{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"f016851b-7330-44d6-931c-6ce0d10073e5","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2026-02-21T07:36:56.539Z","title":"Taken, Trashed, Tied and Tortured.","slug":"taken-trashed-tied-and-tortured","shortId":"FHL35RnM","authorNote":"With my apologies if the images that I have created are not up to the standard that either the readers or I would have preferred. Until someone kindly points me to a better program, I will persevere with the one I use. Thank you.","disclaimer":null,"type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"1c2de620-9151-43e2-8b05-ba2a382c6e7b","title":"I agree to participate in a weekend 'Forced Fantasy' event organised by some fellow male students at the University.","summary":"Sometimes I can be a little blasé about what I say. I think it comes from my father's side. I speak ","wordCount":13512,"readTime":68,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"I agree to participate in a weekend 'Forced Fantasy' event organised by some fellow male students at the University.","content":"

$\"\"$

Sometimes I can be a little blasé about what I say. I think it comes from my father's side. I speak without thinking through the consequences of my words. It has often caused me significant unintentional embarrassment.

Months after Simon, one of my University friends, had arranged my first ever 'forced fantasy, ' he enquired if I was prepared to try another with him and other male students. As I was aware of how much pleasure my previous attempt had brought and how much I had enjoyed playing their victim, I acquiesced without too much thought.

$\"\"$

A week or so later, I was chatting casually with one of my female friends when she enquired if I had any unfulfilled fantasies I wanted to try.

'Yes, ' I replied, much to her surprise, 'I think I would like to be handed to a group of hunky men that I did not know so they could have their way with me.'

'Really?' Sarah replied, 'It sounds a bit dangerous to me.'

'I know, ' I responded, 'And I'm sure it will never happen either, but it's certainly hot thinking about it.'

'You're incredible, Rachel, ' Sarah answered with a dramatic sigh. 'Most of us girls are happy to have a boyfriend, but not you! Oh No! Rachel has to have a whole gang of guys, none of whom you call a boyfriend.'

I smiled meekly, 'Guess it's just the way I am.'

Simon and his gang, as before, met with me on several occasions to discuss what they wanted from me during their forced fantasy session. This was not just one day, but a weekend of me providing the conflicting consensual but non-consensual scenarios.

'You know how you allowed dad and his colleagues to torture you in his Bondage Basement?' Simon threw the question in carelessly as if he'd just thought about it.

'Yes. I can't really forget. It was a fortnight before my tits stopped hurting.'

'Would you allow us to do something like that to you?'

'I thought you wanted to act out a forced sex scene, not torture me, ' I replied, smiling nervously back.

'We do, but putting those clips on your tits last time and holding you in the iced bath was frigging hot. It would be great to try something else like that. Maybe stretching you by forcing things up your cunt or arse?'

'I've never quite understood what turns you guys on about sticking things other than cocks, dicks and pricks up my bum or pussy, ' I responded. 'I am so often asked if I mind having a bottle or a cucumber shoved into me. What's the big turn on.'

Simon paused before answering, 'I guess it's just the thrill of fucking a beautiful woman in an unconventional way. Can we try it?'

Perhaps against my better judgment, I agreed.

$\"\"$

'Can we surprise you?' He asked next.

'How?'

'We can't say, but we think you will be okay with it?'

'Just okay?'

'More than okay. I think you'll get a kick from it, ' Simon answered a little hesitantly.

'If you are thinking of kicking me, forget it, ' I answered rather curtly. 'Same rules as last time, open hand slapping only.'

'Oh no! I didn't think we could kick you. It was just a figure of speech. Perhaps a poor one. As long as we can slap you about hard, smack you and pull your hair, that will be great.'

'I guess you could kick me up my backside if you wanted, ' I offered, suddenly becoming bolder. 'No one has ever done that before.'

'Deal done, ' Simon replied with a smile, 'And the surprise..?'

'Yes, alright, as long as you think I'll enjoy it.'

'We are sure you will.'

It was decided that I would be kidnapped from behind the club where Gemma and I worked alternate Friday nights. The staff car park was dimly lit and totally private, as we did not want anyone thinking there was a real kidnap taking place.

Brian, the owner, was okay with us staging the initial event in the car park, although he thought, as I'm sure many did, that I was utterly bonkers to agree to such a proposition. He also kindly agreed to announce that Gemma and I would not be 'entertaining' anyone after our striptease performances that night.

Gemma was happy to play stooge and be held with a hand over her mouth until I was safely in the car and away for my weekend of abuse.

As we left the back door of the club that night, knowing that outside, several young men were waiting to kidnap me, Gemma turned and whispered, 'Good luck. Have fun!'

As we closed the door to the club and commenced walking to Gemma's car, several men set upon us. All were wearing stocking masks, which certainly made them look incredibly frightening. We began fighting as hard and ferociously as we could, as if the event had never been planned. Gemma took no prisoners as she kicked, punched and swatted with her handbag while I pushed and pummeled to break free. Gemma's bag caught one of the young men smartly on the side of his head, sending him flying across the car park.

$\"\"$

Meanwhile, I was unceremoniously dragged towards a waiting souped-up Ford Focus into which, kicking and screaming, I was bundled. At the same time, two other men had Gemma under control with their hands covering her mouth.

In no time, two cars were pulling away with their victim, still fighting, on the rear seat of the lead vehicle. As I sought to fight off two pairs of inquisitive hands, I just hoped I had made the right choice in agreeing to a second 'forced' encounter.

The drive to wherever I was being taken was reasonably short. While still struggling in the rear of the car, a pillowcase was pulled over my head, stopping me from seeing anything. The car stopped, and I was pulled out by my arms with someone else grabbing the belt of my jeans. I could hear the heavy roller doors opening.

It took just a couple of paces before I was inside and listening as the door closed behind me. There was a momentary lull in activity that I used to full advantage to break free from the hands gripping my arms. Of course, the escape attempt was futile because, without seeing anything, I had no means of finding a way out.

I was captured, subdued and then thrown with great force toward the floor. I landed, with some relief, on something soft and springy and realised that it must be a mattress.

'Pull her jeans down to her thighs, ' I heard someone command. 'We'll teach her what happens if she tries any more tricks like that again.'

I fought like fury to keep my belt fastened and my jeans in place, but the sheer number of young men completely overwhelmed me. I lay with two sitting astride my breast and several others holding my legs immobile as the belt on my jeans was undone and then removed. I could feel the button being popped and then the zip coming down, before finally my jeans were yanked just far enough to expose my knickers.

'Turn the bitch over, ' those holding me were ordered.

As they attempted to loosen their hold on me, I again kicked out and struggled to free myself. As before, I was subdued by the efforts of all the guys. Once in the position that the leader wanted, face down, bum up, someone asked if my knickers needed pulling down.

'Leave them on, for now. They won't make much difference.' Then the voice addressed me, grabbing my head through the pillowcase. 'If you try that again bitch, ' he said sadistically, 'this is what you will get.'

$\"\"$

I never even had time to brace myself before he let loose with two vicious blows of a belt; I later discovered it was my belt, across my bum. I screamed in pain as the leather left its reddening marks across my arse cheeks.

'That will teach the bitch, ' A voice chipped in from one of the men holding me, 'Are you going to behave and obey?' he asked, shaking me by my shoulders.

I paused.

'Well, are you?'

'Yes.'

'Good. Then we will take the hood off you.'

The pillowcase was removed, and I was turned around. As I looked up, I saw the faces of all my captors for the first time. I recognised them all and could have named eight out of the ten. Today, though, they were enjoying their new roles, and I had to enjoy mine to the full.

'Norm, over to you, ' the ringleader, Simon, stated. 'You know what we want?'

'Yes, but you will have to ensure she can't move her head. If she does, it will ruin my work.'

Norman was a calligraphy master. We all went to him if we needed something written in a fancy style. As I lay there, I had a feeling Norman was going to write something on me.'

'Hold her stupid head still, ' he commanded authoritatively. 'You kneel on either side of her as tight as you can with your knees.' He looked at someone else, 'You grab her neck and squeeze if she so much as wriggles one millimetre.' Then, pulling my jeans a little further down so that my panties were fully exposed, he ordered the third person, 'Belt her on her cunt if you see her move.'

