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That Fucking Belt
by Lord John Thomas (lord_john_thomas@hotmail.com)

***

When the modern young woman of today looks at magazines 
and TV, she could be forgiven for thinking that the age 
of women’s liberation and achieving sexual equality 
were some real occurrence that made a big difference 
between the sexes. But this is a cautionary tale that 
shows that this is not exactly the case. Even now, 
under the surface most ordinary men treat women more 
like possessions, using them to show off their 
masculinity. (MMF, nc, rp, beast)

***

All of my stories include descriptions of sex scenes 
that could cause offence to some people. Please do not 
read this story if you are offended by perverse sexual 
material, or if you are under the legal age of consent 
for your own country. These stories are pure fiction 
and are not based on anyone living or deceased.

***

This is a true story as related to me by a now wiser 
and possibly less confident young woman; it’s a 
condemnation of the male sex. This is a story of brutal 
rape and humiliation.

"ARE YOU FRIGGIN’ READY YET?" My live in boyfriend’s 
voice came booming up the stairs.

"Won’t be long hon. Just got to find my shoes and I’ll 
be there.", I yelled back. Thinking to myself, "If I 
hadn’t had to waste time finding your goddamned shirt, 
and those goofball socks that you insist on wearing, 
I’d have been ready ages before you." As I walked down 
the stairs, he was standing at the bottom looking up 
towards me.

"What in the hell do yuh think ya look like? You're 
dressed like a 2 dollar ho." 

Now I know I wasn’t dressed like a nun, but no way was 
I dressed like a whore. Jesus H. Christ going to hell 
in a hand basket! Only six months ago, when we’d first 
started going out; this was how dumbass used to like me 
to look. So what was his current malfunction anyway? 

I had on a dress made of thin cotton, cut low on the 
bosom, with the hemline about six inches above the 
knee. After all, it was summer and the temperature was 
sky high, so I didn’t want to wear panty-hose or 
stockings. Besides, my legs had a nice tan and the hem 
wasn't so short that my thong underwear would show. So, 
I was dressed a happy medium, pleased that I was going 
to attract attention, but without seeming too slutty. 
Or, so I had thought.

On the way from our place to the roadhouse the fight 
that began on the stairs only got worse, and we were 
both really going at each other. To tell the truth this 
was not unusual lately, we had gotten to a stage in our 
relationship where bickering had become the normal 
start to an evening. But we’d usually end those same 
nights fucking, and swearing our undying love for each 
other. Better that than a 2 minute quickie, followed by 
a peck on the lips, and 5 hours of loud snores. 

As we walked into the honkytonk his parting comment 
was, "If you’re going to listen to that shit eating 
band that’s up to you, I’m gonna be playing pool with 
the guys." We were regulars at this roadhouse; and this 
going our own ways had become our usual routine. He 
joined his pals at the pool tables, and I sat ignored 
at the bar watching the band. Or, so it seemed.

As you walked into this place, to the left was a stage 
for the bands, with a small area kept clear for 
dancing. To the right was an area where all the pool 
tables were, and in the middle people sat drinking at 
the bar. I made my way around to the side where the 
band was already playing on stage. I hauled my sweet 
cheeks up on a tall bar stool and ordered a drink. And 
for the next half hour that’s where I sat, oblivious to 
anything except the band. A couple of guys wanted to 
dance, but I wasn’t in the mood after the fight with my 
boyfriend, so I just said, "no thanks."

The band finished playing and went off for their break, 
and some generic recorded music took their place. Using 
this slack time, I slid down from the stool and walked 
around to the pool table area of the roadhouse. Most of 
the stools lining the bar on that side were taken, but 
there was still one available, so I settled in and 
ordered another drink. 

Now, there’s one other thing to know about this bar, it 
is a haunt of two separate crowds of regulars that 
don’t get along well. One group’s from a town about 10 
miles north. It’s an old, mostly played out mining town 
surrounded by hilly land now taken over by ranchers. 
The other group is mainly made up of people from a 
small farming town to the south; this is the bunch my 
boyfriend and I belong to. 

It is not unusual to have a fight break out at sometime 
during the night, and when this does happen the entire 
establishment divides into two brawling gangs, all 
fighting for the sake of fighting, if you ask me. 

So, I would normally have found a stool near the pool 
tables usually occupied by my boyfriend’s crew, and if 
there weren’t a stool open, I’d have gone and hung by 
where he was playing. But tonight, still being a little 
pissed at him, and there being no open stool near their 
tables, I sat at the bar alongside the tables of the 
opposing crowd.

This didn’t present any problem at first, and as I 
nursed my drink I noticed the buckle on this one guy’s 
belt. It was really bitchin’, a big sculptured buckle. 
It had a naked girl lying on her back on top of a 
Harley, legs up in the air, and a naked guy fucking 
her. Without realizing it, every time this guy turned 
around, I was looking to see just how detailed this 
buckle was. 

