The Blac Van

It's ironic that the first thing I felt when I saw the van pull over to the side of the road was relief.

I'd been on my way to meet my long-distance boyfriend for a concert, and my car had broken down about ten miles after I'd stopped for gas. (Long enough that I was completely out of cell-phone range, so my gold AAA membership wasn't going to do me any good.) I hadn't brought a change of clothes -- I had things at his house -- and my little black dress only came down to mid-thigh. I was standing beside my car, debating whether I should walk back to the gas station -- lamenting the fact that I was wearing heels; it was going to take me longer, and I'd be in agony after just one mile -- when the sleek black van pulled up behind my car.

Two respectable-looking men stepped out of the car; one had dirty blond hair and a neatly cropped beard, the other was dark and clean-shaven. They were both tall and well-built, seeming to tower over me even in my heels.

"Having trouble, miss?" the dark-haired man asked.

I nodded. "I'm so glad to see you," I gushed. "My car broke down, and my cell phone isn't working."

Neither one of the men was smiling; they exchanged a glance and seemed to come to some kind of decision. They each reached into their back pockets and pulled out badges, flashing them at me.

"We're undercover officers, and we were given a tip-off that someone was going to be running drugs through the area in a car matching your description." The blond man stared pointedly at my out-of-state plates.

I laughed. "That's not me," I assured them, not taking the situation seriously just yet. "I'm going to meet my boyfriend for a show in Salt Lake City."

"Mind if we search your car?" the dark-haired one asked.

I hesitated. I knew I had a little bit of pot in the car -- just an eighth or so -- but it was enough to keep me from ever making it to the concert that night if I was caught with it.

"Actually, I do mind," I said, planting my feet and trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm kind of in a hurry. And you don't have a warrant."

The blond laughed; it was the first show of humor either one of them had expressed, and for some reason, it made me more nervous than their deadpan faces. "I'd try not to worry about getting to your show tonight," he said. "Turn around and place your hands on the hood, ma'am."

"What?" I didn't think I'd heard him correctly for a second. This couldn't be happening.

He advanced a step closer. I stepped back and felt my car behind me, looking up at him.

"Turn around," he repeated, "and place your hands on the hood of your car."

I did as he instructed this time, and he waited a few seconds after I was steadily planted to capture one wrist, then the other, and lock them behind my back in handcuffs. It happened so quickly that I didn't realize what he was doing until it was done.

"Hey!" I couldn't keep the tremor from my voice this time. "Am I under arrest? What are you doing?"

They ignored my questions; the dark-haired one did search through my car, and I felt the big hands of the blond man reaching around to feel around and inside my bra, down my sides and then under my dress. To my embarrassment, my nipples had been rock-hard, but it was cold enough outside to account for some of that.

I tried to take it with stoicism, but I wasn't expecting him to pull aside the string of my thong and slide his fingers inside me. That was even more humiliating, because I was very, very wet.

"Wh-what are you doing?" I managed to gasp.

"Cavity search," he told me, and they both laughed this time. "She's soaking," he commented to his partner. "I think she likes this. And she's got her hood pierced."

My cheeks blazed with heat, and I bit my lip when I felt his fingers probing at my ass; I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of a reaction at all.

He'd just slid a finger inside my rear hole -- and he didn't seem to be searching for anything, I noted, so much as probing and stroking me -- when the dark-haired cop found the pot.

"Look at what I found," he called, and the blond who'd been fingering me withdrew his hand, wiping my juices on my ass.

"All right, sweetheart, it looks like you're coming with us," the dark cop said.

I fought back tears. "Can we make some kind of deal?" I asked in desperation. "I don't want to go to jail!"

"If you do everything we ask you to do, you'll be just fine," the blond reassured me. "But you're missing the concert tonight. No doubt about that." He swung open the rear doors of the van. "Get in."

That was when I realized that neither one of these men was a police officer. Instead of bench seats, there was a mattress in the back of the van. My body registered what that meant before my brain had pieced it together, and I was turning to run, hands cuffed behind my back or not, but the blond picked me up easily with one arm and tossed me in the back of the van while the dark-haired man climbed behind the wheel and started up the van.

