Cumming for the Cause

Cumming for the Cause

Day 1

Emily woke up someplace dark and unfamiliar. It was immediately clear something was wrong; she couldn't move. She stretched, wiggled, and flexed as much of her body as she could. With each movement she began to discern the entirety of the situation she was in. Her arms were constricted at her sides. By the caustic feel of material, it was rope. Her hands were further bound behind her back. Her legs were also tied together. She could bend slightly at the knees and hips, but her predicament did not allow for anything beyond that. The darkness around her was so complete it could only be accomplished with a blindfold.

A completely muffled scream and a fullness in her mouth indicated that she was gagged as well.

Think, she told herself. What was happening right before this. She knew she'd been out with friends, listening to music, having drinks. What happened after? Had she left with someone? She couldn't summon any memories beyond what was otherwise an ordinary night out. Everything else was a cloud of haze.

Where was she, and how long had she been here? Now having a better understanding of her body, she tuned into the world around her. There was a vibration to the floor, a humming sound around, and occasional bumps. A van. She was in the back of a van or truck or something driving fast down the highway.

Fuck, this was bad. Really, really fucking bad. There was no getting around it; she'd been kidnapped.

The thought didn't surprise her actually. In the back of her mind, she'd always wondered if something like this was possible. Her father was a powerful, rich, and controversial United States senator. Surely someone was looking for ransom, a nice payout. She consoled herself with the thought that a fat checkbook and the flick of a wrist were all that was standing between her and freedom again. It might take a day or two, and she might piss herself waiting in the back of this van, but it wouldn't be long until she was back in her apartment pretending this was all a bad trip. She smiled a little; it would make for a great story next weekend. Maybe she'll even get interviewed on prime-time Fox News. They could dress it up and make it all sound appropriately heroic - even if all she did was lie in the back of a van and wait for someone to get paid.

Hours passed, and then more hours. To keep herself occupied she practiced her interview sound bites. "No, I never lost faith. I knew my father would come through for me the way he comes through for our nation every day." She liked that one in particular.

Eventually the monotonous hum quieted down, as the vehicle slowed and stopped, and then went through a series of turns in the subsequent minutes. They'd transitioned from the highway to surface streets somewhere. They slowed to a complete stop, and the engine shut off. The floor no longer vibrated. Emily was at her destination, whatever and wherever that was. Also, whenever - God only knows how long she'd been in there. A door opened beyond her feet. A strong pair of hands wordlessly grabbed her by the ankles and slid her body towards the back. The next thing she felt was being lifted into the air and thrown facedown over someone's shoulder. Clearly they were somewhere remote or private because her perpetrator was being seriously conspicuous about the manner in which he casually tossed around the body of rope-bound young woman. It was like being back on the ranch where she grew up, farmhands throwing bags of feed over their shoulder and carrying them places. Only this time she was the bag of feed.

She was surprised how calm she felt, considering the circumstances. She didn't even consider trying to scream or shake herself loose, but that's the confidence that comes with proximity to power.

A door opened and closed, and the sound of wind faded; she'd been taken indoors. There was murmuring coming from somewhere - another room, maybe down a hall. She was trying to map her surroundings based on sound alone, but it wasn't possible.

She heard the creaking wood and felt the downward trajectory from descending a flight of stairs. A couple of turns later and she was released, laid down on some sort of surface. It wasn't a bed or a couch, but it definitely wasn't the floor. Her fingers wriggled around. It seemed to be some sort of flat vinyl or leather platform off the ground, not uncomfortable but also not exactly comfortable. She gave up trying to learn by touch and began listening intently. The footsteps of her pack mule receded out the room.

"She's in there." She heard a voice somewhere out there, presumably the mule.

New footsteps entered the room, distinguished by a slower, more methodical cadence.

"I'm sure you're wondering why you're here and who we are and a bunch of other things. Give me a minute to set up, and I'll explain everything." Set up? That sounded ominous.

