THE RAPE OF ANGIE McGREGORS
by Willailla
"Do you think she'll be good-looking?" George asked.
"Don't know," Jerry replied, keeping his eyes on the road as he guided the
SUV through the morning rush of traffic.
"I only talked to her on the phone. She'd read the notice I'd posted on
the message board. Gave me the address where I could pick her up. It's not far
out of our way, only a block or two, I think."
She won't be good-looking," Barry said, seated behind Jerry. "We couldn't
be that fucking lucky."
"She sounds good-looking, if you can go by voices," Jerry said, as he
turned a corner and headed up a quiet residential avenue.
"Can't go by voices," Tyler, sitting next to Barry, put in.
"Yeah, that's for sure," Barry agreed, "Some of the ugliest bitches in the
world have sexy-as-hell voices."
"Sam Murphy chuckled, sitting in the last row of seats with a bespectacled
Bill Smith. Sam was the oldest of the group with gray hair.
"Maybe we'll get lucky and she'll be a gorgeous nymphomaniac," Bill said,
nudging Sam.
"Is she married?" George asked, glancing at Jerry.
"How in the fuck would I know. She didn't give me her life story, asshole
-- just her address."
"Well, we'll know when we pick her up," Barry said.
"We're just about there," Jerry said, making another turn up a side street.
"Nice neighborhood," Tyler said. He was the only black in the car.
Halfway up the block, Jerry stopped the SUV in front of a one storied brick
with a wide porch.
"What's her name?" George asked.
"Angie McGregors," Jerry said.
Jerry was debating on whether or not to tap his horn, when the front door
swung open and and a young woman with long, dark-red hair stepped out onto the
porch and came down the steps hips swaying from side to side provacatively.
"Oh, yes. Thank you. Jesus," someone muttered in back.
George lowered the window as she approached.
"Angie?" he asked.
"Yes, Jerry?" she asked, looking from George to Jerry.
Jerry smiled and nodded.
Turning to George he said, "Why don't you grab a seat in back and let Angie
ride up front."
George climbed out and held the door open for her, then he opened the rear
door and scrunched in next to Tyler.
As she sat down in the passenger seat and buckled up, her gray skirt rose
up her thighs revealing shapely legs.
"Well, Angie," Jerry said as he pulled back onto the road, "welcome to our
car pool. Let me introduce you to everyone. That ugly guy directly behind me
with curly, brown hair is Barry Mason. He's an assistant mananager at WalMarts;
next to him is Mister T. Tyler Moore. He teaches math at Crockett High where I,
also, teach. You'll have to keep a sharp eye on him he's a real ladies' man.
George Mario, 'Shorty' as we call him, is, also, an assistant manager at
WalMarts. That big guy with the gray hair and the Buddha belly is Sam Wilson.
He manages a Burger King, and from the looks of him, I'd say he eats more than
he sells. Lastly, the tall guy wearing the wire rims, is Bill Acton. He tends
bar at Ernie's. Don't look at him in bright sunlight or that bald head will
blind you."
"Hi, guys," she said, with a slow, sexy smile. "I'm a legal secretary at
Brown, Garret and Morrison." She paused for a moment, then said significantly,
"You know, guys, I think we're going to get along just fine...really fine."
She shifted her hips and the gray skirt rose farther up her thighs.
***
Some sentimental favorite was playing from the stereo speakers over the bar
at Ernie's. Barry held her close as they shuffled despacio around the parquet
dance floor. He could feel the warmth of her firm belly pressed against his
rock-hard cock. Her slightest movement threatened a gut-wrenching climax on his
part. He would feel like a fool if he shot off all over himself, but it felt
too good to stop. He glanced over at the guys --Jerry, George, Tyler, and Sam.
They were all there -- except for Bill, who was behind the bar -- in a large
corner booth watching them, waiting their turns to dance with Angie.
It had been three months now since they had first picked her up in front of
her house. It seemed longer than that. It seemed as if they had known her for
years. She had fitted into their tight, little group instantly and had
shamelessly wrapped each of them around her little finger making them into her
infatuated entourage.
Stopping at Ernie's after work had become a ritual with them. And of late,
they had begun spending their Saturdays there, too, making up all kinds of
excuses to the wives, abandoning their responsibilties as husbands and fathers
to be with the only woman who really turned them on.
There was something about her. It wasn't just that she was goodlooking --
and she definitely was that. There was something else indefinable about her,
something in her manner, something charismatic in her nature that drew them to
her as if they were iron filings and she was a magnet. There was, undeniably, a
powerful sexual element at the root of it all. And it was overpowering,
blocking all sense and reason.
