No Satisfaction

Finally, I saw a dim light coming around a door in the distance. It was bright enough to allow me to see the floor, so I was able to navigate my way around the piles of junk. I opened the door and saw what must have been the main factory floor. The renovators hadn't gotten to it yet. It was still mostly open, except for the titanic pieces of machinery that used to roll hot steel into I-beams. It was dimly lit by numerous skylights in the ceiling. I could see the front door of the factory way off in the distance, just beyond that ratty mattress I'd seen earlier in the day.

With a huge sense of relief, I started walking toward the door.

Then I heard a scream.

It was muffled, but unmistakable. A woman's scream... followed by whimpering and a hard slap.

A man's voice said, "Shut the fuck up, bitch."

I felt a shiver run up my spine. Every hair on my head crawled erect, and my heart began to pound in my chest.

She screamed again, and I saw Jasmina in my mind. Jasmina. The dental assistant who saved my life. Jasmina was leaning over me, putting cotton in my cheeks, smiling as she said, "Don't worry, Wyatt. Everything's gonna be alright." She was wrong. Everything wasn't going to be alright. Dad was sitting in a nearby chair, reading a magazine quietly. Innocently. Nobody would ever have believed how he broke my tooth, and I would never tell. He'd gotten carried away, but he wouldn't make that mistake again. The next time he'd be more careful. Or maybe he'd be less careful. Hell... next time I might be lying on a slab instead of a dentist's chair.

Jasmina patted my arm comfortingly and smiled. "Dr. Gibbs will save that tooth. Don't you worry." She was pretty. Not super extra pretty, just ordinary pretty. She looked like she was Middle Eastern or something, with dark black hair and olive colored skin. She had a lilting accent, and an easy, optimistic air. She looked like someone who'd never seen the things I'd seen.

The dentist examined my tooth and said, sadly, that he wouldn't be able to save the tooth. I could see the fury in Dad's eyes. This was gonna cost him a bundle, and he was going to take it out on me as soon as we got home. Dr. Gibbs explained the options, each of which more expensive than the last. An implant, or a bridge. "What about nothing?" asked Dad. "Can't you just sew it up?" Dr. Gibbs' smiled indulgently, but I saw Jasmina's eyes flashed with fury. She hated my father for being such a cheap bastard. I loved her for that.

Dr. Gibbs explained patiently that it was my front center tooth. Did he really want me to go through life with a missing tooth for all the world to see? Father reluctantly agreed to pay for an implant, supposedly to spare me the embarrassment. But I knew what he was really thinking. The photographs. My beautiful smile, ruined. He needed my smile for his own sick, impenetrable purposes.

The dentist took Dad to see the office manager so he could arrange for payment. As he left he flashed me a look of pure hatred. Maybe the next time instead of breaking my tooth, he'd just go ahead and suffocate me to death. I was more terrified than you can imagine. In that moment, I was utterly certain that I had to escape, somehow. Then I realized that I was alone in the room with Jasmina, and a desperate thought occurred to me. A dark and disturbing thought, but one that, at the time, seemed freakishly logical. I looked at her as she worked, setting up Dr. Gibbs' instruments. She smiled at me. Dad could come back at any moment. I had to act now, or die later.

I hopped to my feet. Jasmina said, "Oh, no, don't get up. The doctor isn't finished with you yet." I brushed past her and slammed the door, locked it, and turned.

Jasmina saw the crazy look in my face, and stared open-mouthed at me as I closed the tiny gap between us, her eyes growing wide with disbelief. I grabbed her blue hospital smock with both hands and ripped it wide open. She stumbled backward, shrieking, and I grabbed the center of her bra with one hand and I yanked it toward me. It didn't break, but the straps cut into her shoulders, drawing blood. She crashed into the stand on the dental chair, sending the instruments flying, and moments later I span her around and pinned her on her back on the dental chair. She bellowed bloody murder as I ripped her thin blue pants off. Once her brown legs were bare, I fumbled at her underwear as she kicked me desperately screaming for help. I didn't try very hard to pull them off. It was all an act, but she didn't know that.

By this time they were banging at the door. But it was too heavy to break down, and they were too confused to find the keys. I needed this to look good, so I hit her in the face, trying to make a bruise. I unzipped my pants too, thinking that would be nice and incriminating. To my own disgust, I realized that I had an erection. I am my father's son.

