Chapter 1: Not Again!

Oh god! Please! Not again!

Just like all the previous times, I awoke to find I’m already helpless. I still don’t know how many men there are or even if they’re always the same cruel men who raped me in the past. They’re holding my wrists and my ankles. I can’t move. I’m at their mercy, helpless ... hopeless.

I can’t scream for help or plead with them to leave me alone. A large, male hand is clamped over my mouth. Another is covering my eyes. The first couple of times I was convinced they intended to use me and then kill me. I’ve come to trust that at least when they leave in the morning I’ll still be alive, though based on the previous assaults I know I’ll be in incredible pain. As the assaults continue, however, I’m no longer totally convinced surviving is such a good thing.

I can hear them talking quietly in loud whispers, I assume the whispering is so I won’t be able to recognize any voices. They’re laughing and joking and talking about all the painful, humiliating, incredibly disgusting things they’re going to do to me. It’s obvious they want me to hear them to add to my torment. Soon they’ll put the wax earplugs in my ears. Until then they whisper loudly so I can’t tell anything about them from their voices. I can’t even tell if they’re black, white, brown or any other color of the rainbow, native or foreign. I still don’t have a single clue I can give to the police to help identify them if they were ever to be caught ... not that there’s snowball’s chance in hell they’ll ever be caught. They’re very thorough, very methodical in everything they do. But when it comes to making certain they’ve left nothing behind which the police might use to identify them they are particularly meticulous.

They’re not in a hurry. They have all night and if the past is any indication they’ll no doubt use it. This is the fourth time I’ve been snatched from a deep sleep to find these cruel men restraining me. On each of the three previous occasions the men raped me continuously, all night long. They don’t leave until just before dawn. They always come on a Friday night, I assume so I have time to recover before I have to pull myself together and go to work. These men are going to spend most of the next seven hours raping me, humiliating me, degrading me. Every one of my major orifices will be in agony long before they finally leave.

For the moment they just hold me down and toy with me. I think they’re just giving me time to wake up so I can truly suffer from all the terrible, humiliating things they’re going to do to me.

I try to calm down. I strain my ears to listen to them. Even if I can’t recognize a voice, at the very least I can get a pretty good idea what they plan to do with me. But that’s silly. I know what they’re going to do to me. This is the fourth time I’ve been dragged from a deep sleep by these men in this same exact manner.

There are at least seven of them but it could be more. They’ll replace the hand over my eyes with a blindfold soon. I never see them. I suppose for my own safety it’s better that way. If I saw them they might feel they have to do something to protect their identity. As horrible as these endless rapes may be, as hopeless as my situation is, I suppose I don’t really want to die. I just want it to end.

WHY ME!! I ponder that same mystery every time they attack me.

Do they know me or was I chosen at random? Did someone follow me home one evening or did they already know where I live? More importantly, though, how can I put an end to this?! I called the police the first two times after these men finally left my apartment just before the sun rose. It did no good. Their investigation only added to the humiliation I experienced. They asked the most horrible and embarrassing questions about my personal life. One of the detectives even asked about my fantasies as if I might somehow be complicit in this! They scoured my apartment for fingerprints and they found quite a few which weren’t mine. But none of them matched any prints they have on file.

My attackers don’t seem to have a routine when they rape me. They don’t always do the same things in the same order. But they always do the same horrible things to me at some point during each attack. Every time they attack me every one of the major openings in my body and several of the smaller ones have been subjected to their abuse all night long. I’m always raped repeatedly in each of my three major orifices by all the men. After they rape my mouth, anus and vagina until I assume they can’t get any more erections they almost always cover my face and much of my body with spit, an act made all the more disgusting by the ring gag which is always holding my mouth open. Then they put me in the shower and two or three at a time they hose me down with piss. Even through the ear plugs I can hear them laughing and joking as they use the ring gag they always place in my mouth when they first arrive as a target for the globs of spit and then their hot, disgusting streams of urine.

My attackers always clean my entire body thoroughly before they leave in the morning. Every opening is carefully cleaned before they finally leave. They brush my teeth and rinse out my mouth. They bring premixed douches and enemas with them and subject me to the further humiliation of several of each before putting me in the shower and carefully washing every square inch of my body, even my ears and nostrils into which various bodily fluids have also been deposited. By the time the men are spent and totally unable to achieve another erection I have been inundated by every liquid a male body is able to produce in every orifice to be found on a female body.

Before they leave in the morning they put my sheets, any towels they’ve used, my sleep shirt and panties and any other cloth items they might have come into contact with while they were here into the washer and turn it on. They clean my bathroom thoroughly with bleach. They don’t seem to be concerned about fingerprints but no DNA evidence has been found.

When reporting it to the police did no good I finally had no choice but to move. After the second night-long assault which took place four weeks after the first, I moved to a different apartment in the same complex.

Neither the police detectives nor the apartment manager are able to tell me how the men are entering my apartment. I never fail to lock my doors and I never unlock the windows except in the early spring before pollen becomes a problem. If I do open a window to get a little cool, fresh air I always close and lock it before I go to bed.

