Broen Gate

Sarra struggled against the attackers, but her flailing seemed to do little more than spur them on, and their harsh laughter infected her with a growing panic that stripped her of control.

They had set upon her as she wheeled herself around the edge of the makeshift town. Her boredom had finally got the better of her, and with her brother gone on one of his hunting trips she had found herself wandering alone, letting her mind slip into the realm of imagination for a time. She had been too caught-up within her thoughts to notice the three men sliding from behind the shadows of an abandoned trailer, and her first warning that trouble had arrived was the rough feeling of calloused hands around her throat.

She had tried to punch at him, but his grip was from behind her, and the limitation of the wheelchair made it impossible to get any purchase against her attacker. He only gripped her throat tighter with his fingers, crushing her slowly. His long nails sank into her skin, drawing blood, and stars began to fill her vision as the air slowly stopped going to her lungs. She gasped like a wounded fish, flailing wildly as the grip continued to tighten, and her ears rang with the sudden and wild pounding of her heart. She could hear the raucous laughter of the men behind her, cheering her attacker on. Slowly the fight left her, even as she grasped at his tough fingers, trying to pull herself free. Everything was beginning to blur as she slowly slipped away towards unconsciousness. Then, suddenly, she was lifted up and out of her chair bodily. The hands around her neck were taught with muscle, and she could only image how strong those arms that held her must be. She dangled there in the air, her toes scraping the ground without feeling, her weak hands little more than holding onto the wrists of her attacker.

"Damn," said a voice next to her ear, "you sure are a pretty little broken bird."

"Nice little birdie!" The second voice devolved into laughter, and she could tell by the slight shaking that the one holding her was sharing in his companion's glee.

"I don't think I'm ever seen a little disabled bird look so fine before."

"Before?"

"Oh yeah. Lots of them hanging around shitholes like this. Turns out they're a lot of fun to have around though, seeing as how they can't get very far."

Suddenly Sarra could feel hot breath on her ear, and the voice of her attacker whispered just loud enough for her to hear. "I'm going to enjoy myself little birdie. And I want you to make this fun for me ok? Struggle; please struggle. Do everything your pretty little broken bird body can do to stop me. If you don't I'm going to fucking smash your head in with a rock and fuck your corpse anyway."

By now the fear had gripped Sarra and frozen her into a tight panic that seemed to paralyze her. But his words seemed to spring her into action and she dug her nails into his hand, hoping to fights the grip on her neck. It was the wild panic off a trapped animal fighting back now, blind to the reality that without help, she was doomed. And she had strayed too far from the center of the settlement to expect anyone to run to her aid. Out here she was as good as dead - though she knew that the men behind her had little intention of killing her immediately.

Suddenly she was dropping, as the hands around her neck let go with a push, hurling her to the rough dirt. She saw her wheelchair upturned a few feet away, one wheel spinning slightly. Using her arms to push herself up, she twisted around as best she could to face her attackers, her useless legs dragging in the dirt. She barred her teeth, ignoring the unwanted tears that were sliding from her eyes, a snarl appearing on her face as she screamed at her attackers.

There were three of them, all large and disgusting. Their clothing was torn and ragged from years of living in this post-apocalyptic hell, and the largest of them wore a large knife on his belt that looked to be about as long as her forearm. He was smiling very unpleasantly, his strong, once-handsome face leering and vile in its features. His eyes traveled up and down the length of her body slowly, and his mouth sprouted into an even wider grin.

"Christ, you are a fine little fucking bitch."

"Fuck you. Fuck you!" It was all Sarra could manage to say. She tried pushing herself further away, but her arms could only move her so far, so quickly, and her pathetic efforts seemed to do little more than make the men more pleased.

Their leader, the largest man, reached down to his crotch and began rubbing himself through the worn fabric of his pants. Playing with the growing bulge there as stepped forwards a little bit at a time. Sarra, too weak from the attack to do much more now that struggle to remain upright on her arms, looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes. All intelligent control was leaving her, as her mind slid away into some deep place of hiding, so that only raw fear remained; raw fear and a growing acceptance of the situation at hand. She could not fight; she wasn't even sure if she wanted to fight anymore. What was the point really - she was going to be killed here, and the desire to fight for her life was fading fast from her spirit.

The man pressed tighter with his fingers, making the bulge grow noticeably. With his other hand he undid the clasp on his belt and pulled open the button at the top of his pants, pulling them down a few inches to the bottom of his hips. He was standing just a few inches away from her now, looking down with something resembling glee in his mad, dark eyes. His dirty underwear held a massive erection now, and he was stroking it slowly with the tips of his fingers, watching her as he did so. She just looked up at him, the hate in her eyes slowly clouding over with a great tiredness and quiet disgust.

"Alright little bird, here's how we play," he said, his voice mocking. "I'm going to fuck your mouth, and if you don't do everything you can to enjoy it and suck me off good, I'm going to cut you." He patted the large knife on his hip. "I'm going to cut you, and cut you good. I will make it so you can't fight any of us while we fuck you - and I don't want that. I want a nice struggle later on. So you better behave now, it's better for everyone got it?"

She nodded weakly, the acceptance filling her completely. She felt her stomach tighten as bile tried to rise into her throat with a strong acidic flavor, but she fought it down.