She began to beg and whimper, so I slapped her again. "Shut up bitch! I'm gonna rape you , and there's nothing you can do to stop me!" I repeated it, yelling at the top of my lungs, so everyone could hear me. I even choked her a little, trying to give them time to intervene. But after a while I looked up at the door, thinking, Where the fuck are they? Then I felt something searing hot on the top of my head. I screamed and stumbled back, surrounded by the stench of burning hair and flesh. She'd gotten her hands of the dental light and had pulled it down into the top of my head. Good girl, I thought, as I stumbled to the floor, pretending to lose my balance. That gave her enough time to dash to the door and make her escape.

After that I just lay there, zipper open, looking impassively at the ceiling. I ignored Dad's anguished questions, and whispered threats. He tried to talk the dental staff into letting me go home with him, but of course, that was impossible. Jasmina was freaking out so badly they had no choice but to detain me until the cops arrived. Dad realized he was beaten. So he took the tracking device off my ankle when nobody was looking, ands hissed, "Keep your mouth shut!" He didn't need to add, "Or I'll kill you." I already knew that much.

I told the detectives that I'd been obsessed with Jasmina for years, and that I'd try it again if they didn't stop me. I was actually hoping to be tried as an adult so I could spend as many years as possible in prison, but they decided to try me as a juvenile. Dad bailed me out, but on his way to pick me up, I assaulted one of the guards, so they locked me back up again. That was a close call. Dad spent a bundle on the lawyer, desperate to get me back in his clutches. For a while there I was afraid he was going to prevail, but Jasmina came through for me. She cried at the trial, and pointed me out as her would-be rapist. She said I needed to be locked up, or she'd never be able to sleep again. I could have kissed her. She was my angel. She saved my fucking life, and she didn't even know it.

And now as I heard that unknown woman screaming, I knew I had to help her, if only for Jasmina. To atone. I ran toward the sound, filled with overblown righteous anger, determined to stop this, whatever it was, from happening... to save her... whoever she was. It's not that I wanted to be a hero. I just wanted to do something good for once in my worthless life.

But then, I saw something that took the fight clean out of me.

A big, bald muscle-man was manhandling a small brunette in a pool of moonlight, in the gap between two huge machines. I recognized him instantly as the sledgehammer-wielding white supremacist that Tojee was so afraid of. He was a monster of a man, probably around seven feet tall, and three times as broad as me, with an evil face and a long pointy goatee. A cigar was jammed in his huge, smiling mouth. He was shirtless, so I could see that his ripped chest was covered with prison tattoos. He was a fucking monster.

The second I saw that bald fucker, I nearly shit myself. I knew instantly that the girl was screwed, and if I tried to intervene, he'd probably murder me and bury my body under a pile of fresh cement. So I quietly backed up, and hid in the shadow of the mechanism. Straight ahead of me, I saw the big door leading outside, but in order to get to it, I'd have to cross through a pool of bright moonlight. I decided to wait until he took her wherever he was going. Then I was going to make a run for it, and summon the cops.

I had time to examine the poor girl. She had short, straight black hair, with long bangs, and was dressed in a glittery green cocktail dress and white fishnet stockings. At first I thought she was a hooker, but then I saw the glittering jewels in her ears, and I realized she was just some unlucky girl who'd probably gone out clubbing and had somehow made a wrong turn down the wrong dark alley. She was probably under five feet tall, so she looked tiny in his hands.

The bald shithead was toying with her like a cat with a mouse. He had one hand clapped over her mouth, but otherwise, he let her flail about. She tried stomping his feet with her high heels, but he just danced out of the way. From time to time he'd let her try to get away, but then he'd yank her back like a rag doll, just to prove to her that she wasn't in charge of her own life any longer. She belonged to him. End of story. All the while he roughly squeezed her tits and groped her ass, ripping the back of her tight, short dress in the process. To my own shock and disgust, my cock grew hard. I told myself it was a fight-or-flight reaction, but I knew it was a lie. I am my father's son.

As they struggled, he eventually turned his back to me. I thought it might be my only chance, so I ran through the pool of moonlight and headed toward the door. Then, just before reaching it, I saw the padlock on the big sliding bolt. Shit! I looked around for another door. I saw an office nearby, so I ran toward it, but just before I got there, I saw a pair of shadows through the rippled glass on the door.

A young guy's voice said, "Roy's got her through here. Dumb bitch."

An older guy's gravelly voice replied, "Yeah? Who is she?"

"How the fuck do I know?"

