Where is my Daughter?

by Erotickynk

Excerpt from initial 911 call:

OPERATOR: What is the nature of your emergency?

CALLER: Umm ... It's my daughter. She hasn't come home and we're worried sick.

OPERATOR: What is your daughter's name?

CALLER: Julie ____.

OPERATOR: And how long has Julie been missing?

CALLER: She was supposed to go to her job right after school and she never showed up. And now it's getting late.

OPERATOR: Has your daughter ever done this before?

CALLER: No. Never. If she's going to be late she always calls.

Her world is spinning as one of the men pins her against the rough concrete wall, his knee pressed tight against her crotch and his hands pushing her top up and ripping her bra away from her body.

It was the cola ... she shouldn't have drank the cola ... this thought keeps running through her mind and she clings to it to keep her sanity - this isn't her fault ... it isn't ... it can't be. Julie's arms and legs feel heavy and loose and her belly feels numb. The world is a confusing blur of shadows and sounds. This place is underground, and by the sound of the cars passing by overhead it is some sort of tunnel under a freeway. It smells of sour soil and stagnant water and stale urine.

Hands are now pawing at her breasts, pinching her nipples, squeezing them. Laughter of deep and cruel voices echo from the concrete walls that are all covered in a confusing abstract of overlapping graffiti.

Now a wet mouth sucking first one nipple then the other - and god help me, Julie thinks, it feels good.


Subject is Julie _____, 18 year old female. No history of running. Boyfriend not heard from yet - Parents have left a message. Parents supply a list of friends and provide a photograph. Phys Desc: 5'2", 105 lbs, brown eyes and brown, shoulder length hair, small birthmark on right hip, last seen wearing blue jeans, black t-shirt, sneakers, lime green jacket.

Pushed to her knees onto the filthy floor, feeling the cold and dampness through the knees of her jeans, head pulled up roughly by her hair. A man tells her to open her mouth so Julie does. How can she not?

His cock. A musky sexual taste. The head smooth, the shaft rippling with veins.

Julie remembers doing this for Nathan, but he wasn't as rough. Julie has opened her mouth and taken him in, his hard cock sliding in the length of her tongue. Too deep, way too deep. Julie gags, chokes, her throat plugged. The men are laughing at her as he pulls her face tight to him.

Oh god it's going deeper, Julie is gagging, her stomach threatening. Can't breathe.

He relents and his cock slithers out of her mouth and she gasps for air, fighting off the gag reflex so she can breathe, her mouth watering like crazy now. But he pulls her forward again, his cock sliding past her lips through the slippery wetness of her mouth. She loses her balance and slumps forward, taking him deep, gagging as his cock finds her throat and slides deeper than anything ever has before, filling her throat, choking her. Her stomach rolls in her belly ...

"... glurk ..." the sound is cut off as her lips tighten around the base of his cock, her chin pressing against his scrotum, her nose pressed flat against his hard belly.

... and she feels the cola and bile rush up her throat past his cock to fill her mouth. Her cheeks plump and bulge with the sudden gush of vomit and it spews from around his cock as she heaves hard. She feels it sliding down over her chin, the men's laughter echoing around her.

He begins to thrust then, starting slow, fucking her throat. Other hands cup her naked breasts and work her nipples, and others unbutton her jeans. She feels fingers slide over her bare skin under her panties and cup her mound. She feels the rare but familiar sensation as a finger curls and slides inside her and she can feel her own oily wetness as his finger slides into her sex and accidentally finds her g-spot. She shudders and her thighs open wider as if on their own.

The man in her throat groans and she feels the head of his cock swell in her throat and then he is cumming, jetting ropes of cum into her gullet. Julie swallows and swallows and swallows, working her tongue, massaging his cock with its root as the finger is busy inside her. She feels the muscles in her lower belly quiver involuntarily.

Officer Blanc: And what is your relationship to Julie ____?

Nathan: She's my girlfriend.

Officer Blanc: When was the last time you had contact with her?

Nathan: Today, at school. I kissed her goodbye as she got on the bus.

Officer Blanc: What bus?

Nathan: The Number 16. It goes downtown.

Officer Blanc: And you haven't heard from her since?

Nathan: No. God I hope she's okay.

Julie braces her back against the concrete wall and grunts each time the man thrusts his fingers into her. Her naked legs are open, she can feel the gritty filth of the floor grinding against her soft bottom as he works her with his hand. When he first pushed hard and penetrated her, it hurt. In fact, it hurt worse than when she lost her virginity, but as he worked first three then four fingers in and out of her, she felt her vagina loosening and the friction there became tolerable. And now - much to her shame - she starts to feel the beginnings of arousal.

"She's grooving on it" the voice seems to come from everywhere. Julie lifts her chin and looks around at the moving shadows surrounding her.

"I think she puked up the rufies. Hit her up."

Julie looks down and sees her pelvis lifting each time the man presses his fingers tight into her. Someone pulls her arm straight out to her side as another man kneels there. She feels the prick and turns to see the needle in her arm, a curl of blood swirling in the milky liquid in the barrel as the plunger is pulled back.

