Mary's  Misery

by Abe

       Jenny's Sports Bar was located on high ground between the tracks and the river road.  When the river flooded, the bar would be alone on an island, so those who could afford it lived at least mile or so away, in town or up on the hillsides.  The Girardeau Baptist College was five miles away, so it was unusual to have a dozen or so fraternity boys, men, in the bar, along with the usual dozen or so regulars: farmers, truck drivers, “red necks.”  There were two couples, regulars, and two women who came in solo, trolling for a date.  Mary didn't know if they were hookers, and she didn't really care.

         Mary was tiny, barely five feet tall, and she wore a size two shirtwaist uniform, white with buttons up the front.  While waiting on tables she left several buttons at the top undone, the better to display her cleavage, and several at the bottom, the better to flash some thigh.  That was to increase tips.  The college guys seemed to appreciate the show, trying various stale pick-up lines which she declined with a smile. Some even   tried to cop a feel, and she slapped one of them, saying that if he tried that again she would have her boyfriend, Jerry, break his arm.  He called her a slut.  Mary found herself wishing those clowns would stay on their side of town.  They didn't tip well, either.

       The crowd began to thin out, until, about 1 am the kitchen closed down.  Half a dozen men, regulars, bellied up to the bar.    The college men finished their beers and left all at once.   Since there were no more diners, Mary buttoned all the buttons and transformed herself into a school girl or nurse, perfectly respectable in her white dress and tennis shoes. With a wave to the bartender, she walked out the front door.  In her pocket she had her door key, her ID card, and $97.50 in tips.

       While the parking lot was lighted, the road home was not.  It was nearly a mile to walk to her home in the trailer park, and she walked along the gravel shoulder of the road.  A big tanker truck roared past her, nearly blinding her with its headlights.    Then some lights approached from behind her.  They slowed.  A plain white van stopped beside her, and two big men, wearing Richard Nixon masks, jumped out.  Mary tried to run, but it was no contest against  two guys, each a foot  taller and twice as heavy as she.  In seconds, they put duct tape over her eyes and around her head, then lifted her into the van, holding her down on the floor.  As she heard the sliding door shut, she knew she was in real danger.

       The van drove a few miles on the paved road and then turned onto a gravel track.  She could feel each bump through the floor.  Someone was sitting on her back, mashing her breasts against the metal.  Then the van stopped.  The door opened.  She was half lifted, half dragged across gravel and grass.  There was a man holding each arm, and there was a driver, so there were at least three kidnappers.  Escape was impossible.  Stairs, a door, and she was in a building.  She guessed it was one of the fifty or so fishing shacks along the river bank.  If she screamed, no one would hear.  “Why are you doing this to me?” she asked.

       “Because we can.  You are a trailer trash cunt, and a cunt is a terrible thing to waste.”  As her arms were held tightly, another man began to unbutton her dress, but, impatient, he then ripped it open, with buttons flying.  Her dress fell open, revealing a gel-padded push up bra, nude color, $30 on-line, and her matching bikini briefs.  One bra strap over her shoulder was quickly cut away.  Then the other, but the gel filled cups still covered her nipples, until she felt steel between her breasts,  cutting the connection between the cups.  The ruined bra fell away.   Mary realized her breasts were fully exposed, and in a moment strong hands began to squeeze them and pinch her nipples. 

       She cried out in pain and said, “Please, don't do this to me.”  There was laughter from different directions, and she realized there must five or six of them, probably from the college.

       One called out, “Don't worry, slut.  No one misses a slice off a cut loaf.”  There was more laughter.   They held her arms straight behind her as they pulled the sleeves down her arms, pulling the dress off.  “You're gonna like getting fucked until your eyes cross.” 

       “Please, no, I'm faithful to my boyfriend,” she pleaded.

       “Not for long.”  More laughing.  They forced her to her to her knees on the bare wood floor.  Her throat was dry with fear, but they pressed in on her cheeks, forcing her jaws open.  Someone put his hard cock between her parted lips.  “Suck it.  If you don't, you can say good-bye to your nipples.”  While she might still be a virgin, technically, she had learned to give head in high school, and she did the best she could, while someone pinched her nipples.  Twice she gagged and nearly vomited, but finally the guy shot his cum down her throat, and she was forced to swallow it.  “Don't forget, guys, we don't want to leave any DNA.  Wear your overcoats.”

