Priyanka Chopara in trouble – Sex Stories

Priyanka Chopara in trouble – Sex Stories

This is the time when Priyanka Chopra was on her Vacation. She was travelling in South America. She was not that famous there…At least she thought that. She planned for trecking trip with few of local people. Bout all people cancelled somehow and she was alone now.

A man named Baker had set trek for her. She only knew the chap slightly. Nice enough fellow. Bit erratic, but a little insanity was frequently useful in their game. He had set Priyanka in as a last minute in the group of 6. But then today, she arrived at their hotel to find his entire team bedridden. Baker thought it was just bad luck. Priyanka herself suspected something. It was suspicious that all half dozen of them would get sick at the same time, right on the morning they were about to start.

Trek was larger and grander than she was expecting. This region was rather densely populated, rugged as it was—by no means a howling, trackless wilderness. Good to know the modern planet, cluttered as it had become, still had some special surprises like this, tucked away.

Baker showed her famous lake granngaha. They were supposed to swim and cross the lake to reach summit.

She wasn’t properly outfitted for this swimming. She would have liked to have on one of her wetsuits. Instead she was dressed for desert terrain. She wondered if Baker had been just been joking with her, when he described this place. Had there been sarcasm in his voice? If there had been, she’d completely missed it.

Just as likely the weather had simply shifted, since he was here—even though it hadn’t been very long ago. Dramatic changes like this weren’t particularly unusual, especially on mountains. Tomorrow the whole site might get buried in snow.

She could have swum out without undressing. Her usual shorts and top would not have hindered her. They were almost soaking wet already, just from her sweat. A cooling rinse in that lake would be good for them. Her hefty boots would have given her a little trouble, but they were all she needed to remove. Her little backpack was also entirely waterproof, and quite lightweight. She could stash her sunglasses in there.

But even though it was unnecessary, Priyanka took off all her things. Except her backpack. She jammed her clothing into the backpack with her sunglasses, though they made it a tight fit in there, with the supplies it already contained. She left her boots on the shore, on top a rock, with her socks tucked in them. They were much too big and cumbersome to carry along. And she didn’t mind running around barefoot, even out in a potentially perilous wilderness like this. Sure, it wasn’t entirely safe, but what the hell. Native peoples in the jungles of the world did this all the time, regardless of sharp stones or thorns or bugs or snakes. We stars baby ourselves too much. And going barefoot just feels better, in hot, sticky weather. Her feet got too slimy and itchy in her boots, in a climate like this. Barefoot felt cleaner and freer and all around more fun.

As for the rest of her body … Well, the same things applied. And clambering through the boggy thickets to reach the lake, she’d got covered in filth, along the way. Greenish, foul-stinking mud had got spattered all over her. And then, even yuckier, she had to peel off several shredded sheets of thick nasty cobwebs crisscrossing her face and torso and her thighs. She needed a refreshing wash, was the point.

So this was why, when Priyanka Chopra swam across the dark lake, complete one of the largest trek of her life, she made that swim entirely naked, but for her backpack. It might not seem a wise thing to do. No doubt it was impractical and reckless. Perhaps it seems unrealistic, that an experienced and professional adventuress like Priyanka Chopra would chose to do such a thing, in such a wild and unknown place, no matter how hot and dirty and uncomfortable she’d become, in the course of her tromp through the surrounding swamps. But this is what she did. And what’s more, she delighted in it. In fact the brazen recklessness of the decision served as an added goad.A sweetener.

She had some brief trouble about halfway across. Finally, she reached the to end and pulled herself from the water.

After crossing the lake she found a Cave. She decided to take a look at a Cave.
The interior walls of cave were draped with flowery vines. She didn’t recognize the flowers—some variety of orchid. They were quite large, and bright purple, with a powerful, odd scent. At first it seemed like cinnamon. Then it seemed more like vanilla. It would have been a pleasant smell if it was slightly less strong. Instead it was overpowering. Like when a kid splashes on too much cologne and it makes you ill. But her nose got used to it fairly quickly, and then she stopped noticing it altogether.

Later she would wonder a lot about that. The speed and the totality with which she had forgotten about those weird flowers, right after she took notice of them. But it wasn’t usual for her to pay much attention to flowers, in any case. It was probably less odd that she’d forgotten about them than that they’d caught her interest at all, even if only for a few moments.

But that scent had started really bothering her … And then it stopped. So sudden, like flicking a switch. That was the scary part. Nobody wants their switches flicked without them realizing.

It was possible the flowers had done something to her. When she breathed in their pollen. She might never know for sure. But possibly the flowers were to blame for everything that followed after this. They might be the reason she had acted so impulsively and rashly. She might have been stoned or tripping a little—drugged by the funny fumes from those weird plants.

