Abducted on Mount Hood

by neff trebor

Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, NonConsensual, Heterosexual, Wimp Husband, Cuckold, Wife Watching, Humiliation, Interracial, White Couple, Black Male, White Female, Oral Sex, Exhibitionism, Size, .

Desc: Fiction Sex Story: Anna, her husband and daughter are on their way into town to sell some clothes she has designed for the Saturday and Sunday Marked in Portland. Something goes wrong. They are abducted by a Ted Kaczynski character. She is coerced into humiliating acts to protect her daughter.

Anna gunned the Ford E350 Cargo Van impatiently, waiting for her husband and daughter to get in. She and her fourteen-year-old-daughter, Dakota had finished their morning run about an hour before. They had taken their showers and changed into their work clothes. Her husband had slept late and was still cleaning up the dishes from the breakfast he had prepared for them.

At the age of forty, many would consider her "over the hill." In truth, she was much younger than Faith Hill, Nicole Kidman, Reece Witherspoon, Demi Moore and an onslaught of others. She was probably a cross between Blanka Vlasic because of her athletic ability, Angela Lindvall for her long red hair, and Jennifer Aniston for her innocence. Jennifer Aniston is not a raving beauty. You do not notice right away how attractive she is. Her beauty kind of sneaks up on you.

Anna was sitting in the van, with the motor running. Her long reddish brown, waist-length hair was done in a French braid and draped down her front on her right side. Like her daughter, she had cut-off coveralls that had been hemmed just below her crotch. They fit more like skinny jeans than farmer's coveralls. Her blue checkered long sleeved men's shirt had the sleeves rolled or folded up to a length just below her elbows. Her grey wool socks had been folded down over the top of her lumberjack boots that stopped just below her knees.

"I'm coming, Mom" Dakota said as she ran for the van carrying a sack of apples and one in her mouth. She pulled the passenger seat back and hopped into the back seat. She was dressed like a clone of her mother. Ken, her husband, came out a little slower. You could tell where he was because the lights in the house shut off, tracing his progress towards the front door. He shut the door, and walked around to the back, where he threw the plastic bag filled with yesterday's trash. He always seemed to be the last in the car.

Anna tried to be cheerful and hide her resentment for him always being a little late. They had to go up the mountain a little ways to feed their horses before going into Portland. Anna had a booth at the Saturday and Sunday Market where she sold recycled and redesigned dresses and coats. The coats and dresses she sold were purchased at the Thrift Store for a few dollars. She then added different pieces of cloth, rhinestones, and stitching to give them a tailored flair. Tourists paid hundreds of dollars for these one-of-a-kind works of art.

The back of the van had quite a few plastic bins with stacks of dresses, women's coats, high heel shoes, boots, and several mannequins for display. They were going to go into Portland for the weekend after they fed the horses. They were going to go to Vancouver for another load of clothes and a three-week vacation. School had just let out for the summer and Anna wanted to spend some time with her daughter. Her parents were going to take care of the horses, so they would not have to be there for a while.

Anna had graduated from the School of Design in New York and had been a regular on the staff for different movie companies. Whenever somebody in Hollywood was making a new movie, she would be on location for the few months of filming to tailor and create costumes for that period. In the times when she was at home, she used her sewing and design skills to make dresses, coats, scarves, jewelry and purses to sell at the weekend market.

Lately, her daughter, Dakota had been making jewelry out of table silverware. She would go with her mother to the flea market and get tableware sold more or less as junk or novelty. Anna's grandfather had taught her how to braze and solder. She could cut a fork in two on the handle; solder on a folding clasp, and bend they fork and tynes into a pleasing design. It was a great after-school-job she could do when she felt she had time.

The roads were still obscure with low-hanging fog as they drove down the residential roads of the unincorporated town of Welches to the highway. Anna had to stop for a ragged looking deer to cross the road. The deer up here were scrawny and dark. A grown doe looked more like a fawn in size.

Highway 56 was beautifully paved, with wide pull-over lanes on the sides. The traffic was slow because of the fog. People in Portland are polite drivers. You will not find anybody driving 75 on a road posted 55mph like in many other states.

