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This story is a work of fiction, any similarities to actual events or persons is unintentional. It contains graphic accounts of rape and violence and some bestiality. It is in no way advocating rape or violence against women, it is a fictional fantasy about sexual submission. Under no circumstance do women enjoy being raped or victimized. If you are reading this to work up the courage to rape someone, go get professional help and be warned, all bad acts come back three-fold.
The rain beat down on the car in thick curtains. The wipers worked overtime to clear the rivers of water surging down the windscreen. Sara sighed and slowed down even more than she was already, leaning forward over the steering wheel trying to see the road ahead. A gray mist obscured everything leaving only the shadows of pine forests to her right and left. She thought she’d made the right turn off the freeway and she’d even checked with the attendant at a gas station along the highway to make sure she was heading in the right direction. It had been five miles or more now without a sign of human habitation, let alone the crossroads with the traffic lights where she was supposed to take a right.
An enormous logging truck hissed by in the opposite direction and a huge sheet of water slammed against the windscreen. Her knee-jerk reaction was to swerve but she held herself in check, her heart beating in her throat. It was too close for comfort, she hadn’t even seen it coming thumbs. Feeling light-headed from the fright she turned the car onto the shoulder of the road and turned off the engine taking a deep breath. She was encased in gray, the windows fogging up quickly now the engine and fans were off.
It had been a long drive from the north to visit her friend Tabatha’s parent’s farm for the weekend. She’d been promising she would come for over a year now and this was the first weekend she had available. A pity it had turned out to be monsoon-like conditions club storys. She wasn’t looking forward to stomping through barnyard mud up to her knees. She sighed and rubbed her face tiredly and reached behind her for a drink of water.
When she turned back there was a man’s face at the driver’s side window. She started and screamed in surprise. The man was saturated, longish hair sticking wetly to his face. He was tapping on the window trying to ask her to wind the window down. She thought briefly about turning on the ignition and driving off fast, but Sara had always had a good Samaritan gene. She wound down the window slightly to find out what he wanted.
"Thank god," he was saying above the roar of the rain. "There’s nothing out here for miles. We’ve broken down about a mile up the road. Do you have a cell phone?"
"Ummm, sorry, no." She’d never owned one. It was only when she was traveling that she regretted it, but she traveled so little these days.
"Damn." The man pushed his wet hair away from his eyes and seemed to be looking down the road perhaps judging how much further he had to walk to get help. Sara could see he was in his late-thirties, clean shaven, light gray eyes, and quite good-looking. He looked back at her.
"Look, I completely understand if you don’t want to help. You have no idea who I am, a complete stranger, and … well, you’re alone personal videos to buy."
Sara nodded thoroughly agreeing.
"It’s just, my wife and kid are back there and I don’t want them stuck out here alone when it gets dark. And its going to take me a few hours to find a station or a phone box."
Sara bit her lip, feeling torn. He was probably telling the truth. What kind of messed up world made it so impossible for strangers to trust each other these days? The kind of messed up world where women end up getting raped and murdered when they try and help strangers, she reminded herself.The man was interpreting her silence as a refusal.
"I understand. I’ll see you okay?" He began to walk away.
Sara sat in the seat staring straight ahead. She couldn’t let him wander through the rain for another five miles back to the highway and the gas station had been at least another two or three more miles back up the highway. If he had a wife and a kid, things could get awful out here. Something could happen to him and no one would find them. Damn, she thought. She started the car and reversed slowly. The man appeared again in her side mirror. He had stopped and looked back. She wound the window down a little further.
"Get in," she called out to him above the rain.
"God, are you sure? Thanks so much," he said quickly and hurried around to the other side of the car. He opened the door and stood there for a moment. "I’m sorry. I’m really wet."
Sara shrugged and he climbed in slamming the door behind himself, pushing back his wet hair and trying to wipe his face with his hands.
"I really appreciate this," he said looking her in the eye. "I would’ve understood if you hadn’t wanted to."
Sara felt uncomfortable and didn’t know what to say, her throat was tight and her hands felt clammy. She didn’t feel that good about her decision.