       Mary was still wearing her cotton bikini briefs.  They lifted her to her feet, and someone grabbed the back of her panties, lifting upward, giving her a wedgie.  The fabric of the crotch panel forced its way between her labia.  Someone else pulled up on the front, so there was a sort of tug of war, with the cloth scrubbing back and forth in her slit, rubbing her clit painfully.  She was lifted off her feet by the pressure of cloth against her cunt, while someone cut the waistband by her hips.  Then, with a yank and a tearing sound, her panties dragged painfully between her labia until they were gone, and she was dropped to her knees, naked on the floor.

       They dragged her to a wooden bench and duct taped her  her ankles to two of the legs, so she stood with her legs wide apart.  Then the bent her over and taped he wrists to the other two legs.  Here knees were forced against the bench, so her legs were straight and she was doubled over at the waist, with her butt much higher than her head.  Her breasts hung down, and the men continually squeezed and twisted them.  She heard the sounds of a condom being unwrapped and put on, and she felt the tip of a cock trying to enter her from behind.  She was dry, so the guy had some difficulty.  “Shit, it's like sandpaper.  We need some lube.”

       Another voice said, “I'll look around.  Here, try this.  It's Tabasco sauce, but you  won't feel it unless the rubber breaks.”  She felt two or three fingers rubbing the sauce from front to back and then from side to side, rubbing it over her clit and into her cunt.

       “It burns!” she cried.  There was more laughter, and then she felt the narrow neck of the bottle sliding into her, like a tampon, and the shoulder of the bottle began to spread the walls of her cunt farther than Jerry's prick ever had, and the pepper sauce burned deep inside her. She was sobbing uncontrollably as her rapist pulled the bottle out of her cunt with a sucking sound and slopped some sauce on her asshole.  Then he pressed the mouth of the bottle against her asshole.  The neck was forced in, and then the shoulder of the bottle seriously stretched her anus until the full width of the bottle entered her, painfully, bigger than a bowel movement.  The pepper irritant burned the walls of her rectum.  Bent over as she was, the bottom of the bottle was higher than the neck, and the guy shook the bottle, pushing it in and out, to coax more pepper sauce into her ass.

       As Mary was concentrating on the pain in her ass, a condom-clad cock was thrust into her burning cunt.  The humiliation, being fucked in both holes simultaneously, made her howl in despair.  The guy didn't last long, but another took his place to fuck her doggy style, each thrust scrubbing the pepper into the walls of her cunt and driving the bottle back and forth in her tortured asshole.  A third rapist had his way with her, as her insides cramped  with pain.  Number four pulled the bottle from her ass and shoved his cock into her in its place, as he pulled on her hips and banged her knees against the bench.  The pain, however, was surpassed by the pain in her nipples as someone twisted them with pliers.

       The torment paused for a moment.  Five stiff pricks had gone soft inside her.  Were there more?  “Everyone satisfied?  We can let her go?” said a voice.

       “I want to fuck her ass, but I'm not hard yet.  But I will be soon.”  She felt a leather belt smack her bottom. She screamed as several more blows reddened her butt.  “That's better.”  There was a pause to put on the “raincoat”, and then another stiff prick forced its way into her resisting anus.  Some more Tabasco sauce was applied as lubricant, and as it was carried inside by the ribbed condom, Mary's gut spasmed in protest.  Each thrust pushed her hips forward, and she had to push back to keep from toppling face forward to the floor.  By the time the guy came, Mary was exhausted, and her guts were on fire inside.

       As the guy pulled out of her ass, two more took up beating their victim.  One, with a knotted rope, thrashed her back, with the rope wrapping around and the knots punishing her breasts.  He also swung the rope upward between her parted thighs, aiming the knots at her clitoris.  Then part of  a fishing rod swished against her ass cheeks, again and again, leaving intersecting pink welts.  “Watch this,  bacon strips,” said her torturer, and he brought the rod downward, almost tangential to her buttocks, leaving broad red stripes of stretched skin, first on one cheek, then the other.

       By then, another prick was erect, and its owner thrust it into the sobbing woman's cunt from behind.  Holding her hips so she wouldn't topple over, he pumped into her furiously.  Her cunt burped and farted as the plunger pumped air into and out of her, endlessly, it seemed, until at last the cock went soft and pulled out.  Then the owner, or someone else, forced fingers into her worn out cunt, pushing until his whole hand entered her.  He made a fist, and Mary screamed, afraid that she was seriously injured.  When he pulled his fist out, as painful as childbirth, it felt as if her womb was being sucked out of her.

