Santana knows it's stupid to be out alone at this time of night, even in a relatively calm and quiet town like Lima, but it beats being cooped up in her room, listening to her parents argue over how to handle her abuela and everything else that's gone down with her outing.
They've been fighting a lot lately, even before this mess all started, but it's worse when they're fighting over her, and she couldn't stand being around it anymore, so she left. She didn't really have a destination in mind when she slipped out of her bedroom window, but she's not surprised to find her feet leading her in the direction of her girlfriend's house.
Except to make it to Brittany's house, she has to cut across the park they used to play in when they were kids, and when Santana does that, she finds Josh Coleman and four other guys she assumes are his rugby teammates loitering around, getting drunk and smoking weed like the Lima Losers they are.
Santana rolls her eyes at the sight of him—never knew the kid existed a week ago and now she's seen him twice in as many days—but still makes the mistake of stopping when she hears him call out to her.
"Well, well, well, look who it is, boys," Josh crows with a whistle, jumping off the picnic table he'd been sitting on to take a step towards Santana. "You change your mind about my offer already, Lopez?"
Santana scoffs and shoots him a look of disgust, finding the confidence she was missing when he'd confronted her in the hallway the day before. "Keep dreaming, asshole."
While his buddies laugh, Josh doesn't look fazed by her rejection. "Just come to party then?"
Every bone in Santana's body is telling her to say no, but Josh is offering her a beer and the joint his friends are passing around looks like exactly what she needs to calm down from the stress of this week, so she finds herself nodding before her common sense can talk her out of it.
The boys all cheer when Santana snatches the beer out of Josh's hand and takes a big swig, and they all move over to make room on top of the picnic table for her as the guy to her right passes her a joint.
Santana sits and drinks and smokes and only kind of listens to whatever these assholes are talking about around her. She throws in a biting remark here or there when Josh says something particularly misogynistic, but she mostly stays quiet for a change and just keeps taking the beer the boys keep handing her.
She loses count of how many drinks she's had sometime after the third one, but it must be a lot, because when Josh starts kissing her neck while two of his buddies paw at her tits, it takes Santana a good minute to fully realize what's happening before she starts protesting.
"Stop," she whines, even just the single word slurred as she pushes weakly at Josh's chest. "I don't… This isn't… I don't want that."
"Sure you do," Josh mumbles between kisses, his larger frame not budging even as Santana's pushes get a bit stronger with each attempt. "You know you want this, baby."
Santana groans, not from Josh's sloppy kisses or the rough hands on her chest, but from fighting the heavy dizziness in her head as tries to gather her bearings enough to get out of this situation she's gotten herself into.
"No," she speaks slowly, trying to muster her usual sharp tone. "No, I-I don't."
Josh laughs and grabs a hold of her face when she tries to pull away from him. "Stop fighting it."
Santana doesn't stop trying to pull away from his mouth and starts pushing again, at Josh and the other guys, but it's like she's up against a brick wall at first, until finally something gives a little under her hands and it gives her a renewed determination.
"No, no, I don't want this!" she hisses, twisting her body away from the two boys on the other side of her to use all of her strength against Josh. "Get off of me!"
She must have more power behind her than she realizes because as quickly as she's started sobering up, Josh's patience has disappeared.
He pulls away from Santana with a growl and jumps off the table to his feet, but her relief is short lived and immediately replaced with a new sense of panic when she notices Josh undoing his zipper.
"Bend her over," he instructs his friends, his words instantly kicking Santana's adrenalin into high gear as she attempts to squirm away from the strong hands trying to get a good grip on her.
"Get the fuck off me!" Santana screams as she thrashes desperately in their hold, but her limbs feel too heavy with booze as the boys easily manhandle her into position like she weighs nothing. "You fucking assholes, I'll—"
"You'll what?" Josh taunts her, waiting until his buddies have Santana's chest pressed against the top of the table before he steps up and roughly pulls her shorts and underwear down her thighs and then completely off of her legs. "You're not gonna do anything but take it."
Santana freezes in shock for just a moment before she starts kicking wildly, desperately trying to connect with anything solid around her. She can only see one of the boys with her face pressed hard against the unfinished wood—and of course the fucking prick is laughing—but she doesn't stop fighting blindly or screaming.
