This story is submitted as a late entry to the April contest. I wrote the first part as a vignette in the DevTech Life Changes thread
http://ravishu.com/forums/index.php?topic=46077.0 but never completed Part 2. This contest motivated me to complete the story and edit the original, which I submit below. The second half is became quite dark as I started writing, but it is entirely consistent with the broader story line within which it occurs. I hope you enjoy the update and expansion.
Disclaimer: This is fiction. Do not interpret it as anything else. This is a story with themes of non-consent, rape, reluctance, sexual manipulation, human trafficking and violence. The acts depicted in this story are criminal and are only acceptable in fantasy. If you are not interested in this type of story, please look elsewhere.
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“How’ve you been Dad?” Rosalie Jones looked adoringly across at the driver of the Landcruiser with shining eyes, as they made their way out of the city in northern Sumatra. “I’ve really missed you.” The gentle rub of his shoulder a tactile sign of their close bond, strengthened since the passing of her mother from cancer when she was only ten.
“Far better now that you’re here for the summer, Rosie.” She had just returned to Indonesia after completing her final year at school in England and he had picked her up from Kualanamu International Airport an hour before. “Fighting the dam has been tough. That evil company has tried every dirty trick to get us to stop the resistance. The community is holding firm, even though their leaders have been co-opted, bribed and threatened.”
“How awful, Dad. I’m so proud of you and I’m sure you’re going to win.” Her words rang with strident righteousness, buoyed by her strong sense of justice and her deep respect for her father’s work, leading his small environmental NGO against corporate greed. “Isn’t the government doing something?” She was fiddling with her necklace, intertwining her fingers around the string of bright hand-painted beads, as she always did when she was thinking something through.
“No. They want the power, regardless of the social and environmental impacts.” His voice weary with the months of fighting the building of the hydropower dam deep in the jungle. “And they’re in bed with DevTech. I had a visit from this smarmy Brit, Roger Jenkins, last week. He and a couple of his henchmen tried to threaten me. To make me back down.”
“Did they hurt you? What did you say?” Shock and a bit of worry making her voice tremble.
“No, I was fine. They insinuated that they’d do something to you and your brother, but I told them they couldn’t intimidate me. These big companies are all bluff and bluster.”
Her heart swelled with pride. “Good for you, Dad. Then I’m glad I’m here now. I can’t wait to help out. Fighting them, it’s such important work. And I’m so looking forward to seeing the orangutans. They must be so cute.”
“Absolutely, my darling. At least I can keep an eye on you here. And Terrance is with Uncle Bill in London, so he should be okay.”
Glancing across at her, Thomas smiled lovingly at his daughter as she chatted on, tossing her long luscious sandy brown hair and setting her angular chin in determination. She really had blossomed in the past year he thought, her hazel eyes set slightly wide and framed by dark eyebrows, giving her a startling intensity to go with her pert up-turned nose and full lips. Together with her flawless peaches and cream complexion she really was a strikingly beautiful young woman, with an intelligence and commitment to social justice to go with it. He couldn’t be more proud…
Four hours into their long trip, they were winding slowly and cautiously up a narrow mountain pass with a steep drop-off on the right. The massive jungle trees towered over the car, creating a verdant humid and brooding atmosphere, that just needed some tense music to be a scene from a thriller.
Rosalie was dozing, succumbing to the over-night flight and jetlag, while her father scanned every corner for possible cars coming the other way, even though they hadn’t passed anyone for an hour. As they came around a corner, he had to hit the breaks to avoid smashing into a stationary Range Rover, stopped in the middle of the road.
“What?” Rosalie woke suddenly, her seatbelt preventing her from hitting the windscreen and her heart in her throat.
“Stay here. I’ll see what’s wrong.” There was no one around, so Thomas reached for the gun he kept for protection in these remote areas, opened the door warily and vigilantly went over to the other vehicle. The jungle was dark and silent, even the cicadas having stopped their incessant shrilling.
