The Right Place at the Wrong Time Ch. 02

A/N: I wasn't planning on continuing this (been working on some longer more involved stories) but once a seed is planted it's hard not to cultivate.

I couldn't move. I didn't want to move. My whole body thrummed in pleasure. I felt fucked up. Ruined. What was wrong with me? Why had I cum so hard from that? I trembled in the wake of dark sticky fantasy made reality.

I remembered there was an audience to my humiliation and violation and began to cry anew, silently this time, mourning the loss of my innocence, my shame dulled by the tingling rush in my head. I prayed the security footage would never leak, and that no one had been recording on their phone.

Blue gazed down at me, in the horrible tense silence, eyes glassy and satisfied, staring at my freshly fucked, cum soaked body until his breathing calmed. He turned to the other robbers, "Who's next?"

My heart leaped into my throat, no please no... The horrible pregnant silence was pierced by a loud 'TINK' sound, metal on marble, then whatever it was, clattering to a stop somewhere between us and the main entrance.

"Tear gas!" someone yelled, before a hissing noise filled the air.

"Masks on!" Blue yelled with a deep booming voice that made me flinch. All the men with Numbered ski masks started running towards the entrance, finding cover to peek out from, ready to fight the cops with full face gas masks protecting them.

Before I could even think about crawling away, Blue scooped me up, put a gas mask on me, and laid me over his shoulder. The four men with colored ski masks, Blue, Red, Green, and Orange, started heading down the stairs leading deeper into the bank, with me and the duffel bags full of money.

I tried to shout for help, but the mask muffled me. Orange, a massive tree of a man walking behind us, with biceps bigger than my head, laughed at me then wagged his finger in reproach like I'd been an unruly child. I glared at him, and he smirked at me from behind the mask, gazing unabashedly at my hanging breasts, swinging with the momentum of Blue's gait.

Much to my surprise there was a large hole cut into the ground right in front of the main vault. Orange went first, then Blue passed me to him. Blue was strong, but Orange was stronger, my weight effortless for him.

When all four men were down the hole, the platform they stood on descended with a mechanical whirring, collapsing like a cherry picker down into a narrow, clearly custom built boat, designed to skim shallow water, and take advantage of the sewer channel running below the bank.

In seconds we were speeding away, and in less than a minute we were leaving the sewer through a side channel, with the iron bars normally blocking it cut through, leading out into what looked like a forest preserve. Nearby, at a turnabout that ended the single lane packed dirt road, and gave way to a wilderness trail, sat a stretch limousine; lights off and engine idling, and seemingly waiting just for us.

Blue got in the driver's seat, while the rest of us got in the back. There was someone already inside. A woman, young, beautiful, and naked, with bright red hair and expressive green eyes. She lay lounging across the bench seat, sipping a fruity cocktail. Her eyes lit up when she saw us, glancing curiously at me for a moment, before all her attention was for the two men now grabbing at her.

Red and Green went to her as a pair, undoing their clothes just enough to begin fucking her. One in her ass, the other in her pussy. She looked delighted and transported, sandwiched between them, moaning and gurgling her encouragements to the pair, with an arm around either one, kissing them in turns.

Orange took the back seat, and sat me next to him. He used a wet napkin to clean what cum still clung to me, then dried me with a plush towel. After, he dragged me into his lap, facing me outwards to watch the threesome happening two feet from us. He let his hands wander, and tore the remaining scraps of my clothes off until I was as naked as the other girl. With my wrists still bound behind me, my hands lay right in his lap. He was already hard, pulsing gently against me, and it felt as massive as the rest of him.

He pulled off his mask and my heart sank. He didn't care if I saw his face.

The reality of my situation settled in. Four strange men had just robbed a bank and taken me hostage. My time as a hostage was apparently to be spent as their sexual plaything. The part of me that expected to be fucked was vibrating in anticipation. The part of me that thought I might be dead inside the next seventy two hours threatened to send me tumbling into a panic attack. I knew the statistics of things like this. It rarely ended well for pretty young women kidnapped by evil men.

"You have a lovely body," Orange said in deep rich, heavily accented voice that implied English was his second language. His words rumbled through my head where I lay against his chest. "I can see why he picked you."

