1697 lines
87 KiB
Plaintext
1697 lines
87 KiB
Plaintext
BLACKOUT
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by PARKER
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PROLOGUE
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This part of town was not what it used to be.
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Not like the old days. Martha Cripmore never tired of
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pointing this out to her husband. Every tuesday night, on the way
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home from the bridge club, he would take Central Avenue through
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town and then turn left on Ginger Street. In the early '70s, when
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Bert and Martha had been just out of high school, this had been a
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nice area. But the recession had hit hard. The mine which had
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employed a good many people from the town had shut down; stores
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had closed; people left town... All that remained along this
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once-popular strip was a bunch of empty lots, a couple of run
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down gas stations and a well-guarded and heavily barred
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convenience store.
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And, of course, the hookers.
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This was the red light district.
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Still, Bert always insisted on taking this route home from
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the bridge club. Every tuesday night without fail. It was
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quicker, he said, and avoided the highway traffic. Martha
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complained of course, but he always took that same route: down
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Central and left on Ginger.
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Every time.
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After a while, Martha came to recognize many of the hookers,
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having seen them regularly. Not that she knew their name or
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anything about them, of course. They merely became familiar to
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her - sort of like a landmark. Or, in this case, a well known
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eye-sore. The girl with the pink miniskirt; the fat black one,
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with the wild hair. She seemed almost to make a game of pointing
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them out.
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"Look Bert," she said on this particular trip. "There's a
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new girl."
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Bert looked over from where he was hunched, white-knuckled,
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over the wheel (Bert was a nervous driver). The girl his wife had
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pointed out was standing directly under a street light. As Martha
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had stated, she looked new. True, she wore the same type of
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cheap, tacky clothing as the other hookers - short skirt slit up
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the side; bright red halter top under a gold, spangled jacket
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with fake-buckskin fringe; plastic high heels - but on her it
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looked out of place. Uncomfortable. She wore the same heavy,
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overdone makeup as the others, but the face underneath looked too
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pretty - too fresh - for it. She was a strikingly beautiful girl,
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with thick, brown hair (teased up with too much mousse), a young
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looking face with large eyes, and a tight young body. Nice tits.
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She couldn't have been more then twenty.
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At the most.
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"Bert!"
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Bert wrenched his attention away from the girl as he
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suddenly realized that he had drifted the car into the opposite
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lane. Luckily, there was no oncoming traffic, and he quickly
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rectified his mistake. By that time, however, they had passed the
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girl. He glanced up at his rear-view mirror just as a car pulled
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up to her and the girl leaned over to talk to the occupant. Then
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he turned off onto Spencer Avenue, and the girl was lost from
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view.
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Martha sniffed. "That street," she concluded, shaking her
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head. "It's not what it used to be."
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Bert, however, wasn't listening, his mind on the girl; he
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couldn't help but wonder how she had become a whore in the first
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place...
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*****
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Sandra Little ('Sandy' to her friends) was not paying
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attention. Living in a big city like LA required a certain amount
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of caution; a certain amount of awareness of what was going on.
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Street smarts. Sandra, however, had grown up in a small town and
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had only recently moved to the city in order to attend
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university. She was just in the middle of her first term of med
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school, and her mind was on other things - books; classes;
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tests - anything other than what it should have been on as she
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crossed the street at night on her way home from a long day at
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school. She did not have much in the way of money, and what
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little there was had gone to cover books and tuition. Hence, she
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had been forced to take up residence in a somewhat unsavoury
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area. Still, there always seemed to be people about, and Sandy
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felt fairly safe there.
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Still...
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"Hey babe," came a rough voice, breaking her out of her
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thoughts, "Wanna have some fun?"
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Startled, she looked up to see two young men leaning up
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against a rusted, battered car parked on the side of the road.
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One was white and the other black. The black man - a tall, short-
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haired kid wearing torn jeans and a tee-shirt - laughed and took
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a long swallow from a bottle. Sandy saw the label: whisky. She
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wrinkled her nose in disgust at the smell. She was not a drinker.
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The other man - the white one - was short and fat, with long
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greasy hair.
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"Excuse me?" Sandy was not sure she had heard right.
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"Wanna have some fun," the white man - it had been him who
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had first spoken - repeated the statement. "Me 'n my buddy just
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happen to have a little time free, and..."
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"No thanks." Sandy dropped her eyes, embarrassed. Her brown
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hair slid down in front of her face, hiding the fact that she was
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blushing. "I don't think so." She turned to continue walking.
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"I don't think so," came a high, mocking voice from behind
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her, mimicking her words and tone. Now frightened, she started to
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speed up her pace, but a pair of hairy arms encircled her from
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behind and pulled her back. Her books went flying from her hand
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as she was jerked backwards. She opened her mouth to scream, but
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instead had the breath knocked out of her as she was slammed
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against the door of the car. Gasping and coughing, Sandy
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struggled weakly as her assailant - it was the white man - jerked
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open the back door and shoved her inside. His companion was
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already in the driver's seat, starting up the engine. The white
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guy followed her inside, slamming the door shut behind him.
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"Go," he cried. The man in the driver's seat threw the car
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into gear and started driving. Sandy kept struggling, flailing
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wildly with her arms, but the man just grabbed a handful of her
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thick, brown hair and jerked her down onto the floor in front of
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him. She opened her mouth to scream, but he slapped her viciously
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across the face. The young medical student stopped struggling,
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frozen in shock as the pain coursed through her body. She had
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never been struck before by anyone, and the shock was almost
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worse than the pain.
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Almost.
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By the time she overcame the shock, it was too late. They
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were out of her neighbourhood and onto the highway, heading
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toward the centre of the city.
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'Tug' Holbrook laughed as his prize struggled ineffectually
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on the car floor between his thick, jean covered legs. It had
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been so easy! Almost too easy. Bitch. He took another long
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swallow from the bottle, enjoying the warm rush that spread
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through his chest.
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"Hey man," Jimmy called back from the front seat. "Save some
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for me."
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Tug laughed nastily. "The booze or the bitch?" he asked.
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"Both."
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The fat man took another drink before answering. "Don't
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worry Jimmy boy," he called out. "There's plenty of both."
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Jimmy fell silent, concentrating on the driving, and Tug
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turned his attention back to the girl as she looked up at him
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from between his legs with wide, frightened eyes. What a babe!
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This couldn't have worked out better if they'd planned it. He
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felt his cock stiffen in his jeans. He reached down, grabbed a
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handful of hair and jerked the girl upwards until her face was
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rubbing against his crotch.
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"Feels good, huh?" he asked roughly.
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The girl began to cry. "N-no... please..."
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Tug just smirked. Stupid bitch! He released her hair and she
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fell back onto the floor. With his now-free hand, he undid his
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pants and slipped them down along with his underwear. His thick,
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greasy cock hung free, long and hard against the hair-covered
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rolls of fat on his stomach. The girl just cringed. "C'mon," he
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ordered. "Give it a kiss." The girl shook her head, tears running
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down her face.
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Tug grunted at her refusal. The bitch was particular. Better
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loosen her up a little first. He reached down and jerked her up
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so that she was sitting on his lap with her back to him. She
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squirmed as his exposed cock rubbed up against her slacks, but
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could not get free. Tug was too strong. He encircled her with one
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thick arm, grabbed at one of her breasts through her blouse and
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squeezed. Hard. Writhing to break free, she moaned with pain and
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humiliation. (Tug loved that sound!) With his other hand, he
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brought the bottle around and pushed it up against her open
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mouth.
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"Swallow," he ordered. She shook her head, holding her lips
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tightly closed, but he ground his fingers tightly on her nipple
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and held it. She twisted and gurgled with the pain, but he kept
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twisting her nipple until she finally gave in and opened her
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mouth. Immediately, he released the nipple and brought the bottle
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up to her lips. This time, she accepted it, taking a long swallow
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of the alcohol as he tipped the bottle. She started gasping and
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coughing as the burning liquid flowed down her throat, but she
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opened her mouth to accept more when he brought the bottle up
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again - his hand was still on her breast; still teasing her
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nipple.
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This continued for a good fifteen minutes, until she had
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drunk down almost a third of the bottle. Not a drinker, Sandy was
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already feeling the effects of the alcohol when her assailant put
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aside the bottle in order to have both hands free. She tried to
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struggle when he started to rip open her blouse, but her body
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seemed to be losing co-ordination, losing strength. She was
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unused to alcohol, but not totally inexperienced: she knew she
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was getting drunk.
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The young medical student squirmed ineffectually as the fat
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man finished ripping open her blouse and then jerked her bra off
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with one twist of his beefy hand. Her breasts, large and firm,
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fell free and lay exposed on her chest.
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"Fuck man," the guy said. "Look at these jugs." He reached
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around and began kneading them.
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The black man driving the car looked back and grinned in
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appreciation. Blushing, Sandy tried to bring her hands up to
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protect herself, but the fat man just slapped them away. She
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squirmed, but was unable to escape as he kneaded her tits,
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squeezing them and rolling them around in his hands. Moaning, she
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gave up and lay back, resting her head against the man's
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shoulder. She was beginning to feel dizzy and confused as the
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alcohol did its work on her. She didn't even protest when he
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undid her slacks, hooked his fingers under the waistband of her
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panties and pushed downward. Within seconds, her pants were down
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around her ankles.
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Tug began to run his sweaty hands roughly up and down his
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victim's near-naked body. The girl was now too drunk to protest
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or struggle effectively; too drunk to do anything other than lay
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back on his lap while he fondled her tits. After a while, he ran
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his hands down to her pussy and began rubbing. Thoroughly drunk,
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the girl giggled the tried to push his hands away.
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"Don' do..." she slurred. "Nod..."
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Tug ignored her, rubbing his chubby fingers first up and
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down the outside of her pussy and then slipping them inside. The
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girl twitched in pain as he did so. She was dry as a bone, but he
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didn't care. His cock was about ready to burst. Shifting her body
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upwards, he spread her long, slender legs with one knee, and
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slowly settled her pussy down onto his rigid cock.
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Finally, it was all lined up. With one shove, he rammed his
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cock into her unready pussy...
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The pain of the sudden rape cut through the fog of alcohol.
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She was being fucked.
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FUCKED!
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Sandy Little, legs spread and pussy impaled on her
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assailant's cock, began to struggle and squirm about on his lap,
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desperate to escape. The man ignored her struggles. He just
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grabbed her by the breasts and began jerking her up and down on
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his lap, fucking his cock in and out of her pussy. There was
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nothing she could do except go along with his movements; even to
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the point of using her legs to support the movements. If not, she
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felt like her breasts would be ripped from her body. So, she soon
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found herself actively fucking back against her rapist, using her
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own strength to push her aching pussy up and down on his cock.
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"That's right babe," he muttered, appreciating her
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assistance.
