The Village

As the title suggests this is Part Three (of Three). The start of the story can be found here: https://www.literotica.com/s/reconditioned with Part Two available from my Literotica profile page https://www.literotica.com/authors/Dark_Logan_/works/stories

For ultimate context and understanding of characters and the situations they find themselves in as the Author I obviously recommend the full back story

DL

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~ Three Months After The Incident at 'The Crown'; August ~

The headlights of the Squad Car cast across the hedgerows it traverses, illuminating them vividly against the darkness of the night.

The dark, quiet rural road is only illuminated by the headlights of the BMW driven by PC Alan Miller. As Miller navigates the snaking turns in the road PC Debbie Reeves eyes scanned the darkness, almost hopelessly, for any signs. Signs that had not been visible on the two occasions they had driven the same road in daylight.

As Miller drove on, they barely exchanged a word between them remaining diligently alert to any sign or evidence of the young woman reported missing nearly twenty-four hours earlier after she had failed to return home from a countryside walk. Twenty three year old Verity Smith.

Rounding a corner a figure appears in the stark glow of their headlights. a blonde woman, a visibly distressed young blonde woman. Reeves heart leapt into her throat as the female matching the physical description of Verity Smith runs in the road ahead of them. Miller slowing the car as the blonde turns to face them, her arms waving above her head to frantically draw their attention.

Miller has barely stopped the car before Reeves flung open the passenger door and rushes towards the young girl.

Her hair is tangled, her cheeks streaked with dirt, her denim shorts and white vest are tattered and dirtied. Reeves only registering that she is barefoot on approach, the young girl's feet and lower legs muddied and covered in cuts and abrasions. Her arms continue to wave frantically, even as Reeves steps before her.

"Help me..." she begs, "...Please ...please help me."

"Is that her?" Officer Miller exclaims from over PC Reeves shoulder.

"Yes... yes...it's her..." she responds to her colleague as Verity falls into her arms. "...Call it in."

As she hears Miller on the radio over her shoulder Reeves holds the weak, trembling young girl in her arms, the need to preserve forensic evidence lost to her humanity, in the circumstances.

"Control this is Miller... we've located Verity Smith... we're on Buckle Lane about four miles out of the village." Reeves heard her colleague state.

"You're safe now... We've got you.... We've got you Verity." she offers to the girl who starts to sob uncontrollably in her arms. Her eyes had been so wild and wide with fear her sobs seem to drain her energy from her, as she stammers, "I... I was out walking... and... and then... something... someone..."

As PC Miller continued to relay information back to control, Reeves let the girl slump to her knees, Reeves opting to kneel before Verity, in order to assess her condition further, spotting a gold crucifix hung around her neck. "Let's get you a blanket and some water... You're going to be okay Verity... You're safe now."

The clearly distressed blonde took a deep shuddering breath, her eyes back wide and scared despite Reeves attentive assistance.

"Dutch..." Verity uttered on heavy laboured breaths, "...his ...his name ...he ...he said his name was Dutch."

**********

~ Two Months Earlier; June ~

She looks up at me.

"I got it," Andrea Chambers quietly states.

We stand in the darkness of the alley way that runs between the handful of shops that trade on the High Street.

My eyes casting down her body dressed in a dishevelled tight fitting sheer black lace detail vest, through which her toned body is visible, a short black leather skirt, black nylon hosiery and a pair of vicious ankle strap heels complete her look. Her make up heavier, darker, than usual.

I snatch the iPhone, she slips from the waistband of her skirt, from her grip as she holds it towards me.

"Do I ever want to know what you had to do to secure this?" I enquire, slipping the phone securely into the back pocket of my jeans.

Andrea looks up at me as I stand over her, she does not respond. I realise that my request does not match with the instructions I have given to her three hours earlier. The intervening time which she has spent in the one bedroom flat sat above the Village convenience store, seducing Mark Hopkins on my suggestion.

My hand passes down her exposed left arm, as I gently utter the words. "Silver... Lucid... Undern... Triumvirate."

Stepping closer to Andrea, pressing her against the wall behind as her expression falls featureless, I utter my instructions, reconstructing her memories on where she has been across the night and what she will do on returning to her vast family home. I slowly count backwards from ten as I take a step backwards.

