by S. J. Lewis
“Okay, then,” Goatee spoke, and Corliss flinched. He stepped back from her, looking disgustingly pleased with himself. He nodded at her. “Strip,” he ordered.
“Uh…what?” Corliss gulped. Knowing what was probably coming wasn’t always much help when it arrived. She kept her hands on her head. Her curly blonde hair was damp with her sweat.
“C’mon, babe.” His menacing frown was back. “You may be blonde, but you aren’t dumb. You went to a lot of trouble to get this far. We’ve been watching you the whole time.” He grinned. The grin was humorless, more like a baring of teeth. “I gotta tell you, I’m impressed,” he went on. “We decided that we’d help you get where you’re going now. But you’re way overdressed for it, blondie, so get your fuckin’ clothes off! NOW!” The last word came out as a cross between a roar and a bellow. Corliss jumped a step back, holding her hands out as if to ward him off, looking desperately to either side as if seeking some way to run. But any path she could take was blocked, and even if there was somewhere to run she was just too exhausted to go more than a couple of yards before they’d catch her, unless they made a game of it and chased her until she dropped in her tracks. They would probably enjoy that. She certainly wouldn’t. They would probably take pleasure in subduing her too. She shuddered. She could get hurt that way. She didn’t really have any choice, did she? No more than Amy had had. She started unbuttoning her shirt. She was trembling, but her fingers were steady enough until she began feeling their eyes on her. Her trembling increased, and her hands grew shaky. She worried that if she undressed too slowly they would take over the job of stripping her themselves. She was hanging on by a thread as it was. If they started to do that she knew she would panic. She took a deep breath and held it as she fumbled open the buttons on her shirt. She slid the garment off and let it fall to the ground.
The sports bra she wore had no buttons or clasps, and she could have pulled it off easily, even with shaking hands, but now she was struck with the wild idea that if she started undressing too quickly they might think that she was eager to get to whatever happened once she was naked. She froze for a moment, dithering. A low cough from Goatee got her moving again. She peeled the sports bra off over her head and hung on to it for a moment before she dropped it. Still looking at the ground, she couldn’t help crossing her arms over her breasts.
“Keep going,” Goatee said. There was an unspoken ‘or else’ to the order. Corliss sat down on the ground to unlace her hiking boots and pull them off. Then she removed her socks. She wasn’t trembling quite so badly any more, but she was still unsteady as she got back up. She had to shift her feet a couple of times to avoid the small rocks and twigs that lay hidden under the leaf litter. She found that the more clothes she took off the easier it seemed to be to remove what was left. To Hell with whatever they might think. She slid her jeans down to her ankles, along with her panties, and stepped out of them, once more having to shift her feet around so that nothing was poking at them. Once her footing was okay, she raised her head to glare at Goatee defiantly.
It didn’t feel warm any more. In fact, Corliss felt a chill right down to her bones, but she ignored it and stood with her hands at her sides, making no attempt to cover any part of her nakedness, as much as she dearly wanted to.
“Hey, blondie, you look pretty good!” Goatee nodded, grinning. “Even better than that other bitch, and it looks like you’re a real blonde, too?” He came closer. “You work out?” he asked. His grin grew into a toothy smile, and Corliss shuddered. She had to look away from him. His eyes seemed cold, with no hint of mercy or pity in them, only a predator’s interested speculation.
“Put your hands behind you.” He phrased the order in a tone like a tiger’s purr. Corliss obeyed. What else could she do? The other two men were moving in on either side of her. One came up behind her, and a moment later she felt him handcuffing her, ratcheting the steel snugly around her wrists. She was starting to shake again. Any minute now they would force her to her knees, and then…
“I can tell what your thinkin’, blondie,” Goatee chuckled. “We saw you watchin’ your friend suck cock. But we got someplace to go and we just don’t have time for that right now. Don’t worry, though,” he chucked her lightly under her chin. “Later on we’ll have lotsa time. Maybe we can even put you into a head-to-head competition with the brown-haired bitch.” He laughed uproariously at his joke. Nobody else did, certainly not Corliss. He stooped down, pulled Corliss’ belt from the loops of her jeans and examined it. It was thin, and made of real leather.
“Guess this’ll do,” he said, and then he slipped it around Corliss’ neck and pulled it snug. He used it to make her raise her head and look at him. “Ready, blondie?” he asked. He was smiling, but there was no mirth in his face. All Corliss could do was whimper, and wonder: Ready for what?
“You, there,” Goatee pointed at the smaller man. “Gather up all her stuff and dump it some place far away. She won’t be needin’ it again. We’ll save you a little slice for when you get back.” The smaller man nodded, slung his shotgun, and started gathering up Corliss’ clothes and gear. The sight struck Corliss with cold dismay. She couldn’t bear to watch it.
“Come on, blondie,” Goatee said. He started walking, towing Corliss along at the end of her improvised leash. It didn’t take too many steps to give Corliss a more comprehensive realization of the torture they had put Amy through. The ground seemed strewn with innumerable hard, sharp, painful things that stabbed at her unprotected soles. She didn’t so much walk along behind her captor as hop, stagger, stumble and whimper. If Goatee hadn’t taken care to keep her from falling, she would have hit the ground half a dozen times in the first ten yards.
