The Blowout - Holiday Gangbang

[RapeU]

Teaser: Wendy just wants to meet her girlfriend Hanna's family for the Christmas holidays and make a good impression. But things don't go as planned when their flight is cancelled and the rental car tire blows out. Neither of them know how to change a tire and there's no cell service in the mountains. Maybe the nearby house can help...
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
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Title: The Blowout
Author: RapeU
Chapter Tags: Story setup
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The Blowout

Chapter 1 - Packing

If there was an Olympic event for charging blindly into emotionally loaded rooms, I’d have medaled by sophomore year. Today, weighed down with enough pastry and caffeine to provision a small bunker, I threw myself at our apartment door, bracing myself for the chaos within. It was an apartment for students at our university with a common living room, four bedrooms, and two bathrooms. “Honey, I’m home,” I sang, letting the handle clack against the wall knowing nobody would chastise me for it. Our other two roommates had already left for winter break.

I walked over to the left side of the apartment where our bedrooms were. Hannah was running around back and forth between our bedrooms and the bathroom like a chicken with her head cut off. She didn’t pause her chaotic packing routine. “…got enough Ziplock bags in case there’s a spill on the way over and on the way back. Check.” There was a pause and sounds of her rummaging through something. “Phone charger, laptop charger, backup charger…” I followed her into her room and yelled out, “Did you remember to pack your brain?” Hannah absently replied, “Yes I’ve got it in my…” then it fully dawned on her what I had asked. She turned to me with a playful yet stressful look “Asshole,” she teased. “Nope, it’s coffee, and snacks.” I smirked without missing a beat. “But you can have my asshole later if you want,” I winked.

She closed the suitcase on her bed and snapped the latches. Then she wiped invisible dust off the plastic. Only then did she cross the room and claim her cup, “Thank you,” she said, ignoring my sexual suggestion, and took a sip. I watched her, always hoping she’d relax a little, maybe let her shoulder blades drop half an inch for the holiday. No such luck. If anything, she was more braced than usual, her movements so efficient it made me feel like a ransacked thrift store in comparison. I pointed to an unopened cell phone charger package. “Did you buy that specifically for this trip?” I asked. She made a show of ignoring me, peeling a sticker from her cup.

“There’s nothing worse than needing a charger and not having one,” she finally said after a pause. “Except maybe discovering your girlfriend hoards lithium like a deranged squirrel,” I playfully shot out. I took a sip of my own coffee. It was nice and warm. “Or facing the terror of your first Christmas with her parents.” She shot me a glance. “It’s not terror. It’s…strategic planning.” I sighed, “Planning. Right.” I managed to stop myself from rolling me eyes. “We both know your mom is going to hate me.” “She won’t.” Hannah leaned back against the wall, measuring me with that same gaze she used to diagram organic chemistry reactions on the whiteboard. “She’ll worry, but she won’t hate.”

I set the bag of pastries down, exhumed a muffin, and bit into it. “Define ‘worry,’” I mumbled with my mouth partially full. Hannah hesitated, her face was good at hiding feelings, but her hands always betrayed her. Her nails tapped against the cup lid with one while the other twirled a lock of hair behind her ear. “She does know we’re together right? Not just friends?” I asked. Hannah nodded, “Yes. And she accepts it. She was fine with me going to prom with Amanda Barkley.” I shook my head, “Prom’s a false positive for parental acceptance.” I laughed, “Nobody automatically thinks lesbian when two girls go to the prom together. Not even my parents. And I tried to tell them my prom date with Christina Ellis was a real one, but they pretended to not hear me.” I shrugged, “I think they hoped I was going through a phase.”

Hannah gave me a sympathetic look, “My parents aren’t like that. My mom, she’ll just…” she hesitated again, then continued. “She’ll ask if you’re eating enough,” her finger twirled her hair faster, “what your parents are doing for the holidays.” I frowned at that one, but let her continue. “If you’re still seeing that therapist.” I raised an eyebrow, “If all she does is pepper me with questions I can deal with that.” Hannah looked at me with an unsure expression, “sometimes she can be a little intense.” I looked at my girlfriend and tried to imagine the woman who made her. She would probably have the same flaming red hair and personality to match. Maybe the same adorable freckles all over her arms. I smiled “Sometimes intense is fun.” I let my voice turn suggestive, “Speaking of fun…” I paused for effect, “are you nearly done?”

Hannah shook her head. “Not quite.” She set her coffee aside and opened her suitcase. By now this was probably the quadruple check. Refold and recount clothes, optimize space, and go through the list one more time. She was an artist with limited canvas, and I knew better than to interrupt when she hit the zone. Instead, I sat on the floor, back pressed to the wall, and watched the way she arranged her world. There was a pleasure in watching her work. Control as comfort, order as prayer. The silence pressed in, punctuated only by the sound of her pen scratching over the checklist taped inside the suitcase lid.

When I knew she had finished with that round of checking, I spoke “Am I on your list tonight?” She glared at me. “You know you’re always on the list.” I smirked “Even if you don’t write it down?” Her face became serious and body more rigid “Does it bother you when I don’t?” I shook my head and giggled, “I’m kidding Han, I’m kidding.” Her body relaxed a hair as she checked the list for what was hopefully the last time. “We have to leave at six,” Hannah announced. “If you oversleep, I’m leaving you here,” she teased. I took another sip of my coffee, then set it down and smiled “How ruthless of you. Whatever will I do alone in this apartment all by myself over the holidays.” I feigned fainting. She giggled. Her eyes sparkled with the promise of a little fun.

Before we could get anywhere her phone rang. The screen said “Mom.” The phone’s insistent buzzing on the bedside table was enough to trigger a Pavlovian response. Hannah’s spine straightened, her jaw clicked, her hands hovered, momentarily unsure whether to answer or hide the device in the lining of her suitcase. She let the phone ring three times, as if not wanting to seem too eager, and then slid her thumb across the screen. “Hi, Mom.” The phone was not on speaker, but I could hear her mom’s voice regardless.

“Hey sweetie. Are you packed? Did you get my email about the snowstorm? I heard on the radio there’s a traffic jam. Don’t get on the interstate if you hear about a pileup, Hannah, promise me. Are you taking the all-wheel drive?” Hannah’s hand was already white-knuckling the phone. “We’re taking the four-wheel drive, Mom. Wendy’s done the route before. It’s just from here to the airport. We’re leaving early, just like you said.” There was a pause, and I sensed her mom leaning in for the real interrogation. “Now, you’re sure Wendy doesn’t have any allergies? I got the almond milk, but if she needs oat or rice, I can still run to the store in the morning. I just need to know before I start the baking.” Hannah’s lips pressed to a hard, colorless line. “She’s not allergic to anything, Mom. She’s,” Her eyes darted to me, as if checking for my approval, or maybe begging for rescue. “She’s not picky. She’s easy.” I opened my mouth in a large O and grasped by chest in a feigned look of shock, and she nearly laughed. Her mom’s voice sharpened. “You’re not easy, Hannah. You’re the pickiest eater I know, except maybe your Uncle Jerry, and he only eats microwave dinners. Now, does Wendy have any dietary needs at all? I can make gluten-free stuffing, but only if I know ahead of time…”

I tuned out and let the drone of concern wrap around me like a wet towel. Hanna’s mother’s worry traveled the distance with surgical accuracy. My own mother, by contrast, checked in once every other month, usually to ask if I’d seen the latest episode of some prestige cable drama. I envied the specificity of her mother’s caring, even as I saw how it embarrassed Hannah. Hannah stood and began pacing small, frantic loops around the bed, phone pressed tight to her ear. “We’re fine, Mom. You don’t have to…okay, yes, I’ll check with Wendy. I’ll text you if she thinks of anything else.”

I stared at my own hands, remembering the times I’d nearly died of embarrassment when I was introduced as “the friend.” Or when my parents looked at each other and pretended like I wasn’t a lesbian. At least Hannah's mother wasn’t pretending not to know. “We don’t have enough room to separate you two, but you’re both adults now. Just don’t make too much noise. If you need tips on how to be quiet, just let me know.” Hannah’s face matched her hair for a moment. “Mom!” she exclaimed. I covered my mouth and tried not to laugh. It didn’t work, and Hannah shot me an annoyed look.

Hannah’s voice dropped to a murmur after her mother mentioned another potential yet unlikely disaster. “You don’t have to worry about me, Mom. I’m not a kid anymore.” Her mom didn’t respond, not at first. Then, in a softer voice said “I’ll always worry about you, Han. It’s my job.” For a moment, I hated her mother for saying that, for making care into a trap, but then I remembered that my own mother only worried when the rent was late or the car made a new noise. The call ended with three separate goodbyes, each more reluctant than the last. Hannah held the phone in her lap, screen gone dark, and stared at the wall. We sat in silence for a few moments.

“You okay?” I finally asked. She shrugged, then nodded, then shook her head, all in the space of a breath. “She means well.” I nodded “Yeah. She does.” Hannah pressed her hands together, thumbs worrying at the ridges of her knuckles. “She’s going to ask you a million questions. Just…be patient. She needs time.” I smiled, “I’ve got this. I can handle it,” I said with confidence. She looked at me, and for the first time all day her armor slipped. “What if you can’t?” I reached across the tiny gulf between us and touched her wrist. “I’ve survived two years of you. I can handle your mother.” She snorted, but the sound was damp. “Not the same.”

I wanted to tell her I was terrified, too, that every time I thought about sitting at her family’s table with the wrong fork or the wrong stories I felt like my bones might dissolve. I wanted to tell her I would have done anything for her, including the impossible, becoming the sort of girl her mother could be proud of. Instead I squeezed her hand and said, “Don’t underestimate me. I’m scrappy.” She smiled at my joke, but I could tell she was still worried.

We stayed in that taut silence for a while, listening to the hum of the mini fridge and the tick of the wall clock. I half expected Hannah to melt down, but that wasn’t how she worked. Instead, she straightened, squared her shoulders, and began packing all over again, as if repetition could conjure stability out of thin air. I drifted back to our living room, mostly to give her time, but also to escape the coiling nerves in the bedroom. We probably wouldn’t be intimate tonight because she was too wound up, and that was ok. I knew she would relax more once the initial meeting was over.

I replayed the phone call in my head, every syllable of her mother’s interrogation, every unspoken fear between mother and daughter. Hannah didn’t know how lucky she was to have supportive parents. If I had brought Hannah over to mine, it would be way more awkward all around since they would pretend our relationship was just friends. My phone buzzed with a text message from my mom, wishing me a safe trip with my friend and confirming that she still pretended my sexual preference didn’t exist. I sighed with annoyance and hoped that one day my family would accept me for who I am just like someone else’s family already had before we had even met.
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Wrote the first chapter and decided to post it as I write it rather than all at once to motivate me to finish before the contest ends like I did last time.

[RapeU]

Chapter Tags: Story
Content Warnings: Teasing sexual banter
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Chapter 2 Journey Interrupted

The departures board in the airport before security was as red as Hannah’s hair with every flight cancelled. The airport was total chaos with people running around in all directions. Hannah had her “I am calm” mask on, but I could tell this exact scenario was one of her worst nightmares. There was a slight tremor in her right hand as she was madly scrolling through her tablet. I patiently stood beside her, waiting for an opportunity to be of help.

“Air traffic controller shortage my ass,” Hannah muttered under her breath. I resisted the temptation to make an inuendo. Her hand flew over her tablet like a pianist, face a mask of concentration. Boisterous voices could be heard, people loudly arguing with ticket agents who had no control over what was going on. My Hannah knew better than to waste time that way. She was perfect, in her way, trying to resolve the situation quietly online. I watched her fingers tap the screen and wondered if she even registered how tightly she held the tablet.

