Lynsey's Game free porn video

LYNSEY'S GAME

Lynsey was bored one night, which isn't the best reason for your life to changecompletely. But then, she didn't realize how far it would go or how much shewould lose.

Lynsey was a pretty ordinary young woman, in her twenties. Her parents hadspent a lot of money educating her, so she'd gone to University, learned amarketable skill, and then, well lubricated by family money and family contacts,she'd slid right into a well paying career. Nothing too extraordinary, butcomfortable.

Physically, Lynsey was a stunner. A natural blonde, she had long legs anda round ass that had become J Lo fashionable just as it was developing. Herbreasts were high and firm, not as large as she'd have liked, but suitableenough. Once in a while, she thought of breast implants, but never too seriously.She was satisfied with herself. Sex, like the rest of her life, had come easilyand well lubricated, easy penetrations by lithe young boys, never wild or outof control.

Perhaps, it was because her life had been so smooth that she harboured a secretlittle hunger. She was a girl that nothing bad had ever happened to, and onsome level, she didn't believe that it ever could. The world was greased forher to slide through with a minimum of bother and inconvenience, anything shewanted was hers for the asking.

So, deep down, she fantasized about rough sex. On the Vancouver skytrain,she learned, at certain hours and certain stations, she'd catch the tired wornstrippers and whores riding to or from work. Exhausted worn women, with theirsmudged make up and too bright lipstick, slouching in their ?fuck me' outfits.Sometimes sitting legs akimbo, so anyone could see up their thighs, and theycouldn't care less. Every now and then, some weary slut would finish the nighttoo dragged out to wipe, and Lynsey would catch the pearly gleam of semen ona thigh or a blouse. To say this turned her on wasn't quite right, rather,it heated her, raised her temperature, fascinated her with its consequencesand implications. These slags and skanks were fucked out, and it wasn't thegentle touches of her polished lovers, it was industrial fucking, hard fucking,real cocks from hard, cruel men.

She could imagine them on their knees, bent over tables, spread out on beds,on all fours on the floor, taking it from a variety of brutal men. That madeher wet. Oh, yes it did.

She liked to watch the men too, but more carefully. Hard men with tattoosand prison muscles, black gangsters, grizzled street people, vicious teensand middle aged hustlers. She never invited conversation, and if they spoketo her, she shut it down. But she loved their sidelong glimpses and the thoughtof men like these putting their hard meat to the degenerate skanks.

She just never thought she'd be one of them.

That was certainly never in her fantasies. When she masturbated, it was neverher writhing under black or white thugs, but the worn out, ruined girls whorode the skytrain. Girls who dressed to be fucked (and she'd never dress likethat) deserved to be fucked, needed that fucking.

And if once in a while, when her dildo was deep inside, and the vibrator onher clit, if it was her face and body in skank outfits, bent over and on allfours to some gangbanger... Well, that was just fantasy. She was far too fastidiousto do these things, or even to contemplate doing these things.

So, what fucked her life?

The internet. On the internet, she one day, discovered skank sites and slutsites, places where worn out whores gained a few dollars selling their pictures.From there, she discovered story sites, which fed her wicked fantasies. Evenchatrooms, especially chatrooms, her undoing.

So, one night, Lynsey was in an internet chatroom, masturbating slowly, playingwith the men. There were other women there, but Lynsey was never sure if theywere real women. Some, she thought, were, some she was sure, weren't. She didn'tcare about them. She loved chatting with the men, encouraging their brutalfantasies, nothing too violent, just degradation and possession.

?What are you wearing,? one of the regulars, Mkay asked her.

?A bustier, garter belt and nipple clamps,? she typed back. Actually, shewas just wearing a robe and fuzzy slippers.

?Bullshit,? Mkay said. That offended her.

?Fuck you then,? she typed.

?I'd love to get my hands on you for real,? he typed. She smiled. It was goingto spin into some nasty little fantasy scene, a little force, a little rape,some bondage, and she'd have a nice little orgasm for his efforts. She'd typejust the minimum to keep him going, maybe guide him a little bit.

But in the end, for all the violence in his words, it would be as smooth andeffortless and inconvenience free as her sex always was. Satisfaction guaranteed,minimal effort required.

?I think we'd all love to get our hands on you Lynsey,? Mike wrote. ?How abouta real life chance??

?What,? she typed amused, ?you want a meeting? I'll think about it.?

?Yeah right,? Mike typed.

Then she had a little idea, a delicious little idea, an idea that sent a littlesurge of wetness down her lips. An idea that ultimately meant that everythingthat happened was her own doing, not that it really mattered in the end.

?Tell you what,? Linsey wrote. ?We'll play a game. I'll give you a clue, andif you can find me, you can have me.?

?One lousy clue??

?Clues,? she amended. ?Every time I'm on, I'll deliver a few more clues. Watchfor clues, put them together, find me and.....?

?And what??

?Rape me. I'm the prize. If you can track me down, you can rape me, blow yourload, whatever. You own my body.?

?You want to be raped?? Mkay asked skeptically.

?Yes,? Linsey typed, her pussy suddenly on fire, her cunt clenching, wetterthan she'd ever been. Her heart was pounding. ?I want to be raped.?

She caught herself, ?but I don't want to make it easy, so if you want me,you have to work for it. So are you up for the game??

?Can I play too?? Another guy, Jerry, typed.

?Anyone can play,? she said. Another shiver went through her. It was reallife that excited her. Oh not that there was one chance in a million, or tenmillion. Hell, if she thought someone might really nail her, she'd have gottenoff the computer right then. But still, there was the possibility, a real possibility,so faint and illusive that it was almost nonexistent, but just there enoughto spark her clit. To make her shiver and squirm.

?Yeah, bullshit clues, we'll never find you.?

?No, I promise. I'll only do real clues.?

?Yeah,? Mike challenged, ?what are you wearing right now? No bullshit.?

Bite the bullet time.

?A terrycloth bathrobe and bunny slippers,? she typed.

?Fuck,? Mkay wrote. ?No garter belt??

?I don't even own one.?

?I'll play,? Mike typed. ?For my clues, I want you to answer a few questions.?

?Sometimes I'll answer questions, sometimes I'll give you things, but I won'tmake it too easy.?

?Where do you live??

Lynsey burst out laughing.

?I won't make it too easy by giving you an address,? she wrote. ?But I livein Vancouver.?

?Height??

?Five feet, seven inches.?

?Weight??

?115 pounds.?

?Hair??

?Honey blonde, shoulder length, bangs in front.?

?The hunt is on.? Someone typed.

And reading that, Lynsey's fingers slammed into her cunt, pulling her lipswide, fingering her clit to an explosive, thrilling, delicious orgasm.

She signed off without explanation, as she usually did, and went to watchTV.

Little did she know, the Mike also lived in Vancouver, as did three or fourother men who frequented that chatroom from time to time. She might have knownif she'd checked the member logins, but that was her mistake.

* * * * * * * *

Mike stared at the screen, stroking his erection. The bitch had signed offagain. That didn't surprise him, he'd come to expect it. The minute the bitchcame, she was gone. It didn't matter to her whether her cyberpartner came whichwas bad enough. But worse in his view, she had no respect for the mechanicsof a good well structured fantasy. Mike considered himself an artist, and afterhis first few encounters with Lynsey, he just didn't bother. Not that she evernoticed his indifference.

So, he wondered, was this for real? He doubted it, the self absorbed bitchwould never really put herself at risk. There wasn't one chance in a thousand.But even one chance in a thousand....?

It could be a hell of a game, he decided. Abruptly, he created a new databasedirectory, named it Linsey, and dumped all the ?clues' in there. Then he instituteda file function to record her visits to the chat room and everything she said.Then he emailed a few of his internet friends in Vancouver to let them knowabout this fascinating little game....

A thousand to one shot? Worth buying a ticket to take the bitch down....

* * * * * * * * *

Lynsey found herself flying through the day. She skipped at work, riding theskytrain she couldn't help glancing around, wondering if one of those facesbelonged to the someone from her chatroom. Ridiculous and infinitely improbable,but exciting nevertheless. Why, she might be stalked even now!

Okay, that couldn't possibly happen, not with the bullshit handful of cluesshe'd given. There must be 50,000 girls in Vancouver with her height and buildand hair colour, and there was no way that any contact would be anything buttotally accidental.

But still.... She kept thinking back to that internet chat, to the game, andshe'd find herself getting wet.

When Lynsey got home, she couldn't wait to masturbate, bring herself to arich satisfying orgasm. Later, as the evening wore on, the tingle began. Shesigned into the chatroom. Mike was there, revelling in the game, she flirtedand dropped a few more clues. And came again.

* * * * * * * * * *

Most internet games wore off, their themes tired, and Lynsey got bored. Butthis one got more exciting each time she played. It was now a customary ritual,she would sign on, chat, flirt, cyber or role play, but somewhere along theline, she would drop another clue or two. Usually real ones, it was betterthat way. A few fake ones, because, after all, she wasn't stupid.

And real clues mostly. She was always careful not to give away anything critical.It would be a restaurant she'd eaten in, or perhaps a favourite brand of coffee,or a description of an article of clothing. But with each, there was the senseof giving away a little piece of herself, there was a little revelation, asurrender that might somehow be her undoing. Perhaps they knew that restaurant,or staked it out? Perhaps they would spot her in that article of clothing?You never know. It was risky, and the risk drove her insane.

Sometimes, giving away a particular clue, she would be so overcome by theidea of surrender, the idea that this might be her undoing, that she wouldcome in a splashing, shuddering orgasm.

And she came. Linsey was having the best orgasms of her life. It was a nasty,vile, vicious game, and she loved it.

It seemed to put her in a state of permanent arousal, it made her more richlyaware of herself, of the possibilities. The idea that she might be under surveillance,might be stalked, that any minute some rough man might grab her and drag herinto an alley, made her stomach flutter and her nipples hard. Once or twice,in the middle of the day, she even had to sneak in to some bathroom and quicklymasturbate.

* * * * * * * * *

?So,? Mike typed. ?The restaurant is bullshit.?

He typed into a very select chatroom, to a very select group of friends. Theywere the Linsey project, and there were six of them.

A few he'd known from real life before. After all, guys with identical interests,the same sorts of nasty, misogynous tastes in women, it was nice to go to astrip club, tip a beer and fuck with some desperate stripper.

They were an eclectic group. A black steelworker, a computer nerd, a mechanicand so on.... Truly they didn't have a lot in common besides a love for degradingand debasing women. So they didn't hang out much. But once in a while, theymight get together, one or two, here or there, and share an activity... Likeabusing some crack whore. So they trusted each other.

Mike had introduced some real time friends to the chatroom. A few others hadcome along. The group worked itself out.

The Lynsey project united them, it galvanized them, giving them a sense ofpurpose. They were going to hunt the bitch.

?Yeah,? Jack typed. ?But it's Italian, and she's expressed a preference forItalian food a few times. And there is an Italian restaurant three blocks awayfrom her bullshit location.?

?Hmmm,? Zacc said, ?we should put that one in the maybe category.?

They were building up an elaborate profile of her. They had, by this time,a very detailed description of her appearance, not quite enough for a policesketch artist, but getting better all the time. Parts of it were not immediatelyuseful, for instance they knew what her nipples looked like. But who knew whenthat would come in handy. They had descriptions of several sets of earings,and of numerous articles of her clothing.

?Gonna put rings through them nipples,? Jack told them. ?Gonna put heavy assrings, maybe 4 gage, gonna braze them so they can't be taken off, make themso big you see them poking through her bra. If we let her wear one.?

They knew her birthday, three digits of her social insurance number, and fourdigits from her Mastercard. They knew two banks she wasn't dealing with, anda dozen restaurants where she'd been, what days she had done her shopping,and her favourite dry cleaning chain. They even knew several areas where sheoccasionally went to shop or relax.

It built up steadily. Sometimes, when one of them had a day off, he'd spendit hanging out, frequenting some area where they believed she hung out. Therewas a slim chance she might be passing through on that day. They even had asearch methodology. Find a traffic point where everyone had to pass through,find someplace comfortable and wait and watch. A few times, they even carrieda digital camera, trying to build up a database of possibles, that could becompared, sifted, and used to determine if there was a recurring face...

Of course, you would see a lot of ?maybe' girls. Never anyone quite perfect,of course. Always a little short, a little tall, a little heavy, the earingsnot quite as described, an article of clothing close but not quite. But youcould watch one go by and just imagine it was the bitch, and your cock wouldget hard as a rock. Sometime, if she was really close to the description, theymight follow, ambling along behind her for a few minutes, trying to get a betterlook.

Once or twice, Lynsey thought someone might be following her. But of course,it was just her imagination. Still, the feeling would leave her drenched, cuntclenching, just aching to masturbate to an increasingly intense orgasm, fantasizingthat she really was followed and what they had planned to do to her.

* * * * * * * * * *

?Which garter belt are you wearing,? Mike typed.

?The red one,? she responded. Lynsey really did have garter belts now, andshe was wearing one to command.

The game, of course, had evolved, as games always do. When the intensity hadlagged, although never by much, with clues, it had gained a little more edgewith suggestions. Minor suggestions, wear a particular set of earings today.How about this jacket? That lipstick?

It excited Lynsey to obey. It was mostly innocuous. No one would look twiceat her if she happened to be wearing her black bolero jacket. Except that someonehad told her to do so. Someone who was outside somewhere and might somehow,possibly, maybe glimpse her in it. It upped the risk level just a tiny bit,and the effect on her was orgasmic, paralyzing, thrilling.

She loved it. And so, the requests, finding compliance, became a little bolder.Buy a particular brand of moist, wet looking lipstick. It didn't suit her,but she bought it. How about a velour miniskirt? Why not, she thought, tryingone on, it made her ass look good. Of course, she never took a real chance,if she was shopping an item to order, she always made sure to go to some outof the way place and never went there twice.

It was when she was in front of the computer screen that the sexual intensitywas hottest, that she got the wettest. And it was in front of the computerscreen that the requests first evolved into commands. Little instructions fordress up, and then undress, to put on lipstick or make up. They couldn't knowwhether she had the lipstick on or not, but it pleased her, excited her, todo it anyway. They couldn't know she was obeying, but that wasn't important,she knew. The game made her shiver.

Ordered to buy a bustier, she bought one and wore it before the screen. Thena garter belt, and another, and another. Stockings and stay ups followed, charcoal,fishnets, cream. She shaved her pussy for the silent masters on the other sideof the screen, her shimmering smoothness making her unbelievably wet. She worelingerie for them, put it on or took it off on command, spread her legs.

And came and came and came.

Excited, boldened, she confessed little fantasies, revealed her fascinationwith slutware. So of course, they commanded, describing slutty outfits, ordering,sending her searching. Linsey would dress the part for her computer screen,making herself look like a cheap whore, even putting runs in stockings, sloppilyapplying make up... And then spreading her legs and letting her cyberpartnerspush her to splendid orgasm.

She was, without realizing it becoming a slave. She was, only vaguely realizingit, addicted.

And when she got breast implants, she even mostly believed it was her idea.

But of course, she was always careful never to give away too much. It wasone thing to dress in slutware, to spread and whimper and beg in front of thecomputer screen.

But some suggestions/orders went unanswered. She didn't go to a peep showon Granville, to the third booth, where a glory hole waited, and so never suckeda cock, was never spotted, photographed, sorted and identified. She didn'tgo to specific lingerie shops for specific items. She never got her nipplespierced, despite numerous demands, and numerous assents. And, once in a while,she'd lie about what she was wearing, or what she was going out in, just tothrow it off, although in those moments, she'd tell herself that she was justbored with the game and who cares anyway.

So, although they were steadily closing in on her, she remained safe and oblivious.For the time being.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Her undoing came on a Saturday morning. She signed on to her chat, to seeif anyone was there. Mike was.

?Hey slut,? he greeted her.

?Hey.?

?What are you doing today??

?Shopping, I think.?

?Cool. What are you wearing right now??

?Nothing.? Which was true.

?Shall I dress you??

Linsey got wet.

?Sure.?

?Black garter belt.?

A moments pause, she returned wearing it loosely tugged around her waist.No stockings, she'd learned to wait to be told what stockings.

?Fishnet stockings.?

?What kind??

?The large ones.?

She complied, and sat spreading her legs.

?Okay.?

?Now....? Mike thought a second, ?I want you to wear this to go shopping today.?

Lynsey felt her heart race. She was suddenly fully wet, her nipples hardened.She licked her lips.

?Okay,? she lied. She'd wear any kind of shit in front of the computer screen,but she was a lot more careful out of doors. It wasn't that she really thoughtthey'd spot her, she just didn't like looking too much like a slut.

Mike paused, trying to gauge her. Deep down, beneath all her clues and fantasies,he knew she was chickenshit. She might say or do anything on line, and he mostlybelieved her when she told them about her lingerie. But to slut out in public?No, she might be pushed a little there, but not too far, not yet.

?The red knit dress,? he ordered.

Lynsey was surprised. It wasn't nearly as slutty as she had been expecting,or hoping.

The red knit dress was a party dress, it looked good on her, clinging to thecurves of her body, showing cleavage, but not too much, moderately short, butnot as short as her miniskirts. It was just vaguely, juicily slutty. It wasthe sort of dress a woman wore to show she was fire in bed, though not necessarilyfor anyone.

?Is that really what you want?? She asked.

?I want you walking around shopping in this,? he said, ?red dress and fishnets,like a whore taking time off.?

The idea sent shivers up her spine and thrills down her cunt. Not that she'ddo it, but she could actually visualize herself doing it. It was.... Possible.

She went to put on the dress.

?High heels, for shopping,? was waiting for her, ?those ankle boots.?

?No panties.?

?No bra.?

?Cherry lipstick.?

?Eye liner.?

?Now sit at the edge of the chair, hike the dress up your thighs and spreadyour legs.... Do you have the dildo... Take it and lick it.....?

Fifteen minutes later, she came and as usual, signed off the net. On the otherside, Mike cursed. Then he got on the phone. This was too good. According totheir database, there were four areas where Lynsey usually shopped. It wasa Saturday morning, she was within her patterns.

There were six of them to stake out the four areas. Jesus, this might be it.If she wore even part of the outfit, hell, even if she didn't wear, there wasstill a chance they might spot her....

Lynsey busied herself around her apartment, doing some tidying up, takingcare of a few things. She slipped out of the boots, but continued to wear thedress and stockings. They weren't uncomfortable or outrageous, especially aroundthe apartment. It made her feel sexy.