She doesn't plead or beg for them to stop, the thought doesn't even cross her mind, she just curses and spits and threatens them all, over and over, no matter how empty the threats obviously are.
"I'm gonna fucking eviscerate all of you!" Santana spits out as both of her flailing legs are stilled and trapped between the legs of the boys on either side of her, her knees burning as they're forced onto the bench so that she's completely exposed for Josh. "Take razor blades to your balls and—"
"Someone shut her up," Josh requests, and the fact that he merely sounds exasperated instead of angry or bothered really pisses Santana off.
It makes her feel small and helpless, in a way that his teammates easily manhandling her didn't even do; he's not threatened by her at all, no matter how many threats she screams at him, and she hates that he really has no reason to be.
Santana is completely at his mercy and they both know it, but she'll be damned if she just lays there and accepts it.
So when one of the boys comes around to the other side of the bench and tries to shove his dick into Santana's mouth, she doesn't hesitate to try to take a chunk out of it with her teeth.
"What the fuck?!" he yelps and jumps back, sore junk in his hand. "Fucking bitch just bit me!" He's yelling it at Josh, like he's expecting his captain to do something about it for him, but he doesn't wait for a reply before he smacks Santana hard across the face. "Better watch yourself, dyke!"
It lands hard against her already sore cheek, but Santana still laughs bitterly and spits in his general direction. "Quinn Fabray slaps harder than you, you fucking pussy!"
It earns her another smack across the face, and while she prepares for the third, the guy grabs a fist full of her hair and yanks on it hard instead.
"Bite me again and I'll go get your little girlfriend to come join us," he taunts her, leaning down to get right into Santana's face. "She lives somewhere around here, doesn't she?"
Santana stiffens at the threat and swallows the insult on the tip of her tongue; she doesn't care what these assholes want to do to her—she'll mouth off until they fucking kill her—but she won't risk Brittany. Because even though this guy has a baby face and is probably at least a year younger than her, even at this angle, she can see he has nothing but contempt in his eyes, and she knows it's not an empty threat.
"Looks like Tucker found the magic words," Josh jeers, obviously noting her reaction from behind her. He slaps her ass hard as he laughs and Santana shivers at the feeling of his breath on her neck when he leans over her back to whisper in her ear; "You watch your mouth unless you want to watch us rape Brittany, too. You understand?" She gives a curt nod, her hair still held tight by Tucker, but it's not good enough for Josh. "Let me hear you say it."
It takes every ounce of Santana's self control to keep her reply to a simple, "Yes."
"Good girl," Josh praises condescendingly, his words punctuated with a sudden penetration that makes Santana's stomach lurch. She can tell by the angle that it's not Josh himself inside her, but that certainly doesn't make her feel any less queasy or violated. "I know you want my cock, but i can't leave you empty while I get warmed up, now can it? Just give me a few minutes, baby."
Santana's so busy trying to figure out what Josh is fucking her with—she assumes it's a beer bottle, but it's not like she has the experience to be sure—that she doesn't realize Tucker is trying to feed her his cock again until he's forcing her mouth open and shoving it down her throat.
She gags, more from surprise than his size—though he is fairly big for a guy his age and build—but all it does is spur him on. Tucker's cock jabs at the back of Santana's throat over and over again as he fucks her face; his hips jerky and over-excited and showing his inexperience.
It hurts and it's uncomfortable, but it's hardly the first time a guy has fucked her face, so it's somehow easier for Santana to handle than Josh Coleman shoving a dirty beer bottle inside of her and fucking her with it. He's being just as rough as Tucker is, jamming the neck of the bottle as far up her dry cunt as he can and turning his wrist so that the rigid edges twist against her tight walls.
There's something extra humiliating about it, almost dehumanizing—not that Santana has any illusions that these future frat boys ever truly saw her as a human, even before she came out—but Santana does her best to fight that sick feeling growing in her gut, to not let Josh and his sadistic minions win.
Because they can mock her and hurt her and they can even rape her, but they can't make her feel shame for what they're choosing to do to her; they can't break her. Santana won't let them.
But that's a lot fucking easier said than done, because no matter how steely her resolve is, when she feels fingers rubbing her clit and Josh's taunting laughter rings in her ears as he informs his teammates that she's starting to get wet, Santana can't deny the way it chips at her.