If the others were like himself, and Barry had no doubt on that score,
there was nothing they wouldn't have done for her to remain within her presence.
When her turn with Barry was over she danced with the others, one by one,
hips swaying provocatively as the evening wore into the edge of night. Beer and
whiskey were consummed in vast quantities and at some point the conversation
somehow got onto fantasies.
"Why don't you tell us what your secret fantasy is, Angie," Barry said,
with a sheepish smile, twiddling a swizzle-stick in his rum cocktail. His face
was flushed red, and his eyes were slightly bloodshot.
"Yeah," some of the others added, offering encouragement.
"Well, I don't know," she replied, her voice soft and sultry like one of
those foxy, late night DJ. "My fantasies might shock you 'staid' gentlemen."
"Hmm, that sounds promising," Sam said raising his eyebrow lecherously.
"Come on, Angie. For real. No bullshit," Tyler said.
"But if I tell you all then you must promise not to tell anyone else." She
gave them a shy little, girl look.
"We won't, we won't. I swear to God," George exclaimed, fidgeting like a
schoolboy about to pee in his pants if he isn't excused.
The others nodded and chorused their agreement.
She looked around at them for a moment, as if deciding, while stirring her
drink with her finger. She lifted the wet tip to her lips and slowly licked it.
"OK, but I warn you," she sighed, "you're going to be shocked."
She let her gaze move slowly from face to face.
"I want to be raped," she said.
There was a sudden silence and motionlessness around the table.
Barry cleared his throat.
"You're kidding, right?'
"No, I'm not; I'm serious." She stared at them openly.
"You mean you want. . .you want to be. . ." Sam hesitated.
"Yes."
Whew," Sam replied, glancing around.
"Well, yeah," Tyler said, "you mean like a fantasy, right?" You wouldn't
really want to be raped, would you?"
She smiled faintly and ran the tip of her finger around the rim of her
glass.
"No, not as a fantasy, but as the real thing."
There was only the sound of a plaintive voice softly singing and the clink
of glasses as Bill cleared off the bar and began rubbing up wet spots with a
rag. The group seated at the round, corner booth with the pretty redhead seemed
suspended in time. No one observing them could have quessed at the depths of
their conversation or what the future would soon hold for all of them.
***
She sat at her vanity staring at her reflection in the mirror. Are you
sure you know what you're doing, she was thinking. This may not work out as
you've planned. You may not get what you bargained for. The whole thing could
blow up in your sweet, little face. Is the payoff going to be worth the risk?
She mulled the question over in her mind, and, feeling a shiver of anticipation
and excitement, her answer came back to her.
"Yes," she murmured softly, touching her fingers to her nipples and
squeezing them until overwhelming tinglingly sensations caused her to gasp.
***
"In a rape fantasy no one gets hurt," Barry was saying to the group seated
about in Angie's living room, "but in real life it's a different matter.
Someone could."
"It wouldn't be rape otherwise, Barry," she sighed. "I don't mind if you
all hurt me. In fact, I want you to hurt me. That will make it real and not
just some lame fantasy."
"Jesus, this is all a little bit weird for me, folks," Sam said, rubbing
the palm of his hand across his chin.
"What's the matter, Sam, don't you want me?" she taunted sexily.
"Hell, you know better than that; it's just that--"
"Listen," she cut in, "this is what I want. I want to be raped, and I want
it to be like the real thing. No, that's not quite right. I don't want it to
be like; I want it to be the real thing. Otherwise there's no point. Look,
let's go over it one more time."
"Next Saturday I'll be at the mall. You all will be in a closed van parked
next to my car waiting for me. When I come out to get in my car you'll grab me,
toss me in the van and take me to the cabin you'll rent. But I warn you; I'll
fight you ever step of the way. If you have to slap me or hit me to keep me
quiet, then you'd better do it; because I will try to get away from you just
like a real rape victim would. And if you get caught by the police, I'll swear
you were trying to rape me. That's a warning just so you won't get to thinking
this is a game. Because it isn't; and that's how I want you to approach it."
"Damn are you sure about this?" Sam asked, shaking his head.
"You bet. And when you get me in the van I want you to tie me up tight and
gag me. I like that. And don't be gentle, for Christ's sake. And remember,
from the moment you grab me, I'll resist you. I don't want you to call me
anything but bitch, whore or cunt. I want it to be impersonal. I want to be
some anonymous fuck you drag in off the street, so to speak. I want to be
degraded. Treated like shit. And when it's all over, I want you to dump me
naked on the side of the back road I've told you about."
