by Powerone
“No,” almost forgetting to whisper, protesting the rude intrusion of his finger in her asshole. “Please don’t do that.” She felt the finger moving around inside her, teasing the muscle in her rectum.
“You don’t seem to have much experience with sex for an eighteen-year old. Have you ever sucked a cock, Angela? ”
“Yes,” she said almost proudly, ashamed at her lack of experience, somehow forgetting that they were almost raping her. There had been one boy that she had dated seriously. While she didn’t have sex with him, she did use her hands to masturbate him, and ultimately she did suck his cock, though she did pull it out of her mouth when he came, the thought of cum shooting into her mouth almost making her gag.
He pulled his finger from her asshole, gripped her panties and shorts and pulled them up. He turned her around quickly, snapping a pair of handcuffs on her, another black bag fitted on her head.
“Into the truck now,” someone said loudly for both of them to hear.
The rebels helped them up into the truck, hands touching them all over as they did, not even attempting to mask their real purpose. They were cuffed now, no chance of them putting up much of a fight. Christy cussed them, her voice muffled by the bag over her head, Angela submissively accepting the degradation, the stripping of her and fondling of her body already taking away her dignity.
"I like the fight in the mother, let's see if we can tease her a little on the way to the village. It will take at least a half an hour," the rebels laughing. "Over here Señora,” pulling her over to the side of the truck. “Face the side,” he ordered her. "Not like that," pushing her down on her back until she started bending at the waist, the rebel too strong for her.
What were they doing now? Making her bend over, knowing how prominent her ass was sticking out almost as if she was begging to be fucked from behind? Her wrists were pulled up; forcing her to bend lower, her head hanging down, the blood rushing to her brain. Hands were on her waist, holding her tightly, preventing her from moving. Was the same thing happening to Angela? She now feared what these men were capable of doing. It felt like there were ten pairs of hands, all touching her in places that she would never have allowed.
A sharp spank of her ass by one of the rebels kept her still. Even with jeans on, the slap was painful. He ran his hand over her ass; roaming from cheek to cheek, her hips trying to escape his touch, another crack on her ass stopped her movements. He reached under her, his hands searched out the front of her jeans, the button unsnapped, the zipper pull down slowly, ignoring her gasps of protest as he continued on with his quest. His hand slipped into the front of her jeans to find her silky panties, his large palm flattening out on her abdomen, forcing her to rise up and out, thrusting her ass out for all of them to see. “Yes Señora, such a lovely ass you have. Stick it up for us.” They laughed at her as she was forced into the obscene position, her ass thrust up into the air as if she was offering herself to be fucked from behind like a dog.
“No, please no,” she cried out, her voice muffled by the sack over her head as she felt the hand in her jeans moving about, making her ass hump up and down as it slipped deeper into her jeans, now almost cupping her sex, the thick fingers almost bursting the seams as they jammed into the tight place. One finger had slipped between her pussy lips, sliding her panties in with the finger, tapping back and forth as the hand clenched and unclenched her sex. Each time he would squeeze with his hand, she would push her ass out in response, moving back and forth in a simulated fucking motion.
“I think she likes that,” one of the rebels said as her ass moved up and down. “Take her jeans off,” the other urged him. Her upper body was held as two hands grabbed her ankles again, pulling her legs straight back, then up, hands reaching under her to pull her tight-fitting jeans down over her hips.
She relaxed when the hand was pulled from her crotch, but that was short-lived as she felt them pulling her jeans down harshly, hearing the seams popping, the zipper tearing as they didn’t care about anything except removing them. She felt the material finally slip over her hips and ass, now easily pulled down, hands grabbing at the material to tear them from her legs. An ankle was released, her jean tugged off, then moving to the other. Christy was now naked from the waist down, her panties barely covering much. Her feet were placed back down on the truck bed, feeling the movement as it drove over the dirt road.
