tagGroup SexZanny: Performance Ch. 3

Zanny: Performance Ch. 3


Zanny 3: The Performance

She didn’t know how long she remained on the floor, her clothes twisted and torn, her body aching and bruised from the rape, her emotions slowly ebbing back from the dizzying heights of shameful ecstasy she’d encountered, totally unexpected and shocking in their intensity. Now she needed time. Time to recover from her ordeal, time to try and regain some composure, time to think of what she should do next. As long as she didn’t move her two assailants didn’t bother her., and that was enough for now. She only hoped that, having had their way with her, they’d just leave. Just get up and leave her here.

But they showed no sign of leaving. Instead Doc and Z just sat there on the other side of the room on boxes and abandoned furniture, talking softly, laughing occasionally, smoking. Were they waiting for her to recover so they could fuck her again? Or were they just waiting for the rain to stop?

She was slightly sore, her body covered with perspiration. The rain outside, falling with a steady drum on the roof of the abandoned warehouse, was doing nothing to reduce the intense heat or stifling humidity, and she could feel a rivulet of sweat running down her chest and between her bare breasts, just as she could feel Z’s semen dripping from her pussy and Doc’s discharge drying on her face and hair.

Her immediate problem was not her fear, she realized, but how she could regain some shred of dignity after the mind-shattering orgasm she’d just experienced, caused by these strangers’ callous use of her body. For, despite the horror and brutality of her ordeal, she had orgasmed with a ferocity and depth like she’d never known before, and her overwhelming ecstasy had been impossible to deny or disguise. She had become a willing and eager participant in her own rape, writhing and screaming out her pleasure like a bitch in heat, urging them to fuck her harder and deeper, and even at the end, begging for their come like the lowest type of whore. There was no way now that she could face them with any sort of self respect, not after they’d seen this lewd display of slutty depravity on her part.

She knew that her behavior had shocked them as well. She could hear it in the tone of their voices, the occasional chuckle. This was a lot more than they had bargained for when they pulled her off the street and carried her struggling and kicking into this abandoned building. No doubt they were prepared for a quick rape of a girl too good to pass up. They hadn’t expected to find a sexual tigress who took all they dished out and begged for more, who grew more aroused the more brutal they became, whose final screams of release raised the hairs on the backs on their necks.

Their talking ended with a sudden burst of laughter. The two men slapped palms, stood up and stretched, and while the white guy—the one called Doc—spoke softly into his cell phone, the black guy came over to her, a shy smile on his face.

“Hey.” he said, “how you doin’?”

Zanny didn’t move, but she knew she wasn’t fooling him. He knelt down by her.

“Here,” he said, holding out the bottle, “drink this.” She realized that there was no sense in playing any longer. And Z’s attitude had changed. The threat was gone. She raised herself up on one arm, took the bottle from him, and cautiously took a sip.

It was wine, sweet and warm, the bottle half full. But at least it cleaned the taste of semen from her mouth. She thought of washing her mouth and spitting it out, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that. She swallowed it.

The alcohol and the sugar immediately warmed her body. She handed the bottle back to Z but he shook his head.

“Keep it.” he said with a smile, handing her the cap.

The wine cleared her head somewhat, and she took stock of her situation. Other than a little of the usual sexual soreness, she wasn’t in too bad a shape. The main thing that concerned her was the fantastic intensity of her orgasm. Even now her legs were still trembling and she didn’t know if she could stand. Worse than the physical symptoms, though, was her own shock at her behavior. She suddenly felt as if she didn’t know herself any more, as if there was another girl inside her, a stranger, and she was trying to figure out where this person had come from.

She raised the bottle and took another drink. Doc suddenly came over, snapping his cell phone shut.

“Hey, hey!” he said, taking the bottle from her “That’s enough! That’s enough for now. Don’t want you to get too high.” He held the bottle to the light and checked the level.

He squatted down and looked at her. “I’m Doc,” he said. “and this is Z. What’s your name?”

“Zanny.” she said. “It’s Suzanna, but they call me Zanny.”

“Okay, Zanny.” he said. “You all right?”

She nodded.

“Hey, sorry about all that, you know? Hope we didn’t mess you up too much. Kind of got carried away, you know?”

