PUNK ROCK GIRL by Gary Wilson (c) 2002. Reprinted with permission. Do not sell or reprint this article without author's permission. Chapter One: Frigid The beat-up Ford Fairmont sedan slowed as it pulled to the curb in front of the Royal Oak Apartment complex. From outside, the crashing, pounding sound of Black Flag's "T.V. Party Tonight" are a muffled shuffle. A young couple inside rocks their heads back and forth, then scream out the final lyrics as the song declined to a meandering, anticlimactic end. "No... T.V. Party... Tooooniiiiiiiight!" The girl pulled a trucker cap with the word "DORK" declaratively announcing her away from a soft tangle of curly brunette hair, that seemed to whip around her face and jaw line. She leaned forward and laughed, making her strong jaw soft and feminine, as the boy- a lanky, mop-topped punk with a constant squint- turned the radio off and leaned back to join her. The two were howling and cheering enthusiastically as the music ended, settling down into a giggling fit. From underneath a pitch-black stairwell in the nearby apartments, a dark, quiet figure waited, watching the two in the car. A pair of rough leather gloves covered hands that grasped urgently towards the car, as the engine was cut and the headlight went out. The figure retreated, silently, deeper inside the dark, disappearing into shadow. Inside the car, Melissa Spelling turned to her boyfriend, Paul Callahan, and smiled, coming to the end of her giggling. He winked back at her, taking out the keys from the ignition. "Mel, did you have fun--" She stopped him mid-sentence with a finger to his lips. Melissa unbuckled her seat belt and leaned in to plant a kiss on him, as he strained to meet her behind his own belt. Their kiss lingered, tongues dancing in some kind of rhythm that only their sex understood. Paul fumbled with the release button for his seat belt, and it unlatched, letting him move forward to match her. Melissa moaned gently into the kiss as he pressed back, her right hand moving through the hair above his left ear, combing through and holding on for leverage. Paul's arm moved over her head and around her neck, pulling her chest closer to his, as he free hand touched his thigh through his thick blue jeans. His strong but soft hand reached down to squeeze Melissa's breast underneath her t-shirt, flitting his thumb across the nipple. Melissa broke the kiss with a soft dismissive laugh, panting from their lay. She leaned her head in against his neck and planting a tiny kiss on his right collarbone. Paul groaned from the tease and leaned his forehead in to touch hers, looking deep in her brown eyes, searching for a sign. He was still warm with desire, but stepping carefully into conversation as he asked her, "You okay?" Melissa's eyes remained neutral as she answered. "I'm fine, baby." Paul looked to her, studying her expression for hidden signs. She patted his thigh and rubbed her forehead against his shoulder, eyes turned down, focusing on the tiny space between them. Here we go again, she sighed to herself, as she leaned in close to Paul's chest to hide from his stare. For Melissa, this was another point in a very familiar cycle in her life. Since she started dating, she'd had roughly six boyfriends, and one long-term girlfriend. They usually wouldn't start pushing into the things she kept hidden until the first time she trusted them enough to open her diaries to them. Paul and Melissa had been dating for the last four months. She's caught his eye at an all girl's skating competition in July... he had been that young looking, aimless-since-high-school, young thirties guy she was pursued relentlessly by, and was cute enough for Melissa to give him a chance. The relationship had come along with perfect timing... she'd just gotten over the longest relationship she'd ever had, and Paul was light, and fun, and had no trouble finding pocket money; and he could always score when they were up for the occasional screwball night of leisure drugs. She wondered sometimes if he dealt a little on the side, but could never find any evidence of it. She respected him, both as a person and as an athlete. He was the kind of male who didn't play up the coolness of women 'boarders in front of her and then talk 'novelty act' behind her back. He competed to do everything she could, and then some... it was a workout just trying to keep up with his tricks at times. She chided him for not competing, but he just laughed at her; his favorite thing to do was to listen to her reap her day while he strained to flip his board underneath himself and retain balance. Paul, she knew, was love struck... filled with a hormonal need for constant affection and coupling, and he was always looking for the opportunity for the two of them to go forward to the next level. But Paul was just too nice, and would never take the aggressive role with her. She couldn't see lying down with him and just opening herself, as he hadn't taken any initiative- hadn't earned the conquest of her. He'd played it safe for the most part, and safe was just not sexy. Probably better that it hasn't gone that far, she thought. Once any of her relationships had crossed into the taboo, things would begin to get awkward for her. First, the guys would get weird when she didn't have an orgasm. They'd try and try to make her have them... the more they try, the further