Then I decided I needed to pee, so I asked the 
bartender to hold my seat, and I went to the can. As I 
was walking back, I'd just reached my stool, when this 
belt buckle guy smashed the cue ball into the pack on a 
break. As the ball broke the pack it ricocheted off the 
table and landed on the floor at my feet. By reflex I 
stooped down to pick it up, and in stooping my knees 
parted some, not that anyone could see anything, unless 
they were at floor level. 

As I was about to pick up the ball, a large hand 
wrapped itself around mine holding me still for a 
second. This guy with the buckle had dived onto the 
floor to retrieve his ball and was on his knees in 
between my legs.

"Thut’s a niiiiice li’l puss ya got there, kin ah pet 
it?" He said with a wicked grin on his face. "No you 
can’t, you disgusting perv. And let go of my hand.", I 
snapped.

He kept a tight hold of my hand, preventing me from 
standing up. 

"Ya know yuh want me. Ya been givin’ me thuh cum n’ git 
it look all night long, staring at my dick."

"Let me go. I wouldn’t fuck you, if you were the last 
guy alive; I was only looking at your buckle."

"Yeh! Ah bet. Thut’s like me sayin’ ah'm lookin’ at yer 
thong. But we both know damn well ah'm lookin’ to see 
how much coochie yer showin’. Yew might have 
bin lookin’ at muh buckle, but yew were shure as hell 
thinkin’ ‘bout mah dick."

"Don’t flatter yourself, if you use your dick as well 
as you use the pool cue, you wouldn’t be worth 
fucking."

"Yew fucking be-atch. Air yew sayin’ I cain't shoot 
pool?"

"You can’t play for shit; my bitch hound plays better 
pool than you. I could kick your ass six ways from 
Sunday without even trying."

"Yew cock teasers er all thuh same; yer flashin’ yer 
beaver and shootin’ off yer big mouth. But air ya gonna 
back it up with a bet?"

"Like what?"

"Muh belt ‘gainst yer cunt."

"What are you offering?"

"Ah win and yew cum out to muh truck. Then ah’ll fuck 
thet l’il twat a yorn."

"And if I win?"

"Don’ wurry none ‘bout thet, thut won’ happen."

"But if I win, I get your belt?"

"Nooo weey Ho-say lady. Thut ther’ belt cost me sum big 
bucks."

"So what’s a matter big bad chicken shit, you’re scared 
you’ll lose it to a woman?"

"Ok lady yer own. But yer gonna git thuh fuckin’ of yer 
life wunce this here game is over."

"Don’t be too sure; if I was you I’d start asking 
around to see if anyone’s got any twine. ‘Cause you’ll 
need something to hold your pants up with sooner n’ you 
think." 

With that a new table was racked up, the previous game 
he’d just started was left to one side. All the guys 
around were from his crew, and they all cottoned on to 
what had been taking place between us. By this time 
there was quite a crowd hanging at the table, and the 
shit was flying fast and furious in my direction. 

They were all being crude, mostly yacking monotonously 
that they thought I’d get smoked, then fucked. I had 
only taken on this poser galoot because I knew I could 
beat him, and anyway, he’d really pissed me off, so I 
wanted to take him down a notch or two. Besides, he 
wore fake alligator cowboy boots—don’t you just hate 
that?

The game would have been easy, too, except for his 
stooges all around the table. Since they had the back 
area surrounded, nobody from outside this group could 
see anything they were up to. Every time I bent forward 
I’d get some jerk running his hand up the inside of my 
leg, this made me miss a few easy shots. As a result in 
no time this lame ass had taken the lead, with five 
balls sunk to my one.

I knew if I lost that there was no way I’d get out of 
there without this neanderthal porking my snatch. I was 
also pretty sure his bottom feeder homies would come 
along to check it out, so things were getting kinda 
desperate. I was about to make a shot and as I leaned 
forward, I felt a hand on the inside of my knee, and it 
was sliding up my inner thigh. 

Without batting an eyelash, I swung around suddenly, 
turning the stick around in my hands like some kendo 
master and whacking the guy who was feeling me. I 
landed a very hard shot to his upper arm, knocking him 
sideways. Then, I stood there with my back against the 
table holding the stick reversed like a club in a 
threatening manner. 

They all started ragging on me with shit like: "Go 
ahead l’il gal give us yer best shot, ‘cause yew’ll 
only get wun." I knew I couldn’t win this kind of 
fight.

So I said, "Now look here you motha fuckahs, I’ll make 
y’all a deal. You leave me alone to play this game fair 
and square, and if I lose, you can all have a piece of 
the action. But if any one of you so much as breathes 
on me before this game’s over, then all bets are off 
and I’m gonna scream rape at the top of my lungs."

