Join the Party Ch. 03bychristinamonroe©
Rachel agreed to the woman's demands, telling herself that it was her only chance of survival. Her body was her only weapon and she had to go along with whatever they demanded of her. She tried to tell herself that she was only doing what she needed to do to survive, but at the back of her mind a treacherous thought kept recurring: she was beginning to want this. She was beginning to enjoy the humiliation of being taken in front of her captors, of them watching her fuck and be fucked. This couldn't be right; she must have been drugged, or brainwashed. She couldn't want to be abused and degraded like this, not her, not the most popular and pretty girl in school?
But then she felt a hand on her, fingering her fleshy labia, and knew that what she wanted more than anything right now was to orgasm, to come screaming in pleasure, regardless of what she had to do for it.
But her tormentors knew exactly how far to take her without letting her achieve her goal. She felt fingers on her: 3, maybe four, dancing over her labia, stroking the warm, damp flesh, dipping into the folds and crevices. One stroked her clitoris, erect and proud, peeking out of its hood, but not hard enough or for long enough to let her attain her release. She wanted to cry out in desperation, a mixture of desire and anger, but knew that if she did, the whip would re-appear. Instead she tried to rock her pelvis, trying to force the fingers on her to move where she wanted them, but at this movement, they were immediately withdrawn.
The woman sighed: 'You don't learn, do you?' and with that comment, Rachel's legs were refastened to the bed stead and she was once again stretched out, a sacrifice for them.
She felt a weight across her stomach and knew that one of them had straddled her. It was one of the men, for she could feel his cock against her chest. Her breasts were grasped roughly and pulled upwards to form a warm channel of flesh. His penis had been oiled and she could feel it slide smoothly between her breasts, the tip of it just reaching her mouth. He pulled back out, and then began to piston slowly back and forth, teasing himself with her lips on the head of his penis. She felt him suddenly raise himself up and her mouth was forced open, his bulbous cock head plunging into her, almost choking her. But he didn't come as she had expected him to. He pulled out, leaving her gasping for breath and resumed his slow slide, still gripping her delicate breasts firmly. Several times he did this, plugging her throat with his rigid cock, then pulling out to rub between her breasts. She could feel his heavy scrotum bouncing against her chest, sometimes falling onto her face when he rode her mouth.
She heard him grunting, and his grip tightened on her breasts. His sliding speeded up, until he shuddered, and she felt a hot jet of come spurting against her face, hitting her cheeks. The mask protected her eyes, but she could smell the salty tang of him, and feel droplets falling into her hair. With one last smooth movement, he slid his cock into her mouth, using her to clean him up.
For a moment she was left alone, but knew that they were working the camera, capturing images of her coated in a strangers come, legs spread exhibiting herself and her breasts reddened and bruised. She felt the tears begin again, but knew they were useless.
'What the fuck is she crying for now?' one of the men exclaimed, and she sniffed and gulped, trying to stop the flow, knowing that this was annoying them. It was too late.
'We'll give you something to cry about', another male voice announced, and she was roughly turned over, her legs released so that she could kneel up on the bed. Her face was forced into the pillows and she tried to turn her head sideways to breathe.
The woman spoke again: 'Did you know there are 2 sorts of virgins, Rachel?'
Rachel shook her head, confused. The bitter-voiced woman carried on: 'those who have never been pussy fucked, and those who've never had a dick up their arse. We know you're not a pussy-virgin, but who's had their cock up you?'
Rachel tensed reflexively: not this, please, not this, she prayed to herself. She had never even been touched there: she was a nice girl, a good girl, and that was dirty. Hands were on her, and her buttocks clenched as if to stop them going further. There was a rush of noise, and she felt the sting of a whip against her bottom, the cracking noise obscenely loud in the silence of her prison. She shuddered in pain, and tried to relax, knowing that they wouldn't stop beating her otherwise. She heard a jostle behind her, and felt fingers sliding down the cleft of her buttocks, the tips brushing over the tight ring of her anus. This sent a shiver up her spine, and she could feel his fingertip push tentatively at her entrance.
'It's like a fucking vice' he said, 'this is gonna be fun.'