"No! Get off-"
My frightened protest is cut short by the sound of ripping fabric, which is followed by appreciative whistles and rambunctious laughter. I feel my face turn hot in embarrassment, tears dripping freely off my face as the most private area of my body is exposed to a roomful of strangers. I feel the glide of a cold blade as the scissors work their way across my bra, more whistles ensuing when my D-cup breasts tumble free. I feel my nipples stand erect as cold air sweeps across them. Hands reach out to knead my breasts, twisting and pinching them. I gasp at the painful sensations, my skin smarting as they abuse me.
"Boss will enjoy this one. I just wish I could fuck her first," says a low, raspy voice from somewhere behind me.
Who the fuck are these people? Jesus Christ, have I been kidnapped by a Goddamned mob?
My heart does a flip at the thought.
"Boss is coming," says the cruel voice from earlier, "present his gift to him."
Before I can comprehend what is happening to me, I am spread open with a hand clutching each of my limbs. While one hand pulls apart my left ankle, another hand pulls apart my other ankle. A hand thrusts my left arm straight out, while pushing my shoulder into the hard surface. On my right side, another hand repeats the process. My blindfold is finally pushed off my head, shoved down to rest on my neck. I blink against the light from a dirty lightbulb in a ceiling above me, my eyes adjusting to a dark room as I try to see through my tears. The cold surface beneath me is nothing more than a dining room table. It's a large, brown table scattered with scratches and stains. I don't want to know where they came from. My eyes dart amongst the four kidnappers, trying to memorize their features. The man who holds my left arm has dirty, blonde shoulder-length hair. He wears a dirty jump suit, similar to that of someone who works in a car repair shop. He openly appraises my nude body, winking at me when our eyes meet. I blush and look at the man to my right. A skinny boy, probably in his early twenties, with glasses. He has wire-thin, brown hair and sports a wrinkled, Harry Potter themed T-shirt. He glances at me with thin, pursed lips before looking away. The third man at one of my ankles is muscular and bulky with a headful of thick, black hair. His white tank top and black joggers accent his body. I shiver when I realize his bicep is bigger than both of my thighs together. The large bulge in his joggers send waves of unease through me and I look away. The last man at my other ankle has dark, espresso-colored hair with carefully trimmed facial hair. He wears a long sleeve navy shirt and grey slacks. He stares at my breasts for a minute then licks his lips.
I grimace and peer down at my shaking body, rendered essentially immobile as I am spread eagle in the most humiliating manner possible with my naked body on display. The sound of quiet, shuffling footsteps approaching sends my pulse into overdrive and my body's internal flight response kicks on. "Let me go right now!" I scream, the shrillness filling the room. I struggle against the hands as they continue to push me down into the table. I rear my hand back and spit, my spittle flying across the table and completely missing all of my captors. The blond stranger holding onto my shoulders shakes his head with a smirk and comments, "feisty bitch." His hand releases their hold on me momentarily only to reappear with a silver object. He dangles it in front of my face and the sound of metal clinking together echoing in my ears. A horse bit that looks worn with teeth marks. The offensive piece of metal is shoved into my mouth and tied tightly around the back of my head. The metal is uncomfortably tight against my lips and forces my tongue down. I whimper and mumble incoherently against the object, disgust rolling in my belly. Four pairs of eyes watch in amusement.
These men must be evil incarcerated. Monsters. All of them. Presenting me to their king like a feast to be devoured. My body is cold with fear, I tremble and quake as the frightening footsteps grow louder until a figure finally appears at the end of my table. Shock hits in me the gut, knocking my breathe right out of me.
My ex-boyfriend. Steve.
What the fucking hell?
A victorious, shit-eating grin erupts across Steve's face as he openly gazes my nude body. My belly clenches as his eyes slide lower and lower, finally landing between my legs. With a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows, his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip. This. Isn't. happening. It's just a nightmare, right? I am in my bed sleeping, not about to get gang
-
raped with my ex-boyfriend as the leader. I shake my head vigorously.