After half an hour, she found herself getting wet. After forty five minutes,she was seriously considering going online. But if Mike was there, he wouldprobably be pissy about her signing off. She chewed her lip. There would probablybe someone to play with her.... But if she stayed on the net all day, she wouldn'tget any shopping done.

Abruptly, she decided. Why not? Take a step? Wear this outfit outdoors? Thered dress, she decided, wasn't really that bad. More a party dress, but really,not all that bad for shopping. She might turn a few heads, but she didn't looklike a whore. The stiletto ankle boots she wore outdoors half the time anyway.So what did it really come down to? The stockings, that was all. Her heartpounded. Why not? No panties or bra? Who would know?

Do it.

She was wet, suddenly.

Do it.

She pulled the dress up to her crotch, fingered her wet cunt.

Why not?

Do it?

Do it.

Yes.

Humming, brimming with excitement, almost floating with sexual tension, sheleft the apartment.

* * * * * * * * *

Ian had been sitting at the skytrain gate to Metrotown reading the same damnednewspaper for four hours. He was fucking bored.

All the things he could be doing today, instead, he was here wasting his timeon the off chance that some blonde bitch might be passing by. What are theodds, he told himself, one in a thousand.

Of all the borderline rapists and woman beaters of the Lynsey project, hewas the most skeptical. Sure, there was a certain fun to it, a certain excitement.But he wasn't sure if he truly expected to find her, or what they'd do withher if they did. Sure as shit, it wasn't going to be today.

But Mike, fucking Mike, had one of his wild inspirations. So everyone elsehad signed on to waste their day. Which meant Ian had to go along.

So he sat there, reading the same fucking newspaper articles over and overagain, scanning over every trainload of incoming passengers as they debarkedon the platform and alternately fantasizing about raping the bitch and punchingout Mike.

Another train....

Ian glanced out. That fucking Mike, he swore to himself. He glanced up....

A tall blonde, maybe 5'7" without her heels, paused on the platform.She had long legs wrapped in large fishnets, every man that passed glancedat those legs, and a formfitting red knit dress which exposed healthy cleavage.By the way her nipples pushed at the dress, there was no bra. It hugged soclose he could see the telltale ridge at her hip that people might take forpanties, but he knew was a garter belt. She licked glossy lips, an unconsciousgesture that brought his cock hammering to painful erection in his pants.

It was her! Holy shit, it was the bitch!!! After all this time, Ian couldn'tbelieve it. There she was standing there like a wet dream. Ian almost lostit, almost gave himself away. Her gaze swept over him, indifferent, didn'tlinger. A part of him wanted to jump, run up, grab her by the hair, slap herface, force her to kneel and then shove his hard cock between those glossylips. With a massive effort of will, he restrained himself. All those fuckingpromises, oh she never thought she'd have to come through, and she'd probablytry to weasel out....

The plan. Play it cool. Ian controlled himself. Reaching down for the digitalcamera concealed by his newspaper, he snapped off a series of shots. He couldn'taim properly, all he could do was point and click while trying to look invisible.She never noticed. She proceeded down the stairs He dared to lift the camerato catch some shots of her backside descending the stairs. What a fucking ass!He thought of the sound she'd make as he shoved his cock between those lusciouscheeks into a dry, unlubricated, squirming anus, the squeals of violation,and he almost came in his pants.

The minute she was out of sight, he grabbed for his cell phone.

?Mike, you bastard! She's here, dressed exactly the way you said, fuckingexactly. She's coming your way, get into place!?

Only then did he lay the newspaper over his lap so he could unobtrusivelystroke his erection, and lift up the camera screen to see what his pictureshad captured of her.

* * * * * * * * * *

Lynsey wandered through the Metrotown mall complex, not hurrying. She wasmostly just window shopping, she didn't need to buy anything in particular.She smiled to herself, her outfit attracted a lot of attention, she was veryconscious of being window shopped herself. It was harmless attention though,perhaps a little exciting to think of her future rapist (Rapists? Nah) as oneof the watchers, but really that was bullshit. Still, she could feel male gazeslike pinpricks that gave her goosebumps, caught glances sliding off her likeoil. It made her nipples hard, it made her pleasantly wet down there. She fuckingloved it.

So she drifted through, window shopping here and there, and letting herselfbe window shopped. She would, she decided, have to do this again. Maybe evena little more daring next time...

* * * * * * * * * * *

She passed by Jack close enough that he could have reached out and squeezedher nipples. He could barely restrain himself from glancing into her cleavage.He could tell she noticed his quickly averted look, he caught her half smile,watched as she forgot about him almost instantly. His heart pounding, his cockpushing against his pants, he turned away. It was okay, up ahead, he knew Mikewas waiting, he'd seen him.

They were shadowing her carefully, doing it professionally. First one, thenthe other, sometimes ahead of her, sometimes behind, so she never realizedthat she was being stalked. And in the meantime, the others were closing in.Mike had called the rest off from their vigils, Jack was the first to arrive.

Up ahead, she stopped and chatted and laughed as a couple of giggling teenagerspointed their camcorder at her. She piroueted and then wiggled her ass fortheir camera, and then wandered off in Mike's direction as the teenagers foundsomeone else to point the camera at. Mike had paid the teenagers a hundreddollars and loaned them the camcorder for the express purpose of getting heron video without her fully realizing who and why. Now, in a few minutes, he'dhave to retrieve it for Mike.

His cell phone rang. ?What's next?? Zacc's voice called. It was time to planthe next steps....

* * * * * * * *

Lynsey never suspected that the man sitting on the skytrain as she departedMetrotown was watching her. In fact, if she noticed him at all, it was because,alone of the men in the skytrain cabin, he never glanced at her. She crossedher legs to draw his attention, slid one hand down a fishnet clad thigh. Heglanced towards her, then back to the window. Satisfied, she forgot about him.

Peter marked the station she got off at, and then, exceeding the agreed plan,he got off to follow her. He trailed her down two streets until the crowd thinnedout, and then ducked into a Subway Shoppe. His regret was almost physical,but they couldn't set up a proper tail for this leg... Next time.

At least he had some great digital shots of her legs. Their long length wrappedin fishnet, the slivers of garter belt and bare skin around the stocking ashe dress had ridden up before being unconsciously pushed back down. Maybe evena glimpse of pussy as she'd sat down, that would be too lucky... Maybe. Heflipped open his cell phone, ?Target is lost,? he announced.

?Roger,? the voice replied. ?We'll pick her up again. Come on in, its timeto celebrate.?

* * * * * * * * * *

Upon her return home, Lynsey found the chatroom curiously bland. Still, shewas keyed up and excited from her experience. She dropped a handful of worthless,mostly false, clues, and reached a satisfying orgasm.

Meanwhile, her chatroom ?masters' had gathered in a restaurant, a real restaurantto celebrate.

?Fucking A, Mike,? Ian crowed, ?Fucking A, we tracked her. You're the man!?

A champagne bottle popped, and soon they were all toasting him. Digital camerascirculated around the table as they compared their shots. There were 122 shotsthat had Lynsey in them, another 40 that were spoiled, and a precious minuteof videotape. Many of the shots were junk, or of her backside, which wasn'tbad because she had a clearly fuckable ass. There were a few standout shots,of her breasts, of her face and profile, and one very provocative shot givingthe most tantalizing glimpse of her pussy.

?Gentlemen,? Mike announced finally, ?We've made a breakthrough, that's true.And I'm glad we didn't screw it up. I would have loved to take that bitch'sass myself, but we all held on and showed restraint. We still have some morework to do though, before we have her where we want her.?

?Man,? said Jack, ?I'd have loved to have taken her right there, raped herfucking ass.?

?No good,? Mike replied, we've talked about it. ?She figures this is justa game and she's not really going to get caught. All that stuff she says abouttaking her, that's bullshit, if she got raped, she'd go straight to the cops.So instead, we do it carefully, when we're ready, we rape her and get awaywith it and we do more than rape her, we fucking own her ass.?

?We're going to get her,? Zacc said. ?She's so got. She's all hog tied rightnow, she just doesn't know it, and won't know it till we put the branding ironto her.?

Ian filed away the thought of a branding iron. Definitely a possibility.

?Well,? said Jack, ?all I've got to say is: Here's to phase two!?

They cheered and toasted.

Later on, after the restaurant closed, they bought a thirteen year old crackwhore for the night. They rented a seedy hotel room, and took turns abusingthe haunted wraith, and although the spent their lust and aggression on herscrawny waifish body Lynsey's face and figure was in their minds.

When they were finished, the took turns urinating on her unconscious body,dropped a few twenties, and all headed to their respective homes.

Phase two was about to start.

* * * * * * * * * *

Lynsey didn't go slutting outdoors all next week, although several times,she was tempted to, and the ?masters' in her chatroom pushed.

She was obedient in front of the screen, spreading her legs, dressing to command,scattering clues, good ones, before rocketing to orgasm. She never realized,and they never let her realize that her clues were no longer necessary.

On Tuesday, four of the guys had booked time off and gathered at her skytrainin the afternoon, waiting for her to return home from work. Their tail wasinvisible, and they tracked her to her apartment building.

The next day, Peter was in the elevator with her, when she got off at herfloor. Within an hour after that, careful legwork identified her apartmentnumber, and from there, her full name. They were amused to discover that herfirst name really was Lynsey.

It just got easier. By Thursday, they'd tailed her to her office, identifiedher workplace, and her job. By Friday, they had her work schedule.

It only took them so long because they were being so very, very careful. Lynseywas oblivious, she had no idea the noose was tightening about her, that itwas no longer a game. She wouldn't have noticed if they were less discrete,might have missed it if they'd been obvious. She just didn't realize her danger,and so she carried on her life, of which wicked little computer fantasies werea larger and larger part. They watched her go about blithely, and it only increasedtheir contempt for her.

That Saturday, they pushed and persuaded her into slutting out again. Thistime high heeled boots, velvet miniskirt and tube top. She chickened out alittle, adding a heavy jean jacket to give a bit of modesty. But still definitelyskanky.

This time, she wandered off someplace new, and they eventually lost the tailon her. No big deal. It was time for phase three.

When she got home, in a fit of pique, Mike forced her to fuck herself withher biggest dildo. Which pushed her to a shuddering orgasm, and left her oddlynervous, with the oddest feeling that things were getting a little out of control.

* * * * * * * * *

Phase Three began on Wednesday, when her apartment door opened an hour aftershe had gone to work and four men walked in. Jack hadn't been able to get offwork, and Chuck didn't want to be tagged for B&E. But they had, like therest contributed financially to the next phase of their little project, poolingboth money and technical skill.

Zacc had done plenty of B&E's, and he knew how to spring a lock withoutanyone being the wiser. Ian was along for the ride. Peter carried a briefcasefull of equipment as did Mike. Everyone was a bit nervous, except for Mike.Nerves were understandable, breaking into a woman's home was tantamount tobreaking into her. It was a big step. It had all been fun and games, up untilthen. But this was for real.

?Fuck!? Ian swore. ?I can't believe it. We're in.?

?Yeah,? Mike said, his voice businesslike to conceal his tension. ?We've allgot a job to do, let's do it.?

He surveyed the apartment, spotting her computer, and went directly to it.For a second, he memorized the position of her chair, contemptuously notingthe pussy stains on the fabric. Then he sat down, cracked open his case, andbooted up her computer.

As Mike attached a zip drive and began copying out the entire content of hercomputer, Peter slowly surveyed the apartment, examining each room in turn,looking for the best place to insert spy cams, how to hook up the power feedsand where to sneak the splices into the phone lines.

Zacc took out a small dictaphone and digital camera. He went into the bathroomfirst, photographing and describing the contents of her medical cabinet, hersoaps and shampoos, the toiletries, even the types, colours and softnessesof towels. Finishing quickly, he went into the bedroom, to catalogue her lingerieand wardrobe for them. It would keep him out of trouble, the others figured.

Ian went carefully through her papers. ?Aha,? he announced, ?found her phonebook.?

?Rather you found her diary,? Peter grumbled. He cracked his suitcase openand set up a scanner plate, so that Ian could photocopy the pages.

?Her diary, if she's got one, is probably on computer, we're getting it. Thephone book is pretty good,? Mike offered, ?it's got all the names and addresses,phone numbers, of family and friends. I'm sure that we can find a way to usethat.? He paused. ?Look for her tax returns.?

?What the fuck will that do?? Peter asked.

Mike shrugged. The zip drive had finished. He inserted a disk containing atailored program, not quite a virus. What it was designed to do was to logher every keystroke, and send it to his computer, without her ever knowing. ?Can'thurt. We want everything on this bitch.?

Peter grunted. He'd found a suitable location for a spy cam in the bathroom.They were soon going to be seeing a lot more of Linsey.

A hooting came out of the bedroom. Zacc had found her collection of sex toysand dildoes. Ian went to check it out.

?Remember where everything was,? Mike called, ?we want it all back in exactlythe same place. If she figures out someone has been here we're fucked.?

?She's fucked,? Zacc yelled back.

?Not quite yet,? Mike whispered. ?But soon.... Hey??

?What??

?She's got a cam on her computer.?

?So what, the bitch never uses it for us.?

?Yeah, but I bet we can switch it to hidden mode, so it doesn't register asbeing on, but its registering and broadcasting everything.?

?Can you do that??

?Yeah, but we'll have to come again. I don't have the software here.?

?Fine, maybe we can save a spycam. We were planning a few trips, anyway. Istill have to figure out a phone tap.?

* * * * * * *

Linzey didn't notice anything out of sorts when she got home, although ifshe'd looked carefully, she might have spotted a few things.

The cybersex was, for some reason, particularly fiery. Several of her ?masters'were on, and they almost seemed to be coordinating, stoking her higher andhigher, never quite allowing her to come, until finally, her orgasm was likea nuclear explosion. For once, she didn't simply sign off, she was too overwhelmed,and they extracted a promise from her to slut herself out to order the nextmorning. They'd get together in cyber in the morning to choose an outfit.

Feeling sated, Linsey pulled herself together enough to take a nice long shower.As she soaped her breasts and unselfconsciously fingered her already lubricatingcunt, she had no idea that she had an audience....

* * * * * * * *

Linzey wasn't sure about how they dressed her that morning. Cream stockingsand a short shocking pink skirt that barely covered her garters. She'd haveto be careful sitting down. At least the top was relatively modest, not quiteexcessive.... A tight black sweater (mercifully allowing a bra), high neckand bare arms without appreciable cleavage, and a heavy white jacket. She mightnot have gone for it at all, just lied and told them she was wearing it. Butthe jacket allowed her just that bit more of concealment. She wondered vaguelywhen she'd mentioned it to them, she couldn't recall. It wasn't important.

As it turned out, the day was hot, so after sweating a few hours, she tookthe jacket off. She got a lot of glances around the office, but no one spoketo her about her obviously inappropriate attire. After all, she usually dressedprofessionally.

Since no one said anything, she decided it wasn't so bad. She decided to gotrolling for looks at the mall, after work. She had discovered that she likedbeing window shopped.

* * * * * * * *

The second visit completed the enslavement of Linsey's computer, if not ofLinsey herself. The cam was now permanently on, permanently relaying to Mike'scomputer. A few more adjustments, and he could read her email before she receivedit, and control her computer from his workstation.... Not that he intendedto tip his hand.

The phone ?tap' wasn't even really a tap, just an adjustment to the phonecircuits, so that the phone read as having an extension line.... Which happenedto be a dedicated line that Mike had paid for in his apartment, hooked up todigital recording so that every call in or out was monitored.

A few more visits, and they knew her apartment better than she did. They knewhow many cups she had in her cupboard, the brand name of unused condoms inher drawer. They had copies of every key, had the passwords and codes.

It wasn't enough for them. Mike raped her computer's memories, they examinedher favourite internet sites, measured the frequency and duration of her visits.With her credit card numbers, they electronically requisitioned her visa andmastercard statements going back years. Phone records were pored over, crossreferenced to her private phone book. They looked at old restaurant receipts,old letters, cards, tax returns. Piece by piece, they knew more about her shallow,empty, selfish life than she did.

Mike's database grew immense, the data only saved from being unwieldy by Mike'scareful software architecture. Much of it was useless, or apparently useless.Some of it found applications.

They used her private writings, the information about her internet readingsto fine tune their sexual manipulation of her.

All Linsey knew was that they all just seemed better and better at pressingjust the right buttons. They seemed to know when to hold off, to keep her shiveringwithout letting her over the edge. The chat cyber-sex became, if anything,more intense and she grew more addicted, more obedient.

They were astonished, the first night the video feed was open to them. Theywatched her trick herself out in lingerie at their commands and then masturbateherself to quivering helplessness with a savage dildo. It was the first timethey saw the degree of control they'd slowly won over her. As they watchedher ram the dildo up her body again and again, watched her quake and shudder,a thin stream of drool at the corner of her mouth, they were awed, and as one,felt an even greater hunger to crush her utterly.

That night, they gathered again to celebrate. Not bothering with the restaurant,they bought the thirteen year old crack whore, who at least knew what to expectthis time. They were merciless.

The game was still going on, she still gave up clues. Most of the clues werenow useless to them, they played the game to keep stringing her along. Butthere was another purpose now. Leaving her in her false sense of security,they could probe for deeper clues. Things she thought would not reveal heridentity, and so did not guard so carefully. They probed, identifying weaknessesand vulnerabilities, bits of history, insights into friendships, insecurities.Things that they could use against her.

* * * * * * * * *

Under their influence, she started to experiment with butt plugs, and thena vibrator up her ass. They tutored her in fantasies more and more baroque.They made her come while telling her how they would have her suck a dog's cock.

The cyber-sex relationship had simply swept aside any interest in regularrelationships. Linsey found that it was awkward trying to spend time with friends,she was now setting appointments, times with her cyber ?masters' and somehow,these always seemed to conflict with times she intended for friends. She sawthem less and less frequently, and because she seemed so frequently busy whenthey called, they called less often.

This disturbed her once in a while, and she would resolve to spend more timewith her friends. But that would fade as she spread her legs. The comes wereso good. They pushed just the right buttons, and they pushed harder and harder.

And if certain emails from friends were intercepted and deleted, if certainmessages were not recorded on her answering machine, how was she to know? Slowly,and with exquisite, delicate care, they were cutting her out of the herd, isolatingtheir prey. Without understanding why or how, she and her friends drifted awayfrom each other.

