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The party had been going on for three days now, what started out as a huge mix of over a hundred people, stoners, jocks, preppies, punks some skinheads and even a few bikers had boiled down to a hard core of about two dozen serious party goers. The party, like most big ones in our town was at Pete's place out on North Creek drive up in the hills. Pete was an ex-biker who lost his legs in a refinery explosion, with the settlement he got from the company he bought the house, the surrounding land and kept enough to live off of for the rest of his life. With nothing left to do, Pete got high and threw parties. I had known Pete for years myself, always considered him a good friend, I started living with him when he decided to buy a couple horses. Pete couldn't ride em, but for some reason he wanted em, wanted to watch em, watch his friends ride em and just watch em, I don't much know why, but Pete wanted em. I knew a fair amount about tending horses, my family owned horses forever, so I moved up with Pete to tend the horses and help him with the place. Lainie Steward had shown up with the first wave of jocks and preppies, shaking her body in everyone's face, getting drunk and acting like an idiot. I had known Lainie for a couple of years now, she used to be a tight friend of my ex-girlfriend until she managed to piss even her off, and my ex, Tina, was hard to piss off. Lainie was a first class tease, especially when she got drunk. Small pert tits hung high on her chest, long pointy nipples were usually visible even through sweaters, almost too thin in body she possessed a nice little ass though, round and pert, her hair was short and blond framing a face some thought quite attractive, personally I thought she her face was not all too great to look at, too much like a little pouty brat princess, but I guess that's a matte of taste. Lately Lainie had been fancying herself a little gangster girl, wearing baggy pants, trying to talk the lingo and listening to rap music. I thought it was stupid personally. Now it should be noted here, I did not start the rape of Lainie Steward that day, had nothing to do with how it got started ya see, fact is I was not even in the room when it began. From what I can piece together about it all, it started with Lainie, still being all drunk, doing a striptease down to her underwear and rubbing her ass all up and down the laps of some of the stoners trying to give a lap dance and ended up gibing two or three of them blowjobs, all of this was consenting, by the time I wandered in the room, it had gone way beyond that. "AAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWNNNNNNNNOOOOOOO!!!!, TAKE IT OUT!!!!" Lainie was screaming. She was up on the fucked up old coffee table in the center of the room with two stoner teen-age boys holding her legs apart, a punk girl holding her arms and a skinhead boy pushing a rum bottle into her blond haired pink little pussy. Here was Lainie Steward, little prick tease princess being raped with a thick bottle before my eyes. Obviously this had been going on for awhile, white cum streaked her small tits and caked around her mouth, streams of it ran past the sides of the bottle as it fucked its way in. The whole neck was lodged inside her stretched pink little snatch and the much wider body of the thing was next. The assembled crowd seemed neither horrified or about to save the girl, even the other girls in the crowd, of which there were about 8 or 9 seemed not only to be not inclined to help her, but in fact were cheering the loudest and shouting the most lewdly of anyone (It had later been pointed out me that the girls were none to happy with Lainie shaking her ass at all their boyfriends and had done more to instigate the gang rape then any of the boys). The bottle seemed too big to fit inside her, but the skinhead kept pushing. Lainie screamed, a piercing sound, the muscles in her neck stood out like cables as the bottle. Lubed by the cum inside her, stretched her cunt wide enough, tearing her little pussy open. Lainie lifted her head to see the bottle all but buried inside her and just kept screaming. This is about when the folk holding her legs noticed me. Now although I don't own the place, I do live there and the few bikers that were there, who were mostly crashed out right then, were friends of mine and would definitely support me on any course of action I decided to take. I could see Lainie looking at me with pleading eyes. It was one of those moments where everything stopped, a pause as the crowd became aware of me and grew silent, the proverbial you could hear a pin drop, I walked very deliberately to a couch and sat down next to Cindy James, a tall redheaded stoner chick I had an occasional thing with, grabbed a beer of the table in front of me and took a drink. The crowd erupted back into laugher and Lainie back into screams. The Skinhead fucked the bottle back into her a few dozen times, yanked it out and handed it off to a dark haired little gypsy looking girl I could not remember having seen before, she opened it, took the cum and blood coated neck of the bottle in her mouth like a cock and lewdly cleaned it, then threw back the bottle and took a swig. The Bottle was passed around in a spur of the moment perverse ritual, with everyone taking a sip and passing it on. Finally the bottle came back to the skinhead boy, who took a sip and then poured the rest of it, about half a cup or so over her tits and face. "OooooGad! Let me go, you've done enough, I just wanna get out of