"That looks really uncomfortable. My guy must have been paranoid you'd shake free and tied things a bit too tight. Let me get you into something more suitable. You'll understand, I'm sure, that I can't exactly let you roam free, but these restraints will be more comfortable." A hand reach behind her back and loosened whatever was holding her wrists together. Then the cords circling her arms, stomach, and chest were unraveled, like yarn pulled from a spool, until her entire upper body was freed, save for her gag and blindfold. But before she could stretch and enjoy the newfound freedom of movement, each wrist was again roughly grasped, pulled up above her head, and clasped in some sort of handcuff mechanism. However, as promised, it was much more comfortable than having everything bound tightly to her sides.

She wanted to be ungagged. She wanted to carry on some casual conversation with this man to show that she wasn't afraid, that she "got it." "Look we all know why we're here. I'm sure any number in the six-figure range could be sent across by the end of the day today. While we're waiting, do you have any Netflix recommendations? I've run out of shows to watch. Is the wifi any good in this place? If you're looking for seven figures, we might have some more time to kill."

But there was no way to communicate that. As she was thinking it, the rope around her legs was loosened and removed, and then, for the first time since she'd first awoken in the back of the van, something happened that she wasn't expecting. Instead of being just resecured in place with a new restraint, each ankle was hoisted into mid-air and locked into place, such that her knees made a 90-degree angle, with her thighs vertical and feet secured aloft. This was a truly bizarre way to be held hostage, and Emily felt a pump of adrenaline in her gut as she wondered whether her assumptions about being kidnapped were wrong. She heard a chair being pulled across the floor into position, and the man spoke again.

"I'm going to speak plainly because I want you to know what this is and what this isn't. Your father is Senator Robert T. Jones, one of the leading anti-abortion activists in the country. I represent a group called the FMA, the Feminist Men of America. We are militantly pro-choice and taking the fight to the men of this country who are working to strip away a woman's right to choose. Your father, and men like him, and trying to return us to caveman principles. It has come to our attention that later this year the republican-majority senate will pass bill SR1047, which will permanently make abortion a federal crime in all states. This simply cannot happen."

Emily thought, what does this have to do with me? She reflected on how dispassionate and business-like this man's voice was, despite the extremity of her position and the content of his speech.

"My FMA brothers and I have set a plan in motion that will ensure the future of a woman's right to choose in this country. We have been monitoring you closely for weeks. Each day when you go to get your morning latte at Starbucks, we surreptitiously check your body temperature with an infrared probe. We've tapped into the plumbing of your apartment and have been monitoring the hormone levels in the urine you flush each day. We know that you are on the cusp of ovulating, and that is why are you here today."

She suddenly felt cold all over. Ovulation? What the fuck is he talking about?

"We will be impregnating you here, in this room. That is why you are restrained the way you are. You will stay in this house, for months, until you are showing. Then we will drop you off on the doorstep of your fascist father in time before the big vote. How could he possibly vote against abortion when his daughter is pregnant from the seed of an unknown man?"

She felt sick. She had been wrong. She wished she had somehow tried to escape while she was being brought into the house. Maybe it was impossible, but she should have tried.

"I know you did nothing to deserve this, but it is happening nonetheless."

With that, he pulled away a section of the structure underneath her, the portion beneath her suspended legs. Now a bit of her ass was hanging over the ledge while her back rested on the remaining platform.

She next felt pressure on the backside of her left thigh, then heard the unmistakable sound of fabric shearing. He had scissors and was cutting away a portion of her leggings. With each cut it became clear that he was cutting away the crotch. He was exposing her and clearing a path through which he would inseminate her. She hoped that it wouldn't hurt, whatever turkey baster or instrument they put inside to impregnate her. Next her panties were pulled away from her body and slid to the side. She was surprised to hear a wet slap as they snapped into place in the crease between her pussy and thigh. Surely she couldn't be wet, could she?

Then there was a pause. She wasn't sure what he was doing. There was a light metallic sound and the rustling of fabric, then time and relative silence passed. The skin prickled on her right leg, and she realized she could feel his hot breath on her. He was standing between her suspended legs.

