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“God, she’s a babe.”
Eric nodded at the buffet table. The food was down to the last few crumbs and pieces, with wrappers and paper plates littering its surface, but the alcohol was steadily replenished and paper cups were refilled at astounding rate. A small group of girls stumbled around the tabletop, where they grabbed at any shots or bottles handed to them, and – experiencing alcohol for the first time in their young lives – they made quite the show for the veteran drinkers in the small room.
In particular, Rinko Nikaido was the most intoxicated.
It was clear that she was fourteen, maybe fifteen at most, but desperate to ‘fit in’ among the older teenagers and younger twenty-somethings, and – as such – there was not a single drink offered to her that she had yet refused. The young girl was flushed in the face, with her eyes half-lidded and lips swollen, and she swayed where she stood and spilled beer with every swing of her arm, until it soaked itself into the white fabric of her schoolgirl shirt . . . one tied beneath the breasts.
The schoolgirl costume was the most risqué of everyone present, and there was clearly no brassier beneath the shirt that stayed closed merely by the loose tie of its own hem. The curve of her breasts was visible to everyone, and – thanks to the beer soaking her shirt – her large areolas and thick nipples were poking their way through the shirt, as if begging for people to stare at the young woman who danced to the repetitive techno beats. The skirt stopped just beneath her buttocks, where there was a blatant lack of panties. He smirked to see her dip low and bend over.
He was already half-hard. The curve to her buttocks proved them to be plump and round, although nothing compared to her ample bosom, and her exposed thighs were just as creamy and smooth as her buttocks and breasts. A pair of knee-high white socks completed the look, while her hair in pigtails made her seem even younger than her youthful years. He palmed at his cock beneath his leather trousers. He licked at his lips beneath his iron mask.
“Dude,” said Bruce. “You couldn’t get a girl like that.”
Eric rolled his eyes. The man beside him was barely recognisable, dressed as ‘Iron Man’ and so covered head-to-toe in plastic and opaque metal, and the anonymity to his costume provided a safety net should anything go ‘wrong’ during the night . . . a means to escape retribution from anyone that might dare to utter a complaint. It provided just as much anonymity as his ‘Kevin Mask’ costume, complete with the waist-length wig of blond locks, and awful attempt at a British accent any time a pretty young thing spoke to him. He chuckled.
“That girl’s a right groupie,” said Eric. “I’ve seen her on television; she’s front-row seats to every match, and she’s always with Kevin Mask and Jade and Terry the Kid. Fuck, I bet she’s banging every last one of them . . . her cunt’s probably loose enough to be a gaping hole.”
Eric waved to Rinko. Rinko waved back. The flush on her cheeks deepened, while her arms came to fold across her chest, and – while the gesture may have seemed innocuous – it was done with the clear intent to make her double-Ds look more like triple-Es, complete with erect nipples now skimming the hem of the shirt and blatantly in unobstructed view. The young slut failed to even notice a few boys taking photographs on their phones, oblivious to their cheers and taunts, and kept her focus entirely on ‘Kevin’, who mock-blew a kiss in her direction. Bruce laughed:
“I bet you ten dollars you can’t get her in the sack.”
“Man, have you seen my costume?” Eric rolled his eyes. “If I load her with even more alcohol, I bet I can get her to believe I’m the real Kevin Mask in no time flat. You’ll be hearing her screaming ‘Kevin, Kevin, Kevin’ from the hallway! Just get ready with the ten dollars.”
“No way will she believe you’re the Kevin Mask.”
“Oh yeah? Look, you go hide upstairs. I want you to give me a half-an-hour head-start, but then you barge into her bedroom with your camera ready . . . if you’ve not got a good shot of me pounding her pussy, I’ll give you fifty dollars and write your college papers for a month. I’m telling you, I’ll be filling that dumb bitch with cum in just thirty minutes.”
Bruce shook his head, before he downed the last of his beer. The smile on his face failed to quite reach his eyes, but his interest was betrayed by the way he tried to palm his cock beneath his costume and moaned with his head in her direction. Rinko ‘accidentally’ dropped her cup, causing her to dip low enough that her tits dropped with the full weight forward and at maximum size, and every inch was fully exposed to their hungry eyes, as each grown man found his cock twitching with an almost painful throbbing timed to their heartbeat. Eric choked out:
“Okay, you’re on . . .”
* * *
Rinko bushed, as he lips twitched into a smile. The faint music from downstairs did little to drown out her racing heartbeat, which beat its tune in time to the rhythm below, and every breath came out hushed and shallow, as her manicured fingers caressed the doorknob. She pressed her back against the wood, which emphasised her ample breasts and forced her to tilt back her head to look into the eyes of ‘Kevin Mask’, who looked hungrily down upon her feminine frame.
