The Life of a Hoosier Farm Girl Ch. 07

Chloe followed my lead, and slowly and sexily undressed, tossing her clothes at the faces of the men as they came off. Then Chloe pushed me down on the couch and began to kiss me. She lay on top of me. Our boobs touched the other's boobs. Our pussies pushed against the other's. Her kisses were fantastic. I got aroused.

Chloe brought her mouth down to my boobs and kissed and fondled them for a bit. She left a trail of kisses down my body until she got to where my legs meet my torso. She gently, ever so gently, pushed my legs apart, and I opened them as wide as possible for her. Then it happened: he lips brushed the soft, fine, and sensitive hairs of my blonde bush.

It was electric. She lapped at my labia, first the right side, then the left side. The right side again, then the left side again. Over and over she repeated the tease. She licked my vaginal opening, and then softly, gently, she pushed a finger in. I gasped. She pumped her finger while she licked all around my clitoris. She added a finger, and later she added a third finger inside my cunt, the three of them pumping in and out, in and out. After around ten minutes of this, she kissed my clit, finally, and I exploded.

My body shook and vibrated. I had never had an orgasm feel so wonderful as the one she gave me just then. She crawled up and kissed me some more. Then she got up, and she said to the four men, all of whom were now naked and looked to be hard as rocks, "Nancy is ready for you, boys. And so am I."

"Thanks, Chloe. We'll take it from here," Al said. "Harry, Adam, come on and give me a hand."

Adam is huge, and picked me up as if I were a child's toy and he tossed me, naked, over his shoulder. They began to walk to the hall.

"Wait! Where are you taking me?" I yelled.

"Shush, Nancy," Al said. "We're taking you upstairs. Now be quiet please, and be a good girl."

"You're taking me over Al's shoulder, naked?!" I exclaimed. "Are you nuts? What's going on?"

"Put her down, Adam. Let her walk," Al said. "Mike, you stay here and have fun with Chloe."

Adam put me down. This was beyond strange and I was freaked out. I stumbled and collapsed to the ground. I did not seem to be able to control my legs very well. Had I really drunk that much? My arms felt heavy, too, and my brain was suddenly all foggy.

"Boy, this girl is going fast. Better carry her, Adam," Al said. Adam effortlessly returned me to his shoulder. I tried to kick and protest, but almost nothing happened. As we left I heard Chloe saying, "No stop, Mike! I don't want to! Stop, I say! Then I heard a smack and a thud, and the door slammed closed as Harry, Al and Adam with me on his shoulder, naked, entered the hall and Harry punched the elevator's up button.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up in bed. My vagina was sore, I was still naked, and I had a horrible headache. I quickly discovered I was restrained and could not move. I was tied up, spread eagle, in a bed. There was dried cum on my stomach. I looked around the room and it looked like a torture chamber from right out of the Spanish inquisition, but more modern, equipped with electric pulleys.

As my eyes opened the pulleys sprang into action, and my feet were forced apart, and I was raised via the electric motors into a vertical position, suspended from the ceiling, like Christ on the cross. My feet just barely touched the bed I had been lying on. Only the cross was missing, and Christ had his legs together. Mine were spread by the clamps around my ankles, maximally exposing my pussy.

The room had three different paintings of St. Sebastian on the cross, slowly bleeding to death, looking up and smiling. There was a wooden statue of St. Sebastian, too. The room was like a torture chamber and an homage to St. Sebastian at the same time. I was still stark naked, tummy decorated with crusty cum, sore, and the only living person in this bedroom of horror. I was scared out of my mind.

Al walked in. He had a big knife in his hand that glistened in the light. I stared at the St Sebastian paintings and looked at the knife. Was I going to leave this apartment alive? Was I to be cut and mutilated? I was so scared, I was shaking. Al approached me silently; I was suspended in the air. I tried, fruitlessly, to squirm free. It was hopeless. I was so scared I lost control of my bladder and peed. A gusher of pee cascaded to the bed below me.

I saw an evil smile on Al's face. He was naked. Not a bad body, I thought to myself, then tried to hit myself on my head for thinking like that when I was clearly about to be murdered. But of course, I could not even hit my own head since my arms were immobilized.

I was going to die, naked, suspended from the ceiling, in this crazy man's bedroom/torture chamber. Would he have me slowly bleed to death to feed his obvious St. Sebastian fetish? That's how the ancient Romans killed their criminals: They bled them to death, hanging on crosses. Jesus Christ -- all I did was go on a date with Mike! How did all this happen to me?

