Author Topic: Kayla Is Taken for a Ride  (Read 5678 times)

Offline Dire Wolf

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Kayla Is Taken for a Ride
« on: August 23, 2017, 09:16:32 PM »
With her face pressed to the wooden floor, Kayla noticed a spot of blood from her split lip as a puff of her breath cleared a small circle of the heavy white dust. The duct tape made an ominous sound of finality as the roll was passed around and around her wrists held tight behind her back. The sound signaled the worst day of her life was just beginning.

With her arms well secured, the man straddling her rolled her to her side and looked up at his partner.  “Tape her mouth?”

The other man looked down with a sneer. Without warning he slammed his cowboy boot deep into Kayla's midsection, doubling her in half with searing pain. “Nah, leave her mouth open for now,” he instructed his youthful accomplice. “I think she knows better than to scream. … Right, bitch?”

“So this is it,” Kayla thought, “this is how it happens.” Like any beautiful woman, Kayla had long been cognizant of what some men do to a beautiful woman. She'd been lucky over her 28 years – dodging mashers in parking lots, gropers in bars, threats left on her windshield, phone stalkers, even a couple outright attempts at rape. And there was no mistaking it this time, she was about to be raped.

This was such an evil betrayal, though. There was no way she could have seen it coming. Pulling into her mom's driveway, she was almost to the back door when she heard a plaintive cry from somewhere near the railroad tracks. Her helpful, caring nature would not let her ignore it. As she approached the tracks it became clear that someone was hurt – and not just anyone. It was Billy Morgan, the youngest boy in a family down the street for whom she used to babysit a decade ago. He looked about 18 now.

Helping him to his feet, she looked him over for injuries and assured him he'd be alright. She was trying to assess where and how he was hurt when a man dashed up behind her and clamped his hand over her mouth. Between the two of them, all it took was a few good punches before she was lifted into an empty boxcar on the rail siding.

“You were right, Billy, she's a fine looking slut,” the older man said quietly as he pressed his fingers to Kayla's breast. “I wish we had a mattress in here.”

Billy chuckled as he pulled Kayla's white bra strap and let it snap to her shoulder. “I told you, man, I've been jerking off to this bitch most of my life. … Now you're MINE, aren't you, pretty Kayla?”

“Billy,” she said just above a whisper, “how can you … mmmfff.” The boxcar suddenly moved and the older man put his hand over her mouth again. “Jesus, George, they're taking the train!” Billy said with a tinge of panic. “Don't worry, man. Get that cardboard over there. We'll cover her up, quick.”

Kayla was quickly bundled beneath a dozen or so large sheets of cardboard strewn about the car. Knowing a conductor would be inspecting the train before it moved, George lay down next to Kayla and wrapped his arms around hear beneath cardboard at the front of the car. One hand was clamped over her mouth, the other held a folding knife to her throat. Billy piled in next to them just before they heard someone walking on the ballast past the open boxcar door.

Kayla felt the tip of the blade press harder beneath her chin as she let out a tiny whimper. George's mouth was against her ear. “Not a fucking sound, bitch. You make a sound and it's your last.” Kayla nodded. She was suddenly sweating lying between two men under a pile of cardboard while the man who could possibly save her walked back toward the front of the train. “Thirty-one cars,” the conductor said into his walkie-talkie. “We're good to go.”

Kayla felt a tear roll down her cheek onto George's hand. She was so conflicted. Someone who could rescue her from this horror was just a few feet away. Yet the knife was hard against her throat. Would he really kill her? Could he possibly be that evil? She simply couldn't call that bluff. She remained silent and submissive as the train lurched forward and his hand slid down between her thighs. “It looks like you're going for a ride, baby.”

When the trio emerged from their cardboard cocoon, Kayla stood watching her mother's house gradually disappear as the train picked up speed. That house represented her former life – good and warm and loving. It grew smaller by the second until the train rounded a corner and her new life came into focus – loneliness, pain and terror – marked by her shorts being suddenly pulled down to her knees. She let out a gasp and fell against the wall of the car, causing George to laugh out loud.

“Please don't do this,” she begged as she slid into a sitting position. “If you stop now and let me go, I promise, I swear, I'll never tell anyone … I SWEAR.” But George's focus on her thin, blue nylon panties confirmed her fear that he would not be deterred, certainly not by begging. He seemed to be enjoying it. “Damn right you won't.”

Billy had piled the cardboard into a makeshift mattress about 3 inches thick about 4 feet from the open door. He looked at Kayla cowering against the wall, hands bound behind her, then at George. “Well, I gotta give you credit, kid, this bitch is your grab. You can have her first.”

