Jane's Birthday

[trio]

Teaser: Her breaths grew shallower as she tried to listen for any clue of her captors. The whispers grew louder, and she felt the presence of multiple figures moving around her. A cold hand brushed her thigh, sending a shiver down her spine. Jane's mind raced, trying to piece together what was happening, but her thoughts were as scattered as the remnants of her birthday. She bit her lip to stifle a scream, her heart pounding in her chest like a drum in a silent symphony.
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
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Title: Jane's Birthday
Author: Trio

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Jane's Birthday

In the heart of the bustling city, a young woman named Jane prepared for, in her mind, the most anticipated night of the year. She had just turned 30, and the excitement was palpable. Her friends had gathered, eager to celebrate her birthday in a bar known for its crowded dance floor and potent drinks. Jane, a brunette with a radiant smile and piercing green eyes, was dressed to kill in a short, black dress that hugged her curves and sparkled under the dim lights.

The party was in full swing when she felt a sudden dizziness, the room spinning around her. She stumbled to the bar, asking for water, but the bartender's smile was the last thing she saw before everything went dark. When she awoke, she found herself tied to a soft bench, the smell of lavender and fresh flowers filling her nostrils. She could hear the faint sound of footsteps and hushed voices, but the blindfold made it impossible to see. The warm air caressed her body, hinting at an unseen haunting presence in the room. Panic surged through her as she realised she was naked, soft restrains blocking any movement of her limbs.

Her breaths grew shallower as she tried to listen for any clue of her captors. The whispers grew louder, and she felt the presence of multiple figures moving around her. A cold hand brushed her thigh, sending a shiver down her spine. Jane's mind raced, trying to piece together what was happening, but her thoughts were as scattered as the remnants of her birthday. She bit her lip to stifle a scream, her heart pounding in her chest like a drum in a silent symphony.

"Who is there?" she demanded, her voice shaking. The whispers grew quieter for a moment, as if her words had startled the invisible spectators. "Why are you doing this to me? Please, let me go!" Silence fell, as if they were considering her pleas. Her eyes searched the blackness behind the blindfold, desperate for any glimpse of her surroundings.

"Silence," a deep whispered voice echoed from right above her, sending a shiver down Jane's spine. It was so close she could feel the warmth of the breath on her face. She held her breath, trying to still the trembling of her body, and waited for what was to come next. The room was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum in the background and the sound of her own pulse hammering in her ears.

"Please," she started to say but a hand clamped over her mouth. The suddenness of the touch sent a bolt of terror through her body, making her freeze. The whisper was cold and menacing, "Silence, I said, one more word and you will be sorry." Jane nodded frantically, the hand slowly removing itself from her mouth. She swallowed the scream that threatened to escape her throat, feeling the dryness of her mouth and the taste of fear on her tongue. She waited, the seconds stretching into an eternity, listening to the shallow breaths of the figures around her.

Her mind, desperate for any semblance of control, began to catalog the sensations she could feel. The bench beneath her was soft but firm, and she could feel the slight give of padding under the restraints that bound her. The air was warm and dry. Jane felt a strange sensation, as if the room was expanding around her, leaving her alone with her racing thoughts.

The sound of the door opening in the distance was like a gunshot in the silent room, making her whip her head towards the noise, though she couldn't see anything through the thick velvet of the blindfold. The footsteps that followed were heavy, deliberate, and filled with purpose. They grew closer, each step echoing in the emptiness, and she could feel the vibration in the floor beneath her. The whispers grew to a murmur and then abruptly ceased, as if the very air was holding its breath.

A man's hand, calloused and firm, touched her shoulder, sending a jolt of fear through her. "Good, very good," he murmured, his voice low and smooth, yet with a hint of something darker lurking beneath the calmness. The sound of his belt buckle being loosened was unmistakable, and she felt a cold trickle of dread seep into her stomach. The anticipation was suffocating, and she could feel the pressure of their eyes on her, like a thousand tiny needles prickling her skin.

Jane's mind raced, trying to understand who these people were and what they wanted from her. Were they a sadistic group of men, seeking to claim their twisted form of power over a vulnerable woman? Or was there something more sinister at play here, something that she couldn't even begin to fathom in her current state of fear and confusion?

The gentle caress of a finger against her most intimate part took her by surprise. She gasped, the suddenness of the touch causing her to arch her back involuntarily. The digit traced her sensitive flesh, parting her folds with a delicate touch that seemed almost tender.

Softly, the unseen finger continued its exploration, the touch tentative and curious, as if discovering new terrain. Jane's body responded in the most primal way, her breaths hitching in her throat as she felt a slickness begin to form around her clit. Despite the fear, her body was betraying her, her nipples hardening and her pulse quickening. She tried to clench her legs together, but the restraints held firm, leaving her utterly exposed and vulnerable.

Then, the scent of expensive perfume wafted towards her. The presence of a woman was undeniable. The woman's touch was light and feathery, a stark contrast to the heavy, masculine presence she had felt moments before.

The woman's hand replaced the hand on her pussy, her movements more deliberate, more skilled. The delicate touch grew firmer, her fingertips dancing around Jane's clit, teasing and tormenting her. Jane's breathing grew ragged as the sensations grew more intense, the fear slowly morphing into a strange, unwelcome arousal.

A long nailed finger slid inside her, the intrusion making her gasp. It moved in a gentle, rhythmic motion, the sensation of being filled both terrifying and exhilarating. She could feel the wetness of her own arousal coating the digit, her body's treacherous response to the situation.

Her body, seemingly with a mind of its own, started to prepare for the inevitable violation. Her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. The warmth between her legs growing slicker with each passing moment. The dual sensations of fear and arousal waged war within her, creating an unbearable tension that tightened her chest and sent waves of heat throughout her body.

The smell of the woman's perfume grew stronger. Jane's senses were on high alert, her mind reeling from the conflicting messages her body was sending her. The whispers grew softer, almost respectful, as the woman's lips closed around her nipple, sucking gently. Her arm resting on her pubic bone, softly massaging Jane’s clit.

