The Elements

"You were pleasuring yourself with this, were you not?"

Mortified, Cassandra said nothing while staring at the banana, now three-quarters encrusted with sand. Her hands and arms were still in front of her, forlornly sheltering herself.

He repeated his question, but there was an unnerving tone to his voice that compelled her to respond, that convinced her that answering was the wiser choice.

Meekly, she acknowledged, "Yes."

"Yes, you certainly were. We watched you fucking the banana," he stated. Every word he said was spoken with precision and clarity, even the 'g' in 'fucking'.

Cassandra's humiliation increased. But she was also angry. So Goddamn angry.

How dare they intrude upon me during such a private, personal moment! How dare they do what they're doing! Yet she was terrified to speechlessness and kept her protestations to herself.

"You are very beautiful—very, very beautiful. More beautiful up close than from a distance," the tall one added.

He approached her; she trembled with fright. He took her wrists, delicately, and moved them aside. She was now exposed, and she shook with unbounded dread.

"Leave your hands to your sides," he commanded pleasantly.

Although his voice was not menacing, Cassandra sensed that she would be prudent to comply. He stepped back and examined her. The other men joined him. Their eyes roved over her body. Cassandra wanted to cover herself, but she reconsidered and kept her hands by her sides as instructed.

The tall one turned to his friends and asked, "Is the lady beautiful?"

In a thick accent, one of the other men replied, "Very, very beautiful," all while holding on to his prodigious erection and eyeing her up and down.

"Did I not tell you two months ago that she was magnificent?" the tall one laughed while jocularly slapping two of his comrades on their backs.

Cassandra's eyes widened and her jaw dropped. She wanted to scream her outrages but nothing came out.

How long has this bastard been stalking me? How long has he been violating my sanctuary? she fumed.

But her fury quickly subsided. Fear took over; she was so scared, terrified.

Yet her body was not helping her. It was deluded, and it sickened her. She was disgusted at the tingling in her cunt, at its persistence; she was appalled at the wetness oozing out of her, at its sticky warmth on her thighs; she was horrified that her flesh was ready, even eager, to copulate.

The tall man, the English speaker, was now holding his cock, stroking it slowly while centring his gaze on her vulva. His hard cock looked angry and powerful. Its girth was jaw dropping.

He spoke again. "Where we come from, the women do not shave their vulvas. It is a shame, for it truly is an attractive practice. I adore the unimpeded view. For whom do you shave? Your husband?"

Cassandra wanted to curl up, shrivel into nothing—vanish—and then awake from this nightmare.

"I asked you: For whom do you shave?" he repeated with quiet authority.

Obviously, Cassandra was not going to explain to these brutes that she didn't shave but instead was waxed. So she kept her answer short and simple.

"Yes, I shave for my husband," she said through a choked voice, praying that now that they thought that she was a married woman, they would lose interest or take pity and abandon their cruel game.

"A dutiful wife, indeed. And I would wager that you perform fellatio for your husband. Correct?"

Oh dear God, Oh Jesus in Heaven, please don't let them hurt me, prayed the previously agnostic Cassandra.

"I asked you: Do you suck your husband's penis?" he queried. His voice remained even toned, but his hand, meanwhile, quickened the stroking of his shaft.

Cassandra was lost and without hope. With resignation she whimpered, "Yes."

"Such a good wife!" the tall man exclaimed. "A man is blessed to have a wife such as you!"

He spoke again, the tall one, this time in that unintelligible tongue. His friends listened while the tall one chattered and pointed at her cunt. Near the end of his speech, he suggestively stuck his thumb in his mouth. His meaning was blatantly clear.

The short black one nodded, smiled, and replied in the mysterious language. When he finished replying, they all burst out laughing.

Eventually, the English speaker turned and addressed her. "Do you know what my friend says?"

Again in that voice—so deep, so unruffled.

She said nothing, looking only at her feet while shaking with terror.

"I asked you: Do you know what he says?" he repeated with otherworldly calmness.

Cassandra wanted to scream: How the fuck would I know what he says, you degenerate bastard!

But she didn't.

"No," she replied timidly.