I noticed a coffee shop with no line and decided to get something as well as leave Hannah to work her magic. With coffee and snacks in hand, I returned to Hannah muttering to herself. “Any luck?” I asked offering her a scone. She sighed and opened her mouth for it. I pushed it inside where she skillfully held it in place until she was ready to take a real bite. “Everything is gone,” she said after she swallowed. “Should we try driving?” I wasn’t thrilled about being in the car for the rest of the day, but it was better than waiting for something to happen at the airport. Hannah blinked and I could almost see the numbers scroll behind her eyelids. “If the roads are clear. If we don’t get caught in bad weather. If nothing goes wrong,” she replied. “We got this,” I said with enthusiasm. She nodded “I’ve driven the route before. If we leave now we can make it before the winter storm that’s supposed to come in.” She frowned, “assuming the forecast is correct.”

The rental desk was a glass box, thick with the scent of heated plastic and recycled air, and the clerk looked like she belonged as a worker drone in a hive of bees. Every interaction was clipped to the minimum syllable count. “Last name, driver’s license, credit card.” Hannah provided the documents. “Destination?” Hannah told her where her parents lived. The clerk blinked. “Better go around instead of through Blackridge Pass. Supposed to be a winter storm. Hannah’s mouth did that thing where she smiled with only one side. “We’ll make it.” The clerk looked unimpressed, but continued her script as if it didn’t matter to her if we listened or not. It probably didn’t. “Cheapest is the compact SUV, unlimited miles. Four-wheel drive.” She handed Hannah a printout. “Insurance?” “Yes,” Hannah said without hesitation. “Then initial here, here, and here. And you’re good to go. Blue RAV4, slot D7. Gate code is on the key fob. Next!”

We walked through the sliding doors into a wind that felt like a dare. The world outside was washed gray, the rental lot a warzone of battered compacts and SUVs with the same defeated look. Ours was easy to spot, an attempt at sky blue, with a windshield already sprinkled with salt and grit. We stowed the bags in the back, Hannah checking and double-checking the order of things. She ran her hand along the dashboard, then set the mirrors, then fiddled with the climate controls until the vents spat heat that made my sinuses ache. She took her place behind the wheel with a sense of ceremony, knuckles pale against the black leather.

Suddenly the driving idea seemed to be a bad one, but I couldn’t figure out why. “You sure we can make it before the storm hits?” Hannah shrugged, “I’ve driven through Blackridge Pass enough times I could probably do it with the cruise control on.” When she saw my eyes widen she clarified, “Not when it’s wet or when there’s about to be inclement weather, but I know the road.” Somehow that didn’t make me feel any better. “What if we just stayed?” I offered, not quite joking. “Hotel, room service, Netflix binge until the world resumes spinning?”

She shook her head, eyes fixed on the spectral blur of the headlights across the lot. “Mom’s already texted three times. If we’re not there tonight, she’ll…” She trailed off. I jokingly finished the thought, “Send a SWAT team?” Hannah nodded, “Yeah. Or worse, think I’m lying dead in a ditch.” There was a humor in her voice, but also something acidic and raw. The kind of expectation that could become a weight. I softened my voice. “We can wait until conditions improve.” She shook her head. “Storm is supposed to last for days. And the flights won’t resume until after Christmas.” Her face was a mask of calm, but I saw the slight tremble in her hand. “I want this. I want you to meet everybody.” She took my hand, “I want them to know you’re important to me.”

The way she said it, the pause when she took my hand, filled the car with a different kind of air. I saw something in her eyes I hadn’t quite seen before. She really wanted this, more than anything. It felt like there was something she wasn't saying, a secret fear that she dared not express aloud lest it happen. I knew her well enough that it was something best left alone until the fear was no longer a possibility. Smiling, I deadpanned, “If we die, you’re haunting my parents with me as revenge for ignoring my lesbianism.” She laughed, the tension draining from her body momentarily. “Deal,” she gave me a quick kiss and started the car.

***

Three hours later we were driving through twisted, jagged terrain. Even though sundown was a few hours away, the sky was dark with angry clouds. I heard Hannah’s stomach growl and tried to make her laugh to ease the tension in her body. “Should have brought more snacks. You’ll have to eat me if we crash.” She didn’t laugh, but her mouth twisted into a mischievous smirk, “Oh I’ll eat you later tonight crash or no crash.” It was the kind of banter that usually started toward us making out, except we were barreling down a mountain road with neither the time nor the lumbar support. I leaned back, watching the flick of her eyes between the rearview and the horizon. “You know if I go down in a rental car accident, everyone will assume it was an elaborate sex thing.” I put my hands up as if they were a picture frame “‘Death by cunnilingus while driving’ will be my obituary headline.”

This time she fully laughed with sparkling eyes, and her body partially relaxed. “I’m the one driving,” she pointed out. I made an exaggerated shrug with my hands and shoulders “Hey you never know what position we could end up in.” I grinned, “Remember that article I shared with you where two people ended up switching seats on a roller coaster midride?” That remark elicited a snicker from her. “With how much you wiggle, wild things are bound to happen,” she teased. I gave her a mischievous glance. “I bet you have it written down somewhere actions done by you causing movements from me.” A playful, sexy smile plastered her face and I saw a twinkle in her eye. “I do. You wanna see my sex spreadsheet? It’s in what would have been my carry on bag.” I laughed, but then realized she was being serious when her expression didn’t change. When she saw my eyebrows raise she gave me an impish glance, “You’re always on the list,” she said repeating what she had told me yesterday. “Holy shit, I love you.” I blurted out. “I know,” Hannah winked.

While I was thinking of something else to continue our sexy banter, Hannah frowned and started to slow the car down. Her body resumed it’s heightened tension. It was easy to see why, snow had started to fall during our banter. At first it was light and didn’t stick to the ground. But now the snowfall was visibly heavier and starting to come together on the ground. It seemed like the storm had blown in early. Hannah sighed and I knew she needed to concentrate on keeping us safe. Our playful banter had to momentarily cease. For ten minutes, maybe more, all you could hear was the fan pushing hot, dry air and the tires muttering against the snow.

My phone buzzed and I checked it out of reflex. No service. I heard Hannah’s phone buzz too, probably from the same notification. She wisely ignored it and kept driving. “The dead zone,” I whispered, then was floored when we passed a weathered road sign that literally said dead zone. We went by it too quickly for me to determine if it was a real road sign or just someone's idea of a practical joke. “Yeah,” Hannah absently said. “Just need to get through the next several miles.” That she didn’t mention the specific number of miles left a sinking feeling in my gut. I could tell she was worried we wouldn’t make it, and that she didn’t want to worry me by voicing that thought.

“We got this,” I softly said to try and encourage her. “Yeah,” she absently agreed. Suddenly the car headlights illuminated a huge deer in the middle of the road. “No!” Hannah exclaimed and pushed on the breaks. The car dangerously weaved to the left and right. I shut my eyes tight and let out a scream as I felt the car hit something hard and metallic. Another scream involuntarily escaped me when I heard a large boom. The car lurched. I kept my eyes closed and continued to scream until I realized the car was no longer moving.

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I considered condensing this chapter to a paragraph or two about how their flight was cancelled and their car tire blew. But then I decided to explore the girl's personalities more. I'm glad I did.

[RapeU]

Chapter Tags: Story setup
Content Warnings: Creepy vibes from a man in his 30's
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Chapter 3 - Stranded

We were on the side of the road. It took a moment for me to realize everything in the car and the car itself, for the most part, was intact. “Wen, Wen. Wendy.” It took a moment to realize Hannah was talking to me “Are you ok?” I looked at my hands, palms first, then the back of my hands, then finally tested my legs. “No obituary headline tonight,” I said deadpan. She gave me her most annoyed look. “Not the appropriate time,” she scolded, “let’s see what the damage to the car is.”

Aside from a few scratches on the driver’s side of the SUV and the driver’s side rear tire being completely gone, the car was fine. Hannah squatted beside the non existent tire and muttered to herself. I could tell she was already in her planning and calculating zone. While I shivered in the cold snowfall, she opened the back and rummaged around for a bit before pulling the spare tire out along with a jack. “Do you know how to change a tire?” Her voice sounded frightened, which was strikingly abnormal for her. I shook my head “No, I never learned because I’ve always had roadside assistance coverage.” Hannah’s body visibly sagged. “Same,” she admitted. “I just never thought…” her voice trailed off and got quieter before she continued, “…there would be no service…”

Never in my wildest dreams had I thought I would live to see the day where my girlfriend didn’t think of a disaster scenario that was actually happening to us. Suddenly I felt bad about all the times I teased her for continuing to use the girl scout mantra of ‘Be Prepared.’ I said the first thing that popped into my brain, “Well, shit.” Hannah flicked a look at me, her face simultaneously older and younger than I’d ever seen it. “We’ll be ok. I can figure this out.” I felt my face contort into something like a smile. “You always do, but do you think we can do it inside the car? I’m freezing my tits off out here.”

Back in the car, Hannah tested the engine by turning it off and back on. Everything seemed ok. She closed her eyes and I could tell she was running scenarios through her head. I stayed quiet, letting her work her magic. Finally her eyes popped open. “We drive on the rim.” I frowned, “Wait, isn’t that dangerous?” She nodded “Very. But we’re not far from the end of the dead zone,” she paused for a moment, “and I know there’s people who live in the area. Ranchers or whatever.” She sounded unsure, rattled. Her hands shook more than I ever seen them shake before. I grabbed her hands and held them in my own, “So we drive very slowly until we get service or find a house. That’s a solid idea Han.”

I saw my encouragement take effect. The calm mask returned to her face and her hands became steady. Hannah shifted into drive, the car lurching forward with a metallic shriek. Each revolution of the rim produced a sound like teeth being ground into powder. We crawled along at five miles an hour or less, hazard lights pulsing in the dusk, the illumination of the dashboard making us look like ghosts. Neither of us spoke as the minutes ticked by, the only sound the tortured rim on blacktop and the low whistle of wind against the car. At some point, Hannah tried the radio, as if hoping for some kind of signal, but all we got was a burst of static. She turned it off.

The sky was purple with oncoming dark. The mountains above loomed as if waiting for us to make a mistake. The further we drove, the more I doubted we’d make it. But somehow, Hannah kept the car moving, and I kept my fear to myself. I don’t remember how long we drove. Time bent around us, minutes stretching and snapping back like rubber bands. I watched the odometer, willing the tenths to add up, but the numbers barely moved.

Finally in the middle of a curve I saw a battered and leaning mailbox with a driveway behind it. Had we been going the speed limit, it would have been easily missed. “Driveway,” I excitedly shouted. Hannah braked. The car skidded, slewed sideways, then stopped. She closed her eyes, inhaled, and started up the driveway at a crawl. We followed the path until it hit a metal gate. Beyond, a house loomed, pale in the moonlight, with a single porch light burning. Hannah looked at me, her face colorless. “We’ll be okay,” she said half heartedly. I nodded, because that’s what you do when hope is gone but someone you love needs it anyway. We left the car running and stepped into the bitter cold. The silence was absolute, the trees swallowing all sound. There was a sign on the gate that said

Private Property

No trespassing

Violators Will Be Prosecuted

I gulped when I noticed there was a spray painted X over the word prosecuted with the word “shot” clumsily painted underneath. Then I spotted the security camera, and suddenly I had a feeling this wasn’t the place to be. I felt the camera’s lens burning into my face, but nothing happened. No movement from the house, no voice crackling from a speaker. “I don’t like it,” Hannah whispered, voice flat. “But we’re out of options.” I looked at the house beyond the gate, just barely visible through the trees. A porch light burned gold, which felt less like welcome and more like the glow of an anglerfish’s lure. There was no other sign of life. “I’m getting axe murderer vibes over here,” I said, then wished I hadn’t. Hannah managed a brittle laugh. “Or a kindly lumberjack who keeps hot cocoa in a thermos for stranded travelers like us.” She squeezed my hand, then let go before I could return it.

