Part 6
The two men and the handcuffed young woman passed through the double doors, down a further corridor and through another, heavier door. Though blind under her hood, Rachel could tell by the cool air on her legs and shoulders, and by the echoing acoustic, that they were in an underground car-park. Of course, Dr. Kay’s office was on the basement level, and she knew about the underground car park beneath the Psychology building. A wild hope surged, that there must almost certainly be someone else around, who might intervene and rescue her from this nightmare. But instead she heard another man’s voice.
“What took you so long? No problems here, let’s get her in. Wow, this is a nice one!” She felt a hand under one of her breasts, lifting it and squeezing it; Rachel shied back but was held by other strong hands on her neck and upper arm. She squirmed at the feeling of being manhandled and inspected like an animal. “Yeah, she’ll do” said the strange voice, “come on”.
The guard who held her by the neck and arm, whom the Doctor had identified as Mr. Dane, shoved Rachel forward again, as she heard a car door opening, then another. She felt the cold metal of the car door sill against her calf, and the guard placed a heavy hand on top of her head.
“Get in the car, fuck pet,” said the guard, pushing downwards, “and don’t bang your head. Because I’m going to bang the fuck out of your head when we arrive, know what I mean?”
Rachel stepped in awkwardly, blinded by the hood and with her hands cuffed behind her, discovering that it was the back seat, and that the second guard had already gone round the car and climbed in on the other side; he put his hand round her waist and pulled her in so that she was sitting in the middle of the back seat. Dane got in behind her and slammed the door. Someone, presumably Dr. Kay, got in the driver’s seat and started the car.
Squashed between the two men, Rachel could not sit back properly, as her chained hands were behind her back; one of the guards pushed her head forward until she was doubled up, and the other grabbed the chain between her handcuffs and pulled it upwards and back, painfully forcing her into a kind of strappado position. She cried out as her wrists were yanked up over the central headrest behind her; she was pushed back until she was sitting back against the seat again, but now with her arms up on the back window shelf behind her, twisting her shoulders uncomfortably. She could only relieve the pain by bowing her head down, which she did, sobbing as quietly as possible, as the two thugs passed a seatbelt across her waist and breasts, clicking it into position. They then attended to their own seatbelts, as the car moved off, making a couple of tight turns, then going up a ramp, over a bump and out into the traffic.
The two guards sat on either side of the prisoner, each with a large hand clamped on to one of her thighs. She felt their strong fingers indenting the flesh of her legs. Occasionally their hands moved along Rachel’s thighs, pushing back the faux-leather of her flared skirt. She knew the men’s hands would soon be at her naked and defenceless pussy lips, pinching and poking despite her muffled protests, while she sat there squashed between them, belted in, hooded, and handcuffed, in a painful strappado position, with not so much as a pubic hair to protect her vagina from assault. But for now they seemed content to rub her thighs gently but firmly, occasionally applying a steady outward force as if to spread her legs. She resolutely pressed her knees together, but she knew they were much stronger than she was.
Just as Rachel felt the muscles of her inner thighs were about to give in to the insistent pressure, the guards’ hands gripped her knees strongly and pulled, opening her legs easily and widely. She moaned in protest, as they held her thighs apart, exposing the naked and shaved cunt revealed by the rucked-up skirt. They laughed lewdly, and she suddenly felt a finger invade her, followed painfully by another, while a thumb sought her clitoris, found it, and pinched hard.
She screamed. “Get the fuck OFF me!”
The guards’ mocking laughter suddenly stopped, while one of them said “Oh dear, Prisoner Twelve, you really are looking to get punished, aren’t you, you stupid piece of shit. You don’t fucking get it do you? If we say jump, you say “yes sir” and fucking jump. If we want you to eat our shit and drink our piss, you’ll fucking do it and thank us for it afterwards. If we want flog you, rape you, or torture your worthless cunt, we’ll do it whenever we like, however we like and as often as we like, and you will shut the fuck up and take it, because you’re nothing but a dick-sucking cum-guzzling fuck-slave now…”
While this speech went on, Rachel sobbed and shook her head, moaning “No… no, no, leave me alone, you can’t do this..” until Dane stopped his tirade of abuse for a moment, reaching over and pulling at the cloth bag over the captive’s head. The bag was becoming stifling, and for a moment she thought he was about to remove it, to allow her to breathe more easily. However, he just pulled the top of the bag forward so that one corner protruded forward, like a pointed knight’s helmet. Then he raised his nightstick and pressed it across the bridge of her nose, forcing her head back painfully, especially since her arms were still pushed high up behind her shoulders.
“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to fucking shut you up, you little slut.”
Rachel struggled to control her whimpers.
Dane turned to his colleague. “Have you got that bit of rope, Paulson?”
“Yeah, hold on”.
Dane moved the nightstick down a little, so it rested across her mouth. “Now you little jizz-rag, you’re going to open your fucking mouth just as wide as you can, if you want to keep any of your teeth, that is!” She whimpered once more, then quietened down, and compliantly opened her mouth. The guard turned the protruding corner of the bag inside out and pushed it into her open mouth, then turned the nightstick so that the second handle, which stuck out at right-angles to the stick, pushed into the girl’s mouth as well, which was now already stuffed with coarse black fabric. He forced the nightstick back into her mouth until she began to retch, as the fabric pressed against the back of her throat, but in any case the stick now lay across her tear-streaked cheeks like a giant horse’s bit and could not be forced further in. The piece of rope was passed around the nightstick, behind Rachel’s head and round the nightstick again on the other side of her face, before being pulled tight and knotted. She coughed and gurgled in her misery, being now very effectively gagged. No more recognizable words would emerge from her mouth during this journey.
“There you stupid fucking pig, you can squeal all you like and no-one will hear you.”
Silently, inside the hood, Rachel wept. The two men played a cruel game for a while, in which they grabbed the ends of the nightstick that they had roped into her mouth and lifted it, forcing her head up and causing the nightstick handle to press into the back of her throat and make her cough and retch. They would hold her like that for a minute, causing increased pain to her twisted shoulders, before forcing her head down by the same means, or using the baton to twist her head this way and that.
At one point she felt her seatbelt being released, and then the nightstick bound across her mouth being lifted again, this time so high that her bottom was lifted right off the seat, mashing her face for a moment into the ceiling of the car. Then she was dropped back down onto the seat, wrenching her arms up again, but not before a guard had placed his hand, palm up, on the seat beneath her.
Appalled, the captive leaped up again, but strong arms on her shoulders pulled her down to the waiting, lascivious hand, and her seatbelt was re-secured. Her thighs were once more brutally pulled apart despite her protests, now muffled by the improvised gag.
She spent the rest of the journey sitting helplessly on that hand, whose fingers poked up inside her pussy and whose thumb constantly threatened to push into her back passage, while another hand ventured inside her crop top and fondled and pinched her breasts. She was blindfolded, gagged and chained, bound in a painful stress-position, her scantily-clad body at the mercy of two brutal men who held her knees wide apart and abused her with their fingers, while she fought for every breath through the thick fabric of her hood. Meanwhile, the car bore her on to who knew where, to some sinister sounding “facility”. She only hoped things would improve when she arrived. At least this hellish journey would be over.
. Good stuff so far, Monty.