My dream
by Kallie
Bondage and forced sex fantasies have always been a turn on for me–maybe because I was raped as a girl, maybe it’s my way of negating what happened to me. I try not to think too much about it, I just roll with it. Luckily, my husband enjoys helping me act out these fantasies. Our sex life was active and very satisfying. That all changed last week.
It was my idea—stupid me. I suggested an abduction scenario. I was vague, wanted him to surprise me. I suggested bondage, some light smacking and pinching, and role playing, with him using a dildo to simulate a second rapist (and even third–gang rape has always turned me on) while he was either in my mouth or ass. He was willing, though he repeated his mantra–"I won’t really hurt you, if you want me to stop, use my name, I’ll stop." I agreed, knowing that he meant it, knowing he would never actually hurt me.
Then I waited. The anticipation was maddening, not knowing when or how he would "abduct" me, where he would take me, what he would do to me. I took to wearing seductive clothing, garter belts, stockings, push up bras and thong panties, knowing these things would add to the experience. I asked him once when he planned to "kidnap" me, but just smiled and said, "When you least expect it . . . "
Being "abducted" was the last thing on my mind Christmas morning. I was on call at the emergency room—I’m a physician, you see. The emergency call had come in at 9 pm, just as my husband and I were finishing dinner at La Caille. I drove to the ER, he took a cab home. I didn’t have time to change, so I was still wearing my dinner gown and under-dress pretties. Leaving the ER, I was tired, distracted. As I struggled with my keys, a hand clapped over my mouth, and another pinned my arms behind my back. "Oh, shit, NOW?" I thought, but then decided now was as good a time as any, and began to play my part—thrashing, fighting, but not TOO hard. Dragged backwards toward a black van, I mentally congratulated my dear husband for his careful planning. The van was perfect! Dragging me inside, he slammed the door behind us, threw me to the floor. A little rougher than his usual wont, but I liked it. Ski mask, leather jacket–oh, he had really gone all out for me this time! I skittered backwards across the van floor, determined to play my part to the hilt. He lunged at me, twisted me face down, and began binding my arms, elbows to wrists, with some exotic leather restraint. Again, I smiled inside—he’d really gone through some effort for me! Sure, it hurt a bit, but it was a delicious hurt. I felt myself getting wet. This was going to be wonderful! Legs caught and manacled, chained together, hobbled. Oh, yes.
He grabbed my hair, jerked my head back. This wasn’t so wonderful—he was jamming a cock gag in my mouth, and I hate being gagged, and was doubly insulted by the large dick shape being shoved into my face. I began to protest, but the cock sank deep into my mouth, and I was stilled. I looked up angrily, and a leather hood was yanked over my head—the last thing I saw were the angry brown eyes burning into me from behind the ski mask.
My husband’s eyes are blue.
Oh, my God. Who was this? Where was my husband? No, would he ask a friend to carry out the abduction? Would he? No, he wouldn’t. Oh, sweet Jesus, I had just given myself to a stranger, a sicko, a rapist, maybe a killer! I began to struggle in earnest, but I was bound tight, no escape. I began screaming behind the cock gag, thrashing madly against my bonds. The man laughed, "What’s wrong, whore? You wanted it just a minute ago, I could see it in your eyes. Too late to change your mind now." A chain was roughly drawn around my throat, and I was secured, face down, to the floor of the van.
The drive was endless, silent. I struggled, trying to free my hands, trying to extricate myself from this horrible situation. The van finally stopped, and I was roughly dragged from it, across a lot, into a building. I struggled, squirmed, tried to scream around the gag. No one heard me. Once inside, I was dragged down stairs. A heavy door slammed shut and was bolted behind us—by someone else. And then voices, raucous laughter. Many men. Dear God, please help me!
Dropped on the floor, on my knees, it began. Hands roaming my body as I flinched, tried to dodge. My dress torn open, revealing my large (36D) breasts in the sleazy bra I’d worn just for this—or my fantasy of this—occasion. Rough hands squeezing, pinching, mouths biting, sucking. My dress hiked up, hands probing my thighs, yanking my panties to the side and grinding against my pussy, as though their cruel ministrations could arouse me.
