The Kindness of Strangers

gduke

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Part 1, The Interview
Emily was petite. She had a girlish figure with tits big enough to get noticed, but not enough to sag. Her ass wasn't big, but it was cute and was definitely worth a good slap or two. Her face, framed by shoulder length blonde hair, was pretty and still had the look of innocence, in spite of what she'd been through.
The detective motioned toward a chair and said, "Please have a seat Miss Blake and I'll have a female officer take your statement."
The bare room had only a table and two chairs. There were no windows and fluorescent tubes hummed flat, cold light throughout. A new case file had been started and a paperweight sat neatly on top of it. "To protect and to serve" was embedded deep in its glass core. Emily sat down and pulled her feet up on the chair, arms wrapped around her legs and her head resting on her knees.
The detective returned a few minutes later with a woman in an officer's uniform. She looked fit and had black hair pulled into a tight ponytail.
"She'll take it from here," the detective said as he stared the female officer in.
"Okay," the female cop said through a kind smile. "Please tell me what happened."
"Thank you. I met a man named at a truck stop in New Jersey who said he'd buy me dinner," Emily said. She squirmed in her seat and bit her lip. The female cop took note of Emily's cute, little, braless tits and hard nipples that poked through her T-shirt. She wore sweatpants cut down to shorts and her slender legs had goosebumps. She was barefoot.
"What were you doing at the truck stop, Emily?" the female cop said, immediately changing her tone.
"When I turned 18 I left home and I was trying to get to California to meet my boyfriend. I thought I'd hitch a ride," Emily said.
"Um hmm," the female cop was writing and looking suspiciously at Emily. "Go on."
"The man at the truck stop said after dinner he'd drive me to Pittsburgh. He was smiling and he looked a little like my dad so I thought I could trust him. We ate at the lunch counter and headed out to his truck but he didn't have a great big one, it was like a pickup with a box on the back. We got in and there was a hole behind the seat that was big enough to crawl through.
He asked me to go through there and get a couple of cokes, so I did. When I got into the box part of the truck there was no light and the next thing I knew he was back there with me, and he looked really mean," Emily sniffled.
"Is than when he raped you?" the the female cop said, starting to look bored.
"He turned on a light and I could see that there were old mattresses on all the walls and the floor. I tried to get back through the hole but he block me and slapped me with the back of his hand so hard that I fell down." Emily said.
"Is that how you got the black eye?" The cop asked.
"Yes,"said Emily. "Then he pulled out a big hunting knife that he put against my neck. He said if I fought back he'd cut my throat. After that he used it to cut off my clothes. When I was naked, he stood up and took off his pants. I was so scared I couldn't move. Then he laid on top of me and put his thing in me," Emily said with tears running down her cheeks.
""Miss Baker, I need you to be clear about what happened," the female cop said sternly. "By 'thing', you mean 'cock', right?"
Emily knodded shamefully.
"And when you say 'in me' you're talking about your cunt, right?" the female cop said.
Another knod.
"So say it," the female cop insisted.
"He put his cock in my cunt," Emily admitted. For a moment she was transported back and she could feel his penis inside her, smell his breath, and relive the fear that seemed too terrible to be true.
"Then what?" the female cop demanded.
"Then he turned me over and put it in back," Emily said quietly.
"Miss Blake, be specific," the cop snapped.
"He put his cock in my anus," Emily said.
"So he laid you down and fucked your cunt, and then he flipped you over and fucked you up your ass," the female cop sneered. "Anything else?"
"He put it in my mouth," Emily said, almost pleading.
"You're saying after he pulled his cock out of your asshole, you sucked him off," the female cop said.
"Yes," Emily replied. She tried to push away the memory of the taste and smell of her own ass but knew it would always be with her.
"So if that happened in New Jersey how did you get here, to Michigan?" the female cop asked.
"After he raped me he went back to his seat and started driving. I tried to get out but the doors were locked and he showed me the knife when I tried to go through the hole in the front.
Evey once in a while the truck would stop and he'd come back and rape me again. He made me say 'thank you' and call him 'sir'," Emily whined. "He did it over and over. Drive and then rape."
"So how did you get away?" the cop asked, her eyes narrowing.
