From Chicago to Indianapolis, van trip

A song called "Enema Nurses in Bondage" is playing and Justine says "Hmmm....enemas. Interesting idea," and she, Jenny and Kat all giggle. Kat is sitting next to me in the back seat, absentmindedly playing with my hair. I'm mummified from head to foot in duct tape, totally unable to move, and a pair of socks Jenny had worn on stage the night before is jammed into my mouth, sealed in place with still more tape. From time to time, Kat will plug my nose and then ignore me, talking with Jenny and Justine about the gig tonight, while I panic from a total inability to breathe. Panicking when completely cocooned in tape feels like being buried alive. You can't do anything, can hardly even flex and unflex a muscle, and you're completely locked inside your own head.

Kat pinches my nose shut again and she and the other girls start talking about the show they played last week in Champaign. At first I can follow the story but as I get dizzier and my ears start ringing I just slump back against the seat until Kat finally unplugs my nose and I do my best to gasp through my nostrils.

Jenny, who is wearing old jeans and a Clash shirt jumps into the back seat with me and slaps my face hard. "We should have a slapping contest" she suggests to Kat.

Kat slaps me and then says "So, who slapped harder?" She is kind enough to remove my gag so that I can answer.

This is an impossible situation and I have no idea how to answer to minimize the upcoming torture.

"Must have been a tie" said Jenny, slapping me again even harder.

"Oooh, I think you left a handprint" Kat laughs, and slaps me again on the other side of the face.

"Jenny slaps harder" I say, gambling that it's best to piss off the less sadistic of the two girls.

Kat slaps me three times across my face and giggles "You fucking bitch".

The two of them continue slapping me until I'm almost in tears, when Kat reaches into the very back of the van, where they keep the equipment, and starts looking through a gym bag. She takes out the riding crop and my eyes must go very wide, because Jenny says "That got his attention".

The two of them push me onto the floor, where I'm still totally immobile and sprawled uncomfortably across the divider which makes it even harder to breathe. The girls take turns whipping me with the crop. Each blow is heavy and shakes me from my teeth to my toes and Jenny is particularly good at working the same spot over and over.

I can feel bruises forming up and down my back and the back of my thighs and they're hitting me so hard it's tearing the tape in parts. Justine turns up an L7 song and says "Don't forget to hit the soles of his feet".

By the time we pull over to get gas I can feel the bruises and welts up and down my body and even the soles of my feet feel tender and Kat and Jenny flip me over before they go in to use the bathroom and buy something to drink. I'm staring at the van's ceiling, alone and unable to move, while I hear people passing back and forth outside. I can hear Justine, who is pumping gas, joking around with some woman although I can't really hear what they're saying.

Justine returns to the van, lights a cigarette and blows some smoke in my face. "Long ride?" she asks. "Hey, just be thankful I don't feel like untaping you enough to stick a buttplug in. Maybe when we dump you off at the motel".

"No, seriously, I'm like one huge bruise and I'm so torn up I'm afraid it's going to do permanent damage".

Justine shrugs, exhales smoke, shakes her platinum blonde hair out of her eyes. "You'll be permanently damaged if I want you to be. I'm pretty sure I do".

Jenny and Kat climb into the back of the van, each holding a bottle of Dr Pepper. Jenny belches extravagantly right in my ear and blows it toward my face and Kat says "You're such a bitch", laughing.

"We should work on his front a little bit" says Jenny, picking up the crop and beating my chest.

"My sister used to do this thing to me" says Kat "she called it Chinese water torture. She'd hit just the same spot on my chest, over and over. After a few minutes it feels like your whole chest is collapsing".

"I used to do that to my brother all the time" says Jenny, hitting me again in the same spot. Jenny smacked me dead center in my chest over and over, until it really did feel like my chest was collapsing. Until everytime she hit me the wind was knocked out of me. Kat smiled down at me, finishing her Dr Pepper, and after I begged, sobbingly, for several minutes for Jenny to please stop she finally hit my chest three more times and then moved on to my arms. It was still impossible to take a full breath without pain while Jenny moved her concentration to turning my arms into raw meat.

Kat giggles, whispers something to Jenny, who agrees. They flip me back over and now, with my chest pressed against the divider on the floor, all I can take are short, shallow breaths. Jenny pointedly takes out her knife right in front of my eyes, and all I can focus on are her black finger nails and the blade of her knife. She rubs it against my cheek, makes me kiss it which I do, lips trembling, muscles remembering times she has cut me in the past.

This time, though, she cuts away some of the tape near my ass and Justine howls with laughter and then starts to sing along to Sex and Dying in High Society by X. Kat waves her empty Dr Pepper bottle slowly in front of my eyes and passes it to Jenny and as I feel the bottle being pushed into my ass, I understand all too well.

I can't tell how far up my ass they manage to cram the bottle (it's impossible to have perspective on these things, when your ass is as raw as mine two fingers can feel like a ten inch strap-on) but every bump in the road emphasizes my predicament tears my ass up a little more. I still can't breathe at all normally and there is nothing to take my mind off the pain, especially when Jenny works on my back more with the riding crop and Kat digs her nails into the back of my neck. One time I've almost blacked out when Kat happily announces "I drew blood" and then she is cramming her fingers into my mouth, ordering me to suck. For I don't know how long I have to suck on her fingers like they're a cock and if I stop, even for a moment, Jenny strikes the bottle hard with the riding crop, forcing the bottle up even deeper.

The van finally comes to a stop and the girls go into a motel office, I guess, to make arrangements for the next couple of nights. I'm left in the van with a Bratmobile album playing much too loud, wheezing out shallow breaths, my ass torn up and my entire body bruised and broken.