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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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Index:
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Title: The Black Van
Author: LaLia
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The Black Van - A story inspired by the Dofantay comics
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The Black Van
Chapter 1
“That’s exactly what we need.” Mark tapped his knuckles against the black side of the van. “No seats in the back, no windows, tons of space. And the best part: these things are driving around in every other driveway. Perfectly invisible.”
David shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head. The vehicle was only three years old, looked clean, and still smelled of interior cleaner, not desperation—which was precisely what made it expensive. Too expensive for two recently released ex-cons whose combined bank balances weren’t even four figures.
“Come on,” Mark said, without taking his eyes off the van, “we’ll recoup that money many times over.”
He was already half-turning to the dealer—a short, wiry guy with prison tattoos on his neck, whom Mark recognized from inside. The two had been negotiating for ten minutes. David only caught snippets: "Friends' price... installment plan... hand on it..."
Five minutes later, it was over.
"Okay, fine. Friends' price," the dealer grumbled, spitting sideways into the gravel. Keys changed hands.
Mark and David had known each other since high school. Back then, they'd smoked joints together behind the gym and fantasized about one day "making it big." After college, their paths had diverged—Mark toward armed robbery, David into drug dealing. Both had lost their way at some point. Mark during his third bank robbery (accomplice dead, loot gone, 9 years and 8 months prison sentence), David while trying to smuggle a large shipment across the border. As fate would have it, they ran into each other again years later in the same prison. Cellmates. Old friendship plus a fresh hatred for the outside world—perfect conditions for getting back into it.
Now both were in their early forties, freshly released, and broke. David had inherited his grandfather's old farm – remote, dilapidated, ideal for hiding. Mark had been living there with him for four months. At first, they had sent out job applications. After the third rejection and the fourth bottle of cheap beer, Mark said:
"The guy I was at last week's place... he has a son. Sixteen. If we take him with us for a bit..."
The farm was so far out that screams would only be heard in the next town at the earliest – and that wasn't exactly close. The only problem was the car. The old, rickety VW Golf wasn't suitable for something like this. Too conspicuous, too small, too many windows.
The black van, on the other hand, was perfect.
In the following days, they set their sights on the boy. Justin, 16, son of a mid-sized construction company owner. Mark had unsuccessfully applied to his company – and had gotten the idea that this was an easy way to get money.
“We don’t want to mess with them,” David muttered as they parked at a safe distance for the umpteenth time. “A shootout in broad daylight? No way. We’d be out of there before we even started.” They’d seen the two burly guys in suits who drove Justin to private school every morning. Security. Probably ex-cops or military.
They rode back toward the farm in silence. The mood was somber. They'd calculated a million in ransom—unrealistic, but nice. Now it felt like a complete and utter failure. They needed beer and whiskey, lots of it.
At the same time, Jennifer was pedaling in the opposite direction.
Twenty years old, platinum blonde, her ponytail flapping against her back with every pedal stroke. She'd come from the beach, where she'd spent the afternoon with friends. Her pink bikini top was stretched across her chest, her white shirt hung wet and knotted on the handlebars, her tight shorts low on her hips. Athletic, tanned, her flat stomach still glistening with sunscreen and seawater.
Suddenly, the familiar thumping sound. Flat tire. A shard of glass. "Fuck," she hissed and got off her bike.
Cell phone? Dead battery. Of course.
It was still eight miles home. A trek on foot. A flat tire on a racing bike is no fun either.
She put the bike on its stand, wiped the sweat from her brow, and stuck out her thumb. Not hitchhiking in the traditional sense—just hoping someone would let her make a quick phone call.
A black van came out of town. Too fast to stop, she thought.
But it slowed down. Then it stopped. Right next to her.
The driver's and passenger's doors opened simultaneously. Both men wore balaclavas. Black. Only their eyes were uncovered.
The passenger got out, a pistol already in his hand.
"Need a ride, Blondie?"
Jennifer froze. The driver also got out and left the engine running. The next moment, she felt cold steel against her temple.
"Please... let me..."
Her voice broke.
The taller man—almost 6'3"—grabbed her wrists from behind and twisted them brutally.
