Street Rats Ch. 01

What a shit! But she did not voice her irritation. To a degree, she had brought it on herself, climbing off the boy immediately after her climax as she'd done with no thought at all to her partner's completion. If she had continued to bounce herself on top of him, he wouldn't have put her in the present pose. Rolling aside had almost been an invitation for this, since she hadn't said otherwise. Easily misconstrued. Especially knowing how responsive she was to this form of congress.

Shogo pulled her hair as he made use of her in pursuit of his own satisfaction, and periodically slapped her upturned bottom. He was very rough on her; he made her eyes water. Still she refrained from protest. As was the case back in the bathhouse, his treatment of her was sexually fulfilling, despite its harshness and its demeaning qualities—or possibly because of them. He subjected her to great pleasure. Even when he was hurting her at the same time, somehow—it registered as pleasurable, rapidly propelling her toward another explosive orgasm. She allowed him to continue doing so.

Then there were snickers from above them—Stathan had at last reappeared, tromping down the stairs with sacks in his arms. As a further, far less welcome surprise, he hadn't shown up alone. Other boys were scrambling through the jagged entrance. Several. Chade was not happy to see that. Actually it made her furious. They were all the same sort as Stathan and Shogo. Same age, same outfits, same knives, same swagger. Only one stood out slightly on account of his weight—he was rather chunky. Made you wonder how he stayed that way.

Stathan seemed to have summoned his entire gang. They quickly gathered in a circle around her and Shogo. A close circle, very close, looming. On her hands and knees, they seemed like giants as they watched her sway forward and back, faster and faster upon Shogo's cock, smacking her buttocks against his hips as he smacked his hips against her buttocks. They leered and whistled and jostled each other. They clapped their hands. No, that wasn't any of the newcomers—the clapping was her and Shogo, from her ass and his hips ... It was mortifying. It was the most mortifying moment of her life.

As shocked and embarrassed as she'd been in the bathhouse when the Pillar witch had barged in and discovered her, that felt like nothing compared to this ...

Shogo paid them no mind. He kept right on industriously fucking her with barely a hitch in his rhythm. What little hitch there was happened because Chade tried to separate from him and scramble away. Shogo didn't allow it, no matter how much she wriggled and kicked.

"Pound her a bit harder," Stathan remarked, in quite a casual tone, "She likes it harder than you're doing."

Shogo grunted and obliged. The change was startling for her—and savage.

"Not that much," Stathan coached. When Shogo adjusted again, Stathan nodded his approval. "There. Like that. Now you have her."

It did indeed make a difference, the new adjustment. She was astonished how much a difference was made. Of course she very much did not want to climax again in front of all these young men. Not while they were judging the performance like a piece of theatre or a sporting event. She tried to stop herself—tried her damnedest. Turned out it was too late for that—Shogo had already brought her too far along. There was no way to hold it back or even to hide it.

She bit her bottom lip, hard enough to make it bleed, in order to keep her mouth shut. Still she couldn't keep quiet. She still screamed. They all heard her. Her mouth stayed closed and it didn't matter, it hardly muffled her cry. The boys all recognized the sound for what it was, and what it signified. Not just a scream, a scream of crisis. A scream of climax. Those always have a special quality all their own, don't they? They always hit a different note than every previous vocalization one might make during sex. Sometimes it's a step or two up, sometimes a step or two down. This one had pitched up.

Also she was looking Stathan dead in the eyes, as it passed through her ... She wanted to close hers as the orgasm started—except it would have seemed too much like a retreat or a defeat. She made herself keep staring upward at him, watching him watch her. She grit her teeth in defiance. He copied the expression. Then she watched his expression slacken and shift swiftly into dazed rapture, in a direct reflective reaction to the helpless (and reluctant) rapture of her own.

6.

"Don't imagine I'm going to have sex with any of the rest of you," she said when it was over, and she had recovered the capacity for coherent speech, "just because you happened to walk in here without warning."

Stathan shrugged as he sat on a crate. "I made no such suggestion, did I?"

Chade did her best to appear composed. She sat up very straight and resisted the urge to shield her body with her hands. Too late for that, far too late. She planted her palms flat on the floor behind her bottom to support herself, and to anchor them there and keep them still. Also she must control her breathing. None of this was easy, but if she acted otherwise she would give away her humiliation and terror. "Who are these others? Why did you bring them here?" Even as she spoke, she could feel Shogo's seed trickling from her slit. Hopefully it wasn't visible, with the position her legs were folded. She did not allow herself to glance down and check.

