A Different Take On An Old Theme
Previous - this entry written on August 22, 2006 at 3:06 am - Next
The faintest of noises. A rustle of cloth against skin, or perhaps the scuff of a rubber sole against the floor. Hard to tell, even in retrospect, but at that moment it was enough to tell you that you were not alone. It was not soon enough to save you, of course. The rag, ether-soaked, was against your face even before you started to turn. The hands on your body seemed an instant thing, grabbing at you as you began to fall, cradling you even as another set of hands kept the rag in place. Your eyes were wide for a moment, straining to see the figures who were bringing you down, finding only shadows, masks, no faces. Barely even enough form to seem human. And then down you went, falling heavy into unconsciousness.
The two times you remember waking, both were in a pool of water. Tubs, in two different hotels, two different scents to the room, but both times a figure standing in front of the door. A gun, drawn and pointing down at you. Then, once you were conscious enough to grasp what was being tossed at you, a washcloth and a tiny sliver of cheap hotel soap. Both times, you scrubbed yourself clean as best you could, stomach beginning to gnaw at you as soon as your body realized you were awake, hands trembling with weakness. There were marks around your wrists, your ankles. Clearly you'd been bound.
Talking was met with silence. Pleading, more silence. A name, whispered, hopeful... and still further silence. The first time you finished cleaning yourself off, there was a single word spoken, clear and loud. You blinked, not quite registering it as what it was, a command, and after a moment of inaction the figure guarding you sighed, reached carefully into one pocket, pulled out a familiar-looking rag. Dropped it on the bathmat beside the tub. Waited.
You couldn't think of any reason why they'd kill you for cooperating, and several reasons why cooperating might lead you to whoever was responsible for this, so... the rag was lifted, the scent inhaled, and you slumped back into the tub nearly unconscious. The rag was pressed closer... and down you went again.
The second time you recognized the command, having half-expected it from your somewhat shattered memory of the first waking, and started to climb out of the tub to obey. A shake of your guard's head and instead you sank back into the shallow, lukewarm water, settling back on your heels, knees spread wide, hands placed precise atop your thighs. Obedient. You'd no doubt now - not that you had much to begin with - as to who had arranged for this hired muscle. No doubt whatsoever as to your final destination.
This time, no unconsciousness. Instead, a few bits of leather were tossed into the tub, splashing soapy water up over your skin. Cuffs. Gag. Simple enough, and only the matter of a few moments to have them fastened around ankles and wrists, the gag shaken off quickly before you shoved it into your mouth, bowing your head slightly as you struggled to fasten it. Patiently, the guarding figure waited until you had managed this before whistling once, sharply, and stepping slightly to the side as the bathroom door opened.
A second man - and from a hint of movement, there was at least one more still in the main room - slid in through the half-open door. Another brief order, this one at least in English, brought you to your feet and turned you to face the inner wall of the tub. Ungentle hands pulled your wrists back behind you, attached the two cuffs with what, from the sound, was a lock. Two more clicks and a short length of chain linked your ankles.
A hand, skin rough, calloused, ran over your throat. One of the men snickered. "Uncollared," said the other, and a moment later you were shoved down, slipping against the slick surface of the tub, knocking your head against the wall as you tumbled back into the water. Half-conscious and dripping, you were lifted... carried... and dropped at the foot of the nearest bed, on which a third man slept and a fourth was busy staring at rent-a-porn, his eyes flicking briefly from the screen to your naked body and back.
Eventually, a spare blanket from the closet was draped over you as you huddled there, the lights dimmed somewhat, and three of the four seemed to sink quite rapidly into slumber. The fourth - the one who had been sleeping - was awake now, sprawled in the room's only chair, watching you lazily. Minutes passed, or hours, you'd no way to tell from where you lay, and the watching figure seemed motionless... until the moment when he snapped his fingers, catching your attention, beckoning you over to him.
Still bound, it took a moment for you to struggle up to your knees - when you tried to rise further he ordered you down with a curt 'no' and beckoned to you again. "Crawl." Even that was easier said than done, and you ended half-crawling, half-wriggling along the floor, embarassed to make such an ungraceful procession, your cheeks flaming as you finally reached his feet. The blush from that was nothing compared to the flush that covered nearly your whole body when you managed to pull yourself back up to your knees and saw the not-unexpected sight of him, legs spread, jeans unfastened and pushed down slightly, a good seven inches of rock-hard flesh jetting up, clear in the dim light.
You'd somehow been waiting for this, known that it was unlikely four men willing to kidnap a stranger would be hesitant when it came to taking a bit of their payment out before the delivery. In a way you were grateful, that this first time at least would be with just one, that perhaps you'd be allowed to curl up again, sleep even, before you had to suffer the indignity of being gangbanged. To make any noise, any protest, would certainly erase that little scrap of mercy, and so quietly, even humbly, you slid forward the few inches necssary to lower your head and draw the waiting cock into your mouth. Fingers worked the buckle at the back of your head, the gag dropped free, and moments later you were gasping, trying desperately to draw breath, mouth filled with unyielding flesh.
