Death was inconceivable. Anything else was grand. Sex slavery? Grand. Trafficked down to Mexico and living out her life in a barnyard brothel? Infinitely better by comparison. She just needed him to say something that told her she would live. Anything.

“And you’ll be a willing sex slave?” he asked, rubbing her cunt more vigorously.

“Yes, I…” she trailed off as she was hit by a fresh orgasm, finally cumming after so much waiting. “I want to. Please keep me. Make me your bitch! I’ll do anything and I’ll love it!”

“Heh,” he muttered, getting undressed. She remembered that body from that morning, seeming so long ago. His cock sprang to life as he climbed atop her. It was an old, soft mattress, and he had to pull her up a bit but he got his cock into her pussy very forcefully and mechanically. He began to pound and thrust, making Kylie cry out and shiver as her body reacted with electricity. Every part of her tingled with the assault. It felt better than anything she’d ever known. The downside was that it ended soon. After a couple minutes of hard thrusting he was done, emptying his balls into her snatch, and pulling out while leaving her in mid joy. She squirmed, but couldn’t agitate her pussy at all tied as she was.

He turned off the light and left the room. After a short time, she heard him snoring in another room. She lay in the darkness and stared up.


There is more to come at some point.

June 25, 2017, 06:42:03 PM
Reply #3

Offline SoftGameHunter

She had no good sense of the time. But by the time she started to get sleepy she saw the glow of dawn from out the one window the little room offered. Maybe he would sleep in. With her body still tingling but otherwise fatigued, she let herself sleep at last. Tomorrow would bring more.

She awoke alone and sore. She opened her eyes and looked around. She was still there. In that little bare room in a cottage. It was real. And she was still tied. She tried to tug at her bonds, seeing if they would give at all. Even if she now liked being a captive, she figured, she could still like trying to move and stretch her body. She had to admit she wasn’t eager for him to return for her. What she really wanted was a hot shower. Or better yet, a bath. And then a hot breakfast. But none of those things seemed imminent. Instead, she lay there and stared up at the ceiling, or out the window at the partially cloudy skies.

Eventually she heard someone moving about, then the sounds of water flowing through the pipes for a while. She smelled breakfast and heard a kettle whistling. But she remained alone and tied to the bed. Finally the door opened hard, and she looked over to see him there. Dressed in a bathroom, a cigarette between his lips, striding over the two paces to reach her. “So, awake now, are you?” he asked. She nodded. He leaned over and gave her a hard slap on her face. “I want to hear words coming out of your fucking lips, whore,” he told her.

“I’m awake,” she said quickly. His eyes roamed up and down her exposed body. She just lay there letting him. She had no secrets to hide. She trembled under his gaze. Or rather, his glare. He seemed in a foul mood. Was he going to take it out on her? And was her cunt already juicing up on her? Why did an angry glare on her helpless naked body make her feel so fucking alive? “What are you going to do to me?” she asked, frightened but desperate to know.

“Keep you here for a while,” he said. He took the cigarette and casually reached it down to touch the lit tip to her right nipple. Kylie cried out, pulling away as well as she could. “Hurt you some, maybe a lot.” He touched the burning tip again to the same nipple. Again Kylie screamed and jerked. “I did promise you that, didn’t I?” Again to her nipple, with pain. “Something about cranking it up to eleven on your whore body?” And again the fire to her nipple.

“Aagghhhh! Stop that! Why are you doing that? I said I’d do anything! I said I wanted to!”

“I want you to scream, you dumb whore,” he said, pressing it hard enough to her nipple, holding her tit steady with his other hand, to put the cigarette out. She cried out yet again. Then he parted her cunt lips with two fingers and dropped the cigarette residue down into her sopping wet snatch, letting her cunt close in on it. They could both hear the hiss as the fire went out entirely. Now Kylie could feel it lodged in her, close to the surface, but going nowhere. She strained at her ties.

“And,” he continued, “I noticed something my dumbass pals missed about you. Kylie Spencer, niece of Brandon Spencer, right?”

“Yes,” she said, and in a flash she knew what he wanted. Ransom. Uncle Brandon had money. What he lacked, she knew, was any particular affection for her. He had always favored her cousins. “We’re not that close.”

He slapped her, hard, and again the other direction, knocking her face back and forth. “We’ll see how close you are! He’d better hope family duty means something if he wants to see you alive again! And you’d better hope too!”

