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Well, you've read the Sunday paper, and there's nothing on
TV. You're so bored, in fact, that you're ready to beat your head against the wall.
Then you remember something about the leaves turning colors this month. That beats
screaming, you figure. Although you only have an old house dress and panties on, you
don't plan on getting out of the car. Slipping your feet into some old mules and
grabbing your purse and keys, you head out the door.
The afternoon sun feels good on your face as you put your
car in gear and head out of town. This doesn't seem so bad, you think, as you leave
town and start into the hills. The colors of red and orange and yellow are pretty.
Seeing a side road, you take it on a lark. The road gets more narrow and steeper,
but the trees are more numerous, almost making a canopy over the road. You just start
to think that this is much better than sitting around the house when the car engine
suddenly dies!
Turning the key, the starter cranks, but the engine won't
engage. You quickly discover hitting the steering wheel with your hand doesn't help
much, either. Now you wish you were bored back at your place! Resigning yourself to
a long walk back, you grab your purse and get out of the car.
City girl that you are, you lock the car. It's not as warm
now with the trees blocking the sun, but not uncomfortable. You haven't even made it
back to the main road when from a distance you hear what sounds like car noises - at
least you won't have that long walk back now! You pick up your pace a little as you
hear the noises coming closer. Suddenly, you stop. You recognize the mechanical noises
now. It's the sound of a motorcycle - many motorcycles - just around the bend in the
road. The noisy machines sweep around the corner kicking up clouds of dust as they
rumble along, and through the haze you see three, five, even more motorcycles - a
motorcycle gang!
Dirty leather jackets, long hair, and no helmets. You turn
to run back up the path toward your car as the two lead bikes catch up with you and
circle you, cutting off your escape. Laughing, the "leader of the pack" gets
off his 'cycle and, without warning, reaches out and grabs you by your shoulder-length
light brown hair. Pulling you along by your wavy hair he drags you back to his bike,
scoops you up and tosses back onto his motorcycle seat.
You raise your hands straight out in front of you to ward
him off, but someone behind you grabs your wrists and pulls them over your head,
forcing you to recline on the motorcycle seat. The leader parts your still-covered
legs as far as your housedress will permit. He reaches into his front pocket and pulls
out a switchblade knife. Sticking the closed knife in your face, he pushes the button.
He has positioned the knife so when it springs open, the back of the blade - the dull
side - hits you full across the lips. Horrified, you scream out in fear.
"Shut your fuckin' mouth, you bitch," he says as
he puts the knife to your throat. "You keep quiet or I'll cut your fuckin'
throat right here. I'll bleed you like a stuck, squealin' pig and leave you to die
like some stupid animal . . . "
You close your mouth and whimper. Satisfied, he laughs and,
flipping the knife around, he puts it inside your neckline and pulls it away, cutting
the top of your housedress. Laying the knife on your chest at your neck, he grabs the
edges of the neckline in both hands and roughly rips the top open. You wince at the
violent act, then gasp in embarrassment as he sees your large, dark pink nipples,
exposing your breasts for the whole group to see. He smirks at you.
"Nice tits, girlie . . . "
He puts both of his hands on both of your breasts, one nipple
in each palm. Smiling at you he suddenly makes two fists, squeezing your tender flesh
tightly in his strong grip! You scream in surprise and pain. He picks up the knife
and places the tip of the blade right against your left nipple, moving it up and down;
not cutting you, but scraping, just letting you know it is there.
"If you scream again, I swear I'll cut this off!"
he shouts, and you have no doubt he means it. He begins to rip away the rest of your
dress and where the material won't rip, he cuts it. Except for your panties and shoes
you are now naked, with the remnants of your torn dress dangling under you.
Then he grabs your nylon panties and pulls, pulls so damn
hard that it lifts your hips from the motorcycle seat. Being nylon the panties stretch,
but do not tear. He slips the knife into the left leg hole and out the waistband and
cuts. He grabs the remaining piece of your panties and pulls again. Again it doesn't
rip, but is just pulled from under you and halfway down your right thigh. As he reaches
for your pubic area, he yells to his "old lady": "Barbara, get that
chain grease from my bike - a white bread girl like this bitch will need some
lubricatin'!"
Two of his fingers roughly touch your vagina and he stops
when he feels how wet you are. "Whoa up there, Barb, come see this-" he
yells, "the little slut is wet!"
He stares into your face, his ice-like eyes sending a ragged
chill up your spine. "You like this, eh? You want this, don't you?"