The man slipped down thee top of his underpants until his erection was able to flop out, and he held it then fully in the palm of his hand. With slow, steady motions he stroked himself, his penis growing thicker and longer with every passing moment. The veins along its length bulged with hot blood as he moved his hand, and Sarra watched with wide eyes as precum spread from under the thickly-hooded foreskin. His rubbing spread the viscous liquid over the length of his erection, coating it in a glistening sheath of fluid. Finally, when he seemed to think that he had reached his full length, he stepped closer to her and arched his hips forward, so that the tip of the vile thing was mere inches from her face.

"Now suck, you worthless little cunt."

Sarra did as she was told, hating herself for it more than she hated him. In a weird way it was exciting, but a strange sort of excitement that left her feeling weak and ashamed. She leaned forwards, her eyes on the large penis, coated in its own juices, and opened her mouth slowly. He made no move to guide her, merely looking down at her with pride and hateful malice in his gaze.

Closing her eyes she pushed herself fully up on her arms, and opened her mouth, letting the huge penis slide into her waiting mouth. It tasted putrid and earthy, but she held down the reflex to gag. The skin was slithery, the mucusy coating of precum cold to her lips despite the raging heat of the flesh underneath. Slowly, with trepidation, she worked her tongue around the length in a slow circular motion, trying to get some feeling for the massive thing that filled her mouth. It was so strange to have this man inside of her; at this point she hardly felt afraid at all, though she knew that she was crying by the wet streaks that slid down her cheeks and dripped from her skin. Somehow she was isolated from all the emotions the broiled with her, so that all her concentration was on the task at hand. Somewhere, as if very far away, she heard the laughter of her attackers, a jeering, unearthly sound.

The leader's hips thrust forward a few inches, and she got the message, sliding her tongue again around the large length, faster this time. When the penis swelled slightly she figured that this was an appreciated approach, and she did it again, faster this time. She repeated that several times, and then began sucking on the length, closing the muscles of her cheeks around it and using her lips to pull at the length. It seemed impossible, but the erection - already large when she had started - seemed to be swelling more now so that it filled the entire cavity of her mouth. She glanced up at the jeering face of her molester, who was still watching her with that odd mixture of pride and hate. She could tell by the little tremors near his jaw though that he was enjoying the experience.

With great effort she propped herself up further and redoubled her efforts. He was beginning to release small amounts of cum into her mouth now as she worked her tongue, and with every pass she tasted that sickly, odorous salt as it oozed into her mouth and coated the back of her throat.

Using her tongue, she worked the length of human meat into the side of her mouth against her back teeth, holding it there and sucking deeper, using her molars to rub against its length with increasing vigor. She looked up again, this time to see her attacker's eyes closed, and his face gripped with pleasure. Spurred on by the sight of success, she increased the suction by drawing in her breath and pulling on his penis even more, causing him to gasp.

"Hey hey, she looks like she's got you god man!" one of the other men jeered loudly.

Ignoring everything but her current duty she continued to suck, rolling her tongue as roughly as she could, focusing on the sensitive tip, where the precum was now slipping out in little bursts. She could feel the powerful muscles of the penis contracting in her mouth, bulging with engorged blood and tension. Suddenly she felt the leader's rough hands grip onto the back of her head, and he thrust his hips forwards so far that his penis pressed all the way against the back of her throat. She could no longer attempt to pleasure him, but she no longer needed to, as the gaging reflex caused the muscles of her throat to convulse repeatedly. Her eyes once again filled with stars as the air in her lungs was quickly used up by her panicked body. Then, just as her eyes were beginning to roll up into her head, her throat contracted one last time, and she felt his penis bulge with a warm fire. Suddenly he jerked himself forwards into her mouth up to the base of his length, and a huge burst of boiling-hot liquid filled her throat.

She swallowed without even considering it, and continued to do so as burst after burst of hot cum filled her throat and mouth. So much was released now that she felt it backing-up into her sinuses, her entire being filled with the man's hot juices. She struggled violently against his pull, but he only continued to jam his hips forward. She gripped his buttocks, the massively powerful muscles of his glutes rippling under her hands as she scrambled for purchase. Then suddenly it was over, and she felt his penis begin to soften in her mouth, and the strings of cum decreased to a raw trickle, which she drank at happily - for the decreased size in her mouth allowed in little gasps of air each time she sucked away the excess moisture. He growled loudly as she did this, and one final string of liquid entered her mouth - this time an short stream of pee, which she swallowed as well, at this point hardly caring what it was she did as long as he let her breath.

He stepped back, causing her to lose her grip on his body. She fell back onto the ground, exhausted from the ordeal, cum and urine dribbling from the corners of her lips. She gazed in silence at the azure sky, her light-green eyes taking in the expansive wonder that existed so separate from this world of hurt and horror in which she lived.

Her attackers were laughing now, and the leader had returned his penis to his pants. The other two had apparently been enjoying the display however. As she arched her neck so she could see them all again, her eyes laid on the sight of their own dicks, hanging stiffly and erect. One of the men, the shortest of the three, was stroking his erection slowly, while the other high-fived their leader and started towards her with a glint in his eye that told her the unhappy adventure was far from over. She let him lean over her, unable to gather the strength needed to resist. He reached down and grasped at the waistline of her faded jeans, pulling at the front with such force that the button snapped off and went flying several feet away. The force of the movement ripped the zipper free as well, and he finished by roughly pulling the pants down her shapely, unfeeling legs.

"Just a damn pity she can't feel anything down there," the leader said, "I know how you like to hear 'em squeal when you tear them up."

The man standing over her just grinned and laughed. "Somehow I think I'll manage to make do."