The triggers still familiar to her subconscious mind, four years after she had turned to me and my advice in regard to the anxieties of her career and its impact on her marriage to Gary. Triggers I have never used to control and coerce her with until a week ago as my plan had begun to unfurl.

"Anyway, I should let you get going... say hello to Gary from me." I gently prompt her, as she looks around her surroundings and recognises my presence.

"I... I should." Andrea responds hesitantly, a little confused by her surroundings, despite the artificial memories I have planted in her mind.

She steps away, her heels click clack across the concrete walkway towards the car park, as she passes under the orange glow of a light at the end of the alleyway my eyes focus on the heavily laddered nylons that cling to the back of her toned thighs beneath the hem of the short black skirt.

I can only begin to imagine just what Andrea has endured in order to distract and procure the phone from the repugnant Mark Hopkins, Dutch as he is more commonly known.

**********

"Is that you Steven?" I hear Rosie call from up the staircase ahead of me as I close the front door of Bluebell Cottage.

The house is in darkness other than the soft glow of the light on the landing that creeps down the stairs.

"Yes..." I confirm, "...I'll be up shortly."

Clutching my laptop in one hand I step into the darkened living room to pick up a notebook and pen from my desk before I head back along the hall towards the wide open plan kitchen that leads onto the conservatory beyond. Opening the laptop, I type in my password as the screen illuminates.

Sitting down, I retrieve the file downloaded from the mobile phone in the car park only twenty minutes earlier, before I had slid the phone back under the gate that opened onto to the garden and entrance to Mark Hopkins flat. Having facetiously smashed the screen under my foot before hand.

By the flickering light of the laptop, I take a deep breath not knowing exactly what I am about to see, but knowing I have to endure what I am about to witness.

Following on screen prompts I open the video file, concerned for the briefest of moments that the contents may be password protected. Fortunately, Mark Hopkins does not appear to be that cautious.

The grainy footage commences, as I spot the length of the recording to be one hour and fifty three minutes in duration.

The image I watch blurs in and out of focus a few times to reveal the three males stood in the darkness around the white van, only two of them visible as they share a hand rolled cigarette, which I presume to be laden with cannabis, as they swig from cans of lager. They refer to one another by the nicknames of Dutch, Helmsy and Locky.

I scribble down the names on the note pad despite already knowing they belong to Mark Hopkins, Joel Helms, and Nick Lockwood, hearing a muffled voice from somewhere out of site holler, "Hello.... Hello..."

Forwarding through the captured events at double speed, I pause and recommence the recording as I see Rose being led by her arm by Helmsy as she is brought to stand between the three of them. Her eyes casting to each of them in turn, her stance stoic. Dutch eventually approaches her and immediately, violently yanks her black leather biker jacket down her arms, discarding it at her side. He reveals the dress that Rosie had worn only earlier that day, the dress which had been purchased during our pleasant little shopping trip, an outfit never truly intended for Roise that I had made her wear none the less.

"What a fucking whore," Dutch growls reaching to ease down the zip that runs the front of the black leather dress and all but expose her pale breasts which sit pressed up against her chest by the garments tight fit.

A moment later Helmsy's right knee lunges into the back of Rose's knee and she collapses with a shocked gasp onto the muddied ground beneath her feet. Her left hand extending to prevent her from falling face first, her fingers clutching Dutch's thigh. Standing over her Dutch reaches to cradle her jaw and tilts her head up to face him, his free hand unzipping his fly as she holds her gaze on him.

"You dress like a Whore... so we're gonna fuck you like a Whore," he sneers running his thumb across her bottom lip. "Wanna give us a little warm up act first?"

Rose stares back at him, a defiance etching her features as he lowers his fly.

"Well... You've kept me waiting long enough..." Rose offers, taunting him her eyes falling to his crotch as he pulls his penis out before her, "....was beginning to think I was dealing with naive little boys... but that thing there pointing at me suggests other wise."