she seemed to be from having one. Paul was the only boyfriend Melissa had waited to explain her background to-- explain the rape. She didn't want to have to tell him about her kink. It took all of the primal nature out of the experience if she knew he somehow understood her. She wanted him to just take her- just fuck me, she thought, feeling herself get damp at the word- and force it, no permissions, no safe words... just a commanding presence on top of her, pinning her down, and violently raping her. Melissa knew only too well what would happen once Paul knew the whole story. Like the other men before him, Paul would obsess about it and begin to make it an obstacle in a relationship. Instead of accepting it and enjoying their time together, he'd try harder and harder to make something happen, and become more frustrated and desperate each time it didn't. As if their 'tool' can somehow fix me, she thought, feeling the bitterness tighten around her for a moment. She held tighter to Paul, and felt the venom drain from her. It wasn't just men with stupid ideas about fixing her. Different lovers had different takes, but telling always seemed to doom the romance. Her one long-term girlfriend, Lindsey, had at first enjoyed the roleplay and the toys and the bondage... but she seemed to get more and more frustrated with the lengths to which it took to get Melissa off. During one small argument, she had suggested that perhaps instead of being gay, Melissa was just avoiding finding help for her 'problem'. That word... problem... had caused the worst row their small campus had ever seen, and had utterly destroyed their relationship. Melissa was intelligent and had a grip on her own situation, her 'kink', as she liked to call it. She'd read a great deal about rape, and human behavior, and had considered a few times seeing a psychiatrist. She decided at some point in her maturation that it was simply one of those things she'd have to live with. She would usually try to push it out of her mind when on a date, but like some dark cloud, the inescapable truth hung over her head-- a rape at age fourteen had left her... well, frigid. She doubted she was completely frigid-- I still get off from sex, just not without a little rape play... Okay, she corrected herself, a lot of rape play. And her ex's, especially Lindsey, had been able to get her off from time to time. Just not like Wally did. She shuddered and shook the name from her mind. Don't go there. As imaginative and loving as Melissa was, the release of 'vanilla' sex was never complete for her, and intercourse with someone she cared about was occasionally traumatic. Or sometimes, just so-so. With Paul, they hadn't crossed that threshold and probably never would. She was still teasing him mercilessly, and was sure he was always wound up after a date, but nothing ever came of it- at heart, Paul was stronger than his instincts. And Melissa was becoming tired of him not taking the hint. She'd managed to frustrate herself through teasing him, and would sometimes rush back to her apartment, into her bed, and under her covers to masturbate, imagining him pinning her down and fucking her from behind, pulling her hair as he raped her, again and again. She wanted to feel cheap, used, dirty, and there was little question in her own mind as to how far she might go to do that. She'd cheated on him, just a few weeks before, with a guy from one of those rape fantasy websites. It was nowhere near the experience that she wanted, but the closest thing she could get with risking life and limb. Since then, she'd felt guilty, and hoped he would get angry with her and show a little backbone... and a lot of bone, she mused, imagining what he might do if he found out about the affair. Each time she had reflected on it since the encounter, she had regretted cheating on him.... she needed the experience, and while she had no apologies for that, she felt bad for betraying Paul's love. He was a great guy, and he deserved to be with someone who could love him. I do love him, she sighed, and hoped she wasn't kidding herself- hoped that things her uncle had said about her when he took her weren't true. Maybe I don't love him, but I sure want to make him happy, and I want him to make me happy, too, she thought. I sure want me to be happy. "Really?" Paul's voice was choked, but the way his question seemed directed at her thoughts upset and thrilled her. She was sure he suspected something, and she almost wanted to confess- wanted to tell him what had happened Her uncle, 'babysitting' while her 'rents were out to the movies, back when Melissa was going through her wild phase... He'd brought beer, and when he had settled in with his television, she'd stolen a can and smuggled it upstairs under her shirt, cold metal against her abdomen. Melissa drinking it- awful taste, making her gassy- and then the warm, fuzzy sensation as a buzz overtook her. Dizziness from passing out, her heavyset uncle on top of her on her pink canopy bed, kissing her, touching her. Warm lips and rough hands as he kissed her body awake, protesting weakly. Fingers digging into her crotch, stimulating her, awakening her. Her panties being pulled down, and something- She pulled back from Paul a little, trying not shudder against him where he could feel it, and smiled for him- her cheeks pulling into a grin, showing their softness in the