I fell onto my side on the mattress, and before I could even attempt to struggle to my feet, I felt the weight of the stranger in the back with me pinning me down. "I meant what I told you," he whispered in my ear; I felt the rasp of his beard on my cheek and shivered. "If you cooperate, you'll be fine." I felt his hand move down my body; my dress was riding up, and it was easy for him to hook his fingers in the strap of my thong and start to draw it down my legs.

I tried to curl up in a ball to keep him from removing it, but he was too strong and deft -- and I was still hindered by my hands bound behind my back. I was panting with the effort from my struggles by the time he pulled it free, and I fought his hands pushing my knees apart, too.

It was totally useless, and I choked back a sob when I felt his fingers moving through my folds again, rubbing on my clit. "You do like this," he laughed to himself. "You're fighting it, but your cunt is telling a whole different story, my dear."

He was right. It was all I could do to fight to hold my hips still; I wanted to grind against his hand. He idly dipped his fingers inside me, coating them with the honey that I couldn't stop from flowing, then took my clit in between his thumb and forefinger and pinched me, hard.

I gasped and arched my back, whimpering in the back of my throat. He rubbed his fingers back and forth, still pinching me, and even though it hurt, it was making me even wetter. "You're going to be a lot of fun, I can tell," he commented.

"Spread her legs wider," came a voice from the front seat. I looked up and realized that he had me situated facing the front, so the driver could arrange his rearview mirror to see exactly what was going on. He had one hand on the steering wheel, and the other seemed to be busy undoing his pants; I spared a thought to hope he didn't run us off the road before the blond pulled my knees further apart. I leaned back on my elbows, trying to support my weight so I didn't topple backward.

"Pinch her clit again," he instructed; I tried to scoot away, but there was no getting out of this situation; with a wicked grin, the blond did as his friend had requested, and I tried (and failed) to keep the noises from escaping my throat.

"She's getting cunt juice all over her dress," the blond reported to the dark-haired man, and I realized he was right.

"Take it off," he suggested. "We're almost there."

The blond grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my gaze to meet his. "If I take the handcuffs off for a minute to help you take your clothes off," he said, "then I won't have to cut them off you. And if I don't have to cut them off you, you'll have something to wear home. Understand?"

I nodded as much as I could with my hair in his grip. I didn't see where he had the key, but a moment later, my left hand was free, the handcuffs dangling from my right.

"Strip," he told me. "Don't try anything funny, just take your dress and your bra off and then put your hands back behind your back."

"Can you cuff them in front of me?" I requested. "It'd be more comfortable."

"Strip and put your hands behind your back," he repeated. Okay, then.

I did exactly as he told me this time. Even if I somehow managed to escape from the van, I had no idea where I was now. They'd taken several side roads and were winding up a dirt path right now that almost looked like two ruts in the side of a hill.

He secured my hands behind my back again when I was done, then slipped the heels off my feet. "Maybe we should put the blindfold on her," he suggested.

An involuntary noise of panic left my throat. "No blindfold, please," I blurted. I wanted to at least see what was happening.

That resolved them, and not the way I'd hoped. The blond secured the blindfold around my head; I'd never seen one like it, but it was scarily effective. I couldn't see a thing.

The van rolled to a stop. I was shaking like a leaf, but at the same time, I was incredibly turned on. I didn't know what was coming, but I had a feeling it was going to involve more than just these two.

One of them carried me in over his shoulder; I thought it might have been the dark-haired one, but I couldn't tell for sure. I heard a door open and the murmur of voices -- all low and masculine -- filled my ears. The chilly, slightly breezy outdoor air was replaced with warmth and stillness, and the room fell silent.

I was dropped on my side on a soft surface, and someone's hands were working at the handcuffs. I considered struggling, but the odds of getting the blindfold off and getting out of here were extremely slim. And they were prepared for that, anyway; as soon as my wrists were free of the cuffs, I felt them gripped by strong hands and drawn up and apart and secured.

The same thing was done to my legs, only they were pulled even further apart and back, so my pussy and ass were fully exposed. I felt a hand fasten around my left breast, fingers digging into the flesh, and I cried out and tried to pull away, but I was too tightly secured.

"Perfect," I heard someone say, and then something was brushing against my cheek, probing at my lips.

"Open your mouth." I recognized the voice of the blond. "Remember, cooperate. Don't even think about biting; you won't like what happens."