"Please, n..." she had whispered unconsciously, it slipped out. She panicked, expecting direct retribution. Instead, she heard a soft, almost soothing "Sssst." Jane stopped breathing for a moment, holding the last shaky inhale in her lungs. The woman's lips left her nipple, the sudden coldness of the air on her wet skin making her gasp. Her finger slid out of her pussy, leaving her feeling empty and exposed. Jane waited, the anticipation of the next move, the next touch, was almost unbearable.

The woman's heels clicked on the floor as she stood up, the sound echoing through room. The click-clack grew distant, joined by heavy footsteps moving away from her. The whispering had stopped. The silence was a stark contrast to the thoughts racing through Jane's mind.

The soft brush against her inner folds grew more insistent. Someone was still there, very close to her. Jane’s body responded involuntarily, a whimper escaping her lips. She tried to wriggle away from the unseen touch, but she could not move, a clear reminder of her captivity. A hand, gentle and skilled, brushed against her pussy, the touch so soft it was almost a whisper. Jane's body, shivered in response. The sensation grew more intense, the delicate strokes turning into a gentle but insistent massage that sent bolts of pleasure shooting through her core. The delicate dance of the fingertips grew bolder, tracing her folds with a confidence that made her breath catch. Two fingers slid into her, the smoothness of their entry a stark contrast to the tightness of the restraints that bound her. It was clear, she was wet, soaking wet.

The sudden warmth of a tongue joined the fingers. She gasped, her body tensing at the unfamiliar sensation. It was clearly a man again, his stubble brushing against the tender flesh of her inner thighs, sending sparks of sensation to her core. His tongue was hot, and the way it danced around her clit was exquisitely maddening.

The gentle "Mmmm, so sweet," whispered against her skin, his tongue delving into her folds, tasting her fear and arousal. Her hips bucked upwards, a silent plea for more, for release from the torment of her own desires. The whispers around her grew more urgent. Was this for her pleasure, or she was almost sure it was, they were preparing here for something new.

Jane's mind swam in confusion, her body a battleground of emotions. The warm, velvety mouth on her was both terrifying and exhilarating. She could feel the eyes of the others on her, watching her every move, feeding off her reactions. Her breathing grew erratic, her chest rising and falling as she struggled against the ropes that held her down.

Then, she heard it—a soft click. Her heart skipped a beat. A gently hand moved her head back, her neck exposed to the cold air of the room. The hand that held her head was firm but surprisingly gentle, as if it cared not to cause her pain.

A zipper slid down, the sound echoing in the silence. Jane felt the heat of a man's arousal pressing against her face, his semi-hard cock nudging her nose. She struggled to turn away, but the hand on the back of her head held her firmly in place. "No," he whispered, soft but commanding, "behave and accept." Jane's mind rebelled against the words, but her body was too far gone to listen. She lay there, bound and vulnerable, the man's cock brushing against her lips.

Jane's mind raced with fear and revulsion, but she knew she had to play along. With a tremble, she opened her mouth, feeling the warmth of his shaft as it slid past her lips. The taste was salty, the texture foreign, and she had to fight the urge to gag. The whispers grew louder, a cacophony of excitement and anticipation. She felt him grow hard against her lips, being parted slowly. Her heart skipped a beat.

The man didn't thrust deep into her throat as she had feared. Instead, he kept the tip of his cock just inside her mouth, allowing her to get used to the sensation. His hands cupped her cheeks, holding her still, and she could feel his heartbeat against her nose as he breathed heavily.

"Good girl," he whispered, the sound vibrating against her skin. "Now, suck." His voice was low and hypnotic, the words sending a thrill of fear down her spine. Jane obeyed, tentatively at first, her mouth forming around him, her tongue flicking against his shaft. His grip tightened, guiding her movements, setting a rhythm that grew more insistent.

The man between her legs moved his head up, probably searching for the source of the new sounds. Almost instant, his mouth found her clit again, the soft contact making Jane's eyes roll back into her head. The sensation was overwhelming, and she couldn't help but let out a soft moan. Her mind started to seek something to cling to, to react to all the sensations that were flooding her. With a surge of desperation, she began to suck harder, her tongue swirling around the intruder in her mouth. The man groaned, his grip on her head tightening, his movements becoming more demanding.

Her moans grew louder, muffled by the cock in her mouth. The pleasure from her own body was a warming fire, spreading through her veins, making her muscles tighten and her toes curl.

Her tongue danced around the man's shaft, exploring every inch of him as if her life depended on it. The taste grew familiar, less revolting with each passing moment, and she found herself lost in the sensation of his skin sliding against her tongue. His breathing grew ragged, his grip on her cheeks tightening, guiding her movements to match his own need.

Her body began to move in rhythm with the mouth on her pussy, her hips rising off the bench slightly, pushing herself closer to the warmth and pressure. She could feel the wetness of her own arousal, mixing with the man's saliva, making her slick and open for whatever they had planned.

The cock in her mouth grew, swelling with each of her tentative sucks. She could feel the pulse of his blood, the heat of his desire. He began to fuck her face with slow, shallow strokes, the head of his cock hitting the back of her throat. She gagged but didn't pull away. The whispers grew louder, more intense, almost like a chant.

The man between her legs took the cue, his gentle stroking becoming more purposeful. He slid his two fingers inside her again, curling them upwards in a come-hither motion. Jane's body arched off the bench, a silent scream trapped in her throat. He had found that special spot, the one that made her knees go weak and her eyes roll back in her head. The pressure grew, his fingers working her in a relentless rhythm that matched the pulse in her ears.

The cock in her mouth grew thicker, the man's breathing turning ragged. She could feel him getting closer, his thighs tensing against her face. With a groan that seemed to fill the room, he came, his warm seed filling her mouth. The taste was bitter. The way he hold her head, she knew she had no choice but to swallow, the whispers around her urging her on.

Her eyes watered from the effort not to gag, but she couldn't stop the moan that escaped around the intrusion in her mouth. The man enjoyed her movements and delayed his pull back.

