No

When I awoke, I was surrounded by white. Confused, I blinked a few times before registering that it was the comforter on the bed I was laying in. I sat up. Sunlight streamed pleasantly through the windows that covered one of the walls, warming my skin where it hit. I smiled.

My skin... I was naked.

And I didn't remember going to sleep here. My smile faded as I pulled the comforter up over my breasts. What the hell had happened? I took a few breaths to stop my panic.

Ok, so I didn't know where I was. Did I at least remember what had happened the previous night? I closed my eyes and thought. Nope. Well, sort of. I remembered going out to a club with some friends and having a few drinks. The last thing I could recall was dancing with my best friend Olivia. At that time, I'd only had a couple of drinks, although I was sure I had intended to have more. It was Olivia's birthday celebration and even though I was normally the designated driver, this time we'd all chipped in to hire a limo. I highly doubted they would have just abandoned me, unless I'd told them to.

Ok, so I didn't know how I'd gotten here. I turned my head, gazing around the room for clues. The room was very generic although in a nice way. I thought it was probably a room at an expensive hotel, judging by the windows, the layout, and the contents. From the bed, I coudn't see anything of my personal belongings. No purse, no cell phone, no clothing, not even the scrunchy that I'd had in my hair the night before.

Taking a deep breath, and because I suspected there wasn't anyone here, I called out, "Hello?" in a soft voice. Except for the hum of the air conditioner, there was silence. "Ok, then," I whispered to myself. I took another deep breath, carefully pulled back the comforter, and got out of the bed. It was time to do some exploring.

Walking as quietly as I could, I slipped down the short hallway to the left. It led to the hotel room door, a closet, a locked door to an adjoining room, and the bathroom. I looked longingly at the bathroom. As much as I needed to pee, I didn't want anyone knowing that I was moving about, if somewhere someone was watching or listening. I may have been a little paranoid, but this was just too weird for me to take anything for granted, especially my supposed solitude.

I opened the closet as carefully as I could, just enough so that I could peek inside. Hangers, a safe, an extra blanket and pillow, and one of those luggage rack things. No clothes. I checked the bathroom next. Nothing in there aside from the normal bathroom accessories. Nothing had even been used. The toilet paper still had that little triangle folded into it.

Having determined that there was nothing and no one in that half of the room, I returned to the main part of the room. It had a king size bed, a nightstand, a desk, a stuffed chair and footstool, and a highboy with a cupboard and drawers. I checked the desk first, and found nothing but normal hotel detritus in the drawers. Well, at least now I knew the name of the hotel. I went to the nightstand next, where I found a phone cord that was plugged into the wall, but not into a phone. My heart thumped hard in my chest and adrenaline washed through me. Someone didn't want me making phone calls.

My legs now shaking, I crept over to the highboy. There was nothing in the drawers except a Bible and a Book of Mormon. When I opened the cupboard part of the highboy, I found a bottle of whiskey, a television, and an iPod with a yellow Post-It note stuck to the front of it.

'PRESS PLAY'

Fuck that. I was leaving before someone showed up. I had no clothes, but that didn't matter. I could wrap a towel or the sheet around me and walk out of here. I was sure I could find help at the front desk. Once I was out of here, there would be plenty of time to figure out what was going on.

I went over to the bed and dragged the top sheet off of it. I constructed a poorly-made toga out of it and then grabbed the iPod as evidence, yanking it off of the cord that connected it to the television. I glanced at the bathroom one more time and decided to take the risk, but I left the bathroom door open to make sure no one snuck up on me while I was in there.

When I was done, I went to the hotel door. Clutching the iPod with my left hand, I unlocked it, grabbed the handle, and yanked. As a metal fire door, it was heavy enough that I had a little trouble with it. I had to use my entire body, my focus remaining on the door as I pushed it open as far as I could, only looking outside the room as I took a step out.

I froze when I saw the man leaning against the wall on the other side of the doorway. Then the door hit me in the butt, and I was forced to take a step forward to brace myself against its weight. We stared at each other. He was taller than me and of medium build with dark hair and wearing sunglasses. He had on jeans and a t-shirt, and one knee was bent so that one of his boot-clad feet was behind him, flat on the wall. His arms were crossed in front of him, and as I looked him up down, he raised a single eyebrow at me.