With that, he tore the bathrobe off, showing his cock already coming to life. He reached a finger into her cunt and scooped out the cigarette butt before climbing on the bed and mounting her. Kylie grunted as his cock split her sore and burned pussy, but then the waves of ecstasy hit her and chilled her whole body, in the good way. She gasped and moaned and cried out with each thrust, reduced in seconds to a compliant, pliable sex toy. Tears of emotion flowed from her eyes. He was raping her, and she loved it. Loved it insanely! He kept at it for a while, giving her no respite, and bringing her to an orgasm, then another, and finally they began to just blur and flow together. She cried and roared and babbled throughout, unable to control herself as her body was blasted into cumland. It only stopped when he blew his load and got off her, pausing to stick the cold cigarette butt back into her pussy.

“Wait!” she called as he donned his bathrobe and headed out the door. “Wait, don’t just leave me tied up like this all day!”

“I won’t,” he said, heading away. Kylie threw her head back on the pillow in exasperation. It was bad enough that she loved it. Now she just had to lie there and wait for more. Until she was allowed more. That was the kicker. She didn’t want to just lie there staring at the ceiling. She wanted something to happen. Some action, presumably. The idea of being ravaged as she lay there was still making her nethers tingle badly. The thought of cum on her or in her, anywhere, was getting her wetter. But instead she had to lie and wait.

In time he returned and began to untie her. “You’re going to behave yourself, right?” he asked her, holding the leash while he worked the ropes.

“Yes, I’ll behave,” she said.

“Cause if you don’t,” he said, pausing to suddenly start slapping her face around. She tried to dodge his hand. “If you don’t, I’m going to have to fuck you up. Got it? Got it?”

“I’ve got it!” she cried.

“And that means you call me master, got it?”

“I’ve got it, master!” she replied quickly. The slapping left her flustered with rage and passion. When her hands and feet were free, she crawled painfully down to the floor, trying to stretch while he was pulling her along the floor, making her crawl on the hardwood. They went down the hall to a bathroom where he allowed her to sit on the toilet. Then he held the leash and stood over her, staring down, waiting.

“I’m not waiting all day, Kylie,” he said. “Piss or get off.”

“Do you have to watch me?” she asked, knowing the answer. Part of her wanted to hear it out loud.

“You’ve got no privacy from me, you dumb slut. Now pee!”

“Yes, sir,” she said. Knowing that his eyes were burning into her, with laser-like focus on her pussy, she relaxed her bladder as well as she could and began to haltingly pee into the toilet. It was stop-and-go all the way. His gaze was making her horny, again, but she had never let anyone watch her pee. Every time the flow started she clamped down.

“Hurry up, hurry up!” he snapped, making it even harder for her to go. With a whimper of shame, she pushed harder consciously, making the intermittent streams harder but just as broken up as before. “Faster! Faster I told you! Get that piss out of your belly, you dumb bitch! How hard is it to go to the fucking bathroom? Are you some kind of retarded whore? Just go! It ain’t fucking brain surgery. Course, for you getting implants would be fucking brain surgery, huh?” She continued sobbing, trying to go faster. “You piss now or I’m going to whip you silly! I’m going to beat the cum out of you! I’m going to whip those tit bags until they fall off! I’ll stick a bread knife up your hooch just to loosen everything up a bit! Do you understand me, stupid? Stop crying and start making sense!”

Finally, as he was screaming at her, Kylie just ran out of pee. Now she was sobbing harder as he watched her wipe herself, another first for her, and flush. The worst of all was how badly she wanted some cock to slam her right then and there. The least appropriate reaction possible, and it was all she could think about. She continued thinking it as she crawled back to the bedroom and up into position where he lashed her again to the bed posts. She looked up at him, silently pleading for relief. Whether he care or not, he seemed to want to fuck her, because before long he had mounted up atop her and was driving his schlong deep into her belly, making Kylie buck and writhe and gasp in sensation as he ravaged her. She came almost from the moment he pierced her, and kept on coming like a whore. God, she loved it so! Wrong as it was, she loved it dearly.

Whore, she thought. Filthy, useless, whore. Who else would get off on it? Who else would love the rape act? As he pounded away at her, and most of her brain skipped off into cum-land, her body nearly vibrating in sexual frenzy, enough of herself remained to remind her that she was nothing but a whore. When he was done, he pulled out, leaving her in mid cum, cutting it off at the near-peak. And then Kylie again had to lie there, staring at the ceiling, shaking, quaking, wondering what had become of her. There were no answers.