She felt the man between her legs shift, preparing for the next move. The pause was almost painful. Jane's body was strung tight with need, her pussy clenching around nothing but air. She could feel the anticipation in the room, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The whispers grew louder, more eager, and she knew what was coming next.

She felt him shifted his weight, his pants brushing against her inner thighs, the fabric falling down, sending a shiver of fear and anticipation through her. She could feel the heat of his body, the hardness of his cock pressing against her, and she braced herself for the inevitable.

With a gentle yet firm touch, he lined himself up with her entrance. The tip of his cock nudged her, and she felt a rush of fear, her pussy clenching involuntarily. But the pressure was soft but persistent, and with one slow, deliberate move, he began to fill her. She bit her lip, a muffled moan escaping as he pushed further. The whispers grew louder, a symphony of excitement that seemed to encourage him.

The sensation was surreal, as if time itself had slowed to a crawl. The man's cock, thick and insistent, pushed into her with an agonising deliberation. Jane could feel every inch of him stretching her, filling he. Her pussy, soaking wet with her arousal and his saliva, pulsed around him, the muscles contracting and releasing in a silent dance of submission.

His hands moved softly over her body, exploring every curve and plane, the gentle touch at odds with the violent invasion happening below.

Jane's eyes rolled back, and she couldn't help but whimper as he sank deeper into her. The way his fingers glided over her belly, traced the line of her ribs, and cupped her breasts was not forceful, but tender.

Her limbs strained against the unforgiving restraints, the fight for escape futile. Each tug and pull brought a fresh wave of agony.

The softness of the bands that bound her seemed almost taunting now, a gentle yet firm reminder that she was utterly powerless in this place. Her body was theirs to manipulate and use, a plaything for their sick games.

Jane felt the man's cock slide deeper into her with agonising slowness, his movements deliberate and precise. It was as if he were savouring every inch, every bit of resistance her tight pussy had to offer. The pain was growing as her body kept fighting, but loosing against its invader.

When he was fully seated, his pubic bone pressing firmly against her clit, she could feel his heart pounding in rhythm with hers. Gently rocking his hips, the man started to gently massage her nipples with his thumbs. The sensation was unexpected, a softness that seemed to soothe the harshness of her bindings. His movements were slow and measured, his cock moving almost imperceptibly inside her. The combination of the tender touch and the deep penetration began to work on her body, and she felt her pussy start to relax around him. The pain subsided, replaced by a strange mix of fear and arousal.

The whispers grew softer, almost as if the unseen watchers were holding their breath, savouring the moment. Jane's eyes squeezed shut behind the blindfold, her mind reeling from the onslaught of sensation. The man in her mouth had pulled out, leaving her gasping for air, her mouth wet and swollen. She could feel the stickiness of her saliva on her lips, the taste of him lingering on her tongue.

As the man between her legs began to withdraw, the delicious friction sent shivers down her spine. She couldn't help the moan that escaped her, the sound of it echoing in the quiet room. The way he twisted his hips, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, was maddening. Each stroke was a sweet torture that sent waves of pleasure crashing through her body, despite the fear that held her in its vice-like grip.

Her head was suddenly lifted, and with a click, it seemed the bench was returned to its original position. The coolness of a damp cloth brushed against her cheek, the scent of fresh spring rain and blooming flowers invading her senses. The softness of the fabric caressed her skin, gently cleaning the remnants of her degradation. The tender touch was almost loving.

The glass pressed to her lips was cold and unyielding, the scent of lime and something stronger—tequila—invading her nostrils. She parted her lips, the familiar taste of the cocktail she had been sipping earlier flooding her mouth. The liquid was cool, a stark contrast to the heat of the room and the even hotter cock that now filled her completely.

"This time it's not spiked." The words floated through the air, distant yet clear. Could it be someone she knew? The voice not really familiar. The man between her legs buried himself deep in her and held still. Claiming his dominance over her.

The glass was raised a bit higher, letting more of the drink go in. She was afraid, of what was in it, but she was trusty and it did not seem that she had a choice. The liquid slid down her throat, the bite of the tequila a sharp reminder of the night that had started so innocently. But it was clear, she had been drugged.

The cocktail was a strange sensation, mixing with the saliva and the aftertaste of the man's cum in her mouth. The coldness of the drink was a stark contrast to the heath radiating from her loins.

Jane's eyes searched the darkness behind the blindfold, desperately trying to find some sense in the chaos. Her mouth was held open by an unseen hand, the glass insistent against her lower lip. She could feel the cool liquid pooling, waiting to be swallowed. It was a simple act, but in her current state of vulnerability, it felt like a monumental task.

With a sigh of resignation, she allowed the fiery liquid to burn a path down her throat. The whispers grew fainter, the room seeming to spin around her. The alcohol hit her system like a sledgehammer, mixing with the fear and arousal that already coursed through her veins.

The man holding the glass to her lips waited until she had swallowed all, and raised it again. Nothing was said, but the command in his silence was clear. She needed to drink more. Jane's throat burned with the ice cold fiery liquid as she took another sip, feeling the tequila's warmth spread through her body.

The cock in her started moving again, pulling out slowly. She moaned while drinking more of the tequila. The man grew impatient, his hips jerking as he began to thrust into her with more vigour. Jane's body responded despite her mind's screams of protest, the alcohol adding to the confusion of emotions. Each stroke brought a fresh wave of pleasure that she didn't want but couldn't help but crave.

The glass was pushed to her lips again urging her to drink faster, to consume the entire contents of the glass. The pressure mounted, the need to swallow growing more urgent with every breath she took.

Jane felt the man's cock thrusting into her with renewed vigour, but now this last stroke was poorly timed with her sips, the liquid sloshing in her mouth. Her breath hitched, the tequila burning her throat as she choked on the last swig. She couldn't breathe, the liquid threatening to spill out of her mouth, down her chin, and onto the floor. Panic set in as she coughed and gagged, her chest heaving against the unforgiving restraints.

The hand holding the glass to her lips paused, giving her a moment to regain her breath. The man's movements inside her slowed, his hands moving from her breasts to her hips in an almost apologetic gesture. She could feel his eyes on her and she wondered if he was enjoying the sight of her struggling.