He couldn’t see into the car from a distance because of the darkened windows, but gun cocked as he approached, he was about to peer into the car when the door opened suddenly and with great force, smashing into his face, knocking him to the ground. He instinctively uselessly let off a shot into the air, echoing through the jungle but unheard by anyone other than the animals.
Before he could recover, an armed man leapt from the vehicle and kicked his gun away, pointing his own pistol ominously at Thomas’ head. Another emerged from behind the trees and dragged Rosalie out of the Landcruiser, even as she was screaming at the horrific scene unfolding in front of her.
“Leave herhkhh…” Thomas was interrupted by the blow from the gun barrel gashing his forehead and dazing him. Rosalie ineffectually tried to kick the man holding her, using her sturdy walking boots, brought for the jungle and worn to reduce her luggage weight. She stopped as soon as she felt a something cold and hard prodding her neck.
“Onto your stomach.” The first man growled at Thomas in a rough South London accent, reinforced by a flick of his weapon. He was short and stocky, looking like a streetfighter with a scar down his cheek and short cropped black hair.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” The other man yelled at Rosalie over her shrieks. Grabbing her mouth with his hand, he pulled her head back against his shoulder with one arm, her petite five-foot two-inch frame dwarfed by his six-foot-four hulk.
With a stifled voice she sobbed “Wh-wh-ho are y-y-you? W-wh-hat d-d-do y-y-you w-w-want?”
Ignoring her, he pulled figure-of-eight cable ties from his pocket as he carried her over to Thomas, growling in a surprisingly cultured English accent “Tie his hands behind his back and then his ankles.” Frozen, she looked in horror at her father lying on the muddy road, glaring back at them over his shoulder, but with the muzzle of a gun aimed threateningly at the back of his head. “NOW!”
The man shoved her shoulders down until she was on her knees, throwing two cable ties onto Thomas’ back. Hear heart pounding with adrenaline, she reluctantly did as she was told, too terrified to resist. Even though she knew that bound like that, her father would be totally incapacitated and not able to help either of them.
“Please take the car and all our stuff. There’re some dollars in my purse.” Believing they were bandits hijacking their car. “Please just leave us. Don’t hurt us… We’re English… Please.” In her panic and stress, the non sequitur of English bandits in Sumatra didn’t occur to her.
Once Thomas was secure, the hulk quickly bound her hands behind her back, leaving her kneeling next to her prone father.
She was relieved to see him go over to the Landcruiser, get into the driver’s seat and start the car, thinking he was taking it, hopefully leaving them behind. But to her dismay, he drove towards the edge of the road and hopped out as it went over the edge, tumbling down the mountain with a horrendous shearing and crunching of metal.
Within minutes Thomas was scrunched into the back compartment with his wrists tied to a luggage hook and a gag silencing him. She was shoved into the back seat next to the bald hulk, while the streetfighter drove.
“You’re a pretty one.” Hulk leered as he casually grabbed her right tit as if he owned it. She was wearing her favourite white tee-shirt, with the pretty feminine edging and three blue buttons down the front. They were undone due to the heat, enticingly revealing her full cleavage.
“Please don’t.” She tried pushing his hands away, but he was too strong, and it just seemed like she was encouraging his groping. She heard indecipherable muffled shouts coming from her father in the back, but no one paid him any attention.
“Don’t touch me, cunt.” The viciousness of his tone and the use of that word shocked her, so she dropped her hands back into her lap, looking up at him in fright. He grabbed the neck of her tee-shirt and ripped, tearing the shirt straight down the front making it cut painfully into her slender neck.
“Nice tits, darling. Oh, that’s convenient.” He licked his lips, before unclipping the simple functional front clasped bra over her firm B-cup mounds, exposing her pink nipples which were standing erect from their small puffy areolae due to her fear and his groping.