"The dyke is starting to like it, boys!" Josh cackles, pushing the bottle into Santana harder and further each time. "Doesn't even have a cock in her yet and she's already dripping for it. Always heard you were a slut, Lopez."
"Well, hurry up, man," one of the other players complains, and if Tucker didn't have such a strong hold on her hair to keep her head in place while he fucks her mouth, Santana would have tried to find the source. All of these pricks are on her hit list now, but she needs to know which one to put right underneath Josh and Tucker at the very top. "We all want our turns too."
Santana's stomach lurches again at the confirmation of what she feared—that it's not just Josh and Tucker she's going to have to handle, but that all of these assholes are going to rape her tonight—and she tries to keep her facade from falling.
And she does, even as Tucker's thrusts get harsher and Josh replaces the hard beer bottle with his hard cock, cramming all of his unforgiving size into Santana's cunt and not giving her any time to adjust before he starts to brutally fuck her.
"You happy now, Bryce?" Josh grunts through his own thrusts, seemingly discarding the offending beer bottle to get a good grip on both of Santana's hips to hold her in place as he forces his massive cock into her tiny body.
There's a cackle, and Bryce, Santana assumes, yells out, "Hell yeah!" and it's immediately echoed by the cheers of his fellow degenerates.
They're all shouting words of encouragement at their leader, telling Josh to fuck her harder! and rip her cunt apart! and to make that fucking dyke bitch cry!
And the words work like a charm, because Josh's thrusts just get more vicious the more his buddies encourage him and Santana feels like a ragdoll in his bruising hands; her body already sore from the abuse and still feeling heavy from the alcohol.
Yet still, when she feels someone—not Josh, because he's still holding her from both sides—push the still slick lip of that damn beer bottle against the rim of her asshole, Santana still finds enough strength in herself to try to fight.
"That's what I'm talking about, Lopez!" Josh cheers himself, his voice somehow coming through loud and clear over all the others. His fingers dig into the bones of her hips to keep a good grip, but not hard enough to completely still her squirming. "It's so much more fun when you fight!"
His words are almost enough to make Santana immediately give it up, but her instincts won't let her. It takes her this long to realize that her hands are still free—the two guys that were holding her down have loosened their holds to jerk themselves off—and even if she can't do much with them at this angle, she still tries. She blindly pushes at Tucker's thighs, then claws at the wooden table underneath her for leverage when he doesn't budge.
But Santana's getting it from all sides—Tucker's cock in her mouth and Josh's in her cunt, a bottle probing at her ass and someone's rough fingers still manipulating her clit so that her body reacts to all of this in a way she doesn't want it to—and there's nowhere for her to go.
"This is just getting pathetic," Bryce laughs, and from the direction his voice comes from, Santana thinks he must be the one with the beer bottle now, and probably the one playing with her clit, too. "Kyle, Steve, stop thinking with your dicks for a minute and keep her still!"
"You're no fun," Josh complains through a huff, but makes no effort to stop the other boys from grabbing Santana's loose arms and pressing them hard against her back so that she's immobilized between her rapists and forced flat against the table she's draped across again.
The momentary relief of Josh's slowed down pace is almost immediately replaced by the humiliation and pain of Bryce working the rim of the beer bottle into her too tight hole, with spit and her unwanted arousal still coating the neck working as the only lube.
He pushes it inside Santana with no regard to her comfort or pain, and it hurts so fucking much that she's almost thankful for Tucker's oral assault, because at least his cock muffles the shrieks of pain she can't hold back, and the cheering from the other boys drowns even that out.
Once Josh's thrusts start back up again, Santana's getting fucked in all holes, from all angles, and there's careless fingers on her clit and rough hands holding her in place, and she's paralyzed as it all suddenly hits her at once—the shock of it all, and then the orgasm soon after.
Santana's never felt anything like it before, like her entire body is betraying her while something is pulledfrom her—forced out of her with violence and cruelty. And as her tiny, trapped, abused frame shakes with something that should bring her nothing but pleasure, her defenses are a little too weakened to fight that shameful feeling she's been trying to deny since this attack started.