Dutch's action is swift, merciless, pulling her forward as Helmsy places a hands on her shoulders to hold her on her knees. Rose's mouth is immediately invaded by his erect length as she falls silent, physically she does not protest. Nor do I hear verbal refusal offered even given the rough forced nature with which Dutch secures her first surrender.

For the next ten minutes I watch in silence as Roses mouth is used by all three of them repeatedly. As she her head is viciously turned, manipulated time and again towards them as they vie for the attention and the stimulus her mouth provides. The phone passed between them recording various angles as her mouth works over them, Locky being the last to use her as he holds the camera over her whilst her head slips willingly back and forth. Her jaw soaked in her own saliva by time Dutch instructs him, "Enough.... Back off.... I get to fuck her first."

The camera pans away from Rose to the grinning features of Helmsy, as he chuckles "Now this bitch is gonna get fucked ...like proper fucked."

As his words lance my mind suddenly the camera shifts back to captured an image that causes my features to sneer. Rose's frail body slammed up against the side of the van, she is soon stood on just her right boot clad leg. Dutch pins her to the side of the van, his khaki colour combat style trousers hurriedly hoisted down around the backs of his legs to expose his ass as he clutches and raises Rose's left fishnet covered leg up alongside his waist.

Rose's arms slip across his back her head craning back as he slowly presses himself up into her, an unfettered gasp that is released on undeniable pleasure captured as Dutch dominates her from the outset holding her between his frame and the cold firm surface of the side of the van.

"Her cunt as good as her mouth?" I hear a voice off camera offer. Dutch does not respond he concentrates his attention only on Rose who seemingly accepts him even on the roughness of his abuse from the outset.

The camera holds the pair of them in its focus despite the shaky unsteady hand of whoever now holds it, minutes later with Dutch's hips thrusting harder and deeper into her as he holds in her in the same position throughout, her hands clench across his back as he turns his head along his shoulder towards her pained face.

"You're gonna cum for me aren't you bitch," I hear him growl. "You're gonna fucking cum."

Rose does not respond her head now hung over his shoulder, her eyes and face contorted as breathless exhausted gasps echo past her parted lips.

"Cum for me then... cum for me... you needy little cunt," Dutch implores.

Moments later Rose's head raises her hands gripping his shoulders, her fingers digging into him as her clutched left leg quivers as he provokes a climax from her that causes her left leg to tremble uncontrollably in his grip. As she cries out into the air her head leans back against the van.

Dutch says something incomprehensible that causes laughter from the other two. Words I cannot discern even as I scroll back and replay the footage half a dozen times.

Moments later he holds himself up into her following heavy little short sharp thrusts as I assume he achieves his own climax. Almost immediately he steps back leaving Rose leant against the side of the van as he hoists his trousers back up onto his waist, her tight leather dress bunched over her hips to reveal the crotchless fishnet hosiery. The camera moves in closer focusing on her, not her face but outline of her labia and the slick mess that trickles from it over skin exposed by the gap in the tights.

As the camera moves back, Rose breathlessly stands there her shoulders rising and falling as she rests against the van having allowed Dutch to control her and take from her what he had so viscously sought. Her eyes look towards the camera as a devilish grin creeps across her lips.

My thoughts drift as the grainy video continues. Each frame so far has captured Rose in a way I had never expected her to behave, but equally by a manner the likes of which I am not truly shocked by.

My mind casting back to our initial psychiatric appraisals as she details vivid painful memories of the contraptions and methods of restraint that she had been previously used in, humiliated by a succession of abusive males and ultimately her captor, the man who had held enslaved for over a year. The unknown man who she had shut down on so deeply that she could not even recall his name.

I barely watch as she is dragged away from the side of the van by Dutch, she stumbles falling to her knees only to be dragged along the muddy floor before she is slung, like rag doll, face first into the back of the slightly rusted white van by Dutch as whoever holds the camera follows in their wake. I appreciate that at this point despite the brutality of her experience at their hands it waters into comparison to the barberry Rose has known in her past.

My attention falls back on the screen as Rose turns to prop herself up on her elbows, she stares out through the back of the van wiping muddied hands on the mattress beneath her as she grins, a grin that is laced with so many dark emotions.

"So, boys..." she sardonically states, "...Who's next?"

