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And boy does he make me take it.
Maybe it was the idea of me becoming someone else’s bride today. Because it’s like he’s determined to fuck me so hard I’ll forget there was ever anyone except him inside me.
And then, as fast as we took off, it seems like, we’re landing again.
I didn’t come, thank God, but it was a really near thing. I expect to hear sirens meeting us as we land. They just kidnapped me from my wedding, one of the most gossiped about and well-covered press events of the season. We made sure of it.
But it’s serenely quiet wherever they found to get us out of the San Francisco/Bay Area. Strong arms lift me and then I’m hustled out of the helicopter, passed from strong hands to strong hands, the copter blades as loud as ever, the stirred wind whipping at my hair again.
They don’t bother covering me with anything.
All that we tried to do to protect ourselves for the wedding and now I’m being passed from hand to hand all but naked, out in the open air, by—
By my captors.
I shiver as one of them picks me up in his arms and carries me a short way. Impressive. I’ve never been a small girl.
He sets me back on the ground and then there’s two men at my sides hauling me up another set of stairs.
Into a plane. My breath hitches.
Never let them take you to a secondary location. It’s one of the first things they teach you in any self-defense class.
And yet here I am, being dragged away to God knows where. Where no doubt, they’ll do God knows what to me.
I shudder, but I’m already in the plane by then. Because naturally they’re transferring me from a helicopter to a plane. God, where are they taking me? I hear the door seal shut behind us.
Whereas in the helicopter it was nothing but loud noise, suddenly inside the plane, it’s eerily quiet. Just the gentle whir of circling air, but that’s the only sound to be heard. I can hear everything almost perfectly as I’m shuffled around and the leader gives whispered orders.
“There. Facedown on her knees. Strap her down.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rise and I remember the promise he made earlier. As if we wanted anything other than this ass.
I start to fight then.
It’s almost adorably futile, they’re so strong. They have me overpowered in seconds, their strength unmatched even though I’m not a weakling.
There’s three of them, I can tell that now for sure.
They bear me down to the floor of the plane, which is carpeted far more nicely than just some jet airliner. But of course it’s a private plane.
They want to do private things to me here.
I hear a buckle unbuckle and a zipper unzip. While one readies himself to fuck me, the other two bend me over a luxurious armchair seat. And then proceed to use the seatbelts to strap me facedown to the seat, first each of my wrists, then back and forth across my body—ass out. It takes two seatbelts to get the job done.
“Now we’re gonna run a train on you, peach,” says the leader. “We’re taking you bare and you’re gonna love it as we each empty our cum into that pretty cunt. If you don’t come, we’ll just keep on fucking you till you do.”
Someone lands a sharp smack on my ass that makes me jump—well, as much as I can being so tightly strapped down.
“Now let’s have some fun and get medieval on her ass. Time to fuck the bride on her wedding night.”
The plane starts to taxi and then speed up as it prepares to take off. At the same time I hear a belt sliding out of its loops. Oh shit. I’m afraid I know what that means.
But I’m still not ready when the doubled-up leather lands in a hard sting on my ass.
It’s so sudden and sharp that tears spring to my eyes. I still can’t see anything and breathing is difficult in the cloth bag. But I know they aren’t about to take it off. The gag either.
So I yell as loud as I can into it when the second sharp smack of the belt comes down.
And the third, fourth, and fifth.
I’m preparing for a sixth, so I’m totally bewildered when instead, a hot mouth comes between my legs. Other hands pry my thighs wider apart to give whoever’s there more access and—
Oh God, it feels so good. Everything about this is wrong. But they’re making it feel good too. Maybe because it’s wrong, it feels even better.
It turns out… I’m the kinda girl who loves it when it’s wrong. The more fucked up something is… the more forbidden, the more turned on I get.
But this… No, I can’t— I try to tell myself: You don’t know where you are, or where they’re taking you. This is dangerous, and you had no choice—