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He didn't last long. Within minutes, she felt him stiffen
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and then felt the warm surge of sperm as it boiled out of his
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cock and into her pussy. She shuddered with rage and disgust as
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he came inside her, but there was nothing she could do about it.
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When it was over, he shoved her off his lap and she slid
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back down onto the car floor. After taking a long swallow from
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the almost-empty bottle, he once again grabbed her hair and
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jerked her tear-stained face into his crotch and up against his
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glistening cock. Knots of sperm slid down his tool and congealed
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in his crotch hair.
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"Clean up your mess," he told her.
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She shook her head.
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No. She had never done that before.
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He brought his hand around and slapped her - once, twice...
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and then a third time - on the face. Then he leaned back, legs
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spread wide and grinned down at her.
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"Clean it," he smirked, "And we'll let you go."
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The words 'let you go' registered on the half-drunk and
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wholly frightened girl. Let her go!
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Shaking, Sandy leaned forward into his crotch. The alcohol
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made everything blurry, but she could clearly make out every
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vein, every ridge, every contour on his glistening member.
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Hesitantly, almost throwing up, she reached up and grasped the
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base of the cock. It twitched in her grasp, dripping cum onto her
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fingers. Shuddering with revulsion, she opened her mouth and
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began to lick at the now-soft penis, gagging at the taste and
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smell, but doing it nonetheless.
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'Let her go' he had said.
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Jimmy Patterson turned off the highway and took the exit
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ramp into the city. From the seat behind him, he could clearly
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hear the loud slurping sound as the little slut sucked hungrily
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at his friend's cock.
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That was enough.
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Jimmy pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the
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car. He turned just as Tug came again, his hands tightly clenched
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in the bitch's thick, brown hair, holding her mouth over his cock
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as he pumped a load of sperm down her throat. She gurgled and
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moaned, hands thrashing, but couldn't pull away.
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"OK," Jimmy said, sliding out the door. "Let's switch. I
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want some of that."
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Tug nodded in agreement. He'd had enough. He pushed the girl
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away and clambered out of the back seat. Jimmy grinned as the
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white girl, a thin trail of white cum dribbling out over her
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lower lip and onto her chin, looked up at him as he climbed into
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the back seat.
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This was going to be great!
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They did let her go in the end.
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The black guy had forced her to suck his cock for a while,
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and then, after a little more alcohol, she found herself actually
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necking with him in the back seat. That was just about the worst
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thing: lying in each other's arms in the back seat - just like
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girlfriend and boyfriend - lips pressed up against each other's;
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tongues entwined. Eventually, he had leaned back, and she had
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been forced to fuck him, legs straddling his thighs, riding his
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cock up and down until he came. Fortunately, the cum from the
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first rape had provided some lubrication, so it had not been too
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painful.
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By the time he came, the alcohol had pretty much overwhelmed
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her, and she was almost unconscious. Her last recollection before
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passing out was of the black man running his cum covered cock
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into her mouth.
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Sandy was still drunk when she woke up.
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It was dark, and she assumed that it was the same night.
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She found herself in an alleyway. Her blouse, the front
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ripped open, hung over her in tatters, but the bra was nowhere to
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be found. Her slacks and panties were still bunched up around her
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ankles, so she pulled them up. But when she tried to fasten them,
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she found that the front button had come off. In her drunken
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state, this somehow seemed utterly crushing, and she began to
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sob, lying there in the alley among the trashcans.
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After a while, she pulled herself together. At least her
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ordeal was over! The bastards had let her go. Struggling to her
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feet, she staggered down the alley looking for help. The alley
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seemed to go on forever, but she eventually came to what appeared
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to be a club or a bar of some sort. A short set of stairs led
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downward to a door. Behind it, she could hear music and people
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talking.
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People.
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Someone to help her.
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Almost crying with relief, she started to walk swiftly down
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the stairs. It proved too much for her, however, and she stumbled
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drunkenly, and fell up against the door. It burst open and she
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tumbled head over heels into the bar.
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Chowder Harris, the bartender and owner of the nameless
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little drinking establishment, looked up in fear as the door
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crashed inward. His first thought was the police - at any given
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time, there was enough prostitution, fencing and drug dealing
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going on in his place to fill a small jail - but he immediately
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dismissed the thought. He'd slipped money into the right pockets.
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And even the police didn't venture into this part of LA. His
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conclusion was quickly proved right: it was a girl.
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A white girl!
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And a real babe too; brown hair, wide blue eyes. The
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customers in the now-silent bar watched as the girl struggled
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drunkenly to her feet and staggered up against a table. One
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pathetic little hand clutched at the front of her torn blouse,
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attempting to hold it together over her large breasts, while the
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other hand held closed the front of her pants. This girl had run
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into some trouble. Harris's conclusion was the same as everyone
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else's: a hooker who had chosen the wrong customer. Still...
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Harris's instincts kicked in: there was money to be made here!
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Harris threw his cloth down on the bar counter and walked up to
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where the girl stood unsteadily, peering around the bar.
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"Well now," he said, voice gruff and friendly, "you look
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like you've had some trouble." Wordlessly, she nodded, trembling.
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Feigning sympathy, Harris put his arm over her exposed shoulder
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and steered her over to the bar. "Why don't you just sit down
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right here and we'll get you some help." Tears began trickling
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down the girl's face, but she followed without protest.
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Sandy couldn't stop shuddering as the black man led her over
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to a bar stool. She had been frightened at first - all those
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black faces staring at her as she crashed into the bar - but the
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man seemed nice. Friendly.
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He would help her.
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Shaking uncontrollably, the girl sat gingerly on an empty
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bar stool as the bar talk slowly started up again. Harris made
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certain that she was securely perched, and then walked back
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behind the counter.
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"Here you go," he said sympathetically, pouring a shot glass
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of whisky, "this'll make you feel better." He placed the glass in
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front of her.
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Sandy instinctively felt that something was wrong; that she
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shouldn't accept the drink, but she was generally unable to focus
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through the alcoholic haze. She had almost no previous experience
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with being drunk, and was completely incapable of handling
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herself. She felt as if all of her willpower had been sapped
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away, drowned in the warm numbness that suffused her body.
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Slowly, with the exaggerated caution of the truly drunk, the
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picked up the small glass and brought it to her lips.
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"That's it," the man encouraged her. "Just drink it all
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down." Sandy followed his instructions and swallowed it in one
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gulp. She shuddered and coughed as the fiery alcohol coursed
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through her body. Involuntarily, she brought the glass back down
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onto the counter with a large thump.
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"Another?"
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Obligingly, Harris refilled it. She didn't want any more,
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but still she obediently lifted the glass and again downed the
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alcohol. It was actually making her feel a bit better; the pain
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in her crotch and chest seemed to recede as her body became
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increasingly numb. Without realizing it, the tattered remains of
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her blouse slipped free of her left hand and fell open, affording
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Chowder Harris a clear view of her breasts between the torn
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strips of cloth.
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Staring openly at her exposed chest, he again refilled her
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glass. Harris was about to say something when he was suddenly
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pulled aside by a large, angry-looking black woman: his wife.
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"What are you do'n?" she asked, furious to have found her
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husband so friendly with some scrawny, bare-breasted white slut.
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In the middle of the bar! "Are you crazy?"
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"Listen," Harris whispered, glancing over his shoulder at
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the girl as she downed the third shot of whisky. "It's not what
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y'think. She's just some drunken whore who stumbled in. We can
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make some money."
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Somewhat mollified to learn that his interest in the bitch
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was only financial, his wife released his arm. Still, she wasn't
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quite sure about it. "The bitch's probably working," she pointed
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out. Miles will..."
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"You jokin? A white woman around here? For Miles?" Harris
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laughed. "That'd be news around here. I'd've heard 'bout it for
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sure."
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He was right, and his wife grunted in grudging agreement.
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"OK. But just you keep your hands off her." Harris nodded, happy
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that she'd given in. The girl was attractive, but he knew better
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than to get caught fooling around. His wife was a large woman,
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and not shy.
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He turned back to the girl. The additional alcohol was
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already affecting her, and she was swaying perceptibly on the
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stool. Harris couldn't help but stare at her breasts - large and
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firm - as they jiggled appealingly through the torn front of her
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blouse. The girl was no longer even trying to cover them.
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Strange, though; she wasn't really dressed like a whore. Too
|
|
nice. Still...
|
|
This was business.
|
|
"That'll be ten bucks," he announced, walking up to stand
|
|
directly in front of her. She looked over at him in confusion,
|
|
eyes squinting as she tried to focus.
|
|
"Wha?"
|
|
"Ten bucks," he repeated. "For the drinks. You owe me ten
|
|
bucks, girl."
|
|
"Ten...t-ten..."
|
|
Just as he had thought. "Can't pay?" Confused, the girl
|
|
shook her head. Clearly, she didn't understand him, but that
|
|
really wasn't important. He just needed - or wanted - an excuse.
|
|
And now he had one.
|
|
Feigning anger, he walked around from behind the bar and
|
|
marched up to where she sat unsteadily on the bar stool. She
|
|
tried to swivel her head to follow his movements, but in her
|
|
drunken state, she half fell off the stool. He roughly grabbed
|
|
her from her perch as she fell and dragged her to the centre of
|
|
the room, right in front of the broken-down pool table. She
|
|
stumbled along in his grip, barely keeping her footing, her
|
|
mumbled protests ignored.
|
|
"Hey!" he shouted. "Hey... everyone. Listen up!" The quiet
|
|
hum of talk, which had slowly been building up since the girl's
|
|
dramatic entrance into the bar, fell away as all the faces in the
|
|
bar turned towards where Harris stood holding the girl.
|
|
Staring...
|
|
|
|
Drunk as she was, Sandy still blushed furiously at all those
|
|
black faces staring at her. She wanted to cry out - to shout, to
|
|
protest that this was all a mistake and she didn't belong here -
|
|
but her mouth and tongue felt numb. All she could manage was an
|
|
embarrassed gurgle as the bartender jerked her up against the
|
|
pool table and began to speak.
|
|
"This girl here owes me some money," he cried out, smirking.
|
|
"And she can't pay."
|
|
A few men in the crowd laughed.
|
|
"Luckily," the bar owner continued, "she can still earn it."
|
|
"How's that?" came a voice from the crowd, followed by a
|
|
round of malicious laughter. They knew what was going on. The
|
|
only women that came into a place like these were whores. One way
|
|
or the other, they were all whores. Everyone there knew what good
|
|
old Chowder was talking about. And no one had ever seen a white
|
|
girl in this bar before.
|
|
"Well," Harris drawled, enjoying the attention, "just like
|
|
any other whore; on her back." He reached down with his free hand
|
|
and tore away what was left of Sandy's blouse. The young student
|
|
tried to bring her hands up to protect herself, but he slapped
|
|
them away. The crowd stared in silence at her exposed breasts.
|
|
Harris looked around.
|
|
They were ready.
