The Married Rat - 8. Chapter 8

12

From Ruiz

Thinking about coming to in that hotel room. The first thing I become aware of is that my wrists are handcuffed and my ankles are also cuffed together. I look myself up and down and I’m still wearing all my clothes.

I have only the most vague memory of meeting someone for a drink the night before. I can’t remember much after that.

I feel the drug still in me and it’s working against my anxiety.

So I focus on my cuffed wrists and legs and that I’m still dressed. That means you’ll be coming back.

From inside the room I have no idea what state I’m in let alone what city.

Nor how long I’ve been unconscious.

I lie waiting, trying to remember what happened last night.

I briefly contemplate trying to get out of this situation but know I won’t get far.

I briefly contemplate yelling or making noise. But I don’t want to get caught doing so.

I look around in the dim light and can’t see a phone. I think my cell is gone. I’m off the grid. I have no idea what time of what day it is.

I lie there for what seems like a long time. Trying to remember who you are. And how I met you. And how much or little you know about me. It’s hard to recall anything really.

I look over at the bedside table and can see a small standing cylinder in the dim light. I move my body with some effort near enough to reach it with both hands. It’s lubricant.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

My head goes to a hundred different places and then I see the note. In simple handwriting: Put this on yourself before I get back or you’ll wish you had.

I lay back, thoughts rushing.

And you watch all of this because you’re sitting silently in a corner. You have been the entire time and I never even looked your way.

I pick up the note to re-read it: Put this on yourself before I get back or you’ll wish you had.
Then down at the bottom: Only afterward unfold for further instruction.

You watch as I weigh the options.

Then watch as I unbutton my jeans.

Then unzip them.

You watch as I lift the bottle and try to pour the lube into one hand. I can’t make it work because my hands are too close together. Finally I just pour lube onto my underwear.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. If there were any other way. I try and think of a way out of this mindful of how much time is passing and how the man who wrote the note could be back at any minute.

What if it’s a group of men that took me, a gang. What if I’m on closed circuit TV or on the internet and people are paying to watch all this. What if I’m making my own ransom video.

I see a green light in the dark. Is that a lens.

Fuck fuck fuck.

I have to do it

There’s no other way.

So I give in.

You watch my hands go into my jeans and my face and body react.

Within seconds I discover that just inside my jeans are my bare legs.

How is this possible. I’m not wearing the torn briefs or even my black boxer briefs.

I’m wearing a jockstrap I don’t remember putting on.

Maybe I did though before I went out.

I try to remember and it’s like a wall.

I poured too much lubricant on the jock and it’s all soaked.

My hands and so much lubricant on my hardon make me moan in a way I hope no one I know will ever hear.

My cock got hard so fast. You watch as my ass lifts off the bed and I thrust upward.

It feels so intense that it takes my mind off my situation.

Still I’m sure I’m being watched and I remember the direction on the note.

My soaked hands come out of my jeans and unfold the note.

Another sentence: Now fuck the bed.

And I know I’m being watched.

Fuck fuck what the fuck am I gonna do I can’t do this fuck fuck fuck.

I try the cuffs and they’re solid.

I swing my legs off the bed and try to stand and my balance is screwed.

Whatever drug I had is still in me and I can’t walk even if my feet were free.

I lie back down trying desperately to think of a way out of this. Certain I’m being watched by one or a thousand men. Maybe broadcast. How can I know how many guys are watching me on this bed in this room.

There must be a way out of this but I can’t even think.

I can’t believe I have to do this.

You watch as I slowly turn onto my stomach, my shoes hanging off the bed.

I lean on my elbows head bowed like I’m praying and don’t move for a very long time.

Finally my ass reluctantly starts to move and I start to fuck the bed.

I can’t believe this is happening to me.

My breathing intensifies.

I feel my cock getting even harder as it’s forced into the comforter.

I feel my ass moving inside my jeans. My breathing goes out of control. Please please please never let anyone I know see what I’m doing in this room.

My breathing fills my ears as I keep fucking.

Then I feel a finger touch my ankle and I stop.

Someone’s here. Have they’ve been here the entire time.

Or did I not hear them come in because of my breathing.

The finger on my ankle is real though. I’m not imagining it.

I just lie there. With no idea of how many people are behind me.

Then my shoe is coming off. And my sock.

I feel the cool air hit my foot and know what’s about to happen.

Then nothing.

I lie there waiting.

Scared.

Aroused.

Everything.

Waiting for the next step.

Still nothing happens. My other shoe stays on and I wait for where the hand will land next.

What will it take.

What will it expose for however many people are watching.

What’s about to happen.

Finally the hand lands wide open on the middle of my back.

It presses down into me and my arms stretch out on the pillow.

Call it submission. Call it whatever you want.

I wait then my t-shirt is ripped down the center until it’s two halves.

The halves separate and my entire back exposed.

I lie there waiting for what I know is coming next.

But it doesn’t and I can’t even be sure it was the same hand on my back that touched my ankle. That took my shoe. It could all be different hands and I’m almost convinced it is.

How many men are there. How many eyes on me. How many hands are waiting to take the next thing off me then do whatever they’ve decided to my body.

A single drop of lubricant lands in the notch at the very top of my ass and I gasp in surprise.

A single finger lands in that notch and stays there.

That notch is a hidden private place that controls my entire body and I moan.

I’m humiliated at what everyone heard come out of me. Everyone on the other side of that lens.

The finger just barely moves. And I start fucking uncontrollably like I can’t stop fucking as long I’m breathing. As long as that finger stays in place.

I’m moaning and I’m so hard and the finger lifts and I feel hands grasp the waistband of my jeans and start pulling them down.