“Maybe they’re asleep,” I said, though somehow I doubted they were. Hannah turned back towards the car. “I’m going to go honk the horn three times.” I frowned, “Why three?” She gave me a knowing look. “Three is the standard distress signal that anybody knows, even an old hermit living in a swamp.” In a mock Yoda voice I immediately said, “Honk you must, alert the swamp hermit we will.” Hannah shook her head and sighed, “That was bad, but I love you anyway.” “I know,” I replied grinning. Then, I gave her a short kiss that would have been much better if we weren’t standing in a snowstorm in the bitter cold. After the kiss broke, Hannah quickly went back to the car and honked. Then she returned to my side and waited.

Just when I was about to suggest to go back the car and wait in the warmth, the gate moaned with mechanical deliberation. The hinges were loud, slow, almost theatrical. “I guess we’re invited in?” I said timidly. Hannah shrugged and together we walked the path to the house. A man appeared on the path, not at once, but in increments. First his boots, then jeans dark with road salt, then a parka the color of old pennies. His head was bare, hair clipped close, and the porch light behind him carved his face into equal parts shadow and frost. He was younger than I expected. Not a crusty old hermit, but late thirties, maybe. Tall, with the compact heft of someone who did their own work. There was a scar on his cheek, pale against the windburn. He regarded us like a zookeeper meeting new specimens. I tried to smile, and what I got back was not quite a smile, but something that knew how to pass for one.

“You in trouble?” he said. The words steamed, then vanished. Hannah answered first. “Lost a tire. We tried to call for help, but…” She waved her phone in demonstration. He nodded, unsurprised. “This stretch is a dead zone. People get stranded here all the time. Lucky you made it as far as you did. And that you made it before the worst of the storm.” His eyes flicked to the road behind us, as if tallying the probability of our survival. I wanted to step back, but where could we go? Back to the car? That wouldn't be a viable option for very long in a snowstorm.

“We just need to use your phone,” I said, trying for polite urgency. “If we can call a tow, we’ll wait in the car until they come.” He beckoned us to come to the house. “No need to wait in the car,” he said. “Ya'll can come on in.” We followed him to the porch. “Name’s Roy. Roy Whitaker. Welcome to the end of the world.” The joke landed sideways, but Hannah gave it the grace of a half laugh. “I’m Hannah. This is my girlfriend Wendy.” Roy’s gaze stayed on her just a heartbeat too long. Not a leer, exactly, but an inventory. His eyes were the same brown as the surrounding woods, but colder.

“Girlfriend uh,” he grunted sizing me up next. Suddenly I felt very uncomfortable as if it somehow benefited him a lesbian couple had came to his doorstep. “Let’s get you inside before you freeze your fingers off. You can use the landline. We’ve got a generator and everything.” The promise of warmth was enough to outweigh some of my unease. We followed him, picking our way along the rutted driveway. Roy walked ahead, hands loose at his sides, but now and then he’d touch his waistband, as if checking for something. A knife? A phone? I wondered if I should be worried or grateful for the implied readiness.

The house was bigger than I expected. Not a log cabin, but a sprawling one story ranch with windows lit from within. It looked almost friendly, if you ignored the security camera at every corner and the cord of wood stacked like a barricade along the porch. Roy led us to the door, wiped his boots on the mat, and ushered us inside. “Mind the step,” he said, and for one dizzying moment, I imagined falling forward, into darkness. Instead, I entered the foyer, and with it, a wave of unfamiliar warmth. The place smelled of split pine and coffee, and the floors looked clean. Unusually clean.

He took our coats, hung them on a rack, and motioned us to a long dining table. “You’re just in time. I was about to eat. Can I get you something hot? Tea, cocoa, soup?” I wanted to say no, but my jaw clacked from the cold. “Anything would be great. Thank you.” He smiled, broader this time, and headed for the kitchen. I took the chance to look around. The house was clean, almost sterile. No family photos. Just old maps of the county, and a huge gun safe built into the far wall. A pair of snowshoes hung above the fireplace, crossed like bones. Various animal heads, mostly deer, were displayed on the walls. I realized this was more of a hunting lodge than a home, and somehow that knowledge made me more uneasy. I could tell Hannah sensed my unease. She leaned into my ear and whispered, “we’ll call the tow and leave. Five minutes, tops.” I nodded, but five minutes already felt too long. Every instinct told me we were trespassing, not just on his land, but in some more fundamental way.

Roy returned with three mugs of coffee, black and bitter. He set them in front of us, then sat at the head of the table, elbows wide. “So. Where you girls headed?” Hannah spoke “Home, I’m introducing Wendy to my parents.” Roy cocked an eyebrow “That’s a big step. Good luck.” He smiled, but his smile wasn’t an encouraging one. It was as if he was saying ‘excellent’ to us making our relationship stronger. And the way he said good luck was almost as if there was a threat behind it.

Hannah cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable as I was. “Can we use the phone?” Roy got up and motioned for us to follow. In a different room a beige rotary hung like a fossil. “There you go. I’ll give you the number for Santos. He’s the only tow guy who’ll come up here in a storm.” He recited the number from memory. Hannah dialed. It rang and rang, then she shook her head “Answering machine.” She tried again, but the result was the same. Roy watched her with the patient amusement of someone who already knew the punchline. “No one’s answering,” Hannah said, voice tight. Roy sipped his coffee. “Storm’s coming in hard. They probably closed up for the night.”

“Better call my mom,” Hannah said, “She’s probably already worried sick.” She punched in the numbers. After a few moments she frowned “Call can’t be completed as dialed?” My stomach felt like it weighed a thousand pounds with dread. Hannah gave Roy a confused look “Do I have to press a special number to call out of the area?” Roy shook his head, “Only numbers that work on that phone are local. Can’t afford long distance.” I felt my throat go dry. “Maybe we should try walking,” I suggested, “We really need to get in touch with her mom.” Roy shrugged. “You could try, but you probably won’t last more than a mile or two in the storm. People tend to disappear around here when they don’t know where they’re going.”

That last statement was too casual, like he was discussing the weather instead of missing people. It also felt like a veiled threat. Hannah looked at me and I saw panic behind her composure. “We can wait in the car, then,” she said, her voice shaky. “Maybe keep trying the phone?” Roy shook his head “You’ll waste the battery and gas trying to stay warm. This lodge has a room to sleep in and plenty of food. As soon as the storm blows over, I’ll take you down myself.” The last part should have been comforting, but the way he said it sounded suspicious, as if it was a kernel of truth mixed with a lie. As we headed back to the table, I wondered which part was true and which part was the lie.

The offer was generous, almost too much. I wanted to believe it, but something in his gaze unsettled me. The way he looked at us, not as people, but as puzzle pieces. He smiled again, wide as a highway. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. It’d be a shame to have the mountain claim two more lives. So young too.” The way he said ‘young’ sent shivers down my spine. Hannah hesitated. She glanced at the door, then at me, and for a second, I knew she was calculating the odds. She looked at me again and shrugged. I gulped, the shrug sent a stab of fear in my heart. Hannah seemed to always have a solution, she always knew what to do. But here? She was clueless and decided it was best to let me lead the way. Gulp.

“We’d appreciate it,” I said, my voice both grateful and afraid. Roy raised his mug in salute. “To the unexpected,” he said, and drank. I watched the coffee swirl in my cup, dark and bottomless. There was a taste at the back of my mouth, like the aftertaste of a joke that had gone too far. I took a sip. Despite the feeling of unease and gloom in my stomach, the drink was good and seemed to settle.

“You want all your stuff from the car, yes?” Roy asked after he took a few sips of his drink. I blinked. The thought of him touching our stuff made my skin crawl, but I also didn’t want to go back out there in the cold. I glanced at Hannah and could tell she felt the same way I did. “Thank you,” Hannah said with reserved appreciation, “We appreciate not having to go back out there.” Roy nodded, “I’ll grab everything now then show you to your room.”

Our room had a surprisingly comfortable king sized bed, and even it’s own full bathroom. It seemed like a nice hotel room, but something still felt off. Like somehow, someone was watching us. “Hey,” I whispered to Hannah. “You have the same feeling I do?” She nodded and whispered back, “Like someone is watching us through a peep hole we can’t see.” Her face became apologetic, “I know I said we would have fun tonight but…” “…it’s different when someone might be watching,” I finished the sentence after she trailed off. She smiled with relief. “Once we get back on track we’ll more than make up for lost time.”

We got ready for bed and huddled together beneath the covers, both of us listening to the hum of a heater that sounded strangely like a heartbeat. There was a chill in the bones of the house that no amount of central heating could squelch, and I realized it was coming from inside me. Hannah curled in closer, spooning my back, and her breath tickled the ridge of my ear. The hot wet of it shocked me. It was a reminder that I was alive, that this was still a body in a room and not a corpse in a ditch like her mother probably feared.
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[RapeU]

Chapter Tags: Nosex, story
Content Warnings: Inappropriate touching
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Chapter 4 - Trapped

I woke up to find somehow in the middle of the night we switched our positions. I was spooning Hannah. On any other day it would have been intoxicating and led to some morning exercise. The never ending feeling of being trapped and watched ruined the experience, however. “You awake,” I whispered. “Yeah,” Hannah quietly said, sounding sad. “We’ll get through this,” I said. I tried to sound more confident than a wet paper towel, but Hannah always saw straight through me. “You think he really just wants to help us?” she murmured, head still pressed to the pillow. I let silence answer, then muttered, “Maybe.”

We made a ritual of getting dressed, as if layers would arm us against something beyond the cold. The unsettling feeling of the lodge did not disappear in the daylight. The white glare on the windows made me feel like I was in the middle of a snow globe. I snuck a peek between the curtains. There was nothing but trees, bruised sky, and the car half buried in snow. Seeing the car in that state made the feeling of us being trapped worse.

“Let’s see if there’s breakfast,” Hannah suggested, “then we’ll figure out what to do from there.” When we opened the door we were indeed greeted with the smell of coffee and food, possibly pancakes. As we walked through the hallway back to the kitchen, I noticed another door we had passed by the night prior. It was ajar now, and someone stepped out. It wasn’t Roy, but someone younger and built like a professional football player. His face was looked rough and rugged with a patchwork of healed cuts and broken cartilage. His eyes were the same as Roy’s, and he gave off an even creepier vibe than him. He sized us up the way a butcher might a side of beef, then barked a laugh and jerked his head for us to follow. “We got breakfast ready for ya.”

“W…we?” I managed to stammer out. The man nodded, “Me and the bro’s. I’m Dale Whitaker,” he puffed out his chest like we were supposed to be impressed with him or something. Hannah closed her eyes for a few moments, opened them and then asked “How many brothers do you have?” Dale’s face beamed with pride, “Five.” He grinned, “Roy already told me ya names. Wendy and Hannah.” I gulped. He said our names not as if we were people, but as if we were exhibits in a zoo. And he didn’t make any move to shake our hands like a normal person. I probably wouldn’t have under the circumstances anyway. “So glad ya’ll made it over here, and in such a heavy storm.” He shook his head “Would have been a shame if you kept going and gotten lost.” There was no question that a threat was present in his statement. I felt my chest tighten with dread. Hannah looked even more uncomfortable than she did last night.