Surprisingly one big wrangler said, "Ok fellas give 
thuh l’il lady sum space; she’s earned thuh right to 
prove herseff. Enyway, Burt will soon have this here 
game in the bag, so whut's ar rush?"

With that the game continued. From all the comments 
that were whizzin’ by me, I was having trouble keeping 
my mind on the game. It got to red line pitch when mr. 
macho got a run of luck and sunk all his solid colors, 
leaving him only the 8 ball for the game. On my side, I 
still had six stripes plus the 8 ball if I wanted to 
leave without a bigtime fucking from a scuzball and 
likely worse.

I gotta tell you…by this point I was beginning to 
thoroughly regret shooting off my big mouth. So I took 
a deep breath to calm myself and thought carefully. For 
sure, my boyfriend would be wondering where I was by 
now. But then, the more I thought about it, the more I 
knew he wouldn't come looking for me tonight. It would 
be more than his pride could stand. He’d sooner hire a 
hooker for the night before he’d lower himself to come 
find me to say he was sorry. No, if I was going to get 
out of this mess, I was going to have to do it all by 
myself.

With that thought, I told myself to block out all my 
stupid thoughts, and remember how my ol’ daddy had 
taught me to play pool. I gathered up all my 
concentration, and it worked. Next shot, the ball went 
in. It hadn't been a hard shot, but it was exactly what 
I needed for shape to set me up. The next shot was a 
simple bump and stop with no english, and that one went 
in, too. Next came a shot that many would find tough. 
As I lined it up and took aim, it was as if the 
assholes around me had all got lockjaw. It was quiet as 
a church on offering pledge Sunday. 

I slid the stick over the bridge I’d made with my left 
hand. Zap, the cue ball just missed the intervening 
ball with the help of some well-delivered left back 
spin. The cue ball curved around the table clipping the 
fourteen ball and it spiraled gently into the pocket. I 
was definitely on a roll, the next two shots were no 
problem. Now one more ball and I would be even up with 
the shitkicker cowpoke. 

Ouch! On second look, this was another awkward shot 
coming up, but I knew I could make it. I had to. Again, 
I shut off the outside world from my mind, and I could 
feel my daddy’s hand on mine guiding the direction of 
my stick. In my head I could hear him whispering in my 
ear as he pressed close up behind me, and I could 
almost feel his hard prick that he would always push 
against my ass. 

You see, my ol’ daddy had inadvertently prepared me for 
this kind of situation beginning when I was knee high 
to a grasshopper. He used to stand behind me, at first 
with me standing on an orange crate, with his long arms 
wrapped around me. His hands would be guiding mine on 
the stick. He'd be explaining the technical details 
about how to make a shot, while at the same time 
sliding his fat prick up and down my butt crack on the 
outside of my skirt. After many years of this, I'd 
learned how to block out this kind of distraction, and 
concentrate on the game. With a tiny click as the balls 
made contact, the last of my striped balls went in. 
Whooooh!

Now with only the 8 ball to go, I could hear the shit 
storm start up again. But now the shoe was on the other 
foot, they were zinging this guy Burt. Everyone was 
saying things like: "If this one falls, the next thing 
to fall will be your pants." And there was quite a bit 
of horseplay and acting out, but it was Burt not me 
getting the brunt of it. 

I called the far side pocket and got up to the edge of 
the table and leaned as far forward as I could possibly 
reach. To get the control I needed with the dead on 
angle into the side pocket and not leave my ass waving 
in the breeze I had to lift one leg up onto the edge of 
the table. I leaned forward again, and a hand took hold 
of my crotch. I tried to react by bouncing back 
upright, but his other hand pressed firmly down in the 
middle of my back. I tried stabbing backwards with the 
butt of my stick, but he had stood to my left side and 
I was powerless to do anything. 

He leaned over and whispered in my ear. I recognized 
the voice of the big man who’d stepped in and calmed 
the situation down earlier; I figured him to be the 
ramrod of this crew. He was gently squeezing my twat, 
his fingertips sliding into my crotch, rubbing my cunt 
crack.

"Go ahead bitch sink this wun an’ yew cain have his 
belt. I’m jest gettin’ a quick feel, cuz it looks like 
yer gonna whup ‘im." I couldn’t stop this dude, and he 
was working my clit with an expert action, so I knew 
I’d soon lose all concentration.

What could I do? Against all odds I made one last 
determined effort to block out what he was doing while 
I still could, letting him have unrestricted access, 
and not wasting time fighting him off. I lined up my 
cue and smacked that cue ball…higher and much harder 
than I’d intended. As soon as I made contact with the 
ball, I knew I was gonna blow that shot. The cue ball 
cracked against the 8 way too hard and sent it zinging 
at the pocket, where it crashed against the back of the 
pocket and bounced back out over the cup lip and back 
across the table. My heart sank. Oh shit!