Head up, head down, head up, head down, you lost track of how many times you strained without the aid of your arms to draw back, only to shove yourself down again. The few times you were hesitant, a strong hand cupped the back of your head, pushing you down fast and hard, making it clear that your wants, your hesitations, were meaningless. Over and over you felt your lips stretched, your jaw aching, the back of your throat clenching slightly as you struggled to keep from choking on the hot, musky flesh that was being driven so forcefully into you. This - and here, for the first time, you felt tears beginning to well up - this was not what you'd wanted for your first time, you'd hoped it would be watched, treasured, done with at least some care... that the only Someone who mattered would witness it, at least after the fact, that you would have done it for her as well as for yourself. Not like this. Not rough and quick, not with the salty cum gushing down your throat after only a few minutes, not ending with you shoved back to the floor, ignored, alone. You'd come to expect that sort of treatment and even in an odd way treasured it... but not for this.
And yet it was there you found yourself in the morning, half-under and half-atop the blanket, your lips still crusted with traces of cum, your eyes dark-circled. Sleep hadn't come easily or for long. Now, morning, with the sunlight sneaking in through the room's curtains, you were trembling. Staring up at the bed you were huddled against, not sure what you were hoping for or hoping wouldn't happen, not really awake enough to care but not asleep enough to keep from feeling nervous.
Finally the one who had kept watch through the night stood, kicked one of the beds, and within a few moments all four were up, dressing... and ignoring you. Until each was dressed and, you saw, armed, the only time any attention was granted to you was when you were kicked out of the way or shoved aside to let one or the other walk by. You finally managed to wriggle over to a corner and knelt there, head bowed, the gag that had been removed during the night clenched by one strap between your teeth, praying that this at least would be pleasing. Once done, two of the men were suddenly in front of you, one reaching down to yank the gag out of your mouth, the other ready with that same rag the moment your mouth opened, shoving it into your face, into your mouth, leaving you yet again unconscious.
The next time you woke it was not to the almost relaxing feel of water, nor to another hotel room. This time, you woke to the realization that you were inside a crate of some sort, rough wood on all six sides, barely big enough to twist within. Your arms were still bound behind you - or bound behind you again, you realized, as it was now rope linking them, rope binding your ankles together as well, another length of rope leading from your throat to a small eye-bolt set into the floor of the crate. There was motion, jostling, not the feel of a vehicle but the feel and the faint huffing, grunting sounds of humans moving your container, taking it up a flight of stairs, waiting... a knock, a faint murmur of voices, and then you were moving again, the crate dropped roughly on the floor, and one side of it opened slowly. The room beyond seemed bright, and for a moment you were left blinking, unable to see much beyond a blur. That moment was all it took for a hand to reach in, untie the rope from the eye-bolt, and quite literally drag you out by it, choking you, leaving you sprawled on a thick, soft carpet.
You were still naked for the most part, but at some point something had been fastened around your waist and between your legs, an uncomfortable feeling of fullness stretching your ass, your cock looped with several steel hoops, tight enough that you knew the moment you became hard they'd go from being uncomfortable to painful, and each hoop attached to the strip of leather that ran from the chain looping your waist down, between your legs, and back up again on the other side. Part of the covered flesh itched, as did a spot on your ass that you couldn't quite see, leaving you squirming slightly, trying to scratch the itches and ending only looking foolish, writhing there on the floor. The rope around your ankles was sliced away, the knife grazing the inside of one ankle, and you were dragged roughly up to your knees only to have them kicked apart, your head shoved down to the floor, leaving you kneeling and at the same time sprawled, bound wrists and plugged ass up in the air, the carpet fibers tickling your nose, soft against your cheek.
A booted foot moved into view. This was no man's shoe, this was feminine, but still sturdy, black leather and black rubber and bits of steel, all of it polished until it was gleaming. For a moment you nearly lifted your head, nearly tried to look upward... then some fragment of your training took over and instead you arched your back, pushing your head forward slightly, straining to reach without moving your knees, until finally your lips touched the leather.
- - - - - -
...yes, it was tempting to write that gangbang... the moment after you'd been shoved back, when you heard the others waking... that helpless feeling, as the first one reached for you. Tempting as well to write what happened after that first slight contact, the slow unbaring of your body... letting you see just how long you must have been out, for a wound like that to have begun to heal. Even more tempting to write simply for my own pleasure, describing the moment when you realized that you were indeed ruined for any other fate - after all, what woman would want a man who was no longer entirely a man, or a man who bore another woman's Mark seared into his flesh? That look... gods, but I can picture it so clearly. *licks her lips* Perhaps it's just the moment, just the mood... perhaps it will pass.
Perhaps some words, some offers, are things that should have best been kept silent.
*slight smile* In mostly-unrelated news, the trip to the coast... was quite enlightening. And rather pleasurable, as well. Good to know I can still inspire a bit of fear in random strangers. *wicked grin* Perhaps sometime we could... trade playtoys for a while.
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