"Well, allow me to translate. He agrees with me that your vulva is lovely. To be exact, he compared it to a blossoming flower, yet he is convinced that it is even more exquisite once its petals are coaxed open and covered in dew—a sight which the four of us await with eagerness," he added with unnerving serenity.

Cassandra visibly winced at his words and started to cry, yet he continued with his translation.

"My friend also said that only the prostitutes in the capital city of his country shave their vulvas and perform fellatio. So he is surprised that your husband would allow you to do these things and questions whether you are in fact married. But, he also added, whether married or not, he doubts that you are a prostitute, your predilection for fellatio and impaling yourself with inanimate objects notwithstanding. Nonetheless, he believes that you enjoy vigorous intercourse, and not just with bananas. Is he correct?"

Oh please, someone help me, she cried to herself.

A shiver ran along her spine. It was a wave of fear accented by the tiniest, yet undeniable, undercurrent of excitement, and it made her sick. She was incapable of answering, paralyzed by her demoralizing melange of emotions.

"Is he correct?" the tall man repeated.

Instinctively, she made a move to run, but the tall one grabbed her wrists. She struggled to get free, but his strong hands held her captive.

"No, no, no. Not like this. There is no way for you to escape," he stated bluntly.

"Why are you so rebellious?" he added with a more mellow tone. "We do not like the idea of forcing you. We would much rather that you cooperate. And we are convinced that you would experience intense physical pleasure from the four of us."

Oh my God, they will do with me what they want.

Cassandra was shaken by a deep sensation in which fear, disgust, loathing, and excitement were indistinguishable. The latter—excitement—was involuntary, a betrayal of her soul by her flesh, for her mind was decidedly aghast at her predicament. Perhaps as a weird reaction between her psyche—which wanted to flee her body—and her awful, overwhelming situation, she had a strange vision of herself as if she could see from without. She saw the scene from above, as if she had become for an instant the eye of the Sun. She saw a beautiful, mature American woman standing naked on a lonely beach, captured in her own land by four foreign men who appeared from nowhere and are ready to have their way with her. She saw their naked bodies close to each other, the woman kept in the middle as a prisoner, and the four robust men threatening and intimidating her with their impressive erections.

However, it was a temporary escape, for her state of mental displacement disappeared as suddenly as it had come. She was now back in the gruesome scene, sensing the frightening reality of the situation, that the men who surrounded her were intent on raping her. She was entirely at their mercy.

The tall one smiled: "You know, you have a delightful buttocks, and we love women with a shapely behind. It is a pity that in our lands that the women do not display it so shamelessly in public as you American women do here."

The derision and arrogance in his voice infuriated her. She reacted automatically and replied with defiance, "Here, we're free to do what we want. If in your country women are slaves, all the worse for you!"

Rage, fear, tension, and excitement were all boiling together in her emotional outburst.

He stared at her impassively for a long moment. Was this a decisive moment? Cassandra knew that if they wanted, they could take her by force, brutally showing her how much she was a slave in her own land. But there was a glint of admiration to his gaze.

The tall man continued to look at her straight in the eyes. It was a penetrating stare that burned her morale. He approached and stood close enough to Cassandra so that the tip of his hard cock poked her belly. She could feel its heat—it was like a branding iron, searing her abdomen. Then, with one hand he caressed her hip while with the other he squeezed one of Cassandra's breasts as if he were in a supermarket selecting fruit. While continuing to fix upon her eyes, he pinched her nipple, pulling it outward.

Her sigh surprised her, shocked her, and made her furious with herself.

"Yes, that felt good, did it not?" the tall one asked her.

She wanted to say, No. It did not! You're assaulting me, you fucking creep!

However, she was interrupted by a warm, heavy pressure on her buttocks. The short black man had just pushed his erection against her backside, near her anus. Simultaneously, the two other men closed in on her sides, also close enough to have their hard, large cocks lay against her flesh. She was their prisoner, and she could sense the scent of their male bodies, the strength of their muscles, and the fierceness of their desire.

Cassandra started to openly sob. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she heaved her shoulders in despair. All she could do was beg them not to harm her.

"Please. Please. I beg you. Please don't hurt me. I have money! Lots of it! Please—I can give you all you want!"

