Holly's Home Invasion
Part 4
I squirmed as I felt the rapist touch my vaginal lips, spread them open, fondle
the soft sensitive flesh at the entrance to my pussy. I was bitterly aware of
how well I had been secured for this ordeal, my wrists roped tightly and
painfully at the small of my back, my mouth brutally gagged, my legs spread and
shackled at the ankles to the legs of a dining table that had been converted
into a makeshift raping rack. My feet felt numb in their restraints. The rapist
had ratcheted the cuffs viciously tight. The metal bindings bit relentlessly
into my flesh. Red circled the table and stood behind me.
'Mind if I watch?' he asked.
'Be my guest,' my rapist replied. I reddened, humiliatingly conscious of how I
was presented to the two men, bent over with my white silk panties taped to the
side to allow unhindered access to my most intimate parts. I bit down on my gag
as Slim teased open my inner lips, briefly reamed the entrance to my passage,
then pushed in deeper and slowly masturbated my vaginal walls
'I wanna get her nice and wet first,' Slim remarked as he reamed me, plowing my
pussy with his fingers, 'buyers don't like to have to use lube when they're
sampling the merchandise.'
'Yeah Slim,' Red commented dryly, 'I read the manual too. You can't blame 'em.
All of 'em like to see a bitch cream her fuckhole before she takes it. It helps
sell the merchandise. I don't see you doing her clit, Slim. Work her clit.'
'I'm getting around to it,' Slim muttered. As I stood helplessly bent over,
tears of humiliation streaming down my face, the hood on my clitoris was slipped
back to expose my nub. This too was fingered and masturbated. The rapist rubbed
my clit relentlessly, pressing down hard on the tender flesh, bruising it with
rough hard strokes of his callused finger, rubbing it raw. It hurt.
'It's not working,' Slim muttered after what seemed like more than five minutes
of bruising masturbation. 'The bitch is still dry. Fucking tough nut to crack.'
'Lemme give it a try,' Red said, 'you're too heavy on the clit. Some bitches
need a lighter touch.'
'Suit yourself.' Slim withdrew his hand, 'but I can tell you already that her
cunt's too fucking loose. It sags. You want my honest opinion? Waste her. She's
no fucking good.'
'I wanna give her a chance,' Red said, 'if we waste her it only gives us one
decent piece of merchandise for a whole fucking afternoon's work.' He stepped up
behind me, parted my labia, and slipped his fingers inside me, subjecting the
tender flesh of my nub to a soft insidious massage. It was hideously effective.
After a minute or two of quiet masturbation I felt the first stirrings of
arousal in my loins, a humiliating moistening of my captive pussy.
Betrayed by my hormones, I thought bitterly. I felt wretched.
'She's getting there,' the rapist remarked as he softly caressed my clit,
provoking another mortifying surge of wetness in my vagina. I felt a degrading
desire for penetration, for a swift impalement that would relieve the dreadful
tension of the forced masturbation. 'She's starting to cream. I can feel it
coming. You gotta finger 'em just right. This one needs just a little more work
and she'll be nice and wet and ready for fucking.'
'You're shitting me,' Slim said.
'I shit you not. She's creaming. Right sweetheart?' he murmured as he softly
coaxed my clit. 'You wanna get fucked, you know you do, sweetheart. I can tell.
You want it bad. You wanna a nice hard cock inside of that sweetly creamed
fuckhole of yours. Come on, baby. Give it to me. Gimme a little more cunt juice,
just a little more and you're gonna feel a lot better real soon.'
It was dreadful. I was almost fully lubricated. Disgust and self-loathing
overwhelmed me. I peed. A hot stream of urine jetted from my hole directly into
the rapist's fingers and hand.
'Fuck,' Red cursed angrily as he abruptly withdrew his hand, 'the fucking bitch
peed all over me. Fucking cunt.' The rapist pulled my labia painfully apart and
dealt me a half dozen stingingly sharp slaps directly on the raw exposed flesh
of my pussy. The vaginal spanking drove muffled grunts of pain out of my gagged
mouth.
'You're one hell of piece of work, lady, you know that?' Red snarled as he
finished spanking my pussy and lay his hand on my ass, the side of it that had
been bared by the taping of my stretched underwear. 'You fucking asked for
this,' he grated. I knew that my bared asscheek was about to be spanked as well.
