Andi's Escape

As good as Jenna is feeling, she doesn't want what Candi's selling. She makes noises: Nuuuh . . . . NUUH. . . .

Candi pads over and turns Jenna's head and points. Jenna's eyes widen as she sees the camera. Smile, baby, says Candi. You're a star. Well, you will be soon, anyway.

From behind me, I hear my ex and Dwayne jacking off. New guy hasn't folded, yet. He seems pretty uncertain, like he's not sure he really wants any of this. I wonder if I can use that, somehow. If not now, later.

Onscreen, Candi has pulled off Jenna's shoes, socks, and jeans. With some tussling, she gets Jenna's T-shirt off, the dildo bouncing ridiculously as she does. From Jenna's mouth come more nuuh. . . . nuuh . . . . noises. And as dreamy as Jenna feels, there's panic in her eyes.

Now Jenna is in bra and panties. And they are dull, and mismatched. White granny-panties and peach-colored bra. Made all the duller by her being such a pale, mousy, slender thing. Yick.

I'm horrified. I'm judging the appearance of a woman about to be raped by someone who looks exactly like me.

Off come Jenna's panties and—with considerably more clumsiness—her bra. Candi caresses Jenna's body, saying pretty, pretty girl. I'm going to teach you sooo much. Then she straddles Jenna's midsection, grips the base of the dildo, and waggles it over Jenna's face. This is probably bigger than your husband, she coos.

"Hey, now—" says Dwayne, but my ex shushes him.

Onscreen: . . . anything you've ever had in you before. Right?

Yuuuh . . . .

Goodie. I'm going to start teaching you, now. This is school. This couch is my classroom. And I'm your teacher. Do you know what I'm going to teach you?

Nuuuh...

Candi giggles. I'm teaching you that no means yes. I'm teaching you that consent isn't sexy. Consent is booooorrrrring. But lack of consent. . . that's as sexy as it gets. I'll teach you that. And you'll give me a little fun, too.

Candi fiddles with something at the base of the strap-on. I can't see it, but it's a bullet-sized vibrator snugged up against her clitoris. I know this because Candi's used this contraption in other movies. The harder Candi grinds into Jenna, the more stimulation Candi'll get.

Candi moves between Jenna's legs, splays her, and slips a finger into Jenna's pussy. That solicits a throatily surprised groan from Jenna. Nice and wet, says Candi, pumping Jenna's pussy slowly. Naughty. But I knew you were a bad girl. So horny from this. See? No means yes. And lack of consent is sexy.

Jenna's shocked. Nothing about this should be making her horny, but the evidence is pretty clear. She isn't just trapped in her body. Her body is actively betraying her.

Candi pumps a few more moans out of Jenna, then she slips out her finger and licks it clean. Yummy. Not yummy like cum, but yummy. She slips two fingers into herself, pumps out a few moans, and then pokes her fingers into Jenna's nostrils. Here. Smell my cunt. Yummy like yours.

"This is twisted," says Dwayne. My ex laughs. New guy chuckles.

Candi moves down and plants her head between Jenna's legs and starts eating her. I'm surprised. I figured she'd just ram the cock in. But, no—instead we're treated to slow cunnilingus. Jenna's nuuuuh protests aren't very convincing, now. Her mind doesn't want this, but her body is deeply into it. Is this part of the process for changing her? Or is Candi just having fun?

Behind us, new guy unzips and starts stroking himself. He's given up.

Full disclosure: Jenna isn't my first woman. And I'm not even talking about all the other shit my ex has made Candi do. Back in college, I messed around some—well, a lot, really--with a girl. We didn't date, and it's weird for me to think of her as a "lover," but we did fuck around a lot, including with a strap-on. So . . . well, lesbian sex isn't the turn-off to me that it is to most women.

Lesbian rape, though--that's probably a turn-off. Especially when I'm the rapist.

On screen, Jenna's moans mount. The drug is really in full swing. Before she can cum, though, Candi pulls her mouth off her snatch, gets on her knees, and plants the fake cock at the mouth of Jenna's pussy. She leans over, licks Jenna's face, whispers in and nibbles her ear. And slowly she pushes the dildo in, letting Jenna's vagina stretch to accommodate the fake cock's girth. Jenna cries out, not nuuh but aaaaaaaahhh.

It's almost considerate. I wonder why Candi doesn't just start pummeling her, but that's not in whatever she and my ex worked out.

Eventually Candi presses all the way in, and the vibrator against her clit starts working its magic. For a while she grinds herself against Jenna, taking in the buzz, making happy sounds. Yeah . . . oh, yeah . . . . yeah, fuck . . . .

