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Kidnapped Little Slut
by Katie_Ames ©
I don’t want to glorify it. This isn’t really a story. It’s a fantasy. A fantasy about being dominated and humiliated against my will. Sometimes I try to suppress it, because it makes me feel so degraded and twisted up inside. However, whenever it worms its way into my head, it invariably makes my face flush and my knickers soaked, whether I’m at dinner with my friends or trying to study in the library. Ugh. As background I’m an undergraduate student in England. I’m slim. I like to keep in shape. I read Plato, have an uncanny ability to mishear song lyrics and occasionally pretend to be a Smurf. I also like being spanked. That’s probably all you need to know. But, before I go on, I’ll say something that I wish I didn’t have to say: this is a fantasy, not a how-to guide. Do not do this to women in real life. Please. ++++++++++++++ I’d be out traveling with some of my girl friends in rural Cambodia, or Thailand, or some such place. It would be hot and humid, so my skin would be lined in a thin layer of fresh sweat. We’d all be dressed in very little clothing. I’d probably be in a clingy vest top and a short skirt. Definitely a skirt, not shorts. And I wouldn’t be wearing any underwear; although my friends wouldn’t know that. That’d make me feel naughty and I’d probably looking forward to going back to our tiny rustic hotel and masturbating furiously. We’d be trekking out into the woods, along an old dirt road on our way to see some ruins. We’d be laughing, skipping, joking; just having fun. Suddenly, we’d be grabbed, roughly, by a bunch of men. We’d scream. Hoods shoved over our heads, our arms dragged behind our back and handcuffs snapped on our wrists. We’d struggle frantically, breathing heavily through the black rags. But there would be no escape. The men would laugh, sneer and call us little sluts. I’d be very, very conscious of how little clothing I was wearing. As we’d stand there, helpless, vulnerable and disoriented, the men’s hands would start to grab us: our tits, our asses, our legs; extracting gasps and shrieks from our lips; and eventually tears from our eyes. The onslaught wouldn’t stop. “Stop! Please! No!” I’d beg, writhing, as the men extracted pleasure from my flesh. I’d twist and clamp my legs together, desperate to prevent them from seeing that I didn’t have any underwear on. I’d just about manage it. My thighs squeezing like a vice to protect my pussy. My pussy which, to my utter horror, would be getting wet. “We’re going to have fun with these ones,” I’d hear a deep voice sneer. Then we’d be bundled into the back of a van. A squirming in a heap of girls, bare legs, sweat and tears. We’d be driven for miles. Bundled out of the van, carried for a while, then manhandled onto a dirt floor. They’d rip the hoods from us. I’d blink as my eyes adjusted. We’d be in a warehouse, or perhaps large barn. Sitting on our asses, our hands all cuffed behind our backs and our legs stretched out in front. I’d be absolutely locking my knees together. The inside of the barn would be almost entirely empty except for a metal table. There would be four or five guys standing in front of us. They wouldn’t be locals, their faces would be Western. My friends would be next to me. Their faces would be tear-streaked and disheveled. Mascara running down their cheeks. Their bodies trembling and glistening with sweat. One of the guys would step forward. Blonde hair. Muscular. Dressed in black. “I am Karl,” he’d say, “and you little skanks are here to get us a ransom.” He’d pause, scanning his eyes over our helpless bodies. Our tits and our bare flesh. Smirking like we were his prey. “And we will use you for our pleasure.” There would be a sharp intake of breath. Then we’d freeze. Too petrified to talk. He’d look as us each in turn, enjoying what he saw. Then his eyes would focus on me. And they’d linger. I’d wince. He’d stride up, kneel down next to me and place his big, rough hand on the top of my bare thigh. My body would jerk, pulling away from his fingers, but he’d grab my flesh, making me whimper. “You,” he’d say, nodding smugly, “I like the look of you.” I’d wail pathetically. Then I’d feel his fingernails rake up my thigh towards my skirt, leaving unbearable trails of fire across my skin. I’d