It was only when I came to amid the slumbering bodies that I realized I had fucked my way into a perfect opportunity to escape. By crawling around and touching their sticky, inert anatomies, I was able to ascertain that everyone seemed zonko. Even those technically conscious seemed oblivious to their surroundings.
In other words, little Angie had humped a whole gang of kidnappers into submission.
There seemed nothing stopping me from removing my blindfold and taking my leave. Nobody would be the wiser, perhaps for hours.
I took the first big step there, the blindfold was off.
I could see them all for the first time. What an erotic mess. Crusted-over cocks and congealing pussies littered the room in carnal debris. It was hard to believe I'd actually had sex with all these people at once.
Naturally I wondered which one was their dynamic leader, Chinga. However, I didn't have time to match identities with genitalia. If I was going to rush to freedom, I couldn't allow myself to be distracted any longer.
Tripping through the pile of naked bodies, I was on my way to the door. Then, there, I discovered that it wasn't locked, turned the knob, and was suddenly facing into the maw of the outside world.
It was pitch-black outside sometime in the middle of the night. There was no moon so I'd be without light in my flight. However, I decided that it was still a big improvement over being blindfolded.
Even in the dark I could ascertain that the hideout was out in the country somewhere – totally isolated. I might have to travel for miles to find help. In the meantime, I would be totally nude. All alone in the night, I felt like the last survivor on earth.
Choosing the hated shed in which I'd been imprisoned as the focal point for my escape, I began running in the opposite direction from it. Sprinting across a clearing, I had my eye on the sanctuary of a grove of trees a hundred yards ahead. I hadn't run since high school PE, but I felt like a world-class miler.
However, the instant I hit the trees, my woeful lack of condition caught up with me. Falling to the ground, I heaved for air. My lungs were on fire.
Groveling on a bed of pine needles, I gradually reintroduced the wonder of oxygen to my system. Finally the dizziness stopped and I could concentrate on something besides the possibility of passing out.
Reasonably refreshed, I surveyed my surroundings. From the ground all I could see were the looming tops of trees, black and lurking against the night sky. Their company was so ominous I no longer felt alone.
And I wasn't.
"Don't bother to get up," he said. "I like you just the way you are."
Chinga! I'd have known that chilling voice anywhere.
"I thought you were back at the hideout with the others!" I blurted.
His reply was the screech of a descending zipper. Leveling my gaze, suddenly I was looking at the vertically leering head of an angry, red cock. It was hard, enormous, and twitching.
"Get up and suck it," he ordered. "I want to fuck you in the mouth."
Just like that, I got on my knees and did it. There was something about him that made refusal unnatural.
His prick was as sweet as it was long and thick. It was like sucking on a candied yam.
It was even better when he started moving his hips in the classic fucking motion. His dick swiveled further and further down my throat until I was eating it all. At the hilt, I hungrily nibbled his balls with my slobbering lips.
Choking on his root to the maximum, my nose was buried in his bristly crotch-hair. He smilled at me.
"Think you could bowl me over with your tits and ass?"
I shook my head no – I would never think such a thing. I didn't know what the truth was any more all I knew was that I wanted to please this charismatically brutal man.
"Chinga doesn't go to the trough with the animals," he snarled. "He gets his meat special."
"I'll make my meat special for you," I shamelessly interjected myself into his metaphor.
"Fucking me means suffering, bitch," he hissed. "It means doing it my way."
"Any way that gets your cock inside me," I continued to degrade myself. "Go ahead and make me suffer any way you can. The more it hurts, the more I'll come."
He took me at my word and violently turned my head with a slap. The cum came flying from my mouth.
Reaching down, he picked me up and threw me against a tree. For an instant I thought he'd broken my spine.
"How do you like it so far, bitch?" he asked triumphantly.
My brain was reeling. My body was aching.
"I love it!" I declared. "I love being treated like shit by you!"
"Goooood," he drawled, and then whacked me in the ribs with a stiff kick of his boot. "Now get up on your feet and stand against that tree."
Drawing strength from my runaway libido, I pumped my muscles with sufficient power to wobble to my feet. I was uncertain, but I was upright.
"You follow orders well," he assessed my performance. "I always like an obedient subject."
Well, he had one. I did nothing when he produced the endless strip of rawhide from his black leather jacket and started winding it around me. He was binding me to the tree – the rows of thong biting into the tender flesh of my breasts – and I could think of nowhere else I'd rather be.
"Now your legs," he said when he had finished incapacitating my torso. "Spread them apart as far as they'll go."
I did until my pussy ached. He smacked his lips at my effort.
Then, his brief display of appreciation over, he got down to the business of completing my bondage. Whipping out a switchblade, he cut off a length of thong and turned his attention toward my ankles.
Kneeling down, he tied a noose around one, and then looped the rawhide around the trunk of the tree. Coming around from the other side, he knotted the other ankle.
"You're gonna love this," he promised as he disappeared again around the tree.
To tease me, he jiggled the looped thong at first, tickling me with the vibrations. He wanted to be sure I figured out in advance what was going to happen so I could dread it. Apparently, Chinga wasn't sexually happy unless he was inflicting mental or physical pain.
