Fifteen Reasons For Pain Pt. 01

Fifteen Reasons For Pain - Part 1

The men around me laugh while I lie naked with my hands tied above me. They seem like they know each other. They're enjoying themselves but I am not. They enjoy themselves at my expense. Their faces spin around my head like a kaleidoscope.

That's how the dream replays in my head.

It plays over and over. Like the dripping water somewhere to my right. What am I doing here? My hips and shoulders ache. A dust sheet is the only thing covering me. I am naked under the dust sheet. Ropes bind my arms and legs.

"Good morning, slut." I hear, from the corner of the building.

I look down. A man in a boiler suit tinkers with what looks like a car engine. He approaches me with a large spanner in his hand.

"Did you enjoy last night? The boys sure did. They enjoyed you. They enjoyed all your holes." he sneers, tapping the spanner against the thick steel pipe running down the wall. The sound rings through me and makes me feel colder than I already am.

The boys? My holes? Maybe it wasn't a dream. Am I experiencing flashbacks?

Last thing I remember, I was walking home from a bar. I had a date with a man who name I don't remember. Why don't I recall his name? Who forgets a name that quickly?

Now, here I am. Cold, on the floor of a warehouse or garage or something. I cannot tell what it is. All I can tell is, it's cold and I ache all over.

"The boys all left a little something in you to keep you warm." the man says, sneering. He shifts the sheet with his steel-toe-cap boot. He gazes between my legs and smiles. I reach down to cover myself.

The ropes around my wrists are tied to the ropes binding my upper arms to my chest. I cannot reach to cover myself. Whoever tied me up hasn't even left me the means to cover myself. I am utterly exposed.

The feeling of vulnerability burns through me. I have never needed to hide as much I feel it now. I want the man to go away. I want him to stop staring. I want my privacy and freedom of my own limbs to do as I wish, to escape this terror.

A man's face flashes across my mind's eye. He has strong arms with tattoos of a naked woman. He holds my mouth open while he pushes three fingers down into my throat, making me gag and my eyes water. He uses more force than I can fight. He unzips his trousers with his fingers in my mouth. He's already erect when he pulls it out and shoves it in my mouth. He pushes it to the side and it stretches my cheek. His fingers brace my jaw bone and keep it open. He isn't pushing it down my throat. He's stretching my cheek and laughing at how far it goes. I am there for his entertainment. It feels like a sick joke. He pinches my nose. It's hard to breathe. He laughs even harder as I cough and splutter.

"A few more of the guys are comin' over tonight." he says, pushing on my hip with the sole of his boot for a better view of my ass.

"Gonna have a few beers and go to town on this ass."

He pauses as he uses the blunt steel-toe-cap to separate my ass cheeks.

"Bet you've been never fucked in that pretty little ass hole by fifteen men. One after the other."

His tone is threatening and sickening to my ears. I worry what he will do after they finish with me. What will him and his friends do when they're finished using my body for their selfish pleasure.

"What are you going to do with me after that?" I ask, surprising my self I can speak through the terror.

"I don't know. Can't let you go. You know what we look like. Maybe we'll take you out back. Tie a girder around you. Throw you in the river. Maybe. Depends how we feel."

I screw my eyes shut. I try to unhear his last words. I don't want to die.

----

"Open your fucking mouth, whore!"

The words are vicious and cold. I open my eyes. Three men stand in front of me. They are all playing with themselves.

There are other men here too. I can hear them. They chat among themselves.

"I'm gonna fuck her so hard I'mma split her in two!" one says, before I hear the swig of a bottle. They're drinking.

I'm in real trouble. It sounds like he wasn't kidding with what he was saying, earlier. His friends were coming around tonight. This must be tonight. I have been here at least 24 hours. I don't remember eating or drinking.

One of the men tries to make me drink. A stream of urine spatters across my chest and works up to my face. I'm being pissed on? Is that what they think of me? I'm only good to be pissed on? The bitter warm piss lands across my lips. I screw my eyes shut. His piss goes up my nose. I taste it in the back of my throat just by the smell.