With a shaky exhale, she spit the mouthful of tequila back into the glass, her cheeks flaming with humiliation. The glass was quickly removed, the coolness of the cloth against her skin a brief reprieve from the sticky warmth that had been smothering her. The cloth wiped away the droplets that had escaped her lips, tracing the path down her chin to her chest.

Her breathing was ragged now, her chest rising and falling with each desperate gasp for air. Jane felt a gentle pressure release her head, the hand that had been holding it in place moving away. She let her head fall back onto the bench with a soft thunk.

The man between her legs took a moment to let her recover, his cock still buried deep inside her. Then, with a groan, he started to move again, his hips snapping into her with renewed vigour. Now ready to reclaim his price.

He shifted his position. The angle of his thrusts changed, becoming long and deep, pushing into her with a force that made her body arch off the bench. The sudden change in rhythm threw Jane off balance, her moans growing louder as she struggled to adjust. Each deep plunge was followed by a series of short, sharp strokes that had her pussy clenching around him, seemingly desperately trying to keep him inside.

Her head swirling in the haze of the alcohol, she was losing herself in the moment. Her moans of protest had transformed into screams of ecstasy, the line between pleasure and pain blurring until she couldn't tell them apart. The whispers around her grew more intense, a cacophony of excitement that seemed to feed the fire burning in her core.

He leans in, brushing his lips against hers, in a haze she accepts the kiss, her tongue twirling in sync with his. Unaware of the tears that trickled down her cheeks, she clung to the sensation of his mouth, his touch, as if it could save her from the horror of her reality.

But the haze is shattered when she feels his pace quicken, his breaths becoming ragged. She realises with a jolt that he's approaching his climax. Panic sets in, a wild animal in her chest, clawing to escape. She pulls against the restraints, her eyes wide with terror, trying to shake her head from side to side. She is pinned under him, she's unable to break free.

He stops abruptly, his cock buried to the hilt inside her. Jane can feel the heat of his body, the sweat that mingles with the lavender scent in the air. The whispers die down, and all she can hear is the thundering of her heart, the rush of blood in her ears.

He groans, a low, guttural sound that seems to vibrate through her entire body. He holds himself there, deep inside her, his cock pulsing with the promise of his release. She feels the warmth spreading through her, filling her up in a way that is both terrifying and exhilarating.

Her eyes fly open, the blindfold still stealing her sight. She screams, "No, God, no," the words torn from her throat, raw and desperate. She thrashes against her bindings, trying to throw him off, but he just lays still, enjoying the way her body reacts to him.

The room spins, the alcohol and fear mixing in a toxic cocktail. Her movements slow, her energy depleted. With a resigned sob, she goes limp, her body giving up the fight. The room growing quiet except for the harsh sound of her own breathing.

The man pulls out of her, slowly, savouring every last second of contact. Jane's pussy clenches around him, trying to hold onto the invading warmth, but he is relentless.

As soon as he's free, she feels the warm trickle sliding down her thighs, the proof of his violation a stark reality. She starts weeping, the tears streaming down her face, muffled sobs escaping from deep within her chest. He just came in her unprotected womb, his seed filling her without permission, a silent declaration of dominance and violation. Her mind reels with the implications, the fear of what could happen next.

His cock is now free from her pussy, but something seems to linger. Panic spikes in her chest, her heart racing as she feels a thick, warm mass sliding out of her. The weight of it is surprising, and for a moment, she can't process what it could be. Her mind races through the possibilities. The object emerges from her, the man pulls away, and she hears the sound of something snapping. Her mind focuses on that sound, now understanding. It's a condom, thick and filled with his cum.

A gentle, cool sensation sweeps over her as a damp cloth is softly pressed against her skin, sliding down her inner thighs and over her sensitive pussy. She flinches, but the touch is surprisingly tender. The excitement in the room was palpable. A few whispers, not loud enough to understand, danced around her. Jane lay there, bound and blind, the only sound her own ragged breathing.

A hand returns, the fingertips circling her clit with a feather-light touch. Her body betrays her, reacting to the sensation despite the horror of her situation. The air is thick with the scent of her own arousal mingling with the lavender. The hand moves lower, the finger teasingly sliding into her, her muscles tightening around the intrusion. She tries to hold back the moan, but it slips out, a soft whimper of pleasure.

Then, the pressure lifted, leaving her feeling empty and exposed, but something cold and hard presses against her wetness. She doesn't know what it is, and a fresh wave of panic crashes over her.

Her breath hitches as the cold object pushes against her hole, stretching it. It's not a natural feeling, she can't help but scream out again, "No, please no more, I had enough, please let me go, please."

"Silence," thunders the voice, so close to her ear it's as if the word itself is a living entity, a force that can crush her bones with its power. She tries to keep her mouth shut, to obey, but the pain is too much. She bites down on her lip.

She feels him take her jaw in a firm grip, his fingers digging into her cheeks. "I said," he growls, “you are not allowed to speak.” She feels something cold on her right nipple, something metallic biting down with a sharp, stunning pain. Jane's scream echoes through the chamber, the sound bouncing off the walls like a trapped bird desperately seeking escape. His hand moves over her mouth, silencing her.

"You can scream," he murmured in her ear, his breath hot and sticky with desire, "but I don't ever want to hear you speak again." Before she could react, she felt a same cold metal clamp around her left nipple, the pain blossoming like a twisted flower, stealing the breath from her lungs.

Her body bucked against the bench, her muffled cries trapped in his hand. She could feel her heart racing, each beat pulsing in time with the pain that was now consuming her.

A cold, thick substance was being squirted into her pussy, filling her up in a way that was both intrusive and terrifying. Jane's mind reeled, trying to understand what was happening, her body instinctively trying to push the alien intrusion out. But the pressure was unrelenting, a cold, unyielding force that invaded her most intimate space without mercy.