Dale then turned and motioned for us to follow him. I glanced at Hannah, who gave a look that said ‘let’s go along for now.’ Not like we had much of a choice in the matter. It was either breakfast with the only people around or brave the frigid cold mountains and hope the weather would improve. We followed Dale, Hannah just behind me, to the table from last night. This time the table was full. Five men sat, or rather, loomed, over plates heavy with fried eggs, bacon, biscuits smothered in thick white gravy. Roy was at the head of the table, grinning. “Ladies! Glad you made it down. You already met me n Dale.” He nodded to Dale, who took a seat, never taking his eyes off us. “Vernon, Lester, Clyde, and Earl.” Each man lifted his chin in greeting. “Welcome to Hemlock Lodge,” Earl said with a grunt.

They looked alike in the way that rats or cockroaches looked alike. Each brother had a similar build with variations of muscle and grunginess. Vernon was tall and whip-thin, all elbows and Adam’s apple, with a smile that never quite formed. Lester looked barely twenty, his hands trembling as he tore off chunks of bread. Clyde was the only one who looked vaguely like someone’s uncle. I could see a hunting knife on his belt, which made me feel even more uneasy. Earl was clearly older than the rest, his beard and hair streaked with gray, but his eyes were brighter and more alive than any of them.

I could tell Hannah’s mind was working overtime. Her face was imperceptible, but that hand tremor was ever present. She tried to keep it hidden, but I was able to see. I wondered if any of the Whitakers noticed. At the table, there was only one spot set for us, at the far end. Hannah sat first, folding herself in as small as possible. I took the chair next to her, every hair on my neck at attention. “Hope you like breakfast,” Roy said. “It’s the most important meal of the day.” Dale grunted, a low sound that vibrated the table. “Usually don’t get visitors up here this time of year.” He slapped his palm down on the table, causing the silverware to jump. “But you’re lucky. We’ve got plenty of food to go around.”

Hannah shot me a look, her eyes briefly showing me how frightened she was. I could tell we were both wondering the same thing: if visitors were rare, how were they so well prepared with all this food? I chanced a bite at a biscuit. It tasted normal, good even, but I couldn’t shake the feeling after I ate it something sinister would happen. The brothers watched us eat, saying very little, the smacking of their own lips louder than words.

“You ladies sleep okay last night?” Roy asked with a suggestive uncomfortable leer. Hannah responded after a delayed beat, “The beds are really comfortable.” Roy nodded. “Mother Whitaker picked them out herself. Was a stickler for comfort.” His eyes shone, as if he’d just told a sweet story, but the air in the room went a degree colder, and his tone of voice sounded like something had happened to dear old Mother Whitaker. Something bad. Shortly after his remark, Hannah’s trembling hand betrayed her as she spilled some food on the floor. I could hear a snicker and thought I heard someone whisper “wonder if redhead’s carpet matches the drapes.” I glanced at Hannah to see if she had heard it. She gave me a look back confirming she had. Then I heard another whisper, “dibs on the brunette,” then a hiss “shut up they'll hear you!” I gulped.

In a trembling voice, Hannah spoke after whoever said for the others to shut up. “Th…thank you for breakfast. Can we use the ph…phone now?” Roy snapped his fingers. “Earl, the woman seems like she’s cold. Get her something for that will you?” The way he said woman dripped of venom, like we were objects instead of human. Earl grunted and left the table. “Vernon show Wendy over to the phone.” Roy’s delivery of the command, with gleeful amusement, sounded like a joke only he and his brothers knew the punchline of.

Vernon slid his chair back with a noise like a guillotine. He stood up, towering over the table, and gestured for me to follow. I hesitated, but Hannah squeezed my hand under the table. I followed Vernon into a little side room, windowless, with a rotary phone mounted to the wall. “Give it a try,” he said, folding his arms. His shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbow, and the skin underneath was lined with tattoos of wolves, numbers, and something that looked like a courthouse with flames around it. I dialed the number for roadside assistance. The phone didn’t even ring. Just a flat, metallic silence. “Storm knocked it out,” Vernon said, not bothering to hide his smile. “We’ll get it fixed when we can.” The way he said it sounded like the phone was supposed to be broken. I gulped, then tried my mom’s number, for the hell of it. Same dead air. Vernon just stood and watched, leaning a little closer. I could feel the heat of his body, like a wolf breathing at my ear.

“Um,” I started to protest how close he was coming to me. “Gonna try somethin,” Vernon explained. He reached over to the phone and tapped a plastic part down. As he did so, I felt a hand brush against my ass. I almost yelped, but Vernon’s hand was gone in an instant as if it had never happened. For a moment I wondered if it was my imagination. He worked the phone’s cradle, then looked at me with a glint that was all teeth and challenge. I realized it definitely wasn't my imagination. He had touched me. “Sometimes you gotta jiggle it.” The way he said it sounded sexual, like he wanted parts of my body to jiggle. His breath was so close I could taste coffee and something worse, sweet rot in the hollows of his gums. “No dice,” I said, voice dry and clipped. “Nope,” he said, and lingered. “But you’re welcome to try again later.” He didn’t look away until I did. I thought I felt something barely touch my chest, like his hand, but when I looked nothing was there. “Anything else I can help you with?” he said as if nothing had happened.

“Not touching me would be nice,” I said then immediately wondered if I made a mistake by being too frank. Vernon gave me a wounded look that was obviously feigned, “Just being friendly,” he said. Then under his breath he whispered, “Fighter.” I didn’t like the sound of that. “I’m going back over to Hannah,” I said suddenly realizing I had no idea what was happening to her. I stepped around him, back toward the main room, but he didn’t move aside. He made me squeeze past, and as I did so it felt like he brushed his hand on my ass again. “Stop touching me,” I managed to choke out. Vernon just grinned but didn't make any further moves. He watched me go back down the hallway, then followed some distance behind me.

I entered the room just in time to see Roy “accidentally” brush up against my girlfriend. He didn’t even try to hide that he was going for her chest. “Oops,” he said in faux apology as he picked up her plate and retreated into the other room. I tried to catch her eye, but she was busy scanning the room, cataloguing exits, objects, anything that could be weaponized. There was a folded blanket next to her on the floor, but she hadn't taken it. Even I could tell that the blanket was a trap. The moment she bent over to get it, someone would probably be sneaky and grab part of her body like Vernon had with me. I entered the room and sat beside her. We glanced at each other. I nodded at her in silent communication that I had been touched. She made a disgusted face and silently communicated the same to me, not realizing I had seen Roy do it. Roy and Vernon returned to their places at the table. Everyone’s eyes were on on us. The air thickened. Something was about to happen, and it seemed like a game of chicken where the first person to make a move loses.

Hannah glanced at me one last time and I could tell she had enough. “We need to leave,” she announced. The brothers didn’t move, their eyes filled with amusement. Hannah stood so fast her chair toppled over backward. “Now.” She didn’t wait for me, just made for the door. I went after her after a moment of hesitation. A moment too long, as Dale was quicker, catching me at the elbow before I got three steps. His grip was a steel trap. “Sit down,” he said, teeth bared. The rest of the brothers cut Hannah off before she could make it to the front door, aside from Roy who remained seated.

“Let me go!” I insisted. Dale released his grip, but remained too close for comfort. I knew he was toying with me. Hannah was backing up the way she came, back towards me. She gave me a glance and I caught what she meant, go back to the table for a weapon of some kind. We both went back to our places at the table, but we didn't sit down. The faces of each brother had twisted into sinister sneers. “You can’t leave yet ladies,” Roy taunted, rising from his chair. “The blowout is about to get started!”
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[RapeU]

Chapter Tags: MMMMMMFF, NonCon, Vaginal, Anal, Oral, ATM, Forced Lesbianism, humiliation, bondage
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Chapter 5 - Living Room Assault

Without even thinking about what I was doing, I snatched a mug from the table and threw it with all my might towards Dale. He dodged it at the last moment and the mug shattered on the wall. Hannah picked up a knife, but she never got to use it. Vernon moved faster than I could track, and wrenched her hand so hard she dropped the knife. It landed, blade-down, in the biscuit gravy. He twisted her arm up behind her back and pinned her head to the table. The sound she made was not a sound I’d ever heard from her before. She sounded like a wounded animal, fighting for life. Dale had me in the next heartbeat, both wrists in his one hand. My body thrashed and twisted, but his grip didn’t loosen. Suddenly I found my head mashed against the table as well.

“Please,” I begged, the word coming out slurred from my left cheek being pinned to the table. “Please let us go!” My words tumbled out, high and childish, until Dale jerked my wrists up and it cut off my breath. Sharp pain radiated down my arms, causing me to cry out. Hannah screamed. Not just screamed, but let loose a raw, ragged note that started in her stomach and ripped out her mouth, shuddering the whole table. Her body thrashed against Vernon, but he had her firmly in his grip.

The other brothers came in assistance to the two that held us. I felt sets of hands grip me like iron on my upper arms. Hannah screamed again, a hoarse scream that sounded more like a demon than my girlfriend. “Please,” I begged again, my voice shrill. Laughter was the only reply as we were painfully dragged from the dining room into the living room. We were dragged to the center on a large rug. There was a clicking sound, another scream from Hannah, and then I felt cold metal around my wrists accompanied by another clicking sound. They cuffed our wrists behind our backs.

“Struggling will only make things worse,” Roy said casually as if he were listing the ingredients used to make gravy. “Ya’ll be good girls now ya hear?” “FUCK YOU!” Hannah screamed with all her might and headbutted Clyde in the chest. The impact didn’t appear to have an effect. Clyde grinned menacingly “You’ve guessed the main event,” he mocked. The rest of the brothers snickered. “Please, no please!” My voice didn’t even sound like mine, high, shrill, and piercing. Hands tore at the buttons on my blouse, ripping it open. I committed all the weight of my body to go backwards, trying to throw them off of me and simultaneously get away somehow. My head slammed into someone’s body and it felt like hitting a steel wall. Pain exploded in my arms as they got smushed against someone’s body.

Hannah made another noise, sounding like the girl from The Exorcist. My blouse was shredded open at the front, hanging in various places on my arms. Hands ripped and tore what remained away from my torso. Then my bra was next. They didn’t bother to try and remove it properly using the hooks, they just yanked, grabbed, and ripped it free from my body. Hannah was treated the exact same way in front of me. Her eyes were feral, lips open with constant demon screams. Half the time I didn’t even think about what to say before I said it as I begged and pleaded for them to stop with screams of my own.

They pushed us down on the ground next. Hannah continued to scream as I breathed in heavy, ragged sobs. I felt a tug against my pants and tried to crawl away, toward Hannah. Dale came into my field of vision. “Quit making things worse for yourself.” I made it worse anyway. I kicked, aiming for his groin or kneecap, but he blocked it, then twisted my leg so hard I was afraid something would break. Then I felt a pop around my knee and pain flashed white, then dulled to a hot pulse. I cried out in agony, causing Hannah to scream louder with rage, or maybe she was being hurt the same way I was, I couldn’t tell.

Dale sat on my chest, painfully pinning my arms between my body and the rug. He slapped my face, then made a guttural sound of clearing his throat and spit right in my face. I felt hands tug at the waistband of my pants. The urge to retch fought with the urge to scream, and in the end, neither won. My feet tried to kick, but I couldn’t see where to aim and I eventually felt hands hold my legs down as my pants were coming off. They didn’t bother to slide my panties down, they just tugged at them until the fabric ripped like they had my bra. “Hot dayum,” I heard Roy say “Both carpets match the drapes.” The brothers whistled and hooted like wolves howling at the moon. It had been a few days since either of us had shaved, and we were going to do it together at some point after we arrived at Hannah’s parents’ house.

