by Zoe Blake
“Half the time a chic’s just using her tongue to try to push you out. Man, I’m in deep. Right down her fucking throat.” He punctuated that with a few hard thrusts.
Even though I couldn’t move, I still struggled. Crying, gasping for breath, bucking my hips, twisting my head from side to side, screaming no. It all happened…in my mind.
“Hey! Hey! Look up!”
“You’re filming? Fucking awesome!”
Steve circled us with his phone. Videotaping my assault.
“Dude. She looks fucking real on camera. No one would ever know.”
I am real! I’m here! I’m inside. I…am…real.
My name is Jane.
Jane.
Please, help me.
John started moving my head so quickly I thought my neck would snap. With each movement, his thick disgusting cock was thrust deep down my throat.
“Wait! Wait. I’m going to change this up. Stop filming then start again,” said John as he pulled his flesh from my mouth.
Hopping off the sofa, he twisted me around, so my head hung over the edge. He then placed my legs over the back. Open and wide.
Please. Please don’t humiliate me this way. Please I’m begging you.
Tilting my head all the way back, John lined his cock up with my mouth and waited. When he got the nod from Steve, he shoved it past my lips with a groan. This time he kept it lodged deep in my throat. His balls rubbed my open eyes. I could feel him press his whole body over my prone, helpless form. Then a burst of searing pain erupted between my outstretched legs.
Oh god! Stop! Stop! It hurts!
One slap after another. John was beating my pussy. The degrading slapping sounds of a hand hitting plastic echoed around the room, mixing with their laughter.
“That’s it, bitch. Suck my cock while I slap your pussy!” yelled John as he began to rock his hips pushing his cock in and out of my unwilling mouth.
As John leaned up, I could see Steve positioned with his phone camera directly between my legs.
“Grab her tits!” Steve shouted out.
Reaching down, John latched on to both of my breasts. Squeezing them so hard I thought he was going to tear them off. I could see his fingers on my breasts, but they weren’t my breasts, they were large and swollen and plastic…yet I felt every bruising finger of his dig into me as if it were my own flesh.
“Fuck. I’m going to come.”
“Don’t jizz in her mouth,” said Steve.
“Come on man! Why not!”
“Because only I get to jizz inside her, you prick.”
I had to watch as thick streams of cum landed on my breasts, stomach and chin.
“That was fucking awesome,” said John as he climbed off me.
Both left me there. Dangling over the sofa, covered in cum. Used and forgotten as they did a few more lines of coke.
Sometime later, they remembered their little fuck toy.
“We have to clean her off. I’m not touching your fucking jizz,” said Steve as he took a swig from another beer.
“No problem!”
John tilted his full beer bottle over me. Dousing me in cold, sudsy liquid.
Steve laughed. “You’re a prick.”
“Hey! My first instinct was to use piss, so count yourself lucky, slut,” said John as he slapped my face.
Both men laughed.
“Oh man, can you imagine just pissing down some slut’s throat?”
“What do you think you have her for?”
I want to die. I’ve had enough. There is no more hope left in me. I want to die.
Setting aside his beer, Steve stepped up to the sofa as he fisted his cock.
No! No! You can’t! You can’t do this. I’m real. Please!
“I think I’ll just fuck her snatch. This thing has the tightest fucking snatch. Seriously dude, you haven’t gotten pussy like this since high school.”
John picked up the phone to film as Steve picked my whole body up.
“Watch this,” he said to John.
Steve sat on the sofa and positioned my legs, so I was straddling him. Lifting up my hips, he positioned his cock right at my pussy entrance. Then he put his hands around my impossibly narrow waist.
“Are you ready? You filming?”
“Yeah! Yeah! Fuck the bitch!”
Steve shoved my body down onto his cock.
I let out the silent scream of a wounded animal as his flesh tore into me. His damp cock sticking to my dry flesh as he pushed and pushed harder. If I truly were real, I would be bleeding. Lifting me high, he shoved me up and down his shaft over and over and over again.
“Swing around front. Watch how her tits actually bounce!”
“Fuck! They look so real!”
Steve latched onto my right nipple and bit down. Growling like a dog, he shook his head from side to side. I prayed for the solace of true death. Anything was better than this pain. This humiliation. It was one thing to be used, it was another to be denied the dignity of fighting back. The peace of mind that you at least screamed and yelled and called out for him to stop.
I was denied all that. I was forced to suffer inside this plastic cage.
With a groan, he finished.
I could feel my insides gunk up with his cum.
Six
My face is shoved into the sofa cushions. I cannot see what is happening around me. I can hear them moving about, drinking beer, playing video games. They have each fucked me once more. Steve calls it filling my holes up. As I lay here, naked and abused, I am starting to feel something I had not before.
Rage.
All this time I have been confused, depressed, desperate and sad, but I haven’t gotten mad. It was probably some remnant of religious training creeping into my fast numbing brain. The pious will be redeemed. Suffering is god’s will. Endure and there will always be hope for salvation.
Fuck god.
I want nothing more to do with god. What has happened to me is unnatural and unholy. From now on, the devil will be my god.