In other words, he was a sadist.
And I was his willing masochist. "Go ahead and pull the cord," I challenged him. "I want it!"
He did. Yanking the loop, he violently pulled my feet and ankles behind the tree. My legs tightly straddled the rough bark of the wide trunk.
The pain was excruciating – and wonderful!
Eventually I realized that the only part of my body that was unencumbered was my cunt. It was throbbing in full flex between my splayed thighs. My ass must have been resting on a gnarl on the tree to make my pussy thrust out so.
"Nothing you can do to me can make me want anything but more," I told him when he was around in front again.
"We'll see," he chuckled. "We'll see."
Instinctively, my eyes dropped to the region of his cock. Seeming to be suspended in mid-air because of the equally dark backgrounds of the night and Chinga's black leather clothing, it hung flaccidly in its owner's stroking hand.
I was disappointed. I'd expected it to be hard.
Then I discovered there was a reason for it. You can't piss with a hard-on.
Suddenly Chinga was drenching me with urine. It came whizzing accurately from his cock at a distance of three feet to begin with. There was no part of me that was not saturated by the scalding discharge.
Then, gradually, as the pressure of his flow decreased, Chinga closed the space between us. By the time the head of his prick was just dribbling, he stuffed it into my mouth.
The last of his piss was delicious. Although thinner than sperm, it was as tangy as the other phallic substance is sweet. I wished I could have drunk the whole steaming load.
"You like my piss, huh?" he rasped. "Too bad I took a dump in the woods or I'd shit on you."
"Just do something more to me with your cock," I focused on the organ that was responsible for all this madness. "Piss on me, come in me, anything."
"I'll split your pussy," he announced his selection. "Then, when I'm through coming in your cunt, I'll ruin your ass."
"No matter how hard you fuck me I won't be able to do anything about it," I embellished the litany of my degradation. "I'll just have to suffer."
"And love it," he contracted the last of my obligations. "You've got to keep telling me how much you love it – even when I'm hurting you the worst."
"The more pain, the more cock I want," I emphasized my servitude. "Torture from you is better than anything from another man."
Even as I tell it now, I can't believe how completely I was under his spell. The mere presence of Chinga in this lonely forest had turned me into a mindless slave. All thought of escape was gone – all I could think of was pleasing this sadist by my suffering.
When he gripped my pussy lips and tore them to either side of my flanks, tears welled in my eyes and dribbled down my cheeks. There was no way of knowing whether they were tears of pain, or tears of joy.
With an opening about as big as a manhole in front of him, Chinga thrust his cock between my forcibly spread labia. Penetration was instantaneous and deep.
Then deeper.
Deepest. He was in me to the hilt. I felt like I was going to split in two, and hoped I did.
"Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" I babbled. "Fuck me with your big, strong cock!"
"Mmmmmm, your pussy's tight," he informed me, as if I didn't know. "I love the struggle a tight pussy makes."
If he meant the constant spasming – the knotting contractions – he was right. My cunt was alive with rhythmic constriction. Even though I was bound to the tree down to the waist, I could still move my pelvis – I could still fuck back.
"Ooooooh," I moaned deliriously, "I'm fucking you back aren't I? Really giving your prick a run for the money. You can't keep me down – I'll fuck you until you drop."
"Sassy bitch!" he spat, slapping me across the face as I'd hoped he would. It was exciting getting hit while I was fucking.
"If you like to beat up women, why don't you hit me again?" I challenged his masculinity.
"Like this?" he sneered, spanking my cheek with another slinging slap.
"Yes! Now give me more – and make them hurt!"
Suddenly, I had my wish, and he was pummeling me. While his cock continued to piston within my cunt, he turned my face and neck and shoulders black and blue. With every lump he raised I felt my pussy getting a little wetter.
I was like a prizefighter caught against the ropes by a murderous opponent. No matter how much punishment I took, the restricting thongs kept me standing. I was a human punching bag.
However, to my euphoria, it was not just fists that were striking me so brutally. Throughout the violence, Chinga's cock kept pounding away between my legs. By the time I was a bloody mess, he was ready to come.
My twat filled with goo as his surging tool exploded. He was putting more in my cunt than he'd spewed down my throat. Chinga had balls.
"Now your ass," he said when he was through. "I always like to stick to my schedule."
For this one he had to change the position of my legs. The way I was now, my ass was flattened against the trunk of the tree. He had to get them up somehow.
The rawhide connecting my ankles was halved at the loop behind the tree. Then, assembling both ends, Chinga came around in front of me and seized my legs before their ache would let me move them. Grasping my calves, he yanked the limbs upward until my ankles were pressing my ears.
At this point he took the two strands of rawhide from my ankles and wickedly bound my feet to my neck. If I moved too much, I'd strangle. When I came, I'd really feel it.
There was no problem with my asshole showing now. It was throbbing like a hot coal between the splayed cheeks of my upturned butt. My pulsing anus had become the focal point of my body.
"Fuck my ass!" I brayed for all the world to hear. "I want it so bad!"
