Virtual Slavery Ch. 12bywltedford©
"No!." I pleaded.
"Oh yes. Now I can't pull you through the window. But I want you to stay calm and listen: I promise I will not let you go without cutting you. You don't want that. It will hurt and be messy, blood all over everything, leave a scar that will mar your beauty. Ruin your whole night."
"I'll give you my money."
"We want more than your money. But we thank you for your generosity and will take that too."
And then things happened too fast. The door opened and I was pulled into the van. Other men were in the back. Hands dragged me to a bare mattress. I heard the passenger door slam behind me, felt the van accelerate. Three or four guys held me down. A hand covered my mouth. Instinctively I bit and tasted blood. "The bitch bit me," someone shouted. A stinging slap to my face. I struggled and twisted, but there were too many of them. And there was a knife. It appeared in front of my eyes. I froze.
"That's right. Calm down. Be still. Very, very still."
I was on my back. There were four of them, in addition to the two in front, all young, all white, wearing jeans and khakis and t-shirts. The van stopped. A traffic light. There must be other vehicles, other people only a few feet away but hopelessly distant. The van started to move again.
My shoes had fallen off. Hands held my wrists above my head; hands held my ankles.
The one with the knife had short blond hair and was not bad looking. His eyes held mine.
"Make room for me." The voice came from the front seat as the guy who had first grabbed me came back.
The guy with the knife reached down slowly and pulled the top of my dress away from my breasts. The van was swaying.
"Don't move," he said. "Be very, very still." And sliced through the flimsy material.
A collective intake of breath as five sets of eyes avidly devoured my body.
"What great tits."
A hand caught my g-string, pulled it tight, separating my pussy lips, cutting into me, until it snapped, and I was completely naked.
"Don't hurt me," I begged.
"That's up to you, babe," the blond said. "That's up to you. You want to survive the night more or less intact, you make us happy. It's going to happen one way or the other, but how is up to you." He moved the knife slowly from side to side. "You know what I'm saying?"
I just lay there still frozen, still not believing this was real.
"Let go of her ankles."
I felt hands release them, but others still held my wrists. The van was stopping and starting, still in traffic. I wondered where we were.
"You going to be a good little whore and make us happy?"
I nodded. I tried to hold it in, but a tear slid down my cheek.
Someone laughed. Someone said, "Poor baby." The blond said, "Good. Spread your legs."
I opened them a few inches. "Further, bitch." I raised my knees and let them fall wide apart. As though that were the starting signal, hands and mouths engulfed me. One breast was grabbed, the nipple squeezed. A mouth surrounded the other nipple. Fingers plunged into my cunt. "She's wet," a voice cried triumphantly. Hands caught my hair and twisted my head back painfully so a cock could be pushed into my mouth.
We all slid to one side as the van swung in a wide right turn before straightening and accelerating to a much higher speed. I realized that we must have gone onto one of the freeways. When the van steadied they began to rape me.
Although I let them do what they wanted, although I even tried to please them, to bring them release, it was rape pure and simple. I was helpless and I was terrified of the knife, the knives, for there were at least two. But even as I groveled, even as I said, "I'll do anything. Just don't hurt me. Just let me go when it's over." I was amazed and horrified to find that some dark hidden corner of me was actually excited by my situation.
Anonymous cocks filled my cunt and mouth, shot their loads of cream down my throat or deep inside me, and were immediately replaced by others. There was no talk of condoms here. Who knows what diseases they were giving each other and me. I gagged. I sucked. I was on my back with a body heavy on me. I was on my hands and knees, with a cock slamming into me from behind and another fucking my mouth. Hands tugged and twisted my bruised dangling breasts.
"Move back on it, bitch." I felt the head of a cock at the entrance to my ass. Enough come had flowed into the crack to lubricate me. I pressed back, felt the tension, the pop as the tip broke through my outer ring. "All the way. Take it all the way." I felt it slide into my bowels, and then another cock was shoved in my face.
I had no sense of time. The rape was continuous. One or more of them was constantly at or on or in me. One terrifying moment stands out. One of them is on top of me, my feet over his shoulders, forcing my legs back over my head. As his cock pistons in and out, he shifts his hands to around my throat and slowly begins to choke me. He is the one I bit. My bloody tooth marks are still obvious on his hand. I cannot scream. I cannot breath. He keeps fucking, staring coldly at my face. My hands claw at his. "It would be so easy, bitch," he says and relaxes his death grip.
The only respite was when the driver said, "I'm taking an off ramp to change places. Jimmy, you drive. I want some of that too."