|
|
"Fifty dollars a fuck," he proclaimed. "We'll just set her
|
|
up for business right here." He grabbed her thick brown hair and
|
|
pulled her backwards. Sandy, clumsy in her drunkenness, rolled
|
|
back onto the pool table. While her legs were in the air, Harris
|
|
grabbed her slacks and pulled them down. She started to kick and
|
|
struggle, but it was too late: she was down to her panties. And
|
|
those, too, were quickly ripped off. Within seconds, Sandy found
|
|
herself stripped naked and lying on her back on the pool table.
|
|
She tried to squirm off, but the black man kept his hand in her
|
|
hair, pinning her head to the table.
|
|
Grinning, Harris bent down and whispered to her: "Just be a
|
|
good girl. You've done this before. Try to enjoy it."
|
|
Enjoy it?
|
|
Once again, Sandy's attempts to protest were sabotaged by
|
|
the pervasive numbness in her face and body. She was able to do
|
|
little more than mumble incoherently as the black man pulled his
|
|
face away. She wanted to tell them that she *was* a good girl -
|
|
not a whore. And she didn't belong here.
|
|
She did'nt belong here.
|
|
She was still trying to articulate this thought when the
|
|
first man approached. The large black man wasted little time. He
|
|
just pulled his long, hard cock free from his pants and climbed
|
|
on top of her. She squirmed and struggled as he brought his beer-
|
|
breath mouth down onto her lips and began exploring her mouth
|
|
with his tongue. She wanted to scream, but couldn't, with his
|
|
mouth covering hers. She could only moan with pain and
|
|
humiliation as he started to maul her breasts while kissing her.
|
|
The man misinterpreted her moans. "Feels good," he grunted,
|
|
momentarily pulling his mouth from hers. "Don't it bitch." He
|
|
moved one hand down, positioned his cock, and rammed it into her
|
|
with one powerful jerk of his hips. The lubrication from the
|
|
earlier rapes had gone, and her pussy was dried and unprepared
|
|
for this latest invasion. She grunted with the pain. "Oohhhh..."
|
|
The penis felt like it was burning its way into her pussy. Her
|
|
cry, however, was cut off as the man brought his lips down
|
|
against her mouth and began slobbering on her face and lips. His
|
|
hips began pistoning back and forth. Her hands flailed uselessly
|
|
at her side as he drove his cock in and out of her...
|
|
|
|
Harris grinned as the girl, slender legs spread wide,
|
|
satisfied her first customer on the pool table. She really was a
|
|
beautiful girl; just like those girls wearing bathing suits on
|
|
magazine covers. She was goin' to make him a fortune. The whole
|
|
bar was watching now, and cheering and the white whore bucked and
|
|
whined in lust while the black man fucked her hard. Just what the
|
|
stuckup white bitch needed!
|
|
|
|
Like the two men who had raped her earlier that evening,
|
|
this man didn't last very long. Within minutes, he was shooting
|
|
his load of warm sperm into her now lubricated pussy. Sandy tried
|
|
to kick herself free - anything to get his cock out before he
|
|
dumped his sperm inside her - but it was no use. She was pinned
|
|
beneath him. When he was done, the man pulled away after giving
|
|
her one last kiss.
|
|
|
|
Sandy lay limp on the table, gasping for breath as the man's
|
|
sperm trickled out of her abused pussy and down her ass crack.
|
|
She had just started to turn over - trying to curl up into a
|
|
fetal position - when the second man climbed onto the pool table,
|
|
positioned himself between her still spread legs, and began to
|
|
fuck her. It did not hurt so much this time, as her pussy had
|
|
been well lubricated with the first man's sperm. The man's cock
|
|
slid smoothly in and out of her unprotected pussy. In fact, in
|
|
her drunken numbness, it almost began to feel good.
|
|
Almost.
|
|
As she lay spread on the table being fucked, a thought
|
|
occurred to her: the quicker they came, the quicker they would be
|
|
finished and leave her alone. In her drunken state, this seemed
|
|
to be a good reason to co-operate: to get it over with as soon as
|
|
possible.
|
|
Get it over with as soon as possible.
|
|
|
|
And so, lying naked and dripping on a pool table in a bar
|
|
filled with yelling, cheering black men, Sandra Little, med
|
|
student and beautiful young woman, slipped her long, slender legs
|
|
around behind the man and began to fuck back at him; doing her
|
|
best to make him come as quickly as possible.
|
|
Harris couldn't believe it! Any doubts about the girl's
|
|
occupation were discarded. What a little whore! Not that he was
|
|
complaining. The crowd went wild as the girl threw her naked arms
|
|
around the man's neck and kissed him hard on the mouth, all the
|
|
time bucking and heaving beneath him, clearly doing her best to
|
|
fuck him back.
|
|
|
|
Sandy felt the man begin to stiffen inside of her. Quickly,
|
|
she brought her face up and began to lick the man on the neck.
|
|
Ron, one of her boyfriends from back home, had always loved that.
|
|
Panting, half with lust, she licked and kissed and bit the man on
|
|
the neck as he came inside of her.
|
|
As with the first, he climbed quickly off and was
|
|
immediately replaced by another. 'Get it over with,' she told
|
|
herself, reaching up to welcome her new lover. The man seemed
|
|
interested in her breasts, so she cupped her hands underneath and
|
|
offered them up to him. He bent over and began biting and
|
|
licking...
|
|
|
|
The fifth man turned her over. Obligingly, Sandy climbed up
|
|
on all fours and spread her legs, ignoring the cum as it streamed
|
|
down the inside of her thighs. She wiggled her ass backwards
|
|
until she felt the man's cock up against her sopping pussy and
|
|
then slid back, moaning slightly as she felt it slide inside of
|
|
her. Against her will, she was beginning to feel a slow, steady
|
|
build-up of lust in her pussy. The man began slapping her ass as
|
|
she fucked herself back against his cock.
|
|
Get it over with...
|
|
|
|
She finally came. It was while fucking the seventh or eighth
|
|
guy. By this time, she aware of nothing except the feelings in
|
|
her pussy and breasts, and the out-of-focus face hovering above
|
|
her on the table.
|
|
|
|
She wasn't sure how many men had fucked her - she had lost
|
|
track - when she felt, through the haze of lust and alcohol, the
|
|
cock slap against her lips. She had never given head before -
|
|
never even considered it - but she instinctively opened her mouth
|
|
and sucked it in. She was now being fucked simultaneously by two
|
|
men, one from the front and one from behind. Moaning in
|
|
involuntary lust, she did her best to give them as much pleasure
|
|
as possible; to bring them off as quickly as she could.
|
|
Get it over with...
|
|
|
|
Chowder Harris's pockets were bulging with money. The girl -
|
|
his own little bar whore - had exceeded his greatest
|
|
expectations. She had fucked well over a dozen guys and was still
|
|
going strong, now taking two at once. Even at only fifty bucks a
|
|
shot, he might still clear a thousand bucks! Thoughtfully, he
|
|
studied the scene on the pool table. The bitch was on her back
|
|
again, taking one man in her pussy, but twisting her upper body
|
|
around so she could run her cum-covered lips up and down on
|
|
another man's cock. One hand held her body steady, while the
|
|
other grasped the base of the cock she was working on with her
|
|
mouth.
|
|
Harris worked a thought around in his mind. He'd have to
|
|
speak with his wife about it, but... but maybe he should keep
|
|
her. Keep the girl. No one would miss her. She could clean the
|
|
place during the day and fuck at night. He'd make a fortune...
|
|
A heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder.
|
|
Harris turned. It was Miles. Taylor Miles: the most powerful
|
|
drug dealer and all around crime lord in the neighbourhood. He
|
|
was also, although it was more of a hobby with him than a
|
|
significant money making enterprise, a pimp. And a very
|
|
successful one. He ran all of the girls on the strip down State
|
|
Street and in the surrounding area.
|
|
Including Harris's bar.
|
|
"Hello Chowder." Miles was not a big man, but then he didn't
|
|
need to be. The two gorillas standing behind him took care of
|
|
that. And even they were really unnecessary. Miles' reputation
|
|
preceded him in a very unpleasant manner. "How's tricks?"
|
|
Harris swallowed. This was bad. "F-fine, Mr. Miles," he
|
|
stuttered. Really bad.
|
|
The drug lord nodded at the pool table where the girl was
|
|
sucking back another load of cum from the cock presently jammed
|
|
in her mouth. "Bit of a sideline?" he asked. "I didn't know you
|
|
ran girls."
|
|
W-well..." In panic, Harris began to blurt out the story,
|
|
relating how the girl had suddenly appeared in his bar and then
|
|
'offered' to pay off the bar tab by fucking the customers. It was
|
|
pretty thin, but...
|
|
"Well," the drug dealer smiled (an unpleasant sight), "I'll
|
|
tell you what I'll do." He stopped smiling abruptly. "And what
|
|
you'll do." Harris nodded, willing to agree to anything that
|
|
would not involve serious pain to himself. "I'll leave your bar
|
|
standing. I'll leave you a hundred dollars of the money you've
|
|
made from this whore's ass. I'll leave you in one piece."
|
|
Harris gulped.
|
|
"In return," Miles continued, "You'll give me the girl. And
|
|
not try to muscle in on my business again. Ever. Sound fair?"
|
|
Harris nodded, resignedly pulling the wad of money out of
|
|
his pocket and handing it over. The drug lord peeled off a
|
|
hundred dollars, returned it, and put the rest in his own pocket.
|
|
"T-thank you," Harris said, miserable.
|
|
Taylor gestured to his two goons. "Get the girl."
|
|
|
|
Sandy was almost comatose, fucking from instinct and rote,
|
|
when she felt the cock slide from her abused pussy without
|
|
coming. Dazed, she looked up and saw two huge black men standing
|
|
over her.
|
|
Get it over with...
|
|
Trying to smile, she reached up her hands to welcome them.
|
|
As one, they grabbed her arms and jerked her to her feet. The
|
|
force of their pull caused her head to snap back against the edge
|
|
of the pool table. There was a brief flash of pain and then
|
|
everything went dark...
|
|
|
|
END PART TWO
|
|
|
|
|
|
Taylor Miles had something of a philosophy regarding the
|
|
training of women to be whores. A system. The basic tenet of that
|
|
system was that you had to let them know where they stood. What
|
|
they were. In no uncertain terms. The minute they started
|
|
thinking - or remembering - that they were good for anything
|
|
other than fucking and sucking and lookin' good, they were
|
|
useless. Worse than useless: unprofitable.
|
|
So, Taylor had a system.
|
|
Of course, most of the girls who came his way were already
|
|
pretty much fucked up by the time he got them. Strung out on
|
|
drugs or booze... As a general rule, Taylor didn't much take with
|
|
that; he wanted his girls clean and sober. They lasted longer
|
|
that way, and made him more money. The drugged out whore just
|
|
burned out too fast. Besides, why waste good drugs on a whore?
|
|
Save the good stuff for those who could pay for it.