“Whaddaya think boys,” I heard Roy’s voice, “fuck em as is or shave em a little more to be like the others.” The terror inside me increased tenfold. They just casually admitted to us they had other victims. “No!” I shrieked “Please don’t hurt us please no please no please no!” My voice was so full of shrill and panic that I didn’t even recognize it. Hannah let out another gut wrenching scream, then agonized sobbing moans as the brothers one by one said “Fuck ‘em!” There was a loud cheer when it was determined to be unanimous. “We won’t tell anyone. Please. Please, you don’t have to do this.” My words came out hoarse, broken, but I said them anyway, as if there were any chance of mercy. “Ya’ll just be good girls,” Roy called out, “Or keep fighting,” he said with an indifferent tone “but bad things happen to girls who keep fighting.”

The next moments were a blur of commotion and sounds. I was dragged to a couch, Hannah to a different one. Someone was underneath me on the couch, and I felt something cold against my asshole. It took me a moment to realize it was lube. Someone pulled my hair to yank my head over the arm of the couch where the world turned upside down. A cock invaded my mouth when I opened it to scream, my field of vision nothing but a male groin. Someone got on top of me, I couldn’t tell who, and I felt something rub against my vagina.

I could hear Hannah gagging. Multiple men grunted with noises that made my stomach churn. Drool dribbled out of my mouth and snot came from my nose. Both mixed with Dale’s spit from earlier. My ass and vagina screamed in pain as cocks invaded both simultaneously. Rough, calloused hands squeezed and slapped my breast. I bit at the cock in my mouth, and was rewarded with a punch to the head so hard it had my ears ringing. My arms were on fire, pinned between my back and the brother underneath me. There was no other way I could see for me to fight back, no way for my body to get any kind of leverage to get away.

The cock in my mouth exploded, filling it with a disgusting salty taste. It withdrew and I screamed. I turned my head towards Hannah and saw Clyde, Roy, and Vernon having their way with her the same way the other three were doing to me. The sight of seeing my girlfriend at the mercy of these monsters was worse than being abused by them. It shattered me to where all I could do was cry out deep, tormented sobs as the cocks in my ass and vagina squirted their juices into my body.

“Damn this dyke’s vagina was tight,” Roy crudely remarked, referencing Hannah. “Lesbos need to come more often,” Dale taunted, “best fuck I’ve had in years.” They sat us both up on each couch with one brother on either side of us facing each other. I could feel hands on my shoulders near a pressure point, daring me to make a move. Across from me I could see Clyde one one side of Hannah with Vernon on the other. They had their hands on her shoulders too, and I knew if either of us made a move out of line they would use our pressure points against us without a second thought.

Roy cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, do any of you want sloppy seconds?” No one answered, and I could see the wheels of an idea turning in his head. I knew whatever he said next would be something I wouldn’t like. “I’ll take that as a no” he smirked. “In that case, let’s have the dykes clean each other every round.” It was worse than I could have possibly imagined. Hannah gave me a look, sheer terror and horror on her face. I probably had the same look on mine, and I could tell Hannah was communicating one simple word to me, a word that echoed over and over in my own head. “Survive.”

“Please,” I begged, my voice sounding choked and raw, “you’ve had your fun just let us go we won’t say a word, I swear.” Vernon laughed, eyes glinted in the light. “Love it when they beg.” He gave a sidelong look to Hannah, “or scream like this pretty lil redhead.” Laughter bounced around the room. Then, Hannah and I were dragged off our couches and onto the rug. There was a clicking sound, and my handcuffs were removed. At the same time, Clyde’s hunting knife was against Hannah’s throat. The thought of Hannah getting permanently harmed completely broke me.

“Please,” I begged to whoever would listen, “I’ll do whatever you say, just don’t hurt her.” “Atta girl,” Roy praised. “Lick up all the cum you find on her. Start with her twat. Swallow some, but keep as much as you can in your mouth. Then kiss her lips and swap the cum from your mouth to hers.” Hannah immediately started crying when she heard what I had to do. But she didn’t dare make any kind of sudden moves, lest the knife nick her skin. I didn’t hesitate. I couldn’t. I crawled over to Hannah and buried my face between her thighs. “That’s it, eat her out properly,” Roy taunted. I licked, gently at first, then with more pressure, trying to find some way to make it less awful for her. My tears ran down her legs, mixed with the taste of metal and salt. I could feel her shaking, could feel the tension in her body as she cried out. “Good girl,” I heard Clyde’s lustful voice. “Show us all how much you dykes love each other.” Roy and Vernon hooted, making crude remarks about “dyke porn” and “free entertainment.”

I worked harder, tasting cum, her own juices, and blood. Whether the blood was mine or Hannah’s or someone else’s, I couldn’t tell. At some point, Hannah’s body shuddered, and she let out a single, low moan, a sound I’d only ever heard from her in private, when she trusted me completely. The sound completely shattered me a second time. The brothers cheered, and they started chanting “asshole, asshole, asshole.” Without hesitation, I moved from her vagina to licking her ass. “Rub her body like the lovers you are,” one of the brothers commanded. I did as they said, using my free hands to grope her the way I did in private, fearful of what they would do if I didn’t. Once I was sure there was no cum left in her asshole I withdrew and carefully motioned that I was going to kiss her on the lips. Clyde withdrew his knife to allow me access to her. When we kissed it wasn’t the kiss of lovers, but as broken animals doing whatever we had to do to survive. It was the worst kiss of my life. We both cried uncontrollably as our mouths swapped contents and Hannah swallowed what was in mine.

“Now the other way,” said Roy. “Let’s see if the redhead’s got a tongue.” Hannah looked like she was going to be defiant, but Clyde returned with his knife this time to my neck. Roy freed Hannah’s hands from her cuffs so that she could rub me the way I rubbed her. Hannah crawled between my legs like I had crawled to her. I was so numb I barely registered it, except for the wet heat of her mouth. She was so careful, even with an audience. She used her hands almost tenderly, stroking my inner thighs as if afraid to break the skin, or maybe afraid to break herself. She buried her face in my cunt, her tears streaking the inside of my leg. I tried to send her a thought, some wordless burst of warmth or permission, but all I could do was shiver and clutch her hair. The taste of her effort was bitter, and I couldn't tell if it was from the violence or the shame. She cleaned me, lips and tongue scraping the remnants of the Whitakers from every fold and hollow.

The orgasm snuck up on me like a thief in the night, taking me completely by surprise. I let out a louder moan than Hannah did. The orgasm was different than all the others Hannah had given me. I felt numb and broken instead of high and rejuvenated. Jeers and cheers from the Whitakers followed my orgasm. Then, like they had with me, they chanted “asshole, asshole, asshole.” Hannah repeated what I had done to her ass. Then she made the same movements I had to communicate she was going to kiss me. I nearly gagged when our mouths swapped contents, but I managed to keep my stomach from spilling it’s contents.

The abuse from the brothers kept going after Hannah was done. We were brought back to each couch and each brother put their cock in a place they hadn’t before. Once all the brothers squirted their seed into us, we were forced to clean each other again, ending with us swapping spit and cum in our mouths. After what felt like days, but was probably hours, the brothers left us there on each couch.

“Stay right there ladies while we clean ourselves up and prepare your room for you,” Roy commanded. “Or you could try and fail to get away. Just remember bad things happen to pretty girls who try to get away.” My body felt so battered and broken that even if I wanted to move I probably wouldn’t have been able to. My emotions were so shattered that it took me a while to realize half of the sobbing, deep moans were my own. The others were Hannah’s. We looked at each other and cried there together, desperately wanting to embrace each other but neither of us having the energy to move.

Dale and Vernon came for both of us. Dale carried me in his arms effortlessly like I was a porcelain doll. Vernon carried Hannah. They brought us to the guest room we had slept in the night prior and threw both of us on the bed. The impact knocked the breath out of me, and probably Hannah too. We both grunted and moaned from it.

A throat cleared. Roy stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with the lazy posture of a dad about to give a lecture. His face was scrubbed clean and he’d changed shirts, flannel this time, buttoned all the way up. He gave us both a long, thoughtful look, then said, “Sleep well ladies. Do as we say tomorrow and you might get the doors to your room back. Fight back and worse things will happen.” I wanted to scream at him, curse, threaten, but there was nothing left inside. My hands were too numb to make a fist. I heard Hannah’s breathing next to me, too fast and too shallow.

“You’re going to stay up here for a while,” Roy continued. “No sense getting yourself worked up over escape. No one’s coming, and nobody cares. Not even your families.” The last words hung in the air, a kind of challenge. He waited, as if he wanted us to beg or argue, but we didn’t. “Food’ll be up in the morning,” he droned on like a teacher. “There’s water in the bathroom. Don’t try any dumb shit, or we’ll do worse.” He let that settle in, then walked away, boots heavy on the old pine floor.

Darkness fell over the room. I managed to gather my energy and turn towards Hannah. She did the same for me. We scooted towards each other in the middle of the bed, until we found ourselves holding each other tightly, staring into each other’s eyes. Her eyes were haunted, broken, but there was a fierce fire behind it all that I knew would be difficult for the brothers to extinguish. “They took the doors,” Hannah whispered after a long silence, and I heard the confusion in it, the fact that she was trying to solve a problem that didn’t make sense. “Yeah,” I whispered, too broken to think of anything else to say.

“They took the doors,” she whispered again after moments of silence. I could tell she was trying to work the problem out, find a solution, but her mind was too fractured to say anything else. “Yeah,” I repeated again, knowing my mind was too fractured and broken as well. Time evaporated. We spent hours tangled together, shaking, never sleeping, because what was the point of pretending this was a safe place to close your eyes? At some point I detached from my body, registering sensations from a safe distance, like I was hovering in the shadowed corner of the room watching two meat puppets enact the aftershocks of violence. And every little while, the same whispers would escape our mouths over and over again like a broken record. The repetition oddly comforting among the terror that surrounded us.

“They took the doors.”

“Yeah.”
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[RapeU]

Chapter Tags: Nosex, story
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Chapter 6 Failed Escape

Time can’t pass in a place like this, but it doesn’t stop either. It limps, it retraces, it scabs over. After the first few, we learned that Hemlock Lodge had a rhythm. Not a daily one, but a mechanical, broken one, the way an old amusement ride cycles through all the motions but never quite returns to the same starting point. Each Whitaker brother was a moving part, jerking and grinding against the others. One brother would come by and announce breakfast. A chipped enamel pan clang echoed off the log walls as eggs sizzled, bacon fat spattered across scarred pine boards, and coffee boiled in a stainless pot streaked with lime. We’d pretend to eat: swallowing cold yolk, wiping crumbs from trembling lips, forcing normalcy past the ache in our ribs. Then the violence resumed, like a tape flipped back to the start. We learned fast that quiet obedience made the episodes shorter.

By day three, I noticed Hannah slipping from shock into strategy. Her eyes, always so bright, flicked over every nail, every loose board, every toolbox by the fireplace. She was cataloguing escape routes in that methodical way she had when she solved puzzles in her sleep. I was grateful more than ever my girlfriend had her special gift. On the fourth night, after Roy’s booted footsteps died down and the last Whitaker lumbered out, we sat huddled on the threadbare blanket. Hannah pressed close and whispered, voice hushed beneath the lodge’s settling groans.

