Forced to Let Go Ch. 01

I struggle to keep my eyes open. It's like a haze has enveloped me. I can move, but very sluggishly. Seated. It's a chair. Plastic? I don't know.

Because despite the haze that's in my head... She's in front of me, held between four strangers. And... She's naked. No wait, she's almost naked. Her panties and shorts are still on her. But they've got hands all over her breasts, and they're taunting her, and... As they grasp her nipples, she arches in pain but also...

She moans?

Ah yes. My beautiful wife has nipple orgasms easily. She's fighting them... I think? I can't hear the low voices, but.. One of the shirtless men takes one of her dark brown nipples into his mouth. Her right nipple. Another of the... Men... Bad men? Is tweaking her left nipple, and she's shaking and arching and squealing. Is she coming though? I don't know. Is it wrong of her to come?

Is it wrong for me to be panting despite my haze? Is this real? Why is my cock rock hard in my pants?

I blink slowly, forcing my eyes to stay open. What's going on?

And they're rubbing the front of her shorts. She's writhing, and she stiffens suddenly. I know that look and that strangled cry. And it seems they know it too.

They're stripping her.

Blink.

While they undress... Fuck their cocks look big. Fuck. She'll love that. Does she want to love that? Fuck. She's naked, and only one of them is holding her, toying with her breasts gently while the rest strip. She's not running... She's only gently rocking back and forth, moaning, looking at me with fear, asking me to rescue her... But...

No.

Her hand is slowly rubbing her captor's pants. And from the way her hand is moving... He's not small.

I... Nod...

And she moans, and grips her captor's cock hard. He laughs, derisively but also not...? The other guys are looking at us, their expressions indecipherable.

But their cocks are long, and erect in front of them. They only pause for so long before they take hold of my dear, innocent looking wife, as they start to suck, lick, tease. Rub her bald cunt, and one of them exclaims as his finger slips in. I know her heat, and as she squeals, I know he's feeling her squeeze his finger as she's coming. She rocks in their grasp, a nude live wire of orgasm, her body twitching without control, as she leans on them for support, as more fingers enter her. They're chuckling and then they're not because they've had enough waiting.

They pick her up and spread her legs a little. As she quivers and shakes. Like a tree in a storm, a storm of lust, a storm with no control, until it bursts upon everyone around. So she bursts and wails as one of the men slide into her. Glides into her as she sinks down onto his stiff erection, and she comes and wails, and probably to everyone's surprise but mine, she takes his bare cock fully to the hilt, as her arms rest on his chest, as the men hold her up, as she is well and truly taken.

It's supposed to be a rape.

I think.

At the very least, she's helpless. She's coming and riding her waves of orgasm, moaning, arching silently when her throat can no longer take the abuse of her wailing. She coughs, takes deep breaths only to come again. As they maul her. As they lay her down on a mattress they must have prepared, and all I can see is a man's body on top of her, sliding out and in. You'd think they'd pound her to within an inch of her life. Instead, the guys stand around, quietly menacing, rubbing themselves as they watch their mate methodically take her through orgasm after orgasm, his balls slapping loudly, rhythmically against her, punctuated by his grunts, her moans, and occasional strangled cries as she comes, again and again. And one roar from him while I try to fight my haze, while she arches into him.

I know that helpless look, that look of absolute surrender, that open mouthed look as her cunt clamps around a man's hardness, and sucks his virile, potent seed into her very depths. Accepting it greedily, even as she's forced to. I can't see where they're joined. But I see her legs quiver, I can see her press her breasts against her rapist's firm chest, I can hear her gasping for air as her cunt betrays - and blesses her - with her strongest orgasm yet. As he makes his mark on her, a stranger with no name, yet marking her in the most intimate of ways.

And there are three more of them.

They seem to be well practised. They have her use her hands on their cocks, and have her kneel to take their cocks into her mouth, while she does her best to slobber on them. They don't speak, and they don't hit her. They don't have to, it seems. They toy with her, until the next man decides to takes his turn. Pushes her down onto the mattress, and slides into her used cunt, without a protest from her, my eyes clearing enough to eagerly watch while her eyes and mouth open wider as he enters her. She wraps her legs around her attacker, grips on to his arms, wails in disbelief as her body continues to be put through an experience unlike any other.

Possibly she can't believe that her body would excite this much attention. These lustful, powerful men who want her so much that they're committing a crime, to seed her, to leave their mark inside her. They aren't unattractive men, but they've chosen her this night, to make her theirs, even if she has had no say. A married woman, yet desirable.

She's often wondered if she's attractive enough for other men to lust over. Now she's coming helplessly while surrounded and impaled by masculinity. Men who aren't bothered about her pleasure but taking a perverse pleasure in wringing out yet another orgasm from her lithe but tortured body. While I watch, helpless and helplessly aroused.