“Nice tits,” he whispered close to her ear, his gaze greedily scanning her bikini.
Jennifer began to tremble. Panic rose in her throat, hot and choking. She saw the other man grab her bike and, with a jerk, hurl it into the ditch, her hands tied behind her back with a rope.
Then she shoved backward. The sliding door slammed shut. The van lurched forward. The tall man stayed in the back with her. He put the pistol down—slowly, almost relish—and instead pulled a hunting knife from his belt. The blade caught the last rays of daylight. And gleamed menacingly.
The van bumped along a poorly paved country road, somewhere between the beach and nowhere. Jennifer lay on her side, her hands tied behind her back with a rope, her legs bound at the ankles.
David sat beside her, his balaclava pulled over his face, only his eyes visible. In one hand he held a knife, in the other her thick ponytail, which he had gripped like a leash. He jerked her head back, forcing her to look at him.
"Stop squirming," he said calmly. "It'll only make it worse."
Jennifer was shocked. Her eyes were wide; her pupils dilated with panic. Tears streamed down her cheeks, dripping onto the dusty floor of the cargo hold.
With a swift, practiced movement, David placed the blade against the straps of her bikini top. The fabric gave way with a soft rip. Two cuts, and the top fell apart. Her breasts were exposed, her nipples instantly hardening in the cool air. Jennifer whimpered louder, trying to turn away, but the grip on her hair prevented her.
"Stay still," he murmured, moving the blade lower. A cut through the waistband of her shorts, then through the thin fabric of her panties. Both now hung from her in shreds. He jerked the remains away, tossing them carelessly forward toward Mark.
Naked. Completely naked and vulnerable. David leaned close to her, the blade now only centimeters from her throat. His breath brushed hotly against her ear.
"Do you know what we do to little beach girls like you who wander too far out?" he whispered. "We fuck them. Anywhere. Until they can't scream anymore. And after that... who knows. Maybe we'll leave you somewhere. Maybe not."
Jennifer froze. A choked "Please... no... please..." escaped her throat. She pleaded, her words tumbling over each other. "I won't tell anyone... I swear... just let me go... please..."
David only chuckled softly, darkly. He put the knife aside—out of reach, but still visible—and now had both hands free. He cupped her breasts, squeezed them tightly, and roughly kneaded them. His thumbs brushed over her hard nipples, pulling at them until Jennifer gasped.
"Pretty," he murmured. "Really pretty."
Jennifer was now crying openly. Fear was etched on her face, her lower lip trembling uncontrollably. "Please... don't... I'll do anything... please don't hurt me..."
David reveled in it. The power, the desperation, the trembling of her body beneath his hands—it tasted sweeter than anything he had ever experienced. His cock pressed painfully against the zipper of his pants. He glanced ahead. Mark kept looking in the rearview mirror, his fingers white on the steering wheel, his concentration visibly waning.
"You like that, don't you?" David asked, pinching her nipples lightly. Jennifer let out a soft cry. "Tell me."
"I... I'm scared..." she whispered.
"That's exactly what makes it so hot," he replied, pressing her upper body into the corner of the van until her back was against the cold metal wall.
He opened his pants. His cock sprang out—long, thick, maybe 20 centimeters, the head already glistening wet. He grabbed her ponytail again, pulling her head down.
"Do you think it'll hurt when I fuck you in the ass with it?" he breathed.
Mark grinned beneath his mask, his eyes never leaving the road.
Jennifer sobbed. “Please don’t… I’ll do anything you want… please…”
“Fine,” David said. “Then give me a blowjob. If you do it well, who knows… maybe we won’t hurt you.”
Jennifer was now kneeling on the van's dirty floor, her hands still pinned behind her back. The smell of old carpet, motor oil, and David's aroused masculinity hung heavy in the air. Her knees already ached on the hard surface, but that was nothing compared to the turmoil raging in her mind.
David still held her ponytail firmly in his fist—not as brutally as before, but tightly enough that she knew turning away wasn't an option. With his other hand, he brought his stiff penis close to her face. The head was already glistening, the veins clearly visible. It was truly large—larger than she would ever willingly take into her mouth.
"Open your mouth," he commanded softly, almost gently. This made his voice sound even more menacing.