“They aren’t interested in what we’re talking about at night,” Hannah whispered. Her breath was warm, “but I wouldn’t chance being too loud.” I nodded and Hannah continued, “Earl wants to dump us in the mountains, says we’re trouble.” It felt odd to me that Earl looked to be the eldest yet Roy was the one who called the shots. If I noticed it, Hannah probably had as well. “Clyde wants to sell us to a guy named Hank who collects girls,” she informed. “He thinks he can get a lot of money out of the deal.” I didn’t want to know who or what Hank was. But I started to believe in him, the way you start to believe in a ghost after seeing too many shadows at the edge of your vision. “Roy thinks we’re worth keeping around for entertainment. He seems to be the de facto leader, so his word is what’s keeping us here. For now.”

In those first three days, I learned more about men than I had in my whole life. How they can switch from banter to violence in a heartbeat, how they need each other more than they need food. The brothers never left us alone for long, but they never stayed together either. The friction between them was a second, unspoken violence. Dale hated Vernon, Vernon would needle Earl, and Roy hovered above them all, crowing but never truly uniting them. Sometimes I would hear their arguments echo down the hallway, sharp and fast and getting sharper as time wore on.

By the fourth morning on Christmas Eve, their facades were peeling. I could see how Dale’s hangovers slowed his reflexes. His gaze would flutter shut and he would rub his temples. Vernon’s paranoia had him checking the windows every fifteen minutes. Earl’s temper left him pacing the porch at all hours, boots loud on the rotting boards. Every brother seemed to have a reason to dislike at least one of their own. Every grudge, every rivalry, was a crack we could slip through. A key to our escape.

That night, Hannah whispered to me. “Before breakfast. You’re going to escape by running out the back door.” She had a muted glint in her eye that told me the old Hannah was still in there somewhere. “How? I whispered, voice cracked. “Dale leaves the front door open sometimes in the mornings before he eats so he could have a smoke. If you’re fast, you can make the tree line. Get as far away from here as you can.” She pressed her face into my shoulder, as if she was about to cry, then she whispered, “I’m going to make a distraction, yell, crash, whatever it takes. You then run for it. Get help.”

I gulped. “And you?” I asked. She didn’t answer for a long moment. Then she said, “I’ll find a way.” I shook my head at her and took her hand. “Absolutely not I’m not leaving you here alone with them,” I said with conviction and almost not a whisper. She smiled, the first smile I’d seen since this whole mess started. “I was hoping you would say that. I’ll keep searching for tools, weapons, anything that could help.” She paused, “maybe we can do this together.” I nodded, “Together,” I affirmed.

At dawn on Christmas Day, the lodge was eerily silent, as if the building itself were holding its breath. I lay on my side, tangled with Hannah, counting my own breaths, waiting for the shift of boots or the crack of a door. Instead, there was only the soughing of wind at the corners of the house and the ragged edge of silence that always comes before something breaks. Hannah’s hand was on my wrist, thumb pressed just below the bone. “Now or never,” she whispered, barely moving her lips. “Ready?” I was not ready. I would never be ready. But I nodded, because there was no other choice.

We slid into the hall, bare feet soundless on cold pine. The front door was twenty feet away, past the main room, past the wall of deer heads, the gun safe, various hunting equipment, and the map of the Blackridge Pass trails. I thought I would vomit from the adrenaline. Hannah led. She hugged the wall, skirting a shadow, moving with a deliberate slowness that made the seconds elastic. The door to the porch was closed, but I could see daylight burning at its edges, could see the shudder of wind in the trees through the small, dirty window. A line of cigarette butts ringed the stoop. I imagined Dale’s boots among them, imagined how fast he could turn if he heard us. Finally we made it to the door. Hannah put her hand on the knob and turned. She did it slow, a predator’s patience, and the click of the bolt was so soft I thought I’d hallucinated it.

The next steps did not even feel real. The cold hit us in the chest like a hammer. The sky was overcast, snow blown sideways in ropes. I saw the frozen ruts of the driveway, the sagging mailbox with its bullet holes, the endless stagger of trees. Dale was fumbling with a cigarette, his back to us. I didn’t know if he had heard the door open, but it was clear if he did it didn’t occur to him we were out there with him. There was no plan past this point. We would run.

I heard a yell behind us a few moments after we started running in the snow. The world went wet and white. I couldn’t see. I almost slipped, caught myself, kept going. Hannah was ahead of me, a streak of red hair that stuck out amongst the pure whiteness. Her feet barely broke the crust of old snow. The snow was heavier than I remembered from childhood, heavy enough to blur the outlines of everything that was supposed to save us. I ran until my chest burned, aware only of the slap of my feet and the flash of Hannah’s hair ahead of me. For a moment, I believed we might make it. Then my ankle landed wrong and twisted. I yelped as pain detonated through my leg, and I hit the snow, wrists scraping ice, snow clogging my mouth. The world spun, and when I clawed upright, I saw Dale barreling towards me, his face an ugly snarl of surprise and mean delight.

I looked for Hannah. She was a dozen yards ahead, red hair wild against the white, but I could see Vernon and Earl chasing her from opposite sides. I could tell after a few moments they would catch up to her. A scream, not Hanna’s name, but just noise erupted from my lips. Dale was on me a moment later, a triumphant and menacing look in his eyes. Hanna’s scream pierced through the snow and I knew at that frozen moment they caught both of us.

Vernon and Earl dragged Hannah back inside and into the living room. Dale had to half drag, half carry me because I couldn’t put weight on my twisted ankle. Roy stood next to one of the couches shaking his head. “You ladies know the rules” he scolded us like he was scolding children. “Do what we say or things get worse and don’t try to escape.” He looked directly at me and I could see fires of anger burn deep within his eyes. “A punishment is in order.” He said angrily. “Let’s take them in separate rooms this time. Make them suffer with some time apart.”
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[RapeU]

Chapter Tags: MMF Noncon, offscreen MMF
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Chapter 7 - Division

Roy’s command to separate us tore through my body like I was in an iron maiden. Hannah and I both screamed as our clothing was ripped away from our bodies. Again. My eyes were covered with something, probably a hastily created blindfold. Then, we were carried off to different parts of the lodge. Hannah’s screams faded to where I could no longer hear her after the slam of a door. Not knowing what was happening to her and not being able to hear her was the scariest moment of the brother’s abuse.

My arms were twisted behind my back. There were two metal clicks. I felt cold metal around my wrists and injured ankle and knew they were using my injury against me. If I tried to struggle, I’d end up hurting my ankle worse. “Throw her on the bed,” someone said. I yelped as I bounced on a mattress, my ankle in agonizing pain. There was a snapping sound like leather snapping against itself. My breast stung in pain shortly after. Though I couldn’t see, I could tell my chest was being whipped with a belt.

“This is what happens when you try to escape!” It sounded like Roy, but the simultaneous sound of my hoarse screams made it difficult to tell. The belt continued to thwack against my chest, each time causing me to contort and scream a bloodcurdling scream. When the whipping ended, someone shoved their member inside my vagina completely dry. Deep, throaty screams of pain was all I could manage to do against the assault. My breast was mauled by large, calloused hands, each squeeze a stab of pain from the whipping earlier. It didn't take long for the cock inside me to squirt, the owner grunted with pleasure while I wailed in pain and misery.

“Don’t want sloppy seconds,” a voice that sounded like Clyde said. “Then fuck her mouth or ass, duh.” I was rolled over onto my stomach and felt someone’s weight on me again. All I could do was belt out choked wails of pain as a cock entered my asshole without any lube. “Bite me and your dyke girlfriend will get it way worse,” Clyde threatened. It took my brain a moment to process what he meant. When a cock pressed against my lips I then understood and didn’t resist. I had no fight left. At some point, someone pinched my nose shut and they laughed when I flailed my body in panic from lack of air since I had a cock in my mouth. The flailing caused my ankle to loudly protest at the mistreatment it was getting. The cocks eventually squirted in me after what felt like an eternity. Evidently someone didn’t care about sloppy seconds because I was rolled on my back and violated hard in my vagina again. It could have been the same cock for all I knew and not actual sloppy seconds, but it was impossible for me to tell.

After a while, they dragged me from that bedroom, ankle screaming in pain. The cloth over my eyes was removed to reveal a dingy bathroom with soap scum that appeared to be from the last century. They unlocked the cuffs from my wrists and ankle. “Take a shower. Clean yourself up,” Clyde commanded. Right after I heard the command, there was the unmistakable sound of a woman screaming. Not the kind of scream you do for effect. Not even the kind you do for help. This was the sound a deer makes when a coyote tears into its belly.

“Hannah,” I whispered. Clyde gave me a wide grin. “Take a shower,” he repeated. “Be good and she’ll live.” Wordlessly I took a shower right in front of him. The water was ice cold, but I didn’t dare complain. When I had finished he handed me a ratty towel that looked like it was used to clean up too many bodily fluids. After I dried off, he handed me a cloth and told me to tie it around my eyes. I realized it was part of my clothing they had ripped off earlier. They were using our own clothes to blindfold us.

The cycle of abuse continued where I was blindfolded and raped repeatedly in all my orifices, then lead to a shower to clean myself up. Sometimes in between the shower and the bedroom I would hear Hannah’s screams. Other times I would hear angry whispers, but couldn’t tell who the speaker was or exactly what was said. After about the fourth or fifth time of switching back and forth between rooms, there was a break in the pattern.

“Need to keep them alive,” the voice was barely audible over the grunts of whoever was inside me. “Keeping one alive motivates the other to behave.” I heard the door opening and shortly after the cock inside me squirted. “Are you going to try to escape again?” Roy’s voice bounced into my ears through the haze of pain. “N…no,” I croaked, my voice sounding like a diseased frog. “Good,” he said. “Next time you try we will separate you two…permanently.” He let the threat hang in the air for a moment, then said “take off her blindfold. Her ankle makes it difficult for her to move fast anyway.”

Roy, Clyde, and Vernon popped into my vision. Roy grabbed my arm “We’ll let you two be reunited,” he said with a toothy grin. “But remember, try to escape again and the separation will be permanent.” I nodded, “I’m sorry, I won’t try to escape again.” I didn't know if it was true or not, but it's what he wanted to hear and that's what really mattered. “That’s a good girl,” he replied. He steered me down the hall, a vice grip on my arm. I staggered, nearly tripping from the pain in my ankle. We ended up passing the front door and my eyes wondered over to it. Roy must have seen the way my gaze caught on the escape route, because he jerked me away and hissed, “Don’t even think about it.”

He shoved me into the bedroom where Hannah and I had spent the first night. How long ago was it? I couldn’t remember. Hannah was already on the bed. Her face was swollen, a bruise underneath one eye, hair plastered to her cheeks. But her gaze, when it found me, was diamond sharp. I limped over to the bed, every inch of my body on fire. We slumped together, two busted animals in a den made of splinters and cigarette ash. I wanted to cry, to say something brave, but instead I just lay there, breathing the same thin air, and staring at Hannah’s face.

“Hey,” I croaked after several moments. “Hey,” she croaked back. Sounds echoed around us that my brain couldn’t process. We lay that way for a long while, not sleeping but not moving, letting our breath synchronize. When the dark got so thick it seemed to have weight, Hannah spoke again, this time in a tone I’d only ever heard when she was troubleshooting a bio lab or fixing a friend’s disaster. “They’re angry with Dale,” she whispered into my hair. “Blaming him for the door. Said he left it unlocked on purpose.”

