Waiting for my man

As my Writer left me, the full extent of my predicament dawned on me. The dark man had switched off the light again, and it was pitch dark. I was tied to a wall, in a position which wasn’t really uncomfortable yet, but would be in less than ten minutes. A man who had said less than a dozen words to me had done this to me, and I didn’t even know his name. I was in a place in the suburbs I would never be able to find back; I didn’t even know the name of the subway station where I got off. It was clear that I was in some sort of “storage”, being kept captive, unused, until the moment he would require my services again. The extent of these services was unknown, but the welts I had seen on his wife’s ass and back didn’t spell anything good. Yeah, I was in deep shit for sure.

And you’re not even with me… you left me as well, you bastard!

I started a conversation with the wife. She was called Rose, and had been married to him for four years. If I had to believe her story, about half of that time had been spent in bondage, a third on slaving away in his household, and the rest on functioning as a lust toy for him. In the early period of their marriage he had fucked her to bits himself, but after that he had started bringing in other girls to play with. He specifically enjoyed doing so right in front of her face. But she didn’t speak a negative word about him; in fact it seemed as if she adored the ground he walked on. When I asked her if she wasn’t jealous about her husband having his fun with whoever he pleased, she just shrugged and said:

“Well he brings guys in for me as well.”

These ‘guys’ would then be allowed to ‘play’ with her with the permission of her husband, without her having any say at all in that. It didn’t really feel like a fair trade to me, but she seemed content with it anyway. She obviously wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, not having left such an abusive husband many years ago.

Our conversation fell silent. Time went by very slowly, though I had no idea how long I spent there. The muscles in my legs were protesting the strained position they needed to support me, one of the cuffs bit into my wrist in a terrible way, and a horrible itch in my right forearm developed. I had no way to scratch it, of course. I cursed the moment I had picked that stupid yellow dress in the morning; it was made of some synthetic cloth and my sweat made it stick to my torso all over. I tried to think of a plan to escape from this captivity, but being tied to the wall behind a locked door I didn’t have much tools to work with, even in my imagination. I yelled out on the top of my lungs for help, but there was no response, except Rose’s voice coming from the dark, telling me: “Shush. He’ll be back soon, and play with you.” That was actually one of my worst fears; without my Writer, it seemed like an ordeal to become the sex toy of a deranged, violent man who kept women locked in his basement until he wished to use them.

I was left to gloomy thoughts for hours. My limbs went numb in the static bondage, and my throat ran dry without a sip of drink. I had visions of ****, of going to the police and telling my story, sending him to jail for many years for abduction and ****. I had seen a heavy hammer in a corner of this place; I’d grab it and smash his skull the minute he came back to untie me. But even these fantasies faded. I was just hanging on that wall, my mind sinking more and more into a haze, just staying inches away from fainting altogether.

Suddenly my Writer is back. He celebrates it with a full-hand grip on my pussy with his invisible hand. My head shrieks up.

Oh my god… you’re not going to make me feel like I’m in the best place in the world, right? You gotta be kidding… I’m being molested, abused, humiliated!

But the nature of my delirious visions immediately changes. Gone are cops, escapes, offense and fear. In are huge cocks, driving wild and hard thrusts into soaking pussies, and moans to the burning heat of loins. There’s still whips and chains, but they’re no longer frightful and oppressive, but teasing and yearning. All the discomfort, the strained muscles, the itch, the thirst, it all gets drowned and muffled in a huge flood of pure hornification which grabs my entire body in an overwhelming stream of power, taking control all from the depth of my slit to the tip of my little toe. Tied to a wall, waiting for a strong, dark man to return and indulge his carnal lusts on my indefensible body… yes, as of a minute ago when my Writer returned, this is indeed the best place in the world!

Footsteps can be heard in the corridor. There seems to be more noise now than before, when the dark man left us. The door sways open and the light switch is flipped; my eyes blink fiercely to the abrupt stream of cold, white light. Several deep voices are entering the room, speaking a language I don’t know. Maybe something Latin? They sound cheerful, their voices are raised and there are bursts of laughter in between. There’s a strong smell of liquor around them, they’ve probably been hanging out at some bar all evening.

