Ron Taylor - Roped and raped

Deeper into my hole it snaked, each wriggling jerk accompanied by a shot of that gooey, sticky mess, and – Jesus! There were at least ten inches of cock buried in my puss, and still more, still more was coming out of Angela, coming towards me! I screamed as I felt the tip of Mark's cock wriggle up my cuntal passage, through my womb, into my stomach.

He was a thick, throbbing mass interfering with my lungs. He thrust himself into my windpipe. I gagged, I choked, I wanted to vomit. There was a ticklish sensation at the top of my gullet and I knew, horribly knew, what it was. His cock rammed up my throat, then through my mouth, and its tip emerged, red and wet, between my trembling lips. The slit at his knob was open and as it peeked into the light, another bubble of cum gushed out, falling on my tits, burning them, marking the flesh.

"Ggggghhhhhh!!" I screamed, my mouth so clogged with cock I could do no more, and my body jerked about wildly, so frantically that the ropes on my wrists tore the flesh. It was that raw aching pain that awoke me, and after such a hideous dream it was almost pleasure to be conscious again.

Even if it meant that I was trussed like a hog and bound to the wall of a barn. Even if it meant that my naked flesh was chill from the night air; that my cunt ached from the sexual abuse I had taken this afternoon and evening; that the only imminent release from my bondage lay in the arms of death. Overhead a small yellow light bulb gleamed, one tiny island of light in the sea of darkness.

It was worse than prison, for I didn't have Angela here to make the darkness come alive with sexual excitement. What in the bloody hell had I done to deserve this animal usage? I had only asked Luke and Randy to give me a ride to the nearest pay phone or gas station. And they had beaten me, raped me, degraded me in every way imaginable.

"Are you okay?" a small quiet voice whispered from the dark that bordered my captivity.

"Oh," I said gratefully. It was Emmylou. I knew it, even before she emerged from the darkness and entered my circle of dim light. I was glad it was she. She was the only member of this family who had any semblance of humanity. Even Patty, the hugely pregnant teenager, struck me as basically an animal. Hadn't she been the one who first suggested killing me when my usefulness was ended? But Emmylou seemed, in so many ways, to be as much a prisoner as I was. They had used her this afternoon, used her as brutally and unfeelingly as they used me. Perhaps our common situation would persuade her to help me.

She had a glass of milk and a couple of sandwiches. "These were all I could bring. They pretty much ate up all the supper I fixed. I'm sorry. And – and I brought you a blanket, too. It's s'posed to be cold tonight, and you out here with no clothes." She began to sob and her hands trembled. Milk spilled over the edge of the glass. "Oh, my God, ma'am! What are they doing to you? How can they stand to treat anybody the way they're treating you?" For a moment she was helpless with tears.

"Help me," I pleaded. "Help me, Emmylou. I know that you're not responsible for any of this. And don't you see I have to get away? If I don't – well, you heard what they were planning to do to me."

"I'm afraid," she said, kneeling before me.

The young girl scent of her was so sweet and clean and fresh. I remembered the attraction I'd felt for the child at first sight, the way I'd transferred my consciousness from Pa to her. Some of that feeling was coming back now. Emmylou was only a child – she couldn't be more than half my own age – but the sad innocence of her made my spine tingle with renewed desire. Perhaps, if I sublimated some of that desire into an appeal for her help… "I don't understand any of this, Emmylou. Why are you so different? From the others, I mean. And don't call me ma'am, please. My name is Marilyn."

"My mama and Luke and Randy's ma were sisters," Emmylou said, helping me drink the cool, rich-flavored milk. I'd never tasted anything so good. "Mama died over the winter, and I come to live with the Tollivers 'cause they're the only kin I had. Ma Tolliver was sickly, too. She died the first of May."

"Oh, Jesus, ma'am – I mean, Marilyn – you just wouldn't believe the things I seen after I come here! They're crazy, all these folks, even if they are my kin. They don't think about nothin' except screwin', and… and, God, the first night I was here, Luke came into the room where me and his mama was talkin', and he just hoisted up her skirt and stuck her with that big cock of his. And he said, 'Emmylou, me and Pa and Randy has already agreed that I git the first crack at your little pussy-wussy.' And there wasn't nothing Ma Tolliver could do. Pa used to watch them big ole boys double-teaming her, one in her pussy and one in her mouth, and he'd laugh his fool head off. And all of them after Patty! Why, nobody rightly knows who knocked her up, whether it was her daddy or one of her brothers!"

She hugged herself with her slim arms. "All of 'em after me, too, because I was young and new. Feelin' me, touchin' me, makin' me touch them. Oh, and you saw what they made me do! Ma, I think she died of shame for what they was all turnin' into, but she made Pa Tolliver swear when she was on her dyin' bed that none of 'em would… would try to fuck me till I was sixteen at least. She said that was all she could do for her sister's little girl, that she wished she'd never brought me into their house."

"And Pa swore?"

"Mmm-hmmm. A deathbed promise ain't somethin' to trifle with, Marilyn. He don't want her comin' back from the grave to haunt him."

Thank God for superstition, I thought.

"But they say they didn't swear nothin' about me sucking them, and they make me do that all the time till I'm so sick even thinkin' about it. And I'm almost sixteen. They're countin' the days. Maybe I'll fool them all. Maybe I'll kill myself before they finally get me."

"For the love of God, Emmylou! Listen to me, darling! Don't cry! I can help you, if you'll help me. Don't you understand? If you help me escape, I'll go to the police. I'll have all the Tollivers thrown into jail, and the court will make sure you're put in a decent home, a place where no one is going to hurt you. But you have to help me. I can't untie these ropes. I can't go to the police unless you give me a hand."

"Do you mean it, Marilyn? Do you mean you'd really help me, too? You don't even know me."

"We're both victims," I told her. "Victims should always stick together. Will you?"

She leaned close, and one of her little round apple tits brushed my bare arm. I felt a tingle of excitement in my pussy. Emmylou was braless under her thin dress and her nipple was delightfully obvious. She kept leaning while she touched the ropes attached to my wrist, and I badly wanted to angle my face towards hers for a kiss. No. Much as I wanted to, I couldn't. First I had to escape.

In a moment she spurred herself to action, and one of my hands was free. I reached in to help her with the other rope and it was with a thrill of excitement that I realized I was no longer tied.

"My clothes," I said. "I'll need some clothes."

She ran around the stall divider and came back in a couple of minutes. "Are these yours?" she wondered.

It was my jeans and shoes. God only knew what had happened to my shirt. Of course Luke had ripped it to shreds back along the road. It was unwearable now, short of a charge for indecent exposure. At least I had the other garments. I hurried into the jeans and shoes while Emmylou stood close, trembling and breathing heavily.

"Here's that blanket I brought you," she said then, holding up a woolly square of fabric. I reached for it, and I stared at her sweet face. Her eyelids were half shut and her lips fluttered softly. I couldn't stop myself. I leaned close and pressed my mouth upon hers.