by Selena Kitt
“Ohhh fuck, baby, no,” he groaned as she began to slide down onto him. His hands grabbed her hips, stopping her, and she cried out in frustration, feeling just the big head of his cock throbbing inside of her. “No, no, listen, wait… remember, we talked about getting tested before we…”
“Nooooo,” she wailed, nearly sobbing against him, biting at his shoulder, desperate to have him. Yes, he’d brought up the subject of diseases and multiple partners and it was all very logical, and at the time, Lindsey understood. Now, though, riding up and down against the sweet length of his cock, aching for him inside of her, she didn’t care. “Pleeeeeease don’t make me stop…”
She felt more than saw him giving in, the way his hands eased up on her hips, the deep throb of his cock as he lifted himself, just a little, seeking more heat. It would have happened, she knew it would have—if the damned phone hadn’t rung. He tumbled her off of him, hanging onto his unbuckled jeans in one hand and grabbing for the phone, but he was too late. It went to message while Lindsey pulled her top back down and her shorts into place and curled up on the couch hugging one of the pillows.
“Hey, baby, it’s Alicia, I’m in town for a few days, I’d love to get together, give me a call, okay?”
Lindsey had lifted her head, incredulous, as some Beyonce wannabe left her number on Zach’s answering machine while he zipped his jeans and went to hit “stop” as fast as he could. It was too late, though. She’d got the message—loud and clear.
“That’s not what you think,” Zach insisted as she pulled on her sandals. “Lindsey, listen, she’s—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Lindsey remembered saying, unchaining and unlocking the apartment door. “At least somebody is gonna get fucked this weekend.” She hadn’t wanted to see his face when she threw the last comment over her shoulder. “Who knows, maybe I will, too.”
“Lindsey!”
In her memory, the voice was Zach’s calling from the top of the stairs as she tromped down them, but she realized, after a moment, that someone was actually calling her name. Turning, still holding the laundry detergent against her hip and expecting to see her mother impatiently waiting at the end of the aisle, she instead found Brian, his eyes sweeping over her outfit as he stood there, grinning stupidly from ear to ear.
“What do you want?” Lindsey sighed, shifting the detergent to her other hip.
“I dunno.” Brian shrugged, still grinning that goofy grin. “I just saw you and thought… you might wanna meet at the treefort again?”
Lindsey looked at him for a moment, contemplating it. The memory of Zach and the phone call was fresh in her mind and she chewed her lip, seeing the way Brian’s eyes moved over her. “What time?”
“Say nine?” He looked at his watch. “I get out of here at eight.”
“Okay.” She turned and then glanced back. “Just you?”
“Do you want me to invite more?”
“Sure.” Lindsey kept going, calling over her shoulder. “The more the merrier.”
“All right!” He was already digging his cell phone out of his pocket.
Lindsey saw Mr. Finn again that evening while she was changing in the garden. She flashed him a view from behind when she pulled her short shorts on, winking over the fence as she passed.
“Have a good night,” she called.
He shook his head. “You’re a bad girl.”
“I try!”
She’d expected the same guys as last time—the one she’d fucked again at the pool, Ralph, she remembered his name as she jumped over a log in the middle of the path—and maybe the little shy, blonde one, again, too. She doubted Brian had too many other friends he was willing to share with. She didn’t know then how she misjudged him.
It wasn’t dark when she reached the treefort—it wouldn’t be full dark for another hour—but the light was starting to fade under the canopy of the trees, and it was entirely too quiet for her liking. She expected talking, laughter, anticipatory howls even, a radio perhaps. She could only hear her own breath, fast and light, and the sound of the wind shifting the leaves overhead.
Maybe they hadn’t arrived yet. Maybe that was good. She had considered not coming at all, even though she’d said she would. Changing in the garden gave her a little thrill, but the walk didn’t have the usual, crotch-tingling anticipation. In fact, she felt decidedly uninterested in being there. More than that—she felt sad, and even a little guilty, especially when she thought about Zach.
