A sexy young college student and her roommate go with their boyfriends to a local frat party off campus for harmless, carefree fun. But when Ashley wakes up, she realizes that she and her boyfriend have been kidnapped, and the nightmare is only just beginning.
Ashley awoke with a dull headache. The soft pelting of rain sang its pitter-patter melody along the roof. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Blinking rapidly, the world gradually came into focus. But the ceiling beams and textured mortar above didn’t look familiar, not even a little bit. Panic began to set in. It wasn’t until she felt the cuffs around her wrists and ankles, though, and when she realized that someone had stripped off all her clothes, that true panic began to spike.
The attractive brunette had a dark brown ponytail, chestnut-brown eyes with hints of caramel tones around the irises, and a delicate nose fitted perfectly to her elegantly chiseled face. The third-year college student’s pale body sported medium-sized breasts with large areolae of lightest pink. The girl’s closely shaved pubic area left her sex especially bare and exposed. She was slender, perhaps a little on the bony side, but not without some muscle; she’d been playing track and field since freshman year.
Ashley now jerked at her wrists and ankles as she realized that someone had cuffed her spread-eagled to a mattress. Before she could even take in her surroundings, a huge lump formed in her throat. A chair stood at the foot of the mattress. On that chair she saw Brad, her boyfriend. He was naked, his wrists and ankles cuffed to the chair. His head lolled sideways.
Brad Wilson was on the men’s track and field team. He had short-cropped, sandy hair and gray-blue eyes which had charmed her on their very first date. He was a true gentleman, a kind soul, yet on the field he could be as competitive and cutthroat as anyone. It felt so unreal, seeing him so helpless. She assumed he was unconscious. She couldn’t see any obvious injury. Her heart fluttered all the same, though. Please, baby, wake up.
Ashley paused, wracking her brain, trying to sift through a fog of jumbled memory. She and Brad had gone with her roommate, Sarah, and her roommate’s boyfriend, Tim, to one of the illicit Greek parties off campus. The students at Mason U. simply called it ‘The Field’ because of its remoteness. It was a place where drinking to excess and a little wildness could be indulged without worrying about neighbors – or cops. Ashley tried to remember what had happened last night. As she and Brad were getting ready to leave, she remembered meeting a few older men who had been crashing the party. She remembered them offering her and Brad some vodka. She couldn’t remember whether Sarah and Tim had been there too. But after that, the trail of memory ran cold. After the drinks, she couldn’t remember Brad and her actually leaving the party, or driving home for that matter.
A shiver of pure dread skittered through her. Oh my god. We’ve been kidnapped. It finally sank in, her predicament. Their predicament. Ashley tested her bonds again. She pulled as hard as she could at the cuffs, but of course the cuffs around her ankles and wrists only bit into her skin in response. She sighed, frustrated but not surprised. Now the girl’s head whipped side to side as she tried to take in her surroundings. She was definitely in the basement of a house somewhere. Small rectangular windows lined the uppermost portion of the walls. A dilapidated workbench and four giant shelving units brimming with hardware tools and boxes cluttered one side of the basement. The other side was bare except for a stairway leading up, and a metal rack filled with – and now Ashley’s eyes widened – things that only heightened her sense of dread.
Whips, floggers, ball-gags, clamps, scalpels, piercings, and other torture items she didn’t even know the names of, they all hung from that sinister-looking rack. Her heart rate sped up. Oh my god. We have to get out of here. Ashley looked over at Brad. He remained totally inert. Lifeless.
“Brad!” She hiss-whispered as best she could, trying not to draw the attention of any captor – or captors – nearby. But Brad didn’t stir.
“He is asleep…Ashley. The drug I put in your drinks hasn’t worn off for him yet,” a harsh, bass-like voice rumbled. “I gave him a larger dosage,” the unseen man’s voice added. Now Ashley heard the stairs creaking as footsteps came closer. First she saw his shiny, polished black boots. Then she saw the military fatigues he wore, the camo jacket and vest. He was trim and fit, maybe 25 to 30 years of age. He had a hawk-like face with cold, cruel eyes the color of storm clouds. His buzz cut and the shape of his skull only accentuated his harsh demeanor and features. He paused. He looked thoughtfully at her.