       “I've found a package of fish hooks with attached leaders.  Let's give her some piercings.  Put hooks through her nipples and her clit and hang sinkers on them.”  Her fear became even more acute.

       “No.  If she complains that she was raped, the sheriff will  say she's just a whore complaining that she wasn't paid.  If she shows up in the emergency room with hooks in her, the police will have to pay attention.  It's time to take her home.  Don't worry.  We know where she lives.  There will be a next time.”

       They dumped her on the gravel by the entrance to the trailer park.  She was naked, but for her shoes.  She sat on her bruised and burning bottom, the gravel painfully pricking her reddened skin, and she managed to get the duct tape off, so she could see.  She got to her feet and, by moonlight, looked for her dress.  It was gone, along with her key and ID and money.  She would have to walk through the trailer park stark naked, but probably everyone would be asleep or watching TV; she wouldn't be seen.  She walked quietly, trying to stay in grass as much as she could so as not to crunch the gravel.

       She couldn't see Jerry's rig.  He had said he was taking a load to Gainesville but should be back in the morning.  With no key, she would have to wait for Jerry to let her in, and if he wasn't back by dawn, she couldn't just stand on the door step while people drove by.   She stood in the shadows beside her trailer, hugging her bruised breasts and shivering in the chill of the night, even as her bowels cramped and her cunt still burned.  She reached down to see if she could ease the pain.  Just touching her clit was so painful she wept.  She wondered what she could tell Jerry and whether he would understand.  If he didn't...

       The moon disappeared, leaving her concealed by the blackness of night.  But then the sky lightened in the east, and a few lights came on.  She heard a car start, and she realized she had to hide somewhere.  She went behind the trailer and lay face down in tall weeds.  It seemed as if she could feel each stiff stalk pricking her tortured breasts and bruised body, some even finding their way between her labia and stabbing her clit, prolonging her misery.  She waited, sobbing, as the sun rose and the trailer park came to life.  

Mary's Misery, part 2

by Abe

When Jerry came home and rescued Mary, she was in no shape for sex.  She needed lots of cuddling and treatment for the chemical burns to her vulva and vagina, but she recovered.  Then, since Mary had no automobile, Jerry had to pass up a job to take her for a new state issued picture ID, needed before she could return to work.  He also got several copies of the door key.  Mary put one in a magnetic box and hid it on a frame member of the trailer, so she would never again be locked out. 

It was a week after her rape.  She still had to walk home from the bar, but she now carried a  small can of pepper spray, not that that was much protection.  She was anxious the whole way home and thankful when she let herself into the trailer without having been kidnapped again.  She locked the door,  emptied her pocket, and put her soiled uniform with other clothes to wash.  She had lost her fancy push-up bra, so she went to work in plain cotton underwear and an old uniform.   She kicked off her shoes and  walked into their bedroom in her undies.

“Oh, Shit!” she screamed as a pillow case came down over her head and several hands held her arms while her wrists were tied together and tape around her neck secured the bag over her head.  Her kidnappers had kept her key and let themselves in.  “Why are you doing this to me?” she wailed through the cloth of the pillow case.

“Because we can.  We're bullies,” said a feminine voice. “We're strong.  You are not.  Our boy friends had their way with you last week.  Now it's our turn.”  Tiny Mary couldn't struggle against a bunch of women, all bigger than she.  There was another ride, in the same van, she supposed, and being carried up stairs to what she supposed might be the same fishing shack.  They put her down on her feet, untied her wrists, and said, “Take off your bra and panties.”  Mary hesitated.  “If we have to cut them off, you will be going home naked again.”  Mary knew she had better comply, and she took off her bra and stepped out of her panties.  “She's a cute little slut, isn't she?” remarked one of the women.

They put her on her back across an iron framed cot.  Her shoulders were at the edge, so her head was unsupported.  They used old nylon stockings, which don't leave rope burns, to tie her arms outstretched to the head and foot of the cot.  Then they raised her feet, pulling them as far  apart as they could and tying her ankles to the head and foot next to her wrists.  Her weight was mostly on her shoulders.  Her breasts slumped back on her chest like English muffins.  Her back was curled up, so her vulva and anus were uppermost, staring at the ceiling, and her buttocks were taut, the better to punish.  Mary expected the worst.