Hours and more hours passed by. Kylie just stared, her throat drying up and her stomach growling angrily. She could finally take no more. “Please, master!” she cried, stopping to cough as her throat grated. “Please feed me, master!” she cried again. “Water! Just some water, please, master!” Having to beg like that was degrading, of course. Humiliating. How could he just leave her like that, to beg and cry for life’s necessity? Was it because she was such a wanton whore? She wasn’t enjoying her parched mouth, that was for sure. But the rest? She hadn’t thought about it. Now, as she did, she felt the tingling in her cunt, and soon in her body. Sexy or not, hunger and thirst didn’t impede her sexuality. Humiliation equaled horniness.

“Please, master!” she sobbed again. She didn’t even hear movement. After several more attempts she gave up, wondering if he was even there. She hadn’t heard anything for a while. Had her left her all alone, trusting the knots to work? But eventually she did hear him, coming in loudly through some outside door. He hadn’t even been there. “Master! Please! I need water!” she cried, her voice starting to grow hoarse. Soon enough, he appeared in the room, carrying a tall water glass with a straw and a newspaper.

“I’m so thirsty,” she begged him. “Please, give me water.” He just stared at her, his eyes focused on her wide open cunt. Then he began to undress. Almost like a jolt, Kylie felt the sexual charge blast through her. She was still a whore. He stroked himself quickly to hardness, but then climbed up onto her and sat down on her chest, his knees beside her head, and slid his pelvis forward to press his cock to her lips.

“Drink this first, cunt,” he ordered her. She knew it wouldn’t be that thirst quenching, but she didn’t care. It would be good enough to start, and she was now craving the cum. She wanted it on her, or down her throat. Wherever. He paid no attention to her tits or her pussy, making it harder for her to get too worked up. But her mind, her emotions seemed to be doing well enough on their own. Except she wasn’t cumming. She was desperate for it, but couldn’t get there on her own. He just pressed hard to her face, burying his member in her mouth and slamming her throat. But when he stiffened up to shoot his load, he pulled out and sent it flying all over her face, in her hair, and on her neck. Some went up her nose. She gasped and sputtered. As she was recovering, he stood up and set the newspaper down on her shoulder, beside her face, not covering her breasts. With his camera phone, he took a couple pictures and then pulled the paper away.

“Thirsty, you stupid cunt?” he asked her. She nodded.

“Yes, master, please.”

“Lift your fucking head up then,” he said, grabbing the cup. “No need to spill.” He lowered it to her face. She reached out as much as she could to wrap her lips around the straw. But she couldn’t quite get hold. He laughter told her he was fucking with her. She couldn’t get her mouth on the straw because he wasn’t letting her. He was just toying with her. He paused and took a big drink of water. “Aren’t you thirsty?” he asked.

“Please, master!” she said, crying now. “Please, I need water! I’m so thirsty!”

“Are you a wanton whore?”

“You know I am, master.”

“Cum slut?”

“Of course, master!”

“Just some dumb woman, eh? I should just pound you to pieces. And rape the corpse, with a baseball bat. While you’re still fucking breathing!”

“Oh god, why won’t you let me drink?” she cried. She had to stare up at him to beg. He seemed so tall looming over her, grinning down at her. He wasn’t even mad. He just talked to her that way because he could. Now he grinned and lowered the water cup again.

“Okay, here you go,” he said. She finally reached her lips out to drink the water. And got nothing. “Oops, missed again!” he said. “No, really, here you go.” Again he extended his arm down with the cup. She lunged her face at it, only for him to pull away. “Oops, so clumsy!” For fun he reached his free hand down and gave her open pussy several hard, loud slaps. “Here, better try harder,” he said. She just stared at him.

“If you ever don’t try, I’ll assume you don’t want any,” he said. With a cry of desperation, she tried to extend her head again, but he put the water on the table. “Too late now. You just told me you didn’t want it.”

“I didn’t, master! I’m so thirsty!”

He slapped her face, several times, hard and back and forth. “You just told me you didn’t want it! So were you lying then, or lying now?”

“I, I’m not lying!”

Slap. Another three slaps, all hard, knocking her head back and forth. “So you lied before?”

“I didn’t!” Slap and slap again. He stopped, and wiped the cum he was getting on his hands onto her hair, wiping them clean.

“You’re just a lying sack of girl turds!” he said. He picked up the water and paper before walking out of the room, leaving Kylie lying there as before, parched and starved, and now with a face full of cum slowly drying on her. He returned a moment later to stick a finger into her twat and wiggle it around. She was sopping wet, and soon her body began to buck and shake as the orgasm started. He pulled out in time to make it mostly fizzle, but it left her shaking and her jaw quivering.