I always secure my door with the chain and deadbolt. Neither is ever damaged after the men leave. I’ve checked. The police have checked and the apartment manager even called in a locksmith after the second assault. No one knows how the men get in.

The police haven’t come right out and said so but I’m beginning to get the impression they think I’m letting the men in, or at the very least I’m not as careful about locking my doors and windows as I claim. There’s more than enough medical evidence to indicate I have, indeed been gang raped. But that same evidence might indicate nothing more than a night of violent sex with multiple partners. For all they know I might be one of those needy, warped women who is into that sort of thing. And they’re starting to wonder if that isn’t the case. I see it on their faces whenever I speak to any of the detectives now. That’s a rare occurrence, though. They have no evidence, no way to identify my attackers. They’ve obviously given up but I understand. My rapists might as well be ghosts for all the evidence they leave behind.

The first two times they came into my apartment and raped me they pulled off my sleep shirt and panties and my arms and legs were fastened to the legs of my bed. The third time, after they blindfolded me and placed that awful ring in my teeth, they carried me out to my living room. They stripped me there and then tied my arms behind my back, wrapping them in rope from my wrists to above my elbows.

The first two times were horrible beyond belief. They raped me constantly all night long. But the third time was so much worse. It’s always painful, especially the anal sex, something I never tried in my very few previous encounters and never thought I would. And it’s always degrading. But the third time they attacked me was far and away the most painful. I don’t know why they did it. Maybe they were punishing me for moving. Each time they attacked me I realized as soon as I woke up and became aware it was happening again I couldn’t defend myself. As soon as I realized they’re back and I’m helpless I surrendered. I didn’t want to do anything to piss them off and make things worse so I can’t explain why they were so cruel on their third visit. I spent nearly half the night lying on the floor on my back with my arms under me wrapped in heavy rope while large, heavy men were lying on top of me, raping me violently. It was without a doubt the most painful experience of my life.

After the third all night assault I was almost a basket case. A couple of friends helped me find a new apartment and with their help I moved immediately. I refused to spend another night in the apartment complex where all the security in the world can’t seem to protect me from gang rape after gang rape.

Moving didn’t help. Somehow the men who are doing this knew my new address and apparently they knew about the expensive new locks I paid to have installed. The new locks obviously didn’t faze them. They came back not quite six weeks later for the fourth time. It was a shock when I was dragged from a deep sleep and realized they had found me. It was a double shock because it wasn’t a Friday night. They always come on a Friday night!

I awoke that night just as I always do, with my arms and legs being held securely by strong men and my mouth and eyes covered. As one of the men slid that blindfold they always use over my eyes he whispered in my ear, “You can move every week if you think it will help. You can move every day. But you can’t get away from us. You belong to us now. Your mouth, your cunt, your tight little ass. Every opening in your sexy little body is ours to use in any way which amuses us.”

I’m almost to the point where I have to accept what he said as a statement of fact. How can I not? They always find me. They enter my apartment with apparent ease in spite of every precaution I take. The police can’t stop them. No one can stop them.

If I accept that premise I’m left to wonder, how long will this go on? Will they continue to rape me until I crack and end up finding some way to end it all? That was the night I gave up. I surrendered to the inevitable. And it went on and on. They returned and raped me all night long every four to six weeks until it had gone on for ten long months.

That night, as they were preparing me to be raped again and I was wondering if this would go on until I die, as if reading my mind, the man who placed the blindfold over my eyes and is now working that horrible rubber coated ring between my teeth which makes it impossible for me to close my mouth whispered, “It won’t be much longer, cunt.”

My heart nearly stopped beating for a moment. Did he mean that?! Are they going to leave me alone after this?! Or are they going to kill me? I reached the point long ago where either ending is acceptable.

But he dashed my hopes. He kissed my ear lobe as if we were lovers and whispered, “Soon this will all be unnecessary. Soon we’ll be able to come to your door, knock, and you’ll let us in. We’ll be able to call you and order you to dress in a certain way and go to a certain place and do everything you’re told when you get there.

“I know. You find that impossible to believe. You aren’t that kind of girl. But you are. You aren’t the first young cunt we’ve done this to. You aren’t even the twenty-first.”

He finished fastening the strap around my head, the strap holding the ring in place so they have total access to my mouth. His large, warm, wet tongue lapped at my cheek like a big fucking dog and I shuddered in revulsion. I tried to turn my head away but he’s holding a large handful of my hair in his fist. He chuckled at my futile attempt to avoid his tongue, kissed my cheek and then spit in my mouth several times before releasing my hair and standing up. I’m helpless to do anything but lie here and let him, let all seven of them, degrade me and rape me violently, hour after long, unbearable hour until my entire body is in agony.