There was something about the juxtaposition of her nakedness and mine, with the men still mostly clothed, that turned me to jelly. My helplessness, instead of making me afraid was just adding fuel to the fire inside me. He was going to do whatever he wanted and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. That fact pierced through me like a blade, white hot, sending a chill through me. With the memory of cumming harder than I'd ever experienced before, being raped on the floor in front of my friends and coworkers, anticipation won over fear. Shame welled in me, and big fat tears started leaking out, but it only made me hotter, and wetter, my clit aching hard begging for touch. Maybe I was nothing more than a cock hungry rape slut.

I had read a thousand stories that wove a tale like this. I knew my lines.

My voice was a trembling, wavering, tiny thing, but I managed to eek out, "what are you going to do to me?"

Orange kissed his way up my neck, fondling my breasts, and playing with my aching hard nipples, pulling whimpers from me and making me squirm in his lap. "We are thieves, and we steal what we want," he said, silkily into my ear then kissing his way down lightly. One of his hands slid slowly and sensuously down my belly until he was gently and firmly cupping the whole of my sex with his massive hand, "and today... we wanted you," he growled into my neck, kissing down and then out across my shoulder like he was cherishing a familiar lover.

I trembled in his grip, clit hard enough to etch glass, as he rubbed gently down there and in seconds his whole palm was sticky, spreading my juices noisily around. I whined and arched and palmed his cock through his pants, trying to pretend it was an accident. He was huge, and hard as a steel bar, and any second now he was going to throw me on the floor and fuck me mercilessly with it.

Across from us the girl was cumming her brains out. She'd be screaming but Green had two fingers down her throat making her suck and gag on them, cheeks hollowed in effort, muffling her passionate cries. Red behind her was railing her ass like it was the last chance he was ever going to get, grunting and snarling like a beast, while Green fucked her pussy slow and gentle, his other hand working her clit firmly in little circles. She thrashed between them but had nowhere to go.

Mortified, I realized that part of me was jealous, that she got to experience things I'd only ever fantasized about, and wondered if I was next. I'd never had anything in my ass before. I was afraid it would hurt. I would afraid I would like. I was afraid that I would like that it hurts.

The girl across from us was cumming again, eyes rolling, shrieking and moaning with both men forced to keep her from thrashing out from between them. She seemed like she liked it in the ass a lot.

I squeaked quietly in surprise as Orange placed me on the seat next to him. He swiftly undid his pants, freeing his enormous cock.

For a moment, fear took over.

The fear must have been obvious on my face, because he chuckled, "do not worry, little one, I know, it is the biggest you've ever seen, I get it all the time, and no, I'm not going to fuck you with it, much as I would like. Blue would be so sad if I ripped you in half on the ride home!"

He laughed at his own joke, while putting an arm around my waist to pull me flush against him. His arm felt like corded steel around me, and I melted, shivering against him.

"No, come girl, kiss and lick it, like ice cream cone. Sweet and slow. Suck on head a while. Lick balls. Easy peasy. You will be a good girl for me, yes? I would hate to have to punish you. I am very horny from watching Blue fuck you, and I want my turn," he ended lightly.

I didn't want to know what sort of fucked up punishment he had in store for me if I refused. I didn't even want the image of it rattling around in my head, just in case it aligned with one of my kinks. I didn't want the temptation, and especially didn't want them discovering what I was into.

There'd be no end. No limits. No restraint. They would unleash their lusts. They'd see a chance to fulfill every depraved fantasy they'd ever had. I'd be forced to debase myself in a thousand humiliating ways I'd never recover from. They would go hunting for my limits, and then find few, and then I would truly be lost. Blue already knew enough, that the harder he forces me the wetter I'll be for him; the harder I'll cum. That was already far too much.

Women who cum like demons from rape and humiliation are no doubt the highest valued targets for the worst sorts of men, and deep down, I was terrified that if my deepest darkest fantasies were enacted, nothing would ever compare, and I'd forever be chasing that high. I was already having a difficult time reconciling that the best fuck I'd ever had was being raped on the floor in front of a crowd of friends and coworkers.