She was thinking about going home and calling Zach, taking the long way, maybe stopping by 7-11 for a Slurpee, when the cloth slipped over her head from behind, enveloping her in darkness. She knew who it must be, what they were doing—of course, not all of what they intended to do, not by a long shot—so her struggle was expected, but it was also in earnest. She wasn’t playing. She didn’t want to play this game anymore. Not that it mattered.
“Where’s her fucking tits?”
Lindsey shrieked when rough hands pulled her top down, squeezing her breasts hard. Someone was holding her from behind, arms locked around her elbows, and her panicked, heated panting pulled the dark cloth into her mouth again and again. Lindsey used the strength of whoever was holding her to lift herself, aiming her legs in front of her and pistoning them out, hard. She heard a satisfying “Oof!”
“Bitch!” a voice gasped and she shrieked when the backhand came out of nowhere—of course, she couldn’t see it coming. It was a hard hit, landing solidly against her temple, making her ears ring with the blow. She even saw stars for a moment and then her lip burst against her teeth like plump fruit, only fat with blood instead of juice, when they hit her again.
“She likes it, I’m telling you!” That was Brian’s voice—he was the one holding her. She struggled in his arms, twisting uselessly, tasting copper and swallowing her own blood.
“No!” Her hoarse voice pleaded with them. “Please!”
“That’s what she said last time,” Brian chuckled, hefting her arms, pulling her in tighter. “I’m telling you, she loves the rough shit.”
“Good.” The voice she didn’t recognize made Lindsey’s insides turn cold. “I’m gonna give her plenty of it.”
“Not like this,” Lindsey gasped as someone pulled the cloth or blindfold or whatever it was up over her mouth and tied it hard behind her head, leaving her bleeding lips free, but she was still unable to see.
“How are we gonna get her up there?” It was another voice Lindsey didn’t recognize, rougher than the first, like his throat was filled with gravel or grit.
“I don’t want her up there.” That was the smooth one—the one who’d backhanded her, she was sure. His voice was smooth and deadly, like a snake. “Hand me that rope.”
Lindsey moaned softly as they began to tie her, and she stopped resisting as hands pulled off her shorts and top. They pulled her hands up high, using some sort of tree limb, she was sure, stretching her so far that she had to go up on her tiptoes, losing her sandals in the process. She tried to balance in the dirt, feeling pine needles under her feet as they continued to work around her, pulling, prodding, spreading her legs and securing those, too, with rope. Her arms ached already, but she had a feeling that was going to be the least of her worries in the pain department in the long run.
She tried to think of things to say, a way out of this, to gain control, the upper hand. They had left her mouth free, and she could have talked, but everything that came into her head was a plea, and she knew it was what they wanted—it would only fuel things further—and she was determined, now, not to give them what they wanted. Not until she had to.
“How are we gonna fuck her like that?” Brian sounded truly confused, but Lindsey wasn’t at all surprised by the answer.
“I’m not gonna fuck her.” Smooth’s voice was almost right next to her ear and she startled at his closeness as she heard Gritty laugh on the other side of her. “Not yet, anyway.”
“But—”
Lindsey winced at the s
ound of the blow, hearing Brian cry out, “What the fuck!?” He sounded genuinely surprised, but she wasn’t surprised at all. She knew their type—the two guys Brian had brought with him tonight would only get off on hurt, not just force, but the mean, sadistic kind of hurt that spilled over from the case of Bud they’d brought with them, but more, it spilled from them like pressure cookers gone too long with something really nasty boiling inside, something unable to contain itself. Brian was just starting to see the overflow—Lindsey knew she would be the brunt of whatever explosion eventually occurred.
“Shut the fuck up, kid.” Smooth grabbed the back of Lindsey’s head, her hair in his fist, the blindfold tightening to the point of pain. He kissed her, but it wasn’t any sort of real kiss—it was just an attempt to bruise her mouth with his, forcing her to cry out as her teeth collided with her lower lip and started the bleeding again. He wanted to hear her and she knew it, trying to keep her pain in with whimpers, trying not to show her fear.