“I’m bored. What else can we do to it?” asked John as he flopped down on the sofa beside me. Picking up my head he poked at my open, glass eyes.
Steve had just finished his beer. Looking at the bottle, he said, “Let’s shove this up her ass.”
“Sonofabitch, you’re a fucking genius!” cried out John as he grabbed me by the hips and slung my body over the sofa armrest. My upper half hung limply over the side, the sofa crushing my stomach and making it hard to breathe. My ass was propped up high.
You mother fucking pieces of shit! You will pay for this! I will make you pay! I will find a way and make you pay!
I ranted and railed at each of them as I felt the cold press of the glass bottle against my ass. This felt better. No more begging. No more pleading. No more vain hope that Steve would somehow see a glimmer of life behind my vacant stare. I was pissed. Angry at god. Angry at the world. Angry at these two assholes who think they had the right to treat me this way.
“Not that way,” objected John. “You shove it in bottom first, not by the neck.”
“Then grab me the baby oil from under the bathroom sink.”
After a long pause, there was a hand on my ass, spreading my cheeks open. Then the cold drizzle of something slimy. Once more I felt the chill from the beer bottle as it pressed between my cheeks. There was a bruising pressure against my asshole. I could feel the bottle press into my pelvic bone.
“Fuck. I don’t think it will go in.”
“Push harder.”
I could feel the sofa dip as Steve must have gotten onto his knees behind me. Once more the bottle was pressed between my cheeks. This time he pushed harder. Much harder.
I cried out in agony as the delicate ring of muscle protecting my asshole weakened and the bottle popped in. This was far worse than Steve’s fist. It was hard and unrelenting. Once past the outer ring, Steve was able to push the bottle in by several inches, the cold glass chilling my insides as it forced m
e open. My stomach twisted and cramped. There was a burning sensation in the back of my throat as if real vomit were about to spew forth. The muscles along my lower back spasmed as the bottle was pushed in deeper. Inch by inch, he stretched me open and forced me to accept his cruel torture.
“Man, I wish these things came with speakers so we could hear her scream,” observed John as he videotaped my frozen face.
“I said the exact same thing,” said Steve as he gave the bottle another push.
Use the pain. Use the pain. Use the pain. Turn the pain into anger. Hold on to your anger.
“That’s it, bitch. Fuck that beer bottle like the whore you are!” yelled out Steve as he pumped the bottle in and out of my ass.
Steve lifted me high and forced me to once again straddle his legs. Reaching around my hip, he grabbed the neck of the bottle as it protruded obscenely from my asshole.
“John! John! Grab a photo of this!”
There were several bright flashes in the darkened room.
Use the pain. Use the pain. Hold on to your rage.
Hot burning rage replaced the pain. I focused on the bitter heat coiling within my breast.
Laughing Steve grabbed my hair. “You like that don’t you, Darla.”
My. Name. Is. Jane. JANE!
My vision went black for a moment then cleared. Before me I saw the startled gaze of Steve turn to horror.
“Jesus fucking Christ!”
Steve flung me off his lap. I fell to the floor, limp and lifeless, the bottle still thrust painfully inside of me.
“The doll blinked!”
“What?”
“The doll fucking blinked!”
“Dude, you’re high and drunk.”
“I’m telling you, man, it blinked!”
John picked me up by my hair. Shaking my body this way and that, he shouted at Steve. “It’s just a sex doll, man. It’s not real!”
Steve was pacing back and forth in the small room. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his hair before rubbing his hand down his face. “You’re right. You’re right! I’m just fucking tripping out.”
John dropped me to the ground.
“Look, just throw it in the closet. I’m done with it tonight.”
John snickered. “You’re such a fucking pussy.”
“Just do it!”
John picked my limp body off the ground. Opening the closet, he thrust me inside, head first. My body lay in a crumpled heap. Just as he was about to close the door, he said, “Wait. Can’t forget this.”
With cold callousness, he wrenched the bottle out of my ass. Leaving the small hole gaping.
The closet door closed.
I was thrust into the quiet darkness once more, but this time was different. I was different.
I had blinked.
Seven
I no longer counted the days. No longer heard the whir of the air conditioner.
I didn’t care.
I had blinked.
I had fucking blinked.
Nursing my anger as if it were a new-born babe, I held it close to my chest. I fed it and coddled it. Glorying in how it grew. It heated me when I was chilled. It comforted me when I was lonely. My anger shone bright in the darkness.
First it was my eyelids. Then a finger. Then the whole hand. Then an arm. My lips.
Eventually, I was able to push myself up to a seated position inside the closet. I wanted to cry and laugh and sing when I was able to turn my head. It was a small thing, but it was mine. At least I could control something again. The old me. My life. My identity. All the memories I clung to so desperately started to recede. There was no room for sentimentality. I only had room in my thoughts for my anger. It was mine. Mine.
After several weeks, Steve returned.
This time I was ready for him.
“Fuck. You’re filthy,” he said with disgust as he lifted me out of the closet. This time I had to will myself to stay limp and pliable.
“Dammit. Carol’s home so I can’t hose you off in the shower. Fuck John and his stupid coke.”
