Roffeless

ROOFELESS 4

I was ‘under' again, stripped naked in my own bedroom.   They'd pushed my bed to the center of the room.   Colin was tying my ankles so that I was spread wide.   Ted was wrapping soft rope around my wrists, binding them together and pulling them up over my head.

"Make sure you get a pillow under her head," he said.  " I want her to watch this."

I was already dripping wet.

They were tying me more and more often.   You would think that didn't seem necessary.  But the thing was, that even ‘out' on roofies, I was still moving around, sort of coordinated.   If a drugged out slut didn't like something, she might struggle or squirm, could be sort of hard to manage.. 

I'd taken advantage of that at times to have some fun, to just sort of really play with them and frustrate the hell out of them as I kept falling or drifting out of whatever position they'd put me in.  And if they wanted to do something I didn't particularly want to do... well, I didn't mind making them work for it.

I suppose the joke was on me, because they'd started tying me to keep me in place when they used me.   But it was exciting in another way.   And harmless, I knew that whatever happened, nothing bad could happen.   At most, they'd fuck me in a position I didn't particularly want, or tease me, or do my ass, or spank me a little.

The truth was.... I kind of liked it.   What I was doing was all about helplessness.   About playing and pretending to be helpless as these two men used and violated my body in the most sexually intense ways.  And tying me up made me even more helpless, which made me wetter.

I was dripping.

Colin finished tying my ankles.

My cunt lips were parted.  I could feel my wetness trickling down.

"You got her?"  He asked.

"Yep," Ted replied.

I glanced up at him, keeping my gaze vague.

"Showtime," Colin said.   He climbed up, straddling my waist.   His hard cock brushed against my nipples, dampening them with precome.  I licked my lips.  Was he going to titfuck me?   Or slide his cock forward, thrusting beneath my lips and make me gag on his big hard meat.

Was he going to piss on my face and breasts?  They had talked about that other times.  Shower my face with his hot golden stream of male urine, hose it into my features, let it drip down my chin, splashing over my breasts and belly.   My heart raced with excitement at the thought, at the vision of cruel humiliation and degradation. 

No, he wouldn't do that here.  Maybe at his place.  Or somewhere else.  But if he pissed on me in my own bed, he'd have to change the sheets, clean up, it would get into the mattress, might smell, that would be hard to hide.

His cock was the best part of him.  This big hard, mean porn star cock on his scrawny body.  I loved the nasty way he used it on me, the total lack of hesitation, the utter ruthlessness of it.

He slapped my face, hard.  Disrupting my wandering lust crazed thoughts.  I focused, startled, just like I was supposed to.

"Bitch," he said, "pay attention."

I paid attention.

He held up his fist.

"Do you know what this is?"

I giggled and got a little vague again.

"Your hand."

He slapped my face a second time.  My cheek stung.

"A fist."

"A fist."

"Do you know what fisting is?"

My heart skipped a beat, my guts tightened into roiling knots, even my cunt seemed to squeeze shut.

"Uhhh."

Slap.  

They were doing that more and more as they grew more confident and controlling.  Not hard, never enough to bruise.  But enough to sting.  To focus the attention of the drugged out slut, confident that she wouldn't even remember it five minutes later.  My face, my ass, my tits, they even slapped my pussy.  It increased their sense of domination and power over me, this ability to slap me when they felt like it.

They thought I didn't remember, that the knowledge of it faded after a few minutes.  So that was how I had to pretend.  But of course, I did remember.  And it made me more submissive, more under control, more docile to their will.  It was mostly play, of course, I wasn't really scared or really hurt...  It would sting a little, mostly the suddenness was shocking, and they could never dare go any harder for fear of leaving a mark.   But still, it had an accumulating effect on me.  I found myself becoming ever more sexually submissive to their ever increasing sexual domination.

Sometimes I wondered if it seeped out into normal life.  Our ‘normal' friendship, beauty and the geeks, no longer seemed so one sided.  Sometimes it almost seemed as if they were in control.  But then I'd catch myself, assert myself, and they'd fold like the losers they were.  But I had to watch myself sometimes... there was a tendency, very slight, for them to ... press.  And a tendency in me to... not quite submit, but to go along.

Slap.

My cheek stung.

I stared at Colin.

"I'm going to fist you, Barb," he said.   "You know what that means?  I'm going to put two fingers in your cunt, then three, then four, then my whole hand.  I'm going to shove my whole fist right up inside your cunt and fuck you with it.   Do you want that."

