Chapter 4(Michelle)

                                                   Disclaimer:

If you don’t like graphic sexual stories, if you are under 18, or if you live in a state where reading this is illegal, then don’t read this and leave. If it is illegal in your state to possess this literature then I suggest you leave as well. This is a work of fiction to display fantasy.

WARNING: This story is pretty intense, but as with all my stories, nothing really happens to the characters that they haven’t asked for or injures them. Wait until the end of the story before thinking otherwise, or if in doubt at any time - STOP READING!! I’m preparing to write a feature length horror story and this is my test run.

          I couldn’t stop shaking as I was carried out into the night air. I wanted to kill the bitch that did this to us and if I ever saw her again, she would know it. I guess this is why Jen always said I had a big mouth. But how was I to know that she would do this perverted shit to us.

          It all started at the bar. She carded us and didn’t believe our ID’s were real. Well, they weren’t, but I just had to feed her shit until one of the bikers sitting next to us vouched for our ages. She got pissed at being stepped over like that and remained all snotty every time she came by us. I referred to her as just a serving wench and that she should learn her job better. Jen and Amy tried to tell me to be nice, but it wasn’t in me.

          After I had a couple of drinks, I started to mellow out and even began seeing the server’s side of things. So, when I saw her headed for the bathroom, I went to apologize. I had been pretty much a bitch to her, but we certainly didn’t deserve her treatment either. I saw she was changing into street clothes and looked her over for any opening to compliment her. That’s a sure way to bridge gaps between girls. When she dropped her dress down to the floor and reached for her top, the bottom edge of her panties rode up high enough to reveal writing on her ass, I saw it was a tattoo and asked her about it.

          “It’s not a tattoo, it’s a brand.”

          I had never heard of such a thing on a person and asked her what it said. She turned half way around and dropped the top of her panties. I was amazed that in almost perfect lettering it read, MADE IN MEXICO.

          I begged, “Made in Mexico? What’s that all about? You get a really great lay there, or what?”

          She looked rather put off by my exuberance and stated, “I got it a year ago over a long weekend trip. It’s a good reminder I guess.”

          I had always wanted a tattoo and had even talked about it with Jen and Amy several times. We had even discussed quite seriously about each getting a small flower on our tummies that would be hidden by a bathing suit bottom. Our parents would freak if they saw a visible tattoo.

          “I love it,” I said. “Where did you get it done and how could I get one?”

          That was my big mistake. First, I never really quite understood what she meant about branding, nor the pain associated with getting it done. Secondly, there was no way in hell I would have believed what we would have to endure to get it. I should have known when the girl got all cheery and began selling the idea to me that her demeanor had changed a little too quickly. She even dropped her panties again to give me a closer look.

          “Did it hurt much… I mean compared to a tattoo?”

          She answered, “It takes about two seconds and it’s all over with. It’s like getting your ears pierced. Interested?”

          I told her I was and she said she could buy me one for a hundred bucks. I reminded her that I was there with my friends and asked how much for all of us. She told me fifty each and I twisted my head and thought how nice of a gift it would be to give my best friends. I asked her what other brands were available and she told me that hers was the only one. It pertained to a very special and elite club, and that it assured the wearer a certain measure of entitlement. I thought about a guy seeing it on my ass for the first time and knew I could come up with a world of hot sexual reasons to brag over it, and I was hooked. I told her I wanted one for myself and my two friends, but that I would have to talk Jen and Amy into it first. We left the bathroom with her telling me that she would arrange it. When I asked her how far away we would have to go, she snickered and told me that they would come to us.

          About ten minutes later, she came over to our table with three new drinks for us on the house and I told the girls how I had apologized to her. I slipped her the hundred and fifty under the table and she smiled kindly at me. Just thinking of being the first girl in my area to have a branding done was getting me so hot. And knowing that all three of us would be sporting the same brand would give us a particular status that other girls would envy for sure. I knew I could talk my friends into doing it as a group thing. A few minutes after that, two men came over and pulled chairs up to our table. Since the server knew who they were and they acted so bold, I figured they were the tattoo artists. Jen was a little annoyed thinking they were hitting on us, but it wasn’t long before the girl’s brand came up. Jen and Amy wanted to see it and they were soon just as enthusiastic about it as I had been. We decided to go out to the parking lot to get a peek at her backside and the men naturally followed.

          Poor Amy was already getting very tipsy. One of the men had to help her stand when she nearly fell just getting up from the table. I was feeling pretty baked myself and tried to count the number of drinks I had consumed, but my mind was getting all foggy. Outside, we were led to the side of a van for cover and I remember tripping into the side of it. I decided right then to stop drinking. The girl began opening her pants and was soon dropping the top of her panties one more time to display her ass for my friends. The girls were delighted to see how well it stood out on her pale skin and Jen leaned in to take a closer look at it. I thought she was getting perverted on me when she suddenly grabbed the girl’s hips and her face rammed into her ass. I laughed at how drunk she was getting when I understood she had just lost her balance. One of the men grabbed her, turned her around, and opened the side door of the van. I figured he was the owner of the van and was making a place for her to sit down.