I tried to process this, but my brain was too busy pulsing with pain. “How do you know?” “They’re not quiet.” She shifted, dragging our bodies closer. Her lips nearly touched my ear. “Dale is pissed that no one inside caught us. Clyde says Roy is getting weak. Vernon thinks Earl is trying to take charge. They keep arguing about what to do with us. None of them really trust each other.” I recognized one of the noises was an angry yell. One of the brothers was yelling at another. “So they’ll make mistakes,” I said. “If we push them, yes.” The certainty in her voice made me want to cry, but I had no water left to spare. “We can use it.” A loud bang, something breaking, maybe a glass, maybe bone, made us both flinch. Someone yelled again, then the noise faded into muttering. “They’re coming apart,” Hannah said, voice steady. “And we’re sticking together like glue,” I confidently said. She let out a soft snort of a laugh, and for a moment things seemed almost normal.

“Will you promise me something?” I said, the words sticky in my mouth. “Anything,” Hannah whispered back. “If you get a chance to run, don’t wait for me.” The sentence was a stone I’d carried for hours, and letting it out was pure relief. “I can't run well with this busted ankle.” “No deal,” she said, and there was the old Hannah, stubborn as carbon steel and determined. “We’re getting out. Both or neither.” She paused, “They’ve done things like this before to others,” she said in a haunted whisper. It’s all going catch up to them eventually.” “You think we can be the catalyst?” I asked. “Exactly.”

For a while we didn’t say anything more. The chill crept in under the blanket, and I pressed my face into her neck, the only patch of skin that felt safe. I could feel her heartbeat, wild and uneven, but still there, still fighting. Elsewhere in the house, the Whitakers grew louder, the storm of their fury mounting in the open air. And as I drifted into the first real sleep I’d had in days, I held onto one last thought, as bright and sharp as a match head. There was hope. And as long as there was hope, we would endure.
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[RapeU]

Chapter Tags: Nosex, story
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Chapter 8 - Escape

Threatening to separate us if we tried to escape wasn’t the deterrent the brothers thought it was. If anything, we were more determined to be successful. That made us be far more careful in our planning. Because if we tried again and failed, there probably wouldn’t be another chance. We had to make it count.

At night, Hannah would whisper to me the list of what needed to be done, making us both memorize it. I could tell it was driving her crazy not writing it down somewhere, but she didn’t dare do that lest the brothers find it. For the most part, aside from ripping off our clothing every now and then, the brothers left our stuff alone. We had packed for airplane travel. Nothing we had with us could have been used as an effective weapon. The brothers weren’t even worried about us being able to call out and let us have our phones if we behaved to their liking. Who were we going to call with no cell tower nearby?

Anyway, we had the following problems and potential solutions: One, there was no cell service. We had to conserve cell phone power until we got out of the dead zone. Once we began the escape I would power my phone off to save battery life. Two, it would be cold. We’d need to dress in layers. Three, we had to ensure we weren’t leaving a trail. Leaving during a snowstorm was a possible option, but hypothermia was a serious risk. Four, my ankle wasn’t getting any better so there was no chance at running. We would have to pace ourselves. Five, any vehicle they had could catch up to us fast. The snowstorm option would render any vehicle useless. Finally, the brothers themselves needed to be distracted so we could sneak away and was the first problem that needed to be dealt with.

Hannah and I listened intently to the brothers. Every detail was important, even if we didn’t know what it meant. “Hey,” Hannah croaked one night after a long day of abuse. “What do you think giving us to moon means?” She said it loud enough for Clyde, who was the last brother to leave us before we slept, to hear. “Sounds like a reference to that old tv show where a guy used space travel as a metaphor for beating his wife,” I answered. I looked at Clyde. “Don’t give us to moon. We’ll be good.” Clyde’s face turned red and he stormed off. Shortly after I heard him shout at one of his brothers, something about cutting Hank out of the loop and how it was dangerous to get in contact with moon.

“Moon must be a person,” Hannah whispered thoughtfully. “Someone dangerous apparently.” “How does that help us?” I whispered back. “Every fracture helps us.” There was a loud crash that made us both cringe. Someone cursed. She continued talking, “turning them against each other is how we distract them,” she whispered. “Now let’s repeat the list again.” I suppressed the desire to groan and we quietly whispered it together.

It was a brutal long game where we had to continue to endure constant sexual abuse multiple times a day. Repeating the list in my head helped. If Hannah wasn’t with me, I wouldn’t have been able to retain my sanity. we repeated things that we had heard, or made something up that was believable. Each day Hannah would summarize our progress.

“Clyde still wants to sell us to that Hank guy. Vernon tried to get into contact with whoever Moon is and everyone’s pissed at him for it.” I frowned, “Wait, how do they get in contact with someone when there’s no cell service and the phones are down?” Hannah shrugged, “Sending a letter through the mail probably. Or he might have gone outside the dead zone when the weather was better.” She then continued the progress of brother vs brother. “Lester is starting to like us and that’s making the others suspicious of him.” I blinked “Like a reverse Stockholm Syndrome? Is that a thing?” “If it’s not we get to name it when we get out of here,” she smiled, then continued. “They’re all still mad at Dale for leaving the door unlocked during a smoke break. Dale thinks Earl was supposed to be watching us and blames him. Earl’s starting to think he should be the one in charge instead of Roy. And Roy thinks someone’s eventually going to try to mutiny against him.”

At breakfast the morning after that update, tension stank in the air. Dale glared at Earl. Vernon and Clyde were both nowhere to be seen. Lester kept his head down, barely eating. Roy had a twitch on the right side of his mouth like he was nervous or having a stroke. Probably nervous. “We're low on gas for the generator,” he announced. “Lester, you were supposed to check that yesterday. Did you?” Lester shook his head. Roy stood up so fast his chair toppled. “Of course you fucking didn't. Why do I keep you around?” Earl snickered. “Good question. We could do with one less mouth to feed.”

Dale muttered something I couldn’t hear. Earl stood “You got a problem?” Dale smiled, slow and mean. “Plenty, but you don't have the balls to fix it.” The fight was inevitable. Dale went for Earl's throat. Earl ducked and smacked Dale in the balls. Dale howled in pain and doubled over. “Enough.” Roy commanded, sounding pissed. “Lester take the girls back to their room.” It was the first time we hadn’t been sexually abused after breakfast. Our plan was working. “They're close,” Hannah whispered. “Keep pushing them.”

Over the next day, the game escalated. We dropped rumors. Dale “overheard” me tell Hannah that Earl said Dale was “a wasted sack of shit” and said Roy was thinking about ditching him. Hannah let Lester “overhear” her crying about how Vernon had tried to get her all to himself, how he told her he was planning to kill Roy in his sleep if he didn't get his way. It worked. By the following day, Dale was drinking openly from a gallon jug, slurring insults at anyone who came near. Clyde stayed in his own room, locking the door even during meals. Earl and Dale fought like animals, often erupting into violence over nothing. The house stank of fear and rot and cheap bourbon. It was three beautiful days of not being sexually abused by the brothers. They were so focused on their petty differences that they no longer cared about us existing. Or they just got bored of constantly raping us. Or both.

That third evening on New Year’s Eve, the generator died. The house went dark, colder than I thought possible. The only sound was the howl of the wind. “This is it,” Hannah whispered. “We bundle up now. They won’t be suspicious of it because it’s going to get cold in here real quick.” I could hear Roy barking orders from the main room, his voice ragged with cold and panic. “Lester! Get your worthless ass in here. You were supposed to check the goddamn fuel line. Storm’s about to come in!” I heard Lester stumble and crash into something. “I'm sorry,” he whimpered. “I thought…” “You don't get paid to think,” Roy cut him off. There was the thud of a fist meeting flesh, a whimper, and then “Anyone else wanna go?”

Nobody was paying attention to us. “Got an idea,” Hannah whispered. We snuck over to Clyde’s room. “Clyde,” Hannah whispered loud enough for only him and I to hear. She quietly knocked on his door. He opened it and was clearly inebriated. “What,” he snapped. “Roy’s going to hand us over to some guy named Moon. Said that Hank didn’t need to know about it.” Clyde blinked once, twice. “The fuck hes,” he growled and stormed off past us. We followed behind him.

“You fink I'm shupid?” Clyde loudly slurred at Roy. Roy stared at him. “Go back to sleep drunkard.” Clyde’s face turned red. “You think I don't know what you're planning?” Clyde pulled his hunting knife from his belt and aimed it at Roy. Vernon laughed at him “Boy you ain’t stabbing nobody. You’re just like Dale when drunk. Dumb as shit.” Clyde pointed the knife at Vernon “Shut up!” He ran to Vernon, whose eyes widened in surprise. The blade of the knife sunk into Vernon’s gut. He made a noise like a deflating tire, and blood pooled out.

Roy screamed for Earl to help him restrain Clyde. They managed to pry the knife out of his hand, but he was giving them a heck of a struggle. Dale, barely conscious, threw up on the floor and fell out of his chair. Lester was just watching it all, hands shaking, clearly wanting to intervene but unsure how.

Hannah whispered in my ear. “That’s enough chaos. Let’s tackle the next problem.” The next problem was my ankle. It had been a week and it hadn’t gotten any better, mostly because once a day one of the brothers would agitate it on purpose. They also wouldn’t let me stabilize it with anything. I got really good at hopping on one foot for a week when someone wasn’t helping me walk.

We dumped both of our suitcases and bags onto the floor. Hannah pocketed a small box with a red ribbon around it. “Your Christmas present,” she explained. I suddenly felt incredibly guilty that I hadn’t bought hers before the trip. “Hey,” she said sensing my guilt, “it’s ok. You didn’t know we would be trapped here. Focus.” I nodded and we got to work. I pulled off the double socks on my injured ankle and winced at the pain. It was still very swollen and looked bruised. We rolled one of Hannah’s leggings into a wide band and wrapped it snugly around my ankle and lower leg. I put on a sock to keep it in place.

“Stand on it,” Hannah whispered. There was a gunshot and a scream immediately after. Then shouting “…shot him you idiot…useless fucking moron…first aid kit…” I put weight on my ankle. “Still hurts,” I announced, “but it’s less pain than before.” Hannah nodded and picked up one of her hardcover Harry Potter books. She ripped the hardcover off, wrapped a blouse around it, and placed it around my ankle. “Bra remains to tie it,” I suggested. Hannah nodded and did so. “Just a little more clothing to lock it in place,” she muttered. Another gunshot rang out, then another, and then more unintelligible shouting. We ignored it and kept wrapping my ankle with different parts of clothing. Finally, I slipped it into one of my snow boots. I stood up. My ankle still hurt, but it didn’t hurt bad enough for me to collapse. Progress.

“Your girl scout troop leader just felt a disturbance in the Force.” I quipped. Hannah snorted a laugh, then said “back door this time. We want to avoid where the brothers are if they’re still near the front.” She looked at me, her face a mask of stone. “We go slow. You set the pace. Neither of us need another injury, especially if we make it outside.” My heart pounded as I slowly limped through the lodge, Hannah helped support me. We reached the back door without incident. I tried the knob and to my surprise it turned. Hannah breathed a sigh of relief, “If it was locked it would have complicated things. I know the key is somewhere hidden nearby, just not where.” We opened the door to the howling wind and snow and stepped into the white abyss.

The cold hit so hard my lungs shut down and for a second I thought I’d suffocate. I doubled over. Hannah caught me, half carried me out into the white. The snow was up to our knees. The wind shrieked, stinging our faces. “Driveway,” Hannah yelled in my ear. We waded through the snow, one staggering step at a time. There was a popping noise, possibly another gunshot, but in the howling wind it was impossible to tell. Slow and steady we followed the driveway to the gate. I remembered the metal, how it groaned when Roy let us in. I tried to push, but my hands barely worked. Hannah wedged her shoulder against the post, shoved, and finally the latch popped free. I looked back. The snow was covering our tracks, but not well enough.

