You'd Best Keep Lyin' Down (written by Red Nurse) My hands are tied together above me; my feet are tied together below. I can see him pacing a little ways away from me. It is dark in here; we are in some sort of enclosed space, perhaps a van. It is night outside, I know this. My shirt is unbuttoned, and I am not wearing a bra. My breasts are exposed to the air. The temperature is stale, humid. I am tied to a wooden table. He paces. Finally, he turns to look at me. Fully dressed, his hat tipped slightly back, sunglasses, a tidy vest. A very impressive getup. The walls are lined with weapons, mostly rifles, some swords...I am paralyzed with fear. He walks closer to me as I stare up at him helplessly. What can I do? I struggle, but I am tied firmly. He smirks, sliding a finger down my face. "Ain't ya a beauty, Sheila?" he says quietly, looking right at me. I struggle again, but I am too nervous to say anything. He moves up and around to my feet, and I watch his every move. Slowly, slowly, he climbs on top of me. This is where my adrenaline takes the best of me. I speak, "W-what are you doing?" But he puts his hand over my mouth, and my eyes simply widen more. "Ya best not overwork yourself, Sheila…you're gonna need your energy for this one." He orders me. He has a strong, rough voice, a recognizably Australian accent. He slowly pulls his hand away from my mouth, and before I can even scream his lips lock against mine. He forces his tongue into my mouth, and I let him, whimpering. One of his hands moves to my breasts and toys with one of my nipples, and, in spite of myself, I become aroused. I am so ashamed. Slowly, he kisses down my face, to my neck, and focuses there for a moment. I shout slightly, cry, and close my eyes. "I can't tell ya how excited I am to stick it in ya, Sheila…" He tells me as he moves lower and lowers down to my breasts. He pulls and squeezes them harshly, and I cry out. "Don't botha. No one can hear ya out here." "That hurts! Please, stop!" I beg, but he ignores. He sucks on one of my nipples while squeezing the other breast, and I moan against my practical thinking, my girlhood dripping between my constricted legs. "It's only gonna get worse, Sheila…might as well just shut up an lemme do this…" he lifts himself up and off of me, and begins to take of his vest and unbutton his shirt. I watch him in anguish, and my eyes travel down to his crotch…he is aroused. My stomach feels as though it has fallen. "Please, don't!" I struggle against my bondage, but still to no avail. "I'll do anything, just, please, don't do this to me!" I beg, I plead, and he nods ever so slightly. "Lemme see…" he steps away slightly, looking around our enclosed space, up on counters and through cupboards. "Ah hah." He pulls something out, and turns around so that I may see it. It is a medium sized jar, filled with yellow liquid. I blink, and he walks closer to me. "I promise I'll go easier on ya…if ya do this for me. Ya can either drink it, or…take a showa." I widen my eyes in horror, but seriously consider this. I really, really do not want to drink…whatever it is. So, slowly, shaking in my bondage, I swallow and say, "I…y-you…pour it on me." I close my eyes tightly. He grins on the side of his mouth, and I shudder. He walks towards me, unscrews the lid, and pours it over my head and onto my breasts, dripping down over my hard nipples, dripping down and wetting my pants. It is warm. It smells. It is piss. My fallen stomach churns. "Oh look," he chuckles sadistically, "you're all wet. Might as well getcha outta those wet clothes, Sheila." I squirm again and again as he moves towards me, undoing the button on my shorts and pulling them down to my bound ankles. He left my panties on, and I quiver. He pressed one of his long fingers on me and begins to stroke my, now very wet, girlhood through my panties. I shake, getting more and more aroused, but more and more upset at myself. His chucking is becoming hypnotic. I feel myself fading as he pulls down my panties to where my shorts are. "I ain't done yet, Sheila…get ready." I feel very cold as I watch him unbutton and unzip his pants and pull out his manhood. It is a little above average size, and incredibly engorged. It feels as though I do not even have a stomach anymore; I am a virgin. He gets much closer to me, until he is on top of me again, and parts my legs as much as he can against their binding, spreading me eagle. He takes a hold of his manhood and searches about with it in the dim lighting for the dripping hole of my girlhood, until he finds it and slips it in. "Mmm, beautiful…" he moans, and I look up at him in horror. It is breaking pushing against the inner walls of my girlhood, until it reaches the most delicate point. "Ohh, a virgin, eh? Even betta. I promised I'd go easy on ya…" and, albeit slowly, he pushes through, and I feel it break. I cry out, struggle. "I don't want this anymore! Please stop! It hurts so much! Please!" I cry things of this sort, and he increases his tempo of thrusting. "Ah ah, no complainin." He says between moans, pressing harder and harder, faster and faster into me. "Mmm, Sheila, ya feel so damn good and tight…I reckon you're gonna get real used to lookin up at me." He continues to pound into me, his moans getting more and more intense as my squirms and squeaks match them. My whole body being forced by the movement, the sticky, warmth of the piss still dripping over me, mixing with sweat; my sweat from trauma, his from ecstasy. He leans over me, kissing, biting, and licking my face and neck as he trusts into me. I struggle against the bindings on my hands, and find a loose point, which I work on against the force of being penetrated. Finally, I get my hands loose, and attempt to push him off of me, but to no avail. He is too strong, too focused. I grip onto the shirt on his back. "Not gonna happen…mmm…" He is moaning, and tears begin to mix with the piss on my face. He is moving faster and faster, pounding into me. It hurts, but there is really nothing I can do. "You're bleedin…makin it even smootha for me…" His moans are becoming congested grunts. I look away, but every time I find myself looking back to his face. "No! No, no, no! Stop!" I cry and whimper. "Your pussy feels real great on my dingo," he sort of moans, sort of laughs, "bet my yella smells real bad, don't it?" He stares at me, before arching his head up and back. "Mmm…that's right…right there…real good, now…ohh-gahh…" he pauses sharply, and I feel a warm, fierce rush into my girlhood. He moans out loud, and I cry at the terrible sensation. He slows down, and then stops, still inside me. One more sharp noise as he pulls out of me. He leans over me, breathing heavily, and I am panting below him. My arms, free, loosen from his shirt, and simply fall to my sides, and down. After a moment, he shifts really close to my face, his lips close to my ear, and whispers, "You just lost, Sheila."