The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A GIRL CALLED SEAGULL: CHAPTER 6

Mr Arden left soon after that, telling the men he needed to go and ‘deal with’ my friends and family.

Mostly, they won’t even remember that there ever was a girl called Sarah, he had said in a calm, reassuring tone of voice that chilled me to the bone. We can do what we want to her. She won’t be going home.

The remaining men stood around the bed, looking down at me after he left. I was still in the same position, grinding my hips, repeating my phrases. I felt so stupid and humiliated and vulnerable, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

‘Who wants the bitch?’ asked Mr Chambers. ‘I went first thing this morning. It’s someone else’s turn.’

‘Let’s cut cards,’ one of them suggested and the others agreed.

They sat around shuffling and cutting the cards, and one of them set up a running sheet on his laptop. I would have flushed in embarrassment, except that I was already so embarrassed at my predicament, and I didn’t have room for any more.

‘I am ready for your sperm,’ I said, writhing on the bed. ‘I am ready for your sperm.’

‘Are you, love?’ sniggered the man who had won the first fuck with me. ‘Get up and walk around the room first. I want to see you walk all the way to the balcony door over there,’ he pointed, ‘and back again. Then get down on the floor. Face down, ready for my cock.’

Obediently, I sat up and crawled to the edge of the bed, stepping off and starting to walk. My gait was awkward and confused as I couldn’t bring my feet together. I waddled in a makeshift wide walk, as if walking with a large ball between my knees.

I felt so ridiculous. The men laughed at me, pointing and clutching their sides as I walked.

I couldn’t believe what had happened to me. This all still seemed like a bizarre, unpleasant dream. My world had shrunk to this room and the men’s sniggering gazes and their mean voices. I had breathed a sigh of relief when Mr Arden left the room but it was an error. I knew these men would be no kinder to me. They had asked Mr Arden to create them a ridiculous fucktoy and that is what I was.

My feet in the odd, wide gait, I walked back to the man who had given me the order. Flushing with humiliation, I dropped to my knees and bent forward, lifting my butt high and resting my overlarge boobs on the hotel carpet. I started to writhe my hips automatically, unstoppably.

‘I am aroused now,’ I said, hating the degrading words that I couldn’t stop coming out of my mouth. ‘I am aroused now. I am aroused now.’

‘Obedient girl, Seagull,’ the man smirked down at me. ‘Who knew it was so easy to turn a woman into a blow-up doll?’ He chuckled. ‘It’s time to be good for me. I expect you to make my cock happy.’

I heard him stripping out of his clothes and kneeling down behind me. His hands stroked over my skin a bit, and soon I felt his hands on my hips and the tip of his shaft probing at my pussy. Another one, I thought, and I couldn’t even feel tired about it, because it was actually such a relief to be able to stop grinding away at thin air, looking like a ridiculous fucktoy someone had forgotten to turn off at the wall.

‘Ohhh,’ the man groaned as he slid the head of his cock in and out of my entrance, using my body to stimulate him to full hardness. ‘Oh, the toy feels good. Wet. A bit tight. Fuck, yes.’

He slid himself deeper into me, teasingly, out and in, but always further in, until he finally pushed himself against my deep inner wall in a long, slow thrust.

‘Squawk!’ I said involuntarily, the sound breaking through the silence.

The men laughed, a louder laugh, and I realised in fear that they were drunk — not on alcohol or drugs, but on drunk on torture, drunk on laughter, drunk on power and control over the girl on the floor.

The man behind me — I learned later that this was Mr Evans — fucked me slowly for a long time, clearly enjoying every time he thrust into me and every time I was forced to say ‘squawk!’ in response. I had forgotten that I would need to cum after fifty thrusts, but my humiliation increased as I felt my orgasm rising, needy and desperate.

I writhed against him, desperate to escape the orgasm. I didn’t want him to think I was enjoying him using me.

I was enjoying it though. Or at least my body was. I was so aroused and, on one level, this was the best sex I had ever had. My body was super sensitive from their abuse and I had always had difficulty orgasming. The unwelcome orgasm flashed through me while I cried into the floor, my cunt and clit seeming to flash with a hot, white light.

Mr Evans chuckled his satisfaction, of course.

‘Good bitch,’ he said, his words in time with his grinding rhythm. ‘Always nice when a hole appreciates the dick inside her.’

I moaned with humiliation, knowing that the count of fifty thrusts had reset. In another fifty thrusts, from him or another man, I would orgasm again. Fifty thrusts after that, I would orgasm all over again, endlessly, and then again. These men would take it as a sign that I was a slut and that I was enjoying them brutalising me.

Moaning, with my face and boobs pressed into the carpet, forced to take this man’s shaft over and over again from behind, there didn’t seem to be anything I could do about it.

Eventually Mr Evans sped up, seeking his orgasm, and then I had to speed up my squawking too, feeling humiliated and ridiculous. I was having to make the sound so fast that I couldn’t finish each one before I needed to start again, and I kept choking and stuttering, tears of embarrassment running down my face.

The men collapsed laughing, of course, some of them parodying me with their own bird sounds. I was fully crying by the time that Mr Evans splashed his cum into me, groaning a long, low sound of ecstasy.

