The Only Girl in the Room

I was going through a lonely spell when I decided to attend a concert that fateful October night. I'd recently entered my first year at a state school with tens of thousands of kids, yet somehow I had nowhere to fit in. Interestingly, I found myself hanging out with the punk kids, not really because I liked the music, but more cause I loved the style. The leather, studs, and dark aesthetic held a unique, almost sexual, appeal for me.

My new crowd was a rough bunch who smoked and drank after classes. They were into the death metal scene and were going to a show that night by a band with some vile name like "Gore Fucker". Since I was a loner who desperately wanted friends, I came along and was especially excited to dress the part. That night, I wanted to look good.

Not fully comprehending the sort of concert it would be, I stupidly dressed like a punk rock slut. I wore fishnets and black boots with a tall, chunky heel to accentuate my thin legs. They were matched with a minuscule black and emerald school girl skirt, and a tiny crop top that said "Slayer"; I'd bought it that day at H&M. The outfit showed off my trim tummy, and in my naiveté, I didn't realize all this dolling up would ultimately be for the satisfaction of hungry men. With each stroke of my makeup brush -- the red lips, the fake lashes -- I was, in essence, marinating and smoking myself, then spreading out on a silver platter for the ferocious beasts that would later devour me.

"Sup, Daisy," Mia greeted coolly as I hopped in her boyfriend's convertible after she texted me to come outside.

There was just one bench so Mia moved to the middle and I sat by the door. She was dressed like me, like a skanky groupie, but she had something I didn't: a boyfriend. Little did I know, Mia would never have gone to a concert like this without her man to protect her. She'd never step foot in a place like that -- in the headbanging jungle -- alone, but she didn't warn me.

"Hey, babe, take a rip of this," Xander coughed as he handed me the joint he'd just lit.

He reached behind Mia to pass it, then left his hand on my shoulder and pulled us both into him. It was weird and I was really uncomfortable, but Xander always did creepy things like that. He was almost 30 and a biker, and I don't think he was the nicest guy, but Mia said he gave her free drugs and alcohol and brought her to parties, so she kept hanging out with him.

I was new to smoking weed and drinking but accepted the joint eagerly; who wants to be sober at a concert? Soon I was swaying happily in the car, Mia feeding me sips of vodka through a flask with some lemonade to chase. I was having a great time until Xander's finger slipped under my bra strap. He fiddled with it, pulling it up and slapping it down, tickling my neck, rubbing my ear. It was really unnerving, especially when I looked behind Mia's head he winked at me. I shivered but was too tipsy to ask him to stop.

"Come on, Dais, we're here."

Xander parked the car and had already gotten out to open the door for us. As I exited, he groped my ass cheek and nearly grazed the underside of my bare pussy. That's when I realized just how exposed I was in this outfit. My tiny G-string was the only thing protecting my girlhood from the outside world. My skirt could easily be flipped up, and the wide holes of the fishnets were hardly protection against an intruder.

I started shaking as we walked through the parking lot and tried pulling my skirt down to at least cover the bottoms of my cheeks. If I bent over even one inch, though, it would ride up and soon my black panties were on display, smothered by my chubby, pale lips.

Xander assured me, "the boys are gonna love you."

I know it sounds dumb to go to a concert dressed like this, but you have to understand I was really inexperienced at the point and had no idea the effect an outfit -- or even just my gender! -- could have. I would soon learn my lesson.

Before we had even walked 50 feet, a leather-clad hooligan behind us hooted, "damn, baby, let me get a piece of that puffy cunt! I can see it pokin' out from here!"

I shamefully pulled down my skirt over my ass as his friends laughed but I knew it wouldn't do me any good. When we got to security the hulking guard felt me up for almost a minute before finally letting me go.

He laughed dryly, "good luck in there."

It was already packed when we entered. I tried to stay close to Mia and Xander but it was really hard with so many people. On top of that, a lot of guys were pushing and shoving each other, but Mia assured me it was all part of the fun. Still, just about every other one of them terrified me. I saw groups of buff men in polos wearing high boots with white laces, heads shaved showing no emotion. I saw snarling bikers in black leather slamming beers and roaring, while other men in metal band T-shirts swung their manes like helicopters overhead.