Or maybe she was kidding herself and that was bullshit. Maybe she was grasping at straws, so she wouldn’t have to take the responsibility on herself. After all, she was already acting impulsively and rashly before she went into that cave and smelled those fucking flowers. She was already naked, by that point. And not just naked, but excited.Stimulated.Aroused.

She’d got herself turned on, doing this, the way she was doing it. Romping about in the nude, all by her lonesome, in the steamy heat of a jungle.A mad lark. What if she’d hurt yourself? Or what if other people(Other treking company people) turned up and found her like this? That was not a very unlikely prospect. It was quite dangerously possible.
And now Priyanka was just fooling around. This wasn’t proper exploration. She was just indulging herself out in the sun, for the giddy thrill of the thing.

Priyanka sat down on an rock. It was quite clean.
She slipped her backpack off to use for a pillow, when she lay back flat. The stone wasn’t large enough to let her to stretch out completely, not as much as she’d have liked. She put her knees up, propping her heels on the edge of the plinth at its corners on that end, letting her toes dangle loose. That position worked well enough.

Priyanka didn’t just tease or diddle-dandle herself, or if she did, she only did that for a few seconds. Maybe a bit longer than that, but not much longer.No more than half a minute. And then she revved herself up, and started going to end of summit. Time to get serious.

Priyanka wasn’t just playing around here. That wasn’t gonna do the job. She wanted to fuck. She wanted to get off, and get off good. So she fucked her hand, and fucked it hard. She fucked herself hard, with her fingers.

Didn’t think this would take very long, getting herself her fix. She felt on edge enough that she expected to peak right away. But somehow it wasn’t that easy. Somehow she couldn’t quite get herself there. Not like she thought she would.

It was strange. It wasn’t like she wasn’t making herself feel good, because she was. She most definitely was. She was making herself grit her teeth so hard she thought they might crack. And it wasn’t like she needed something more, or something else. It was stranger than that. This was something new. Like her threshold had shifted, and kept shifting. The bar, so to speak, kept raising, before she could get herself over it. She’d feel herself getting close, going higher and higher—but then somehow the top would move further off, ahead of her. And she’d have to keep chasing it.Straining even higher for it.

This was a wonderful new development, for a while. Then it stopped being wonderful. It started to become annoying. It started to get a little scary.

It wasn’t normally this hard to finish. It didn’t usually take her this long, or this much effort. The sensations she was giving herself—they’d got so intense they were starting to hurt—though it was a good hurt. She was making herself sore. She shouldn’t be able to take this—to feel the feelings this intensely without triggering a climax. That was what a climax was—when your system couldn’t absorb anymore. The whole world burst. But her world wouldn’t burst this time, for some reason. She just kept absorbing more and more—more than she ever had. It was awesome—but it was also agonizing. She was starting to get scared. She could imagine her body catching on fire, literally. Spontaneous combustion. Well, no—not spontaneous. Ignited by frustration.This crazy inability for her system to just finally pay off and let her come.


What was happening to her? What was causing this?

She sat up suddenly, to examine herself. It was kind of silly. Like she could discover the solution just by looking at her pussy. And she didn’t stop churning herself, as she was looking. She found she couldn’t. Her fingers had a mind of their own. They just kept right on with their task, while she sat there staring at them with a dazed expression, her mouth hanging open. Come hell or high water, as the saying goes—they weren’t gonna quit, ’til they got her off. They’d keep churning away in her gash, ’til they worked themselves down to the bone. If that’s what it was gonna take.

“Holy shit,” she mumbled to herself, “Holy fucking shit.”

And then suddenly, Priyanka Chopra realized she wasn’t alone anymore. She didn’t hear anything or see any signs, not consciously. But somehow her sixth sense told her she was being watched, behind her.

That stopped her fingers. That stopped them dead.

She swung herself around on her bottom, on the plinth, so fast she almost scraped off skin on the marble. Her back had been to it, before, when she first lay herself down on the plinth. Why had she done that? Why hadn’t she taken a little more time to find herself a more secure spot, before she … got busy?

Well, she’d been too horny to bother about that, obviously. And also, of course, the risk of someone finding her had added to her excitement. But she hadn’t actually wanted that to happen. The threat was interesting, as an idea—but in reality, it was mortifying. This just sucked.

Five men in the doorway. All of them staring at her with big goofy grins. Five big grinning fuckers, with guns.

They weren’t right on top of her, at least.

And she was stark naked. That would have been plenty bad enough, in itself. But she’d been fingerfucking herself …

And they’d all seen it. They’d snuck in and been watching her, who knows how long. She’d been too wrapped up in her own nonsense to even notice, until just then.

“Holy fucking shit,” she mumbled again.