They went up over a hill and turned off onto Lolo Pass. The winding road had a posted speed of 35mph and some of the turns were almost right angle turns. Anna had the bright lights on. Although the sun comes up before five in the summer, the high mountains filter the light so much it still seems like midnight; except you can look up and see the blue sky shining like it is noon.

Anna came around a corner and saw a deer in the road. It had been hit. She could have driven around it, but she knew somebody else might hit it again. If they didn't have their Brights on, they might be too close to avoid it. Some teenager might be speeding and go over the side and down the hill.

Anna slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road. She and Ken got out to move the deer. They would at least drag it to the shoulder so the highway maintenance could come by and get it.

As Anna walked towards the deer, something didn't look right. She couldn't put her finger on it right away. Her subconscious mind was thinking. There were no skid marks. There were no long streaks where the deer might have been dragged by a car or semi once it is hit. There was no pool of blood of any kind. As she and Ken drug it off the road, she felt it might have been shot.

As she and Ken walked back to the van, a huge black man with a deer rifle and telescope appeared from behind a rock next to the van. "Get in the fucking van." She heard him say. If Anna was by herself, she would have made a run for it. She could have hurled herself down the side of the mountain. The dense foliage would have given her cover, and few men would have been able to keep up with her once she started to run. At the age of forty, she was older, but she still had enough speed from her days in college and track training to keep ahead of most people. With a head start, almost nobody could catch her.

But Anna was with her husband and daughter. Her daughter was still defenseless in the back seat of the pickup. She wouldn't stand a chance. Her husband was older. He was a pussy.

Anna had married him more out of convenience, than love. "She would learn to love him" she had told herself. They had known each other for some time and she had done it more out of convenience than love. As they walked to the van, the stranger motioned Ken to get in the back. He motioned Anna to get in and drive. The stranger got in the passenger seat.

Anna recognized him, but didn't want to let on that she did. Her background as a runner in college kept her interested in sports. She followed most of the news on the sports section of the paper. The 6'-6" 250 pound monster in the passenger seat next to her was Santana Battle. He had played for Seattle in the NFL for a few years and hurt his knee. He had made a huge amount of money while he played, but had virtually disappeared once he had been cut from the team.

There had been a "Where are they now" article written about him recently. He had put all of his money into gold mining funds, and when the recession hit, he had become a multi-millionaire. He was a real recluse, and nobody could get an interview with him. He just seemed to have vanished. Now, here he was; bigger and meaner looking than the sports articles had cast him.

His hair was shaved on the sides to the skin. The hair on the top of his head was a thick, kinky Mohawk, growing longer along the base of his neck, where it had been tied off into a braid. His face was shaven to have only a mustache and goatee. The bottom of his jaw, and neck were clean shaven.

His pants were a khaki camouflage that hung over his logger's boots. To a certain extent, he and Anna had a few similarities; the hair and boots. His shirt was a plaid sleeveless button front that was tucked into his pants.

"Get the fuck out of here." He said as he leaned lower and tried to see what was behind in the passenger side mirror.

"We'll t ... t ... take you wherever you want to go, mister. Just please don't hurt us." Anna said with a little stutter. She thought "Maybe he just wants the van."

"Just keep going."

They went over Lolo Pass. They took some side roads and turned off onto Barlow road. Santana pointed to a side road. It was a logging road. Since it was Saturday, there were no trucks on it. They went on for a couple miles. By now, the sun was a little higher and the fog had lifted somewhat.

"Stop here." He said as he pointed to a wide spot in the road. He pulled several rolls of duct tape from his backpack. "Get in the back with your husband and daughter." He said.

"Is he going to kill us, or tie us up and take the car?" Anna wondered as she climbed between the seats to get next to her husband. Santana threw her a roll of tape.

"Tape his hands together behind him; then do your daughter the same way." He said as he pointed the gun at her. Ken was now laying face down on the floor of the van. Anna taped his hands behind him.