It came a moment later, humiliating and painful, a series of twenty or thirty
punitive slaps on my naked cheek swiftly administered with the flat of the hand.
As I stood helplessly bent over, sobbing into the gagging cloths stuffed inside
my mouth, I could see my daughter's face raised from the table, her tearful eyes
above her gag strap staring unbelievingly at the spectacle of her mother being
soundly and painfully spanked. I averted my eyes, my face red with shame. The
spanking hurt. It hurt badly. My buttcheek throbbed and smarted. But the
humiliation was much worse than the pain. It brought back long suppressed
memories of the few times I'd been spanked as a little girl, the shame I'd felt
when I was bent over with my panties pulled down around my knees for the
punishment, the swift sharp slaps on my young tender cheeks, the bitter tears,
the humiliating redness and soreness afterwards. I never thought I would ever
have to suffer it again as a grown woman, never dreamed that it would occur when
I was bound, gagged and freshly raped. Or that the humiliating spanking would be
administered in front of my own daughter. I wept bitterly. The rapist finished
the spanking with a couple of stingingly hard smacks then shoved his finger back
between my tenderized lips, rubbing my clit until it was sore. I stayed dry, my
earlier arousal mercifully suppressed by the peeing and the painful punishment
that followed it.
'Still dry, huh?' the rapist growled angrily, 'fucking cunt. You wanna get dry
fucked? Be my guest. Dry fuck the bitch, Slim. Let her know what it feels like.'
'With pleasure,' Slim responded grimly, 'screw the fucking lubrication. The
bitch is no damn good anyway. A good painful dry fuck oughtta give her something
to think about while she's tied up in the van waiting to get wasted.'
He stepped up, inserted his stiff member between my raw and throbbing labia and
thrust it deeply and painfully into my unlubricated pussy, making me scream out
in pain. Fully impaled on the rapist's thick shaft with its tip reaching my
cervix, my entire vagina was on fire as though a red-hot poker had been thrust
through it. I screamed repeatedly into my gagging cloths as the rapist drove
into my raw and ravaged pussy at least two dozen times before he came to orgasm.
I felt him stiffen inside me as he ejaculated. A loathsome stream of hot semen
sprayed upward against my cervix and splattered over my womb. I shuddered in my
bonds. It was the middle of my month, I could still bear children. I wondered
bitterly if the rapist had already impregnated me with his hideous seed. My
ravished pussy felt horribly defiled.
I looked hopelessly at Beth. She had never stopped watching, had seen her mother
humiliatingly spanked, then brutally and painfully raped in front of her very
eyes. Her head strained upward above the tabletop, her tautly knotted gag strap
soaked with drool, her eyes wide with horror and disbelief. I turned my face
away. In a sudden surge of despair I bit down on my gag and ground my wrists
against the tightly knotted bindings, using the pain of the bondage to try and
tear my mind away from the dreadful defilement of my body. I had been raped,
violated, indelibly branded by the rapist's hot shaft as though a branding iron
had been mercilessly pressed into my bare flesh to sear it and mark me. In a
terrible moment of awareness, I knew I would bear the scarring of my ravishment
until I went to my grave. I felt numbed with shame and self-loathing.
The rapist withdrew, slipping his shaft smoothly from inside my sopping wet
pussy, wiping it off on my already soiled underwear. I could feel the slimy
liquid oozing out of me, running down the insides of my thighs, soaking the
crotchband of my panties between my legs. The spent semen clung hideously to my
skin. From my prone position on the raping table, I could see the clock on the
mantelpiece at the other end of the room. It read six PM. Two hours since the
nightmare began. It seemed like days. In the interim Beth and I had been
ruthlessly bound and gagged, humiliatingly photographed in our bonds, then
brutally raped and sodomized. Two hours ago Beth and I had been basking in the
afternoon sun in our shorts, laughing and enjoying a Sunday visit together. Now
we both stood bent over my dining table stripped to our underwear, shackled, our
hands tied behind our backs, our panties taped back, our intimate organs
casually and brutally ravished to determine if we were worth selling as slaves.
Beth had been earmarked for enslavement. I was due to be "wasted," whatever that
meant. Why? Why had we ever done to deserve this? Why had this happened? Why had
they picked on us? Why Beth and me? It was all so horribly unfair, so savage and
brutal. I wept bitterly.