Finally, the unimaginable happened. It wasn't a turkey baster or some modern fertility treatment piece of equipment that entered her with designs on impregnation. Very clearly, from the initial moment of penetration, it was a flesh and blood penis. As the man burrowed his full length into her, Emily felt his thighs press again her ass. He stayed there without further thrusting. She couldn't tell whether he was relishing the moment or confused about what his next move should be.

As for herself, Emily did not know what to think or feel. Her shock had numbed her beyond any conscious thought. She dissociated briefly, looked at herself from a corner. She imagined a dark room, some sort of fucked up pervert sex dungeon, without natural light and everything painted black. She saw herself in the middle, recumbent on her back, hands bound above her head, legs suspended in air, some thrusting monstrosity of a man penetrating her fully clothed other than the roughly cut-away patch giving this creatin open access to her pussy.

Her pussy. That thought returned her to the present, back into her body. The more she thought about her pussy the more she realized how easily he had glided in. How wet she must be for his entirety to enter so quickly. She was shocked, and again almost sickened, to find how pleasant his fullness felt within her. He still hadn't moved, holding himself still inside.

She then caught herself, betrayed by the response of her own body. For the first time she tried to squirm and tried to scream her way out of the gag. It was no use, but it felt good to buck. But unfortunately she somehow bucked herself deeper onto his shaft. The movements of her body squirming against the restraints stirred something within the man. His breath began to quicken. A slow muttering progressed to a deep moaning, which gradually evolved into spoken words.

"This is it. I'm cumming for the cause. Today I plant the seed that will grow into a better future!" She could almost hear his teeth grinding as he then gritted his was through an almost pained climax. He continued to barely move, but she could feel the pulsing of his cock as it pumped out wave after wave after wave of cum. He must have been saving this load for weeks because it was never-ending.

As he withdrew, she couldn't help but laugh a little. This guy is lame a fuck, she thought. He's a psychotic, evangelist, true believer wacko that spouts manifestos when he cums. But her inner laughter was replaced abruptly by those traitorous feelings of pleasure when she felt a small amount of his semen drip from her exposed vagina and run down her ass before falling to the floor. Without thinking to, she pulled in with the outer walls her of orifice, like she did during her daily keigle exercises, strangely holding onto the rest of the stranger's semen. She told herself that it was defensive, to push back against anything else entering, but in her heart she knew she wanted to hold to what had just been given to her.

She heard him dressing, pulling up his pants. "Um." She immediately noted nervousness and shame in that short note of a sound. "I, uh, I hope that was good for you. Um. I know this whole thing sucks for you, but it's nothing personal, ok. OK?" He'd forgotten she was gagged and hadn't been able to speak in hours. (Maybe days? It was hard to tell how long she'd been gone.) "So, let me just tell you about what's going to happen next. You've got to stay where you are laying down, to increase the chance of pregnancy. In maybe 30 minutes one of my partners is going to come in and untie you and get you some dinner and then we'll let you hang out alone in this room and get some rest."

He paused and she could feel his awkwardness increase through nothing more than the ether of the room. "We don't know exactly the timing of your ovulation, but we know there is a three-day window to get you pregnant. For the next two days you are going to be visited by two more members of the FMA so that they can do their duty also." With that, he stumbled from the room, feet dragging and scuffing the floor from his weak-kneed walk. The door closed and she was alone with her thoughts.

When he'd mentioned two more men and two more days, why hadn't she been sickened? Why hadn't she recoiled and disassociated? If anything, she was now more in her own self than she'd ever felt. If anything, she was clutching even tighter onto his prize within her.

She remained so distracted by these thoughts she didn't even notice that another man had been in the room. She was awakened from her stupor when he began disentangling her from the apparatus that had been holding her in place. Her hands and legs were freed followed by the blindfold and gag, but by the time she sat up and opened her eyes, all she saw was the silhouette of a man framed against the door as he closed it behind himself. A loud deadbolt slid into place, probably held just as firm as that cock that pulsed within her so recently. Standing up now, a river of semen threaded a sinewy course down her pant leg. No amount of kegel clutching could hold back that massive tide.