The mask was long gone. It left his long locks of blond hair on display, with his stubbly chin showing signs of a masculine beard that threatened to grow, and yet his eyes . . . his eyes . . . they looked nothing like she remembered. They were harsh and hazy, with bags beneath them of a much older man, and yet they were dilated to such extremes that he was either heavily intoxicated or heavily aroused. The hard erection at her thigh answered that question. It pressed against her, teasing her with its visibly long shaft and powerful girth.
A low gasp escaped her, as he kissed at her neck. The kisses were so gentle and soft, unlike anything she expected from a man so rough as the ‘iron knight’, and she instinctively tilted her head – exposing her long throat – to provide him better access. He laughed. The kisses soon turned into nips and bites, as his teeth scratched at her skin, and he suckled with enough strength to leave visible marks . . . as if he were marking her as belonging to him and him alone.
“K-Kevin,” moaned Rinko. “Are – Are you sure this is okay?”
He kissed a path to her ear, leaving love-bites as he went, and finally stopped when he reached her earlobe and suckled upon the soft skin. It sent shivers down her spine. A spark of adrenaline burst through every vein in her body, as she brought her hands to broad shoulders and gripped tight upon them, and – as Eric suckled – he blew soft and warm air directly into her ear, providing sparks of arousal that added to the wetness between her thighs.
Rinko moaned. She pressed her legs together, desperate to hide the smears visible under her short hemline, but all thoughts of modesty were soon lost when he forced his mouth over hers in a wonderful display of dominance and passion. He pried open her lips with his, before forcing his tongue deep inside her mouth. There was a bitter taste of cigarettes and beer, merged with something else . . . something salty and sour and wrong . . . he teased and toyed with her tongue, as the two danced together, and his sheer desire – his need for her – added to her arousal.
He continued to kiss her, even as his hands ripped open her blouse. They fondled at her breasts, pawing at them with a rough hunger unlike anything imagined, and the pleasure bordered on painful as the fingers dug into every inch of perfectly rounded and smooth flesh. It was the first time anyone had touched her there . . . stroking at her bosom, flicking at her nipples . . . soft mewls and moans fell from her mouth, as his fingertips brushed circles around her areolas, and tugged at her nipples with a rough and fast rhythm that was too frantic to be real.
The fingers were experienced. They twisted and flicked and squeezed, in a manner that sometimes sent pleasure coursing through her every nerve, and yet other times they slipped into something almost sadistic . . . something painful. He would command her breasts to his whim, and soon came down to bite at her nipples and slap at her breasts. It was painful . . . demeaning . . . but if this was what he wanted, who was she to question it?
“A-Ah! Oh – Oh God . . . hmm.”
He slapped at her breasts. It was far from hard, but with enough force to sting. It brought out a loud cry from her swollen lips, as she moaned around his invading tongue, and yet he continued to push them together and pull them apart, manhandling them with little care about her pleasure. He broke the kiss. Rinko used her chance to gasp for breath, while he kissed down . . . down . . . until shoving his head between her breasts and shaking it back and forth.
It was so juvenile and objectifying, and yet he seemed to like that, as he moaned and fondled her with wild abandon, and his fingers wrenched at her nipples until they were sore and swollen, each one red and large and aching from the constant attention. Rinko cried aloud, before burying her fingers into his blond locks. The hair felt dry and rough, almost artificial, but she had little time to dwell on the sensation, as Eric yanked at her shirt and pulled it fully from her frame. He tossed it down onto the floor, where it lay crumpled, and returned to molesting her breasts.
“Please,” cried Rinko. “It feels . . . oh God! Ooh!”
He continued to violently grope with one hand, as he left a series of bite-marks on her breast, and used his free hand to grab at the doorknob, before he threw open the door wide. It smashed against the wall, where it exposed the generic and practically empty space of a spare bedroom. The lack of personality was at odds with the rest of the house, but there was little time to properly take in the décor. Eric dragged her by the wrists inside the bedroom, where a king-sized bed took up centre-space before an open window . . . one that overlooked the back garden.
Eric smashed his hand against the light-switch. The burst of light momentarily blinded her, leaving her no time to react as he grabbed her by her upper arms, and – with one furious shove – he launched her directly onto the mattress, where she landed with a bounce. A dark thought passed through her mind: if anyone were outside, they would see inside. Rinko crawled back against the headboard, where she glanced to the window, but all she saw was her reflection.
The bruises on her breasts were visible, along with the love-bites on her neck. In her distraction, her legs spread apart beneath the extremely short skirt, and her hairless vagina was on perfect display, including the wet smear of arousal about her thighs. Rinko swallowed hard. He climbed onto the bed, which dipped beneath his muscular frame. He looked different . . . not what she expected . . . she opened her mouth to question him, but he descended on her for another kiss, one that robbed her of her senses. Rinko remained oblivious, as she whispered to Eric:
“I – I’ve never done this before . . .”