          I looked back at the girl and she had a shit-eating grin on her face as she snapped her pants shut. I turned back at the girls and saw the man pushing Jen’s body into the van in a prone position and the other man was picking Amy up in his arms to lay her next to our friend.

          I turned back to the girl and was now getting terrified. “What the hell are you doing? I’m calling the cops if you don’t get my friends out of there right now.”

          The girl grabbed my chin in her hand roughly and said, “Just a serving wench, huh? Guess who’s going to be serving it up now, you little bitch.” She pushed my face back hard and I was caught by one of the men and suddenly realized that we had been drugged by the free drinks. “I hope you like getting branded. It’ll be a good reminder of what it took you to get it.”

          The last thing I can remember was getting hoisted into a man’s arms and dropped unceremoniously beside Amy in the back of the van.

          I suddenly snapped back to the moment at hand and realized that we had been in some sort of an auction. We already had our brands and I wasn’t quite sure if the rest of all this was part of the ritual or if we were getting jumped into a gang of sorts. Whatever my purchaser had been talking to the crowd around us about seemed to be over with and he came back at me. I started to beg for them to let us go and got a quick slap across the face for talking. He was a big man and found it easy to throw me over his shoulder and began parading my nudity around the bar for a last stroll. I saw Amy across the room and she was being tormented by the girl that had seemed to be taking a liking to her. I was hopeful that having a girl hot for her might aid her safety and then I felt hands taking quick feels of me as we passed several smaller groups of people. It seemed like a carnival atmosphere had started up and Amy and I were the entertainment. Just as I was being carried out the door, I screamed to Amy that I loved her and that she would be alright.

          In the parking lot, a car came screeching to a halt in the dustiness of the lot and the door was opened. I was pushed/dropped into the backseat and the door was shut on me. I tried to sit up because I was dumped right on my fresh branding and it hurt like hell. As I looked out the window, there must have been more than three dozen people milling about the car and the jovial mood seemed to be growing by the minute. The car spun its tires in the dirt and I took a last look back at the Mexican dump of a bar we were hurrying away from, and I prayed I would see my friends again soon.

          I cried most of the way to where they were taking me and soon saw that there was a small caravan of cars in our procession. We only seemed to go a few miles before turning into a drive that faced a barn. The car came to a halt and after a minute, my door was opened. Instead of being carried, this time two men each grabbed one of my arms and began dragging me backwards towards the barn. The backs of my feet hurt from the dragging, but it was nothing compared to the pain entering my mind as I saw people driving up and piling out of their cars to tag along behind us.

          A dim light came on as I was dragged into the barn and spun around to stand upright. I saw a man go to the wall of the barn and release a block and tackle from it, and it swung freely to the center of the room. I knew this was normally used to hoist bales of hay into the loft, but I got a sickening feeling as I was jostled closer to it. I was spun around again and I started screaming. I swung my bound fists in a clubbing motion at the men holding me and only got laughter in return. Someone grabbed my hands and lifted them over my head and the hook of the hoist was placed between the ropes binding them together. I felt the weight of the hook fall, and then turned to see a man pulling on the rope off to one side. In seconds, I was feeling the tug of the rigging tightening up against my wrists and then my feet fell out from beneath me as it dragged me back several feet and the men let go of me. I flopped around helplessly as I was hoisted off the ground. The pain came instantly to my arms and wrists under my own weight as I was lifted off the floor.

          I got pissed as a circle of men and women formed around me as the man tied off the rope with my feet only inches off the ground. I swore at the women for not helping me and in response I heard them calling me an American whore. I only knew a very little Spanish, and as usual, most of what I had picked up at school was colorful language at best. I looked off to my right and grew even more tormented by the fact that three very young girls were standing there, grinning over what was being done to me. These sick bastards considered the kidnapping and rape of an American as some sort of a joyous pastime.

          I swung my body around some in a futile attempt to reach my toes to the ground and then I made a huge mistake that I would not repeat. One of the women came over to me and grabbed roughly at my right tit. I spit on her and her immediate reaction was to nail her fist into my stomach. She knocked the wind out of me and then screamed something to the crowd. Soon a man was approaching me with a large knife in his hand. I began screaming wildly thinking I was about to die and was beside myself when everyone began laughing at me. The man pulled my legs out and shoved the knife between the ropes binding my ankles together. He was actually just cutting them away and some measure of relief came to my mind; until I realized why they might want my legs to spread.

          Another woman appeared from the crowd surrounding me and she held a small hoe in her hand. I looked at the handle and realized she was going to rape me with it and began kicking about violently until men grabbed my legs. I was swung forward by a pulling motion to my ankles and turned my head to see the three young girls smiling in such an intoxicating way at what was happening to me. They were actually getting off on seeing another girl about to get sodomized. I felt the handle getting pushed up to my lips, and without hesitation, it was forced into me. I screamed for mercy and promised them I would do anything for them to stop this attack on me.