Her holes clench and spasm around the bottle and the cock lodged inside them, and it sets off another round of crude cheering from her rapists, as their leader joyfully cackles, "The dyke's really getting off on this!" as he keeps fucking Santana through her unwanted orgasm.
Tucker, the sick fuck, seems to be the one getting off on the rape the most, because all it takes is seeing their victim come to pull him over the edge with her, and before she's even come down from the lowest high she's ever had, Santana feels cum flood her mouth.
It's warm and thick and it makes her gag as she's forced to swallow it; Tucker's cock throbbing between her stretched lips as he keeps it crammed down her throat. It's a taste and experience she had hoped never to have to suffer through again after coming to terms with her sexuality—all of this is, of course—but this is so much worse than all those times with Puck or any other guy she's ever serviced put together.
Santana's sure she's about to black out just as Tucker finally pulls out of her mouth, and she immediately coughs and wheezes once she's free; her face a complete mess of cum and saliva as she sucks in deep breathes and tries to regain better focus.
She can hear Tucker saying something gross to one of his friends, but she barely registers it. The only thing in her eye line is his disgusting cock, looking deceptively harmless as it hangs between his legs and slowly softens, and Santana snarls as she spits towards his feet, trying to get the nasty taste of his spunk out of her mouth.
"Who wants next?" she finally hears him ask, and she barely bites back a whimper at the thought of going through that all over again. Her throat is already sore and throbbing, and Santana's sure she's already going to have the aftertaste of Tucker's load in her mouth for weeks—she really doesn't want to add another one.
"I'm waiting for her pussy, man," Kyle or Steve answers, and the other one echos his agreement.
Bryce laughs as he stills the beer bottle deep in Santana's ass. "Fuck you, I got next!"
"Well, someone come take over," Josh grunts through thrusts, that are getting sloppier by the second. "I don't wanna nut until I get a piece of her ass."
Santana can feel and hear shuffling around her as her rapists all trade places, but her body is far too weak to even attempt to take advantage of this possible opening to escape. She's not stupid enough to think she can outfight or outrun five guys, but that doesn't mean she's not going to fight back in her own way, in any way she can.
"Knew you wouldn't be able to handle me, Coleman," Santana taunts him, though the words lack the bite she wants them to have after Tucker's assault. She knows she's just making him mad, but he's going to do what he wants with her regardless, so she's beyond caring at this point. "Try thinking of the mailman."
Josh is out of her by the time she says it, but the blinding pain in her rectum as the bottle stretches her ring further tells Santana that he's probably switched places with Bryce, and it's his cock that slides into her already violated cunt to rape her next.
The table shifts underneath her when Josh climbs onto it and then there's a weight on top of her upper body as she feels his hard dick poking her side and his hot breath against her neck again.
"Big talk for a dyke that just came around my cock," he hisses in Santana's ear, reaching back to wiggle the bottle some more. "Pretend all you want, but me and my big fat cock just got you off, Lopez."
Santana swallows the embarrassment and it tastes like cum, and turns her head, as if to try to look Josh in the eyes. "Don't flatter yourself," she mocks him, smirking as best she can, even if her face is still messy. "I was thinking about Brittany and her big fat strap-on the whole time, you impotent piece of shit."
She expects another slap to the face for that, or for the entire neck of the bottle to be violently shoved inside of her, but all Josh does is chuckle coldly, and the sound is enough to send a chill down her spine.
"Well, if you wanted your little girlfriend in on the fun, all you had to do was ask," he replies in a friendly tone, but the threat is clear in his voice. Santana clenches her jaw and can't believe she allowed her pride to make her arrogant enough to even breathe Brittany's name after they'd already held the blonde over her head. "I can just get Tucker to shoot her a text from your phone and get her here in no time. Is that what you want?"
"No," Santana spits out through gritted teeth. "Don't. Please." It's the closest she's gotten to begging this douchebag for anything and it makes her want to hurl, but for Brittany, she'll do it.
"Thought so." She can practically feel Josh's smirk, though she can't fully see it, and her own mouth twists up in disgust as he presses a kiss to her neck. "Now beg to suck Steve's cock."
"Fuck you," Santana instinctively replies before she can stop herself.
