*** Disclaimer ***
FAIR WARNING: This particular chapter involves incest and rough humiliating sex. While I try to moderate it in manageable doses, some might find it a little much.
The following story may contain themes of hypnosis, mind control, non-consent, paranormal, cheating, cuckoldry, voyeurism, incest, gang bangs, and other forms of debauchery. This may not be the story for you.
This is a work of fiction. All characters depicted are at least 18 years of age. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Debauchery Falls chapter 10
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At the same time as Andrea and Emily found themselves face to face with each other, and their father, Galloway was in the midst of her own nightmare-- or secret fantasy (she wasn't sure which).
As the men in the bar closed in around Andrea and Emily, barking obscene and lewd suggestions to the sisters, Galloway found herself separated from her group. she was still in the room with them-- Quinn, Brad, and the Tanner girls-- but Galloway had been cut from the herd. Maybe that was for the best, that she was the only woman in this part of the room. She was about to become the fuck toy to this group of escaped cons, and although the thought should horrify and repulse her (and in many ways, it did), she'd be lying to herself if she tried to deny the thrill that rolled through her body.
Galloway had come to terms, in recent years, with the fact that dangerous, vulgar, cruel men were at the center of her most guilty fantasies. It wasn't right, she knew this. It went against everything she believed in, and in her twisted sexual mind, such a betrayal of her ideals was so filthy... so shocking to her own conscious that it was liberating.
She regarding the men that had surrounded her. A sea of angry eyes, of muscles, and bodies that were waiting to put her in her place. She could take it... probably better than anyone in the room could. But it was still overwhelming. A tidal wave that threatened to sweep her up and drown her. A guilty wetness formed between her legs. The fear was turning her on.
They snarled and snapped at her. Wolves shepherding her where they wanted to take her. She was lost and disoriented with so many of them around her, hands on her body, touching and fondling.
She found herself being pushed backward onto the pool table, and surrounded. At least half a dozen men were manhandling her. Some were in hoods, but most were bulky men packed with muscle and marked with ink and scars.
"Get up there, slut," one of the men said, giving her a rough slap as she obediently scooted back onto the dirty green felt of the table surface. She both looked and felt more innocent and helpless than ever before.
She was in trouble, breathing hard.
Another man smacked her baseball cap from the top of her head. "You like convicted cock, don't you, pig?" He snarled, regarding her with eyes that were burning with intensity. Eyes that said 'Do as I say, or we'll hurt you. Hell... we might just hurt you anyway.'
"Yes... yes sir," she replied in a quivering voice, laying on the table, propped by her elbows. Her chest rising and falling, trying to catch her breath. Galloway didn't have to pretend too hard. She felt as though she was surrounded by a pack of wild dogs. There was so much danger, that she was shaking. But she knew what they really wanted. And there was nothing she could do to stop it. Very few times in her life did Galloway ever feel helpless. And of those few times... there was an unmistakable heat that built up between her legs.
Galloway yelped as two different men seized her by the boots and nearly yanked her to the edge of the pool table. They fought with her laces and worked her boots off.
The convict who'd called her a pig, a bulldog looking man with a thick neck, shaved head, and red stubble, grabbed her by the ponytail. He roughly pulled her face to his, so close that she could smell the cheap whiskey on his breath. "You're going to fuck every single one of us, like your life depends on it." He ordered. "You're going to degrade yourself in every way imaginable. Yesterday you were a cop, but tonight, you're just a trashy bar whore who can't get enough dick. Tonight, we're your commanders. Understand?"
His words sent chills up and down her spine. The heat was between her legs. If she lived to be a hundred years old, Galloway would still never fully understand why such vile suggestions aroused her. But spread eagle on the pool table, she was more wet that she'd ever been. She peered up at 'Stubble' with her unflinching gaze and nodded slowly. "Yes sir," she replied. It was impossible to hide the desire in her eyes.
Stubble picked up on this with a grin. He spat right into her face disrespectfully and a second later, he released her ponytail, grasped her by the tank top, and tore her shirt right down the middle. The sound of tearing fabric louder than the hoots and hollers of the men. Louder than the muted moans of Andrea and Emily Tanner-- wherever they were, and whatever they were doing.
They'd already relieved her of her vest and MOLLE gear. Her equipment draped over a chair. Her weapons in the hands of the enemy. The men tore the last lingering shreds of her tank top away like dogs fighting over scraps.
They eyed her red lace bra with hunger. A treat she'd worn for Quinn, back when this operation seemed like something simple and routine. She knew what she was about to do would hurt him, but they'd been down this road before. It was out of their hands.
"Fuckin' A. Look at the body on this hog," a biker looking man with scraggily hair and a gray beard remarked. He slapped her smooth hard belly, leaving a handprint, before grasping her by one of her full round C-cups.
A moan escaped her lips. His grip was so forceful.
"Get rid of this shit," a black man with a crew cut produced a knife and slashed at the straps of her bra. His blade coming wickedly close to nicking her skin, although he never did.
'Biker' yanked it away. Just another shredded rag for the trash pile. 'Crew Cut' bit his lip, admiring her bare breasts.
"Mmmm, damn. Look at them big pink puffy-ass nipples," he remarked and grasped one of them between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a rough tug. The cry of pleasure and pain that escaped Galloway's mouth was as authentic as ever. He was rough with her. He was tugging at nipples that had already hardened long before he'd liberated her tits from confinement. His grip hurt, but the sensation only made her wetter. She liked it rough. She always had.
She squirmed on the table as more hands appeared, helping themselves. They felt her body. They pulled her hair. They worked at her belt and the zipper of her jeans. Every direction that Galloway looked were hard men with muscles and sinister intent.