When the van was back on the freeway, the new one, the one who had been driving, lay down on the sweaty, come stained mattress, and pulled me on top of him. The others, tired, sat against the sides of the van, watching me move my ass up and down, watching his cock slide in and out. One of them rolls onto his knees behind me. "Hold her still, " he growls.
The new one's hands grab my butt and hold it while the other guy pushes up my ass, the way Brad and Jefferson had sandwiched me. And then when they start fucking, thrusting up, filling, compressing me, hands turn my head and a cock fills my mouth. I remember Brad saying, "We will find a third cock for your mouth." But I don't think this is what he had in mind.
Come filled and ran over, dribbed out of all my holes.
All the others slowed down, were spent, now that they had each orgasmed in me two or three times, but the new one kept using me, as if to make up for lost time. The others just watched. One of them said, "It would almost be worth being a chick, to be able to keep on going like that."
I was on my knees, my face in a pool of come; he was behind me, hands twisting my ass cheeks, as he battered into my cunt. A hand began slapping my ass in rhythm to his thrusts. The slaps hurt. I was so exhausted from the fear and all the fucking. Counting the earlier customers, I had felt twenty or thirty male orgasms that night. Something in me let go. The slaps still stung, but the pain began to almost feel good. Something in me forgot the situation, forgot that in a few more minutes they might slit my throat and dump my naked body. This might be the last time I ever had the change to come in my life. I heard an angry voice, my voice, "Fuck me, you bastard. Fuck me. Harder."
He did. Desperately slapping our bodies together. His pelvic bones bruised mine. I shuddered.
"My god," someone said. "After all that the bitch came."
Gasping, the man fell away from me. I collapsed face down on the slimy mattress. And gradually became aware that everything was quiet. Too quiet. The only sounds a throbbing engine, tires on the road.
I rolled over. Chillingly, they were all just looking at my come streaked body. No one made a move. No one said a word.
"What's going to happen now?" I sat up. "I did what you wanted. I was good for you. You're going to let me go, aren't you. I won't tell." Then I remembered the sliced dress. "Give me something to wear. Anything. A t-shirt. And just let me go. I won't tell anyone. I promise. You know I don't want any trouble."
Eerily, no one spoke.
I sat there, beginning to think that this was how my life was going to end. Wondering what Winston would think, then realizing he wouldn't know about my turning tricks, only that I had been kidnapped and raped and murdered. I imagined him identifying my naked body in some morgue, assuming my body was ever found. Maybe they had taken me out into the desert to bury me.
The van began to slow and make a turn. An off ramp.
"Please." I said.
We continued on, bouncing on surface streets, slowing, rolling stops at corners deserted at whatever time of the night this was. At least, I thought, we are not in the desert. But then there is the ocean.
"Please," I said again.
The van stopped.
The guy nearest the back door reached up and turned a handle. The door swung open. I saw trees and thick vegetation.
"Get out," the blond one said.
"Please. I won't tell."
Hands pushed me; hands pulled. Completely naked I half fell from the van. Concrete was rough beneath my feet. I turned to face them. Six pairs of eyes stared at me.
No one moved.
The van door swung closed. The engine gunned. I leapt to one side as it turned and sped away.
Trying to breath regularly, I became aware of my surroundings. It was a still dark night. No lights were visible except the stars. I was on a narrow lane. Shadowy trees loomed above me. Every inch, every atom of my body ached. I was stark naked, covered and filled with strange come. Probably had been exposed to AIDS or hepatitis or who knew what. Was lost. But I was alive! Alive! I wanted to shout it out. Alive! And, if I weren't infected with something, relatively all right.
The night air was cool enough to make me shiver and set me in motion. I could have waited for someone to chance along. Already my mind was planning. I would try to keep from having to see the police. If only they had left me some clothes. Not for modesty. I hardly cared about that. It really wasn't my body any more. Too many men had seen it; too many had used it; and there was something in it, or my mind, or me, that I did not understand, that responded in ways I did not understand. Words like masochist, submissive, started to take shape in my mind, but I blocked them out. This was not the time. The immediate problem was how to return to normalcy, or what I used to think was my normal life, and my nakedness would make that difficult.Right or left. There was nothing to choose between them. I turned right and started walking through the night.
Only a few minutes later I heard the sound of a motor and stopped and turned. What will the driver think when he sees this, I thought. Then I panicked when it occurred to me that it might be the van coming back. I pushed my way through some brush and tried to hide behind a tree. Headlights came into view, moving slowly, as though the driver were looking for something. But the engine was different. And as the headlights neared, I stepped out into them.
The white Rolls Royce stopped. The right rear door opened and, sobbing hysterically, even though I somehow realized at that instant that he had staged the whole thing, I ran and threw myself into the seat and Brad's arms.