He lifted his hips under her, making her whole body bound up and down on his lap. His huge, massive cock rammed in and out of her tight, dry cunt until it felt as if he would split her in two.
"Ahhhhhgh!" she groaned, trying to twist away.
He clamped his hand over her mouth. It was a huge ham of a hand, and he nearly choked off her breath by covering her nose as well. His arm was around her middle, holding her body tightly to his lap. He fucked up and down in the back seat of the little car and mauled her aching tits over and over.
There was nowhere she could twist away to. The small car sped down the highway as he fucked her, lunging up so hard to drive his big cock into her body that she bashed the top of her head on the low ceiling.
Ellen went dizzy for a moment then miraculously, the pain stopped. There was only the motion, up and down, superimposed on the swaying of the small, light car hurtling through the night.
It was unreal. A dream! It wasn't really happening to her. She'd fallen asleep somewhere and was just dreaming that she'd been blindfolded and thrown into a strange car on a huge oaf's lap.
Then she heard the moist, breathy gasp in her ear and felt the hot breath over the nape of her neck. She felt the monstrous rise of quivering hips. She felt the lunge of a tree trunk up her cunt and the flood of sticky sap that boiled from it and filled her abused, aching pussy.
"Ahhhhhhgh!" he growled against her.
His cock swelled to impossible dimensions. It blasted and hosed up inside her, making her pussy walls finally slick and lubricated. The sperm sloshed out backwards, spurting from the swollen lips of her pussy and drenching his balls and the seat of the car.
Ellen groaned with him. Not because she was coming with him, but because he'd nearly wrenched the firm cone of her tit from her chest with his massive hand.
He gasped and puffed. His prick shrank and began to slide backward, out of her pussy. She felt it pop from her cunt mouth along with a flood of sperm, and she gasped with relief, her vaginal muscles spasming back into place after the terrible stretching.
The car took a wild swing off the hard road onto what sounded like gravel. She had been trying very hard to remain calm and alert, to take notice of the sounds around her, to try to keep track of the directions and the distances they'd gone.
But she knew the task was hopeless now. It was impossible to concentrate when she was being reamed and flooded by a monstrous cock.
After a time, there was a sharp rise and another turn. Branches brushed the side of the car. Or maybe it was grass and weeds whipping along the underside, indicating a narrow road.
Another turn and the car slowed. The gravel stopped. The tires ran on something quiet, like dirt or grass. The way was bumpy. The small car heaved around and made her naked ass shift on his broad, wet lap.
She felt the big cock begin stiffening between her bare thighs again with the motion. Ellen swallowed dryly and squeezed her eyes tightly shut behind the blindfold and prayed that he wouldn't fuck her aching pussy again.
He'd tired of playing with her sore tits, and she was thankful for that, at least. He'd torn the neck of her dress stuffing his meaty hand into it to squeeze her cones.
Her skirt was hiked up about her waist so that her ass would be bare and her pussy would be open to him. She didn't know what had happened to her panties.
As far as she could tell, his name was Cy. He was strong and meaty and huge – a dim-witted oaf. Her screaming hadn't helped. Apparently, the rest of them had been glad to have Cy be occupied with fucking her.
Her cunt still drained from the monstrous load he'd spewed into her body. It flowed over his stiffening prick. She felt the head swell against her burning lips, and she pressed her naked thighs as tightly together as she could to try to keep him out of her cunt.
The one called Jay sat in the back seat next to Cy and her. From the brief glimpse she'd had in the darkness nearly an hour ago, he'd seemed hardly more than a boy – eighteen, perhaps, pimply and thin.
Jay was definitely not the leader. Nor was Cy. He sat in front, driving. His name was Stan. He'd given all the orders. He'd been the one to recognize her, although she couldn't imagine why he would. She'd never seen him before that she could remember, and she usually was good at remembering men like him.