clamp my legs together harder than ever, and my body would twist and I’d strain against the handcuffs. I’d hate myself for it, but the dominance of it would turn me on. I’d plead mentally, telling my body to stop reacting, but my body would react of its own accord. “No!” I’d squeal. He’d laugh. His hand going ever higher. “Please!” I’d beg. My twisting becoming ever more frantic. Then I’d feel him begin to lift up my skirt. “NO! NO! NO! STOP! NO! PLEASE!” I’d yell. My skin twitching and jumping as his fingernails scrapped over it. But it would be no use. The fabric would rise. Then he’d exhale in realisation that I wasn’t wearing any panties. “Looks like we’ve got a real little slut on our hands.” My face would rapidly start to burn red and fresh tears would well up in my eyes. I’d notice that everyone was looking at me. Karl. The other guys. My friends. And they’d all be thinking the same thing, “Whore.” I’d look at the floor. “Show me that little pussy of yours,” he’d sneer. He’d place both his hands on my thighs, grip them painfully and start to pull them apart. I’d struggle and fight harder than I’d ever done in my life. Mewling. Shifting from side to side. Pulling my legs up to my chest, trying to curl into a ball. But he’d be too strong. He’d wrench my legs apart. Revealing my naked pussy. Hot, sweaty and slick with juices… so wet that little bands of pussy juice would string out as my labia parted. I’d choke. And cry in humiliation. Tears bursting from my eyes. Wishing that I could do something, anything, to cover myself up. But they’d all see. Every one of them. My friends included. I’d even hear my friend Marie gasp, “Katie!” in disbelief. Karl would shake his head amusedly, still holding my legs open as my muscles pushed back with all my strength, making them tremble with tension. “I’m going to enjoy fucking you,” he’d say, “you wet little skank.” He’d turn to one of the other guys. “Put her in a spreader bar.” The guy would pick up the bar up off a table, it would be long with two thick leather cuffs on either end. My toes would curl as I’d feel him affix each cuff to my ankle, so I couldn’t close my legs even if I tried. “I bet she likes it rough,” Karl would snigger, as my pussy reacted of its own accord, getting ever hotter and wetter. I’d cry and squirm inconsolably as he’d reach over and grab my tits though my top. Manhandling them roughly, making my nipples harden beneath into his palms. Then he’d yank the fabric down, so they’d pop out from my clothes. He’d bite his lip. “Tight little body, mmm.” My teary eyes would flash him and indignant look. My body wasn’t his to take. “Don’t you dare look at me like that,” he’d say. Then slap me. In the face. Painfully. I’d yelp, then tears would run down my cheeks. Then he’d hoist me to my feet, and put my back down again, but this time on my knees. Then he’d grab the back of my head and force it down onto the ground. My muscles would push back, but it would be futile. I’d be face down, ass up, with my legs spread and my hands handcuffed behind my back. The humiliation would be unbearable. “No,” I’d whisper, pathetically, “please.” It wouldn’t make any difference. I’d hear the zip of his trousers. Then the I’d hear him step towards me. Then there’d be a pause. Then a lightning bolt would shoot through my body, as I felt his cock against my pussy lips. I’d repeat a series of short, sharp breaths as he held the end of his cock against my dribbling labia. “I’ve never come across such a little skank in all my life,” he’d sneer. I’d tense every muscle in my body. So tense that I’d start to vibrate. I’d squeeze my pussy as tight as I could. Frozen to the spot. Terrified, but using every ounce of my strength to defy him from fucking me. Then I’d feel his big hands grip my hips. Then push his cock forward, prizing my tight lips apart, “Arrrrrrrrrggggggggghhhhhh,” I’d wretch, trying to fight him. My body shifting from side to side. My fists bunching in the cuffs and my teeth clenching. But I’d know he was going to win. He was going to defile me. And I’d feel his cock send a throb through me as it went all the way in. He’d hold it there for a second, savouring his victory as I froze, impaled on the end of his dick. Then he’d start to fuck me. Slowly in, then out. Every stroke forcing a gasp from my lips. “Stop!” I’d manage to