"These are my brothers, same as Shogo." She knew he didn't mean blood kin—but she also knew the bond should be considered as strong, or even stronger. "We've brought more wine, and food. Some fruit and things. A bite or two of fish. You can smell it, can't you? Smells good, doesn't it?"

"What about my things?"

"No, I'm sorry. Not possible, not yet. Can't find them. Can't get in the place to look. Not yet."

"But you said if you couldn't, you'd find me other things. You swore to me!"

"Yes, yes. I shall, if need be. Tomorrow. You must have patience. There's no need for you to fret. I still believe we can recover your baggage—even if the other witches took them away. I know where they'll have stored them. It could only be two or three places. Might take me another few days to check them all. Four or five, at most."

"Five whole days! You expect me to stay this way for five whole days!"

He shrugged. "If you don't wish to wait, just go. Why not just go, if that's what you want? We haven't locked the door on you, have we?" All his group thought this was a very fine joke, considering at the top of the stairs there was no actual door at all. They laughed a great deal, and repeated the line several times.

"Don't tease me. I can't go anywhere without clothes. There's also money and other things. The papers I was carrying. It's cruel of you to mock me. I'm trapped here when you promised to help me! You gave your word! I waited down here all day and you've brought me nothing!"

"That's not so. I brought you food. It's time to eat, not argue. Are you not hungry? The rest of us are. Have some more wine, at least. It will improve your spirits."

Was it a mistake to accept the jug from his hands, without further protest? It probably was. Even so, it was what she did. And perhaps everything else became inevitable, from that point forward.

She ate three peaches. She devoured them, actually. As soon as she took the first bite, she realized how ravenous she was. The fruit was bruised and overripe. They tasted fine—better than fine. Juice squirted everywhere. It dribbled all over her. If she'd had a shirt, she would have got it stained.

"Let me clean that mess off you," said another of the boys, producing a handkerchief. She didn't know his name yet. She didn't care to know it. His face was badly scarred, and he had a thicker stubble than the rest. He must have let it grow in an attempt to screen his disfigurement. Didn't work.

She reached to take the handkerchief, but he caught her wrist and moved her arm out of his way. He leaned close and wiped her chin and her neck, then flung the handkerchief aside. "Still so much juice, isn't there?" He was looking at her breasts and belly, glistening. He bent his head and began to lick her nipples.

"Don't," she told him, pushing at his head, "Stop that at once."

He did stop licking her nipples—he started nibbling and biting on them instead. Tugging on them with his teeth. It made her gasp and squirm, every time he did it.

Another street rat on her other side had seized her ankle. He lifted her leg so he could caress her calf, and kissed the ball of her ankle. He made silly teasing circles around it with his lips. This was subtler, far less aggressive stimulation than her breasts were receiving, and yet the surges of tingling it triggered through the elevated limb were equally potent. He stretched the leg higher, and that also stretched the opening of her sex.

"She's a very fine catch, isn't she?" that fellow commented between kisses. She noticed his hair was braided the same as Stathan's. "Every little part of her, look." He fiddled with her toes and then licked some more around her ankle.

"Careful," said another one, nudging him, "Look how dirty her feet have gotten."

The one holding her leg shrugged. "Her ankle looks fine." But then he examined the bottom of her foot, gray with dust, and grimaced. "You brought this girl from the bathhouse, Stathan?"

Stathan smirked. "She got dirty again."

"She's very dirty," Shogo agreed, "A very dirty girl."

"No I'm not!" Chade said, "I'm not! I'm—Ahhuuhhuuh!"

The one that had been biting her nipples had moved his mouth down across her belly to her crotch, using his tongue again instead of his teeth.

"Wait! You can't all just—Ahhaahh! Ahhaahuuhh!"

7.

"How long are you going to keep doing this to me?"

Stathan only smiled down at her—very much the same smile as when she'd taken the wine from his hands, an hour or so earlier. His face was much closer to her, however—they were nose to nose. He adjusted the position of her arms, pressing them slightly higher and straighter over her head. He did not adjust the rhythm of his thrusting—thrusting—thrusting—

She tried to repeat the question. She couldn't. "How—Huhh!" She could barely manage breath. For the moment, overwhelmed with sensation, she could only pant until the crisis ran its course and faded. "Huh. Huh. Huh! Huh! Huuhhuuhh!"