"After a while, maybe a couple of days, the truck stopped and the doors opened, and he threw me out. I was on a dirt road in the woods with no clothes. He had taken the cut up pieces of my jeans and sweatshirt with him."
"Did you get his license plate number?" the cop said.
"I didn't think of that," Emily admitted as the officer rolled her eyes.
"Where did you get the clothes?" the officer asked.
"I walked until I came to a house and they were hanging on the clothes line. I didn't want to take them but I was naked," Emily almost whispered the word "naked."
The officer stood up. "I've heard enough. You're under arrest."
"Arrest?" Emily's jaw dropped.
In an instant the officer had Emily up against the wall and cuffs clicked around her wrists.
"I've got better things to do than listen to a whiny lot lizard," the officer said.
"A w-what?" Emily stammered.
"A truck stop whore," the officer said with disgust. "You come in here crying about a trick that went wrong and then admit to petty theft. The people who live at the house where you took the clothes called this in."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Emily pleaded. "I'll go away and I won't come back, I promise."
"Well, it is a lot of paperwork," the female cop said, locking the door."
Emily was shaking as the the female cop turned her around and pulled the t-shirt over Emily's head. It dropped down over her cuffed hands and the officer untied the drawstring on Emily's shorts. The shorts dropped to the floor.
The big, muscular dyke pressed her nightstick to Emily's lips and said, "Why don't you show me what the truck driver did."
The nightstick went into Emily's mouth and down her throat until she gagged. The officer pulled it out with a string of mucous that she deftly twirled around the stick before pushing it between Emily's pussy lips.
"Tell me what he did, Emily," the female cop said
"He put his cock in my cunt," Emily said quietly, drowning in shame.
"That's right, he did" the officer said, working the stick deeper and deeper into Emily's vagina.
The muscular lesbian started taking off her own clothes, and soon the Kevlar vest was tossed to the floor. Both women were naked and the female vop fucked Emily with the nightstick while she manipulated Emily's clit with her thumb. The officer''s firm body was pressed against Emily's petit frame and hard nipples met and rubbed against each other. The big dyke's crotch was an unkempt bush, but Emily's was hairless. She had spent her birthday money to have her cunt lasered clean. Her pussy was perfectly smooth, and would be forever.
"You like that, don't you, whore?" the officer smiled.
"Um, yes?" Emily said, guessing at what the officer wanted.
"Yeah, you like that," the officer said. "Now you're going to lick my pussy, nice and slow."
A look of fresh horror flashed across Emily's face. The idea of putting her face into the officer's hairy groin made Emily sick to her stomach. The officer sat on the edge of the table and put one leg up the chair. Emily was weeping as the cop pushed her head down to her crotch.
"Stick out your tongue, whore," the cop demanded.
Emily's little pink tongue slid out and the cop ground her clit into it. The dyke cop moved her pelvis up and down as Emily's tongue slid from her clit, through her cunt lips, down to her asshole and back. She gyrated against Emily's face, fucking her mouth and quickening her pace. Emily was filled with confusing feelings, stimulation, fear and shock at being touched by a woman this way. She couldn't help but notice the hard, muscular quality of the big dyke's thighs and ass.
The cop turned her face to the ceiling and her eyes rolled back in her head. Emily nearly suffocated while orgasm contractions clenched her tongue. The cop released Emily's head, leaving Emily gasping for air and the dyke sweaty and fulfilled.
"Stand up, whore," the cop commanded.
Emily struggled to her feet.
The female cop bent Emily over the table. Her face slammed into the metal table top and it was cold against her cheek. The cop's left hand pawed at Emily's tit while the other grabbed the paperweight. The female coo spat on it and started working it into Emily's asshole.
Emily was whimpering as the paperweight stretched and then popped past her anal muscles and the cop whispered in her ear.
"Something to remember me by, slut. Now get that paperweight and your whore ass out of my town. If you come back your next visit will be much, much worse."
The clatter of keyboards stopped and snickering started as Emily waddled through the station and to the front door. The officers were in hysterics by the time she left.
"Have a nice day!" The lesbian officer mocked.
As Emily walked down the street, she cried and cried.