So I slid to the plush carpeted floor of the limo, and leaned in, closing my eyes, kissing the massive cock of one of the men who kidnapped me like he was a long lost lover. I kissed it over and over, wetly, sloppily, trying to find a new spot each time, rubbing my face against that pulsing heat until he tells me to start licking, all the while I'm clenching and oozing and aching. I press my thighs together and rub just to feel the delicious slip and slide of my pussy lips. I wish my hands were free to rub my clit, then realize how that would look, to masturbate while being forced.

The fantasies bloom in my mind's eye uncontrollably. Would they take me as a pair like the girl writhing and moaning across from us? Maybe all four at once? There's a story I like, that I've read over and over, about a girl who gets put in a pillory for slave training. She doesn't like sucking cock, you see, has a sensitive gag reflex, so they have man after man fuck her, as hard as they can, one after the other, her pussy soon overflowing with cum, but they don't let her orgasm. The men stop inside her for long breaks, or pull out entirely, pausing every time she gets close.

She feels like she's losing her mind and she can't decide which is worse, the throbbing ache when they stop just a hair's breadth from letting her cum, or when she gets to feel the men cum inside her, their groans of satisfaction in cruel juxtaposition to her desperate need.

All the while, the master trainer stands before her, his extra long cock out and hard, aimed at her, and he strokes it slow, and rubs it on her face and especially her lips, and tells her over and over, that she will only get to come when he does, with her nose pressed flat to his pelvis, cock buried as deep into her throat as it can go.

Soon she is bucking and screaming and begging for an orgasm. Edged more times than she can count, her cunt is a raw, aching, grasping thing, her feet sliding in a mix of men's cum and her own juices sliding down her legs. She begs to suck the slave master's cock.

She tries to fight her gag reflex and fails, but the slave master is merciless now that he's inside her. He gags her over and over, purposefully, counting the seconds and making her go for longer and longer, and deeper and deeper each time, and soon, the more insidious plan emerges. They start timing their fucking and edging with the deepest thrusts, until they are entwined, and every time she gags on the master's cock, her clit throbs, and her desperate aching hole clenches down on whoever's cock is currently fucking it.

When her throat is empty, so is her cunt, left to squeeze down on nothing, to feel empty, and hollowed out as more cum and wet is sent dripping down her legs in the wake of another denial.

It takes forever for the slave master to work his cock all the way down, and even longer for him to do it with her lips tightened round and sucking all the while, and when he finally arrives, snarling his triumphant claiming of the pleasures of the deepest parts of her, and they finally, finally let her cum, she almost passes out from the intensity, screaming incoherently around the cock her in throat, and thrashing noisily in her bondage. They make it a good one, letting the trainer with the thickest cock fuck her as hard and deep as he can all the way through her orgasm until she hangs slack, whimpering.

Slow enough to make a point the slave master drags his cock out. She doesn't gag. He makes her kiss it, and thank it for teaching her and training her. I've usually edged myself at least once if not twice by the time I get to that part.

They lead her to rest and let her bask in the warmth of afterglow and soft silk sheets, that cradle her with a surprising weight for how plush they are. She cannot recall feeling more satisfied, or more drained.

The next day, to her horror, is a repeat of the day before. Now though, she finds that when she gags on a cock, she gets soaking wet almost instantly. The master trainer repeats the same lesson over and over, day in and day out, until she can orgasm just from feeling a cock cum in her throat. Unfortunately for her, without any direct stimulation, the orgasms are small, and unsatisfying, only serving to increase her frustration as they use the cruelty of edging and denial to train her. Soon they are making her earn the frustrating mini orgasms instead of just torturing her with dozens of them in a row, because even those are better than the cold hard edge of sudden denial just before finding satisfaction. Slowly and painstakingly they shape her into their ideal sextoy, with full blown orgasms becoming more and more rare, with steeper, and more humiliating requirements to earn them.

It's usually around the time they bring out the chastity belt with shifting toys inside meant to endlessly tease and edge her that I cum magnificently.

I listen to Orange's rumbling hums and groans of pleasure that shoot through me like lightning as I lick his throbbing flesh. I lick until I can taste precum leaking from him. He pulls me up and I stretch my mouth as wide as it can go, to suck on the giant head of his gargantuan cock. I can't even get the whole thing in my mouth, but he doesn't seem to care, just ordering me to suck harder, and swirl my tongue more. My jaw starts to ache.

