Page 86 of Riding the Pine

All I can think about is what comes next. Report it to the campus police, the police, and have a rape kit done.

He leans over me and lines up his cock to my entrance.

To get the rape kit done, I’ll need evidence. To get evidence, I’ll need to mark them. DNA, hair, clothing fibers.

He thrusts into me on a heavy grunt, keeping my thighs pushed apart so I can’t fight back against him.

I’m at their mercy, and we all know it.

My body convulses as tears fall from my eyes, but my brain churns harder.

I have long nails, if I could scratch one of them and get their skin under my nails that’s not something they can clean away if they decide to try to clean me up after.

Fuck. He didn’t put on a condom. I almost laugh. Of course he didn’t, this isn’t about me in the slightest. He’s getting his rocks off at having someone held down by his friend and filming the whole thing.

True terror courses through my body. What STDs or STIs do these fuckers have?

I have Plan B in the apartment, just in case, even though I’m on birth control, but whatever these fuckers might be carrying… shit. I swallow hard and add testing to my mental list.

My body sags. “See,” he nods down at me, his hood slipping down off his head as he pounds into me. “She likes it.”

I know him. At least, I’ve seen his picture. This guy is a jock at my university. Is he on the football team? He’s not a hockey player, but I’ve seen his face somewhere. My resolve to destroy these fuckers strengthens.

Someone's mistaking resignation, strategy, regaining my strength, for pleasure.

Attacker number one’s hand is removed from my mouth, and I can finally lick my dry lips. It’s not for any good reason; he whips his cock out next to my head and starts fisting it while his friend has sex with me.

Rape.

He’s not having sex, he’s raping me.

My vision blurs as a new wave of tears fills my eyes. I’ve decided what I need to do, it’s going to hurt. I’m going to be punished, but if I want them to get arrested for what they’re putting me through, it’s the only answer.

When attacker number one instructs me to suck his dick, I shake my head, so he presses is cock against my mouth and holds my head, so I have no choice but to take it into my mouth.

I lull them into a false sense of security. I don’t fight him as he fucks my mouth, nor fight his friend as he still ploughs into my pussy. My body is limp, and if I’m honest with myself, with every thrust of their cocks a piece of my soul splinters.

I don’t have time to think about how they’re breaking me, how they’re going to react to what I’m about to do. I just need to get free, to start screaming and hope someone nearby hears, or that it’s enough to make them run.

As long as I can breathe, I can fight. And while they might think I’m compliant, they clearly don’t know who they’re fucking with.

I suck in a few steadying breaths in a bid to stop the tears from pouring down my face. It’s almost as though I’m having an outer body experience, like what I’m experiencing isn’t happening to me, it’s happening to someone else. And I have to save her.

At the same time, I bite down on attacker one’s cock, I reach out and scratch the shit out of attacker two’s neck. DNA in my teeth and under my fingernails. Mission accomplished. But the retribution starts immediately.

Someone punches my jaw, the stars from getting kneed in the kidney have got nothing on this new wave of blinding agony. My mouth falls open, and he extracts his cock, giving me the space to scream and scream and scream some more.

Attacker number two throws his weight onto my ankle and the strain alone makes my stomach lurch. If he doesn’t snap my foot in two it’ll be a miracle. He rains punches down on me, each harder than the last. The pain is too much, vomit rises in my throat and spews out of my mouth.

“Shit. Fuck. Brock, we need to leave.” Attacker number one’s voice is meek, charged with panic. Guess that’s what happens when someone takes a nice chunk out of your dick. I make another mental note to collect my puke. I bet there’ll be flakes of his penis skin in there along with my candy from the library.

Brock isn’t as easily swayed at his friend. “Not till I teach this whore a lesson, Jonah. She needs to learn, they all fucking do.” He backhands me, making my teeth rattle. Every strike on my body hurts more than the last, but part of me, somewhere dark and twisted wants to fist pump that they’re leaving all the evidence I need to throw them in a dark cell and throw away the fucking key.

Jonah and Brock. Another detail I tuck away for the debrief at the police station later.

I don’t know how many more hits he gets to unleash on me, or how my body manages to curl into the fetal position, but at some point, Jonah pulls his friend from me, and they scurry away back to where they came from.

With trembling hands and the last remaining strength I have left in my body, I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out my phone. Apollo is the first brother alphabetically on my phone, so I hit the call button, smearing blood all over my screen and try to remain conscious as the ringing and ringing threatens to drag me under into unconsciousness.

---