I nodded meekly and parted my lips, letting him slide his cock between them. It was longer than I'd expected, and he wasn't gentle, pushing in until he scraped the back of my throat. I felt fingers, then lips toying with my pussy, and I gasped around his cock when someone took my clit in between his teeth, biting me while stroking with his tongue.

"Do that again," the man whose cock I was sucking said to whomever was between my legs. "Her whole body twitched when you did."

He obliged, plunging thick fingers inside me as he did, and I moaned in bliss, feeling my body getting ready to betray me. Sure enough, after just another minute or two of this treatment, I was spasming around his fingers, moaning and gasping as waves of pleasure washed over me.

I felt a slap on my cheek. "Pay attention," I was scolded, "you forgot you have a cock in your mouth and a job to do with it." Obediently, I wrapped my lips around it and stroked my tongue along its length; I was losing control of my body completely, and when I felt the first cock head rubbing between my cunt lips, I spread my legs even wider than the restraints held them.

The man at my pussy impaled me on his throbbing length even as the one in my mouth pulled out and I felt warm saltiness spray over my face and tits. His cock was quickly replaced with a different one, just as hard, but thicker, and my jaw worked to stretch around this new intrusion while he fucked my face.

I felt the cock in my pussy slow down, then pull out, and suddenly I felt him pressing at my ass. He was bigger than anything I'd ever taken back there before, I could already tell, but he worked his way in slowly, stretching me around him. I was whimpering around the cock in my mouth by the time his balls were resting on my ass, and the man fucking my mouth clenched his hands in his hair and stuffed his cock all the way down my throat, blowing his load. I swallowed frantically, but some of it ran out of my mouth, and I was still sticky from the first guy who'd finished himself off all over my face and torso.

Although I'd appreciated his caution at first, as soon as my ass was warmed up, the man fucking it started pounding me hard, and I felt hands pinch my nipples, pulling my tits up toward the ceiling. I arched my back, quivering, wanting to thrash but holding myself still, and then fingers started probing at my cunt.

At first, I welcomed the feeling of the stroking around my clit and my folds, feeling another cock at my lips and opening my mouth obediently to take it in. Then the fingers slid into my pussy, and that felt good at first, too.

Until he slid one too many fingers into me, and I felt myself stretching. "Are you going to fist her?" I heard a voice ask, and that was when the cock in my ass released its load deep inside me; he pulled out slowly, and then somehow the restraints were free and I was being flipped over onto my stomach, then pulled up on my knees, my hands tied behind me and my feet tied apart and down. I felt my head being pulled up by my hair, and the cock I'd been sucking on -- I assumed it was the same one, anyway, but had no real way of knowing -- stuffed itself back in my mouth.

"No," was the reply. "In case any of you want to fuck her pussy again tonight. I'm going for this, though."

It sounded like the blond again, and I felt his cock slide into my ass. I was loosened up, and he wasn't gentle, gripping my hips hard enough to bruise while he fucked me. I struggled to keep the suction on the dick I was licking and sucking on, but when he started to spank me -- hard enough that each smack left a burning sensation, a perfect imprint of his hand on my ass -- I couldn't concentrate on the blowjob anymore; my entire body shuddered in another mind-blowing orgasm that part of me marveled at. I hadn't known I was capable of that kind of reaction, especially in a situation like this -- against my will.

I lost count of how many times I came that night, how many times I was fucked in my cunt or my ass or my face. It was enough that I was dripping with sweat and completely exhausted by the time I heard the door opening and closing with departures, and I didn't so much fall asleep as completely pass out after it seemed the last of them were gone.

***

I woke up in the backseat of my car. I was wearing my dress, and my bra and purse were on the front seat, along with my shoes and car keys. My thong was gone, and I had a feeling someone had kept it as a souvenir. My lips were dry, and my whole body throbbed with soreness, especially between my legs. That, and the feeling of cum still drying on my skin and leaking from me, were the only indications that anything had happened.

My car started right up. I looked at the clock. It was noon the next day; no doubt my boyfriend would be worried sick.

I had to smile to myself, though, as I wriggled my bra on under my dress and started up my car. I'd been scared out of my mind, but they'd kept their promise -- I'd cooperated, and I was fine.

Better than fine. I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. I'd never looked more dreamily happy.

The boyfriend and I broke up not long afterward, but I kept coming up with reasons to drive through the same town where I'd been picked up by that sleek black van. I even found it again once or twice ...