Daddy’s Big Debt

Dahlia couldn’t remember where she was.

In fact, she couldn’t quite remember what she was doing stark naked in the middle of her dark bedroom.

With a muffled groan, she tried to prop herself up on her elbows but only got as far as the groan – she was tied in place.

“Oh my God!” she thought.

This was a bad dream. It had to be! Desperately she tugged at the restraints on her wrists above her head. Now that she was fully awake, she could see that she was strapped down on her own mattress, completely stripped and spreadeagled with both her wrists and her ankles bound tightly to the four posters of her bed. In fact, there was even some kind of cold and heavy metal collar encircling her neck.

Dahlia began to scream in earnest. This couldn’t be. It was a nightmare. Who would ever do such a thing to her? Were there intruders in her own house? The twenty-one-year-old girl began to leak salty tears from her eyes as she frantically tried to think of a way out of this.

“It’s no use.”

Dahlia gasped and whipped her head to the side. Out of the gloom she could just barely make out the silhouette of a man…no. Three men. No, seven. They were all tall and powerfully built, and in her prone position, their shadows danced menacingly on the wall like guffawing dark angels.

The one that had spoken stepped up and flicked on her lamp. The sudden light blinded her for a moment; she blinked and squinted, and then focused on her quickly approaching attackers. All wore masks over their eyes as if at a masquerade ball, and all wore black. One sweep of her eye told her that each one had a discernible bulge in his pants.

Her breathing quickened.

“W-who a-are you?” she squeaked out.

The first who had spoken, seemingly the ringleader, cocked his head to the side and considered her for a moment. “Does the name Jesse Ferguson mean anything to you?”

She gasped. “My dad?!”

He grinned evilly while the other men shared a round of chuckling. “Well, let’s just say your old man paid off a big debt to us with something other than money. Something we couldn’t refuse.”

Dahlia was starting to go dizzy with the whirl of events, still trying to process what this meant. At last she managed to get out, “B-b-but why? What did I do? Why are you all doing this to me? Why?”

“Hm…Jesse may have mentioned something about his little virgin cunt girl finding out about his affair with Sonya.”

Dahlia bit back hot tears. She shouldn’t even be in the humiliating position right now, with these bastards talking to her this way! “Please. Just let me go. Tell my dad I promise not to tell my mom. And – and I’ll pay you! Whatever you want! I have money. I’ll pay you everything he owes! Just please, please don’t do this to me!”

“Shut up, bitch!” one of the taller men in the back snarled. “Enough of your whining!” He strode toward the bed swiftly, picked up something from her pile of destroyed clothing on the floor, and stuffed it into her mouth before she could even struggle further. Dahlia sobbed and gagged on the material. It was her own panty, laden with her long-day juices. She tried to spit it out, but all to no avail. Now she began to sob in earnest.

“Shut up!” the man repeated, slapping her so hard that her head whipped back on the bed.

The ringleader laughed. “She’ll be a fun one, boys! Get me some tape.”

Another guy produced a roll of duct tape; the leader tore off two strips and slapped them on over her panty-filled mouth, nearly sealing off her nostrils so that she started to heave and gasp for air.

“You like that, don’t you, you little slut?” the leader spat.

Dahlia shook her head violent. She was trembling all over now, from her limbs to her belly, straining away in the coldest, most chilling fear she had ever felt in her life. One by one the rest of the men were now closing in on her – they were touching her, kneading her muscles, patting her mound, slapping her ass cheeks and pinching her nipples until she squealed in pain. Several laughed.

“Why, you’re still a virgin, aren’t you, cunt?” one of them whispered in her ear.