“Hey there,” said one of the men. He stood a little further forward than the others. The leader. He had a beard and a ponytail, and his bright teeth looked gigantic. Ogre teeth. But that was probably just her imagination—exaggerating his smile. It was a big smile—well, of course it was, considering. But it probably wasn’t really as monstrously huge as it seemed to her, in her embarrassment. “No, don’t get up,” he went on,”Please. Seriously. Don’t mind us. Just keep right on doing what you’re doing, Miss Chopra.”

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She took a moment, before she replied. A couple deep breaths. A swallow, to clear the tension in her throat. “Having a bit of private moment, gentlemen. Could you give a girl some privacy?”

There now. That had come out pretty well, hadn’t it? Nice presentation of panache.

“Ah, come on. Don’t be mean. Wouldn’t you prefer a little company? Doesn’t that sound more fun?”

“Afraid I don’t know any of you chaps well enough for that.”

“Well, yeah. I understand. But we could change that, couldn’t we? You could get to know us real well, if you’re up for it.”

They were edging forward, little by little …
“Keep your distance, please,” she said, “Stay right where you are.”

“It’s cool, it’s cool. Nobody means you any harm here. Just a friendly offer. Just being friendly.”

“The answer’s no.”

“I so much enjoy this kind of banter, don’t you? It really steams me up. I’m bantering with Priyanka Chopra. This is really a highlight, seriously. I think, for me personally, this is even more exciting than watching you finger yourself was, before. How is it for you, though? Tell me honestly.”

“You’re holding up your end decently enough. In all fairness, I have to grant you that.”

“Look, I think I can guess what you’re worried about. You’re imagining somebody sent us to ambush you, maybe kidnap you. But no, this is pure coincidence. If you seriously don’t believe me then t”ke my gun.”
He Gave Priyanka his gun.

“You responsible for poisoning Baker’s team?”

“Well, yeah. You know about that? Okay. We did that”

“I’m not gonna deny that thought has crossed one or two of our minds. We would certainly be up for some arrangement along those lines. But nobody’s trying to force you to do anything. Have any of us tried to force you to do anything? I think me and my men have all behaved ourselves courteously, up to now, haven’t we? Think about it. Be fair. All we’ve done—the only thing we’ve done that you could possibly classify as sexually aggressive, to any significant degree—is expressed our admiration and interest in you, as a desirable individual. We think you’re hot and we’ve told you so. That’s not too terrible a thing, is it? You can’t really get mad about that, can you? Just for us, you know, taking an interest, as active guys. And it’s not like we’ve trespassed on to private property of yours. You’re the one that was making a lewd spectacle of yourself. We just stumbled across you, by chance. Nothing wrong in that. And we’ve kept our distance, all this time.”

“Only because I’m armed.”

“That wounds me, I have to say. I’m actually offended.”

“Oh dear.”

“Remember, you didn’t have your gun out before. We could have tried to rush you, while you were, um, occupying yourself, with your eyes shut. When we first walked in. It’s not all that much ground to cover. But we didn’t take advantage, did we? We held back. Just watched.”

“Just watching was taking advantage. True gentlemen would have announced their presence.”

“Well, hey now, it was awkward. Didn’t wanna startle you. You nearly shot me right off when you spotted us. Would’ve done the same thing if I called out to you. ‘Excuse me’—BANG!”

“You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“I’m adaptable. That’s why these guys made me the leader.”

“Can’t you all just fuck off?”

“Hey! Look… Give us a chance. We’re all worldly adults. You might be surprised.”

It felt a little cowardly, for one thing. More than a little, in fact. The way he was baiting her—like a playground dare. She shouldn’t have let it get under her skin. But it did, somehow. She couldn’t help it.

If she left, if she ran—it would feel like they showed her up. She didn’t want to let them do that. She wanted to show them up, instead. They thought they were badasses. Well, she was also a badass. And in fact, her ass was badder. She wanted to show these cocky cunts just how bad it could be.

They wouldn’t be able to handle it, if she really let herself cut loose. No fucking chance. She wouldn’t let them scare her and chase her off the site. She wouldn’t let the men best her. She’d take the leader’s dare. She’d take them on, on their ground, on their own level. And if she let herself do that, she’d destroy them. She’d wear them out, wring them out, and then discard them—like dishrags. Priyanka Chopra would take all these boys to fucking school. And then personally teach them some lessons they’d never forget—lessons that would goddamn stick. Each and every one.

“Tell you what, mate. You want a chance? All right. Maybe I’ll give you one—if it’s on my terms. You up for that? Think your man enough to meet my expectations? Let’s see how well you can follow instructions. First—and this should go without saying—I want all five of you to put your weapons down—stack them against the wall behind you. Do that now.”

“You also gonna put your weapon aside?”

“No, I’m not. I’m keeping mine exactly where it is.”

“Doesn’t seem quite fair.”

“Five of you and one of me? I think it balances those numbers nicely. But if you can’t accept that part, then we’ll go no further.”

