Seeing Gratification

In my own defense for how I now sometimes act, I can only relate my story and let everyone make up their own minds. I was raped during my first year of college. I was a virgin at the time. The horror, shock and yes, life reveling revelations of that first time, has drastically altered my existence in many ways - and I might add, the lives of my loved ones. Some will condemn me for my actions, others will understand. None of that matters. I'm doing this for myself, to help me to finally understand and maybe cope.

As a freshman I was already on the debate team, cheerleader squad and dating one of the "in crowd." I was going to get my degree in Biochemistry, change the world and save mankind. Ha. How's that working out now? When I look into the mirror and see the slim taunt body I'm fortunate enough to have, a dark creamy complexion, liquid brown eyes and thick dark hair, I wonder why I look like I do while many others appear relatively plain-looking. Some might even consider my looks a blessing. I do not. Sometimes, I think it's my curse.

It was the first day of Spring Break and the campus was nearly deserted. I was supposed to meet my boyfriend and the rest of our "gang" in Los Cabos in two days, but I'd stayed around to finish a paper I knew was due the first day back after Spring Break, and tidy up some loose ends before taking off. I'd just left the library and cut across the large park in the middle of our campus - nearly fifty acres of trees, grass and a small lake with ducks. It was one of my favorite spots. I hit the foot path instead of staying on the sidewalk, or my life might have been decidedly different. I guess the small choices one makes in life, define us.

I saw three workmen digging a drainage ditch or something of that nature, near the path. As I neared, they all stopped working and stared at me. It didn't make me uneasy or anything. I was too young and stupid to know about real life back then. Besides, I was used to people staring at me and I knew in my short yellow sundress, matching sunglasses and bouncing ponytail, seeing me was probably the high point of their day.

There were three of them; an older white man, a tall pimple-faced youth and a black man about twenty-five. I gave them a large smile as I came near. The older man suddenly reached out, grabbed my arm and whirled me around quickly. I found myself on my butt in the grass, foolishly worrying that I had gotten grass-stains on my pretty dress. Just as quickly, my hands were pinned to the damp grass by the black man and the old guy, who also clamped one rough dirty hand over my mouth.

Startled, but not totally scared yet because I was still wondering what had happened. I stared up as the pimpled youth knelt between my legs, grinning. He had bad teeth, I remember that well. He simply grasped my pretty dress on each side of its collar and ripped the buttons from it. My bra was the type that fastened in front, and he did the same thing to it, leaving my breasts free, open to their gaze.

"My, my. Pops, would you look at them sweet little things?" Pimples said softly. "Perfect tits."

That was when complete terror swept over me and I began to fight back. I had no chance. I'm petit and they were all strong from hard work. They just gazed down at me struggling, silently watching until I wore myself out. Their silence scared me, but it was the hunger in their eyes as they stared at me, that terrorized me more than anything else. There was a purpose to it, malevolent, like predatory animals waiting to tear its prey apart. I felt Pimples reaching under the short -hem of my dress to rip my panties away.

It was then that I realized what they intended. I wanted to cry that I was a virgin, that I was waiting until I was married. Please don't take that gift from the man I would love someday, I silently pleaded. Please have mercy, show some compassion for an innocent girl. The hand covering my mouth made any sound impossible, however. All I could do was lay meekly, whimpering, waiting. The old guy lifted his hand a fraction and grasped my nose. I opened my mouth to gulp air and Pimples shoved my panties inside. I tasted silk before I realized what had happened.

I stared up in horror as Pimples, grinning down at me the whole time, slowly pulled his zipper down and extracted his penis. It was the first adult penis I'd ever seen and I was petrified. Long, skinny, red and blotchy, with a distinct curve in it, looking like a weapon. I stared up at it, whimpering softly.

"Nice, huh baby?" Pimples showed me more bad teeth as he scooted away, lowering his head.

At the same time, "Pops" leaned down and clamped one of my nipples between his teeth, nibbling and sucking on it. No one but me had ever touched my breasts before, and the feeling was completely foreign to me. If I thought that was foreign, when Pimples' mouth covered my vagina I almost came unglued! If I could've screamed I would've, but the panties effectively muffled any sound other than emitting my small whimpers. A couple times I thought I heard someone passing on the sidewalk a hundred feet away, and once, a bike. No one could see us for the trees though and I was at these animals' mercy, of which they had none.

