Thread: Transporting Taylor (Dere and skittish_butterfly)

It just didn't stop, it only got worse, going on and on. When would her rape end? Oh no! Taylor moaned, realizing how she yearned for him to finish, knowing full well how sex ended with a man's cum shooting deep into the woman and impregnating her. How could she wish for such a disgusting thing, and yet she found herself actually begging -- silently at least, thank God -- for this vile man to shoot his cum inside her. At least the pain would stop. The shame never would, so maybe it didn't even matter anymore. Let him, let him cum in her, just let him be quick about it. But he just pounded into her, again and again, showing no sign of stopping. Taylor had heard enough complaints about how quick most men could be that she was sure he must be trying very hard to make her suffer as long as humanly possible. Or he just didn't find her attractive or she didn't feel good enough inside for him to want to cum, a shameful thought to her as she found herself praying she would be whatever he wanted, whatever would just get him to fill her with his seed and end this. But she knew better than to betray any of this to him. She had to survive 24 hours, and there was more to worry about than her immediate misery. He couldn't know that he was getting to her. But as hard as Taylor tried she couldn't ignore the pain in her shoulders, her leg muscles shaking and trembling and her toes cramping with the effort of keeping even a little of her weight from pulling down on them. Nor could she ignore the agony of taking his thick cactus ripping up her insides over and over. It was too much. She couldn't help sobbing, praying silently just that her whimpers were soft enough in the all-encompassing hood that he wouldn't hear them, that he wouldn't have the satisfaction of knowing how bad she felt. After all the breakups and heartbreak she'd been through in her young life, all the betrayal and struggle and disappointment she'd endured, for the first time Taylor gave in and just wanted to die, to take the easy way out. She managed to suppress her growing suicidal thoughts only because they were totally useless, since he'd taken even that choice away from her, trussed and tortured so horribly she couldn't even kill herself now, doomed just to suffer as long as he chose, no say of her own. She clamped down on her budding desire to die also because if she thought about it too loud then Dad might show up to talk her out of it, and then he would see, would witness this degradation. Everything hurt, but that didn't stop the horrible man from finding new places Taylor'd forgotten her body even had, where he could hurt her even more. It was like he just wanted to hurt her, like that was his joy, not the sensations of being inside a beautiful woman that drove most men. What had she done to attract the attention of such a sicko? What was it about her that made her deserve this? And now the sicko was smacking her bottom as in her agonized position with shoulder's bent and arms pulled up behind she couldn't do anything but stick it out for him to abuse with his raping penis and now with his hand too. He hit her again and again, and the pain of blow after blow was getting to her as well, burning and stinging and geting harder to take, making her cry out loud enough for him to hear now. But there was nothing she could do, no control of her body, unable to stop the tears or the cries or the pain, forced to an unfamiliar place where she just had to accept, to endure. It was horrible beyond words, maybe the first experience in her life that she couldn't turn into a lyric to make it bearable. Even if his pleasure wasn't growing enough to mercifully end it inside her, her own misery grew without bounds. Taylor's cries and now screams were high-pitched, and it embarrassed to hear the sound of her own failure, her inability to cope, echoing off the small room's walls and testifying against her. She screamed and gave in to it, no dignity left to preserve, no secret left from the man who now possessed what she'd so carefully guardeed so long. She moaned and cried out with self pity, yelping as the full depth of each hard stroke pushed her against her shoulder, which she was sure had popped free of the socket. Taylor had no strength at all as even her quivering toes were starting to fail her, which just made it all worse as she lowered the teeniest bit with every thrust, pulling her shoulders even worse. His hands groped her chest, her breasts, squeezing her like she was a melon in the market, pinching and toying her nipples until they swelled up, Taylor barely caring now whether he knew it was only because he was rough and hurting her and not some sign she was enjoying what he was doing to her. Let him think that, let him confuse her moans of agony for some perverted sounds of lovemaking, whatever would get him to just shoot his seed in her and be done! The sound of his grunting finally got through the sound of her own screams and it sounded like the men in the raunchier movies she'd seen, acting out the lovemaking scenes, when they were nearly finished, like the times