A motion at the corner of my eye. I look over at Jenna. Same dead-eyed stare at the screen. But something is happening. She's squirming. Breathing faster. Her nipples are gumdrop big and firm. And between her legs is a growing puddle, not of drool or urine but of vaginal juice. Jenna is producing a pool of arousal.

Impossible. But this whole thing is impossible. Mind control, all of it. And most disturbing is that whatever they're pumping into Jenna's skull is getting her grotesquely horny at watching Candi rape her. Even if the rape is gentle.

Gentle rape. Christ, Andi. Listen to yourself.

Onscreen, Candi's thrusts expand, pulling the dildo almost all the way out, then slowly pushing it back in, grinding a little to stimulate her clit, then doing it again. Jenna's aahhhhs are authentic. I think her eyes have rolled back into her head—it's a little hard to see. Why is the video such low quality?

Candi's thrusts grow more vigorous, her noises throatier, louder. Soon she's pounding away at Jenna, big, fake tits bouncing, hair flailing, hands clutching Jenna's hips. Jenna's smaller, natural breasts jiggle with the thrusts. The contrast is fascinating. Professional porn fucking an amateur body.

On screen, Jenna's eyes are closed, her aaahhs are now yuuuhs. It's a nightmare situation, her body's pleasure corroding coherent thought and emotional resistance. She's escaping into the pleasure, the only place she can go.

Candi stops thrusting, grinds herself against Jenna, and brings herself to a shuddering orgasm. I've seen Candi cum on screen a bunch, and they're all real, every one of them. It's all she lives for. That, and pleasing my ex.

Candi collapses onto Jenna. Smiles, kisses her cheek, caresses her hair, whispers in her ear. Like a lover. The dildo is still buried deep in Jenna. I wonder if she can feel the vibrator against her clit, too.

It's all silent for a while, the only sounds being our own breathing and the guys' behind us.

"It's getting slow," Dwayne eventually says.

"Be patient," says my ex. "We're getting to act two. Need another beer?"

"Sure."

My ex passes in front of me, erection bobbing. He leans in, kisses my forehead, and wipes his fingers under my nose. "Enjoying the show, darling? Have you figured out why we did this? Made this video?"

I shake my head. Enlighten me, fucker.

"So, up until now, nothing you've done is illegal," he says. "Candi's just another over-18 porn actress, nothing wrong with that. But now? Well"—and he gestures at the screen—"now you've clearly drugged and raped that girl. This girl sitting right over here. And rape, that isn't legal. Rapists go to jail."

I look down at my gag and raise my chin and nod my head. He removes the gag.

I work my jaw to loosen it up, then say, "So what. That's just another video. Jenna could be acting, too."

"Sure," he says, caressing my left tit. "Except that she isn't. She thinks you drugged her, stripped her, and raped her. She'll testify to that. So even if you manage to escape and go for help, you're a felon. We've got a witness and a home-quality video that you clearly made."

I finally get it. "You think I won't go to the police. Because you're making me into a rapist."

"Yup," he says. "And not just Jenna, either. Candi's going to make a few more of these videos with other girls, acting like Andi every time. We're filming the evidence that you're a serial rapist. And if you escape, these tapes are clear evidence of that. I'll erase my part in the tape, start it with you saying 'showtime.' You'll go to prison."

I process this, and I realize: All his time fucking and whoring out Candi has made him really stupid.

First up, I'd rather be in jail than let my body be moneymaking bimbomeat for him and his buddies.

Second, if Jenna runs away, she won't just talk about me. She'll talk about him, Dwayne, and new guy—everyone she saw in this room right before he drugged her and stuck the headphones on. They'll be as fucked as I supposedly am.

Finally, he's assuming that if I escape I'll run. No. If I do get free, the first thing I'll do is kill him. Chop him up and feed him to those fucking Rottweilers he's set on me. And if I go to prison for that, fantastic. I'd rather be free on death row than a slave in my body.

But I don't tell him any of this. I want him to think I'm buying it. If he thinks I'm too scared to escape, maybe he'll get sloppy, give me an opening. So I scream, "You fucking bastard," and try to sound frightened and sad and defeated all at once. I scream it a few more times.

The ex smirks, soaking up my screams, looks at Dwayne and new guy as if to say, See how smart I am? Then he wrestles the ball gag back in my mouth. "You're stuck, baby, and you know it. You've gotta stay with us, now."

My ex leaves me to retrieve the beers. His erection is gone and his dick is its usual tiny self. On-screen, Candi has dragged Jenna to be stomach-side down on the coffee table. Her head and upper body rest on the table, and her ass and legs hang off the edge. She stares out dazedly at the camera.