I heard Slim talking. 'I'm just telling you what you've been telling me. A tight
nicely creamed fuckhole is what sells your merchandise. That's what I've been
hearing from you all these months. And a good user-friendly asshole. With this
bitch it's all back to front. Her cunt's too fucking loose, she can't cream it
or won't and her butthole's too damn tight to use. Good luck if you wanna sell
her.'
'OK, Slim,' Red replied, 'I hear you. The bitch is defective. At least you got
to shoot your load up her fuckhole. Get her down on the floor and hogtie her
ass. Do it good. We'll load her up in the van together with this other one here
and get rid of her. The usual M.O. I'll get on the phone to Jim over at the
Farm, make sure he gets some of his girls to dig a hole for her.'
'You bet,' Slim chuckled, 'I'll make sure she's hogtied good and tight for the
trip. And that cum oughtta cake up nicely on her legs, give her something more
to think about. OK bitch,' he snarled at me, 'you heard what the man said. Let's
get you off that table and down on the floor.
Get rid of her. The usual M.O. Dig a hole for her. It was horribly true,
horribly and terrifyingly true. These men were killers. Not just rapists and
white slavers. Killers. They murdered women in cold blood. The two women from
the bridge party had been killed with their hands tied and their mouths bound
with gags simply because their intimate parts didn't meet the horribly obscene
requirements of their captors. Whoever these men didn't "collect" they killed. I
couldn't believe it. I stood bent over in my bindings frozen with fear,
terrified, sobbing. The fear of death gnawed grimly at my gut.
Slim's hands were at my ankles, unlocking them from the brutal shackles that
bound them to the table legs. With my feet free for the first time and driven by
desperation, I bucked and struggled, tore myself up from the table, and twisted
away from my captors. Kicking at them and evading their grasping hands, I ducked
and literally ran for my life, hands still tied behind my back, bare legs
scissoring frantically. I made a beeline for the front door. I turned and
quickly reached for the handle with my bound hands. My heart sank. The door was
bolted from the inside, the bolt too high to reach with my hands. Gagged as I
was I couldn't even attack it with my teeth. I stood trapped against the door,
paralyzed with fear, as Slim closed in on me, his teeth bared, his lips
contorted with anger. Without a word he tackled me down to the floor, rolled me
over face down and dealt me a brutal series of hard painful blows to my lower
back with his fist. The beating left me in terrible pain, crying and gasping for
breath, unable even to struggle as the rapist wrenched my legs together and
crossed my ankles. I looked fearfully over my shoulder at him through my tears.
He was glaring at me, a noosed length of white cotton rope stretched tautly
between his hands, ready to be slipped over my crossed ankles. He must have
grabbed it from the sofa as he pursued me.
'Head down on the floor,' he barked, 'all the way down.'
I lowered my head meekly to the floor and winced with pain as I felt the bite of
the rope being tugged viciously tight around my ankles. With my bare breasts
pressed heavily against the floor, my tightly bound feet were pulled up roughly
behind my back and lashed firmly to my crossed wrists. It was swiftly and
expertly done. In less than a minute I had been brutally hogtied. Hogtied. I had
seen it countless times on TV and in the movies, the victims lying prostrate
with their wrists and ankles humiliatingly lashed together behind their backs,
completely immobilized, unable to move an inch. I had always cringed at the
awful images, thought how cruel, how inhuman to bind even an animal in that
disgusting and degrading fashion let alone a human being. Now it had been done
to me. I had been tied like a calf for branding, like a hog for slaughter. Even
the word for it was insulting and demeaning. I lay trembling on the floor,
gagged and stripped, freshly raped, mercilessly trussed for transport and final
disposal. The perfect victim, I thought bitterly.
'OK, that's done,' Red averred, 'looks like her running days are over. Anybody
else wanna fuck this superb piece of ass here before we hogtie her for the trip
back? We're definitely collecting this one. Any takers? Slim?'
'Nah, I'll do her when we get to the cabin,' Slim replied. He was breathing
heavily. 'We already know she's good to sell. Besides I wanna take my time
fucking her.'
'Right, how about you, Jerry? You still with us?'
'You know what, Red, you can go fuck yourself.' Jerry muttered. He was still
sitting on the sofa. I could hear the soft clicking of the handcuffs as he toyed
with them. He threw them down and got up, his eyes glowering with rage through
the holes in his ski mask.