They left her squirming and screaming in his hand for what seemed an eternity. The cold object was removed. Suddenly, the clamps on her nipples were ripped away with a swift, brutal force. Jane screamed, the pain searing through her as blood rushed back into the sensitive flesh, setting her nerve endings alight. She arched off the bench, her body a symphony of agony. The sudden absence of the metal sent a shock wave through her system, leaving her trembling and gasping for air. The pain from the clamps had been intense, a white-hot agony that had consumed her entire being, but now it was replaced by a throbbing ache that made her want to scream all over again. Jane's chest heaved, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she tried to come to terms with what had just happened.

She felt hands on her hips again, gripping her firmly. The pressure grew as the head of another cock pressed against her swollen clit, sending a shock of sensation through her body. The tender caress of the man's cock against her clit a stark contrast to the pain in her breasts. The juxtaposition was jarring, confusing, and utterly terrifying.

And then, without warning, he slid down and entered her with ease, her pussy giving way to the relentless pressure. Jane's eyes widened in shock, the pain from her nipples momentarily forgotten as she felt herself being stretched once more. His cock filled her completely, the coldness of the substance a stark contrast to the warmth of his flesh. She could feel the girth of him, the way he stretched her with every inch.

"Silly woman," the man's voice next to her was a cold whisper in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. She felt the pressure of the cock inside her. Despite her horror, her body betrayed her, welcoming the intrusion with a wetness that only increased with each of his gentle strokes. "It was just some lube," the man murmured against her ear, "And we're all wearing condoms," he added, “except for the blowjobs of course", his tone one of mocking reassurance. His words hung in the air, a cruel reminder that she had no say in this twisted game.

Jane's thoughts swirled, trying to grasp at anything that made sense. The pain in her nipples was a constant throb, a reminder of her helplessness. But as the new man's strokes grew deeper, her body began to respond in a way she hadn't anticipated. The pleasure grew, wrapping around the pain, a serpentine dance that she couldn't escape.

She felt a thick digit brush against her breast, then someone stepped over her, legs straddling her chest. A soft wetness brushed against her lips, and she knew what was coming next. Her body tensed, but she had no strength left to fight. The head of his cock nudged at her mouth, the velvet skin sliding against her lower lip. "Please, Jane," the man next to her whispered in her ear, his voice a seductive caress, "open up for him."

Her mouth fell open with a whimper, and he took it as an invitation. The uncovered cock slid into her mouth, he was thinner than the first. She could feel his warmth, his pulse, as he pushed deeper into her mouth. He didn't stop, didn't care for the gagging noises she made.

The man fucking her pussy had a gentle touch, his strokes were slow and rhythmic, almost soothing. He was not rough, not brutal, but firm and unyielding. It was as if he was trying to show her that even in this moment of complete dominance, there could be a hint of tenderness.

The man who had entered her mouth was more direct in his approach. He didn't tease or coax her, he simply pushed in, filling her without asking for permission. Jane could feel the head of his cock knocking against the back of her throat with each thrust, the taste of his pre-cum with the faint hint of lime from the tequila still coating her mouth. "Please darling,", a hand brushing over Jane's abused nipples, "suck harder, show us what you can do."

Her body was a battleground of sensations. The pain in her breasts was a constant throb, the pleasure from the man's cock in her pussy was a rising crescendo, and the feeling of another man's cock sliding in and out of her mouth was overwhelming. But she understood, even through the haze of fear and confusion. She had to please them, to give them what they wanted. And she had to do it well. There was nowhere for her to go.

The two men reached their peak in roughly at the same time, their hips moving in a frantic dance of dominance. Jane could feel the man's cock thicken inside her pussy, his movements growing erratic. She knew he was close. She kept sucking and twirling her tongue around his member.

Suddenly, the man in her pussy groaned, his cock pulsing as he filled the condom with his hot cum. The feeling of his release was oddly satisfying. Then the man above her tensed, his cock swelling in her mouth. She had no choice but to accept his load as well, the salty taste of his cum coating her tongue.

Jane felt the two men withdraw, their bodies leaving her feeling empty and violated. But she had a feeling the night was far from over.

The gentle yet firm hands lifted her head again, the coolness of a glass pressing against her lips once more. The voice, distant and haunting, echoed through the room. "I want to have her kiss me also," it said, sending a shiver down her spine. The double meaning of the action was clear now: the alcohol not only numbed her, it also served to cleanse her mouth, preparing her for the next round of abuse.

Jane took a deep, shuddering breath, the tequila burning a path down her throat as she drank. The made her drink the whole glass again. She could feel the room spinning, the whispers around her growing distant as the alcohol took hold. The blindfold, now soaking wet from her sweat, clung to her face, a sticky barrier that robbed her of any semblance of control over her surroundings. Despite the horror of her situation, she found a strange comfort in the knowledge that they had taken the time to clean her up, to reduce the pain in her nipples with something cold and soothing. It was as if she were a toy to be maintained, a possession to be cared for so she could endure the next round of their twisted games.

The coolness of the glass had been replaced by the warmth of a mouth, a hand on her cheek, a strong arm holding on the the bench next to hear ear, a tongue sliding along her bottom lip, tasting her. The hand moved away from her cheek, exploring her body. Moving from her hips to her breasts, landing there. His tongue wishing to explore the moist cavity of her mouth. The hand on her breast grew heavier, the thumb pressing into the soft flesh just below her abused nipple. The message was clear in her mind, a silent threat that seemed to whisper, "Kiss me back or I will hurt you again." Jane's eyes widened in horror, her heart hammering in her chest. The gentle touch was a stark contrast to the fear that gripped her, but she knew better than to ignore the demand.

Her mouth opened slightly, allowing the unseen man's tongue to slip inside. She felt him smile against her, his breath hot and sweet with the scent of mint. His cock hard against her, his desire for her unmistakable despite the horror of their situation. The hand on her breast moved upward slightly, the thumb brushing against her nipple, sending a bolt of pain-laced pleasure through her body. The room spun around her, the whispers of the onlookers a constant reminder of her utter vulnerability.