The men traded looks for a while, but didn’t openly discuss it. Then the leader finally shrugged and put his weapons down, and all the rest followed his example. One of them grumbled, as he did it. Another one giggled. The leader casually slapped the back of that chap’s head. “Be mature.”

“All right,” Priyanka said, “Good. The next instruction should come as no surprise. Shed your gear, boys. All of it, all of you. Let me look you all over.”

“You heard the lady, men. What are we waiting on? Strip yourselves down and line up for inspection.”

They did. No complaints or giggles, now.

“What’s the verdict?” the leader asked.


They were a fairly handsome set. All younger than her. No models or movie stars, but they all looked fit and clean. Could have been much worse. Lots of tattoos, all over them. Dragons and wolves and lions. Ah, kids these days. Besides the leader, they all had shaved heads, like good little soldiers should. A couple had kept their sunglasses on, like dipshits. She wasn’t sure where they were from. Couldn’t tell just from looking them over. They weren’t white guys, and they weren’t all the same. But she couldn’t identify their nationalities or even their races more specifically than that.
“And now?” the leader prompted.

“Now we’re going to proceed … but in an orderly fashion. And by that, I mean one by one. Are we clear on this? I’m not having your whole gang climbing all over me at once. You better all not to be in too much of a hurry. Each one of you will get a turn to show me your stuff, but when your chance comes around, you’re gonna damn well let me set the pace. Is that understood? Anybody have a problem with this arrangement? If you do, tough. I’m the one with the gun. I’m running the show. And this should go without saying—but I will say it anyway. Misbehavior will not be tolerated. Consequences will be terminal.”

“You know” said the leader, “I don’t usually respond to bossy women. It’s not my nature. But I like this—I like the way you’re taking charge. It’s kind of—I don’t know how to put it. Nifty.”

“Glad you feel that way.”

“Which of us you wanna start with? Who gets to go first?”

“You do. You’re their leader, after all.”

“All right! Yeah! Here we go!”

“You’re gonna start off with—”

“With my mouth,” he interrupted, crouching down, “I know. I’ve read the manual.”

He wasn’t bad at it. Wasn’t the best she’d ever had, either. But he did it pretty good. Still, she only kept him down there like that for a minute or two. He was proficient enough that he could have probably got her off like that, eventually, if she made him keep going. But it would have taken too long. It wouldn’t have been a very satisfying come. She wasn’t really into it, even though it felt decent. Wasn’t in the mood for getting off like that. Not now. She wanted to get crazier. She was in a cock mood, not a tongue mood. She wanted real proper full-on fucking.

Also it had put her off some that he’d anticipated her. She hadn’t been happy about that. As if she was obvious. And it sort of was, wasn’t it? The obvious thing for a woman to demand, starting off—to start off with tongue. She didn’t want to be obvious. She wanted to be shocking, right now. She wanted to shock these men.

So she moved him upward. Let him enter her. He slid in easy. A good fit. A good start.

“Show me what you’re made of,” she told him, “Show me what you can do, if you can do anything.”

He didn’t go about it the way she would have guessed. He didn’t take off like a racehorse, like most men would have, if you said that shit to them. Instead he kept shifting around, trying different angles. He kept taking himself all the way out and sliding it back in, in slightly different ways. He wasn’t really fucking her yet. Instead he was probing her, testing her. Like an oilman, sinking discovery wells. He was watching her face very close. It was a scientific look—like he was peering through a microscope. Gauging her reactions.

So far he wasn’t finding what he wanted. He wasn’t making her react much at all. Might have been doing better if he put less thought into it. Maybe he was starting to realize that. His face had got rather red, but he kept on experimenting, wiggling around. A little higher, a little lower. Fast a while, then slow. Slow for a steady count of ten, than faster again … and then faster still. A little left, a little right. Still no major success. But he wasn’t giving up. Not just yet …

Fucking guy was trying his damnedest to impress her. And she liked that he was trying. The results were not proving exceptional, to any degree—but the effort he was making in itself, she found impressive, or at least charming. So many men even in the modern day and age still don’t care if they can get a woman off, so long as they get off themselves—or they just assume it happens automatically. That all it needs to get the job done is plugging in and pumping, like you’re inflating a bicycle tire. But it ain’t that goddamn straightforward. It takes more art than that.

And then all the sudden one of his silly tiny adjustments unexpectedly paid off, at last rewarding his exertions for both of them. It was something he did with her legs, raising them a good deal higher than she usually positioned them herself, when she took a man into her. He was actually holding her thighs too tight, putting too much strain on them. He might leave bruises. And yet it was worth it, for the way it realigned the contact points inside her. So his strokes were homing in full length across her most sensitive spots in there, along the top of the passage. And that surface was also being stretched taunt inside her, by the angle of her legs, and the strain from her muscles—and this tension increased its resistance, when his cock pushed against it—making it more sensitive, more responsive. And it had already been damn responsive to begin with!