          The woman began thrusting the handle into me and took a great deal of pleasure in purposely pulling it all the way out just so that she could thrust it back into me again and again. The men stretched my legs out farther and different members of the crowd took turns tormenting me with the stick. The attack went on for several minutes until I stopped fighting so hard and they grew tired of it. My legs were dropped and as my body swung back, the farm tool fell out of me to the floor. I swung around from the ceiling and looked at the crowd to see that there were several younger kids standing around; each with grins and smiles like they were at the county fair. How deranged, or how much did they hate white girls to be able to take such a communal thrill in all this?

          Two women came beside me and each grabbed one of my legs. They pulled them backwards until I was looking at the floor and the rope holding me was lowered so that my face was within a couple of feet of the ground. They spread my legs again and I could tell that they were offering my new position for the benefit of any man that wanted to step up. In seconds, one larger fellow was stepping in front of me and was pulling his pants open. I begged for them to let me go as I saw two other men start towards my backside while opening their pants.

          The man in front of me stepped closer and I could see he was clearly horny as all hell by how hard his cock was getting. He grabbed me by my hair and head, and pulled me forward. As much as I hate giving blowjobs, I didn’t hesitate to show my cooperation in this situation. I opened my mouth and he smashed his body into my face which made my arms go back even further. The pain in my arms was much greater than anything happening to me, so I pursed my lips as tightly as I could in hopes of winning my freedom that much quicker.

          A few seconds after he was adjusting me to his needs, I felt fingers spreading my labia and I relaxed my mind and muscles as much as I could in anticipation of getting entered just as brutally as they had done with the tool handle. The man plunged into me rather easily and I was thankful that he was proving to be much smaller than most of the boys I had dated. The fumbling attempt of both of these men to use my body for their twisted benefit was chaos to say the least. I was getting bumped all over the place and every jostle hurt my wrists and arms that much more.

          The man fucking away at my mouth grabbed my hair even more roughly and I could tell he was about to cum. I tried to look at anything but the beer gut smashing into my face and that was when a tiny head of a very young boy came into view. He was only a foot away and watching intently as the man told him what he was doing to me. His smile sickened me in the fear of how openly they were assaulting me and that they had no qualms over using me as some sort of instructional video to teach their own kids how to abuse women.

          Just as I thought my neck would snap, he started cumming in my mouth. I choked on the first gobs I felt and had to force myself to keep from throwing up. The man’s cum drooled out the corners of my mouth while he continued thrusting back and forth. I absolutely hated the taste of sperm and tried my hardest to spit it out despite the girth of the cock holding my mouth open. The boy reached out a finger and pointed to the mess coming from my lips and began laughing in a very sadistic way that made tears flow from my eyes.

          The second the man was done with me and pulled away, I spit the mess to the ground and began begging loudly, hoping that someone here understood enough English to help me.

          “Please, my arms are getting ripped off. Please, let me down. I’ll do whatever you say… please, just let me down.”

          I began crying while trying to rid my mouth of the foul mess the man had left behind and suddenly the guy fucking me from the rear began pumping really hard into me. His efforts swung me forward each time and I feared my arms would pull from my shoulder sockets. As a second man came in front of me, I begged him to release me and swore I would be nicer to him than any other girl had ever been.

          Another man stepped forward and said something to the crowd. There was a mixed response, but he argued with them and then he knelt down next to my head and spoke rather passable English.

          “These people like you swinging in the air. They think its funny watching a gringo whore in pain. I told them that your arms might break and that is not the deal you were bought under. If we let you down, you swear to make no trouble? You be a good whore for us?”

          “Yes… yes, please just let me down. My arms are going to break.”

          The man fucking me said something and I was told it would be another minute. I squeezed my pussy muscles as hard as I could trying to make the man cum faster and it seemed to work. Within another minute I could feel his final surges. Went he convulsed into me, I knew he was emptying himself in me and began begging again to be released from my makeshift swing.

          My legs were dropped to the ground and I struggled to stand up again. Someone took the hook out from the ropes holding my hands together and I thanked them for their mercy. I may have been too quick to assume they were really going to take any serious pity on me.

          The little boy that had been watching me earlier came around and poked his finger into my brand as he poked fun at me for being the owner of it. I was certainly beginning to understand the meaning behind the logo and even had a glimpse of the real costs of getting it.

          Just then a familiar looking heavy set man came walking over to me. When he began to speak to me I recognized him as the man I had talked to earlier before the three of us had been auctioned off like cattle. After everything that had happened since we had talked, I had just about forgotten about him. He grabbed onto my wrists and tugged me away from the main area of the barn we were in. I was walked through a stable area and into a makeshift office near the rear of the barn. The man offered me a seat, and then instead commanded me to stand in the corner of the room facing him.

          I did as I was told and as he leered at my nudity, I felt especially naked. I dropped my hands a little lower to cover my pussy and that brought a sarcastic grin from him. I knew he was going to want to fuck me, but as I looked over his bulk I was less than enthusiastic about having his large stocky size hovering over me.