All four were now against her, their erections pressing against her, their immense upward-pointing shafts barricading her like a mare in a stall.

The tall one, who was in front of her, bent his head down to her ear and calmly whispered, "Oh, you shall give us what we want, but it shall not be money. Here is what will happen: You are going to have sex with us. You will choose with whom you will fuck, one at time. We will take turns enjoying ourselves—each of us with your beautiful body, and you with each one of us. When we are finished, we will leave you. You will be free.

"However, if you do not comply, if you resist, then we will take you simultaneously, by force and with brutality. I leave it to your imagination as to how you would accommodate our phalluses in such a situation. In addition, I cannot guarantee your safety in this circumstance.

"So, you see, we have given you a choice. Tell us, whom do you pick? Who will fuck you first? Do not hesitate, or we will take you at once."

Cassandra audibly and visibly bawled throughout the tall one's hushed speech. She had no choice: One way or the other, she was going to get raped. But in order to survive, she had to go through the humiliation of choosing her rapists, one by one.

The taller man stepped back. With slow, deliberate gestures, he caressed his penis and aimed it at Cassandra as an offering. Her eyes involuntarily fell on his long cock, on its uncovered crown coated with foamy moisture. It looked like a plum and against her will, her mouth watered.

He stroked it blatantly and commented with a honeyed voice, "This one? Do you want my cock first?"

His greasy, long-haired friend then stepped away from her and stood next to the tall one. He too, gripped his cock, pointing it at her in a sort of competitive display and as an inducement for her to choose him. His erection was shorter, but thicker, with veins that bulged out prominently, and in a way it looked more menacing and aggressive than the other. Cassandra couldn't help remembering that he had rubbed it against her hip.

The red-haired man now left her side and joined the other two. He stood sideways, showing Cassandra his cock, its length and girth as astounding and frightening as that of the others. The three men stood in front of Cassandra, stroking their cocks, obscenely displaying their hardness to her. She was trapped, and, in degradation, forced to compare the cocks of three bastards who had molested her so lewdly and were about to assault her so grievously.

Meanwhile, the black man still stood behind her, gripping her waist, his cock still pressed against her ass.

"It is time to choose," the tall one stated flatly.

Perhaps because she could not see him and because he was not part of the bizarre and nauseating display in front of her, Cassandra, through tears and a quaking voice filled with foreboding, said, "The man behind me."

The tall one translated. Exclamations, congratulations, and laughter erupted from all four men. The black man then guided her from behind, his cock continually poking her bum, towards her expensive batik.

When they reached the stretched-out fabric, the black man said something in the strange language.

"He wants to take you from behind. Get on your hands and knees," the tall one commanded pleasantly.

Cassandra's will and resistance was broken. As a self-preserving mechanism, Cassandra had shut her mind off in a desperate attempt to detach herself from her body. Robotically, she complied and accepted, adopting the posture of a mare ready to be mounted. She could not do anything else. She could only struggle in vain against their overwhelming male force.

A nonstop flood of tears sprung from Cassandra's eyes.

Yes, if you want me like this, subjugated and helpless, then go on, serve yourselves, take me. Enjoy my body. Give vent to all your lusts. I knew from the very beginning that it would come to this, with me at your mercy, impaled on your monstrous cocks, Cassandra cried to herself.

When she had assumed her position, the black man grabbed the inside of one of her knees, and pulled it outward, spreading and opening her sex. The black man's finger immediately stroked her cunt, at which point he excitedly shouted something in their tongue, causing the others to laugh.

The tall one spoke to the black man and then came close to Cassandra, knelt down in front of her, his cock inches from her face, and translated.

"My friend says that you are as slick and slippery as the hillside pathways after a heavy rain. We are delighted that you are so eager to fuck with us. Nonetheless, since he is the first, I have instructed him to enter you slowly before he becomes vigorous. We do not want your sex to become raw and sore prematurely.

Cassandra howled piteously at his words, words which reinforced both the terrifying events about to unfold and the duplicity of her body.

With his cock at Cassandra's opening, the black man started to inch his way into her while gripping her hips. As instructed, he progressed slowly, allowing Cassandra's body to adjust to his intrusion.