It made her cry out. Just a little. More of a gasp. But he didn’t miss the signal. Hearing it made the man cry out himself. “Ha! There! There we go!”

Yes indeed, there they went. Now that he’d found his target, he sped up his thrusts. She was afraid that would ruin it. All too easy for a man to do. Either he’d throw himself off the target, in his galloping eagerness, or start hitting in too fiercely, overstimulating her tissues and turning the good sensations into bad ones. Too intense if not actually painful. That had happened to her too many times before … But this time it didn’t happen like that, thank God. This time the good sensations just got better.

Good enough to get her off? Maybe … Hopefully … If he could keep going like this another minute or two without giving out on her or screwing it up, making another unneeded adjustment. He better not. She’d be pissed if he made that mistake, at this stage.

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He didn’t. He didn’t mess up or quit on her. He brought her over the line, real good.

She cried out for him, again, as it happened. A short yelp—no mighty glass-shattering scream, but a much louder exclamation than the previous one. Unrestrained.

The other four men all hollered like football fans at a goal. They all recognized what her yelp had signified. That embarrassed her. She’d almost forgot for a minute the others were watching. Maybe it was stupid to feel ashamed about it. The problem was it took the orgasm away from her, a little, when they cheered. It was her moment, or it was supposed to be. She didn’t like that the men were getting off on it too—feeling like big studs. Was that selfish of her?

The problem with fucking these men was that she didn’t just get to fuck them. They were all gonna get to fuck her. She wished she could have the one part without the other.

She shouldn’t have let them do anything else but eat her out. Maybe that would have worked better. She shouldn’t let any of them come. She should make them pleasure her, but not reciprocate. That would have showed them. Put the fuckers in their place.

But she wanted to feel the cocks. She wanted real sex. Real fucking, nothing halfass. She’d got too worked up. She wanted to see the men come for her. She needed to make them come. She wished she didn’t, but she did. When the urge hit her like this, that was part of it. She got off on getting people off. The power-trip of that. It wouldn’t be real fucking if she didn’t make all the stupid men come too.


The men wanted the same power-trip, of course. Perfectly natural, and only fair. But it still made her mad, a little. Selfish or not, she couldn’t help it. She wanted to make them all come, and she wanted them all to make her come—but she hated how it would proud of themselves it would make the fuckers.

She would do her best to hide it, if the others gave her orgasms. She would try to sneak it past them, holding the pleasure in. She wasn’t very good at that, though. It was difficult. If the feelings didn’t hit you strong enough to make you lose control, it wasn’t a proper climax, was it? You weren’t getting off good enough, if it didn’t make you yell.

The leader was ready to finish now. He pulled out and tried to scramble up in range of her face, but she wasn’t going to allow that shit. She grabbed hold of it with her free hand to steer him, and made him shoot on her stomach. Most of it. A little fired out far enough to reach her tits.

“God,” he panted, “God damn. Wow.”

“You enjoy yourself?”

“I sure did, Miss Chopra. You appeared to enjoy yourself, too.”

“I have no complaints. Get out of the way, now. Let’s see how the next man measures up.”

It was the guy that had giggled. And he was giggling again, as he shuffled up to her. But she stopped him, before he could lunge himself over on top of her. “No. On your back, please. On the floor there.This time I’m driving.”

He was disappointed, and didn’t disguise it. “Would you rather wait, then?” she asked. To her surprise, the guy nodded, backing away. “One of the rest of you better be willing to accommodate me on this, or the fun stops right now.” Two of the others hopped forward, to offer themselves. She made her selection between them with a rapid “Eeny-meeny-miny-moe.”

But this guy rather disgraced himself. He went off inside her almost as soon as she started bouncing on him. “Christ,” he said, “Sorry, sorry. Too much build-up. Sorry.”

She squatted over his face, digging out his spooge with her fingers so it dribbled down on him. Then she made him lick her. But not for long. He wasn’t any good at it.

Number 3, the other guy that volunteered to lie flat for her and be ridden, did a much better job of it than Number 2 had managed. Problem with him, he turned out to have too much stamina. Too much of a good thing. It took a long time and an awful lot of exercise to get him done. Wasn’t enough just to bounce on him like Number 2. He liked it—needed it—hard and fast—hard and fast as was humanly possible. She really had to throw her hips into it and work her legs. Her muscles were burning, by the end of it, and she was soaked with sweat, red in the face, and completely out of breath.