It startled her when he finally spoke. She'd given up on getting a response from him, and then he said, "You feel so good ... Gods, it's good in you!" He spoke this like a pronouncement. A proclamation.

She wished it was different for her. It wasn't right she was feeling it the same as he was. It wasn't fair. She tried stretching her knees further apart, hoping it might lessen the impact of his movement. Didn't work. If anything, the sensations increased. How was she ever going to escape from him, if it kept feeling this way every time? Every single time he thrust his cock inside of her ... she couldn't put up any defense at all.

"You're never going to let me go, are you?" she said, "You never will!"

"You could have left before, I told you."

She snorted. "Oh sure, indeed. Bare naked, on the streets."

"Yes, staying was the better decision. You wouldn't be safe out there, on your own—with nothing. But we'll look after you as long as you stay with us. We'll keep you safe here and we'll take good care of you. You know we will."

"You promised you'd bring me clothes."

"I know I did. And you know I didn't mean it. I was lying. I like you so much better this way."

"I'm sure you do—powerless, pinned on my back, with your cock inside me. And all your little minions watching us and cheering you on while you ... while you ... take me."

Actually by that point the rest of his gang weren't paying attention any longer. Some were asleep; others played with dice on the far end of the cellar.

Stathan made another proud proclamation. "You've got a perfect cunt, witch. It's so perfectly tight and wet and warm. I adore the perfect way you squeeze it on me, when I push myself in deeper, like this! Like this!"

"Uhhn! Hoohh! That's too deep! You push too hard!"

"I have to—it feels so good. Doesn't it? It does, doesn't it?"

"Yuuhhh! Oh, damn you. Damn you!" Her feet lifted higher, toes clenching ... Her arms strained and twisted against his hands, and it was useless—she couldn't pull free. She couldn't escape his grip. She couldn't escape his cock. "Damn you! Nuuhhuuhhnnuuh!"

"I love the sounds you make, when you come."

"I'm not coming. I didn't come. You hurt me! You're hurting me!"

"I don't believe you. You came for me just then and you'll come again very soon. I know you will."

"No! I won't!" But she would. And he'd know when she did. She wouldn't be able to hide it. She never could hide it ...

"Your face—your face looks so cute when you come. Every single time, you look so startled. Like you've never felt it before. Like you don't understand what's happening to you. But really you do. You know what it means. I know you do."

"You tricked me and now I'm trapped here. You're never going to set me free."

"It's not so bad, is it?"

"You're raping me. I'm your prisoner and this is rape. Rape!"

"No it's not. I don't agree with that at all. It's unjust of you to say that."

"Ha! Unjust! Ha! Huuhhnn. Huuh!"

"You wouldn't keep coming, if this was rape. How many times have you come now? I've lost count."

"That changes nothing! It's still rape! It doesn't matter how many times you make me come—because you forced me to!"

"How could I force you to come, if you don't enjoy what I'm doing to you?"

"You coerced me into letting you do this to me. You took dishonorable advantage of my vulnerability."

"You mean your nakedness."

"I mean my situation. My fear of the Pillars catching me, most crucially."

"But also there's your lust. We couldn't have trapped you without that."

She didn't respond. She couldn't. She didn't know how.

"You are quite a randy creature. We knew that from the start, obviously. When we met you. There's no sense pretending any different. You chose us. You hired us at the bathhouse for fucking. I'm giving you what you wanted, what you like."

"That was nothing like this, not at all. That was a fair, safe and consensual transaction! This is not!"

"This is better, isn't it? This is much more exciting."

"Exciting?"

"Yes. Face it. It excited you, when you realized what I'd done—that I tricked you, and I had trapped you naked and helpless, in this squalid little room of ours—it made you shiver, and it made you pant, and it made you wet. It did! When you realized we all were gonna fuck you, you didn't cry, you didn't fight, you didn't beg for a reprieve. You just spread yourself open on the floor and took our cocks." That certainly wasn't how she remembered it. "You took them in your mouth and you took them in your cunt. You've kept taking them ever since." That part, alas, she couldn't refute. Nor could she refute it when he said: "We never have to force them in—you're wet for me, every time I penetrate you."