The loud clank of machinery starting echoes through the room. Ropes tightening around my legs and hips. My hips leave the floor and my feet lift further as I see-saw into the air. Someone has me hooked up to a crane.

The sole of a boot comes down on the side of my face.

"Leave her there. I've got an idea." an anonymous voice says.

Fingers spread my ass cheeks and someone spits on my ass hole. A finger delves inside. The pain is as great as the humiliation. If they do this with my ass hole, what are they going to do between my legs or my mouth?

A tongue bullies it's way inside my ass hole. I squirm with the last of my energy. I am not having this. I refuse to be treated like this. I did not consent to any of this.

The crane clanks again and I lift higher in the air. Hands push and spin me. Blood rushes to my head. I see fifteen or twenty different men around me as I turn. It's difficult to count. There are so many. And they aren't the right way up. Or rather, I am not the right way up.

"Right, hold her still. I want her mouth."

I scream. I still have it in me to scream. Fingers fish-hook my mouth at either side. A man behind me slides his tongue in my ass hole. He reaches around to fish-hook me and spread my mouth for another man. The other man pushes his semi-erect cock between my open lips. He holds it in his fist as he shoves it in. It's not hard enough and it pushes against my nostrils. He must think he's in my mouth. He starts thrusting. Except his cock is still in his fist so he's punching me around the mouth while he's trying to fuck it.

I cannot move. I feel degraded and worthless. I cannot even scream anymore. My mouth is full of unwanted cock.

"Fucking shift it! It's my turn." someone beside me says.

The man behind me with his tongue in my ass pulls away. Another guy takes his place. He wants to use his fingers. My weight on the rope holds my thighs together. Or I hope it does.

Until he proves me wrong. The back and forth of a knife on the rope between my legs cuts the rope and makes my weight shift. I was upside down. Now I am tilted. The rope bites in around my hips and waist.

He spreads my thighs. Four fingers bully their way between my legs. A tongue finds my clit. I am helpless to stop either.

The crowd jeer around me. They're a willing audience for the show. I am the centrepiece. They came to see me used and abused by these men. And then maybe they will take their turn.

The tongue on my clit does nothing for me. It doesn't excite or turn me on. It's their fun. They are doing this for their pleasure, not mine.

A tear wells in my eye. I cannot take much more of this. It is too much. That river out back starts to call. Maybe drowning with an iron girder around my neck would be better.

I fade in and out of consciousness as I struggle to come to terms with what is happening to me.

----

The grass is wet against my face when I wake up. I blink and try to focus. An ambulance siren blares in the distance. Two paramedics in green overalls run towards me.

"Where am I? What day is it?" I ask the paramedic as we drive.

"It's Tuesday." she says, and tells me where they found me.

"But that must be 120 miles from home?" I say, holding my head in my hands.

"Where's home?" she asks.

I tell him and she scribbles notes on a sheet of paper.

"What do you remember about how you got there, on the wasteland, naked like that?"

"Last I know, it was Saturday. I was on a date with someone called..." I say, trying my hardest to remember the man's name.

"It's okay. It's normal to have suffered memory loss after trauma. You're safe now."

"Morton! That's it. That's his name."

"Morton?" she asks.

"Yes. Morton." I say, seeing his name in large letters, clear as day, in my mind. I remember now. I can tell the police and they'll trace him and they'll catch who did this.

The paramedic chews on her pen. She looks confused.

"Like Morton textiles?"

"Who are they?" I ask.

"That's where we found you. Beside the old Morton textile's factory. They closed three years ago. Building's been empty since then."

My mind is filling the gaps in my memory with what I saw while I was in there. It was a logo, painted on a wall, not a man's name.

The hospital is a hive of hustle and bustle. I close my eyes and try my best to block it all out as they wheel me through the corridors to a room where a doctor stands ready to meet me.

He is cold and clinical and takes my wrist without asking. He's like the other men. This is my body. They always just take without asking. Steel instruments clank in steel trays around me and I am straight back on the putrid floor, listening to the sound of the metal pipes and the spanner.

I will get through this.

I have to. How else am I going to catch the men who did this?

Not my usual bright and breezy smut, I know.

Interested to know what you think.

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