Brad Harris - The secretary_s vacation

"You like that, baby?" he muttered. "How you like the feel of that? Damn, I'd like to belt that pussy a few times. Just beat it to a bloody pulp so it wouldn't be so tantalizing to your cop boy friend. You think you'd like that? Say, baby? What's that old man of yours gonna say when you show him a bloody, torn mess where his nice soft little pussy used to be?"

Sheri felt more than just anxiety now. She felt her terror back in full force. The son of a bitch just might do it. She tried to look over at the two companions to see if she might get any help from them. They sat against a wall calmly drinking beer and smiling lewdly as they watched the way Buck was manhandling her. Their cocks were still half-erect, lying across their thighs as they sat there. Sheri felt the sinking feeling inside her. There was no help, no one can protect her when this beast decided to work her over.

She began trying to taunt the monster. This time she was doing it out of desperation. She had to get his interest back in fucking her, even up the ass. She hoped fervently that he didn't have to hear her cry in pain or see her blood flowing to get his rocks off. The blonde wagged her ass against him, gritting her teeth against the pain in her pussy and across her tits. She held her breath and rubbed as sensuously as she could manage against him. She rolled her tits against the tormenting hand, gasping in pain at each movement.

"You want this cock, don't you?" he laughed gutturally. "Now you do want to get fucked. Maybe you remember how much I gave you before, hun? You want some more of that cock?"

"Yes," she hissed back. "Ohhh, yes! Come on, big stud, fuck me! Show me you know how to use that cock. You so unsure of your pecker you have to use a fist instead? Come on! Fuck me, if you're man enough!"

It was a gamble. It was a hell of a gamble. She could easily enrage him to go ahead and beat her up. She might even be asking for her death, if she got him angry enough. She sensed, though, that he had taken her dare. He snorted angrily behind her and jammed his cock into the crack of her ass. He panted and snarled as he probed with the hot pecker, searching for the soft opening of her asshole.

"You damn, smart-ass bitch!" he muttered. "You won't be so smart when I finish with you. First, I'll fuck this ass till you can't walk. Then I'll take care of the rest of you. That cop bastard won't recognize his little blonde cunt next time he see you."

He found her shitter. The big prick hammered against it until the tender flesh gave way. He stretched her bung open and lunged into her asshole. Sheri gasped from the searing pain. She closed her eyes and tried to let herself faint. The pain was not quite enough to cause loss of consciousness, yet so strong that she could not shut it out. The fire flamed through her body as he tortured her tits, her pussy, and her asshole. The cock thrust through her guts in its rage. She knew he must have torn her flesh. He kept getting rougher and rougher with her as his breath started to come in short heaving gasps.

"Ah!" he grunted. "Ah! You guys missed the best way to fuck! Oh, what a wild little ass! Uhhhhh!"

He fucked with driving anger, the prick seeming like a great ramrod inside her bowels. Sheri prayed for unconsciousness. She prayed for something to happen to save her. He was ready to orgasm. She could feel the cock begin to shudder with lust. As soon as he unloaded that cock, he would be ready to start beating her up as his farewell to Roy. She began to cry as his lust rose. She sobbed as she felt the hot cum bursting from the cock and gushing into her ass.

She wagged her ass, trying to prolong the fuck as long as she could. This was it. This would be the last cum she would ever feel shooting into her body. She sensed that. The beast intended to kill her, or at least to mutilate her so she had no beauty left. Sheri let her tears flow. To have it all happen in a strange town, in a deserted warehouse, on a dirty floor, with these smelly men. She sobbed deeply, her body shuddering with her hopelessness.

Had she not been crying, had the three men not been so excited by the terror they had finally driven out into the open, they might have heard the voices outside. Had the two observers not been so content with their beer, had Buck not been so caught up in his fuck, they might have seen the face that looked in a broken windowpane. As it was, none of them knew anything about it until the door crashed open. A swarm of blue-clad officers came roaring into the room, clubbing the hoodlums viciously. They slammed them against the walls apparently enjoying drawing long bruises across heads and bodies as they lashed out with rage.

Sheri looked up, unable to believe the presence of her rescuers. Marianne and Roy rushed to her side. Kit came over and cuddled her head against her tits.

"Let's get her out of here," Roy whispered. "Let's get her back to the apartment and clean her up."

He stepped over and talked with two of the policemen as the women helped the girl to her feet. They gathered the remnants of her clothes and pieced them back together with the help of some pins from Kit's purse. The Blue Army all looked at her with deep compassion as she left.

Sheri awoke late that night. Kit and Roy were sitting beside her as she lay across their bed. The redhead smiled and patted her affectionately.

"Feel better now?" Kit asked. "Maybe you're in the mood for a bite of food. We have plenty left over from Carnival."

Sheri shuddered at the word, then looked up into the warmth of their eyes. She shook her head and slowly sat up.

"Everyone gone?" she asked. "Where's Marianne?"

"Back at the hotel," Roy answered. "She was almost as hysterical as you. We gave her a tranquilizer and sent her back to the hotel for a good night's sleep. You two have a plane to catch first thing in the morning, you know."

"The cops?" Sheri asked. "Don't the cops want me to tell them about it?"

Roy laid a hand across her shoulder in a gesture of assurance and comfort. "No," he answered slowly, "I don't think so. We decided not to go after them for rape. That would require you to stay down here. It would expose you to all the publicity. It would allow a defense attorney to go into what you'd been doing the night before, how you were dressed that day, all of that. We have a better way."

"Better?" she asked, looking into his intense eyes. "You're not going to let them get away to go after another girl. They were animals, Roy. They were vicious, blood-thirsty animals!"

"I know, I know, baby!" he reassured her. "I know what they are. So do the police. Don't worry about them."

"But they ought to be sent up for life," the blonde protested. "Oh, God! To think that they'll be let to roam the streets again." She shuddered and trembled as fear raced through her body again.

"Just calm down," Roy insisted. "I told you, we have our own ways of handling men like that. If you insist on knowing, they've been taken to Central Lock-up. Tonight each will be left unattended in a different ward of blacks. Tomorrow morning they'll have been raped by homosexuals all night. The biggest, meanest, craziest black queers in the South will work them over. Men like that hate blacks. You know that. They hate everyone, but they hate blacks most of all. Those blacks know it, know it only too well. They've been buffered and brutalized by hoodlums like that for two hundred years. Now they'll be given the chance to get even."

"By morning," he continued, "those hoodlums will be maniacs. They'll be so blown apart by the night, that we can get the easiest railroad to the farm you ever saw. We could have killed them. I could have seen to that easy enough. This way, we have them locked away for the rest of their lives. Satisfied?"

She nodded at the artist. Kit patted her softly. "Maybe now you'd like to eat," the redhead suggested.