Stan was tall and lean and muscular. Inside, he was as hard as nails. That came through every time he spoke. It showed with the harsh grating of his voice, the way he snapped orders like he was accustomed to being obeyed.
The girl in the front with him was Velma. All Ellen could remember about her was that she had big tits and wide hips and that her hair was long and light in color.
She tried to remember more about Velma but couldn't. It had been too dark in the small atrium where her husband's jewelry store was. Two of the floods had been out, and the trees and palms had blocked the light from the rest of the planted square.
Ellen had been able to hear their voices, though. She would be able to identify them later because she had a knack for remembering voices.
The girl, now – she had a subtle variety of voices. When she talked to Stan, there was an adoring, breathless, almost anxious quality to her voice, as if she dared say nothing wrong to him for fear of losing him.
She was domineering and hostile with Cy, and the quality of distaste came through plainly and undisguised. With Jay, there was a kind, oddly mothering overtone to her voice. Ellen didn't know what to make of that yet. She was in her middle twenties, and Jay couldn't possibly be her son.
The car lurched suddenly and stopped, rocking back and forth as the wheels settled into some kind of rut. The engine shut off, and three doors opened and slammed shut – all but the one next to her.
Cy was in no hurry to get out of the car. His big cock was throbbing up against her dripping, bloated pussy slit, and she could hear the heavy, wet breathing again.
"All right, get her into the house," the order came. It was hard and grating – Stan's voice.
"I'm gonna fuck her again," Cy rasped. His voice was oddly high for such a big man.
"You can fuck her inside. Out!"
The door beside them yanked open, and Ellen did her best to scramble off Cy's lap and away from the prick trying to nose into her pussy again. She preferred any fate awaiting her to being fucked by his monstrous prick.
Strong, muscular fingers gripped her arms painfully and pulled. Cy tried to hold her on his lap. His hips heaved upward. His wide cock rammed part way into her cunt, and she couldn't help the way her pussy walls and muscles spasmed around it lightly.
"Ahhhhh!" she cried, being yanked and pulled in two and fucked at the same time.
"Let her go, you dumb asshole!"
"I'm fuckin' her, Stan! God, you should feel the way her cunt squeezes around my cock and sucks it up into her hole! She loves my big prick! Ahhhhh, Christ! Lemme fuck her a good one this time!"
Ellen reached for Stan, groping in the darkness of her blinded world. "God, please, please!" she sobbed. "Not again! Don't let him do it again! I'll do anything you want! Just keep him away from me!"
Stan watched her a moment. He grinned coldly. Ellen didn't know how she knew that's what he was doing. Maybe it was from the way his fingers felt on her arms. It was as if he were enjoying her blind groping and pleading.
Then she felt him reach into the car and do something quick and hard. There was an explosive gasp from Cy and a bellow of pain in her ear, and his arm left her waist.
She half flew from the car, wheeling through the air. She stumbled when she landed on the ground and sat hard on her bare butt, her legs splayed lewdly, her skirt still up around her waist and her dripping pussy bare.
She heard Stan's low chuckle and knew he was staring right at her reddened, sperm-drenched cunt. He yanked her to her feet. She reached for the blindfold, and he yanked her hand cruelly, twisting her arm high up behind her back, making her spin around in a small circle with a cry of pain.
"Leave the blindfold alone, Mrs. Chidsey," Stan grated in her ear. She could hear the evil grin come through his voice. She felt his breath on her cheek and ear.
"Oh, oh, please!" she squeaked. "You're hurting my arm!"
"That's so you understand better, Mrs. Chidsey. You leave the blindfold alone. You don't need to see where you are. And it'll be a whole lot healthier for you if you don't try to get a look at us, either. You understand how it works, Mrs. Chidsey?"
When she didn't respond right away, he yanked at her arm again, pushing up, making her go to her toes. "Yes!" she cried, her spine arching, her tits thrusting.
