Robert Moore - Hard guys and hostages

"Well, she lost her cool. She opened the door on the other side of the car and started to run. Naked as a Goddamn egg, running across the landscape. I shot her through the leg. One of those slender, lovely legs. And then I went up and fucked her, while she lay there writhing in agony. And then I killed her. I shot her through the belly, and listened to her beg me to get a doctor. She took fifteen minutes to die."

"How horrible."

"Really? I thought it was pretty nice. What was horrible was what she did to me, to my nice, orderly life. To my marriage. My wife is divorced from me now, and married to another man. A guy I've known for years. They've got my kids with them, and she's had another one by him. Isn't that horrible? I think it is. And that little cunt back on the campus was the one who made it possible. She started the whole thing."

"You're kidding yourself," Sally said with surprising boldness. "You did it. She couldn't have hurt you if you hadn't been ready for her."

"Shut your mouth," Max said. "When I want psychological help, I'll ask for it. She was the one who made it happen. And you know, the moment she was dead, I was sorry. I wanted to bring her back to life. Not that I was sorry I had killed her. I was just sorry she was out of my reach, and I couldn't hurt her any more. She deserved a lot more hurt than she got." He looked at the girl, a slow grin spreading across his face. "And you remind me of her. You could be her twin sister. Does that give you any idea of what's in store for you, sweetheart?"

She licked her lips, but he had to admit she was showing some guts. Well, he'd see how much guts she had when it came down to it. "I guess it does," she said. "I guess I'm in for a bad time. How bad a time do you plan to give me?"

"I'll make it up as I go along. First, I want you to strip down. Right now." He said it with no shift in the tone of his voice. She didn't react right away. It took a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in, and then she looked at him with widened eyes. Something in the flatness of his voice, he guessed, had sent a shiver of fear through her greater than she had felt before. Besides, this was it. This was more than talk. Sally's hands moved aimlessly, in a soft fluttering gesture. He could see the rapid pitching of her breasts, and her breathing became audible. He was about to repeat the command, more firmly, when she raised her hands and began to work at the fastener behind her neck. She had trouble with it.

"Come here," he said. "I'll do that for you."

"No, I can…"

"Come here," he said again. His voice wasn't any louder, but there was a firmness to it, and she got the point. She moved closer to him and turned her back. "Bend your knees a little." He was still sitting on the bed, and she had to move down a little so that he could reach the top of the dress without stretching. He opened the hook-and-eye fastener, then pulled the zipper down her back, as far as it would go. It jammed once, and he had to place a hand on the top of the dress, holding it taut, to get the zipper moving again. It opened all the way down to her ass. She was wearing a slip underneath the dress. It was pink, and it felt soft and smooth. It made his prick stand a little straighter. He could smell her, and it wasn't exactly an unpleasant smell. There was a mingling of soap and shampoo, and nice perfume, and good, clean girl.

"That ought to help," he said. "Now go back where I can watch you." She walked back to her former position, faced him, and pulled the dress over her head. Her hair, long and shining, swirled about her shoulders. The dress, just a piece of cloth now, dropped to the floor.

She was breathing with a steam-engine quickness now. She looked as though she was trying to keep from crying, and trying hard. Her eyes were filled with tears, and she gnawed at her lower lip to hold back. Max grinned at her and waved a casual signal to proceed.

Sally bent at the waist and took the lacy hem of the pink slip in her hands. She pulled it up to the level of her waist, then made a little hip-wiggling movement to work it higher. She pulled the slip up over her head as she had the dress, and threw it to the floor quickly, as though having it in her hand made her more naked.

She was down to pantyhose, bra, and shoes now. She was really an exquisite little thing. The best he'd seen since — well, in a long time. Her skin was like silk, and her fine, aristocratic lines were enough to make a man come standing up. Max grinned even more broadly at her, and, with the air of a Roman emperor signifying his preference, he pointed to the bra.

It was pink, like the slip, but otherwise it was much like the one Connie had worn. Brief, covering her breasts only halfway up. It was soft and thin, almost sheer, not hard and thick. She did not need an uplift model.

For a moment she looked as though she were going to plead with him, but then she steeled herself. He could see her taking hold of her courage, and it was amusing. She reached behind her and worked at the clasps of the bra. She had to work at it for some time, and Max didn't offer to help as he had with the dress. This was too enjoyable. She jiggled invitingly, and the bra wasn't restrictive enough to keep her tits from taking part in the movement.

Finally she got the clasps open. She crossed her arms over her breasts, holding the bra in place for another moment, then let it slide down her arms and drop to the floor. Her tits were lovely, firm and fragile with rose tips. She stood before him, naked from the waist up, looking like she was going to die from embarrassment any moment. Max leaned back on one arm and looked her up and down, letting his eyes rest on her nipples, one at a time, for several seconds. She squirmed and started to cry, unable to hold back any longer. She closed her eyes, and the tears leaked out under her eyelids and ran down her cheeks. Max laughed softly. This was almost worth it all, the months in court, the years in prison, all of it.

"Come here," he said. She opened her eyes and looked at him with panic, but she did not refuse. She forced her legs to carry her forward, coming to him in a jerky, slow movement. Her knees looked as though they were about to give way under her.

Max reached up and took one tiny, slender hand. He gave her a tug, and she sprawled on the bed next to him. Their bodies touched, and he could feel her hair on his arm. She looked terrified now, more afraid than the guys Max had seen heading for the gas chamber. He laughed again and reached forward, slowly, letting her see his hand coming, to cup one of her tits. It felt as good as it looked, soft and warm in his hand, fragile and vulnerable. A shiver passed over her body.

Max drew her close, embracing her with the gentleness of a man who is in command of the situation and needn't be rough. There was no need to hold onto her tightly because there was no chance of her even attempting to escape. She got the message. Her body was tense, poised for flight, but she managed to hold herself still.

He pulled her close and kissed her. She kept her lips together for a moment, then he pressed his tongue between them, and she allowed them to part reluctantly. She seemed about to gag with disgust, horrified at the situation, and her position of helplessness. Max probed the inside of her mouth, tasting her tongue sliding over her teeth and the roof of her mouth, exploring freely. She had the sweet, clean taste of toothpaste and astringent, and young, healthy girl.

Max broke off the kiss and moved his lips over her face, her neck, her throat. She was having a difficult time keeping herself from resisting, he could tell, and that made it all the more enjoyable. He let his right hand slide down the smoothness of her body to the elastic of her pantyhose, and dipped his fingers under it. She squirmed hard then, and tensed, her body stiff and still. He pushed the panties down a half-inch, and repositioned his hands and pushed it down some more. He could feel the beginnings of hair now, and the beginning swell of her pussy.