“Little slut bag,” he said, shaking his head and leaving. Yet again, Kylie had to lie there sexually agitated and just wait for him. She heard a TV playing in another room.

“What’s wrong with me?” she whimpered, trying to fight back tears she couldn’t afford. “Why? Why why why? I hate you! I fucking hate you!” She was talking to herself. Eventually she calmed herself, and her body calmed itself. Finally he came back in. She’d been smelling cooking. He had a cup and a plate.

“Let’s get some fresh air in here,” he said, opening the window. “You can scream if you want, no one will hear you.” He began to untie her. At last! She gingerly sat up on the bed, eying the plate and cup. “Crawl to the chair and sit, and you can eat. If I catch you wiping your face, I’ll shove your meal up your pussy and keep you tied to that bed until the ransom is paid. Understood?”

“Yes, master.”

“Liking your treatment so far?”

“Yes, master,” she said, wishing it were less true. She didn’t like all of it. She hated the taunting, sort of, when it didn’t tickle her sex glands. So she did like all of it. Really, it was only the food and water deprivation she hated. She understood that much. She crawled to the meal and sat on the chair. She’d almost forgotten all the cum on her face anyway. The meal was just some fried potatoes, a chunk of pork chop, and some lettuce leaves, plus the water. He stood by the door and watched as she ate. She was famished, but tried to eat slow. As she neared the end of the plate and of her hunger and thirst, she felt a little bolder.

“My uncle favors my cousins,” she said simply.

“I’m not demanding millions,” he replied as simply. “You’re not worth that much. He’ll pay.”

“What if he doesn’t, master? Will you keep me? Will I be a sex slave forever?”

“You’d probably like that, wouldn’t you?” he said. It wasn’t a real question. Kylie didn’t even know the answer. Maybe. “Nah, he pays or I’ll just kill you. I’ll slice your throat open, nice and quick. But don’t worry, he’ll pay.” Kylie sat there, frozen in place by his words. She really was nothing to him, and he would discard her like a tissue paper. “Keep eating, bitch. I don’t have all day.” Slowly she resumed, saying nothing more.

“Get up,” he told her. She nervously stood. He grabbed her shoulders and moved her to the edge of the table, then pushed at her back. “Bend over,” he ordered. She leaned in over the table, but he shoved her the rest of the way down, pressing her chest into the dirty plate. She heard him messing with his pants, and soon felt the push of flesh to her partially parted anus. She clenched her eyes shut as he slowly slid it into her empty bowels. She grunted and groaned as her cunt went wild making her shiver with joy. Her body was electrified, but she was no longer feeling it emotionally. He said he would kill her, toss her away like a piece of trash. She had no value, no value at all beyond monetary. He wouldn’t even keep her as a free fuck and a living sex toy. She was just that useless to him.

She cried a little during the anal rape. It didn’t hurt like the last one, and her spasming cunt made sure it actually felt pretty good. She responded to being treated like shit, as long as there was a strong sexual component. She breathed some relief when he came in her, having cum once and was working on another.

“Please, not the bed again, master,” she begged. He glared at her, and she felt like shit, standing there naked and weak, pleading her case to a monster.

“The bed again. Get on your back and spread ‘em out.”

“Oh please!” she begged again.

“Or get on your front.”

Weeping, she laid on her back and let him lash her down once more. She didn’t even try to fight back. He left the room, leaving her alone with the walls and the ceiling and a light breeze that was too cool for easy comfort. And a tingling pussy. This was no life. So she liked it?. She wanted it. Big deal. She still hated it, and hated liking it. At least with this asshole. She didn’t know what she was going to do when or if she survived, but it wouldn’t be with him. Even if he changed his mind and tried to keep her, she would try to get away. She would fight him. He had no right, she realized, no right to take some body fluids as evidence of her real emotions. Now, all that remained was survival and escape.


More to come.

June 26, 2017, 01:38:40 AM
Reply #4

Offline SoftGameHunter

Three days later Kylie had managed survival but not escape. For three days she lay tied to the bed, fed twice a day and allowed closely monitored bathroom breaks. He even showered her before returning to her spot on the bed. And of course, he fucked her silly, making her body melt and quake in its own response.

“So, still want to be my slave, you little whore?” he asked her after three days. He’d just mouth raped her, giving her a facial, and then taken her picture with the newspaper again.

“No, master,” she replied.

“Oh? No more offering yourself to me?”