"Now the kid." Santana sneered.

"I'm so sorry, honey." She whispered to her daughter. "If I don't do what he says, somebody might get hurt." Anna stuttered.

At that point, Santana opened the sliding door on the side of the van. "Now you lay down." He said. Anna did not protest. With her head turned to her right, she tried not to sob as He put his knee in the middle of her back and taped her hands behind her. From there, he taped Ken's feet together. He tested the tape to see if it was tight and then went back to Anna. He taped her feet together also. He checked the tape on Dakota's hands and taped her mouth so she couldn't talk. He did the same to her husband.

He shut the door on the van, knowing nobody could escape for a while. He went over to the side of the road. It seemed to be a sheer stone cliff; rising a good thirty feet or so. Then something miraculous happened. He seemed to effortlessly lift and roll to one side, a boulder that was about ten feet high and ten feet wide.

It was a block of Styrofoam. It had been cleverly scraped, plastered and painted to look like part of the vertical stone face of the side of the road. Santana got back into the van and drove it in. From there, he got out; pulled the fake stone block of Styrofoam back into place and pulled a switch.

The space they were in was an abandoned gold mining cave. It went deep into the mountain. It had a number of passages off of the main passage. One tunnel above the main chamber had running water. As it dropped, it went into a large pond. The water in it also drained into a lower tunnel. Where the water dropped, Santana had formed some concrete around a turbine engine. It was used to generate electricity. The cave was almost self sufficient. He had water and electricity. The walls of the chamber had solar powered torches that worked as wall sconces that one could pick up and wander on deeper into the shaft and see.

There were several big boulders in the room. Santana opened the door of the van and drug the hostages out one at a time and chained them to separate boulders. They were all lying down, but could have sat on the rocks with some effort. Right now, everybody was too confused or frightened to move.

"Well, let's see what we've got." Anna heard the monster say. She could hear the tearing of duct tape. Anna turned to see Santana with Dakota over his lap. He was pulling the duct tape off of her legs.

"It's just like Christmas, only it's the beginning of summer" he sneered. Dakota had her mouth taped shut, but she was clearly sobbing. "Oh, yes. This is even better than Christmas" she heard him say softly.

Anna turned her head. She could clearly see the bastard running his hand slowly up between her legs. Anna could see his huge fingers disappear up under the edge of her coverall shorts. Dakota was groaning in indignation now. At the age of fourteen, she was ignorant about sex, but she knew enough to know what he was doing to her.

"N ... n ... n ... no, please. Please don't hurt her. She's only fourteen." Anna screamed as she struggled to stand. She struggled to crawl over as close as she could to where her daughter was.

"You're going to have to wait your turn. I'll get to you as soon as I'm done with your daughter. That might be a while though. You and your husband are welcome to watch though. Your husband might enjoy this." He said with a grin as his index finger disappeared farther past the hem in Dakota's coveralls.

"Oh, shit. I feel something. Oh, yes. It's been a long time, but I guess you never forget." Santana pulled his hand out and held the finger to his nose. He inhaled like a man testing a bottle of 100 year old wine.

He got up and walked over to Anna's husband and held the finger under his nose. Ken recoiled in horror. Santana walked over to Anna. "This is the sweetest smell on the face of the earth." He said as he held it under her nose. Anna shuddered as a wave of Goosebumps washed over her. "No; please. Enough. You've got to stop." She screamed.

"If you have any decency, if you have any scruples, you will spare my daughter. I beg you for mercy. Please don't violate her like this." Anna sobbed.

She watched in horror as he reached into his back pocket. He pulled out a stick; a white one. It was shiny. It looked like a pearl-handled stick; about 12" long. It happened in a millisecond, but in Anna's panic stricken mind, everything was in slow motion. A 12" long stainless steel wand seemed to emerge from the side of the stick. It arced slowly out in a half circle. The "click" as it latched and locked itself open had an ominous tone to it. She suddenly realized it was a 12" switchblade at the end of a 12" handle.