“She’s got a nice little cooze.” Gritty’s fingers—she knew it was him, his voice was on the other side of her—were short and stubby, just as she imagined he was, and probably his little dick, too. They probed between her pussy lips, searching.
“No tits, though.” Smooth grabbed them again, twisting, pulling so hard she could almost feel instant bruises forming. “Might as well cut the damned things off and start over.” Gritty laughed, a dark snort and chortle, his fingers still probing between her thighs.
“What do you think, girlie?” The heat of his body felt huge beside her, overpowering, and she felt more than heard a gentle click beside her cheek. “Wanna just lose the baby tits and start over again?”
She felt a scream rising from her throat as he scraped the blade-end of a knife gently over her cheek, back and forth, and fought hard against it. There was no one to hear her, she knew, and screaming would just give them what they wanted. She held as still as she could as he drew the knife’s edge over her skin, petting her with it, as if he were trying to shave off the soft, downy peach fuzz covering her flesh. When he reached her breasts, he stopped, and Lindsey held her breath, trembling, willing herself not to panic.
“Answer me.” His voice remained calm—deadly calm, that same smooth tone.
“Please.” Lindsey moaned and tried to make her chest concave as the tip of the knife pressed between them. She felt something wet running down her belly and it was a moment before she realized it was her own blood. Panic rose again, long before she felt the burning pain at the site of the knife-tip grazing her skin, and she knew she was losing it. “I don’t know you! I just want to go home, now, okay? I need to… I have to go home and sleep now.”
Smooth’s chuckle was as smooth as his voice. “You can sleep all you want, sweetheart…when I’m done with you.”
I need to go to the moon.
The voice in her head was already distant and she looked up, as if she weren’t blindfolded, searching for a glimpse of it through the blackness. She knew the moon would just be rising, and in her mind’s eye, she focused there, feeling herself going, going… gone.
Daddy, I fell down.
Her little girl self was cowering somewhere, but she didn’t show it. Inside, she was filled with those hitching, uncontrollable sobs, and she saw her father’s face, his eyes soft with concern, kissing her to knee to try and make it better. She was afraid of the medicine, afraid of the band-aid, afraid of the pain.
Close your eyes and go to the moon, Lindsey, like we do at night before you go to sleep, and it won’t hurt so much.
So she did. She pulled back, away from herself, floating somewhere above it all. And she could see them, somehow she could see it all, the looming shadows moving around her as she strained against the ropes, strung up and helpless. She wanted to scream, but she knew no one would come. No one would believe her. No one ever did. There was no one to protect her and there never would be. There was nothing to do except float, somewhere above it all, watching as they began to beat her, and when she didn’t respond to that, tearing the limbs from branches and using those to bloody her back and legs.
“Shit, man, what’s wrong with her?” Gritty smacked her hard across the face, rocking her head back, but Lindsey didn’t make a sound. She was far above it, a roar like the sound of the F-16s flying overhead filling her ears, the pain just a dream.
“Is she dead?” That was Brian’s voice, shaking, scared. Lindsey wanted to call to him, tell him it was okay, she was okay, but words wouldn’t form in her swollen mouth.
“Get her down.” Smooth sounded disgusted, very unsatisfied.
The ropes stopped holding her and she collapsed into the dirt like a child’s doll. There was a voice in her head, forming words, just one: Run! Run! Run! But her body wouldn’t cooperate. In her mind, she was running, sprinting down the path, over logs, ignoring the sting of branches against her face, but still she could see herself, limbs bloody and folded beneath her in the dirt as the shadows loomed again.
“Okay, kid, saddle up.”
“What?” Brian’s voice was still shaking and Lindsey wanted to comfort him, but she still couldn’t move.
“You heard me! Get on that bitch and ride her!”
“I—”
Lindsey didn’t know what was happening, but gentle hands turned her, the dirt incredibly cool and even soothing against her stinging back and behind. She felt herself coming back into her body and she fought it, but couldn’t.
