Heather Brown: The rape girls

She squeezed off the last drop of piss and watched it land on Washington's face. She felt a cuntal contraction and was carried away into spasms of ecstasy as her reeling senses told her that she was coming.

A wave of tiredness came over Kitty as her orgasmic shuddering finally tailed off, and she staggered over to a sofa where she dropped like a sack of potatoes and closed her eyes and caught her breath.

At first the only thing Kitty was aware of was her own labored breathing, but gradually she became aware of something else – a tapping from the front door.

She opened her eyes and looked in that direction to see what it was, but could detect nothing out of the ordinary. Still, the noise continued, and as Kitty looked again, she saw the doorknob turning and realized somebody was on the other side and had been tinkering with the lock.

She was wide-eyed now as the doorknob turned and the door creaked open.

"Kitty," a voice called. "Are you all right?"

"Kimberly…? Is that you?" Kitty replied. "I'm in here."

Kimberly, Jennifer and Gilda came into the room and walked briskly to where Kitty was draped across the sofa, Kimberly exclaiming, "Are you all right?"

Kitty sprawled naked on the couch, too tired to keep her legs together, her cruelly abused cunt open and drooling the last vestiges of Washington's cum, staining the covering of the sofa darkly.

"Oh, God, honey," Kimberly said, rushing to Kitty and holding her tightly. "We came too late…"

"What happened… where've you been?" Kitty gasped.

"There were no windows, and the place was crawling with police," Jennifer said.

"There was a threat on Washington's life," Gilda added.

"We had to sneak by the police and get up the stairs the back way," Kimberly continued. "When we finally got up here, the door was too thick to break down and we had to jimmy the lock. God, Kitty, I'm sorry we're late, but we got here as fast as we could. What about Washington?"

Suddenly, although she looked as though she had been ravaged by an entire army, a smile split Kitty's face, and she pointed over to the far corner of the room. For the first time the others noticed Washington lying there, crumpled in a heap, a mixture of blood and urine glistening on his broad, black face.

"Jesus Christ, what happened to him?" Jennifer said in wonder.

"I pissed on him," Kitty said with a silly grin on her face. Then the effort of staying conscious finally being too much for her, she collapsed into a smiling heap in Kimberly's arms.

"I'm not sure what went on here," Kimberly said, setting Kitty down gently, and getting up to join the others, "but it's up to us to give it an ending worthy of what Kitty had to go through. Do you know what I mean?"

"I sure do," Jennifer said, reaching into her purse and extracting a small, red sphere with a short piece of string emerging from it.

Taking the red sphere from Jennifer, Kimberly said, "You two turn him over and I'll take care of the rest."

Gilda and Jennifer walked over to Washington and got down on their knees to get a grip on his naked body, momentarily stopping to look in wonder at his enormous cock.

"God," Gilda muttered, "If Robert Newman had his prick, he'd own the world."

They rolled Washington over into a prone position, his big black ass sloping upward in the air. Jennifer took hold of one side of his ass and Gilda the other as they spread his cheeks, revealing his asshole.

Kimberly stepped between the V of Washington's splayed legs as she moved her hand to his exposed anus. Expertly, she passed her hand between his parted cheeks and inserted the red sphere in his asshole, burying it in the clutching orifice until the only trace of it was the tiny piece of string that poked about an inch out of the opening.

As if it were a routine medical procedure, Kimberly struck a match and casually set fire to the piece of string emerging from Washington's asshole. Then she straightened up and backed away from the well of his legs, making it all the way to the wall on the other side of the room as Jennifer and Gilda let go of his cheeks and spread out in opposite directions. They all had an excellent view when, seconds later, the sputtering flame Kimberly had ignited vanished momentarily into Washington's anus.

Suddenly a muffled explosion and sparks came shooting from his ass, the air filling with the acrid stench of charred flesh.

Watching Washington twitch like an enormous marionette whose strings had been mixed up, a welter of fresh blood oozing from his charred ass, Kimberly said to the others, "I guess I'll have to get myself another cherry bomb for the Fourth of July."

Nurse Wool's jowls were clenched as they always were when she was under a lot of stress, making her face, normally couched in hanging flesh, look like it was constructed out of granite. "This is very important to the hospital, Miss Marchand," she said with as much emphasis as she could muster, which was considerable. "Do I have any choice in the matter?" Kimberly replied.

"No. What I'm telling you amounts to an order," Nurse Wool said definitively.

"But the hospital is overcrowded enough as it is," Kimberly said. "And even more understaffed. All of our patients already need more care than they're getting. Some of them are five or six to a room."

"I know, I know," Nurse Wool said with more than a trace of weariness. "But sometimes we have to overlook things like that."

"But to ask me to spend all of my time attending to the needs of a single patient seems criminal," Kimberly said.

"Let's look at the facts of life," Nurse Wool said. "It would be criminal if he couldn't pay for it. But he can. And it's not only that but…"

"But the fact that he's Harrison Caldwell, the ninth richest man in the world, and that justifies anything. Is that what you're trying to say?" Kimberly bitingly interrupted.

"Yes, that's right," Nurse Wool said with resignation. "And the fact that he has amended his will to leave this hospital an endowment of seven million dollars when he dies. Obviously the hospital cannot afford to disappoint a patient like that. Now, I'm not going to stand here and argue with you. Just be sure you report to his rooms when you check in for work tomorrow."

Nurse Wool abruptly lifted her bulk from the chair in which she was sitting and left the nurses station, leaving Kimberly alone, her face burning with rage and indignation. Kimberly lit a cigarette and started smoking furiously, filling the enclosure with angry smoke. She snuffed it out and quickly lit another, smoking it just as obsessively.

It was in the middle of her third cigarette that Kimberly started to calm down and think about the situation objectively instead of just being enraged by it. By the time she got up to pour herself a cup of coffee, the situation with Harrison Caldwell, an oppressive chore just a few minutes ago, had developed in her mind as an exciting possibility – the ultimate act of revenge.

Harrison Caldwell was the heir to one of the world's largest fortunes, the controlling stock in a conglomerate of family-owned enterprises that included the manufacture of a variety of consumer products. However the commerce for which Caldwell International was most known, due to the power of the press, was a toilet-paper company which manufactured a product called Tooshie Tissue that controlled forty percent of the U.S. market, causing Harrison Caldwell to be widely known as The King of Toilet Paper.

Among Caldwell's favorite excesses was marrying chorus girls after having known them for a few hours or so, and then laying a huge financial settlement on them for a divorce or annulment so he could marry the next chorus girl who caught his eye. By the time his body had started to wear out from a lifetime of eating, drinking, gambling, and doing everything else that was bad for him, he had had eight wives.