“You all hold her down,” the unwashed one growls to his friends. “I’ll go first.” He’s already fumbling with his pants. I scream.
The gang comply, and quickly I’m pinned down by them onto my back, one man pressing hard down on each of my shoulders and arms. The pressure from their weight is like a vice. I’m kicking wildly and shaking my torso from side to side, trying to dislodge my assailants, but I might as well have concrete blocks on top of me.
I scream again. They’re not holding me with my head resting at the top of the bed, where a pillow would be. My head is halfway down, so my hips are almost at the lower edge of the mattress. They’re holding me so my core is left accessible.
The two men who aren’t trapping my arms move into position, aiming to restraining my legs. I thrash out my feet, trying to strike my attackers with a heel, and I manage to land a decent blow to the unwashed man’s hip.
But the other one, the big man, catches my right ankle, and with it my right leg is suddenly gripped tight. I jab with my free heel at his hand, hoping to hurt him enough for him to releases me. Taking the offensive is a mistake, as it allows the unwashed one time to close in. He seizes my left ankle, and next thing I know my knees are being spread wide, and then I’m trapped in a pose where I’m so terribly, terribly open. My core, my sex, my most private place, is on full view to them.
Unwashed one waits between my legs. I’m still thrashing around, bucking so my hips lift from the mattress, but he’s closing and I’m going nowhere.
I scream again. The smell from him is nauseating.
“Hold her other ankle as well, Corrick” unwashed one says to the giant. My legs should be stronger than this Corrick’s arms, but he’s able to secure one ankle in each hand, and flail as I might I can’t break free. Thus, Corrick stands between my spread feet, keeping my legs apart, one man pinning down each arm / shoulder, and the unwashed man moves even nearer between my knees. He’s so close now that every time I twist and turn I’m brushing against him. Helplessly I’m looking down my naked body at him, and I watch him extract his penis from his loose pants.
“No, please,” I beg him. Don’t let it be this way, please. Of all the men in the universe to claim me first, not one of these animals. Not this foul creature, unclean and unshaven.
He’s already hard. His organ is the most repulsive thing I’ve ever seen, pointing out at me like some eyeless worm. The crown is engorged with blood, turning it a deeper shade than his shaft. He’s anointing it, lovingly smearing his shaft with some kind of glistening oil. So Slavers carry round lubricant for these occasions.
“Yeah, cunt!” he declares as he sees my wide eyes.
I’m still bucking and rolling my hips – the only part of my body where I have much movement remaining to resist. But it’s easy for the unwashed one to use his bodyweight and pin my abdomen to the mattress. Then I feel the head of his sex pressing against my nether lips. That’s the second time today I’ve been in contact with a penis. But with Jurong, I was able to hit him with the sculpture and save myself. This time I’m…
I scream as he buries himself into me, going deep all in one thrust. The pain feels like something has just ripped apart inside me. There’s nothing remotely pleasurable about it. But the unwashed one groans, as though for him the connection between our bodies is the best experience in the universe.
“Oh, that’s good,” he tells his buddies. “She’s so tight.”
I couldn’t imagine the suffering I’m enduring might get worse after that first stab, but then he starts drawing his hips backwards and forwards – thrusting into me and retreating, thrust and retreat, and each time it’s like enduring a sword between my legs. I tip back my head, my eyes rolling. The psychological pain is almost as bad as the physical. I don’t want to give these men pleasure. I hate them. And yet they’re enjoying me anyway, enjoying my flesh, enjoying my downfall. We’re mating. Having sex. Fucking. He’s raping me. Each thrust which forces me to cry out is an absolute victory for them and a humiliating defeat for me. So complete is the unwashed one’s power he’s able to pin down my pelvis with only one hand on my abdomen, and start using the other to explore and enjoy me. My breasts are his main target. I struggle to try and evade him, in spite of the increased pain any movement induces between my legs, but I don’t have enough freedom to escape the hands. When he touches me, he squeezes my chest as though the swellings are lumps of dough, and he pulls at my nipples, triggering further intense stimulation.
I scream again, but no one comes to my rescue. There’s no one on a Slaver ship that would save me anyway.
“So, bitch, how’s about showing that attitude of yours now, huh?” groans the unwashed one. Why must he be so cruel? There’s no need to taunt me. Please stop – I surrender. I can feel his penis probing deep inside me. He slaps my face, shocking me, and then even worse, he strikes me across the breasts.