“Aw, shit,” he observed sourly as Corliss staggered into him again. “This is gonna take forever. It’d be fun, but like I told you we don’t have time for games. Guess I’ll have to carry you.” He lifted her up and slung her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing at all. She grunted as her belly came down hard on his thick, hard shoulder, and then yelped as he gave her ass an almost friendly swat. Her belt was still looped around her neck and it dangled down his broad back. Hanging with her head pointed down like that, all Corliss could see was that belt, the ground, and Goatee’s back and legs. He started walking, and slowly built up his speed to a slow jog.
He was covering ground quickly now, but with every jarring step Corlis found herself bouncing up and down on his muscular shoulder. He had his arm wrapped so tightly around her upper thighs that she had no fears that he would drop her, but every so often as she came down all of the air was driven out of her in a painful grunt. That, and the constant bouncing motion soon left her feeling lightheaded and dizzy.
Once, when the unevenness of the ground made Goatee slow down to a fast walk, Corliss managed to raise her head enough to see that the taller of his two companions was following along behind them. It was too much of an effort to maintain, and she let her head fall back down again. They passed the uneven ground and Goatee began jogging again. Every so often, he would reach up with his free hand and give Corliss a friendly pat on her ass.
They went on, and on. Corliss could hear Goatee’s breathing, deep and regular. She could hear the other man’s footsteps as he followed closely. And she could hear her own gasps and grunts as she tried to breathe herself. It was a battle she was slowly losing. Then Goatee finally slowed to a walk. Corliss gulped air greedily, trying to clear her head. Her first thought was that her captor was coming to more rough ground or had finally started to tire, but then she smelled wood smoke and heard other men’s voices and she knew that they had arrived…someplace. She felt her stomach knotting up in fear. She shuddered. Now they were here. Now they would do things to her. They would use her, and abuse her as they had done to Amy. Goatee’s hand patted her ass again, reminding her of her utter nakedness, and she shivered. She heard voices, male voices, raised in greeting.
“We’ve arrived, blondie,” Goatee said cheerfully. He set her
back down on the ground…it was mostly soft sand here…and turned her around so that her back was to him. He slid the long end of her belt around so that it hung down her back and put his big hands on her shoulders. “Meet your new friends,” he said.
Still unsteady on her feet, she staggered sideways for a moment. He gripped her by her upper arms and kept her upright. They were still under the unending canopy of trees, so there was no clear view of the sky, but the ground had been raked clear of leaves and debris. All of the underbrush had been removed too, leaving nothing but hard-packed dirt. Not far away, she could see a couple of small, blocky log cabins, some dark green canvas tents, and a bit further away what looked like a row of three chain-link dog kennels. There was a woman in one of them. She was naked, with waist-length dark hair, standing with her fingers twined through the fencing, staring at Corliss. She was too far away for Corliss to see her expression or make a fair guess at her age, but she didn’t seem at all upset at her circumstances. Whoever she was, she wasn’t Amy. Where was Amy?
There were some men here too, much, much closer than that unknown woman, and they were staring at Corliss too. She shrank back from them. More exactly, she tried to, but Goatee held her fast. He laughed, and then put his arms around her, his big, rough hands coming up to cup and squeeze her breasts until she started to struggle and protest.
“More fresh meat, boys!” he bellowed, right next to her ear. “Fresh and raw and completely untrained!”
That didn’t sound good to Corliss, but the men seemed interested. Some of them started to come over her way and her struggling got wilder. Goatee barely seemed to notice. His hands were hard, manipulating the soft flesh of her tits, thumbs like sandpaper rubbing at her nipples. She could feel his body rubbing against her back, just as clearly as she could feel the eyes of the approaching men all over her front. Close to blind panic, she forced herself to take a deep breath and try to calm herself. She still had an outside chance of rescue, she reminded herself. All she had to do was endure whatever the next few hours brought. Help would arrive: It had to!
Slow, deep breathing didn’t help much. She felt like a mouse in a roomful of hungry cats, with nowhere to scurry for safety. Her breath began coming in loud, ragged gasps and it took an effort to keep from hyperventilating. She felt panic rising up in her gut, along with another, less unpleasant but more unwelcome feeling. The combination threatened to make her lose control of her body. She fought the feeling: She wouldn’t embarrass herself in that way, not in front of those men. She bent her head so she wouldn’t see the looks in the eyes of the men, only to see her breasts still being fondled by Goatee. She wasn’t that small up there, but his hands were so big that they made her tits look like B-cups. Worse yet, she saw that her nipples were swollen from his rough handling, standing out boldly and deep, deep pink.
“She’s the other one you told us about?” Corliss looked back up. The voice was a powerful bass. The speaker was taller than Goatee, and not as muscular, but he still looked something like a professional wrestler. He was clean-shaven, his hair in a short buzz cut. He wore jeans and boots, but no shirt. Corliss stopped struggling and found herself in danger of gaping at him open-mouthed. As he came closer, she realized that he had to be six and a half feet tall if he was an inch. She craned her neck to look up at his face. He was good-looking enough, if not quite what she’d call handsome, and his eyes were dark, dark brown. She shut her mouth with a tiny click of her teeth. He stopped about five feet away, his hands on his lean hips, regarding Corliss as if she were a piece of livestock. He just had to be the leader of this gang: He had that air about him.