He knelt over my belly and, leaning over my chest with a pen in hand, closed in on my face. 'Don't move a muscle, ' he said with a scowl. I had never seen him like this previously. I had no intention of being pussy whipped or strangled for the sake of a few letters on my face.

He commenced on my left cheek and, by the length of time he took, ensured this was a work of art worthy of a Rembrandt or a Constable. At last, he moved to my right cheek, and I wondered if I could guess what he was writing. I had experienced something similar the previous year.

When he finished, I was made to stand up and move towards a mirror. 'Open your mouth wide cunt, ' I was told. I did not need to do so to read what was beautifully written from ear to ear, 'Whore' the word said, with my mouth forming the letter 'O.'

'Why not make her a complete whore?' another of the young men suggested.

'What do you mean?'

'The cunt has three other natural places that make for 'O's' on her body. Let's use those to ensure everyone knows just what she is.'

I could see the enjoyment of this new idea forming on some faces.

'Where do you suggest we write on her?'

'Bellybutton, cunt and shit hole!' the originator of this new idea replied.

'Strip the bitch naked.'

Once again, I put up as brave a battle as possible to maintain some clothes and modesty. I knew I hadn't a hope but thought I'd go down fighting.

$\"\"$

I knew that I had made things difficult when I was held tight, with my jeans around my ankles and my blouse partly undone, to be lectured by Simon.

'You defiant little bitch, ' he roared from a few centimetres from my face, 'You dare to fight us, you piece of total trash.'

He struck me a hard, stinging blow across my face that took me totally by surprise and turned my head through ninety degrees. I screamed. As I recovered and turned to face him again, lifting my hand to rub my cheek, he slapped me again on the other side of the face. Another, this time longer, scream.

'Strip you stupid, ignorant cow, ' He ordered, take all your clothes off for us right now. Dance like the whore you are when you are in the club. Dance, I say and do it good.'

He stood back, and to avoid, for the present, another face slap, I stepped out of my jeans and commenced a slow, and I hoped seductive dance as I removed more clothes and revealed more assets.

As I finally pulled down my knickers to reveal my natural hairy pussy, several guys dived at me and, grabbing me, threw me mercilessly onto the bed.

'Stay still slut, ' I was told as several pinned me to the mattress while others sat over me. I could feel the permanent pen carefully working across my belly. Once that was completed, my legs were brutally pulled apart as I felt the damp tip commence writing on the inside of my right thigh. I knew the penman was really going to town on this one, as it took him ages before he commenced on my left leg.

I was finally rolled over so that my bum was exposed and ready to receive the same treatment. I now knew that all weekend, whatever I did, the word 'WHORE' had been written in beautiful calligraphic style on four places across my body. These guys wanted me to know just what they thought I was.

When Norman had concluded his efforts with the pen, I was again marched in front of the mirror.

'Read what it says cunt, ' I was ordered.

I looked at the reverse image of the beautiful writing across my cheeks and replied, 'Whore, '

'What's it say on your belly?'

'Whore.'

'Open your frigging legs.'

I did.

'What's that say?'

'Whore.'

'Turn around, bend over and look through your legs.'

I did so and, with difficulty, could just see the lower lines of the word covering my bum.

'What's it say?'

'Whore, ' I repeated for the fourth time.

'Stand up bitch, and tell us all clearly what you are.'

'I'm a whore, ' I stated in a loud voice.

'What's another word for 'whore' whore?' I was asked.

'Prostitute.'

'Are you a fucking dumb, dirty, disgusting prostitute who sells her body to strangers to give them a quick fuck and make you a quick buck?'

'Yes, I am, and I do.'

'Then let's fuck.'

I was again thrown onto the bed and held in place as belts were undone and trousers removed in preparation for what I knew would happen next. The humiliation of explaining what I was had already helped to prepare my cunt for the invasion to take place. It was very moist.

Suddenly, I had a guy on top of me pushing hard to access my 'whore hole' between my legs while others waved their throbbing cocks in front of my face, wanting me to take them in my mouth. I initially refused until another hard slap caused me to concede defeat and commence sucking.

$\"\"$

'You swallow. You hear?' One of the lads said sharply, 'No spilling or spitting.'

In a situation like that, you lose all track of time. One after another took me up my pussy in a merry-go-round of pleasure-seeking. Simultaneously, others enjoyed my mouth or the forced ministrations of my hands. I am guessing it was two hours later when I was turned around so that my arse hole was available for more pleasuring of rehardened cocks.

$\"\"$

My bumhole has always been tight and, unlike a pair of leather shoes, has never loosened up with use. As cock after solid cock pounded away deep inside my dirty cavity, stretching me to near breaking point, all I could do was weep and whimper like a little lost dog. My evident discomfort with the continual use of my anal passage seemed to turn the guys on even more. Many came back for a second helping, and it must have been four hours after entering the house that I was allowed to collapse in a sticky, sweaty ball onto the bed, sore and exhausted.

To ensure their 'whore' did not escape, I was handcuffed to the head of the bed while my mouth was covered with a wide strip of adhesive tape. I was finally left alone as the men left, closing the door behind them.

I worked my way under the duvet and fell fast asleep. If my first night had been a rough ride, I had no idea what the following days would bring.

I never even heard the guys enter my room early the next morning. It was only as they commenced to place a studded collar around my neck that I woke with a start. It took me a few seconds to comprehend where I was and what was happening. Once I was again 'in the zone', I attempted to stop them from collaring me.

I fought like a cat, kicking, punching with my free hand and scratching. In a way, I hoped I didn't actually hit anyone, as I knew it would hurt. I only wanted to play my part as fully and dramatically as I could.

Subdued once again under a crowd of bodies, the collar was fixed to everyone's satisfaction. I was turned around and punished with my belt for my insubordination, two more stinging blows across my backside.

For breakfast, I had to endure the indignity of someone leading me on the lead on all fours into the kitchen. Once there, the tape across my mouth was removed. My head was held by a foot in a large bowl of soggy cornflakes as I tried to eat them and breathe simultaneously.

It was still early as we set out in two cars for our next venue. I had been dressed in a short black dress and an unmatched bra and knickers, the bra being much too big for my A-cup bust. The bra pretty much made my breasts look nonexistent.

Once in the car, the pillowcase was placed over my head as we drove off.

Wherever we were going appeared to be quite a distance as I sat, hands cuffed behind me, between two guys on the back seat. Hands strayed under the dress to breasts and pussy, gripping, pinching, twisting and poking the whole journey.

'Where are we going?' I asked.

'Shut up, you stupid bitch, ' I was told in no uncertain manner.

I decided to stay 'shut upped.'

Finally, the car turned into somewhere and stopped. I knew that the next chapter of this weekend's fantasy was just about to open as I was dragged from the vehicle, losing a shoe in the process. This didn't worry anyone, as I was frog-marched across a gravel area, up some steps, and into a building.

$\"\"$

We passed through a couple of doors before stopping in a room where I was made to stand straight and turned around.

'One whore safely delivered as promised, ' one of my captors said as if addressing a crowd of people. 'She's yours for most of the day. Make it as long for her as you can. If she squeaks, squarks or complains, beat her with this. Here's the key for the cuffs. Goodbye.'

Suddenly, I was left standing on my own. No one gripped my arms and pulled me into a straight position. I had no idea what was happening.

'They said she's a whore, and it's written across her face, ' an unfamiliar voice spoke through the silence that had descended. 'Let's take a look.'

I heard footsteps approaching, and then the pillowcase was removed, leaving me gazing into the faces of ten total strangers I had no recollection of ever seeing before in my life. I froze in horror. I had not expected this at all.

'Fuck me, ' one of them said, 'If she's a whore she's a fucking sexy one. Not got big boobs, but she looks fit.'

'Can we really fuck her? Another asked unbelievingly.

'We can fuck her in every hole she possesses. We can do it in any way we want, at any time we want, with anything we want, for as long as we want, ' the apparent ringleader explained. And if she doesn't behave, we can belt her with this.' He held up my belt for his mates to see.

'Where am I?' I asked hesitantly.

'Oh, ' she talks, ' Another replied. ‘I thought whores mouths were just used for sucking and fucking. I never knew they could speak.'

'You're with us. We play rugby. Today, though, we intend to play with you. Get ready to be rucked!'