“You’ve fingered yourself, right?” Eric asked. “You must have masturbated? I don’t want your first time to hurt, so I need to know whether you’re going to need extra time . . . you look so fucking hot, though, babe! I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold back or not.”
“Oh, Kevin! I – I’ve . . . I mean . . . it-it’s okay i-if you –”
“If I fuck your cunt without holding back?”
Rinko blushed. A fluttering in her stomach brought nausea, while her mouth ran dry with the expectation of what was to come, but – most of all – the beating of her heart kept her on the edge of a fainting spell that threatened to ruin the night. Rinko cast her eyes back to the window, desperate for a distraction, but there was nothing . . . there could have been no one or everyone outside, but the reality was that there was only her and Kevin in this moment.
Rinko nodded. It was all Eric needed. He descended on her with feverish desperation, with his body forcing itself between her legs and spreading them wide, and his clothed groin pressed firmly against her swollen and large clitoris. It sent sparks of pleasure through her flesh. Rinko cried out and grasped at his t-shirt, burying her fingers into the fabric, and arched her back to the point that she thought it might break, while choking on her saliva. He laughed. He slapped at her breasts once more, before he pinned her down her wrists and stared hungrily at her prone frame.
“Perfect,” growled Eric.
A pair of rough hands pushed at her skirt. The short length of pleated material bunched about her hips, exposing the perfectly symmetrical pair of labia, and her hole – twitching and dripping with natural lubricant – waited for something to fill it . . . to fulfil her purpose. Rinko moaned out a breathy ‘please’. Eric appeased. A thick and callused finger slid deep into her cunt, where her soft and velvet-like inner walls moulded themselves to the shape of the invading digit, and he crooked his finger just enough to press against the magic spot deep inside. Rinko cried out.
The pleasure and arousal was beyond intense! Each crook of his finger left her mewling mess, as she writhed against silk sheets that now stuck to her skin with sweat, and he soon slid in a second finger to spread her wider from the inside out. He would pull them out nearly to the fingertips, only to ram them hard inside, and her natural lubricants – excessive with arousal – would squelch and leak out from around the fingers that made scissor-motions inside her cunt.
He thumbed at her clitoris . . . ‘oh fuck! Ah, oh god; hmm, so fucking good!’ . . . the thumb would press against the head of her clitoris, before stroking along the sides and clitoral hood, and sometimes he would even flick far too painfully on thrusting his fingers inside her vagina. The pain mingled with the pleasure. Rinko spread her legs as wide as possible, and took her ankles in her hands, as he looked between her and the window in quick succession. He added a third finger and thrust ever harder. Rinko screamed out: ‘Oh goooood’. He slapped at her face.
“Tell me what a whore you are,” ordered Eric.
Rinko brought her hands to her breasts. He continued to finger-fuck her in earnest, while she massaged the soft and sensitive orbs, and – attempting to provide a ‘show’ – pulled at her nipples to add to her increasing arousal. Rinko pushed her breasts together. They appeared far larger than their usual DD size, and the sight of her tugging at her erect nipples had Eric moaning in response, as he pressed ever harder down on her clitoris. A line of drool escaped her lips, while she bucked up into his hand . . . thrusting, writhing . . . pleading for more.
“I – I’m a whore,” moaned Rinko. “Oh fuuuck!”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to fuck my pussy!” Rinko mewled. “You can fuck my ass, throat, tits . . . I don’t care, I just need you, Kevin! I promise that I’ll make you feel so good. I want you to rape me so hard that I won’t be able to walk tomorrow, and I want you to fill me with so much cum that it’ll drip from my cunt for days. I’m all yours. I’m all yours, Kevin. Please, use me!”
“Hmm, babe, I love dirty talk.”
“I was born to be your cum-dump. I love how your fingers feel inside my hole, stretching me out and making me feel so full . . . it was like I was made to be fucked by you! I want your hard cock sliding inside my wet cunt, fucking with all your might; fuck me. I’m begging you!”
He slid out his fingers. A laugh followed, but it was not from Eric. It came from outside, where a few people cheered and whooped, but – as she tried to turn her head to the open window – he snatched at her jaw and wrenched her head to the side. There was a chuckle in the hallway, too, as if someone were pressed against the door, and Rinko tried to sit upright . . . strained to listen for the various giggles and whispers . . . he held her down by her neck, with long fingers wrapped around her throat, and pressed a slick finger to his lips to make a shushing sound.