“Roger said not to fuck her until we get there. And definitely not without me.” Streetfighter chuckled from the front, eyes glancing in the rear-view mirror. He saw her expression crumple in despair as his words sunk in and she began to realise they were in serious trouble. For the first time, she understood how truly vulnerable she was as a woman with men like this.
With a sick feeling in her stomach, she realised that she was probably going to be raped. She’d read so much advice about what to do and how to respond. Don’t resist, don’t fight, let them do what they want. Just survive… and then they would let them go. She just had to be strong.
“Just having a little fun, mate.” Hulk retorted before latching his mouth onto her breast, engulfing half her flesh as he sucked in and bit down on the sensitive nubbin.
“Ooouuch! No! Pleeeeeaaaaaseeee. That hurts.” She wailed as he continued gnawing on her like a rabid dog, his other hand pawing at her other breast.
“Mmmmm. Delicious.” He said as he unbuttoned her low-cut denim shorts and slipped his hand down the front into her panties, fingers running over the trimmed hair of her landing strip before squeezing her pussy. She tried to close he legs to stop the marauding hand, but he pinched and twisted her clit really painfully snarling “Spread your fucking legs.”
She couldn’t tolerate the pain and when she did as he instructed, a large finger probed her dry slit towards her opening, where he pushed it in up to the second knuckle.
“Pity. She’s not a virgin, mate... You’re a little slut, are you? Sleep around with all the schoolboys then, do you?” He was fingerfucking her as he spoke, while she blushed crimson. She’d only slept with her boyfriend, the first time a little over six months previously and was not at all experienced.
“No! I’m not.” With as much indignation as she could muster with the man’s finger plunging inside her and the other tweaking her nipple, his arm encircling her neck and down to her chest, holding her firmly. Then capitulating in a whining voice. “Please take it out, it hurts.”
“You’ll thank me later. There’s a lot more than my finger going up there and you’ll want it to be wet.” He chortled, before planting a slobbering kiss on her lips, tongue ploughing into her mouth and plundering around inside. She tasted his stale acrid breath, while his day-old stubble scratched and scraped her chin. She felt doubly violated, being penetrated at both ends by this foul beast. But she could do nothing but accept her fate, thinking about how much worse it was going to get.
The hulk continued abusing her for the next fifteen minutes until they branched off the road and up a steep jeep track though the forest, coming out into a clearing with a single-story house. During that time, as predicted, her inexperienced vagina had naturally moistened, much to her shame and his victorious enjoyment.
“Though so. You’re definitely a slut. Tight, but wet as a two-bit whore.” He taunted as the car drew up in front of the house.
She was picked up out of the vehicle and carried into the house, shirt tatters and bra fluttering uselessly around her chest, her pert tits wobbling with each step, her unbuttoned shorts only just clinging to her hips as her legs flailed. Thomas was not as lucky and was dragged out of the car and across the grass by one arm.
They entered an old Dutch colonial forestry house through a wide veranda, with wooden floors and white walls. Heavy wooden furniture and rugs were scattered around the room they were taken into, Thomas dropped uncaringly on the hard wooden floor and Rosalie shoved down on her knees in front of an older man reclining in an armchair.
He looked down at her and began speaking in a calmly measured cadence. “Hello Rosie. My name is Roger. You’re here because your father refused to cooperate with us. I gave him a chance to be reasonable, but he refused. I told him the consequences, but he didn’t listen. And unfortunately for you, you’re the consequence.”
At that moment, Thomas started wriggling on the floor and shouting angrily into his gag. Roger looked at him, like he would a worm that had crossed his path. Streetfighter kicked Thomas three times in the stomach, until he began retching and writhing in pain, rather than resistance.
“I’m sure he won’t bother us again.” Roger continued unphased by interruption, nor the violence. He held up a finger to silence her, as her mouth opened to denounce the attack. “Don’t say anything… I’m talking. Unless you want the same…” Fear, anger, dismay and disbelief flitting across her face, but she closed her mouth and looked at him with hate.