"Hey, Tucker, grab Santana's phone out of her—"
"Okay, okay, fuck," she's quick to amend, her eyes blazing as she searches for the boy she's supposed to beg. Josh helps her out by lifting her head off the table by her hair and grabbing a hold of her chin to force her face in the right direction.
Santana's eyes find the boy that first offered her the joint, and the only thing she really registers is that he's ugly, even in her blurry vision; she wouldn't have given him head even in the days of her deepest denial.
"Beg him," Josh repeats, ignoring the way Bryce protests behind them at her body being moved. "Beg to suck his cock or I'm gonna get that dumb blonde bitch down here and I'm gonna make you watch me rape her until she bleeds."
"Please!" Santana immediately obeys, shouting the word out desperately in her haste before lowering her voice when she continues. "Please."
"The whole thing," Josh hisses in her ear.
"Please let me suck your cock," Santana pleads, trying to mask the pure hatred in her eyes as she looks at the younger boy across from her, who's tugging at his cock and looking back at her with a lecherous grin. "Please, I want, I want to suck your cock so bad, baby, give it to me."
She knows Josh wants her to feel shame for doing that, and while it hurts her ego and humiliates her, she also feels a weird sense of pride. Santana's biggest fear when she first started getting serious with Brittany had been that she'd end up hurting her best friend—that she wouldn't be able to put her pride and ego aside to put someone else's needs before her own—but now she has, and she didn't even hesitate.
But Josh, oblivious of her personal victory, laughs like a moron and uses his fingers to force Santana's cum smeared mouth up into a smile. "Good girl," he praises her condescendingly again, loosening his hold on her hair. "I'll have you begging for my load by the end of the night."
Santana swallows her biting reply and watches Steve approach, but before Josh can lower her head down to meet his decently sized cock, she's jerked away as her whole body is being lifted off the picnic table and she suddenly finds herself trying to stand on unsteady legs.
Her aching knees appreciate the switch in position, but the lack of support from the table has Santana's tiny frame feeling weightless as Bryce fucks up into her brutally, the sheer force of his thrusts lifting her feet clear off the ground every time.
Josh, Tucker and Kyle all hop up onto the table to watch the show, feet on the bench and cocks in their hands, while Steve comes around the other side and waits until Bryce bends Santana's body forward enough for him to get a good grip on the back of her head and force her down to take his cock.
It's an awkward and painful angle for her, but of course neither of them cares, so Santana just tries her best to bear it; going limp while the boys use her holes.
At least the beer bottle isn't inside her anymore, roughly pulled out of her and discarded with the change of position, laying somewhere on the ground just outside of Santana's eye line. She closes her eyes and imagines herself smashing it over Josh's head when this nightmare is finally over.
The thought alone gives Santana the motivation to stay conscious, despite the alcohol, the jerky movements and her current position making her feel lightheaded and dizzy. The blackness is so inviting, but giving into it feels too much like giving up, and fuck that.
So Santana stays conscious to prove to them and to herself that this isn't going to break her, but she doesn't fight the way her mind blocks out the jeering and lewd comments coming from the boys on the sideline; she's heard enough of their hateful bullshit tonight to guess what they're saying anyways.
She closes her eyes and tries to think of something more pleasant; she tries to think of Brittany like she told Josh she had before, but it's an impossible image to conjure up, at least the way she wants it. Brittany is light and happiness and love, and this is anything but; the only picture she can see is the one Josh painted with his vile threats, so Santana stops trying as quickly as she starts.
And so does Steve, apparently. "Fuck, I'm gonna come," he grunts out a warning, like she's his girlfriend or something and it makes Bryce slow his pace.
"Come on her face this time!" one of the guys in the peanut gallery suggests, the stillness unfortunately clearing Santana's head enough to tune into their disgusting commentary, at least momentarily.
Steve listens too, because as soon as the asshole shouts his suggestion, he's pulling out of Santana's slack mouth to jerk himself off to completion until he's releasing his load all over her face.
Santana cringes as she feels ropes of warm, sticky cum hit her mouth and nose, and she tries to turn her head, but it feels no less disgusting on her cheek and neck. It's hardly the first facial she's ever had in her life, but she never enjoyed them when she got them willingly, so being forced to take one just makes it worse.
He finishes faster than Tucker had, and as soon as he releases his hold on her head, Bryce is tossing her limp body onto the hard ground instead of continuing to fuck her standing up, and leaves her there for Kyle to descend upon.
