Whatever they want

You feel utterly helpless as the wall of men closes in around you. Sour beer breath washes over your face as the man in front of you laughs. "Not so tough are we now, huh?" You feel the arm tighten around your throat. The only sound you can make is a pathetic squeak. "Without your freak friends around what are you?" He slaps you hard across the face.

Your world explodes in pain and white light. OW! you think, but all that comes out is a keening moan. The crowd laughs mockingly.

"You're just a punk-ass little girl." He extends the hand that had just slapped you out to the crowd. "And what do we do with rude little girls where we come from, boys?" The men jeer and whoop. "That's right. We teach 'em manners." He smacks you back and forth across both cheeks, leaving your head spinning.

"owieeee..." leaks from your lips. Hot tears sting your eyes and start to spill down your burning cheeks.

"Listen to this little girl cry." More cruel laughs from the onlookers. "You really thought you could stand up to a real man. You're pathetic." He spits right in your face. The oily spittle splashes across your cheek, some getting into your eye and some in your mouth.

It's all too much. The press of men all around you, trapping you, the strong arm cutting off your breath despite your feeble attempts to squirm free, the pain throbbing in your cheeks, and now this sexist asshole's spit dripping down your face. You feel a warm wetness spreading in your panties. Omifucking god I did NOT just piss myself. You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing out a few more tears. Your cheeks are on fire with shame.

"You think you're such hot shit, defending your little baby-killin clinic. My body my choice." His sing-song tone draws more mocking laughter. Your eyes are squeezed tight with shame and you feel like you're about to hyperventilate. "Well I'll show you whose body it is." He slams his hand between your thighs, palming your crotch. His eyes grow wide, and then his mouth breaks into a huge grin.

"Well well welllll... looks like our little feminazi is enjoying all this manhandling." Your eyes shoot open and your breath catches in your throat. What? How? He starts to slowly rub his palm up and down your crotch, pressing hard. You feel the soaked fabric of your panties press up into your burning pussy, and you know the wetness isn't piss.

Your abuser laughs in your face, still rubbing at your throbbing wetness. He looks you right in your big, quavering eyes as the cheers and taunts of the surrounding men get louder and louder. "Admit it, little girl. You love being put in your place."

He bends his thumb and drags the knuckle roughly across the fabric directly over your clit. You gasp, which comes out as a choked cough. The sensation sends waves through you, one down to your legs turning them to jelly, the other right up to your head. You feel so small, so powerless. You hate the feeling, but something about it is... right.