"But then what?" George asked. "How will you get home?"
"Don't worry about it, Shorty; I've got it all planned out. If you all do
as you're told everything will work out perfectly."
She looked around at their faces. Sam looked doubtful, as did Barry, but
the others seemed eager and willing. She was especially intriqued by Bill
Acton. The cold, blue eyes behind the wire-rimmed glasses and his impassive
manner seemed to hint at just the latent qualities she was looking for. She
could imagine him as a Nazi doctor performing obscene operation on bound
patients screaming for mercy while he remain unmoved. A sadist aroused only
when inflicting pain. The thought made her heart beat faster. She could almost
feel his hands on her breasts twisting her nipples cruelly. If there was anyone
she could count on to deliver the punishment she wanted, she was certain it
would be Bill. The screams and frantic struggles of a naked woman would never
give him pause. He was perfect.
***
"Do you see her yet?" Barry asked, seat on the ribbed-steel floor of the
delivery van. Seated cross-legged next to him was Tyler and to his right,
George. Opposite them, backs against the sliding door, sat Bill and Sam.
Jerry, seated behind the steering wheel, stared at the main entrance of the
mall. He shook his head, then after a moment said, "This is crazy. What is she
thinking. Weekends are the busiest days of the week. There are all kinds of
people coming and going. We'll never pull this off."
"I say we forget about it," George said, biting nervously at his lower lip.
"Yeah, and then she'll be pissed, and we'll never see her again," Tyler
said. "Man, I want that pussy; I don't know about you guys, but that's some
fine pussy; and, just think about it for a moment, we can do anything we want to
her. It's every man's fantasy. It's a once in a life time opportunity. You'll
never get another chance like this."
"Yeah, but if we get caught, remember what she said about yelling rape.
We'd do some heavy time."
"We won't," Bill said calmly. His cold eyes went from face to face. We'll
do just as she said. Forget the fantasy shit. We're gonna rape her for real.
No fucking fantasy. And that's how we've got to think of it. This is a real
rape. So let's get with the program."
He waited staring at each of them in turn until they nodded.
"OK. When she comes to get in her car, Sam and I will grab her and drag
her into the van. As soon as the door's shut Jerry will drive slowly out of
here. We'll hold her down while Tyler and Barry handcuff her; that'll be
quicker than trying to tie her up, cause she'll be struggling. And if you have
to, hit the bitch --and that's how we've got to think of her as from now on:
the bitch. George you'll hold your hand over her mouth."
He glanced around at them once more, the light glaring off his glasses
giving him an alien look.
"Is everyone set?"
They nodded, this time with resolution.
"Good," Bill said. "It'll work if we all just keep our heads."
"Here she comes guys," Jerry warned.
She was wearing a pale green skirt and a white, sleeveless bouse buttoned
down the front. A white hand bag was strapped over her shoulder. White-framed
sunglasses hid her blue eyes. Her long, reddish-brown hair hung down to just
below her shoulder blades with errant strands occasionally lifting about her
face as a gentle breeze caressed her.
She clicked across the pavement of the parking lot in white, spiked heels
drawing backward glances from the occasional male passer-by.
Bill slid the side door open several inches while Jerry watched in the
passenger-side mirror waiting to give the word when she entered the space
between their van and her car. His palms were sweaty, gripped around the
steering wheel. He glanced around. There was a fat bitch in the next lane
loading shit into the trunk of her Toyota. If she turned around she would see
everything. A young couple were getting out of their car farther up the lane.
They were still far enough away so that they couldn't see anything, but that
would quickly change as they began strolling toward the main entrance. He
looked in both side mirrors. There was no one in sight behind, but his vision
was sorely limited. There could be dozens of people coming and going out of
view.
This whole thing was crazy, he thought, feeling a surge of panic. His grip
tightened on the steering wheel. A wild impulse to back the van out and leave
was overwhelming him.
Then, almost as if it was another person's voice, he heard himself call
out excitedly, "She's here! Go! Go!"
She had her back to them, fumbling with her car keys, when she heard the
sliding door of the van open. She turned slightly, looking over her shoulder,
and saw the two of them lunge out at her. She screamed wildly. The fat woman
loading her trunk turned around. The young couple stopped dead in their tracks
and stared open-mouthed.
Bill's fist caught her in the stomach, doubling her over, cutting off the
scream. Sam grabbed her in a bear hug while Bill grabbed her flailing legs.