Billy lit up like a kid at Christmas. Crawling over to Kayla, he pulled the shorts the rest of the way down and took her shoes for good measure. Then grabbing her by the arm and ankle he pulled her onto the “mattress.”  Dressed now in only her panties, tank top and bra, Kayla clenched her legs as tight as she could and rolled onto her side. She had never felt so defenseless and vulnerable.

Billy rolled her onto her back, forcing his knee between her legs and grabbing her face in his surprisingly strong grip. He simply stared into her sad, terrified eyes. “Billy,” she said in the most measured, unemotional tone she could muster, “you know this isn't right. You KNOW me, Billy. You've been in my house. You went to school with my sister. I was your babysitter, for God's sake.”

“That's right, Kayla. All of it, that's right. … And I've dreamt about fucking you from the first day I ever saw you.” Tightening his grip on the pretty woman's face, Billy planted a sloppy wet kiss on her puckered lips. He savored the look of surprise and disgust as he gradually let go. “I'm gonna LOVE this,” he whispered to her.

Billy rose to his knees. “George, gimme the knife a second.”
In a mix of confusion and terror, Kayla focused on the shiny steel blade as he opened it.
“Don't you move now, Kayla,” Billy said as he cut the straps of her tank top and smiled. Scooting back onto his victim's legs, Billy put the knife beneath the shirt. Slowly and sensuously he moved it up Kayla's trembling tummy and between her breasts to the neckline. Kayla gasped as he slit her top open with one good pull of the sharp blade.

The sound brought George up close. “Lemme see her, kid. I love to see a bitch in her bra and panties.” Kayla wanted to vomit. She wore a sparkling clean white bra, soft cup, trimmed in a tiny fringe of lace above ice blue hip-hugger panties. And some dirty, 40-year-old loser was passing judgment on her underwear as if she were a Barbie doll.

The shame and humiliation would ratchet up as Billy dispatched the bra and panties with a series of easy flicks of the knife. She was nude and Billy was undoing his jeans. “Billy … NO,” Kayla blurted as she suddenly started gasping and crying. “You KNOW … this is wrong, Billy. All … you have to do … is STOP. … PLEASE, Billy, please ...”

Billy silenced her with a finger across her lips. Kayla bucked and winced as his other hand found her pussy lips. “Mmmm, Kaaaaayla.”

Kayla was dry at first, so Billy would force her to lubricate his fingers with her tongue. “You like your own taste, don't you, baby?” Billy gradually got into a rhythm with his fingers inside her. “I bet you do. I bet you suck your cunt juice off your own fingers, eh?”

Kayla gradually began to accept her fate. With eight coils of tape around her wrists and a man pinning her to the floor, it was obvious she had no physical recourse. It was all so surreal. She should be sitting at her mother's kitchen table talking about pie recipes or work or whatever, not squirming in terror beneath a man to whom she once fed peanut butter sandwiches in his Star Wars pajamas.

It was surreal for Billy, too, having his obsession stripped nude and defenseless – a living fuck doll to whom he could do whatever he wanted. He tangled his hands in her long, dark hair. He kissed and licked her soft warm lips, nibbled her breasts and told her every filthy thing that came into his head. And all the while he shoved his fingers in and out of her while his red-hot erection nuzzled her thigh.

“Come on, kid, we ain't here to make love, you know. Put your fuckin dick in her and rip her good,” George admonished. Kayla's gasping and whimpering had him rubbing his cock with her panties and growing impatient waiting for his turn. Billy spread her legs wide and lined up at her entrance. He paused for what seemed a moment of reverence, looking into her eyes before he plunged.

“Billy … you can still stop,” Kayla pleaded. …  “It's not too late. You don't have to … AAAGGHHH.”

Kayla became a rape victim in one powerful thrust of Billy's pelvis. She was wet from his fingering, but it still hurt. It burned her body and her soul. She suddenly felt like a different person – soiled and violated – as though something irreplaceable had been taken from her. She knew that feeling of defeat and depression would forever be associated with the smell of diesel exhaust.

How unfair it was that these predators could invade her body most intimately simply because they were bigger and stronger. None of the laws, the morality, the protections of women in western culture were of any use against these cavemen. All Kayla could do was submit to their violent lust.     

The train passed a grade crossing with its flashing lights and clanging bells. Kayla caught a split-second glimpse of the traffic waiting at the gates. A young couple, probably high-schooners, sat close together in a pickup truck, the boy with his arm around a fresh-faced blonde in a red blouse. Kayla's mind wandered back to when she was on high school dates. How soon would it be before that blonde was in her position – helpless, beaten, raped and discarded – the fate of a woman.