She did come three more times, on top of the guy, before his cock finally gave itself up to her. The spectators probably didn’t notice, like she had hoped. They were all little quick ones, jolting kicks, very different than the first one the leader gave her. Not to say they weren’t as good—they just did very different things to her. They weren’t climactic climaxes—they didn’t wring her out. Instead these ones spurred her on. Like little blasts of lightning, supercharging her body.She was used to orgasms that stunned her into a daze and made her body go limp, if only for a second or two. But the way those three struck her, they sped her up instead. They didn’t make her feel done—they just made her want more. Each time one struck, her strength had been just about to give out, and she was sure she’d have to stop galloping on the guy to take a breather—or at least slow way, way down—but then one of those lightning kicks would strike through her out of the blue and blast her right back up to full speed, and full pressure … She read once that lightning actually shoots up from the ground into the sky, even though it always looks like it goes the other way, when you see a flash. She was reminded of that piece of trivia, because of course she felt the three “lightning strikes” burst upward through her body, the same way.

Two men left. No, wait—actually just one. The other guy had been jerking himself too hard, while he was watching … He’d taken himself past the point of no return. Missed his shot.Or rather, he’d wasted it. He was one of the guys that kept his sunglasses on, too. What a total lame wanker, in every respect.

Priyanka herself wouldn’t have minded being done, by that stage. Number 3 had just about burned her out. At the same time, though she was tired, she was fine with keeping going, at least a little while longer. She was wasn’t gonna try to wriggle out of taking care of the last guy, so long as he was the one doing the work.Time for some doggy, looked like.

This final chap was the one that backed out of being Number 2, ’cause he didn’t wanna lie down for her. Didn’t like it that way. Well then. He said doggy was his favorite. So that had worked out good.

Doggy was often Priyanka’s favorite, too. Not always. And she had some problems with it. She frequently wished it didn’t feel as good as it did. Because it felt the most submissive, for her. Even more than missionary, somehow—flat on your back with your legs in the air. Doggy was the most animalistic, and that made it feel the most demeaning. Bending over for it, on your hands and knees.With the guy behind you so you couldn’t see him. And all he was looking at—all he wanted to look at—was your arse, and his cock going into you, stretching you open as much as he could. And men always slapped your bottom, while they did it. And they pulled your hair. And yet it usually felt good, when they did those things. Not always—not if they did it too hard or too much. But when it was done right, that stuff made you jump and tighten up inside. Made you feel everything more. And better.

Doggy made her come the strongest. Not always, but often. It was troubling. Even when it was really good—when it was at its best—it made you feel humiliated. She wished she didn’t like it so much. Or that it didn’t bother her like it did. But it did. It always would.

Just like she expected, that last fuck with that last guy was the both the best and the worst.

Just like she’d feared, the guy pulled on her braid while he pounded her, and he kept slapping her arse. It was demeaning, and she kept telling him not to do that, but he kept doing it anyway, and she let him get away with it—because it felt good, every time he did it.Too good to punish him for it, like she should have.

She had holstered her gun. She did this for no other reason than the fact it was awkward to support herself in the doggy position, with the weapon in her hand. This was a mistake. But by that stage she felt it wasn’t necessary to keep hold of it. Not to say the men had exactly earned her trust. But she didn’t feel afraid of them. Even on her hands and knees in the submissive doggy pose, she felt in control of the situation. The men were all enjoying themselves too much to give her any trouble, weren’t they? They had no reason to. And even if things changed, it would be easy enough to draw the weapon again if she had to. She was confident in her speed, and in her instincts.

And she was feeling really good. The last fucker was giving it to her really great. She was feeling too much pleasure to keep her guard up properly. Holstering the weapon was stupid, but that’s what pleasure does to you. It turns you stupid. Makes you vulnerable.You can’t worry about things, when you’re feeling super-good. When your nervous system is too busy rapidly closing you in on another explosive orgasm.

When he made her come, he made her scream that time. And then in another minute, just before he finished himself, he managed somehow to get her off again. That time she didn’t scream, because she couldn’t. It took her so completely she couldn’t make a sound. A real throat-strangling toe-curler.She almost passed out.

And when he came, he came on her face. She hadn’t meant to let him do that. He was supposed to dump it on her arse or spray it up her back, if his aim was off. But he hustled around in front of her, still holding on to her braid, before she realized what he was doing, because she’d just had that last gigantic climax herself—what was it, the fifth or the sixth—and she wasn’t paying any attention.And she couldn’t dodge out of the way, once he started, since he had hold of her braid. He kept her perfectly positioned, for the shot. Made her take it from the side, straight across both cheeks.

And then he stepped back some but kept holding her like that so his leader and one of the others—the wanker in the glasses that hadn’t got to fuck her—could step up over her and give her two more facials, together. Even though both of them had already come, enough time had gone by and they’d had enough stimulation watching her and cranking themselves, that they were both all set to pop again. Thankfully the last two weren’t—the two she’d ridden on top of—they hadn’t been able to get their cocks going again. She’d already drained them dry.

Three shots like that was more than enough to completely drench her face, and her tits too. They made a huge, disgusting, disgraceful mess on her. She screamed again, but not at all in pleasure.

“Ahh God! You fuckers! Fuck! Gahh shit!”