As I contemplated my situation, hands rushed on me, undoing my handcuffs and ripping my dress and underwear off in a flash before examining the naked form that now stood before them.'

'I'd have preferred bigger tits and a shaved cunt, but she's got a pretty face, ' one commented. 'You can't get a whore these days with everything. We have to do with one out of three things, right.'

'Nice sexy arse too, ' another interjected, 'That also tells us what she is. She wants us to know she's a whore, doesn't she?'

'Let's not keep talking. Let's fuck the whore. That's what she's here for.'

Like a bolt of lightening my conversation with Sarah a few weeks before sprang into my mind. What had I said? 'I think I would like to be handed to a group of hunky men that I did not know so they could have their way with me.' Here was the surprise Simon had spoken about!

I was carried into another room and thrown onto an old bed topped with a thick mattress. The men almost fought to get their stiff rods into some part of my body as I sought to fight them off.

'Grab her hands. Hold them above her head. Get her legs. Hold them tight. Stop her kicking. Pull them wide.'

Order followed order, and all the while, I knew I was about to be fucked senseless by strangers. I was certain that nothing was going to be out of bounds for these muscular rugby players. For the first time, I also realised that the building I was now in could only be at their rugby ground. I was in one of the changing rooms and about to be group-fucked hard and long in every hole.

Once I was in the position they deemed suitable for their required access, my body became nothing more than a slab of fuckmeat. My head hung over the side of the mattress while my pussy was available as my legs were held spread wide by eager hands.

$\"\"$

One in, then out as another entered, was the rule as my mouth and cunt took a pounding, being filled with white sticky cum. I lost count, but believe all ten fired full loads into both accessible orifices before turning me for my bum hole to be used similarly.

I screamed as it was stretched wide, allowing deep and dirty penetration. Breathing heavily from pain and physical exertion, I counted each entry, wondering if each would attempt a double penetration. They did. Not content with fucking my anus once each came back to stretch and fill it a second time.

Once they had completed what they wanted, I was pulled onto my knees, re-cuffed and made to clean their cocks with my mouth while someone pulled my hair to ensure I was held in the optimum position.

On one occasion, when I did not perform as I should have done, a massive slap across my face sent me sprawling across the mattress. Once I had finished cleaning cocks, two of the rugby team held my hair tight, causing me to kneel high as several more forceful slaps landed across my exposed tits.

After these men had finished enjoying my body, they fastened my hands and arms outstretched to a set of coat hooks on the wall. I was, therefore, standing with my back to the wall and my arms bound in a letter 'T' formation on either side of me.

Suddenly, I heard other voices approaching.

'Our under-nineteens team want a look at our whore, ' the ringleader stated.

Now, another seven or eight young men in full rugby kit appeared in the room to stare at me in all my naked glory with the word 'whore' still carefully written across my face, belly and thighs.

'Have a good look at her, ' they were told. 'Any of you never touched a woman before?'

Three put up their hands.

'You go first, then and enjoy the experience. Not often do we get the opportunity to examine a whore so intimately.'

The three young men approached me, grabbing my tits hard. They had been well primed as they ran their hands roughly over my naked body. Another finger was thrust forcefully up my cunt and then inspected once it was removed.

'Why not fuck her with this?' Someone watching suggested holding up a large green coloured bottle.

'How do we do that?' One of the three younger guys questioned.

'Push it up and down her dirty cunt. You'll find it hidden behind her hairy minge, ' he explained using a particularly Scottish word for my benefit.

$\"\"$

I braced myself as my cunt lips were opened and the bottle pushed deep inside my already well-used pussy. Up and down, it went faster and harder each time, the neck stretching me to my limit as the top reached its deepest point.

I screamed in pain as the bottle reached its limit of entry, and my pussy was unable to open any further. Strange, for me at least, I had not orgasmed at all since being 'kidnapped' the previous evening. I think the nervousness of trying to play my role as best I could and of fighting like crazy had stopped my body from reacting the way it usually did. Inside, my pussy had become very wet on several occasions, but I had not orgasmed.

Now I did. Big time! It was not a man's cock or hunky body that had caused it, but a glass bottle roughly thrust into my aching cunt.

I could feel the sensation building as soon as my lips were parted to receive the hardened glass. I have never been good at controlling my orgasms despite my best efforts.

Now, like a mighty Tsunami, the sensation of unrivalled pleasure built somewhere deep inside my body and rolled in an unstoppable surge. Breathing heavily, closing my eyes and holding my head back to savour the moment fully, my body was taken over in one massive orgasm that seemed to surprise everyone watching.

I screamed, trembled, and danced simultaneously as the guy using the bottle quickly removed it, shocked by the result of its insertion.

It took only seconds for the crude and ribald comments to start.

'The dirty cunt loves the bottle!'

'Only whores orgasm with bottles up their filthy cunts.'

'What happened?' One of the newcomers enquired, staring at me as if in a trance.

'The bitch just orgasmed. She received sexual pleasure from being fucked by a bottle. That's what happened.'

'I think we should punish her for that, ' the leader said.

'Yes, let's turn her around and use the fucking belt on her fucking arse to teach her a fucking lesson she won't forget, ' another added.

'Why go to all the trouble of turning her around? Let's use it on her front!'

I saw smiles of delight and anticipation play out on the faces of the majority of young men in the room staring at my bound and prone form.

The belt was passed to the ringleader, who, without stopping, swung it viciously towards my exposed midriff. It caught me neatly but painfully right across my belly button, almost in line with the word 'whore' that had been added there the previous night.

Another and then another forceful blow struck across my thighs, belly and tits as I screamed as each hit home.

My punishment seemed to energise all the men in the room. They suddenly rushed at me, untying me and throwing me once again onto the mattress.

'If she behaves like a whore we will treat her like a fucking whore. Any of you under nineteens want to fuck her, go ahead.'

There was no shortage of volunteers as I was pulled, pummelled and pumped hard in every hole by these hot young studs enjoying the uninhibited access to their whore.

The bottle appeared this time used to stretch my bum hole to splitting point as everyone laughed uproariously as I screamed and grimaced with pain. My hair, face and upper body were soon covered in a liberal helping of hot sticky cum, and I knew that perhaps even more was oozing from between my parted legs and anus.

I was so tired that I lost all track of time as I was roughly moved from one suitable position to another. My holes were sore, and my arms ached from providing required stimulation to hard cocks that seemed to surround me constantly.

As the last pulled out, I collapsed in sheer relief onto the mattress only to be hoiked up roughly and dragged into another room. Here I was, held upright, looking into the largest bath I had ever seen, which was full of water. I didn't need to be told it was cold.

I had heard the term 'taking an early bath' used to describe rugby players who had been sent off the pitch during a game for some misdemeanour. I had until that time considered the term just a figure of speech. I did not know that such communal baths actually existed. They do, and at that time, I was looking right into one.

My hands were quickly cuffed behind my back, and I was pushed straight into the water, landing with an ungainly splash as I went right under. I struggled to right myself. The water was, as I had suspected, frigid. I shivered from both shock and cold as I finally found my balance.

As I walked to the side to be helped out, three of the rugby players took long pointed sticks that looked like sharpened broom handles and used these to keep me in the middle of the bath. Every time I neared the edge, I would be prodded to ensure I stayed well in the water. I was surprised by just how deep the bath was. It was not like an ordinary bath but more like a mini swimming pool about four feet deep.

$\"\"$

I was told to kneel and given several hard and painful prods from all three guys to ensure I complied. I took a breath and dropped to my knees, but was surprised to discover that my mouth just stuck out of the water.

'Dunk yourself whore, ' I was told, 'And don't come up till you have counted to thirty.'

I was given a couple of prods to ensure I complied. I held my breath and ducked under the water, counting to thirty as slowly as I dared. I did not want to be told I had popped up too quickly and have to do it again. Of course, that is just what did happen. Three times!

By the time I had emerged the fourth time, I was freezing and shivering uncontrollably. When I was allowed to stand up, the men saw what they wanted to see. My nipples were hard and erect, standing proud like a pair of tiny carrots.

I was almost lifted out of the bath, and virtually as my feet felt the dressing room floor, my tits felt a stabbing pain that made me cry out in sheer agony, 'Fuuuuuck Meeeeee!'

A pair of crocodile clips had been attached to my cold, hard nipples, and the pain was excruciating.

