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THE VAN A GIRLFRIEND RELATED A FANTASY SHE HAD THAT ALWAYS TURNED HER ON. I WROTE IT UP IN HER VOICE. HERE IT IS. Suddenly my path is blocked by a large white van that jumps the footpath. The sliding door opens, a man springs out. Before I know what’s happened there's a bag over my head. I’m picked up from behind pinning my arms. Next, I’m in the van lying face down with a knee in my back. My hands are pulled behind me and zip tied together. To stop me screaming the bag's lifted enough to stuff a rag in my mouth and it’s duct taped in place. No one speaks. Just me, making a muffled senseless noise. After what seems an age, I feel the van going off-road onto rough ground where it stops. The door opens and I’m dragged out and carried by two strong guys one holding my legs tightly as I kick. I hear their boots on a wooden floor. They lay me down, take off my shoes, cuff my ankles and lock them to the floor forcing my feet apart. With more manhandling I am standing with my hands released from the zip tie but immediately cuffed above my head stretching me up tight. The bag is removed. The light is dim. There are two men in black coveralls and balaclavas. They ignore me and talk to one another. "Call the others, tell them we've got her." "What do you think? Should we prepare her at all before they get here." " Yeah. Best to have her ready and waiting" One of them takes a knife out of his pocket. Ignoring my whimpering in the gag he takes his time methodically slicing my clothes off me till I can see them lying in shreds on the floor and I’m left naked shivering with fear. He strokes my stomach and shoulders making approving sounds as if to calm me – it doesn’t. "She looks as good as we imagined” the other says. “Yeah. She’s one hot bitch, aren't you honey" Hopeless bewilderment and fear overwhelm me and I’m sobbing uncontrollably in the gag. They leave me helplessly exposed in the large warehouse-like space with one harsh light shining down on me leaving everything else in dark shadow. Eventually I hear cars and motorbikes arriving. One of the men from before comes back and puts a bag over my head again. I start whimpering. He tells me quietly "Okay. Calm down. Do as you're told, and you'll be alright." I hear more boots on the floor and male voices greeting one another laughing, making filthy remarks, and referring to me in ways I had genuinely never thought of myself before. One booming voice calls them to "quieten down so we can let the bitch know the deal here." The bag is pulled off my head to reveal eleven large guys some fully clothed, some with no shirts showing a couple of buff muscled bodies but mostly fat hairy guts. All their faces are masked in some way but I feel their eyes stabbing my naked body. I am totally vulnerable and terrified. The one with the voice comes up to me and grabs my face. "if you scream I will make sure you regret it. No one can hear you out here anyway. I'm going to take your gag off now. Okay? No noise!" The calmly assured air of command, not to mention the threat, makes me nod without thinking. He pulls the duct tape off stinging my face and takes the rag out of my mouth, which is parched dry from the cloth. He holds up a water bottle and tips some for me to try to gulp down but most of it runs down my face and onto my tits and stomach, I can feel it dripping from my nipples and sex and I can hear myself whimpering, though I am struggling to stay quiet as ordered. The booming voice makes the following speech to me, his breath in my face stinking of whiskey and cigars : You’re here so that we can fuck you and use you for the next few hours. If you behave yourself, we’ll take you back and drop you off where we grabbed you. But if you’re trouble, we’ll keep you here for a few days, using you until we’ve broken you, and then we’ll drop you off where we took you. But what we really want is for you to come back voluntarily – he pauses on the word - every couple of weeks. Bear that in mind. Tonight, if you obey us and do everything we tell you without fuss or resistance we’ll let you down, take your shackles off you and who knows – you might enjoy it. But, if you’re going to be difficult, you’ll be bound in whatever position we need while we fuck you and do whatever we want to you anyway, and I doubt they’ll be much for you to enjoy in that case. I’ll let you think about it for a moment while the guys get to know you a little. He steps back and what seems like a thousand hands are all over me stroking, rubbing, pulling at my tits, slapping my arse, fingers in me everywhere. And the comments that are made