|
|
Still, it helped at the beginning. Softened them up; sapped
|
|
willpower.
|
|
This new girl was a bit different. Not quite so fucked up.
|
|
That asshole bartender had thought that she was a whore, but
|
|
Taylor knew better. He knew whores. This little white bitch
|
|
hadn't shaken her tight little ass on a street corner before or
|
|
he didn't know merchandise when he saw it. Not that it mattered.
|
|
That was where his philosophy came in; his system. Fuck 'em hard
|
|
and fuck 'em often; let them know what they are: worthless for
|
|
anything other than fucking, sucking and looking good. This new
|
|
girl... she'd take a little longer - a little more effort than
|
|
most of the girls who came his way, but she'd be worth it.
|
|
And she'd come around in the end. They all did.
|
|
Taylor had his philosophy.
|
|
His system.
|
|
Sandy was pretty much sober by the time she next woke up.
|
|
She groaned in pain as her eyes fluttered open. The pounding in
|
|
her head rang a brutal counterpoint to the steady burning in her
|
|
groin and nauseated churn of her stomach.
|
|
"Here now." A voice. A female voice. "Drink this. Make you
|
|
feel better." Parched, Sandy opened her mouth and accepted a
|
|
glass container, drinking deeply...
|
|
She jerked her mouth away and sat up, sputtering violently.
|
|
It was whisky. Her stomach heaved at the smell and taste, but
|
|
there was nothing there to bring up. Trying to ignore the pain,
|
|
she forced herself to open and focus her eyes.
|
|
She was lying on the floor of what appeared to be a dingy
|
|
little apartment. Crouching beside her, holding the bottle, was a
|
|
black woman. The woman would have been attractive but for a hard,
|
|
worn look in her face and eyes which the makeup could not quite
|
|
hide. Sitting on a couch a few feet away sat a black man wearing
|
|
an expensive suit. Behind the couch were two large men, also
|
|
black; bodyguards by the look of it. Sandy crossed her arms in
|
|
front of herself and shivered, suddenly self-conscious. Her
|
|
clothes had disappeared, and she was now naked except for a dirty
|
|
old tee-shirt someone had put on her while she slept. It hung
|
|
loose, a few sizes too large for her, but still barely covered
|
|
the upper part of her thighs.
|
|
"'Bout time." This came from the man on the couch. He was
|
|
obviously the leader. "Can't have my whores sleepin' all night.
|
|
Should be on the street; maken' me cash."
|
|
Sandy struggled through the dull throb of the hangover to
|
|
understand what he was talking about. Whore? There must be some
|
|
mistake...
|
|
"C'mere," the man ordered.
|
|
Sandy started to climb to her feet, but the black woman gave
|
|
her a push just as she was getting up. Still partially
|
|
intoxicated, she fell forward onto her hands and knees in front
|
|
of the couch. Almost in tears, the young medical student looked
|
|
up through a curtain of brown hair at the black man. Grinning, he
|
|
spread his legs.
|
|
"How about a little head," he suggested. "Whore."
|
|
"T-there's been a m-mistake," Sandy stuttered, horrified at
|
|
the suggestion. "I'm not a... a p-prostitute. I'm..."
|
|
She was cut off as the man suddenly leaned forward and
|
|
grasped her face in his hands. "Listen bitch," he hissed. "I
|
|
don't give a fuck what you think or what you were. Last night you
|
|
were spread out on a pool table having the time of your life
|
|
fuckin' some brothers. From now on, you're what I say you are.
|
|
And I say you're a whore."
|
|
"Noo-oo," Sandy wailed, struggling in vain to free her face
|
|
from the man's painful grip. Angry, the man made a gesture. One
|
|
of the thugs from beside the couch came around behind her. She
|
|
heard a woman's laughter coming from behind her, but was unable
|
|
to turn her head to see what was happening. She was still unable
|
|
to do so when she felt something cold and slippery being rubbed
|
|
against the entrance to her anal passage and then inside. It felt
|
|
like some kind of cream or something.
|
|
"Mmmm..." She tried to cry out her objections, but the man
|
|
on the couch had shifted his grip so that his hand now covered
|
|
her mouth. "Mmmm..."
|
|
A few moments later, she felt naked flesh against her upper
|
|
legs. Before she fully realized what was going to happen, she was
|
|
overwhelmed with pain as the man behind her rammed his thick cock
|
|
straight up her partially lubricated asshole with one brutal
|
|
shove. The pain was unbelievable; she felt as though she was
|
|
being split in two.
|
|
"AAaahhhhh...." She let out a long wail as the man on the
|
|
couch removed his hand from her mouth.
|
|
"How d'you like that whore?" he asked, laughing.
|
|
"Nnooooooo.... please... please..." All pride forgotten, she
|
|
begged piteously for release. "Ooohhhh... it hurts," she cried.
|
|
The man behind her shifted slightly, pulled back so that only the
|
|
head of his cock remained inside her anus, and then brutally
|
|
shoved forward again.
|
|
Sandy squealed loudly at the sharp pain of this repeated
|
|
intrusion. The people in the room laughed. "That's good," the man
|
|
on the couch grinned. "That's good. Just like a pig. Do it again
|
|
little pig-slut." Sandy shook her head in abject refusal, still
|
|
panting and groaning with pain. In response to this refusal, the
|
|
man on the couch made a gesture, and the thug repeated his
|
|
actions, pulling slowly back and then ramming his cock up her
|
|
tight asshole. Sandy, sweating with pain, tried to remain silent
|
|
and endure the pain, the humiliation, but it was too much.
|
|
Shuddering, eyes wide with panic at the intrusion, she moaned and
|
|
cried with pain.
|
|
"Squeal," she was told, "and I'll get him to stop moving."
|
|
Anything.
|
|
Anything to stop the movement of the cock in her ass.
|
|
"Squeee... squeee..." She started quietly, but quickly
|
|
picked up volume as the man fucking her asshole slowly pulled
|
|
back out. When he rammed his cock back in, her squeals took on a
|
|
loud, panicked sound. Damp with sweat, she squirms and squealed
|
|
for all she was worth. Everyone laughed as the white girl
|
|
squealed loudly on the floor in front of them. But Sandy didn't
|
|
care. All she knew was that the man raping her asshole had -
|
|
finally - stopped moving, leaving his cock fully sheathed in her
|
|
twitching asshole.
|
|
"Squeee..."
|
|
"That's good," the man on the couch repeated, still
|
|
laughing. "I like that." He looked down at the girl. "Now, do you
|
|
want him to pull out?"
|
|
Panting, Sandy could only nod. Oh yes... "Squeee..."
|
|
"Well," the man smirked. "All you have to do is ask him.
|
|
Just ask him to fuck you in the cunt instead." She had no choice.
|
|
She had to get his cock out of her ass. At any price. Still...
|
|
could she say it? Her deliberations were interrupted as the man
|
|
began moving again, slowly pulling back and then shoving forward.
|
|
"Nnooo..." she screeched. "P-please... f-fuck me in... in my
|
|
c-cunt... not there..." Ignoring her pleas, the man continued to
|
|
ream out her asshole. "Please..." Her begging became more
|
|
frantic. "Fuck me in my cunt. Please..."
|
|
The man on the couch laughed. "Where do you want it little
|
|
pig-slut?"
|
|
"In the cunt!" She was almost yelling now. "In my cunt. Fuck
|
|
me in my cunt."
|
|
The man gestured, and the movement stopped. "One more
|
|
thing," he said, still smirking at the tear-stained face in front
|
|
of him. "From now on, whenever you're getting fucked, you squeal.
|
|
Got it?" Sandy stared up in incomprehension.
|
|
What?
|
|
"Uhm..."
|
|
"All of my girls," the man explained, "are trained to sound
|
|
and act as if they like the sex. Gasping and moaning. Sluts. You
|
|
squeal. That's your name here: 'Squealer'. Got it?"
|
|
Sandy started to protest this latest degradation, but the
|
|
man behind started moving again, so she just nodded her head.
|
|
Anything to get him to stop.
|
|
Immediately, the rapist pulled his cock out of her painfully
|
|
stretched asshole. Sandy sagged with relief as the cock was
|
|
removed. She felt as though someone had pulled a tree from her
|
|
backside. Her relief, however, was short lived. Within seconds,
|
|
the man had re-positioned his cock and then shoved it to the hilt
|
|
inside her pussy. Sandy jerked forward in shock. The pain was
|
|
still there, but nowhere near as bad as when he had been fucking
|
|
her in the ass. Involuntarily, she spread her legs a little
|
|
farther apart in order to relieve a bit of the pain of the
|
|
intrusion as the man began to fuck her from behind.
|
|
"Forgettin' something?"
|
|
Sandy looked up. Oh god...
|
|
"Little pig-slut."
|
|
"Squeee... squeee..."
|
|
The room rang with laughter as the young white girl squealed
|
|
loudly as she was raped from behind. Her squeals sounded in time
|
|
with the man's thrusts as her brutally fucked her cunt. Finally
|
|
he came, pumping his load into her aching, abused pussy. Sandy
|
|
gave one last squeal as he pulled out and then collapsed onto the
|
|
leader's lap, totally exhausted.
|
|
When would this nightmare end?
|
|
Not now, apparently. The other bodyguard went around behind
|
|
her and positioned himself, cock hard and free, ready to ream her
|
|
out. She looked up in terror as she felt the head of his cock
|
|
come to rest on the entrance to her asshole.
|
|
The leader grinned down on her. "Where do you want it
|
|
whore?"
|
|
"I-in my cunt," Sandy whispered, flushing red with
|
|
humiliation, but willing to do or say anything to avoid being
|
|
fucked in the ass again. "F-fuck me in the cunt." He nodded and
|
|
the man behind her immediately shoved his cock into her pussy.
|
|
She didn't forget this time: "Squeee... squeee..."
|
|
|
|
Her training as a whore began almost immediately. The cum
|
|
from the two bodyguards was still cooling on her inner thighs
|
|
when the man - Taylor Miles she soon learned was his name -
|
|
ordered the black woman to get the 'bitch' dressed and teach her
|
|
her new job. The black women dragged her unwilling student into
|
|
another room in the rundown apartment to begin work. The dressing
|
|
involved slipping into a miniskirt a couple sizes too small and
|
|
tucking in the grimy tee-shirt in which she had woken up. The
|
|
girl - Melissa - also insisted that her student wear four-inch
|
|
pumps. No underwear, though. "Won't be needin' it," Melissa
|
|
joked. "Anythin' that gets between you and the cock is a waste of
|
|
time." Frightened, Sandy obediently got dressed. She couldn't,
|
|
however, help asking some questions.
|
|
"Taylor?" Melissa proved quite talkative. "He's the most
|
|
important man around these parts. He runs more girls than
|
|
anyone." Sandy couldn't help but shudder. Melissa seemed to take
|
|
a weird kind of pride in working for the biggest pimp on the
|
|
block.