She was slutting out more. Once or twice at work. But mostly in the weekendsand evenings. Once she dressed like the cheapest whore, her top a simple stringbikini, a skirt so short that it did not conceal her garters, heavy eyelinerand runs in her stockings. She rode the late skytrain, letting the other passengersstare at her, take her for nothing more than a worn out slag. As she rode,she got wetter and wetter, her thighs slick. At the end of the ride, she hadto stumble to the women's washrooms to masturbate furiously.

Mostly though, it was more subdued. Too wild and she balked. A few times,she refused to play altogether. But she was surprised at the number of timesthey did manage to coax her out, and at the way they seemed always able topush her a little bit further than she was prepared to go.

There were setbacks. She was sent home from the office one day for dressinginappropriately. Overcome with shame, she stayed off the net for two days.They tensely watched her walk around the apartment, before she finally brokedown and went online to them. Minutes later, they had a dildo up her ass. Theyhad her again.

When they thought she was ready, they ordered her on a mission: Wear yourfishnet body stocking, halter top, hot pants. Go to the peep show on Granville,go to booth number three,

Sit. If a cock slides through the glory hole, suck it, swallow it, and comehome to tell us all about it...

She made it perhaps halfway, dressing as ordered, and even going into thebooth. But her nerve broke an instant later, and Chuck watched her flee, wobblingon her platform heels. Zacc cursed, in booth two, he hadn't even taken hiscock out of his pants.

A subsequent order for her to participate in wet T-shirt Amateur night ata remote strip club met with flat refusal.

Regretfully, they concluded that they had found her limits.

?Phase fucking four,? Zacc muttered, angry over his lost blow job. ?Phasefucking four,? they agreed.

* * * * * * * * * *

Linsey liked to drink a glass of orange juice before going to bed. It wasa longstanding habit, perhaps a relic of a happy childhood ritual. Unknownto her, they often watched her sip from her orange juice as she played.

Tonight, however, Linsey felt tired. It had been a long day at the office,everyone was riding her ass. She'd lost a certain amount of respect there forthe way she had dressed, something she didn't quite appreciate. Fatigue stoleover her, and she decided, for once, to go to bed early.

Ninety minutes later, as she was snoring, her door opened. Three men walkedin. For this next move, they'd reluctantly decided on a minimal crew.

?Okay,? Mike whispered, as he let the others in, ?ski masks on, everyone remember,no unnecessary conversation.?

?I don't know why we have to bother, she's out,? grumbled Ian. They couldhear her snoring.

?No taking chances yet,? Mike repeated. ?Drugs can be unpredictable. Thisstuff is supposed to leave her docile and mildly euphoric, and fuck her memoryformation. But that doesn't mean there's not a chance she might freak on us,or that she might remember.?

?Well, in that case,? Zacc whispered, ?we go straight to phase five and breakthe bitch. I'm okay with that.?

There were grunted assents. Ian was a pharmacists assistant, and he was alot more confident of the drug. Besides, they'd tried it out a few times ontheir thirteen year old crack whore, and then being cautious, they'd even experimentedon a healthy young stripper of approximately Linsey's height and weight. Theyknew their way around.

?We stick with the plan,? Mike demanded. The others, one by one, folded.

They made their way into the bedroom, turning on the light. She didn't react.For a few seconds, they stared at her nude form, spread out on the bed. Shewas still wearing her white garterbelt with white stockings that they'd hadher wear for their cyber play. She'd been too tired to strip it off. The garterson one leg had let go and the stocking, on its own, had rolled half down herthigh.

?Fucking beautiful,? Zacc whispered. ?Just fucking awesome.? He reached outto cup one naked breast, feeling the warm flesh. Ian slid his hand up her thigh,brushing fingertips against her pussy.

She slept, snoring softly. Mike took out his digital camera and began snappingsome pictures. Something to compromise the bitch. He took a basic set of halfa dozen, he didn't want to use them all up too quickly. He tried for anglesthat exposed her charms without really making it obvious that she was sleeping.

?Next step?? They nodded. Very gently, they rolled her over onto her stomach,slipping a pillow under her belly so that her ass was elevated. They pulledher legs apart, fixed the loose stocking back to her garter.

Her pink virginal asshole winked up at them, perching above the smooth folds of her pubes and labia.

?Man,? Zacc said, ?I'd love to slam that right now.?

A few more pictures were snapped. Linsey had no secrets left. Mike knelt behindher and ran his fingertip lightly up and down her cunt until her lips partedand her clit swelled. As he began to feel wetness, her hips rolled slowly,but she didn't wake. Then they moved her, posing her again, propping her innastily pornographic poses. Ian and Zacc took off their pants, their bodiesmoving into frame. Mike snapped more pictures, apparently of scenes of a threesome.

Linsey's mouth yawned open.

?I gotta do this,? Ian whispered. He straddled her face.

?Not yet,? Mike hissed.

?Fuck that,? Ian said. Balancing over her, he slid his cock into her openmouth, letting the head rest against her tongue. He winced. Oh man, it wasall he could do not to throat fuck the bitch.

?Hold it there,? Mike ordered, quickly snapping more pictures.

?I'm going to come,? Ian grunted. There was no blow job, the head of his cockwas simply resting in her slack mouth. But knowing he could have this bitch,it made his load want to explode.

?Don't! Not in her mouth! In your hand, we don't want to leave any tracesyet!?

?Not in her mouth!? Zacc snarled.

With his remaining self control, Ian pulled his cock back, and it splurgedits load all over her face.

A drop or two of semen fell down her throat. Linsey coughed once, body shiftingrestlessly. They froze, waiting.

Then she licked her lips, seemed to stretch and went back to snoring.

?Close call,? Mike said.

?Look at the jizz on her face,? Zacc said. ?Mike you gotta get some more picturesof that.?

Lynsey seemed to smile angelically, as Mike photographed the semen oozingdown her cheeks. She looked like a complete slut. Then, when the pictures wereover, Mike got a soft damp tissues and carefully cleaned her face. It wouldn'tdo for her to wake up in the morning with her face smeared with powdery driedsperm.

When he came back from disposing of the tissues. Mike found Zacc straddlingher, preparing to come all over her tits. So he took some pictures of that,and of her come drenched nipples.

They had gone as far as they could go....

Mike looked at his friends.

?You know,? he said, ?we could just take what we got and go. Waking her mightbe risky, want to take the chance??

Ian was already hard again. ?Go the distance, good buddy.?

Zacc nodded.

?Okay,? he waved them back, so that they would be out of Lynsey's field ofview. He sat carefully down on the bed and played with her cunt. They'd beenfingering her lightly off and on through the photo session, and she was nowgenuinely wet. Still unconscious, her body showed all the signs of arousal,hard nipples, wet pussy, parting lips.

It was part of the plan. Under the drug, she wouldn't wake to full consciousness,but if she roused to sexual arousal.... She would be.... Pliable for certainthings. Docile. Even willing. Or so they had found with their experiments withthe crack whore and the stripper.

* * * * * * * * *

?Lynsey,? a voice whispered in her ear, a soft gentle voice, but urgent, ?Lynsey.?

A hand on her shoulder gently rocked her. She rolled a little, her eyelidsfluttering. Before she was aware of anything else, she knew she was horny.A wetness pulsed insistently between her legs. She dragged her hand roughlybetween her thighs.

?Lynsey,? the voice insisted, ?Lynsey, are you there??

?Whuz...? she slurred, ?whuzzat??

Her eyes blinked slowly. There was someone there with her. Her vision wasblurry. She couldn't make out his face, it was just black. That wasn't right.She frowned and tried to squint.

?It's okay Lynsey,? the voice said, it was soft and warm and comforting. Hestroked her shoulder. ?It's okay Lynsey, relax, we're friends.?

Friends? She couldn't think clearly, too sleepy. Friends. It was okay then.Lynsey tried to turn to go back to sleep, stroking her cunt absently. Comeand then sleep. Or sleep and then come.

?Lynsey,? the voice insisted, dragging her back to her half wakefulness. Ahand, not her own, pressed between her legs, her thighs parted with a willof her own, and she purred. ?Lynsey, do you want to have a little fun withyour friend.?

Fun?

She was so wet. She couldn't think clearly, couldn't seem to see, but shefelt soooo good, like a cat sunning itself on a rock.

?Lynsey,? the voice called again, rousing her. ?Smile for the camera. That'sa good girl.?

Camera? Over there. She smiled. ?Good girl.? The voice was happy with her,that made her happy.

?Lick your nipple,? the voice had to repeat two or three times before sheunderstood. Gentle hands helped her to stand. She reached down and licked it. ?Goodgirl,? the voice stroked her, she wanted to be a good girl, she was happy thatthe voice was happy. ?Smile.? She grinned woozily. ?Lick it again.?

?Spread your cunt lips for the camera.? There it was, she smiled blearily,as her hands were guided down. Someone helped her sit up in position. ?That'sso sexy. You're a sexy girl aren't you.?

Oh she was sooo wet. She would love to get fucked, her fingers clumsily pushedat her clit.

?Open your mouth, Linsey.? There was a cock in front of her. She blinked. ?Youlike cock, don't you Linsey.? She did? ?Yes, you love it.? She nodded vaguely. ?Youwant to suck this cock.? She did. ?Go ahead, put it in your mouth.? Someone'sfingers were in her cunt, making her wetter, and suddenly, she wanted thatcock in her mouth. She bent forward, slobbering.

She lost track of things. When she focused again, there were two cocks infront of her, she was stroking them both, smiling for the camera, listeningvaguely to the click. Click, click, click. Funny camera.

Eventually, she found herself laying back down. The voice whispering in herear, hands stroking her body. ?Good girl, Linsey, good girl, sleep now.? Shewas so drowsy....

A moment later, she was snoring softly. Her abusers watched carefully fora few minutes, then they carefully withdrew to share their new prizes withthe gang.

* * * * * * * * * *

A lot of the pictures, more than half of them, were useless. Lynsey was tooobviously asleep, or too obviously stoned in them, her eyes mostly glassy andlidded.

But there was a picture of her staring at the camera with a slick grin asshe worked a small vibrator in her cunt. Another close up of her face witha cock in her mouth where her drug induced bleariness seemed like ecstaticrapture. In some pictures, the slackness of the drug looked like lust or hunger,a sleazy heavy lidded alertness.

Only Lynsey's face was visible in the pictures. The men were seen only bytheir cocks their bodies. Even in one shot, an apparent (but not real, theyhad yet to penetrate her) depiction of a double penetration, Linsey's faceand form was clearly visible, laughing and moaning sandwiched between two malebodies, their hands on her breasts and ass, but somehow, the photograph leftout her lovers heads.

* * * * * * * * *

Lynsey woke up with no memory whatsoever of the night's adventure. To her,it simply hadn't happened, the memories had failed to form, it wasn't evena dream.

But she felt terrible. Her mouth tasted like a hangover, and her head pounded.She felt fuzzy and listless and out of sorts. She kept forgetting what shewas doing. After an hour of fumbling, she decided she just couldn't handlegoing to work. Obviously, she was sick or something, best to take the day off.

She sat back, relaxed, watched some television. After a while, she felt abit better. Perhaps she'd go into work in the afternoon. She signed onto chat,played a little bit, revealed the name of her college. She had some more orangejuice, and some time after that, started to feel drowsy. In an hour, she wasback in bed.

Chuck was calling Mike to see if they would take advantage of this. They hadn'texpected another crack at her for at least a night or two. Of course, theydid.

* * * * * * * *

Pictures mounted up, of Linsey in different poses, dressed in different combinationsof lingerie and slutware. They got bolder, dragging her around her own apartment,making sure always that her surroundings were visible, but the occasional cocksand male bodies in the frame with her, were obscured.

One night, she blearily found herself looking the pussy of a thirteen yearold crack whore, cleaned up and made up to look childlike. The crack whorewas as drugged out as Lynsey herself, neither enjoyed it much as they blearilystumbled and crawled over each other. Neither remembered a thing about it.But the group came away with a handful of very incriminating pedophile photos.

Their crowning achievement, however, was a couple of nights later, when aftercareful coaxing, a laughing, confused, dazed Lynsey was slowly and carefullycoaxed, without truly understanding what she was doing, into putting her moutharound the hard erect cock of Chuck's german shepherd, Steve.

Lynsey, of course, had no idea of any of this. The strange ?flu' that hadstruck her and left her sleepy and listless slowly passed. Feeling more likeherself, she returned to work and spent her evenings playing on the computer,masturbating to shivering orgasms, and dressing, without fully realizing it,more and more slutty. Her wardrobe now permanently rode the bare margins ofacceptability at work, and outside work, well, she became even raunchier. Notcompletely skanky, she had her limits that she would not pass.

But they had steadily worked on her, pushing her out to those limits, pushingher to her personal edges, until she was at the precipice, at every point goneas far as she was willing, at the limits of her tolerance. She would not voluntarilygo further, they knew that.

It was finally time.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The Lynsey Project had gathered at a restaurant again. The champagne flowedfreely as they toasted each other. At some point, it had all taken on a lifeof its own. It wasn't about fucking a slut, or even a rape. Lynsey's game hadbecome a contest, a quest, something that had brought them together and becomemore than just the pursuit of a fuck, no matter how nasty.

Unlike other gatherings, there would be no slaking of brutal lusts on thehelpless body of an increasingly battered thirteen year old crack whore. Itwas finally time.

Mike tapped his glass. ?Gentlemen,? he said, ?after all our hard work, thelong hours, the sacrifices...? chuckling all around at that, ?it's finallytime. Now, we all know what comes next, but the question is who comes next.Well, there's only one fair way to decide....?

He held out a fistful of straws, and one by one, they drew.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Lynsey wasn't expecting it when it happened. She was going to work in themorning, a little early, but not unusually so. She was cutting through a commercialparkade, as she usually did. The lot was mostly full, early morning commutershad packed it. She hardly thought twice about cutting through it.

Abruptly, just as she passed the stairwell, a canvas hood slammed down overher head. She put up a hand to fend it. The drawstring of the hood pulled tightacross her jaws, effectively gagging her, leaving the lower half of her jawfree while blinding. She tried to shriek through the hood, her arms flailing,struggling to tear it off.

A brutal punch into her solar plexus knocked the wind out of her, and shewould have folded up, except for the male arms that folded around her and draggedher into the stairwell. As she struggled to catch her breath, she was slammedup against the concrete wall, the drawstring of the hood was quickly tied intoa tight knot. Rough hands tore away her purse, and for a second, she thoughtit was a mugging, glad that they were taking her purse because it meant he'dgo away.

Then she felt strong hands tearing at her blouse, ripping her bra open tosqueeze and mangle her breasts. Her skirt was pulled up so harshly she heardthe fabric tear. In blind panic, she tried to fight, but only had her headsmashed against the concrete, the sharpness of the blow only slightly bluntedby the hood.

Abruptly, she found herself dragged down the stairs. Stumbling, almost twistingher ankle, she struggled now to keep some balance as her captor dragged herdown. A door burst open, she was shoved through. Her assailant guided her floundering,pushing her to the left and back, and then she was slammed facedown acrossthe hood of some car. She could taste automobile dust and grit on its unwashedsurface.

Her captor was behind her. As she caught her breath, she knew what was goingto happen to her, what he intended. Terror washed through her. What did thepolice say? Don't resist? She felt helpless, for the first time in her life,things were completely out of control, and she didn't know what to do. Fight?What if he beat her savagely?

He seemed to be pausing, watching her, waiting to see what she would do. Optionsshivered through her mind. Fighting was out. Running was out.

He reached down her legs, she cringed at his touch, but didn't move. Almostgently, the assailant lifted her skirt, pulling it up her legs, pushing itup her ass until it was gathered around her hips. She gasped and chewed herlip, her fists clenching.

Strong hands wound themselves into the crotch of her panties, the feel ofrough knuckles against her vagina making her grunt. A moment of tearing clothand the frail fabric, her last defense was gone.

Lynsey blinked inside her hood, seeing only blackness. Senses sharpened byfear and blindness registered the way he stepped close to her. The sound ofhis zipper being slowly undone. She was aware of a moment's fumbling. Handspawing at her. Denim pressing against her bared thighs.

The rapists big hard cock slid smoothly into her cunt, making her groan. Shehad no idea, until his cock touched her lips, that she was so wet. Her body'slubrication had been completely involuntary, as was the wave of pleasure thatsurged up her hips as his cock thrust into her. She heard a low chuckle, andknew that he was registering her wetness. Horribly, Lynsey knew that he believedshe was liking this. It was a nightmare. As his cock set up a brutal rhythmslamming her harshly again and again against the fender of the car, rubbingher clothes and flesh into the cars grime, her clit throbbed and her cunt spasmed,and she grunted in time to the increasing brutality of his thusts....

Her rapist finally finished with a series of brutal violent thrusts that lefther thighs bruised against the unyielding metal of the car. As he came, hepushed his cock painfully deep and held it there, flattening her against thehood as he poured his last drop of semen into the waiting condom. She no longereven dreamed of resistance, she simply waited for it to be over. After a fewminutes rest, he stepped back, his deflating cock falling out of her soiledcunt. He stepped back, tucked himself away, and then bent over her, undoingthe tie on her hood and pulling it away. She kept her eyes shut, knowing enoughnot to look. A few footsteps, the sound of a door, and he was gone.

Lynsey stayed where she was for a few more minutes, afraid he might come back,afraid he might be standing only a few feet away, watching, waiting for herto make a mistake, to invite a beating or further raping. Gradually, she realizedhe was really gone. But still, she couldn't quite move. She'd been raped....Had she really come?

* * * * * * * *

Lynsey staggered home and called in sick. Her office was not surprised, thiswas par for the course for her these days, inappropriate clothes at the office,unexplained and excessive sick days, a poor attitude. She was on thinner icethan she realized.

Lynsey spent the rest of the day putting herself together and trying to figureout what had happened to her. Had she been raped? Of course she had, she musthave been raped, there was no other description? But she had reached orgasm,that seemed so incompatible. The come made her disorientation all the moretraumatic. Should she call the cops? That was her first impulse, but as shethought it over, she had nothing to give them. There was no evidence. She couldn'tdescribe her assailant in any way, black, white, tall, short. She couldn'tprove anything more than that she'd had sex in the parkade. What if they thoughtit was consensual and she was just angry with her lover, or playing some kindof game? What if they thought she was a slut? The more she thought about it,the more it seemed that going to the police was a bad idea.