"... no ... please ..." her voice is weak and too timid to matter to anyone. The plunger is pressed down and she feels the flutter inside her arm. She thinks of shared needles. Of Hep C, of HIV and AIDS. Too late. Whatever lurked within the syringe is now inside her.

At first there is nothing, then comes the tingling rush - its crazy-fast and rushes through her body in a silent sweet violence that overwhelms the feelings in her body. Julie's eyes roll up under her lids as she feels the man working his fingers inside her - wriggling them, stretching her. She feels a wave of sweet nausea as her belly tightens from whatever is rushing through her veins. If she hadn't already puked she would now, but this feels good ... so good.

So good she wished she had more to give.

She feels him slip his thumb into the curve of his palm.

Officer Thurman: And you're sure that van was dark blue?

Glenda: Yes. Like I said, with some damage to the left back bumper. The driver's side.

Officer Thurman: And you're sure that it was the girl in the photograph?

Glenda: Yes. That's her. I've seen her before. She stopped for a coke and a side of fries. She does that sometimes.

Officer Thurman: The man she was with, would you recognize him if you saw him again?

Glenda: I think so.

Officer Thurman: I'd like you to come down to the station and look at some photographs

Glenda: I have to get someone in to cover the counter first.

Officer Thurman: Let's do that then.

"Holy fuck, man. Never thought the bitch could take that much."

Julie feels impaled now - pinned against the wall - her loins tight around his hand, her belly alternatively tight then plumping. She hears herself cry out, her voice tremulous and is ashamed of the animal sound she makes - it is raw and lustful. But he's made a fist inside her and is rolling his wrist. Her fingers scratch at the gritty concrete floor, her heels scraping as she works her legs, pushing, always pushing, as though she might back herself away from him. But her back is tight against the wall and his hand is tight inside her body. Her breathing is coming in ragged gasps, and she can feel a sweet tension building inside her.

"You've ruined that pussy, bro."

"Bitch has more than one hole."

She can almost feel their eyes on her, watching this perversion, this sick invasion of her body. Julie looks down and sees the muscles under the pale skin of her belly and thighs working as his fist moves within her, grinding against her cervix. She is so full ... so frighteningly full - she can see the lump his fist makes in her lower belly. Sensations she's never experienced pulse from her loins, a weakness overcoming her body as these sensations ebb and flow. A crazy tingling starts in the muscles of her thighs and her bottom.

Then Julie is cumming, her lower belly clenching tight and her thighs squeezing together as she twists and cries out in the filth of this unholy place.


Suspect vehicle located in a vacant lot off the corner of Smythe and 14th street.

1995 GMC Safari eight passenger van, Dark blue in colour. Damage to left rear bumper.

Stolen plates: ARV4494 - registered to a 2003 Honda Civic.

Vehicle impounded to be dusted for prints and searched.

Attending Officers canvassing the area for witnesses.

Face down now. Julie can feel the gritty floor on her naked body, a shard of glass has penetrated the skin of her hip and she can feel it working there as her legs are spread and the twin round globes of her bottom are pried apart by rough hands. Her nipples being abraded by the grit of the wet concrete. Something wet hits the puckered dimple of her anus and she realizes it is spit.

"... please ..." she moans softly, her voice pitiful even to her. They won't stop. She knows they won't stop just like she knows she can't fight them off. She feels the cock press where no one other than her has ever touched before.


"... oh god ..."

Pressure and stretching.

Julie opens her eyes and mouth , her chin resting on the filthy floor, her eyes staring at a bottle cap as she feels the penetration. It is mercifully slow. She feels her outer sphincter opening around the man's cock and the inner sphincter resisting. He works her slowly, moving with small measure in and out, side to side, working her ... working her ... easing in ever so slowly. He's done this before - initiated tight girls - Julie can tell. The sensations are overwhelming, but not unendurable.

Julie gasps as she feels her inner sphincter release and open and his cock is sliding into her, straightening her twisted rectal valves - a sensation she has never felt before. Her hands close, her fingernails scratching at the concrete then digging into her palms and he starts to fuck her in long lazy strokes. He pulls back and she can feel the drawing in her bowels, then he thrusts deep until his pelvis presses hard against her soft bottom and pins her mound against the hard cold concrete. He does this over and over, and at first her anus burns from the friction, but soon it numbs and she only feels the penetration pumping her bowels. Feels the pressure of her mound mashed against the hard gritty floor in rhythm with each thrust.

Despite herself she again feels arousal. Fuck me, Julie wants to cry out, but shame burns her cheeks and silences her voice.

Officer Blanc: We have what we think is the vehicle but no suspects yet.

Mr. ____: And Julie? Where is my daughter?

Officer I'm sorry, Mister ____, no sign of her yet.

Mr. ____: Sweet Jesus.

Officer Blanc: We haven't stopped looking. Julie is our number one priority right now.

Mr. ____: I don't know what to do. Maybe I should go out and search.