"Cunt’s wet," one of them observed, laughing, "she really is a whore."
Dragged to a mattress on the floor, my legs were un hobbled, then attached to a thick metal bar—stretched wide, leaving me wide open. I kicked wildly as they bound me, but in vain–there were too many of them, grabbing, forcing. I lay on my back, helpless, open to them, hands secured behind my back, pussy in plain site with my panties pulled aside. I heard zippers, pants being pulled down, and began writhing wildly, hoping against hope that something would give, some bit of leather or chain would break. The men laughed, joked about how ready I obviously was.
"Who’s up first?" a harsh voice asked.
"How’s about we draw cards for it?"
A grunt of assent, the sound of cards being shuffled. A shout of victory, then the mattress sinking as he climbed between my trembling thighs. I tried to pull my legs up, to gain purchase so I could scoot away, but his feet held the bar down, trapping me. He ran his hands roughly up my legs, my black lace stockings. kneading, squeezing, pinching his way up, he hooked his fingers under my panties and tore them down, leaving them hanging at my knees. My skin recoiled, jumped at his touch, and began screaming anew behind the cruel cock gag.
Relentless, his fingers parted my pussy lips, ground in, first rubbing me harshly, then plunging into me. I was still wet, and was ashamed. My hips jerked frantically, trying to escape his calloused finger thrusting into me. He laughed, pulled his hand away. Then the head of his cock, rubbing my clit, leaving a hot trail of precum. Then pushing, forcing its way into me as I bucked frantically. He was huge, bigger than any I’d ever had, ever imagined. I was being torn apart, and my body lunged, writhed in helpless agony. Then the thrusting—cruel slamming into my quivering pussy, driving me down into the mattress, forcing cries of pain from my gagged mouth. His hands secured my hips, forced me back toward him with each thrust. His groaning became deafening as he approached climax, his thrusts became frenzied, animal like as his already huge cock swelled, began to twitch wildly inside me. And then his cum-thick, hot, filling me in wave after wave. I screamed again, revolted by the knowledge that his semen was inside me, seeking. It was the 14th day of my cycle, and I wasn’t on the pill. I have always been fertile. I felt his sticky spunk working into me, into my womb, and knew that, if he had his way, I would have his child inside me. Please, God, no.
And then the next, pulling the bar binding my ankles back, pushing until the bar was against my breasts, my knees driven into the mattress by my sides. My pussy was fully exposed, forced up into the air, awaiting his attack. I could feel my lips twitching, the cum from the first slowly trickling out, across my asshole. And then he was in me, pumping, slamming, his throbbing cock filling me, his strokes hard and long, pulling almost out, then driving into me again, slamming my cervix, cramping my belly with their force. He went forever, it seemed, and my legs screamed for release. His balls slapping my ass, his hips bruising my thighs. He came with a shout, his slimy cum mixing with that of the first, competing for my ripe eggs. I was sobbing now—there would be no escape, no refuge. I was to be raped over and over, used terribly, impregnated. I knew this, and the fight went out of me.
Then came a hand in my hair, jerking my head to the side—the gag removed, and a hot, stinking cock pushing mercilessly against my lips, parting them, pressing on my teeth. I tried to pull away, but the hand in my hair held my head immobile. "Suck it, bitch." a low voice growled, "fucking suck me dry." I clenched my teeth, refusing. Another hand pinched my nipple hard, twisting viciously. I opened my mouth to scream, and he had his opportunity–his huge cock drove into my mouth in a second, slamming the back of my throat, gagging me. He pulled back slightly, and I drew a ragged breath around his giant tool. He drove back in, relentless now, pushing, pushing until I thought I would vomit. And then something gave, and he was in my throat, stretching it wide, cutting off my air even as another gigantic dick began plundering my reddening, sore pussy.
One down my throat, one in my pussy, both thrusting madly, pinning me, swelling inside me. Dear God, I had fantasized about this! I had masturbated to it so many times, had actually hoped, secretly, that it would happen. Oh, how could I have been so stupid? I hated myself, cried silently as I struggled for air, as their cocks slammed into my mouth, my pussy.