I looked at Al. He had a raging hard on as he stroked his knife. I began to cry, waiting for my bloody death. I thought of my family. I thought of Indiana. Mike was not going to save me; Christ, he had set me up for this! Nobody was going to save me. Oh, my God.

"Stay still. Don't move," Al said, and he took the knife and gently slashed a wound under my left breast. It immediately began to bleed. The red blood flowed out of me and down to the bed. It was joining all my pee, turning the yellow puddle into some sort of scary shade of pink. I did not know what to do or what to say.

Do I beg? Do I plead? Do I remain silent so as not to anger this monster? Was he going to make another slash under my other breast? Was he committed to some kind of sick symmetry? The paintings of St. Sebastian on the walls showed many much slits. Some had arrows still stuck in St. Sebastian's body. One painting had two arrows in his body; another had around five. At least Al was not using arrows. Not yet, anyway.

Al turned and left the room. He returned with a man I had never seen before. "This is Alex. He painted the three reproductions of St. Sebastian that you see on the walls. Do you like them?"

I was still afraid to speak, so I just nodded. "His most recent masterpiece is of our friend Billie Jean. Shall I show it to her, Alex?" Alex nodded.

Al left the room and brought a large, three foot by five-foot painting of Billie Jean. She was hanging exactly as I was. Alex clearly made up the background; she was in front of an open field in the painting. Alex finally spoke, "She was a good model. Too much crying, though."

In the painting, Billie Jean hung as I did, naked with her arms spread, and her legs spread. It was sort of a floating spread eagle position. She had only one gaping slash under her left breast, exactly as I now had. In the painting, she was bleeding with a stream of blood falling from her chest. She was also urinating, with a trickle of pee falling from her crotch.

I said, "Nice painting, Alex. You have talent." My sarcastic, bogus flattery served a purpose: Maybe if I could keep these sadists happy, they might let me live?

Al returned with a camera and took a whole slew of photos of me hanging there. He took a short video as he walked around me, capturing all sides of my naked, hanging body, with the blood dripping down from the slash on my chest. "This is in case you pass out or something; Alex can finish from the picture. But it's always better if you can maintain the pose. Of course, eventually, blood loss could be a problem."

Pass out or something? I thought. What does Al mean by 'or something?' I guess he means in case I bleed to death before Alex finishes his goddam painting!

"When we're done, we'll celebrate with a sexual marathon: you, me, and Alex. So you can look forward to that. In the meantime, before Alex gets too involved, I'm going to lower your body and get an advance on the sex."

He then turned on the machines and they lowered me back to the bed, spread-eagled on my back. I was lying on top of my pool of piss and blood. I was so scared, and sure I was going to die, I did not care. Then Al climbed on top of me. Obviously I was not aroused. My pussy was not wet. But apparently he did not care about such trifles.

Al took me rather brutally. Eventually my vagina lubricated, but until it did his fuck hurt like hell. It occurred to me I was being bound and raped while Alex calmly watched and waited for me to be returned to my "pose" for him. That happened as soon as Al climbed off of me, his own body smeared a bit with my blood.

Eventually, as Al predicted, I passed out. My head must have slumped forward, as I lost consciousness from loss of blood. The machines lowered me onto the bed, which was now drenched with my blood. Alex used smelling salts and I awoke, and he gave me a drink, telling me to drink it as it would help to replenish my blood.

"Not if I keep bleeding out," I managed to say with great difficulty. "I'm going to die, aren't I?"

"You might. All the others have, except for one," Alex said. "But some have lived long enough for the sex marathon. I hope you do, as I would love to fuck you to smithereens." Alex stopped, pausing in thought.

"Of course," Alex continued, "what I will really enjoy is fucking you after you die, when your body is still warm, and your cunt still wet. That's really the best. I've fucked all the girls after they die, except of course for Billie Jean. You will be special, I can feel it." Alex stroked his cock as he said this.

Close to passing out again, and needing blood, I still managed to think to myself, this guy is totally crazy. They both are! God help me, and then I guess I lost consciousness again. When I woke up I felt weak, but better. My St. Sebastian wound was bandaged. I'm a nurse, so I can tell you with some authority that it was poorly done. But at least I was no longer bleeding.