I screeched to a halt, but there was nowhere to hide. The nearest cover was fifteen feet away. The door swung open and they saw me. There was a moment of shock and recognition in their eyes, and no doubt in mine too, because I knew these two assholes. Mr. Schmidt, and his step-nephew Barry. There was a pregnant pause while I did quick mental calculations on what my best move was. It was obvious these guys were complicit in the girl's abduction, and since Mr. Schmidt was probably mobbed up, I was in serious danger of imminent demise. My only play was to try to bullshit my way out of everything, just like I did back in juvie.

I smiled and said, "Where you guys been? Roy's about to bust waiting for you guys."

Mr. Schmidt looked at me with the craziest expression. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Roy told me to stick around. Said we're gonna have a little fun tonight. I can't fuckin' wait to get my hands on that bitch." Of course, the only reason I knew the bald asshole's name was Roy was that I'd heard Barry saying it just moments before. I discovered in juvie that if you say something with enough conviction, people usually assume you're telling the truth.

I could tell from the grin on Barry's face that he bought my lie, but Mr. Schmidt was confused. "Wait. What? When did Roy tell you...?"

But then I handed him the borrowed hardhat I was still wearing. "Thanks for the brain can, Mr. Schmidt. What a life saver. I musta bonked my head on a dozen things today." That took him off guard enough to forget what he was in the middle of asking me. Moments later Barry threw his muscled arm around my shoulder and strutted with me toward the sound of shrieks, as if he and I were old buddies.

"Fuck, dude! Welcome to the party! You sampled her yet?"

"No, we were waiting for you. Where did you find her?"

"I usually go hunting at Club 747 which is in the old skunk works three blocks over. But this time Roy and I spotted this bitch sitting out front in her car. Lost or looking for someone. I don't know. They usually put up a fight, but this one barely made a peep when I pulled her out of her car. Sounds like she's found her voice now, though."

We walked around the corner and sure enough, she was screaming at the top of her lungs, but it was muffled by Roy's big ugly hand. Roy did a double-take when he saw me, but when he saw Barry's arm around my shoulder, he assumed I'd been invited by the boss's nephew. But to stop anyone from asking the inevitable "Who the hell invited this guy?" I clapped loudly and said to Mr. Schmidt, "There she is, boss. Just look at her. Tasty bitch." I was trying to make it sound to all these guys that I was somehow already involved. I guess it worked, because their attention went right to the girl, although for the rest of the night, Mr. Schmidt kept looking at me with a vaguely suspicious expression. I was so terrified, I could barely think straight.

The men gathered around the girl, roughly feeling her up and making comments about what a fine piece of ass she was. Roy picked her up off the floor, with his hand clamped her mouth, and his other hand roughly squeezing her breasts. He hissed into her ear, "Cooperate, you fucking slut, or we'll torture you to death." She stopped screaming and started whimpering. Her hair was obscuring her face, but I could see her tears pouring down Roy's massive hand. Then he put his other hand between her legs and pawed at her panty-clad pussy, pushing the fabric deep into the crevice of her pussy lips. He roughly rubbed her as he laughed, "Just stop fighting and enjoy it. We're all gonna fuck you senseless, either way, so you might as well try to have a little fun."

Barry waved me over, a bit annoyed to see me hanging back. I walked toward the girl in a daze. As I got near, I saw Mr. Schmidt pull a box cutter out of his pocket and snapped the razor-sharp blade to full extension. The girl saw it glittering in the moonlight, and started struggling for life itself, her breath hissing sickly through Roy's huge hand. She started kicking as Mr. Schmidt walked up to her. For a horrible moment, I thought they were going to mutilate her right there in front of me, but I felt as powerless as a child, and merely watched, as if seeing everything from a great distance.

But Mr. Schmidt didn't mutilate her. He used the box cutter to shred open the crotch of her fishnet stockings, which were covering her panties. She tried to keep her legs closed, but he said, "Stop struggling or you'll get cut, you stupid bitch." She was so terrified that she let him continue without fighting. He pulled the crotch of her panties toward him, and sliced them open, exposing her pussy. Before she could snap her legs shut, he knelt down and buried his fat, slobbering face between her legs and began to slurp. She let out a terrified moan of distress and tried to kick him away, but she just ended up with her legs over his shoulders, as Roy held her up. I'm ashamed to admit that my cock was throbbing erect, and when I tried to reposition it in my tight pants, I felt a thrill of pleasure suffuse my body.

Barry whooped and started taking off his shirt while he kicked off his shoes. "How's she taste, uncle Paul?