"Your turn," he tells his friend, pushing him off the table and climbing up to take his seat. "But I'm not finished with her so don't come in her. I don't want your sloppy seconds."
"Yeah, whatever, man," Kyle promises as he grabs Santana's arm and turns her onto her back before ripping her shirt off her body so that she's completely naked. Her weak attempt to keep her thighs together is futile as he easily wrenches them open and settles between them before he shoves the entire length of his cock into her sore cunt in one go.
He feels smaller in length than both Bryce and Josh, but thicker than at least the former and even with all the abuse Santana's pussy has already taken tonight, he still manages to hurt her as he stretches her wide and fucks her into the damp grass.
Santana closes her eyes and cranes her neck, turning her face away from Kyle's to avoid his hot breath as best she can, and fights every instinct in her body that's telling her to fight and to run, because she can't.
For Brittany, she can't.
All Santana can do dig her fingers into the ground so she doesn't try to dig them into Kyle's neck, and hope he has stamina closer to Steve than to Bryce or Josh.
Mercifully, Kyle ends up being more like Finn Hudson, and Santana doesn't have to suffer through his senseless, obviously inexperienced thrusting for longer than a minute before he's scrambling to pull out of her and moving up her body so he can shoot his load across Santana's fake tits with a groan.
His friends all jeer and Santana even manages a smirk, which earns her an embarrassed but withering glare, that probably would have resulted in another slap across the face if Kyle's attention hadn't been pulled away.
"Knew you were a fucking virgin," Josh laughs at him as he jumps down and drags Bryce over with him. He clamps a hand over Kyle's shoulder and pulls him off of Santana, pushing him in the direction of the picnic table and motioning for Bryce to get into position.
"You want her ass or pussy?" Bryce asks as he sits down beside Santana, his pants and underwear around his ankles while his plain white t-shirt is pushed up to reveal tight abs.
Josh scoffs as he easily lifts Santana's exhausted body up to move her onto Bryce lap before pushing them down so he can kneel behind them. "I already called her ass," he reminds the other boy, two of his fingers roughly probing her stretched hole. "I've wanted to fuck this ass since the first time I saw it under that cheerios skirt the first day of freshman year." He curls his fingers and then spreads them, and Santana whimpers in pain. "You ever had a dick in your ass, Lopez? And be honest, because Puckerman says you have, but he talks a lot of shit."
"Who the fuck do you think I am, Quinn Fabray?" Santana snarks without looking back, trying to sound unbothered as she attempts to support her weight on shaky arms while Bryce slips a hand between their bodies to guide his cock back into her battered snatch. "I've had bigger dicks than yours in there."
She hasn't, actually—the most Santana's ever allowed in her backdoor has been a wandering finger if she was feeling generous, and Brittany's tongue once, when they were drunker than she is right now—but like hell is she going to let Josh Coleman spend the rest of his life knowing he took her anal virginity.
"Fuck, she's mouthy," Bryce laughs, finally finding her pussy and slipping back into her.
Josh's laugh is colder, but she can tell he's sincere when he says, "Mouthy bitches are the best ones to fuck." He spits into his hand and smears it over her asshole, and Santana tenses because she already knows it's not going to be enough. "Gimme a beer."
Santana doesn't look to see who gets up, but she feels the lukewarm alcohol hit the small of her back and run downward, right into the crack of her ass and probably all over Josh's cock.
"That's not gonna work as lube, dipshit," Santana tries to protest, even though she already knows he really doesn't care at all.
"It's not supposed to," Josh replies casually, pouring more and then chucking the bottle to the side as he guides the dip of his beer soaked cock to Santana's stretched asshole. "I've just always wanted to do that."
Then he's pressing forward, the mushroom head of his cock pushing past the clenching ring to pop inside, and try as she might, Santana can't stop the shriek that rips from her throat at the intrusion.
She screams so much and so loudly that Bryce has to reach up and over cover her mouth with his palm, hissing for her to shut the fuck up!
But as she cries like she's been stabbed in the gut, of course Josh just laughs gleefully, ramming the rest of his cock the rest of the way into Santana's virgin ass until he's balls deep and she's doubled over in pain.