I dreamed as I slowly regained consciousness. I had visions of all the other women they had killed. I wondered how many there were? They were all calling to me, urgently but in sweet voices, and they were all saying the same thing: escape! Escape Nancy, and then stop these men!

"Welcome back," Alex said. I just finished your painting. Want to see it?"

All I could manage was some kind of guttural groan.

"I'll take that as a yes," Alex said. He showed me the painting. Obviously, he devoted much more attention to painting my breasts, my slash and bloody wound, and my bush, than he did to my face. Still, one could tell it was me. My boobs did look great.

"Well?" Alex said expectantly. I gave him a crooked smile, all I could manage, and nodded. I was hoping that if they bothered to bandage their butchery, perhaps they were not going to kill me. But maybe they just wanted me alive long enough to enjoy me sexually. They had not yet had their marathon rape. I shuddered as I thought that.

I remembered that Alex said 'all the others have died except one.' I shivered. I remembered that Billie Jean herself almost died, and I had no idea if she had recovered yet, or not. She did not look like a happy camper in her own St. Sebastian portrait. I idly wondered how many of these portraits this monster had? I could ask him. Best to get out as fast I could. But I kept it in mind in case I needed later to stall for time.

Alex told me he had to go to let Al know I had regained consciousness. Then he had to get Chloe. When he returned, Chloe had her hands tied behind her back. She was naked; the only thing she was wearing, besides the rope, was a bright pink dog collar. Alex was pushing her in front of him, while holding on to "her leash.".

Chloe looked confused, angry, embarrassed. She had bruises all over her sweet body. She looked bedraggled and much thinner, as if she were being starved. Come to think of it, I was being starved, too. Probably I looked emaciated, since I was a little too thin to begin with.

She saw me, bandaged but still a bloody mess, immobilized, and lying in my own piss and blood. At some point my body had contributed poop, as well. She began to cry. Alex said, "Don't make me use the whip again." He untied her hands.

"Hi, Nancy," Chloe said. "Welcome to hell."

"No kidding," I said. "You've looked better. Still, it's nice to see you. Are they starving you?"

"You too, from the looks of things," Chloe said.

"That's the least of it," I said. Chloe nodded. She was looking at my restraints, the piss, the poop, and especially the large amounts of blood decorating the bed I was on. Her eyes focused on my poorly bandaged deep wound. Chloe's nod had been the nod of defeat.

"Did Mike rape you?" I asked.

"I've lost count of how many times he raped me over the last few days. We really picked our men this time, didn't we?"

"Do you think they will let us live?" I asked.

"Billie Jean got away. I think they used Rohypol on all three of us at one time or another. It's a date rape drug."

"I know. I'm a nurse. Billie Jean might have had an allergic reaction, especially if they used it on her more than once. Or perhaps they used it with too much alcohol. I'm still a bit weak from blood loss. I've been a stand-in model for St. Sebastian. Well, more like a hang in model."

"Enough of this girl talk," Alex said, almost sneering. "Chloe, get Nancy wet. Al wants to fuck her. I get to fuck you."

Chloe said, "Oh, goodie," with heavy sarcasm, and Alex slapped her so hard, she staggered across the room.

I quickly tried to distract Alex. "Show him my portrait, Alex," I said.

"Nice try, slut. Now go to it, Chloe. Al will come by soon, and this bitch had better be wet."

Chloe whispered, "Sorry, babe," and then she used all the magic her talented mouth could supply. It's hard to lubricate when you don't have enough blood, and you don't have desire, but Chloe was so talented, both her mouth and her fingers, that eventually she got me off. It was gross the way Alex was leering at us the entire time.

Chloe found a moment to whisper to me that she had palmed two Rohypnol pills from Mike's stash. I suddenly had a plan.

Al was the first one to jump my bones. He lay on me and brandished his knife. I shuddered. He said, "You want to live?"

"Yes," I said, trembling. Suddenly it hit me: Al got off on seeing fear in the eyes of the women he fucked. It took me long enough to figure that out, I thought! I was doing a damn good job of letting him see fear. I was terrified. Chloe had given up. She no longer had the mental energy to express fear. I felt that I had to keep fear alive, to keep hope alive, in order to stay alive.

I was revolted, disgusted and full of spleen. I also still needed time to regenerate my blood supply. I was much too weak. Nevertheless, I tried to give him a good fuck. He finally emptied his balls inside me. No condom for Mr. Gets-off-on-a-woman's-fear macho man.