Rinko obeyed. She remained silent, even as he reached down with his free hand, and soon he freed his erect cock to the night air, without ever removing his trousers or shirt. The fly was wide open, and shoved just beneath his testicles, which was huge and hung monstrous below a shaft so formidable . . . so much bigger than any dildo or hairbrush that she used! Rinko gaped. She opened and closed her mouth in rapid succession, as she stared wide-eyed and gasped:
“It – It’s so big . . .”
He took his cock and shook it three times. A bead of pre-cum beaded at its tip. Rinko strained to get a closer look, lost in awe at the seven inches length, and she realised the girth would make it hard for her index finger and thumb to touch. It would spear her wide open! Rinko shook her head over and over, as she mumbled out: ‘no, no, I can’t, no’. He gripped harder at her neck, enough that her breath was lost and a spark of pain seared into her skin, and her hands instinctively came up to claw at his hands and try to pry them from her throat.
Eric scoffed, before he dragged her onto her knees. Rinko was forced to kneel before him, almost naked save from her knee-length socks and high-heels, and the skirt about her waist was practically a belt as it bunched into a coil of cloth, and yet – ever obedient – she fought back her urge to run and looked up with watering eyes into the face of her crush: ‘Kevin’. He smirked down at her with a half-smile that failed to meet his eyes. He let go of her throat.
The cock was a mere inch from her plump lips. It was so close that the head brushed against them, smearing pre-cum against her already smeared lipstick, and – from outside – she vaguely heard someone scream out: ‘suck it, bitch’. Rinko was dizzy . . . light-headed, weakened . . . she blinked through her thick eyelashes and licked at her lips, as she opened her mouth in expectation of the cock that would soon spear its way down her throat, but he simply waited and gestured with his head for her to get to work. He nudged at her mouth with his cock and spat:
“It’s all for you, whore.”
Rinko slowly extended her tongue, as she leaned towards the cock. She licked a long line along the vein on the underside, stopping once she reached the ridge of the head, and then repeated the motion. This time, she stopped once she reached the slit. Rinko maintained the pattern of licking from base to slit, base to slit, until finally dipping her tongue into the slit and swirled it around, while attempting a pornographic moan far louder than intended. A voice laughed in the hallway.
She ignored the voice and breathed deep. She held her breath for three long seconds, before – with a fluttering of her long eyelashes – taking the mushroom-head into her mouth. Eric gripped hard against her pigtails; a low growl started in his throat, but escaped as a high-pitched moan,. He closed his eyes. He tilted back his head and relished in the sensations. The head leaked with pre-cum, albeit with small and subtle beads, but the taste was bitter . . . sour. Rinko was ready to say ‘no’, as he made to pull away and back out, but that plan was soon aborted . . .
Eric grabbed at her head and forced her down with enormous speed. The head of the cock – still within a passionate mouth – shoved itself right to the back of her throat. It forced her mouth right to the base, where her nose ached with the pressure of being pushed against pubic bone, and pubic hair tickle at er nostrils and stole away her breath. Rinko groaned and cried out around the cock, but the vibrations only added to the pleasure and ecstasy experienced by Eric.
“You’re loving this, aren’t you? Yeah, I always knew you were born to be a cock-sucker. You look so good on your knees before your daddy, taking in his cock like a professional. Oh shit, you know how to make a man feel good . . . hmm . . . yeah, just like that, bitch.”
Rinko enacted his plan to make ‘Kevin’ cum. In her attempts to bring him to completion, in order to break free of the oral sex that quickly escalated in violence, she hollowed out her cheeks and suckled hard. The soft and wet texture of her inner cheeks provided a beautiful level of sensation, while her sucking lips let loose obscene squelches and slurps from every bob of her head, and her tongue – needing something to keep itself busy – ran long lines around the underside, as the pre-cum wept in earnest. It was like nothing before experienced!
It spurted out fast and thick, almost like cum at times. The clear liquid spread over Rinko’s tongue and leaked out from the corner of her lips, where it smeared itself against muscular thighs, and Eric – barely holding back a staccato series of grunts – buried his hands every deeper into her hair, where long fingers buried themselves to the point of invisibility. They held so tightly that it sent waves of pain through her scalp, and soon her face was pressed so hard to the crotch that she was choking and losing consciousness . . . his vision was alight with colour . . .
Rinko slapped hard at the thighs, until her limbs grew numb. A strange sensation of pins and needles prickled at every inch of skin, and her lungs burned as if acid were poured deep inside, and her heart – her heart – raced until to the point of pain. It would soon burst out of her chest. She was losing focus . . . losing faith . . . only when Eric took mercy could she breathe again, as she lifted his head as much off the cock as possible to gulp down desperately needed oxygen.