faded yellow lamplight, her brown eyes dark and starry. I must love him, she thought, and kissed his hand as her ran his knuckles softly across her left cheek. He treats me right and he's my best friend, and he's a damn hottie to boot. Come on, she willed him, fuck me, FUCK me already... just tie me down and do anything you like... She wished he could get her off, yearned to get past the wall that was clearly blocking her sexual evolution. "Baby, I'm fine..." She detected a hint of skepticism in his eyes, but it dissolved as he leaned in to kiss her again, settling for a soft peck on the cheek. "Want to get together tomorrow and skate the bridge again?" Melissa shook her head, and grinned ruefully. "I've got an English lit exam Monday. I have to study." Paul shrugged, and offered, "I could help..." She just shook her head. "Cliff Notes are all the help I can need. I'll see you Wednesday." She paused for a moment, waiting for the "what happened to Tuesday," but it never came. Paul just nodded and gripped the steering wheel. Melissa opened the passenger door, sliding out of the passenger seat with her books under one arm and her skateboard under the other, closing the door with her toe. Leaning over onto the window frame, she whispered, "Love you." Paul smiled and mouthed the words back to her with all the reverence of a priest during communion. As she stepped away from the curb, his Fairmont pulled away and he headed home, the sedan's taillights a dimming red glow in the night. Just as Melissa got to the door of her apartment, she could hear the phone ringing from the kitchen. "Shit!" She began to frantically fish in her jeans for the front door key and found it, opening the door quickly, rushing beyond the living room and into the kitchen to pick up the phone before the answering machine could get it. "Hello?" She pulled her wild hair behind her left ear, out of the way of the receiver, straining to hear the caller. On the other end, silence. Melissa looked over at the Caller ID machine and flinched to see the city of Howard. Howard was a tiny California town, just miles from the town of Copeland- and there was no one in Copeland she ever wanted to hear from, ever. She chewed nervously on the nail of her right ring finger. The thought of her uncle calling her apartment made her uneasy, but she tried again. "Hello?" Her voice was calm but urgent, warning. After a brief pause, a woman's voice said, quietly, "Wrong number..." There was a click, and the dial tone. Heading back to the front door with a relieved sigh, Melissa turned the lights on and removed her key from the lock. She then closed the door, locking it behind her, and turned on the Pentium II at her desk. As she waited for the computer to bleep and bloop through the opening drive boot, she took a granola bar from the pantry and sat down in front of her computer. Checking her e-mails, she found dozens of skate/snowboard related emails from her forum, a few "Take Back the Night" rally messages, asking her to bring spare candles again. She made a mental note to stop by Pottery Barn and moved on to the "met you at the festival" nonsense- guys and gals hitting on her after she won the big prize in her age division at a skateboarding competition. Swallowing her snack in huge, hungry bites, she hurried through these and on to the ones that said "Fantasy Rape", "StrangePage", and "rapedungeon". Inside were detailed and imaginary accounts of Melissa's abduction and defilement, writing she had requested at a rape fetish website. The first one was vanilla, a 'slave master' story about a man abducting her and painfully humiliating her to break her spirit, then torturing her when humiliation was not effective. There was lots of emphasis on her 'huge breasts', subsequent nipple torture and an incident with a branding iron. She sighed and closed it. B-cup, you idiot. The next one was a blackmail story... the story concerned Melissa cheating on a test, and her professor blackmailing her into spankings, violations, and eventual prostitution. She frowned, and moved on. "Oh, my." The third one was an account of Melissa stopping in a Mexican biker bar during Spring Break and being taken by force into a back room, stripped, raped and sodomized, and left tied to a pool table for the whole town to use. As she read the words, she could feel herself beginning to wet, and moved quickly with the mouse to open up a folder of rape images she had collected over the last year. The image she stopped on featured a model dressed-and-undressed as a prim schoolteacher being forced into sex with three men, violating and simultaneously using her holes, while the model cried and seemed to scream in protest. Putting the image up on her computer screen next to the e-mail, Melissa touched her finger to the fly of her zipper and began to reread the story from the beginning. As the heroine began to cum from a powerful anal domination, her fingers were down the front of her pants, scratching at her bush, the tip of her middle finger snaking down softly over her labia. Self-consciously, she withdrew her hand and, curling her fingers into a fist to control herself, she used it to prop up her chin as she continued reading. When she was finished with the story a second time, she looked to the bathroom and whistled softly, wet for the second time in an evening. Stripping her t-shirt off, she