Her answer is provided almost instantly. The camera quickly pans to Dutch's face partially hidden under the peak of a black baseball cap, as Joel Helms passes through the shot. The phone pans to Joel clambering into the van as he kneels and parts Rosie's legs either side of his. Within moments his own jeans are pulled hurriedly down across the backs of his legs as he positions himself over Rose. He drops his body over hers, clutching the backs of her thighs pulling them up to his waist as with an energetic hurried pace he starts to fuck Rosie in nothing more elaborate than a missionary position as she cries out in pleasure once more.

I scroll the cursor along the timeline at the base of the screen not even watching as the whoever holds the phone steps into the back of the van to hold the camera close to Roses face over Helmsy's left shoulder as she lays beneath him her mouth wide open her eyes screwed shut as her body is thrust back and forth across the dirty stained mattress.

A scowl permanently knits my features, scrolling a little too far forward to find that Rose is now stripped of her dress and has been turned to be hoisted up onto her hands and knees, the camera has obviously switched hands as I witness by recognising his clothing alone Locky's left hand clamp on her exposed left shoulder as she is harshly impaled doggy style.

Rose's breasts hang beneath her slipping back and forth under harsh momentum, her head hangs low before she drops it and her shoulders towards her outstretched arms, raising her hips for him as he thrusts deep into her body. Rose practically relaxes into the further harshness by which her body is used a harshness she now willingly endures. My eyes fixate on her physical appearance, the pale skin of her body in stark contrast to the mud and dirt that cake her arms and shoulders.

Once again, I scroll on at double speed, not interested in how the two accomplices use Rose my attention focussed only on Dutch as their ringleader. Slowing the playback as a pair of legs pass the camera lens. As I tap the cursor the video resumes at normal playback speed as Dutch stands before Rose pulling her head up with his right hand around her throat as Locky snaps her head back against her shoulders by a handful of her auburn hair, her head now level with Dutch's waist as he impales her mouth once more.

"Are you hungry ...little whore," he sneers, not offering Rose chance to reply.

Her gargled noises fill the audio instantly, wet throaty sounds continue interspersed with Locky's grunted breaths and Dutch's pleasured groans as he proceeds to harshly use her mouth. All the while his friend labours away behind her, his hands clamping her slender hips through the fishnet tights she wears. Rose's body mercilessly double penetrated between them.

"Keep sucking" Dutch growls on repeat. "Keep fucking sucking,"

"Keep fucking," Locky offers as if goaded by his colleague. "Keep fucking."

Rose endures, three minutes later as Dutch continues to harshly use her mouth thrusting deep into her throat Locky ceases the jack hammering of his hips on a deep harsh thrust that presses Rose against Dutch and a guttural groan signifies that he has cum in her, just like both of his friends before him have.

Dutch continues to use Roses mouth, pressing her back to kneel upon her haunches, once Locky pulls from her. Roses dirtied hands grip Dutch's thighs for stability as he unleashes. He offers no reprieve as Rose chokes around him with her head held pressed against his crotch by the tight grip his hands assume over the back of her head.

Dutch succumbs first, Rose gaining his climax as snarls, "Swallow that bitch... swallow it all down."

Just before the camera, passes away I witness Dutch step back to tilt her head towards him. Rose maintains eye contact with him as she heavily swallows, before taking a sharp deep breath of air.

"Taste good," Dutch offers sardonically.

"Like honey," I hear Rose breathlessly reply her own drool hanging from her jaw and spilling down onto her pale breasts.

The camera blurs and the image becomes unclear, even the sound is a little muffled on the recording. I scroll on through thirty seven minutes of the recording that captures the same image as I concur that the phone has obviously been placed down and left on record. Each time I stop scrolling the image recorded remains the same capturing the inside of the interior of the van and partial view of the vans roof.

Despite the lack of images, the audio captures Rose's increasingly strained exhausted whimpers and cries as her submission to the three young males continues every time I dip back into the video.

The image the suddenly fades to black with forty one minutes left on the playback timer. Scrolling back to around two minutes before the image had faded, I resume watching. Rose's heightened cries of pleasure and immediate rasping heavy breath are captured on the audio.