As she got her bearings, Emily was shocked to find out what her accommodations actually looked like. The totality of the blindfold had made her assume she was in some dungeon, but she found the exact opposite. Light poured through large windows framing views into a wooded expanse beyond. Iron bars over the windows perhaps lessened the aesthetic effect, but it was lovely all the same. The room itself was white, save for pink bedding over a large comfortable-looking bed.

"Why did we have to fuck on that table when there's a perfectly good bed in the room," she muttered to herself. In the corner was a bathroom, and on the floor near the locked door was a tray of food. It was only in that moment that she realized how ravenous she was and descended on it with glee.

As she finished the light began to grow dim, revealing evening outside. A set of new clothes had been laid out on the bed, but she remained in what she came in. She spread her body across the mattress, delighting in no longer being tied up, extending her arms and legs as far out as they would stretch. She also embraced in the cool breeze that ran across her exposed groin. She'd almost forgotten about the large hole in her leggings. The open air brushed against her drenched pussy and brought bracingly cold shocks. And in that posture, open and inviting for all the world to see, or at least three men holding her captive, she drifted off to sleep.

Day 2

When she awoke the next morning, Emily was under the bed sheets. Someone had come into the room and covered her; they had also placed breakfast at the door. She ate and returned to the bed, wondering what would come next. A funny thought occurred to her. In any other context, this had all the makings of her ideal vacation: car service, personal chef and breakfast in bed, no strings attached anonymous sex. Of course, that wasn't exactly right; there were strings attached. She was being forcibly made pregnant with the child of one of three men taking turns fucking her against her will as part of some deranged political revenge fantasy.

The funny thought was followed by a perverse thought: what was guy number two going to be like today? Yesterday's sex was exceptionally weird. Were all these guys like that? Too fucked in the head to perform. Before continuing that line, she caught herself. No. The implication of that line of questioning was that there could be something to look forward to behind door number two. She couldn't allow herself to think that way. Regardless, today's freak might cream his pants before even getting to her.

Which queued another thought. How was he even going to get at her? Yesterday they'd had the benefit of her coming pre-tied up. Now she was mobile, untethered, rested, and ready to fight back.

She didn't have to wait long to find out. Minutes later the door opened without a knock, and all three men entered, each comically dressed in all black with crudely constructed ski masks covering their faces, like third rate movie henchmen.

"Uh, how was your night?" She recognized the voice of Guy Number One from yesterday. She wondered immediately which of the other two was her assigned beau for today, future Guy Number Two.

"Oh great. After being kidnapped and inseminated yesterday I really slept like a baby. How the fuck do you think, you indescribable moron?" Although the reality of her night was that she had actually slept better than she could remember in years.

A brief awkward silence fell over the room.

The tallest of the three men stepped forward. "I'm perfectly happy to dispense with the pleasantries if that's what you prefer." Behind the mask she could see his eyes looking her up and down. "You're wearing the same clothes as yesterday." It was both a statement and a question.

"Yeah, I'm not sure I see the use in putting on new pants if you're just going to cut a glory hole in the middle of them." She nodded towards Number One. "Thanks for that by the way."

"Well that's not going to work. You are going to need to be clean for me." So Tall Guy was also planning to become Guy Number Two today, she thought. "We've provided you with everything you need in the bathroom. We'll come back in an hour, and I look forward to seeing you showered and in the other clothes we provided. I'm not interested in anyone's sloppy seconds in the rank rags you spent yesterday in."

"Even though you assholes got me here, I'm not tied down anymore. I plan to do exactly fuck-all of what you ask. I'm wearing what came with me, I'm finding a way out of here, and if one more cum-filled prick comes near me I'm going to sever it from the rest of your body and force-feed it to one of your friends here."