Tears of shame and humiliation welled in Ellen's eyes as she heard the two men discussing her as though she were a bag of potatoes they had loaded in the truck to take to market. The horror of the situation was almost too much to grasp. She could hardly think from the terrible fear and revulsion that overwhelmed her every attempt to figure out just what she could do, or if there was even anything she could do. All she knew was that each of their hotly intimate touches and each of their lewd remarks was doing something to her that would make her forever different from the happily naive young person she had been only a few short minutes ago.

She felt Billy's hand possessively pull her body closer to him, and her attention shot back to the dire defenselessness of her immediate position. His other hand remained around her mouth, and his body wormed even closer against hers, his knees bending where hers did, as his chest fell harder against her back while her softly rounded young buttocks fitted more closely like one spoon in another into his bulging pelvis. Her soft flesh made the feared contact with his jutting hardness and she trembled, imagining the lewd look of obscene pleasure contorting the man's face. A seeming eternity passed by as his probing contact with her firm young flesh grew more frequent and harder.

"How much longer?" he said later, breathing heavily, his hand moving hungrily down her thighs over her tightly fitting jeans. "I think our little girl's getting uncomfortable here."

"About fifteen minutes until we get into the edge of town," Pop's voice said tensely from the driver's seat. "But keep the little bitch quiet. We'll soon be gettin' into some heavy traffic."

"Don't worry. She can't move," Billy muttered. He chuckled when he pinched harshly through the denim at the soft innersides of her two thighs pressed together, and her groan of protest issued through his hand over her mouth almost soundlessly. "She can't even squeal. Look at that, boys!"