Under the skirt

I've been taught growing up to not wear short skirts. Men will think you're suggestive. I've disagreed, rebelled and decided to wear short skirts out of spite. In my teens I've been called arrogant and agressive, boys won't like me that way. I decided to not bow down. I learned about the male gaze, that men objectify womens bodies, and that I'm seen as a pair of tits and it's size, and my abilities are never enough because my cupsize doesn't reach an A.

I became spiteful, and hated men. Especially white men. They're all in the idea that Japanese women are submissive and uneducated, childlike and innocent. That my roots decided that I'm gonna be impressed over every white cock that would turn his attention to me.

I decided to prove every white man wrong, and to never give them what they thought I owe them. That worked well, until one day, I went on a date with an old times highschool friend.

I got dressed in my usual: some band hoodie, a skirt, and stripey tights. Boots to match the punk, pulled on a beanie and went out, confident to refuse any attention to rude teenagers or gawking staring old men.

The date was at a café, nothing too strange to show up in punk. Not any less strange than taking public transport in a goth dress. Sometimes there's strangely dressed people going about the day.

My old highschool friend and I caught up on our lives after highschool. I'd had a degree majoring in art, he had studied business to follow his uncles steps in the company towards CEO. I thought nothing too much, just about as an average proviledged guy. Certainly, there's more relatable carreer choices than his, but I was just happy to catch up, discussing nostalgia and comparing what changed in one another.

I called it date, but I soon realized I wasn't interested in hooking up or dating with my friend. I proposed staying friends, and he agreed. Surprisingly, he showed no kind of hurt or disappointment. Maybe guys get to emotionally mature too.

He asked in return if I'm interested in visiting his uncle's company. I was intruiged, since headquarters of corporations were less likely something I'd step foot in any more frequent than a closed store at night. So we set off, him driving me in his car, letting me know that the parking spots will let my car be till midnight.

His car was less of a crazy sports car than I somehow assumed it to be, especially after hearing his carreer choice and promised future. It was more of a modern mini-van. Very spacy, seemingly stacked with some company logo stamped boxes.

The building to the company was said to be around an hour away. Around midway through, my friend offered me a can of redbull. My artist self, I accepted gratefully. Caffein is something I loved, found comfort in.

I had finished my drink, and the navi showed another 50 mins. Strange, I thought. Haven't we been driving for 40 mins already? I felt a little carsick, a headache setting in. My friend seems to notice, and offered me a break at the next exist to a gasstop on the highway. I nodded, feeling dizziness setting in aswell.

As I tried to step out of the van, I clumsily tripped. A growing dread started to spread in my chest. The can of redbull was unopened. It tasted normal. My friend's attitude was calm and collected...

I couldn't see well. My friend supported me out of the van. He seemed to be checking my facial expression. I tried to ask him what's happening, but all I got out was a slurred jumble of sounds. Was I drooling?

A flash. My friend seems to have taken a photo. Oh god. The light shocked my confused self, and I pissed myself. I was sacked down on the concrete ground, and I felt my tights wetten and warm from the liquid. I felt the presence of a camera light, steady. My friends removed my boots, then my tights. I tried to protest, but lost conciousness.

Next thing I know, I'm upright. I can feel something... in my ass. What the fuck? I look around and find myself in the back of the moving van, the boxes are gone, and the windows in the doors are uncovered. I realize my legs are naked, and my slip is gone, replaced by a vibrator taped to my clit. Where's my frriend?

I try to move my mouth, to cover my exposed body parts, when I finally figure out that I'm laying stomach down on a box. I lift my head to see my friend driving, with a stranger man sitting next to him, where I had been before he dragged me out of the van.

My mouth feels stuffed. I feel metal on my teeth, and my tongue is stretched out and clamped in chopsticks, making me unable to close my mouth and retrieve my tongue. Drool drips down my chin, as I notice helplessly that my hands have been cuffed to my back, and my legs spread to each side of the vans inner wall, exposing my forcefully stimulated, wet, urin stained vagina and my plugged or otherwise invaded ass. I make pathetic noises of fear and despair, unwantedly causing the stranger to turn around and look at me.

The guy is bald, white, and looks just like the type of men who get wives from thailand.