|
|
"But... doesn't he, like... make you..."
|
|
Melissa shrugged cynically. "Could be worse. There's plenty
|
|
worse out there. Taylor now, he takes care of you. Doesn't let
|
|
you do no drugs or booze or anythin' like that. He like to keep
|
|
you clean and pretty. Makes him more money and you last longer."
|
|
"L-last longer?" Sandy didn't understand.
|
|
"Taylor's got a system. He knows exactly how long a whore
|
|
can work before she start's losin her looks. After that, he don't
|
|
care what you do. He even lets some girls walk."
|
|
Sandy had to ask. "H-how long do... do prostitutes last?"
|
|
"With Taylor? A young girl like you has about ten years in
|
|
her. At least."
|
|
Sandy burst into tears. Ten years! This couldn't be
|
|
happening to her. It just couldn't!
|
|
Melissa just laughed. She'd seen so many girls react like
|
|
this before... of course, most of them were pretty much down and
|
|
out when Taylor got them; most didn't have as much to lose as
|
|
this white bitch, obviously well educated and well brought up.
|
|
Didn't matter though. When you came right down to it, Melissa
|
|
thought, any woman could be trained to be a good whore. Even a
|
|
stuck up white girl like the one who was presently crying her
|
|
eyes out in front of her.
|
|
Anyone.
|
|
That was Taylor's system.
|
|
|
|
The training began in earnest.
|
|
The first stage, in accordance with Taylor's system, was to
|
|
fuck and otherwise abuse the subject so often and in so many
|
|
different ways that the sex became routine to her. Not important.
|
|
So, for the first few days, Sandy was fucked over and over again
|
|
countless times. By bodyguards; by customers; by kids off the
|
|
street... by the end of those first days, Sandy - who had never
|
|
spoken to more than two or three blacks in her entire life - had
|
|
become intimately familiar with black cock. In her pussy, in her
|
|
ass (which never failed to make her cry and panic), in her mouth,
|
|
in her hair, in her tits...
|
|
And, every time she was fucked, she was forced to squeal
|
|
like a stuck pig. It was her trademark, Taylor explained. Sure
|
|
enough, the name 'Squealer' was soon well known around the
|
|
neighbourhood.
|
|
Hot bitch, it was said.
|
|
Liked black cock so much, she couldn't stop herself from
|
|
squealing when she got it.
|
|
|
|
After the first few days, the fucking became less frequent
|
|
(down to a dozen or so times a day), and Sandy was forced to
|
|
learn other things about being a whore. The right way to dress...
|
|
the right way to talk... the right attitude in general. Once
|
|
again, it was all a part of Taylor's system. Not that he wanted
|
|
her to be the same as the other girls. Most whores were hard and
|
|
cynical, and that attitude would come with time.
|
|
But she had to be taught to think like a whore. The constant
|
|
sex had already taken her at least part way there. It had taught
|
|
her the requisite lack of respect for her own body; that it was
|
|
just a piece for meat for men to fuck whenever they wished. What
|
|
she needed to learn now was that although her body was worthless
|
|
to herself, it wasn't worthless to her pimp. In fact, it was a
|
|
valuable asset, and one which she would be required to protect.
|
|
For Taylor's benefit, of course.
|
|
So, Melissa taught her something about life on the streets.
|
|
How to behave; how to talk to the other whores; how to spot a
|
|
potentially dangerous customer. Taylor had lost whores to psychos
|
|
before, and it pissed him off.
|
|
Cost him money.
|
|
|
|
Finally, after about a week of training, Melissa told
|
|
Sandy - or 'Squealer' as she was now called - that she was ready
|
|
for her 'audition'. She would finally fuck Taylor, and he would
|
|
decide whether or not she was ready for the street. Sandy didn't
|
|
particularly want to succeed, but Melissa made very clear to her
|
|
the price of failure.
|
|
The time came, and Melissa brought Sandy to Taylor's
|
|
bedroom. Sandy walked slowly into the room, still unsteady on the
|
|
four inch pumps. Taylor was sitting on the edge of the bed. As
|
|
instructed, she smiled at him, trying to look sexy. He grinned
|
|
over at her and snapped his fingers. Sandy, hating herself for
|
|
her submission, but having no choice, knew what to do.
|
|
Hurrying forward, she knelt down in front of him and her
|
|
fingers - nails shining a newly painted red - went straight to
|
|
the front of his pants. Hands trembling, she unzipped the fly and
|
|
drew out her master's limp penis, which immediately began to stir
|
|
to life at the cool touch of her fingers. Sandy fingered it for a
|
|
few moments, coaxing it to hardness. Then she bowed her head, and
|
|
with only a brief hesitation, took it in her mouth. Using her
|
|
lips and tongue as she had been taught, Sandy quickly brought his
|
|
big, black cock to a state of massive erection, sucking and
|
|
slurping as though her life depended on it.
|
|
After a while, she stood up, straddled him as he lay back on
|
|
the bed, and lowered herself until she kneeled astride his
|
|
thighs. The short skirt parted, exposing her naked pussy. Then,
|
|
with a moan a pure, simulated lust - just as she had been
|
|
taught - she lowered herself onto his erect penis, her pussy
|
|
sucking in its entire length. Grinning, Taylor just lay there as
|
|
she began to ride up and down in a steady rhythm, squealing in
|
|
time with her own movements. Not the loud, piggy squeals she had
|
|
originally been forced to put on. She was still required to do
|
|
that sometimes - to the amusement of whoever was watching or
|
|
participating - but a quiet, realistic squeal as Melissa had
|
|
trained her. As though she was loving the sex.
|
|
It was still, however, a squeal.
|
|
He was pleased to note that she was using her pussy to
|
|
squeeze his cock as best she could. With a sigh of pleasure, he
|
|
reached up and began to fondle one of her tits. Obligingly, she
|
|
leaned forward to give him easy access.
|
|
Gradually the rhythm picked up. Taylor reached up a second
|
|
hand and began mauling roughly at her breasts as they hung
|
|
invitingly above him. Sandy gasped in pain, but quickly turned it
|
|
into a grunt. Slowly, she leaned forward and brought her mouth
|
|
down to his neck. Taylor slipped his hands around behind her,
|
|
grabbed her ass, and began controlling her movements, forcing her
|
|
to pump faster and faster until finally, groaning, he came.
|
|
When she felt the warm sperm boiling over into her pussy,
|
|
Sandy threw back her head and screamed with lust, simulating an
|
|
orgasm. Just as she had been taught. He finished coming, and she
|
|
shuddered and then relaxed on top of him. He let her lie there
|
|
for a few moments and then pushed her off.
|
|
"Not bad," he commented. "Not bad at all." He reached over
|
|
and gave her breast an approving squeeze. Sandy winced in pain,
|
|
but didn't pull away. "I think you're just about ready." Taylor
|
|
leaned back against the headrest. "Go tell Melissa that I said
|
|
you're ready," he ordered. "She'll take you with her tonight."
|
|
Not daring to protest, Sandy clambered to her feet. She
|
|
straightened her clothing, brushed her sweat-soaked hair back
|
|
from her face, and walked out of the room to where she knew
|
|
Melissa would be waiting.
|
|
As she walked, she felt the now familiar trickle of sperm
|
|
down her thigh...
|
|
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
For her first night of work, they dressed her in a skin-
|
|
tight body sheath that barely covered the bottom curves of her
|
|
ass. That, along with the usual pumps, was all she wore for her
|
|
first night on the street. Sandy burned with humiliation when one
|
|
of Taylor's men dropped them off on Ginger Street and drove away.
|
|
Here she was, standing in the red light district dressed like an
|
|
absolute whore. What if somebody saw her?
|
|
That, of course, was the idea. On Melissa's instructions,
|
|
the trembling girl was forced to parade her barely concealed body
|
|
up and down the sidewalk, swinging her barely covered hips just
|
|
as she had been trained. Within moments, a car pulled over.
|
|
"Hey babe," came a voice from behind a partially closed
|
|
window. "How much?"
|
|
Melissa walked forward. "It's your lucky day," the black
|
|
girl said. "Two for the price of one. You can have both of us for
|
|
a hundred."
|
|
The man laughed. "Good," he agreed. "Hop in."
|
|
The two whores climbed into the car. "We've got a room over
|
|
there." She pointed at a seedy little hotel just off Ginger
|
|
Street. The man nodded and parked the car. The three of them
|
|
entered the hotel and climbed the wooden stairs to the second
|
|
floor, where Melissa unlocked the door and let them into the
|
|
room.
|
|
Once in, the black girl walked into the bathroom and closed
|
|
the door. "Don't start without me," she called as the bathroom
|
|
door closed.
|
|
Immediately, Sandy turned to the man. "Listen mister," she
|
|
said, voice shaking. "You gotta help me." After a week spent in
|
|
the company of the uneducated Melissa and the various gang
|
|
members, Sandy was picking up the other girl's speech patterns,
|
|
making her sound more like a whore than a med student. "I'm not a
|
|
whore. They kidnapped me and... and r-raped me... please
|
|
mister..."
|
|
The man grinned. Too late, Sandy realized her mistake as the
|
|
bathroom door opened and Melissa came out, a frown on her face.
|
|
"You were right," the man said. "She squealed."
|
|
"Squealer," Melissa growled, "You is one stupid bitch." She
|
|
walked over the gave the startled girl a hard slap across the
|
|
face. Sandy began to cry. "Taylor is goin' to be pissed," Melissa
|
|
continued, "and when Taylor gets pissed, someone gets hurt."
|
|
Sandy just kept crying.
|
|
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
Someone got hurt.
|
|
Sandy spent the next three days in the apartment with the
|
|
thin end of a wooden baseball bat shoved up her ass. She was not
|
|
allowed to walk upright, but was instead forced to crawl around
|
|
on her hands and feet, squealing like a pig and begging someone
|
|
to pull out the baseball bat. Promising to do anything... No one
|
|
did, of course. Instead, they just slapped her on the ass,
|
|
calling on her to squeal like the pig-slut she was. The squealing
|
|
only stopped when her lips were wrapped around a stiff, black
|
|
cock, which happened often enough during the three days.
|
|
By the end of it, she was broken. When Taylor finally pulled
|
|
the bat from her anus, she shuddered in pain and crawled over to
|
|
him, kissing his feet and begging him to fuck her, sell her, use
|
|
her... whatever; just as long as he didn't put the bat in her ass
|
|
again.
|
|
Ever.
|
|
That night she was back on the street. For good. Melissa
|
|
stayed with her for the first week or so, but after that she was
|
|
on her own. She no longer had the will to fight. And so, every
|
|
night of the week, she spent several hours on the street,
|
|
parading around, attracting business and then fucking it. She
|
|
proved very popular, and earned a great deal of money for her
|
|
pimp. Her days were spent sleeping and then hanging around
|
|
Taylor's apartment 'entertaining' his friends and customers.