The crossing was soon behind them and Billy's grunting and rutting brought Kayla back to her terrible reality. The boy was pounding away at her, rocking in a rhythm with the train. His eyes were closed and his head raised in sublime pleasure. “Rape her good, Billy. Fill her up with jizz,” George cheered. “Get the little bitch pregnant. Hahahahaha.”

Kayla let out a guttural howl as Billy's body finally stiffened and his semen flooded her womb. He stayed like that for 20 seconds or more, draining himself inside her, letting every last drop of his selfish lust defile this innocent woman. At last he collapsed on her, panting and clutching her left breast. He was spent and content.

Kayla twisted her head away from Billy's slobbering tongue in time to catch another glimpse through the car door. Children were running and playing in a backyard. Their father stood at the barbecue grill next to a picnic table set with plates and a pitcher of something cold to drink. She thought to scream – the people seemed so close – but they were gone as quickly as they appeared. And a stern look from George told her there would be bad consequences if she did.

Billy rolled off his victim and George grabbed a handful of her hair. “We're going through a town now, baby. We gotta keep you quiet.” He dragged her to the front wall of the boxcar. She was lying on her back between his outstretched legs. The knife was at her throat again and George's free hand groped her painfully.

The train rumbled past several grade crossings, a busy supermarket and a factory where a dozen or so men sat smoking on their break. So many people, so close by, without a clue of the horror happening right in front of them, Kayla thought. The same thought must have occurred to George, too. “I wonder how many of them guys there wish they was me right now, eh, baby? I don't think they'd want to save you. I think they'd jump in here and take a nice big piece for themselves.”

A shudder ran through Kayla, first because he also noticed how close they were to so many people, but more because he saw the same thing she did and found only evil in it. It told her if she had any hope for mercy she would have to get through to Billy.

“OK, bitch, get on your knees,” George rasped as he pulled Kayla back to the cardboard by her hair. “You know what's next, you fuckin slut.”
“I'm NOT a slut,” Kayla protested meekly. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I want to. Because I can … and because this is all you're good for, you fucking SLUT.”
“Why do you hate me so much?”

Looking down into Kayla's soft brown eyes, George opened his jeans to release his fat, semi-hard cock and a strong whiff of 4-day-old body odor. Kayla might have wretched had her head not been held fast. “Get me hard now, baby. … No teeth.” George slapped the fat, smelly penis all over Kayla's face – as if marking his territory – before pinching her nose to force her mouth open.

Kayla was amazed at the length and girth of the dirty cock as she did her best to accommodate it. As the stink diminished under a sheen of her saliva she set about to actually satisfy him. She prayed that making him cum with her mouth might spare her from taking that ugly thing in her vagina. She hated herself for what she was doing, but this was a matter of survival. These men held the power of life and death over her.

“Damn you, BITCH,” George raged at an inadvertent scrape of her teeth. CRACK! He pulled out of her mouth and smacked her face hard enough to slam her back onto the cardboard. “You're gonna regret that, you stupid pig.”

Over the next 20 minutes, Kayla endured an attack on her body and psyche more brutal than she ever could have imagined. George was a sexual sadist whose arousal was fueled by his victim's pain more than anything – and he was skilled at inflicting it. He ripped into her vagina with enough force to draw blood. Kayla also was bleeding from a bite mark on her left breast and from repeated punches to her nose and lips in response to her blood-curdling screams.

Since the train was in deep woods now, her screams had the effect of a tree falling in a forest. A scream unheard doesn't exist.

George made it a point to squirt his semen everywhere he had drawn blood. Maybe he saw his seed as a salve. Maybe it was something deeper in his twisted mind. All Kayla cared was that he rolled off her and let her curl up sobbing in the fetal position. Billy knelt beside her to brush her hair from her face. Billy wasn't a sadist, and his look of shock at what they had done to this beautiful, innocent woman betrayed a sense of regret and possibly even guilt.

“Tape her legs, Billy – ankles and knees,”George ordered as he sat smoking a cigarette. Billy did as he was told, but paused at the sight of the semen and blood coating Kayla's inner thighs. He looked back at George, who met his gaze with a grin: “Looks like a virgin on prom night, don't she?”

With her arms and legs fully immobilized, Kayla thought about rolling herself out the open door. But with nothing to break the fall from a moving train but her face, she ruled it out – for now. “Billy,” she said softly as he taped her, “how did you get like this? You were such a sweet little boy.” Tears ran down her cheeks as she tried to appeal to his humanity. “You come from a loving family, Billy. You're not evil like him, you're so much better than this.”