Awkwardly, they jostled her toward the van and tossed her in like a sack of
grain as she began to scream again. George attempted to clamp his hand over her
mouth to shut her up, but she bit it drawing blood. Without thinking he slugged
her hard against the jaw causing her head to flop sideways, a thin trickle of
blood oozed from the corner of her mouth.
As Bill slammed the side door shut, Jerry, resisting an impulse to gun the
engine and squeal rubber, back slowly out of the parking space and began driving
down the lane toward an exit.
The fat woman and the young couple stood like statues watching as the van
drove off, unable to believe the reality of what they had seen.
Other people watched, too, and one or two scribbled down the license number
of the van before they forgot it. One person almost got it correctly.
"She was wearing a pale-blue skirt, officer...She was tallish...About
medium height I'd say...She was blonde...Brown hair, definitely...Hair was
long...Hair was medium length...Hair was short...In a bun...She was wearing a
yellow blouse...She was carrying a tan purse..She had on a pale-green
blouse...Black sunglasses...It was a tan van...It was a gray van...I think it
was light brown...Two white guys grabbed her...One was Mexican looking...Two
niggers grabbed her...They drove off like a bat out of hell, couldn't get the
plate...Damnest thing I ever saw...That poor woman. What will happen to her?"
While she was still semi-conscious from his blow, George shoved the ball
gag in her mouth and cinched the strap securely. Barry and Tyler cuffed her
wrists to her ankles. Then collapsed with their back against the sides of the
van, heaving a sigh of relief and leaving the 'bitch' lying on her side, her
heels drawn up to her buttocks.
Jerry looked in the rearview mirrors expecting any moment to hear a siren
and see flashing lights. But there was nothing. All about, as he drove the van
toward the city limits, traffic came and went as one would expect, people walked
about doing whatever it is that people do in their daily routines. The sky was
still blue with white, fluffy clouds. The world seemed to be going on as
normally as always. The abduction of one woman, more or less, hadn't seemed to
have upset the universal scheme of things in the least.
But it wasn't until they were on the narrow dirt road to the cabin that
Jerry loosened up and relaxed his grip on the wheel somewhat. He glanced back
at their victim, their bitch, their Angie. She lay on her side, her skirt high
up her thighs.
Soon, he thought, they would all have their turn between them. Poking
their stiff cocks in her belly. What must she be thinking, he wondered? She
had to be crazy. No normal woman would want something like this. How could
such a beautiful, intelligent woman be so fucking crazy? Don't look a gift
horse in the mouth, he told himself. If she wasn't crazy, we wouldn't be about
to fuck her.
The cabin was secluded among tall pines. They carried her inside, while
Jerry changed the license plate, and lay her on an uncovered double bed in one
of the bedrooms.
She lay on her back, her legs doubled, knees aimed at the ceiling. Her
hands had turned red from the tight cuffs. She was fully alert now, and her
eyes were wide with what looked like fear.
Perhaps she was thinking she had made a bad mistake. Tough.
Her skirt was up around her waist. They could see her narrow, white,
panties. She tried to keep her legs together, but having her wrists cuffed to
her ankles made it less of a strain to just let them fall apart.
The side of her face ached where George had hit her. She could see that a
couple of them had their cocks out and were masturbating slowly. It was
actually going to happen. They were going to rape her. She was terrified, but
there was something else. . .a faint stirring. There was no telling what they
might do to her. A light sensation eased along the inside of her thighs as if
invisible feathers were stroking the delicate flesh there.
"Let's strip her," Bill said.
Her teeth sank deeper into the ball gag as Bill pulled out a straight razor
and flicked it open. Her eyes widened, fixed on the gleaming, surgical blade.
She made a gurgling protest deep in her throat and tried to roll away from him
as he grabbed the hem of her skirt. But it was futile. Other hands held her in
place while the keen edge of the blade made a faint ripping sound. She could
feel her skirt parting from her hips, then her waist. He jerked at it, forcing
her buttocks roughly up off the bare matress, pulling it from her and casting it
on the floor.
She cringed as he fingered her clit through her lace panties. He prodded
her roughly, then after a moment, began stroking her softly.
"You like that, don't you? You're gonna like it more when we get you
nekked."
She glanced at Shorty jim jamming his cock. His face was flushed with
excitement, his eyes glowing with anticipation.
The Tyler had already taken off his clothes and stood at the foot of the
bed slowly stroking a massive black cock, wincing as he squeezed the sensitive,
bulbous head dripping with precum. She watched in awe as the muscles of his
chest and belly bunched into hard, quivering mounds with each stroke. Like a
stud horse ready to cover a mare. Soon she would be forced to take all of him.
