With that soft voice echoing in her ear, Rachel knew that something awful was going to happen. Moreover, she knew that she deserved it-this was to be punishment. But she couldn't just let it happen, she had to fight. She began to struggle again, swinging her upper body in the hope of loosening the ropes binding her to the bed. The voice came again, and Rachel could hear a note of cruel amusement in it:
'That won't help; the boys have a lot of practice at this. I don't think they'll let you go too easily.'
To Rachel's horror, she felt the woman's hands slide down over her breasts. They were large for her petite frame, tipped with rosy-pink and exquisitely sensitive. In private, Rachel loved to slide her own hands over them, cupping their weight, pinching the tips delicately until they stood proud and pert. But this woman's touch wasn't gentle. She pinched viciously at the soft unprotected flesh of Rachel's breasts, tweaking her nipples cruelly, scratching and tugging them. Rachel, desperate to escape the claw-like grip of these fingers, held her body rigid, trying to push down into the bed, but to no avail.
She sobbed helplessly, her breath catching in her throat. Again and again, she felt the steel-like grip of her captor's fingers on her tender breasts, pinching and tormenting her. And then something happened: an ache started deep inside her, unravelling within her, coiling up from her pelvis. In horror, she knew that this was the beginnings of desire. She realised that the pain had become semi-pleasurable, that her abused breasts were aching, not only from pain, but also from the sensations triggered within them. 'This can't be happening to me' she repeated over and over to herself, denying the truth of her situation. She was being assaulted, and she was starting to want the assault. Then, suddenly, she felt other hands on her. These were at her thighs, pulling her legs apart further. The woman's hands slid down her stomach and her stiff fingers dipped in between the velvet fleshy lips.
'Fucking whore is wet!' the voice exclaimed.
The fingers probed deeper into her, first one, then another. She could feel the unseen hands spreading her thighs wider, and knew, shamefully, that they were watching her being violated. How many of them were there? She had heard no other voices, only deep breathing, and the occasional exclamation of pleasure.
Then the fingers stopped. With one last tug of her soft public hair, the woman's hands withdrew.
Rachel felt the bed dip, and sensed that someone had climbed into position between her legs.
'Hold her open,' a deep, male voice now, almost accentless. More hands at her thighs: that meant three of them at least, she thought wildly, and she felt his cock head against her. She tried to cry out, but the ballgag meant that she could only whimper in despair.
He surprised her by his gentleness, pushing his cock slowly inside her. She had thought that he would ravage her viciously, ram it into her and split her apart, but he slid in smoothly and steadily. He was inside her, filling her cunt. She began to think that she could survive this, but then she felt the bright pain of the lash. It arced across her breasts, leaving the undersides flaming and raw. With every thrust inside her, the lash came down again. Sometimes falling across her breasts, sometimes across her stomach, and once, agonisingly, directly onto her nipple, singing in pain. She was whipped a full dozen times before the thrusting stopped. Her tears flowed, her body burned with pain and humiliation. But she was still wet. In the midst of this, her body had betrayed her and she wondered if her tears were because of the emptiness inside her now that the cock had been withdrawn.
The woman's voice came again. 'I'm going to remove the gag,' she said. 'There's no point in screaming, no-one will hear you, and if I don't like what comes out of your mouth then I'll whip you again.' Rachel nodded: she was struggling for breath against the now damp cloth.
She felt hands go behind her head, entwining in her hair, pulling on the cloth. No sooner than it had been removed then a cock was shoved inside her mouth. She despaired; so this was why they had wanted her mouth free. She felt her lips spread widely as the bulbous cock head slid into her. It had a salty, stale, taste, and the strong smell of body odour hit her nostrils. She gagged: she wasn't used to this, and tried to move away. A stinging slap across her cheek put paid to that, and she felt his hands clasp around her head to force her mouth onto his cock. Her head was moved up and down about half his meaty shaft, and she could feel him fucking his cock into her, forcing it in deeper than she had ever permitted a man before. Thinking of the other boys she had known, their pleasure in her body, she again felt the curl of desire unwind. She knew that she had to perform well; she knew she was in danger and this was her only hope. If she could please them, please them all, no matter what they wanted to do to her, then maybe she would be safe.
Of her own volition, she began to suck him into her deeply. He felt her tongue moving on him, massaging his bulbous head and the thick shaft of his cock. He relaxed his hold on her, and they watched as she began to take him in earnest, low moans coming from her throat as she eagerly sucked him into her mouth.