          “So, we meet again.” He leered heavily at my covered crotch and asked me if I was happy with my brand.

          I replied with, “Its okay… but the price you’re asking is way too high. I already paid the girl at the bar once and now it seems that we’ve been sold into slavery. Are we really going to be set free in two days?”

          “Perhaps… perhaps. It depends somewhat on how well behaved you can be. You and your friends have already made me a great deal of money for those cattle brands. I hope you understand that even after you leave here… if you leave here… you will always be mine as long as you wear my mark.” He stood up and began walking around the room eyeing me even more. “You, surprisingly, brought me the least profit. You sold for about… 1400 American. Your friend Jen, brought a bit more at around 1850. Her particulars brought about a nice sum.”

          I asked, “Her particulars?”

          He chuckled a little and went on. “Yes my dear, and it was mostly due to you. If not for giving me those colorful hints as to what each of you wanted to experience during your stay here in our country, I wouldn’t have had such wonderful selling points to drive up your prices.” I guess he noticed my puzzled look and he took great pleasure in spelling it out for me. “You see little one, Jen was sold to Pedro and sold easily. You see, back in the village he grew up in, he had a penchant for being a little… rough with some of the girls. After he moved up here, he found a more secure way to abscond with a meek girls’ virtues with as much “muscle” as it took. And he’ll make the price he paid for her back easily. Now the littlest one… Amy? She fetched the greatest market value. Your information about her fears of lesbian sex made her an absolute delight for our bidders. She has that natural, young girl appeal with her small breasts and hairless pussy. And when we showed off how smooth she kept herself… well, she looked like a virginal eight year old. She was sold to a man and woman that have a love of making videos. Interestingly enough, they sell very well in the States. Amy brought me in nearly three thousand in American dollars.”

          I was beside myself with anger. I had told him those things because he had asked if there was anything that we found particularly vulgar to protect us. “I didn’t know you were going to use those things against us. Are my friends going to be okay?”

          As I waited for his answer, I realized that I had also been pumped for what I found vulgar, but I couldn’t remember what I had told him.

          “I can see you trying to figure out what awaits you, my dear. Don’t you remember what you told me that you find so outrageously offensive.” He groped his crotch as he stared at me and it came rushing back to me. He continued, “Ahhh… you do remember. Don’t be afraid, my dear. You will perhaps be the most well fed when you meet your friends again.”

          I backed into the corner harder and winced. I had told him how I didn’t mind giving a guy head that much, but I absolutely refused to let them cum in my mouth. I found that the most disgusting and nasty thing imaginable about sex.

The man smiled from ear-to-ear as he came closer to me.

“And that is why I’m here with you instead of partaking of your friends. You see… I have a love for watching sweet innocence as they choke on my cum as I force it down their throats. You will find that behaving is your best chance at leaving here well. But then again, I would prefer you not act too receptive to my advances. I do love a challenge.”

I shook my head in disbelief of what I was hearing. I watched as the man slowly took off his pants, folded them neatly, and slung them over the back of a chair. He reached out his hand to grab my arm, but I snatched it away. He grabbed it again and this time hung on more tightly. He dragged me from the corner and began pushing his underwear to the floor. All I could do was fight his hands away as he tried to force me to my knees in front of him. It worked for a little bit, but then I saw anger flush his face when I touched his cock by accident and went, “Ewewww…”

The bulk of man he was grabbed me up off the floor, essentially tucked me under his arm and carried me over to a chair by the desk. The next thing I knew, he was trying to put me over his knees in an obvious attempt to spank me. I hadn’t had a spanking since I was a little girl and wrote all over my father’s car… with a rock. With my hands still tied together, I couldn’t get any leverage and that made it pretty easy to hold me down. I felt one large hand in the small of my back holding me tight to his knees, and his other hand began rubbing my buttocks in soft circles.

Without any warning, I felt the first slap against my ass that was so hard that it straightened my body out across his legs and I began screaming. He told me to scream all I wanted; that he wanted the others to hear me in my passion. A second stinging rebuke was meted out to my backside that paled in comparison to the first, and hurt like hell. Tears flowed from my eyes even before I began crying out loud. His hands were massive and I made an easy victim compared to his girth. He slapped my ass several more times with me being totally unable to do anything to even lessen the pain of his assault. This was no longer a spanking, but clearly a beating. With his blows raining down on me, I lost control of my bladder and began peeing. He actually seemed delighted that he had caused this reaction and stopped momentarily to run his fingers under my stream, and rubbed it over my ass. It stung in the cracks of rawness that he had opened up on my backside, but it got much worse as he resumed slapping me with his open palm. Since my ass was now wet, every resounding slap seemed twice as bad as they had been.

Every time I would lose control and begin peeing again, he would hurry to catch it and rub it all over my target area. It was a vicious cycle I couldn’t seem to stop and I was screaming at the top of my lungs as the welts began forming almost instantly. He must have slapped my ass cheeks a hundred extremely powerful whacks before he claimed his hand was hurting him. I flopped off his knees and into a heap on the floor, but his brutalization of me wasn’t over. He grabbed my hair and worked me to my knees as he remained sitting.

