Janet Roland - The whore makers

"Pull yourself together," she said, the sound of her own voice softening the darkness somewhat and making her feel braver. She was alone, and that was better than being with those beasts who had abused her just a short while ago. Taking to heart the fact that she had a certain amount of privacy, she proceeded to inspect her body and was relieved to find that she had no open cuts or broken bones. Her pussy and asshole hurt, but, other than that, there seemed to be no damage.

Things could be worse, she reasoned, rising to inspect the dark place of her confinement. Slowly she made her way around the room. The walls were the same rough concrete as the floor. She discovered this as she moved hand after hand along the wall, coming to a corner and moving along again in the same fashion, her bare feet keeping pace on the same cold stone until she came to yet another corner and more wall… then a sudden gap and cold steel, thick and heavy.

Nothing but concrete and steel, Vivian thought and sighed in relief. If this was a prison, then she was safe from further abuse. She would see someone soon who would be able to tell her father, and she would be freed. Things definitely looked brighter.

"All I need is to sit down and wait," she said to herself with renewed faith. And that's what she did, pulling her knees tightly to her still swollen tits and letting her soft round ass settle against the cold stone of her cell.

Sitting naked on her cell floor, her head heavy with a hangover, her body hurting and her personal humiliation at having reached an orgasm during her rape, Vivian felt humbled. It was the first time she had ever been exposed to violence, fear, or perversion, and she felt sorry for all those who lived in it every day. For the first time she understood what it was like to be deprived of all the God-given rights a human being grows used to without realizing what they are about. Never before had she understood what it was to be held in absolute domination by another human being. She trembled at the thought of a life of total submission.

"Father will help me," she whispered, dismissing the fear that was trying to creep back into her recently attained composure. Without thinking she let her hands move slowly, down her body, lingering on her tits and nipples, soothing the hurt from the pinching and mauling they had so recently suffered. Max's image appeared in her mind as her fingers tapered lower down from the taut nipples across her flat belly and along her soft white thighs. Max, her lover, would help her; he would do anything for her.

Vivian allowed herself to drift off in the dream state of escape, forgetting the harshness of the moment. Her fingers mingled with the soft blondeness of her twat hairs as she summoned a mental image of the man she wanted to be next to. A soft murmur escaped her lips as she imagined that her own fingers were Max's as she tenderly caressed the lips of her swollen cunt and clit.

The touch of her own fingers, and the thought of her loved one settled Vivian's nerves and gave her the calmness she needed to think about her needs. Slowly she took her fingers away from her pussy and touched them to her dry lips. The need for a drink of water had become her most pressing desire.

Her earlier exploration had shown her that there was nothing in the cell, no bed, and no water faucet; not even a crack around the door allowed a trickle of light to enter.

With an effort Vivian tried to take her mind off her need for a drink. She was getting ready to make a strong resolution to resist any further assaults on her body when a two-hundred-watt bulb flooded the cell with light.

Vivian covered her eyes instantly, blinded by the intensity and aware that the large steel gate was opening. But she couldn't see how many were entering the small cell. She was shocked when she was able to squint and see the silhouettes of four men. Instinctively she drew herself together to cover as much of her body as she could.

The coarse laughing of the men filled the cell.

"Could I have some water… please?" she asked, bravely trying to take some sort of initiative. Slowly her focus returned and she looked into the eyes of each man as they stood over her; she was still seated against the wall, ass on the floor.

"Get the wench some water," one of the men said.

The strong, husky voice belonged to Tony Coin, a man mad with the passion of revenge. He hadn't seen his wife in two years, and it was Vivian's father who was to blame.

At least these men aren't insane! Vivian thought as she watched one of the men scurry from the cell. Her eyes focused on the obvious leader of the group, surprised that he wasn't a Mexican. His strong rugged image and skin texture indicated he was American.

"Are you from the Consulate?" Vivian asked, a surge of hope and expectation swelling in her.

The three men laughed. Not the soft laugh of friends, but the insidious laugh of wolves moving in for the kill.

It was halfway through the barbarous interruption that Vivian's gaze fell upon the electric cattle prod in the American's hand. She covered up as tightly as possible, a chill fear of the unknown sweeping over her. She had seen the cattle prods used in El Paso at the rodeos. Vivian knew that one could make a three-thousand-pound bull obey a rodeo clown after it had tried to buck its rider to death. The memory of her rape flashed before her.

The three men were still laughing when the fourth returned with a large tin can gilled with water.

"What have I missed? Has our lovely little friend from Washington offered to give everyone some head?" he asked, making the other men add more gusto to their already frightening display of humor.

"Well, amigos, I'm sure our little Miss Vivian will do whatever we desire," Tony bellowed to the other three men; each was dressed in the uniform of an officer of high rank in the Federal Judicial Police.

Slowly, the initial shock of the light and the quick entrance of the men gave way to the terror of reality. Vivian trembled at the words she had just heard. There were four men in a cell with her, one of whom had a cattle prod and all of whom seemed ready to rape her for the second time in less than a day.

"Oh, my God!" she screamed, forgetting her thirst even as it gnawed away at her throat. "Are all the men in Mexico sexist and fascist?"

"The men of Mexico are men of passion and action," Tony replied, moving ominously close to the cowering girl, holding the prod over her. "Your father has put my wife in prison for ten years far a crime she never committed," he continued, lowering the prod closer to Vivian's soft tender thighs as the other men formed a semicircle around her.

Vivian suddenly remembered the case her father had used as the base for his Senate campaign. Maria Coin, the daughter of Juan Maximillian, was the wife of the man with the cattle prod. For the first time since she had been detained, Vivian understood the real danger she was facing.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of her belly, she realized she was helpless, and that to resist would only lead to further hurt and humiliation.

The three Mexican officers were all in their early thirties, and in good physical shape. It was obvious that their interest in Vivian was more than platonic as they closed the circle tighter around her.

"Your father used my wife to promote his own career. He used the woman I love, the mother of my son, as a pimp would use a whore." Tony was shaking with rage as the thought of his wife and family drained the last bit of compassion from him. "Your father's sins will be your fate!" he shrieked as he finally touched the prod to the girl's soft white thigh.

"Ohhhhhh! Eeeeeeah!" Vivian screamed as the jolt of electricity traveled through her body. For a moment she thought she was going to pass out.

"I want you to know that if you resist us one bit, whore, I'll shove this prod up your cunt and leave it on until your pussy is roasted!" Tony growled at the girl as soon as she was able to understand.