Steve carried me over to the sofa. Placing me on the floor between his knees, he poked at my glass eyes. Pulled out several of my eyelashes. Then pulled on the lids.
“I’m an ass. Of course, you probably blinked. The stupid fucking lids move.”
Leaning back, he began to unbuckle his belt. I watched with interest as he pulled his cock free.
“Your snatch is filthy with my dried up cum, so I’ll just have to fuck your mouth,” he threatened with a sneer. First, he flipped me over his knee. I felt his finger probe my asshole.
“Fuck John and his stupid ideas. Your fucking asshole is all stretched out from the fucking bottle. Great. Just great.”
He flipped me back onto the floor.
“I’m probably better off getting a new fuck doll. You’re all used and dirty anyway,” he grumbled as he fisted his cock and shifted his hips forward.
The wide bulbous head slipped past my lips.
Wait.
I could feel the thick shaft as it slid into the cavity which was my mouth.
Wait.
The head bumped against the back of my throat before thrusting further.
Wait.
The musky scent of him assailed my nose as it was crushed against his stomach. His balls rested against my chin.
The length of his entire, thick, disgusting cock was in my mouth.
Concentrating all my rage, I closed my lips. Clamping down.
For once, Steve was the one screaming in agony. He stood up and swung his hips around as he tried to dislodge me. If only I had teeth, I wished. Using his fingers, he pried my mouth open.
Slipping his now flaccid and scarred cock from my mouth cavity, he raised me up by the throat. “You stupid fucking cunt doll,” he raged.
But his rage could not match mine. It would never match mine.
Raising my arm, I wrapped my fingers around his throat. And squeezed.
This time he would not dislodge me.
Desperately, Steve grabbed at my hand as he fell to his knees.
That’s it, slut. You like this don’t you. You like being on your knees before me. Choking.
His eyes bulged grotesquely as his grasp on my hard plastic arm weakened.
What a whore you are. You like it when I make it hurt, don’t you, Steve? Or should I call you by some stripper name. How about this time you be Trixie?
Lifting my other arm, I shoved my fingers into his gaping mouth.
What a tight mouth you have, Trixie. Let’s see if I can make a fist!
His skin turned a mottled purple as I slowly willed my fingers to claw along his tongue into a fist. I reveled in his garbled screams as he gasped and gagged for breath. I punched my fist further down his throat.
Too soon it was over.
Steve lay limp on the floor. A crumpled heap. Used and abused.
His eyes open but vacant. Lifeless.
Eight
“Why do I always have to get the freaky perverts,” grumbled the detective as he stepped over Steve’s body.
“Just lucky I guess,” quipped the police officer standing next to him.
“Shut up and tell me what we’ve got.”
“Wife found him this way. Figure he died from some auto-erotic, fucked up sex game.”
“What the hell is that?”
The police officer picked me up from where I rested on the sofa. “It’s one of those sex dolls. A nice one too. It practically looks real!”
“Cover her up! She’s naked.”
“It’s just a doll.”
“I don’t care. Cover her up,” ground out the detective.
It was the first time anyone had shown me the slightest kindness since my accident. As if I were a real woman with feelings.
Too bad that was no longer true.
The police officer draped Steve’s discarded suit jacket over my shoulders.
The detective shook his head. “Put her in the closet. We don’
t need the wife seeing her.”
“The wife already saw it. She’s the one who found the body,” protested the police officer.
“I don’t care. Just put her in the closet. Have a little fucking respect.”
Grumbling about arrogant detectives, the police officer placed me in my dark safe cocoon.
At least this time I was placed sitting up on the floor. I still hadn’t gotten the use of my legs, so I did appreciate not being face down or on my knees for once.
For the next several days I listened to the sound of life outside my little cocoon.
Then everything became quiet.
Dark and quiet.
Months or perhaps years later, I heard someone coming down my stairs. They opened the door to my closet. Forcing myself to not react or blink from the sudden flash of bright light, I schooled my features to remain calm and vacant.
I was lifted out of the closet and held high.
Finally, I was able to look the person who disturbed my rest in the eye.
It was John.
His mouth twisted into a self-satisfied smile. “I was hoping you would still be here. Had to wait till after the cops and the funeral. Then fucking Carol wouldn’t let me back into the house. Took months of brown-nosing but it was worth it. You’re mine now.”
I stared back at him with vacant, lifeless eyes.
Laying me on the sofa, John wrapped me in a blanket. Hefting me over his shoulder, he said out loud. “Thanks, Steve old buddy, wherever you are! I’ll make sure to fuck her good!” He slapped me on the ass.
My pink plastic lips twisted into a smile.
I wonder how I will kill this one.
Nine
I can’t tell if my eyes are open.
What the fuck is happening to me? I can’t move my arms. Where am I?
“Open up the box, they’ll be here soon.” The words are excited, but I don’t recognize the voice.
The flash of light hurts my eyes, but I can’t close them or blink. I try to turn my head away, but it won’t move.
What the fuck is happening?
Several faces leaned over me. All men. Were they doctors? A fuzzy, indistinct memory of me choking on something floated across my addled mind. I must have choked and now I’m at the hospital. Where is Carol?