‘Who the hell is this guy?’ Ashley thought, gaping at him.
“Wh-what.. what do you want? Why have you kidnapped us!?” she demanded.
The man smiled. He ignored her question. That infuriated and terrified her at the same time.
“My name is Mladic. My friends call me Alex.” Mladic, Alex – whatever his name was – now walked up beside the mattress. His gaze roved over Ashley’s naked features. He seemed to be savoring the moment with anticipation, and it made Ashley’s skin crawl. She found herself squirming without even realizing it.
“Please let us go! We won’t tell anyone if you just let us go, I swear! It’s not too late!” Ashley jerked her head toward Brad. “He won’t remember anything. I promise we won’t say a word of any of this. I give you my word!”
The man in military fatigues shrugged.
“I do not believe you, Ashley.” He began to strip. “And even if I did, I have no inclination to do as you ask.” The man finished stripping out of his camo gear and boots. Folding them and placing them neatly at the foot of the stairway, he turned back to his captive.
“The hunting early this morning was excellent. Let us hope that you and your boyfriend will serve as prey just as interesting.” Those words chilled her to the bone as Ashley watched him take down the handle of a whip from its hook on the metal rack.
“Please… don’t. You don’t have to do this!” she begged. The naked college student squirmed again on the mattress. She watched him uncoil the whip. He let its leathery tendril traipse across her chest, down her flat belly all the way to her pussy.
“You are right, bitch.” He called her that degrading term with such emphasis, such finality, as if he would never, ever let her go. “I don’t have to hurt you. You could cooperate. Then things could go easier for you.”
“C-c-cooperate?” Her heart thundered in her chest.
“Yes. Learn to be a good slave, and you might receive less harsh treatment.”
“What… what do you want me to do?” She couldn’t believe she was uttering those words, but her fear was talking for her right now.
“I want you to beg for me to lick your pussy. BEG. You understand?”
He wanted her to degrade herself by actively participating in her own rape? Screw that! Ashley’s 21st century feminist mind rebelled on instinct. She began to shake her head. She was about to tell him to go fuck himself, but then her gaze fastened on the whip dangling above her pussy. She could well imagine what he would do with that whip if she gave him the slightest excuse. Fresh shivers lanced through her.
“OK! Please put down the whip. Don’t hurt me.”
“Then beg!”
Ashley looked away. She let the words slip out. “Please lick my pussy.”
With a disgusted scowl, Mladic slammed the whip across Ashley’s chest. The sting as the blow landed across her nipples made her vision go temporarily black.
“AAAAYYY!!”
“Look at me as you say it, whore. LOOK AT ME!” the man thundered.
“Please lick my pussy!” she squealed, looking up at him as he prepared to send another lash to her chest. He paused in his windup. With a satisfied smirk, he set the whip aside. Ashley was all too aware of him as he scooted onto the mattress beside her. His hand cupped her shaved mound. She felt the heat of his hand covering her sex with deceptive gentleness.
“I’ll have my cock in here, Ashley. I’ll fuck you deep. I’ll rape you. But there is no hurry, is there?”
Tears began to form in Ashley’s eyes. “No,” she said numbly.
He slapped her in the face, just a light slap that startled more than injured.
“From now on, you will always address me as ‘Master’. Understood?”
She nodded, then quickly added the required, “Yes, Master.”
“Good girl.” Now, though, instead of kneeling between her legs, he simply laid there beside her. His fingers began a series of lazy strokes along her sex, rubbing her clit and labia, teasing her, toying with her. She bit her bottom lip, hating the sensations that he was starting to awaken against her will. She tried to turn away. With his free hand he cupped her chin and whipped her face back towards him.
“Keep begging, Ashley. I want to look into those beautiful eyes as you beg. And don’t stop until I say so… or the whip comes out again.”