He unzips and pulls his thick, stiff penis from his jeans.
Slowly, he rubs the fat, purplish head against your slit, up and then down. Without
any more foreplay than that, suddenly he drives himself deep between your lips,
clamping his hand tightly over your mouth to stifle your scream. As he rams himself
into you, he shouts, "She likes this, boys - come and get it!"
At this, you hear more zippers from just outside your sight.
As you see motion at the edge of your vision, you feel rough hands on both of your
breasts and an erect penis on your left cheek. This does not count the hands holding
and pulling your wrists, keeping you immobile. The hands cruelly pinch and twist your
nipples, while the penis is roughly slapped against the left side of your nose!
The voice attached to the penis says, "If you bite my
dick, I'll pull out every one of your fuckin' teeth with my pliers!" Again he
slaps you with his penis, only this time across your slightly parted lips. "Suck
it, bitch - lick it!" He slaps it against your face again and again. He cruelly
twists and pulls one of your large nipples, and your gasp of pain actually sucks his
penis into your mouth.
"Be nice, girlie, or you'll really pay . . . "
The leader has been pumping you regularly and now is ready
to ejaculate. "Here's some beauty cream for you," he says as he pulls out
of your vagina and "gets off" on your bare stomach. When he finishes, he
takes his hand and rubs his ejaculate around your belly and ribcage, moving his hands
up to massage your aching breasts with his seed until they glisten.
"Like that, bitch?" he asks, and grabs and pulls
your vaginal lips. It's hard to tell what torment you're reacting to as you grimace
and whimper. "Finish up, boys, I wanna make that cabin by dark."
As if on command, the one on your left lets go in your mouth,
making you gag. The leader grabs you on your naked right side and pulls you off his
bike, shoving you into the dirt as he says, "Get that trash off my bike! But
bring her with us-"
Barbara, the leader's "old lady", steps on your
stomach with her motorcycle boot and removes the mules from your feet. As she throws
them into the woods, she says, "You won't be needing these anymore."
Continuing to hold you down with her foot, she takes clothesline from one of the
bikes and ties your hands together at the wrists.
"Get up, you're coming with us," she tells you, pulling
on the rope as she climbs on the leader's motorcycle. Stark naked except for the remnants
of your ruined panties around your right ankle, you gain your feet as the motorcycle
starts up a different country road. They are going slow so you can keep up in your
bare feet, you think to yourself as you hear another motorcycle come up behind
you and a leather gloved hand slaps the small of your back. You shout and stumble, but
keep your feet and continue running behind the motorcycle holding the rope. From your
other side, a booted foot kicks the outside of your full, soft hip and down you go.
You figure they'll stop now that you're on the ground. You
figure wrong. The motorcycle slows, but does not stop as it drags you at full-length
on your front. You try to get to your feet, but you cannot get the leverage. The lead
motorcycle pulling you slows more and Barbara jumps off. As she does, you stop sliding
along the ground. She comes closer and uses the end of the clothesline to whip your back.
"Get up, cunt!" she shouts as she uses the rope end
on your back again and again. The stinging pushes you to get up and, when you do, Barbara
jumps back on the 'cycle and it takes off again. As you jog with your arms pulled in
front of you, other motorcycles run up and fall back, tying to hit and kick you. Some do
slap your back and rounded sides, but no one kicks you again.
You're beginning to pant and sweat as you continue to be pulled
along. Your citified, normally shoed feet react to the dirt road as you stumble and fall
again, this time rolling over onto your back. The motorcycle pulls you along the dirt
road stretched out on your back then slows as you see more motorcycles try to hit you.
The "old ladies" on the backs of the 'cycles try to kick you. Barbara gets off
the motorcycle again and, standing over you, whips you with the rope end across your soft
belly. You quickly turn over, trying to get to your feet again.
Barbara whips you again, hard across the back. As you rise to
your knees she kicks you in the butt causing you to fall, face forward, flat out on your
chest. Again, she lashes your back with the rope end, shouting "Get up, you
slut!"
You roll over to plead with her with your round blue eyes, but
instead receive another lash, this time across your breasts. Tears begin to run down
your cheeks, making rivulets in the dust on your face, when Barbara suddenly smiles.
"That's what I wanted to see . . . "
With that, she jerks the rope as you get to your feet. She
jumps back on the motorcycle and you begin to jog again as the 'cycle moves on. The
motorcycle pulling you does not go as fast now, which is good as you're beginning to tire.