'Now will be a great time to spank her, ' one of the older guys suggested, 'It will be a lot more painful to her while she is so cold.'

'Yes, we'll be kind to her in being willing to warm her up, ' another added.

Several pairs of hands grabbed my wet body and dragged me back into the changing room, where the mattress lay. One of the guys sat down, and I was placed over his knees, still with my hands cuffed behind me.

I did not even have time to prepare as he commenced smacking my bare bum with the palm of his hand. He stopped after five hard smacks, and I was handed to another guy and placed across his knees. Once again, another five hard smacks smarted across my wet, cold and now increasingly sore bum.

$\"\"$

I wondered how long I could endure such punishment when my original kidnappers entered the room again as the fourth guy completed his five smacks.

'How's it going?'

'She's a whore, alright, ' one of the older rugby team replied, 'Just like it says on the can. Wanted us all to fuck her. Practically begged us to.'

'Was she worth it?'

'Fucked better seventy-year-olds with a hotter body, face and attitude to this, ' the same player replied, 'Anyway, we have washed her as you requested and clipped her tits.'

'Thanks, we will take her from here. Come on whore!'

I was roughly lifted from the knee I was lying across and frog-marched out of the dressing room into the open. In the car park, an estate car was waiting with its tailgate raised. Into this, I was thrown like a sack of potatoes.

I lay across the load bay with my head and shoulders through where one of the seats had been folded. One of the original group came and sat next to me, taking great delight in pulling my hair supposedly to get me further into the car, where, thankfully, and not before time, he removed the clips on my nipples.

I guess the journey took about fifteen minutes before we turned onto a muddy track that wound its way into a large woodland area. The driver slowed to a crawl as he negotiated potholes and puddles. We finally arrived at a clearing that appeared to be where the track ran out. The car stopped, and I was finally released from my handcuffs.

As the car's tailgate was opened, I sat up and was given a pair of my own trainers.

'Put them on, ' I was ordered by one of the young men who spoke coldly to me.

'What's happening now?' I asked.

'No talking. Just obeying.'

I finished tying my shoes.

'You run.'

'Where to? I have nothing on, ' I replied, a little shocked.

'You run anywhere. We don't care. You have five minutes. Then others come after you. If they find you, they rape you. They rape you hard. Understand.'

If I had not been so surprised at being out in some woods late on a Saturday evening wearing nothing but my trainers, I might have laughed at his curt manner of speaking to me.

'Now go.'

I went. I have never been a great athlete, although I was told at school that if I put my mind to it, I could have been a lot better at athletics than I was. I preferred the academic side of my school days.

$\"\"$

Now, though, I ran like a hare. Along a path, the only one I could see, jumping over tree roots, splashing through muddy puddles and slipping on the dirty floor. There was a chill in the air, especially as I was naked, but that soon disappeared as I raced through the greens and browns of the woods.

I never thought about where I was heading. I guess I knew that whatever I did, I was going to be caught at some stage. I knew, too, that the one who had sent me on my way meant what he said. Here, somewhere in the woods, I would be 'raped' by my abductors. My fear as I ran was that I might bump into some dog walker or a courting couple strolling along the woodland track.

I arrived at a small grass clearing and stopped to catch my breath and ponder my options. It seemed to be the centre of the woods, as I could see three other trails leading away, one in each direction. I decided to go right and running over the grass. I made for that exit. As I reached it, two shapes emerged from the gloom and started towards me. I recognised them. They were part of my group of kidnappers.

I turned and ran in the opposite direction to find two more young men blocking that path. I stopped, and as I swivelled, I realised that I was approached from every direction. I decided to run between two groups and thought I had made it until I came crashing to the ground with such force that I saw stars. I had been rugby tackled.

$\"\"$

I had no time to feel sorry for myself as I was held tight on my back with my legs apart and my cunt ready for yet another pounding. I could feel the damp grass and the cold earth beneath pressed hard against my back as the first guy took his position on top of me and began thrusting.

Others not holding me were preparing themselves to enter me as soon as the current one had done what he wanted. It did not take him long. His body tensed and stiffened, and he let out a roar of delight as his cum flooded into my already overused pussy.

The second guy almost threw the first off me in his eagerness to replace him. I hardly drew breath before I could feel his ramrod straight and hard cock push into my now moist and sticky cunt. He pounded away, occasionally stopping to slap my face or breasts before he too shot his load deep inside my vagina.

$\"\"$

This action was repeated until all who wanted my pussy had satisfied themselves. I was then lifted and made to kneel for others who wanted to use what they termed my 'shit hole.'

I grimaced and grunted as solid cock after solid cock stretched my anus in their desire to fill my bum with white liquid rather than brown solids. The grass under my knees and hands was by now becoming more mud than grass as I pressed down to support not just my weight but that of whoever was pushing hard into my arse.

'Filthy whore, ' someone said, 'Even has to fuck out in the open.'

'Yeah, ' another answered, 'Most respectable women would fuck somewhere private.'

'She's nothing but an animal. She has the morals of a Polecat.'

Finally, the last bum benefactor had deposited his load into me, and I was pushed sore and tired onto my side.

'Get up, you filthy creature, ' another said, 'We ain't finished with you yet.'

As I started sluggishly to get up, I was kicked on my backside back to the ground.

'Get up!'

I tried again, only to be pushed over once more.

'The dirty cunt is drunk, ' one of my antagonists called out, 'A drunk cunt!'

I lost count of the times I tried to stand, only to be pushed or kicked back onto the damp grass. Darkness was rapidly descending, and with it, a cold suddenly hit me and began to chill my naked body to the bone.

Someone grabbed my hair and began to pull me, first on all fours, and then when I finally managed to stand, on my two stumbling feet. I followed, head down, as they used my long hair like a leash.

After what seemed like miles but was perhaps only a few hundred yards, we came to the edge of a dirty-looking pond, the margins of which were very muddy.

'Okay Cunt, you want to play like a pig? Now act like one.'

'Pardon?' I questioned as I stood still with my hair being pulled in the hands of the young man.

'Wallow like the fucking dirty pig you are. Sit there and wallow in filth.'

As I hesitated, not sure quite what to do, I heard the swish of my belt and felt it catch my bum hard with a stinging blow.

'Wallow whore!' The person with the belt ordered.

As my hair was released, I dropped to my knees in the squelchy mud.

$\"\"$

'That's better. Lie in it, Roll in it.'

I hesitated again, and the belt caught me another stinging blow directly across my torso.

I lay down in the muck, realising that the pond was stagnant and the mud incredibly smelly.

'Roll over whore, face down.'

This time, I complied without question or hesitation, but I propped myself up on my elbows.

Two of the men were obviously expecting this and, having put on wellington boots, came and stood over me.

'Face and hair right in, ' I was commanded.

Without warning, a heavy foot pressed down hard on my head. My elbows gave way, and my face went deep into the mire.

'That's where pathetic pigs like you belong. We should leave you here all night.'

Time and again, my head was pushed down into the filthy edge of the pond. My face and hair, and just about every other part of my body, became a stinking sticky mess.

$\"\"$

At last, I was allowed to stand and walk out of my 'hog hole' as it was aptly named. As I did so, I lost my footing and slipped over, landing half in the mud and half in the water with a big splash. This unexpected calamity caused everyone to fall about in laughter at my predicament. More insults flew in my direction.

'She really does want to stay there.'

'Such a place suits her.'

'A pig always returns to the mire.'

As I tried to get back up, the mud made some sucking noises.'

'What did we expect from this pig but a grunt, ' another commented, bringing yet more laughter.

As I followed some of the crowd back to the waiting cars, I noticed they kept a long distance from me and for a good reason. I stank like a skunk.

At the cars, a large plastic painters' sheet had been laid across the rear of the estate for me to sit on. Once I was in position, I was enclosed in it, with only my face showing so I could breathe.

When we finally arrived back at the house where I would be held captive for another night, I was not surprised to be taken straight through the garage into the back garden to be hosed down, again with cold water. When I was considered clean enough, I was ushered into the house for a proper bath.

As I climbed the stairs contemplating the final day of my captivity, I had a feeling neither the bath to which I was going nor the hours of further sex and suffering that lay ahead would be dull.