headed past her bedroom and into the hall for a much-needed shower. Inside the bathroom, she turned on the light and glanced at herself under the harsh fluorescents, her small, pert breasts showing tan lines from her trip to the beach back in August. She surveyed the tattoo at her navel, a tribal sun surrounding it. She fingered the piercing at the top as she watched herself, wetting her lips as she though of the story she'd just read. Chuckling and starting the hot water for her shower, she returned to the bathroom door. She cracked the door open to let the steam out, then laughed out loud and opened it all the way. Of all the alien elements of college life, she had found living away from your parents the strangest thing to cope with. The freedom was wonderful, and she'd lucked out to have roommates who were always gone for the summer, and usually didn't show up until late September. With weeks to go, Melissa was enjoying the run of the apartment. She smacked her head and chastised herself, Dummy! Feed Erin's cat before the poor thing starves. Sitting on the bathroom rug, she began to wiggle out of her jeans, pulling them off her legs; first the left, then the right. She removed her socks and balled them together for the hamper, then stood and dropped her panties to the floor, kicking them up into her hand and dunking them into the hamper, the way Paul did when he was cleaning up his room. She giggled and turned to the mirror again, admiring her small, dark pubic mound for a moment. Taking a towel from the bathroom closet, she opened the shower curtain and stepped in. She left the water especially hot, removing the showerhead from its cradle and pointing it towards her crotch. Scrubbing like crazy with the back scrubber, she began washing away the sex from between her legs, while waves of hot, burning water stirred new sensations. As the head of the big brush bobbed back and forth over her crotch, Melissa's mind wandered to fantasy. She imagined being pulled to a dirty mattress by that Mexican biker gang in the story, raped and sodomized into complete abandon as dozens of men used and degraded her, calling her terrible names and forcing her to admit to being all of the things they called her. She made a slow, rotating motion with the brush against her pussy as the fantasy sent a chill through her steaming skin, until she was panting, head leaning up against the linoleum for support. Unable to let go for a proper cum while standing, she gave up after an aching minute and gave her hair the second lather, her biceps trembling for a few moments after with wild lust. When her work was done, she turned the water off and took a towel to her body, drying herself as much as possible. Stepping out of the tub and walking before the full size mirror, she wiped away the steam, trying to size herself up. She imagined large hands gripping her arms, clasping her jaw, pawing at her crotch. The image made her light-headed and trembling for a moment, but the moment passed. Sniffing and drying with the towel, she wrapped herself, picking her baggy jeans off the floor and carrying them back to her room. As Melissa stepped through the bedroom door, her instinct warned her that something was wrong. She looked to the right behind the door, and a dark shape moved suddenly towards her. There was a loud crackling sound, a flash of blue light, and then all at once Melissa felt a sting, like being punched with a handful of little pins. Her body quit on her, muscles spasming and buckling under her own relatively light frame. She went limp in the arms of the stranger before her, unable to adjust her eyes to look at his face.
Chapter Two: Abduction As she drifted back into consciousness, Melissa could feel herself being tied and restrained where she;d fallen by a man. She blinked again and again, trying to see, but nothing was visible... it was only after a minute of concentration that she began to understand that a tightly-tied blindfold frustrated her. The cold air from the air conditioning vent told her she was still naked, lying face down on her bedroom carpet. All at once, she became aware of the intruder again. She could feel him, on top of her, his thighs pinning her down, as he wrapped something around her wrists... duct tape. There was the awful sound of a length of duct tape being ripped from a roll and than wrapped painfully against her skin. Her wrists were being duct taped to her elbows. She tried to pull loose, but the bonds were already tight... her ands and wrists we now tied in a perfect square behind her back, and her arms were being torturously pulled away from her boy at mid-forearm, like a trapeze at her beck. She began to pant, trying to get her voice back, to ask a question. "Who...?" Suddenly, she felt the man on top of her sitting up to remove his weight from her body. She tried kicking out her legs to buck him off of her, but quickly stopped her with a rough hand placed firmly on her thigh, pushing her back down against the carpet, pushing her own weight against the wrists at her back. As she laid there, she could feel the eyes of the man above her crossing her open skin, her small, round breasts, her navel ring. She could feel his hot breath, hear the air leaving his nostrils... and then those rough, calloused fingertips settled on her breasts, rubbing across her nipples. She asked, in a reedy, far-away