I don't know what I felt with a wet mouth lathing my virgin crotch, sucking on my vagina lips - or when a hot tongue slipped inside, sliding around my slippery clit, small slurping noises floating up to my ears. I felt as though I was standing on the edge of the world, on the verge of slipping off into space, and losing myself forever. What was worse, I felt myself responding to his manipulations, growing wet and slick. The warm mouth withdrew after a few moments, causing a small unexplainable sense of disappointment to surge through me. Something had been about to happen, just what was unclear. I opened my clinched eyes and found myself staring right at "Pimples" ugly face again - just then, Pops changed nipples, causing me to suck in air around the panties in my mouth.

The world seemed about ready to spin out of control and I couldn't stop it from happening. I'd used my fingers to pleasure myself during the past few years. All girls do, I suppose. I'd obtained a few small releases from doing it, but nothing like I sensed would've happened if Pimples had continued manipulating my clitoris with his tongue. It'd left me feeling confused, vaguely empty and unfulfilled. If my mouth hadn't been filled with the panties I'd have probably told him, "Well, you have me all helpless and everything. Just go ahead and finish it. I can't stop you."

Pimples grinned down at me like he knew what I was thinking, leaning close enough for me to smell his bad breath. "Got ya all lubed-up, girl. Now it's time for the main event."

He lowered himself down and I felt the purple knob I'd seen on the end of his penis, now banging against my small opening. I grunted loudly through the panties but that was all I could do. The initial pleasure his mouth had provided quickly vanished as pain from the friction took over, burning like fire. It started out bad and quickly got worse! I heard him cursing about how tight I was, and then he savagely lurched forward and I almost blacked out from pain. After an eternity, he finally stopped moving and I felt some relief.

"In there now, girl," he grinned. "How's that feel?" He flexed inside me, farther stretching my tender walls. I groaned in discomfort as he laughed down at me.

Then his face grew serious with concentration, and after a moment he started moving in and out with long measured strokes, causing me to thrash about in pain. His motions steadily grew more hurried until he was slamming his cock into me at an alarming rate, jarring my much smaller body with each lunge, making me squeal in pain. He was hitting bottom, something tender in there, feeling as if he would puncture it. That didn't last very long though, for he suddenly slammed into me all the way, stiffening and groaning loudly. After a few moments he slipped out, leaving me feeling empty and wide open as cool air rushed inside. Wetness seeped around my vagina lips and down into the crack of my butt. Yucky and slimy, growing cold and sticky as it traveled downward.

The black man quickly replaced him between my legs, holding his penis like a weapon. His penis seemed shorter to me, but thicker than Pimples' long curved one. I'm not completely stupid. I knew Pimples had ejaculated inside me and was somewhat grateful, for that eased the entry when the black man inserted his much fatter penis between my vagina lips. I remembered to say a silent prayer that I wouldn't get pregnant over this, and then he slid in easily with little pain this time, and I breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't last much longer than Pimples had, but this time I actually felt him spurting inside me, and by the time he'd finished, my thighs were quivering uncontrollably with pin-pricks of unwanted pleasure.

Pops shoved him aside roughly. "Let me show you how a man fucks," he growled, hovering over me.

Too drained from pain and fear to react, I simply watched with fascination as he guided his appendage toward its wet goal. The thing he held in his hand made Pimples and the other guy look like children! Fully as long as the youth's and thicker than the black man's penis, it looked like a baseball bat! I clinched up but the old guy's experience came into play as he gently slid the head of it up and down my slimy slit, and all around my swollen clitoris. After a moment I relaxed and he pushed inside.

More experienced than his co-workers, he slowly slid in and out, pausing to press gently against my cervix when he touched bottom. It was almost pleasant, in a way. He'd pick up speed for a while and then go back to the agonizingly slow pace again until I began anticipating it, before picking up speed once more. I felt my toes curling of their own accord, my thighs quivering uncontrollably again, and my breath coming in short grunts. Then I sighed deeply, lifting my hips to meet his thrusts.

