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Finally, he withdrew and the girl collapsed onto the bed, rolling onto her side, cum and blood and shit dripping from her anus. He wiped his cock with his hand inspecting the mixture and then wiped it on the girl’s back. He curled up facing her on the bed. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing quickly, still crying softly. He shoved his cum-stained palm against her face and rubbed the fetid mixture on her.

"Lick it." He murmured. She ignored him keeping her eyes closed so he grabbed the back of her head pulling her head backwards. Her eyes opened and she stared at him with a fury that he liked.

"Lick it" He said again slowly, showing her the cum and shit and blood on his hand. She shook her head. He laughed and grabbed her nose squeezing it shut. She tried to hold her breath but after a minute or so her mouth flew open to gasp air and Sam quickly wiped his hand across her open mouth, shoving a finger inside. When he did Sara spared not a moment and bit down hard. Sam howled and tried to withdraw his finger but she wouldn’t let go and continued to bite down wanting to bite through the bone, bite his whole finger off. He was howling with pain and began hitting her about the head and face with his other hand. He landed a heavy punch across her nose and she was knocked unconscious.

Later she came to, drifting slowly back into consciousness, dimly aware that there was something terribly wrong in her world. As she awakened she was aware of a heavy, tense frown on her face, of dried tears on her cheeks and a throbbing pain that seemed to surround her entire body. When she tried to open her eyes, the light was blinding and she quickly closed them again. Distantly, she felt a numbing cold that infiltrated her senses and she became aware of her naked body. When she moved, pain flared and she groaned in misery, memories of the afternoon and night before assaulted her. She cracked open one eye noticing she was not alone on the bed. A man lay with his back to her, covered in a blanket, he was fast asleep.

The cabin was lit with morning sunshine from a sky light above the bed, the rest of the room was empty. She slowly and painfully raised herself onto an elbow, her arms were still handcuffed behind her back and she could see that her legs were shackled and clipped to the chain on the end of the bed. Everything that had happened to her had not been a nightmare. The events that had transpired seemed to her a distant memory but trying to remember her life before them was like trying to remember a past life. She felt like she had always been chained to this bed. Awkwardly she managed to pull herself to a sitting position. The man next to her asleep was John, she could see his long wavy hair curling around his neck. She stared around her in a daze. Extreme dvds store: hector animal movies, amateur video, zoophile xxx mpgs with preview. Somewhere deep inside her, a voice was screaming - get up, get up, get up now! Somehow she listened and her aching, ravaged body responded. She was careful not to move the bed too much as she slid down to the end so she could get her hands on the clip that chained her shackles to the bed. She realized if she could get herself turned in such a way she could probably get a hand to the dog clip. Trying to ignore the pain and misery of her body she focused intently on her task. She didn’t pause to wonder how she would escape down the mountain shackled and handcuffed. Maybe she could find the keys, John must have them with his car keys. She could find them and drive away. Hope kindled and she felt a surge of energy as her hand located the clip mechanism and she managed to slide the clip down and off the shackles.

Quickly, she swung her feet to the floor and stood. Her head swam and she glanced furtively at John and around the room hoping to spot the keys. She kangaroo-hopped as quietly as she could to the kitchen counter and then to the table top searching in vain. John’s big fleece jacket hung on the back of the chair. She stared at it hoping and knelt with her back to it so her hands could search the pockets. It was more difficult than she thought, she couldn’t get her hands into the pockets. In frustration she started pulling at the jacket trying to feel if there were keys in the pockets. The chair grated against the wooden floors and she glanced up instantly still. John stirred on the bed but did not wake up. She took a quick breath and stood up deciding on another course of action. Her mind was racing, adrenaline numbing her to the pain.

She moved back to the kitchen counter searching for a knife. The counter top was empty. Her limbs were shaking with fear and anticipation, but she tried to still herself and turned so she could open a drawer and find a knife, some kind of weapon. She knew they were there. The drawers were old and sticky. She had to pull quite hard to de-wedge the runner but when she did the implements inside rattled noisily. Involuntarily she squeezed her eyes shut and stilled and when she finally opened them John was watching her from the bed. She could only stare back at him, her eyes wide and terrified.

