 |
|||
|
|
A cold
splash shocked her awake, gasping and spluttering, the freezing drops shattering the light before her blinking eyes as they ran off her body. The man standing by the
cage heaved another bucket over her, the
half-melted ice shavings in the water stinging her skin. Two others stepped up
to the cage as she tried to shake the water away, and bent down on either side,
freeing her shackles. All three wore the same blue coats, hanging open, and
short black batons at their belts. The first, the one who had pushed the enema
hose into her ass, set down his tin bucket, unlocked the cage's front gate,
opened it, reached in, clipped a chain leash to her collar under her chin as
his companions on either side held her wrists, and unceremoniously yanked her
out.
Wide-eyed, she
stared at the new object that stood, cryptic and ominous, on the floor of the
room: a low saddle arrangement in dark leather and steel. Rings were welded just
above the feet of each of its four canted legs. The two men either side of her
took her by her shoulders and heaved her up over the saddle, her chains still
linking wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle, while the one who had drained her
before unclipped her leash. The others fastened her shackles to the four rings
at the saddle's four corners.
Spreadeagled,
she shook and moaned. The man she knew produced a big woollen bath towel and
toweled her dry with it: the rough
fibres after the shock of the icy water left her skin tingling. He rubbed up
over the curves of her arse, held almost higher than her head now, and down her
exposed cleft. Her mouth flopped open. Then his towel-wrapped hand lifted away,
came back empty, stroked the opened folds of her cunt with callused blunt-ended
fingers. She whimpered. There was the same sticky moist sound and chemical
smell as before, when he had given her the enema, and she cringed. Wet
fingertips daubed a little cold jelly onto her. Then, with the coarse ripping
noise of him opening his zip, he pushed himself inside.
Unlike many
girls her age, she had had some experience, or a couple. But the clumsy,
hesitant fumbling of the boys she had known, who had known her, had left her unprepared
for this raw force. His thighs squashed her against the frame, now creaking
musically in time with his thrusts. That it did not hurt, much, and that she
could not struggle, resist, change her position, only made it more shocking. It
was like she was hardly there, all the time feeling him deeper inside her than
anything else had ever been. His tempo accelerated and she cried out incoherently
as his heavy torso pressed her body against the leather and metal. Then he
started jerking mechanically, as though something kept dragging him back inside
her, each time squeezing a groan out of her. The cycle stretched on endlessly,
pounding and bruising, before finally he ebbed and pulled out of her,
triggering another shocked groan when his hot sperm splashed on to her leg. One
of the others took his place, grasped her by both shoulders, lined himself up,
and pushed in, as careless of her as if he was stuffing a splayed roasting
bird.
This one stood
more erect, she noticed dimly, and handled her body more. Her first rapist
moved to stand by her head, absently resting a meaty hand on the back of her
neck as he watched the other man fuck her. Sweat was running off her now, hers
and the men's. This time hurt less, with less crushing pressure on her body,
but otherwise the same triphammer rhythm, pounding her pelvic girdle into the
frame. Mouth hanging open, she panted as though to keep up, too overwhelmed
even to moan.
Her second
abuser dug his fingers deep into the flesh of her hips, pulled her against him,
jerked his load into her, and withdrew with a parting slap across her arse. The
third man hurried to take his place, bringing pressure of a different kind, for
he was fat, and seemed to have some trouble penetrating her. Finally he found a
position, half-lying across her with his soft fat enfolding her back, thrusting
into her less deeply than the others. His motions set up sympathetic ripples in
his fat that went up and down her bare skin, and his sweating bulk was hot as
if she was being suffocated in oven-fresh dough. She tried to thrash her head
from side to side, but the heavy hand pincered the back of her neck, holding
her still. The fat rapist panted out his orgasm then slumped across her,
squashing her down. After a few moments of that sticky mass stifling her, he
heaved himself off.
Three men's
sweat drying on her, three men's cum seeping from her red and distended hole,
she itched and ached with filthiness. Helpless to ease that frantic need to
wipe herself all over, her hands clenched and unclenched in their shackles. The
men exchanged some of the first words she had heard since her disappearance, in
a language she didn't understand or even recognize. They seemed to be
discussing her: one laughed. They were relaxed and good-humored, no tension or
anger in their voices. But then one moved back behind her and pushed a hard
leathery rod against her cunt.