|
|
Taylor enjoyed recounting the tale of how he found the beautiful,
|
|
white med student in a bar and trained her to her new life as a
|
|
whore. The customers loved the story, and usually insisted on
|
|
fucking her afterwards.
|
|
She slowly settled into her new life, all thought of what
|
|
had gone on before - her home life, med school - slipping away.
|
|
Just another whore...
|
|
|
|
EPILOGUE
|
|
|
|
This part of town was not what it used to be.
|
|
But Bert Cripmore had no problem with that. It took him
|
|
almost a week to find an excuse to be out without Martha, but he
|
|
did it. The new girl proved easy to find. Driving carefully, he
|
|
pulled the car over to where she leaned against the lamp in her
|
|
miniskirt and tank top.
|
|
"How much?" he asked, voice rough with lust. Little bitch
|
|
was gorgeous!
|
|
The girl leaned forward, jaws working rudely on a wad of
|
|
gum. "Fifty for a blowjob; hundred for a fuck." Bert nodded and
|
|
the girl got into the front seat. "Got a place over there," she
|
|
said, pointing at a sleazy hotel.
|
|
Bert nodded and began to drive.
|
|
He looked sideways at the girl as he steered the car into
|
|
the hotel parking lot. Already, the sense of freshness which had
|
|
made her stand out on the strip almost a week ago was fading. She
|
|
still looked young and beautiful under the overdone makeup, but
|
|
her eyes were narrower than he remembered them. She was well on
|
|
her way to becoming a hardened whore.
|
|
Fine with him, he decided.
|
|
Still...
|
|
"What's your name?" he couldn't help but ask.
|
|
The girl looked over, and, for a brief moment, Bert imagined
|
|
that he saw something else beneath the armour - a scared little
|
|
girl, terrified and trapped, looking out at him through wide,
|
|
frightened eyes - but the moment passed, and then only the whore
|
|
remained.
|
|
"They call me Squealer," came the answer, a queer lopsided
|
|
smile marring her beautiful face.
|
|
"Why's that?"
|
|
The girl gave a sick grin. "You'll see," she told him,
|
|
opening the car door. "You'll see."
|
|
|
|
THE END
|
|
=================================================================
|
|
|
|
The call has gone out for Parker stories. I am reposting the only two
|
|
complete ones I have. Any more will have to come from someone else,
|
|
'cause I don't have 'em. If you got 'em, post 'em, please.
|
|
|
|
With no further ado:
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
BLACKOUT
|
|
By Parker
|
|
|
|
|
|
The West Side Projects.
|
|
Irregular clumps of grey, concrete structures surrounded by
|
|
torn and twisted chain link. Each cluster of three buildings
|
|
encloses a concrete playground, where the skeletal remains of
|
|
slides, see-saws, parallel bars cast long shadows in the setting
|
|
sun. Rusted swings sway like hunched gibbets in the wind. A
|
|
stubborn drinking fountain, cracked porcelain and weed filled,
|
|
still bleeds a small trickle of brackish water...
|
|
|
|
"... by then, the cunt was moanin' and whinin' like a bitch
|
|
in heat. Humpin' up and down on my black cock and screamin' like
|
|
she didn't know if it was the best or worst thing she'd ever
|
|
felt."
|
|
"Shit, man..."
|
|
"Best fo sure..."
|
|
Laughter.
|
|
The tall man looked around before continuing, enjoying the
|
|
attention of his audience. "You'd think she'd never had a cock up
|
|
her cunt before, the way she was carry'n on, bouncin' and
|
|
squealin'..."
|
|
"Like that bitch Taylor owned a couple years ago..."
|
|
"Fuck, she probably hadn't," one of the listeners - a fat
|
|
kid named DJ - interrupted again. "Stuck up college bitches..."
|
|
"Yeah. Think their cunts are made've gold or somethin'."
|
|
"Well she wasn't no fuckin' virgin," the tall man laughed.
|
|
"C'n tell ya that."
|
|
"Not after that party," another man called out.
|
|
|
|
Bright splashes of color - promises, threats, questions,
|
|
names and dates - scrawl wildly across the uniform grey in futile
|
|
explosions of illiterate anarchy. The rusting, empty aerosol cans
|
|
dot the weed and broken-glass fields that surround, separate and
|
|
enclose the concrete deserts.
|
|
Roads erode...
|
|
|
|
"Hell no," the storyteller laughed. "By the time we was done
|
|
with her, she'd fucked more brothers than one of Taylor's bitches
|
|
on a busy night. Bitch had more cocks in her that night than a
|
|
rich whore."
|
|
Catcalls and jeers momentarily interrupted the story.
|
|
DJ spoke up: "Then what happened?"
|
|
"Ahh, not much. Tommy put one of Marcie's party dresses on
|
|
the bitch, drove her a couple'a blocks n' booted her outta the
|
|
car."
|
|
"Fuck... on 49th?"
|
|
"Yeah." The speaker grinned knowingly. "She got out OK,
|
|
though. Lannie and a couple of guys porked the bitch in behind
|
|
the gas station - said she barely put up a fight she was so badly
|
|
fucked up - then she got a cab."
|
|
|
|
The black metal door had been built for safety.
|
|
For security.
|
|
It remained at its post, but just barely, hanging on by a
|
|
rusted hinge. The landing inside was dark, the empty light socket
|
|
staring down like a blind eye. The elevator door is jammed open,
|
|
and the elevator - a cruel joke even when it was new - hung a
|
|
long step downward, filled with debris.
|
|
Piss-soaked stairs led upward...
|
|
|
|
"A cab? On 49th? Fuck off."
|
|
"Yeah," the tall man laughed. "Right outta fuckin' nowhere,
|
|
the only fuckin' cab on the West Side. It was Jackson, though.
|
|
Word is she offered to blow him for a ride to the fuckin' campus.
|
|
Said she had a talented mouth."
|
|
The men all laughed.
|
|
"Said the bitch was drippin' cum all the way home..."
|
|
"Wooooeeee..."
|
|
|
|
The third floor landing leads down a debris and graffiti
|
|
hallway to an open door. A group of men - all black - are seated
|
|
in a circle in a room that has been informally enlarged through
|
|
the destruction of two walls. A lucky few are sitting on the
|
|
holed remains of furniture; the rest are perched on crates or
|
|
milk cartons.
|
|
All are listening...
|
|
|
|
"Had ta wipe it off the seats with a fuckin' rag."
|
|
The men laughed again. Some clapped and whistled. Best story
|
|
they'd heard all night.
|
|
"Not bad, bro. Not bad."
|
|
The men turned, still laughing.
|
|
The man who had spoken walked into the room, closely
|
|
followed by two or three others.
|
|
"Hey Darrell," the man who had been telling the story
|
|
grinned over at his friend. "Whad'ya mean 'not bad'. Fuckin' 'not
|
|
bad'? Y'can't top that."
|
|
Darrell grinned back. "I can." He reached the circle of men.
|
|
"C'n top that by a long shot." He pulled a box over and sat down,
|
|
facing the others.
|
|
"OK." DJ, as usual, spoke up. "Let's hear it, bro."
|
|
Darrell sniffed, leaning forward. "Listen up then. Remember
|
|
'bout three weeks ago, that blackout on the West Side?" Most of
|
|
the men nodded; that particular blackout had led to a bonanza of
|
|
burglary and looting. They'd all made too much money to forget
|
|
it.
|
|
"OK." Darrell continued his story. " Me'n few brothers were
|
|
ridin' the T-Rail south, just after Burnside Station, where it
|
|
goes into the tunnel..."
|
|
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
The woman looked up from her paper when the five black men
|
|
got on the T-Rail at Burnside Station. Her pretty face creased
|
|
for a moment in a look that was part fear and part anger (and
|
|
part guilt at feeling this way), but a quick glance around the
|
|
inside of the compartment revealed enough other passengers -
|
|
*safe* passengers - so that trouble seemed unlikely. Still, she
|
|
felt more than a little uncomfortable when she saw that the black
|
|
men had taken seats between her and the other passengers. She ran
|
|
a nervous hand through her blonde hair and looked back down at
|
|
the newspaper; best just to ignore them. The train would be at
|
|
McLellan Station soon enough, and she would be safe there. If the
|
|
black men stayed on, she would get off and catch the next train.
|
|
The T-Rail jerked forward, letting out a loud screech as it
|
|
left Burnside Station. Picking up speed, it rounded a corner,
|
|
went over Sherman Street and plunged into the mile long tunnel
|
|
which ended at the next station.
|
|
The woman glanced up as she rocked back and forth in her
|
|
seat, still uncomfortable. Was one of the black men staring at
|
|
her? She dropped her eyes downward, frightened to attract
|
|
attention. In her expensive business suit and skirt, she felt
|
|
like a target. Instinctively, she reached down to touch her
|
|
briefcase. Still there.
|
|
Her decision was made. She was definitely getting off at
|
|
McLellan. There was no way she...
|
|
The lights went out and the T-Rail ground to a halt.
|
|
|
|
"Fuck, I remember that," DJ interrupted.
|
|
"Remember that fuckin' jewellery store?" Another man spoke.
|
|
"We musta scored..."
|
|
"Hey." The other men fell silent. "Do you wanna hear the
|
|
story, or what?"
|
|
"Sure, Darrell."
|
|
"Yeah. What happened?"
|
|
|
|
Silence.
|
|
Then a low rumble followed by the quiet hum of the fans
|
|
starting up again. There was a collective sigh of relief in the
|
|
compartment as the air started flowing again. A few people began
|
|
to talk and there was some nervous laughter.
|
|
The woman started. Was that movement beside her? She
|
|
strained to see in the pitch blackness, but it was no use.
|
|
Frightened, she began to get to her feet, to move across to the
|
|
other end of the compartment. It would be...
|
|
A large hand wrapped itself around her mouth and dragged her
|
|
back down into her seat. She let out a muffled squeal and brought
|
|
her own hands up to free herself, but froze when she felt a cold,
|
|
metallic edge on her throat.
|
|
A knife!
|
|
"Jus' relax," a voice whispered to her. The knife blade dug
|
|
a little deeper into her throat, not yet cutting, but not far
|
|
from it. "Fight'n I'll cut you 'nother mouth."
|
|
The woman dropped her hands and relaxed back in her seat,
|
|
almost paralysed with fear. She felt other hands, grabbing at
|
|
her, touching her... One of them took hold of the shoulder strap
|
|
of her purse and jerked it away from her. She almost felt relief
|
|
at that; maybe once they'd robbed her they would let her go.
|
|
Robbery she could handle.
|
|
The hand left her mouth, but the knife remained at her
|
|
throat.
|
|
"Jus' sit quiet," the voice ordered softly. "Make a sound'n
|
|
your dead. Got it?"
|
|
The woman nodded her understanding, too frightened to speak.
