Bay City Blues . . . . (866) SEXY-832

Everytime I go out at night and have to walk home by myself, I have this intense craving. I can’t help it. It’s like some beast howling inside my veins. The naughty little story plays out in my head like this:

It’s nearly 2am and I am regretting my decision to wear this tiny skirt. It’s pretty chilly and I can feel the wind as it blows up my legs and over my panties. In the distance, I hear a car driving up behind me… “Man, I hope it’s a cab, I’m totally gonna hail that shit. These heels blow.” I turn around and notice that it is actually a very large van. As the van approaches it slows down. I wonder if the driver needs directions. I play with the idea of asking for a ride in return for directions. I smooth out my skirt and begin to twirl my hair around my finger in a tipsy attempt to look more approachable.

As the car creeps closer, I motion for the driver to roll the window down. As it comes to a halt, not 2 feet away from the toe of my leopard print pump, the rear sliding door opens and three masked men jump out and grab me! I try to scream but before I can there is a funny smelling gag in my mouth and I black out.

I wake up and my arms and legs are chained to the brick wall behind me. I have a pounding headache and I’m freezing. When I look down at my body I am only wearing my panties. My nipples are standing at attention and goosebumps are accumulating from my neck to my ass crack. I want to scream, but I’m afraid that whoever has captured me will hear me and come back to finish the job. The air is cold and stale and there is no light around me except for a small sliver coming through what seems to be a door. I must be at least a hundred feet underground.

An hour passes and I’m starting to shiver uncontrollably.

Suddenly! The small sliver of light bursts into a radiant rectangle and I see shadows moving towards me. The room is instantaneously illuminated with a loud POP by a dusty chandelier hanging above me. The room is all exposed brick with concrete flooring. My captors are still masked as one of them comes up to me and begins to stroke my hair. He holds my face in his hand and yells at me to close my eyes. I comply and am again met with an odd smelling gag in my mouth. Blackness. When I come to I am overwhelmed with sensation and try to scream. My scream is distorted by one of my captor’s cocks in the back of my throat. I can taste his pre-cum on my tongue. I am also being furiously taken from behind while a third person holds my head up by my hair and whips me, leaving marks. I begin to sob uncontrollably. This only encourages them…

They begin to berate me and spit on me… Telling me what a dirty little whore I am as I gag and beg them to stop. The man behind me pulls my hips back against his thighs and holds me there. He digs his nails into my skin and begins to pound me as he leans forward and hisses at me to “stop fucking crying, slut!”

Would you like to help me finish exploring this dark little fantasy? If you like rape fantasy phone sex and want to help me satisfy my craving for it, call me at 1-866-SEXY-832!

xxxo,
Ava