Robert Moore - Hard guys and hostages

Max had seen Butch in the shower a lot of times, and the sight of his cock was always startling, even when it was soft. Even soft, it looked as if it weighed two pounds. Now it was hard and erect. It stood out from his woolly belly like something that had been sunk there in cement. You could have hung a steel helmet on it. To a young, tiny girl like Connie it must have looked ten times bigger.

She drew back into the couch for a moment, then made a crazy go for the double doors leading to the screened porch. She didn't even make a whole step, of course. Despite his bulk, Butch could move with the deceptive speed of in alligator. He was in front of her before her ass cleared the couch, and he shoved her back down so hard she bounced three times. The springs in the couch groaned, and it slid back hard against the wall.

Naked, Butch was an impressive sight, maybe a disgusting sight, depending on your point of view. He towered over the couch, six feet six inches of meat and muscle and stupidity — plain, vicious orneriness. His eyes were fastened on Connie, and he was smiling that empty smile again, but with a difference. He looked like a man who had set a course that couldn't be changed by anything less than his death. Max felt excitement fill his own body, and he saw Pete back up a little, licking his lips.

Connie looked around again. "Please," she sobbed, almost incoherently. "Please, isn't anyone going to help me?" The words showed that she really hadn't been able to accept the fact that this was going to happen. She was probably a pampered little thing who had never undergone anything really unpleasant in her useless, youthful life, Max thought. Well, this would be a good lesson for her, just before that life ended. A few days before it ended.

Butch threw himself on her, covering her, blocking her from view for a moment, before he rearranged himself on her. She screamed again, and then she was struggling, trying to fight him off. It was like a mouse struggling in the jaws of a panther.

She tried to keep her legs together, but one of Butch's massive thighs drove between them, and he was suddenly right there, ready to get into her. She was still fighting, but it was all hands sliding over his shoulders now, and a useless flexing of her body under his, as she tried to squirm loose. Butch crossed a forearm over her throat and leaned on it, cutting off her wind and pinning her to the cushions beneath, and with the other hand he grabbed that impossibly large cock. He pushed his other leg in between hers, forcing her to spread wider. Then he centered his cock on her pussy and brought his weight down on it all at once.

She almost passed out, of course. She must have been a virgin, Max decided, and the pain had been almost too much for her. Her eyes glazed, and she went as rigid as a plaster statue for a moment as Butch's oversized prick ripped into her, stretching and tearing tissue in one short, ripping thrust.

Butch's voice came out in a grunt of pleasure, and the smile on his face went even more vacant than before. His eyes closed for a moment and then opened halfway. He started to fuck, his big hams moving up and down over the girl, and Connie screamed with pain, the humiliation of the act probably not meaning anything much to her now. It would return later, but at the moment she was going through more pain all at once than she had felt collectively up till now in her whole life. The pain was doubtless all she could cope with without the embarrassment she had known a moment before.

She spread her legs wider now without any prompting from Butch. She was trying to open herself a little to relieve the agony that was filling her crotch. She screamed constantly, just stopping long enough to fill her lungs.

As Butch reached his climax his hands covered Connie's tits and clamped down hard, and the screaming came even faster for a moment, even more intense. His meaty fingers buried themselves in the soft flesh, almost disappearing.

Connie's face was a mask, a picture of agony. She twisted her head back and forth under the big, empty face above her, screaming out her pain, and then she just laid her head back against the cushion and clamped her eyes tight. The screams subsided, finally, as her voice grew more and more hoarse. She whimpered, as though she had given up the screams, given up caring, and just wanted the pain to end.

Butch was as strong in the, gonads, apparently, as he was in the muscles. He kept up the fucking for a long time. Finally, he let out a big grunt, his body stiffened, and his big, bare belly quivered, and spilled his load into the girl. A different sound escaped her throat at the same time, a sound of surprise, as the come flooded hotly into her belly, and then she turned her face to the back of the couch and sobbed quietly.

Butch climbed off her and looked around the room with a grin, as though he had done something particularly clever. Connie didn't move, except for the quivers that passed over her from time to time. Her crotch, and the couch under her ass, were covered with blood. Max walked over to the couch.

"All right, get up," he said.

"Leave her alone," Julie demanded, and when he looked at her she blanched only slightly. She was horrified that Max should expect the girl to move, more horrified than she had been by the rape itself. Or maybe it was just that Butch was such an animal no one expected anything but animal behavior from him. Max walked over to Julie very calmly anti slapped her across the face. He brought his palm across her face in a vicious swiping motion, and then, before she could recover, he backhanded her.

"Just what the fuck makes you think you're giving the orders around here?" he asked quietly. Julie's hands had leapt to her face, and her robe was hanging open. Now she pulled it closed. Max grabbed her and shook her hard. Her blonde hair stood out in a swirl about her face. "Who the fuck do you think you are, you little bitch?" he demanded. He slapped her again, and she cried out.

"Please. I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I didn't mean…"

Max turned away from her and walked back to the couch. Connie still hadn't moved. He grasped one tiny arm and pulled her halfway to a standing position. She let out a squeal of pain. Her crotch must be on fire, he thought.

"Go clean yourself up," he ordered, pushing toward the bathroom. "Pete, go with her."

"Piss on that," Pete said. "I want to fuck my girl."

"We all want to fuck. This'll only take a moment. She looks disgusting." Pete looked at him with a wry grin, as though amused by his squeamishness, and shrugged. He followed the limping, sobbing girl into the bathroom.

In a moment they were back. While Pete stood with his gun trained on the women, Max opened Connie's suitcase and tossed clothes all over the floor until he came to a yellow quilted robe. It had buttons instead of a sash. He yanked the buttons off and dropped them on the floor. "Here, put this on. Just don't hesitate to take it off when you're told to."

Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, and her face still showed a lot of pain, but she seemed grateful for the chance to put some kind of garment on her body. She hugged the robe around her, covering herself.

"Butch, you and your little sweetheart here stand guard over him," Max said, pointing at the man on the floor. Then he looked over at Sally. "It's Pete's and my turn now," he said with a grin.

Sally didn't make any fuss. The sight of her little friend getting the shit screwed out of her by Butch seemed to have taken out whatever starch she still had in her sails. She carried her suitcase, as Max ordered, and walked into the front bedroom. Pete took Julie's arm and ushered her into the master bedroom. Julie didn't make any trouble, either. She looked back over her shoulder at Max and Sally just disappearing through the doorway, but that was all. No doubt she couldn't quite get used to the idea of her darling little sister getting raped. Well, she'd just have to get used to it.