"So, where to?"
"Would you mind if we went by and picked up my wife and kid? Just in case it takes awhile to get someone out here to look at the car?"
Sara nodded. It sounded like a reasonable plan. She’d feel better once his family showed up.
"They’re about a mile up the road … I think it was a mile, it may be less. It felt a mile walking in the pouring rain." He grinned. His face looked good when he smiled. He had honest eyes, she thought trying to rationalize. Sara felt better. She was sure it would be fine. It was good karma to help someone out.
"My name’s John." The man said.
"Sara." She replied with a small smile.
She shoved the car into drive and headed up the road. Within a few minutes she saw what looked like a fairly recent model, wine colored, Jeep Cherokee on the side of the road.
"So what happened to the car?" She asked peering through the fogged windscreen as she drove up behind it.
John paused a moment. "Err, its probably the alternator."
Sara frowned. She didn’t know all that much about cars but it didn’t seem like a brand new car should have alternator problems.
"Hey, maybe it just needs a jump start. Sometimes a little juice will get it cranking and then we can get it to a garage." He seemed to brighten up at the thought.
"Okay, I think I have some jumper cables," she offered. Sites: zoophily links, personals and passwords, danish net clubs.
"Don’t worry, I have some. Could you just open your hood?"
John jumped out of the car and Sara leaned down to find the latch for the hood. She pulled it and then got out of the car, grimacing at the rain soaking her the instant she got out. John was opening the back of the Jeep. She leaned over fumbling with cold, wet fingers for the catch to release the hood.
Only then did it occur to her that she would probably need to be in front of the Jeep, hood to hood, to jump start it. She turned to tell John that she was going to move the car and was instead confronted with two men climbing out of the raised trunk of the car. They moved rapidly toward her. Feeling an icy coldness grip her insides, she registered the threat and turned in what felt like female stories slow motion to scramble back into the car. But John was on her before she could open the door, grabbing her around the waist with one arm. She bought an elbow back hard against his ribs. It impacted and she felt him collapse slightly from the blow. She ripped free and bolted across the road realizing she couldn’t open the door and get inside the car quick enough. She could hear footsteps thudding after her and panic ensued, pumping adrenaline through her muscles. She leaped up a slight embankment and into the pine forest.
It was wet and the floor of the forest was littered with slippery pine needles. She slid immediately, her footing going out from under her, she landed hard on her knees. She scrambled to her feet but the fall had given her pursuers the edge and she was hit hard from behind and sent sprawling face first into the ground, the wind knocked out of her. A man lay on top of her, pinning her down, making any struggle ineffective. She gasped trying to regain her breath and then started screaming.
"Alright, alright," he was saying and jammed a big hand around her mouth to silence her. The other two had joined them. John squatted down in front of her, his good looking face now just terrifying.
"Shhh, shhh. Be quiet now and we won’t have to hurt you." Her eyes were wide with terror, his friendly gray eyes looked cold to her now, icy. The man on top of her with his hand around her mouth forced her head up so she had to look at John who clucked his tongue at her.
"Didn’t your momma teach you never to talk to strangers?" She glared at him and he grinned. It was no longer a pleasant grin and she felt fear. He bought a balled up rag to her face and pressed it against her nose. She smelt an acrid, unfamiliar chemical smell and her vision wavered. She tried to hold her breath but she knew it would be futile and then she blacked out.
John watched the girls eyes flutter and close, then her body went limp. Ian, the large man who had knocked her down, moved off her and stretched, rubbing his neck. The third one and youngest of their team, Sam chuckled from behind them. "Nice find, Ian," Sam huddled in his coat and hood looking miserable in the rain. Sam had always hated getting his hair wet John thought. Far too pretty for his own good.