With fresh tears trailing down her cheeks, Ashley stared into the eyes of her would-be rapist.
“Please lick my pussy,” she implored. She repeated the request again and again. Ashley was grateful now that Brad was still unconscious. This felt degrading and shameful enough without the man she loved forced to watch or listen to every second of it. Ashley tried to blot out the sensations as Mladic…or ‘Alex’…continued to fondle her clit. This went on for a good fifteen minutes… until Ashley’s body would no longer obey the ruthless commands of suppression her mind was trying to give it. Ashley’s libido had awakened. Shivers of pleasure…of heat and a telltale slickness…now coiled through her. Mladic’s glistening fingers – yes, glistening from Ashley’s own fluids – now made tiny plunges into her sex, alternating between teasing rubs and finger-fucks. Ashley’s heavy-lidded gaze never left Mladic’s face through it all; she had no choice.
“Please lick my pussy,” she repeated, for the hundredth time, losing another of what few remaining shreds of dignity remained to her. Mladic surprised her now. His face dove forward. He took a hungry kiss, his lips melding to hers. His tongue explored. He tasted her, possessed her, as the kiss deepened. She froze, unsure what to do. She didn’t return the kiss. The girl could only let it happen even as desire, traitorous, appalling, flared brighter still in her core. Ashley felt a fluttering in her stomach. She stifled the moan that wanted to slip out as her hardened nerve bundle continued to respond to his devastating caresses. Was she actually bucking toward his hand, thrusting her pelvis to meet his stroking fingers? Oh god. Shame blossomed, multiplied, and replicated in her psyche like a virus as she realized that her baser instincts had momentarily taken over. He now proceeded to draw out his index finger, shiny with her juices – and bring it to her lips.
“Taste yourself, whore.”
Ashley obediently opened her mouth. He slipped his finger between her lips. She wanted to bite him, but then there was no telling what he might do to her or Brad. Ashley’s awakened libido also seemed to have her in a kind of trance. Not thinking about it, she sucked her own fluids off of his fingertip.
“Good girl.”
Now, suddenly, the finger withdrew. Mladic slid off the bed. Soon he was kneeling at the foot of the bed, his face between her legs. She gasped as she felt his tongue lap at her soft, velvety folds. He licked and cajoled in the most unhurried way. Like an almost considerate lover, this frightening rapist sucked on her clit, slurped on her wet folds, and gave pleasure with a devotion that appalled her.
Brad was good at cunt-munching. This man was even better. That forbidden realization leaked through Ashley’s thoughts as Mladic’s mouth continued to feast on her bare slit. His tongue now dove deeper inside her. His fingers spread her labia for easier access, and now his tongue slid languidly up and down the borders of her quim. He teased her in this way for a while, only occasionally flicking the tip of his tongue against her clitoris, then plunging a finger into her love-hole as he suddenly upped his attentions, nibbling on her clit and sucking it in between his teeth.
Ashley’s stomach muscles were fully clenched. She could feel the pleasure mounting, building, an unstoppable pressure begging for release. The slender brunette clenched up her hands. Her eyes were squeezed shut, had been for some time. She focused on the white-hot sensation of pleasure building inexorably toward its pinnacle, hating herself for it and yet helpless to stop it. The naked, spread-eagled girl could only bite her lip so hard it nearly bled, trying to keep the moan from sneaking out, as this man controlled her body in the worst way imaginable.
“Mmmm. You taste good, bitch. Your sweet nectar I could drink for a thousand years,” he said, and there was almost a poetic wistfulness in his tone.