My heart was pounding.   I wasn't sure I could handle it, not at all.  But I also knew that there was no choice.   Would it hurt?  How much?  What would it feel like?   I was scared.   But deep down, there was also a sick, submissive excitement that I recognized, a hollow yearning in the pit of my stomach.

I had no choice but to play it through, to stay in the role and act like a drugged out slut.

"Do you want that, Barb," he repeated.

I knew the answer he wanted.

"Nu- nu– no," I whispered.  Even drugged out, I could still focus, and this is one of those times when I would have been focused.  I had no trouble staring at him.

"Say please, then."  He whispered.

"Wha- wha- What?"

"You don't want to be fist fucked?"

I shook my head.

"Then you have to say, ‘please master Colin don't fist fuck my poor little white trash pussy.'

"Please, please," I mumbled.  He wanted me to beg.  He wanted to tease and torture me.  Oh god, I was so fucking wet.  I wished he'd just slam that big porn star cock in me and fuck me good.  But I knew I was trapped and helpless, and whatever happened would be what he wanted.

"Please what?"

"Please...."

"Please what?"

"Please..."  That was a long sentence he'd given me.  He'd be expecting the details to begin fading right away, for me to get it wrong...   "Please Mister Colin don't fuck, don't fuck...   fist me...  My...  Please... fist my ... trash ... pussy.  Don't... please."

He smiled.

"Sorry Barb, you didn't say it right.  Guess you really don't mind."

He kissed me on the forehead, even as he reached and squeezed my nipple really fucking hard.  It hurt!   I screamed and immediately, Ted clamped a hand over my mouth, muffling, me.

"Going to fist fuck you now, Barb.  I want you to watch."

I thrashed, by my legs were secured spread open.  Ted held my wrists and mouth.  All I could do was mumble and heave, totally trapped, totally opened to his latest violation.   He crept down, enjoying my frenzied, half genuine, fearful squirming, until he knelt between my legs.

"Gee Barb," he taunted, fingering my cunt, "you're really wet.  I don't think I'll have any trouble getting my hold hand in this fucked out pussy.  I might not even need lubrication."

At the threat not to lubricate, I bucked wildly, not that it did anything but bury his fingers deep in my wet cunt, and push me to the edge of an orgasm.  My heart was just hammering.  I could barely breath through Ted's clamped hand.  I was dizzy.  Was he serious?  Would he really do it?

Three fingers.

Oh god.

Four fingers.

Oh god yes, he was going to do it.

He twisted four fingers inside me, back and fourth, stretching me.  I whimpered and moaned, struggling helplessly, knowing I was helpless, free to struggle, knowing the outcome.   I pushed breath around Ted's constricting palm.  Arched my back.  Pushed my hips up into the air.

Colin pushed back slowly, bending his thumb in, pushing up to the knuckles, forcing my hips flat on the bed.

"You might need some lubrication after all, Barb," Colin mocked.

"Do it man."  Ted urged.

Colin squirted lubrication on and around, worked it in with the fingers of his free hand, and started to twist his wrist back and forth in corkscrewing motions.   Oh god, it hurt.  I could feel myself stretching...  Stretching.

Oh god, I though, stop.  I was ready to beg, ready to break character.

He kept pushing, stretching me....  I whimpered.   Back arching, body tightening.

"Almost there, Barb," he said, "can you feel it?"

No, I thought.  I can't stop him.  All I'll do it make it worse.  Relax, try to relax.  Submit.

Submit.

And then the knuckles passed through, the overwhelming pressure eased, and his hand almost seemed to flow into my pussy, I could feel it filling me as he sank deep to his wrist, his fingers curling naturally into a fist.

It felt huge in me.  I felt stretched to my utter limit.  It left me gasping and sweating.  I struggled to breath, on the verge of passing out.

"Let her have some air," Colin ordered.   "But clamp down if she screams."

The hand off my mouth, I desperately sucked air, panting like a bitch, staring down at my enormously distended pussy, the thick slab of his wrist buried inside me.   I could hardly believe what I was seeing.  But I could feel it, feel this immensity stretching me, distending me.  I could hardly believe my belly wasn't swollen, he felt so big inside me.   I stared, hypnotized, my eyes going in and out of focus.

"How do you like it, Barb," Colin sneered.