"You lying little bitch," he mocks her as he starts to pull back, and he doesn't go any slower or kinder on the second thrust. "No way you've taken it up the ass before if you've sobbing like that. This ass is all mine." Josh spreads Santana's asscheeks so he can watch her protesting anal ring swallow his fat shaft and then lands a harsh slap against one of them. "Get your cameras out boys, a girl should always remember her first time."
Santana is in far too much pain to do much of anything about the other boys surrounding them at the moment, but she can hear the shutter of some of their cameras and then running commentary as they narrate the videos they're taking.
That shame she's tried so hard to fight starts creeping back in as the tears fall and she imagines these assholes jerking off to these pictures and videos for years to come and passing them around to all their friends.
But at least now there's hard proof of what they're doing to her, and so maybe they won't get away with it. It won't just be her word against theirs.
That's something.
But it's a cold comfort to Santana right now, as Bryce starts jutting his hips up and fucking her cunt at the same time as Josh's thrusts start to pick up behind her. The two of them saw in and out of her at an increasing pace, filling her up in perfect tandum so that she's never empty for even a second.
Santana barely even registers Bryce's cock rutting into her pussy, beyond the fullness she feels from it, but she can't tell if it's because of the abuse it's taken all night or because the burning pain of Josh's assfucking is too overwhelming for her to feel anything else.
She tries fruitlessly to get out from between the boys, finally finding the strength to at least attempt because it hurts too much not to, but all her squirming does is make it worse. Josh holds her hips and laughs as Santana desperate tries to get off his cock and then he just starts fucking her harder.
By the time her sobs and hysterics have died down, Bryce has moved his hand from her mouth to her throat, and even though he's not squeezing that hard, Santana has a little hope it'll knock her out and save her from having to endure the rest of this; ego be damned.
But instead, Bryce just aims Santana's face in the direction of Tucker's phone. "Smile for the camera, bitch."
"You've never looked hotter, Lopez," Tucker taunts her, moving forward and probably zooming in on her fucked up face.
Santana can only imagine what she must look like: eyes screwed up as Josh feeds her rectum his cock; makeup smudged all over tear stained cheeks and a sophomore's cum painted across her face.
She's cracked and she's sure she looks it, but she's not quite broken yet.
She gets pretty damn close though, when Bryce's other hand finds her clit and starts rubbing again. It's not enough to bring her to a second orgasm—though honestly, with the pain she's in, Santana would almost welcome the shameful pleasure it might bring her—but it's enough to make her tighten around the cocks invading her; her pussy flutters around Bryce's shaft while the clenching walls of her ass pull Josh deeper into her guts.
"Should've known you'd be an ass dyke," Josh cracks gleefully, unforgiving thrusts not slowing down even as the rim of Santana's ass gets smaller. He just puts more force behind his pumps to make sure his hips meet the swell of her asscheeks each time; his heavy balls swinging and hitting her pussy too.
Steve and Kyle are watching the action on their phone screens as they come around to either side of them now, clambering to get footage of Josh's thick eight inches plowing into Santana's stretching hole.
"How close are you, Coleman?" Bryce grunts from underneath her, the strain in his voice and his uneven thrusts making it obvious how close he is. "Cause I don't think I'm gonna—"
He starts coming before he can even finish his warning, his hips jolting up one last time before they still; burying himself in deep and flooding Santana's cunt with warm cum.
Santana whimpers as spurt after spurt of potent semen shoots inside her, her skin crawling as the words pregnant and knocked up are thrown at her from the three boys recording her violation and jerking off to it. She tries to push those horrific thoughts away as she feels Bryce's cock continue to throb inside her with its release—almost preferring the all consuming pain that didn't allow for much thought of anything else—but it's proving to be near impossible.
It isn't until Josh comes with an obnoxious howl less than a minute later and floods Santana's ass with torrents of cum too, that she finally has something else to focus on. It's a different kind of humiliation, like he's claiming her somehow—tainting her—and it all suddenly hits Santana at once, as every ounce of fight leaves her body and she slumps down against Bryce's chest in defeat.
The three of them lay there in a heap together for long moments, exhausted, and it would probably just looks like they're enjoying the afterglow of a threesome to anyone that stumbled upon them.