My thoughts now were where will it stop? Will I have 
left an easy shot for Burt? The very next instant my 
cue ball, which on impact had gone lickity-split in the 
opposite direction to the 8 no doubt to scratch, had 
instead also rebounded hard off the back of the pocket 
underneath me, and gone back to collide with the 8 once 
again. 

And now, recoiling from a second impact with the cue 
ball the 8 ball rolled slowly back towards the pocket 
that I’d originally aimed for. Only, it got slower and 
agonizingly slower and as it got to the lip of the 
pocket it appeared to stop, then abruptly dropped in 
and disappeared. Ooh Lordy! What were the odds against 
that? Better lucky than good, my ol’ daddy always said. 
The gasp of disbelief from the gang gathered around 
filled the air.

But although I’d won the game, I was still being held 
over the table, and this guy was working my clit 
something fierce. Now as I said, they had the area well 
screened off with their bodies, so only they could see 
my predicament. And now I’d made my shot, so I could no 
longer block out the signals that were coming from my 
clit. This guy rolled me over on my back and slid me 
along the table; I can remember someone taking the 
stick from my hand. I can also remember saying.

"Please no. Don’t do this. You’re not being fair. I 
won." But my pleas fell on deaf ears, and I was too far 
gone to struggle or protest. My legs were wide open, 
and I knew I was pushing down on the table with my 
feet, lifting my crotch up and down as he pushed his 
fingers deep up my pussy. 

When he rammed his fingers into me, I lifted pushing my 
hungry cunt hard against him. The rest of the guys all 
stood around watching. Soon, I was flopping up and down 
and cumming. His mouth clamped itself onto my pussy and 
he started drinking my cum as he supported my hips with 
his hands.

While I laid there still semi-conscious, other hands 
were all rubbing and feeling around my crotch. As I 
came back to earth I tried to sit up, but was pushed 
back down by Burt’s hand on my chest.

"Not sew fast li’l ladee ah want mah turn," he said. I 
was once again surprised by the big guy, grabbing 
Burt's hand and pulling him off me.

"What dew yew think yer dewing? She whupped yew fair 
and squar’," and with that he pulled Burt out of the 
way. He gave me his hand, and said, "Doan jest lay thur 
gal, git up own yer feet an’ collect yer winnin’s, yew 
certainly deeserve tuh." Getting helped up, I walked 
wobbily across to where Burt was standing. 

The big guy was glaring at Burt, which I’m sure was the 
only reason he stood still. I undid his sexy buckle and 
slid the belt out of the loops on his jeans. I wrapped 
it around the outside of my dress, buckled it up and 
let it slip down onto my hips. Finally, I couldn’t 
resist one last dig. "Thanks for the game cowpuncher, 
but if I were you, next time I’d pick on a girl from 
grade school." With that, I pushed my way through the 
circle of men, and re-took my seat at the bar.

I'd just had my twat fingered and my carpet munched, so 
I hadn’t got away with it scot-free. But that didn't 
stop me from sitting there like the cat that had just 
swallowed the canary. I had a big smug-assed grin on my 
face, and I was already thinking how I’d taught that 
poser a lesson…never to underestimate women. 

The guys had mostly got back to their games on 
different tables, but Burt was with three or four guys 
all huddled together. I thought maybe he was licking 
his wounds from the humiliation I’d just given him. So, 
I turned back towards the bar and continued drinking, 
and humming away to the music as the band had begun 
again. I was just musing to myself whether to move to 
the other side of the bar to watch the band better. 

Suddenly, the music stopped and the lights went out, 
the whole place was plunged into pitch black darkness. 
All hell broke loose among the panicked bar patrons. At 
that very instant, I was grabbed with two arms tight 
around my body hauling me from the stool, and a hand 
being clamped around my mouth. I fought them and 
struggled for all I was worth, but it was no good. 

Soon we were outside, and I was hustled across the 
parking lot to a large van.

There was a guy running ahead of us, and he had opened 
the big sliding side door. I was thrown inside, landing 
hard on the floor. At least ten men crowded their way 
in, and the door was slammed shut. Immediately, the 
sound system fired up and the music blasted out loud 
enough to make anyone deaf. Even if I’d screamed my 
lungs out, I couldn’t have been heard over the music. 
The van started moving and we were all soon 
accelerating like a bat out o’ hell down the road. 

Within minutes we had stopped, and so did the music. 
Burt walked up to me and he was the first to speak.

"Ok ladee we’re far away frum whair enywun kin hear yew 
now, so ef yew want to scream yew'd best git it over 
with. Cuz it ain’t gonna help yew eny...OK. Yew know 
who's giving thuh orders now. Ah want yew tuh stan’ 
up." 

I did as he asked, there was no point in being awkward. 
I stood there in front of him. "Reckon ah’ll have muh 
belt back now." Once again although I’d won the belt 
fair and square, it was pointless resisting. So without 
a word of protest, I undid the belt. I reached out my 
hand to give it back to him.