“You and your father will now disappear, forever.” He spoke as if explaining an historical fact. “First though, you are going to be raped in front of him. It is the start of your training, because you, my dear, are going to become a whore, for us. An accomplished sex slave who will enthusiastically fuck whoever we tell you to, however we want you to, and whenever we feel like it. What you want or think no longer matters.”
The cold hand of terror encircled her heart and squeezed as he spoke, but she was too stunned to say anything or even to move. All that changed was the tears that welled up in her eyes and started to trickle silently down her cheeks. They collected on her chin and dripped onto her exposed breasts, thrust forwards to conveniently catch them by the binding of her arms behind her back.
“When we have cum enough in your various holes, you will be taken for training, never to be seen again in public.” He smiled cynically as he continued. “Your father will never be seen again either, by anyone. The last thing he will see is your punishment for his intransigence. And with that little accident, no one will come looking for you.”
And then almost as an afterthought. “One more thing. You’ll cooperate in your rape and entrance into whoredom, because if you don’t it will not just be you who suffers for your father’s stubbornness. Little Terrence will also disappear. On the other hand, if you show us and your father what a good little whore you can be and will become, then we’ll leave him to live peacefully with his uncle. Understand?”
Rosalie looked at him as if he were mad, before with a distraught wail she looked over at her father and burst into tears, not comprehending how catastrophically their happy meaningful lives had changed in less than an hour.
One week later…
Everything that Roger had threatened came to pass… just like he promised her it would.
Rose as she was now called, sat on the man’s lap bouncing diligently, her legs spread wide and immodestly displaying her swollen sex, forced apart by his knees thrust between them, so that her feet couldn’t even touch the ground. Forcing her sore and straining thigh muscles to keep on moving her body up and down on his thick hard cock, despite desperately wanting to just curl into a ball on the floor and cry. He held her upright and guided her tempo with his hands firmly encircling her narrow waist, forcing her down fully, so that he slammed painfully into her cervix on every drop. She clenched her aching vaginal walls as she drew up, to make it good for him like she’d been taught, even though it sent shards of agony through her loins, the chafed membranes burning from the number of times she had been used in the past week.
She stared through bleary eyes and tried to force the eager smile that they expected as she played with her tits, offering them in supplication to the other four men reclining comfortably on the scattered chairs around her. The only attire she had, if it could be called that, was a pink dog collar with a thin pink leash dangling between her breasts, which somehow degraded her more than anything else she had to endure. She fondled and squeezed her breasts overly hard, pinching her nipples painfully with her fingernails, showing them her obedience to their demands. Because they liked to watch her degrade herself for their entertainment. The sharp pain she caused herself, the only connection to what otherwise seemed like a never-ending dystopian reality.
Except for the excruciating pain between her legs that had initially threatened to overwhelm her, it felt like she was on an amusement park carousel ride in slow motion, plunging up and down on his lap in a mesmerising if monotonous manner.
She felt so dirty inside… so helpless… and so lost. It felt like she had a thick patina of filth, theirs and hers, coating her body and pervading her pores. Every bodily fluid imaginable. It was disgusting, in a way no woman should ever have to endure. But she had no option but to persevere, to suffer for their enjoyment. Because the alternative was too horrendous...
Tremors and shivers ran through her exhausted frame, seeming to concentrate in her brain. But not because of the cold airconditioned room, nor even the fatigue in her body. Everything just hurt so much, and still caused her such humiliation. Both because she had capitulated so easily and because they seemed to care so little.
They were laughing and commenting scornfully at her efforts, large muscular men confident in their nakedness, knowing intimately what pleasure the man under her was taking. Each of them had enjoyed her tight holes more than once in different positions over the previous few hours… and over the past few days.