"That's better, Mrs. Chidsey. You answer when I ask a question. You tell me everything I want to know, maybe a little more than what I want to know. That way, we'll get along just fine. You understand now?"
"Yes!" she said quickly.
"My, it's wonderful," he said, "how quickly a woman of position and money can catch on to things. If your husband is just as quick, you'll be back home in no time. Meanwhile, you're going to stay right here with us, just like a rich, important guest. You'll like that, won't you?"
His grin was nasty and twisted. She didn't have to see it. She heard it in his voice, in the rasping snarl spoken with such deceitful softness. And in the way he gave her arm still another painful twist.
Strangely, through it all, she was aware of the shrill background din of crickets and cicadas, the croak of frogs. They could have been driving her in circles earlier, trying to confuse her, but the odors and sounds of the country told her they hadn't. It had to be a farm or an isolated cabin of some kind.
He twisted again. "Yes!" she yipped. "I'll like it!"
He laughed softly. "Of course, you won't be like just any guest. We'll have to keep you tied up and blindfolded. Unless you promise you won't try to escape. You won't try that, will you, Mrs. Chidsey?"
"No I won't. I promise I won't. Oh, God, don't do that to me. I'll cooperate in any way you want me to, I promise!"
"Such bullshit," he laughed. He hauled her back against him roughly and growled in her ear. "I don't like lying bitches. Especially when they're pretty and built, you hear me!"
He clamped his hand over her thrusting tits and rolled them thoroughly over her chest. Then his hand swept down her flat stomach to her crotch and grabbed her pussy hard, mauling it.
Ellen gasped and cried out with the indignity of it. She was beginning to realize just how helpless and vulnerable she was right now.
She'd thought that Cy's raping of her while she was on his lap was just a brutalization – a grab of opportunity that wouldn't be repeated when she was taken to the final destination.
For some reason, she wouldn't let herself believe that his blowing, hosing cock would be a prelude of what was to come. She'd thought the others would treat her in a civilized way. The trouble was, she had no idea why they'd kidnapped her. It could be just that they wanted another woman to fuck – a hole for Cy's massive cock. The thought sent sudden chills down her spine.
"Ohhhhh, don't," she cried helplessly, feeling Stan shake her cunt harshly.
She leaned over at the waist in an effort to remove her pussy from his hand. Her firm buttocks pressed against his middle, and she could feel the hardening shaft of his cock through his pants.
He struggled with her a moment and then helped her bend over – far over. His hand shifted. She felt her skirt come up over her naked butt.
Her legs were braced apart. Her hair dragged on the ground. His hand swept over her naked cheeks and spread them lewdly. His finger slid with a degrading touch along her deep ass-crack.
It rimmed her puckered asshole and made her groan with shame and indignity. He went under her crotch to her pussy and fucked his finger into her vagina, swirling it around.
"Oh, God!" she gasped.
He drew his finger out. It was sopping wet with juice. He smeared the syrup around her asshole until the little mouth pulsed obscenely from the stimulation. Then he shoved his finger into her butt to his palm.
"Ahhhhhh, don't!" she screamed at the ground. Blood pounded in her temples as he rested his weight against her back and kept her arm twisted behind her at the same time.
He wriggled his finger in her ass, making it writhe and twist. She'd never felt so humiliated and outraged in her life – not even at the worst point in her life.
Being raped by a moron with a big prick was one thing. It was something dreaded when you realized you were kidnapped, but yet more or less expected.
Having a finger shoved up your ass for cruelty and spite was something else. One happened from passion. The other was from meanness, and the suddenness of it terrified her.
"Stan? Honey, what are you doing with her out there?" Velma's voice came from the house.
Astonishingly, Ellen heard a new quality in the voice. It was something bordering on jealousy. Stan shook his finger in her asshole and palmed her round, taut cheeks at the same time.