There was a split second as they held each other’s gaze, both assessing the situation, then Sara grabbed for anything she could find in the drawer. Her hand closed around a barbecue fork. John wiped his eyes but did not move. She watched him warily and then desperately she lunged toward the front door the fork still clutched in one hand behind her back. When she reached it and pushed against it she noticed the complicated series of dead-bolts that kept it firmly closed. She realized she couldn’t open it in time handcuffed as she was. She turned back to John who still had not moved from the bed, knowing her desperation was ludicrous. He smirked at her.

"Going somewhere?" In frustration she crumpled to the floor against the door, her lips quivering.

"Please … oh god please! Let me go … Please, haven’t you done enough?" Her voice was ragged as she pleaded with her captor. John frowned. "Don’t beg. It won’t help."

He got up from the bed dressed only in his boxer briefs and thermal top and walked directly over to her, pulled the fork from her hand, lifted her under the arms, and then hefted her over his shoulder. He dumped her unceremoniously on the bed and chained her up again. He held the fork up, examining it then threw amateur stories aside without commenting. Now that the exertion of her escape attempt was over, Sara felt the cold set in, and she started shivering. He reached over and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders as she tried to still herself.

"What will help?" She asked suddenly looking at him. "How can you do this to me? What kind of person are you?" John avoided her gaze and got up moving to the kitchen. He poured a glass of water from the tap and then returned to offer it to her. She stared at it and he brought it to her lips. She drank thirstily.

"Please let me go." She whispered suddenly hopeful that his small acts of kindness meant he had some kind of conscience. "Please John. I promise I won’t tell anyone. I promise I’ll never tell anyone." Her voice was shrill, unbearably hopeful. John glanced at her and away. He hated when the pleading started. It dehumanized them in his eyes. She went silent, aware that it wasn’t reaching him movies+films. She leaned closer toward him.

"I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Just tell me." Her voice was quiet and her pulse throbbed in her head. She thought that maybe he might relent if she could find that softness she thought she saw in him. But he only started laughing and she drew away from him in surprise and fear. "Predictable. So fucking predictable." He stood up looking down at her with a look of disgust. "You think you won’t do whatever I say anyway? Didn’t you suck my dick last night?" "But I thought …" "You thought what? Are you stupid? You think we can let you go?"

She shivered as the reality sunk in. They were really going to kill her. Instead of making her shut down, she felt a slow curl of anger inflame her insides. No fucking way. There was no fucking way they would get away with this, with what they had just put her through. She would not take this without a fight. Sara knew she’d have to be smart, smarter than they. She glanced at John knowing he was not a stupid man, but she sensed a weakness, he didn’t like killing. She lay back and closed her eyes pretending to be shocked, she started to sob while in her mind she started calculating.

John left her on the bed and started to bank up the fire. He found eggs and bacon in the ice chest and bread and began cooking breakfast. The stimulation of that first night always made him hungry. Sara stilled and listened to him make food. She could smell the eggs and bacon cooking and her stomach rumbled. She would need to eat to accomplish anything. Her hopes were realized when he put a large plate of eggs and bacon and fried bread on the bed and removed the handcuffs, freeing her hands from behind her back. She stretched and rubbed her arms, trying to get feeling back in her hands. She noticed he didn’t give her a knife or fork but sat nearby watching her. She used the bread to mop up the egg and ate the bacon with her fingers. The food made her feel human again and the buzzing in her head stopped. She licked her fingers when she was done and John picked up the plate and put it on the counter mpg videos for sale.

When he turned back Sara had unclipped the chain again and was standing against the far wall clutching the fork he’d left by the bed. She had moved fast and he kicked himself mentally for having thought she had given up. The fork trembled in her hands as she held it out in front of her dk.