Jennifer trembled. Tears were already streaming down her cheeks, dripping onto her bare thighs. She sobbed softly, trying to speak.
“Please… I can’t do this… I…”
“You said you’d do anything.” David pulled her head a little closer. “And this is it. Open. Otherwise, I’ll change my mind, and we’ll start from scratch. Without lube. Without any preparation. Is that what you want?”
A stifled whimper escaped her throat. Slowly, as if in slow motion, she opened her lips. Immediately, she felt the hot, smooth head of his penis against her lower lip, then he slowly but firmly forced his way into her mouth.
Jennifer gagged instantly—not just because of the size, but from panic. Her saliva ran uncontrollably, mingling with tears. David let out a deep, satisfied hum. He held her head firmly but didn’t move much yet, letting her first feel how full he was filling her mouth.
“Use your tongue,” he murmured. “And keep your teeth away if you don’t want me to knock some out.”
She tried. Clumsily, desperately. Her tongue pressed against the underside, tracing an uncertain path. David inhaled sharply, his fingers tightening their grip on her ponytail.
"Like this... just like this..."
In the driver's seat, Mark glanced again in the rearview mirror. His knuckles were white from his tight grip on the steering wheel. Beneath his mask, his mouth was dry with excitement. He heard every wet sound, every stifled sob, every soft smacking as David slid down a little further.
"Looks good," Mark said hoarsely, his eyes never leaving the road. "Keep it up, little one. Show us how grateful you are that we haven't broken you yet."
Jennifer closed her eyes. She tried to escape—to the beach, the smell of sunscreen, music, anything. But every time David thrust deeper and her throat tightened, she was brutally pulled back to reality.
David was really starting to move now. Slowly at first, controlled. In and out, not all the way in, but deep enough that Jennifer gagged repeatedly. Saliva ran down her chin, dripping onto her breasts. Her shoulders trembled with sobs, but she didn't dare resist.
Suddenly, David withdrew completely. His penis glistened with her saliva, throbbing visibly with arousal. Jennifer coughed, gasping for air, a thin strand of saliva still hanging between her lower lip and the head of his penis.
David squatted slightly so he could look directly into her tear-filled eyes.
"Not bad for a start," he said, almost approvingly. “But we’re far from finished.”
He grabbed her hair again, pulled her head back, and forced her to look at him.
“Now comes the test. If you behave yourself for the next few minutes and open wide… then maybe, you’ll be allowed to lie on your stomach and we’ll just use your pussy. If not…” He let the sentence hang in the air, smiling coldly. “Then we’ll turn you over and my buddy can take a back seat while I continue using your mouth.”
Jennifer trembled all over. Her voice was barely more than a whispered plea:
“Please… I’ll do it… I’ll try… please don’t…”
David straightened up, stroking the head of his penis against her tear-stained lips.
“Now then. Open your mouth wide. And this time… deeper.”
The van rolled into the barn, the door slamming shut with a dull thud. Darkness swallowed everything except the dim light of the interior lighting and the smell of old hay, rust, and sweat.
David kept his grip on her head, his fingers buried deep in her hair. He thrust faster, deeper now, ignoring the gagging, the stifled gurgles, the rising saliva and tears. Jennifer's throat tightened around him, her body trembled, but she couldn't escape. The rope cut into her wrists, her knees ached from the hard floor.
Just then, Mark yanked open the sliding door. Fresh, cold air rushed in, mingling with the stench of sex and fear.
David grinned, pulled up his pants, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I think you turned him on pretty much."
Mark chuckled softly, immediately grabbing Jennifer's upper arm. His fingers dug in brutally, dragging her out of the van. She stumbled, almost falling, saliva dripping from her chin onto her breasts. Her legs trembled; she could barely stand.
"My turn," Mark hissed. His voice was rough, hungry.
Mark dragged her deeper into the barn, past rusty tools, old tractors, and chains hanging from the ceiling. David followed, closed the gate again, and locked it. Not a sound escaped.
They threw her onto an old mattress in the corner—stained, dirty. Mark knelt over her, already unbuckling his belt. David leaned against a beam, watching, smoking a cigarette as if this were routine.
