Maggie couldn't believe this was happening. She was in the basement of a tavern, next to the only working light bulb in the room. She knew she wasn't alone, but everything was in shadows except for the corner where she stood. A rickety card table held a desk lamp, shining down like a miniature spotlight at a torn, stained, mattress on the floor. Between the blasting of the jukebox, and the general noise level coming from upstairs, you'd have to fire a cannon to make a "suspicious noise in the basement". Even then, she wouldn't bet more than pocket change on the odds of somebody trying to investigate, much less calling the cops.

From somewhere back in the shadows a male voice called out, "Hey babe, it's show time". A chill ran up her spine as her mind shied away from thinking about what kind of "show", was expected to take place on the only "stage" in sight. She wasn't wearing her regular clothes, she looked like a librarian, or one of those frigid secretaries out of an old movie, and something was horribly wrong in her head. She felt shaky, confused and off balance. No matter how she tried, she couldn't make sense out of any of this. It was as if some time in the recent past, she'd lost the ability to form thoughts, all her actions since then had been based on emotions. She remembered coming into the bar upstairs, feeling happy, and smiling at the nice man who offered to buy her a drink, but had no idea how she got here. She remembered feeling excited, and a little frightened, as she got up and allowed him to show her the way to the basement, but couldn't remember a thing he'd said.

Maggie knew beyond a doubt that she was going to do whatever they wanted, and she knew they wanted her to undress first. What she couldn't figure out was why she was doing this. She received a clue as she started to remove her blouse. Her fingers shook as she fumbled with the top button, and brushed against some sort of cameo. The jolt of fear that hit her, brought with it the memory of putting on the black lace choker, when she'd dressed for the evening, and the knowledge that she must not remove it. Her hands shot to the back of her head, as if she were going to let down hair done up in a bun, although she'd always worn her dishwater blond locks short. The whole situation became even less real to her, as she put her thick framed glasses on the table, and everything more than a few feet away went out of focus.

The high necked, long sleeved, blouse seemed to have a million buttons. Impatient noises were coming from the shadows before it rested in a white puddle on the table. Things went quicker after that, and moments later her dark skirt and white slip had joined the blouse. The bra and panties of plain white cotton made a strange contrast with the lacy black of the choker and the garter belt holding up her matching black nylons. Even the shoes were polished black, though the heels weren't very high, more secretary than sex goddess. Maybe her coordination was improving, or maybe it was the way her breasts didn't over fill even the tiny "A" cups, but the hooks slipped easily under her fingers and her bra landed on the pile.

Maggie paused then, with her thumbs hooked in the waistband of her panties, sensing that this was some sort of irrevocable step. Twice she started to push them down, only to stop, unable to do what was plainly expected of her. Finally, a stocky figure stepped out of the shadows, and almost casually, hit her backhand across the face. The blow wasn't that hard, though she was sure her cheek would have an ugly bruise before morning, and she could taste a trace of blood where a tooth must have cut the inside. It was the fact that it was so totally unexpected which caused her to be literally "knocked on her ass". She noticed something else as she took the hand he offered to help her up. She wasn't afraid of him, or even angry, and the ring where the choker circled her throat burned with the same throbbing heat as her reddening cheek. She didn't have to look, she could feel her nipples starting to stand out stiffly in the cool air of the basement, and felt a familiar itching tingle begin further down. Somebody chuckled at how quickly her pants came off when she was back on her feet.

The thought of lying on that dirty mattress made her skin crawl, especially after she sat down and noticed something else. She didn't need to see the details of the box in the rafters, to guess the little red light was on the front of a video camera. Again, the choker felt like a hot band around her throat, and she felt herself slowly spreading her wrists and ankles. A memory stirred, something about being tied to a bed, the straps cutting into her wrists and ankles while a fat slob raped her. But there were no straps here, not even a bed frame to tie them to, just some guy who stood over her fumbling with his fly. More memories, old and new all jumbled together, everyone who'd ever pointed a camera at her telling her to smile. Staring up at the red "recording" light, she felt her lips curl into a sickly grin, as he flopped down and began ramming his dick into her shaved crotch. While he pounded away, she remembered how she'd blushed, when she saw her reflection in the bathroom mirror after shaving. She'd felt, (and looked!), like a twelve year old, dressed in nothing but that damn choker.

