Prison of Cries Ch. 02

Alice shook her head to clear it. The wet ends of her hair, damp from sweat, slapped her shoulders and cheeks. Her thoughts were growing fuzzy, as memories of past sexual exploits leapt unbidden to her consciousness, overwhelming more pressing matters like escape. The room's rank smell, of bodies and semen and female juices, only exacerbated things. "They can't do this," she whispered. "It's not possible." Russia, she thought with effort. I was in Paris. It would take...how long to get me here? How long was I unconscious? What day is it now?

"That's what I thought at first, too," Lawson said. His penis was momentarily soft, and he sat with his head down, legs stretched out before him. "Then the first girl they put me with explained what they'd done to me. She'd been here for months, she said. Her father was some businessman, and she was their insurance policy against him. They wanted her alive, but in a position to cause no trouble. And she was that." As he spoke, Amy watched his penis flutter and grow hard yet again. "Just like we are."

Her intimate muscles twitched and tingled, as if anticipating that erect member's penetration. It made her gasp. Her breasts felt swollen, the soft skin tight over the gentle globes, her nipples extended and hard as diamonds. She felt her buttocks slide on moisture she knew was dripping from inside her. She studied the residue of Lawson's semen on her thigh, and the urge to rake it up with a fingertip and suck it down was overwhelming. "Your wife...daughter...are here, too? You've seen them?"

"Oh, yeah," he said bitterly. "It was worse than being with strangers, believe me. My wife...she was never that sexually enthusiastic. She hated feeling so out of control, but of course it didn't change a thing about how much she needed it. I knew that she'd been with other men before me, and when they took her would be again. My daughter...."

He looked down, and tears welled in his eyes. "We didn't. Fuck, that is. I jerked off, and she touched herself in front of me. But we fought it down. She's beautiful, too, like her mother when she was young. Just putting my hands on her was...." He wiped his eyes. "They didn't leave her in with me for long, when they saw we weren't giving in."

Alice could think of nothing to say. She ached with sympathy, but the stories also did nothing to calm her own raging desires. "I won't give in, either," she said. "We'll figure out a way out of this. We'll get you and them out of here."

He looked at her. "Sure," he said flatly. "Anything you say."

She closed her eyes. How much harder could her nipples grow? And her clitoris tingled constantly. She risked slipping a finger down along her labia, astounded as how wet she was, and without even a conscious thought she slid two fingers into herself, searching for the spot only she had ever been able to find, awash in a sudden obliviousness.

Movement caught her eye, and she saw Lawsom masturbating again. With a start she realized she was doing the same, and yanked her fingers free. She turned and, using the wall for support, got to her feet. Wetness trickled down her inner thighs, and her knees could barely hold her. She recalled that time in China, tied down and tormented for hours, days...

She walked across the room to the door. She had never felt so exposed, so naked, in her life, aware that Lawson watched her with one thought on his mind. The weight of her swaying breasts pulled at her shoulders, and her thighs slid together with each step.

She ran her hand along the door's edge. It was metal, and fit tightly into the jam. There was no handle, hinge or lock mechanism on this side. She slid her fingers along it, searching for any irregularity. If there was a latch, perhaps there was some way to slip it, even stripped naked and left horny and helpless.

She heard the soft splatter of Lawson's ejaculate on the floor, and her cunt tingled with near-orgasm. No, please, no more, she had begged in China, and then, Don't stop, please, not yet, oh God not yet... She began to breathe in short, shallow gasps, and had to turn and put her back to the door to keep from falling. Something was happening she couldn't control, couldn't resist, and with a ragged sob she climaxed just from the thought of what was happening to her. She slid to the floor, hands crushing her tender breasts, thighs clamped tight together as her inner muscles continued to spasm. She had never come like that.

When she opened her eyes she saw Lawson looking sadly at her, his penis again erect. "Do you want," he asked raggedly, "to be on top?"

"I'm not fucking you," she said with difficulty. "I'm not."

He laughed. "You just had an orgasm from thinking about fucking. You think you're strong enough to fight this, but you're not. No one is. Not you, not..." In his pause, she knew he thought about the women in his family. "Anyone," he finished.

She closed her eyes again and, with all her will, pulled her hands from her breasts. She imagined them staying exactly where they'd been, perhaps with her handprints molded into their swollen curves. They could not grow any more sensitive, any heavier, any tighter. Just as she could not imagine other places growing any looser, gaping open any wider. She felt she could accommodate a grown man's arm inside her, and wished that Lawson's cock was larger and thicker.

Then she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Just the touch of skin on skin made her gasp, and she involuntarily spit saliva in Lawson's face. He knelt before her, his hand sliding down to her arm, his bright red cock shining with precum as it strained toward her. The tiny opening even looked like an eye scrunched up with effort. He pulled her to her knees so that she faced him, her breasts against his chest.

"You can fight it," he said raggedly, "but I can't. I have to fuck you now."

He slid his hands to her breasts. They were big, long-fingered, and thumbed her nipples with easy confidence. She realized it didn't matter whose breasts he fondled; he was helpless to stay away from anything with tits and a pussy. Just as she could not resist the thought of his cock parting her and filling at least part of the gulf spreading within her.

She did not resist as he turned her so that her back was to him, then pushed the back of her neck until her cheek rested on the floor, her hips in the air. She felt his hands stroke her buttocks, sliding along the muscular flanks she worked so hard to keep slender.

I am a trained professional operative, she told herself. I have killed men with my bare hands. I am in control and unemotional. I cannot be made complicit in my own rape.

Then she thought, Oh, God, I want this.

With no preliminaries the head of his cock parted the lips of her labia, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her hips back against him, penetrating her and making them both scream. The noise in the silent, brightly-lit cell rang off the walls.