The rest of them held her down. There was no escape. They had planned it
well.
Bill jerked her blouse open, then pushed her bra up until her tits were
exposed.
"Man, hurry up," Tyler said. "I can't hold it much longer."
"Patience," Bill replied. "We don't want to rush it."
He rolled a pink nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
"The bitch wants a fuckin' and that's what she's going to get."
He pinched the nipple hard causing her to writhe in pain and make a whiny
sound buried in her throat. Her back arched up off the bed, thrusting her tits
upward toward Sam's face who was holding her shoulders down.
Bill let go of her tit and lowered his hand to her panties. He pulled the
fabric away from her crotch and sliced through it.
Then pushed the lacey fabric up on her belly, exposing her cunt.
"Quess what, guys, she shaves it."
"Wasn't that nice and thoughtful of her," Sam said. "Now we can eat her
out without getting hairs in our mouths."
Bill ran his fingers along the hairless lips, poking at the clit, which
began to swell under his machinations.
"I think she's beginning to get turned on," he said.
Sam leaned over and uttered harshly in her ear.
"Naw. I don't think so. You like it rough doncha, young darling? And
that's how you're gonna get it from ole Sammy when it comes his turn."
He leaned over and bit into her breast, leaving the imprint of his teeth.
"OK," Bill said, standing up. "Who gets to fuck her first?"
"Me," George exclaimed, shifting nervously from one leg to the other, back
and forth. His cock was rigid, the head swollen to a reddish-purple. "If I
don't get in her now I'll be cuming all over myself. Please."
"Let'im go," Tyler said, "He'll shoot off before he even gets in her. You
white boys got no staying power."
There were chuckles at that.
"Shit on that. We'll see who has stayin' power," Barry replied, grinning.
Barry and Jerry released her legs and moved back as George hustled himself
onto the bed. She tried to close her legs, but Bill placed the edge of the
razor against her throat in warning.
George positioned himself between her thighs and, holding his cock in his
hand, pushed the reddened head against her cunt hole. With a quick thrust of
his hips, he buried the stout staff in her. Sam held her ear lobe between his
teeth, biting into the tender flesh while Bill circled the straight razor
playfully around each nipple, then made light, crisscrossing cuts on each
breast, enjoying the sound of her smothered cries. Her writhing body only
served to bring George closer to a climax.
Blood trickled down the sides of her breasts to the mattress.
George's plump body moved up and down on her in an ever quickening motion.
He couldn't hold back. He had to cum. He could feel wild, crazy sensations
building in his gut. Then, as if someone had punched his pause button, he
tensed, froze in motion as if he had become a statue, then with a cry and a
flurry of rapid thrusts, he began cuming in her.
When it was over, and he pulled from her, her resistance finally ceased.
Her rigid body sank back against the mattress in defeat. The first rape had
been accomplished. His cum was wet inside her. His sperm swimming in her
belly, maybe impregnating her.
Soon they would all fill her with their cum, and there was nothing she
could have done to stop them.
It was clear the black man would be next. He asked the others to leave the
room. He wanted to be alone with her.
"OK, you fucking ofay bitch," he hissed, after the others were gone, "now
you're gonna know what it's like to have a nigger cock up your tight ass. But
first I'm gonna get you out of the rest of your clothes. I like my women butt
naked when I fuck'em."
With the straight razor he cut away the panties, bra and blouse and
discarded them. He stood staring down: at her shapely body, now completely
naked; at the full, firm tits with their pink nipples and smooth areolae; at the
firm, slightly rounded belly with its deep navel; at the shaved, tight lips of
her labia.
His cock quivered and swelled into an erection.
He turned her on her slut belly and got on the bed between her legs. He
stared down for a moment at the tight pucker of her pink asshole while working
his hand slowly back and forth around his cock, then he loosened a thread of
spit from his mouth onto it. It would make the fucking easier, for him, if she
were greased a little.
"You fuckin', little whore," he whispered in her ear, roughly pushing the
head of his cock into her.
His cheek touched her's. He could feel the woman-softness of it and smell
a tantilizing trace of talcum powder. He nuzzled the tender nape of her neck
like a dog, running his wet tongue up and down her, feeling the firmness of her
buttocks give beneath the press of his lean, muscular belly. Slowly his massive
organ disappeared into her asshole. He could feel her body tense with pain and
hear her murmured protests, garbled by the tight fitting gag.