|
|
The hand that had been at her mouth now moved down the front
|
|
of her body, slipping under the top of her blouse and cupping her
|
|
breast through the bra. She stiffened in panic, but the knife
|
|
kept her from moving. The hand moved from one breast to the other
|
|
under her blouse, squeezing her breasts through her bra,
|
|
pulling... pinching...
|
|
"Nice tits, bitch."
|
|
The woman squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip, trying not
|
|
to cry out.
|
|
"Stand up," the voice told her. "Nice'n slow."
|
|
Trembling, she obeyed, pushing herself up out of her seat
|
|
and standing with her hands by her side. The knife stayed at her
|
|
throat as she moved. The hand pushed her a step forward and she
|
|
felt the man move around to stand directly behind her. She felt
|
|
his body push close against her from behind as the hand slipped
|
|
around over her shoulder and down under her blouse to resume
|
|
fondling her breasts.
|
|
"Good bitch." She felt warm breath at her ear as the man
|
|
licked and nibbled at her earlobe. "Nice bitch."
|
|
"Uh..."
|
|
She let out a quiet gasp as she felt the presence of another
|
|
man right in front of her. The knife pressed down for a moment in
|
|
warning and she managed to control herself. The unseen figure in
|
|
front of her moved closer until she felt his breath on her face.
|
|
Closer... then his lips touched her's.
|
|
"Mmmm..."
|
|
She pressed her lips tightly together and turned her head,
|
|
but a hand grabbed a fistful of her thick blonde hair and turned
|
|
her head forwards.
|
|
"C'mon bitch," the voice whispered in her ear. "Give m'
|
|
brother a kiss."
|
|
|
|
"Jeez'... I don't fuckin' believe it..."
|
|
"You guys did this on a motherfuckin' T-Rail?"
|
|
Darrell grinned. "It get's better..."
|
|
|
|
Reluctantly, she kept her head steady and parted her lips.
|
|
The man in front of her immediately pressed his face closer and
|
|
slid his tongue into her mouth. She fought to keep from gagging
|
|
as she felt his stubble burn her chin and hot, fetid breath
|
|
invade her mouth. After a few moments, the man pulled his mouth
|
|
away, giving her lips one last lick with his tongue.
|
|
The woman panted, almost hyperventilating with fear,
|
|
fighting back the urge to bring her hand up to wipe the man's
|
|
spittle from her lips. She waited in silence for the next
|
|
humiliation. She didn't have to wait long. There was a quiet
|
|
snick, and she felt the cold steel of a second knife slide down
|
|
her chest and under her blouse. She held her breath as it slipped
|
|
under the front strap of her bra and cut it. The front of her bra
|
|
fell open, exposing her breasts to the man behind her. He let out
|
|
a quiet chuckle as his hand pushed away the torn remnants of her
|
|
bra and directly fondled her breasts.
|
|
The knife was taken away from her chest, but before she
|
|
could feel any sense of relief, a hand pulled at her skirt,
|
|
tugging it downwards. At first, she thought they were trying to
|
|
pull it off, but it was just held tight. Then there came a quiet
|
|
tearing sound. What was...
|
|
"Spread your legs, bitch" whispered a voice from low down in
|
|
front of her. "Or you'll be cut."
|
|
With a quiet moan of fear, the woman realized what was
|
|
happening. They were using a knife to cut a slit up the front and
|
|
back of her grey skirt. Moving awkwardly, she obeyed, widening
|
|
her stance so the knife wouldn't cut her leg. Then she stood,
|
|
shivering, while the man in front of her made a long cut up the
|
|
front, and then the back, of her skirt.
|
|
After the second cut was made, a hand slid up the inside of
|
|
her thighs up to her crotch. Her eyes watered and a tear trickled
|
|
down her cheek as she felt a hand on her pussy, cupping it and
|
|
rubbing.
|
|
"P-please," she whispered.
|
|
"Jus' relax," the voice whispered at her ear. The man gave
|
|
her breast a little squeeze, tweaking the nipple. "Be a good
|
|
little bitch."
|
|
The blade of the second knife was slid under the waist band
|
|
of her panties. With a flick, the thin elastic material was
|
|
sliced and the panties pulled away. Her pussy was now exposed to
|
|
the groping fingers; they rubbed up and down, playing and teasing
|
|
as she squirmed helplessly, and then, inevitably, slipped inside.
|
|
She let out a gasp, but it was stifled as the man in front of her
|
|
brought his face against her's for a kiss. This time, she didn't
|
|
try to turn away; she just parted her lips and accepted his
|
|
tongue in her mouth.
|
|
There was no use in fighting.
|
|
|
|
"Sounds like one hot bitch..."
|
|
"Sure beats your story all to hell," DJ gave the tall man a
|
|
shove.
|
|
The tall man just shrugged his shoulders. "Dat's a fact,
|
|
jack." He grinned. "If it's true."
|
|
Darrell smirked. "Oh, it's all true."
|
|
"Then what happened?"
|
|
"OK. While Steve was given her some tongue..."
|
|
|
|
The T-Rail lurched forward. A cheer rose up from the trapped
|
|
passengers, but it quickly died away as the train ground to a
|
|
halt again.
|
|
The woman felt the man's fingers slide out of her pussy as
|
|
both her and the man behind her were thrown back onto a seat. For
|
|
a brief moment she considered screaming for help, but the knife
|
|
never left her throat. When the T-Rail stopped moving, she was
|
|
sitting on the man's lap.
|
|
She felt something...
|
|
The man's cock was rubbing up against her ass. He must have
|
|
taken it out of his pants, because she felt it directly against
|
|
her flesh where the skirt had been cut away. She shivered at the
|
|
touch of it, long and hard against her flesh.
|
|
And wet.
|
|
"OK bitch." The man's mouth was close up against her ear.
|
|
"You wanna get outta this, you do what I say. Got it?"
|
|
The woman nodded.
|
|
"Good bitch. I'm take'n the knife away, but it's right here
|
|
beside me." The blade left her throat; she let out a sigh. "You
|
|
fuck up and I'll cut your heart out." The woman trembled at these
|
|
words, but didn't cry out or try to escape.
|
|
She believed him.
|
|
Every word.
|
|
"Now, spread your legs."
|
|
She obeyed, opening her legs until her knees were spread
|
|
further apart than the man's, pulling apart the long slit in her
|
|
skirt. As she did so, she felt a second hand - the hand that had
|
|
been holding the knife against her throat - slip around and cup
|
|
her other breast.
|
|
"Reach down between your legs and grab my cock."
|
|
She let out a quiet moan, hesitating.
|
|
"Do it," he hissed, tightening his grip on her already sore
|
|
breasts. Whimpering, she reached down through the long slit in
|
|
her skirt and touched his cock. It was long and rock hard where
|
|
it stuck up between her thighs. Sensing what he wanted, she
|
|
wrapped her fingers around it and began sliding her hand up and
|
|
down, masturbating it between her thighs as if it were her own.
|
|
The woman was resigned to it now, and the quicker he came, the
|
|
quicker it would be over with.
|
|
"Ohhh, you hot bitch." The woman felt his tongue on the side
|
|
of her neck. She twisted her head away, but that only gave him
|
|
more room to lick and kiss up her neck to the side of her face.
|
|
"Ohhh yeah..."
|
|
|
|
"This is gettin' stupid."
|
|
"Yeah... you guys didn't..."
|
|
"Shut up and listen."
|
|
The men fell silent.
|
|
|
|
One hand left her breast and dropped down to her exposed
|
|
pussy. She let out a small gasp, squirming on the man's lap, but
|
|
was unable to avoid his fingers and they rubbed up and down the
|
|
outside of her pussylips and then slid inside. Still masturbating
|
|
his cock, she fought it for as long as she could, but after a
|
|
minute or two of the man's fingers exploring her pussy... and her
|
|
clit... she felt herself begin to get moist. As much as she hated
|
|
what was happening to her, her body couldn't help but respond. It
|
|
was purely a physical reaction, but a reaction nonetheless.
|
|
She prayed he wouldn't notice.
|
|
"Juicin' up nicely, bitch." Her face burned with humiliation
|
|
as her fingers, sticky with pre-cum, continued their work. "Just
|
|
'bout time to finish up." The man shifted his weight so that her
|
|
feet reached the floor on either side of the chair. "Now, I want
|
|
ya to stand up and sink your juicy cunt down on my black cock.
|
|
Got it?"
|
|
Again, the woman nodded. She was at the stage where she
|
|
would do *anything* just to end the ordeal. Moving slowly,
|
|
careful not to give the impression that she was trying to escape,
|
|
she gathered her legs under her and pushed herself up off his
|
|
lap. His hands tightened on her breasts, but she had no intention
|
|
of doing anything stupid. She had come too far for that. Her
|
|
fingers, which had been busy masturbating his cock even while she
|
|
stood, stopped pumping and pulled the cock forward. She let out a
|
|
small moan as she realized just how large the cock was. Still,
|
|
she had no choice; as slowly and gently as she could, she let
|
|
herself sink down, her fingers guiding the man's cock into her
|
|
unwilling pussy. First the head slipped in... then one inch...
|
|
two inches... (for the first time, she was thankful for the
|
|
moisture which made this relatively painless) four inches...
|
|
"Ahhh..."
|
|
She let out a little cry as the man lost patience with her
|
|
slow descent and used her breasts to drag her back down onto her
|
|
lap. With one brutal thrust, his massive cock was buried to the
|
|
hilt in her spasming pussy.
|
|
|
|
"Shit. You fucked th' bitch right on the fuckin' T-Rail?" DJ
|
|
looked sceptical. "Don't fuckin' believe..."
|
|
Others, however: "What was she like?"
|
|
"Well," Darrell answered, grinning, "I'll tell ya..."
|
|
|
|
"Whew," the man sighed. "This is one tight-cunt bitch."
|
|
The other men laughed softly as the woman hung her head,
|
|
face burning with humiliation.
|
|
"OK bitch. Start ridin'."
|
|
She knew what he meant.
|
|
With a quiet moan, she gathered her legs under her and began
|
|
riding his cock, pushing up and down... up and down... sliding
|
|
her now-sopping pussy up and down on the unwelcome intruder,
|
|
unwillingly serving his pleasure.
|
|
"Faster, bitch."
|
|
Sweat broke out on her brow, matting her blonde hair to her
|
|
forehead and trickling down her face onto her chest where the
|
|
man's hands mauled her breasts, as she began to move faster and
|
|
faster: up and down, riding his long, hard cock in and out of her
|
|
stretched pussy. She began to pant and emit quiet grunting sounds
|
|
in time with her movement as she bounced up and down on his lap
|
|
like some kind of whorish puppet. After a while, the muscles in
|
|
her leg started to cramp up, but she kept moving.
|
|
Up... down... up... down...
|
|
In... out... in... out...
|
|
Against her will, her pussy began to spasm around the
|
|
invading cock as her body trembled, betraying her...
|
|
|
|
"You mean she liked it?" DJ again.