By the time he'd emptied his load inside me I was tearing handfuls of grass out by the roots, moaning, twisting and crying, a constant string of multiple orgasms racking my small body, each one seeming to rip my belly apart. It was a pleasure of the magnitude I could've never imagined. I hardly took note when the black guy crammed his thick penis down my throat, until I began gagging on it. Then another orgasm hit me and I quit caring, only slightly aware when he erupted a few minutes later and then only because I chocked on his stream of thick cum.

This time, with the older guy, was different. I felt it when the old man shot inside me like a water hose, a hot steady stream of his nasty sperm, setting off a final shuddering orgasm in me as I slipped into a black void muttering incoherently. I was only vaguely aware when Pimples fucked me again, but he finished too quickly just as I was beginning to feel the first pin-pricks of pleasure, once more. Then they left me lying in the damp grass, my pretty dressed ruined, my life forever changed.

I walked down that path by the lake every day for a week after that, hoping I'd find my rapists there. When I didn't, I sought out others as a surrogate for them. The ones I found were simply in awe of my looks or wanted to be my boyfriend and share their love, etc., etc. I wanted to replicate the feelings I'd encountered at the lake that day. All of it. The pain, the mind-blowing orgasms, all of it. I found nothing to replace what I'd experienced the day I became a woman.

Despite having a 4.0 GPA, I dropped out of college after a year of seeing a shrink who couldn't seem to help me. I eventually fell in love and married a wonderful man. Patriotism was sweeping the country back then, and we decided to enter the Army and do our duty. My husband Mike was commissioned a second lieutenant in Military Intelligence, and I entered the same field as a Private. At first, the military honored its commitment to keep us together, but as things grew hotter in the Middle East, Mike went to Iraq and I went to Afghanistan. I'd made rank quickly and because of it, was already an E-5, what in civilian life would be called a midlevel manager. Actually, I interrogated prisoners for important Intelligence.

There were other women on the compound, some pretty, some not. Most of the ones I knew said, "If I looked as good in my uniform as you do in yours, I'd fuck the CO everyday like Margie does, and never have to do another lick of work around here."

I could see by the way he acted around me that the CO felt the same way, but I was determined that wasn't going to happen. Not with him. Not with anybody. I'd never cheated on Mike, and never would. Our CO was a black major I'll call Ross, a hulk of a man, about 6'4" and probably 290 something. He had a large square head and always looked mean. He was mean! I'd seen the way he'd treated some of the prisoners, and sometimes, even his own troops. I steered clear of him whenever I could.

The "Margie" they spoke of was a blonde pixie with big jugs and small brain, who walked around with a far-away look in her eyes and a dreamy smile all the time. She was due to rotate to the States in a few days. When she did talk to mere mortals, it was usually about the Major's huge black appendage. Her description defied all logic but the far-away look and dreamy smile indicated he was probably doing a job on her. Marge was a Staff Sergeant, which was well above her level of competency. She did absolutely no shitty details like the others, and was always available when summoned to the CO's sleeping quarters, twice daily. She'd usually wobble out about an hour later looking disheveled and disoriented, so maybe she wasn't lying about the size of our major's dick, after all.

One day he summoned me to report. I went to his office and found him behind his desk in camo fatigue pants and an olive drab t-shirt that made his chest and arms look impressive. That was probably why he wore it.

"Get the jeep Specialist. We're going to see our new home."

He explained on the way. It seemed the Brass didn't like prisoners being brought into the compound for interviews so within the next six months we were moving our operation to a deserted Afghan jail-house. He'd already been given the keys and it was now just a matter of cleaning it up, and to start moving in equipment over several months period. It'd be done during my assignment so I'd supervise it. There were two identical sets of keys, and he gave me one of them. We'd be inspecting it that day to see what it offered. The drive was short and in a secured area, so I relaxed.

We went inside and the admin area was a mess. Major Ross grunted. "Needs some work? Come on, let's look downstairs."

I followed him down a dark narrow hallway, then down some more steps into a dank basement. Stunned, I looked around. Chains and shackles were attached to some of the walls, and there were a lot of racks and other devices that could only be used for one purpose: torture. Major Ross grimaced. "Fucking animals. Probably effective enough method, though."