Looking ahead past the motorcycle, you see a clearing in the woods and a small, run-down
cabin there. The leader pulls his motorcycle up next to the cabin door and you stop behind
it, sweating and panting for breath. As the other motorcycles line up, their riders - male
and female - smack you and kick at you, saying very unkind things. The leader says over
his shoulder to Barbara: "Bring that in here."
To emphasize the order, Barbara jerks on the rope which binds
your wrists together and pulls you into the dark cabin. Light begins to enter the cabin
as shutters are opened on the glassless windows. You look around and see two sets of bunk
beds with only boards in them - no springs or mattresses. A closed double-door cabinet
is attached to one wall. There is a kitchen-like table in the middle of the small room,
but only one wooden chair. A fine layer of dust covers the floor which now shows the
prints of their boots and your bare feet.
The leader grabs your tied wrists and, with a flourish, opens
his switchblade knife and cuts the clothesline. Your arms drop to your sides as he looks
at the abused body in front of him. Dirty and sweaty, with red whip marks across your soft
belly near your navel and across your breasts, he sees the many full-length scratch marks
on your sensitive skin as a result of your being dragged along the dirt road. He slowly
walks around you and observes similar sights on your back, except for many more whip marks
on your back and a boot mark on your left buttock.
Back in front of you, he looks into your tired blue eyes and
moves toward you. In reaction, you step backward until your bottom hits against that
kitchen table. When you stop, he places his open hand on your chest above your breasts
and pushes you backwards. Off balance, you fall back on the table and find your hands
are immediately grabbed. You wince as your wounded back is pulled slightly on the table.
You can feel four people working on tying you to the table legs: each of your ankles to a
leg with your feet flat on the floor and each wrist pulled over your head and out to the
other two table legs. Were there a mirror on the ceiling, you would see yourself bound
hand and foot, bent over backwards with the top of your buttocks on the edge of the table.
That and your arms pulled over your head cause your back to arch, thrusting your breasts
upward. As you consider your situation, your dark pink nipples harden even before they
begin to work on you.
Secured to the table, they all gather around you, waiting for
permission from their leader to touch you. They stare at you for what seems like a long
time before the leader notices your large, erect nipples and he touches you between the
legs. Feeling your wetness, he says "What a slut you are! Well, we're going to try
everything we can think of to find something you don't like! And while we're searching,
you better not cum or you'll be severely punished-"
To emphasize his words, he slaps you hard on your pubic mound.
Your mind reels. You can't control the lust in your body, but you can't help wondering that
if what has happened to you so far is not severe, what could he possibly mean? The leader
has "shot his wad" earlier, therefore he tells his gang "She's all
yours!" and he turns his back on you.
The men all move forward with the number two guy taking his place
standing at the end of the table between your legs. As he crams his swollen member into
your wet vagina, you feel hands on your breasts and two penises pushing at each side of
your face. Plus another one slapping and rubbing on your belly. Then, you feel a stiff
penis insert itself into your right palm. The rope around that wrist limits the motion in
that hand, but it doesn't seem to matter. They all shout at you at once:
"Suck this, bitch!"
"Work it, slut!"
"Lick me now!"
"Like your nipples pinched, you fuckin' whore?"
All this, along with various grunts and moans. You try not to
respond to the penis in your vagina, but your hips begin to thrust in time with his. Seeing
this, he slaps your soft hips and says "God, what a whore you are!"
You try to lick and suck both penises at once to avoid further
abuse, but it only enrages the men.
"You're not supposed to enjoy this, bitch!" one man
says as they both begin to hit your face with their penises. One by one, they "get
their jollies" and ejaculate on or in you. When all the men have gotten off, you feel
yourself being untied. The leader tells the women: "Get her out of my sight while we
figure out what to do next . . . "
Barbara grabs you by your brown hair and pulls you up on your
feet and drags you to the door. You feel more hands on you as you are pushed and prodded
outside into the early evening. Outside, under a tree, you are thrown to the ground on
your back. Barbara climbs onto you and pins your outstretched arms to the ground with her
bare shins as she kneels over your chest and face. You now have close-up evidence that
she has taken off her jeans as her hairy crotch is just inches from your chin.
"Listen, cunt. Since you showed up, we haven't gotten any
attention. And it looks like we won't until they break you. So, you're going to
pay attention to us and if that makes it easier for them, so much the better." With
that, she grabs your stringy, sweat-soaked hair and pulls your face to her crotch.