"Spread your legs," Mark said. "Or I'll break them."
Jennifer wept silently, shaking her head, but her strength was gone. Mark grabbed her ankles and forced them apart. No foreplay, no mercy. He thrust into her—hard, dry, painful. She cried out, the scream echoing in the empty barn.
David just chuckled softly. "Listen to how she sings."
Mark remained on top of Jennifer, thrusting faster, causing the young blonde beneath him to shudder and scream. His weight was heavy on her, squeezing the air from her lungs. The old mattress creaked under the hard thrusts. "Oh yes, scream all you want, it only turns me on more," Mark gasped as he thrust faster, harder, and deeper into her. Jennifer tugged at the restraints behind her back, her whole body aching from the brutal thrusts.
David, who had finished his cigarette, had once again opened his pants and knelt beside her head. He roughly grabbed her head and twisted it toward him. When Jennifer screamed again, he seized the opportunity and forced his now-hard penis into her mouth. Jennifer gasped and gagged, her eyes widening as she looked at him in panic. Mark took her vagina, David her mouth. Several minutes passed until both men were breathing heavily and panting with arousal. David came first: he pulled his penis out of her just as he ejaculated. Several spurts of his semen sprayed across her face, hitting her open mouth and some of her hair. Jennifer looked at him fearfully and with disgust, seconds before Mark also came, shooting his load deep inside her.
Breathing heavily, the two men pulled away from her and looked at her. Jennifer lay on the mattress, semen on her face, tears in her eyes, her hair disheveled, her whole-body twitching. But they weren't finished with her yet. She was given only a brief respite before she was pulled to her weak, trembling knees. For a split moment, the rope around her wrists was loosened, only to be replaced with handcuffs. Her arms were hoisted up, and a carabiner ensured that the chain, previously attached to a beam above her, held her in place, leaving her standing naked on tiptoe in the middle of the old barn. Semen ran down her face, over her chin and cheeks, dripping onto her breasts and leaving small stains on the dusty floor.
Mark and David stood close to her on either side, touching her body all over. They roughly massaged her breasts and buttocks, their cold, firm grips running between her legs. Jennifer wept and begged for mercy. "Please... oh God, no more. Please let me go." David, now standing close behind her, laughed and whispered in her ear, "We're just getting started, and now I'm fucking your ass." Jennifer's eyes widened, and she screamed, "No, please don't, not my ass!" But David showed no mercy. He grabbed her hips and pulled her toward him, his hard, still-wet cock forcing its way between her buttocks. Jennifer tugged at her restraints, panic rising within her, and she screamed again as his cock pressed against her sphincter.
David gasped and bit her neck briefly as his hard member pressed into her anus. He immediately felt how tight she was and that he needed to apply more pressure to penetrate deeper. Mark played with her nipples. He enjoyed the sight of her face flushed crimson and her repeated cries of pain. He reached between her legs, pushing one, then two, and eventually even three fingers deep into her pussy. David's breathing grew louder and he was on the verge of coming a second time, but to Jennifer's surprise, he suddenly stopped and withdrew his cock. “The night is still young,” he said, adding with a laugh that he’d be coming in her ass soon enough. The two men each lit a cigarette and looked at their victim.
Mark suggested they get something to eat to fortify themselves for the rest of the night. David nodded in agreement and remarked that they should also buy some more beer. “And what do we do with Blondie in the meantime?” Mark asked. David considered, then grinned wickedly and went into the small workshop adjoining the barn. After a few minutes, he returned and presented his handiwork to Mark and the helpless-looking Jennifer. A sawhorse, normally used to hold boards while painting them, now served as the base. On top sat a dildo about 7 or 8 inches long, which David had attached to the wooden beam. Mark laughed, nodded approvingly, and together they positioned the contraption under Jennifer. She shook her head in disbelief as the two men lifted her by the thighs and then lowered her. Inch by inch, the dildo pressed into her pussy, filling her completely, and her restraints left her no chance of escaping this torture. Finally, she was gagged with a red ball gag and then, a few minutes later, left alone.
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Sorry, the curse of translation. But definitely the funniest fail so far.
Good beginning.