Days during which she had been reduced from a confident independent young woman to a compliant fearful fuck toy. They no longer had to bind her or hold her down to have their way, the first few days on the electrified bed to which she had been strapped had taken care of that resistance and any other fight left in her in the first twenty-four hours. She’d been taught to actively and even enthusiastically respond to any attention to her vagina, rocking back on them, driving down on them, massaging them with her innards, all for their satisfaction… and her avoidance of the muscle jarring current that they forced through her body at any lack of her utmost effort.
She had resigned herself to a future as their plaything, a possession. Just like the other naked women she’d seen paraded around the place she’d been taken to. Not knowing who was in charge or where it was, just that it was a place that turned previously free women into sexual slaves. Through the vicious and ruthless actions of men like the ones she was serving. They’d told her she was no longer the person she though she knew… that she would not exist anymore and actually hadn’t really existed since she’d been brought to this place. By this stage she believed that they were likely to succeed, because to her sadness she was not strong enough to resist their will. No different, no worse nor better, than every other female that passed through that godforsaken place, where women were transformed, and skills were taught.
That day and the couple of days before, she’d eagerly swallowed their large brutal members, forcing her throat to open and accommodate them, holding their veined spit slicked shafts in her spasming throat and using her tongue to slavishly lick their balls. A trick she’d learned only four days earlier but was now expert at. After being hung upside down for hours on an off, tied to a cargo net and suffocated with wet cloths and the occasional plastic bag pulled over her head, when she wasn’t able to do it right. Until she eagerly allowed them to open her gullet with their hard cocks and enjoy its tight embrace, in order to eventually get the air that she so desperately needed, but only after she was able to drain their spunk down into her stomach.
Her breasts were not overly large, but she’d used them to good effect to jerk off their erect meatpoles, licking and occasionally sucking the tip as it emerged through her fuck mounds. Ensuring that the crevasse she had formed by pushing them together as hard as she could with her hands, remained slick and pleasing for them, aided by a constant dribble of saliva onto her tits or deposited earlier through deepthroat gagging. But making sure that her hands never touched them, nor that god forbid she allowed their shafts to emerge or escape the tight embrace of her tit flesh. A technique perfected two days before, while suffering agonising strikes of a thin whippy cane to her clamped breasts and nipples on any perceived failure. Only to have to repeat her lesson, made much worse by the stinging sensation of her welted skin and bruised nubs sliding along their rampant cocks.
While she still didn’t like anal sex very much, she had become quite proficient at milking their cum with her tight sphincter and the warm clasp of her bowels. Riding them frantically or bending over to be battered in her tightest hole while pleading them to ‘fuck my asshole harder’ or that ‘I love your hard cock cumming in my gut’. Words ingrained in her psyche in between her other lessons, while the large steel butt plug that they had forced into her fried her insides, until she managed to say them with a conviction that any anal whore would have been proud of. Followed by their practical tutoring her in the anal arts, until her eagerness and performance were to their exacting standards. Left lying on the floor of her cell afterwards with a distended rectum and loads of cum oozing down her legs, sobbing in despair and the shredding of her feminine self-worth.
Her lesson in multi-tasking the day before, involved riding large plastic dildoes in her cunt and asshole (as they made her call them), while being required to jerk off ten men with each hand and suck another ten to completion using only her mouth. The challenge of this exercise was that she was seated on the top of a triangular wooden horse that rocked with her every movement, agonisingly squashing her vulva, perineum and clit against the thin top rail while her chained ankles and legs flailed uselessly on the sides of the horse unable to gain any traction. A session in abject terror and pain, while instilling in her an understanding of just how much her body could tolerate and how much fortitude she had to get through extreme trauma. All in the interests of teaching her to serve as an accomplished and obedient whore, with the sole purpose of providing whatever pleasure any man could desire.
A week during which they had hollowed her out and burned any flame of defiance inside her, in order to rebuild her as they wanted. But they had also taken great care not to push her so far that she entirely broke and retreated into herself, and thereby lost her sense of reality or escaped her every ordeal. They would bring her attention back every time she wavered and gave her the necessary rest when she was truly exhausted. Only to restart the next lesson when she was able to experience it to the full.