And again, another man, who is not her husband, who should not even be seeing her in her nakedness, tenses his buttocks and his arms and his body and grunts on top of the woman who is my beautiful bride. Tenses and slams into her body, his tanned skin against her paler skin. And again, she accepts another man's seed, screaming for the world to hear of her infidelity and her abasement, but with so much pleasure in her voice.

I wish I could see her swamped cunt.

They still have something special planned for her.

One of the men lies down, his cock flapping obscenely in the air. They have her sit on his engorged cock, holding her up by her arms, her tired body needing the support. Before she sinks down, fluids slop from her cunt. Can two men have that much come? But it helps her to slide down readily and easily on her next attacker. She moans, sobs as he starts to pump into her from below, her tired body easily supported by his arms.

She can't see the last man, the one who had laughed earlier. But I can. He's rubbing some liquid from a tube onto his cock. Pumping himself, looking in my direction, his cock getting harder, glistening in the harsh light of the single overhead lamp that illuminates the scene. He smiles cruelly at me, before turning away. And crouches down behind her, as the man below her stops moving.

Oh no.

I don't see the entry.

But I hear her scream.

I don't know if they're hurting her. I'm starting to pull at my bonds - I'm tied to the chair? And I'm trying to get to her. Trying to sober up more, gods damn the haze in my head! But as I struggle, her initial screams soften into extremely loud grunts. And then she throws her head back against the man behind her and I watch, no longer struggling, while her whole body shakes in between two men silently plundering her body. I watch as she arches as much as she can, tears running down her face, as her body accepts that her ass and cunt are being filled by huge cocks, spreading her insides by two men. She comes, her already raspy voice screaming out her disbelief, cutting off with strangled noises as she simply twitches and rides the waves of her orgasms. Her pain has become pleasure.

After a while she is limp between them. They finish in her, both of them, grunting, and then pulling out. She remains limp on the dingy mattress, breathing, eyes closed, but still quivering.

The man who laughed goes over to a table nearby, a pile of their clothes on the table. He takes out a penknife, and walks towards me. I want to ask him why. I want to say, let me go and check on her. I want them to promise not to hurt us more than this. I want him to let me go. I want to punch him.

Or not...

I can't speak. I don't know whether to thank them or hate them. I'm so confused and my cock is rock hard, and I'm still trying to clear my head. My wrists hurt. I don't know why they hurt.

Wordlessly, he cuts my ropes. He doesn't help me to get up, but the four of them move away, giving me a clear path to her. I stumble over to her unmoving body. She's still breathing. She opens her eyes when I touch her.

I can't help what I do next.

I tear off my pants, as quickly as I can. My underwear. My shirt. I don't care. I only have one focus. I position myself over her, as she weeps softly, and I slip into her sopping wet cunt. It feels like a wet, velvet glove of heat, and I kiss her tears and bury my face into her neck. She moans and wraps her legs around me, tears falling but her hips moving as much as her tired body allows. I whisper my love, and my lust, my cock so hard it hurts, not as big as her last four lovers, but still making her ripple with orgasms, touching the over sensitised spots in her cunt. As she clings on to me, I add my come to the pool of semen and seed that's already inside her, both of us giving strangled cries, and sobs.

We must have blacked out after. When we come to, we're on a mattress in an old looking warehouse. Our clothes are in a pile by the side, with a mobile phone on top. We get dressed quietly, after checking that she isn't too badly wounded to do so. I hold on to her hand, wanting to keep some contact with her as much as possible. A hospital visit ensures that there's no major damage, especially to her ass. We don't call the police. We just tell the doctor and nurses that we had an intense night. I don't think they believe us, but...

There're videos and pictures on that phone, and we don't want to risk anything.

Her psyche takes a longer time to recover. There are nightmares, or at least dreams, where she wakes in a sweat, fingers feverishly stroking her cunt, while she reaches for my cock, begging me to soothe her fires. She does have fears of going back to that bar where we must have had the drinks that landed us in trouble. I remind her that I love her just as much, that I find her just as attractive, just as womanly, perhaps more so, as I fuck her hard every night, as we moan in each other's arms, assuring each other that we're there, that it's okay, that we're still together. Life goes on.

She doesn't refer to the mobile left behind by the men. I have looked through it more than once, never really sure what to feel. Guilt. Anger. Lust. A lot of lust. A flicker of ideas that perhaps I should not have.

But one day, while we're in bed, and she's whimpering under me, I take the mobile phone out from under my pillow. And as I take a picture of her with the phone, she comes on my cock, crying out in disbelief, gushing in a surge of arousal. We send the photo to the only contact that is stored on that phone. And a few days later, a text message comes in, with a location and a time.

A door has opened that may never be closed again.