Santana held his razor like scepter up in the air briefly before lowering it to Dakota's coveralls. Like a red hot razor through butter, he moved it slowly from the hem of her shorts up her back; parting the material like Moses at the Red Sea.

Dakota sobbed. "Oh, Mom. Help me." The muffled words came. Dakota was as stiff as a board, trying not to move in case she sliced herself open by moving.

It had gone through the denim of her coveralls. Santana used the tip like a wand to lay the sliced material aside. Dakota lay there, her bare butt covered only by her thong panties. The tank-top she had was by now soaked in perspiration. Santana sliced the tank top open and laid material aside. She was shuddering; face down with only her black lace bra and panties. She still wore her dark leather logging boots, but they offered no protection to her modesty.

Santana turned her so she was now sitting on his left thigh, with her right thigh against him. She could not bear to look at him as he tucked the point of the steel scepter between the cups. It was like a cat toying with a cornered gerbil; pawing at it trying to get it to run when it had nowhere to go.

Rather than just cut the bra apart, he brushed the back of the blade back and forth between her breasts. She shuddered; afraid to move. She screamed in indignation and futility as she felt him cut through the thin strands holding the sides together. The elastic material snapped like a spring; exposing two long pink nipples on cherry red areolas. They looked like a cherry sundae on two vanilla dips of whip crème.

Dakota was sobbing uncontrollably in humiliation now. Just when she thought things couldn't get any worse, she felt the point on her thigh. She recoiled in fear. Santana used the point like a prod; separating her legs like a rider nudges his horse to make it turn.

Dakota had no choice. Reluctantly she moved her left leg away from him, knowing instinctively where this progression of outrage was leading. Dakota's thong had two thin bands of elastic holding the front to the back panel. The monster that held her in his lap pushed the point of the switch blade between her hip and the delicate fabric.

As he turned the blade from the dull to the sharp side, the left side of her thong seemed to disintegrate. He reached over to her right side and cut the remaining restraint. Dakota's black lace elastic thong seemed to disappear between her legs.

"Oh, my God!" her mind screamed at the indignation. She was now sitting, naked, in front of the vilest creature she ever could have imagined. Santana took the point and pressed it between her legs. The petrified teenager had no place to turn to; physically or mentally.

Reluctantly she had no choice but to spread her legs a little farther to keep from getting sliced. She had shaven herself. This was the thing that teenage girls did now. It wasn't so much to intrigue a boyfriend as to conform to what they saw the other girls in the locker room do. It was doubly humiliating now; because she had always thought she could hide this from her mother. Now both her mother and father knew.

Like a puzzled little boy, Santana peered down at her. She had a little nub of flesh that protruded inquisitively out from the shaved labia. It seemed to have no shyness or indignity of its own. Like an 18-month old child, it seemed to peer curiously out at everything around it.

Santana took the point of his switchblade and used the back to tilt and lift it for his inspection. He was fascinated with this creature as it shuddered; echoing Dakota's humiliation.

"Oh, fucking God. Kill me now." She screamed to herself; hoping for a quick end to her humiliation. Santana put his knife down. He took his thumb and massaged the opening.

Anna watched in horror as the huge, blistered and calloused creature made its way into her daughter's opening. She watched in helplessness as her daughter sobbed while the offending digit seemed to submerge itself.

Santana stood and took Dakota to one of the large rocks. It was as big as a dining room table. He set her down so her abdomen was on the top and her legs hung over to the floor.

"You're going to enjoy this." He said as he began to take off his clothes. Dakota groaned. She closed her eyes. She did not see him take off his shirt, but she froze when she heard the brass button unsnap on his pants. The sound of his zipper being opened seemed to echo off of the cavern walls; not once, but repeatedly as the sound skipped around the circular room.

She tried to kick him when she felt the monster phallus rubbing against her opening. Santana went over to get his gun and duct tape. He taped first one then the other ankle of the naked young teenager to the Uzi.

With her ankles taped to the gun, she was unable to keep her legs together. Santana grabbed the gun and pulled it over his head on the back of his neck. Now Dakota had her legs up in the air and over each of his shoulders.