His breathing turns rough, and in a gravely rumble, he tells me to suck his balls and look up at him, so I do. I watch as he strokes himself, using my spit as lube as I suck and lick and juggle his balls in my mouth. I watch as he comes undone, his mouth opening wide in a shout as he explodes, cum falling across my face in thick ropes. I close my eyes, shrieking lightly in surprise.

"Keep sucking," he chants through it, moaning soft and low, "yes pretty girl, keep going, suck my balls while I paint your face with my cum."

The whole thing was so hot I was kneeling in a wet puddle of my own juices. If he'd been my lover I'd have been begging him to finger me, or eat me, or jerking him as hard as I could to get him hard again to fuck me. Instead, I keep sucking on his balls until he tells me to stop.

I leaned back, working the soreness from my jaw. Orange leaned forward, and cradled my face. I closed my eyes and tried not to blush at the intimacy as he, surprisingly gently, massaged my jaw. I groaned, and then lost the battle against blushing. I kept my eyes closed, too embarrassed to make eye contact.

"Open your eyes, beautiful."

Bastard...

He was gazing down at me, glassy eyed and reverent. He took two thick fingers and scooped up some of the cum covering my face, and held it to me.

"Suck."

A simple command, spoken simply, and expectantly. I looked down, demurely, and opened my mouth, blushing even harder.

"Look at me while you do it," the fucking bastard said, "and suck, like you're sucking a cock."

It took ages. He left me sucking his fingers long after they were clean, making me change speeds, and technique. And he grabbed so little cum each time it was eight rounds before he couldn't find anymore. He even checked behind my ears.

It was long enough to have kept me thoroughly distracted from where we were going, which, as it turned out, was far out in the countryside. Orange had allowed me to sit up, but kept me close, and fondled me casually all the while.

Meanwhile Green and Red had swapped tempo. Now Green was frantic, pounding her pussy with abandon, while Red was content to fuck her ass slow and deep, spending long moments buried in her, sucking and kissing her neck.

Out the window was nothing but farmland. Where on earth were we going?

I was going to be isolated. Far from civilization. Was I deluding myself? Had any chance of escape already passed me by?

Slowly, two fingers thicker than my ex boyfriend's dick slid into my pussy. I moaned, too turned on to stop myself. He had been teasing me for so long, and then watching him cum...

Orange started exploring, fingering me gently, and rubbing my clit in turns while I lay half draped across him, using his other hand to fondle my breasts and tease my nipples, making me shiver and gasp as he chased my pleasure.

My imagination runs rampant. My worst fears seem to loom before me in the immediate, paralyzing me. The thought that men like these men might figure out how ruled I am by my sexuality, how utterly depraved my mind is, fills me with dread.

I have a deep and erotic fascination with stories about women who are made to perform sexually through tease and denial. I always try and edge myself as long as the women in the stories are edged, but I never even get close. My fear is that my fascination with those stories is because deep down I know that would work on me. Even worse, the more degrading and humiliating the acts she's made to do, the harder I get off. It's a vicious cycle that I was terrified would be used against me.

Another one of my favorite stories blossoms in my mind's eye. It's science fiction. This poor girl is captured by slavers, and instead of being sold into sexual servitude as the other women she's captured with, she is selected by the Captain to keep.

Each new slave is tested you see, to discover what types of torment they are susceptible to. Some women will cum violently from pain. These are always of high value to the slavers. Other's are so demure only pleasure based torments, like orgasm denial, or feather play can bend them into the perfect sexual slaves they desire them to be with out breaking them, perfect for tamer more romantic clients. Other's are resilient enough to stand regular use in brothels. Some are of exquisite type both in form and in sensitivity and train-ability; these are of course reserved for the highest bidder.

To her great misfortune it is through a series of specific attributes the Captain had been looking for that she had been selected for so dubious an honor as Crew Whore. Among them, high sensitivity and pleasure threshold, resiliency to repeated use and low level pain, high susceptibility to orgasm denial training, and most importantly, and worst of all for the poor girl, she required clitoral stimulation to orgasm.