Hannah saw the problem too. “Nothing we can do about it,” she yelled, “we just keep going.” It was so cold, my ankle throbbed, but we kept pressing onward at a slow and steady rate. It had probably taken us an hour to get to the main road, something that normally would have taken a few minutes. Each step was a harrowing question of whether the makeshift ankle brace would hold or not.

Hannah’s phone was able to give us an idea of where we were on the google map app, though without actual phone service it was limited in pinpointing our exact location. She had a compass app on her phone as well. We followed the road the best we could, unable to truly see it because of the snowfall. Road signs helped get us back on the right track whenever we saw one. Ever so slowly we trudged forward, always cautious, always careful to avoid falls.

After about an hour, the storm started to run out of steam. The wind was less shrill. It was after dark by then. I was grateful for better visibility with Hannah’s phone flashlight, but also really nervous. With the storm dying down we could be tracked easier. Would the brothers follow us?

The storm passed us and the cloud cover broke. Stars shone brightly down on us in a beautiful display. The moon wasn’t quite full, but it offered some light that combined with Hannah’s phone flashlight was oddly comforting. We pressed on, slowly, until my weary legs felt like they could go no further. “I’m slowing you down,” I told Hannah. “I don’t care,” she breathed. “Really…don’t…think…I…can…make…it.” I was getting to the point where I was exhausted. “Leave…me…behind…” “Never,” she breathed without hesitation.

Suddenly, Hannah lost her balance, causing both of us to tumble and roll down a small incline. I landed hard on my side and was horrified when I saw her head smack against something metal, a guardrail I realized after crawling over there. “Hannah,” I whispered, then heard a loud ding. Her phone had service. I couldn’t tell where the ding came from. Her phone wasn’t in her hand, but that ultimately didn’t matter. I pulled my phone from my pocket and turned it on. One bar. My gloved finger was too bulky to select what I wanted to on the screen. “Hey Siri, call 911.”

My phone connected and when the operator answered I croaked out “need…help…stuck…Blackridge…Pass.” My energy was nearly gone, and it was a lot of effort to keep talking. The nice lady introduced herself as Grace. “What is your name?” “Wendy. Wendy Elizabeth Travers.” I heard something on the other end of the line, like Grace was talking to someone excitedly. “Wendy is anyone there with you.” My eyes popped open. I hadn’t realized I closed them. “Hannah. Hannah Olive Thompson.” I managed to keep talking despite the lump in my throat, “she hit her head and isn’t moving. We both fall down.”

“Help is on the way Wendy. I’ll stay on the call with you until they arrive. Can you do something for me Wendy? Can you get to Hannah?” I nodded, then realized Grace couldn’t see me. “I’m right beside her.” “Good, is she still breathing?” Grace asked. “Yes,” I said after putting my face in front of hers, “I…feel…her…breath.” I could tell my body was crashing from relief my girlfriend was still alive.

“Wendy, you sound tired. It’s real important that you stay awake.” Grace’s voice was calm and soothing, but there was a hint of urgency in it. “Are you injured at all? You mentioned you both fell.” Injured. The question hurt like a thousand knives piercing into my heart. We were broken from abuse, but I wasn’t going to verbalize that to a stranger. “Hurt…ankle…and…shoulder…hurts…everything…hurts…everything…is…so…cold…but…starting…to…feel…warmer…” There was more hushed commotion on the other side of the line. “Ok Wendy that’s not a good sign. I need you to do a few things and stay with me Wendy.”

“Stay with me, Wendy.” The words repeated in my head like a lullaby. I wanted to sleep, felt like I could sleep the rest of the night away.

“Wendy, stay with me Wendy.”

“Stay with me.”
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Hank and Moon are a reference to the Amber Richardson saga, making this story take place in the same universe. This story is unrelated to the saga though.

[RapeU]

Chapter Tags: Story end, nosex
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Chapter 9 Awakening

My ankle throbbed, shoulder hurt, and my throat felt dry. I let out a low, horse moan. Then, everything came back to me in a flash. My eyes popped open to find myself in a hospital room with my parents. “She’s awake! Thank the Lord Almighty she’s awake,” my mom gushed. I saw the relief on both their faces “Gave us a scare there,” my dad said. “Glad you’re ok.” “Where’s Hannah?” I asked. Her absence gave me an uneasy feeling, like someone had punched me in the chest.

They both hesitated, and the hesitation made me feel worse. “Your friend,” my mom started. “Girlfriend,” I corrected. She cringed at that, but didn’t bother to push it. “She’s not doing well. Hasn’t woken up yet.” My eyes welled up with tears. I took a deep, ragged breath. “What room is she in,” I asked with a quivering voice. My dad gave me a pained look “Honey, we just got you back. You need to rest first and spend time with us. Your friend can wait until later when you’ve recovered more.”

Deep breath in, “She,” I said through clenched teeth, letting all the air out of my lungs with that one word. Another deep breath in “Is,” all the air whooshed out of my lungs again. Deep breath in, “MY,” whoosh, then breathe in, “GIRLFRIEND!” Then I unloaded all the anger and rage I had at them, “I’ve had it with the two of you ignoring it all these years. Her parents haven’t even met me yet and they accept me for who I am. Why can’t you accept your own daughter?” I paused, took another breath, “If you won’t tell me what room she’s in I will do whatever it takes to find out on my own.” I looked around to see if I was connected to anything. There were pads on my chest connected to a heart monitor. I took them off one by one. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” My arm was hooked up to an IV, but the IV was on a pole with wheels. It was plugged in, but I knew from past hospital experiences that it could be safely unplugged for a while. “I don’t care what it takes I’m going to go see her.” Tears streamed down my face. “And if you can’t accept me, then I won’t accept you.” I stood on wobbly legs, my ankle almost gave out on me, but I caught myself in time. “If I have to do everything on my own from now on so be it, better to be a bum with Hannah than deal with your bullshit!”

I hobbled over to the door, using the IV pole as a makeshift crutch. Before I could reach the door it opened. “So feisty, it’s surprising you’re not the one with the red hair.” I let out a choked sob, “Hannah?” No, it wasn’t Hannah. She looked a lot like her though, only older. “Almost,” she gave a smile “I’m her mom. We’re in the room next door and we could hear you.” She gave a scathing look to my parents. “Shame on you two for treating your daughter this way.” Then she looked at me, “I’m Diane. You can come by anytime and see her.”

Hannah was a complete mess. Her skin was pale with an unsettling gray undertone. There was a nasal cannula in her nose. It looked like her body was just accepting the oxygen instead of choosing to breathe on its own. Her face wasn’t the Hannah I knew, as if part of her wasn’t really here. There was no tension in it, no pain, no fear, no expression at all. Her mouth was slightly open, her jaw slack. Frank, her dad was sitting in a chair beside the bed, face contorted with grief and worry.

Her mom sighed. “Doctors don’t know. That’s the worst part about it. They keep saying it’s up to her. I want to think my baby will make it because she’s stubborn, but…” I swallowed heavily “Han, I’m here. I love you.” I grabbed her hand. “How did you two survive out there for two weeks?” The question caught me off guard. “We…we…” Diane gave me a puzzled look. “I…we…got…” I saw the lightbulb click on in Diane’s brain. “Frank, is the sheriff still here with that deputy who got hit by a car?” Frank looked like he was coming out of a stupor. “Yeah,” he said absently, “Think he’s waiting on family to arrive. He’s big on family support. Even when it’s minor injuries.” Diane saw my confusion “Car wasn’t going very fast,” she explained. “Frank be a dear and tell the sheriff to come by. Now if possible.”

“Markus Bellamy,” the sheriff smiled and offered his hand. He had a vague resemblance to Clyde that was unsettling. If it weren’t for Diane’s encouragement I probably wouldn’t have told him what happened. I asked her to stay with me so she could hear what happened too. “We were at this place called Hemlock Lodge.” Sheriff Bellamy’s eyes flickered with recognition when I said the name, but he let me continue. “There were six brothers there and they kidnapped us and they…they…” suddenly I couldn’t finish. “The Whitaker brothers,” Sheriff Bellamy sighed as if it were a curse. “You knew.” It wasn’t a question. “You knew what they were doing!”

Sheriff Bellamy hesitated. “There’s a difference between knowing what is happening and being able to prove it.” He looked at me and his eyes were haunted, a stark contrast to Clyde’s darkness. “I know what you're thinking too, he said, I saw the recognition in your eyes. Their mother was my aunt.” He paused to let that information sink in, then continued. “Been trying for years to get one of them to confess or hoping that one of them would leave enough evidence to charge them. Almost got one of em to confess too.” I pictured Lester's hands shaking and wondered if he was the one who nearly confessed. “But it doesn’t matter now.” I frowned, “What do you mean?” He sighed, “they’re all dead. Killed each other, then the last one alive killed himself. They escaped justice.” I shook my head. “They got what was coming to them.” He gave me a look, then sighed again. “If you say so. I’m just sorry I couldn’t have gotten them sooner.” He gave me a business card. “Call the number if you want to make a formal statement. I obviously have a conflict of interest in the matter and can’t be the person on official record who takes your statement.” He made an angry sneer and said under his breath, “Bureaucrats,” as if it were a curse.

Diane hugged me tight when we were back in Hannah’s room. “Anything you need, you let me know.” I nodded, my body completely numb of all emotion. “Right now I just want to be with Hannah.” I sniffled. “Me too,” she sadly said. Out of nowhere Hannah’s determination to take my Christmas present with us popped into my head. “Diane,” I whispered. “Yes, dear?” “Hannah had something in her pocket when she was rescued. A Christmas present for me. Can I open it?” She nodded, “Of course.” Diane went to the other side of the room where a bag lay on a couch. She rummaged around a bit before coming up with the small box with a red ribbon tied around it.

“That’s it,” I said. “I meant to get her something during our visit but…” Diane interrupted me, “Don’t,” she said “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know you wouldn’t be able to.” I carefully undid the ribbon and slowly opened the box. My eyes immediately welled up in tears. Two rings were in the box with an engraved plaque that said “Mary me.” They were engagement rings. One for me, one for her. Diane hugged me tightly as I broke down sobbing. She cried too. After my tears were spent, I went over to Hannah and sat next to her, holding her hand. “I don’t know if you can hear me,” I choked out the words, “but the answer is yes I’ll marry you. I’m going to tell you yes every day until you wake up.” If she had woken up then, it would have been a perfect soap opera moment where we would all live happily ever after. But life doesn’t work that way.

She woke up the next morning. We got married on Valentines day the following year.
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Note: If you read the story before the last two chapters, there were a few details that were changed. If there is a discrepancy anywhere, just let me know!

Also, the Sheriff is...or was...a cousin of the brothers - as far as the characters know. Really the Sherriff is a half brother to Clyde and the rest of them are step brothers. Fun family drama.

[SoftGameHunter]

That's a really good character story. Okay, the first chapter kind of dragged, TBH, when I didn't have an investment in the characters. But after that it picked right up and stayed engaging even in the no-sex chapters. It really painted a picture of danger and setting I could feel like I could see and witness. A few oddities, like were the other brothers just hiding out that first evening, or did they all show up during the snowstorm? No matter. I cared about these girls and was pleased they managed to get through it. I hope Wendy's parents managed to surgically extract that stick from their collective ass.