“Oh fuck! You’re such an amazing cum-dump!”
Rinko grabbed at the testicles. She squeezed tight, while relishing in every breath, but her attempt at revenge was misguided, as Eric seemed to relish in the momentary pain. The grown man bucked upward again, striking the back of her throat, and Rinko – sobbing and choking – instead cupped at the testicles and rolled them in her hands. She returned to a traditional method of achieving climax, while Eric continued to roll his hips into her mouth.
Eric made no attempt to hide his moans and groans, as if he wanted to be heard. He would let out a keening sound, only to roll it into an aborted attempt at a word, and any semblance of coherency was lost by obvious grunts of arousal and pleasure . . . if anyone were outside in the corridor, listening above the music, they would surely know Eric was being blown. Rinko sucked harder, as she continued to play with the testicles and slurp at the shaft, and occasionally would use her teeth to extremely lightly scrape along the cock to provide extra sensations.
“Oh babe,” moaned Eric. “You’re so hot . . . so good . . .”
Eric looked down with half-lidded eyes. He licked at his smiling lips, but his hands remained fixed tight within her brown hair. The long fingers massaged at her scalp, but – instead of allowing her to break free – they controlled the pace of the face-fucking session, pulling and pushing with a dominance that said: ‘there will be no disobedience’. Rinko was nothing but a flesh-light . . . a living sex-doll whose sole purpose was to provide stimulation . . . she allowed himself to be used, while keeping his cheeks hollow and tongue lapping at the underside.
The fucking continued for five minutes . . . ten . . . fifteen . . . her jaw ached with an intense pain towards the joints, until she struggled to keep her mouth open and teeth from scraping a little too harshly, and her hand massaged at the testicles with an increasingly lazy pressure. Eric yanked her back with great force. The pain seared into her scalp, as her mouth was wrenched back from the cock. A long string of saliva and pre-cum connected her swollen lips to the head of the penis, while she panted with flushed face and blown pupils. Grateful for mercy, she whispered:
“Th-Thank you, Kevin.”
He slapped her. The blow was hard and fast, striking at the cheekbone with force, and it snapped her head violently to the side, where – with open mouth and breathless gasp – she brought a trembling hand to the cut that blended with a forming bruise. It left a red mark, one that would be obvious to any who saw the bruise. A spark of pain ran down her jaw and through her eye, while she knelt stock-still before him . . . unable to move, unable to think . . . he snatched at her hair and yanked back her head, as he snarled out a rough order:
“Get on all fours.”
Rinko froze. The flush to her cheeks disappeared, as all colour drained away into a perfect whiteness, and her eyes trembled with visible tears, which threatened to spill down her cheeks. A darkness fell over Kevin, like nothing she imagined or anticipated, and every instinct screamed: ‘run’. Rinko dropped down onto her buttocks, before she cast an eye to the open window, where – through its crack – she saw a few people milling around outside . . . watching, waiting . . . a cold dread swept over her, like icy water slowly poured over warm flesh. Eric shouted:
“I gave you an order, bitch!”
Anger poured forth. Each word was like acid in her ears. Rinko scrambled to crawl onto all fours, as she obeyed with little resistance, and – while something flashed in her peripheral vision, like cameras or flashlights – she knelt on her knees and hands like a bitch in heat. It left her breasts hanging huge and prominent from her chest, each one a perfect globe ready to be used and abused, and her buttocks were on blatant display, with each rounded cheek ready to be bitten and slapped and groped. A tear rolled down her cheek. It dripped onto the sheet.
He slapped hard on her buttock, forcing it to jiggle from the force. It added to the prevailing sting and lingering pain from her cheek; Rinko yelped in time to the slaps, as one after another landed on each buttock in a strange and irregular rhythm. Rinko bit into her lip to hold back her cries, while Eric laughed. He laughed. The pale buttocks turned a violent shade of red . . . ‘I should spank him more often’ . . . Rinko mewled and sobbed, as tears fell fast and furious.
The spankings stung like thousands of needles being pressed into bare flesh. The stinging sensation ran through every nerve, setting her cheeks aflame, and yet the pain mingled weirdly with the pleasure, so that her huge clitoris twitched with an untold sense of arousal that was unknown to even many adults. A second slap rained down upon her cheek . . . another . . . another . . . a series of red handprints were left visible on her rear, while she took it all with sobbing and broken acceptance, until – finally – he rammed his cock inside her cunt.
Rinko screamed.
It was a beautiful mixture of pain and pleasure, as the thick and long shaft speared her open, and even her flooding of natural lubrication was far from enough to ease its presence, as its very presence provided a harsh friction against her inner walls. Rinko instinctively clenched around his penis, while her virgin channel moulded itself to the invading cock, and – panting for breath – she clawed hard at the sheets and ripped holes into the fabric. Her back arched. A trickle of drool spilled from her lips, as she gasped and moaned and sobbed.