"Yew took it off. Yew cain put it back own." Meekly I 
went across and threaded it through the loops around 
the top of his jeans, and started to fasten the buckle.

"Doan bother dewing thet up darlin’; yew cain start 
unfastenin’ muh fly. Yew said ma pants would cum down, 
an’ now yew’re goin’ to be proved right." 

One thing I haven’t mentioned yet was that from the 
time I stood up in the van there was one guy flashing 
away with a camera, every time I moved he took a 
picture of me. Now, I was really in a fix, and a 
fucking was almost a done deal. 

I figured why get hell beat out of me, too. I might 
just as well do what they want and get it over with. I 
knelt down in front of him and undid his jeans, 
lowering them down and lifting his prick out of his 
pants. I stroked it and pulled gently, and then put my 
mouth to work, soon getting him to full erection. By 
now, I was being undressed by guys from all angles. My 
tits were being sucked, and my cunt was being squeezed. 

They laid me on the floor and Burt mounted me pushing 
his fat prick hard up inside my pussy. He jammed it in 
being as brutal as he could. Since my hole was still 
wet from the big guy’s fingering, Burt slid in easily, 
and in different circumstances, I might have loved it.

He only fucked me for about a minute, and when he could 
tell this wasn’t hurting me, he pulled out and lifted 
my legs high, presenting my ass at a better angle to 
his prong. My poor pussy had already been working 
overtime, due to being savagely fingered, so while he’d 
been fucking my cunt, my juices built up from before 
had been running out and down across my asshole. 

Realizing that would get him by my tight starfish, he 
rammed his now wet and slimy prick up into my hershey 
highway, hoping to make me scream. But coated with my 
thick cunt juice his johnson slid up kinda easily, and 
he had no choice left but to start fucking. He’d hardly 
got started before someone was shouting something at 
him.

"Come own Burt, we all want a turn at her. Yew cain see 
she’s taking that wiener dick o’ yorn too damn easy. 
Yew get own yer back an’ we’ll lower her ownto yew, 
thet wey ah can ram her hot cunt. With two at wunce, 
we’ll see ef she still finds thut a turn-own."

With that Burt pulled out, two guys grabbed my legs, 
and two more grabbed my arms. They hauled me up in the 
air, still facing up. Burt got on the floor on his back 
and I was lowered down so he could get his prick stuck 
deep into my now stretched brown pucker. 

Burt then took hold of my arms holding me down, not 
that it was necessary; I had decided resistance wasn’t 
an option. Now the guy who’d told Burt that he wanted a 
turn in my twat was getting into position. He forced 
his prick up my slot, and he like Burt was certainly 
not using any finesse. He rammed his somewhat larger 
shaft in as if he were trying to be as brutal as 
possible. 

Now I’m not a slut, and I’d never before had more than 
one man at a time. But I do like sex, and I’ve never 
found but one man up to now, that ever gave me more 
than I could take. 

On the contrary, I usually lay there after sex wishing 
my partner would suddenly get a new lease on life and 
fuck me again like he really meant it. So, although 
these guys appeared to be trying to be rough, the only 
thing at all uncomfortable so far was the unaccustomed 
stretching I was getting, because I’d never up until 
that time experienced two men at the same time. Yet, 
after the initial light pain, even this double team 
approach began to press all the right buttons, and the 
harder they banged away, the more I liked it.

Guys were pushing pricks to my mouth from both sides, 
and I was sucking them all in turn. Other guys were 
sucking on my nipples, and the whole experience just 
became something else. Suddenly, it was like being a 
kid at your birthday party, with all your favorite 
foods along with presents, too. In the process, I had 
lost all sense of shame or inhibitions. As the guy up 
my velvet tunnel was ready to cum, he pulled out and 
shot it all over my face. 

While he was doing that, someone else took his place 
and my sweet puss was once again hot into some action. 
Now this went on for at least an hour, and I came more 
times than I can remember. I had jizz shot up my ass, 
my twat, and down my throat. All the guys had had their 
turn, some were going at it more than once. The guy 
with the camera only stopped taking pictures while he 
was having his turn at me. How many pictures he’d taken 
I don’t know, but it must have been quite a few. 

Eventually, with limp dicks all around, they’d had all 
they wanted of me, and I was told not to be such a pig-
headed bitch again, or they’d give me another hardass 
gangbang. Although what these needle-dicked 
motherfuckers knew about hardcore gangbanging was an 
unsolved mystery to me. First time out, I could easily 
see them for the empty frauds they all were.

Whatever…the truck started up and we were moving again. 
While we drove, I cleaned myself up with some tissues 
and wipes, and got dressed, but they kept my thong as a 
souvenir. The truck barely stopped and I was shoved out 
the door like a sack of yesterday’s garbage. The door 
slammed and off they raced back down the road.