The swollen tool in my mouth began to twitch, jerk in my throat, and I knew. Knew he was going to fill my belly with his foul spunk. I tried to beg, shout for him to please not do it, don’t cum in my mouth! But all I could manage was a choked, "GGMMMMMPH!" as the hot spew began filling my mouth, my throat, sours, horrible. He kept fucking my face, forcing himself so deep that I had no choice but to swallow. I swallowed again and again as wave after wave of cum splashed into my mouth. I felt it making it’s hot way to my stomach, coating me. My struggles, my writhing was too much for the rapist in my pussy—he yelled joyously, his cock jumping inside me, then exploding, filling me with his semen. More cum inside me, impregnating me.
They pulled out, laughing as they called for the next up. My tired mind cried out, wondering how many there could be? I was turned onto my belly, and I knew. Oh, sweet Lord, not my ass, please, not my ass! My husband had tried once—gently, slowly, but it had been agonizing. I found the strength to struggle anew, but this just aroused them more. I began to scream, only to have a new cock jammed between my aching jaws. And then the pressure on my anus, the pushing, tearing into my dry ass. My cheeks contracted, my hips bucked wildly, helping to force him all the way in. How big? 8 inches? 10? And thick, thick as my wrist, he had to be. He buried his throbbing tool in my ass, all the way to the hilt, his matted pubic hairs touching my cheeks. I screamed, grunted in agony around the cock in my mouth as the man in my ass began thrusting viciously, tearing me open, grabbing my hips and rocking me back on his giant dick.
The cock in my mouth pulled out without cumming, and I drew a harsh breath, my mind thinking maybe, just maybe, it was almost over. But then I was being pulled backward, on top of the man in my ass, so I was laying on his chest. And then another cock, poking, seeking, driving into my pussy. Oh, dear God, double fucked! I had dreamed of this, too! Hoped for it, wished it. Oh, how I hated myself. It was agonizing, being buffeted between the two, one thrusting while the other pulled out, the thin membrane between the two straining. I drew a sharp breath, but before I could scream, my head was yanked to the side and that dick, still slick with my saliva, was jammed back into my mouth, my throat. Choking, gagging, my body triple fucked now, my back arching in pain as I was torn asunder, raped completely. Or so I thought.
Mattress sinking, a man mounting my belly, my chest. My bra being torn open, and rough hands pinching and squeezing, forcing my breasts together around his distended dick. Tit fucked. Four men, FOUR on me at once, each thrusting, slamming, using my body for their satisfaction. I groaned, muffled by the cock that was choking me, forcing my throat open. The one in my ass came first, his plunging becoming wild, devastating, and his cock twitching as it spewed forth his hot load into my puckering, bleeding asshole. I felt it, burning, spreading up into my bowels. Then the man in my mouth, even as a new cock pressed against my twitching asshole, flooding my mouth with his seed, continuing to thrust, to gag me until he was empty, every drop in my mouth, speeding toward my belly. And then a new one, oh, Jesus, how many were there? My mind began to wander—they would fuck me to death, I knew that now. And I was helpless to stop them. I had dreamed of this, prayed for it, even, and now I would die in agony getting my wish. I passed out, sure I would never awaken.
But I did. Draped over a low brick wall in Harlem, still tied, a line of black men waiting on theirs turn. Black cock in my pussy, black cock in my mouth. The stink of cum filling my nose. Cold air on my body as they slammed me back and forth between them. Hours. Man after man, lifting me with their thrusts. And someone taking money? Yes, like a carnival barker, calling out his price for me, haggling. My thighs, my chin rivers of cum. And then the siren.
So here I am, husband gone–he left me. It wasn’t the rape that drove him away, it was the baby growing inside me. Not his. Whose? One of a dozen, a hundred? Who knows? Every time it moves, I feel them violating me. Every time I open my mouth to eat, I feel a cock pressing into my mouth and gag. Every time I close my eyes, I feel them slamming into me, tearing me, coating me in their hot spunk. Their cum. Inside me. In my womb. Impregnating me. And I wanted it, I thought I wanted it. I was wrong, but it’s too late now. God help me. And this baby their hatred, their rape of me, put inside me.