"Lick and suck me now!" she demands. You try to obey,
but gasp as you feel someone pulling your pubic hair. You begin to kick your legs to stop
the torment. As your reward, you are whipped across your pelvic area, maybe by a studded
belt, maybe a motorcycle chain. Your cry makes Barbara look over her shoulder. She bounces
on your chest and says "I don't care what they're doing down there - you do what
I say!"
Your shout also attracted the attention of the leader who comes
outside and over to where the "old ladies" have you on the ground. He says "I
don't want you girls to do anything that will let her get off. I've promised to punish her
if she cums. Whoever lets her cum will get the same treatment she gets." He then turns
and leaves you to their devices.
Barbara bounces on your chest again to ensure she has your
attention. "You heard him," she tells you, "You better not get off on
this. If you do, I'll hurt you worse than they will. Now suck me hard!"
You suck as best as you can while gasping from what is being done
to the rest of you. You feel some kind of spring clip being applied to each of your hard,
dark pink nipples. And two more to the lips of your vagina. Movement at both locations
indicates that some string or chain is being attached to each clip. The connection is
apparently being tightened as you feel pain at all four attachment places. You find if
you raise your hips, it puts slack on the connection. But the strain is already causing
your hips to quiver.
Barbara feels the vibrations from your hips and, thinking you
are having an orgasm, she bangs your head roughly on the ground. "Stop it!"
she shouts. Quickly she jumps up and turns around, feeling between your legs. Her hand
encounters a great deal of wetness. Thinking the ejaculate from the guy in the cabin is
the result of your orgasm, she throws herself on you, knocking the breath out of you. As
you gasp, struggling for breath, she leans forward and whispers in your ear:
"I told you not to do that - if you tell them you got off,
I'll torture you to death. This will give you a sample of what I mean . . . "
Barbara's weight has stretched you out, causing the connection
to pull on the clips. Thinking you may have gotten off due to the clips, she undoes the
ones on your nipples. She gets the clothesline again and ties your wrists together again
and throws the end over a limb of the tree you've been laying under. Pulling you taut
until only the balls of your feet barely touch the ground, she ties the rope to the tree
trunk. She walks in front of you and gags you with a cloth wrapped around your mouth and
ties it off at the back of your head.
You look pleadingly at the other "mama's" as they watch
you and you think you detect fear - or at least sorrow - in their eyes. They must think
they'll all be punished by the leader. Or maybe they just know what it is that's about to
be done to you.
Barbara has walked somewhere behind you and now returns with a
limber length of branch from which she continues to cut the leaves with her knife. You
realize she is creating a switch and you shiver with anticipation. However, Barbara thinks
your shivers are from the cold as the temperature is dropping.
"This should warm you up," she says, whipping the switch
through the air and causing a whistling sound. She lays the switch on your left breast
and moves it back and forth across the nipple. Without warning, she strikes with a
vertical motion. Her short arm motion caused a sting on your breast and nipple, but will
not leave a mark. Taking a step back, she rears her arm back and brings the switch around
with great force. It hits you in the midriff above the navel and, as her arm motion
continues past you, the rough surface of the switch is dragged across your belly. The
gag barely conceals your scream of pain.
"This is what I meant when I said it could get worse,"
Barbara tells you, bringing her arm back again. She drives the switch forward again, hitting
and dragging it across your rib cage below your breasts. Again, your scream is muffled.
Walking around and swinging her arm, she lands another on the small of your back, about
where the table edge was cutting into you back in the cabin. Barbara's cruelty seems to
bother some of the "mamas" watching your punishment. Back in front of you, the
switch is applied with great force to your thighs below your crotch. Your pitiful, muffled
screams bring the leader out to see what the commotion is. He sees the angry red marks
Barbara has made on you and knows he has the answer to his unasked question of what is
going on.
"What are you doing?" he asks anyway. Barbara stops and
says, "I wanted her to know what would happen if she came before you told her she
could."
"Well, leave her alone and come in the cabin - we want you
all to hear what we have planned for her tomorrow."
Knowing they won't be accused of letting you orgasm, all the
women smile weakly and follow the leader into the cabin. Barbara throws the switch at
you and it bounces off your legs as she leaves you suspended from the limb. You whimper
to yourself and cry and gasp from the pain of this beating. It so occupies your thoughts
that you forget the clips and chain still attached to your vaginal lips. As your breathing
slows, you notice how chilly it has become since the sun has gone down, leaving barely
any light to see.
Despite that, your body cries out for rest and, as your head
slowly droops to your chest, you fall into a light and troubled asleep. (9/20/97)
To The Sunday Drive: Pt. 2
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