I realized that I was back in the parking lot behind 
the roadhouse. Peeling myself off the pavement, dirty 
but unhurt, I went in through a back door. I made my 
way straight to the ladies room, to check myself over. 
When I got done with all I could do to straighten 
myself up, I made my way back to the main bar, where I 
found my boyfriend still playing pool. 

As soon as he saw me, he threw down his stick and 
stormed towards me at full speed. As he reached me, he 
grabbed my arm half dragging me through the bar and out 
into one of the hallways, away from the main crowd.

"What in the fuckin’ hell have you been doin’? It’s all 
over the saloon that you put your furry little snatch 
up for a bet. Well…is it true?"

"It wasn’t like that."

"Wasn’t like what? Ya either did, or ya didn’t, they 
also reckon that yuh won that porno belt that guy 
wears. Well…did ya?"

"Well yes, I did."

"Ya did. Fucking aye, I’ll bet that pissed him off. I 
can't wait to see his face when he sees me wearing it. 
Where is it?"

"That’s what I was trying to tell you."

"What the sam hill are ya saying gal? You’ve either got 
the belt, or ya don’t !"

"Yes, I won it. But when the lights went out, they took 
me out to their van and they raped me."

"And the belt?"

"They took that back."

"Those lowdown cheatin’ bastards. That belt wuz worth a 
small fortune."

"Didn’t you hear what I said? They gang raped me! And 
all you can think about is that fucking belt!?"

"Well I’ve goddamned told ya hundreds of times, yuh 
dress like a ho, an’ what the hell can yuh expect. But 
if yuh won that belt, the shitheel sombitches have no 
right to steal it back. Still and all, I don’t think 
its worth starting a donnybrook over, it was too damned 
fancy anyway."

"So you’re not going to do anything about me being 
raped?"

"What’s to do? It’s over and done with now, and ya 
don’t look any the worse for wear. I wouldn’t mind 
betting yuh friggin’ egged them on anyway. I’m going 
back to finish my game. I’ll see yuh when its time to 
go home. It’s still a goddamned shame about that belt, 
I’d have liked to wear that, just to see his face."

With that he turned and went back into the pool room. 
What could I do, I went back into the bar, hauled my 
well-fucked ass up onto a stool, got a drink, and 
listened to the band. Sitting there I was very 
conscious of people looking at me, and I assumed they 
had all heard about my bet, and that was what they were 
talking about. But with all eyes on me, it was more 
than difficult, knowing that I had no panties on and my 
every move perched on the tall bar stool was 
precarious. 

Nevertheless, I sat there up on display till my 
boyfriend came back at the end of the evening to take 
me home.

That evening his total concern was apparently confined 
to the loss of the belt that he now considered was 
rightfully his. Go figure. You’d have thought that he’d 
won the son of a bitch himself. My rape was not even 
mentioned again, and he still had his usual fuck before 
going to sleep. Too bad I hadn’t caught cooties to give 
him.

The next day as he took off for work, he was still 
griping about losing that motherfucking belt. When I 
asked what time he’d be home, he said, "Doan’no, I’m 
goin’ straight to the roadhouse after work with the 
crew, I’ll see ya down there."

"I’ll see ya when you get home. I’ll give the bar scene 
a break for tonight; I’ve got housework to catch up 
on."

"Suit yourself. See ya when I get back.", and just like 
that he was long gone. Self-centered prick, but what 
else is new?", I thought. 

I went to work that morning as usual. Some of the guys 
there had heard about my bet. They were all jabbing me 
about my cutting this guy from Craigsville down to 
size, and I didn’t correct them by telling them how 
he’d raped me. I figured under the circumstances, the 
less people that knew, the better.

When I got home from work I set to get all the washing 
into the machine, and then do general tidying up and 
cleaning. By 8:00 I was plumb tuckered out, but our 
place now looked more like a home than a bomb site. I 
went upstairs to take a shower, and thought I’d slip 
into a nightie, get into bed, and watch a movie. 
I’d just walked out of the shower, into the bedroom, 
when I could see some headlights coming up our 
driveway. 

That driveway was maybe about 100 yards long, and led 
to an area in front of the house big enough to park up 
to somewhere around 10 pickups. The headlights coming 
up our driveway were from not one, but from a convoy of 
trucks and vans, as it turned out. The leading one I 
recognized as my boyfriend’s truck, but there were at 
least six more trucks following him.

The first thing that came to mind was that damned belt. 
I thought even though he’d said it wasn’t worth 
starting a war over, like most men he’d changed his 
mind. Six or seven trucks meant at least twenty plus 
guys. He’d obviously rounded up the whole crew 
together. It was unusual for all the guys to be out 
like this, it must be some special event. 