His lips never leaving hers, the man's thumb gently traced the sensitive skin around her bruised nipples. She could feel the wetness between her legs, the result of the relentless cycle of fear and arousal that had taken over her body. The taste of his minty breath washed over her, and she realised with a jolt that she had been kissing him back, her tongue moving in an instinctual dance that belied the horror of their situation. His cock found its way to her pussy, the head nudging against her clit, seeking entrance. Despite her fear, she felt her body respond, the ache within her growing more intense with every breath she took.

With a gentle push, he began to fill her, his girth stretching her further than she thought possible. It seemed the earlier episodes had her body prepare for this, the heat moving quickly through her body, lighting a fire of desire. Her moans grew louder, the sound of her own pleasure mixing with the whispers that surrounded her. His mouth was firm, his kiss demanding, his tongue claiming hers as his hips slowly rocked against her, driving him deeper into her core. The bench beneath her creaked under their combined weight, a mournful sound that seemed to echo the despair that was building within her.

Her body responded with a fervour she didn't know she had. Each thrust was met with a desperate arch of her back, her bound wrists pulling trying to get free. Her legs, spread and held open by the restraints, trembled with the effort to keep up with his pace. The intensity inside her grew, the pressure building with every stroke of his cock.

His breath grew heavier, his chest heaving against hers. She could feel the vibration of his growl, the raw hunger in his voice as if he was saying, "Cum for me, cum for me hard”. The storm grew, a tempestuous maelstrom that swirled through her, consuming every part of her being. The whispers around her grew louder, more urgent, a symphony of lust that seemed to coach both of them along. The man's hips moved faster now, his breaths coming in harsh gasps that matched the desperation of her own.

Her moans were muffled by his kiss, his tongue a conductor orchestrating her pleasure, drawing it out of her like a maestro with a finely tuned instrument. The man's hand moved from her breast to her neck, his grip tightening as he pinned her to the bench, controlling her every movement, her every gasp. Then as if out of nothing, her world changed, an explosion of heat rushing through her body. Her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, drowning her in sensation. Her body convulsed, her muscles tightening around his cock as she came harder than she ever had before.

The restraints held firm, despite her desperate attempts to get closer, to feel more of him, to be consumed by the fire that was burning her from the inside out. The bench creaked under their combined passion, the sound a testament to the intensity of their union.

Jane felt the man's teeth graze her neck, his breath hot and heavy against her skin. His hips ground into her, pushing her to the edge of the precipice again. He was relentless, a force of nature that she couldn't hope to resist. Every touch, every kiss, was a declaration of his power over her. And yet, in that power, she found a strange comfort. A comfort that was as terrifying as it was intoxicating. She moaned hard, it echoed through the room.

She could feel the heat of his body, his muscles tightening with every thrust. The pressure grew, a crescendo of need that had her panting into his mouth, her body begging for his release. His hips moved with a ferocity that belied his gentle touch, his cock swelling, sliding in and out of her with a rhythm that was both punishing and exquisite. She was a marionette to his every whim, her body jerking and twitching with each deep, deliberate stroke.

Her scream was a silent one, muffled by his mouth, the sound trapped between their intertwined tongues. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her body a taut bowstring ready to snap. The pleasure was too much, a crescendo that had been building within her for what felt like an eternity.

The man's cock grew harder, his strokes more deliberate. He was close, she could feel it. The whispers grew to a crescendo, a symphony of anticipation that filled the room. Her body was a playground for his pleasure, a canvas for his desires. And in that moment, she craved nothing more than to satisfy him.

Jane felt the man's cock plunge deep into her, filling her completely, holding her tight as if he owned every inch of her. Her body, a pulsating mess of need and bliss, responded to his dominance with an intensity she had never experienced before. Each movement of his hips sent a shockwave through her, her muscles clenching around him, desperately trying to hold on to the one thing that grounded her in this sea of chaos. His grip on her neck tightened, his teeth grazing her skin as he claimed her, marking her as his own. She felt his cock pulse, her pussy clamped down on him, a warm flood filling the condom as he came, wave after wave of his hot cum shot into the latex barrier. The sound of his growl rumbling through her like a thunderstorm.

He collapsed on her, his chest crushing her tits, but she felt no pain. Instead, she felt a strange sense of relief, the weight of his body a comfort amidst the horror that flowed back in her mind. She could feel his heart pounding against her chest, a wild, erratic rhythm that matched her own. His softly pulsating cock still buries deep inside her was a constant reminder of what had just happened. But there was something else, a gentle caress of his hand along her cheek, a soft brush of his thumb against her trembling lip. The tender gesture was jarring, a stark contrast to the brutality of his possession. Their bodies frozen in place for what seemed hours. Just the sound of their combined breath and beating of their hearts.

Suddenly, Jane felt the man pull away, his cock slipping from her with a wet pop. As he withdrew, she felt a strange sadness wash over her, the emptiness inside her more profound than the physical absence of his cock. The condom's removal was a final, cruel twist, a cold reminder that she was nothing more than a vessel for their pleasure. She could feel the sticky residue of the lube and her own juices, a wetness that clung to her skin, a tangible proof of her degradation. He, an unseen god that had taken her to the heavens and back, moved of her. She was left trembling, her body a battleground of pleasure and pain.

Her breathing was erratic, her heart pounding so hard she swore she could hear it echoing off the rooms walls. The coldness of the bench seeped into her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that had so recently filled her. The whispers grew distant, the room spinning as the tequila's potency took hold. The alcohol's warmth spread through her veins, mixing with the coldness that now permeated through her.

In the haze, she felt a warm cloth moving over her body, gliding gently over her sensitive skin. The softness of the fabric was almost tender, the sensation a stark contrast to the harshness of the ropes that held her in place. She flinched at the first touch, the suddenness of it making her body tense. But as the cloth continued its journey, she found herself relaxing into the gentle strokes, the sensation almost comforting amidst the horror of her reality.

The scent of lavender and vanilla grew stronger, surrounding her like a warm embrace. It was as if they were trying to soothe her, to cleanse her of the fear that had taken up residence in her soul. But the anticipation grew with every second, the pressure against her pussy a constant reminder of the violation to come. Her body was a canvas for their perverse art, each stroke of the cloth adding to the painting of dread that was unfolding before her very eyes.