voice, "Are you here to..." ...Rape me? Her mind swirled and she began to swoon at the idea, feeling the rough denim of the man's jeans against her naked thighs and tender mound. She could feel her arms trembling from the pressure, and every part of her shook. She felt him press forward, until his lips were licking her own. She panicked, hyperventilating, her mouth opening submissively to receive his tongue. Without warning, a musky cloth was forced into her mouth. Her breath was now drawn only through her nose, and those were short and not enough for her mind to take. As she felt her consciousness leave her, rough duct tape was applied across her lips, sealing the cloth against her weak cry, as the piercing in her labret was forced painfully against her lower gums. She came back quickly this time, woken from slumber by something pushing into the tight cavity of her warm vagina. It felt cold and unwelcome, and she tried to stop it by tightening her muscles, but that only seemed to make the pain of the intrusion more intense. The object felt undoubtedly like a dildo of some kind, but a rougher kind than she had ever played with- and far bigger. It was wedged deeply in wiggled once, and then left there. Above her, the terrible pulling and ripping noise of the duct tape continued, long lengths being counted out under the breath of her mysterious assailant. After a few moments, nothing, just her and her rapist breathing in time, as he toyed with her nipples again. She arched herself up a little, lifting her filled crotch against his rough jeans, trying to rub the dildo. She figured that her attacker would figure her for worried and anxious, but at this point, she honestly didn't care- she just wanted him to begin whatever it was he was planning and stop the suspense. Suddenly, she felt the tape wrapping around her upper thigh, and then being patted down into her crotch. "MmmmMMmmph!" Melissa struggled violently against the pat-down. She had read enough rape fantasies to know where this was leading. In moments, she felt the man toy with the base of the dildo, and then felt the sudden start of a vibration within it. More tape was wrapped around her other thigh, until the buzzing vibrator was secure in her genitalia and she would be unable to lodge it. The powerfully sticky duct tape clung to the small pubic hairs at the edges of her lips, pulling painfully if she moved even an inch. The rapist climbed off of her and began squeezing her right breast gently, toying with her, as the vibrator continued a steady hum in her vagina and deep in her folds, as Melissa lay there, helpless. She felt a hand tenderly stroke her left cheek, just under the blindfold, just above the tape trapping the rag in her mouth. Frustrated and scared, she began to sob. The attacker did nothing more than move his hand to her belly and play with her navel piercing for a moment. She felt him rise from the floor and move somewhere, then felt each footstep as he neared her, her mind delirious from the stimulation in her pussy. Some kind of pole was being slipped between her tape-bound thighs, moving across the length of her back, and down her spine, underneath the 'trapeze' of her arms. She heard the duct tape being unwrapped again, and then felt her ankles pulled roughly back until they were against her ass. The duct-tape unwrapped again, and her ankles were fastened both to her waist, to the pole, and to her tightly-bound forearms. Her knees were tied to the pole, with a cold, metallic crossbeam inserted against the backs of her knees as the tape went around and around. She heard a second set of footsteps enter the apartment. There was a soft, sinister chuckle, and then she was being lifted. Something was being wrapped around her- some kind of tarp. She felt cords binding her even tighter. With a jolt, her body was lifted into the air, Melissa dangling on the pole. Counting the things she was knocked into as they moved, Melissa had a clear idea of where they were. She panicked, trying hard to move somehow against her bonds, until she heard the sound of the door being softly opened. She was carried a few hundred feet before the familiar sound of a sliding car door told her that she was about to be loaded into a van or a truck. How long, she wondered, did it take them to do all of this? She was tied, loaded in their vehicle, and totally under their control, and yet her hair was still damp from the shower. After one of the men climbed in beside her, the sliding door was shut and another door opened and closed. Her breathing, labored by the plastic layer she was wrapped in, was getting shorter and shorter, and it deflected back onto her own face as she waited for the she felt like she was going to pass out soon. A few seconds later, the car was started, and the van rolled along, slowly moving out of Melissa's neighborhood. She tried to imagine the many men, and women, who could be responsible for such an act. The people she'd talked to on the Internet, former lovers, friends who might have known her better than she thought. Think, dammit... who could do this? Who knows me this well? She was uncertain that she had met, or somehow provoked, the men who had tied and trussed her, but that seemed the most logical thing. She was sweating under the plastic tarp for many minutes before the van began to drive in earnest. She felt the tarp unwrapped from her