I saw all of this, but what I didn't see was another girl. Nope, aside from Mia, who I already told you was taken, I didn't see one other woman in the whole warehouse. I gulped as I came to this conclusion, then found myself swatting away the first of many lecherous hands.

The music was bizarre and I couldn't understand why anyone would want to be here, but I was clearly the one odd one out. Everyone around me was rowdy, fiendishly whipping their long hair back and forth til I was dodging sweat droplets. I held onto Mia's arm for as long as I could but, as expected, Xander kept her occupied. They slowly drifted further away as the crowd filled in between us, and there was no way for me to find familiar faces through the vast sea of chests and torsos I was up against. Everyone was so much taller and bigger than me, hands were groping, pinching, shoving; I was put in a state of primal fear.

"You lost, little girl? You shouldn't be here," a dark voice spoke while putting a hand on my shoulder.

Before I could respond, a different hand was on my other replying, "she's not lost. She's right where she should be, with me."

"Don't think so, man. She's gonna be with me!"

"No, me!"

They jostled me between each other like lions with a fresh kill when suddenly one of them punched the other in the jaw. The one who got hit looked up and, if you can believe it, smiled. He punched the other guy back and that madman smiled, too! Soon they were in a festive brawl that spread, other men cheering them on. It was warfare and my 115 lbs were not going to last long. I shuffled out as quickly as I could but it was difficult in my heeled boots.

My senses were on high alert as I ducked through the crowd. I tried to stay small and hidden but sometimes, through the frenzy, a man would latch onto my fishnets and graze the smooth thigh that lay underneath. The predator would need just one brush against my feminine flesh before his pupils dilated and nostrils flared, baring his teeth as he looked down at his prey. If I had the misfortune of looking back up at these beasts, they invariably trapped me by my wrist. I was constantly swiping greedy paws off my arms, chest and skirt, trying my best to save some honor in this violent orgy.

Mia was still nowhere to be found, and my situation was becoming more dire. The men were turning lustful, and aside from the cacophonous nightmare that was blaring from the stage, my ears were flooded with a deluge of:

"Hey, bitch!"

"Lemme bend that ass over!"

"Gimme that pussy, girl!"

"Show us your tits, slut!"

"Come here girl, I'll give you what you need!"

The men were starving wolves and I was a little lamb. A few of them whipped their dicks out of their zippers and lunged towards me, so I screamed and ran. I needed to get out of here ASAP since it was not safe for a girl, but before I could reach the neon green exit sign I slammed into a sturdy body.

"Well hello there, little filly. What the hell are you doing here?"

The man licked his teeth, pulled me into him and brought one hand down to the back of my skirt. I threw my arms up on his chest and gave a weak hit but was too exhausted from fending off pigs all night. I was a little surprised to find strong muscles under the loosely-fitted shirt when I left my hands there. I cautiously rubbed him as he pulled me in closer, both his hands now cupped over my skirt. He was a lot taller than me, even in my boots, and my cheek lay against his torso comfortably as he held me. He even smelled kind of good, unlike most of the sweaty brutes here. For a brief moment I felt safer.

My comfort was quick lived, though, as his hands made their way under my skirt and onto my fishnetted bum.

"Stop!" I tried to cry, but the music was wailing beyond limits anyone should suffer through, and even if he did hear me, he wouldn't have cared.

I tried to run away but the man was much faster, and now that he had caught his prey he wasn't letting me go.

"Get back here!" he grunted while yanking me.

I looked at some of the surrounding men with pleading eyes, hoping one of them would be kind and help me to the door, but they all looked back with disdain, disinterest, or hunger. I felt like I was on a different planet, one where sexual needs took precedence over societal norms.

"Can't believe I'm the lucky one who gets you for the night," he whispered in my ear as he maneuvered my ass onto his crotch.

My back was now against his towering torso. He held one arm tightly over my chest, pinning my arms, and with the other he reached down my skirt to feel around.

"Please.... please stop..!" I begged as his nimble fingers weaved through the threads of my stockings along my upper thigh.

"We both know I'm not stopping, girl. Besides, if it ain't me it's gonna be someone else. At least I'm not half bad looking."