There was a bad moment, when it occurred to her that this might somehow beconnected to the internet game she was playing. Had one of them actually trackedher down? Impossible! Still, the thought made her nervous, she signed on tryingto find some sign of gloating, some indication that there was a real predatorin her chatroom. Nothing.

Was it all just a coincidence then? A complete, out of the blue, fluke. Arandom event that had nothing to do with her life, something meaningless andtransient, and therefore without consequences. So it might just as well bethat she never got raped, she never came, nothing happened, move along.

In a week, she'd just about convinced herself. She forced her life back tonormal, even played her dirty games on the internet where it was safe and shecould always log off. The only change in her life was that her wardrobe becamemore conservative. No more slutting around in public. After all, why take chances?

* * * * * * * * * *

?Hey,? the man said, ?don't I know you??

Lynsey flinched a little. Since the rape, she'd become a little shy in public,less willing to talk to strangers, especially men.

?I don't think so.?

The man wouldn't let it go.

?I'm pretty sure I do. You look familiar.? He turned to his companion, ?Don'tshe look familiar.?

He stepped closer to her. She watched him warily.

?I really don't think...?

?Working girl,? he snapped his fingers.

?What??

?You're one of the working girls, down on the stroll. I knew I'd seen youaround.?

?You're mistaken.?

?On the skytrain, I'd see you all the time. You were something hot. I rememberthat one time, you were wearing this tiny bikini top, and this little miniskirt...?

Lynsey blushed bright red. She remembered that outfit, remembered wearingit on the skytrain. Oh god, she thought, he must have really seen me there.He thinks I'm a whore.

?Oh man, you gave me such a boner. I always wanted to give you a good pounding,ain't that right, didn't I say that?? He asked his companion. The bigger mannodded quietly, seemingly only half interested.

?There must be a some mistake,? she said, not very convincingly.

?Look at that blush,? he said, ?yeah honey, its you. I don't forget a niceset of tits.?

All at once, a thought seemed to hit him, he became almost apologetic.

?But hey, am I bothering you? Sorry,? he said.

?Well, yes. You see....?

?Oh, you got a client??

?A client?? Then she realized he was asking if she was going out to turn atrick, to have sex for money. ?Oh, no. No client.?

?No? Well, honey, it's your lucky day. You got one now.? He stepped in andput his arm around her waist, pulling and guiding her out of the stream ofpedestrian traffic. The gesture flustered her, and for a second, she was speechless.

?What? No wait. I mean...?

?Not to worry babe,? the man said, ?I got cash on hand, this is a COD transaction,I promise. Don't let money worry you.?

She tried to pull away, but his arm around her hip held her fast. His companionwas on the other side of her now, hemming her in. There seemed no choice butto walk the way they were leading her.

?No, that's not it,? she said, ?the thing is...?

?Thirty bucks,? he said, ?that's the going rate the streets you work.?

?Thirty?? She'd never thought it would be so cheap.

?Here,? he said, ?let me carry that for you.?

He slipped her purse off her shoulder.

?Wait,? she said, reaching for it.

?Ian,? the man said, handing the purse out of reach, ?be a gentleman for once,carry the ladies things.?

They ignored her ineffectual pleadings. Instead, the man who'd captured herkept up a stream of patter.

?My name is Peter by the way. What's yours... What.... Well, suit yourself,most girls don't give their real name, but you know, a ?stage' name is goodfor business. So how long you been fucking.... Hey, Ian, listen to this, whata kidder.... I bet she tells us she's a virgin.... Not a virgin? I'm not surprised...Hey, I don't mean nothing by it.?

Abruptly, she realized that there were no people around. They'd led her outof the pedestrian traffic down this empty alley. She felt helpless and vulnerable,frightened.

The alley turned a corner, they lead her into a little cul de sac, shelteredby a dumpster. She walked on legs that felt like water. It was oddly dreamlike,try as she might, she couldn't seem to walk away.

?Well,? Peter said, shoving a couple of bills into her purse, ?here we are.It ain't the ritz, but I'm sure that you've done worse in nastier, or viceversa.?

Ian laughed at the casual contemptuousness of it, laughed at her strickenexpression. ?Let's get down to business.?

Too late, Lynsey found her courage.

?No,? she said.

?No?? Peter asked. ?No?? Ian said, ?You want to go somewhere else??

?No, I've.... I've changed my mind. I'm not going to do it. I want to go.?

Out of nowhere Peter backhanded her, half her face went all pins and needles,her jaw rocked and she was slammed up against the brick wall.

?You fucking cock tease!? Peter snarled. ?You took the fucking money, nowyou are going to walk away.?

?The money?? She remembered the money they'd shoved in her purse. ?No, that'snot it,? she burbled, ? you can have the money, I don't want it.?

Peter backhanded her again.

?My money's not good enough for you?? He snapped. She blinked.

?No, that's not it, it's just...?

?Just what? You figured you'd just take our fucking money and walk, is thatit??

?No, I just don't want to...?

?Why'd you come on to us bitch?? Peter yelled at her.

Come on to them? Lynsey was dissolving in confusion, she hadn't come on tothem, had she? She wasn't sure. They were saying she did. This was all a horriblemisunderstanding. She had to make them understand.

?Please,? she whimpered, ?I didn't mean to. I didn't want to come on to you,I'm sorry.?

?I'm not good enough for you?? Peter glanced at Ian, an expression of astonishmentwrit on his face. ?Listen to this, this two-bit slag is too good for us.?

His body tensed, fist clenching. Lynsey quailed with terror. Peter pushedher hard against the wall, his fist cocked. She whimpered.

?Are you saying you are too good to fuck us, is that what you are saying??

?No,? Lynsey squeaked.

Peter paused, still looking mean.

?No what??

?No...? Lynsey felt her way through it, ?I'm not too good to fuck you.?

?Fuck us both??

?I'm not too good to fuck you both.?

?You came on to us??

?I'm sorry I came on to you.?

?You took the money.?

?Yes.?

Peter let go, abruptly, Lynsey stumbled, struggling to keep her balance onlegs that felt like water. She was shaking. Horribly, she was aware her pantieswere soaked. That she could have a reaction like that in a situation like thisappalled her.

?So,? Peter winked at Ian, before turning back to her, ?what's the problem??

Trapped in the alley, cornered by his words and her own fear, Lynsey did theonly thing she could.

?No problem,? she whispered, her throat dry. ?No problem.?

She surrendered.

Peter and Ian grinned.

?Excellent,? Peter said. ?Now we're communicating. I believe in communication,don't you? Well, the money has changed hands, the meeting of the minds is achieved,nothing to do now but the nasty. So what's your name slut??

?My name...?

?Fuck, nice tits, but you're kind of retarded. Check her purse Ian.?

?L.. Lynn! My name is Lynn!!?

?Lynn?? Peter sounded it out. ?That's a nice slutty name? You feeling slutty,Lynn??

She hesitated, knowing there was no way out, before finally conceding, ?Yes.?

?That's great! See, Ian, I can spot sluts. She's just aching to go, can yousmell her cunt? Yeah, she's ready. So slut, show us what we bought??

?What?? Lynsey couldn't get her head around his words. Show?

A flicker of terrifying irritation showed on his face.

?Put on a show, you dumb fucking slag! Do I have to smash your face? Showus your fucking tits.?

Quickly, with badly shaking hands, Lynsey tore at her jacket top. Unable tomanipulate a button, she simply tore it off, opening the jacket and then undoingthe blouse with hasty motions. She pushed her bra up over her breasts.

?Nice titties,? Peter said, coming close. ?Hey, you know what gets me hot,seeing a slut bite and suck her nipples. Bite and suck them, bitch.?

She did as she was told, her teeth tearing into her sensitive flesh.

?Look at her go,? Ian said. ?She's a hot one all right.?

?Yeah she is,? Peter replied. ?Dance around a bit, bitch, do a stripteasefor your paying customers. Touch yourself a lot, make it a show.?

Clumsily, she began dancing for them, undoing her clothes awkwardly, tryingto climb out of them. Her eyes moist.

?Smile bitch, act like you're liking it.?

Lynsey smiled, working the skirt down over her hips. It pooled around herankles and she stepped out of it, remembering to shimmy.

?Show us your ass.?

She turned, rolling her ass cheeks. Not looking at them was easier, she clutchedher breasts and stared at the brick wall. A harsh voice intruded on her.

?Hook your thumbs into those panties,? it ordered, ?roll it down really slow.?

She did as she was ordered, working the panties down her thighs. She knewas she bent over that they could see her pussy. They jammed around her knees,and she had to bend even lower to let them slide past her calves. A cold breezeslid around her thighs as she realized that she was bottomless, she had exposedherself for them, without even a trace of resistance. She hated herself, hatedher submission. A tear rolled down her cheek.

?Fucking dance, Bitch!? A voice snapped her reverie. She jumped and beganto wiggle her ass.

As she performed, Peter asked Ian, ?So, how you want to do it? One at a time,or two on one. Two on one is faster.?

?I dunno,? Ian said. ?Fast is best, I suppose.?

?Cool, which end you want? Keep dancing bitch, show us your pussy.?

?Look at that: Shaved! She's really a fucking whore, isn't she? I dunno, fuckingher mouth I suppose, probably tighter than her pussy.?

Another tear trickled down Lynsey's cheek.

?Sounds good, I'll pound that shaved slit. I don't want to catch anything,get us a couple of rubbers out of her purse.?

She was shocked into stillness when Ian simply upended the contents of herpurse out onto the filthy ashpalt.

?Keep fucking dancing you stupid cunt,? Peter yelled. She jumped and startedshaking her ass again.

?No rubbers.?

?Stupid skank.?

?No big deal, I got one, you can use it.?

?You're a buddy! What about you??

?No big deal, I'll just shoot my load down her throat.?

?Good enough, showtime! Down on all fours, slag.?

Lynsey crouched down, unwilling to fully prostrate herself. Ian grabbed hersoft lanky blond hair and yanked her to her knees, forcing her head down. Hispants were stained, she could smell his crotch, thick with the odour of soururine.

Peter kneeled behind her.

?Oh man, you should feel this,? as he rudely used his fingers to violate hercunt. ?Bitch is fucking dripping. I bet she likes it a little rough, gets hergoing really good.?

Lynsey could only mew as his fingers painfully manipulated her towards orgasm.

?Please,? she whimpered.

?Please what,? Peter asked, pushing his fingers hard against her clit.

Lynsey's answer was lost in an inarticulate howl as the orgasm hit her. Shelost muscle control, collapsing on the filthy garbage strewn alley. Over her,she heard Peter and Ian chuckling and felt shame.

They let her rest a moment, and then pulled her into position. Her hands scrabbledfor purchase on the slimy dirt strewn concrete. Bits and pieces of stone bitinto her knees. Peter held her ass, and shoved his cock brutally into her cunt,fucking without finesse. She gasped as she felt his hardness surge into her,for a second, her breath caught and her mouth gaped open with his fucking,gulping like a fish. Ian, after a second, wrapped his fingers in her hair andstarted throat fucking her. His grip on her hair was tight and painful, theodour of his crotch filled her nostrils, and his hard rod stabbed and toreat the back of her throat. Between them, Lynsey gagged, her body heaving, butshe was trapped and helpless.

The harsh fucking went on and on. They forced another orgasm from her bodybefore Peter came. Ian brutally used her throat before shooting his load, refusingto release her until she swallowed every drop.

?Oh gee,? Peter said, as she lay gasping, prostrate on the pave. ?Damn, lookslike we ruined your clothes. Sorry bitch.?

Lynsey turned her head. Her expensive, conservative skirt and blouse and jacketwas now smeared with dirt, torn, soiled with urine. Peter shook his cock off,and tucked it away.

?I feel bad,? he announced.

?S'okay,? Lynsey said dully. She just wanted it to be over.

?Nah,? Peter said, ?you can't go around like that. Tell you what, you staywith my friend here, and I'll go get you something to wear. There's a valuevillage right by.?

He walked off. Lynsey looked up at the remaining man, Ian, hoping for moremercy.

Ian grinned down at her. His cock hung loose and lanky from his pants. Hereached down and loosed a stream of pure urine that landed mere inches fromher face. Lynsey flinched away.

?You know what?? he said. ?I think you'd look real good, licking my bootswith your tongue.?

Beaten, without a shred of hope or resistance in her. Lynsey crawled forward.When she reached him, she looked up a final time, hoping for a shred of compassion.There wasn't any.

She stuck her tongue out and ran it along the leather toe of his boot... Itwas dirty, she could feel the dirt, the grit on her tongue. It had a tastelike mud.

?That's it,? he said, ?put your tongue into it.?

She lapped at the boot, her tongue working away the grit, smoothing the leather.She wanted to vomit, but instead, she obediently licked away, sticking hertongue out and giving the filthy boots long wet licks. Once in a while, shedared to look up at him, and then glanced quickly away at the cruelty she sawin his eyes. Her tongue stained brown, it tasted foul, but she still licked.There were small boot smears all around her lips. His boots started to shinewith her spit.

She was still licking his boots when Peter came back.

?Got something,? he announced cheerfully, dumping the contents of a bag ather feet. She stared at the cheap, gaudily covered rags.

The clothes turned out to be a short, tight sequinned dress, half the sequinsfallen away, undersized, with a rip in the side. It was strapless, and it keptslipping down, exposing her nipples. But pulling it up exposed her ass. Therewere a pair of dirty white stockings that went with it. She looked like a verycheap hooker.

They stayed with her, making sure she applied make up. Then Peter left. Ianwalked her to the skytrain, accompanied her on it. She felt a bottomless shameas the other passengers got on and saw her, trashy make up, revealing slutdress, dirty, filthy, smelly, hair disheveled. She'd become one of those wornslags that she used to watch. Passengers got on and off, she came to her stop,but when she tried to get up, Ian shook his head. She sat, still imprisonedby their domination of her will. They rode the skytrain to the end of the lineand back, and finally Ian let her off one stop away from her destination.

Finally freed, she reached the street and searched her purse for change andmoney to call a cab. But her purse was only full of cheap make up, some scatteredID, and condoms both new and used.

It was an hour and a half of walking, and one tortuous hitchike before shefinally made it home. She drew a hot bath and crawled in, soothing her achingbody, gently washing the grit from her knees and palms. Eventually, she easedherself into bed and laid there staring at the ceiling for half an hour beforethe tears came, and she sobbed herself to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

She didn't go to work for the next few days. Instead, she stayed in her apartment.Again, she thought of calling the police. But it was only a faint idea, shewas terrified that the police would interpret it as an act of prostitution.What if they didn't care? What if they blamed her? She simply couldn't takethat chance. Alone, she could deal with it, but she couldn't deal with whatthey might think of her.

She couldn't believe how easily it had happened, how easily she'd been leadto it, how little resistance she had offered. She stared at herself in themirror, trying to understand how she had been such a pushover.

It had seemed to her then, and now, that it had all been inevitable, thateach step had lead inexorably to the next, with no way off and no way out.It disturbed her that she had responded so strongly when it happened. It disturbedher that she involuntarily became wet thinking about it.

For a while, her life derailed. But circumstances have their own demands.She had to leave the apartment to go to work, to buy food, to pay bills. Hertrips outside the apartment were now furtive expeditions. Four days later,it happened again.

She was walking down the street when a car pulled up beside her. She glancedat it warily, now almost uniformly suspicious.

?Hey,? Jack said.

Lynsey stared at the barrel of the pistol pointing at her, frozen.

?Get in the car,? Jack ordered. ?Back door, driver's side.?

Terrified, she stepped to the curb, opened the back door, and slid in. Hereyes never left the pistol.

?Shut the door.?

As the door slammed shut, Jack swivelled around. There was an instant whenthe pistol wasn't pointed at her. She was frozen.

?Look down,? Jack instructed.

She tore her gaze away from the barrel of the gun. Down at her feet were twopairs of handcuffs.

?You see them? Good. Now, I want you to take your shoes off, I want you barefoot.Got that? Good. Now, next, I want you to put the cuffs around your ankles.No, it doesn't matter which set. There you go. Good girl. Now, put the otherpair of cuffs around your wrists. There you go?

Jack smiled. She was almost completely compliant, with only bare hesitations.Why was that, he wondered? All that subliminal training in obedience on thenet? Or the softening up of the others? He didn't care, this was his turn.

?Now, I want you to lay down. No, not on the seat. I want you to lay facedown in the foot area in front of the seat. No, bend your knees, your legscan stick straight up. Work yourself a little forward. That's it....?

Once she was wedged in, he covered her over with a blanket. And then, whistlingtunelessly, he put the car back in gear and started driving.

Lynsey's face was pressed into the harsh artificial carpet in the passengerwells. The transmission hump raised her hips. She barely had any leverage.As he whistled, she could hear street noises outside. She knew he hadn't shutthe window.

He hadn't gagged her. All she had to do was shout. She fantasized him pullingup to a policecar, and her giving out a piercing scream. Perhaps heaving upenough to open the door, tumble out, and go hopping away, shouting for help.A million scenarios of rescue and escape rolled through her head, all beginningwith a scream, a cry for help.

Not a peep escaped her lips. She was too frightened to utter a sound.

Instead, she just laid there, staring at the carpet, hating herself for herweakness and her fear. While the car drove and drove, turned right and thenleft, paused and accelerated.

Jack drove carefully. The last thing he needed was to call attention to himself.Get stopped by the cops, and the whole thing would be up. His route home wasdirect, but not reckless. Still, he breathed a sigh of relief when he finallyarrived at his house.

He activated the door opener for the attached garage. Once he was inside,he could get her into the house, into the basement, without anyone seeing her.He'd often taken whores into his house that way, and once in a while, a semi-unwillingvictim.

He chuckled, imagining the look on her face when she saw his basement.

He pulled in, waited for the door to shut, and then cut the engine. Then,he stepped out, straightened his jacket, and walked with deceptive calmnessto the passenger side back door.

The bitch was finally his. He'd seen her naked in photographs, watched hershower and masturbate on computer cam, he'd even fondled and posed her semi-consciousbody. But this was different. Finally, he had her in his unfettered, unlimitedpossession. He ached to put some marks on her.

He opened the door and pulled her out, gratified by the way she struggledforward, as if to help him.

?Please,? she whimpered. ?Don't do this. I can't take it.?

Her eyes were full of tears. He ignored them and plunged his hand into hertop, roughly mauling one breast. Finding an already hard nipple, he twistedit savagely, stopping her whining and causing her to draw a terrified breath.

?Slut,? he said easily. ?All the way over here, you could have screamed, andyou didn't. Even now, you don't make a peep. You want this.?