The men holding my legs let go. I didn’t move. I know I can’t fight them. Whenever I try they only hurt me more. The two men holding my wrists pulled me to my feet. My sleep shirt and my panties were roughly removed and tossed aside. They didn’t use ropes to secure me this time. They buckled thick leather straps to my upper thighs. Heavy leather wrist cuffs are hanging from them by short chains. They fastened those to my wrists and once more I’m helpless. But in a way I was almost grateful for the cuffs. I suffered a lot of pain the time they came and used rope to bind my arms together. And when they put me down on my back and subjected me to rape after violent rape, it was all the more painful because my arms were under me for hours that night. My arms were under me and for god only knows how many hours there was never more than a minute or two when one of them wasn’t on top of me slamming his large cock into my pussy, lifting my legs and raping my ass or sitting on my tits and fucking my mouth. I know from experience I’m going to suffer a great deal of pain and humiliation tonight. I always do. But at least my own arms won’t add to my discomfort. I’ll never forget that night.

They dragged me out of my bedroom and down the short hallway to the living room. At first I thought they were going to skip the earplugs this time. But when we entered the living room someone started to speak in his normal voice. The man leading me cut him off and exclaimed in a loud whisper, “Shit!! Wait damn it!!”

A moment later he forced the wax earplugs into my ears and the assaults began. I don’t know if I was being punished for moving to a new apartment or if the difference was just a natural progression. But things got really nasty that night. The bastards always made it nasty. I sucked a lot of cocks clean after they raped me. That’s always disgusting but they always make me do it when they rape my ass, too. That’s so much worse. Some of them made me do that from the very first night they attacked me. But this night it was almost every time. And there’s always a lot of spitting, something I seem to find particularly disgusting even though they always do other things that are worse. For some reason being spit on ... I don’t know. It isn’t even sexual. It’s just sick. I can’t explain it.

In the past, the piss games didn’t start until they were worn out and finished fucking me for the night. But they started early on this night and they did it differently. In the past, they just laid me down in the shower or the tub and pissed all over me, including in my mouth which I couldn’t close because of the ring gag. But this night I doubt if an hour had passed before they took me into the bathroom, forced me to my knees in the tub and one of them shoved his cock in my mouth. He got a firm grip on my head, forced the head of his cock into my throat and started pissing. The son of a bitch emptied his bladder in my stomach! Before he pulled his cock out of my throat one of the other men pulled the ear plug out of one ear and whispered, “If you puke that up you’ll end up cleaning the tub with your tongue so I’d advise you to exercise a little self-control. Because we aren’t leaving here tonight until you’ve swallowed all the piss we can produce.”

I moaned in terror and disbelief. I’m sure I can’t do what they’re demanding of me. My stomach isn’t that big!! When the second man finally pulled his cock out of my throat I tried to reason with them but even I couldn’t understand what I was saying with that damn ring gag in my mouth.

I don’t know how I managed to hold all that awful liquid in my stomach. I did learn I was right about how many men are doing this to me. Or at least I know seven men pissed down my throat that night. Thankfully, it was a short night for some reason. They all fucked me one more time. They took out the earplugs and I heard them getting ready to leave after that. One of them began removing the ring gag. As he unfastened the strap and removed it he whispered, “If you make a single sound when I remove this I’ll put it back in and we’re going to hang around and play more games until the day after tomorrow. Is that clear?”

I nodded my head vigorously and stood there as meek as a mouse.

They took me back into the bathroom and made me vomit into the toilet. I assumed they want to make certain they don’t leave any DNA behind. I was subjected to the humiliating douches and enemas, bathed, and my mouth was thoroughly cleaned as usual.

We went through their normal departure routine. One of the men tied my wrists behind my back loosely, led me to my bedroom and shoved me into my closet, taking the blindfold from my eyes and slamming the door before I could have seen him. I thought at first they must just be teasing me. They must just be getting my hopes up so they can have the pleasure of dashing them. But the men were all gone by the time I worked my hands free and got out of the closet. I glanced at the clock. I knew they were leaving early but even so I was surprised to see they had only been here for four hours. Four long, disgusting, humiliating, extremely painful hours.

Even though I realize it does me no good I managed to lock my doors again before I broke down and cried hysterically for nearly an hour. My situation is hopeless. The police can’t stop them. Expensive locks can’t stop them. If I move they find me. And my mind keeps replaying the things that terrible man whispered in my ear before he put the earplugs in. They do this to a lot of women. They break us and turn us into ... I don’t know, sex slaves? Prostitutes? But how?!! I know they aren’t ghosts. How in the hell do they get in here? And why are they doing this to me? Are they somehow making money from this or is it just a game, a sport? It just doesn’t make sense!

My mind was just spinning in circles making me dizzy. All those questions and I can’t answer any of them. And it’s two o’clock in the morning. I have to leave for work in five hours. I went to the kitchen, poured a glass of wine and took it to bed. I thought I might calm down if I read for a little while and sipped on the wine but I couldn’t concentrate on my book. I ended up sitting up in bed sipping wine and trying to solve the unsolvable mystery my life has become.