The Twisted Mind of Tina B

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They hogtied me so I couldn’t move.  

Then put a big fat shock dildo into my pussy and another one in my ass and crotchroped ‘em in place.  Then I moved.  Oh yes, I did, whether I wanted to or not. Whether their thin, hard cords abrade my flesh like knives or not.  Whether my heaving arms threaten to snap off my toes or not.  Whether my worn muscles can even do it.  Or not.

Soaked their cocks in me first.

One minute I was drinking with this cute guy at the club, the thumping bass massaging my pussy as he moved closer - and the next, lying on the floor on a dirty mattress.  Well, not lying.  Stretched out, spreadeagled with my legs spread so far apart my stretched thighs are aching, chafed raw by something, my cunt with that familiar burning sensation.  Ropes around my ankles and wrists pulled out TIGHT to some kind of pipe frame.  My mouth packed full of some guy’s underwear, taped tightly in place, the taste making me gag, needing to vomit.

Darkness, much like the club, though the music further away.  Shards of light on guys standing around, drinking and talking.  

I try to raise my head to inspect my body, but my sweat-streaked blond hair and a wall of boobs block the way.  As my head falls back, I suddenly comprehend the ugly red and purple bruises on my swollen udders, the feeling like a truck has driven back and forth over them.  Slowly.

A yell.  “Hey guys, it’s awake.”  They surround me, hunkering and kneeling on the floor to grab handfuls of my flesh, hard fingers digging into my thighs and breasts as I squirm what little I can, the tears sliding down my cheeks as I make stupid grunting sounds through the gag, pleading with them to let me go.

Laughter.  The horrifying sound of zippers being slid down.  Dicks in the dark, dangling and swinging, rising, purple-headed.  Stiffening hugely.

They used me good.

It wasn’t so bad at first - I’m a girl that likes having a nice cock filling my cunt - but they kept coming.  Long thin penises, short fat penises, curving penises, thick, hairy penises, white penises, dark penises.  All finding my sore slit, their hard tips prying my clam open as they rammed themselves into her. 

It seemed like hours before they stopped, leaving me a sweaty, stinking mess.  Still stretched tightly, trying not to think of the raw burns around my ankles and wrists where the ropes held me.

Ragged, panting breaths snorting through my nose.  I want to cry, terribly, but my eyes are sand, despite the black streaks over my gag-swollen cheeks.

Commotion.  A girl’s voice, crying weakly in protest.  A guy’s voice, “Oh yes you WILL!”

A girl standing at my feet, naked except for a strip of cloth around her waist and a black collar around her neck, looking down at me unhappily.  Flaming cuntbush.  Something black in her hand, hard to see in the fark, long and thin, wide end.  A riding crop?  Nooooo.  NO.  NOOOOO.  Tugging on the ropes helplessly.

A guy chanting “DO IT!  DO IT!  DO IT!  DO IT!“ taken up by others.  The girl turning to look around, tears glinting on her cheeks.  Her sudden screech, doubling over, the crop flying as her hands grab at the collar.  

Someone dragging her up, putting the crop back in her hand.  Her blubbering something at me as she reaches the crop down toward my sore pussy.  Just the barest touch of the stiff leather end on my swollen labia.  My body leaping against the ropes in protest.

Hands on the girl shoving her up onto the mattress, standing shakily astride my waist, facing my feet.  The red stripes on her back and ass catching the light as she raises the crop.  

An explosion of pain in my crotch as the hard leather slaps my raw-rubbed thigh.  My body bouncing and heaving on the mattress.  Then she goes at it, fast and hard, slamming the crop down on my thighs, on the soft clefts between thigh and crotch, on my grossly swollen cunt labia.  My exposed, bruised clit.  The hard leather hammers into my raw flesh without stopping.  Without appeal.  

My body sweats and heaves uncontrollably.

Sometimes the whipping tip cuts right at my clit, making my body try to wrench itself off the mattress.  They make her walk it up my terribly naked thigh, not so bad at first, but as the red marks grow - and the girl desperately puts her back into it - searing unbearably, like she’s slowly peeling my flesh off.

Sometimes she drives the crop too deep, the hard, terrible end beating against my little pink asshole, tugged partway open by the stretch of my legs.  And the hard rod gnaws down on my swollen, screaming clit, tearing my breath away.

I howl and plunge and writhe, my long legs and slim arms yanking desperately against the ropes, burned flesh be damned, because I cannot cannot CANNOT CAN NOT.

She turns me into a flesh-puppet that dances for them.

By the time they drag her off, my whole crotch is glowing a dull red, with the meat flaps flaming red, shiny.  Grotesquely swollen.  Sticking up and out obscenely.

They dick me down again.

Every touch burns, even just the first bump of a hard purple-swollen cock head makes me howl into the gag, my blond head flapping from side to side like a rag doll.  I’m dry inside, every thrust a knife in my vagina.

Even the guys complain.  The other girl is brought back, hands tied behind her, forced to kneel while they squirt lube in her mouth until it’s drooling down her chin.  Men stepping up to her, holding her head, cocks stabbing into her mouth, wet THLUPing sounds muffling her cries as cock after cock swells, long, glistening and erect.

It’s like they’re whipping the inside of my vagina.

I fade in and out, like a dying candle, my whole existence this hellish fire between my legs.

Much later, still lying there, untied, but unable to move, my body drained completely.  Somewhere I hear a girl screaming.  I don’t even know who I am.

My muscles can do nothing to prevent it as they hogtie me, bending the weeping legs and arms into shapes they don’t want to take.  Forcing a large dildo into my virgin asshole. Another, larger, into the raw, savaged cunt hole.

I lie there, limp, barely registering the prick of a needle in my thigh. “That’ll keep her awake,” a voice says.

My body couldn’t possibly move, but it does.

It heaves and writhes as the fire torments me, eats hungrily at my tortured, sensitive flesh, turning my body into a twisting, jerking, spasming THING for their pleasure.  I pray desperately to faint, to get out of it for even a second, but the shot prevents that.

My agonized muscles demand oxygen, but the gag fills my mouth and snot fills my nose as my chest heaves and it feels like I’m drowning.

In fire . . .

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