“Oh fuck! You really are a virgin.”
Eric pulled out nearly to the head. It left her empty . . . bereft . . . the arousal was intense, like nothing ever felt, and her vagina throbbed in time to her racing heart, while natural lubricant gushed out of her gaping hole, but – before she could beg him to slam back inside – he thrust with such force that the headboard smashed against the wall. It started as a slow rhythm, with the headboard knocking slow . . . steady . . . bang . . . bang . . . bang . . . the head of the penis punched against her g-spot with perfect precision, leaving her breathless.
He picked up speed, with his balls slapping loud against her buttocks. The squelching of lubrication echoed about the bedroom, while he gripped hard on her hips with his fingers pressing in hard, and soon his nails left four parallel and crimson lines on either side of her waist. It was a pain that was offset by the constant pounding of her pleasure point, as the headboard picked up speed . . . bang, bang, bang . . . Rinko ground back against him.
The two moved in perfect unison, as she threw back her head, and – placing her full weight on her hands – lifted her upper body upward, so that she could obtain the optimum angle for him to thoroughly fuck her pussy . . . ‘ah, ah, oh, hmm, ah, oh god’ . . . Rinko panted and gasped. Each breath was punctuated by the cock in her vagina, and his pubic hair tickled against her bare labia, as she threw back her head and let loose one pleading: ‘more, oh god, more’!
Rinko looked towards the open window. It was thrown so wide that her reflection in the glass was no longer visible, but instead a small crowd outside aimed their phones towards the bedroom windows, and – as they congregated around the outdoor pool – they laughed and pointed and joked with one another, all while her pigtails bobbed and mouth remained agape. Rinko bucked back against him, lost too much in her pleasure to even fully recognise the danger, while the congregation of frat boys recorded her in her weakest moment. Rinko panted out:
“Oh, Kevin . . . Kevin!”
Rinko caught side of the crowd. A man nudged another, while he gestured to his watch, and soon the elbowing and whispering spread, until they were rushing inside and out of sight. It led to a door being opened and slammed below, although the sound was missed as she cried out in building pleasure . . . ‘fuck me, Kevin! Oh please, fuck me harder’ . . . Rinko fucked back, while using one hand to fondle a breast. She pinched and pulled at her nipple, while looking back over her shoulder to see his face grimaced on the verge of orgasm. The door opened.
The sound was nearly lost over her groans of pleasure, but there was no missing the way that the group of fraternity brothers barged into the bedroom. Bruce stood head of the group. He held out his camera to get a better shot of Rinko being fucked in her cunt by the young man, and his group of friends – roughly seven or eight men – crowded around the bed with phones out and faces smiling through laughter and taunts and insults. They crowded around the two lovers.
A wave of shock struck her hard, bringing an unadulterated nausea coursing through her chest and burning at the back of her throat, until vomit nearly spilled from her mouth. Rinko looked from man to man, as each one saw her at her most vulnerable moment, and each one immortalised her on film without her consent. They whooped and fisted the air, while Eric continued to fuck into her as if they lacked an audience. Rinko shook her head. She pressed at the sheets in an attempt to pull away . . . ‘no . . . no, no, no’ . . . tears fell fast and hard.
“Oh fuck, dude,” laughed Bruce. “You were right!”
“You owe me ten dollars,” growled Eric.
He spanked hard. It was a sign of dominance. Rinko belonged to this man, who plunged his cock deep into her previously unused hole, and – even as she desperately tried to crawl away from him – the pleasure was undeniable, as he brought her to heights of ecstasy before an unwanted audience. They would see her moan. They would see her weep. They would see every fleeting emotion, every second of uncontrollable physiological reactions, and they would carry the memories of her rape with them for the rest of their lives. She would live forever in their minds.
Rinko choked back on tears. The tears were salty and bitter on her lips, but – worse – they mingled with the bile and vomit that she was forced to swallow down, as they ran down the back of her throat and snot spilled from her sinuses. She was a weeping mess. The humiliation was too real . . . too intense . . . her flushed face was bruised from the slaps, while her groans were merged with protests, and incoherent sounds soon filled the phones of the men.
She tried to pull away. The men grabbed at her arms and legs, as roughly four or five held her down by her calves and forearms, and one particularly cruel one crawled in front of her face, so he could grab at her neck and lock her head into place. She was held down like a statue, so that she existed only as a living sex-doll while men filmed and touched themselves, and Eric continued to pound . . . to fuck . . . Rinko whined like a child, even as the whine was broken by the thrusting cock deep in her cunt. She was powerless . . . vulnerable . . . at their mercy.