He demanded of me, “Did that man fucking your face earlier cum in your mouth?”

I nodded through my tears and he grew angry.

“Did he force you to swallow it?”

I shook my head acknowledging that he hadn’t.

“He is a lucky man then. I had warned them that I was to be your first real drink. Now little girl, are you ready to enjoy my feeding?”

I cranked my crying up to a fever pitch and begged him not to force me to do such a disgusting thing, but as I watched his cock begin churning up into the air, I knew he was getting off on just how horrendous of a thing I deemed that to be. He reveled in my disgust and grabbed me by my hair extremely hard in one hand and rubbed the moist slit of his cock head against my pursed lips. When I wouldn’t open my mouth for him, he shook my head about savagely by my hair until I cried out I would do as told.

He held me in position for him again and pushed his cock between my lips. I gagged on its’ girth and again he seemed pleased that he could choke me so easily. He began slapping the side of my head and telling me to do a better job of pleasing him. I sucked up my fears and tried to end my crying, and then worked my lips tightly against his shaft as I forced my head into a bobbing motion. He didn’t like it when I just worked on the top of his shaft and he forced my head lower several times in a row to show me what he expected. I struggled to take as much of his cock as I could and he     kept telling me that if I didn’t do better that every man in the place was going to have a shot at forcing me to deep throat their cocks. The thought of that drove a heated rod of pain right through my brain.

I felt myself continuing to leak a little pee as he worked me over really well. I knew it was the intense beating my ass had taken that was causing my bladder to leak. It didn’t really matter about the mess I was making; especially since it was the man in my mouth that had caused it all to happen anyway. I tried to get my mind off everything by trying to figure out what I had done to my friends by revealing their worst fears to this son of a bitch. Also in the back of my mind was just what might be planned for me over the course of the two days we had been told to expect before being released. Everything took a backseat though to what I was planning on doing to that bitch that had set us up in the first place.

I knew my time for extreme mental torture and anguish was at hand when this prick grabbed my head roughly, pulled my hair, and yanked me hard into his throbbing cock. I fought like hell to get away from him while all the time he got off on hearing me gag and choke over his impalement of me. I crooked my eyes upward to beg him not to do this to me, but he was still snarling out his dominating grin and calling me his bitch. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t move my head, so I finally gave up and closed my eyes.

It felt like his cock was going to pop its way into my throat just as I felt the swell in my air way. The sick bastard was doing it, and he just had to demean me verbally all the while as he emptied his fucking balls into my throat. I felt like I was going to pass out before he finally pulled back, but all I had time for was a tiny breath before he shoved his damn cock back into me again. I could feel he was going soft, but he was obviously having too much fun tormenting me to let it go.

When the bastard finally did let go of my hair, I fell away from him and let him have all my vile thoughts over what he had just made me do for him. I tried to hack his slime back up, but there was no chance of that happening. I immediately felt ill, but puking isn’t something that comes easy to me. My mind was going in a million directions. I couldn’t sit because my ass was so sore and blistering for sure, I couldn’t stand for about the same reasons, and that left me kneeling as if I actually wanted more of his abuse.

Without any fanfare or further explanation he hurriedly dressed and dragged me to my feet, and began pulling me back to where he had found me in the main area. I felt sick to my stomach and didn’t know what to expect anymore, but when the crowd awaiting my return began to cheer when they saw me, I knew I couldn’t expect anything good to happen.

The man that had just violated me so bad said something to a woman that was smiling at me and she went off to follow his instructions. I guess he told them about my beating and how it had made me piss myself because several of the people were going behind me to inspect my ass. I saw the woman coming back in a hurried fashion and she handed the man still holding onto the ropes that bound my hands together a large glass goblet. He took it and smiled at me as he handed it over to me.

I asked, “What’s this for?”

“Well, what do you think? You have to earn money to pay back your owners. They have a right to make a profit off their property, don’t you think?”

I was outraged by the fact that these people considered me their property, but still wondering what the glass had to do with it. I asked him again what the glass was for, went into a breakdown when I understood, and wanted to die right then and there.

“”What is a glass used for my dear? You fill it up, then you drink it down.” He was grinning from ear-to-ear again and then made it abundantly clear what I was to fill it with in the first place. “There are many, many men here waiting to help you fill it. You just have to be nice to each of them for them to help you out.” He reached out, grabbed me by my jaw and added, “This will make your owners a lot of money I bet.”

I began shaking nervously as he explained the consequences of me disobeying my new owners because they had the full right to discipline me anyway they wanted. The glass was mine alone to protect and fill. Just about that time, the man that had first carried me away from the stage and driven me here came over to grab at my wrist. He hauled me away back to the center of the room where a blue tarp had been spread out over the floor.