“Eew, look at the pubic hair.  I hate getting hair in my mouth,” said an unfamiliar voice.  Without further discussion, Mary felt battery powered electric hair clippers, the kind one might use to trim a beard or groom a dog, as they were quickly passed over her privates to remove most of the hair, leaving  short hairs.  Then the women used an electric epilator, rather like an electric razor, except that, instead of using blades to cut the hairs short, it used rotating discs which grabbed the hairs and pulled them out by the roots.  Mary whined as they passed the machine over her mons, over her labia, even over her asshole several times, pulling her pubic hair out by the roots, uncomfortable but not unbearable.  She wondered what Jerry would say when he discovered her sex looked like that of little girl.  She felt finger tips gliding over her smooth skin, assuring that no bits of stubble remained.  It was strange, having silky smooth labia.  “I can see from your legs that you shave them with a razor.  That leaves  prickly stubble, and you have to shave repeatedly.  You will discover, Mary, that after the electric epilator, only about half of your hairs will grow back, and they will be finer.  If you  were to repeat this a few times, you would be essentially hairless.”  The speaker chuckled.  “You look so cute, eleven, going on twelve.  OK, let's warm her up.”

Mary felt hands grabbing her breasts, massaging them, squeezing, pulling, teasing her nipples, which soon were erect.  The women all had wooden paddles given away by paint stores for stirring paint.  There was a handle and a thin slat, about a foot long and and inch and a half wide.  Someone applied a paddle to her upturned vulva, striking her labia about  once every two seconds.  With her legs widespread, Mary's outer labia were easily pushed aside, so each blow of the paddle pressed on the hood of her clitoris, a sharp sensation followed by two seconds of “memory” of the blow.  At first Mary found it very distasteful, but she realized that the treatment was having an effect.  Her labia enlarged, and her inner lips were wet.  Each blow seemed to send “electric” shocks through her pelvis.  She felt a finger, then two, slip into her wet, relaxed vagina.  They curled up behind her pubic bone and rubbed the front wall of her vagina, pressing on a g-spot Mary had not known she had.  Her breathing became  faster, and she could feel her insides responding to the repetitive stimulation of her clitoris, teamed with unfamiliar sensations inside, as if the hidden parts of her clitoris, the roots which extend down below her labia, were taking an active role in this adventure.  Sex with Jerry had never been like this.  Her breasts were sensitive and excited, too, one nipple was sucked and the other breast was gently squeezed, sending messages down to her cunt.  It was exciting, like the best of sex with Jerry, but long after Jerry would have pulled out, she was kept in a state of sexual excitement.  Finally, the paddle swats stopped and someone applied their mouth to the tender labia, sucking and sliding a tongue over the sensitized clitoris.  Mary cried out, as her body responded with a mind of its own, tensing her muscles and then relaxing, with a mind-blowing sense of euphoria.  She had experienced the big O, and it was more intense than any sexual experience she could remember.

“I think the slut liked that,” said another voice.  “Let's see if she is a pain slut.”  Mary felt a  flexible tube, about half an inch in diameter, being slipped into her anus, lubricated by K-Y so it met little resistance.  Mary did not know that a condom had been taped over the end of the tube.  Another tube was slipped into her still wet and receptive vagina, this one with a rubber party balloon on the end.  She began to feel little impulses as women pumped water with a hand pump through each tube.  The condom filled and stretched, forcing its way deep into her body, filling her rectum and then sliding up her descending colon, giving her the sensation of  fulness which seemed like an obscene violation of her being, an invasion of her body beyond her experience, much more embarrassing than simply being fucked in the ass.  Meanwhile, the balloon in her vagina was swelling: a ping pong ball, a billiard ball, a tennis ball, and still expanding.  The pressure on her bladder made her pee, but someone rinsed and wiped her upraised bottom to get rid of the urine.  Mary was gasping, feeling real pain as her insides were stretched.  Someone pinched her labia together,  at the top by her clitoris, and then rubbed them together and moved them up and down, side to side, in circles.  The pressure and friction seemed to concentrate on Mary's clitoris, and in spite of the pain, she was sexually excited, building toward that plateau which was both pleasurable and frustrating.  She was gasping, groaning, complaining that she could take no more, when the labia were released and someone slipped a tongue between them.  The muscular spasms which resulted forced the “baby” out of her vagina, stretching the entrance as no penis ever had.  The condom in her backside bulged out her anus, stretching it as no turd ever had, and then it slithered out, like a giant snake, to lie on the floor with perhaps a gallon of water in it.  The sense of relief was incredible, indescribable.  As she lay there, contorted by her bondage, breathing heavily, she was reminded of the old joke: I bang my head against the wall, because it feels so good when I stop.  Someone directed a jet of water between her labia, like a river in a canyon, impinging on her clitoris and making the inner labia at the vestibule of her vagina flutter in the stream.  Mary gasped as another orgasm followed the last, leaving her happily drained.