whimper between breaths. He’d laugh, “Your wet little pussy isn’t saying ‘stop’ is it?’” “It’s dribbling all over my dick.” “It’s dribbling all over my balls.” “Uuuunnggghh,” I’d clench trying to push him out of me. “Don’t even try to fight it,” he’d sneer at me. Then he’d start to go at me hard. “NO!” I’d manage before my gasps became an extended, humiliating wail. His balls slapping against me loudly. Every second, the sensation of his dick would throb through me. Slap, slap, slap. His cock going in, out, in, out, of my sopping wet pussy. Every rapid stroke sending pulses of degrading pleasure all the way through me body. “Your body’s mine now, isn’t it?” he’d goad. “You’re my soaked little slut and you know it.” “You’re my soaked little slut and all your friends can see it.” The last line would really get to me, forcing a loud mortified moan from my mouth. I’d know they’d be watching me. Judging me. Disgusted by me. Seeing how my pussy was reacting. Hearing me moan like a cheap whore as I got fucked. Slap, slap, slap. I’d be humiliated, but with every fast powerful stroke of his cock, the heat in my pussy would build. I’d hate it, but I know I was being pushed up the slope towards orgasm. Every time I felt it slide in, it would ratchet me up a bit higher. Then a bit higher still. A bit hotter. A bit wetter. A bit less in control. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “You’re going to cum for me aren’t you?” Karl would laugh. “No, no, no,” my mind would plead. I’d desperately try to hold it off. I’d clamp my fists closed. So tight that my knuckles would turn white. And screw my eyes tight. Wheezing, moaning, snivelling. But it would keep on building. “You’re going to cum for me, and all your friends are going to watch.” “They’re gonna see how much you love being on your knees.” “How you love being taken like a little bitch.” And his dick would keep on drilling me from behind. Slap, slap, slap, slap. So fast. Over and over. “You’re going to cum so hard, you’re going to beg me to do this again,” he’d rasp. I’d feel it building inside me. Higher. Higher. Higher. I’d clench trying to hold it back. To force it down. Stop it from going over the edge. But he’d know I was close. He’d grab my hair, pull it, and ride me like an animal. Slap, slap, slap, slap. I’d wail. It would be too much. Slap, slap, slap, slap. Building. Slap, slap, slap, slap. Building. Every muscle in my body would tense. Slap, slap, slap, slap. Then I’d cum. Hard. My mouth roaring. Tremors juddering through my body. My pussy twitching uncontrollably all over his dick. Over and over. “Cum for me like a little bitch,” Karl would say. I’d utterly lose it. My pussy an explosion of contractions. A huge rush of wetness would gush out of me. My body convulsing. My mouth dribbling. My eyes crying. Every pulse of pleasure compounding my humiliation. Every throb humiliation making my pussy shudder harder. Slap, slap, slap, slap. Tremor after tremor. Shock after shock. On and on. A shaking uncontrollable mass of sweat and tears. Knowing I was being fucked against my will. Knowing everyone was looking at me. Knowing I was on my knees… with my face up… and my ass in the air. Slap, slap, slap, slap. “Now I’m going to cum inside you,” he’d say. The debasement would send me higher, “Arrrrrrrrrggggghhhhh,” I’d wail. Convulsing into mortifying ecstasy. My mind blinded by humiliation. Slap, slap, slap, slap. He’d take a sharp intake of breath. Involuntarily, my muscles would clamp down on his dick. Then his cock would erupt. Spurting inside me. Hot. Thick. Filling me up. And my pussy would just keep on contracting all over it. All over his dick. All over his spunk. My hips grinding rhythmically backwards into him of their own accord. My body milking every last drop of cum out of him. I’d cry out, grunting, wheezing. Orgasming. Riding the last of his trusts. He’d grunt in pleasure. His thrusts slowing. Then he’d pull out of me. Let go of my hair. And leave me there. Shaking, trembling, throbbing. Unable to move. Fluids leaking from my mouth, eyes and pussy. Onto the floor. Down my thighs. I’d feel him reach between my legs and wipe up a glob of cum and pussy juices. Then smear it on my face. “Slut,” he’d sneer. Then he’d turn to my friends. “Which one of you is next?”
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