she'd used her hand to please, as if that would somehow help her boyfriends be patient enough to just wait a little longer for her, until the time was right. She'd waited, kept herself pure and ready. For this. All of that, and this was her reward. The man grunted and groaned and she felt him bury himself deep, felt her soft privates stretched around him, rubbed raw and hurting, felt him pounding hard and deep and pulling her down on her shoulders with almost his full weight to the point she screamed in mindless agony, certain something was tearing inside. But at least he was going to cum in her now and finish, pulsing and thrusting deep and holding her like a possessive beast as he finished. Taylor's screams faded to sobs and whimpers in the hood, as he held nearly still, deep inside her. She just wished he would stop fondling her breasts like that, like a real lover would, while he was being so cruel, he had no right to touch her that way. At least the pain subsided ever so slightly as his thrusting stopped as he pumped her with his seed. She tried to ignore what he was doing to her inside, to turn her mind back from the horror of the rape, still not fully over inside her but close now, and focus again on how to survive this, how to stay constructive. Was it even possible anymore? Were there enough shreds of Taylor Swift left to stitch back together if she could survive this, the Taylor Swift she wanted to be and not just this whimpering victim full of a rapist's sperm? She had to try. At worst she could kill herself later, but at least this devil wouldn't know he'd won. Oh thank God! She could feel him starting to pull out with a gutteral groan of satisfaction, so excruciatingly slowly, like he wanted her to experience every single inch of his withdrawal as shamefully as the rest of her rape. Taylor couldn't stop her tears, now that it was over. She was ruined, everything taken, a strange man's seed inside her now where only a lover's belonged and still all she could do was dangle from her useless arms, struggling still to keep her weight up with toes and legs trembling so bad she could barely hold her weight up. Taylor hated how he'd forced her into this awkward position, bent over, her head low and basically dangling with defeat, her burning beaten bottom sticking out behind her showing off to him how he'd raped her. She could feel the wetness, could feel the trickle of his seed dripping ever so slowly from the entrance he'd stretched out with his thing. The sound of the chain clanking gave her sudden hope, the tiniest shred that her life could get the slightest bit better, if she could just lie down and curl up in a ball and process her wounds, stop and make sense of it all. How badly she wanted to let her arms down, they felt like they would stay numb forever, like the blood would never return, her wrists chafed raw from her struggles. Please, she begged silently, not giving him the pleasure of hearing her want something from him, please let me down, hurry. Then the chain tugged upward. Taylor cried out as her shoulders' shrieked in agony using her voice to communicate the horror of their pain, especially the one she'd fallen on before but by this point her left shoulder was catching up to the right. He tugged up more, and Taylor was instinctively and despearately fully back up on her trembling toes, trying to take it, but it didn't stop, and then her toes were just grazing the floor, her long legs kicking and scrabbling trying to find anything to stand on, anything to take the weight from her ravaged shoudlers and handcuffed wrists pulled up mercilessly behind her. No!! No!! Please, s-stop, please!! You're killing me!! Let me down!! There was no control, no decision from Taylor, no chance to weigh the plusses and minuses of letting him know she wanted something. Taylor begged and pleaded, until pain left her no breath for words at all. Please! P-p-p unhhh ohhhhhh Moans, breathless suffering. The sound of the chain locked off leaving her dangling fully from her shoulders, bent over and certain it would snap her arms off at the sockets. Footsteps. Door. Agony. Alone. Time and suffering. Crying and screaming from pain too much to bear. Heat and sweat dripping down her body. Crying and shaking, wrists scraped raw. Slick cum between occassionally flailing legs, no relief to be found. Time and suffering, time and suffering. No clock to mark time, just her own cries going on and on, hanging more and more limp, her body nothing but a weary sack of pain hanging from the ceiling like a side of beef. She was nothing. Nothing. No hope, no control, no choice, no relief. Time and suffering. Finally once more, footsteps. But no hope. He only made things worse. Things would never get better. She cried as he let her down, unable to stop, her body shaking and wracked with tears. He didn't stop when her toes just grazed the floor this time, kept lowering her. Her slender, fit legs buckled immediately, all the jogging and exercise worth nothing by this point, her body filled with nothing but useless jelly, jelly he knew how to hurt. She collapsed to the floor as he suddenly let her