Dregs of A Night Out

[Kemander]

Spread-eagled and tightly restrained at six points, she hadn't much wiggle room and her muscles had long ago begun cramping and quivering. With the darkness of the eight by ten cell rein***d by the blindfold and the cups of the shooting range hearing protectors over her ears, her senses were reduced to smell, taste and skin sensation. The latter now about to have her jump from her skin, if she could, at feeling tentative tickling on the inner side hollow of her left ankle's Achilles' tendon depression, recalling, as she'd been trying her best to forget, the sight of the huge sized millipede waving it's forelegs at her from the lowest stone block of the wall in what looked like the dampest corner of the cell as she looked around a few seconds after the hood was taken from her head and just before the blindfold sealed off her vision again. Her flesh prickled in goosebumps, accompanied by a shivering frisson, much like a horse flank's reaction to the bite of a horse fly, and thankfully, whatever it was decided her skin was unsafe territory and she felt it no more.

She searched her mind, wondering where she was and how she got here, her last clear memory being saying goodbye to her girlfriends in the parking lot at the bar before unlocking her car door and opening it to get in, then coming to consciousness as the hood was pulled away from her hair, to feel a bucket of icy water splashed over her naked body, snapping her head up to focus on the cell and that damned icky millipede. Her nostrils sensed an air change suddenly, as the cell's cool, dank, stale air altered enough for her nose to detect a warmer waft with an odor of kerosene, so she thought whoever her captor was, the keeper of this detestable oubliette, had entered the cell to begin his *** and *** of her. As she focused her mind on keeping her wits about her, a hard, rough hand grasped harshly around her throat....

Struggling for breath and only able twist her head side to side, her hope for mercy was strangled as even this freedom was rescinded when the large thumb and fingers clapped tighter and closer to her jaw line. She grated out, "Why?! Why are you doing this to me?" and was answered with a slap on her right cheek. She could only gasp for breath and pray it didn't get any worse. She wasn't ready to die at the hands of some stranger. There was so much left to do with her life, so much to explore and knowledge to be gained. A husband to find and have kids with. A life to be lived to the fullest.

To her horror, she felt fingers graze across her hairless pudenda to spread her lower lips open, then find and grip onto her clit, realizing for the first time just how treacherously her body was betraying her as she became aware of how fully extended, long and hard her little love switch was and how much of her aroused juices were now streaming down her butt crease to pool around her cheeks on the heavy old table she was tied onto. It dawned on her how many aspects of this situation were turning her on, even as she resisted the mental implications of what this said about her as a person and a woman.

Yet she couldn't deny how in her darkest inner conceptions she'd had fantasies of being ***ed and ***d into sexual slavery, and all of her velvety warm, wet holes used as depositories for the precious, life engendering sperm of man after faceless man, an endless line of them waiting their turn, as she was impaled, pounded and ravaged by three cocks at a time, with no say at her body being covered and filled to overflowing by their slimy releases. These intimate imaginings never failed to bring her off to her most crippling, shattering and explosive orgasms. She couldn't refute the tiny voice in her head calling her a slut, which voice now was harping louder, saying, "See? See? You're a whore!" as she tried to desperately resist the building pressure she was feeling in her loins and tummy.

She was suddenly aware of how hot, hard, aching and itching from the inside out, her nipples were in the cool of the chamber, longing to be pulled and twisted, sucked on until the tingling was irresistible and took over her mind to help erupt the volcano rumbling in her *** body for freedom. The thought elicited a stifled groan from her ***ted lips as his hand slid down her tummy and in between her inner thighs, hard fingers finding her swollen clit as they massaged it gently. Her legs start quivering as her thoughts began glazing over from the pleasure of it.

Soon she found the clitoral stimulation more of an annoyance than pleasure, being so gentle it wasn't bringing her to the edge she was seeking. The fingers pulling on the length of the shaft, scouring her clit with every movement, served as a constant reminder of what her purpose might be for the duration of her captivity, while it left her unsatisfied. As if she wasn't aroused enough already by the absolute wantonness of her situation, the *** of her clit only added further physical inspiration to the psychological lack of control and unknown future of carnal depravity she must surely be facing.

Her labia felt hugely swollen as she imagined his cock plunging in and out between them. A nipple was tweaked between the thumb and forefinger of another hand. A tongue darted out, running over her hard nipples, moistening and making them glisten and chill enticingly. Then she felt his stiff cock prod her mouth and his tongue lapping her clit and exploring her soaking slit.

She opened her lips and allowed the cock entrance, thinking she may as well resign herself to her fate and get what enjoyment out of it that she might be allowed for as long as anything pleasurable lasted. She thought that perhaps if she were acquiescent her captor may go easier on her.

Her mind snapped back to present as within a microsecond all of the invasive stimulation stopped and the blindfold was pulled and shoved up onto her forehead. It took her a moment to focus and comprehend, but then, "Danny!! What the fuck are you doing?! Wha..."

"Well, Jules, when I asked you in bed last weekend you said you had a fantasy about being ***ed, but were afraid of all the nastiness and sordid stuff that went with it.... I just thought I'd help you bring the ***ing part of your fantasy to life."

If he only knew how badly his untimely reveal just destroyed the realization of a great fantasy from becoming at least partially fulfilled, he would know how he just doomed himself and became a uselessly disappointing memory of her past as soon as she was dressed and out of here.