Her imaginings began to take hold, and she dreamt …
She ran across the campus, hair flowing behind her, completely naked. Behind her were three boys from a fraternity, all of them large and muscular. Although she was fleet, they caught up with her at the shore of the lake that sat on the edge of the college grounds. One tackled her, rolling to soften the blow, but ending up on top of her, pinning her down. His handsome, young face grinned down at her.
“Gotcha,” he whispered, then leaned down to kiss her. Despite herself, she responded to his fierce buss, her mouth seeking his hungrily, for she was starving for what they offered. Still, her body struggled under his, her bare skin rasping against the fabric of his shirt and his jeans. His sandy hair was long, longer than she would expect someone like him to have. It brushed against her cheek as he pulled away.
“Hold her,” he told the other two. Her hands were restrained above her head by one, one ankle by the other. She kicked with her free foot as he stood, but she didn’t connect. He stood, looking down at her, and slowly unzipped his jeans. His warm brown eyes never left hers.
Jocelyn swallowed, mouth dry. His large member was exposed, and then he dropped back upon her body. She tried to keep her legs together, but it was futile. Between him and the one holding her ankle, he pried her open.
Despite her fear and apprehension, she was sopping wet, so when he plunged into her unprepared depths there was little pain at entry. Her body took over and she matched each thrust with one of her own, her nether regions taking pleasure in the pounding it was receiving. There was something very fulfilling about being used solely for his pleasure, with him taking no concern for her or her needs. His pace was quick, driving, the unskilled sexual ability of a youth. He came with an explosion of breath, then moved aside for the next, switching positions with the fellow holding her foot after rearranging himself.
The second was more brutal than the first, his hands grasping at her soft breast, digging in, and she knew she would be bruised the next day. Despite the outrage at being raped, she welcomed the marks. Honestly, there was little outrage, only pleasure in the thoughtless use of her body. She felt desirable, so desirable, pleased that of all the girls of the party she was the one who had been pursued. She was the one whose clothes came off during the game of strip poker, and she was the one who made these three so hungry for her that in their drunkenness they decided that they had to have her at any cost. Vanity, certainly, but the selfish sensation was no less delightful for it.
She was brought back to her body when the boy atop her bit her lip, hard, hard enough that she tasted blood. The pain alarmed her, and she struggled more honestly now, although it was futile.
“Hurry up,” the third boy urged. “It’s my turn soon.”
The one atop her redoubled his pace, looking down at her. There was a savagery in his eyes that swept her into them, and she felt an orgasm building. She half-wanted it, half-didn’t. It was as if to enjoy what was happening to her was an acceptance of the situation; it was a desiring of the situation.
She didn’t care.
She came, fiercely, and cried out. The two holding her snickered a little at that, but the one fucking her ignored her paeans of pleasure, concerned only with himself. He at last emptied himself into her, burning and hot, a flood of jism that added to that which had been poured into her by the first.
The third was eager, so eager that he fairly leapt upon her body, almost driving her into the ground. The grass pressed against her, cool and damp, and she welcomed his entry. He slid in so easily, because she had been painfully stretched by the two who preceded him, and because she was wet with their and her own juices.
He ground himself into her tender orifice, setting off little sparks of pleasure like fireworks. She sighed, relaxing her body, no longer struggling. She lay there and watched the stars in the deep sky as he had his way with her, relishing in the sensation of helplessness that was brought to her by her hands above her head and her leg restrained. Her breasts ached, and there was a soreness in her snatch brought on by the rubbing of jeans and zippers against her. She didn’t care.
Finally, he finished and then she was released. All three stood there, looking down at her as she lay spread-eagled on the grass, beneath the night sky.
“Damn,” one whispered.
The first boy smiled then, a crooked grin reminiscent of Harrison Ford’s cocky expression. “You liked it,” he told her, almost accusatorily. “You liked it a lot.”
She wanted to deny it, but couldn’t. Her mouth opened slightly, as if she desired a kiss, but she made no move to rise. The first laughed then, a harsh bark, and turned to leave.
“We’ll have you again,” he called over his broad shoulder, while his companions filed away with him. “When you don’t expect it, we’ll have you again.”
As she listened to their laugher and conversation fading into the evening, she moved luxuriantly on the grass, every nerve of her body alight with pleasure.
“I hope so.”