“Spread her legs now,” the rebels quickly grabbed her ankles and pulled them in opposite direction, her crotch opening up to their gaze as her panties did little to cover her pussy from behind. “Tie them open, make it tight.” Hands quickly grabbed the nearby rope and each ankle was quickly secured with the thick, rough hemp, the other end looped through a round ring in the floor of the truck, each rebel pulling on the end of the rope as her legs were dragged painfully to the sides, dragged over the rough bed of the truck, her groans of pain only inciting them to greater violence.
“Let’s make her ride the rope,” the men eager to see her perform. It was only a short distance now to the village so they had to hurry. A thick, rough rope was tied to a ring in front of her, a bench below her forcing her backwards. With her legs spread wide, it was easy to pull the rope back between her legs, hands making sure that her pussy lips were pulled aside, the rough rope slipping between them. The rope was pulled through her legs, up her ass, her cheeks spread apart by powerful hands as she tried to fight them, her cheeks trying to clench tight, rewarded with two sharp smacks to her ass, painful now, only thin panties cushioning the blows. She surrendered; the rope settled between her cheeks and pulled back behind her, high up to the side of the truck through the metal ring.
She felt the harsh rope between her pussy lips; her panties doing little to stop the rough rope from rubbing her soft inner pussy. She tried to fight them, but they were too many and too strong, sharp slaps to her ass allowing them to spread her cheeks apart, the rope drawn between them, feeling the thick rope rubbing over her anus. The rope tugged in front of her, pulling tightly between her pussy and ass, forcing her to rise up. With her knees spread wide and tied tightly, she had little room to do anything but arch her ass up higher, the rope digging painfully into her crotch. She knew they wouldn’t stop, the rough rope pressed deep into her tender flesh, the ropes tight on her ankles, her body stretched to the maximum breaking point.
Angela could hear the commotion with her mother, her muffled gasps, only imaging the awful things they were doing to her. One of the rebels moved over to Angela, seeing her cringe when he sat on the bench next to her. He gazed down to her shorts, the zipper still down, the button undone, her panties partially exposed. He pulled her arms up, snagging her cuffs on a hook over her head, snapping the hook closed, her arms now trapped over her head. He looked at her breasts, thrust out, her nipples almost pointed. “Would you like the rope between your legs like your mother, little girl?”
His breath smelled, the spicy food lingering, feeling his eyes looking at her body with lust. She hoped they would hurry up and arrive in the village; sure the General would let them go.
“Or would you rather have my hand in your pants, playing with your pussy?” He slipped closer to her, his hand on her thigh.
Christy couldn’t believe the pain. They began to slap her, starting with her thighs and moving up to her ass, six hands beating her naked flesh. The rope dug into her pussy and ass as she moved about, trying to escape their painful slaps, her pussy slit forced up and down the rope, the harsh rope rubbing painfully over her anus. It didn’t even feel like she had any panties on, the burning of the rope bringing such intense pain to her body. When she would slow down moving, hoping to avoid the pain, they would find new places to slap, her tender inner thighs, eventually slapping hard up between her legs. She screamed when a hand struck her open pussy, driving the rope deeper between her lips, her body jerking up and down, the rope scraping painfully along her slit.
The rebel was nuzzling her neck, Angela forced to endure his molesting hands as the
y rubbed her breasts, biting her neck as she squirmed, hearing her mother crying out in pain as she heard the loud slaps to naked flesh.
“Spread your legs, little one,” she felt his hand slide over her naked stomach to the inside of her shorts, pushing aside her panties. She had no choice, her legs reluctantly parting, his hand pushing lower, his fingers running through her bush before sliding to cup her sex, gripping her puffy labia. “No, No,” she begged, then shuddered when she felt cold steel pressed against her leg, knowing that he had taken out his pistol again.
She was so hot, literally hot; his finger slipped between her pussy lips, trapped tightly into her wet, hot sex. His other hand held her tightly as his fingertip slipped lower, feeling the opening to her vagina. He curled it, fighting to gain entrance to the tiny hole.
