Chapter 3 - The Bitch Bus
The big bus with the blacked out windows drove steadily through the night,
moving it's moaning cargo of fresh meat far from their family and friends. There
was actually a small fleet of Bitch Buses to keep the Brethren's whores on the
move. That way, each whorehouse got regular shipments of fresh meat and the
girls could never settle in and make friends. The kidnapped fuckmeat remained
isolated and helpless. The Brethren, part of a worldwide affiliation of biker
gangs, ran a huge chain of whore houses. It was an extremely profitable
franchise. Their hard-humping whores were paid in sperm, disease and abuse while
the bikers scooped the cash.
Madam Beulah looked down the bus at her new bitches. An athletic woman, black
as a coal pit at midnight, Beulah loved turning pretty blond princesses into
scumsucking white trash.
Stripped naked, each of the beauty queens was hanging upside down in the aisle,
her dainty ankles strapped to the luggage rack on either side, spreading her
shapely legs nicely. The row of exposed slits gaped prettily. Nude and sweating,
their slim wrists bound behind them, luscious lips wrapped around large rubber
ball gags, they swayed gently as the bus rolled onwards. Their big bare boobs
bounced in unison with each bump in the road.
Now that they had all awakened from chloroform dreamland, Beulah went to work.
She moved down the aisle, feeling up each bound beauty in turn, lewdly groping
and obscenely squeezing, making sure, with the help of depraved delvings and
perverted pawings, that each one understood that she was a piece of meat. Beulah
took her time with each one, making sure that each snotty little whitebread
princess was flushed and gasping prettily before moving onto the next.
Now that the pretty princesses understood that they were meat, it was time to
open their holes for business. Beulah snapped on the rubber glove. The swaying,
helpless princesses moaned in fear. Beulah inhaled deeply. She loved the smell
of a sweating bitch.
She sprinkled a bit of talcum powder on the glove and rested it on the exposed
crotch of the first panting princess. The lovely blond bombshell squealed
frantically into her gag as Beulah wormed her fingers into her tight little fuck
hole. She shreiked higher and higher as Beulah's hand burrowed in like a rabid
weasel. Beulah buried her fist forearm deep, twisting, groping, pinching
viciously deep inside her shreiking victim.
The others watched, wide-eyed, moaning desperately, panting hard, slick with
sweat, in deep dread.
Beulah withdrew her fist and pulled off the glove. The blond bombshell sobbed
brokenly, mistakenly thinking that the lesson was over. The swaying row of
princesses watched, pretty eyes bulging, as she put on a new glove, really
greased it up, parted the first princess's asscheeks and began insinuating her
fingers anally. The sobbing blond bombshell cranked it up even higher, screaming
long and hard as her anal orifice was opened wide while the others watched,
twisting and struggling frantically.
Beulah had arranged her white-bread princesses so that the prettiest were last.
They were going to get the most work, so they had to be sweated the hardest.
They were given the longest time to anticipate being fist-fucked vaginally and
anally. Sobbing and quaking with fear, they had the most complete mental
melt-down possible as Beulah moved down the aisle, snapping on a fresh glove for
each hole to be fist-raped.