She felt the lube sputter in her pussy, again a cold, wet sensation that sent a shiver down her spine. The sense of dread grew heavier with each pulse of anticipation that built in her chest. The head of another cock, the fourth for the night, nudged against her swollen, sensitive folds. Jane's body was a battleground of emotions, fear and arousal fighting for dominance as the tip slipped in just enough to make her aware of its presence.

He didn't give her time to adjust, didn't bother to whisper sweet nothings or to coax her body into submission. With one powerful thrust, he buried himself deep within her, filling her to the brim. Jane's body arched off the bench, her legs quivering and her mouth opening in a silent scream that was lost in the cacophony of whispers that surrounded her.

Her breaths grew ragged, her moans a constant symphony of pleasure and pain that seemed to crescendo with every stroke of his cock. Her body was exhausted, but it reacted unconsciously to the forced stimulation, each movement a silent cry for more. The man took her desperate whimpers as a sign of encouragement, his own breathing growing more laboured as he pushed deeper into her. The endorphins flooding her system created a bizarre sense of euphoria, mixing with the tequila to form a toxic cocktail of pleasure and despair.

The strokes grew more aggressive, the man's hips slapping against her ass as he claimed her for himself. Yet, the pleasure grew, her pussy clenching around him with a need that seemed to overpower everything else. The tequila had done its job, dulling the edges of fear and leaving only the raw, primal instinct that craved more.

Her mind, once a tumult of fear and confusion, grew quiet, detached from the reality of her situation. It was as if she was watching from above, an external spectator to the horrors unfolding on the bench below.

This man took his time, but eventually he pushed deep and came. Jane's body reacted in a way the seemed acceptable to the crowd around her. A fifth man stepped up and claimed his time in her body. Later a sixth.

The seventh brought a friend. After had slid into her with seemingly no resistance, she could feel a presence next to her head. He gently moved her head to the side with a firm but tender touch and pushed his cock through her open, moaning mouth, the third one to do so that night. Despite her detached mental state, she was still aware of the number, a grim tally of the men who had taken from her, more than she was ever wanting to give. His hand moved to her breast, cupping her, softly squeezing her nipple, distinctly making his expectations clear.

Her mouth was sore, her jaw ached from the constant abuse, but she continued to suck and lick, driven by the pain in her nipples. The pain in her nipples subsided for a brief moment as the hand retreated, the sensation was almost soothing, a cruel trick of the mind that had her gasping around the cock in her mouth. The man between her legs grunted, his hips jerking as he reached his climax. After he had pulled out, she felt the same sensations as before, she was being prepared for the next one.

Number eight entered her pussy with a brutal force that sent shockwaves through her body. This cock was the largest yet, the head alone stretching her to the brink of tearing. The reality of her situation slammed into her like a sledgehammer, shattering the tequila-induced haze. Panic gripped her, her mind racing with the thought of being torn apart by this monstrous intrusion.

Her body reacted instinctively, her throat tightening around the cock already lodged in her mouth as she screamed in silent protest. The sound was muffled, a mournful echo of the desperate noises she had made earlier. Yet, she felt it move even deeper into her throat, the man's hand guiding her head to accept his full length, his hips rocking in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

The air grew thicker, the whispers grew into a murmur that seemed to pulse with the beat of a hundred hungry hearts. She felt the warmth of bodies around her, the heat of their desire like a living thing, suffocating her. The room had become a living, breathing entity, a beast that craved her submission, her pain, her pleasure.

The man between her legs was different from the others. He didn't just take, he savoured. His cock was a monster, a thick, pulsing beast that seemed to fill her up completely. Yet, he took his time, his strokes slow and deliberate. It was as if he knew the delicate balance between pain and pleasure, and was determined to play her body like a finely-tuned instrument.

With every inch of his cock that disappeared into her, she could feel herself stretching, the muscles around her pussy protesting. But the whispers grew softer, the room seemingly holding its breath as he took her to new heights of agony and ecstasy. The man in her mouth had finished, but she was too lost in the sensation of the monster cock in her pussy to care.

Her mind was a blur of pain and pleasure, the whispers of the room a cacophony of need and desire that seemed to pulse in time with the beat of the man's hips. Each thrust sent a wave of pleasure crashing over her, the intensity so great she couldn't help but moan around the softening cock in her mouth.

This man plowing into her pussy was relentless, his strokes growing faster and more forceful with every passing second. Jane's body was a wreck, a collection of bruises and abrasions that sang with every movement, but she found herself moving with him, her hips rising to meet each powerful thrust. It was as if she had been rewired, programmed to crave the very thing that had brought her so much pain.

The cock was pulled out of her mouth, it slipped free with a wet sound that echoed through the room. Jane felt the cloth again, cool and clean, wiping the stickiness from her face.

Number eight pulled back, her pussy clenched around the head of the cock, the muscles inside her trying to push him out completely despite the pain that racked her. But with each cramp, each spasm of pain, she felt a twisted thread of pleasure winding through her. It was like her body was trying to tell her that this was what it wanted, that it craved the very thing that was causing her such agony.

Another glass, again against her lips, the scent of tequila strong. She took a deep breath and swallowed, the ice cold liquid burning a fiery trail down her throat. Her head swam, she felt the room spinning but the adrenaline keeping her focused.

Withdrawing the glass, the whispered commands grew louder, more urgent. The anticipation in the room was palpable as number eight began his torturous dance inside her again. His cock was a merciless invader, his movements precise and deliberate. The slow, agonising stretch of her pussy was a symphony of pain that seemed to last an eternity.

Her eyes squeezed shut, she couldn't hold back the screams anymore. They tore from her throat like shards of broken glass, echoing off the walls. The whispers grew into a crescendo of laughter and cheers, the audience egging him on as if she were a prize to be claimed. The room felt alive with the electricity of their sadistic pleasure, a current that seemed to surge through her with every thrust.