My ass is exposed as it fucks the bed. And everyone can see that I’m wearing a jockstrap. And now my thighs are exposed and my knees and my calves as the jeans come to rest around my ankles, the handcuffs still binding my legs.

And I know these guys are going to fuck me and make me suck them off. And they’re going to fill me with come and then come again all over my face and body. My mouth will be filled and I’ll be naked and they’ll all see what I look like.

They’ll see that my body is nothing special and my cock is only average. But it’s precoming and that’s what I look like when I’m precoming. And that’s the expression my face makes when I’m precoming and my body is aroused against my will.

And there’ll be almost nothing left to cover me except my jeans around my ankles. And one sock and one shoe. And my jock and the piece of my shirt. And then they’ll all descend on me and start to use me and force me to do whatever they want. And all their disease will come into me and there’ll be no going back to any normal life. And this will be who I am. This will be what I am. Something to be used until I’m all used up.

I finally lie there motionless, barely able to catch my breath. My uncontrollable fucking may have broken me in some way, and. I have no idea how many hands have been on me. How many men may be watching from the other side of that lens.

But they’ve all seen me now. They’ve seen it all and I don’t know how I’ll ever be able not to think about this again.

How could I have gotten myself into this. I try again to remember and just hit that wall.

I feel a hand close around my right ankle.

I wait for my shoe and sock to come off but the grip remains.

Then my leg is lifted and pulled to one side and I have no choice but to roll on my back.

There in the half-light is one man. I look in the shadows for others and see no one. Has it been only him in the room. Has it only been his hand on me. Pressing into me. Pulling my clothes. Ripping my shirt.

I look for the glowing light of the lens and can’t see it. Is it gone. Did I imagine it.

I try to see his face but can’t. He stands silently watching, his hand still gripping my ankle.

I can’t even tell what he’s looking at. Are his eyes on me. Are they looking down. Are they on my body.

Can he tell I’m still hard in my jock. My arms are still above me. My hands are cuffed together, my underarms exposed and I can smell my own sweat.

Then my shoe is coming off followed by my sock and I think of all my clothes on the floor around the bed.

There’s a click just above my feet then the cuffs come off and are quietly set on the floor.

My head rushes. Am I being let go. Sent out in my jeans and jock into whatever’s outside that door.

A parking lot. A hallway.

What would I do if I were released. Where would I try to go.

His hands come to rest on my jeans then pull them down and off.

He speaks in a voice that’s both strong and soft. “Close your eyes.”

I do it immediately and lie there waiting.

His hand presses down on my jock and I wonder what he’s thinks now that he has my hardon in his hand.

I wonder when his hand will move next but it never does. Just presses down.

Then his hand is off me and my eyes stay closed and the room is silent. There’s not even the sound of my own breathing and I wonder if he’s testing me, to see if I can keep my eyes closed.

Or maybe he pressed down long enough to know that I’ll do whatever he wants, for as long as he wants. And that whatever happens will never leave this room but maybe I will.

Or maybe he knows that I’ll eventually open my eyes to find him gone. And maybe my clothes will still be on the floor and I’m meant to get dressed and leave and try to go back to a normal life. And not think about what happened in this room and about what he told me to do and what he watched. And what his single finger revealed in exactly the right place and the sounds that came out of me when I was touched.

It seems like hours as I lie with my eyes closed. Then his hands are on me again, pushing the front of my shirt up my chest.

It’s pushed until my face is covered then it moves higher until my mouth is exposed. I breathe in the scent of my sweat and my breathing gets heavy again from being touched,

His hand comes to rest across my eyes, as if pressing dominance into my every thought and I remain as still as can be.

Then a thumb slides into my mouth and I’m unsure what to do.

How far will I go. How far will I be forced to go.

His thumb just rests inside my mouth, a satisfactory violation.

I know my feet are uncuffed and I could stand if I wanted though he could probably force me back on bed.

I can’t tell if he’s waiting for me to suck his thumb but his other hand still covers my eyes like it’s trying to put the idea into my head.

Then his hand leaves my face and his fingers brush the exposed hair under my arm. I react instantly and moan but try not to suck his thumb.

His fingers keep moving under my arm and I feel my hips start to rise. Now my legs are moving and my feet. And my knees are rising and my feet are going flat onto the bed. And my ass leaves the mattress and it’s like my entire body is betraying me.

Or is it trying to call his attention away from under my arm. I feel his fingers leave but when they slide into the place where my torso meets my thigh I break and start to suck just to keep his hand there.

And I’m moaning so loudly and I’m precoming and I wonder if he can see that new wetness on my jockstrap in the dark.

Then his thumb pulls out of my mouth and I have to work to quiet myself. Then his fingers leave my thigh and my hips sink back to the bed and I lie there thinking how it’s all come to this.

The absoluteness of my situation.

It must have taken great restraint for him just to sit when he could have raped me all night.

He watched me find the note then read it. That must have been the most interesting thing. To see what I would do.

Then he saw me open my jeans and must have thought there was enough to work with, that I could be moved.

He watched me obey his words, trying to stay alive.

Now I’m lying here, most of my body exposed.

Who is he and what does he want.

I feel his fingertips again as my jockstrap is taken. I feel it go down my legs and off my feet as my precoming cock is under his eyes.

I’m naked now except for the t-shirt covering my eyes.

His fingertips move under my arm and I whimper. It’s beyond a moan and he knows I’m his.

His palm presses on my cock then his finger moves in the crease near my leg and the precome pours out of me.

When my lips part to moan his thumb enters again, lubricating my lips with my precome, using it against me.

My eyes are still covered when I realize it’s not his thumb that’s pushed into my mouth and not my precome but his own.

And I start to suck your cock.