Officer Blanc: I think it would be best if you stayed with your wife and your other children. They need you, sir.

Mr. ____: Yes. I'd probably crash my car anyway.

Julie feeling wild now as the third man - or is it the fourth? - is thrusting into her rectum, his cock slippery with the cum of those who have been in her before; Those who have fucked her and cum inside her, pumping their seed into her rectum, making her hole a loose soupy mess. And she is panting now, her flushed cheek laying flat on the cold wet concrete as she drowns in the sensations rushing through her body.

Her mound feels bruised from the thrusts that have hammered it against the floor, her anus feeling open now.

I'm such a slut, she thinks to herself, They're raping me and I can't stop it from feeling good.

Her breathing becomes laboured and spasmodic, catching in her throat as her belly works and twitches. She's going to cum again, she knows it, and she does her best to hide it. The men enjoy her orgasms and she seeks to withhold that pleasure from them, but she can't help herself.

She whimpers as her orgasm takes her and she feels her body shuddering as he continues to fuck her. Her face flushes hot as she hears the laughter.

"Hey, I think she likes you!"

Then he is cumming, driving hard into her, slamming into her, moving her body forward with each hard upward thrust. The grit on the floor scraping her skin and his voice growling in her ear as his cock swells and erupts inside her belly.

Julie feels the emptiness as he pulls out and moves away, then another cock is there, sliding into the slimy gaped hole between her cheeks and it slithers deep. His pelvis presses hard on her bottom and he begins to thrust into her.

Julie lifts herself up onto her elbows and clasps her hands under her chin, letting her head hang in front of her. Her breasts are loose and plump, her nipples dusting the floor as her body moves with his thrusts.

"... oh dear god ..." she groans softly and wonders if this will ever end.

Officer Thurman: Lights are still on, should we go in?

Officer Blanc: I don't know. We haven't got anything to tell them.

Officer Thurman: Maybe they've heard from her.

Officer Blanc: Do you really think so?

Officer Thurman: ... No. Just wishful thinking.

Officer Blanc: I can't face them again. Not tonight. Not without good news.

Officer Thurman: Turn it over to the Day Watch?

Officer Blanc: yeah. Maybe they'll have better luck.

Officer Thurman: I just hope when we come back on shift this hasn't turned into a body recovery.

Julie is shivering now, curled tight on the cold floor, her arms wrapped around her knees, pulling them to her chest. Faint predawn light is filtering through the screen at the blocked off end of the underground tunnel. She is alone.

She feels sick. Fragile. Wounded. Every once in awhile her bowels spasm and she feels cum oozing from her anus to flow slowly over the left cheek of her bottom. It must be dripping onto the floor, she thinks to herself.

She doesn't know how to make herself move. The thought of moving, of rising and pulling her clothes back on and leaving this place - to emerge into the light and into her life once more - is too much to bear. She dreads the process that she knows will begin as soon as she is found. She wants - with all her heart - to just be laid down in her own bed in her own room and left alone with her pain and sickness.

I'm broken, she decides.

Julie hears the scuffling footsteps approaching from behind her, growing louder, nearer. She wonders briefly if they've come back for more, but discards that thought as she realizes there is only one of them.

In the distance she hears a siren awaken in the grey dawn.

A blanket is laid over her body, strong arms lifting her and wrapping it around her like a cocoon. The blanket is wool and scratchy on her skin, but the warmth it provides is almost instant. The arms cradle her, hold her tight. It is one of her rapists, she can tell by his smell, and he is sitting down, pulling her tight to him and rocking her. She hears his breath catch in his throat. She closes her eyes, not wanting to see him.

"I'm sorry." He is weeping, "I'm so sorry."

"You hurt me." is all she can think to say. It sounds lame, but it's true. It isn't just the physical hurt either, it goes deeper than that, so much deeper.

"I know." he snuffles, moving, and Julie guesses he is wiping his nose on his own shoulder, not wanting to let her go, not for even that short time.

"I called an ambulance and the police." he says, "I told them what I did. Where you are."

He continues to rock her like a child is rocked to give calm and comfort and Julie feels a small peace as he does. Her cheeks burn with the memory of her orgasms, of the guilty pleasure her rape delivered to her. Her emotions are blurring, confused like the overlapping graffiti on the walls. Pleasure and shame, intimacy and invasion.

"You won't have to go to court. To testify." he whispers, "I know that's hard. My sister ..." [but he can't finish voicing that thought] "I'll plead guilty, I promise."

The siren is growing louder and under it there are other sirens, different tones.

"I'll stay with you until they come. I'll keep you ..." his voice breaks and he sobs, "... safe."

And Julie feels his body shuddering as he weeps for her, for his sister, for himself. But his arms stay strong and keep cradling her as he rocks her. And as the first siren stops abruptly nearby and purposeful hard footsteps echo up the tunnel toward them he sobs one last time ...

"I'm so sorry."

So am I, Julie thinks to herself, feeling the warmth and comfort he offers. Thinking that in another time and place and circumstance they could be something together, something special and tender.

Instead of this.