 
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Part 2, Divine Intervention
When Emily was safely away from the police station she found a stand of trees in which she could rid herself of the paperweight. She squatted down to shit out the glass ball and it wasn't easy. Somehow it hurt more coming out that it did going in and she was afraid it would tear her tight little butthole. Eventuallyrolled down a small embankment. with a mighty push it dropped it out with a "thud" and Emily whimpered in pain as it
Emily was touching her asshole and looking at her fingers, checking for blood, when she heard a voice.
"What's this, then? The voice said
Emily stood up and spun around saw a man dressed in black.
"Oh, father," Emily explained when she saw his collar. "Can you help me?"
"Certainly, dear. What's has happened to you?" the preacher asked.
Emily recounted her tale of ill fortune and ended with, "I still want to go be with my boyfriend."
"Well, let's not worry about that right now. Let's get you cleaned up."
They walked together down a wooded path that led to a church, and a parsonage.
The preacher and Emily ate leftover pasta together while she talked and he listened. He had a gently wrinkled face and his eyes sparkled when he smiled.
"I'm sorry all this has happened to you, dear," the preacher said warmly. "God's plan can sometimes include terrible suffering."
The preacher stood up. "But let's worry about the present. We need to get you some proper clothes."
They walked together up a creaky, spiral staircase and down a hall. He gestured toward a door. That's my daughter's room. You'll find something to wear in there.
"And she won't mind?" Emily asked.
"Oh no, no," the preacher fretted. "She hasn't been home in quite some time."
Emily went into the bedroom and every thing was pink and lavender with lots of glitter and sequins. The clothes were the same and although they were Emily's size they looked like something a child would wear. Emily settled on a lavender dress with sequin accents. The underwear had little pink unicorns and the shoes were pink high heels and ruffled socks.
Emily was looking at her strange clothes in the mirror when the preacher said, "It's good to have you home, Jennifer."
Emily turned and he was naked from the waist down with an enormous, crooked erection. He lunged at her, knocking her down and pinning her to the bed. Emily cried as he licked her earlobes and said "Oh Jennifer, Daddy has missed you so much. Thank you for wearing the clothes I like."
"I'm not Jennifer!" Emily protested.
As she tried to wriggle free the preacher held her wrists and the head of his cock poked at her pussy lips.
"Stop... fighting... me..." the preacher said with frustration. "I knew you'd come back to me."
He put his hands around her throat and began choking her. "God has brought you to me for this purpose!" He said.
Emily faded in and out of conciousness and her rape was like a series of vignettes. Before she passed out the preacher was on top of her, pumping like a fiend. The head of his weird cock made her wince every time it poked her cervix. She couldn't have known that this character from a Norman Rockwell painting had downed Viagra before dinner, and was now blessed with an insatiable hardon.
The next time she awoke the preacher was balls deep in her asshole, ramming his cock into her rectum like a jack hammer. She tried to scream but his hands were like a steel band around her tiny neck. Over and over he reamed her ass to the point where she just gave up and let it happen. The muscles around her orifice grew slack and the pace of ass fucking grew faster.
She regained consciousness again and found herself lying on her back with her head flopped over the edge of the bed. She was gagging on his shit-smeared boner and it was like the dyke cop's nightstick, but much, much worse. His hands were still around her neck and he was pulling her throat onto his cock like a whore putting on a stocking.
After a series of these nightmares she woke up to total silence. It was dark and she couldn't get up. After some struggling she manage to get free and as the preacher rolled off of her his rigid cock slid out of her asshole.
She stood there looking at him and he wasn't moving. A heart attack had stopped his fun and it wasn't going to start again. Emily started to shriek but stopped when she remembered what had happened to her in the police station. She panicked at the idea of being caught in a house with a dead man, no witnesses to what he had done.
She ran from the room but turned for one last look. The preacher's corpse lay on its back on a frilly canopy bed, naked from the waist down except for his black dress socks. His still very hard penis pointed skyward to the God he claimed to believe in.
Emily searched the whole house and managed to scrape together a few dollars. It wouldn't last.
 
Part 3, The Wheels on the Bus
Emily had spent the last of the preacher's money on a bus ticket that would get her a few states closer to her boyfriend. She wanted to him but forgot to write his number down. She left without her phone so she couldn't be tracked.
She fantasized about seeing him while she watch dreary scenery glide past the bus window. She wished she'd gone with him instead of waiting for her birthday. She wished that she had sucked his dick so he'd have stayed in New Jersey a little longer.