“Come here, little girl,” he said, beckoning Corliss with a finger. Goatee let go of her breasts and gave her a nudge forward. Surprised, she stumbled forward a step, and came to a halt after one slow half-step more. She really didn’t want to go over there. He looked far too menacing, even if he was smiling at her.
“I said, come here.” He didn’t raise his voice at all, but with that deep bass voice he didn’t have to. And the tone of command in it was compelling. What would happen if she tried to disobey? Corliss shuddered visibly and took a slow, small step forward…then another…and another. He’d been almost close enough for her to reach out and touch to begin with, but it was the longest walk Corliss had ever made in her life. She was acutely aware of her nudity, her helplessness, her nipples, still erect, the predatory looks on the faces of the men watching her slowly shuffle towards her doom. As she approached the tall man, her field of vision narrowed until she could see nothing at all but his face, His eyes burned into hers, and for a brief moment she thought that she could see herself as he was seeing her: Naked, disheveled and helpless, her body available for whatever he wanted to do to her. Worse yet, she could almost see, through his eyes and in hers, that she trembled on the verge of surrender, waiting only for the word or the touch that would tip her over the edge.
She stopped just out of his easy reach, terrified to take another step for fear of what would happen. He just signaled her to keep coming with one finger. She took one slow, reluctant step forward. He frowned and raised one eyebrow. Corliss shuddered again and took the last fatal step. She was so close to him now that her body was almost touching his. The top of her head didn’t quite come up to the level of his chin. She had to tilt her head far back now to look up at his face. This close, she could see faint scars on his torso, her and there. Her nose picked up a faint smell of male sweat.
“What’s your name?” he asked. No…he didn’t ask. He demanded.
She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. “Corliss,” she answered, in a tiny, constricted voice.
“On your knees, Corliss.”
She didn’t know how it happened, but she found herself kneeling before him, still looking up at his face. She kept her upper body erect, which put her mouth almost at a level with his crotch. Her gaze shifted from his face and his terrible eyes to that crotch, and the growing bulge in his jeans. She stared at it, unable to turn away. She realized that she was salivating, anticipating what was to come, dreading it and craving it both at once. No…no…this couldn’t be happening to her! She couldn’t really want this!
He made a slow production of unbuckling his belt, of unfastening and unzipping his jeans. Corliss shivered as he pulled his cock out. It was of a size with the rest of his big, muscular body, big and getting bigger as he anticipated her mouth around it, licking it, sucking it. She was dimly aware of the other men crowding closer to watch her subjugation.
She opened her mouth for him without realizing it. She leaned forward, and gently licked at the swollen, purplish head. As her lips closed around it, she closed her eyes and moaned, a sound of despair and surrender. She could feel him still swelling and hardening, forcing her to open her mouth wider. She felt dirty, filthy, a whore, and she couldn’t help herself, even knowing that all those other men were watching her. She moaned again in misery and leaned forward, taking his cock deeper into her mouth. She could feel it throbbing with the beat of his heart, and then she felt his hands on her head, holding her. He started moving her head back and forth at the pace he wanted. Corliss moaned again, not in pleasure, but in arousal. She was wet, and getting wetter, and she couldn’t help that either. He was reducing her to an animal, a female animal in heat, and it was starting to feel so very, very good that she didn’t even think of trying to resist it.
Submission…she had always thought of fellatio as submission, and she’d never been fond of it. Past lovers had always wanted her to suck their cocks, sooner or later, but whenever she’d relented she’d always done a brief and halfhearted job of it, making it clear that she didn’t enjoy it. This was different. She was naked, captive, shackled, and if she didn’t give this man what he wanted he would surely take it. She rattled the chain of her handcuffs and let her fingertips slide over her ass, marveling at how sensitive her flesh there had become.
She could feel the other men pressing in around her, watching her suck, wait
ing eagerly for their turn. That should have been enough to make her stop, make her resist, make her scream and fight. Instead, she started to drool as she thought of their lust for her mouth. She also blushed, as her arousal fought with her waning feelings of shame. She let the tall man control her movements. She didn’t have much experience at this, and with him taking care of that part she could concentrate on breathing and sucking.
He suddenly pulled her head forward, ramming his cock past her tonsils and up against the back of her throat. She whined and squirmed helplessly, suffocating and wondering if she had somehow displeased him. Her hands jerked convulsively and futilely at the handcuffs. Then he pushed her head back. His cock slipped out of her mouth, leaving her gasping like a landed fish. He mercifully let her get her breath back. Once she’d recovered, she leaned forward of her own accord and took him in her mouth again, thinking only of pleasing him. She heard him groan once and his hands tightened around her head, though he let her set her own pace. She knew that this could only end with him coming in her mouth. He would try to make her swallow, too. Some dark part of her mind wondered what that would be like.