She nodded again, not knowing what else to do.

“But you got to admit you were kind of asking for it, you know? Walking around here all dressed up like that, a hot looking bitch like yourself. Hell, Z here thought you was a working girl, you know?”

She didn’t say anything for a while. What could she say? She had been asking for it. She knew she had been asking for it. And they’d given it to her.

Doc seemed to have trouble with what he was going to say. Finally he gave a short laugh. “You are one fucking hot piece of ass, you know that Zanny? Ain’t that right, Z?”

“Fuckin ay!” “Yeah I never seen a bitch come like that, Baby.” he said. “One hot piece of ass, no lie!”

Zanny realized that he meant that as a compliment, and despite herself, she felt her cheeks color, but she didn’t know whether she was blushing from shame or from pride.

Doc suddenly stood up.

“Come on, Baby.” he said to her, extending her hand. “We got to go.”

At this Zanny looked up at him fearfully. “Go where?” she asked.

“Someplace clean and dry.” he said. “You don’t want to lay around in this funky dump till the cops come. Let’s go.”

“I want to go home.” Zanny said.

“Yeah, you will, baby, you will. We’ll take you home. But first we just want you to meet some people. You’re all right, Zanny. We like you. We just want to show you around. Make you introductions, you know? Come on, it’s not far. Then we’ll get you home.”

She knew she wasn’t thinking clearly as she let them help her to her feet. She checked herself out. Aside from losing her knickers and the buttons from her blouse, her clothes were not in bad shape, just all in disarray, and they waited while she did her best to arrange them. She would have to hold her blouse closed with her hands though.

“I can’t go anywhere like this.” she said.

“We’ll take care of that.” Doc said. “That ain’t nothing. We’ll get you all set up, Baby.”

They gave her purse back, Z even putting her money back in her wallet, then they walked out into the night.

The rain had stopped, though thunder still rumbled in the distance, and the air still had a tense, expectant feel as they guided her along the wet and misty streets. Zanny knew something was wrong with her. She should have been frightened, she should have been protesting, but she wasn’t. She didn’t seem to care. If anything, her present circumstance seemed almost laughable, walking along with her two rapists, the feel of sex still warm between her legs. She felt detached, above it all. and instead of worrying about where they were going, she found herself fascinated by the shadowy play of light on the misty street, the grays and blacks in the shadows, the pale yellow of the street lamps. It was a scene of strange and mysterious beauty and she couldn’t understand how she had never noticed it before.

She realized then that the wine had probably been drugged.

She had to speak slowly in order to get her words out. “What was in that wine?” she asked.

“You don’t worry.” Z said.

“Just something to relax you.” Doc said. “It won’t hurt you.”

She wanted to laugh, it seemed so absurd. And the fact was, she felt very good. The night seemed magical, her two assailants like perfect gentlemen as they helped her down the street and into a parked car, a new car, whose perfect condition and gleaming finish seemed totally out of place against the dirty streets and dilapidated buildings.

She lost track of where they were going or how long it took to get there, fascinated with exploring the delicious intoxication that had her floating several inches above the car seat.. When the car stopped it looked as though they were in the same neighborhood: the same shadowy empty buildings, deserted streets. But the low building they stopped before was obviously inhabited, despite attempts to make it look empty. The air seemed to throb with life and the lot beside it was filled with cars. When they pulled up, two men emerged from the shadows to checked them out.

They led her around to a side door, and when their knock was answered and the door opened, a shaft of blue light spilled out, accompanied by a blast of music and smoke. A club of some kind.

A man in a tuxedo came out. He was small and compact, with a head of curly salt-and-pepper hair, and he seemed to know Doc and Z. The three of them were engaged in some sort of discussion, low and intense, involving money. Zanny tried to pay attention, but she simply couldn’t concentrate. The door was halfway open and she was trying to see into the club, but she couldn’t see past the brightness of the light by the door. She was excited about being at a club. She could hear the music and she found that she wanted to dance, to move.

The man was going on about some entertainers who hadn’t shown up for work, cursing them because he had a full house. He said that several times, that he had a full house and no entertainment.