"That doesn't make it right! You know it doesn't! This is wicked and vile, everything you've done to me—everything you keep doing!"

"Is this wicked? Is this vile?"

"Haarrhhnn! Huuhhaahhuuh!"

"I suppose this must be, as well. And this? How about this?"

"Yes! Yes it is! Yes! Ahhgguuhh!"

"Let's see if I can coerce you into coming again ... Let's see how much more coercion it takes ..."

"Stop! Stop! Ohhhh STOP!"

"I'll stop after you come again ... if you make me come right after that, anyway. Then you can have a good rest for a while. But you'll have to come one last time first. One more, to bring me over with you."

"I won't! I don't want to! I refuse! I refuse!"

"I'm right behind you, I promise. Come on now. Come on and come. Come!"

"Street rat! Filthy creep!" Nonetheless she could not prevent herself coming as she berated him. "Creeeeep! You're NOTHING! Nothing but trash! Traahhaahhaahhash!"

"What does that make you?" he asked, as she felt his cock once more erupting in triumph inside of her.

8.

Chade lay curled on her side, her face to the wall, listening to them talk about her on the far end of the room, around a candle. They must have thought she was asleep. She wasn't—though at the same time she didn't feel she could move. Not even slightly, not if her life depended on it. She was too worn out, too drunk and too discouraged. Her head was throbbing, and so was her passage, inside. Her cunt, to put it plainer. Felt much more appropriate to use that sort of name for it in her present circumstances. It didn't exactly hurt the same as her skull, but it felt tender and stretched and faintly itchy. Wouldn't let her sleep, no matter how much she wanted to and needed to. Instead she listened to the street rats discussing her.

Which was dreadful. Horrifying. What, in the end, were they going to decide? What would she have to face from them, tomorrow?

Surely her situation was going to get worse. One way or another, whatever they decided ... She could feel it. This was only going to get scarier, the longer they kept her. The longer they got away with it, the bolder about it they would become.

The stout one, Prohale, remained the most nervous—the most boyish of the boys. The most worried. "What are we going to do with her? In the end, I mean?" He was the only one that hadn't repeatedly fucked her. He'd contented himself with fingering her and making her suck him off.

"There's not gonna be any end," said Stathan. "She'll stay her with us, with me. I'll look after her. And you'll all help me do it, so long as each of you want to keep ... seeing her. Right?"

"She can't stay here! You're mad! She's a Favored, Stathan."

"Not much of one. She's very young—and I don't believe she's fully trained. If she is, she hasn't much Talent. If the poor girl had any real power, she'd have taken herself out of here by now. She certainly wouldn't have let all of us have at her like that—like we did all day long. Would she?"

"Maybe she likes being here. Maybe she likes what we do with her." This was the big-nosed one. Still hadn't caught his name. "She never fought us, did she? Not really. None of us, never."

"You're an idiot, Hordan, and you always were." Well, that answered that question, anyway—Prohale went on: "She's scared of us. She's petrified. That's why she doesn't fight us—she's too scared of getting us angry. Thinks we'll beat her or throw her out on the street, naked. Like you threatened to do, Stathan. Those crazy Pillar witches won't show her a shred of sympathy. They'll put her straight into the stocks."

"I was only teasing her. I wouldn't have let go off like that. I won't let her go at all. I'm gonna keep her here, as I keep telling you."

"For how long?"

"As long as I want. Long as I can."

"Other witches will find her. It won't take them long—they'll use their fucking magic to track her, and there's nothing we can do about that. They won't stop looking for her, even if you're right and her powers are weak and she's low-status. It's not just the crazy local Pillars I'm talking about. Her own sisterhood, whatever it is, won't just shrug or sigh, when they find out she's vanished. And if they catch us with her—when they catch us, rather—they'll skin us alive. And that's no figure of speech."

"But think about what will happen to her! This is why she had to run off with us in the first place. It's their rules. Not just for the Pillars—they're just crazier and stricter than the rest. The same rules are meant for all of them, anyways. A Favored is not supposed to consort with the lowly likes of us. They all do, of course—unless they're into something even darker—but that won't matter. That won't save her. Her actions have besmirched their precious high-and-mighty dignity. If they find her here, without any clothes on, reeking of our come, they'll punish her worse than they would us. We're not keeping her prisoner, not really—we're keeping her hidden, and keeping her safe."