"Last stop, miss," the bus driver said. "I said LAST STOP!"
Emily woke with a jolt to see the bus driver staring down at her. He was a doughy, middle-aged black man and he looked annoyed.
"You have to get off now," the bus driver said. "Evansville Nebraska is my last stop."
"Oh, um, okay..." Emily said. She stood up slowly, still waking up.
The bus driver eyed her up and down. She was still wearing the ridiculous little girl clothes from the preacher's house.
"Are you a hooker?" The bus driver asked. "I don't want no hookers on my bus. I got half a mind to call the police right now."
"No, I'm not a hooker," Emily protested. "Move so I can get off."
"Who do you think you're talking to?" The bus driver shouted as he pushed her by the face back into her seat. "I'm gonna call the cops right now and tell them there's hooker turnin' tricks in the bus station, right now."
"Please don't," Emily begged. She looked at her clothes and realized if he called the police, she was going to jail. If that happened the could end up talking to the dyke cop and finding out about the dead preacher.
"Please, no" Emily sniveled.
"You're gonna hafta earn my cooperation," the bus driver said through a grin of crooked, yellow teeth.
He unbuckled his belt and a big, smelly, uncircumcised, black cock flopped out and slapped Emily in the face. A tear rolled down her cheek as her mouth dropped open. He slapped her on the nose a couple of times to get it hard before he stuffed it into her face hole.
"Pull that top down and let me see them white titties," the bus driver ordered.
When Emily hesitated he reached down, grabbed the shoulders of the dress and jerked them down to her elbows. The bus driver fucked her mouth while reaching down and pawing at her breasts. Again and again he rammed his cock home, his abdomen hitting Emily's face and irritating her forehead with his scratchy pubic hair. Over and over is big, black, saggy balls swung under her chin and slapped her neck.
The bus driver tightened his ass cheeks and shot his chunky, salty white load all over Emily's face. She was sitting in stunned silence, touching her nose and looking at the strings of jizz stuck to her fingers.
The bus driver shoved her, stumbling down the center aisle of the bus, saying," Get your whore ass off of my bus before I call the police."
Emily staggered down the steps and into an abandoned parking lot, clutching at her torn dress and trying to wipe cum out of her eyes with her fingertips. She walked off into the night.
 
Part 4, Bumming Around
Emily had washed most of the splooge out of her eyes at a public water fountain, but ran away when she saw a police cruiser. She stayed in the shadows, thinking desperately of how to get new clothes.
In a dark corner of a parking lot behind a donut shop Emily spied a clothing donation bin. Peering through the chute she could see a mound of clothes that were too far away to reach. Thankfully there was a trap door on the other side that had been left unlocked. She began pulling clothes out an examining them in the dim light of a distant street light. She retrieved a t-shirt, sweatshirt and pair of jeans that looked about right and stripped out of the stupid dress. The shirts were a good fit but the jeans were too small even for her tiny frame.
She reached even further into the bin, ending up with her stomach resting on the edge of the waist-high trap doorway with her naked ass and legs hanging outside.
She heard someone exclaim "Fuck yeah!" behind her and felt, long, rough fingers digging into the smooth flesh of her ass cheeks. One of the belts she had thrown on the ground was now around her neck and was being ridden like a bucking horse. She fought her way out of the bin and got a look at her attacker which was a mistake. It was a homeless guy who had passed out in the bushes and who had woken up with a painful erection. He had greasy, matted hair and the number of teeth he had left matched the number of showers he'd had in the last ten years.
It was like winning the lottery when the honey guy saw her cute, little pink ass in the moonlight and now he had her bent over an abandoned kitchen stove. She was too busy clawing at the belt around her neck to do anything about the fact that yet another random stranger was forcing his penis into her body.
She could feel his filthy, homeless cock getting shoved into her adorable, pink cunt. Its dry, scaly skin felt like a broom handle covered in sandpaper and only stopped hurting when her own moisture had saturated it. She was left gagging when he released the belt and had barely recovered when he stuck his dirty, hobo appendage up her ass.
Again she was forced to relegate the penile invasion of her orifice to low priority because now his hand had grabbed a fistful of her hair and was mashing her face down into the top of the old gas range.