Candi comes forward and retrieves the camera. After some jostling, we see the room from Candi's point of view. She's strapped the camera to her head. Candi plants herself behind Jenna, and now we're looking down over Candi's big, tan tits at Jenna's ass. It's white and soft and ample and a little dimpled. Again, a normal woman's ass.

Even I have to admit this is hot. It reminds me of my fucking my girl in college. And because it's gentle and not violent, it is turning me on. Goddammit.

Candi spreads Jenna's cheeks and plants the head of the dildo on her asshole. Jenna makes an alarmed sound.

First time? Asks Candi. She traces the head in little circles around Jenna's pucker. Am I taking your anal cherry? Hm? Is this your first buttfuck? Answer me, lover.

Jenna doesn't answer, so Candi spanks her, hard. Answer me, lover, or I'll do it dry. Is this your first time taking it up the ass?

From Jenna we hear yuhhhhh.

Poor baby, says Candi. Never had an assfuck. Andi loves—I love assfucking. It feels so big, so dirty. Let me teach you what a good assfucking feels like.

Candi reaches behind the couch, pulls out a hidden bottle of lube, and applies it around and up Jenna's asshole and along the black dildo. She steadies the cock at the entrance to Jenna's anus. Jenna's nuuuh sounds start again.

Oh, hush,says Candi. You only think you don't want this. But you really do. All women really do. Let me show you.

Behind me, the men are jacking off again.

Candi starts out slowly, and I'm really surprised. The lube, the pace, the willingness to let Jenna's ass adjust—I expected something a lot more vicious.

Screen-Jenna is moaning aaaahhh, aaaahhh, AAAHHHH . . . .

Good girl, says Candi. You're doing great, taking this big cock up your ass. Doesn't it feel good? When Jenna doesn't respond, Candi spanks her again. Answer the question, little slut. Doesn't it feel good, having this great big cock up your ass?

Jenna whimpers. And then says yuuuuuh. It does feel good. That's the thing about the drug she's on. Although her mind is imploding in horror, what she's feeling is enormously pleasurable, including the huge cock in her ass.

How the fuck did my ex do this? Where did the drug come from? The laptop and headphones? He's a fucking plumber, for god's sake. And if he's got this technology, who else does? How many other people is this happening to? How many women? Or men, even?

What's happening to the world?

On screen, Candi sinks into Jenna's ass and slowly grinds. Jenna's aaaahs fade as her ass adjusts. Then Candi slowly pulls the dildo out, almost all the way out, then slowly back in. It takes a long time, but eventually she strikes a rhythm. Soon she's full on fucking Jenna. Her big tan tits sway, Jenna's pale ass ripples. Soft slapping sounds of pelvis on ass cheek, like waves lapping at a boat.

I can't help it. I like what I'm seeing and hearing. I get warm and wet below.

Behind me, the men's breathing is ragged. "Nearly over," gasps my ex. "Now or never, gents."

Candi fucking; Jenna crying out; and the men behind us start popping off. My ex goes first, hollering through clenched teeth. I hear the familiar splatter of cum on his belly and chest.

Surprisingly, new guy is next. He's grunts, and I hear the same ropy splats across his torso. I'm hoping that post-orgasm new guy feels like shit with guilt. Maybe I can use that.

On screen, Candi's done being gentle. She saws the dildo in and out of Jenna's ass. Yeah, yeah, oh yeah. oh fuck, oh fuck yeah. Soon she's just burbling. The view lurches like they're in tidal seas, then in a tornado. Then we're looking at a juddering wall. Candi is cumming. Shrill and uncontrollable. Onscreen, Jenna is screaming too. Candi must be using Jenna's tailbone to grind the vibrator into her clit, which means the dildo is parked all the way up Jenna's ass.

I look at real-world Jenna. Same dead-eyed gaze, but now she's quaking, thighs corded, hands and feet clenching and unclenching. The puddle at her crotch is overflowing onto my floor. The drugs and the headphones and the video have conspired to give her a devastating orgasm. And it just keeps going, and going.

Onscreen, Candi's own orgasm has stopped, and she's collapsed over Jenna. For a long time, there's only muffled dark and huhhh-huhhh-huhhh sounds. Behind me, Dwayne finally blows like a bear, as noisy and stupid as if he's been bucked off a bull. All three men have cum, now.

On screen are cooing noises. Candi is talking softly to Jenna. That's such a good girl. You know you loved this. Tell me you loved this.

There's a pause. Then screen-Jenna says yuuuhhh. Hard to know if she means it or is just playing along. Maybe both.

That's good. And if you loved it, it's not rape, is it? You won't tell anyone, right? This will be our little secret.

Yuuhhh.