"I'm feeling her ass," he snarled back. "Not bad for an old bitch. Nice and tight up her butt. And I think maybe Cy was right – she likes it. Her asshole is sucking at my finger like it was hungry for a big sausage and a drink of hot cream."
He cackled and yanked his finger from her asshole, pulling the tender tissues outward painfully. He wiped his finger on the firm roundness of her cheek and then pulled her erect again, breathing degradingly in her ear.
"You liked that, didn't you, Mrs. Chidsey? Yeah, with a tight asshole like that and a sopping cunt and big tits, you must give your husband a hell of a good time in bed. He's gonna miss all those goodies plenty, isn't that right?"
"Ohhhhh, please," Ellen moaned, her anus spasming and burning from the rough treatment, her emotions whirling from the realization of just how utterly helpless she was.
"Ol' Burke's gonna pay plenty to get a hot, good-looking fuck like you back, isn't he? He'd better, Mrs. Chidsey, or we're gonna keep you around for a long, long time."
She gasped and turned her head as if to look at him. So that was it! They were going to ransom her! But how had they known her car would break down after the fashion show and that she would go to Burke's store on the chance he might be there still taking inventory? Unless… unless they'd fixed the car…
"How about it, baby?" Stan questioned roughly, interrupting her thought. "How much do you think you're worth to him, huh? Lots?"
"Yes, yes, lots," Ellen gasped.
She bit her lower lip. She shouldn't have said that. Arid yet, if she'd said she was worth nothing to Burke, that he wouldn't pay them a dime, Stan would have twisted her arm off at the socket for lying.
"He'd better, Mrs. Chidsey. He'd better, or I'm gonna have to just give you to Cy for a fuck hole. I don't like the way he keeps looking at Velma, you know? It's like with a small kid – you give him a cheap toy to keep his mind off all the knobs and buttons on your expensive stereo, know what I mean?"
"Oh, God!" she gasped.
Stan cackled at her quick breathing, the rasp or tenor in her throat. "What's your first name, baby! Mrs. Chidsey seems so stuffy to call a guest who's going to be on such intimate terms with us. Stella, is it?"
"Ellen," she said, stumbling over the uneven ground as he pushed her up a slight incline toward the house.
"Ellen, yeah, that fits. A nice, plain, classy kind of name! No frills! Classic, almost. Like Helen – that Greek broad, you know? The one that launched a thousand ships to come get her? That's what you're gonna do, only it won't be ships. It'll be bucks."
He cackled again, sounding assured. She didn't bother to correct his history. It would only hurt. She heard a shoe scrape on a wooden step above her, and then she stumbled over the first one, bumping her shin painfully.
"Her room's ready, honey," Velma said, standing startlingly close. "Where's Cy at?"
"In the car jacking off. Stay away from him until he's finished. He's all horned up from fucking her."
"Don't worry," Velma said quietly, a little shiver in her voice. She touched Ellen's arm with the tips of her fingers for just a moment, a gesture of compassion.
"You cooking the Goddamn hamburgers? I'm hungry as fuck! What the hell are you standing around gawking for!"
"Jay's watching them, honey," she answered. Then, somewhat hesitantly, "Do you want me to take her?"
"No."
He was abrupt. He pushed Ellen up the steps into the house, where the aroma and the sizzling of meat in a pan assailed her.
"Are you… honey, are you going to fuck her?" Velma asked, the sound of jealousy and inner hurt very thick.
"Don't start with that shit again!" he bellowed. "Goddamn it, you're sounding like a fucking wife again, and I've warned you, haven't I?"
"Sure, honey, sure," she said quickly, "I didn't – I just."
"I'll fuck her if I wanna fuck her, understand?"
"Then I'll have to see you don't get horny enough to want to," she said, trying to laugh and sound suggestive at the same time, failing at both.
There was some activity next to Ellen. "Not now, for Christ's sake," Stan growled. "Get the Goddamn rope."