A woman was there to explain the needed details to me and my mind was fully tortured with every word. The tarp was to make anything I dropped obvious, and I was expected to immediately clean up any semen I allowed to hit the floor of the barn. She told me that in this first “exercise”, that I could jerk the men off by hand, suck them off, or do a combination of both. How it was done would be up to each man. I then had to either aim their cocks at the glass to fill it, or catch their cum in my mouth and then spit it into the glass to fill it. I was shaking my head in disbelief again, but that only caused her to poke fun at me for being a gringo princess. Lastly, I was severely warned about what would happen if I dropped or broke the glass.

She told me to hold the glass in my bound hands very tightly, and as I did, she slapped me hard across my face. As I struggled to keep a grasp on the glass, I cried from the pain. I heard her telling me that her slap was because she was going to allow her husband be first to help feed the “poor, starving gringo”, and warned me about not pleasing him satisfactorily. If she had to allow her husband the use of a whore, she expected me to be a good one for him. With that said, her husband stepped up to me and his hands went to my shoulders to coerce me into kneeling before him. I watched as he opened his pants and pushed them down below his knees, and cried again as I saw his cock. It was skinny and curved to one side, but it was what was in the back of my head that really had me tormented. This was only the first of many men I was expected to give blowjobs to, and then to have to swallow down their swill was just too much to imagine.

When I didn’t start on my own, my hair was snatched to drag my head forward and I went into some sort of autopilot. I opened my mouth and began fellating him as if he was just another boyfriend. That was when I first noticed the video camera. I wanted to die yet again and wondered what might become of any video they made. I was an avid user of a file sharing program online and had often checked out the competition by looking at the porn that guys seemed to like the most. Would I be up there soon?

Somehow, I magically went into a special place in my mind and thought more about the painful welts on my ass than I did about the cock in my mouth. I thought about the other girls and what they might be going through at the moment, and then I got that very familiar tap on the top of my head. I ran my eyes up and saw by the mans eyes that it was indeed a warning that he was about to cum. I struggled to back away, hold the glass in one hand, and masturbate him with my other hand. I had to go back and forth several times, because it appeared that it was only my mouth that was getting him close to cumming. Every time I switched to my hand, he seemed to lose his urge to cum. Finally, I held the glass in both hands under his cock and sucked him off until I felt the first shot of his cum and quickly backed away from him. I held the glass under him, but with every spurt his cock bounced up and he was missing the glass. I spit the glob of mess he had shot into my mouth into the glass, and then my hair was grabbed from behind.

“I warned you bitch! Now lick up that mess and get it right.”

It was the woman that had explained everything to me and she wasn’t happy that I had missed most of her husbands’ cum. She pushed me over face first towards the largest mark of his misses and because her grip on my hair hurt so much, I began licking at the foul mess. I nearly tipped the glass held between my hands as I did this, and when she went to move my face to the next glob of splatter, I told her I needed the use of my hands to keep this from happening again. I guess she listened to me because after I was forced to lick every spot clean she called a man over with a knife and he cut my ropes away.

The next man was right there waiting for me and was dropping his pants to the cheer of the crowd. How could men even perform like this? I had to assume that this was done to other girls far more than I would care to know about to cause such a frenzied lust.

I heard spirited music turn on around me and someone shouted out, “Festival… gringo whore.” For the next twenty minutes, I sucked off another five men in quick succession. Each time the glass got filled a tiny bit more. That was when I was handed the pills and a glass of water to take them with. They lied to me and told me they were antibiotics, so I swallowed them down. Right after I had, I was told to have “nice dreams” and understood that they were something else indeed.

About fifteen minutes later, I was finishing up with a rather aggressive man, and as I held his cock to the glass and watched his sperm jetting into it, I realized I was growing woozy very quickly. The man that had beaten my ass so bad came up to me and grabbed the glass from my hands and handed it to a woman next to him. He grabbed my face roughly between his fingers and said something in Spanish.

I saw the camera getting brought close to my face as he told me it was time to drink down the mess I had been collecting. I shook my head and cried openly, but his reaction was to pull his hand back and slap the fuck out of my face three times. He grabbed my face in his massive hands again, and the woman handed me the glass. I took it from her and as the man pried my mouth open between his fingers, I reached the glass around to tip the mixture towards my mouth. When I had about a tablespoon of it, I touched his hand to tell him I couldn’t swallow with my mouth open. He released me and I struggled to get that little bit down. Tears were running down my face and then he told me I had to finish the rest in one big gulp. I looked to see that there was about a quarter cup of this disgusting shit left, but when he brought his hand back in preparation to swat me again, I held it up to my face. The camera was right there as I opened my mouth and tipped my head back. There was too much to take all of it, so the fear of getting beaten again forced me to guzzle what I held in my mouth as I allowed the rest to pour between my lips.

The texture was horrible, and if not for feeling ready to pass out, I probably would have thrown it up. That would not have been good, because I had been warned that I would have to lick it up again off the tarp. I leaned over and gagged on what I had done, but I kept it down somehow. And then everything went blank.