go, still with her arms pulled up behind her by her wrists, until she was down on her knees on the concrete and able to hold herself up just a little off her arms. He stopped there, the chain locked again, keeping her there up on her knees, arms still trapped up behind her. She was gasping with exhausting and discomfort but there was nothing Taylor could do. She wasn't even trying that hard to survive now. It wasn't like there was anything she could do to choose life or death, all she could do was wait to see what he would do next, whether he would hurt her or kill her. Set her free? She couldn't even hope for it now. Taylor flinched and moaned in fear at a touch to her head, but then the mask was just pulled off. She couldn't shield her eyes, no hands to shield with, could only blink in the light, squinting as she couldn't help trying to see where she was, where he was, what he would do next. He went behind her and it hurt too bad to try to follow him with her eyes. Seconds later she was shockingly cold, wet, the splash of water on her hot skin, screaming with chattering teeth, it was so cold. The water splashed on the floor under her legs and she distracted herself watching it pool before running off to a recessed drain, wishing she could drink some of it. No pride left. Drink. It was a croak, her voice no longer the voice of a singing star, just the miserable rasp of a girl with nothing left but to beg for a small sip of water. He came around and she moaned with fear, looking up through wet blond bangs she couldn't brush from her eyes, aware he had no water for her. He was holding her head the whole time as she coughed and spluttered and begged again to drink, holding her like he didn't want her head to move. She looked up, ashamed of herself, but willing her blue eyes to move him to mercy. All it got her was his hardness, still smelling disgustingly of what he'd done to her but not as bad as she might of expected, pressing against her lips. There was no way. She wouldn't do this for the ones she loved! How much she'd sacrificed in her life to cling to her values, he couldn't expect her to cheapen it all by... But as her lips parted enough to try to catch her breath, he just took what he wanted, reminding Taylor how pointless it was for her to agonize over what to give him. It wasn't hers anymore to give. She closed her eyes, certain she was going to puke with disgust as he played with her mouth, rubbing against her lips and just inside against her tongue, making her sick to her stomach. Of course she thought about biting him, just chewing off a piece of him, but what would that get her? She'd still be handcuffed to a chain dangling from the ceiling in a hot room with nothing to drink and a huge insane rapisst incredibly angry at her. If there was one thing he'd shown her so far, she understood he could always make things worse. She just kept her mouth open, swallowing down the nausea the desire to bite that thing clean off, letting him do what he wanted. She hadn't expected what he really wanted though, shocked by his sudden tight grip and the violent thrust of his hips driving all the way to the back of her mouth, making her gag, and then even down her throat in a way she hadn't thought was really possible. She shuddered and twisted helplessly down on her knees, her head trapped in his grip, looking up at him through tears in her blue eyes, squeezing them shut as he pressed his pelvis all the way against her face, her nose smushed against him, making her gag and retch. He moved in her mouth and throat very much the way he'd done between her legs, like he was... like he was fucking her this way too. Her mouth, the mouth and throat that helped make her famous, that moved people all over the world who heard her sing, was like nothing to him except another passage in her body that he could... could rape. Taylor hadn't eaten much in more than day, meager airplane food, unsatisfying even in first class. She expected a feast when she arrived at the ashram -- the ashram, how distant it was now. But what little she had was coming up in tiny retches. She couldn't control her throat, blinking and crying and struggling to breath around what he was forcing in and out of her mouth and throat, her own thick bile choking her, gagging and utterly miserable. He was pulling on her hair, forcing her down on him with exactly the rhythm he wanted. Taylor was too weak to resist him, no strength left, and in no position to do a thing anyway down on her knees with her arms so helpless behind her. She could hear herself gagging, the wet sound of him sliding in and around her wetness, her face and mouth a mess as he ruined her even more. From time to time he would jerk on her hair, hurting her until she opened her eyes and looked up at him through her shame and misery, like it was important to him that she look at him while he did this to her, even though he'd kept her head in a hood the whole time he'd raped her. Taylor didn't understand. Didn't understand him. Didn't understand what was happening to her. Didn't understand anything. But it didn't matter because he just did what he wanted anyway.