They cheered and laughed at her, of course, enjoying themselves immensely.

She tried to draw her guns. She would have blown them all to Hell. She should have tried that sooner—but she was too shocked, too appalled. It’s impossible to think clearly when three men are pumping jizz all over your face, especially when one of them is pulling your hair hard enough to make you cry, and you’re still punch-drunk from an enormous orgasm …

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So she wasn’t fast enough. They grabbed her arms before she got her guns free. Wrestled her hands off the handles, and then forced her arms behind her back while somebody else took the guns out of their holsters. The leader called for rope, and one of the gang ran to their piled packs, to produce some.

“Hurry! She’s strong!”

“I’m hurrying! I’m hurrying!”

“No! No! Get off me! Let go! Don’t you fucking dare!”

But they fucking dared.

They tied her hands, and they tied her ankles too. She couldn’t get away. She couldn’t prevent them. “No! Damn you! No! Fuck! No!” Then they tied her elbows and her knees. Christ, how much fucking rope did they bring with them? Then they made another little loop to hold a sock in her mouth, gagging her.

They still weren’t quite done. They unclipped the buckle of her gunbelt, and the straps that held its holsters to her thighs, and pulled the whole assembly off her, as well, flinging it across the chamber. There was no real reason to do that. They’d already emptied the holsters, and it wasn’t like it covered anything on her. But they still took it away, hooting and howling like apes, like it was a big deal for them to deprive her of it.

And it was a big deal. It shouldn’t have been, perhaps, but it was. It hurt to lose that belt. And she groaned through her gag, like she’d been kicked. “Muhhhrrruhh!” Somehow it took the last of her strength and resistance away—not like she could have kept fighting, even if she still had it on. For the holsters were empty and she was already bound.She was already done for. And it hadn’t covered any part of her … but still, but still! She felt a hundred times more naked and a hundred times smaller and weaker without it on.

They dressed themselves, passed some bottles of water around from their packs, and then they got busy carrying out one of the hawk-headed statues, to load in their boat out there or whatever they had. Turned out the doorway wasn’t too big for it after all, so moving the thing wasn’t as hard as it might have been. Still took the group a couple hours.

Priyanka lay on her side on the floor, all this time, bound and gagged, naked and filthy. Sticky and itching all over with dried and crusted semen.She did not waste her strength trying to struggle, though she shivered frequently—not with cold. She wept a little, but was too angry to feel much fear or despair. At least she didn’t think of her feelings as fear or despair. She didn’t acknowledge those emotions—anchoring herself, with all her remaining will, on to anger, alone. On to burning, blazing, furious rage.

But unfortunately, a feeling that intense is hard to maintain, for any great length of time. The fire inside her was only simmering low and blue, by the time the men’s attention returned to her.

Once they were done getting the statue out, the men came back into the temple. They drank a good deal more water, smoked some cigarettes, and ate some candy bars. Then they all undressed again.

They ungagged Priyanka and gave her some water, but kept her tied. And then each of them fucked her again.

Since she had already given herself to all of them, she had been half-expecting the men to want to move on to some new, more ghastly amusement. But it seemed the novelty of screwing hadn’t yet worn off. No doubt it was a big difference, indulging themselves upon a bound protesting captive, versus how it was before, with her in charge, calling all the shots.

It was ridiculous and useless and she knew it—it wouldn’t do her any good at all—but still when they pulled the gag off her and moved her into the position they wanted, she said “Don’t do this. You said you wouldn’t do this. I already pleasured all of you. I’ll do it again if you want but not like this. Untie me, please. Don’t do it like this. You fucking bastards. Why are you doing this to me?”

The only answer she got was the head of a cock pressing her opening. She clenched there, defensively. But it wouldn’t do any good, keeping him out.”Wait! Wait! Listen to me!” He was pushing, but only slightly—only nudging the gash, to torment her. Each nudge made her tighten again and squirm. “Will you just listen? Listen I UHHuhhnn.”

She was penetrated. And slowly, slowly, savoring her, he pushed in more and more, further and further. She thought he had her filled, but then it pushed even deeper. “HUUHHNN!Bastard!”

They all took her doggy, one after the other. At least they kept it in individual turns. Some wanted to double- or triple-team her, but the leader wouldn’t let them. “She’ll just bite your cocks off. Besides, I like to hear her. Can’t hear her good enough if you’re plugging her mouth.”

To spite him, after she heard him say that, Priyanka did her best to keep quiet. But it wasn’t easy. She didn’t manage that for long.

In fact she almost wished they had stuffed their cocks in her mouth. It would have helped her, having something to suck on. Something else to concentrate on, instead of the fucking.Instead of her poor pussy.She wouldn’t have bitten them off. That wouldn’t have done her any good, in the long run.

The worst part was when she came again. Most of them couldn’t make her, but the leader, who took his turn last instead of first, that round—he did, somehow.