Good girl. We'll do this a lot. More kissing sounds. Creepy-sweet. And the screen goes black. Video done.

At right, Jenna's orgasm screeches to a halt. From behind me, my ex reaches forth to wipe his cum on my cheek and ear, then through my hair. Dwayne laughs and does the same to Jenna. So does new guy.

My ex stretches. "There you go, Dwayne. Nice and gentle, like you wanted. Although even gentle rape is rape, right?" Dwayne laughs. New guy chuckles. I can't tell if I hear guilt.

Dwayne says: "So now—part two?"

Part two? What part two?

"Part two," confirms my ex. And then I hear plastic popping off plastic and—ouch!—a needle plunges into my thigh.

Goddamn it, no. What did he just do to me?

"Let's get Jenna ready. We've got about 45 minutes."

The men dress and unshackle Jenna. They drag her limp, pale form into the back room. New guy fetches more beers. I hear talking.

As cum crisps on my face, a familiar tingling from my pelvis. It's the drug I gave Jenna, the drug my ex gave me. Soon I can't move or hold up my head. All I can see are my tits and my crotch. And I'm getting really, really horny. Really horny.

Christ. Now what?

Time passes. Drool drops, then stops. My mouth must be dry. I'm so horny, panting through my nose. If I could move, I'd be squirming. I allow myself a moment of self-pity: It's so unfair. Even when I'm Andi, my body isn't my own. But that's all the self-pity I allow. Self-pity is giving up, and I'm not going to give up.

I am going to escape this.

I hear a new voice in the back office. Jenna. She's woken up. They're talking to her, and she's responding, but I can't make out what they're saying.

Minutes pass. Then my ex, Dwayne, and new guy come out. My ex lifts my head by my hair. "Feeling it, darling?"

I glare dully.

"Atta girl. Well, look. Today's a birthday. Did you know that? Someone's having a birthday."

My eyes show confusion.

"Why, it's Janie's birthday, of course. Janie's the birthday girl. It's her first day on earth. Here she comes now."

Someone pads out of the office. I hear a giggle. The men step back to let Jenna—now Janie—stand in the center of them all. She's naked except for a harness with a black strap-on dildo. The same one Candi raped her with. I can hear the buzzing of the bullet vibrator.

Janie stretches and shakes her blue hair, pushing out her tits and smiling lazily. "Morning, boys," she says. "Thank you for waking Janie." She kisses Dwayne on the cheek and caresses his crotch. "Especially you, Master. Thank you for making Janie. Janie is sooooooo grateful to be alive."

"Happy birthday, Janie," says my ex. He holds up my head to her. "We've got a gift for you. See here?"

Janie's eyes grow wide. "The pink girl," she breathes. "The one who hurt Jenna."

Oh, no. They told her about me. About Candi.

"That's right. It's Andi, the pink girl who did Jenna wrong. Andi is a bad girl. What should we do with the bad girl?"

"We should punish her." Janie's gaze is cold. "We should make the pink girl sorry."

"That's right, Janie. You need justice. And what's justice? It's an eye for an eye. Do unto Andi what Andi did to Jenna."

Janie smiles. It's all teeth. She presses her fingers into the buzzing bullet. Her eyes roll back in her head.

The men unshackle me and toss me onto the couch face-up. Janie straddles my chest. She's panting. The head of the dildo rests on my lips.

"She's a bad one, Janie. Don't be gentle. Punish her. She needs to learn a lesson."

"Yes, sir," she breathes. Her smile is insane. "Janie will fuck this cunt so hard. But first Janie wants to make the cunt's face dirty."

Janie pivots, planting her head at my pussy and her pussy over my face. Her cunt gleams at me acidly through the harness straps, the arousal of the last hour searing my nostrils. Then she starts licking me—oh, Christ, that feels so good, goddamnit, oh, fuck—and plants her sopping twat on my face, grinding it on my chin and nose, glazing me with her juice.

Fighting the drug would be useless, so I don't even try. I don't say either nuuuh or yuuuh. I just retreat, clutching my little victory like it's hope. My ex thinks I believe his stupid plan. Over time, that lie might make him careless. And I might get free.

Janie tires of grinding my face, so she pivots off, kneels between my thighs, and pulls up my calves to rest on her shoulders. She rams the fake cock into me, fast, and I holler and quake. There's nothing human in her eyes, just the need to get herself off. She pounds and grinds at me, and I can't help it—because of the drug, I'm nearing orgasm myself. Fuck, yes. It feels great. I feel great.

Over all the fucking, I hear new guy say: "Hey, what if she's lying?"

"What?" says my ex. "You mean Janie? About being Janie?"