She fought the finger trying to seek entrance to her virgin pussy, trying to clasp her thighs tighter together, succeeding only in trapping his finger inside her. It moved around, the fingertip already feeling too big, hoping he wouldn’t fuck her and take her virginity from her forever.
The truck slid into a halt in the village, Christy and Angela thankful, sure that the General would rescue them from any further degradation. Christy was untied, but not before one of the rebels pulled the rope between her legs, making sure that it burned as it passed through her cheeks and lips, Christy screamed as she felt the unbearable pain. She was pulled upright, her jeans tossed into the corner of the truck; she would not be needing them soon, her panties having already slid partly down, her bush partly visible. Angela was pulled from the vehicle, her shorts still unbuttoned, her zipper down. They were both led off the truck, the black bags still over their heads as they were led inside a building. Their naked breasts bounced as they walked; the rebels unable to take their eyes off of them.
The black bags were pulled off of their heads, their eyes blinking as they tried to get accustomed to the light. They looked around the old building, looking like a jail of some sorts. In front of them sat two men behind a large wooden table. One, apparently the General, was large, not muscular, but fat, about sixty years old. He had a stale cigar in his mouth, his teeth slightly yellow likely from too many of those cigars. The heat in the jungle made his green fatigues stick to his body, patches of sweat under his arms and on his chest, the smell of sweat filling the room. Next to his sat a neatly-trimmed man in a white doctor’s coat. He was mid-forties, his fingers manicured and clean, looking like he didn’t sweat even in the hot room. He had a rugged, handsome look to him, a five-o’clock shadow already appearing on his face.
Christy looked around, noting at least four cells, two open to the room, only metal bars separating the cell from the larger room. Two other cells were in the back, heavy wooden doors and small barred windows were the only clues of what was behind the doors, room that looked like they provided significant privacy.
“Stand at attention in front of the General,” they were ordered, the man’s eyes ran up and down their partially-clothed body, both women trembling in fear. He didn’t look like the type of person who was going to save them, his eyes taking in the sight of their naked tits, trailing down to glimpse at the partially visible bushes. “I see my men have uncovered some of your treasures. I must apologize for them,” he added.
Christy at last felt some relief, maybe now they would be released. “Thank you, sir. They took such liberties of my innocent daughter and me. If you would release us, we would be very grateful,” seeing her own relief mirrored on Angela’s face.
“Yes, and I must say I’m disappointed. Usually, the Doctor and I would have had the pleasure of stripping you naked for our interrogation. Moreover, I’m afraid that I can’t release you; you will be visiting with us for a while. We must interrogate you regarding your rebel activities. And, the Doctor has some very persuasive ways to make you and your daughter talk.
Chapter 2 - Angela and Christy are Inspected Intimately
“NOO!” Christy protested loudly, even scaring Angela at her outburst. “I demand that you let us go, we are American citizens. You can’t do this to us!”
“You don’t understand your position Señora. You have been caught as spies. As far as your country, they wouldn’t even know you are missing for a week or two. By that time, all traces of your whereabouts will be gone.” The General chewed on the end of his cigar as he talked to her, smiling broadly, the thought of having a mother-daughter team in his bed at night making his cock hard, them being blonde Americans making it rock hard.
The reality of the situation began to dawn on Christy; they were deep into the jungles of Mexico, captured by rebels. And from the look on the Generals face and what they had already been subject to, she expected that she would be subject to sexual abuse by them. Her only thought was in saving Angela from a similar fate; her only choice was to barter her body to save her daughters. She looked over at Angela, seeing the humiliation on her face as she stood before them, her breasts bare, her shorts unbuttoned, her arms bound by handcuffs behind her. Their eyes met, Christy trying to transmit in her gaze that everything would be okay, Angela forcing a smile back at her in acknowledgment.
“I’m sorry General,” she pleaded. “I will do what you want, just don’t let anything happen to my daughter. She is a young girl.” She smiled at him, hoping for some compassion, seeing his hand move down below the table, knowing that he was stroking his cock in anticipation.