From the way she blushed, he knew he had scored a point. What the hell, maybeshe really did want it. He didn't care. What she wanted didn't matter. Theonly thing that mattered, as she was going to find out, was what he wanted.

For a while, he amused himself fondling her stiff but unresisting body. Heexposed her breasts and pawed them, raking fingernails down to leave red marks.He pushed her slacks down to her ankles and caressed the smooth flesh of herthighs, probed the wet folds of her cunt.

Cuffed at wrists and ankles, she had no choice but to take it, to accept theindignities he inflicted upon her. She could only precariously try to keepher balance.

Finally, he uncuffed her ankles, allowing her to walk.

?Follow me,? he said, brandishing the gun. She followed willingly, he wasamused that he didn't even have to drag her. She walked into the house, followedhim awkwardly down the stairs. He'd left one cuff at her ankle to flop looselyaround.

She caught only a glimpse of the house from the corner of her eye, as shedescended the stairs. Down there, it was a full scale dungeon, with gray concretewalls, wooden pillars, a sloping floor with a drain in the center and a chainlink fence section dividing it. Lynsey stopped, overcome with a powerful urgeto flee.

A hard shove propelled her forward, she stumbled, almost falling, staggeringto the center of the room. She almost fell over, but he was right behind her,pulling her ass into his hips. Grabbing her hair, he yanked her upright, thenlifted her cuffed hands quickly, setting them into a hook hanging from a cordin the ceiling. It all happened so fast, Lynsey barely registered the hookclamping shut on her handcuff chain. And then he pulled the rope tight, andshe found herself jerked up onto her toes, dangling from the hook, her bodyalmost suspended. She twisted on her toes.

Jack walked in front of her, she wouldn't meet his eyes. He grabbed her hairand slapped her face twice, the sound of his hand on her flesh, the stingingin his palm, made his cock leap.

?Look at me,? he ordered.

She looked, eyes wide with terror. She was panting, slightly flushed. He slidhis hand into her blouse, pulling her breast out, pleased to note the hardnessin her nipples.

?Are you afraid,? he said.

She swallowed. A dry sound died in her throat, and she nodded quickly, nevertaking her eyes off him. Perfect, he thought. Man, he was going to pound thisbitch.

?Here's how it works,? he told her, ?you do exactly as you are told, exactly.You do every fucking thing you're told, and you do it like you like it....And maybe it doesn't get any worse... Fuck around.... And I guarantee it willget worse, a lot worse. Worse than you can imagine...?

He laughed. Enjoying the surge of fear, the way she struggled to catch a breath.Oh he might do her again, he thought, but never again like this. This was tooperfect.

He wondered if she was dripping. He wondered if he reached below, he'd findher thighs slick. If he reached a little higher, her panties soaking. Reachin, and feel soft pliable wetness...

?Understand?? He slapped her again.

She nodded desperately, finally choking out a ?y.. Y... Yes!?

He smiled benignly. More than any of the others, Jack was a genuine sadist.He truly liked to inflict pain. His partner in agony was a sexual thrill forhim. For others, it was the rape, the conquest, the degradation, the punishment.He respected all that. He just liked to make it hurt.

Fortunately or unfortunately for Lynsey, their agreement meant that he couldn'ttake her completely apart, the way he did with some of his victims. No realscars, no massive bruises. But that still left a lot to work with. And, fortunatelyor unfortunately for Lynsey, he was well acquainted with the techniques forforcing orgasms from bodies in agony.

?Well then, just relax, we're going to have a lot of fun. Hell, if you keepthe rule in mind, you'll even enjoy some of it...?

He stepped around her, enjoying the way she dangled from the hook. It wasjust slightly too high, leaving her perpetually wobbling on tip toes. He fondledher breasts through the fabric of her clothes, making her wince as he foundand pinched her nipples. His hands traveled down her blouse settling aroundher hips. He swung her around, she was so delicately balanced that she couldn'tresist the simple pressure. For a while, he busied himself caressing her ass,working her skirt up her thighs until the two pale globes were exposed.

He slapped them hard, shoving her until she lost her balance and swung freefor a second, dangling from her stretched arms, until she could again findher balance on tiptoes.

?You like it, don't you,? he said, and ripped her blouse open, glorying inthe sound of buttons popping, fabric tearing. The violence of the act madeher squeal in fear. He reached between her breasts, pulling the bra out. Herbreasts were squashed up and forward, the bra straps cutting into her flesh,she grunted with discomfort. Then the clasp snapped and the bra flopped open,exposing her heaving breasts and hard nipples.

Lynsey was panting harshly, partly fear, Jack thought, partly lust. The signsof involuntary arousal were all over her body. He stepped around behind, amusedwhen she tried to tip toe away, to escape him.

?You can't go anywhere, bitch,? he laughed, and amused himself slapping herbody, provoking squeals and whimpers. Then he reached down to the hem of herskirt, grasped firmly and pulled. The fabric tore with a ripping sound allthe way up to the waist, where the heavy stitching held. He worked his fingersinto the wasteband and pulled, yanking her off balance and making her shriek.Another savage yank and the ruined skirt was gone.

He swung her around, her wrists twisting painfully. She was now half naked,only scraps of fabric clinging to her arms and shoulders. Her naked breastswere heaving, her bare legs shivering as she struggled to maintain herselfon tiptoes of bare feet.

?Please,? she whimpered, ?I'm begging...?

?You don't have to beg for it,? he assured her, ?I'm happy to do it.?

His fingers slid down between her legs, exploring her satin panties with anuncharacteristic gentle fluttering touch. He traced the outlines of her labiathrough her panties, noting the signs of wetness permeating the fabric. Heloosely cupped her pubic mound.

?Mmmm nice panties,? he said, ?you've got good taste.?

His fingers slowly gathered the fabric at her pubic mound, pulling the centralstrip between her legs into a narrow cloth band. He wrapped it in his fist,twisting until it was a harsh strip of cloth stretched tight between her labia,spreading her lips open and abrading her clit. He pulled higher, she seemedto go further up on tip toes, wincing.

?Good fabric, eh,? Jack said, ?strong. I like that. Let's see how much itcan take.?

Enjoying her whimpering, he pulled the twisted fabric tighter and higher,until she was literally dancing on tip toes. It continued to hold, he pulledhigher, giving it little yanks and twists to increase her discomfort. She startedbegging again, which only made him laugh, and then she started to screech.

Finally, with a sudden whip snap, the fabric let go. Lynsey, released fromagony, simply dropped, bouncing on her shoulders.

Jack reached down and started fingering her bared cunt.

?You're wet,? he whispered as she turned her face away, refusing to look athim, trying to blot it all out. He allowed her to squeeze her eyes shut, totry and shut herself off. It wasn't going to work of course. He might slapher, scare her, insist that she make eye contact. But it was much better toinvade her through her skin, through her cunt. Try as she might shut him out,she couldn't shut out his fingers now gentle between her legs, massaging herlabia, stroking her clit. He bent down to her breast, and rolled his tonguearound her nipple, sucking it in and massaging it gently with his mouth, nibblingjust enough to ensure the stimulation was inescapable.

His body came close to hers, pressing her to him, bending her to his manlywarmth. A free hand snaked around her ass, caressing it. Jack was gentle, lettingher fear and distress ebb, replacing it with an odd, unwanted stimulation.When he was sure her sighs had turned completely to pleasure, when she wasactually writhing against him, giving herself submissively to his touches,he stopped. Walked away, and turned off the lights, leaving her dangling inthe dark, aroused and helpless.

He wanted her to stew a bit. So he went upstairs, made a few phone calls.Leisurely he stripped down, stroking his cock luxuriously. He went into hisbedroom, looked through a collection of floggers, belts, tools and clamps.Mostly unnecessary, he already knew what he wanted to do, and had all the rightimplements already laid out in the basement. But he'd saved his whipping choiceuntil he could gage the quality of her skin.

It wouldn't do to leave her massively bruised or scarred he thought. Not thistime. After all, there were two more rapists who would want relatively undamagedgoods. They were all in this together, and much as he would have liked to hurther, he liked his new pals better and had no wish to piss in their pool, asit were.

He chose a big wide belt, with small holes drilled through its business end.Too short to really get whip action going, more than a simple paddle, too wideto really bruise her. It would hurt like hell, he could imagine the way itwould make her flesh feel, like splashes full of pins and needles. His cock leaped.

He grabbed the big bowie knife, popped a stick of gum, and headed back downstairs.

The lights came on suddenly, harsh and electric, stinging her eyes and makingher blink. She looked up, and there he was in the doorway, grinning, naked,his erection rampant, holding a huge knife in one hand, and a belt in the other.Lynsey started screaming in panic, jumping and dancing on her hook in a hopelessattempt to flee.

?Scared,? he whispered, coming close to her. He held the cold metal of theknife blade against her cheek. Her screams suppressed to blubbering whimpers.For a while, he enjoyed feeling her tremble and jerk as he slid the knife overher body, the tip pressing into her nipples, the flat sliding against her belly,her thighs. Once he drew the dull (not that she knew which edge it was) edgeup between her lips, sliding it against her clit. Every now and then, he wouldcut away a bit more of her remaining clothes until she was completely naked.

?I'm tired of teasing with the the knife,? he whispered in her ear as sheshivered. Really, it was just foreplay for him, he liked pain more than terror. ?Now,we can do a couple of things. We can get a bit more creative... A little bloodwork?You seem to really respond to the knife, it gets you hot, I can tell. So youmay be up for that.... Or I can whip you with the belt. What would you like?Your choice??

Lynsey shivered. ?The b.. B... Belt...?

?What was that, I didn't hear. Did you say the knife??

?The belt, the belt!?

?Ahhh, okay. You really want it??

?Y... Yes.?

Jack smiled. He was going to enjoy this.

?Okay. But only if you really, really want it. You have to want it, or we'lljust go back to the knife.?

Lynsey whimpered. Anything was better than the knife, the thought of how muchfurther that might go terrified her.

?The belt...? she whimpered, ?I want you to beat me with the belt.?

?Will you push your ass out for the belt? Will you offer up your tits? Dancearound and beg for it??

?Yes! Yes! Yes!?

Jack laughed, folding the belt in his hands. ?Okay, but let's not get tooout of hand. Only thirty lashes. How's that??

?Thirty lashes, yes!?

?Good enough, now Lynsey,? he said, ?I'm not good at counting, so you'll haveto count. I'll trust you, but if I think you've fucked me around, well, I'lljust fucking hurt you. And I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your counting toyourself. I find it really distracting, and stupid to hear counting out loud.?

He made Lynsey beg for it. He made her bend on tiptoes, begging him to laythe belt across her up thrust ass, she offered her breasts. Sometimes, he'dhave her spread her legs, begging for it across the ass, and then just forthe hell of it, snap the belt up between her lets, trying to lash her clit.She screamed and screeched again and again, taking some blows with only a grunt,others with a piglike squeal. He threw off her counting several times.

Finally, around fifty strokes, when he judged she couldn't take any more,around fifty strokes, he let out the rope she was suspended from. Lynsey saggedto her knees, too exhausted even to sob. Her sides heaved as she panted likea dog. Jack let out even more slack, and she eased forward onto knees and elbows,head bowed. Her naked body was shining, the flesh reddened everywhere in streaksand smears, her body dripping with sweat.

She looked perfectly fuckable, Jack thought, with those shivering, J-Low asscheeks all round and waiting for a cock between them, her blonde hair limpand hanging over her face, nipples brushing the concrete floor. Jack slippedon a pair of kneepads and grabbed his ?fun' bottle.

Then he stepped up and knelt behind her, running his hands gently over hertrembling ass. He reached down, drawing a finger up her cunt, pleased at hersopping wetness. He'd worked hard to make sure that she stayed wet and ready,to make sure that in all the pain and humiliation, that her body was mechanicallystimulated.

?Hey Lynsey,? he said, cupping her cunt, the shock of his touch made her involuntarilypush herself onto his hand, ?how about a nice fuck, and we call it a day??

A day? Call it a day? An end to this? Suddenly, a doorway had opened, an escapehatch, and Lynsey, in her desperate exhausted condition saw only a single choice.She leaped for it.

?Yes,? she cried, ?yes, yes, fuck me.? Fuck me and call it a day, it wouldbe over.

?Good enough,? Jack grunted. His cock poked at her lips, and she thrust herselfback on his cockhead. But he wasn't quite ready yet. Instead, he filled hishands with the liquid from his fun bottle, rubbing it in. Then he grabbed Lynsey'srope, still hooked to her handcuffs, and pulled savagely. Her wrists were drawnpainfully back to her shoulder blades, face sliding up against concrete. Hisfree hand, he jammed up against her cunt, massaging it, working the stingingrubbing alcohol/aftershave mix in deep into the tender flesh. Lynsey's screamwas earsplitting, the agony unlike anything she had known.

Jack thrust his cock into her wildly spasming cunt, and humped her savagelyfor a few dozen desperate thrusts, until finally, shooting an explosive loadinto her defenseless cunt. There was no condom, she realized, she could inher agony, feel his seed invading her.

Jack couldn't care less, he wanted to ride her bareback. He figured she wasdisease free. If she wasn't, well... He could always cut her nipples off aspunishment later. And as for pregnancy? Her problem, not his. It could be dealtwith.

Even in her pain and disorientation, this added to her stress as she thoughtabout diseases and pregancy. Horrified, she realized she was coming, the combinationof physical stress and emotional degradation had tripped a masochistic switchin her, and a convulsive orgasm overtook her tormented body.

After he shot his load, he stood up and looked her over. Oh he'd noted theorgasm, it pleased him. The bitch had been so hot, he'd lost control towardsthe end, had not had it together enough to make sure she came as he'd wanted.But he was pleased to see that she'd taken care of that herself.

She looked so utterly defeated, so totally used, that he could almost feelhis cock stirring again. Definitely, there would be a round two. This bitch,he thought, looked so delicious, that he had to save these moments for posterity.He ran upstairs, got his digital camera. When he returned, she was still lyingin position. He took a few pictures from different angles, including a lovelyone of his semen leaking from her reddened cunt. And then, inspired, he gotLynsey to do some posing, offering up her breasts and ass, spreading her legs,alternating between submissive and pornographic postures. Her smile, of course,was completely and obviously false. No one who looked at those blasted eyes,the strained features, the grimace, could ever believe that these were voluntarypictures or that she was enjoying herself. But for Jack, that simply addedto them.

Time for a break, he thought. He secured her to his fucking table, a largelinen covered platform that was angled for easy use. Kind of like that tablethat they always brought Frankenstein to life on. After all, he didn't wanther getting in trouble. He went upstairs, this time leaving the light on, justso she could think about what might come next.

Upstairs, Jack took a shower, then signed onto the net, transmitting digitalimages as an unexpected bonus to his waiting and eager audience. He chattedfor a while, discussing what would come next. They had some very interestingideas for afterwards that made his cock hard.

Lynsey glanced up as Jack came downstairs.

?Okay,? Jack told her gleefully, holding out his piercing needles, ?this isfor all the marbles.?

Lynsey stared her eyes wild, whites rolling, at the brutal skewers he wasapproaching her with. He set them down on the bench beside her.

?Please,? she begged. ?Oh god, please don't do this.?

?Oh bitch,? he said, ?you're going to love this.?

She thrashed in panic, her hips lifting from the bench. But he easily caughtthem and maneuvered his hard cock into her, penetrating her. He began thrusting,his hands mangling her now swollen and aching breasts.

Despite herself, she responded, her body getting wet, her cunt sending signalsof pleasure. Oh god, she told herself, just fuck him, fuck him good and maybehe won't do any more. Please him... and a part of her was thinking, oh thisis good. Fuck me good.

?Ready?? he asked.

He picked up a small metal object that had accompanied the skewers. She'dbarely noticed it in the company of the terrifying needles. He reached downbetween their legs, pulling his cock back until only the head was within. Hisfingers deftly found and manipulated her clit, seizing and pulling it.

There was a savage saw toothed tightness gripping her and she screamed withshock and pain. Her body spasmed, intense sensations like and unlike orgasmshot up and down her spine. She'd never felt anything like it.

?Clit clamp,? Jack exclaimed, ?I thought you'd like it.?

Clit clamp? Oh god. Suddenly, it rocketed clearly in her mind. The elaborateset up, the sequence of tortures, it was all so familiar.

?You're from the chat,? she squealed.

?Of course,? Jack said grinning, ?what did you think??

He rammed his cock hard into her, grinding against the clit clamp, pushingit against their two bodies. She shrieked, her next words forgotten.

?Wild isn't it,? he smiled at her thrashing body, twisting her nipples ashe humped her fiercely. Each pelvic thrust brought paroxysms of sexual agonythrough the clit clamp. ?Don't worry though, it ain't gonna come loose in thefucking. It'll tear your clit off before it lets go.?

He jammed her especially hard for emphasis.

?Oh God!? Lynsey shrieked. She couldn't get a train of thought together, eachpelvic thrust, each sexual invasion of her cunt, each stab of agony in herclit, derailed her. But even so, she was struck by how she had masturbatedto this scenario in the chatroom, and to others like it, and then he'd thrust,and the train would start up again, like a broken record, skipping and skipping

?Oh man,? he grunted, ?you are good. I can feel your wet cunt grabbing me,tightening around me every time I jam you. You're one hot piece of ass.?

Jack fucked her steadily, working himself up to orgasm, pushing her with alternatewaves of pain and pleasure.

It was coming close. Time for the big finish, he decided.

He shoved his cock in deep and held it there, laying his weight on her. Thenew pressure on her clit clamp made her forget about her aching nipples, aboutthe stings and slaps, she simply shook and spasmed and struggled.

Lynsey didn't notice as he reached for one of the piercing needles and a cork.Gingerly, trying not to draw her attention, he laid the cork against her rawand swollen nipple.

?Say cheese,? he said and suddenly rammed the heavy piercing needle, the largestgauge he could get away with, through the deep fleshy part of her nipple, embeddingit deep in the cork.

The pain ripped through Lynsey, drawing her away for a shocking moment, fromthe agony of the clit clamp. She stared in absolute horror at the skewer throughher breast, for a few seconds, she couldn't even breath.

Then she thrashed like she was electrocuted. Her cunt spasmed wildly, almostpushing Jack over into orgasm. But he held on, he wanted to do the other one.

