Losers: Part II

Most people didn’t consider being duct-taped and locked in a trunk to be a great start to their weekend. I wasn’t most people, though.

Yeah, okay, so it was a little unhinged. It was the exact opposite of everything Mom wanted for her sweet little girl. It was not something my father would approve of. Hooking up with these guys had bombed my reputation and cost me a few friends.

But honestly? My “reputation” sucked. Being known as a stuck-up bitch wasn’t fun, and constantly pretending to be better than everyone else had only earned me some well-deserved hatred. I was over it. I didn’t want the drama.

I had to figure out who I was without all the bullshit, without the mask and haughty attitude.

What better way to get to know myself than with a kidnapping fantasy? It wasn’t always easy to accept what I wanted without harshly judging myself. Relinquishing control required some soul-searching, and I had plenty of time for it during the drive.

I lay there, thinking about what they could do. What they would do. Due to the blindfold, my other senses were heightened. The rough carpet against my back made my skin tingle, and my fingers twitched restlessly in their bindings. Jason and Vincent were playing electronic music, the heavy beat pumping through the speakers. The rhythm was dark and sexy, lulling me into a state of quiet acceptance.

I was theirs. Their toy, their slave. Their willing little victim.

When the car finally came to a stop and the engine turned off, my heartbeat quickened. Anticipation raced through me as the trunk opened. Fresh air rushed in, cooler than I expected and sharp with the scent of pine. Birdsong filled the air, and a soft breeze rustled the trees.

“Goddamn, look at this little thing.”

I recognized Vincent’s voice, but there were multiple feet moving around the trunk. Boots crunched on gravel, shuffling in the dirt and crisp leaves. Someone grabbed my leg and pulled, repositioning me so I was bent over the bumper with my upper half resting in the trunk. The duct tape around my ankles was swiftly cut, as if with a knife. Fingers brushed through my hair, pinning my head down. Someone pulled down my shorts, hands gripped and squeezed my ass.

“I want to feel that gorgeous pussy.” My panties were shoved aside, fingers thrust into me. They pumped inside me, the slick sound making my face heat. I whimpered as they withdrew and the smooth head of someone’s cock — Vincent’s? — pressed against my entrance.

He pushed inside me, rough and careless as he thrust his hips against me. Not knowing who it was, being unable to move or see, was so erotic I was groaning with abandon almost at once.

“Fuck, she feels so good.” It was Vincent. I knew it now without a doubt.

“Give it to her hard, Vince,” Manson said. “She takes it so well, doesn’t she?”

Lucas spoke from somewhere beside me, saying, “Let’s hear her moan for it. Use her like a whore.”

Vincent’s pace was brutal, and my toes curled, my clit aching to be touched. This was what I’d asked for: to have all my choices and worries removed, leaving only pleasure. My voice shook with desperation as I whimpered his name, begging him to please, please touch me.

“Let me come, Vincent, please, please, please!”

A smack on the ass was my answer. “Shut the fuck up. Do you think we care about your orgasm, girl? Do you?”

“Shut her up,” Jason said. “Give her something to suck on.”

I was maneuvered out of the trunk. Vincent grasped my hips, holding me bent over as someone shoved their cock into my mouth. It wasn’t pierced, and wasn’t as long as Jason’s but thicker…

Manson. His taste was indescribable, but I recognized it immediately.

He fucked my throat as hard as Vincent fucked my pussy. He growled as he used my mouth, gripping my hair. Vincent changed his angle, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside me that instantly made my knees weak.

“That makes her moan, Vince,” Manson’s tone was deliciously gritty. “I think she likes it.”

“Desperate little slut.” I got another smack on my ass, and I wiggled my hips back, eager to please. Vincent hissed, then swelled inside me. He jerked my hips back in violent thrusts, and I was impaled on either end, choking and aching as they used me.

The snarl Vincent gave as he came inside me pushed me so close to the edge. He pulled out of me, but Manson wasn’t done with me yet. He held my head down on his cock until I gagged. Saliva trailed from my lips to his swollen shaft when he finally pulled out of me.

He straightened me up and gripped me, forcing me to walk forward. When I reached a set of stairs, someone else lifted me from the ground. It was Lucas; I could smell him. I recognized the roughness of his hands. A door opened, slightly dusty air rushed in my nose, and I was put back on my feet and shoved to my knees.

“Let’s see how badly the little fucktoy wants to come, shall we?”