"Oh, please. Please; please; please don't do this." Anna sobbed.

Santana thought for a moment. A light went on. He walked slowly over to Anna. He picked her up and made her stand.

"Please don't do this. I'm older. I can make you happier. I will do anything you want if you don't hurt my daughter." She whispered to him.

"You are going to have to convince me you will do anything if you want to bargain with me." He said.

"I will do anything for you. Just give me a chance." She sobbed.

"If you can get her off, that would be a good bargaining point for us to start with. It would go a long way in convincing me you might do anything." He whispered into her ear. "That's not all you are going to have to do, but that will be the start. Convince me." He said.

Anna stood there; unable to think. She couldn't absorb the words and what they meant. She just nodded her head dumbly, fighting to accept anything that would prevent the rape of her daughter.

Santana pulled the switchblade out of his pocket again; snapped it open and sliced her hands free. Anna stood there; not quite knowing what to do next.

He pointed the glimmering tip of the switchblade at her coveralls. She understood. Slowly she pulled the snaps holding the straps over her shoulders free from the bib front of her coveralls. The straps dropped noiselessly over her back as the bib dropped to her waist. Without being told, she reached for the brass buttons on each side. She unfastened them. Like a sentenced woman making her last long walk, she grasped the sides of the coveralls and tugged them down. She guided them down her thighs and past her knees.

She stood up; crossed her arms in front of her and stepped out of the thick denim which pooled around her ankles. She tried to numb her mind to what she was doing, but the cool cave breeze reminded her what their abductor could see.

Anna extended her hand for the knife. In a false front of bravado she did not feel, she took the steel blade and pressed it between her breasts. She sliced the material holding the cups together. The lone tear that sliced down her face gave her away. She struggled to keep her lips from trembling as she turned the knife point down. "I'd rather kill myself." Her mind screamed as she placed the point under the side of her panties. It was killing her to act so wantonly in front of her daughter and husband, but she was desperate to distract him from her daughter. Like a mother bird, faking a broken wing to lure a fox away from her nest, Anna was desperate to change his focus.

Trying to ignore her own humiliation and shame, she forced herself to come up with some sort of change in her personality to convince him she was more desirable than her daughter.

Anna looked him in the eyes as she sliced through the thin elastic strands at her hips. Her panties dropped to the juncture where her knees touched. Without looking down, she stuck the point of the switchblade through the garment and held it out to him on the end of the outstretched steel wand.

"You won't be sorry." She said as she forced a feeble smile. It wasn't a convincing smile. Her lips barely formed a faint straight line and her lower lip quivered. Like a dummy with its mouth moving, nobody really watches the ventriloquist's mouth. Likewise, nobody checks out the corners of a naked woman's mouth.

Santana was sitting next to Dakota with one hand under her, massaging one of her nipples. He held up his right hand and wiggled his finger, gesturing Anna to come closer. She had to do better than that.

Anna forced her petrified legs to move her almost up against him. She stood inches away from him; her long coral pink nipples almost at his lips. He almost ignored her panties on the tip of the knife, inches from his eye. She could have killed him right there; forced the tip through his eye and against the back of his skull, through his brain. It didn't work out that way. Anna was so overcome with fear she could not think rationally. She could not think past the predicament of her daughter.

Anna was almost immune to the humiliation and shame of being naked in front of her family and this animal. Trying to appease him was all she could think of.

Santana took the knife from her hand. He held the point to his nose and inhaled the fragrance of the fabric on the tip. It was intoxicating.

Santana looked down. Anna's reddish brown curls were merely a decoration. This was not the normal patch of pubic hair he had imagined as a young boy. The soft brownish patch was shaved into a "landing strip" configuration above her prudenda. Below that she was bare. The landing strip had a wonderful color and texture he was not used to. The middle of the patch was darker; a mixture of reds and browns which were thicker in the middle. Going off towards the edges, they tapered off in hue and thickness. The thicker browner curls thinned and graduated to an almost transparent light blond transparency at the edges. Santana was like an eight-year-old finding his first new bicycle under the Christmas tree.