He steered Ellen crudely through the house, letting her knock into the door-frames and walls. He spun her around finally and nearly kicked her legs from under her. She sat down hard on a wooden chair.
Her hands were yanked in back of her, her arms encircling the chair back. She felt her wrists being tied together with firm tugs and sound knots.
"Oh, please don't…" she pleaded uselessly.
Then her ankles were tied to the front legs, on the outside of them, so that her thighs were spread apart and her knees went over the corners of the hard seat.
"There," Stan said. "She won't get out of that. Now, get out of here and go fix my food. And close the door on the way out."
"You're going to fuck her!" Velma wailed. "Oh, Stan!"
"How am I gonna fuck her when she's tied up in a Goddamn chair, you stupid cunt! Get out of here! Now!"
Ellen heard the girl leave the room and shut the door behind her. She sensed that it was a bedroom. She heard a rustle of clothing and the rasp of a zipper, and her heart pounded.
"No…" she choked, her pussy twitching and sucking closed reflexively. "God, don't."
"Don't, hell," Stan growled. "A classy bitch like you – I'll bet you fuck hotter than a two-dollar whore. All you classy bitches do. Isn't that right? You put on all your sophisticated airs and pretend you're pure and marry the pricks with all the money so you can strut around the country club like something swell. But down inside, you're nothing but two-dollar whores."
He passed his hand down the slope of her breast and curled it until he was cupping the firm cone. He squeezed the flesh through her dress until she whimpered.
"How old are you, baby? You're built like eighteen, but I know that isn't right. That can't be right. Come on, answer!"
"Thirty-two!" she cried.
He cackled wickedly. "See? Nothing but a hot-cunted bitch, just like I said. How else could you have a kid of fifteen, huh?"
He cackled again, and Ellen flushed all over. How did he know about Tish! Who in God's name was he! Then the sinking feeling she'd nearly forgotten after so long came back to her in a rush.
"Okay, baby," he said quietly. "Missus rich-bitch. Open wide. Open your soft, pretty mouth wide and pretend you're sixteen again, doing all those passionate things you did to get yourself knocked up."
"Ohhhhh, God," Ellen whispered. The sound was a rasp of agony. She squirmed in the chair, moving her head from side to side as if she were taped by something more binding that ropes. She wasn't sure which she was trying to avoid more – the degradation to come or the reminder of all she had so desperately tried to forget.
She smelled it before she felt it – the slightly acrid stench of his prick. Then it brushed her lips, warm and velvety at the tip, slightly moist.
"Open up and suck my cock, bitch," he growled.
Ellen twisted her head to the side with a cry of agony. This couldn't be happening. It was a bad dream. Only an hour ago, she'd been watching an evening fashion show, comfortable and secure, sure of the life she'd finally attained as Mrs. Burke Chidsey.
Now, she'd been raped by a cunt-splitting cock, ass fingered and probed, and tied to a chair so that a growling animal could prod at her soft lips with his hard prick.
"Ahhhhh, no!" she cried again, sobbing.
He twisted her head around cruelly. He wrapped his fingers in her auburn hair and pulled the strands tight. He positioned his hands so that his thumbs were pressed lightly but commandingly against her closed, blindfolded eyes.
"I told you to suck my cock, baby," he said, his voice low and warning. "I thought you had a good understanding of how it was now, didn't you?"
"Oh, God!" she gasped.
"Didn't you!" He pressed inward with his thumbs until purple and white flashes came to her dark world.
"Yes!" she cried.
"That's better, sweetheart," he said grandly, easing the pressure again. "Did you feel what that was like? Do you get the idea what's going to happen to you if you try anything silly like biting down on my prick?"
"Yes," she choked.
"Fine, baby, fine. Now, let's start all over. And we'll keep starting over until you get it just right. Now, pretend this is just ol' Burke's big hot prick and pretty soon you won't even know the difference, huh?"
He prodded at her lips again. The velvety head throbbed against them, and another drop of oil seeped from the slit and smeared over them, somehow getting into her mouth and onto her tongue.