"Who knew she’d pull off the road. Quite the runner too. If only she hadn’t tripped." Ian laughed and rubbed the dirt off his jeans and the arms of his hunting jacket. Ian was a big, well-built man in his late thirties, he’d played college football and now was a father of two, and quite the upstanding citizen in their small logging town. If they only knew! He owned and attended a small gas station back out on the highway. He’d given the girl wrong directions when she’d stopped to fill up, then called John and Sam to let them know where to intercept her. They’d picked him up and taken a back road to be sure to get ahead of her. One of them had intended to flag her down, but when she hadn’t shown up John decided to take a walk guessing she might have pulled off to wait out the rain storm. John stood and stretched too. "Well Sheriff, do you prefer outdoors or indoors today?" Sam started cackling and John frowned at him. He had never really trusted Sam to be a part of this, but Sam thought he had them over a barrel having found out about their scheme one night when a girl they had "picked up" had flown the coop, only to run straight into Sam. She’d poured out her heart to Sam, he had that kind of face, a face the girls just simpered over. The pretty face belied the ugliness underneath. Sam had made short work of her and then strolled into John’s office to lay down the law. He wanted in.
Sam believed it was his blackmail that allowed him to continue to play their little game. Little did Sam know. John had decided that Sam would get to play because he had contacts, contacts in most of the regions colleges. If Sam ever got cold feet, or decided he wanted to go it alone, John had the evidence necessary to bring Sam up on the rape charges he had buried in his back drawer. Easy. The town despised Sam’s openly brutal ways with women, most would not be surprised to find him being shipped off to the state prison by their dearly beloved sheriff. John sniffed and decided to ignore Sam’s comment.
"We’ve gotta get her back over the road smart aleck. Don’t get too eager." "What’s wrong with right here?" Sam pouted and kicked the soil. "Nice soft soil here." Ian raised his eyebrows. "Always in a hurry aren’t you boyo?" "No, that’s you pops. Oh, oh, ohhhhhh. I shot my load after 30 seconds." Sam mimicked and laughed raucously. Ian blushed looking furious. "I should crush your skull." "Shut up you two and help me lift her. We’re not doing her here in the rain. I want some time." John made it clear who was in control of the situation. "Yeah. She’s too pretty to waste in a big hole right away," said Ian.
They all looked at her. She was about five-eight with a slim build. She had long golden brown hair and a pretty face. She wore tight blue jeans and a light sweater. Ian leaned down and picked the girl up under the arms. Sam took her legs and they unsteadily brought her back down the hill to the edge of the road where Ian hoisted her over his shoulder. When John made the signal that no traffic was coming Ian hurried across the road and rolled the girl into the back of the Jeep, climbing in after her. "Sam, get her car. We’re heading up to the cabin." John directed and Sam shrugged and climbed into the girl’s hatchback. The rain had relented some as they wound their way up into the mountains. The alpine landscape was rugged with jagged rocky outcroppings and wizened pines. They did not pass another car the entire way up. Turning up a dirt road they continued winding for another fifteen minutes before John finally pulled his Cherokee up to a small log cabin. It had been a few months since the last captive they’d brought up here. He grinned to himself remembering her, the tiny blonde cheerleader who’d squealed like a stuck pig as they took their turns with her.
The rain had stopped and when he climbed out of the car he took a deep breath of the clean, crisp mountain air. Above him, rising out of the low clouds, was a majestic peak, snow-capped in the distance. The log cabin perched before him looked out at a pine- filled valley, stretching down toward the foothills from where they’d come. He stretched his body feeling optimistic and looking forward to the weekend. He opened the back of the Cherokee and Ian clambered out. He’d done a nice job on the girl, wrapping duct tape around her mouth and to secure her wrists behind her back during the drive. He had attached shackles to her ankles. John reached over and slowly ripped the duct tape from her mouth. Up here, miles from anywhere, it wouldn’t matter how much noise she made. She looked to be about 24 or 25, with clear olive skin and a smattering of freckles over her nose and a nice, full, pink mouth. Very pretty. The girl stirred in her drug-induced sleep and John pulled the rag out of his pocket and leaned in, pushing it against her nose and mouth. She sighed and was still.