have me weeping with humiliation, as they crudely observe various aspects of my body and appearance that I can recall once being proud of, but now are filling me with shame and regret like my bleached anus, and my one pierced nipple and worse even as I am sobbing in fear and helplessness my body is betraying me, and they are noticing that it is, taunting me with my stiffening nipples and my pussy flooding for them. The booming voice interrupts. “Time’s up! Are you going to be obedient or difficult? Which is it? “Obedient,” I murmur. “Speak up bitch I didn’t hear you.” “Obedient Sir,” I say a little louder. I have no real option. They let me down. My arms feel dead and leaden, I slump, and one of them holds me up from behind while another undoes my ankles. What follows takes hours. I am fucked by them all in my pussy, my arse, or my mouth. Some of the cocks are distressingly large, and never seem to wilt even after spurting what seems like gallons into me and on me. I am a cum bucket. My tits and nipples are squeezed and slapped and bruised. They double penetrate me several times. I feel like I’ll split. Often several of them hold me down while others fuck me. I try to stay calm by focussing on their expressions in their eyes as they use me - I still can't see their faces. At one point they line up and I’m told I have to suck them off in turn, but when I’m too slow at bringing them off, they jerk off on my face and on my tits till I’m drenched in cum and the smell of it. They feel free to slap my arse very hard during their activities. One huge guy gives me a spanking every time he uses me because he complains I haven't been trying hard enough for him. I really have. When he’s finished with me my arse is burning red and so tender it hurts whenever they make my sit or lie down with any weight on it. I am surprised at how long my pussy's lubrication keeps coming. For the first hour or so I remain a very wet girl. I don’t want to admit it but it's true that in a deep dark part of my psyche I am desperately turned on by all the cocks and the endless male attention and my helpless need to submit to these strong guys and their awful sexual demands. Eventually things start to chaff down there. One of them suggests getting me off to moisten me up again. It won’t work, I think. I’m in no state at all to cum. They force me on my back on a table and pull my legs wide and back over my shoulders, while a guy fingers my pussy and works my clit in motion together. To my chagrin and utter humiliation, he seems to know what he is doing and against my desperate attempts to control it, and not give them the satisfaction, I cum several times during the procedure, and worse, the last time squirting, which gets a great round of applause and whooping, though I find it’s not for me, but for the guy who was fingering me. I’m just an object to be made to do things. And then they are back into me for what becomes another endless round. Finally, the action comes to a halt. They lock me in a side room. I can hear but not make out some discussion going on and then there’s the sound of vehicles starting up and leaving. I’m in a mess, terrified of what might happen now, feeling sore everywhere, and shamefully guilty for some hard to fathom reason. The door opens and the guy with the booming voice comes in. He hands me a stained old trench coat and my shoes. “We’re dropping you off.” Relief overwhelms me and I can hear myself sobbing again. “Next week at the same time, be at the same place and we’ll pick you up again. Got it?” I nod. Why? What else can I do. It means I’m going home. The rag goes back in my mouth and is duct taped in place, my hands are zip tied together, and the bag is pulled over my head. They frog-march me out to the van and I’m roughly shoved in the back. Eventually, the Van stops. The door opens and a guy cuts my hands free and pulls me out, where I stagger on the pavement. My legs are weak and so sore between them I can barely walk. I hear the van speeding away. I pull off the bag thinking of looking for the number plate, but it’s gone. What would I have done with it anyway? I rip out the gag, gasping. Back on the familiar street, with the coat held tight around my otherwise naked body I walk home where I lie on my bed for the rest of the night and most of the next morning masturbating while recalling what has happened to me, eventually getting up to shower them off. Next week, I’ve convinced myself that I’ve no choice but to go back. I’m waiting at the spot and the time with a mix of anxiety and excitement, wondering if the van will come. |
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