He tried to prolong the fuck, but the excitement of fucking his first white
woman was too much for him. There was an intense, tingling pressure in his cock
that could not be denied and, try as he might, he could not restrain himself.
Soon he was ramming his cock into her so fast and hard that the impacts of his
belly on her ass sounded like someone being violently spanked.
His balls were scrunched so tightly against the base of his cock that it
was painful. When he began shooting off it felt like liquid fire were racing
through his drainage pipe. When it was over, he lay gasping on top of her,
sweat dripping off his body onto her. Moments later he pulled out, her asshole
so tight around his cock that her hips raised up off the mattress, until he was
out of her.
Jerry, Sam and Barry all decided that they would finish her with a
three-on-one fuck. So Bill was next up.
She lay face down on the bed, staring unblinkingly at him as he stripped
out of his clothes. When he was naked, he sat down on the edge of the bed and
placed the palm of his hand on her buttock.
She stared at his turgid cock. The foreskin slowly moved back over the
glistening head as it swelled harder in stiff, quick jerks. She looked up at
his face, but she could see nothing human or merciful behind the cold glint of
his wire rimmed glasses. She shuddered feeling the wetness of cum move inside
her. His palm was warm on her ass. His fingers kneeded the flesh methodically.
Lightly he stroked his fingers up the small of her back, massaging the
shoulder blades. He parted the reddish hair and unbuckled the strap of the gag.
He took the moist ball from her mouth and placed it on the nightstand next to
the bed.
"Please don't hurt me," she whispered hoarsely. "I'll do anything you
want."
"I know you will," Bill replied. "Sure you wouldn't like to be hurt some?"
"No, please, no."
She shook her head slowly.
"I'll do anything you want. Anything," she added, significantly.
Bill dropped to the floor on his knees and pulled her by the hair to the
edge of the mattress so that her mouth was positioned in front of his swollen
erection.
Hefting the heavy slab of meat in his hand, he placed the glistening head
against her soft, bruised lips and shoved it in. The smooth edges of her teeth
raked lightly over the surface as he pushed deeper into her. She gagged. Her
shoulders hunched forward and her stomach sunk in as her body convulsed. Her
throat tightened around the head of his cock and murmuring protests vibrated
against the sensitive nerve endings causing tremors to race through his body.
He shook like a dog shedding water and rammed his cock deeper into her wet
throat. Her reddish-purple hands strained--opening and shutting--against the
stainless-steel cuffs fixed tightly around her wrists. Her asscheeks drew
together, then parted as she tried to squirm back, but he held her face pressed
to his sweaty belly, clenching her hair in his fists.
Spit flowed from the corners of her mouth and trickled warmly onto his taut
balls. His cock made suctioning sounds as he worked it back and forth.
Occasionally he would lean forward and give her rounded ass a whack or two with
the flat of his hand. Flesh against flesh resounded in the small room. He
worked his middle finger into her asshole and cruelly twisted it around, digging
the nail deeply into her soft places, causing smothered grunts of anguish to
escape from her.
But, she knew, nothing short of a hot gush of cum from him would end her
anguish, so she began to suck vigorous at the staff of thick meat shoved between
her lips. And soon she felt his body tense, then quiver as a warm gusher of
spewing cum shot into her throat, down into her belly.
He stayed in her when it was over. She could feel the hardness of his cock
soften into the contours of her throat. He leaned over until his head rested on
her back. His hands squeezed her asscheeks then released them, over and over,
as his breathing slowed and returned to normal.
He stood up, finally, got dressed and left the room. There were still
three more to go, she thought, watching a strand of cum slowly stretch from her
lips to the floor.
She managed after awhile to turn over onto her back. She stared blankly at
the ceiling. She could feel their cum move in her, drip from her. Through the
door she could occasionally heard the sounds of their voices, laughter. She
smelled cigar smoke and the odor of beer.
After what seemed like hours, Jerry came into the room carrying her purse
which he emptied onto the nightstand. Then he stood over her for a long moment
letting his eyes take in her nudity, his face as eager looking, she thought, as
a schoolboy's who was about to get his first lay. She could see the bulge in
his pants and knew he was ready to fuck her.
He took a set of shiny keys from his pants pocket and removed her cuffs.
"Take a bath and make yourself presentable," he said, nodding toward the
nightstand. "We'll be back in a little while."
When he was gone, she carefully stretched her arms and legs out, easing the
soreness by massaging her bruised wrists and ankles, which burned painfully as
blood began to circulate again.
After perhaps ten minutes, she was able to stand up and wobble about.