He’d pissed and moaned about the loss of ‘his’ belt, 
maybe until it had become a major pride issue. Could be 
that he was now coming home to collect his baseball 
bat, or even worse his .357! 

As the trucks all screeched to a stop, I’d expected him 
to jump out and come running in for whatever weapons 
he’d decided on using. Instead, as I looked out, all 
the guys were getting out of their trucks, and heading 
for the house. This got my attention, and for a moment 
I wondered what the hell was happening, but I didn’t 
have long to wait to find out.

I heard the front door open, and the boyfriend shout. 
"Where are you honey?"

"I’m upstairs, give me a minute to get dressed and I’ll 
be down."

"Don't bother, we’re coming up."

"But honey, I’m not dressed for guests. Just give me a 
few seconds." 

But I could hear them all clumping up the stairs, and 
the general atmosphere told me that they were already 
sloshed with booze. 

I ran towards the bedroom door with the intention of 
locking it. My boyfriend got to the door before me, 
punching it open, and storming in followed by all his 
friends. As he walked over in front of me, he held out 
his hand with what looked like a spread-out pack of 
cards. He threw them in the air and they floated down 
like confetti. 

Without picking one up, I could tell instantly that 
they were photos of me from the night before.

"So you were raped, were ya? Do these look like someone 
whose being raped?"

"But…"

"But nothing. Yewww fuckin’ slut. Yuh’re just a fuckin’ 
ho. You fuckin’ asked for everythin’ you got, and ya 
went along with the dirty bastards. Yeww let them fuck 
yew every way possible, an’ then went back fer more. 
Well, we’rrre gonna teach you a fuckin’ lesson yuh 
won’t forgit in a hurry. If yew think yuh got fucked 
last night, then yuh’d better think again, cuz tonight 
yer gonna get a real fuckin’." He drunkenly slurred his 
words so the redneck twang came out. In those same 
words there was also an anger and fierceness that 
twisted his face and spread into his pained bloodshot 
eyes that I’d never seen before.

Now as I have said about the previous night, I knew I 
couldn’t stop them, and there was no point in getting a 
beating. It was for sure and for certain I was going to 
get fucked that night, so I just went along with it. 
There was another thing that my ol’ daddy had taught me 
that applied here; he’d always said for every 
situation, you can make it either a positive or a 
negative. Along those lines sometimes the best policy 
is simply to shut up and play the hand you’re dealt the 
best you can even if you’re holding shitty cards. 

This practical attitude had gotten me through the 
previous night’s ordeal, without it becoming a major 
trauma. It looked like this next night would be no 
better, so I resigned myself to going along with the 
action.

They looked as though they too were going to make sure 
they got a visual record of all the action at my 
expense. There were two guys with video cameras, and 
one guy taking stills. I stood there with just my bath 
robe on. I was totally naked underneath.

"Git that shit suckin’ robe off, and git yourself up on 
the bed with yore legs spread wide," came the 
instruction from my now ex-boyfriend really feeling his 
firewater now. With a shrug, I unfastened the belt that 
was tied around my waist, and dropped the bath robe 
straight to the floor. 

I calmly walked across to the bed, climbed into the 
middle, and laid back with my legs bent high and spread 
wide open. As soon as my legs went up, there was near 
riot. The men lunged in from all around the bed. Like 
the previous night’s experience, they showed no sign of 
love or romance. They were out to abuse hell out of me, 
and abuse they did. 

The details of what happened when, or what happened 
first, are all a blur. But there were over 20 men, and 
I was fucked relentlessly for the next 3 solid hours. 
They delighted in shooting their cum in my face, and I 
dutifully sucked cocks one right after another the 
entire time I was being fucked. At one point they took 
turns pumping their slimy cream into a glass until 
they’d filled it about half way. When they gave it to 
me. I didn’t need a roadmap. I immediately drank it 
down in one long swallow, without having to be forced.

Some of the men started leaving, while others were 
still banging away at my well used hole. I even noticed 
one or two additional men arriving well-after the whole 
thing had started. When they had all finished, there 
were about 10 men still sitting around talking. At that 
time, the dogs in one of the guy’s trucks parked in the 
yard were disturbed by some of the other guys leaving. 
The fella whose dogs were barking went to the window 
and yelled for them to shut up. 

This simple action must have suggested a new idea to 
another guy’s hooch fogged brain. I saw him make a 
sudden bee-line for where my ex was sitting and say 
something I couldn’t hear. After that my ex got up and 
said, "Hal, go get a coupla your dawgs and bring them 
in here. Their always tryin’ to hump ma leg when we’re 
out huntin’. Let’s see what they can do with this 
bitch. We ain’t gonna have use for her again, so it 
don’t matter if they fuck her up, or not."

I realized right then in spite of my natural shock, 
smart gal that I am, that he was really going to get 
those dogs upstairs to fuck …me! But, as before, I 
decided resistance was futile. 