“Tape the bitch's mouth,” George growled. Billy gave him that unsure look again. “Either tape it or stuff it with your dick, but shut her up.” Billy taped over her mouth and all the way around her head, taking away Kayla's last line of defense. She had a dark foreboding about why George had stifled her ability to even beg.

For the next 10 minutes Kayla lay unmolested feeling her pain subside as the blood and semen dried on her skin. George sat near the door watching the forest and fields roll by. Billy sat between them shifting his gaze from one to the other. George stubbed out his cigarette and spoke quietly to Billy: “Remember that blonde slut in Jackson a couple months ago?” Billy did. George nodded toward Kayla: “We gotta do that again, kid. … You know it.”

Kayla's heart began to race. “Do that again” meant killing her. What else could it mean? These animals had done it before – maybe many times before. Rolling herself out the door was suddenly a realistic strategy.

George sensed reluctance in his protege. Maybe because he knew Kayla years ago, Billy seemed conflicted about doing what had to be done. George nudged Billy's leg with his boot. “It's 25 to life either way, dude. … It's a no-brainier.”

Kayla screamed into the tape covering her mouth and rolled toward the door. She saw the ground rushing past just as George grabbed her hair and pulled her away. He crushed her already-broken nose with a series of furious punches and finished with a boot heel to her midsection. Kayla lay moaning and struggling to breathe.

Just then the train pulled onto a siding and began slowing down, apparently to wait for other traffic on the CP main line. “Well ain't THIS fucking convenient,” George joked. Their boxcar had stopped on a trestle over a river raging at bank-full from recent rains. Nodding toward the river, George said, “I guess this makes the decision for you, boy. Think of it as … fate.”

Kayla was writhing against her bonds and screaming into the tape – all very uselessly – when George told Billy to put another strip of tape over her nose. “Make sure she can't breathe.”

Billy straddled her with the roll in hand. He pulled the end loose … and paused. “Shut up now and listen, Kayla,” Billy said with a sigh. “You asked what happened to the loving little boy, right? Remember? … Well, it happened the day of your senior prom. You couldn't babysit us that night, obviously, so my Ma called Tony … from over on Maple Street. Remember him, Kay? He's a fucking priest now.”

Kayla stared into Billy's eyes as a sense or horror descended. He was actually crying.

“T-tony f-fucked me … that night, Kayla. ...All night fucking long,” Billy sobbed. “Taped and raped, just like we done to you here. … And you know what's real funny, Kay? I was thinking about YOU when he was fucking me in the ass.”

Tears were gushing from Kayla's eyes as she howled into her gag. She wanted desperately to talk to Billy – about the horrible irony that reunited them in this boxcar on the last day of her life. But that wasn't to be. Billy placed the tape over Kayla's nose and stuffed it below her nostrils. She had at most 4 minutes to live.

George took her by the armpits and Billy by the ankles. As they approached the open door Kayla could see the trestle and the white water below. The late evening sky was bright red in the west, signaling tomorrow would be a lovely day.

“Hey Kayla,” George said as he helped carry her, “thanks for some nice fucks, baby. You were great.”

Then with a 1,2,3, the men slung Kayla out of the boxcar. Her head hit a steel trestle upright on her way into the turgid river. Billy was glad for that. He hoped Kayla would be unconscious while she drowned rather than still struggling in terror. The men stepped to the opposite car door to see their victim's pretty white ass bobbing in the rapids as she sped down the river crashing into rock after rock.

George pulled her panties from his shirt pocket and kissed the crotch in a farewell salute.

gscmar64
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Re: Kayla Is Taken for a Ride
« Reply #1 on: August 24, 2017, 11:18:12 AM »
Very hot Dire Wolf. Is this Kayla based on Our own Kayla.  ;)  If so you can write part two. I find her along the tracks and nurse her back to health looking to be repaid for my kindness anyway I can get it! :emot_thedrool.gif:

Offline dawnamber

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Re: Kayla Is Taken for a Ride
« Reply #2 on: August 24, 2017, 11:37:08 AM »
oh my my... absolutely loved this  :emot_thedrool.gif: :emot_thedrool.gif: :emot_thedrool.gif:

 :sign_badgirl:

Offline Dire Wolf

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Re: Kayla Is Taken for a Ride
« Reply #3 on: August 24, 2017, 06:57:45 PM »
Sorry, GS, the poor woman in this story isn't OUR Kayla, though I'd love to rape her just as thoroughly. :D
And, umm, you won't find my Kayla along the tracks, nor nurse her back from the dead.

DawnAmber, thank you. I'm thrilled that you like the story. Your "Taken at a Rest Stop" had a big role in inspiring me to write something. I hope you continue that extremely hot story. You write very well and our tastes seem to be very much in tune. ;)