The open,
bruised surfaces burned at the abrasion. It lifted away, then with a whistling
of air, cracked against her right thigh, stitching a scalding red line of pain
along her flank. The first stroke shocked the breath out of her: at the second,
she howled wordlessly, mouth open in an o. The whipper varied the rhythm,
sometimes pausing, sometimes beating a tattoo of a few together, leaving her
unable to predict and brace for the next one. He laid on hard with measured
force, and she knew he was holding back. But one red flare of pain followed
another, moving over her, first her buttocks, then the back of her thighs, then
ominously deeper between, crack after crack. Her head spun, tears burst from
her ducts, each stroke bursting behind her eyes. She could not figure it out:
was she being punished? What had she done wrong? Were they disappointed? Did
they just enjoy hurting her? She quailed as the strokes slatted lower and lower
down the soft flesh of her inner thigh.
Finally, the
man inhaled, hesitated, and swung from the shoulder right on to her cunt. She
jerked forward, straining against the limits
of her chains. The pain was so bad it was not like a sensation: she felt
more like a runaway train had smashed into her. Her vision blurred and went dark,
her head slumped, she half fainted. Too stunned to tense, she waited slackly
for another stroke, but it never came: apparently satisfied with his handiwork,
the man stepped back. But then the slim one reached forward, knotted his hand
in her straggling sweat-drenched hair, pulling at the roots, lifted her
drooping head up, unzipped his fly with one stroke, and crammed his hardening
dick into her open mouth.
Her half-shut
eyes opened wide as the hot salty meat slid back along her tongue. Three men's
sweat and juices mixed with hers made it taste revoltingly like the after
squeezings from soiled panties, and she gagged automatically. The man's thin
wiry hand twisted savagely in her hair, and she forced herself to keep her
mouth open and not bite, still aware how spread she was with the echoes of the
shock from that last crop stroke ringing like a migraine behind her eyes. He
pushed in and out of her, and she fought for breath, trying to inhale when he
pulled out, drawing on dazed memories of teasing limp adolescent penises,
dribbling around it, tasting some new different element growing in the horrible
cocktail. Trying to wipe her mind of what she knew was coming, she focused on
keeping her mouth still and slack. Something in that obviously did not please
him, and he tightened his grip on her neck, pushing at the back of her throat.
Her eyes and cheeks bulged. Then the vile thick warmth at the back of her mouth
seemed to gather and burst with his last thrust, and his sperm spurted down her
throat. She choked a little, but mercifully was able to keep from trying to
close her mouth as his spasms hosed then jetted then finally dribbled into her.
He let go of her hair and pulled out, but, as her head drooped again, cupped
his hand sharply under her chin with a teeth-jarring crack, pressing her palm
against her squeezed-shut lips, so she could not let the gelid cum run out of
her mouth. With no choice, she choked down the glutinous mess.
The three men
rocked back on their heels, arms folded, looking down at her, grotesquely like
three workmen resting on their shovels. Then the first one reached down,
unlatched her shackles, slid both his arms under her goosefleshed midriff, and
lifted her off the saddle bodily. Her arms and leg hung down limply on either
side as he cradled her, ałmost gently, and carried her over to her cage.
The others opened the door for her and he slotted her inside. Slumping against
the bars on one side, she let them lift her wrists and ankles, limp and
toneless as a baby's neck, and secure them. Then the cage door clanged shut and
they left her alone.
Cramps in her
limbs nagged at her, but far less insistently than the smarting pains from her
thighs and the gaping agony of her cunt. Though she could not feel any
lacerations, the bruises, strains and grazes were bad enough. Anxious to rinse
the residue of the cum out of her mouth, she lifted her aching jaw to sip at
the angled metal spout of the water bottle that hung on the outside of her cage
like something off a rabbit hutch. But with the first drops, she recognized,
horrified, where the strange brackish taste she had noticed in the water was
coming from; some of that same hideous flavour was already diluted in the
water. Appalled, she spat it out, letting it run on the floor of the cage,
sobbing dryly, adding a burning thirst to her other pains. Then, completely
exhausted, she closed her eyes and sank into the waiting dark.
|
|
|