This time, there was no hiding, she watched him reach for the skewer. Shespewed an incoherent garble of begging, pleading, screaming as he waved itin front of her. Her hips bucked wildly trying to throw him off, she actuallyknocked the clit clamp loose and it clattered on the floor. Jack noticed andcursed internally, but despite that, he loved her struggles. She tore at herbonds, struggled and flailed like a wild animal. The piercing needle alreadyin her breast flopped about wildly.

Oh this was going to be good, he thought. Laying his weight on her to holdher down, his cock embedded deeply in her spasming cunt, he grabbed her nipple,holding it painfully. Her eyes were white with fear. Slowly, he laid the corkagainst it, brought the piercing needle forward.

Her screams were like music, and her whole body spasmed. As he slowly slidthe needle into her flesh, the feelings of her pain and the sensations of hercunt on his cock were sending him over the edge. As he pierced her nipple,he ejaculated up inside her, a massive powerful orgasm that had him forcingthe needle all the way through the cork and halfway out the other side. Itwas so powerful his vision almost whited out.

But he had presence of mind even as his cock spurted its last bursts of semento reach down to her hyperexcited cunt. With a few deft manipulations of hisfingers, he triggered an orgasm that shook her.

Jack rocked his hips, working his softening cock inside her clutching throbbingfolds, forcing his last drops of semen up into her despoiled womb. He luxuriatedin his taking of her, the helpless agonized surrender written on her slackface.

Almost done, he thought. Taking advantage of the passivity of her orgasm,he reached down for a heavy ring, slipped the plastic joint on it, drew thefirst piercing needle out, and slid the first ring in. It was a quick easyprocess, barely a drop of blood. Then, with equal confidence, he inserted thesecond ring. Oh she looked good.

Finally, he pulled himself off her, listening to her soft panting. He straightenedup, grinned, and said. ?Okay, that wasn't bad. Listen, I'm going to make somecoffee, you want cream or sugar with yours.?

She opened her eyes, Jack enjoyed the mild shock in them as she tried to processhis words. Finally, she understood. How should she respond to this man whohad brutally raped her and now wanted to know her coffee preferences? It seemedsurreal.

Eventually, she managed to say, ?black is fine.?

Jack chuckled. ?I would have bet you liked it strong and black,? he slappedher thigh, a friendly stinging gesture, unlocked her wrists. ?Coming rightup.?

He gestured to a corner. ?Sorry about your clothes, if you want somethingto wear... Not like you need to, try that pile there.?

Lynsey stared at the pile of rags in the corner. Whistling tunelessly, Jackleft her to it and trotted upstairs.

* * * * * * * * *

Lynsey sat at Jack's kitchen table in a mild state of shock. A mug of steamingcoffee was in her hands. She'd found a dirty T-shirt and a pair of sweat pantsto cover her nudity.

?I know you might want to take the rings out,? he was telling her. ?But youneed to leave them at least a week.?

?Why??

?Infection,? he lied, ?without the rings in there, you'll have torn tissuewith nothing to keep it open. So, infection will set in. You don't want yournipples turning black and seeping pus, do you??

She shuddered, the very thought made her queasy. Jack smiled.

?You should be safe after a week. My advice is to leave them for a month andthen decide if you want to keep them or not. Your call. But they look goodon you.?

Lynsey simply grunted. Her nipples ached horribly, and she could feel thevisceral weight and shape of the heavy rings.

She still couldn't believe it. Moments ago, she'd been downstairs, chained,terrorized, whipped and raped. Now she was sitting here in the kitchen of theman who had done it all to her, as if it had never happened. Sort of...

?Man,? he said, ?you were so fucking hot. You were a wet dream. I'm glad Ididn't wear a rubber, I didn't want to miss a bit of you.?

?Thanks,? Lynsey said, ?I think.?

She thought a little.

?How did you find me??

Jack chuckled, the lie was already prepared. ?Well, I was at this departmentstore, and I saw you. You fit the description, and you were wearing this outfityou'd described. So, I decided to follow you. You bought something from a salesgirl,paid with a credit card, so after you left, I came over fed her some storyand paid her fifty bucks for your address and customer information. Simpleas that.?

?Simple as that,? Lynsey repeated softly.

?Simple as that,? Jack said, ?it was just a fluke.?

?A fluke,? Lynsey said. It was a fluke. A once in a million chance. That wasall. But...

?Who was the salesgirl??

Jack chuckled and shook his head, ?I wouldn't want to get the poor girl introuble. You did ask for this, you know.?

Lynsey blinked. It was a fluke she told herself. But...

?Did you tell anyone else??

Jack nodded guiltily.

?Yeah, one guy. A friend of mine. We agreed it shouldn't go any further thanthe two of us. After all, why kill the golden goose? We figured if it got toofar out, then it would turn into a mess, no fun.?

?One??

?Yeah, his big thing was nailing you in a parking lot. Then he was going totake off for a few weeks.?

So the Parking Lot rape was part of it, she thought to herself. She didn'tknow if that comforted or frightened her. But what about the other incident?

?Anyone else??

?Nope. We swore secrecy.?

?But there were two guys who said... They took me for a hooker... ? Lynseytrailed off under Jack's innocent gaze. Had that been real? That they had reallytaken her for a hooker? That for them, it had just been a transaction, fuckinga hooker? She had submitted so easily. She felt more and more disoriented.

?Geez,? Jack said, ?you okay? You look pale suddenly.?

?No... No... It's okay.?

?Look, if some guys mistook you for a hooker, that was nothing to do withme or Zacc. He nail you??

She nodded. ?Parking lot.?

Jack swore softly. ?Fuck, I owe him twenty bucks! That bastard, he told mehe was going to go for it this week, I figured I'd be in first!?

?This week?? Lynsey felt a tremor of fear.

Jack noted it and made an innocent face. ?Oh don't worry about that. We eachfigured that the merry go round was good for one ride apiece. If he's had you,he's not going to come back.?

?One ride?? She didn't dare to hope...

Jack shrugged. ?Yep, and I've just had mine. You're off the hook. I mean really,I don't think we could get away with raping you over and over, could we? Imean, that wasn't what you were up for...? Jack allowed a note of hope to creepin his voice, a warning that sent shivers up her spine.

?No, no,? she said quickly and tried to smile, ?offer good for one time only.?

Jack winked. ?I thought so.?

?So,? he asked her, ?did he make you come??

Lynsey blushed.

?You were so fucking hot,? he said. ?I could tell you were into it. I mean,we play at rape right? But the real thing, that's not cool. I could feel howyou wanted it though. You know how I could tell it wasn't really rape??

Lynsey stared blankly. It wasn't really rape? It had felt like it. She hadbeen violated to her core. Jack didn't wait for the answer.

?You came like a fountain!? He said, ?the moment I stuck my hand up betweenyour legs... And let me tell you, I was a little nervous until then... Butyou were dripping.?

?See,? he lectured her, ?I used to work in hospitals, in trauma ward, emergency.I saw a lot of shit.? He was lying, but of course, she couldn't know that.

?So you know, we got to know things. Thing with a woman, if it's genuine rape,like she really doesn't want it, there's physiological reactions, right? Herbody goes into fight or flight mode, all the blood goes to the limbs, she'spumping out adrenalin. It's like the opposite of a big meal, you know, allthe blood goes to internal organs for digestion, your arms and legs feel tired.With fight or flight, the blood goes just the opposite, into the limbs. Youknow what that means??

?Uhm...?

?No sexual response,? he lied. ?None at all. She's dry as a bone, the musclesare tight down there, not even much sensitivity. No responsiveness. See, theprivate parts need to saturate with blood for arousal. So, in a real rape,a woman is incapable of orgasm, hell, she can't feel anything down there hardly.Can't get aroused, physiologically impossible.?

Lynsey was confused. She had come. She'd come strongly each of the rapes.But if what he was saying was true... Then how? She studied his face, searchingfor any hint of deception.

Jack noted the uncertainty that crossed her features. Privately, he was elated,his cock leaped in his pants. He loved this. He had fucked her body, and nowhe was fucking her mind. He was fucking into her soul. The thought made himhard, made him want to throw her on the floor and take her brutally. He controlledthe urge, and simply smiled innocently at her.

?Now a lot of the rape cases we got at the hospital... Well, I shouldn't saya lot, but you know, a definite percentage, a minority... They were what we'dcall ?rape after the fact.' Some girl does it with her boyfriend and you know,stuff happens, she freaks out that she might be pregnant, she gets an attackof the guilts, he turns out to be a jerk, she gets caught by her daddy or husband...What's she going to say??

He paused and looked expectancy at Lynsey, putting her on the spot.

?That she was raped??

Jack nodded, mentally scoring a victory touchdown. ?Precisely. She's in anawkward situation, she's scared, she's upset, so she tells everyone it wasa rape. Tells herself too... Some of these bitches, excuse my language, theyconvince themselves and wind up believing it.?

Lynsey stared.

?So you know, Police, the Hospital, we'd have a protocol. Find out if shewas confessing to some sexual stimulation, have a nurse go off and check ifthey're wet. That's what the physical exam is really for by the way, to seeif there's sexual arousal, or if its really rape. If they're wet, if they weregetting off, hell, if they came, then we would know they were lying. It's nota real rape, we'd just send them off for counseling to work out whatever emotionalproblems it was they had.?

He grinned at Lynsey. ?That's how I knew you were completely into it. Fuckyou were wet! And you came, you came fucking buckets. You were a fountain,babe.?

He really believes it, she thought to herself. He really believes that hedidn't really rape me. The thought astonished her, she couldn't get her mindaround it.

Jack watched the emotions, the confusion and uncertainty warring on her face,she didn't have enough presence of mind to conceal them. He loved what he wasdoing to her, spinning her head around.

Lynsey puzzled at it. Of course he doesn't believe he really raped me, shethought, that's why he's made me coffee, why he's so casual like this. He reallydoes believe that I was totally into it, that I was into everything he did...Because he thinks I came. But I did come. Could he be right, he seemed so confident,so certain about that. If it was truly rape... then how could I come... Andif I came, then at some level... I liked it... Wanted it? Oh god.

Jack watched her face contort, almost able to read her thoughts as she workedher way through it all. He shifted in his chair, his cock rigid again, as aniron bar. Oh how he longed to drag her back to the basement and whip her assuntil he was ready to shoot a load into it, to hear her scream and beg as heviolated her. But this was better. This was so much better.

He had the stupid bitch just about convinced that it wasn't rape at all, thatit was her fault.

?You okay, Lynsey,? he asked innocently.

Her face was ashen, but she nodded, barely registering him. She was far toocaught up in her betrayal of herself, in the realization that her responsesto the rapes had been .... They weren't rapes? She'd wanted it? Liked it? Butthen, she'd asked to play the game... All those fantasies on the computer...Dressing like a hooker... She felt ashamed of herself, immeasurably dirty andfilthy. She felt like a cheap whore.

?Um... Yeah,? she whispered. The coffee was growing cold.

She wasn't looking at him, so Jack allowed himself a gloating smirk. ?Well,I suppose you better get going. Sorry about your clothes. Shall we hit theroad...?

He stood up. Lynsey, automatically stood. He lead her to the hallway, andstopped her there, taking her chin and kissing her. Her lips were like putty,she was barely responsive. He could tell she was still undergoing an internalstruggle. She had almost no will left, was simply operating on autopilot.

?You're so fucking hot,? he whispered, putting his hand on her shoulder andkeeping pressure there. After a second, she sank to her knees. His heart racedat this reflexive surrender. He rolled her hair in his hands as she obedientlyunzipped his pants and pulled his cock out. Her mouth opened, and she tookhis hard rod between her wet lips.

?Finger yourself,? he whispered, and watched as one of her hands slid underthe wasteband of her sweat pants. He didn't know if she was truly aroused,or merely obedient, and he didn't care. He understood instead, that even ashis cock fucked into her face, that his words had fucked into her soul, penetratingher more deeply than she had ever been touched.

He patiently allowed her to suck his cock for ten minutes, watching as herhips began to rock of their own accord, as her arousal, born out of confusionand surrender built. Then, just before she was ready, he grabbed her head tightlyand violently thrust a half dozen times into her mouth, shooting his load.He pulled out, his semen dripping from her lip, her expression dazed, confusedand needy.

That's it, bitch, he thought. Going to leave you on the hook, leave you horny.You don't get to come on this one, you're going to leave here all squirmingand hot and bothered and unable to think straight. You're going to walk outof here with your pussy throbbing, and all those ideas I put in your head rollingaround, and you won't know if you're coming or going, you won't know up ordown, you're just going to be so confused you'll swallow every bit of bullshitbecause I've tied your head all up in knots and your pussy is throbbing.

None of this escaped his lips. Instead he helped the now helplessly docileLynsey up, escorted her to his car. He had her lie with her face in his lap,another deliberate humiliation, explaining that he didn't want her to see hisneighborhood... Just in case she changed her mind, like the other false rapeclaimants. She acceded to his request, and so he drove most of the way acrossthe city with the smell of his crotch in her nostrils.

Finally, a few blocks away, he let her up. He explained he wasn't sure whereshe lived... A transparent and patent lie, which he noted with amusement, shedidn't even register. Was it okay to let her off here? She nodded.

He let her out on the busy street, and then, just as she took too steps away,he called her back, to demand a kiss. So she bent down to stick her head inthe car window and submitted to a long and torrid french kiss, his tongue exploringher mouth, while he quite obviously felt up her breasts. A number of passerby's and locals saw their intimate clasp.

Jack again enjoyed her humiliation, but also enjoyed having witnesses whocould testify to her consensual intimacy with him. Let her bring a rape complaint,if she could, he laughed to himself.

His last sight was Lynsey stumbling home in a daze, her nipple rings pokingthrough the thin cotton of the dirty T-shirt, the crotch of her absorbent sweatpants slightly but visibly darkened with moisture.

* * * * * * * *

Lynsey returned home to an angry message on her answering machine from heremployer, asking about her whereabouts and why she hadn't shown up for work.It seemed unreal, irrelevant.

She left a message of her own that she was sick. After that, she stumbledaround the apartment, bathing, laying down, cooking and doing dishes automatically,trying to make sense of her experiences.

The next couple of days she stayed home as well, calling in sick, and ignoringthe increasingly frustrated messages left by her office. She would deal withit when she could deal with it.

In the meantime, she felt adrift. Things had happened to her. But now, shelooked at her bodies reactions, and could not be sure that they had reallyhappened the way she though they had. Rather, they had not been what she thought.Or had they? The memories and incidents were fresh and graphic, but so wereher physical reactions. She found it difficult to work through, difficult tothink.

Still, as difficult as it all was, there were rays of hope. Jack had toldher it was a fluke. No one else was out there homing in on her, there was noway to find her. It had all been dumb luck on his part. And it had been a onetime thing, for Jack and Zacc. They wouldn't take her again. She was safe.She was secure. The hooker thing, that was just an abberation, another fluke.Shame on her for dressing like a hooker, she'd deserved it. But that was over.She wouldn't dress up in public again. No, it wouldn't happen again. It couldn'thappen again. It was over. She was safe.

She clung to that. She was safe. She built an island of stability for herselfaround that point. She was safe. After a few nights, she had recovered herselfenough to return to some of her comforting rituals, her life settling backinto her old groove. She didn't masturbate, of course, she didn't dare confrontthat. There was an urge, but it intimidated her, whispered to her of frighteningdarknesses within herself, a gateway to her own wells of shame. And she certainlydidn't go on the net.

But she did drink a big glass of orange juice before going to bed....

* * * * * * * * * *

Lynsey woke like a car crash, a sudden jarring rush of consciousness whereshe snapped out of utter blackness to jarring, screaming wakefulness. She woketo rushing panic, her heart racing, pulse pounding, muscles clenching, herbody washed with cold sweat. The world twisted unsteadily around her as shetried to thrash.

She had know way to know it, but her explosive waking was the effect of amethamphetamine suppository countering the narcotic drugs in her system. Thetwo combined to leave her jangling and disoriented. So, for the first instantsof her waking, she knew only that she had woken in physical and emotional turmoilas if from a horrific nightmare. The nightmare, of course, was only beginning.

Gradually, as she gained control of herself, Lynsey realized that she couldn'tmove. She twisted her head. She was lying on her bed, yes. In her own bedroom.Her mouth was constricted by some sort of gag, it pushed her jaws open andleather straps pulled tight against her cheek. The side of her face was slickwith warm drool. She pulled, but her arms wouldn't move. She realized thatthey were fastened behind her back at her wrists and elbows in a posture thatwas just on the edges of discomfort. Her shoulders ached? How long had shebeen like this? She was on her stomach, and there was a pillow under her hips,elevating them. Her legs were splayed widely, trying to pull them up, she couldfeel cords at her ankles, she succeeded only in wiggling her ass.

In her confused, disoriented state she could not even put together the thoughtsto wonder why or how she was trussed in this position. Lynsey was only awareof her bondage in the center of her own home, and her weak pointless thrashingsto free herself.

So it came as a complete and utter shock to the core of her soul when twostrong male hands were laid on her upraised buttocks. She screamed, or triedto scream through the gag. The only result was a muffled groaning. Up to themoment that the strange hands took possession of her, it had not even occurredto her, in her drug and fatigue addled state, to even suspect that she mightnot be alone.

Mike had watched her shock back to consciousness, had listened to her tinymews and groans, the twitching and stretching as she discovered her bonds.He had, of course, watched her unknowingly drug herself on tainted orange juice.Had waited an appropriate time before sneaking in. He had undressed her lovingly,posed and positioned her body as he had done so many times before. But thistime, oh this time, it would be for real. His cock laid in his pants like abattering ram, as he carefully bound her body into position, ensuring bothhelplessness and complete vulnerability. He undressed himself, laid out hispreparations. Finally, he'd slid a methamphetamine suppository up her ass towatch her wake.

It had been perfect.

Now with his hands, strange hands, kneading the yielding flesh of her buttocks,Lynsey flew into full fledged panic, thrashing within the limits of her bonds,kicking, trying to throw him off. Mike was impressed, at points, she actuallymanaged to lift her torso up completely off the bed, her body straining. Herstruggles to free herself only humped her ass up against his hands again andagain. Mike enjoyed her thrashings, letting her play herself out like a fishon a line.

Finally, she collapsed in exhausted passivity, panting fiercely, her bodydrenched in her own sweat.

It was time, Mike decided, for the next step.

Lynsey's eyes opened wide when she heard the sound of a vibrator being switchedon. Her body twitched at its gentle touch at her labia. Mike played the vibratorlike an artist, drawing it up and down her inner thighs, along her lips, teasingher clit with it, before circling around to her anus.