$\"\"$

I was quite surprised that the bath I was allowed to take was warm. Naturally enough, I was scrutinised all the time until those watching became bored and decided to assist me in my endeavours to remove the remaining mud and smell from my body. Hands pressed soap into my pussy, bum and even my mouth to ensure I was thoroughly cleansed.

$\"\"$

I was dried again by several willing hands before being led to a room with only a lamp shining on a chair. I say a chair, but it's hard to describe. The base was a frame for a disabled toilet on which sat a toilet seat. Crudely attached to this was a wooden board that provided an extended backrest.

I was placed on the toilet seat, and my wrists were bound with ropes to the base unit's arms. My ankles were tied to the base of the two front legs, ensuring that they were apart and allowing access to my pussy. A belt was threaded through a slot cut out of the backboard and fastened after being placed around my neck. I was well and truly secured and told I would stay that way for the night.

$\"\"$

The spotlight was left on, illuminating me sitting immovable on my toilet seat throne. I passed an unusual, rather uncomfortable night, but eventually dozed off. I was woken by someone placing another belt around my body just below my breasts. As it was tightened, it lifted my breasts almost instantaneously, transforming them from an A cup to a B!

As others came into the room, I realised, for the first time, just how effective this ingenious seat was. It provided almost perfect access to my mouth for blow jobs. My pussy was open and displayed for whatever was desired. My breasts were now supported and exposed, and the open toilet seat allowed, albeit somewhat limited, access to my bum.

A bowl was now placed under the chair.

'If you want to pee or shit, don't ask. Just do it, ' I was informed. 'Now you drink.'

Once again, as in the woods, the person talking took to using short staccato phrases, almost speaking in a foreign dialect.

I was offered a bottle of Coke and had no choice but to drink. If I missed a gulp and spilt any, it rolled down my body.

'Ice, ' someone commanded. It was brought and rubbed around my nipples. I knew why and so did everyone else.

My nipples, standing proud when cold, had been the talk of my year at University almost since I started. Many a male had asked to see what they considered this unusual phenomenon. It was one reason why so many of the group sex sessions I agreed to participate in during those days of further education had some form of cold water play. My nipples always reacted to the cold, and they still do.

Now, as the ice was applied, I could feel, and everyone could see, its effect as my nipples hardened and became more protruded.

'Clothes Pegs, ' the same person ordered.

These appeared attached to a thin but strong-looking cord. They were clipped to my erect nipples and connected to rubber garden ties wound around radiator pipes situated opposite me.

When I moved, these gave a little flexibility, but the pegs still held my nipples firmly in their grasp. I tried to remain as still as I could until suddenly the vibrator appeared.

As this was thrust hard between my open legs and into my pussy, I knew the outcome. I would orgasm! I would do it quickly, too.

As the dildo vibrated against my clit I could once again feel that strange sensation building somewhere deep in my body. As on so many times before is seemed to explode through me like an erupting volcano.

I jerked violently as I climaxed before my student captors pulling the pegs straight off my nipples, causing me maximum discomfort. I screamed out in pain and pleasure. I shook so dramatically that I think some felt the seat I was on would tip over.

$\"\"$

Finally, the surging pleasure wave rolled away, and I sat sweating, taking deep breaths and trying to compose myself.

'That was so hot. Sexy or what?' One of the men said.

'Don't encourage the whore, ' another replied, 'She's trying to use her slut charms on us. That's what bitches like her do. Put the pegs back on her tits.'

I was pretty surprised when the neck brace was removed, followed by the board supporting my back. I now sat bound by my wrists and ankles to the toilet frame with pretty much everything else exposed.

'Whip her back, ' Simon ordered, 'And don't spare her blushes or her screams.'

One of the young men walked into position with a heavy flogger. It looked like one that had been used on me at Simon's father's bondage basement. I guessed it was borrowed.

As it came towards me, I knew it was going to hurt. It was a real heavyweight as it slapped with terrific force against my back. I let out a yelp of pain. Again, it swung and smacked across my back. The sensation was like being rubbed with rough sandpaper.

I lurched back, and the pegs pulled off my tits, causing more painful discomfort and another yelp of anguish. They were reattached to my sore nipples with a warning that there would be consequences if I let it happen again. Two strokes later, and I jerked them off.

One of the quieter bunch came forward and stood straddling me. He was over six feet tall and quite muscular. If truth be known, I had fancied getting into bed with him for quite a while. I had secretly enjoyed him fucking me the previous day. I was only disappointed that it had all been over too soon.

Now he lifted my chin so that I had to look up at him. I had no idea what he was planning on doing.

'What did we tell you not to do whore?' he stated crossly.

'I wasn't to allow the pegs on my tits to come off again, ' I replied meekly.

'You're dead right. Then why did you let it happen?'

'I don't know.'

'You don't fucking know, you lump of dirty fuckmeat. You don't know? Let me help you remember!'

Suddenly, his right hand slapped hard across my face, catching me by surprise. As I righted myself, his left hand followed through, knocking me the other way and nearly tipping the chair and me over.

He then caught hold of the back of my hair and pulled it forcefully downwards so that I looked up at him as I screamed.

Someone handed him the pegs.

'I'm going to put these on these pathetic pimples, ' he explained as he roughly clipped one onto my right nipple. 'If they come away again like this, ' he explained, pulling it off dramatically and causing me another deep intake of breath, 'You will get more than a tap across the face.'

'Hey!' Another of the gang chipped in, 'That looked cool. Can I try it?'

'No! Please?' I begged, 'It was so painful.'

'Taking to begging now is she. Dumb bitch, ' another commented sarcastically.

After exchanging places, the newcomer clipped the pegs onto both my breasts and then pulled the strings, attaching them quickly towards him. The pegs flew off my nipples like little rockets as I yelled out.

It seemed that suddenly the young men abusing me had discovered, quite by accident, a jolly new game as different ones stepped forward to clip and then unclip my tits.

'Get more ice, ' Simon suggested, 'They need hardening up again, and then it will be much more fun, ' he paused before adding, 'for us.'

The ice was rubbed around my nipples. I found the sensation quite soothing, as it seemed to reduce the soreness from this new, exciting practice.

The new torture technique was certainly painful but just about bearable. I still decided to plead as best and as pathetically as I could.

'Please stop. You're hurting me.'

'Hurting you are, we bitch. Good! You deserve all that's coming to you.'

'But not this, please?'

$\"\"$

By now, another bolder guy had my tits clipped and was holding the strings. 'One two, ' he counted before stopping to adjust something. 'One, two and...' He stopped again and rearranged the cord in his hand. 'One and two and... What comes after two?' He was enjoying toying with me, building up my anticipation of the shooting pain. 'One, ' as I braced again, he decided to pull the pegs off on the count of two, much to everyone's satisfaction.

It was, to my mind, not before time that my abusers tired of this 'extra' activity.

'I want to see her orgasm again. I've never seen a woman do it before.' One of the guys said. His admission brought a few rude comments about his apparent inability in bed.

Again, the vibrator appeared, and having been turned on, was thrust between my legs. As it worked up and down my clit, I could feel the tsunami wave of ecstatic pleasure beginning to build again.

I breathed in as though I was about to sneeze. 'Ah, ah, ah, ah, arrrrrgh!' To the delight of everyone in the room, the vibrator had done its work. I let out a sound, not unlike the rapid fire of a machine gun, as my body tensed against my bonds. I shook, sweated and shouted as the orgasm exploded within as if in a hurry to escape.

'The bitch was worth kidnapping to witness her orgasms. They are so erotic.'

'We have to give it to her, bitch, whore, slut or whatever she is, she is fucking hot either being shagged, tortured or having an orgasm.'

'Maybe, ' Simon responded, 'But she has another appointment to keep. Untie her, dress her, and let's go.'

'Don't we have time for a quick blow job each?' Someone questioned.

Simon looked at his watch. 'I guess so, if you can all do it quickly? I'll go first.' He looked at me and ordered, 'You please us all and swallow every drop. Understand whore?'

I did!

Forty-five minutes later, and everyone being satisfied, they commenced undoing my wrists.

I was glad to be untied. After spending all night bound in the same position, I was relieved to be freed, even if I was unsure about what lay ahead.

'Wait a minute. Norman, refresh your artwork on her. It's looking a bit dull.'

