Ron Taylor - Roped and raped

"Goddamn," Luke panted, "why in the hell didn't you suck my cock that way, bitch?"

He punctuated the question with a couple of deep, piercing jabs that irritated the tip of my womb but which passed by me almost unnoticed. Randy was musky with my pussy essences, and drinking them from his hard thick cock was the only way I could retain any sense of self-respect in this entire episode of degradation.

I caught him by the balls and made his cock jiggle in my loosely clutching mouth. He hummed in appreciation and patted the top of my head. My tongue raced up and down his shaft, and once or twice I even allowed his rod to slip free while my tongue flitted south along his tool to pick up stray drops of my cream that had caught in his crotch hair or even – God help me! – on the dangling sac of his nuts. I licked his cock like a slut, and there seemed to be no end of the fragrance of me on his meat. Or perhaps that was only the way it appeared to me! I couldn't have coated him so thickly in my girl-cum.

On the other hand, Luke's dick swished as it slammed time and again into my wet, dripping hole, and this time there was absolutely no sexual pain. He entered my hole easily, and my rippling cunt muscles swallowed his prick hungrily. It was better, so much better, than the encounter in that Goddamned truck bed. I could almost get to like this, I thought madly, sluttishly, wishing almost immediately that the thought had never crossed my mind.

My hand locked around the root of Randy's tool and I pulled it into my mouth.

"Suck my cock deep," he commanded, and I swallowed as if I meant to take his tool all the way down my throat.

I couldn't stop myself. My head pistoned up and down on his shaft, and my fingers made a viselike grip on the base, and I twisted and pulled his dick while I sucked it eagerly.

And when he came, when that huge dammed-up flood of jism burst into my gulping mouth – what can I say? I drank Randy's seed, and I sucked him and shucked him till he shot out more, and still my lips nibbled at his knob, teasing it, coaxing it, begging it to drench me with still more of his sticky white fuck-cream.

In another moment Luke had jammed his belly against mine and he was filling my cunt with the fluid of his own orgasm. My hole was nearly raw from the constant in-out frictioning of pricks, but my pussy had enough energy left to lock itself around his rod, and he came into my orgasm, cock wagging about friskily where it was thrust up the full length of my cunt-tube. My legs came up, wrapped around him, and he seized my tits.

"Drink my cum," Randy whispered, sounding fully as exhausted as I was.

Luke seemed not to have the strength to abuse my tits the way he had before. His body lay upon mine, heavy, burdensome, and I could feel his cock melting in my gash. Randy's cock began to go soft, too, and with a last little squirt it slackened and eased from my tips. Surplus jism leaked from my mouth, and I could feel a similar hot wet oozing at my snatch, the bubbles of Luke's cum dribbling their way into the crack of my ass. Beneath Luke I gave one final shudder before my legs surrendered their hold on his body and I lay beneath him, limp, sprawled, nearly senseless.

They rose, whewing and trying to laugh. "Woman like that could kill a man," Randy sighed, and his brother agreed.

"Die with a smile on your face the fuckin' undertaker'd never wipe off though."

Both of them laughed. I couldn't.

The memory of my climactic explosion was too strong, too painful. What had they done to me?

They'd not only abused my body through the brutality of rape, they had forced my body to respond and, in the process, assaulted my spirit as well. Oh, God, they'd pay! I'd make sure they paid!

"See?" Luke asked. "An' you was afraid we'd get ourselves in trouble. Damn, I told you soon as we seen her tryin' to flag us down, I said, 'There's a piece of tail for you an' me, little brother.' Now didn't I tell you that?"

"Damn sure did," Randy agreed. "You said 'She's got tits and ass enough to keep the whole Marine Corps happy'. And damn if she don't, Luke."

It was almost as if I weren't present at all. They talked about me in a strange, alienating fashion that left me feeling like an eavesdropper on some private conversation. Randy prodded me with his bare toes.

"Roll over," he said, pushing me harder when I didn't comply at once.

"Fuck off!" I snapped, and then he kicked me in the ribs. I rolled over.

Randy knelt behind me, and he spread the cheeks of my butt.

"Lookathere," he told his brother. "See that little brown asshole, with a few little kinks of hair curlin' around it? That's where I wanta put my pecker, big brother. Right up her poop-chute."

He prodded my bung with his finger, as if to make sure I hadn't missed the point. I squirmed and squealed. "Looks tight as fuck, don't it? Betcha she'll do some squealin' when I give her old Pete there, won't she?"

There was another finger on me then, a slightly bigger finger, and it pushed more insistently at my asshole. That had to be Luke, I decided, for it was a cruelly gauging finger that seemed determined to breach my sphincter and bury itself in my unprotected rectum.

"I've seen plenty tighter," he volunteered, still gouging at my asshole, "and they always opened up big enough to take my prick."

"Get her shoe," I heard Luke say. "It's got one of them thick high heels. Little bigger'n a carbine barrel, but it oughta do the trick. I'll widen her out for you, an' you can have first digs at her ole shit-hole."

I went cold all over, and I started to crawl away. God only knew where I could find a hiding place, but I was determined to try. The evil perversion of these men staggered me, and for the first time I seriously wondered if I could hope to escape their clutches at all.

Luke caught my ankle as I moved, and I went flop onto my belly. "Don't run away," he said. "You're gonna like this."

And then – then it was one of those miracles people want to believe in but which seem so impossible. I heard a car, so close it might have been in the next stall.

"Ssshhh," Randy grinned to Luke, who nodded, and I heard the slamming of car doors. Voices. Human voices. Just outside the bar, I was positive.

Oh, God, I might never have another chance! I looked at the brothers, estimating my chances, and then I took a deep breath.

"Help me for the love of God!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, screamed so hard my chest ached.

Luke was on me in a second, slamming me down upon the straw, his hand covering my mouth. "Damn," he whispered into my face, "I wish to shit you hadn't gone and hollered like that."

There was a cruel glimmer in his eyes and I closed my own in terror.

Even with my eyes closed I knew that someone was entering the barn. The door creaked and a breath of fresh outside air drifted in. I opened my eyes, but I couldn't see anything because of the high sides of the cow stall where I lay.

"What the hell's this squallin' about?" demanded a harsh, nasal male voice. An older man, certainly. Could he – would he – exert himself to save me?

"Oh, shit, Pa," griped Randy, rising to his feet. "She's done and spoilt the surprise we had for you."

The surprise? I thought. Had I made a mistake? And then they came around the edge of the cow stall.

There were three people, though I'd only heard the man's voice, and I looked towards them, my head sinking a little further.

The man was tall and skinny, with a face like a buzzard – all nose and sharp-pointed features. A mean pinched face that seemed to match perfectly his raspy voice. His ears were large and prominent, and he had perhaps eleven hairs on his wrinkled scalp. His mouth was a wide slash whose corners twisted upward when he got a sight of me, stretched naked in the straw beside his son Luke.