Sara awoke with a start and it took her a moment to register a splitting headache pounding her skull. She groaned and tried to bring her hand to her temple to ease it, but realized her arms were restrained. Her eyes flew open and she looked along her arm and saw her wrist secured with a tight leather strap to a short cord which was attached to an enormous iron bed-head. The cord ran through the iron bars and was attached to another restraint on her other wrist. She was curled up, her arms strung up above her head. In a terrifying rush her memory flooded back and she bolted upright. She saw that her ankles were shackled. She swiveled around taking in her surroundings. She was tied up on a bare mattress in a small, one room log cabin, it looked like something from the movies, a hunting cabin. There were old shotguns above a wooden mantel. A small fire burned in the grate. To the left was a small kitchen with a window looking out at pine trees and a small table at which, John, the man she’d helped, sat watching her. His expression was bland, unreadable. "What are you going to do to me?" She whispered feeling panic set in and amplify the headache. Her clothes stuck to her and she was miserably cold. He just stared and remained silent. His silence terrified her. "Please," she begged. "Please don’t hurt me…" She felt herself begin to cry and took a deep breath instead. Someone had once told her that panic didn’t help in these situations. "I promise it won’t hurt," he said softly, unmoving. She bit her lip feeling more terrified by the meaning inherent in that answer. "Why … why are you doing this to me?" Her voice quivered. "Because I can," he answered simply, threateningly. She realized his responses were saying more than she realized. He thought he could get away with this pic. She began to feel angry. "Fuck you." She spat suddenly furious. The largest website and bbs forum in the net: check bestiality-live.com with great video store and movie post. He grinned, his handsome face lighting up. "I hope so."
Just then the door was flung open and a tall, slightly built young man walked in and paused, looking at her and at John. He had shoulder length dark almost black hair, cut roughly. His cheek bones were angular and smooth, his eyes slightly tilted at the corners. His look was not pleasant, she sensed cruelty behind that face and shivered. "What? Starting the party without me John?" He clucked his tongue not taking his eyes off Sara. "No Sam, we were just talking." Sam moved over to the bed and perched on the pillows near her. Sara shrank back when he leaned forward and reached out touching her hair which had fallen down around her shoulders. "Mmm, are you going to be a good girl or a bad girl I wonder?" He spoke softly and began rubbing her hair between two fingers. As he did he progressively pulled it tighter and harder, looping the strand around his fingers pulling her head sideways. Sara flinched and tried not to look at him when he bought his face close to hers. "It doesn’t really matter you know?" He leaned in and licked her cheek. Her stomach roiled and in fury she spat at his face. He moved back wiping off the spittle glaring at her angrily. Behind them, John laughed. "Yeah, well, we’ll see who does the spitting." He shot her a black look and moved off the bed and to the kitchen. He began shuffling through the drawers. After a moment he returned with a large pair of kitchen scissors. She gasped, horrified and shot a look at John. Hoping, pleading him with her eyes. He watched impassively from the table. The one called Sam grabbed the shackles on her ankles and hauled her down the length of the bed, stretching her out. She wriggled and squirmed and began to yell, but he held the shackles with no great difficulty and she realized he was a lot stronger than he looked. With one hand he reached down to the floor and brought up a length of chain, like a dog chain and clipped the end onto the shackles. When she tried to kick, the chain yanked her back. She couldn’t move. She began to panic when he started cutting off her jeans.
"Noooo! Pleaaasseeee!" She screamed over and over but he ignored her, ripping the jeans all the way up the leg on both sides. She began to cry then, desperately, unable to hold back. It took him a little longer to work through the waist band at both hips, but when he did he yanked the tattered fabric off, leaving her legs bare. Without missing a beat he began cutting through the thick woolen fabric of her sweater. He seemed transfixed on his job, mesmerized by the act of cutting, oblivious to her protests. She watched him decimate her favorite pink sweater. He looked up catching her eye when he came to the polo neck and she realized he was going to cut it too. The scissors would be dangerously near her throat. She stilled and he smirked and cut. When he discarded the sweater she was left lying in a thin chamois top and matching panties. Sam did not look at her when he had finished, he just lay the cold scissors against the bare skin of her chest which was heaving with uncontrolled terror and watched them as if spellbound. Then he looked up and spat on her face convulsing in laughter at her shock and disgust.