"Thought it was easy to get rid of me, did you Sweetheart?" Steve ambles around to the side of the table, placing a lone fingertip on my ankle and skimming it all the way up my leg. I try to yank my leg away but the man holding my ankle only tightens his bruising grasp even further. Steve's free hand cups the front of his trousers suggestively. "The more you fight it, the harder I get." I spot the familiar bulge in his jeans and my eyes widen. I'm helpless as a new born lamb and his cock is getting hard. The same boy who used to hold his umbrella open for me in the rain. Now four men are holding me open for him.
The tables have not turned in my favor.
I try to plead, "Why?" around my improvised mouth gag but it comes out in a garbled, "Whay?" as my drool dribbles down my chin. Steve's shoulders shake with silent laughter, his skimming finger paused on the inside of my inner thigh. Once his laughter subsides, his eyes turn serious. His cold gaze finds my eyes. "Why? Well isn't that a silly question. I spent two years with you. Taking the privileged little princess out to dinner every weekend. Holding your car door open, buying you flowers, saying all the love-sick things gentlemen are suppose to say. All of that hard work for nothing. You denied me your love, your body." Fear wraps around my heart, squeezing as Steve's sneering gaze returns to the junction between my thighs where my womanhood is on display. I feel his finger slowing trailing up the lips of my pussy, sending a jolting wave of shock through my nerves. His thumb dips in between the lips, presses against my clit, and strokes the bud slowly. To my immense surprise, an intense pleasure shoots through my body. My hips buck of their own accord as I gasp against my gag. The men holding me down laugh at my body's reaction, sending fresh waves of humiliation through my very being. I can not hold back the sobs that wrack my body.
"Now, I'm going to take everything that I deserve and more. I'm going to fuck you into oblivion and then, just when you decide you can't take any more, I'm going to let all my men have a ride too." A familiar heat gathers in my belly and I feel my pussy becoming slick, my juices coating his fingers. I squeeze my eyes shut. How can I even look at him right now? Now he thinks I'm a freak who likes to be taken against her will. Steve chuckles. "Don't be embarrassed. I'm impressed, sweetheart." He leans down to whisper hotly in my ear, "I've never had a pussy this wet before. I knew you would be a good girl."
His fingers abandon their administrations and skim their way up my stomach, stopping at my heaving breasts. He swipes his fingers across my nipples, wiping my juices onto my delicate skin. "Now, don't be too nervous sweetheart. Luckily for you, I'm still a gentleman. Ladies first, am I right?" He places his finger in his mouth, makes a show of sucking off my remaining juices, and then releases them with a resounding
pop
. "Absolutely delicious," he mutters. The man in the navy shirt holding my leg captive groans aloud, his dark eyes staring openly at me like a starving dog. Steve takes notice. "Don't worry, old boy. You'll get some leftovers."
How is this nightmare my life right now?
Steve turns his back and strolls away. My eyes follow his movements with a mix of curiosity and dread. He stops in front of the wooden dresser drawers that sit across the far wall, opens the top drawer, and rumbles through some unknown items. He mutters aloud to himself but none of his musings are loud enough to discern. Then I hear, "Ahhh, that will do nicely". He turns and strolls back to the end of my table with a purple object in hand. My stomach drops and I yank on my captors hold on me, screaming my protests. He wouldn't do that in front of the others. He wouldn't put me through that humiliation. This should be about his pleasure, not mine. Unless.... He finds his pleasure in my helplessness. In the power he yields over me.
He holds up the clitoral vibrator, grinning as if proud of his choice. The men around me snicker at my horror. Steve's eyes glitter in amusement. "Don't be shy now, little dove. Show everybody what a feisty little hellcat you can be in the bedroom." With that final taunt, I hear him click on the vibrator and the quiet whirring of the motor fills the room. I buck my hips, whimpering cries escaping my throat as it's placed firmly against my throbbing clit. It feels.....so good. Confusion and horror sweep through my mind. Why is my body reacting to this?