The Dystyr are a peaceful people, and violence is rare among us. It would seem inconceivable to a Dystyr to take pleasure from another’s suffering. But the humans don’t seem to be wired that way. The unwashed one even seems to like the way I cry out when he slaps me across the breasts. Perhaps it’s my display of such unbearable torment which, a moment later, pushes him over the edge, or maybe it is the prolonged friction from my vaginal walls against his penis. Either way, I witness the moment when this rank, disgusting male cries out and presses his pelvis as hard as he can against my pubic bone, and holds himself there. His whole body seems to be tensed, and the expression on his face is hideous. Inside me, I feel his rock-hard penis make a lurching movement.
Unwashed male keeps that position only for a few seconds, then he gasps, half-slumping over me as though he’s going to faint. I’m not too innocent to understand.
Before the Slavers I was a virgin, but that vile human has just orgasmed inside me.
“Gods, that was a spectacular fuck,” he groans to his friends. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in a woman that fresh.”
With that pronouncement he withdraws from me, and once again I shriek. The slicing pain of him exiting is almost as bad as the penetration. I can feel a hot wetness dribbling out after him between my legs. Blood, semen or both, I don’t know.
I, Coora of the Dystyr, have just been raped. Each year it happens to so many women across the universe, but this is different. It was my body that was defiled. My life has divided in two forever – into the time before I was raped, and the time afterwards. Before, I was Coora, the woman. Now the Republic defines me as Coora, the victim.
“Who’s next?” says the unwashed one.
Next? He can’t be serious?
“No!” I plead, beginning to twist and turn anew.
“Me,” says the giant. None of the men care that my life has been ruined and I begin to cry, such is the depths of my despair. I’m kicking and struggling, but the unwashed man still easily swaps places with the giant who was holding my ankles. Unwashed man’s grip is almost as strong as his colleague, and freeing myself is equally impossible while the giant, Corrick, takes his place between my thighs.
“No Corrick, please no!” I beg, thinking that perhaps a personal appeal, using his name, will help. But he removes his cock from his pants just the same is the unwashed one did. Corrick is only semi-erect, but even in this state his organ is already as oversized as he is.
“No, please, you’ll kill me!”
He anoints himself with the same lubricating oil the other one used, and Corrick rubs the shaft of himself to arouse his penis to full hardness. I’m hoping he won’t succeed in becoming rigid enough to penetrate me, but the sensation for him of reaching out and squeezing my defenseless breast, coupled with the act of masturbation, is erotic enough to do the trick. A second man’s head presses firmly against the crevice between my nether lips. I’d been hoping the first rape would have numbed me or opened me enough to reduce the suffering from the second, but the piercing penetration of Corrick’s giant penis is agony. How many times today must I scream?
“Yes, nice tight cunt,” agrees Corrick as he begins drawing back, so he’s almost completely withdrawn from inside me, and then thrusting back to his hilt.
I must also cry out which each of this male’s thrusts, so intense is my agony. I’m still struggling, but impaled on Corrick’s cock, my movements remain limited unless I want to cause more suffering for myself. I resist for as long as I can, but by the time Corrick’s rape has settled into a regular rhythm, my strength is beginning to fail, and my will to fight them is diminishing. These men will fuck me whatever I do. I turn my head to the side so I don’t have to look at Corrick’s face, and try to distract myself by counting the hairs on the man’s arm.
I didn’t think my suffering could get any worse after Corrick climaxes inside me – in fact I could believe I’ll not feel anything inside me for the rest of my life after being stuffed by that monster. But then the old one, with the grey hair, announces he wants to rape me in the ass.
“No! No!” I wail. Dystyr don’t do such an unspeakable thing!
I resummon my reserves of stamina for a fresh effort at self-defense, thinking I might prevent myself being flipped onto my belly, but for this new indignity they don’t even try to roll me over. The men obligingly pull my ankles up so my body is folded at the waist, and my feet are almost level with my ears. I’m presented obscenely. Before today, simply being displayed to strangers like this would have been enough trauma to scar me. In the pose, I can’t avoid seeing myself, and knowing how they must see me. There is nothing but my nude iridescent skin. Naked, weak and pathetic, I am a bare and vulnerable female amongst clothed men.
The old one also lubricates himself, but even with the help of lubricant my anus isn’t able to accommodate something that size. The head of him presses against my ring of muscle, and yet again there is agony as something tears inside me. Gods, this is unbearable. I’m not even permitted the honor of bravely enduring it. I’m again reduced to screaming and sobbing, moaning in defeat with each one of a brutal rapist’s thrust, so he knows how completely he’s destroying me.
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