I was pinned to the floor while Norman and his pen renewed the wording on my cheeks, belly, thighs and bum. Given that he's quite the professional, this took a little time.

'Why don't we use her nose?' Someone suggested.

'What do you mean?' Simon answered, wearing a puzzled expression.

'If we use her nose as her mouth, bellybutton, pussy and bum, it will form a wonderful letter 'I.' Now what three-letter word describing this whore has 'I' as the middle letter?'

As the light dawned, a chorus of three or four voices rang out almost in unison, 'PIG, '

'Norman?'

Norman required no further explanation.

'I'll use red, ' He suggested, 'And keep it plain. It will make it stand out.'

I closed my eyes as Norman added two extra letters on either side of my forehead, with the centre one running down my nose.

I was led to the mirror where I was made to read my new name, 'PIG, ' I said out loud.

'Read them together, ' I was instructed.

'Pig Whore, ' I pronounced.

'Suits you perfectly. It couldn't be better. Come on.'

The pillowcase was again placed over my head as I was helped into the car. As when I was kidnapped, I was seated between two fellas in the back seat. They, too, could not help their hands straying around my body as we drove along.

$\"\"$

It was a long journey of about an hour before we arrived at our destination. I, therefore, had no idea where we were going or what would happen at the end of the ride.

I was helped out and quickly marched, like the prisoner I was, a short distance into a building. I heard what sounded like a large sliding door close behind me.

'Here she is as promised. Inspect her first if you wish. If she's not up to standard, we will take her away. If you're happy, she's yours for the next few hours.'

I suddenly realised that once again, I was being pimped out to strangers. As my hood was removed and I looked around, I could see eight new faces. I say new, but they aged between thirty and over fifty. I thought I possibly recognised a couple, but I could not be sure. What I was certain about was that they were 'bikers' and that the building I was in was some motorcycle service and repair shop. It smelt of oil and grease.

All eight men were in leather as if they had just driven in on their bikes. I discovered later that they had! Two or three were stocky in build, four had long beards, and several had tattooed hands. They looked like a real motley crowd.

I quietly regretted my previous conversation with Sarah. The only way this could have been arranged was if she had spilt the beans on my fantasy.

The eight strangers came towards me as Simon introduced his catch.

'This is a one hundred per cent lean pork whore. Filthy as a pig, just what you ordered. Her teats are a bit small, arse is a bit smelly, and cunt is too hairy, but... Hey, it's a whore!'

'Nice face, ' one of the bikers commented as he looked me in the eye.

I was now beyond fear. I had no idea how I would be treated, but I knew I would be safe, though the ride might be rough and sore. I had enough confidence in Simon and his cronies to trust their judgment.

As another lifted my top to reveal my tits, he commented, 'They are a bit small, aren't they? Hardly worth having at all.'

The short skirt I had been put into was pulled down along with my knickers. More comments followed.

'Hey Steve, she's got more hair between her legs than you have on your beard.'

'She's one of us, okay.'

Turning to Simon and the other students who had brought me in, the oldest looking of the bunch said, 'She'll do. I think we can have fun with her. Thanks.'

I watched, in some trepidation, as Simon and the others left, not quite sure what to do. I decided to make a run for it and try to barge past them when they slid the door open to leave.

I stepped out of my skirt and knickers, darting for the door as soon as it started to open. The biking crew were caught totally off guard by my antics, as were Simon and his friends. I pushed past and got out before anyone realised what I was doing. Once outside, I was in a courtyard of a small industrial area comprising about ten to twelve units.

A couple of cars were parked opposite. Apart from those, with it being lunchtime on a Sunday, the place was deserted. I took off like a hare, wearing just a top and shoes, running across the courtyard, now being pursued by several younger and older men.

$\"\"$

I darted through a gap between buildings only to discover a fence at the far end. As I turned, I saw that my escape route was completely blocked off by men's bodies. It was climbing the fence or surrender. I chose the fence.

Being tall gave me a slight advantage, and I thought I had made it as I grabbed the top railing until a strong hand gripped my ankle. As I sought to release myself, I let go of the top with one hand and slipped down. Now, other hands reached up and seized my other leg. I was ignominiously pulled back down into several pairs of eager waiting hands.

Students and bikers combined to carry me back across to the bike shed from which I had made my flight.

'Punish her if you wish, ' Simon suggested. 'I have her belt that we use on her if she misbehaves.'

'I have one too, ' the older biker replied, undoing his double buckle leather belt and pulling it off his trousers. 'This will do well.'

His belt seemed to be about six inches across, although, in reality, I knew it was only half that width. For the first time, I saw a mattress on the ground. It looked similar to the one I had been fucked on in the rugby club.

I was thrown onto it, and before I could think of what to do next, the whooshing sound of the belt told me it was heading in my direction. It landed smartly across my arse with a sharp crack that seemed to echo around the workshop. I screamed out.

I screeched again as it struck across my back, and then the third swish over my thighs brought tears to my eyes.

'That's how she likes it, ' Simon commented dryly, 'Good and hard! Right, we're off. Watch her. Make sure she tries none of her dirty tricks again.'

To ensure I didn't try any of my 'dirty tricks, ' I was held firmly by three men until the door was closed and locked.

'Take off her top, ' the men holding me tight were ordered. 'Now, her shoes.'

Naked, I was lifted to my feet for proper inspection.

'She's a whore, alright. It says so here!'

'And here, ' another voice added from behind.

'And a pig as well!. We really have a filthy creature. If she's a pig, let's grease her like one.'

They produced a strange-looking contraption that reminded me of the caulking gun my father had used back home. This one, though, had a flexible tube running from it.

'What's that?' I enquired nervously, speaking to the group for the first time.

'This is a nipple grease gun, ' I was informed to riotous laughter. 'We use it on the bikes. Today, however, we intend to use it on you and not just on your nipples.' There was a lot more laughter.

'What's in it?' I queried, pretty alarmed.

'Grease for a pig. Now shut up bitch, and let me get on greasing you.'

I could feel cool liquid being forced into my pussy and then my bum. I wondered how safe bike grease was on the human body. I had heard about things like carcinogens and began to feel more than a little anxious.

$\"\"$

'Grease her slutty mouth too, ' the man with the nipple gun was ordered.

As he did so, and I tasted the grease they were using for the first time, I breathed a sigh of relief. I realised it was nothing more than lubricating jelly.

By now, the men were getting ready for what I suspected they wanted to be as close to gang rape as possible. Some were stripped completely, while others just removed their trousers and underwear.

I attempted to break free from those restraining me, but without success.

'Open your mouth, whore, ' I was commanded.

As I did so, the person looking at me spat straight into it, catching me completely off guard.

'You will stand there while we all make you taste our spittle, ' he ordered, 'Any resistance and I use the belt on you.'

One after another, they came and spat into my open mouth until they were all satisfied.

'Now shut your mouth and let us spit in your face.'

I stood impassively as the exercise was repeated, and my face was covered in their saliva, and it ran down my chin, dropping onto my breasts.

I was then pulled onto the mattress and pinned to it by four of the men.

With my legs held wide open, I had no opportunity to stop the first to fall on me from thrusting his erection deep inside my pussy and starting to pump hard.

Others grabbed my tits as more sought the administrations of my mouth around their stiffened rods. I received hard slaps across the face or tits if I did not perform exactly as they wanted.

$\"\"$

'Drink anything we give you whore, ' I was told.

Meanwhile, one after another filled my pussy with their hot sticky cum until I knew it would be overflowing. One of the men who wanted anal sex asked me to be turned around. This request caused some consternation with his friends, who were playing with my tits or enjoying oral sex.

Eventually, I was repositioned, order was restored, and I felt his more-than-adequate shaft opening up my anus. Those using my mouth soon found my new posture on my knees more advantageous to their endeavours. Even my tit grabbers and suckers enjoyed my breasts as they hung under me like a pair of small udders.

Others wanted me bound to a workbench to take my arse, so my wrists were crudely tied to a couple of vices, and I was bent over. Placed like this allowed anyone wanting to access my back passage to do so while in the standing position.

$\"\"$

I was becoming very sore, having been seemingly fucked constantly from my kidnap on Friday night to Sunday afternoon.

I began my efforts at pleading once again, 'Please. No more, I'm so sore.'

'Did someone speak? I thought I heard poetry?'