“S-Stop! W-What . . . why . . . Kevin, why are –?”
He slapped again at her buttocks, while moving like a jack-hammer. The speed and power and shallow thrusts were so intense that she could barely speak . . . ‘ah-ah-ah-ah-ah’ . . . the men laughed at her sounds, while some imitated her cries, and they crowded around the bed as if attending a life sex-show. Bruce in particular filmed her from all angles, while running his hands over her body . . . a few of them tweaked at her nipples, one pulled at her clitoris, and another tried to shove a finger into her ass. Rinko wept and choked, as Kevin spat out:
“How fucking dumb are you, bitch?”
Bruce came close to her head. The man at her face jerked it to the side, all while she strained with all her might to wrench free her face, and he zoomed in close and filmed her tears, as they stained at her cheeks and dripped into her open mouth. Rinko looked away, but there was no avoiding the lens that caught her every wince of pain and contortion of pleasure. The sweat from her head caused her fringe to cling to her forehead, and her pigtails rocked back and forth with the rhythm of the thrusts, while she sniffed and slobbered and mumbled ‘stop’.
“This isn’t Kevin Mask, moron,” said Bruce. “If you weren’t such a dumb slut, and if you didn’t spread your legs for every guy you meet, maybe you’d have realised that? Anyway, looks like you’re enjoying being fucked by a real man. Just lay back and take it. Why ruin a good thing?”
Rinko tried to shake her head again, but he slapped her cheek. He slapped her. A second guy slapped at her buttock, while another groped at her breasts as if milking a cow, and a third shoved his fingers deep down her throat, until she retched and gagged around them. It was impossible to see through the tears, and someone was filming the fucking from below, so that there was a close-up of her stretched cunt taking in the thrusting cock. They laughed to see how wet she was with both pre-cum and natural lubrication. They laughed at her pain.
Eric pounded with such force that it hurt. He was trying to hurt her! He would scratch down her back every so often, while slowing his pace in an attempt at ‘edging’, and then – after cuts appeared on her flesh – would spit at her and call her a ‘whore’, before slapping at every inch of skin available. The men groped at her with wild abandon. They treated her like a mere object for their arousal and amusement. Rinko fought against them until bruises formed where they gripped.
The worst part was . . . she was close! The arousal built even as the mortification reached its peak, and her face contorted into an unholy union of disgust and bliss, with the pleasure rolling itself at an intrinsic level with the oncoming orgasm that threatened to consume her whole. Rinko was trapped at the precipice. She was lost with her racing heart pounding away, almost in time to the smashing headboard, and now she screamed . . . screamed . . . her throat was bloody and hoarse, and as each scream ended with sobs and please, she would scream all over again.
“Fuck,” gasped Eric. “Holy shiiiit!”
Eric thrust once . . . twice . . . he came inside her cunt. The ropes of hot cum never seemed to end, as they flooded her sore and torn inner channel, and they burst past her cervix and straight into her womb, where they would no doubt leave her pregnant with an unwanted child. The head of the cock pressed directly against her g-spot, where each burst of cum pushed its way against that magical spot, adding to her hated arousal, and it never seemed to end . . . never stopped . . .
He stayed inside until his balls were emptied. Finally, he pulled out. The gaping hole was on full view for the men around her, and each one pushed and shoved the other for a clear view and the ‘money shot’, as cum leaked out of her hole and dripped down onto the sheets. Rinko remained on all fours, even as the men let go of her body, and Eric dropped down like a dead weight beside her, as he panted for breath and grinned like a madman. Bruce teased:
“Aw, you couldn’t make her cum?”
Bruce grabbed Rinko by the waist, before he flipped her over. She landed on her back and her legs were pulled apart by two men, while others fought for better pictures . . . a new angle, a new position . . . they laughed as they saw her full frontal and with spread legs. Eric took two fingers and plunged them into her sopping wet cunt. He thrust them hard and fast, while another fingered at her clitoris, and others grabbed at her breasts and stroked at random pieces of flesh, and – as he finger-fucked her – they filmed her and photographed her and mocked her.
“Ahhhh!”
The orgasm ripped through Rinko so long and hard that it scared her. It never seemed to end . . . on and on it went, as her back arched to breaking point, and her muscles tensed to the point of seizing up and bringing in substantial pain. She choked on air and saliva, as her clitoris twitched and her vagina clenched. Rinko thought she was squirting, but all that happened was that a stream of urine shot from her urethra and soaked Bruce’s face. It splashed over every inch of his skin, spraying him with a yellow liquid that got inside his mouth. It tasted . . . good.