He bent his head to look at this magnificent treasure. The fascinating little patch of reddish brown was framed by the alabaster white skin which had been masked from the sun by a summer bikini. That white was further framed by the Coppertone finish of her smooth thighs and well defined abdomen muscles.

Her breasts were magnificently framed the same way. Her coral pink, long-stemmed nipples were likewise framed by the alabaster white melon-sized mounds that held them up. Although she was forty years old, her breasts had the look of an adolescent. They stuck straight out at 90° from each other and her abdomen. In an earlier day, they might have been classified as "magnificent." Now, with all the implants used like ketchup on hot dogs, everybody had them; bigger and better. But in a way they were even more magnificent. She had refused to be a part of this ridiculous array of silicone seen everywhere. They were about as big as anybody could have without sagging.

Anna tried to stand there, motionless, hoping her humiliation and shame didn't show. She couldn't let it. She had to convince this Satan from hell that she was better and more enticing than her delicious young daughter. Santana was no idiot. He was calculating in his own way; trying to figure out how to get the most out of both of them.

Santana folded the knife and put it in his back pocket. He took Anna by the hand and led her to the car. He rummaged through the plastic bins to see what was in there. "He's going to fuck me in the back of the van." She said to herself. With a sigh of relief, she thought maybe she would at least be saved from the humiliation of getting fucked in front of her family.

Santana dumped one of the bins out on the floor of the cargo van. He picked his way through the clothing Anna had planned to present at the flea market. He held up a gray, silk button front dress. "Put this on." he said without quite looking at her. He was trying to imagine something; maybe how she looked in it. Maybe he was trying to think of what he would be doing next.

Thankful for anything to wear, Anna slipped the dress on. She was somewhat oblivious to the fact that she had no bra or panties. In front of this vulture, nothing really mattered that much. "Stay here." He said as he walked away. Santana went to check the bindings on Ken and Dakota. He was sure they were securely chained and padlocked to the big rocks near them and would be secure for hours.

"Get in and drive." He pointed with the knife to Anna. Without questioning anything, she got in behind the wheel. Santana went to the front of the cavern. He moved the big fake stones to let her drive through. Anna pulled out and waited as Santana secured the fake stone entrance behind them.

If she had been thinking, maybe she could have run over him. That would have been great if it had worked. If she had missed, he could easily have killed her or the rest of her family. She was making inroads in gaining his confidence. He let her drive. They were getting further away from her daughter. To Anna, that was all that mattered. She knew she would do anything to keep her daughter safe.

"Follow the highway. I'll tell you where to turn." Anna didn't question him or say anything; she just drove.

They drove towards Welches, an unincorporated town. It was dark by now. "Let's stop and get something to eat." Santana said. He used his folded out switch blade to point to a row of restaurants. "That looks like a good one." He said, pointing to a sign that said: "Gilley's." Anna pulled into the parking lot, trying to calculate whether she should try to escape, slip a message to somebody or something else.

She backed into a spot at the back of the parking lot, under some trees. It was dark and nobody would see it. It was unlikely that if anybody had called about their disappearance, a police might see their license plate. "You're going to go in first. You're going to get your own table. I will go in first and get my own table. You sit by yourself." Santana said as he folded his knife and took her keys.

"If he goes in first, maybe I can run." She thought. Santana handed her her cell phone and a Bluetooth. He had her put it on. He tested it with his. They could hear each other. He sat there a while and looked at her. "Unbutton the dress." He said. Anna looked at him, shocked and too petrified to react.

"Start at the bottom. I'll tell you when to stop." He said. Anna's fingers shook as she struggled to obey him. Starting at the hem, she slowly pushed one button through the eyelet. Silence. Slowly, she worked her way up the dress. About two buttons from her crotch, he said: "that'll work for now.