Oh god. Please no… no, this is wrong. Don’t come! Please don’t come! Ashley begged herself, as if trying to negotiate with her own body and the primal instincts hardwired into her DNA. But eventually it was inevitable. It was a losing battle. Mladic’s fingers were ramming into the girl’s cunt as he sucked and slurped madly on the girl’s clit. The wet sounds of suction and fluids, a squelchy cadence, filled the room as Ashley’s entire body went taut. She arched her back as the convulsions tore through her. Sensations swamped her, flooding her much like the sweet fluids that now flooded her sex, pouring onto her rapist’s tongue as he lapped fervently and continued to caress the girl’s enraptured clitoris. Ashley let out a plaintive, tortured moan as her orgasm reached its apex. She would have thrashed wildly if the cuffs hadn’t held her in place. Her cunt trembled and spewed its lustful juices until she couldn’t take it anymore. Her tiny joy button was far too sensitive now, but Mladic never let up; he kept sucking on it gently, lapping at her sex until she had no choice but to beg.
“Please!!! Aaahhh! It’s too sensitive. Please stop!”
Now Mladic stood up with a Cheshire cat’s grin, his face and chin glistening with her cunt cream. He licked his chops. The smell of her filled the room.
“Fuck. You taste exquisite, my little slut. You’re definitely a keeper.”
A ‘keeper’? Ashley shuddered at what he might mean. But that wasn’t what made her shudder even more violently. That came next. She had opened her eyes finally, in the afterglow of her orgasm. She stared just behind her rapist and saw, to her shock, that Brad was now awake.
He was gaping, open-mouthed. Clearly he had seen all of, or most of, Mladic’s cunnilingus of his helpless captive. Ashley’s eyes now zeroed in on one thing even more appalling than the shame she now felt too. She saw that Brad’s cock was as stiff as a flagpole. Fully erect, it sprouted up from his large testicles as he sat there tied to the chair. That didn’t slip Mladic’s notice either.
“Well, well. Looks like your boyfriend enjoyed the show we gave him. Maybe it’s time we got him in on this action too.”
“What the fuck is going on?” Brad sputtered. “Let her go! Let us go!”
“You’re not calling the shots here, lover-boy. I am,” Mladic growled. He walked over to the rack. There was a compartment there, behind it, and from it he now drew a handgun. Cocking the gun, he pointed it at Ashley’s head.
“You want to cooperate or do you want to see your girlfriend die in front of you? It’s that simple.”
Brad shuddered, but his face turned red. “You fucking bastard. You won’t get away with this!”
Mladic merely shrugged. “You let me worry about what I’ll get away with.” He now dragged the workbench over beside the chair where Brad was tied up. Then he stepped onto it so that his elongated shaft was level with Brad’s face. Ashley stared at Mladic’s cock. It was 10 inches – a good two inches longer than Brad’s, its veins coursing with blood as it throbbed with lust.
“Why don’t you do something useful? Suck my cock. Get it wet for your girlfriend’s pussy. Then you can watch me rape her as a reward.”
Brad stared at him with total disbelief. “You sick freak. I won’t do that!” No sooner had the words left his mouth, Mladic abruptly backhanded him in the face. Brad’s chair tumbled on its side, crashing to the cement floor.
“Brad!” Ashley felt a spike of worry for her boyfriend, terrified that he might have split his head open. But he was all right – at least not bleeding that she could tell. Mladic proceeded to roughly pull the chair upright again. Then he dragged both the chair and stool over closer, to the side of the bed.
“Fine. Don’t want to cooperate, even to save your girlfriend’s life, eh?” He now placed the barrel of the gun against Ashley’s pussy.
Oh shit. Please Brad, do what he says! But Ashley couldn’t say the words. Fear had her tongue-tied. Her mouth suddenly felt like someone had stuffed it full of cotton. Maybe their tormentor was only bluffing, but with the end of the gun pressed against her most intimate place, she didn’t want to take the chance.
“I’ll count to three, then we’ll see if your girlfriend’s pussy can handle hot LEAD instead of COCK. One… Two…”
“OK, OK!” Brad said miserably. Anguish wracked his features as he glowered up at their captor. Mladic stood up on the stool again and presented his fleshy knob to the boyfriend’s face. He waved the handgun.
“Don’t try anything, lover-boy. If you bite, it will be the LAST thing you ever do.”