The next thing I could remember was opening my eyes to feel a man fucking me from behind. My arms were tied straight out to my sides and I appeared to be on some sort of a wooden rig. It later appeared to have been made specifically to hold a girl in place just so men could rape her from behind. As my eyes focused, I saw the goblet from earlier sitting on a bench in front of me that seemed almost like an altar. It was nearly full of that awful white stuff, and as I remembered what had been forced of me before passing out, tears started flowing again.

The man fucking me noticed that I was waking up and began pumping away at me even harder. Being passed out had made all my muscles relax and I was amazed at how easy it was to take his thrusts, but then as I thought about that, I began feeling how my entire lower abdomen seemed numb. I remembered the beating I had taken and assumed it was from that, but I got a better sense of what was going on when I heard the guy getting ready to cum.

All of a sudden, he pulled away from me and I heard him grunting as men do as they get off. I had no idea what he was doing at first, but then he came around in front of me holding another smaller drinking glass about a quarter full of men’s sperm. A woman stopped him just as he was about to pour it into the goblet, took it from him, and went around behind me again. The filthy bitch was holding the glass to the bottom of my vagina evidently, and I could feel her sticking her fingers into me to scoop out the rest of what was there. After sliding the rim of the drinking glass up my lips several times to get as much as she could, she then took great pleasure in emptying the smaller glass into the larger goblet before my eyes.

The camera was back and took in the whole event of her working to fill the goblet. It had to hold at least a full cup of men’s sperm now and that made me wonder where it had all come from. I was just really beginning to put it all together that the glass was going to be mine to drink and I closed my eyes as the tears kept flowing. The man that had bought me at the auction came over to me and through an interpreter told me I was almost ready to go home. He pulled a fistful of cash from his pocket and the interpreter told me he had made a good amount of money off me and that as long as I fulfilled my last obligation, I would be seeing my friends soon.

I looked up at him and asked, “And just what is that?”

The interpreter pointed to the goblet on the table and I wanted to die once more. “You must drink… the entire glass. The camera will be watching you… and you must keep it down.”

I don’t think I ever cried so hard in all my life as I looked to see just how much there really was in the glass. I kept shaking my head and telling them that I couldn’t do that, but his answer was that I wouldn’t be released until I agreed. In the meantime, they would continue “milking” me until I did agree, and that would only make the glass more full. I asked him what he meant about milking me and he pointed out that over the weekend that dozens of men had been using me to fill the glass.

I began to understand that I had been knocked out for a lot longer than I had thought, and that was probably why I was so sore. When I didn’t agree quick enough, my owner began soliciting more men standing around me. I screamed out that I would do it as long as they swore I would be released right after I did it. After the interpreter told my owner what I had said, he simply said, “Si!” and a woman began undoing the ropes holding me bent over the wood framework. When I went to stand up, my back ached almost as much as my ass. I guess I had been on this contraption for quite a while.

Two women came over to usher me to the goblet and forced me to my knees. The crowd grew closer to me and louder in anticipation of my final disgrace. The interpreter came close to my ear and seemed concerned that I wasn’t going to do my task as completely as the people wanted, so he warned me again to make sure I drank every drop and kept it down. He didn’t want to tell me what would happen if I puked it back up. His last words were, “Just think of it as a milkshake.”

The man ran a hand in a soothing gesture over my shoulders and I saw the camera move even closer to catch every horrific detail of my compliance. I rubbed my wrists from the rope sores as I sat on my knees and cried while looking at the odd looking liquid, and finally reached out to take the glass. The crowd began cheering me on and their cheers were peppered with broken bits of English taunting me as an American whore and a gringo bitch.

I kept reminding myself that this was the last step to my freedom, and looked into the top of the glass. It was a mix of whitish globs and clear fluid. I tried to keep from smelling it, and then brought it to my tear washed lips. I took a deep breath and tipped the glass and my head backwards. I forced myself to take what felt like several big gulps before leaning forward. I sat the glass back on the table and found myself struggling to pacify my mind to keep from throwing up. It was a horrible feeling as it had slid down my throat. It wasn’t a smooth mixture, and it was rather thick, and the after taste left an instant weird tingling in my mouth. It seemed to be both bitter and sweet tasting at the same time, with a large hint of a salty taste to it.

When I was sure the crap was staying down, I wanted to hurry it up and grabbed for the glass again. I talked my mind into believing it was a strange alcoholic drink and began gulping it down again. I had only removed less than a quarter of the mix on my first try, and I really wanted this to be done before I quit, but I still had a little less than a quarter of it left before I finally needed a breath. I struggled again to keep the white sludge down and took several gulps of breath to calm myself. The crowd’s cheering and laughter was deafening by now and they were throwing things at me. I began crying again as I put the glass to my lips a third time and worked quickly to make my attempts leave the glass empty. The very last gulp was almost impossible to commit to, but somehow I managed. The cheering grew even louder as I set the glass back on the table and used the table to steady myself while I tried to get my need to puke out of my mind.

