Paul Gable - Raped nurse

"Look. Fuck, her titties are growin'," Hank said.

Lisa could feel her nipples poking up and stretching deliciously as the brunette concentrated her licking on that sputtering clit.

"Ahhhh," Lisa instinctively sighed as she felt her friend's warm lips brush over her clit. Her spread legs trembled with excitement as she felt the mixture of spittle and cunt juice trickle out of her wet slit and ooze down into her asscrack. It was incredible, but she felt herself rocketing up to a big cum. It was the first time she'd ever had anything sexually to do with another woman. Yet here she was, helpless on a table and about to blow her load into her best friend's mouth.

"Okay, enough," Hank said, reaching down and pulling the brunette roughly away from Lisa's wet pussy.

The blonde looked up and saw her snatch hairs sticking around Marilyn's glistening mouth. Marilyn covered her face in shame and turned away, groaning with humiliation. Hank raised his foot and pressed it against the back of the sobbing brunette's head. With a mighty forward thrust, he shoved Marilyn down on the floor, then pressed his heel down hard on her neck. The brunette cried out, her scream turning into a sickening shriek.

"Never cared much for dykes," Hank said, pressing down until Marilyn gasped, then sank into unconsciousness. He took his foot off the limp woman and walked over to Lisa. She stared at him with a mixture of hate and contempt.

"You broads are always talkin' and talkin'. What you got to say now, huh?" Hank sneered.

"What's the matter with you?" Lisa sneered back.

"What do you mean?"

"You can't make it with women, so you and your brothers bait to destroy them? You talk about bating dykes. I think you're just as bad as they are. You can't fuck right, at least without beating someone half to death. You're all sick – a pack of impotent bastards, the scum of the earth."

"Why you…" Hank said, his face turning purple with rage as he shot his fist high in the air.

"Hang on," Claude said, catching his brother's hand as it was about to crash down on Lisa's belly. "Let's string her up and show her what we do with a smart-ass," Claude said, looking up at the overhead beam running the full length of the living room.

Lisa looked triumphantly at the Decker brothers as they searched around for rope. Whatever they did to her, she knew she hit home with her remarks. They might destroy her, but she had at least some revenge that might.

"Fuckin' dumb bitch," Hank said under his breath as he pulled out a two-foot piece of rope from a tool box that doubled as a window seat. Lisa turned her head around and looking encouragingly at the terrified teenaged girl watching helplessly from the chair. She wanted to give some kind of strength to her. Lisa knew she'd need it later on.

"String her up," Claude said, tying her wrists tightly with the rope. Lisa's flesh around her wrists was still badly scraped from the last binding. This rope cut painfully into the raw skin.

"This ought to hold," Hank said, pulling a longer, thicker piece of rope out of the tool box and throwing it over the beam. He tugged on both ends of the rope to test it, then tied one end around Lisa's hands. She groaned as Hank moved a few steps in front of her, then pulled down with all his weight.

"Oh, God help me!" Lisa cried out as she felt her arms jerked up. Every muscle and tendon in her arms strained agonizingly as the blonde's body jerked up in the air. Hank, Art and Claude laughed as Lisa swung like a pendulum in the center of the living room. The big blond Decker brother finally lowered her until her toes barely touched the floor. Lisa sagged in her bonds as she looked at the leering Deckers. Even Art had managed to stand up from the couch, supporting himself on the back of the piece of furniture. He laughed, then limped up to her hanging, stretched naked body.

"Bitch," he cried out with a lewd gleam in his eye. Claude handed him a poker from the fireplace on the other side of the room. The younger brother slashed the end of the poker across Lisa's body, peeling a narrow strip of skin from the blonde's right tit.

"Ohhhh," she cried out, jerking her body as if an electric current had passed through her. She felt the warm blood flowing down her ribs. It trailed down her belly and filled her sunken navel as the three brothers laughed.

She wished they'd step just a little closer. If she were going to die, she wanted to fight back as much as she could. She wanted to kick at least one of them in the balls and cripple him for life: it was the least she could do for the world.

Hank looked at her, licking his lips with excitement. Brutality always turned him on. Lisa's twisting, bleeding, tortured body hanging in front of him made him grow more excited. He came closer to Lisa, throwing down the poker.

I can do it if he moves closer, the blonde thought as she moved her foot experimentally.

Hank grabbed at Lisa's cunt suddenly, twisting the hairs and her pussylips violently in his fingers. That pulling, tearing sensation ripped through her body like a knife. Lisa brought her knee up automatically as her mouth twisted open and let out a shriek of agony. She'd had her chance to blast his balls with a hard kick. But the suddenness of Hank's violent attack on her snatch destroyed that opportunity.

"Stupid cunt," Art said, spittle flying out in the air as he reached down and picked up his brother's pistol. The sight of Lisa hanging there helpless seemed to incite the younger Decker. Holding onto the grip tightly, he swung the gun high in the air, crashing it across her face, her lips, the tops of her tits. He began pistol-whipping Lisa mercilessly, laughing crazily as he slashed the hand wildly across her bucking body.

"Oh God, stop him! He's crazy. He's crazy. He's crazy!" the girl wailed from the chair as she watched wide-eyed with horror.

But nothing reached Art of his brothers. While Hank and Claude looked on, Art kept on beating the helpless woman. Lisa continued to struggle, tugging and pulling at her bonds. The rough surface of the rope chewed skin from her wrists. Lisa felt her hands going numb as she became bruised and torn. She screamed as the wild-eyed young Decker. He cursed at her in return, occasionally losing his balance because of his wounded leg. Then he would wince, curse his leg and her, then start whipping her with that horrible gun barrel again with more force than before. Her shrill cries echoed off the walls, drowning out the obscenities Art hurled at her.

"Bitch, motherfuckin' slut. I'll kill you. I'll slice off those tits and stuff 'em in your fuckin' mouth before I get through with you," Art shrieked at her, spittle drooling out the corners of his mouth. Lisa stared at him in horror. His eyes rolled sometimes, gleaming as Lisa begged, cursed, threatened and pleaded with him to stop.

But nothing would satisfy the young Decker, it seemed, short of her being beaten to death there in the living room. Lisa remembered again the descriptions of some of the Deckers' victims. Some of the women were cruelly reduced to piles of bloodied flesh. That's what she and Marilyn and the girl would look like – she was sure of it.

"God!" Lisa howled as she tried to battle with Art. It seemed useless. When she tied to spin around, the wild strokes of the gun barrel slashed across her back. When she hunched up her legs, Art cracked the cold metal across her knee, then beat her tits mercilessly. When at times she actually tried to kick at his wound or slam her toes into his balls. Art laughed, dodging even though his leg was wounded. Then he reached forward and took a hard grip on her cuntflesh, twisting her sensitive labes between his powerful fingers until the blonde screamed out in pain. In several seconds, her cunt was on fire with agony.

Art lashed and beat at her, grabbing her cunt again and again and twisting the labes mercilessly until Lisa found herself losing consciousness. She was going to die. Thank God it was going to be while she was unconscious. At least she wouldn't have to endure the sneers and obscene comments the Deckers certainly hurled at their helpless victims.