"Oh man, that's fucking awesome," Ted laughed, "you got your whole fist in her!"   Holding my wrists tight, I could feel his free hand running through my hair, twining, wrapping, strands around my fingers.   I could feel his hard cock behind me, feel the urgency and force in his body.   In a few minutes, he'd tighten his grip, twisting my head back, forcing my jaw open, and feeding his thick shaft roughly down my throat.

"Do you like it, Barb?"  Colin asked again, giving his wrist a quick push that made my heart skip.

"Oh," I said.   It was the safest thing I could think of.

He started to move his fist back and forth in me in little motions.

"Oh," I said again.

"Oh."

"Oh!"

"I think she likes it after all,"

"OH!"

"OH!!"

"OHHHH!!!!"

An immense tortured orgasm swept over me, and for a few minutes, I couldn't breath.  Every muscle in my body seemed to be spasming, rigid.  Then I went limp.

"Feel that," Colin asked.   "She's totally boneless, look at how easy she's gone."

His fist was now moving in and out, pushing me with deep stroked that seemed to make me exhale and inhale, his fist controlling my breathing, my whole body.   Even in the echoes of the orgasm, I could feel the sensations building up again as his fist worked against my taut, stretched g-spot.

"I'm wrecking you, Barb," Colin said.

Ted couldn't hold back any more.  He pulled my hair savagely, arching my neck, bringing a cry of pain.  And as my mouth opened wide, he rammed his rigid meat down my throat.   He began to pump, as if fucking me.   I closed my eyes and let it happen, and came again and again.

They barged over the next day.  

They'd cleaned me up and put me to bed like always.  But I'd had a savage fisting, I'd occasionally woken up a little sore, but I was hurting.   I stayed in bed the morning and even when they dropped by, inviting themselves in.   I stayed in my bathrobe, making coffee for them.

"You okay, Barb," Colin asked, innocently, watching as I moved carefully.

Asshole, I thought.

"I'm kind of sore," I said.   "Some sort of female thing, I think."

"Were you doing anything?" Ted asked.

Asshole, I thought again.

"You mean apart from the 5:00 AM, lesbian invitational volleyball tournament?   Not that I can remember.   I didn't do anything after you guys left.  Watched TV maybe. Went to bed."

I shrugged.

I sat down with the tray of coffee and gave them their cups.

"What's it feel like?"   Colin asked.

"Sore," I said, "sore and achy.  Kind of like, I dunno...."

"I was reading this article, ‘Spastic Vagina syndrome,' it's about girls who don't get enough..."

"I don't get any," I complained.

"We could help," Ted smirked.

"Anyway," Colin continued, "if they don't get a...  a... workout every now and then, sometimes the muscles will just kind of tense out on their own, like cramping up.  It's connected to periods."

Oh, I thought.  You son of a bitch.

"Where do you get this?" I asked.

"Readers digest."

"Readers Digest has articles about Spastic Vaginas?"

"Body parts series, you know, I am ‘Joe's Vagina.'"

"Joe?"

"Jane's."

Colin sipped.

"I asked for artificial sweetener." He said.

"I'm pretty sure you didn't."

"I can taste the difference."

I stared hard.

He returned my gaze, with a bland half smile.

Eventually, I got up and made him a new cup of coffee all over again.

Assholes, I thought.

The lines were sort of starting to blur, I was finding.   The sex, oh the sex was incredible.  It was addictive, this descent into dark forbidden fantasies, this endless well of sensation. 

It wasn't just sex with them.  The loved debasing me, and I found I loved it.   There was a night they took me into an alley, and behind a dumpster, I was fucked by filthy winos.  There were gangbangs at the frat house.  Once they brought me to a peep show with glory holes, and kept the door open, making me suck cocks and masturbate with a vibrator.  Another time, they entered me in a wet T-shirt contest, I had to pretend I couldn't really dance, but I squirmed around on the stage showing my pussy as men threw coins and squirted beer at my cunt.

Sometimes it was scary, but it was never really dangerous... they had to be careful after all, and I clung to that reassurance.   But it was always unpredictable, intense.  It was... an adventure.

In a way, it was too good.   My social life suffered.   Part of it was simply the temptation, every time they came by, to just let them have their way.   Part of it was their increasing drain on my time.  I saw my real friends less and less.  