|
|
"Always the same; white bitches love black cock. They can't
|
|
fuckin' help themselves."
|
|
"Thas' a fact, jack."
|
|
"Straight up," Darrell agreed. "And then..."
|
|
|
|
"Jeez Darrell," came a voice from in front of her. "I want
|
|
some a' that."
|
|
"Stop for a second, bitch."
|
|
She fought back a groan of frustration as the man forced her
|
|
to be still on his lap. She panted as she sat there, feeling his
|
|
cock buried deep within her burning pussy... just a little
|
|
more...
|
|
"Bitch's mouth's free."
|
|
The feeling of pleasure fled as she realized what the man
|
|
had said. Her mouth? Oh, no...
|
|
A hand clutched at her face, pulling her forward. "You
|
|
heard'm," a voice whispered. "Open wide."
|
|
The tears streamed down her at this new humiliation, but she
|
|
obeyed without question, parting her lips to accept this new
|
|
invasion. She just wanted to get it over with. Immediately, she
|
|
felt a long, hard cock slip into her mouth. She gagged at the
|
|
bitter taste of the pre-cum, but didn't pull away. With a quiet
|
|
moan, she began to suck at it, bobbing her face up and down and
|
|
using her tongue to...
|
|
"C'mon bitch." She felt the hand tighten on her breasts.
|
|
"Not done here yet."
|
|
Once again, being careful not to bite down on the that was
|
|
cock being fed into her mouth, she began to move, sliding her wet
|
|
pussy up and down on the man's cock. In her bent over position,
|
|
it seemed to penetrate even deeper, but she had no choice. Using
|
|
her hands to brace herself, she began to pick up speed. And
|
|
slowly, ever so slowly, the pleasure began to build again as her
|
|
tight ass bounced up and down on the man's lap while her mouth
|
|
sucked hungrily at the other man's cock. Faster and faster she
|
|
moved, picking up speed as the feelings built towards orgasm,
|
|
humping and bucking and sweating and grunting like a practised
|
|
whore. Just a little more and...
|
|
The T-Rail let out a loud screech and jerked forward a
|
|
couple of feet. The lights flickered...
|
|
The woman's feet slipped out from under her and her pussy
|
|
was violently jammed down on the man's cock as she fell back onto
|
|
his lap. At the same time, the man whose cock she was sucking
|
|
lost his balance and fell forward, driving his cock straight down
|
|
her throat.
|
|
All three came at once.
|
|
The man on the chair stiffened and, clutching hard at her
|
|
breast, shot his cum out into her writhing pussy.
|
|
The man in front pulled back slightly, ending the
|
|
involuntary deep throat, but still shot his load into her mouth,
|
|
filling it with his thick, salty cum.
|
|
The taste sent her over the edge. Choking and sputtering
|
|
cum, she twisted and writhed on the man's lap, panting and
|
|
gasping in ecstasy and humiliation as waves of pleasure crashed
|
|
through her sweat-soaked body. It was all she could do not to
|
|
scream out loud...
|
|
The lights flickered again.
|
|
"Fuck!"
|
|
"Move it."
|
|
There was a flurry of activity around her as the man behind
|
|
her pushed her off his lap and shoved her over onto a seat beside
|
|
him. "Listen, bitch," the man hissed, shoving the newspaper back
|
|
into her hand. "You sit quietly and get off with us at the next
|
|
station." She tried to say something - to protest - but her mouth
|
|
was full of cum. Grimacing, she tried to swallow as she heard the
|
|
other men take their seats in front of her. She felt his knife
|
|
prick her in the ribs. "Any trouble..." He didn't even bother to
|
|
finish the threat. She felt him get up and move away.
|
|
The lights flickered and then came back on.
|
|
|
|
There was silence in the room. Each man stared at Darrell,
|
|
waiting to hear what happened. Darrell just stayed silent,
|
|
looking around the room with a big grin on his face. It was DJ
|
|
who broke the silence.
|
|
"Fuck, Darrell. What the fuck happened?"
|
|
|
|
The passengers had cheered as the T-Rail began to move
|
|
again. People had looked around, smiles of relief on their faces,
|
|
but no one had noticed anything different.
|
|
Anything wrong.
|
|
And, if anyone noted that the attractive blonde in the
|
|
conservative, grey business outfit on the other side of the
|
|
compartment looked a little dishevelled, well... they put it down
|
|
to nerves. Claustrophobia. More than one passenger looked a
|
|
little worse for the wear.
|
|
Still, all's well...
|
|
The T-Rail eventually ground to a stop at McLellan Station.
|
|
The woman lowered the paper and looked at the black men.
|
|
They had stood up, and one of them flashed a knife at her. She
|
|
glanced at the other passengers, but no one had seen it. No one
|
|
knew anything was wrong. She got to her feet, grimacing at the
|
|
cold, sticky feeling between her thighs where the man's cum had
|
|
leaked out of her pussy, and began to walk towards the exit.
|
|
"Excuse me, lady?" She almost fainted with relief, turning
|
|
as a young man at the other side of the train called out to her.
|
|
At last, someone had noticed... "You forgot your briefcase." The
|
|
man gestured to where her briefcase sat at the back of the
|
|
compartment.
|
|
Help me you idiot!
|
|
The man smiled at her and turned back to his paper.
|
|
"Thanks," she muttered. One of the black men stood in the
|
|
exit, preventing the door from sliding shut as she slowly walked
|
|
back and picked up her briefcase. With a final glance around the
|
|
compartment - no help there - she sighed and walked out onto the
|
|
platform. The door slid shut and the T-Rail pulled away with a
|
|
loud rumble.
|
|
She stood on the platform, now surrounded by five black men.
|
|
"C'mon bitch." It was the man who had raped her.
|
|
The man with the knife. "And keep quiet."
|
|
Meekly, broken, she followed the men out of the station...
|
|
|
|
*****
|
|
|
|
The men all began talking at once:
|
|
"Fuck, that was hot..."
|
|
"Great story man..."
|
|
"Wheeeoo..."
|
|
Again, it was DJ who asked the question that everyone was
|
|
thinking: "What the fuck happened to the bitch, man? Sell her to
|
|
Taylor?"
|
|
Darrell laughed. "Fuck no. It's not everyday a white cunt
|
|
falls into your lap like that. I fuckin' kept her; she's *my*
|
|
bitch now."
|
|
"Fuck off!"
|
|
"No way, man..."
|
|
Darrell turned. "Tina," he called, "hustle your white ass in
|
|
here."
|
|
The men all stared at the door as the woman - Tina Swanson -
|
|
entered the room, closely followed by one of Darrell's friends.
|
|
Darrell watched with satisfaction as the men all gaped. Even *he*
|
|
was surprised every time he saw her: all traces of the confident
|
|
young career woman he had raped on the T-Rail three weeks ago had
|
|
been systematically erased.
|
|
In her place stood a cock-hungry bimbo.
|
|
*His* cock-hungry bimbo.
|
|
She was dressed in a tight, black polyester mini-skirt, just
|
|
over a foot long, which barely stretched from her lower abdomen
|
|
to the bottom curves of her ass. Her long, slender legs were bare
|
|
all the way down to the bright red, six inch pumps. The only
|
|
other item of clothing she wore was a half-cup tank top, bright
|
|
pink, at least a couple sizes too small. It left her stomach and
|
|
upper chest completely bare, hardly sufficing to push up her
|
|
smallish breasts. Her upper body was bare, completely exposing a
|
|
large tattoo on her upper chest: "DARRELL'S BITCH" it said, in
|
|
big red letters, still bright and new. Her face was heavily made
|
|
up, lips made thick and pouty with shiny, red lipstick and green
|
|
eyes strongly outlined with eyeshadow. Each ear had been triple
|
|
pierced, and three heavy, plastic hoops dangled on each side of
|
|
her face. Her blonde hair, so stylishly cut the first time he had
|
|
seen her, was streaked with purple and teased up in a wild,
|
|
sluttish manner.
|
|
Even so, someone recognized her.
|
|
"Motherfucker," one of the men exclaimed. "That's no bitch;
|
|
that's a fuckin lawyer. She's a fuckin' DA."
|
|
Darrell grinned again. "Thas' right," he agreed. "I fuckin'
|
|
knew it when I saw her on the T-Rail. She put m' brother away a
|
|
year ago." He paused for a moment before adding: "'Course, don't
|
|
matter, nohow." He turned back towards where the woman stood just
|
|
inside the doorway. "C'mere babe."
|
|
Smiling, the woman walked over to him, hips swinging in the
|
|
tight miniskirt. She draped one of her bare arms over his
|
|
shoulder as she came up beside him. He reached around and
|
|
squeezed her ass.
|
|
"Tina babe," he said, "you don' wanna go back to no stuffy
|
|
courtroom, now do ya girl?"
|
|
Tina pouted and shook her head uncertainly.
|
|
"Whadya want?"
|
|
She smiled.
|
|
That was an easy one.
|
|
She knew the answer.
|
|
"Wanna stay with you, babe," she giggled, dropping her free
|
|
hand to her crotch and lewdly gyrating her crotch towards his
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face. "Wanna do the 'wild thing'." Darrell grinned at her and she
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sighed inwardly with relief, running her tongue over her thick,
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pouty lips. She was getting better at this: pleasing him; acting
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the bimbo; being his "bitch".
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Surviving.
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Darrell turned back to the other men and got to his feet.
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"Y'see," he leered. "A happy ending for everyone."
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He turned to leave, a giggling Tina on his arm. Just as he
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got to the door though, he turned, pulling his blonde bimbo
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around until she faced the men. "Before we go," he told her, "you
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should say 'hi' to the brothers here. N' be nice; you won't be my
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bitch forever, y'know."
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Tina swallowed, catching his meaning. She looked slowly
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around the room, catching each man's eye and trying to look as
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sexy as possible. If there was one thing she's learned in the
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last few weeks, it was that her survival depended on satisfying
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|
black cock. In her mouth; in her cunt; in her ass...
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And there was plenty of black cock here in this room. With a
|
|
small shudder - half fear, half lust - she knew that she'd
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eventually belong to at least some of these men.
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Just as she now belonged to Darrell.
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"Hi boys," she purred, giving her hips a little wiggle.
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"Hope to see ya soon."
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Darrell laughed...
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The West Side Projects.
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Irregular clumps of grey, concrete structures surrounded by
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torn and twisted chain link. The skeleton slides and gibbet
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swings have disappeared, their outlines swallowed up by the dark,
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starless night. Dim light shines out through grimy, boarded
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|
windows, revealing the presence of numerous closed, half-shadowed
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rooms. Babies crying... couples fighting or making love...
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And, in one of those rooms, Tina Swanson - Darrell's bitch - takes
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another load of cum up her ass, all the while humping her
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white ass backwards and crying out in simulated ecstasy...
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THE END
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=================================================================
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As usual, all comments are welcome.
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