Then she tuned out. Or rather, she fixed her attention on herself. She was swaying ever so slightly to the beat, and she was aware or the feel of her own body; the feel of her clothes on her skin, the play of her muscles as she shifted from foot to foot. It felt glorious just to move to the music, just to let it take her mind away and concentrate on the feel of her own body. She had to repress a smile.

Max—that apparently was his name--was suddenly looking at her, looking her up and down. She was used to that; used to men staring at her, and it didn’t bother her. She knew he was admiring her, and she knew that she was terribly sexy and seductive. She could feel it. No man could resist her the way she felt now, and she let him look, concentrating on the music and ignoring him.

The next thing she knew there was a woman standing with them, heavily made up and wearing a robe. The woman looked about mid-thirties and smiled at Zanny. Zanny smiled back.

Then Max was shaking Doc and Z’s hands. He turned and went inside, and Doc turned to Zanny and said in her ear, “This is Tina. She’s going to take you inside and get you cleaned up, get you some new clothes. Okay? You understand?”

Yes, Zanny nodded, still swaying to the music, she understood.

“We’ll wait for you inside, okay?” “Okay.” she said.

Z stepped forward. “You want some more wine?” he asked her.

“No,” Doc said, “she’s okay. Let’s not overdo it.”

All Zanny wanted to do now was dance, but Tina took her hand and led her into the club, down through a brightly lit corridor, chatting and fussing over Zanny like a mother hen. “I can’t believe what they did to you, baby, those bastards, but they’re good boys mostly and don’t mean to hurt anyone. They must have got carried away, the way you look and all. But let’s not think about that. Let’s get you all cleaned up cause I know you’re gonna knock these bastards dead.”

She opened a door to a quiet, carpeted room or suite. “The dressing room” she said.

Zanny didn’t object when Tina undressed her and steered her into the shower, nor even when Tina helped wash her back. By now she was in a world where nothing seemed to matter, where everything that happened happened miles and miles away. Tina dried her off, did Zanny’s makeup and got her some stockings and a dress with no resistance from Zanny at all. She didn’t mind that she wasn’t given any underwear. The soft stretchy fabric caressed and squeezed her body in all the right places and felt very good on her skin. It made her feel wonderfully sexy, and she could tell from the look in Tina’s eyes that the woman thought so too.

She watched it all with amused detachment while Tina talked to her as if she were a child, and the only time Zanny showed any sign of even being there was when Tina chose the lipstick to put on Zanny’s mouth. Then Zanny shook her head and picked another color with more of an orange tint. She knew that she looked better in orange, and as Tina did her lips, she had to agree.

Still in a dream, Tina led her from the room, down the corridor and finally into the dim blue light of the club itself, where at last she could feel the beat of the music in her body, the throb of the bass and drums. The dress felt exquisite against her skin as she began to move her hips to the music, but Tina took her hand and led her firmly towards the back of the club. It was very dark but Zanny had the impression of a maze of small tables with chest-high partitions providing some symbolic privacy. Men, very well dressed, most of them older than what she’d expect on a place like this, some of them in formal wear; and women much younger; the glimmer of too much jewelry, too much skin showing; perfume and smoke thick in the air.

Tina led her to a table in the back and sat her down. There was a man in a tuxedo sitting at the table smiling at her. He looked familiar to Zanny but she couldn’t place him, and it took her a moment before she realized with a start that it was Doc. Tina said something to Doc and then turned to Zanny and gave her a kiss on the cheek and patted her shoulder. “Break a leg.” she said, and she walked off.

The change in Doc from the rapist of earlier that night was bewildering, and Zanny laughed, not knowing what to say. She wanted to tell him what had happened to her as well, but all she could do was indicate her dress and say “Wow!”

Doc smiled at her and poured her some champagne from a bottle that was cooling in a bucket. He seemed very sophisticated, very much in control. She wondered whether the champagne too was drugged, but she really didn’t much care. Whatever the drug was, it was most agreeable. She liked the way she felt, sexy and relaxed and confident. She drank the champagne greedily; it tasted so good.

She was going to ask him about Z when Max came over and leaned over the table to speak with Doc. Whatever they were talking about seemed important, but she couldn’t concentrate. She was too busy drinking her champagne and looking at all the people. None of the riffraff she’d usually see at the clubs she knew, this crowd--the men at least-- reeked of money and privilege.

