Unknown - Driving Daisy Crazy

Her first thought as the faint smell of ammonia from smelling salts arouses her to consciousness.

This time, she is on her stomach, wrists tied to the bedposts once more with those odd, silkwrapped ropes.

At first, she thinks she is alone.

But no, there is movement on the bed behind her.

And, looking over her shoulder, she can make out a shadowy presence.

And another.

Hooded, both of them.

And there is a third figure as well, this one causing the bed to shake as he Yes, this is happening!.

Too vivid, too sharp, too real the feeling to be a dream.

As the unseen figure, the rough cloth, of his sleeves beneath both thighs, lifts up her pelvis-and buries his tongue in her ass hole.

Yes, he is rimming her, his tongue probing, wet and smooth and very, very insistent, in and Out of her ass hole.

He is fucking her in the ass with his tongue.

And now, suddenly, he drops her.

Only to grasp the belied flare of her hips with both hands, lifting her pelvis in the air, so that she is on knees and elbows, her ass high and wide.

She tries to wriggle out of his grip, but cannot. Because the other two are holding her in place, one hand at the crook of her knee, the other in the small of her back, holding her fast.

As the one behind "Unnh!"

Because Eric has shafted into her rectum, all the way.

It was he who loosened and lubricated her and who now shafts his precision instrument of an erection into her, all the way.

Once in, he shows no mercy, now humping her ass with piston action, in and out with hard, fast thrusts, now rotating his hips round and round, reaming her rectum.

And reaching down and around, helping himself to hefty handfuls of her hanging breasts, kneading and fondling them, squeezing them, now gently, now painfully.

As he continues to plough her ass, quickly working himself up, getting hotter and hotter, moving faster and faster in all directions, in and out, round and round, until- He is coming inside her, no question.

This is real, no question.

She can feel every nuance of the spasms of his orgasm, the length of her violated rectum.

And he is off her, replacing one of the other hooded figures she dimly perceives, looking back over her shoulder.

Whose movement behind her she feels.

And whose "Ooooh!"

Because this one is filling and stretching her completely.

To the point that she wonders if that is his cock or his fist inside her.

There is no getting away from this one. The first one, she could, by relaxing her bowels, actually accommodate.

So that even while her heart was pounding in fright, she was able to help herself to relieve the pain, the discomfort.

Not so now.

Because Cranston is shafting in and out of her full force with his mighty cannon of a prick.

But for Eric's sperm providing additional lubrication, he would not be able to move inside her at all.

But now, he can, he is.

Smoothly, because of the sperm enema Eric just gave her.

But still under high pressure, because, even though Daisy is far from small back there, she is hardly built to take on an erection of such monstrous scale up her ass.

But she does take him, all of him, her tissues stretching, at the entrance and inside as well.

As Cranston pounds into her furiously, a battering ram intent upon pulverizing her insides which, fortunately, are sufficiently elastic to accommodate him.

But she cannot get comfortable.

The millions of nerve ending in her rectal walls are sending forth message after message of dull pain, of distress.

And now, it is almost a relief when she feels him come, deep inside her, his vital essence forming a thin, uniform coating of additional lubricant between the rock-hard monster inside her and her insides, oozing out a little each time he lunges into her, which he does with each spasm of his climax.

So that now, as he subsides, the pain at least ceases, even though the terror is still there, full force.

At least, when the third hooded monster mounts her, she is not so physically stressed.

As he goes about the apparently workman-like task of humping her ass to completion.

Which he does.

And once more, she feels the plastic cup cover her nose and mouth and feels herself falling, losing consciousness, whirling, dizzy and disoriented, into oblivion.

"One more time," Buck commands.

And Cranston fills the douchebag with warm water, as Eric stands there in the bathtub, naked, holding Daisy's unconscious form against himself.

Cranston replaces the cap with its hose and plastic nozzle.

And promptly shoves the black plastic fitting into Daisy's ass hole, Eric's fingers spreading the cheeks of her ass to provide a better target.

He releases the clamp.

And they all stand.there, watching as the red rubber balloon deflates.

Cranston pulls the nozzle out.

And they watch, amused, as the pressurized stream gushes from her anus.

"That oughtta do ‘er," Buck says.

"You guys clean it all up, now. Don't wanna leave any pecker tracks at all."

And he leaves them to their work.

The sun streams in through the window.

Outside, the birds are twittering merrily.

Daisy shuts off the clock radio which, fortunately, she has remembered to set before retiring.

Because she feels simply awful and would not have been able to get up without it.

And what's this rawness to her ass hole? And the feeling that her insides are somehow bruised, what does that indicate?

She looks down at her wrists, her breasts.

Nothing.

It happened again, then, that strange, vivid dream.

Three hooded figures, raping her anally. So what is this that she feels, then, if it was only a dream?

Or is there something wrong with her and it is actually a physical disorder causing this?

She is depressed, Daisy realizes, without really understanding why.

She wishes Randy had stuck around after breakfast.

Instead, he has gone into the city, which also got rid of Eric, whom she does not want near her, the one redeeming feature of Randy's absence.

But then, she reasons, perhaps it's just as well.

Because she does not feel fresh, alert, capable of exerting her charms on him. She is nervous, jumpy.

And glad there is not much more to be done to the garden today.

What little there is, she goes about with lazy, gliding movements, as though she is weak.

Which, at the moment, she feels herself to be.

And yet, it is not as though she cannot carry on.

And every move she makes, she accomplishes with her usual strength and dexterity.

But it is as though she is under water. Or the air itself has taken on a thickness, a heaviness.

So that there is not so much an active resistance as the shoving aside of an atmosphere become palpable, a new and difficult medium to move through.

So that she wants nothing so much as to simply sit down.

Or, better yet, lie down, close her eyes, and awaken anew, refreshed this time, this thick, unreal environment dissipated, itself a bad dream.

Like-no!"

She will not make much of it.

Two nights in a row, two explicitly sexual dreams, frightening in their vividness, in the danger to her they represent.

And yet, the hooded monsters had not harmed her, other than to take turns raping her, the first night in her cunt, the second in her ass hole.

Maybe she should mention to Randy that she wants to see a doctor.

If the cause is some irritation down there, then she had best address that, rather than drive herself crazy pondering the effects.

She is a logical, a reasonable person.

And one in control of herself.