I stole a quick glance and realized he was right, he really wasn't bad looking. From what he was wearing he seemed like a biker. He was maybe 15 years older than me, had short hair (unlike many of the long-haired metalheads), a masculine mug, black goatee, and devilish brown eyes. He was also tall, as I've said, and had a great body. The longer he held me the more I noticed the striations on his hairy, tattooed forearms and solid core. On a normal day this guy would've totally been my type, but I really didn't like the method he had employed thus far. Embarrassingly, though, my lust overpowered and instead of continuing to fight, I gave in and whimpered softly as his fingers traveled between my thigh gap, directly on top of the thread matrix barely covering my pussy.

"That's a good girl."

I shuddered as he rubbed my smooth outer labia which bulged out around my G-string and fishnets, suffocating them. His slow, firm circles left my body no choice but to submit. My knees went weak, but he held me up as he opened my outer lips to reveal my delicate pink folds. I gasped as he pulled aside my panties with his pinky, then glided through my inner lips. My kitty tingled as I dripped honey onto his hand, and I spread my legs slightly out of instinct; for some reason I wanted to feel more of him.

"You like that, don't you?" he teased while kneading my hardened clitoris through the lace of my black panties.

I writhed my ass back into his crotch, no longer in control of my own body. He chuckled again then tore my panties off in one quick motion. I shrieked, but he covered my mouth then handed the panties off to another tough guy who'd been watching. The recipient brought them to his nose and huffed ravenously, staring at me with a confusing mixture of lust and contempt as he massaged his bulge.

Before I came to this party, I was obviously aware of the differences between women and men, and that they do not always treat each other the same. But what I did not fully understand was the intensity with which these biological differences could be scrutinized and pounced upon. I felt myself an alien to these men, a thing to be played with, to be used. I was this foreign, female creature with one purpose that they had all made very clear: I was a set of tight, wet holes for them to fuck.

My biological inquiry ended abruptly when the mystery suitor gave me what we both knew I secretly craved. He jammed his middle and ring fingers through the hole of my still intact stockings, straight inside my sopping pussy until they were to the knuckle. As he held me like that, he slipped his other hand under my shirt and bra and started squeezing my tits.

"Oooohh! Aaaahhhh!!" I panted huskily every time he thrust his fingers.

"Ya like it, don't ya!" he huffed.

He finger-blasted me to the violent screams and pounding instruments that had engulfed everything. He played his own guitar solo inside my cunt, strumming expertly while gripping another hand tightly around my throat. He vibrated his hand and arm at world record pace and soon my thighs were jiggling almost as passionately as the thrashing men around me. Everything was black and white -- strobe lights flashing, arms flailing at low frame rates, long wet hair slapping against leather -- when I felt myself moaning uncontrollably. I sent my ass back onto his jeans and ground my hips but the man pulled his fingers out before I could finish, leaving me desperate.

"Look at this bitch!" one guy next to us called out.

"Damn, she's hot as fuck!" his friend replied.

"Looks like the little whore was enjoying it, too!" a third exclaimed, which was sort of true. I nearly just came.....

Next I was pulled straight up against my assailant's back and, while dry humping me, he pinned the front of my skirt up against my stomach with his forearm. My bare pussy was now on display, totally shaven, glistening between the fishnet stockings.

My dance partner held me still while the three from the crowd formed a circle around me. They were all enormous and, stuck in the middle, I could no longer see anything but them. Panic-stricken, I looked up at their faces hoping for respite, but was greeted only by otherworldly stares; they were drunk on my femininity. I shook and moaned helplessly as the man behind continued to edge me to the music, violently fucking me on his hand one moment, then giving me a sensuous, deep-tissue massage the next.

"Take a whiffa this!" my molester boasted to his accomplices.

He ripped his fingers out of my wet hole and I could see my own juices shining under the rhythm of the blinding strobe. I cried out pathetically when no longer full and the men all laughed.

"Listen to that needy bitch!" one of the three snickered. "Doesn't like her cunt empty, does she? Knows what's good for her!"

They all laughed, but when my man held his fingers in the middle their attention quickly turned to the scent of my fresh, teen pussy. As my abuser waved his hand in front of the others, I watched them track it in synchronization with their noses. Their heads moved left and right as he hypnotized them with my pungent musk. They nodded and grunted with fervor like apes and closed the circle even tighter. My dance partner was still gripping my throat with his other hand when he shoved the fingers in my mouth and told me to suck them. I'd never tasted my pussy juice before and didn't really want to, but there was nothing else I could do.