"And where do you think you're going?" he asked me in soft deep voice.

I tried to scream at that moment, but when I opened my mouth, nothing came out. He took a step toward me and I backed into the room as quickly as I could go until I lost my balance, dropping the iPod with a soft thump and landing on my ass on the floor. He continued his slow advance while I scrambled backwards crab-like on the floor, the poorly-made toga unwinding from the awkward movement.

By the time I reached the windows, the toga was a sheet draped around my neck and flowing down the front of my body. I didn't notice. I was staring up at the man that I could only assume had kidnapped me.

I was sitting bent with my knees against my chest, as far back against the windows as I could get, the sun-warmed glass heating my back. His black leather boots straddled my feet, and he towered over me, lit by the sun coming through the windows. I stared at myself reflected in the black lenses of his sunglasses, unable to move.

He'd taken his time getting to me, stopping twice, once to relock the door and once to pick up the iPod I'd dropped. He held up the iPod now and pointed to it. "Did you watch this?" he asked smoothly.

Trembling, I didn't answer. I wound my arms around my knees and hid my face against them.

I heard his knees pop when he knelt down, and then pain flared through the back of my skull as he grabbed the hair at the nape of my neck and pulled it away from my knees. I cried out.

Holding the iPod up in front of my face this time, he shook my head the way one might a puppy that has misbehaved. "Did You Watch This?" he asked me.

"No," I whispered and flushed.

He growled softly. Letting go of my head with one last rough shake, he got to his feet and went over to the television. As he reconnected the iPod to the television, I started looking frantically around the room for things I could brain him with. Aside from lamps, there was nothing heavy in the room that I thought I could pick up.

When my eyes focused back on him, he was watching me and shaking his head. He flipped the television on, took off his sunglasses, and then stalked back over to me. I cringed away from him. He grabbed my arm roughly, pulling me to my feet. Then, he grabbed the sheet draped over my neck and pulled it backwards. The entire sheet fell to the floor with a soft sigh. I whimpered.

"You won't be needing that," he said. Turning abruptly, he pulled me to the bed and then pushed me down so that I was sitting on the edge of it. He pointed a finger at my face, right in front of my nose.

"Stay," he said sternly, as if talking to a dog.

I bit his finger, drawing blood.

He slapped me so hard that my head snapped to the side and tears came to my eyes. "Bitch," he growled. "No biting."

He turned away from me to do something with the iPod and I rubbed my cheek. There had to be a way out of this. I ran for the door, but I didn't make it. He caught me easily by the arm, pulling me back to the bed. He pushed me roughly back down. When I looked up at him, he slapped me again, same cheek, knocking me down onto the bed this time.

On my side at the bottom of the bed, I sobbed into the white comforter, hurt and overwhelmed. "Stay," he said again, in the same tone. I heard him turn back to the television, but this time I didn't move.

After a moment, he got into the bed with me. I closed my eyes and refused to look at him. He shoved my shoulder down flat onto the bed and straddled my chest, holding my shoulders down with his knees. I opened my eyes in alarm when he started prying my mouth open with his fingers. I fought him weakly, not able to move much while his was straddling my chest. Annoyed he backhanded me hard across my face. I stopped fighting, afraid he was going to knock out teeth.

He leaned down on the bed and stared me in the eyes. His eyes were mean and dark and angry and lustful. Terrified, I tried to look away and he slapped me again, lighter this time, but I understood. I met his eyes. He grinned. "Open your mouth," he growled.

Shaking, I obeyed. He leaned back a little and picked up the bottle of whiskey. I shut my mouth, but opened it again when he crooked an eyebrow at me. "Swallow, or you'll drown," he said. And then he started pouring.

It burned as it hit my mouth. I swallowed frantically, trying to keep up with his pour, some of the whiskey overflowing my mouth and running down the sides of my face. I swallowed and swallowed, the liquid burning my throat and my empty nauseated stomach. I choked on the liquid, coughing and throwing my head to the side. The remainder of the whiskey in my mouth flew out as I coughed with difficulty, unable to get enough air in my lungs with the man sitting on my chest.