One last time the homeless guy rammed his disgusting member into her and she could feel him pumping the contents of his balls up her ass. He pulled his member out of her and panted foul breath struggling to recover. Derelict cum oozed out of her asshole and she dropped into the fetal position on the ground.
The homeless guy panted foul breath and stood over her trembling weeping body when he felt the sudden, unstoppable need to rid his bladder of the cheap wine he had been consuming all day. He took aim and an arc of reeking, dark yellow piss sparkled as it rained down onto Emily's nude body. He made sure to wet every inch of her, especially her beautiful, blonde hair.
He scampered off into the night because for a change her attacker was more afraid of the police than her. She laid there for hours, staring blankly into space and wondering why such terrible things were happening to her.
 
Part 5, Cream of the Crop
Emily laid on the ground next to the donation bin until morning. She finished finding clothes that fit, although her t shirt was a little small. She even found a pair of flip flops so that she wasn't barefoot for the first time in days.
She washed herself in the bathroom sink of the donut shop and set about finding a way to get to California.
Walking along the road she waved away multiple opportunities to hitchhike. She wasn't falling for that again. In time, she came to a roadside produce stand being tended by an elderly woman.
"What can I get for you dear?" The old woman asked.
"Um, I don't have any money," Emily said. "Do you have any work I can do?"
"Well, we do have some people picking apples today. I pay by the basket. Go see the foreman if you'd like to try," the woman said, gesturing toward a nearby orchard.
Emily expected to find a crusty, sun-beaten old man but instead was greeted by a Latin Adonis, leaning against a truck and drinking bottled water.
"Foreman?" she asked.
"How can I help you?" The foreman asked with just enough accent to be incredibly sexy.
"The lady at the stand said I could pick some apples for money," Emily smiled.
"Oh," the foreman said.
He was visibly annoyed. Then he took a look at the cute little thing he was talking to.
"I think we can find something for you to do," the foreman said with a leer.
Emily spent the afternoon reaching for apples and the undersized t-shirt she was wearing nearly exposed her tits every time her arms were above her head. The men among the migrant workers all but stopped working while the women looked away in disapproval. The foreman took extra notice and made a point of working next to Emily and chatting her up.
The workday ended and people were loading the last of their baskets onto the truck when the foreman said, "Hey why don't you let me take you to dinner?"
Emily was transfixed by his beauty and immediately agreed. The chicken wings and fries she had at the bar was the best meal she'd had since the preacher fed her. She giggled at the foreman's smooth demeanor and endless compliments and was eager to continue the evening with him. He bought a bottle of peach brandy to go.
They ended up back at the farm, drinking in the cab of Umberto's pickup until Emily was shitfaced. She swooned when her leaned over to kiss her but was apprehensive when his hand went up her shirt.
"No, I don't think..." Emily began to protest.
"Hey, we're having a good time, right?" the foreman said, becoming more aggressive.
Emily was about to flee when the passenger door opened and she dragged her by the arm out onto the grass. A brown hand clapped over her mouth and she could only scream through her nose. Men gathered around her, pulling her clothes off and pinning her extremities to the ground. The youngest of them got in line first, eager to lose their virginity while the older men waited in line and cheered them on. The foreman, of course was first and looked crazed as he penetrated Emily's bald cunt. He grew increasingly demented as he grabbed her tits and ended by jerking off and squirt voluminous cum onto her pale torso. He wiped his spunk away with her t-shirt and said "I don't want to leave a mess for the others."
The foreman stepped aside and Emily got a good, long look at the line of men waiting to fuck her. The ones close to the front were pulling their cocks so that they would be good and hard when their turn came. She started crying and kept sobbing as one cock after another shot it's load on her and in her. At one point she was such a mess that foreman stopped the fun long enough to rinse the jizz of her with a garden hose. He stuck the hose up her cunt too, washing the semen out so she'd be clean for another round.
The festivities ended with cocks in Emily's pussy, mouth and asshole enough times that all three were dripping cum when the raping stopped.
She was naked and crying quietly when they threw her into the back of the foreman's pickup and drove her to the train station. Emily was tossed onto the pavement, followed by her clothes.
The foreman. threw a flutter of small bills at her from the truck window and said "Here's your apple money, puta."
 
Part 6, The Wild West
She stepped off the train in Boulder Colorado with no cash and no plan. Soon she was in front of the train station begging for money.
