Author's note: Obviously no woman should be treated like Ingrid is treated in this story. It's just a fantasy and if fantasizing about degradation, coercion, and outright force don't get you off, this isn't the story for you.
*****
Ingrid arrived back at her motel room disheveled and exhausted. She was sticky and pretty sure she smelled like a prostitute, not that she'd ever smelled a prostitute before. Gratefully, she turned on the hot water tap in the cramped and moldy bathroom and stripped off the day's clothes, her enormous tits bouncing free from her bra. As the water slowly warmed up, she regarded her reflection in the cracked mirror over the sink.
Bruises and welts were smattered over her breasts and her nipples were still distended and reddened from the nipple clamps her boss had used on her. She had half been worried that one or both of her silicone bags would burst from the day's abuse, but her breasts still stood huge and proud on her small frame. She shimmied her shoulders toward the mirror and watched her rack bounce gently back and forth, wincing just a bit at the soreness.
Looking down over her chest at her thighs, she saw the dried cum between her legs. She had to admit that she'd been turned on earlier, at having to work at her desk all afternoon feeling her boss's sperm slowly turn from slippery to sticky and then crusty as it dried on her pussy and thighs. But now she couldn't wait to wash everything off and climb into some clean sheets.
Ingrid stepped into the steaming shower, letting the warm water cascade over her worn out body, letting the day's efforts slide down the drain. As she ran her soapy hands down her flat abdomen, over her hips and between her legs, she remembered the fat anal plug still lodged in her ass. She felt like the worst kind of slut for forgetting that it was there for even a few minutes.
Gingerly, she gave the butt plug a tug. It didn't budge. She was a bit apprehensive at having to remove the wide toy by herself. Up until now, she'd had her butt plugs inserted and removed by her day's ... sex partners? rapists? johns? She wasn't sure what the men were to her, or what to call them. Gritting her teeth she took a firmer grip on the base of the plug and pulled hard. It popped out all at once, leaving her well-fucked asshole gaping ... Ingrid could feel how wide open her anal hole was with her fingers. She hoped it closed back up!
A moment later, the three loads of cum up her ass began leaking out, plopping into the rusty tub. Before the last of it slipped out, she unthinkingly caught a handful and rubbed it up over her pussy and clit, using the disgusting cum mixture as lube to gently masturbate. Ingrid slid two fingers inside her cunt and mashed the base of her hand into her clit, working herself up as she recalled her day and thought about how she was using the cum from three different men that had been up her ass to get herself off.
Then the stingy motel shower turned ice cold with no warning. Jerked abruptly out of her horny thoughts, she gave a little squeal, rinsed off the last of the cum and soap, and shut the water off as fast as she could. What the hell was she doing? How could she masturbate after the kind of day she'd had? She'd been raped all day long! Hadn't she? She still flip flopped in her mind on if she had wanted it or not.
Ingrid toweled off and slipped into her terry cloth robe. Not all of her makeup had come off in the shower, so she used a threadbare white(ish) motel washcloth to scrub at her face as she walked out of the steaming bathroom into the main part of her room. She clicked the tv on and snuggled up on the dingy queen size bed that dominated the ugly motel room. She wouldn't be surprised if this place rented rooms out by the hour in addition to its weekly and monthly rates. Not for the first time, the busty brunette thought of her ex-boyfriend with what was growing into hate for having put her in this predicament.
Slowly her attention turned to the 20/20 news-entertainment program that was on the old television. There was a woman crying as she recounted her abduction and rape at the hands of a sadistic group of men. Ingrid was immediately fascinated as the journalist pulled salacious detail after detail from the distressed young woman for the entertainment of his national audience. The rape victim recounted how she'd been left bound spread-legged and gagged with her own panties and electrical tape for hours at a time as her rapists used her body when they wanted. She'd been gang raped. She'd been urinated on. She'd been beaten. She'd been made to give them fellatio. As the journalist nodded sympathetically to the story, Ingrid would swear he was getting excited at the specifics of the woman's experience. It disgusted her and made her really angry.
She could easily be in this woman's shoes! The more she watched, the more she came to the realization that, yes! Yes, she had been raped all day today! She was just as much a rape victim as this tearful woman on tv. She'd been raped by 4 men today!
Without pausing to think everything through, she muted the tv and reached for the telephone.
_________________________
A couple hours later, there was a sharp knock at the door. "Police! Everything ok in there?" Ingrid jerked the belt on her robe tighter and ran to the door.
"Yes, please come in, officers!"
The two male police officers entered her room, looking around and dominating the small space. After ascertaining that Ingrid was alone, the tallest one looked her up and down and flipped open his notebook. "I'm Officer Thompson and this is my partner Officer Wilde. We had a report of a rape, ma'am?"
During the time she waited for the officers' arrival, she'd worked herself up into righteous indignation. She couldn't wait to tell her story, just like that woman on the tv show earlier. "Yes! Yes, officer, I was raped by 4 men today."
The tall officer glanced at his more portly partner. "4 men, ma'am? Please tell us what happened. I see you've showered ... why didn't you call us earlier?"
As Ingrid's story tearfully spilled out, Thompson took notes. But the deeper she went into her story, the slower he was writing. When she saw him smirk towards Wilde, her voice trailed off uncertainly.
Thompson indicated that Ingrid should take a seat on the mussed up bed and he sat down next to her. "Let me get this straight, ma'am. You say you took a new job a couple days ago and your boss and his colleagues have been raping you since you started?" Ingrid nodded. "Well, let's get the examination done. Wilde?"
Officer Wilde stepped forward, studiously avoiding Thompson's eye. He instructed Ingrid to stand and take off her robe. Ingrid's stomach flipped, but she did as the police officer told her. He was there to help her, after all. She nervously let her robe fall to the floor and tried to use her arms to cover her breasts and cleanly waxed pussy.
Thompson and Wilde cooly eyed Ingrid's amazing body, gazes lingering on her immense tits. They glanced at each other and tried to smother grins.
"Please hold out your hands, ma'am." Giving up the last vestiges of her modesty, Ingrid shakily held out her hands for examination. Wilde peered closely at her hands, turning them over to see both sides. He made a few knowing noises in his throat, then asked her to sit on the bed.