Putting a finger to his lips, Chinga snared a glob of spit and then ceremoniously wiped it on the head of his dick. "That's all the juices you're gonna get on this trip, honey," he cackled. "Your ass is gonna take my hard-on bone-dry. Anything wet you feel will be your own blood."
Behind my lumpy mask of bruises, I chuckled to myself. Big, bad Chinga just wasn't in full possession of the facts.
What he didn't know was that my shit-pit, had become saturated with goo the instant my cheeks were spilt and my anus flashed into the open. I was so aroused that I was creaming in my asshole the same as I normally did in my pussy.
His hard-on would slide through my asshole like a knife through warm butter. My second fuck-hole was ready for him.
"Do whatever you can to me," I prompted him. "Just be sure you stick your cock in my ass first."
"It's your funeral," he chuckled like that was a happy prospect. "But I guarantee you it's gonna be a screamer."
"Try me."
He sneered and struck. He had unerring accuracy with his prick, and proved it once again.
A perfect strike made the fun all the more intense. I laughed out loud as the sneer was wiped off Chinga's face. Six inches of dick on the first pop up my ass changed it to astonishment.
"Your ass is wet!" he blurted incredulously.
"That's what your cruelty does to me," I laid bare the bottom-line of my emotions. "I want it to hurt when you're fucking me, but I can't make the juices stop flowing."
He gritted his teeth and whammed away like he was going to show me, lubricated asshole or not. There was no further conversation – he'd started to do his talking with his dick.
And it was a jack-hammer. A bludgeon. A pile-driver.
In me to the hilt almost immediately because of the propelling grease of my anus, its head rammed into the pouch of my colon. My bowels were in an uproar – I could hear the shit gurgling inside me.
It was a lovely sound.
Through it all, Chinga kept grimacing. He seemed like an athlete with something to prove to his detractors.
My asshole became the symbol for all his frustrations as he banged away at it. In fucking my ass, Chinga seemed to be fucking the whole society from which he had rebelled.
"You're one of those brainless middle-class housewives, aren't you?" he confirmed my suspicion in a sneering aside. "I like to fuck you straight bitches in your lily-white asses so you can't ever sit down again without thinking about me. You're playing bridge, or some other Goddamn thing you people do, and you keep squirming in your chair. Everybody's looking at you, but you can't stop. It may be years later, but you just can't stop thinking about Chinga's cock all the way to the balls in your ass."
The way he was talking about me playing bridge, it sounded like he was conceding my eventual release. It was the ray of light at the end of the tunnel, but I looked the other way.
The only tunnel in which I was currently interested was the narrow tunnel of my ass. The one with the big, thick cock fucking it.
"Come in my ass!" I wailed. "Come in my lily-white ass!"
With his prick in to the hilt, the first shot of cum came pouring into my bowels. The shit was pushed to the intestinal walls as I bloated with thick male cream.
The hot splash of spunk in the tactile reservoir of my colon sent me over the orgasmic edge. I had felt ripples all along, but now they became spastic jerks.
As I violently came in tandem with the male explosion within me, the leather thong around my neck began to manifest itself. Strangling was added to my climax. Every drop of his jizz seemed to be tightening the noose.
"Your cum is so hot," I whimpered with shuddering delight. "So hot in my ass – what are you going to do to me next?"
Whatever it was, it didn't include his cock. To my dismay, when he'd finished coming, he let it get soft and stuffed it into his pants.
However, it was immediately replaced by several thrusting inches of another kind of shaft. He'd hauled out his switchblade and was suddenly wielding it like a surgeon with a scalpel.
I thought be was going to carve me up. Maybe slice off one of my tits. For the first time I wondered if I was in this too far.
As gentle as an enraged bull up until now, Chinga completely surprised me with a sudden display of sensitivity. "It's all over, baby," he said, touching my face with the flat edge of his knife. "There's nothing to be afraid of any more."
I couldn't believe the quirky turn of events. At first I was afraid his promised end to the cruelty was a sign I had exhausted my attractiveness to him. But then, when he started smothering my face with tender, nibbling kisses, I knew that everything was going to be all right.
As he bathed me with his lips, Chinga began cutting my bonds with his switchblade. My legs came down first, and then the thong around the tree began to unravel.
The trappings of violence faded as Chinga behaved as my savior rather than my defiler. When I was no longer plastered to the tree, he picked up my battered body like it was a toy and carried me into a clearing.
There, as I recuperated, he stroked my naked body with gentle, loving caresses. We were behaving like lovers in the afterglow of a perfect fuck.
And, strangely, I did feel as though I loved him. This brutal psychopath. This criminal. Sadist.
He was everything I had been conditioned to abhor in my middle-class existence. Yet, incredibly I couldn't get enough of his leather-clad body, sweaty odor, and blue-veined cock. His rough ways seemed to light up my life.
I actually told him after thinking about it for several minutes that I loved him. He didn't even blink – he must have been expecting it.
"Let's fuck," was his answer. This time we did it on a soft bed of pine needles, slow and easy and relaxed. I came harder than I ever had in my life.