There was a window, and she could see a forest of pine trees beyond. She opened
it slightly. She could easily push out the screen and escape into the
sheltering pines. But in her weakened condition she wouldn't get far. They
would quickly overtake her. And even if she could get away, she would be naked.
She might wonder around in the forest forever or get eaten alive by some wild
animal. They had planned on every eventuality.
And even if she made it to a highway, there was no guarantee that someone
would stop and help her, a naked woman. She recalled a news story she had once
read about a woman who had been abducted and raped. Later the woman had escaped
from her captures and flagged down a passing car. It turned out the car was
full of drunk men who took her into a nearby field and each took turns beating
and raping her.
The woman finally wound up in a mental hospital, forever doomed, the article
said, to reliving the rapes over and over again, locked within her mind, without
relief.
Carefully, she lowered the window with trembling fingers as a hot, surge of
excitement shivered her body. She walked slowly to the bathroom, like a
condemned prisoner to the gallows, aroused by the utter futility of trying to
escape from her captors, her firm breasts quivering slightly.
The hard, hot spray of water felt good as it needled her naked body,
especially her breasts. She soaped herself all over, standing back, until her
whole body was covered in a froth, from head to toe.
Blinded by the soapy scum over her eyes, she wasn't aware that someone had
slipped into the shower stall behind her until she felt a hairy Buddha belly
press against her back and felt thick, hairy arms encircle her waist.
Rough palms cupped her soapy breasts and squeezed them. Fingers tweaked
her nipples painfully. She could feel a thick, hard cock sliding up the crack
of her ass, the head nestled against the small of her back.
Before she could react, the hands released her and slammed her up against
the tiled wall of the shower. She felt her wrists being held behind her back
by one hand while the other hand pulled her head back by her wet hair, then she
felt lips pressed against the tender skin of her neck just below the ear. She
could smell beer and stale cigar. The lips sucked at her flesh harshly raising
hickies. She felt a stinging slap on her behind; the pain augmented by the
soapiness of her flesh.
The hard cock poked at the soft recess between her thighs. A hand
continued to yank her hair, forcing her head back until her face was toward the
ceiling. Automatically, her back arched which caused her ass to jut out, and as
it did so, she felt his soapy cock slide easily into her cunt. Within a split
second he was fully and painfully lodged inside her.
He forced her down onto her hands and knees and began fucking her doggie
style. The showered sprayed over their naked bodies, their grunts and moans
competing with the sounds of wet, slapping flesh.
He dumped his load in her, then forced her to suck him hard again, and then
filled her wet, warm mouth with another load.
He left her sitting on the floor of the shower, her knees drawn up to her
forehead, her arms wrapped around her shins.
With her pocket mirror, she put on her makeup, as she had been instructed
to: a pale green eyeshadow, eyeliner, lipstick and blush.
She looked like a whore, but, then, that's what they wanted, wasn't it?
She rouged her nipples, then patted herself down with perfume. A lamb to
the slaughter, she thought, feeling a tingling arousal. She left her hair wet
and slicked back. Sexy.
The last two to fuck her, Jerry and Barry, had her get down on her hands
and knees. Barry fucked her from behind, alternating between her cunt and her
asshole while Jerry filled her mouth with cum. When Barry came, they traded
positions, each filling her orifices with another load.
They left her lying naked on the floor.
It was night when they led her naked back out to the van. The stars were
bright and huge against the clear, purple sky. A full, looming, orange moon
gave her shapely body a silvery cast. Each man took another turn fucking her on
the ribbed steel floor of the van, and none too gently.
The sounds of naked flesh against naked flesh filled the interior of the
van as they headed for the prearranged dumping site. There were kiss-smothered
cries of pain as nipples were tweaked cruelly or a firm buttock whacked; hair
yanked fiercely or fists punched into soft belly.
Jerry turned off the highway onto a dirt road. When he came to a dead end
next to a mountain of discarded tires and trash, he turned the van around and
pulled over to the side of the road.
Someone slid open the side door. She felt their rough hands on her naked
body, grabbing her arms and legs, then she was rolling down a dirt embankment
where she came to rest, with a thud, on a pile of crumpled newspapers, crushed
cans and a dust-covered clump of Queen Anne's lace.
When she got to her hands and knees the tail lights of the van were
disappearing around a curve. Her hand touched something soft and slug like.
She picked it up by its ringed end and held it up to the moonlight. It took a
moment for her to realize it was a used rubber still full of cum. The remnant
of some back-seat lovers. She dropped it in disgust and staggered to her feet.