He got out of the van and walked around to help her out. Santana opened the door for her. The bottom of her dress had fallen off of her thighs and parted past mid thigh. Anna's cheeks blushed as he extended his hand to help her out. She knew better than to cover up. She pivoted her body so her legs were facing him to get out. The dress rode up further. Her heart was beating as he put one hand under each of her armpits and slid her off of the driver's seat. In doing so, her dress rode up further. "Why am I so embarrassed when he has already seen me naked?" she asked herself.

They stood there with the door open and Santana's arms around her sides holding her up. He pulled her up against him. She struggled to keep from resisting. "Anything to get him away from Dakota." She told herself. She knew what he wanted. She did not resist when he lowered his head to meet hers. She did not turn away. She closed her eyes and tried to blot out the thought that this was not her husband.

She did not fight him when he guided her arms up over his neck. She struggled to meet his lips. She did not resist him when his tongue entered her mouth. "At least this isn't in front of my husband." She told herself. She did it without passion. She did it without enthusiasm. Slowly, she began to turn her head in mock passion as she forced herself to respond; to cooperate.

Her heart was racing. This was a partial rape of her mouth. She felt the bulge in his jeans throbbing against her abdomen. She did not resist when he wedged his leg between hers. This was almost as bad as being rapped. Maybe it was worse because she was being forced to cooperate.

Once Santana could see she was not resisting, he stopped. With their arms around each other, they walked to the entrance. "You wait here for a few minutes, "he said.

Anna stood in the vestibule. Another couple entered. She took out her cell phone and leaned against the wall, like she was taking a call. She waived them through. Soon, her cell phone did go off. "Come in now, and pick a table in the center of the room." The voice told her.

Anna walked in with the cell phone, like she was still preoccupied with a call. Inside, there was a stage at the far end. Along the right side, there was a bar. Along the left side was a roped off area with a mechanical bull. Anna walked to the center of the room and took a table for four; which was one of the few that were still open. She was too scared to look around to look for Santana.

She sat down and kept the phone in her ear. When she sat, she tried to keep one hand in her lap to hold the bottom of her dress together. "Put your fucking hands on the table, you cunt." She heard in her blue tooth.

The waitress was standing in front of her. "Are you ready to order, or are you waiting for others?" she said. Anna said: "No, I'm by myself. Get me a Coke." The waitress stared as Anna let go of her dress. She was silent for a moment, trying to judge whether the new customer was naïve or trolling for men. Cheerily she turned and said: "I'll be right back."

Of course when Anna walked in, all of the men stopped talking and turned to see who had just come in. This was a good one. They wanted to see who she was with. When nobody came in with her, they were even more curious. When she put her hands on the table and the dress fell off of her crossed legs, now everybody was watching. Was anybody else coming in to sit with her? Men turned their chairs discretely turning as much as they could without becoming overly obvious.

The band was on break. Some of the men, who had been drinking, were gathered along the metal railing around the mechanical bull. Nobody was able to stay on it very long. The man who was operating it set it pretty high for the men. There seemed to be some kind of tradition among the patrons of trying to get the women on.

When the waitress came back with Anna's drink she placed it on the table on a coaster. "Anything to eat?" she asked as she tried to gauge the new customer's puzzling situation. "I ... I ... I ... I'm not sure yet. Can you give me time to decide?" Anna tugged a menu out of the wire menu holder; trying to bury her face in it and procrastinate the decision. She didn't have a purse or money.

"You know you don't have to pay for anything here. Any of the women who ride the bull will have everything paid for by any of these men here." Anna was used to all kind of "come-on's" in a bar, but this was different. She was here under coercion and she wasn't sure what she had to do.

Her cell phone buzzed. She had a text message. She read it. Her face flushed. Knowing she had no choice, she stood up. She took her drink and walked over to the table in front of her. There were four men at it. Her heart was racing as she approached them.

"Somebody had dared me to get on the bull." It was almost a whisper. "Are you men willing to buy my drink if I get on the bull?" she asked.

There were four immediate erections. "Fuck Yes!!!" It was almost one voice t hat thundered instantly from all of them. Other eyes had been watching. The men from the four adjoining tables had heard. As Anna walked towards the handrail around the bull, the dozen men picked up their drinks and followed.