here, Ill never come back, I swear!" she pleaded. Lainie was more or less sober now, terror and pain can do that to ya, get ya straight real fast. The folk holding her down let her go and the skinhead walked away, Lainie curled up on the table in a little ball and it might have ended right there for her except for the little dark haired Gypsy lookin girl. The girl, who's name I found out was Anita wasn't done yet, in truth I don't think most of the crowd was done, but no one else was gonna take up the baton so to speak quite yet. "Come here little bitch, I wanna play!" Anita growled. "Nooooo!!! No More. Please!!!" the Blond bitch whined. Anita grabbed Lainie by the hair and dragged her from the table onto the ground while Lainie cried and clawed at Anita's hands. Anita half dragged, half made her crawl on the floor, which to be honest, after three days of straight party was not one that would make the cover of better housekeeping, over to one of the punk boys who had been sitting and cheering the whole time. The boy , who looked barely out of high school leaned down, locked his mouth onto Lainie's for a deep kiss while Anita held her head in place, then drew his hand way back and slapped her hard in the face twice. Again the room erupted into laughter. The guy sitting beside the punk, a stoner named Ned I had known since we were kids, and Lainie had known since kindergarten grabbed her head and shoved his tongue down her throat, then just like the punk, slapped her hard, twice in the face. Lainie was horrified, she was usually the one in control, using her body and her social position to get whatever she wanted and here she was being treated lower then dirt. The next person on that couch Anita pushed her to was a girl. Now ya have to realize that the fantasy of all women being bi-sexual that alot of men have is simply not true, and aside from that most stoner, skinhead and punk types are fairly homophobic, the women too. There was a short pause before the girl grabbed Lainie's face, kissed her deeply, then pulled away, slapped her in the face and spit on her. The crowd cheered as Lainie sobbed in defeat and humiliation. It went on like that for maybe a half hour, with Anita pulling her along around the room, It became a ritual, just like the passing of the bottle, everyone kissed her, slapped and spit on her, and of course, kept drinking. Pete is what stopped that particular game. He had been crashed out for awhile and took everyone by suprise when he wheeled on in. Now even though Pete had lost his legs, he was an imposing figure still and no one wanted to upset him. The folk in the room looked like children caught stealing candy. But Pete was cool as usual, just wheeled over next to me got out his little tweaker kit and started making lines of meth on the little tray he had on his wheelchair, just watching. Now Pete was an odd one, he still had all his parts working and hell he had plenty of offers, but all he ever did sex wise anymore was watch, and not like those horny wanckers at the sex clubs either, he watched the same way he watches those horses, or the sky, just sits and watches, calm like, as if he can see the whole of creation in the clouds, or in them horses. Around the time Pete started chopping lines for everyone ( Pete Always shared ), someone found a chain choke collar someone gave Pete for his Rott, but Pete was too soft hearted about animals to use it on the dog, so it just sat in a closet. Now for quite awhile now Lainie had more or less stopped putting up a real fight, the assaults had just wore her down, for some reason when they tried to put the collar on her she really started to struggle, took three of em to keep her still enough. Once it was on it was easier to drag her around. One of the stoners came out of the garage with a set of battery charger clamps and smiled to Anita who led the humiliated little blond over like a defeated puppy, Lainie had no idea what was about to happen until using both ands he opened up the powerful clamps, which luckily for Lainie were not the sharp toothy kind, and clamped them over her long pert tender nipples. "AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!" Lainie Screamed anew and rolled over on her back her hands flew to her chest but the stoner and Anita grabbed her arms and held her fast. The Clamps were crushing her little nipples, setting her tits on fire with pain. The look of panic on her face, of desperation to make the pain stop, the terror was beautiful. Some of the skinheads decided to come over and pull on the clamps, stretching her tits out to watch her scream, they did that for awhile, then spit on her and went to go get a beer. Anita and the stoner dragged her by her arms over to a couch where they hauled her up on everyone's lap so they could pull on the clamps, finger her pussy, play with her little round ass, slap her face and spit on her, finally Anita took off the clamps and for the next half hour or so the crowd played "fuck Lainie with the bottle" again as the lines were cut and passed around. Getting everyone wired was perhaps not the best thing that could have happened for Lainie at that time, soon after I did a couple lines it occurred to me to go dig out the whips I had brought over from my parents place. I have never used them around here, as I said, Pete was soft-hearted when it came to his animals. The whips were in a long box I had stored em all in, I just dumped em out on the floor like Christmas treats for the crowd, Lunge whips, buggy whips, riding crops, quirts, bullwhips, slappers, hell, a small arsenal.