A woman came over and grabbed the glass, ran her finger around the inside of it trying to sweep together the remaining remnants of the men’s sludge together. She grabbed my hair, forced my head backwards and held the glass over my mouth as she began scooping the mess into my mouth. Not satisfied she made a tonguing motion to me, handed me the glass, and waited for me to lick out as much of the remaining liquid that as my tongue could reach. I finally slammed the goblet on the table as I stood up and demanded my release.

The camera came right in front of my face and by the faces of the people behind the camera I knew something was happening right behind me. Before I could turn around, a hood was thrown over my head and I grabbed for it to pull it off. Realizing that they were just blinding me for their own safety, I held onto the fabric and waited for it to be tied off. After a moment of standing there, I felt a shirt being pulled over my head and someone was lifting my arms into the sleeves. Someone else began lifting my right foot and I felt shorts being pulled onto my legs.

As soon as I was dressed, I was led away and forced into a car. I assumed I was being driven back to the bar where this all started, but no one in the car seemed to be able to answer my questions. While we were driving there, the person on my right kept fingering my hole for his own gratification and I just sat there letting him do it to keep from pissing anyone off. It wasn’t until we were almost to the bar that I realized the one fingering me was actually a woman. These were some sick puppies.

Several times I felt like I was about to throw up since the mixture from the glass was the only thing I had to eat for apparently two days. I promised myself that I would try to force myself into throwing up as soon as they let me go, but that sort of depended on how long it took to get released.

I took stock of all the parts of my body that ached and realized that just about everything hurt some; it was the things that hurt the most that worried me. Would I ever heal entirely from this ordeal? And would all that semen I drank have any lasting effect on me, or make me ill? At that point I heard my stomach growl and thought about what it would look like in there with nothing but that goo in it. And what would happen to something of that consistency?

I felt the car take a hard turn and pull to a stop. I figured I was back at the bar and wondered if I would be meeting up with Amy and Jen or if I would be released all on my own and have to look for them. Just then I took a blow to the side of my head and warned that if I talked before my hood came off that I might not make it back to the states. It was a threat I took very seriously.

I was then walked to what turned out to be another vehicle and forced to lie down on the floor. I could tell that I was pushed up against someone else. I knew that because they moved around when my body was pushed into theirs. All I could do was hope it was one of my girls. A short time later, another body was pushed into mine and shortly after that I felt the truck moving. With all that cum in my belly shaking around, I had to fight to keep it from coming back up. There was no way I was going to risk pissing off my captors at the last moment.

I almost fell asleep before we got to wherever they planned on taking us. When the truck did come to a stop and we were taken out, I waited patiently for them to tell me I could take off my hood. Just as one of the men transporting us began untying it I heard Amy cry out my name and smiled for the first time since the bar in Texas. I wanted to run to her, but thought better about moving when I saw a third girl next to us that looked like it could be Jen. I wanted to scream out because there was a man next to her holding a gun to her head. Amy cried out, but when she saw the man didn’t want to hear her talk, she stopped in mid sentence.    

After Jen saw the man with the gun, he wanted to know if we had liked our stay with them and our new brands. She wisely answered him that we had and he dropped the gun away from her head. One of the men gave us all final warnings about our silence and Jen was handed a bag I figured had her real clothes in it and we watched them drive out of sight. My first instinct was to turn and try to make myself vomit, but if I did I would have to explain to the girls why I was doing it. Since I seemed to have conditioned my mind into keeping it down, I figured I would just have to live with the fact that it wouldn’t be coming back out the same end of me.

We realized that the most important thing was to reach the cab that we had been aimed at and began walking as fast as our injuries would allow us. I was in the front and feeling guilty as all hell over knowing I had created each of our own little worlds of torture. I prayed the girls would never find that out. Jen had asked me right off if I had known anything before hand and seemed to believe me when I said I hadn’t. I turned to see her fishing through her bag when I noticed she was studying something she had pulled out of her bag. I reached for it and soon realized that it was the tip of a stun gun. Just about that time, Jen told Amy that the envelope must have been meant for her, put the plastic piece back in it and handed it to her. With two envelopes left, it was pretty obvious that one was meant for each of us.

When Jen pulled out the damn wooden dildo that had been used on me I knew she was looking into my envelope next. I gulped hard and told her that it was mine and I started to understand the significance of the envelopes. When I reached out to take mine, Jen cautioned me that there was a glass in it. I wanted to shrivel up and die over the fear that they might know exactly what it meant, but how could they.

Anyway, about an hour and a half later we were pulling up to my apartment. The girls decided that we had to get something to eat and sleep before trying to do anything. For the first time I had a good look at Jen’s face and nearly broke out crying. She had been beaten so bad that the welts on my ass had to seem like nothing compared to what she had gone through. I guess I should have known that Jen would have been the one to put up the serious fight.

We made our way into my apartment and each seemed to try to hide our individual envelopes away from the other’s prying eyes. I went into my bedroom and just before hiding mine in my dresser I reached in and took a closer look at the glass it held. I remembered how just a few hours earlier it had contained the most vile liquid I could imagine, where that stuff was now, and buried the whole mess in my bottom drawer.

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