Free Felicia by S. J. Lewis Page A

“Assam,” he said to the rodent like little spy. He pointed towards the blonde slut. “Take your reward now.”
    Felicia started a little when she felt the vibrator being removed and then bony-fingered hands gripping her by her waist. A moment later she grunted as a cock was thrust into her. She heard men yelling and clapping as whoever was behind her began thrusting, quickly and jerkily. The sensation brought her no pleasure at all. In fact, if she felt anything, it was nausea, heavily mixed with shame. At least they had made her wet enough for the rape not to hurt too much… but somehow, to her befuddled mind, it was yet another cause for shame that they had been able to bring her body to arousal even after they had abused her so cruelly. She shut her eyes and moaned, not in pleasure, but in pain and misery. The men heard her and she heard cheers, and what sounded like them cheering on their compatriot. She heard him laugh, a nasty, little snickering laugh, and somehow knew that her rapist was the weaselly little man she had seen when she had first been brought here. Her nausea returned, and she retched. But her stomach was empty, so instead of vomiting into her tightly gagged mouth and suffocating herself, all she did was burn her own mouth and throat with bile. Then she felt her rapist suddenly stop moving, felt his weight leaning heavily on her hips. She heard him groaning, and knew that he had finished. After a moment, he leaned back and slapped her ass before pulling out of her. The men watching cheered him as he returned to their ranks. She caught sight of the feet of someone approaching her quickly and braced herself for her second rape. It was over quickly, but this man was both thicker and longer than the first, and it hurt a little. All through the ordeal, she heard the other men whistling and cheering. Again, she tasted bile. She thought that she had no more tears left, but hearing the loud, exultant cries of the watching men and knowing that they were all eagerly awaiting their turn was enough to bring them to her eyes again. Her tears mixed with the water still dripping from her hair onto the cold, hard cement floor. And it went on.

Chapter Seven
    Felicia shuffled along listlessly behind Selim, towed along at the end of the chain locked around her neck. She wasn’t bound. She barely noticed. She had not been the same since that horrible whipping and gang rape. They had left her in a small, dim cell afterwards, with nothing but a thin pallet to lie on. She had slept almost the whole time they had kept her there, waking only to eat a little food or drink a little water.
    Sometimes, she would wake to find Neha there with her, carefully washing her, rubbing sweet-smelling ointments on the welts marking her body, combing her hair. On occasion, she woke to find Neha lying on the pallet with her, as naked as she was, simply holding her as she shivered and cried. Neha never said anything to her, and the one time she tried to say something to the lovely young Indian woman Neha had put a finger on her lips to stop her.
    Besides being stiff and sore and still in pain from her mistreatment, whipping and rape, she was completely confused about her position in this terrible place. When the sheik had first fucked her in front of his harem, she had thought that he was demonstrating his ownership of her body and that she would become another one of his captive sex toys. That idea had been quite bad enough, but if there was nothing she could do about it, at least for the moment, she thought she could endure it. And then he had given her over to those other men, after having her painfully and thoroughly whipped in front of them. She had feared that she had somehow failed a test and would become a disposable piece of female meat, to be used and abused until she died or went insane. But then she had been allowed to rest and heal…at least physically. They had even provided some care for her, in the form of Neha. She