When she got her balance, she climbed the embankment.
The road disappeared into darkness. There were tall trees hemming in the
star-filled horizon all around her. She was naked and miles from anywhere.
Suddenly there was the sound of a car engine revving up and headlights shot
out from behind the mountain of used tires. A car sped out, its headlights
fixing her in their glare.
She froze as a hooded figure got out and approached her. As the figure
came in front of the car, she could see a long, shiny knife blade.
Before she had the presence of mind to react, the blade slice through her
left breast. She turned to run, but a gloved hand grabbed her by the hair, and
she felt the blade sink into her buttock, then it was pulled out and stabbed in
again. She felt herself being spun around. The blade disappeared into her
belly, then came out and went back in, several times. She felt her blood
flowing from her wounds, down her thighs, dripping onto the ground. Her head
was pulled back and the razor sharp edge of the knife sliced open her neck.
Blood fountained up into her eyes blinding her. The moon became a blur. Blood
filled her throat and gushed out of her mouth and nose. Just before she died
she felt the flat steel entered her cunt until it was buried to the hilt.
As she sank into that final dark void, she heard the hooded figure speak.
"Goodbye, slut."
***
Detective Anderson was a big guy who liked his cigarettes and coffee. He
was into his third cup and lighting up his fourth smoke, from the butt of the
previous one, an unfiltered Chesterfield.
"Nasty habit," he said, shaking his head. "Tried to quit a thousand times.
Patches, gum. Nothing works."
Angie smiled and crossed her legs slowly letting the hem of her short skirt
ride up her thigh.
"Well, let's see, where was I? Oh, yeah. So your sister Laura came down
from Philly to visit you?"
"Yes, that's right, Detective Anderson."
"Please, just call me Fred," Anderson said, giving her his best friendly
smile.
He cleared his throat. "Now, uh, you know, these men are claiming you set
this whole thing up." Anderson coughed uncomfortably. He didn't like having to
say what he was going to say, but he had no choice. It was his job. But it was
a damn shame to have to put her through all this after losing her only sister in
such a horrible way.
"They're saying you told them that you wanted them to....uh, rape you...."
He paused and gave her a weak smile to let her know he was on her side and was
only doing his duty.
"Yes, that's what my lawyer told me, also," Angie replied, she managed to
let a trace of grief shake her voice. She looked down at her hands, twisting
together in her lap and shook her head as if it were all too monstrous to
comprehend. "But surely no one believes that, do they?" she asked, her eyes
glistening with the beginning of a tear.
"Not hardly, mam," Anderson responded nobly.
She gave him a big, grateful smile.
"As I told my lawyer," Angie said, with a trace of hurt in her voice, "I
joined their car pool to save on expenses, and at first everything was great,
but after awhile they started making lewd suggestions that, in time, became
rather disgusting. I mean, just because a woman is single doesn't mean she
wants to have sex with every man she meets."
Anderson nodded sympathetically.
"I finally dropped out of the car pool and told them I didn't want to have
anything more to do with them. I guess they couldn't take no for an answer."
"They must have seen your twin sister at the mall and thought it was you,"
Anderson said.
"Yes," Angie said, letting a tear fall down her lovely cheek.
Anderson picked up a silver-framed photo off the end table next to him.
"It's amazing," he said. It's impossible to tell you two apart."
"Yes," Angie said. "We were identical twins."
"Well, not to worry," Anderson said. "Those sadistic scum bags won't be
murdering anyone else where they'll be going, and they've already been informed
that if they continue to stick to that absurd story about you planning the whole
thing, they'll fry in the electric chair. I know it won't bring your sister
back, but at least they'll pay for what they did."
"Thank you, Fred; you've been so kind and understanding. I don't know how
I can ever repay you."
"You think nothing of it, mam," Anderson said, rising to shake her delicate
hand one last time. "That's what we're here for."
After he was gone, Angie strolled back to the quest bedroom. She sat down
on the double bed next to the handsome man who was asleep there. The man who
had been Laura's husband.
She tousled his curly, dark hair with the tips of her fingers awaking him.
He gazed up at her lovely face with a lost, haunted look. His eyes teared over.
"It's like having Laura back seeing you here before me. You looked so much
alike." His voice was a choked whisper.
"Shuzz," she cooed softly. "Everything's going to be all right. I'm here
for you now."
She ran her fingers lightly over his bare, muscular chest. He was naked
underneath the sheet. She unbuttoned her blouse and slowly raised his hand to
her breast.
fini