‘She’s a good bitch,’ he said after a long moment, while he softened inside me. ‘There’s nothing like a woman who can’t disobey.’

The assembled group of men loudly asserted their agreement.

‘It’s why I work for Arden,’ one of them said. ‘I’m never giving up this fun.’

‘Who’s next?’ asked Mr Evans. ‘And where do you want her?’

‘Up on the bed,’ said a man I couldn’t see. ‘We’re going to do her together. If we get enough men thrusting into her silly little holes, she’ll sound even more ridiculous than she does now.’

‘She’ll cum more too,’ laughed Mr Evans. ‘That was pretty good, her whole cunt spasmed around my shaft, like she was milking me for seed.’

‘All women want to be inseminated,’ said Mr Chambers, his words making me flush with humiliation at the thought of all the semen — Mr Chambers’ and other men’s — that was drifting, unwelcome, inside my body, making its way up into my womb. ‘They just don’t realise it until you force it on them.’

That isn’t true, I thought feebly, but of course, I couldn’t protest. I wasn’t allowed to talk any more.

The men manhandled me up onto the bed, four of them — the remaining group who hadn’t fucked me yet — organising themselves around me in a circle. They put me on my hands and knees, forcing me to suck each of them off in turn. My legs were spread wide where I knelt, of course, and I felt my hips writhing as I suckled each of them, unable to stop myself moving in the lewd, wanton ‘fuck me please’ motions.

‘Permission to torture her a bit, while she gets you hard?’ asked Mr Caroll.

The men agreed, of course, and soon I felt Mr Caroll behind me at my hips. I flinched to feel his hands on my inner thighs, rolling my upper thighs outwards to getting a clearer view of my cunt.

I felt him rubbing something hard and smooth against my wet pussy and I quaked in fear. Soon, I felt him pushing the item through past my labia, prodding and poking at my tender entrance. I didn’t know what it was and, of course, none of them told me. Mr Caroll pushed roughly, and I felt like he was bruising my sensitive flesh as he pushed the thing into me.

It was wide and hard and slightly abrasive. I could feel that the thing was wide and square-ish, completely the wrong shape for a vagina. But Mr Caroll kept shoving it at me, using his strength as he gyrated the device against my vulnerable hole. I felt myself softening and giving way, and, horrifically, whatever the thing was, it slid into me, pushing my soft inner wall aside, making me feel impaled. The item wasn’t too large but it was irregularly shaped, with slight ridges and lumps along its sides. It was, I discovered later, the large remote for the TV in the hotel room.

‘Heh,’ laughed Mr Caroll, ramming it deep into me, hammering it carelessly against my inner wall, making me gasp — and squawk, of course — tears of humiliation and pain running down my cheeks. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before.

‘I thought she’d look ridiculous like this,’ Mr Caroll laughed. My hips kept writhing of course, and I could feel how the item inside me, still protruding from my cunt, would rock up and down as I gyrated my hips.

Mr Caroll made everything worse by placing a heavy hand on the remote, forcing me to feel its deep penetration each time I unwillingly, automatically pulsed my hips down and up.

Of course, the men were still getting me to give them blowjobs. Sometimes, they thrust their shafts into my mouth, and I squawked of course, the sound muffled by the hard dick filling my mouth. I blushed with sheer humiliation each time. I was a toy. A squeaky sex toy, like nothing more than a plastic throwaway gimmick that would be marketed to a buck’s night for the amusement of drunk patrons.

I came too, of course, from the fiftieth thrust since I last had orgasmed, my cunt spasming and clenching in need around the TV remote inside me, my voice gasping around the man who was in my mouth at the time, as I shook physically in sheer arousal. The orgasms were getting stronger and I couldn’t do anything about it.

Eventually, all the four men on the bed except for Mr Caroll were hard, their cocks slippery with my saliva and their own precum.

‘Two men in her cunt,’ one of them gasped. ‘One in her butt. And one down her throat. Let’s see if she can still make that ridiculous noise with a man buried inside her throat.’

I was so scared but I had no choice about anything, of course.

One man positioned himself at my butthole, rubbing more lube into me with his fingers, before starting to push his hard cock into me there. He still felt too large but Mr Caroll must have softened me up when he raped me there earlier because this new man slid into me way too easily, making me cry with humiliation of being raped here again.

I hated the feeling of him inside my arsehole. It felt too intrusive, ‘wrong’ somehow, a horrible feeling like fingers walking up the back of my legs. Even worse, the man could tell I didn’t like it.

‘The bitch doesn’t like this,’ he said, chuckling and shoving himself deeper as if I was a prize to be conquered. ‘Well, all the more fun for us. Let’s put two cocks in her arse next time, we’ll see how loudly we can make her scream.’

‘I’ve been wanting to put my hand inside a girl’s butt,’ one of the men offered, and I flinched in fear.

The TV remote was still inside me, of course, and I was crying with humiliation, as the hard, intrusive object crushed my flesh. The man inside my butt rolled me easily onto my back, seating himself against the headboard of the bed, and I screamed and whimpered in fear as the other men pushed my legs apart, looking hungrily at my pussy.

‘Get a photo of her with the remote inside her,’ one of them said greedily, stroking his hard shaft.