In some ways, my real life friends just weren't as fun or interesting.   Even when the geeks weren't fucking me, when it was normal, there was a sort of hidden excitement, a hidden tension, of what they might do, when their next plan, their next little attempt to drug me.  It was a cat and mouse game, where I thought of myself as a secret cat, it was addictive.

And there was that I was starting to get a reputation.   Roofie gangbangs were one thing, but even word of that, garbled, sort of drifted around.  Other things, well, people didn't know I was supposed to be out of it, they just heard I was slutting out.

I'm sure it was nothing, you know.  Just rumours and shit, and no one believed it.  But yeah, there was stuff starting to go around.  Which was ironic, because part of the attraction was the total secrecy... they couldn't ever tell anyone, the stories would never get out, no one would ever know.

There were other downsides.   I found it was ruining me for regular sex.  I went out with this guy, set up by one of my real friends.   Normally, we'd go a few dates before getting to sex, I was still a good girl after all.  But what with one thing and another, he was putting moves on me, and I was finding myself a lot more docile lately, docile in everything, so he wound up fucking me.   And it was...  Bland.  Uninteresting.   There was none of the dark tension, the unpredictability, the wet intensity I had become used to.  He seemed barely aggressive, not really taking control.   It left me feeling incomplete, unfinished.

And my grades were suffering.  Again, kind of ironic, it was sort of like part of the attraction was that I could have wild sex without wasting time on all the relationship bullshit, so it wouldn't drag down my marks.  But it sort of evolved to consume so much of my energy that my academic work was slipping.  Not so bad I couldn't make it up.  But, the funny thing was that although I kept meaning to concentrate on my studies, they were sort of boring, and I'd find myself drifting over to Colin or Ted, or inviting them over.   It was only when they kind of got heavy into their own studies that I could seem to work on my grades, and it never seemed to last.   No big deal, sooner or later, I was going to crack down.   This was just a thing.  I might be cock crazed, but I had my big picture, long term, it would get taken care of.

Everything seemed to come back to my increasingly blurry relationship with Colin and Ted.   On the surface, it was all stable.   They were my geeks when everything was straight, and they fucked me unmercifully, when they thought they had me out.  Clear divisions.   But, I don't know.  It was hard to put my finger on.   The day relationship seemed somehow less clear cut.  Oh, one or the other might make a pass at me, and get shot down.   I might like them fucking me, but I certainly wasn't going to date either of them.   I liked flirting and sort of showing off, I wore more skirts and more tight clothes and stuff, they liked that.  Not dressing slutty, but sometimes, just sort of pushing it.  And I think I was more.... docile overall, so they tended to barge into my life more. 

Docile, what do I mean by that.  Well, here's an example.  I was going to go out and do a little shopping for some blue jeans.  But they showed up and invited themselves along, and we wound up spending half our time going to places they wanted, and I ended up spending three times as much as I was planning to, and mostly on clothes they liked, tight tops and sundresses and this slutty skirt with a slit up the side that I had no idea where I could actually wear - I didn't even get jeans.  A short little trip wound up taking the whole afternoon, because they sort of took it over on me.

No big deal, I just needed to remember when to make sure lines were drawn.  Whenever I pushed back, they folded.  But they sort of seemed to push more and more... and I tended to push back less.

Sometimes they weren't as careful cleaning me up as they might.

I remember the night they left this big butt plug in me.  They were exhausted, they'd blown their loads in me three or four times each.  But still, this was a huge butt plug.   Sometimes they'd forget to clean their come off of my body, or douche me, you know, that sort of thing you might overlook once in a while.  But this was big. 

I pulled it carefully out and dropped it in a corner of the living room, and went to sleep.

The next day, they came over.   We were all sitting around, and Colin spotted the butt plug in the corner.  He went so pale, I almost laughed out loud.   I pretended not to notice, as he sort of got Ted to look at it, and Ted just freaked.  

After that, I had a great time, just being oblivious and not leaving, as they worked desperately to keep me from noticing the big black butt plug, smeared with my own shit, and get me out of the room so they could make it disappear.

I loved it, I thought the whole episode was so hilarious.  It confirmed my superiority to them, and their geek inferiority.  That I was the ‘oh so clever' cat, and they were just mice with delusions.

I think maybe it was a mistake.   I think maybe that incident sort of fooled me into thinking I was more in control than I actually was.

Because otherwise, I don't think the thing with the dog would have happened...