Finally, I stopped and looked up at him with tears in my eyes. He had a cruel grin on his face. "You spilled," he said. He slid down a little on my torso, now sitting on my stomach with his knees on my upper arms. My breasts were exposed to him. He grabbed my nipples and twisted. I cried out as sharp pain shot through my body. As I sobbed, he slapped my breasts hard, making sure to hit the nipples, but it wasn't enough for him. Every third or fourth slap, he'd grab a nipple and twist until I was bucking underneath him, trying to get him off of me. It didn't work, he was too heavy, and all I could do was bear it as he punished me, tears mixing with the whiskey on my cheeks.

At last, he seemed satisfied. Climbing off of me, he poked at the iPod and then grabbed my arm and pulled me toward him. I didn't fight him, unsure of what he was about to do. He sat down at the head of the bed with his back against the wall and pulled me between his legs, facing the television, with my back leaning against his chest. I sat stiffly, with my arms crossed over my battered breasts and my legs tightly together, trying to protect myself as best as I could. The alcohol was already making me woozy and I fought that too. He ignored my posture and wrapped his arms around me, almost tenderly.

"Watch," he whispered, his breath tickling my ear and the base of my neck. Clutching myself tighter, I stared at the television, incredibly aware of the man behind me, holding me hostage. My mind raced through possibilities to get away, but I nothing came to mind. I was going to have to wait, endure whatever happened, and then run when the opportunity arose, and I was sure it would arise.

The television was dark at first, just a black screen, but that only lasted another thirty seconds or so. The screen faded into a bar where the camera was scanning the crowd, sometimes zooming in on a person, only to zoom back out again. The sound was all generic bar noise. After about a minute of this, the camera zoomed into two women standing at the bar, one with shoulder length red hair pulled back into a pony tail and the other with black hair and an expensive up-do. I stiffened when I recognized Olivia as the one with the black hair and realized the one with the red hair was me.

The man behind me chuckled. He stopped hugging me and moved his hands to my upper arms, stroking up and down on the bare skin there. I shifted uncomfortably. I could tell he was trying to be tender and gentle, but there was no way I was going to relax, not after what he'd already done to me. The camera followed Olivia and me to the dance floor and then zoomed back out, and I heard a male voice over the cacophony of the bar. "That's the one I want," said the voice. And then the screen went black.

I tried to get up.

"Sit still," said the man, his hands squeezing my shoulders hard. "It's not over." I let myself lean stiffly against him. He started gently rubbing my upper arms again. I could feel him through his jeans behind me, and realized that this was turning him on.

I was in so very, very much trouble.

Ten seconds later, the video came back on. This time, it was an empty hotel room, almost exactly the same as this one, only with the floor plan in the opposite direction and two queen sized beds instead of a king. A thought occurred to me and I glanced uneasily at the locked door that led to an adjoining room.

"You're a smart one," the man said approvingly. His hands moved down to my forearms now, sweeping up to my shoulders and back down. I wished he would stop touching me, but then my attention was caught by the hotel room door opening in the video.

--

Two men came through the door, holding me up between them. I was staggering drunk, my shirt partially unbuttoned, tripping over my boots. One of the men was the one I was leaning on right now. The other was slightly taller with lighter hair. Both men wore t-shirts, jeans, and black leather boots, although the boots on the dark haired man were motorcycle boots and the ones on the lighter haired man were military style.

In the video, the men tossed me roughly on the bed, my legs spread and the camera pointing right up my skirt at my white panties. I groaned drunkenly and tried to sit up, but the lighter haired man stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. "You're just fine right there, love," said the man in a British accent. I apparently believed him because I stopped trying to sit up. The dark haired man disappeared into the bathroom.

The light haired man stood over me, gazing down at me. Then he reached down and slid a hand up my skirt, caressing my thigh. I moaned as he got closer to my panties, and he grinned. "She definitely wants it," he said, as the dark haired man came out of the bathroom.

In the video, he smiled and came closer to me. "Let's see how much we can make her want it," he growled.

