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Once in a while, she thought of breast implants, but never too seriously. Sex, like the rest of her life, had come easily and well lubricated, easy penetrations by lithe young boys, never wild or out of control. A terrycloth bathrobe and bunny slippers, she typed. Perhaps they would spot her in that article of clothing? The idea that she might be under surveillance, might be stalked, that any minute some rough man might grab her and drag her into an alley, made her stomach flutter and her nipples hard. He typed into a very select chatroom, to a very select group of friends. The Lynsey project united them, it galvanized them, giving them a sense of purpose. And there is an Italian restaurant three blocks away from her bullshit location. Humming, brimming with excitement, almost floating with sexual tension, she left the apartment. I dunno, fucking her mouth I suppose, probably tighter than her pussy. She was shocked into stillness when Ian simply upended the contents of her purse out onto the filthy ashpalt. She lost muscle control, collapsing on the filthy garbage strewn alley. Beaten, without a shred of hope or resistance in her. When she reached him, she looked up a final time, hoping for a shred of compassion. She stuck her tongue out and ran it along the leather toe of his boot... She lapped at the boot, her tongue working away the grit, smoothing the leather. Jack watched her face contort, almost able to read her thoughts as she worked her way through it all. He pulled out, his semen dripping from her lip, her expression dazed, confused and needy. You're going to walk out of here with your pussy throbbing, and all those ideas I put in your head rolling around, and you won't know if you're coming or going, you won't know up or down, you're just going to be so confused you'll swallow every bit of bullshit because I've tied your head all up in knots and your pussy is throbbing. Instead he helped the now helplessly docile Lynsey up, escorted her to his car. She built an island of stability for herself around that point. After a few nights, she had recovered herself enough to return to some of her comforting rituals, her life settling back into her old groove.
She was a girl that nothing bad had ever happened to, and on some level, she didn't believe that it ever could. Oh not that there was one chance in a million, or ten million. Truly they didn't have a lot in common besides a love for degrading and debasing women. But once in a while, they might get together, one or two, here or there, and share an activity... Parts of it were not immediately useful, for instance they knew what her nipples looked like. They had descriptions of several sets of earings, and of numerous articles of her clothing. What are the odds, he told himself, one in a thousand. She had long legs wrapped in large fishnets, every man that passed glanced at those legs, and a formfitting red knit dress which exposed healthy cleavage. A part of him wanted to jump, run up, grab her by the hair, slap her face, force her to kneel and then shove his hard cock between those glossy lips. Reaching down for the digital camera concealed by his newspaper, he snapped off a series of shots. They let her rest a moment, and then pulled her into position. Lynsey looked up at the remaining man, Ian, hoping for more mercy. Once in a while, she dared to look up at him, and then glanced quickly away at the cruelty she saw in his eyes. She was still licking his boots when Peter came back. Jack noted the uncertainty that crossed her features. Oh how he longed to drag her back to the basement and whip her ass until he was ready to shoot a load into it, to hear her scream and beg as he violated her. She was far too caught up in her betrayal of herself, in the realization that her responses to the rapes had been .... Just in case she changed her mind, like the other false rape claimants. A transparent and patent lie, which he noted with amusement, she didn't even register. So she bent down to stick her head in the car window and submitted to a long and torrid french kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth, while he quite obviously felt up her breasts. There was an urge, but it intimidated her, whispered to her of frightening darknesses within herself, a gateway to her own wells of shame. But she did drink a big glass of orange juice before going to bed....
The world was greased for her to slide through with a minimum of bother and inconvenience, anything she wanted was hers for the asking. On the Vancouver skytrain, she learned, at certain hours and certain stations, she'd catch the tired worn strippers and whores riding to or from work. Hell, if she thought someone might really nail her, she'd have gotten off the computer right then. Gonna put rings through them nipples, Jack told them. She pulled the dress up to her crotch, fingered her wet cunt. Of all the borderline rapists and woman beaters of the Lynsey project, he was the most skeptical. By the way her nipples pushed at the dress, there was no bra. With a massive effort of will, he restrained himself. He couldn't aim properly, all he could do was point and click while trying to look invisible. She proceeded down the stairs He dared to lift the camera to catch some shots of her backside descending the stairs. He thought of the sound she'd make as he shoved his cock between those luscious cheeks into a dry, unlubricated, squirming anus, the squeals of violation, and he almost came in his pants. Her hands scrabbled for purchase on the slimy dirt strewn concrete. Peter held her ass, and shoved his cock brutally into her cunt, fucking without finesse. Tell you what, you stay with my friend here, and I'll go get you something to wear. Her tongue stained brown, it tasted foul, but she still licked. Got something, he announced cheerfully, dumping the contents of a bag at her feet. The clothes turned out to be a short, tight sequinned dress, half the sequins fallen away, undersized, with a rip in the side. She fantasized him pulling up to a policecar, and her giving out a piercing scream. Privately, he was elated, his cock leaped in his pants. He had fucked her body, and now he was fucking her mind. The thought made him hard, made him want to throw her on the floor and take her brutally. The thought astonished her, she couldn't get her mind around it. She acceded to his request, and so he drove most of the way across the city with the smell of his crotch in her nostrils. A number of passer by's and locals saw their intimate clasp. * * * * * * * * * * Lynsey woke like a car crash, a sudden jarring rush of consciousness where she snapped out of utter blackness to jarring, screaming wakefulness.
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