I know better than this. Those words flash through my mind as I hear footsteps behind me, hurrying toward me. They are heavy and I am almost positive that it is a man behind me. I dig my keys out of my purse and rush through the dark garage toward the deserted corner where my car is parked. I know better than to be out this late. At night. Alone.
It hadn't been deserted two hours ago when I had hurried here to pick up the present for my little sister's birthday. There had been cars and people, safety in being one among many. Now I was alone, except for those footsteps.
I reach my car and anxiously try to put the key in the door lock. My hand is shaking, I am terrified and the keys drop to the ground. I reach over to get them and feel an arm snatch at my waist, pull me back against a large, strong body.
"Don't scream or struggle and we won't hurt you." The words are hissed against my ear, muffled by a black mask that stretch across the man's face.
I force myself to stand still, not wanting to provoke the man. A van comes to a sudden stop, tires shrieking as the side door is flung open and I am pushed inside.
It's dark, very little light comes through the blackened windows. But in the shadows I can see movement. There are at least three people here.
"What do you want?" I try to sound brave knowing that fear provokes reaction of some kind or another. I didn't want action. "Why have you done this?"
The tall man slides the door shut and the van takes off. I'm pushed to the floor of the empty back cargo space, held there by the man's one hand. His fingers stretch across my stomach, at first just holding then, moving against me in something like a caress.
I feel another man at my feet, holding them down. I want so badly to kick out, to struggle against the force holding me down that my breath comes faster, my heart races.
"You did good." The man at my feet spoke for the first time. "She is something."
"You should see her walk," my captor answered. "It's like smooth silk."
I whimper a little in fear and sense rather than see you move closer to me. "It'll be okay, just a little while longer. And if you let yourself, you'll enjoy this."
"Enjoy what? What do you want?" My frantic questions make him chuckle. He moved his hand up and I felt him cup my breast, squeeze lightly.
Even through the terror, I feel a tiny spurt of lust form. "No, stop it."
The third man comes toward me. My hands were wrapped around the man's arm who held my breast, trying to push him away. He takes my hands, pulls them up and over my head, tying them securely to a hook in the door of the van. "Do you have the hood?" he asks.
A hood is placed over my face and taped just below my eyes. I'm blind, helpless but for my feet. I am in the control of three strange men. The man at my feet slowly spreads my legs and I feel my jean skirt inch upward, pushed by my slim thighs exposing my panties. My ankles are tied to either side of the van. A light is turned on, I can just see the shadowy effects through my mask.
Oh, God. I thought. I'm going to be gang raped, then killed.
There's a hand on my chin, lips brush mine. I try to turn my head but the hand tightens it's hold. A tongue traces the outline of my lips, dips inside, slides across mine. I try so hard to move away. Then I hear the laughter.
"I think she likes you," one of the men say.
"Yeah, she must. She's not trying to bite you like the last one did."
Last one? They'd done this before? I searched my memory for news stories of raped and murdered women. But nothing penetrated the fog that panic was holding over me. The lips twist on mine and I feel a funny flutter in my stomach. The man's breath is minty, very pleasant. His lips are firm, masterful.
I feel the buttons on my blouse being undone, slowly, one by one.
"Wait," one voice says. "Let me get this."
That's when I hear the distinct sound of a camera shutter, the click as a picture is being taken.
The front of my blouse is spread open, exposing my full breasts hidden only by the tiny scraps of black lace that are my bra. One finger slips over my firm globes, then slips under the fabric and brushes my nipple. I gasp as it contracts, tightens against my will.
"Oh yeah, I think you are going to enjoy this just fine." His finger is flicking against my nipple and I try to contain the moan, but it slips through my clenched teeth.
"She likes it, hey Mikey." Male satisfied laughter fills the van.
Hands are on my thighs, pushing them further apart. I can feel fingers inching along my skin, creating a wave of goose flesh that makes me shiver. Being unable to see makes every touch, every sound even more tangible and my reaction to them more severe.
I know I am getting aroused and am shamed by the fact that being handled like this is so pleasurable. I should be fighting them, a weak voice in my head screams out feebly. I should be fighting and cursing them instead of moving under their hands.
My bra is pushed up, rubbing hard against my erect nipples in the process. My back arches as that contact sends shards of aching need into my groin. Someone's finger slips under the leg band of the tiny panties I am wearing and slips easily between my puffy wet lips. I feel it graze my clit once, then again before pushing inside me.
"God, she is so wet. Feel this." He doesn't take out his finger but I feel another slide into me as the fabric from my panties is pushed even further aside.
Lips find mine again as I struggle against the need that is devouring me. I am kissed thoroughly, long drugging kisses, a tongue sliding and tangling with mine. I know I'm lost to this but I don't want it, I don't want to find pleasure in something that is so shameful.
The kiss is broken and I feel his lips at my ear. "What is your name?"
I try to remain silent even as hands rove over my skin, push my skirt up around my waist. Two and then three fingers slide inside of me, stretching delicate flesh. "What is your name?" he asks again.
"Danielle," I moan. "Please don't do this to me."
"Oh Danielle, we're going to do this and a whole lot more." Fingers plucked at my nipples, twisting and stretching them.
"Give me the knife," I heard him say to someone. My shaking increases, fear mixed with sexual ache making it all but impossible for me to breath.
"Please, don't hurt me."
He chuckles and I feel the blunt end of the knife slide over my cheek, down my neck. I know that they are watching me, seeing my fear and enjoying it. I want to be strong but I am just too scared.
I feel the knife against my skin just above my breasts, a flick of a movement and then the constriction of my bra is gone. Two more small flicks and the material is pulled away from my body. I feel him turn and then cut off my panties, leaving me exposed to their probing fingers and prying eyes. I'm helpless and it just turns me on more.
I feel cool air on my body and hear the side door of the van slide open. Then it closed as movement rocked the automobile.
"I hope you left me some." The voice is feminine, young sounding. A girl. There was a girl involved with this. My mind begins to shut down, leaving me with one option, only to feel.
"She's got plenty, sweetness. I think we did good with this one."
"I told you she would be good. I could tell just by the way she walked." The girl's voice was close. My captor moved from my side, letting her take his place. The other hands were gone now and I could feel almost an expectant hush building.
Soft hands caressed my neck, smoothed down over my breasts, stopping to circle my nipples with velvety palms before moving on. They slid down my trim waist, curved over my full hips until they reached my thighs. They were pulled apart further, my hips angled up with steady pressure. I could feel the whimpers of fear and arousal coming from my lips but I was unable to stop them.
"Shush, honey," the girl said to me. I could feel her body pressed against my side as she leaned over me. "I promise, you won't be hurt." I felt her breasts pressing against my stomach, then I felt her hands gather under my thighs holding me in place as well as the ropes did.
Her breath fluttered out against the lips of my pussy, then I felt the tentative, tasting touch of her tongue trace over them.