Bruce drank in her piss, while Rinko no longer cared that the men teased and mocked and laughed. Instead, Rinko stared with unfocused and hazy eyes at her molester, as piss dripped and trickled onto the sheets and soaked into the mattress . . . the orgasm continued . . . her mind was blank. The only thing that existed was a pleasure beyond comprehension. It cast sparks of colour about her eyes. It made her heart race to breaking point. A scream burst from her throat.
She threw back his head. It was like her heart stopped and breathing ceased, and – as her vision blacked out – all that existed was that moment of orgasmic bliss. Rinko was light-headed. She was weak. She swayed and choked on the air itself, as she reached the unattainable heights of nirvana, but – as she lingered between heaven and hell – the stream of piss continued to escape her clitoris in an absolute torrent. It shot out like a golden arc directly in front of her abusers.
The piss came out and out, with the scent of a long-left urinal, and it trickled over the mattress, before it splashed down onto the carpet and soaked into the fabric. The urine accumulated fast in a small puddle, as the urine steadily leaked from a softening clitoris down velvety thighs and down smooth calves. Rinko collapsed. She panted and mewled, with an absent smile on her face that made her look goofy and drugged, and she lay momentarily content on the piss-soaked sheets, hoping – praying – that no one had filmed this wanton display of whoredom.
“Wow,” gasped Eric. “Never had that happen before.”
He slipped out his fingers from her hole. Rinko came to her senses. The men were all crowded around and towering over her prone form, while Eric climbed off the bed and tucked himself back into his trousers, and a few were even openly touching themselves, while some asked whether it was their turn yet . . . whether they could fuck the slut. Rinko cried. She threw a hand over her sopping cunt, while her other arm draped itself over her breasts, and yet it was a pointless gesture . . . phones were already being put away . . . the ringleaders were already done.
“Too late to hide now,” laughed Eric.
Rinko shook her head again, as she crawled up against the headboard. The sheets were soaked with piss and would be unsuitable to wrap around her naked body, and her skirt would do little to hide her bruised and cut and cum-stained thighs, while her shirt was lost to time. A strange panic struck through her, as she thought about how much it would cost to replace . . . how she would get home without so much as a brassiere to hide her shame. In the wake of her rape, the first thought was about a missing shirt. Rinko laughed. She laughed through tears, even as Eric asked:
“Hey, do you mind if my boys have a go?”
The words barely made their way into her consciousness. There was a filth that clung to her skin, as if it were permanently contaminated by his touches . . . his kisses . . . she wanted to scrub until she bled, as if by removing the skin would remove his touches. Oh God . . . she wasn’t on birth control. Rinko laughed and cried . . . laughed and cried. The tears flowed from her blown pupils, while she rocked back and forth, back and forth . . . she clawed at her head. It was impossible to utter any words, any meaning . . . she simply wept and laughed, giggled and screamed . . .
Bruce gestured to the men, who left at once and snapped a few last shots. He was left alone with only Eric in the spare bedroom, while Rinko hysterically clawed at her arms and legs and stomach, until lines started to appear and she hyperventilated. He moved close to Eric, while looking with wide-eyes between the swaying girl and indifferent man. He slapped at the back of Eric’s head, even as the man eyed the girl with a newfound hunger, and shook his head at him.
“Leave it, man,” said Bruce. “I’ve got her on camera.”
“Jerking one out ain’t the same.”
“No, but I’m not really into rape, so it’ll do.”
Eric stormed out. He muttered on the way about an ‘easy lay’ and ‘wasting a chance’, and soon Bruce was left alone with Rinko, who – lying in a puddle of cum and piss – struggled to breathe and retched with heart-breaking sounds over the sheets. Bruce sighed. He moved to a chest of drawers, where he took out a fresh blanket . . . white, pure, untouched . . . it draped easily around her shoulders, before he removed a fraternity sweater from another drawer and tossed it onto the mattress . . . something to wear on the walk of shame. Rinko laughed.
“You won his bet,” said Bruce.
He tossed her a five-dollar note. The piece of paper floated down onto the stained sheets, and it barely even touched the fabric before he opened wide the bedroom door. The music downstairs was painfully loud, as if designed to drown out the cries and slaps and jeers, and he never even looked back, before the door slammed shut. He was lost from sight. She never even saw his face . . . would never even be able to identify him . . . even ‘Kevin’ was some unknown ace among an unknown crowd, and whose name she could not remember . . .
The videos would soon be shared. They would be passed around online like currency, as people masturbated to her rape, and maybe some would recognise her in the streets . . . recognise her as she went about her business in days or weeks or maybe years from now . . . she would be at their mercy long after the wounds had healed. Tears came hard and fast, until blood vessels burst, and her lungs burned with the force of her cries, as she awaited one of them to return . . .
Rinko did all that was possible.
She screamed.