Cassandra gasped as the large cock began its gradual invasion. Through tears, she tried to take her mind of the indignity of her situation. She tried to think of other incongruous things, to divorce her mind from harsh reality. She succeeded for a while, considering various stock options, thinking of upcoming board meetings, and reflecting upon her childhood.

However, once the black man's cock was buried inside her and he began to slowly pump, Cassandra could no longer think about currency markets. She could only think about the massive cock inside her, about how it was lightly bumping her cervix. Her mind was still appalled at this assault—and would remain so during her entire ordeal—but her body was responding with acceptance.

"Oooh, you bastards!" she exhaled.

Yet, in contrast with her words and her wishes, she pushed back wantonly with her derriere, meeting one of his thrusts so that he impaled her wholly. It was the silent yet eloquent sign of her surrender.

Up to that time, the black man had been fucking her at his leisure—gently, one would say if it weren't for the gruesome fact that she was being raped—but when he saw Cassandra, his victim, respond and push back with her ass, he began to pound her.

Normally, Cassandra did not orgasm easily through intercourse; however, when the black man gripped her hips and began spearing her as hard as he could, she exploded. Despite her horror, her despondency, and her sorrow, and against her will, her body erupted violently. Her cunt quaked with tremors, sending waves to radiate and refract within her.

After Cassandra's orgasm, the black man lasted only several firm strokes before he pulled her back onto his cock as deep as possible and began to fill her core with his hot, magma-like cum. His ejaculation seemed to last forever, for when he withdrew his cock it still spurted so that he spattered her back with viscous, white-hot fluid. The earthy, pungent smell of his cum permeated the still air.

Throughout her rape by the black man, the tall one had remained in front of her, his cock inches from her head. He now spoke again.

"Very good, my love! You moan so wonderfully when you climax! With whom shall you copulate now?"

You fucking bastards! Wasn't it enough that you're going to fuck me against my will? What type of inhuman monsters would force me to choose my rapists?

The tall one pressed his cock into her face and said, "Choose, or you will fellate us while you copulate."

The heat of his cock seared her cheek. Frightened, she informed the group that the red-haired man was next.

Again, there was mirth and cajoling among the four thugs. The red-haired man approached Cassandra, who was still on all fours, and caressed her bum before he fingered her now sopping cunt and spoke in the foreign tongue.

"He wants you to lie on your back; he wants to look in your eyes while he fucks you."

Cassandra began to sob, but with no options at her disposal, she lay on her cum-soaked back as was demanded of her.

The red-haired man mounted her, slid his cock into her sodden sex, and began to rape her. At first she tried to lay impassively, but eventually the invasion of her body by the new cock caused her body to react. Her legs lifted involuntarily, allowing the man to plant himself completely into her. The man lay atop her, pressing his hairy chest into her breasts, with his face inches from hers while moving his massive erection inside her. He then spoke in the unknown language.

"Open your eyes," the tall one instructed her.

She did as she was told and was confronted by her attacker's eyes, inches away from hers. What she saw terrified her. Within his blue eyes she saw brutal power and strength, like an eon of hurricanes and tornadoes.

The red-haired man now gritted his teeth and fucked her as hard as he could. Cassandra screamed in distress, yet her flesh not only opened itself to his wild assault but also responded to his slamming by bucking back at his fearsome thrusts.

Her orgasm arrived with whirlwind rapidity. She threw her head back, still screaming, and soared out of control to her climax, all while he maintained the pounding of her cunt. Her climax was like a howling vortex of sensations, twisting her into the stratosphere, her body thundering with pulsations.

Cassandra, beside herself with grief over her physical reaction to the latest assault, cried yet again over her misfortune, all while the man continued to satisfy himself. However, to her relief, the red-haired man came quickly thereafter, initially spurting inside her, but then withdrawing to spray her tits and belly with an inhuman volume of cum. When he finished discharging, he said something to his cohorts, and disengaged himself from Cassandra.

After the red-haired man had finished with her, the tall one knelt next to her. He lay his huge organ across her face. Cassandra was impassive, emotionally spent.