Understanding, Brad opened his mouth and let the man thrust his cock between his lips. Ashley watched, fascinated and horrified at once, as her boyfriend sucked off another man. This went on for maybe five minutes. It was brief. For Brad though, Ashley realized, it must have felt like an eternity. At last, when Mladic withdrew his cock, now slimy with Brad’s saliva, Ashley looked at her poor boyfriend. Brad’s face had a haunted look to it, and redness from a deep, abiding shame. Pre-cum clung to the bottom of Brad’s chin.
Now Mladic approached her. Ashley had to admit, she would have found his muscular and trim body attractive if not for the horrifying circumstances. His shiny cock bobbed eagerly as he strode up to the mattress.
“Are you ready, Ashley? Are you ready for me to fuck your brains out with your boyfriend only a few feet away?”
It was a little disorienting, the way their captor sometimes referred to her as bitch or slut and then sometimes used her actual name. ‘Maybe if I can get him to think of me as a person’, Ashley thought, ‘maybe then, somehow, I can convince him to let us go.’
This line of hopeful, desperate thinking lapsed as she watched the bigger, muscular man climb onto the bed. He settled between the girl’s thighs. His bulbous cock-head pressed up against her sex, not quite plunging in, not quite yet.
“I asked you a question, bitch.”
Biting her bottom lip again, Ashley hated herself for answering him; but what he might do to her or Brad if she didn’t acquiesce scared her so much more.
“Yes, Master. I’m…I’m ready.”
Ashley tried to prepare herself, but she still wasn’t ready when Mladic grasped her by the shoulders and flung his cock forward, burying himself balls-deep in her helpless pussy as the rape began. The mattress springs made a rhythmic squeaking sound as he fucked her, his testicles jostling with each powerful thrust between the girl’s legs.
“Fuck! Fuck me back, whore. Wiggle those hips a little. Fuck, you’re tight, but I’ll stretch you good,” Mladic shouted, half for Brad’s benefit because he couldn’t close his ears to the torturous sounds of his girlfriend’s brutal rape. Ashley squeezed her eyes shut, trying to pretend she couldn’t feel. No matter what she did, though, the slender brunette could feel every inch of her rapist’s thrusting cock slamming into her like a battering ram that offered no mercy.
Please help us! she thought desperately, praying for deliverance from any cosmic force that might hear her. Please someone find us! With each of Mladic’s pulverizing fucks, the cuffs chafed Ashley’s poor wrists and ankles, adding to her pain.
“Please go slower,” she begged.
“Stop it. You’re hurting her!” Brad cried out.
But then Mladic slapped Ashley so hard that her jaw ached long after the blow. “Quiet down, slut. This rape is the gentlest part of what’s to come for you and your pencil-dicked boyfriend. Try to enjoy it. Move your pussy to meet my thrusts. That’s an order. Understand?”
When she didn’t answer quickly enough, he put a hand around her throat and began to squeeze.
“Y-yes Master, I understand!” she sputtered, desperately wheezing for air as he let up off of her neck and resumed his punishing thrusts. His hands were now clamped down so hard on her shoulders that they were all but certain to leave red marks or bruises. Meanwhile, Ashley moved her hips in time to his thrusts with what little motion she could, given her spread-eagled bondage. The tip of his cock was now hitting her cervix.
I can’t believe I’m helping him rape me, Ashley thought with despair. She felt like less than nothing. Even worse, though, she noticed in the corner of her vision that Brad’s eyes were wide open. He was watching this man rape her. It was like his attention was glued to a train wreck; as awful as it was, he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Ashley felt totally exposed, helpless, and degraded.
Just then, she heard a creaking sound at the top of the stairs. Her heart lurched. An errant thread of hope bolstered her beleaguered mind.
“Help us!” she screamed. “Please help us!”
Had her prayer been answered?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
To Be Continued…
AUTHOR NOTE:
I hope you enjoyed my first chapter of what will hopefully become a new series. Please leave a comment if you like. Thank you for reading, and remember, there’s no shame in indulging your dark fantasies in the safe (and fictional) environment of stories. *Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction, and as in all my stories, characters depicted are 18 years of age or older.
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