When my eyes have finally adjusted to the light, I can see five men have entered the room. One of them is Rose’s husband, I have never seen the other four before but they might well be his brothers given the similarity of their appearance. Their gazes are going back and forth between Rose’s body and mine, as their incomprehensible but animated talk continues. One of them steps up to me, and his hands reaches for the cleavage of my dress; he grabs it and jerks hard, ripping the cloth wide open. My naked body is exposed to the hungry glances of the men as the remains of my ruined dress fall to the floor. The men all cheer. The frivolous slip I bought at lunch time offers even less resistance when it is torn off. All their eyes are on me now, and they devour me between them.

You make it so… humiliating! Yet it feels so good… you must have a really sick mind, creating me like this!

One of the others has stepped up to Rose, driving the thumb of one hand deep into her slit while unzipping his pants with the other. She shrieks at the sudden invasion, but no one cares or notices. It looks like she’ll get fucked as soon as that zipper is down. Her husband watches with his arms crossed, a huge smile of approval on his face.

The man who tore my dress away has switched his attention to my bosom. He’s taken hold of both my nipples between his fingers, and pinching them. He looks me into the face from just a few inches when I yelp at this treatment, then bite my lip, as if I was some sort of laboratory guinea pig he’s having an interesting experiment on. Of course the scientific method says the experiment requires additional observation for validation. His hand reaches for my pussy, finding it unmistakably wet, confirming his theory.

He’s hurting my nipples, and it soaks my slit… and they all see that!

A third man has already stepped up to untie my wrists and ankles. When the cuffs come off, I am lifted from the wall and thrown across the table right next to Rose. There’s already a cock thrusting away on her from behind, generating a steady moaning from her lips; but I’m less than a minute behind her to take my share of cock as well. I don’t even know which one of them takes the first aim and inserts his cock without any further ado. He starts banging away without any attempt at a tender intro. My hands cling on to the edge of the table top to put up with the raw energy of his thrusts.

Ah yes… this is good! Take me, you fucker, take my all, I can handle it!

In a passing thought, I have wondered why this fuck would be driven with me bent over a table… and the answer comes now. The fourth man walks over to the other side, right in front of my face. He takes my chin between his fingers, and lifts my head upwards so I must look him in the eyes. As my body strains to endure the merciless fuck I’m taking, he smiles at me, and says in a heavily accented voice, “You are very pretty.”

I can’t really reply, I need all my focus to cope with his mate’s pounding. Then he says, “You took dick in asshole before, or no?”

Even in this moment, a blush races to my face. I lower my eyes in an instinct, I have no other choice, then look back up at him in all my exposed vulnerability. A broad smile has crossed his face.

“Yes, I thought so”, he says, “After Giorgio shoot your pussy full, I look forward to be first!”

Of course… you’re sick, man. Just a very good kind of sick...

The combination of these words and Giorgio’s continuing fuck is enough. My muscles contract all across my body as a deep and thunderous orgasm breaks loose. The man who will deflower my ass soon keeps holding my chin, forcing me to look up to him as the orgasm takes control of my breathing into a high-pitched moan. His smile is almost kind, as he watches me intently on my travel through the orgasm. As it dies down and my muscles relax into the afterglow, I’m left as a wet rag across the table even though the thumping fuck still continues.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I give you second one in ass.”

Giorgio is ready to shoot. His stomping rhythm culminates into a long and deep haul as he pushes his cock as deep into me as he can to deliver his load there. My next fucker unzips, still holding my chin and making me look up to him. His cock pops out, right in front of my face. It is fully erect, and if these men are brothers, then dick size runs in the family. In an impulse, I bend my head and kiss the tip of it.

“Come, then”, I say.

OK, so you want my ass fucked now? Well, sure, go ahead… just promise, don’t walk out on me while he’s still going, right? Please?