body, and breathed in fully, head reeling from the lack of oxygen, now suddenly granted to her. The new man began to play with her breasts, fondling them and kissing them as they drove, occasionally biting one with soft, steady pressure that made Melissa ache and beg, uselessly, to be released from her bonds. An hour later, Melissa was drifting in and out of consciousness. She felt herself grinding in small motions with the compelling persuasion of the vibrator, her heartbeat still erratic and her body covered in sweat. She tried to focus, tried to relax, but was unable to calm herself, whimpering and begging for relief or satisfaction, not particularly interested in which one had priority. She began to wonder if she'd ever see her life, her home, or her family again. She began to feel bad for them- for Paul, for her mother- all the people she'd let down with her reckless obsession. She felt certain that her Internet fantasies had somehow provoked this, and that she'd probably die because of it. Maybe... I can convince the guy I wanted it, she though, thighs burning with the heat from the plastic vibrator between her legs and her wetness. Get him to... make me sign something, or... videotape me, or... There was a giggle, and the second man, who had been toying with her breasts, reached down and put his fingers across the tape that held the vibrator in her pussy. With a tiny motion, he began to move the vibrator inside her in circle motions. She twisted, hurting her arms as she crushed them, trying to accommodate his direction, as she felt herself nearing her orgasm, hips trembling with desperation. Without any warning, the vibrator stopped it's humming. She flailed and thrashed, trying to send the message, finish me! Fuck me, oh fuck me anywhere... instead, she felt incredible pain as the tape around her pussy was yanked away from her with a violent tear. She screamed into her gag, tears pouring out of the corners of her eyes and dampening the hair at her temples. She was rolled over completely on her back, the pole pressing into her back and neck, and her arms crushed underneath her weight and the pressure of the pole. After a moment, she was lifted, to an almost seating position, nearly nauseous from the motion and her blindness. She felt a warm cock positioned at the folds of her vagina, demanding entry. She tried to nod, yes, do it, hurry, but the pole kept banging into the back of her head. Defeated, she waited, head rolling, aching for the promise of a brutal rape to bring her to orgasm. In moments, she felt his thick, nasty shaft begin to work its way inside of her. She arched her back as far the pole would let her go, giving him as much access to her wet mound as possible. With a tentative push, the invading cock began moving into her, going only a few inches deep... a short, fat roll inside her. Still, it was hitting her where she needed it, and she was responding. Even the most awful parts of the assault... the pain in her back and arms, the feel of his oily testicles slapping against her taped thighs... even these details had her turned on. Her mind began running off a seemingly endless series of wretched thoughts about herself, like an evil mantra: Ogod imadirtyslut fuckme rapeme doit fuckme imafucktoy hurtme imyourslutfucktoynow hurtme... Suddenly, the cock was withdrawn with warning, plopping out and dripping fluids onto her belly. NO! She arched, pleading, but she was instead laid across the man's lap, cock warm and wet against her belly. Please, please... After a moment, his hand, warm and wet with some kind of lotion, began to work its way between her tightly bound thighs. As he rubbed into her pussy with his right middle finger, she shook her body, trying to impale herself. Oh yes... yes! She groaned behind her gag, as he began to stimulate her clit with rolling motions and flicks, as beads of perspiration formed across her forehead and upper lip, soaking into the duct tape across her skin. As she went further, the oily lubricant making his every touch warmer and more pronounced, her blind eyes rolled back into her head and she went primal, humping his hand with everything she had. Melissa came, stiffening as she did. She felt herself sliding down from across his lap, the skin of her face moving across his penis as he held her there, stroking her hair lovingly even as his cock ticked, ticked ticked to have its own release. It was minutes into the petting that she noticed her tortured body was sucking the saliva-filled rag in her mouth, only more than willing to accommodate her rapist's manhood. She groaned. Moving her hair across his lap, a thank you for her release. He simply scooted over and started masturbating. She tried to strain her neck to touch it with her hair again. She was rewarded with a series of wet spurts across her blindfold, eyes, nose and hair. The powerful smell of the man's semen across her face opened her nostrils quick, and she leaned to the floor to breathe. He brought her back to his lap, where his softening cock continued to christen her face and hair. The van began to drive over a rough dirt road, and she began to wonder about whether this would be a wish fulfillment or a nightmare made reality. She drifted back into sleep, uncertain of what the rest of her life would be, or how long she might have to live it.
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