Because they didn’t want a broken mindless husk. The men she would serve wanted that spark of insolence, always suppressed but faintly apparent as they fucked her into submission. They wanted that sense of innocence and fervour, because they wanted to believe that they were corrupting her, over and over again. And they specifically wanted that sense of self-loathing that came with her unwilling participation and even arousal, as they used her body mercilessly to satisfy their depraved appetites. But inculcating that would be part of Rose’s future over the next few weeks, now that her descent was largely complete.
Her gradual descent had started in that cabin in the jungle only a week before. The heartless hulk and rough streetfighter had pinned her with their far superior strength as they pulled down her shorts. And then her plain pink panties with the little blue printed hearts, leaving them both pooled at her knees binding them together as she knelt on the large, patterned rug, hands bound firmly in the small of her back.
They turned her to face her father, the hulk pulling her bound hands up, painfully straining her shoulders and forcing her to bend forward and stick her backside out to maintain her balance. She felt rough hands on her naked hips as her eyes met her father’s, his face contorting in anger and frustration, but unable to voice anything through the cloth gag they had tied around his head.
Rosalie saw his eyes widen in horror as she felt the hard warm blunt object push up against her opening. Her hips wriggled, trying to avoid the inevitable penetration, her lips mouthing a silent ‘O’ and then a screamed “Noooooo” as it was thrust inside her slicked tunnel, without any care for her shock and discomfort at such a rapid invasion.
“Lucky you’re warmed up, sweety. That could have been unpleasant for both of us.” Rogers cruel voice gloating from somewhere behind and above her.
Her father tried to get up, but another few kicks in the side were enough to leave him groaning in agony, only able to watch helplessly as Roger started pounding her insides. He was thick and long, much bigger than her boyfriend and it felt like he was pounding her in all sorts of previously unfelt places.
The earlier stimulation had left her slightly aroused, and she couldn’t help feeling the way he angled his cock to strike that tender spot deep inside her. To her greater dismay, she felt his hand slip around her hips and between her legs to find the small pleasure button of her clit. He gently worried and teased it, her natural slickness aiding his ministrations and forcing unwanted pulses of liquid pleasure to seep through her crotch.
To her eternal shame, his expert and evilly intended manipulation forced her to climax in front of her father, kneeling in an unknown bungalow in the middle of nowhere. She saw the desperation and despair in her father’s eyes as she came down from her shattering orgasm, knowing he loved her and hated what they had forced on her. But regardless he was unable to look at her as Roger continued to brutally fuck her, until he unloaded deep inside her.
For a moment, she was horrified at the thought of his semen invading her unprotected womb and that he may have planted an abomination within her. But that was quickly replaced by the revulsion of being faced with the hulk’s turgid organ insensitively slapping her face, before he too went around behind her to have his way. This time she was forced face down on the carpet, her breasts and left cheek rubbing the rough surface, but still facing her father’s now subdued form.
She avoided being made to cum again in front of her father, because the other men were not at all interested in her arousal. Rather they pounded her depths as if they wanted to beat her into submission with their hard meat clubs.
Once each of the men had enjoyed her unwilling charms, the hulk went over to pick her father up, growling simply “Say goodbye” to neither and both of them.
Rosalie screamed “No. Please. I’ll do whatever you want… Pleeeaaaaasee…” But that didn’t make any difference to the implacable giant and the last she saw of her father was him being dragged out of the front door, staring back wildly at her and grunting something unintelligible through his gag. She managed to shout “I love you, Dad.” before he disappeared from her sight.
A single gunshot rang out a few minutes later, but not before Roger had knelt behind her and forced his rejuvenated prick into her last virginity. The first of many parts of the old Rosalie withered as he plundered her nether hole as she lost her father. But it was only the start of their destruction and transformation of the young girl who had been so idealistic and impassioned only a few hours before.