Her mind was racing now. "What do I do now?" she wondered. "Is there any way out?" Anna was terrified. The bull was the least of her worries. "What was going to happen with these men?" she wondered. One of the men scooted ahead of her and opened the gate. He took her drink.

"My name's John." The man next to her said. "I'm Anna" she said more like a robot. John was a monster. He was a big black man with boot cut Levis that flared over his lizard skin boots. His dark black long sleeved western shirt was tucked in. He had no fat. He looked like another NFL tight end that was not yet due to report for training camp.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" he asked. Helplessly, Anna nodded. It was barely noticeable. You almost had to know the question and answer to figure it out. John picked her up like a husband taking his wife across the threshold. He lifted her up over the bull, which was a good 4'-6" high at the shoulder.

Bulls aren't that big, but it had been placed on a pedestal so the people at the back of the bar could see. Anna blushed. With her dress unbuttoned so high, the buttoned part hardly covered her crotch.

By now she had the whole bar's attention. The band knew it was futile to go back on stage. Anna sat there, motionless. The man at the controls turned it on. First it just turned slowly. It didn't buck. It turned to show everybody a great shot of her legs. Her dress did almost nothing to cover her. The humiliated woman struggled to keep the front of her dress down. Her bronzed legs were wrapped around the bull to keep from falling. Those legs were magnificent. The toned, bronze skin glistened in the spotlights focused on her. The dark leather of the bull, the dark leather of her boots and the dark silk of the dress which was buttoned above her crotch framed her legs beautifully. John was tall enough to put his black Stetson on her.

The bull kept spinning; slowly. Anna struggled to stay on. It wasn't that the bull was going to throw her off. It was the humiliation she felt at being so exposed. "I know they can see" her mind screamed.

Slowly now, the operator pushed the "buck" knob ... He didn't do it quickly or extremely. He did it just to put her in different positions. As it spun in a circle, the front of the bull gradually lowered. Anna had to lean back to keep from sliding off. "Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God." Her mind screamed. "I know they can see." She told herself. She had her left hand in front of her on the bull. She had her right hand behind her on the bull's ass. It kept her from falling, but she struggled to keep her dress where it needed to be.

Now the operator slowly moved the front up. Anna had to lean forward; then back. Everything was in very slow motion, but the cumulative effect was to keep her dress riding up farther. By now the men were screaming. Most had left their seats. The men at the railing were blocking the view of the men in the back. Now everybody was at the railing, struggling to get a view.

Anna's heart was about to explode. The operator decided to call it quits. If he kept up, he would be having a riot. It was clear to everybody that she had no panties. When she arched her back to keep from sliding forward, it was clear she had no bra. Her long pink nipples were plain against the thin material that fit like a glove.

When the machine stopped, the place exploded in applause and cheering. John picked her up. The humiliated woman brought her legs together as quickly and gracefully as she could. There is no way to dismount a bull with dignity, but it was certainly erotic.

John set her down back on the floor. She struggled to get her dress down around her. He held her hand as he walked her back towards her table.

Her cell phone buzzed. Anna looked at it. "Sit with him if he asks." The message said. The offer was a foregone conclusion when they got back. Anna tried to smile as she agreed. It was almost impossible, knowing that these men had all seen her womanhood.

This time Santana used the Bluetooth. "There are not enough seats, so sit on his lap." He said. It was almost a coincidence, as John and his friends approached their table. He pulled out a chair for Anna as the other three men sat. Anna's face turned red as she struggled with the order. Instead of sitting as instructed, she stood and told John to sit. Anna struggled to comply with the orders over the Bluetooth.

She knew what was going to happen. She sat sideways across John's two thighs. At first she struggled to keep her hands over the two sides of the unbuttoned lower half of her dress. She did not want to hear the voice over the Bluetooth that she knew was coming. "Let go of the fucking dress" was almost instant as she sat. Instead of just dropping her grip of the fabric in her lap, she tried to maintain some form of dignity by grabbing John's beer on the table and handing it to him as an excuse to let go of the fabric.

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