I felt revolted at the idea of being filled with his horrific cum. Anyway, why use a condom if you are going to kill the woman? Well, you could use a condom to protect yourself from any venereal diseases the woman might have? At that moment, I wished I had had one, in order to transmit it to my tormentor. But no, I had been healthy before my torture.

I tried to turn my head to see Chloe. She was bent over something, and Alex was taking her from behind, I think. Either that, or he was fucking her ass. Shit, he was. He was inside her asshole. Chloe was crying as he pumped in and out of her.

Al got off me. I don't know what came over me but I said, "Okay boys. Fun time is over. Chloe and I are leaving now. Release me."

Al laughed.

"Release me you bastard and I'll suck you hard and you can fuck me again. And then let me go. That's my deal. Otherwise kill me now," I said. "Release me and I'll make us drinks, and then I'll blow you like you've never been blown before. I can't blow you all chained up like this."

"Honey, if you can suck as well as you fuck, it's a deal," Al said. I knew he was lying, he was never going to let me go. He planned for me to die there, just as he had killed lord knows how many women before me. But I had a plan. Al pressed a button on the machines and I was lifted up into martyr position again. Shit. Al saw the panic, the terror, the fear on my face as he approached me with his knife.

He began to laugh his evil laugh. "God, you look good like that. Sorry babe, I just couldn't resist seeing you like this one more time." He took a whole series of photos and videos of me hanging there naked with his cum dripping from my pussy. All the while he was running the sharp blade of his knife against my boobs. He emphasized the tender flesh on the undersides of my boobs. I was trying not to tremble in fear, and I failed. I was sure he was going to cut me again and bleed me to death even faster.

Thank God I was wrong. At long last he released me and I fell directly down onto the now disgusting bed. I was laying in my blood, my urine, and my poop.

I managed to get up, rubbing my wrists and asked which way to the kitchen. We passed Chloe, now lying prostrate on her stomach with her asshole oozing Alex's bright white cum. I leaned over and kissed Chloe tenderly on the lips. She slipped the two pills into my hand.

I brought the men two glasses of champagne, each with a dissolved pill. We all three drank champagne. Still fearing for my life, I began to give Al a blowjob. Chloe began to blow Alex at the same time. The men were standing next to each other as we blew them, happy as clams, talking about what fine bitches the two of us were.

Al pulled his cock out of my mouth. He said, "I want to fuck you again, my lovely. I don't want to cum in your mouth."

Chloe was still going strong on Alex. How bleeping long did these drugs take, anyway? I led Al to another room, saying I wanted a little privacy, so I could moan if it felt good, without being embarrassed. "As if!" I thought to myself. The man filled my nostrils with the most repugnant smell.

I told him I wanted to be on top. This was because I did not want to be underneath him when the drugs finally took effect. I was so weak it was not obvious I would have able to get out from under his dead weight. "Do anything weird and I'll cut you up and feed you to the fish in the East River," Al said.

You're going to do that anyway, I thought.

"You really know how to get a girl's motor running," I replied. In truth, his threats scared the bejesus out of me, but strangely the whole situation aroused me. I climbed on top and guided his cock into me and began to hump him. He became very quiet and stopped moving. I realized as I was humping him that the drug had finally taken effect. He kept his erection, but he could not move. I got off him and went to look for Chloe.

Chloe was running around looking for her clothes, and her purse. I joined the search. The apartment was immense, and we stumbled into one room that was filled with paintings of the women Al had previously tortured, all suspended just as I had been.

I found my purse and with it my iPhone and I took pictures of around a dozen of the paintings of different women. I felt sick. I took pictures both of Billie Jean's painting, and of my painting, too. There was an Ann, a Beatrice, a Catherine, and basically at least one name for each letter of the alphabet. For how long had this asshole been doing this? How many women had he tortured, raped, and killed?

Curious, I pulled open the deepest drawer and found a large stash of DVDs, each with a woman's name written on them. There was Mary1, Mary2, all the way to Mary7. There were many names, all of them female given names. I assumed they were his past victims. It appeared to be that I was his first Nancy.

Apparently, he had modernized. In another drawer, I found a huge stash of flash drives. There were little tags on the flash drives; each tag had a girl's name on it. I put them all in a Saks bag I found in his closet. I added a sampling of the DVDs. There was no time to see what was on them, of course. We needed to get out of there. I tossed his camera into the bag, too. It had pictures and videos of me on the memory card.