She didn't know exactly why she'd shaved, except that it had something to do with sex. As she reached up to remove it, Maggie noticed again how much she resembled the profile of the woman on the cameo. It had belonged to her multiple great grandmother, but was old even then. Her last clear memory was deciding not to go out tonight as she started to remove the choker... Maggie came back to the present as the first guy got up and gave the camera a clear shot of her. Dick juice oozed from her slit, and her thighs ached from lying there rigid while he got his rocks off. Her nipples also throbbed. He'd been pinching and twisting them, trying to get the frozen smile off her face while he worked at pumping his load into her.

She'd never felt this way. She couldn't even think about refusing to do whatever they wanted. Maggie didn't believe it was possible to feel more totally violated, until she realized that the perverts who were fucking her, didn't even know she was being raped! She found that she could move in any way they wanted her to, otherwise, she might as well have been tied down. A few guys had her lift her heels in the air, or get on her hands and knees so they could do her dog style. Then one had her roll over face down and spread eagle. Even when he began dragging the slop that dripped out of her box up the crack of her ass, she didn't catch on to what he was planning. The light dawned when he pried her butt cheeks apart, and planted the head of his dick against her back door. She tried to beg him not to do it, but it came out all garbled. She tried to scream, as the burning ring of her anus stretched until she felt the head of his cock pop inside. The choker seemed to clamp down on her throat until only low whimpers and moans escaped. His thrusts went deeper and deeper, until it felt like he was killing her, and she couldn't even make herself heard over the noise from upstairs.

Maggie saw legs standing next to the mattress, and turned her head to avoid looking at the people watching this attack, only to discover they'd moved in from the shadows and the mattress was surrounded. It shocked her to discover that not all of the legs belonged to men. Then a slender girl with a sweet voice knelt down next to her. For a second she thought somebody was finally going to stop this perverted assault. Instead, the girl had lightly stroked her outstretched arm, and told her that she was never going to have an orgasm unless she unbent enough to play with herself! To the other spectators it must have sounded like gentle encouragement, but she would have been better able to resist if there had been a knife at her throat. It would have been easier for her to die than to do that to herself in front of all these people, but she didn't have that choice.

She watched in horror as her hands took on a life of their own, overcoming her attempts to hold still. One hand pulled in to fondle and massage her firm little tits, exactly the way she sometimes imagined a lover handling them. The other went straight for her muffin, and began to rapidly diddle her clit, in precisely the way she knew would get her off the quickest. A strangled sob was her only reply when the girl went on to tell her she was doing fine, but it would be better if she could get up on her knees, and let everyone watch her cum. About then, the guy raping her ass popped his load, and as he got dressed, she stopped frigging herself long enough to get up and kneel in front of them. Another perv took his place behind her. Maybe his dick was smaller, or maybe she just didn't care anymore, she didn't even try to pull away as it slipped into her ass hole. Resting his hands lightly on her hips, he started a slow, easy glide that seemed like it could go on forever.

The whistles and catcalls of the people watching melded into meaningless background noise, as she began to masturbate. Most of the pervs who'd had her, spent at least a little time abusing her tits. Now they were so swollen and sensitive, she gasped as she lightly brushed her palms against them. The only thing that made the contact bearable, was the way it sent little ripples and shocks towards her groin. Soon, she lowered a hand, and used her fingers to gently spread the folds of her cum drenched muffin, until everyone could see the glistening bud of her clit. It began to wink in and out of view as she used a fingertip stroke its hood up and down. Rubbing the little nub directly would have brought her more pain than pleasure, at least at first. Her hips began to jerk with the jolts of pleasure she was starting to trigger. The guy fucking her ass was delighted by the way her bunghole clenched and fluttered around his pole. He nibbled her ear, and she leaned back against him, tipping her head back until she could feel him kiss and nip at her neck.