“I hate you!” she said sullenly.

“Yeah, well, too fucking bad. I have the power, so you can just suck it.” He stormed out, but came back in a minute later, carrying things Kylie couldn’t see right away. But he sat down beside her and slammed the first item down on her body. It was a little travel sewing kit.

“What are you doing?” she asked him, frightened but aroused.

“I won’t be hated or mouthed off to by some cunt,” he said. He opened the little box and produced the plastic case with the needles in it.

“Oh, wait. I’m sorry, master,” she said quickly, squirming uselessly. “Please, you don’t need to do this!”

“Yeah, well fuck you, Kylie,” he said. He grabbed the first needle he touched and pressed it to her left tit, the one closer to him. Not at the nipple, but just in the middle. With no flourish, he jammed the sliver of metal into her flesh. Kylie whimpered and flinched. Then he took hold of another needle and again jabbed it into her breast.

“Please, master. I’m sorry! Please stop that!”

“Go have an orgasm,” he said, reaching down and giving her clit a quick rubbing. She gasped as the sensations hit her. He’d figured them out too, knew that she would cum at the slightest touch. Now he took the third needle and, without even really looking, reached down and shoved it into her vaginal flesh. Kylie tensed and sobbed as he continued with the fourth needle, now going for her other breast. “You should be glad I’m not doing this in your smart mouth,” he said.

“Thank you, master,” she said. She knew he was waiting for it. Every time he told her when she should be glad, he was waiting for praise or thanks. But it didn’t stop him. He jammed needles into her sexy body parts until they ran out. She lay there, shaking, hurting, trying not to fall apart as he watched her.

He left the room again, leaving Kylie alone again. Her body was still hot and bothered, despite the new pain. Even sucking him off made her cum, but she now realized she was going to cum anyway. Better fuck a sopping wet cunt than a bone-dry one that he could rip apart.

This time she heard him leave. He tried to close the doors quietly, but she was listening for it and was lucky. When she was sure he was gone, she began to angrily thrash about, yanking and jerking on the ropes holding her in that same damn position for so long. Even more that fear, boredom was her ruling mental foe. Staring up at the same ceiling, hour after hour, helpless and naked, just staring. She screamed and put all her effort into it. Nothing. The man was a common crook and a jerk, but he seemed to know his ropes. A half hour of struggle only made Kylie sweaty, sore, and frustrated, as well as insanely horny. So again she lay there, staring, hoping for something, waiting and waiting.

And waiting too long. It grew dark and he wasn’t around. He should have been there by then. The darkness grew complete, and the breeze coming in grew quite chilly. Kylie lay there, shivering, for once shivering from the cold. He was supposed to be there, to close the window, to look out for her needs. But all he’d given her was needles in her skin and flesh. She screamed and struggled a few more times, in brief bursts that she knew would fail anyway. “Help me!” she screamed out the window. Also a useless gesture as she knew too well. He said no one would hear her screams and he had no reason to lie about it. She hadn’t heard a whisper of humanity from that window during her captivity.

Hungry and terrified, she slept badly during the night. The cold kept her feeling sickly, and she hadn’t stretched in much too long. In the wee hours of the night, she could no longer stop herself and she peed on the bed. She could only hear it, and then feel it flowing under her legs and under her ass. Soon it was cold and smelly. Still she lay on the bed.

Morning found her lying pale and weak. She could see, lifting her head up, that she was whiter than usual. The cold night air on her exposed skin left her feeling ill. Lying in cold piss on the mattress was worse still. “Is anyone there!” she cried. No answer greeted her. What kind of death, she wondered, would it be, to just lie there for days and days until running out of life? Had he gotten his ransom and run off? Had he given up on them and run off? Had he died in a police shooting? Was he under arrest and not talking? Did his car skid off the road, putting him in the hospital? Maybe his partners in crime found out his scheme and killed him over it. Or maybe he was just fucking around with her.

She found it impossible to believe he was just fucking around with her. Too much time was passing. The sun rose high in the sky. The room warmed up. Bugs flew in. Some of them found her body, unable to shoo them away. They liked the blood by the needles, and the dried cum on her face. Their buzzing was it for sounds aside from the occasional breeze outside. Kylie shrieked for no reason from time to time. It had been well over a full day, and she saw the light starting to fade again, her hope fading with it. Blackness filled the room and her soul. She cried, though her eyes stayed dry. The room cooled off, but she couldn’t shiver anymore. She just lay there dying.