Brian’s voice trembled in her ear as he leaned over her, fumbling with the buckle on his jeans. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”
Something flopped between her legs, and she realized he was trying to jam himself into her soft.
“What’s the matter with you, fuckhead?” Smooth snorted. “Can’t get a fucking hardon?”
“I—”
“It’s okay.” Lindsey reached down and found him, limp and wilting in her hand, and she began to stroke him. Her touch was practiced, expert, her thumb rubbing the sensitive glans as she whispered into Brian’s ear all the things she knew men loved to hear.
“That’s it, baby. I want that hard dick in my wet little cunt. I’m so hot for you. Feel that wet pussy? You want to sink your cock in that hot little hole?”
“Ohhh fuck.” Brian shook his head, denying it, but his cock was hardening in her hand.
“She really does like it!” Gritty’s voice was too close—he was on the ground beside her—and she shrank from the sound.
Brian whispered, “Lindsey, I’m so sorry…”
“Come on,” she whispered back, aiming his now-full erection between her legs. “Fuck me. Give them a good show.”
“Yeah, that’s it…” Smooth’s voice was almost a whisper, too, somewhere over her. She could imagine him licking his lips, rubbing his crotch while he watched, getting ready to get it out to stroke it to the live porn show in front of him. “Fuck that cunt!”
She tried to block them out, but she was back in her body now, feeling the length of Brian’s cock moving in her, the gentle grunting, his breath coming faster against her ear. The weight of him reminded her how broken she felt, but the pain was, at least, something to concentrate on, and she wondered how bad it really was.
“Suck this, you little whore!” It was Gritty’s voice, and she had been right about his short, fat dick. He shoved it between her bruised and swollen lips, and she opened more from self-protection than anything else, letting him slide it back toward her throat. It wasn’t long enough to choke her, and for that she was grateful.
“Get up on your knees, kid,” Smooth directed. “I wanna watch those baby titties bounce.”
Brian shifted his weight, and Lindsey would have sighed in relief if she hadn’t had a cock pumping in and out of her mouth. She didn’t like how exposed and vulnerable she felt, though, without Brian on top of her, and it wasn’t long before Smooth was pinching her nipples and twisting her flesh in his fingers, making her cry out around the thrust of the determined dick in her m
outh.
“Ahhh, god,” Brian moaned between her thighs, his hips pumping faster. Her blindfold had slipped, and she could see him beneath it, his face screwed up, lips pursed, and if she didn’t know it was in pleasure, she might have thought he was in great pain. She also glimpsed her clothes beside her, a flash of white and red, and she closed her fist over them while he fucked her, waiting for it to be over.
“Yeah! Yeah!” Smooth was getting all excited, slapping her tits, pinching her nipples, making her squirm in the dirt. “Make a mess, kid. Come all over the little slut!” Then came the distinctive feel of a hand shuttling up and down the length of a cock against her tits, and since there was one in her mouth and another in her pussy, she knew this dick must belong to Smooth. He groaned and thrust over her, never letting up in his torture to her breasts. “Uh! Uh! Oh, yeah! Like this, kid! Ohhh yeah! Drown her little baby tits in it!”
Brian moaned and slid out from between her legs, letting loose with hot jets of cum that splashed in wet trails over her belly and cunt. The sight of both of them coming at once must have been too much for Gritty, who began to come in Lindsey’s mouth. She spit it out, gagging, and he groaned, aiming his short, spurting cock toward her belly and tits along with the rest of them, covering her with their cum.
“I thought you wanted to fuck her?” Brian panted, still sounding so genuinely confused that Lindsey didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“I wouldn’t fuck that shit if you paid me a million dollars.” The knee in her side made her gasp, and the pain was so incredible she wondered if he’d broken her rib.
Still, Lindsey knew there wasn’t much time. Their cocks were wet and growing limp, and this might be her only chance before the real meanness began. And she knew it was coming—it was just a matter of time. The feel of the clothes balled in her fist, the little short shorts and tube top, is what got her moving. Brian was fumbling with his jeans between her legs and she rolled to her side—toward Gritty, not Smooth—and bolted.