She had managed to get only a couple of dollars when a tall man in a cowboy hat said, "I don't give handouts but if you're willing to work, I have a job for you."
"Doing what?" Emily said apprehensively.
"Just taking care of the horses in my stable," the cowboy replied.
Emily was intrigued. Since she was a girl she had loved the idea of having a horse although she had never seen one in person.
"Okay," she said, and soon she was in the cowboy's big, white SUV chatting and drinking Starbucks.
The cowboy claimed he had the best horses in Colorado. She imagined herself riding a white horse through a meadow and her hair flowing in the breeze. She told the cowboy about her boyfriend and his punk band and how happy they were going to be in Los Angeles.
Some time later the rolled into the ranch which was a scene of perfectly manicured grass, tidy buildings, and horses with beautiful, shining coats.
The cowboy led her into the stables and up to a stall where he said "First, you're going to be taking care of Sampson."
Sampson was a magnificent stallion, standing in soft hay and looking at her with big, brown eyes.
"Okay," Emily asked. "What do I do?"
The cowboy opened the stall door and said, "It's easy. Just step in and I'll walked you through it."
Emily stepped in and put her hand onto the stallion's shiny, black coat, and the horse let out a happy snort.
"That's it," the cowboy said. "You're a natural."
"Okay, now what?" Emily asked.
"You milk him," the cowboy said.
"Milk?" Emily said with confusion. "He's a boy horse."
The cowboy was now shooting video with his phone.
"You put your hands into that bucket of lube and rub his cock until he shoots his load," Ron said, holding back laughter.
"No, no, no," Emily sobbed.
"YES!" The cowboy ordered, dropping the phone and grabbing a cattle prod.
Emily shrieked and the horse winnied as a jolt of electricity shot from the prod on her buttock through her whole body.
"Shut the fuck up. You're scaring the horse!" Athe cowboy commanded as he zapped her again. "Get naked, too."
Resigned to her fate, Emily began to disrobe.
"Dance like a stripper," the cowboy ordered, showing her the cattle prod again.
Emily did her best to comply, shaking her hips and twirling her clothes before dropping them, but there was no hiding her misery.
"This is fucking hilarious," the cowboy snickered. "Now jerk him off and make sure you catch his jizz in that white bucket."
Emily dunked both hands into the bucket of lube and at her first touch Sampson's huge penis started growing toward the floor. He had done this before. She was filled with revision as she ran her hands along the enormous shaft that was colored with blotches of dark brown and pink.
The appendage was flopping around and the cowboy grew up impatient, satin," C'mon, faster! Put your mouth over the end of it!"
Emily's hard work soon paid off and the gigantic cock was as hard as the arm of a bodybuilder. She stroked like mad, and Sampson fidgeted excitedly in his stall.
"That's it, almost there," Ron said as he recorded Emily's shame for posterity.
Sampson whinnied loudly as a torrent of cum charged through his urethra, into Emily's mouth and out her nose.
She was gagging and spitting cum out all over herself and realizing how much runnier horse cum is than human cum.
"Get it into the bucket!" the cowboy shouted. "That horse's balls are a gold mine!'
Emily dutifully wiped the cum out of her eyes and off of her face and flick it into the bucket. She gathered up handfuls of the semen running down her tits and stomach and scraped it off into the white, plastic bucket.
She looked at the cowboy and said, "Okay?"
"That's great," the cowboy said. "Nine more to go."
Emily's heart sank. The rest of her day was spent taking faceful after faceful of equine semen. Each had its own taste and consistency, and each horse knew what was happening when she stepped in and they whiffed the ejaculate of its stable mates. One was so excited, its erection was rock hard and it came soon after she started stroking its colossal member. Most, however made her put in an honest effort before erupting into her angelic face.
"Yuck, you're a mess," the cowboy said after she finished.
The skin on the front of her body had a patina of cum in varying stages of evaporation. Some was still gooey, some dried to a crust and everything in between. Her hair was like hay soaked in wood glue and her eyes were bloodshot from having horse cum in them.
"Rinse yourself off in that trough and get dressed," the cowboy said, throwing her clothes in front of her.
She did her best to get clean with out soap while the cowboy smoked a cigar and ogled her naked body. When she finished she looked at him forlornly and dreaded finding out what came next.