'Please!' I called again in between cocks entering my mouth and firing their load halfway down my throat. 'I've been fucked stupid. I need a break.'

'Someone needs a break, ' one of the gang echoed.

'Why? We have only just started.'

'Who said they needed a break?'

I nearly choked on the ample cock filling my mouth at that time. 'Me! I do!'

'Well, I never. It's the whore. She wants a break.'

'Okay. Get her to make us a pot of tea.'

I confess that I was so relieved not to have any of my holes filled for a short time. They all seemed so sore, especially my two lower ones.

'Thank you, ' I replied in genuine gratefulness. I never had so much sex during one weekend in any of my previous escapades. I had done a lot and enjoyed a lot, but this was more intense than anything else.

I was led into a small, grubby kitchen area and shown a large aluminium teapot, a kettle and several mugs.

'Get to work, ' I was instructed.

I was not sure why making a pot of tea had become such a thing for these men. It seemed a rather unusual request to make of a naked twenty-one-year-old who has been provided primarily for sexual pleasure. Once I had made and poured the tea and then handed it round, I realised why.

'What's this?'

'Ugh! That's not tea.'

'It's vile. I can't drink that.'

'Don't you know how to make tea whore?'

I was at a loss for words as I was not expecting such complaints.

'Let's teach her a lesson, ' One who looked to be in his mid-forties suggested. 'Tie her to the hoist.'

My arms were pulled in front of me, and a rubber ring was placed over them. In my ignorance, I had no idea at the time that this was an innertube for a motorcycle. It was then threaded upon itself to form a tightening ring around my wrists. The rest was attached to a hook above me, which began to lift me, operated by one of the men using a handheld button-operated control.

As my arms were raised, I realised that two chains dangled down past my body. On the ends of these were two large rings, which were slipped over my big toes. It was only as I was being lifted off the ground that I understood that these rings provided an albeit uncomfortable toe hold. These ensured my weight was divided evenly between my arms and feet.

$\"\"$

What I saw next gave me goosebumps. One of the men held a willow stick!

Of all the BDSM implements of pain, punishment and torture that I have experimented with through the years, the willow cane is, to my mind, by far the most painful. As it is both narrow, usually no more than pencil thickness, and incredibly flexible, it can cause maximum suffering when used correctly.

I wondered again, being surrounded by strangers, just why I had chosen to engage in such practices. Why didn't I get a boyfriend and enjoy a one-on-one vanilla lifestyle like most of my peers? Just then, as I hung naked and helpless before eight tough bikers, it seemed like a sensible idea.

The willow was flexed, and I heard it swish as it cut through the air. Then it was whipped again in the direction of my swinging and vulnerable body. It caught me across my back, just below my shoulder blades. I screamed out, even though I could see the guy using it wasn't putting his full strength into it. I prayed that he would spare me.

Suddenly, in another room, through an open door, a motorcycle engine started up. I wondered why until I realised it was to drown my cries of pain out.

Again and again, the willow made contact with my skin, across my bum, over my thighs, traversing my tits and around my torso. Each swish brought me a red line over my body, stinging pain and my cry of anguish. I held my breath as I swung, watching each flex of the feared wood.

I commenced counting but lost track at ten, so I guess I received about twenty lashes. When the whipping stopped, my shouting stopped, and the revving motorcycle was turned off.

I was still suspended when Simon and my original kidnappers returned, their presence announced by a fearful banging on the sliding door.

'How was she?' Simon asked, looking at me hanging off the ground, trying to support my weight on my toes in the rings and with several reddening lines across my body. It was as if he saw this sight daily.

'The whore is useless. She won't do cause she can't brew!' Someone answered cleverly, making fun of my tea-making exploits.

'Have you seen her orgasm yet?'

'No. The whore must think we are all ugly buggers.'

'I think we can sort that one for you, ' Simon replied confidently. 'I have the means in the car to make her orgasm in front of you all. As long as no more of you want any further sex with her?'

This idea met some resistance, so while Simon and some of his biker crew chatted about Suzukis, Yamaha's Harley Davison's and Triumphs, I was taken down from the hoist and led back to the mattress for yet another round of any hole sex for anyone who desired it. Many did.

I tried to shut out how sore I was. Each entry into my pussy or anus felt like it was being made by a rod of sandpaper. My mouth was so sore that I thought I did not want to speak to anyone.

Those talking bikes seemed oblivious to what was happening to me just feet away. It was as if it was an everyday occurrence to have a young woman being shagged silly on a mattress in the workshop alongside you. Even my grunts and groans caused not a flicker of interest from those to whom, at that moment, bikes seemed a more important thing than bonking.

$\"\"$

I wanted to orgasm. I was desperate to climax as I was being fucked. I had a feeling I knew what Simon had planned. I knew it would work, but I wanted to avoid it if I could.

I closed my eyes, pretending each of the bikers fucking me was someone else. A film star, a sexy footballer, one of the good-looking students with whom I had not yet spent a night. Nothing worked. The spring inside that recoiled into the wave or orgasm just would not activate. When I did not want it to happen, it surged uncontrollably through me. When I was desperate to climax, I couldn't!

Another hour of hard, non-stop sex in every hole, position and way I could imagine saw me lying panting on the mattress, too tired even to move. I was hot, sweaty, sticky, and smelly.

'Oh, have you finished with her?' Simon questioned about five minutes later as if he had only just noticed. 'You wanted to grease her all over, didn't you? Or do you want to see her orgasm before? That might work better.'

I watched Simon leave for his car. I knew what he was going to get. He had purchased a cane about three feet long with a curved top like a walking stick. I had orgasmed when he had used it on my pussy previously. It had been so painful yet so pleasurable at the same time.

I knew he wanted to do this again in front of these hard-living, hard-playing, hard-fucking bikers. I knew, having had my pussy ravaged by so many cocks over the last forty-eight hours, such an action would be more unbearable than ever.

A heavy, dirty workbench was cleared of various nuts, bolts, screws, tins, pots and other assorted paraphernalia. From somewhere, someone procured a blanket and threw it over the bench before I was carried to it and laid on it, facing up with my legs, as they had been most of the weekend, open.

'Bend her legs back, ' Simon ordered, 'So her knees are just above her face. I need a good, clear aim at her pussy.'

I suddenly remembered that this was a forced fantasy weekend, and for the past hour or more, I had been far too compliant. Perhaps the fact that I was so tired had something to do with it. I decided to act.

I sprang like a leaping tiger, taking everyone entirely by surprise, including myself, that I could have broken free of their grip so easily. I ran to the door, lifted the catch and gave one mighty shove. It opened. Not far, but it opened, and, as a few hours earlier, I was once again in the concrete yard of the various units and workshops.

I ran diagonally across towards a larger gap I could see in the corner. This time I was handicapped as I had bare feet instead of trainers. With a gang of students and bikers once more following in my wake, I made the most of this opportunity for freedom.

I flew between the buildings and was delighted to see a grassy field just ahead. I ran across it with the fittest of my captors in hot pursuit. At the far side of the field, I could see the grass taller and the area more overgrown. I decided to chance it and went in that direction.

Once I got there, I realised a drainage ditch bordered the field. I had to jump the ditch through long grass on my side and thick vegetation on the other to escape. I thought I'd put on the show of my life. Like Steve McQueen on his motorbike in 'The Great Escape, ' I just had time to back up, run and leap.

This decision surprised my pursuers, who just missed catching me as I took flight. Unfortunately for me, my jump was short, and I slithered down the bank on the other side and into the ditch, which I realised was full of nettles that stung me all over my naked body.

$\"\"$

As I floundered in the water, the rest of the bikers and students came puffing up.

'Ha. Back to where we finished last night, ' someone commented.

'We said a pig always returns to the mire.'

'We should leave her there in that water and filth.'

'How do we get her out?'

That was a good question. Whichever way I moved, I was stung by nettles. My acting abilities to make the weekend as authentic as possible were ending rather ingloriously. Here I was stuck in a muddy drainage ditch, and this time it was all my own doing.

Finally, I managed to get enough of a foothold on the bank below the guys to lift myself high enough for a couple to grab an arm. I was then unceremoniously dragged back onto the field.

Little red pricks of heat were showing all across my body from the various nettle stings I had collected.