"What are you going to do with that?" He asked casually, like she was a naughty child, leaning back against the kitchen counter, raising one eyebrow. She didn’t move or reply, just kept her gaze fixed on him.

"Sara, this is ridiculous. You really think you’re going to be effective with that?" He took a step towards her. She brandished the fork in front of her and moved towards the door. He took another step. She reached the door and still waving the fork at him with one hand, she began fumbling with the dead bolts with the other. They were heavy and not easy to open with one hand. Her movements were frantic, as she desperately pulled and pushed at the series of dead-bolts. She managed to draw across one and was working on the second. There was only one to go story dog.

"Where are you going to run to Sara? How far are you going to get with those shackles on your ankles?" She stared at him with huge eyes and continued working on the bolts. Suddenly he lunged at her. In a panic she slashed at him with the fork and managed to rake his upper arm with the prongs. He drew a painful breath and caught her wrist, prying the barbecue fork from her hand and tossing it to the other side of the room. Sara started to cry again and wildly beat at him with her fists. The pain of her blows was secondary to his fury at having let her get the best of him. He wrestled her easily back to the bed and with difficulty strung her arms back up, securing the wrist restraints on the bed head, also strapping one ankle into a restraint that was tied to the foot of the bed. He searched through the pockets of his trousers, strewn on the floor beside the bed, and produced the keys she’d been looking for and unlocked the shackles, releasing her feet which she kicked at him ineffectually. The other ankle he managed to maneuver into the other restraint, spreading her legs apart.

She lay spread-eagled on the bed then, helpless. She began to scream again, long, hoarse, furious screams of frustration. He grimaced and found her panties on the floor and stuffed them in her mouth to silence her. He surveyed her for a moment as she jerked futilely at the restraints then he pulled out his cock and stroked it to a full erection, climbed on top of her forcing himself inside her again. She was spongy and warm, slightly dry but he didn’t care. He’d been feeling his morning erection build for awhile and sinking into her was a welcome relief. He fucked her hard and for a long time, oblivious to her moans and struggles beneath him. When he finally came he collapsed on top of her enjoying the feel of her body trapped underneath his. He raised off her slightly and pulled her soggy underwear from her mouth. She turned her head to one side, staring dully at the wall personal vids.

"Tell me how many men before me have fucked you," he whispered. Sara ignored him. "Tell me or we’ll find something more unpleasant to do than this." He said threateningly. Sara choked and found her voice. "Fuck you." "Come on Sara. Be a sport. You don’t want me to do something unpleasant to you do you? Do you?" He persisted until finally she shook her head.

"Four." She whispered trying not to think of them. Think of the tenderness she’d experienced with each of them. She’d never been one to go in for casual sex. She’d had two long term relationships, and two that had only lasted a month or two. "Four, not counting last night right?" He reminded her coldly. She shut her eyes wanting not to remember that night. "Not counting the dog?"

She bit her lip and tried not to start crying again. She opened her eyes and glared at him, hating his scornful tone, his hurtful manner, like he was making fun of her. He fucked her twice more that morning in the same position, tied to the bed, and he wondered whether he would ever be spent. She had quieted now, lying there passively as he dumped his seed in her for the third time. It had begun to rain in the middle of the morning, the cabin shrouded in an inappropriately peaceful silence. Sara stared vacuously at the rain streaming down the kitchen window. The rapes this morning by John had almost been as bad as the torture she’d been subjected to the night before. He took his time with her, he seemed insatiable, her pubic bone was bruised, the outer lips of her vagina swollen and tender, there were nasty bruises on her hips and her breasts from where he’d bit them and squeezed too hard. He lay on top of her breathing hard from the third ejaculation he’d emptied into her that morning.

When he caught his breath he raised himself off her slightly and reached down between her legs to feel his warm cum as it dripped down her inner thighs, staining the mattress. He rubbed her feeling the swollen flesh. He coated her vaginal lips with his stuff till she was slick and slippery all over. He imagined she must ache from the pounding down there and wondered if she could orgasm despite the pain and swelling. Forcing her chin with one hand, he forced eye contact. She stared back at him listlessly, stared right through him as if he weren’t there. With his other hand he began circling her clitoris, pressing delicately against it.