There were only eight small cells with sleeping mats, each with chains and neck collars attached to a wall nearby. One chamber pot was the only other things in the cells. Each had what looked to be a thick glass window, maybe Plexiglas, so the prisoners could be watched inside. I surmised they were probably kept nude. I was shivering again. I suddenly had a flash of that day in the park several years earlier, quickly pushing the thought away.

"Only the prettiest young girls were brought here," I heard Ross saying from behind me. "They were for the enjoyment of the ranking Afghan police officers. When they found one who lived up to their expectations, she was moved up the Chain of Command. The others were simply used until worn out, and then disposed of. Some were probably given to the line troops."

I looked up and caught him watching me, a strange look on his face. Kind of the same one I'd seen in the eyes of the men at the lake. It made me shiver again and I hugged my arms, suddenly brushing past him. In a small room in the rear I froze, staring at a contraption that could only be used for one thing. It was a barrel-like thing with a phallic device on it. There were straps on the side near the floor to attach someone's ankles. On closer inspection I saw there were two phallic items, a small one and a much larger one. From their positioning their intent was clear.

"This is where they brought the other female prisoners," he said softly. "Raped them repeatedly. Let all the guards just help themselves to whatever they wanted."

Another unwanted shiver passed through me. I could see this one hadn't gone unnoticed either. "Let me show you something," he said. I followed and saw a confusing wooden contraption that escaped description.

"How's that work?" I whispered.

After studying me for an instant, he said, "I'll show you." He lifted a spring gate and said, "Squeeze inside, partially sitting, partially kneeling. Rest your arms on the outside crossbars."

I did, wondering how many other women had done this before me. For some reason, my heart was hammering away inside my chest. I felt him snap something around each ankle, and then he walked around and did the same to my wrists. Sliding a brace against the back of my head, he locked it in place and I was completely secured.

"Try to move," he said.

I was immobilized, totally helpless. He explained the purpose of such a device, how three men could use one woman at the same time. My mouth grew ever dryer, my heart pounding away like a jack-hammer. He explained that with a naked woman positioned like this, a man had easy access to virtually every orifice of her body. I saw a subtle change coming over him as he observed my reaction to being helpless. He slowly moved over to stand directly in front of me – much too close – his crotch almost in line with my head.

"You can see the advantage of such a device, right?" he said softly, fingering his belt buckle suggestively.

I couldn't answer - and couldn't take my eyes off his fingers. He unfastened his buckle and just let it hang there, waiting for me to stop this. I found I couldn't. My mouth was so dry I couldn't say a word, my tongue feeling tender and swollen inside it. In the cool quietness of the room, his zipper sounded overly loud, my breathing even louder. I tried to keep from licking my lips but my traitorous tongue wasn't having it. Out it came to dampen my dry lips, as I fought back the groan that threatened to emerge. It was as if I were hypnotized. I couldn't look away from his fingers.

He slowly reached inside his fly and just flopped his cock out. Flopped. That's the only way to describe it. Margie hadn't been fabricating stories, after all. If anything, she'd downplayed the black monster I saw hanging a foot in front of my face. Still rather soft, it was the thing they make porn movies about.

"Please." I muttered.

Ross didn't say a word, inching closer, stopping with the huge purplish black crown inches from my face. I caught a whiff of his manly scent. "Please don't," I whimpered softly.

He finally spoke. "Why does this make you wet?"

Flashes of an afternoon by a distant lake, shot through my physic and I shuddered noticeably. "It doesn't," I finally croaked through a dry mouth. My thighs were now trembling uncontrollably and I knew I was gushing enough to soil my fatigues.

"Please." I pleaded again as he inched even closer, his cock-head almost brushing my lips - which were now inexplicably wet with saliva.

"If you want out of there say so right now and I'll unfasten it."

I didn't say anything. Instead, I stuck out my tongue and licked the tip of his hardening cock. Its aroma was driving me crazy and I was suddenly starving for just a taste. I could barely reach it with the tip of my tongue. He knew that. Clearly taking delight in the fact and enjoying making me struggle to keep licking it, as it bounced away. It thoroughly humiliated me but I couldn't seem to stop chasing that cock with my mouth. As it stiffened he grew longer and more cock became available to my mouth. I was finally able to wrap my wet lips around about half the crown, coating it with my saliva, sliding my swollen lips hungrily all over it. I was rewarded with a droplet of pre-cum, softly moaning my appreciation.