'Good effort, ' One of the bikers commented, 'That was an impressive try.'

My hands were firmly placed behind my back to ensure I made no further attempts at freedom. I had no intention of trying as I was frogmarched back towards the workshop.

Suddenly, someone ahead shouted back, 'A car just drove in. I think it's going to another unit.'

I was quickly given a biker's coat to provide me with some modesty. As we walked back across the yard, the driver and his passenger looked across, somewhat surprised to see a young woman with bare feet and legs parading between a relatively mixed group of men.

$\"\"$

'She fell in the ditch, ' one of the bikers explained as he walked over towards the car. It was obvious he knew the driver. 'Looking for some herb and slipped in, ' he lied. 'We'll dry her out and get her home. I was showing some mechanical engineering students a thing or two about bikes, and we heard this scream. Lucky we didn't have an engine revving at the time.'

The driver mumbled something about me being lucky and went into his unit. Once we were all back inside the workshop, I was again positioned on the blanket lying on the workbench.

'Hold her tight this time. Pull her legs back, so her cunt is in the air. That's it, ' Simon explained. 'I need a good swing at that hairy hedgehog of hers?'

'What did you call it?' One of the older bikers enquired, chuckling.

'A hairy hedgehog, ' Simon replied with a smirk.

'This will hurt her more than it will hurt me. She will scream blue murder, but it will get her to orgasm big time. This whore likes her pussy being whipped!'

'Better start up the bike again, lads, ' the older leather-clad man suggested.

The bike was started up as I tensed for what I knew would be an agonising few minutes. However, I could feel something of which no one else was yet aware. Starting to tingle inside me were the first signs of orgasm. Just the thought of being naked, helpless and about to be caned across my pussy was already causing sensations that I knew would be uncontainable in a short time.

$\"\"$

Thwack! As Simon's cane struck home perfectly between my legs, I let out a blood-curdling scream that even the running motorcycle struggled to drown out.

There was a seconds pause to allow me to stop my struggling before the cane hit home a second time. Another scream that even surprised me by its intensity, possibly echoing something of the agony between my parted legs.

I fought against those holding me tight and prone. As I looked through my tears even, they seemed to be feeling my pain.

I saw the cane swing viciously towards me, and as it made contact with my tender skin, it seemed that my internal organs had exploded. A massive, overwhelming surge of pent-up passion surged through my body. Those holding me must have wondered if I was having a seizure as I writhed, uttering unintelligible sounds on the table like some prehistoric monster.

'Fuckin heck, ' one of the bikers exclaimed, 'She has orgasmed too!'

'Woe man, ' another added, 'That's indecent!'

'I told you, ' Simon smiled, 'She's a pain slut. Mind you, I was hoping it would have taken longer than that.'

'Now, what's the bitch doing?' Another asked as he watched me lie still and then grip the table and commence to shudder in unrelenting sensuality.'

'Fuck, ' Simon breathed, 'It's a double orgasm! That is so HOT!'

'All the men holding me let go as I slithered on the table, dead to everyone around me but very much alive to my internal passions that had now burst out for all to see.'

It took several minutes of stunned silence before I came down from the high I had reached.

When I finally opened my eyes, it was to see shocked-looking faces staring back at me. It was only then that the burning pain of my swollen clit took control. I reached down to rub it as tears flowed like a tap from my eyes.

'Oooh! Oooh! Oooh! I called out, wondering if my pussy hair had actually caught fire. I stood up and performed what must have been, to those watching, a funny little dance. After this episode, Simon and his friends nicknamed it my 'Pain Dance.' I would stand almost running on the spot while simultaneously rubbing my pussy and whimpering.

Once I had calmed down enough to comprehend orders properly, I was made to kneel and look up at one of the older bikers, whom I guessed was in his mid-to-late forties. It was the one I initially thought I recognised when I saw the group in the workshop for the first time.

'Do you know who this is?' Simon questioned.

'I tried, through my tears, to focus on the man's face but still could not think where I had seen him previously. Then one of Simon's friends moved in next to him. I immediately saw the similarity and smiled weakly.

'This is Richard's father, and this is his bike workshop.'

Richard's father helped to apply liberal amounts of Swarfega cleaner to the words written across my face. I was relieved to see the writing fade with each application. I had no idea how I would sit in the morning's lecture and explain away how I came to have the words 'Whore, ' and 'Pig, ' emblazoned across my cheeks and forehead.

I was told that the three other places I have been inscribed with the word 'Whore' would be left to remind me of just what I was.

As I was driven back to the University that night, I had some questions for Simon.

'Who were the Rugby players?'

'Members of the team Colin plays in. When Sarah told us about your fantasy, we wondered how we could fulfil it. Colin took your photo to one of the training sessions and asked if any of the lads would be interested in fucking you. Apparently, they did not take too much persuading, ' he concluded with a chuckle.

'And I guess Richard worked the same way with his father?'

'Actually, on that one, we were more looking for a grubby but safe place to take you so we could fuck you there. That sort of evolved when Richard's dad saw a couple of photos of you. We then changed plans and thought leaving you with strangers again, especially bikers, would be hot.'

'Thanks, ' I replied, still nursing my swollen and incredibly sore pussy under the short black dress I was wearing.

'Richard's dad's biggest fear was that if anyone was in the adjoining workshops, they might hear and wonder what was going on. Your two escape bids nearly gave him a heart attack! You were not supposed to do that.'

'I thought you wanted an unwilling and feisty victim?' I responded.

'Yes, but only in private.'

'But I didn't know where I was, did I, ' I countered, 'I wanted to be as authentic as I could.'

'You certainly managed that!'

'Anyway, the rugger team wants you to attend one of their matches, and the bikers want to take you out for a ride to say 'thanks.'

'I bet, ' I smiled.

'Yes, honest, they do.'

'What sort of ruck and ride are they planning?' I enquired naughtily.

$\"\"$

'Rachel! You have a filthy mind. Is sex all you can think about?'

'No, ' I replied, 'Right now, all I can think about is my aching body, raw pussy and why I agreed to do all this in the first place. I must be totally mad.'

'There are quite a few of us on the campus who think that Rachel, ' he replied, 'But we would not want you any other way. Think of all the fun we would miss!'

","authorName":"Sexysuperslut","authorUserId":"59c966dd-3e57-4eff-a5b4-e1a7922636a7","rating":4.2,"ratingCount":5,"reviewCount":5,"quoteCount":0,"storyCodes":["Abduction","Anal Sex","Bdsm","Bondage","Breast Torture","Cnc","College","Consensual Non-Consent","Degradation","Documentary","Dominance","Female Humiliation","Female Submissive","Gangbang","Group Sex","Humilliation","Kidnapped ","Outdoor","Painful Punishment","Punishment","Rape","Real Life","Rough Sex","Submission","Torture","University","Whipping"],"language":"English","readTime":68,"recommendations":[{"id":"61131f3d-ec9d-4a45-938d-a8c030da296d","title":"\"Who do you want me to be?\"","slug":"who-do-you-want-me-to-be","shortId":"ScpMd9DS","synopsis":"In a London brothel, three young women struggle to survive as they navigate the men, the pimps and a criminal underworld that will never let them go. ","rating":5},{"id":"d7f20b92-98c4-4b08-8cc7-7ea6e364289a","title":"Bimbofication","slug":"bimbofication","shortId":"eTMSYByw","synopsis":"Emma, a shy and introverted 19-year-old, is about to embark on a transformative journey with her confident and forceful best friend, Sarah. \n\nIn their last days before leaving for college, Sarah discovers that Emma has some unique traits: massive breasts, an intense sex drive, and she's got a crush on Sarah. These new discoveries send Sarah's mind buzzing with ideas, for her own benefit and entertainment. E\n\nmma's submission to Sarah's will reveals a deeper, more complex relationship between them, filled with power, pleasure, and self-discovery.","rating":5},{"id":"14c57fef-6c36-4dfb-a1c7-62ad28f2d921","title":"Deep Down in the Depths of Servitude","slug":"deep-down-in-the-depths-of-servitude","shortId":"HGd7qPIU","synopsis":"This journal chronicles the real harrowing exploitation of a submissive rented by his master to another Dom who uses him to test the limits of an underground isolation vault among other things.","rating":5}]}}},"actionData":null,"errors":null}