“Ten minutes.” Max was saying to Doc. “And you’d better be fucking ready!”

“We’re ready.” Doc said. “I just got to warm her up a little.”

“Well I’d suggest you get to it.” Max walked off.

Looking around the room, Zanny caught the eye of a couple sitting at the next table. The man was in his 40’s, slim, athletic, with salt-and-pepper hair and a bored look on his face. He looked her up and down with frank admiration and smiled at her. There was no mistaking that look. He was with a blond woman whose hair was pulled back in a severe bun. She wore a rhinestone choker and matching earrings, and she regarded Zanny with jealous arrogance.

Zanny looked away, and noticed that there was some sort of a stage or platform at the far end of the room, and in front of that am area cleared for a dance floor, though no one was using it.

“I want to dance” Zanny said.

Doc raised an eyebrow and smiled at her. “How do you feel?”

“I feel good.” she said. “Let’s dance.”

“Not now, Baby.” Doc said, putting his glass down and shifting his chair over closer to her. “Let’s do something else.”

He put one hand around her chair and held her face with the other. His mouth came down on hers in a very tender, teasing kiss, and his tongue licked her lower lip before he took it in his teeth and gently bit her.

The sensation jolted Zanny like an electric shock. She forgot everything but the feel of his lips on hers, the kiss bypassing all her thinking and going right down to her erotic core. It was as if she’d been primed and ready for this, waiting only for this kiss to set her off. She was suddenly terribly aroused, and when he broke away from her she was almost panting.

“God you are hot.” he said.

He kissed her again and she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tight. She forgot all about the people around them, several of whom had turned to watch quite openly, including the man with the salt-and-pepper hair and his blond companion. Zanny didn’t even notice them. She squeezed Doc, wanting to feel him against her breasts. He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back while he licked and bit at her throat. His other hand made contact with her stocking on the inside of her leg just above the knee, and she felt a hungry twinge in her pussy that made her gasp.

One part of her mind told her that it was the drug making her feel this way, but she didn’t care. She only knew how she felt, and she was desperate for his touch, for his hands on her body. She felt strangely soft and female, and she yearned to feel his male hardness against her.

Still holding her head back by her hair, Doc slid his hand up the inside of her thigh, higher, higher. Zanny’s chair squeaked loudly on the floor as she pushed away from the table and opened her legs for him, raising the hem of her dress. The sound of the chair caused heads to turn but she didn’t care. She didn’t notice them.

“Oh my God!” she moaned, “Touch me! Touch me!”

His mouth cut her off as he kissed her again and she opened her own to take his tongue deep inside, sucking hungrily on it. She moaned loudly into his mouth as his fingers found her sex at last, and pure pleasure shot through her.

A few people chuckled and a male voice said, “Yeah! Give it to her!” With a flush of embarrassment Zanny heard the women murmuring in disapproval, but she could not seem to collect herself. She was on fire with lust.

Her hips began to buck slowly yet convulsively at Doc’s seeking fingers, and Zanny had to hold on to the arms of her chair for fear of falling off. She could no longer control her body which seemed to have a mind of its own. She half slouched in her chair, her legs spread lewdly as she ground her hips up at Doc’s finger sliding slowly up and down the soft, exposed lips of her sex.

Some of the men nearby began to clap and even whistle and Zanny heard them turn their chairs to get a better view. She knew what she must look like with her dress up around her hips and her ass rolling hungrily in the chair, but she was helpless to stop herself. Instead she tore her lips from Doc’s and grabbed a hold of Doc’s wrist, trying to pull his hand tight against her pussy and whispered, “Put your finger in me! Finger fuck me. Please!”

Again the applause and whistling, cries of encouragement.

“Hey man, I’ll do her!” someone called, and the notion was seconded by a chorus of male voices.

Doc let her go, removed his hand from between her legs, leaving Zanny slumped in her chair, eyes closed, fighting to keep her composure. The rush of hormones she’d experienced seemed to have washed away some of the drugged high, and she was aware that she had made a spectacle of herself again. She straightened herself in her chair, ran her hand through her disheveled hair, and tried to become invisible.

My God, what’s wrong with me? she thought. But before she could formulate the beginning of an answer, Doc took her hand and stood up. “Let’s go.” he said.

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