Robert Vickers: Raped Captives

Christine knew Jackie's hands would surely fall off from lack of circulation at any second. She could actually see her flesh turning an ugly blue.

"I dunno. But we got this whole fucking store to find things to do in. Hell," he said, "why go anywhere else? We got some really nice stuff right here."

He lifted one of the frilly nighties with the tip of

his gun and tossed it to Christine.

"Get into it," he ordered. "I want to see how you look."

"No." She had decided she would be firm. He couldn't make her do anything she didn't want to do.

She was wrong.

He slapped her so hard, that she stumbled and fell to her knees. The ringing sound in her ears from the blow made her dizzy, and her vision blurred. She hardly even felt it when he pulled her to shaky legs and shoved her hard against one of the display cases.

"Strip," he ordered. "Get naked. I want to see bare ass in ten seconds, or I'll ram this gun barrel where the sun never shines."

To show that he meant business, he jammed the long barrel of the revolver into her ass. She felt her asscheeks parting under the pressure and the sting from the gun sight cutting into her tender flesh brought her back to her senses. This man was capable of anything, even murder. He had robbed a store, and had fled to hide from the police. Perhaps he had already killed that night, and was looking for another victim.

Only by cooperating with him could Christine possibly survive. Hesitantly, she began unfastening the buttons on her blouse. It wasn't fast enough for the gunman.

"Hell, lemme show you how to do it right." He

reached out a meaty hand and gripped the fabric at her neckline. A savage tug sent buttons skittering across the floor, dancing and spinning away. The blouse hung open, and exposed her lush, ripe tits.

She shivered and looked down stupidly at her naked boobs jiggling to and fro. The woman hardly knew what to do or say. When Mollusk laughed, it was evil and promised her nothing but more humiliation.

"Like that, huh? Good. Now get the rest of those duds off. And do it now, or I'll do it myself."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. A dull snick brought the switchblade knife open. The steel blade gleamed in the dull light. The sharp tip looked like a needle to the frightened woman.

Shrugging her shoulders, she dropped the ripped blouse to a small, pathetic pile on the floor, and immediately began working on the snap holding her skin. She didn't get that far. A quick backhanded slap knocked her sprawling on the top of one of the display cases. She was stunned and couldn't do anything but quiver like a fish out of water for a moment.

This was all it took for the man to come aver to her. She felt the icy, cold blade of his switchblade cut lightly into her flesh. He dragged a bloody line down the side of her body until he came to her skirt. A savage slash cut through her skin. The

man ripped it from her body, actually scooting her a few inches along the top of the slick glass case.

"Pantyhose," he sneered. "I hate those fucking things. Don't do nothing but get in the way of my pleasure."

"Don't hurt me, please!" she begged. She saw no mercy in the man's lustful eyes. He was going to have his way with her and nothing she could do would change that.

"Least ways, you're wearing those damn things with the panties built into them. That saves me some time."

She almost passed out when she felt the cold tip of his knife press hard into her tender flesh again. He pulled the knife forward until it rested just under her belly button. He caught the edge of her pantyhose and began slicing through the fabric. When the sides of his blade touched her cunt lips she almost passed out from fear.

"Don't go fainting on me," he said viciously, slapping her. "I want you knowing what I'm doing. I ain't no necrophile who gets his kicks fucking dead chicks. I want you responding to me, got that?"

"Y-yes," she said, looking down in abject fear as the knife slowly worked lower between her legs. Involuntarily, her legs spread wantonly for the man. She didn't want him cutting her, not there, not her pussy lips.

A quick twist of his wrist and her pantyhose were

completely cut into two pieces, one on her left leg and the other on her right. Her snatch was widely exposed to the man's lascivious gaze.

"Now that's a pussy," he said, licking his dry lips. "And this is what I call a real man's prick."

Reaching down, he pulled out his cock, about half stiff. Christine almost laughed, and then bit it back. Laughing at Mollusk now would be her death sentence. The man was insane and would do terrible things to her before he allowed her to die. The way he used that knife told her more than she really wanted to know about the man.

He moved into the vee of her legs and stuffed his half erect cock into her pussy. She sighed, and leaned back, supporting herself on her elbows. This wasn't too bad, she tried to tell herself. The man couldn't fuck her until he got a real boner. If she had him pegged right, he might never get it up.

"D-do you like it so far?"

"Hell, babe, it ain't even started yet." He moved his hips back and forth but the woman couldn't feel his prick getting any stiffer inside her. She almost thought she wouldn't have to put up with any more than this simple humiliation when he pulled back and slapped her again.

"Bitch! You ain't doing nothing for me. You're supposed to help me along."

"Doing what?"

"You ain't no virgin. You know what a woman's supposed to do!" He pressed the point of

the knife into the underside of her right tit until a tiny drop of blood appeared. "I'm gonna cut this off if you don't get to work."

"What do you want me to do? I don't know! Honest, I don't know!"

He glared at her for a second, then turned away, pulling his prick from her pussy. He stood with his hands on his hips for a moment, then pointed silently to a lingerie display.

"Do you w-want me to put something on?"

"The crotchless, frilly ones. Nothing else."

She stripped off the severed pantyhose, acutely aware of the man's lusting gaze on her as she worked. The pantyhose came off slowly, one inch at a time. She stroked her fingers down over her smooth, firm thighs to her well-rounded calves and ankles. Kicking, she got rid of one half of her ruined pantyhose. The woman quickly worked off the other side, feeling totally naked and completely helpless as she did so.

It surprised her that she could feel even more vulnerable than before. The slight wisps of nylon that had remained on her legs had given her some little comfort, a little taste of normalcy. All that was gone now. She hurried to put on the panties, hoping this would give her back a feeling of safety.

The silk panties flowed across her flesh. Her ass amply pushed against the thin fabric, making her feel almost as naked as before. The thin wisp of the panties pressed against her pussy mound, and

caused a small tuft of her bush to poke up over the top. This seemed to arouse Mollusk more than anything else. Christine watched in abject terror as his prick jerked up to a full erection.

"Yeah, baby, that's what I like to see," he said, moving closer to her again. A quick shove against her tits made her sit down on the top of the display counter. His hands captured her legs and lifted them up on either side of her body. She closed her eyes and waited.

She felt the heavy bludgeon of his cock press into the slit of the frilly panties, and find her cunt hole. She hated herself for responding to the man, but she couldn't help it. It might have been fear or it might have been real lust. She couldn't tell. All she knew for a fact was that her pussy was beginning to get damp from her love juices.

"Naw, I ain't gonna fuck you there. That's a sloppy, big hole. Too many guys have beat me to it."