Mr. Schmidt pulled back, his face glistening. "Fucking great. This is one juicy bitch. Come have a taste."

Barry was busy undoing his pants, so he said to me, "You go, buddy. Warm her up for me."

If I held back, they'd be onto me, so stepped forward, almost like I was in a dream. Back when I was in juvie I had sworn to myself that I'd never follow the orders of an evil man ever again. But I gave up that hollow oath in a heartbeat now that a real situation had presented itself. Fear and a lifetime of abuse had unmanned me. That and the conspiracy of silence. As I stumbled to my knees, the girl went absolutely apeshit. I'd seen her struggling before, but this time she put everything into it. But what could she do but flail about in Roy's huge arms?

I heard Roy grunt, "Stop biting bitch, or I'll stick my cigar in your eye." She may have stopped biting him, but she kept kicking at me with those high heels of hers, as Roy laughed at my clumsy attempts to control her. They were like lethal weapons. I was about to give up, but Barry and Mr. Schmidt took hold of one leg each and pulled her wide open. I could now see her beautiful cunt glistening in the moonlight. The smell of it almost made me swoon with desire. She'd put perfume on herself before going out, I guess. Yet I rebelled at the thought of harming this poor girl.

But even as I thought, I can't do this, I leaned forward and sunk my tongue deep into her pussy. She went tense all over, and roared a long, gargling scream. I barely noticed. I was focused on her pussy now, almost as if it weren't connected to an actual human, but was just a lovely, perfect object that belonged to me and my buddies. She had a light little puff of pale pubic hair, which tickled the top of my nose as I ate her out. Mr. Schmidt was right. She was juicy. Very juicy. Sweet nectar oozed out of her in copious amounts. But not for a moment did I assume she was somehow enjoying this rape. According to my juvie roommate, some girls are just naturally juicy. They can't help it. But whether she enjoyed it or not, I certainly did, much to my eternal shame.

She was shrieking and moaning behind Roy's hand, desperately trying to say something, but unable to do anything but make muffled sounds and suck in sharp, painful breaths through her nostrils. I felt pity for her, but I absolved myself of responsibility. This wasn't my choice. I was in pure survival mode. That's what I told myself, anyway. But the fact is, I enjoyed eating that girl's sweet cunt. It was my first. Mom, as disturbed as she was, never made me do that to her. So I enjoyed the flavor of this poor brunette's juices, feeling them trickle down the back of my throat. I reveled in the sensation of her slick pussy flesh on my tongue and lips. I breathed deeply her heady musk. And I rubbed my boner like I was trying to start a fire with it.

Then I began to lick her hard little clit, the way my roommate said drove girls wild, lifting the hood with my tongue and slurping the hard little lump of flesh. I felt the poor brunette's thighs quivering, and her pussy clenching with each stroke of my tongue. I was giving her body unwanted pleasure. She raged and roared and struggled to be free, but I kept doing it, driven by some sick need I barely understood.

After a few minutes, Barry, now totally naked, tapped my shoulder so we exchanged places, me holding her leg, while he ate her out with greedy gusto. She stopped struggling right about then, but she never stopped sobbing. I thought, these men are monsters. How can they listen to her cry like that, and smile and laugh? But then I realized that I felt nothing either. I was a monster too. I am my father's son.

Almost without conscious thought, I ran my hand up her leg and squeezed her silken butt cheek. I would have reached farther, but my hand bumped into Roy's cock, which was still in his jeans but was pressed between her buttocks. He felt huge and hard. Frighteningly so. He didn't notice me feeling him. He was too busy whispering evil threats into her ear, as he chomped that foul smelling cigar of his. I couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but it was frightening her. She whimpered and cried, snot and tears dripping from Roy's hand onto her creamy white cleavage.

Mr. Schmidt took out his box cutter again and sliced open the front of her glittery green cocktail dress. She wasn't wearing a bra. Damn she had beautiful breasts. I'm not sure if they were B or C cups, but they looked big on her narrow ribcage, particularly now that they were swinging free, and bouncing with each sob. Mr. Schmidt leaned forward and slurped one of her perfect brown nipples into his drooling fat mouth. I thought, how horrible, but then I felt myself leaning forward to suck the other one. How could I resist? She began to struggle again. I figured maybe Mr. Schmidt was biting her other nipple, or sucking it too hard, but I gently stroked her nipple and areola with my tongue, feeling each little detail on my taste buds. I started to rub my hard-on against her thigh, sending erotic thrills of pleasure up my spine.