Josh is the first to move, unceremoniously pulling out of Santana's stretched asshole and then rolling her off Bryce's dick so her battered body falls to the grass beside him.
"Gimme your phone," he demands one of the younger boys at his side, and Santana cracks her eyes open to see Josh holding the phone between her legs, where she can already feel their cum spilling from her wrecked holes. He uses his other hand to play with her clit, rubbing tight circles against it until he's able to drag another orgasm out of her and capture the way her cunt clenches and oozes thick milky jizz through it. "That's so fucking hot. Some dyke you are, Lopez."
Santana does nothing but lie there in defeat, feeling that numbing shame spreading through her veins. She hasn't given in completely yet, not until that blackness claims her, but she's getting closer by the minute.
She knows the boys are mocking her, groping and poking at her already abused body, but she only knows it because she can see it—she can't feel anything and she's trying to tune them out again too, at least until…
"We interrupting something here, fellas?" a familiar voice cuts through the night and the haze in Santana's mind. She lolls her head in the same direction as all the boys are looking and finds two more males have joined them.
"This doesn't concern you, Puckerman," Josh spits out as he pushes himself to his feet, hastily pulling his jeans up and fumbling with the zipper as his buddies do the same. "We were just having some fun."
Puck's eyes flicker down to Santana's naked body crumbled on the grass and then to where her ripped clothes lay on the ground with all the empty beer bottles by the abandoned picnic table this all started on. Finn stands at his side with wide eyes and his hands stuffed in his front pockets, looking like a deer in headlights and a lot more lost than his best friend does.
Santana's guessing they just came from Brittany's house, hanging out with her new pet leprechaun, and somehow she's more thankful that her girlfriend isn't with them than she is that they're here at all.
And she doesn't know why at first, because she should be beyond relieved at the sight of her friends, but it isn't until Puck starts talking again that she understands her instincts.
"I could go for some fun," Puck replies casually, nudging Finn's ribs. "You up for some fun, Hudson?"
It's because they're assholes, too.
To his credit, Finn looks torn, his eyes darting between Santana and Puck and all the rugby guys looking at him, but Josh cuts him off before he can answer.
"Who says you're welcome? We got her first."
"And what's the plan here, Coleman?" Puck shoots back, confidently bending down to grab one of the last beers in their stash and busting the cap off on the edge of the table before taking a swig. "You guys just gonna leave her here and run home? You had your fun and now it's over, just like that? You even know how you're gonna get her to keep her mouth shut yet?"
Josh scoffs and puffs his chest out, forcing out a laugh he wants to sound more casual than it does as his friends look to him expectantly for an answer. "I got some ideas."
Other than simply trying to intimidate her, Santana doubts it; it hasn't been one of the main things keeping her going all night for nothing.
Puck on the other hand, he's smarter about stuff like this and he knows her a lot better, which makes him far scarier to her than a simple homophobe like Josh Coleman and his merry band of douchebags.
"Ideas that will land you in juvie," Puck retorts, taking another sip of beer before handing the bottle to Finn and stepping forward. "And trust me, man. You don'twanna go to juvie."
Josh falters at Puck's words, finally showing a crack in his bravado, and it doesn't take him more than one look down at the damage they've inflicted on Santana for him to relent.
"Fine, dude, whatever, take her," Josh hurries out, raising his hands and taking steps away from her, and nodding for his buddies to follow. "You screw us and we'll all swear you were in on it too and she's just lying to protect you."
Puck gives them his word and Santana watches them all jog away, as the moment she was hoping for since this whole nightmare started finally happens, but it's anything but a dream.
Because she may have gotten rid of a monster, but it was only because he was scared away by an even hungrier, bigger one.
"Grab her clothes and we'll take her to my truck," Puck instructs Finn, not even sparing Santana a word as he bends down and easily picks her limp body up off the ground and into his arms, not caring about the cum leaking from her ruined holes. "We'll take her back to my place, I have it to myself for the weekend. Call the team to see who can come over tonight."
"And tell them what?" Finn wonders as he pulls out his phone, Santana's torn clothes already bunched up in his other hand.
"To cancel their weekend plans," Puck smirks down at Santana, her eyelids fluttering closed as the last of her hope leaves her body and she finally gives into the darkness. "They're not gonna wanna miss this."