In truth, I’d seen pictures of girls with dogs, and had 
always wondered what it would feel like. I was soon 
going to find out up close and very personally, as 
these big hunting dogs came bounding into the bedroom. 
I was yanked up from the bed, and slapped down on the 
floor on my hands and knees. As soon as I was down, 
both dogs had their tongues lapping around my swollen 
cum dripping pussy, and the first dog was mounting me 
in mere seconds. His pointy prick stabbed all around 
the tops of my legs, and more by luck than judgment it 
found its target, and up my twat he went. 

There seemed no thickness to the prick at first, but 
rapidly it grew in length and diameter. He was soon 
completely filling my cunt. His pace was rapid, and the 
feeling was surprisingly good—once I got over what was 
fucking me. Just to be on the safe side, I did my best 
not to show how much I liked it. 

Within a minute, I could feel his big knot pressing 
hard against my tunnel. My vagina automatically reacted 
by opening up and in it popped, sorta like pushing a 
cork into a bottle neck and having it slip inside. Once 
he was in, he fucked me for all he was worth. It was 
heaven, and I’d blocked out of my mind the audience 
watching and let this animal take his pleasure however 
he wanted. He came inside me at least five times—I 
counted-- before his knot eventually slipped out.

After that happened I was ready to fall to the floor 
and rest, but dog number two had other ideas and was 
mounting up as soon as dog number one dropped out. The 
experience was unreal; I just let myself go and didn’t 
bother anymore what they thought of me. Piss on all of 
them. That was the best fucking I’d ever experienced. 
Stud puppy 2 came up inside me at least seven times I 
think—I was beyond counting by then. As his knot and 
prick slid out, I slumped to the floor lying on my 
side. 

While I was sprawled down there dog number one sidled 
across and started licking the tops of my legs. Not 
bothered about the audience, I lifted my leg up out of 
the way giving him renewed access to my now gaping 
twat, which he licked at furiously. Not only did this 
rev my engines, but it put some juice in the dog as 
well, and he soon stood straddled over me trying to 
hump, and his dick was sticking out of its sheath.

I arched my back, resting on my shoulders and feet, 
lifting only my hips up towards his jerking penis. His 
nice cock found my pussy, and we were soon merrily 
fucking once again. This was unbelievable. It was 
difficult to keep myself arched up for his dick to 
reach. But still, in this position, he fucked me and 
came three more times. After that, I just lay still 
with both dogs still licking me. 

As some of the guys were about to leave, one decided 
he’d piss all over me as a final insult, and this led 
to at least six others doing the same.

The last of the men left at about 2:00 in the morning, 
at which point my ex, gathered all my clothes out of 
the closets, and threw them and everything else I owned 
out of the window. He said I was lucky he wasn’t 
throwing me out with them. He said I could sleep 
downstairs in the kitchen with the dogs, but to make 
sure I’d left his house before he got up. 

I did sleep a while with our dogs. But even though the 
three dogs we had were bitches, they all took turns 
licking my pussy. By the time he’d gotten up I was 
ancient history-sold my car for cash and was riding the 
bus with all I could carry to the next state.

This experience didn’t do me any lasting sexual harm. 
But it demonstrates that if a man can’t wear you as 
jewelry, to show off to others, then he can’t stand 
anyone else having you. In that case, he'll even go so 
far as to want to destroy you. 

It’s now some years later. Don’t you worry about this 
kid. My ol’ daddy taught me to be a true survivor. 
Today I am far away from anyone who knew me back when, 
happily married to a loving man, with four kids, and 
still occasionally get stared at by men. Thank you very 
much. 

But, I have no illusions left even about my loving 
husband. Because now I know the boundaries that a woman 
dares not cross, if she wants to keep her man happy. 
Remember ladies: It’s not enough to be cleverer than 
the man, to beat any and all of them in the game of 
life you also need to be wiser, and that wisdom 
unfortunately only comes with hard won experience. 

By the way, does anybody know where I can get a good 
deal on a well-trained male dog to keep me feeling well 
looked after on my long lonely jogs through the woods?

END

Just in case any one is feeling worried about what 
effect that kind of experience would have on the mental 
state of the poor young lady. I can assure you that the 
above was pure fiction, and not based on any real 
person or place.

Thanks for reading, and please feel free to email me at 
Lord_John_Thomas@hotmail.com I would also like to 
acknowledge the much appreciated help give by Redbaron, 
who edit this story and gave it a genuine American 
flavour. "Edited by Redbaron719"

It is only the feedback from readers that make the 
effort of writing worthwhile, and I will answer all 
mail received (eventually). I would particularly like 
to hear comments from Girls living in England. To 
ensure I accept your mail, make sure your mail has 
‘Story Feedback’ as a subject, all other mail to this 
account is deleted as spam.

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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 37