She slept and woke up throughout the night. Her dreams were tortured, mangled affairs, visions of hell perhaps. Garish surroundings that sickened her. The return of morning brought only some warmth, but no relief as she lay there as a living corpse. Her muscles periodically started cramping. A little at first. Then more. They were the only thing keeping her focused and awake. By the next nightfall she was seizing up every few minutes. More hideous dreams pervaded her subconscious. Flashing lights and screams and bad smells, and utter hopelessness. Despair made real. The flashing lights really got to her, nauseating her in her dreams, until she realized she was probably awake. Maybe. She moved her head. Then she saw flashlight beams. Someone was in the room with her. Several people, figures cloaked in black, clunking around her, lights in her face. She wailed, struggling, trying to pull away from the alien apparitions. She saw them looming, felt their hands. She screamed, hearing them make noises.

Finally someone turned on the room lights. Kylie squinted up at the more normal seeming figures. Uniformed figures. Swat team figures. “Building is clear, we need an ambulance, now!” one of them said into his collar.

Kylie stared at them, comprehending them mostly. They were her rescue. They were her salvation. She wanted to cry out her relief and thanks, but she could form no words, nor barely move her body. She heard someone say the word dehydrated. She noted she was free of the bed, on a stretcher. She saw the hall walls pass by, and the ambulance outside in front of the twenty police vehicles. The seemed to want to pulverize her arm trying to find a vein for her IV, but eventually one took. With the pain fading, so went her consciousness.

It took Kylie two days in the hospital to learn what happened. The ransom, all of fifty grand, was paid off with the police watching. Her kidnapper, Jay Swanson though the name meant nothing to her, eluded their arrest attempt and went into hiding until two hours before her rescue when he was tracked to a motel outside Dayton. And that was that.

Kylie was equally reticent, for darker and more shameful reasons. Besides admitting to not reporting her first rape because she found it too arousing, she was urged to describe her body’s response and why she hadn’t tried an escape during the pullover after her abduction. She had to admit, even if only to an increasingly unsympathetic female detective, that she’d spent most of the time believing herself to be a true sex slave by nature, a notion long since squeezed out of her by the ravages of torture, thirst, and Jay Swanson’s general assholism. But there it was, all on the record, all heading for the public defender’s office.

Two weeks after it began, Kylie was sitting at home, doors locked tight with new locks. She was mindlessly browsing the internet, with a combination of Netflix, Pleated Jeans, and an unhelpful google search on ‘sex slave’. The doorbell rang.

Kylie froze. She wasn’t expecting anyone. It was after dark. She crept to the front door and turned on all the outside lights, many just recently installed. “Step where I can see you!” she yelled. She was surprised to see a woman step away from the front door, towards the side panel glass. “Teresa?” she asked.

“Long time no see,” her old college friend said. Kylie quickly opened the door.

“What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in two years.”

“Too long. Can I come in?”

“Sure!” Soon she had the doors locked up again and Teresa was in the living room with her. Kylie nervously looked at the screen, seeing it was up on a Netflix tab. “So, what’s up?”

“I’m here for you,” Teresa said.

“Oh?”

“My, sex slaves,” Teresa said, reading the Google search window.

“That’s, um, there’s a reason for that.”

“Oh, I know all about it,” Teresa said. “Everything. Quite the change from college, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a legal secretary at the PD’s office. One of my bosses is defending Swanson. He wants to win the case. Your statements were very interesting.”

Kylie sucked in her breath, feeling herself go cold.

“I think you should leave,” Kylie said. “Should you even be talking to me? What do you want?”

“No, Kylie, you’ve got it wrong. And no, I could lose my job for talking to you. My boss, Bill, the one defending. He’ll do a half-assed defense of a murder case. But give him a rape case. He’s a fucking pit bull. He loves acquitting rapists.” She paused, scowling. “And don’t even get me started on what he’s like when you’re alone with him in the break room.”

“So…”

“You need to explain your thinking when you take the stand, and it has to be better than you liked it. That, and as your friend, your friend with a secret.” She hesitated. “There are web sites out there. Message boards. Rape fantasy sites. You’d be shocked how many members are women just like you. And, um, like me.” She hesitated again to let Kylie stare. “I think maybe your body is, um, an extreme case. I always suspected you had a sexual demon in your psyche. But our bodies sometimes react like that. And you can learn to accept it. You can own it.” Kylie was still staring, her jaw partially open in surprise. Teresa sat down and opened a new tab.

“There’s a world of kink and support out there, and I’m going to show it to you, right now,” she said. She began typing. www…..