“We will see how cooperative you are Señora. Sergeant, take the lovely child to one of the cells in the back and make her comfortable.” He waved him away; the Sergeant grabbing Angela’s bound wrists and pushing her towards the row of cells.
Angela was forced to go where she was pushed, her head turning back to her mother, not fully realizing what her mother was proposing to the General, fearing being separated from her. The Sergeant was behind her, one hand holding her bound wrists, the other hand, resting on the gentle slope of her ass, feeling her move as he marched her to the two cells at the end of the corridor, the heavy wooden doors with the small, barred window looking so forbidden.
They stopped in front of the door, the Sergeant unlocking the door with a large, metal key, the lock clicking loudly. Before he opened the door, he closed the sliding door that covered the small window. “We wouldn’t want you to be disturbed by the noise. It makes it almost soundproof, in and out,” he laughed. “In you go Angela. You have such a lovely name for a girl that looks like an angel and has the body of a goddess.”
The room was small, made even smaller by the heavy stone walls and lack of windows inside, the darkness assailed by two high powered lights in the ceiling, out of place for a cell, but necessary for an interrogation room. In the corner was a small cot covered with a brown blanket, thick black leather straps in each corner attached to the bed rails at the four corners, worn thin by heavy use. A small toilet and sink were on the side wall, lacking any privacy for the occupant. In the center of the room sat a heavy wooden table, the four legs secured to the floor with metal brackets, large enough for the body of a person to be secured to it, four heavy metal rings jutting up from the corners, the paint worn thin from the countless ropes that were secured. There were other pieces of furniture in the room, all designed to bind and spread open the bodies of the unwilling victims, forcing them into provocative and obscene positions.
Just when she thought she would be spared any further indignities, the room she was placed into told her differently. It was not built to hold her, but to restrain her and expose her body intimately. She feared the loss of her virginity to these evil men, her mother no longer here to protect her. She looked at the Sergeant, a rugged man in his mid-thirties, black wavy hair, and a five o’clock shadow in spite of it being the middle of the day. Unlike the General, the Sergeant took care of his body, his naked arms showing his muscles, his chest solid. Were she not being held prisoner, she would have found him handsome, now she found his scary.
“Over onto the bed,” the Sergeant ordered her, his voice loud and in
timidating.
“Please no,” she begged, fearing the Sergeant was going to rape her.
The Sergeant smiled, knowing what was going through her mind, his cock hard at the thought of taking her virginity, sliding his cock inside her virgin slit, but the General had plans for her. And his plans were for all of her holes. The Sergeants job was to make her aroused and keep her that way, a job still not too bad considering her lovely body. “I’m not going to rape you Angela. Now onto the bed or I will take your cherry,” laughing as he saw the look on her face.
Angela moved slowly over to the bed, dreading the thought of being stretched out on it, sure that she would be bound on it. She saw the Sergeant watching her as she got on the bed, bending over, her naked breasts hanging down towards the ground.
The Sergeant noticed her looking at him. “Yes, you have such lovely tits Angela, so young and firm. But first let’s get you settled on your back.” He moved to her, unlocking the metal cuffs, pulling them off, watching as she rubbed her wrists, the cuffs already making her skin red. He pulled out a double wrist cuff, two leather straps that would encircle her wrists, a metal bar about six inches wide connecting them, a large ring in the center of the bar for securing it. He watched as she laid back, the Sergeant pulling her arms over her head, watching as her tits rose up high on her chest, her dark red nipples hard as if anticipating his touch.
Her arms were pulled over her head, feeling the leather straps pulled tightly around her wrists, securing them. She tugged, the leather unforgiving, holding her tight. She looked behind her, the Sergeant looking even bigger as he towered over her looking down at her. She felt so humiliated, her tee pulled up high, her bra useless, pulled aside as her naked breasts rose and fell from her ragged breathing. She clenched her thighs tightly together; glad at least her panties and shorts were still on.