Sara whimpered, feeling the pain recede for a moment. She had slipped into an uneasy lethargy, no longer caring what happened, what was done to her body. Orgasm would present a welcome relief from the pain she was feeling all over, mentally as well as physically. She did not resist him any longer and even began to focus on John’s fingers as they moved smoothly over her well-oiled creases and folds, stroking the nodule of her clitoris to attention. She moaned feeling like an animal in heat, unable to control herself any longer. He began to rub her harder, moulding her with his fingers, faster, more persistently. She started to gasp and shake and under his unrelenting ministrations, unforgivably, she came. He watched her face contort during her orgasm, her eyes squeezed shut against him, as if he were not there. She lay there breathing heavily, feeling sick, and after awhile she passed into a groggy, exhausted sleep.

When the girl had fallen asleep John stood up and watched her. She seemed relaxed, peaceful in sleep, the frown gone from her forehead. She’d come with a lot less resistance than the evening before, he noticed. They all gave in to it eventually. Give them enough pain and humiliation and they will choose between that and forced pleasure. They became like little animals, simple and easily controlled. He stretched, feeling fatigued himself. It was close to noon and Sam or Ian would show up soon and the real reason for this little game would begin.

They were all seasoned hunters. It was the hunt that they were looking forward to. He glanced at the girl and wondered what kind of prey she would make out there on the mountain. He wondered which one of them would catch her first. He hoped it would be he and he briefly thought about what he would do to her outside on the mountain. His pulse clicked in his groin imagining it. It was always so unpredictable, except that they would run and hope. Some would hide only a short distance away and be easily scented out by the dog. Others ran like the wind, one he remembered, had run blindly with fear and fallen to her death, there were many treacherous drops in these mountains. He felt his excitement begin to build, wondering how Sara would be. He got dressed, stretching and grinning at his bodies fatigue from the morning’s exertions. A short walk and the clear mountain air would help ease his muscles. * * *

Loud music blared, splitting her sleep, jarring her ears. Sara jerked awake and pulled on the restraints that continued to hold her spread ungainly on the bed. Sam was standing by a small stereo he had placed on the kitchen counter which was blasting aggressive, noisy rock music. He slumped into a chair and began packing a small home-made bong. Intent on his task, he hadn’t noticed she was awake. She watched him, his long fingers pushing the green stuff around, packing it in the cone. He seemed oblivious to the volume of the music. He lit up and sucked the smoke in from the bong, the water bubbled and the smell of pot permeated the air. He closed his eyes and when he opened them he noticed she was awake. He didn’t smile or acknowledge her, just stared at her with an odd expression and then his attention went back to the bong. The door of the cabin was wide open, a cool breeze blowing inside. Sara could not see John or the other one anywhere. Her skin was prickly with goose bumps and she was chilled to the core. The only blanket lay half on the floor. She glanced at it just wanting warmth in her limbs and then glanced at Sam. Her body had started shivering, her muscles beginning to cramp with pain.

"I’m cold!" She suddenly yelled to be heard above the music. Sam looked up stoned.

"I’m cold!" She yelled again not caring what she might elicit from him.

Surprised, she watched him get up, move over to the bed and fling the blanket over her and then return to his bong. The blanket made an instant difference. She could begin to think again as her body temperature returned to normal. It felt like early afternoon. John had made it clear that they were going to kill her, she suspected they wouldn’t keep her around for much longer. She had to do something, something to give her some time to plan, to work out a routine, a weakness in one of them. She glanced at Sam who’s head was nodding to the music, his eyes distant. Sam was scary, he liked to play brutal games but he wasn’t as smart as John, he was far more predictable than John. John was difficult to read, Sam was just cruel. She didn’t know about the older one, Ian with his dog. She hadn’t sensed anything from him except for a systematic brutishness. She shivered remembering. She didn’t want to have to deal with Ian and his dog again.