Lynsey grew wetter and wetter, her hips rocked in the limited range he'd allowedher. She found herself gasping and moaning. Even the enduring soreness of hernewly pierced nipples contributed to her arousal. Her mind locked up, unableto even begin to cope with what was happening to her, with her waking to bondage,with it happening in the sanctity and safety of her home, with this terrifyingunknown stranger, who made her feel sooo good. The horror of previous rapesmingled in her unconsciousness with Jack's lies about secret willingness andher own bodies betrayals. She simply could not allow herself to think, hermind would not function.

And so she writhed and moaned in bondage as Mike used the vibrator and hisfingers to tease her vagina, never penetrating it, but building her again andagain towards orgasm, while always denying ultimate release. He would not lether come.

Finally, as Lynsey was reduced to a whimpering, quivering, shuddering mass,driven half mad with arousal and denied orgasm, Mike decided that she was ready.

He took two fingers of lubrication and smeared it liberally between her asscheeks. Lynsey gasped, not quite understanding this new cold sensation. Hecrudely and impersonally shoved his finger up her ass, lubricating it againand again. Lynsey, in her haze, even lifted her ass for him, wiggling it inhopes he would go back to fingering her cunt.

Of course, the lubrication wasn't for her. Mike was indifferent if it causedher pain, in fact, he might enjoy that. But he was going in without a rubber,and this bitch was so tight and cherry, he didn't want to tear the skin offhis cock.

Lynsey was an anal virgin, which pleased him. They'd determined that in theirnocturnal examinations of her drugged body. Her ass was cherry. They had allagreed that Mike's reward, his gift, their token of appreciation to him forputting all this together, was that they would save that luscious tight assjust for him. Through the previous rapes, they had carefully saved that rosebudfor his deflowering.

What a great bunch of guys, Mike thought. He straddled her ass now, pressinghis cock between her cheeks. Still crazed with arousal, addled with the combinationof narcotics and amphetamines in her system, helpless in her bindings, Lynseymoaned with confusion, she didn't fully understand what was going on. Wasn'the going to fuck her?

Mike rolled the head of his cock back and forth between her butt cheeks asshe squirmed. It wasn't quite enough.

He bent forward, laying his hips across her ass, his cock resting againsther hungry lips, so near and yet so far. He leaned in until he could whisperin her ear.

?Lynsey,? he whispered, ?oh Lynsey, can you hear me??

He whispered it over and over until he got her attention.

?Can you understand me, Lynsey??

She nodded. He'd focused her attention. His cock hardened even more, grewviolently urgent.

?Good.?

?Lynsey,? he told her, ?I'm going to fuck you up the ass. I'm going to fuckyou really hard up the ass.?

She went still, he could tell she was absorbing the knowledge. He could almostimagine the cold horror creeping through her body, the sudden poisoning ofher arousal, the swift temporary clarity and the fear and panic it inspired.

?Do you understand, Lynsey?? he whispered, enjoying the evil of it. ?I'm goingto take my big cock and shove it hard up your tiny little cherry asshole....And there's nothing you can do but take it.?

Lynsey thrashed violently. Even with his weight on her back, she succeededfor a second in raising her upper body. A series of ululating moans tore throughher gag. Her shoulders worked, her hips bounced, her legs kicked within theirbonds.

Mike laughed with pure pleasure, enjoying the way she wriggled like a fishon a hook. For a second, he considered waiting it out, letting her exhaustherself into helplessness again. But why bother? Why not just take her in themiddle of her struggles, at the height of her strength.

He straddled her bouncing ass, positioning his cock at her sphinter. Try asshe might, she could not dislodge him away.

Lynsey was terrified, in full panic mode, her mind seized with unreasoningfear. Her mind had ceased to function, and she was now all animal fright andsensation. She thrashed wildly, never acknowledging her helplessness.

There was a pressure at her sphincter. Lynsey knew it was her rapist's hugecock trying to breach her. Animal fear reflexes took over. She squeezed herselfshut with every fibre of strength in her being.

Mike pushed, letting all the weight of his body settle into his hips, lettinghis bodies mass be his weapon against her. The pressure against Lynsey's sphinctergrew unbearable. Her struggles ceased as all her resources, every moleculeof will devoted itself to holding him out. His cocks head pushed inexorably,an irresistable force of body and willpower against her immoveable entry.

The force, the pressure continued to increase. Lynsey stopped breathing, holdingit in tight. Even her heartrate seemed to slow, to become ponderous. Her facegrew hot and puffy, her body stiff, the muscles rigid. Even her toes were splayed.

For a second, for a split second, she thought, imagined, fantasized, thatshe might win, that he would not gain entry.

And then she gave the tiniest gasp, bated held breath betrayed her with aquick intake, and she felt by just the tiniest increment, her body's strengthlessening.

His pressure kept increasing, his whole weight on her, concentrated on thehead of his cock at her vulnerable sphincter, he pushed with his knees andhis hips, grabbing her waist in his hands, he pulled himself onto her, curvinghis back to add to the force of his impending violation of her body.

She felt his strength growing relentlessly, forcing her ring muscle down,prying it open millimeter after millimeter. And she felt her own strength waningquickly, the singular focus of will that had allowed her to resist him so fargiving way to panic and frenzy. Tears rolled down her face, and she made adespairing moan through her gag.

He chuckled, feeling victory in his loins, feeling defeat suffusing her body.The contest was now wholly unequal, he continued to push as she weakened rapidly,her strength becoming sporadic and fluttering. The head of his cock pushedat her anal ring, opening it, stretching it to its normal extension.

It wasn't enough to admit him of course. His cock was a massive bludgeon,and she was an anal virgin, her tiny ring unused to violation, suitable onlyfor small passage of soft and delicate excretions.

But Lynsey was defeated now, her strength falling away, only shreds remainingto her, while if anything, his sexual will had grown ever more implacable.With victory over her vanquished spirit, he could have ripped her with a singlethrust, but he preferred to go slow, to remain an implacable force of her slowdestruction. And thus, he measured his penetration, paced it against her fadingstrength.

She moaned in pain as her anal ring stretched open to its absolute limit,and was stretched further. Lynsey grunted and gasped in agony as his entryslowly tore the delicate inner muscle fibres of her sphincter ring, defeatingher once again, opening her wider and wider.

Finally, the head of his cock passed within her anal ring. He could feel itwrapped tight around him, tight as a vise, tight as a pressure clamp. The franticgrunting from her gag could have been taken as sobbing, mourning her defeat,bemoaning the inevitable fate that they both knew now awaited her, the consummationof her primal violation.

Slowly, with the exquisite leisure of a conquerer, he allowed his shaft tosink beneath her cheeks. Millimeter by millimeter, his cock forced its waydeeper into her helpless bowels. The contest was over, he was merely claiminghis prize. She still fluttered, her limbs pulling weakly, her head turning,tears drifting. Every now and then, some depth of penetration would be achieved,a stretching of abused bowel, which would bring a further grunt from her exhaustedsweat soaked body.

Mike stared at his cock, half way into her bowels, the shaft still stickingout proud and strong around the taut stretched anal ring. He revelled in herabsolute helplessness. This quivering, jellylike, sweating, feeble, defenselessthing, the totality of it's existence devolving upon a stretched and torn ringof muscle and his foreign invading meat that in the very act of penetration,defined and defiled it, making it nothing more than the hot clutching receptaclefor his cock.

He wanted her to fully understand just how utterly degraded and dehumanizedhe had made her. How her identity, her very existence had been to become nothingmore than warm meat to wrap his cock.

?This is you, Linzey,? Mike whispered in your ear. ?Your entire life, everythingyou ever dreamed, ever thought, ever wanted, the whole thing from third grademusic lessons to your latest job promotion, all of it to take you here, tomake you nothing more and nothing less than a helpless quivering hole for mycock. This is your life, Linzey, this is the whole point of your life, thisis your hole life...?

Did she understand? A long tremulous groan slid from her throat. He wantedto laugh, his cock swelled growing even harder, its rapid pulse stretchingher violated anal ring that much further, as he whispered degrading obscenitiesinto her helpless ears.

He sank deeper, his pubic hair tickling the crack of her ass. His hips curvedin against her round buttocks, feeling the yielding warmth of her flesh. ButMike still wasn't satisfied. He kept on pushing deeper, flattening her curvingass against his hard muscle, pushing harder and harder now for each millimeterof penetration. He drove relentlessly into her, pulling her hips back, puttingall his weight into her body. Lynsey was squashed flat under him, splayed andopened, his force was so relentless that she could not breath beneath him.If she had been able to open and close her mouth, she would have made gaspingmotions like a fish. As it was, her eyes bulged and her face went red and puffy.

Finally, he had utterly penetrated her, violated her, defiled and defloweredher helpless body. He had taken her as no man ever had, had placed himselffar beyond anything she had ever taken within herself. He was almost satisfied.

Now for the fucking. Mike began to pull back, allowing her to breath. Herdefile anal ring was pulled with his cock, drawn after it as it withdrew. Hetook his time with his leisurely stroke, wanting to experience every bit ofher. And then he sank back, revelling once again, in the renewal of his possession,this new round of defilement. He was not particularly concerned to be gentlewith her, he cared little about her pain and only marginally about injury.No, the slow steady fucking he gave her was solely for his pleasure.

Lynsey was beyond shock, beyond awareness. She was conscious, but her mindwas shattered, and frozen. She recorded sensation but did not comprehend it,existing at barely animal levels. The little comprehension she had of his filthywhispering had driven her nearly to oblivion. Incapable of the emotion of surprisenow, she nevertheless became aware of her bodies response. The mechanical sighing,the falling into rhythm, the renewed wetness and throbbing of her clit, herbuilding physical arousal despite the sea of pain and violation that she foundherself trapped in.

In truth, a woman's grafenberg spot at the back of her vagina was vulnerableto anal stimulation, and this is what was happening with her. Mike noted withpleasure the signs of her arousal, the smell of musk, the helpless writhingsthat marked another betrayal by her body. He could, if he chose, ass fuck herto helpless orgasm.

He chose not to, that was not his plan. As he sensed her nearing, he wouldslow and stop, waiting for the edge to go off her sexual bonfire, and thenonly when there was no danger of her orgasm, would he continue his violation.Lynsey was left trapped in a swamp of increasingly intense sexual heat, unableto flee it, unable to do the slightest thing to bring herself off, continuallystimulated but perpetually denied release.

Finally, after almost an hour, he felt his orgasm quickening upon him. Mikeallowed himself the luxury of ramming into her helpless, sweat soaked bodywith ever more brutal force, until finally in a handful of spastic lunges heemptied his semen up inside her bowels. This was another violation of her,though she was long past appreciating it. But Mike gloried in spurting insideher nether regions, his deposit of semen another kind of deflowering, leavinghis seed within her.

Finally sated, Mike waited till he could feel his cock softening before pullinghimself off her. He padded to the kitchen, took a drink of water and then returnedto inspect his work. The room smelled now of blood and shit and sweat, theodours of her violation. For a second, he briefly contemplated urinating onher to complete the scene. But that wasn't in his plan, he put it aside.

Instead, he knelt behind her and pulled her cheeks apart. He shoved two fingersinto her asshole, stirring it. She was loose now, her anal muscles bruisedinto helplessness, stretched and torn. But as he stirred, he noticed no signsof prolapse, the tearing and rupture of the ligaments that held her anus andcolon in place. He was pleased with that, he would not have minded rupturingher into prolapse, but it was difficult to repair and the recovery was long.

No, she would recover from this anal plundering, although, he smiled to himself,she would never again be able to resist with the strength and will she hadbattled tonight. Her gates were now permanently weakened, not so badly thatshe would be useless or forced to wear a diaper, not so badly that a man wouldlack for pleasure in her body, but weakened nevertheless. Every other strugglefrom now on would be a foregone conclusion, a doomed and futile struggle forthe remembrance of an honour long soiled.

He tried speaking to her, but she was beyond hearing. Instead, he merely playedwith her, ensuring that her raging sexual fire neither subsided nor was satisfied.When he was ready, he anally raped her again, and then later in the eveningused her one more time for a third and final violation. It was easier eachtime, his violation more complete and thorough, her resistance almost nonexistent.He was not displeased, indeed, the evidence of the utter thoroughness of herdefeat made him even harder, made his strokes that much more urgent, slightlymore brutal. He used her body thoroughly. And of course, he never allowed herto come.

After his third ejaculation into her thoroughly despoiled bowels, Mike hadhad it. His cock, despite the lubrication was sore, he was fucked out, he feltgood in a sated loose limbed way.

There was still one last violation, one last humiliation to inflict, thoughshe was long past appreciating it. Slapping her casually on the ass, he movedup to her front, loosing the gag from her mouth. One look in her eyes, a glimpseat the blasted, shattered soul therein, was all the assurance he needed.

He stuck his filthy shit and blood covered cock into her slack mouth to cleanit off. At first, he only humped in her face, moving it against her tongue.But after a moment or two, Lynsey gathered enough understanding together toknow what she had to do, and so, only half aware, began to suck and lick, washingher own shit and blood off his genitals, using her lips and tongue to cleanhim of the evidence of her own despoil.

When she was finished, he did not bother to thank her, any more than he botheredto order her initially. She was just meat for his use, you don't order or thankmeat, you simply use it.

He released her wrists and elbow straps, freed her ankles. Now loosed frombondage, she simply lay where she was, her eyes gazing sightlessly, her breathingshallow. Mike treated himself to a hot shower, confident that she would neitherflee nor attack. When he came out, she was still laying on the bed in the sameposition.

He dressed, then cheerfully slapped her ass. ?You know,? he said with a chippertone, ?you should take a shower, wash all that funk off. Maybe open a window,change the sheets.?

And then he let himself out, whistling a happy tune.

After he was gone, she was alone. Freed of bondage, the only things in theworld were her bodies aches and the relentless unsated heat in her loins, thearousal he had built and refused to sate. She reached between her legs andbegan to masturbate, fingering herself to one orgasm after another, the physicaltraces and memories of her violation overpowering within her.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Lynsey showered automatically, mostly because she had been told to do so. Incapable of her own thoughts, Mike's suggestion was her only motivation.

She changed the sheets and cleaned the room, again because he'd told her todo it.

And then afterwards... Nothing. She went to the bathroom when pressure beganin her bladder or colon. She went to the kitchen and ate a little when hungerdrove her. But that was it. The dawn rose, and she was barely aware of it.Sometime in the morning, her telephone rang, and she stared at it without curiousity.She knew that messages were being recorded that she could listen to, but didnot bother to listen. She did not even bother to turn on the television. Mostly,she laid in bed, occasionally turning around.

Once in a while, in response to some mechanical urge, her fingers would slidedown between her legs, and she would masturbate. But it was simply her bodiesurging and her bodies satisfaction. Lynsey herself wasn't really there. Hereyes were open, but she didn't see.

That was the next few days. The phone rang several times, she never answered.One of the messages was from her employer, advising that she had been terminated.If she did not show up to collect her personal possessions from the office,they would simply be thrown out. Lynsey did not hear it, and would not havehad the ability to care if she had. Other messages were from her Landlord warningdirely of eviction after too many bounced rent cheques. Again, she was incapableof caring. An eviction notice was slid under her door, but she never noticedit. Other calls were from creditors. None from friends.

It was late afternoon. Lynsey was laying in bed on her back, staring at theceiling, half covered by a single sheer sheet. She heard her apartment doorbeing unlocked. Her head turned slightly at the noise. Someone was coming in,she knew that. But she found that she had no response, except an automatictightening in her cunt. She waited, listening to the sound of someone movingaround.

Eventually, he came into the bedroom. She watched without expression. Shedid not know him, but that didn't matter any more. Her body continued to betrayher by becoming wet. He stared at her lying on the bed. Finally, he reacheddown and slowly pulled the sheet off her naked body. She did not cling to it.

Lynsey was naked, splayed out before him like a prize for the taking. He continuedto watch her, without speaking.

Slowly, Lynsey spread her legs for him.

He smiled.

He took off his belt, folded it in half and slapped it against his palm. Shedid not react. He unzipped his pants, taking his massive heavy cock out. Heknelt on the bed. Again, there was no response.

He knew that she was utterly broken, that he could make her, that she woulddo anything, absolutely anything he wanted.

And that is exactly what she did.

Anything.

Absolutely anything.

Everything.

And came, she did it all, and she came. Which was the very worst part.

* * * * * * * * * *

After the final rape, she struggled to put herself back together. They'd drivenher to the bottom, so inevitably, there was no place else to go, nothing elseto do but try to regain herself.

She slept fourteen hours after the rape. But when she woke, she showered,dressed. She made herself a late lunch. She listened to her messages with aresigned depression, picked up her eviction notice, collected her mail, notingthat her bank statements contained a long list of bounced cheques. How hadthat happened? She'd had money in her bank account, it was almost as if hercheques were sabotaged. Her life was so fucked.

Lynsey stepped out of her apartment for the first time in days to buy a fewgroceries and a newspaper. She pored over job listings. Turned on the televisionand watched it. Finally, she went to her computer and updated her resume. Afterdoing that, she closed down at the program and stared at her screensaver, almostlosing herself in its placid evolution, like watching goldfish.

She knew what she had to do.

She had to stop it, end it, bring it to a close.

And then she could go on with her life, put it all back together, find a newjob, a new apartment, get back on the rails.

She signed into the chatroom.

There were all there, waiting for her.

?Hey bitch,? Mike said, ?took you long enough. How's your ass??

One by one, the others greeted her, with little references that told her thateach one of them had had her, had used her and brutalized her and made herbody love it. She was frightened, despite herself, but soldiered on.

?It's over,? she typed.

?Really?? Mike wrote, his sarcasm blinking quietly on her screen.

?It was a stupid thing I did, I paid for it. You all had your fun. Fine,? shewrote, with more confidence than she felt. ?But it's finished now. No more.If it happens again I will go to the police.?

And she would, she knew instinctively. It wasn't an idle threat. She wouldrisk the police, she'd risk humiliation and disgrace to bring it all crashingdown, as long as she stopped them.

?I mean it.?

?Oh yeah,? Mike wrote, ?did you mean this??

A window appeared on her screen, she glanced at it. It was a transcript ofher original invitation to be raped.

?Or these??

The window disappeared, more flickered on, lasting a few seconds and vanishing.Lynsey could only catch the gist, her sickest fantasies appeared before hereyes, a succession of rapes and tortures, animals, children, private awfulthings shared with no one. How was he doing this? How did he have these.