Flavor burst through her senses. Her throat jerked convulsively, and she nearly gagged. She fought down the urge, knowing it would bring nothing but more pain.
Suddenly, a wry thought pulled at her mind and nearly made her hysterical with laughter.
He wanted her to pretend it was Burke's cock she was sucking on! That was funny! That was absurd!
She didn't know what Burke's prick felt like or tasted like in her mouth because she'd never sucked it! Not in the whole seven years she'd been married to him.
In fact, she hadn't sucked any man's prick since… since that last party, the one that had become an orgy of spasming young… not since…
God! Why had he made her remember what she'd spent sixteen years trying to forget!
She made a choking sound, wanting to blurt it out, wanting him to know the absurdity of it all. Would it do any good to tell him she hadn't sucked a prick since she was a crazy, wild, stupid little teenager?
Would he believe she hadn't let anybody fuck her body willingly and freely in all that time – not even her husband? Was there any way to make him believe she hadn't even had an orgasm in all that time?
It was true! Every bit of it was true. She wasn't a hot-cunted bitch who fucked like a two-dollar whore. He had her all wrong! Sixteen years ago, maybe, but not now.
Now, she was frigid!
And she'd been that way since the day she'd learned she was pregnant with Trish, sixteen long years ago. How could she tell him that? Did she even dare tell him that?
Lots and lots of money to get her back! God! Burke might even pay for them to keep her!
"No. No!" she choked, moving her lips against the insistent head of his pulsing prick.
His oil seeped into her mouth. It was on her tongue in a thick coating now. The flavor of it harked back over the years to a time she'd willed from her mind.
Her throat swallowed and jerked as her tongue worked inside her mouth, experimenting with the flavor in spite of her revulsion to it again.
She saw the haunting images flash across the back of her mind as the flavor grew stronger. She couldn't help the way her soft, red lips pursed around the head of his cock as he pushed it insistently between them.
She felt all the sensations, all the old feelings so long buried – the widening and stretching of her jaws, the accommodation of her lips and tongue and the inside of her mouth to the wide, velvety, mushroom-shaped cock-head.
She felt the bumps and veins all along the bottom of his shaft as his prick throbbed and stretched forward and rippled over her lower lip into the warm wetness of her mouth.
She felt the stretch of heated rod along the groove of her tongue. It reached for the back of her soft, spasming throat. Her tongue made a reflexive squeeze against the underside of the shaft, pressing the top against the roof of her mouth.
Oil seeped in a small stream from the broad slit and trickled down her slippery throat, nearly gagging her again. But the gagging wasn't from the oozing fluid.
It was from the thought – from the memories and the images growing stronger and stronger.
Her lips compressed slightly. She felt the edges of her teeth scrape lightly against the tender, pulsating flesh of his cock.
Her jaw worked with a little spasm. It would be easy to do – so easy, so fast. A sharp tightening of her jaw muscles was all it would take to make him feel the pain for a change.
He must have read her mind. She heard the slight suck of his breath. She felt the throb of his prick under the stimulation of the edges of her sharp, white, even teeth.
Then she felt the throbbing, starburst-making pressure against her eyeballs, and she knew she had no real choice but to suck his heated cock just the way he wanted her to.
She groaned inwardly. Her lips compressed again, spreading this time, going softer. The tension eased in her jaw muscles. Her tongue moved slowly back and forth on the underside of his thick cock, massaging it.
Another spurt of slippery oil oozed from the pulsing tip and ran down her throat. The images turned in her mind, faster and faster, having particular clarity and force behind the darkness of the blindfold.
He whispered. The sound was rasping and thick with victory. It made her want to sob. It made her feel entirely hollow inside, as if the whole sixteen years of effort at forgetting had been completely wasted and lost.
"That's it, baby," he said huskily. "I just knew you could suck a cock."