"Here's what's going to happen," the cowboy began. "If you're thinking about calling the police, don't bother. The chief of police is going to be here with a few of my friends on Saturday and your video will be the main attraction. If you tell anyone else, the video will go from a private viewing to being the favorite internet porn clip of every pervert on earth."
Emily stared at the ground.
"Now, now. It's not that bad," the cowboy said with mock concern. "I'll have you taken to the airport and when you get there, you'll have a ticket to Los Angeles. You can be with your stupid boyfriend and his stupid band."
A faint glimmer of hope entered Emily's sad, little heart.
 
Part 7, Reunion
Emily spent her first day in Los Angeles asking where and if anyone had heard of her boyfriend's band. She had nearly given up when she saw a piece of paper taped to a lamppost.
"Snot Rocket" the paper shouted in scrawled hand letters.
"Ooo, that's today's date," Emily thought, even giggling a little.
She had just enough cash to get in the door. It was a small club but the flashing lights and blare of poorly tuned guitars was incredibly disorienting. Nevertheless she found her way through the mayhem and to the dressing room.
Snot Rocket finished its set and burst through the dressing room door.
The laughing stopped when Emily said "Brandon!"
"Emily?" Brandon said in shock. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm joining you, just like we planned!" Emily said, beaming.
"I didn't think you'd really come. I just said that so I could get into your pants." Brandon admitted. "I have a girlfriend."
A girl with big tits, lots of ink and a cigarette looked at Emily with pity.
Emily was crushed. Everything she had suffered, the pain, the degradation, all for nothing. She collapsed into a blubbering heap
"Jesus fucking Christ," Brandon said, dragging the big tits girl from the room.
Emily could hear Bigtits shouting from the hall, "I don't care who she is, you have to get rid of her!"
"Can we take you somewhere?" Brandon asked when he returned.
"The airport," Emily said through a veil of depression.
The creaky, old van carried Emily and the members of the band to LAX.
"I suffered so much to get here," Emily said. "I just want to get home, and stop getting raped."
The van went quiet. The musicians all looked at each other. An evil smile crept across Bigtits's face.
"I'm going to make a quick stop," said Brandon from the driver's seat.
There was silent, increasing tension as the van snaked through abandoned warehouse streets. Emily was frozen with fear as the van squealed to a stop under an overpass.
"Hey, don't worry" Brandon said. "We're not going to rape you."
After Emily breathed a sigh of relief, he said, "just kidding, we're totally going to rape you."
Everyone laughed but Emily.
Emily was spread out on the floor of the van as the musicians took turns fucking her bald cunt and little pink asshole. The guitar player was in her cunt, the drummer was in her ass and the bass player was in her mouth as Emily tried to imagine herself somewhere else. Try as she might though, there was no escaping the fact that every orifice she had was filled with cock. Penises slid in and out of her body so fast and so randomly that she was becoming disoriented.
Bigtits rode Brandon's cock on the floor next to Emily and mocked, "Poor Emily! She came two thousand miles to watch me fuck her boyfriend!"
Bigtits pinched, twisted and pulled Emily's nipples while laughing, "Oh my god, they're so fucking little!"
One by one they climaxed in her cavities filling her once again with the semen of strangers. Once again she was pushed out into the street, like garbage. As a final insult, Bigtits hopped out of the van, squatted over Emily and pissed in her cum-smeared face. Emily took it without moving or showing emotion. Bigtits made a squeaky little fart as she squeezed out the last few drops of urine onto Emily's face.
 
Epilogue, Homecoming
Emily staggered like a zombie toward the airport. After what seemed like hours she walked into the terminal. After a wash in the ladies room she went to customer service and asked to use their phone.
"Hello?" a voice said.
"Daddy, I want to come home."
Emily walked to the waiting area at Newark Airport and into her father's arms.
"Emily, sweetheart, I was so worried about you." her father gushed. "Let's get you home."
Back in her bedroom, in the comfort of familiar things, she began the long period of readjustment, trying to put the terrible events of her trip behind her. She came down to her room and curled up by her father on the couch.
"Pumpkin, it's so good to have you back," her father said.
"I love you, Daddy," Emily said.
Then, Emily unzipped his fly and took the full length of his throbbing member into her mouth.
Her father patted her head and said, "That's right, honey. You'll always be Daddy's little girl."
 
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