Her bookmarks abruptly pulled down, making her jump. Windows opened and thenclosed on her sickest and nastiest pornographic sites. Oh my god, she thought,they know, they know everything, and they have it.

?How do you think the cops will act, when they read this stuff,? Mike challenged, ?whenthey find out what you like to play with yourself over??

Lynsey felt her confidence rock. A complaint to the cops was one thing, shecould risk embarrassment. But this... Would the cops just see it all as somesick kinky game, one that she was playing, perhaps even running? She mightbecome a suspect herself, what would they think, what would they do?

?Or maybe you can show them some pictures?? Mike typed.

An image popped on her screen, she jumped again. It was her in the red knitdress and fishnets, a particularly provocative picture that made it clear shewore no bra. Another picture of her in the dress, this one creeping up herthighs hinting at no panties. Others appeared in her slut outfits. A pictureof her at the peep show, dressed like a whore. Another on the skytrain in thatoutrageously slutty outfit of bikini top and microskirt. Pictures of her madeup outrageously.

Oh god, she thought, they've been watching me all along, taking pictures.

She was almost prepared for the pictures of her in the alley, taking two ofher rapists on at once, the expression on her face almost one of bliss as alarge cock sawed into her mouth, while one plunged her from behind.

But she wasn't at all prepared for the next pictures of her in her own apartment,nude and slutty, dressed in different kinds of lingerie, playing with dildos.In many, her eyes were closed in apparent ecstasy, her face slack with implicitbliss. Cocks hovered over her, their owners out of camera range, semen drippedon her breasts and face. In some, her lips closed around. The pictures keptcoming, getting worse. Was that her in sixty nine with a ... Child? Oh my god,was she sucking a dog's cock? An aching feeling grew in her stomach as herguts knotted.

These can't be real, she thought. They can't, can't possibly be real. Butthey were all taken in her apartment, if they were fakes, then they were welldone. The backgrounds, the familiarity of her home made them terrifyingly realto her.

?You drugged me!? She typed with a sudden burst of insight.

?Whatever you say, bitch,? Mike replied, neither confirming or denying. ?Butthat's really you sucking that dogs cock, and licking thirteen year old pussy.?

?No! No! I don't remember that!?

?So? Do you remember the other pictures? Slutting out? Going to peep shows?Getting double teamed? I suppose you don't remember those? You weren't therefor those.?

?STOP!!!? Lynsey hammered the keys.

She stared at the screen, trying to control her heartrate.

?Look,? she wrote, ?I'm not going to the police, okay.?

The others noted this surrender.

?But it's over, okay. It has to be over. The game is finished, and I don'twant to play any more.?

For a few seconds, the screens were silent. Then Mike's response came back.

?You stupid bitch....? he wrote. ?Of course the game is over. Let me tellyou about the game. We won, you lost. You made the rules, you lost, and nowyou live with it.?

Lynsey stared at the screen with numb horror.

?And hey, when you were making the rules, you set the prize. You rememberwhat the prize was? You were the prize. We got you. You lost, we won. Now weown you. Do you understand that, you stupid fucking cunt. The game is overand we own your ass, and we get to keep it, it's not yours any more.?

The words sank into her, filling her.

?Do you understand? You stupid bitch??

The screen stared at her, the letters blinking mutely. She stared, a sinking,surrendering feeling suffusing her. Desperately, some small part of her searchedfor a way out.

?I said, do you fucking understand, you stupid ignorant, self absorbed bitch??

She stared. Six men held their breaths, waiting....

?Yes.? She typed finally.

?Yes, Sir, you stupid cunt.? Mike answered.

?Yes, Sir.? She typed.

All over Vancouver on a handful of men celebrated at their computer screens,phoning and congratulating each other. It was over, the long struggle withthe bitch, the war against her was over. She had surrendered, they owned hernow, body and soul.

?Finally. Goddamn, but you're slow and stupid. We'll have to fix that. Rightnow, we're going to play... Here is how we want you to get dressed. You understand.?

?Yes, Sir,? she typed dully.

Instructions flashed on the screen, vividly detailed instructions on lingerie,dress, makeup. They knew every article of clothing that she owned, she realized.They knew everything about her. She was trapped. There was no way out...

?Got that??

?Yes, Sir.?

?Then get started you stupid cunt!?

There was no resistance left in her. ?Yes Sir' she typed, and then went toobey her masters.

* * * * * * * * *

Epilogue: One year later. Lynsey wearing little more than a bra and g-stringcruised through the strip bar, looking for someone to buy a lap dance fromher.

She was dressed in very little, teeteringly high spiked heels, a thong whichrevealed far more than it concealed, and a too short, too sheer tank top whosefabric revealed her heavy nipple rings and which didn't quite manage to coverthe undersides of her breasts. Her breasts were slightly larger, after a fewmonths, they had gotten bored and had them enlarged. They looked impressivenow, but still not quite outrageous. There was a heavy matching ring in hernavel, and another pair of labia rings not quite concealed by her thong. Adiscerning observer might have noticed that her lips had been artificiallyenhanced, though not to an outrageous degree, or they might notice a discretebut very clear branding scar on her ass. There was a line of chinese charactersin heavy black across the small of her back, just above her tailbone, whichtranslated as a series of instructions to excite and inflame anyone who mighthave been able to read them.

Apart from that, Lynsey had changed very little physically. She was much thesame. Oh, she was definitely more toned and fit, more flexible and limber,her skin and hair shone from careful attention, after all, her masters werevery attentive to their investment. But anyone from her old days would haverecognized her in a second, and sometimes they did... with invariably interestingconsequences.

She made eye contact with a customer, and slid smoothly over to sit on hislap, briefly working his knee against her pubic mound as she did so. Her nippleshardened automatically.

?How you doing, honey,? she purred, smiling. She'd been taught to purr andsmile, taught to always look sexy and inviting. It was second nature to hernow. In fact, if she'd thought about it, she might not have been sure thatshe knew how, any longer, to turn it off.

She ran her fingertips through his hair, and then down the front of his shirt,and then down into his crotch where she probed at his cock. She felt it twitchunder her fingers, felt him squirm a little.

?You want a little dance,? she purred, ?I'm very good. You won't be disappointed.?

Her masters had taught her very well the consequences of any sort of disappointment.She had learned to do whatever she had to not to disappoint. She'd become verygood at it. If Lynsey had not changed too much physically, the changes internallyhad been profound. She was now a very willing, very eager, very desperate fucktoy, it defined her, it was the sum total of her identity and of her imagination.She literally could not even conceive of being anything else, her horizonsencompassed only cocks ringing her universe, penetrating her.

?Maybe later,? the man said.

Lynsey assessed it. He'd just come in. Let him watch a few shows, get a fewdrinks in him... She leaned down, stroking his cock into half life.

?That's cool, remember me when you want a good time.?

Lynsey drifted off looking for the next one. She had a quota to meet afterall, the Masters expected a minimum from her every night. Over there?

This one was willing. Smiling, she lead him up to the private booths, pastthe bouncer, who nodded without looking at her. She had sucked his cock earlier,and now that he'd relieved himself of his load, he wasn't particularly interestedin her or any of the girls..

The club liked her, she was their hardest worker. The other girls liked hera lot less, she kept to herself, she didn't chat with them much, she just workedand worked. There were rumours that she did more than she was supposed to.That was bad for their business.

The truth was that Lynsey did anything and everything. She didn't think aboutit much. Certainly, she worked at not thinking about her old life at all. Thiswas her life, for better or worse.

On the stairs, her cell phone rang. It was Mike of course. The phone was dedicated,only her Masters could call in, and she could only call out to a single number.

?Hey bitch,? he said, not bothering with pleasantries. ?You're quitting earlytonight, I'll pick you up at 11:00. I've lined up a dog show for you, germanshepherd, guy wants a private video. Wear the black one piece, fishnets, andsome goth makeup.? He hung up. There was no question of her agreeing or disagreeing,no details to be worked out, no mutual respect. He gave orders and she obeyed,so nothing else was needed.

She nodded unconsciously, and put the phone away.

?Who was that,? the client said, reaching up behind to feel her ass.

She smiled back at him, leaning her ass into his palm. ?Just an appointment,nothing to worry about.?

She lead him into the private booth and straddled him. There was no worryabout money, clients always paid, and if they didn't... that was the bouncersjob.

?I've heard of you,? he whispered.

?Have you??

His hand cupped her cunt, something normally not allowed, she got wet almostinstantly. He slipped a finger inside, making her gasp slightly.

?You have heard of me,? she whispered, and smiled, riding his finger.

They had always, from the beginning, trained her body against her. Teachingit to respond, making connections, training and conditioning it for sexualarousal, sexual response. Her mind, her personality, that was secondary. Conditionher physical responses, they believed, and it would be that much easier towarp her soul. They were right.

The man chuckled, feeling her cunt drawing at his finger. He flexed it inher and withdrew, noting her disappointed mew. This is one hot slut, he thoughtto himself. A lap dancer who loves her work.

Her job, her career, was long gone of course. Her employers had not had patiencewith her continually deteriorating performance, her inappropriate dress, poorattitude and extensive sick days. They had let her go, and in doing so, hadpoisoned the waters for her. She wasn't able to find a new job, even if they'dbeen willing to let her take one.

Rather, they had other careers in mind, another life. They'd meticulouslystrip mined her assets of course, cleaning out her bank accounts and creditbalances, selling off her investments and personal property, until she wasall but penniless. They did this while enjoying themselves on her body, distractingher with nonstop rapes, burying her in a swamp of defilement and orgasms.

Then they introduced her to her new career as a toy. There were other wordsfor what she did of course, stripper, lap dancer, peep show girl, occasionalprostitute, live sex show performer. But toy summed it all up. They taughther what to do, and she learned it diligently. They taught her to smile andmoan as she danced on strangers laps, or spread her legs for a batchelor partygangbang. And she did exactly as she was taught.

For two reasons, of course. First, the consequences of not doing it, theyshowed her, were appalling and painful. She still felt clenches of fear andterror over some memories. That was Jack's specialty, and it was always a collectivedecision when they loosed him upon her. The others normally kept his sadismin check, until and unless she needed to be shown the error of her ways.

And second, and more persuasively, they taught her to come. Trained her bodyto respond and orgasm in obedience. Reduced her to a passive creature of physicalarousal. So of course, she found her mind shaped. Easier, always easier, tosimply go along, do what was ordered, what was expected, to enjoy the wetnessbetween her legs, and to come. Because, after all, they were all about keyingher up, heating her, making her wet and shivering, and eventually, when she'dsimmered long enough, making her come. The career that they placed her in wasall about sex and sexuality, arousal and orgasm. Slowly, she stopped thinkingoutside of that.

She stroked his cock with her fingers, rubbed her face against it, pushedher breasts. She let his hands rove wherever they wanted. Climbing over him,simulating sex. Even this contact aroused her, leaving her at the edge of panting.Every time his fingers found her pussy she was wetter. They went two dancesas she crawled and slithered, heating him up. During this time, she thoughtabout nothing but the man under her, his hard cock in his pants, his touchon her body. Her mind was empty.

She was resigned to her fate. There'd been a period of resistance, which they'druthlessly smashed, then depression which they'd terrorized out of her. Theywere relentless in their exploration and excise of her entire life, they lefther nothing of her own, they did not stop until she was entirely theirs. There'dbeen escape attempts, quickly found and brutally quashed. There had even beenmen, sympathetic men who turned out to be decoys and traps. Lynsey no longerhad any trust in any of the strangers she serviced. Perhaps they were real,perhaps decoys, their promises and thoughts were worthless. All she cared aboutnow was the money they gave her for her owners, and the heat they put betweenher legs.

Her life had been pared down. Her home was now a one room apartment dominatedby a huge bed. That she'd been allowed a television and dvd player was forthe convenience of her owners. Her clothes were merely an assortment of slutware,non-slutware had been disposed of. She was forbidden to read, forbidden anypleasures but sexuality. Her name had been legally changed, friends and familycarefully thrown off the trail, although as a touch of humiliation, they hadher dance and prostitute under her old name. She was forbidden any human contactexcept her owners. To have more than casual acquaintance with her fellow lapdancers invited a beating, they carefully poisoned any chance of relationshipsthere making her offer studied insults to the other girls, who had learnedto dislike her. The men were simply objects of money and service.

But she loved her work. The only power they allowed her, the only controlover her own life that they granted, was the ability to make men hard, to sucktheir cocks, to satisfy their urges, to make them want her and take her. Ina sense, it was the only bit of her life that they allowed her to have, thepower and pleasure of sex. So she loved making men hard, loved knowing theywanted her, she loved the way they felt between her lips or up her ass or deepinside her cunt. Of course, it was in their interests to make her this way,their manipulation of her identity, of her drives, had been thorough, and verysuccessful. She knew she was a sex toy, and they had taught her to love it.

The strip clubs she worked understood only that they held and paid her earningsto them, they didn't much care. If they'd understood what had been done toLynsey, they might have volunteered more girls for the treatment... she was,after all, an excellent earner.

?One more dance?? she husked, grinding her crotch against his thigh. Sometimesshe would actually come while lap dancing. Always, a session left her hot andaroused, quivering with the need for a hard cock.

?I was thinking of a special dance,? he said.

?Oh?? Always let them tell you, you could hint, they told her, but you couldn'tproposition.

?An oral dance,? he said.

?Oh my,? she whispered. He watched her reaction, there was no reluctance.He decided to go for broke.

?Suck my cock,? he told her.

Her hand slid down, stroking his cock in his pants, measuring the long hardness.

?It costs twice a regular lap dance,? she whispered, smiling.

?Fine,? he choked.

She unzipped him fishing his rock hard pile driver out, and smiling, sliddown between his legs.

Lynsey was now an income producing property. She worked almost non-stop, hertime divided between two strip clubs and a lucrative but erratic escort business.In fact, they were making quite a bit of money off of her. They made her understandthat was now her duty, her mission, to make them money, to make them as muchmoney as she could. If she made them money, she came, she came a lot. If shedidn't.... She shivered at the thought. She preferred to come.

Her owners certainly never wondered or cared about her wishes, or whethershe had deserved what they'd done. The justice of what they had done to Lynseywas established by the fact that they could do it to her. Their ability todo it meant simply that she had deserved it all. Somewhere along the line,while breaking her utterly, they'd ceased to think of her as human, but merelyas an odd sort of property.

This didn't mean that they hated her. Indeed, they all felt a vague sort offondness for her. After all, she was the one who had brought them together,had united them with purpose, had been the canvas on which they had perfectedtheir techniques. They had other victims now, other income producing properties,but in a sense Lynsey was special because she was the first.

They had plans for her. With careful maintenance, adequate diet and sleep,and perhaps minimal cosmetics and surgery, and of course avoiding damage orscarring that would reduce her earning potential, she would go on to be a valuableincome producing property well into her forties.

After that, of course, her looks and body would deteriorate quickly, her pricewould drop, it would be time for hard and intensive use, perhaps more dramaticcosmetic surgery, burning her out to produce another ten years of productiverevenue. A cheaper fuck, a more desperate fuck, her reduced earning power beingcompensated by heavier and harder use, more fucks, more brutal fucks, moredegenerate acts, cigarettes and whips and other cruelties whose scarring wasnow financially worth the damage it did to her already dropping market value.By the end, there wouldn't be much left to her.

At that point, she'd be offloaded to some desperate low end pimp willing tosqueeze a few dollars out of her worn and used up carcass, she'd spend herdays, if she lasted much longer, in some menial position, wiping the semenfrom peep show booths or cleaning the urinals in some filthy bar. If she lastedthat long, if she lived that long.

They didn't especially care. She was a revenue producing property, and theirobjective was merely to maximize her revenue production over her working lifecycle, the same as with any other piece of revenue property. Lynsey, perhaps,on some level, understood this, which meant that she worked hard not to thinkof it. There was nothing she could do about it, after all. So best not to thinkat all, simply concentrate on the now, the bare moments before her, the cockin her mouth, and coming.

Lynsey teased the cock, rolling her tongue around it, blowing it, nibblingthe head. With one hand she held the shaft, squeezing the vas deferens to ensurehe would not come too soon. She slid her mouth over it, and then slid further,deep throating it with merely a gutteral noise, before sliding back to workthe head in her mouth.

The man groaned, his hands wrapping in her hair. Lynsey always had messy hairit seemed. His hips lifted with arousal. She held her neck loose, in case hewould begin face fucking her. They often did, when they were ready to come.But he wasn't close yet, there was so much more she could do.

She reached under with her free hand and began to play with her dripping cunt,plunging her fingers in again and again, working her clit hard. There was nothingat all in her head, except the cock in her mouth, and the arousal radiatingup from her clit.

If Lynsey ever thought about things any more, if there was anything to hermore than the immediate need for the next lap dance, the next cock, the nextblow job or fuck, she might have pondered her situation. Was she unhappy? No,not quite happy or unhappy, she'd been reduced to animal levels of sense andsensuality, the question was meaningless. If happiness was coming, then Lynseywas happy, that's the best that could be said.

Abruptly, towards the end of the song, his grip tightened, tearing out blondhairs that he'd find wrapped around his fingers later. He slammed her headdown on his crotch, marvelling at the weightlessness of her, the lack of resistance.He began to fuck her throat brutally. Her wrist worked harder between her legs,the only sound out of her was a series of quick grunting gagging gasps thematched the tempo of his brutal face fucking.

If she had been able to contemplate what her life had become, she might havebeen horrified, or perhaps not. She had lead an existence of drift and emptiness,in that sense, it was hardly a crime that deserved the fate she had found.But then again, it had made her vulnerable to, made her receptive to what theymade her into. If she had not been an empty vessel, then they could not havetaken or shaped her.

He spurted into her mouth. She swallowed it all without hesitation. Afterwards,he paid her the agreed amount, zipped up and left the bar. Lynsey, he hairdisordered, breath smelling of semen, a light sex sweat on her body, headeddown to the bar, to make eye contact, to do more dances, suck more cocks, todegrade and humiliate herself, to make her masters money... Until eleven, whenthey would come to take her to fuck a dog, which she would do willingly, whichshe would enjoy, because that was what they had made her.

So perhaps she did deserve her fate. Ultimately, unlike so many people whodrifted through life, she had found what she deserved, what she was made for.She had gotten exactly what she deserved, had become exactly what she was meantto be.

A man caught her eye. In his pants, there was a cock which would become hardfor her. She smiled and walked towards him ....