More likely she did it to herself, worrying about it too much. She was so horrified by the idea—she told herself it was impossible for a rapist to make her come, but still she couldn’t stop thinking how dreadful and humiliating that would be. She knew these men could make her come because they already had so many times. And even though this was a whole different deal, none of them hurt her when they took her anew. She was still too lubricated and stretched out, from all the sex the first time. These fuckings—these rapes—weren’t pleasurable, like the sex had been when it was consensual—but they didn’t hurt her, either. There was none of the tearing and burning she expected. She seemed to have mostly shut down inside and gone numb. Not completely. All she was aware of was movement, pretty much—shameful, slimy heat—and the pressure of intrusion. It was bad but it could have been much worse. And she almost wished it was. It frightened her that it wasn’t more appropriately terrible and agonizing.

And even though they weren’t hurting her, she still couldn’t endure it all quietly. The violation of it, the unfairness.Her absolute helplessness. She couldn’t fight them, she couldn’t kick or shove back against them, she could barely move at all. She felt so weak, and even worse, so foolish. For letting this happen to her. Letting herself get suckered. Turned into a plaything. It was all too much to bear.

They’re fucking me! They all keep fucking me! I can’t away! I can’t away! They’re gonna keep fucking me and fucking me! All I can do is take it! And keep taking it! But I can’t! I can’t just keep taking it!

It made her whimper, and then whine, and then, as it went on and on, the whines turned into wails.


They loved these noises. But she couldn’t stop making them, once they started, seeming to bubble up by themselves from her churning guts and bursting out of her.

One after another, the men took their pleasure from her, pounding her savagely from behind. Of course they’d pull on her braid and smack her bottom at regular intervals, while they did it. At least each finished quickly. When they were ready, they pulled out of her and went around to her front, to unload on her face. Except for one weirdo, who decided to pump off on the bottoms of her feet, instead.Then using his cockhead to smear the slime in between her clenching toes, afterward. It wasn’t the first time a guy had jizzed all over her feet. She usually got a kick out of the sensation. It was as if they had to defile every part of her body she’d ever taken pride in, and for the rest of her days, spoil by association every sexual delight she had ever previously enjoyed. It was like she had to be punished for every whimsical indulgence she’d ever dared to make in her sex-life. But they had no right. No one had the right.

It didn’t matter. It wouldn’t stop them.

As her pussy got more and more used to this, she was terrified the sensations would change. Her body would adapt to accommodate them. It’s one of the main ways humans deal with stress and suffering—they get used to it and adapt to it and finally start to enjoy it, if there’s nothing else to do. No way to make it stop.

She was so afraid of that happening that she made it happen. Like worrying you’re gonna get sick eventually makes you sick. It only happened for the leader, at the very end—but it happened. And she couldn’t disguise it. She couldn’t hold it in.

By then, they had her screeching at every thrust, and begging for mercy, too.

“EEE! YEEE! Please no more … Please I can’t take anymore … YUHHH! Please just YAHHRR! Oh please oh ohohohhohhohh God ohh …”

“You bitch. You hot damn dirty bitch.”

She was a bitch, it was true. It was totally true. She was hot and she was dirty and she was a bitch and she was damned. She was damned because she was hot and dirty and a bitch. She was this man’s hot damned dirty bitch. They’d made her become this—she’d let them make her. Let them take her. It shouldn’t have happened. But she’d been stupid and weak and dirty. Did she deserve this? Had she brought this on herself? It felt like she had.

Because she was going to come now. She couldn’t stop him making her come.

“Oh God oh no oh no nonoohhohhhnoo …”

Ultimate humiliation. She was damned. She was in Hell. She belonged her, because she’d let the fucker make her come again.

(Unless it was those weird flowers, after all.The funny fumes in the air. That might have been the only real reason it happened. She hoped so. She would cling to this theory, afterward.)

And she felt him come right with her, inside her. He probably couldn’t help himself, the way her pussy clamped and spasmed on him. She squeezed inside so tight, she felt herself cramping. His cock should have torn right off his body, at the root, if there was any justice in the world.

When she opened her eyes, she was alone. They’d all left. Had it only been a moment, since he finished with her, or had it been longer? She hadn’t lost consciousness, but she’d definitely spaced out for a while.

There was a knife on the stone floor in front of her nose. They’d left it there so she’d eventually be able to cut herself free, with a bit of wriggling. Big of them.

And at the moment, she was so absolutely exhausted and demoralized, she didn’t have the will left to start trying to free herself. Not now, not yet. Tomorrow.

Priyanka Chopra shut her eyes again, slumped over on her side on the floor and went to sleep right there, with her hands and feet still bound, a steady and endless run of semen trickling down her thighs from the red and swollen cleft of her womanhood.

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Priyanka Chopara in trouble – Sex Stories

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