He sank deeper, her body stretching around him with a pain that was almost unbearable. Each time she thought she had reached her limit, he pushed past it, his cock invading her with a force that left her panting and trembling. The bench groaned in protest, the wood bending and creaking under the weight of his massive body.

Her screams grew more feral, a wild, keening sound that seemed to fill the room. His hips shifted, his weight bearing down on her, and she felt his cock hit a spot deep within her that sent a jolt of painful pleasure through her body. The room grew more alive, the whispers more intense, the air thick with the scent of sex and lust.

His body lowered on top of her, his chest pressing against hers, his hands holding her firmly in place, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered, "You know what, darling, that last drink was spiked, just like the first one tonight." His voice was deep, resonating through her in a way that made her stomach clench. The revelation washed over her, a cold realisation that she had been drugged, again.

His mouth covered hers, muffling her screams. His tongue invaded her mouth, conquering her whole body. She felt like she was being claimed, owned, like a piece of property. His thrusts even longer, almost pulling out and then going back deep, slowly increasing his speed. Her mind was wandering, lost in the haze of pain and pleasure, but she was hyper aware of the signals her pussy was sending. It was a mix of agony and ecstasy, the crescendo of everything she had felt that night.

Her body was surrendering, it was giving up. The once-intense pain of each thrust had morphed into a dull ache, his grunts grew fainter. The whispers around her grew softer, the room seeming to shrink until it was just her and the man above her, his heavy breathing echoing in the quiet.

Her eyes fluttered shut, her mind retreating into a dark, quiet place where she couldn't feel the pain anymore. The world around her was spinning, a vortex that threatened to consume her whole. Each thrust felt like a rope thrown down into the abyss she was falling into, a desperate attempt to pull her back.

The drugs had kicking in, a second round of the potent cocktail that had brought her to this hellish place. A flash of light pierced the veil of darkness and then … nothing.


—


Jane woke to the sound of laughter and squealing, the unmistakable sound of children playing in the early morning sun. Her head pounded, and her eyes fluttered open to reveal the familiar sight of her own room. The sun's rays danced through the open window, casting a warm glow over the rumpled sheets.

Her body felt like it had been through a war, every muscle screaming in protest. Her jaw sore, her throat raw and tender, and a dull ache pulsed through her pussy, a constant, painful reminder of the previous night's events. She tried to sit up, but her limbs felt like lead, the restraints having left deep red bands in her skin. Jane took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of lavender. It was overwhelming, almost suffocating, and she realised that her skin and hair had been washed.

Her mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of memory that remained from the previous night. The bar, the tequila, the whispers—it was all a blur. But she knew that she had been used and discarded like a piece of trash, left to wake up in her own room, naked, with nothing but her own trauma as company.

The thought of speaking to the police, of retracing her steps and reliving the horror, brought bile to her throat. There would be no physical proof to show, no DNA to collect. They had been meticulous, their perversion a finely honed art that left no real trace behind. The bar was probably a dead end, a place she couldn't even bear to think about, let alone return to.

All her clothes were neatly arranged on the bed, a morbid display of what had been stripped from her. Her dress laid there, neatly folded. Her jacket and heels were placed beside it, as if waiting for her to put them on again and pretend everything was normal. But her slip was missing, a small but significant absence that sent a chill down her spine. Someone had taken a piece of her, a trophy from their twisted game.

She checked her bag, everything seemed to be in order—her wallet, keys, phone, even all her cash was there. It was almost as if they had meticulously returned her belongings as a twisted gift, a souvenir of their depraved festivities. The realisation that she hadn't been robbed brought a flicker of relief, but it was quickly snuffed out by the fear that they had probably been watching her, studying her.

With a trembling hand, Jane reached for the folded piece of paper that sat at the bottom of the bag. The words were scribbled hastily, almost childlike in their enthusiasm, "Happy Birthday Jane, great party, let's do that again! Best wishes, your greatest admirers". The reality of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks, and she crumpled the paper in her fist.

Tears streamed down her face as the full weight of the night's horror crashed over her like a tidal wave. Her sobs grew louder, echoing through the room, and she couldn't help but wonder if any of her attackers were people she knew. The whispers had been so faint, but the way they had moved around her, the way they had touched her, with care and a level of tenderness not expected with the horror she went through. Were they friends, colleagues, or just random predators who had found a way to blend into her life? The thought that she had shared laughs, drinks, maybe even confidences with the monsters who had done this to her made her stomach churn.

Her trembling hand reached for the phone, her heart racing. The screen lit up, revealing a high resolution picture she never wanted to see. Jane's eyes went wide with horror as she took in the image: a naked body, bound and blindfolded on a bench, the red restraints stark against her pale skin. The camera had captured every detail of the pussy, folds open and presented for the world to see. It was a beautiful, clean, artistic shot that showcased the curves of her body.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt the room spin around her. It was like looking into a mirror reflecting the darkest moments of her soul, and she realised with a sickening jolt that the woman in the image was her. Her perfect, curved body laid out for the world to see, ready to be used and violated. She recognised the type of blindfold, the way the ropes had dug into her skin.

Panic gripped her, her mind racing with the possibilities of who might be in possession of this image, or where there more? Were they going to blackmail her? Post it online? Or was it just another twisted souvenir for their collection? The thought that her friends, her colleagues, anyone could be looking at her like this, reduced to a mere object of desire and pain, was too much to bear. Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through her phone, searching for any signs of the picture having been sent or shared.

The screen flickered to life, and she saw her mom's contact photo staring back at her. But the sound that filled her room was not the comforting ring tone she was expecting. Instead, it was the haunting symphony of screams, a body's desperate cries for mercy that had been twisted into a macabre melody. Her stomach churned, her heart racing as the sounds of suffering pierced through her ears.

Her eyes widened in horror as she recognised the sounds from the night before—the slap of flesh, the wetness of penetration, the rhythmic grunts of the men who had used her. The realisation that they had recorded it all, that they had turned her most private moments into a twisted soundtrack for their sick amusement, was too much to bear.

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Happy birthday ... let me know what you think about this story