She lay there recovering, uncomfortably curled up and stretched out, her anus and vagina remembering as a vague discomfort their incredible stretching.  Whoever had been manipulating her breasts had stopped, leaving them slightly sore, sensitive, with her nipples throbbing.  Suddenly there was a whole new, overwhelming assault on her senses.  Each woman had one or more of the paint stirring paddles.  Two paddles beat on Mary's breasts, pushing them up and down, side to side, or simply pounding them flat, from time to time slicing sideways across a sore nipple.  Mary screamed in pain.  With her legs spread, her inner thighs were exposed, and one paddle addressed  each thigh while two more  smacked her buttocks and one, from time to time, concentrated on her swollen labia, which blushed pink under the onslaught.  This was much more than a spanking, it was  continuous, inescapable pain.  Whatever her punished clitoris was doing, Mary could not think of sex, only of the excruciating assault which had her writhing in her bondage and crying is pain and frustration.  Then suddenly, it stopped, and a tongue slipped between the battered labia.  “Uh, uh, uh, UNG!” shouted Mary, surprised that her body was doing its thing even as she was losing her mind.  It took half a minute to come down off the cliff, to recover her composure.

She could hardly believe that she could have had an orgasm when she was totally occupied with her pain.  There was noting erotic about it; her body simply ignored her brain and did it's thing in spite of her distraction.

While the paddles were plain, unpainted wood, the women had glued sandpaper on one side.  They began a repeat of the beating, but using the sandpaper side of the paddle against Mary's already reddened skin.  Each blow removed some of the upper layer of dead skin, leaving her breasts and buttocks and thighs and vulva red, even specked with blood, as the sensitive inner layers of skin were exposed to the air.  Each blow hurt more than the last.  The beating was brief, but it left the abraded skin, especially her breasts and labia, stinging, hurting, almost as if she had been scrubbed with poison ivy and had a terrible sunburn.

It was a great relief when they untied her legs and arms and stood her on her feet, bare since she had kicked off her shoes at home.  Her legs had been so strained, tied as they were, that she was unsteady on her feet, and the incessant pain from her abraded breasts and bottom kept her disoriented.  They hustled Mary back into the van.  Her bottom was too sore to sit, but they let her kneel on the floor with her bottom up.  They stopped several yards from the gravel road that led to the trailers.  It was dark.  No one would see the van.  They helped her out.

“Well, you are almost home.  You don't want to walk back naked, do you?”

“No,” replied Mary.

“Step into your panties,” said someone as others slipped her arms into the bra straps, ready to fasten the band behind.  Simultaneously, they pulled her panties up her legs, lifting the waistband for a wedgie so the cloth pressed tightly against her vulva and buttocks, while others pressed the bra cups over Mary's breasts and fastened the strap behind her back.

Mary screamed in agony.  They had saturated the cloth with Ben-Gay.  Normally, it is intended to provide heat to relax sore muscles, but when applied to abraded skin it burns like fire.  As the van sped away, Mary, sobbing, pushed her panties down, then tore at her bra.  While she was quickly naked, the Ben-Gay remained on her skin, burning like a flame.    She tore at the tape keeping the pillow case over her head  and, when she got the bag off, she started scrubbing the liquid fire from her cunt and tits.  It was only then that she noticed a car full of men had stopped not twenty feet away, and they were all staring at her nakedness.  For a second, Mary stared back, seeing lust in their eyes, and then, with her left arm over her breasts and the right hand holding the pillow case between her legs, she sprinted for home.