--

On the bed, his hands had not stopped moving up and down my arms. I jerked away from his touch, intending to get up, to get away. Before I could do much more than shift my weight, he grabbed my hair and pulled me back so that my head was against his shoulder. He twisted my head so that I could look him in the eye. "It's not over yet," he crooned. "Keep watching." The hand not wrapped in my hair slid softly from my right shoulder down to my right breast. He cupped my breast, sliding his hand gently back and forth under the globe, supporting the weight of it. He looked me in the eyes. "Stay," he said. He let go of my head and as I turned to look back at the television, his left hand cupped my left breast. His hands flowed and moved over and over my breasts, stopping to tug lightly on the nipples, much gentler than he'd been before.

Frozen in terror, I felt his hard cock pulse through his jeans where it rested against my bare ass. Dizzy from the whiskey, I swallowed with difficulty and turned my attention back to the television, ignoring his caressing hands.

--

The video had continued on without us watching. When I was able to get my eyes to focus back on it, I saw that they hadn't undressed me, but they had moved me so that I was completely on the bed. Dark-haired man had untucked my shirt, unbuttoned it, and was working on pulling the black bra out of the way so that he could get to my breasts. Annoyed, he pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and slit the fabric between the two bra cups. A look of satisfaction crawled slowly across his face as he uncovered one and then the other breast.

"Take a look at these tits," he said to light-haired man.

Light-haired man had pushed my black skirt up around my waist and was trying to slide off my white panties. He looked up from his struggles. "Luscious," he said. "Give me that knife."

Dark-haired man handed him the knife and light haired man used it to cut off my panties. He dropped the switchblade on the bedside table and then whisked the panties off with a flourish. "The gates of paradise are open."

"No," I moaned, in the video. Dark-haired man stopped staring at my breasts and looked at my face. He slid his hand over my cheek.

"Shh," he said to me. "You're drunk, you don't know what you want. You'll like this, I promise." He started caressing my breasts, pinching and pulling on the nipples, moving his hands over and around the globes. Then he bent his head to suck on them. I wiggled drunkenly in pleasure.

Light-haired man completely ignored my protest and spread my legs wide apart. He spread my lips and shoved two fingers roughly into my pussy. I moaned, arching my back against his hand. "Dry," he announced. "Or at least, not wet enough to fuck yet."

Dark-haired man rolled his head away from my nipples. "Screw it," he said. "She doesn't need to want it for us to fuck her. She's practically unconscious. Look in that drawer there."

Light-haired man opened the drawer and pulled out a bottle of lubricant. Grinning, he unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock out. "Well then, I'm getting right to it," he said. "As drunk as she is, I'll have all night to play around with whatever parts I want."

Dark-haired man nodded and went back to flicking and sucking my nipples. I grasped his head drunkenly, holding him to my breasts. "See, you're liking it already, aren't you?" he said to me.

"Yes," I said, my eyes still closed.

Light-haired man climbed on top of me and thrust himself forward. My body moved underneath him. He lifted my legs up so that he could get a better angle and pounded into me.

--

On the bed, I tried to look away, but the man wouldn't let me. Abandoning my breasts, he moved both hands to the side of my head and held me there. "Watch," he said. "Watch your rape."

I sobbed, but I watched. After a moment, he dropped his hands back down. I expected him to go back to caressing my breasts, but he didn't. Instead he grabbed my thighs and pulled them apart, like the light-haired man had done in the video. In shock, I didn't resist. He arranged my legs so that my feet were on the outside of his legs. I was spread wide open.

Tears dripped onto my breasts as I watched light-haired man thrust into me over and over again. The man's hands returned to my breasts and when he found tears there, he laughed. "No need to cry, pumpkin," he said to me softly. "It'll all be over soon." As soon as he had said those words, light haired man in the video thrust hard once, twice, three times, and then shuddered. "You see, pumpkin? All over. But you keep watching now."

I didn't want to, but I couldn't break my eyes away from this screen. The man's hands busy on my chest.

--

In the video, light haired man, rolled off me, and then wiped his cock on my skirt. He spanked my thigh, leaving a red mark. "Good fuck, love" he commented to my supine form. "Not a word of complaint."

"She's crying," dark-haired man pointed out as he looked up from sucking on my breasts.

Light-haired man looked at the tears with indifference. "Eh, she just needs a little more warm up."

Dark haired man tilted his head. "My turn. Help me get her onto all fours."