"Hey! No fair! I wanted to smell that!"

"Me too!"

"Yea, so did I!"

"Okay, okay, settle down," my suitor soothed the quarreling punks. "I'll let you three have a little for yourselves, how's that sound?"

One guy got excited and started reaching for my crotch but the man who apparently now controlled me scolded him.

"Now, now, gotta ask a man permission before you touch his property."

"Right, of course. So.... can I touch her?"

"Go ahead, but just one finger and only 15 seconds, so make it count!"

"Fuck yea!"

So I guess I'm his property now... and he's gonna loan me out, kind of like he's my pimp. I knew the name "John" pertained to prostitution, and I felt like his whore, so that's how I referred to the man who had been fingering me, who now "owned" me, after that point. The other guys took their turns molesting me, each "given" 15 seconds by John to explore my insides, my most private parts. The first was tall and lanky, probably 30 years old, and not at all bad looking.

"Hey there little girl, what's your name?"

"D-D-Daisy, sir....."

"Awww... is that cuz you smell sweet as a little flower, honey?"

He moved his hand down to my pussy which was made helpless by John. Holding my wrists from behind, with another arm around my shoulders, John had put his feet between mine and spread my legs out. I was splayed with an unprotected pussy, and there was nowhere I could go.

"Oh, god.... so fuckin' warm and tight. Bitch is soaking wet, too!" the man exclaimed, turning his eyes up to John.

"Yea, I got her all warmed up! Didn't I, girl?"

John leaned his head down to me and forced my chin up with his hand that was on my shoulders. I looked up and saw a handsome face, and again wished that we could have met under different circumstances. We couldn't, though, and there was nothing I could do to change that, so I accepted John's passionate kiss as the lanky man spent his credit on me.

"Alright, that's 15, next!"

The first guy eagerly inspected his finger and sniffed it like a dog might another's bum. With his other hand he was grinding into his jeans, and I could see a snake form that was far more formidable than what I'd encountered in the past. These guys really were BIG.

"I'll be honest," the second guy started as he came up for his turn, "I've never met a girl as slutty as you. I mean, what kind of girl lets guys do this to her? A whore, that's who."

He laughed cruelly as he crouched down to shove his middle finger into my abused slit. He launched up and brought me with him, lifting me to my toes. I was sandwiched between him and John while he sodomized me sadistically, whisking my insides in rapid circles, touching every pink, gushy surface. His finger was long and reached deeper than some men's cocks. I couldn't believe it, and thought I was going to cum right there just from his single digit! He continued to beat my batter for another few seconds before my primary guardian told him his time had finished. Thank god because I was about to explode and I couldn't let these men know they got me there.

"A loud one, ain't she?" the second guy laughed while flicking excess juices off his finger. The first guy looked at him like he'd just thrown away liquid gold.

"Heh, yeah, she's a screamer alright," John replied, squeezing my cheeks together with one hand. He gave my face two light slaps before finishing, "but that's why she came to the metal show! So the music drowns out her cries! Doesn't wanna embarrass herself, but she can't help gettin' loud and frisky around big men. Ain't that right, babe?" He kissed me roughly before giving away my virtue again.

The third man was a tad shorter than the other two, but by no means small. He was more muscular and had a mean attitude. When he walked up to me and John his first request was:

"I wanna see her tits."

"You know what, I'm gonna let you do that," my pimp replied.

"No please, no!" I squealed as they tore off my tiny top.

The cotton was nothing compared to their need to see me naked. In seconds, my shirt and bra were shredded. I now stood between these 4 men in just my skirt, fishnets and boots. My wrists were still held behind my back causing my chest to pop out which left firm C cups swaying to John's movement. My pink nipples had already shot out and hardened, possibly upon first entering this primal playground. Now, naked in the heavily air-conditioned warehouse, they were painfully erect, pulsating with my sensitive clit as my violators pleasured me.

"Nice rack on her!"

"Hell, yeah! Good set of tits on my lass!"

They joked around like vikings at a bar hounding a local maiden after a good pillage. The third man palmed both my breasts and kneaded them, but John reminded him: