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Prisoners' Revenge Ch. 01

By: PleasureBot69



CHAPTER ONE: BUTTERFLY CAUGHT



Prisoners' Revenge Ch. 01



The junkie clasped Veronique's wrist suddenly from behind, and as she turned, she saw lust gleaming in his eyes. "You slut," he was saying - but suddenly noticed the gun. "Christ, she's got a gun!" he yelled to nobody in particular, and backed away, trembling, heading for a door at the end of the hall.

Jack whistled. "Hear that, boys? Maybe she was planning on taking me hostage, huh? Drop it, you stupid bitch."

Veronique could have torn out her hair in her frustration. She had been seconds away from seizing control. But she remained calm, aloof. "You said to bring my uniform, Mr. Sines. My gun is part of my uniform."

"Alright, alright. We aren't going to call and have Jennifer hung because you tried to shoot us. That was expected from Ms. Fascist Bitch. Just drop it, and any other weapons. No...funny business."

"Trying out for the Mafia, are we?" Veronique quipped, but dropped the pistol. The quiet clunk against the floor was deafening for her. She was damn near defenceless...and going into a den of thieves.

***

The room was filthy enough. There were several ashtrays, many snuffed-out joints, bags of discarded chips, pop cans, enough beer to drown an army...and so on. The predominant smell was of sex. Veronique knew it from a brief time with Vice Squad. The smell of a prostitute's den.

"The woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet, and adorned with gold and precious stones...having in her hand a golden cup full of...full of the filthiness of her fornication," Officer Carne mumbled, half-remembering the lines from Revelation about the Scarlet Woman. This place stank of her. Was this the end of the world, then? Veronique felt her mind drifting to verses, passages, cataclysms, apocalypse, angels, seals, trumpets, the earth cracking, the sinners plunging into great fires...NO. She shook her head. She had to remain alert. She still had a knife. She still had her wits, better than any dagger.

Jack Sines was walking backwards into the room, sitting down on a couch. "Make yourself comfortable," he was saying. Uncle had to be with Jennifer, from the phone call - and he had to be somewhere else. Ike and Larry came through presently, dragging through some heavy wooden 'thing'. Carne was not sure what it was, but it had holes in it.

The three of them manoeuvred themselves to be surrounding her. Ike was between her and the door. No one was speaking. Larry came very close, by her side, breathing against her neck. Veronique turned to keep him in front of her, preventing his getting a better angle on her. Eventually, Jack joined this game, approaching so that she became sandwiched between them.

"The filthiness of her fornication?" said Ike from the door, as though inquiringly. "Is that how you think of sex? Filthiness? This is going to be hard for you," he added almost sympathetically, scratching his hair beneath a cap he wore. "Um, Jack, tell her what we have planned for tonight."

"Well, it's still early," Jack said, his dark hair tumbling over his eyes as though he was telling a ghost story. "But okay, we'll start with a striptease. Partial striptease. Then the stocks. You know what stocks are, slut? In there, we'll double-team her, rotating a bit between us. That'll be Step One."

"Step One?" Veronique replied stupidly, before her eyes narrowed. "What the hell? So this whole thing is just to get sex? How pathetic is that?"

"No, no, no," Larry replied, breathing against her neck and causing her to flush more deeply. "This is for you. To give you pleasure. To see you happy. Is it true...we've heard you're a virgin? A true good Catholic girl?" His tongue flicked out and licked up Veronique's neck, right to the ear, brushing through strands of her beautiful auburn hair, flicking the lobe. "Well, we can help with that."

Aggressively, Veronique's arms came up and shoved the two men back. Both took several steps backwards, partially propelled, partially just exaggerating the force. They had both been surprised by her strength, especially sudden as it was. Jack was the first to recover. "Don't listen to Larry. It ain't for your pleasure. It's for ours. You are the stupid cunt who put us all away. Me for rape. Uncle for cocaine, or whatever it was he was carrying. We all hate you. You, specifically. We ain't redeemed from the pen. We don't feel sorry. But we want to feel you. Hear you beg. Hear you cry. See you cum again and again, slaves to our strength, slaves to our whims. Twenty-four hours. Hope we aren't interrupted."

Veronique thought of Dave, and almost smiled, feeling more confident. She managed to suppress the smile.

"No one told me she was here!" grumbled Uncle, the gargantuan man with the pathetic six hairs on his entire scalp. Veronique spun quickly, thrown off again. He was here? So was Jennifer here, too?

Ike saw through this. He had always been methodically logical, in his own, depraved way. "Yup, she's here. But too late, right? You're already here. We wanted to have Uncle with Jenny elsewhere, for security's sake. But I realized it was enough just to have you think so, so that you wouldn't have the cops kick in the door."

Jack suddenly yelled "fuck!" and leapt for Veronique, surprising her enough that she put up a fight, grappling with him. Had he seen her knife? What was this? His hands scrabbled over her uniform, then dipped inside and felt around. Carne felt his rough hands rub against the plain black bra she had worn, skirting around to pinch her breasts momentarily, before resuming the hunt. He drew back, proceeding to pat down her thighs and her legs. Somehow he did not bother the boots. He must not have thought a wire would fit there.

"She isn't bugged. It was definitely possible," Jack was saying, "so the cops could keep tabs on her. Now we can speak plainly. Ike - Jesus, if they'd been listening, they'd come busting in round about now, if they knew the hostage was here."

"Can I see her?" Veronique asked from the floor. She brushed off what she hoped was a white salad dressing from her pant leg, where she had fallen, and looked up with eyes still demanding and harsh. "Can I see Jennifer? Otherwise, I see no reason to even consider - "

"'Even consider'?" mocked Ike. "Lady, you're in the web of sin here. We can bring you to heel whenever we want. You think what you want has any meaning here? You think we're negotiating. We say 'sit', you sit. We say 'swallow', you swallow. You might be a cop out there, but here, we're your boss, we're the superintendents, we're the police chiefs."

Veronique thought that she was reaching the point of no return. It was now or never. If they made her strip, the knife would be revealed. Who knew what trouble that would cause? She did not like her chances. Four of them. One of her. Still, she did not see any weapons on them.

"So, you can start the tease, now," Larry said, and stooped down to pull her to her feet. His hands roamed over her uniform bottom, feeling her smooth rump, grabbing them like a pair of fruits. "This is going to be good," he declared. He was close. He smelled like rot, like sweat. How long had it been since he had showered? 

Veronique thought of various approaches. A knife to one of their dicks would be a damn fine state. Just press it there, threaten to stab if anyone made a bad move. The neck would be easier to get to...

"C'mon bitch," Jack jeered, "you still have your cap on and everything. Start by standing at attention."

Veronique dumbly took a proper saluting position, one hand raised, the other straight by her side. Her mind was whizzing. Positions. It would be easy to escape - plunge the knife through Ike as she tore past. The trouble was helping Jennifer out. That would require either killing them all, or else...

"Nice. Nice tits. They look so good in that uniform. Fucking A. Now dance a bit, dance around, touch yourself through the fabric, throw your hat to the guy you want to give your first blowjob to. Hah hah hah..."

Veronique nodded, complying slowly but fairly directly. She was not much of a dancer, but she realized that the longer she took, the better. She spun a great deal, which dizzied her a bit needlessly, and since everybody was a fan of her breasts, she cupped them through her uniform, focusing more on them than on her shapely legs. She rubbed herself, feeling nothing, feeling no arousal, just going through the emotions. Her face was a simple mask - pursed lips, distant look of enjoying herself. Good enough to keep the wolves at the door.

***

Jennifer writhed on the bed. Sweat ran all over her soft body, and she wondered if the bugs on the bed were attracted to body heat. The stress made the sweat come faster. She was still hogtied, face down into a pillow, and yet with her clothes removed in between tie-ups, it felt considerably different than Ike's first set of knots. An extra rope passed through her thighs, tightly, keeping something shoved inside her body - was that what people called a dildo? It was moving, vibrating, stimulating her pussy as she lay and fought against the ropes.

Slowly, she felt herself becoming almost...aroused by it? She had seen some pornographic films with friends at sleepovers - they laughed, because of the girl's sisters apparently watched these movies religiously. Women would always go through the same cycles. Flushing, moaning, then screaming, bodies getting increasingly worked up. Then they kind of shivered, almost, and screamed louder than at any time before...it was weird, because they were acting, weren't they? How did they fake it so well?

Ike had pushed the dildo in with a minimal amount of lubrication. When he had been binding the ropes, he had been cackling nearly constantly. "Uncle, look at this hot bitch. Beautiful hair, huh?" Jennifer liked her raven-colored hair, and had no idea that they were talking about her pubes. Naturally, she was confused when they said that they should make a 'landing strip' of her hair. What would be landing on her scalp? Was that some dirty joke?

Uncle grunted. "Officer Carne will be here, soon. You guys let me know when she gets here." "Yeah, yeah," came Ike's response, as he sauntered out. "British fag," Uncle was saying once the door closed, and he knelt by Jennifer as she wriggled and twisted on the bed. "Do you like it?" the brutish man asked. The blindfold had been removed, and Jenn saw Uncle's simple brown eyes gazing into hers, judging her. She was gagged, and tried to deny any pleasure she was feeling from the incessant wriggling of the dildo. Uncle laughed, taking this as moaning - which behind the ball gag, it did rather sound like. "Baby girl likes it," he smiled, and slapped her bare ass - one cheek, then the other. "Lovely. Can't wait."

Jennifer shed a single tear against the pillow, the moisture soon drawn into the fabric and irrevocably lost. She turned her face towards the window, that peeked out over a clump of trees. Focusing on the trees, she tried to remove herself from what she felt, but it was just so constant, so determined to please her, that she felt herself pulled back again and again...if she could only detach herself from situations, like clever Veronique could. Sometimes she hated her sister for that ability of hers. Envied hers.

She bit down on the gag as the vibrator suddenly began to move faster, going through a speed cycle of some kind. Drool began to leak out around the edges of the gag, wetting the pillow further. God, it was insistent!

Uncle lay down on the neighbouring bed, flicked on the television. It was too early to start filming. If she did not look into it, it wouldn't sell anyway. Nor would it be good blackmail material. Even Uncle knew this, thick as two short planks. 

Jennifer heard someone yelling from outside the room. "I'm a cumbucket!"

'What the heck?' she wondered.

***

The rooms were simple enough. There was the main room - couch, television, looked like a bomb had gone off quite recently. An attached room to the left, which Uncle had emerged from - Veronique took this to be where Jennifer was being kept hostage. To the right, another door, where Ike and that retard Larry had been staying until their sudden emergence. A closet with blinders. This room had no window, and was lit by a few freestanding lamps.

Despite herself, Veronique felt embarrassed to be dancing for these ex-prisoners, these drooling convicts. It was a disgrace to her uniform. A disgrace to her honor. To be touching herself...even in pantomime, it was disgusting. She would save herself from their paws, save her virginity for a chaste, good man. All of her virginities...she had often heard from laughing, idiot officers about a woman's 'three virginities', her mouth, her vagina, her anus. These thugs would never touch any part of her in these ways, or others they might dream up. The police had such imaginations...perhaps they caught this from the perverts they hunted. Another virginity was between the breasts, a 'titty fuck'...apparently, the armpits were a legitimate place to slide the penis...apparently, the necrophilia-worshipping freaks they sometimes caught liked the idea of a penis through the ear into the skull. Men had such...imaginations, Veronique thought again.

She tried to flick her cap at Ike, as he appeared to be a leader of sorts, though she had kept the rest of her clothes on so far. Just a stupid imitation of a movie she had seen once with Courtney Cox as a stripper. She slipped up, and it just tilted down over her head, cocked at a weird angle. The men laughed. "Try again!" yelled Jack. Ike shook his head - "no, no. Leave it like that. Really cute. Choose your man wisely."

Veronique stopped for a moment, to take in what they really wanted.

Ike Redford stood up. "You know, I offered myself to you once, Officer Carne. You won't remember. Long before you caught me. We went to the same university. I was in your Criminology class."

Veronique was literally stunned. She had never been asked out by anyone called Ike. But wait - maybe he had used an alias then...or now? No, the courts would have found his real name, wouldn't they?

"Yeah, I came up to you in class. I looked different. My hair was neat and blond. I wasn't wearing contacts. I was dressed preppy. God, I admired you. I looked at you every class. Pure admiration. No sex in my head, even. You don't remember me, do you."

"No," Carne replied honestly. "I'm sorry, I don't."

Ike spat onto the floor, though it made little enough difference to the filthy mess already in place. "Yeah, well. I was respectful and all. Wrote you poems."

It all flashed back to her. Yes. The poems. "I remember the poems," she said. 

She had never liked the poems. They were dark poems, brooding, 'deep' perhaps, but so full of pain and almost...devilish ideas. Wicked ideas. About the darkness of the universe, things like that. Brooding on death. She had come into it as a kind of angel; he had cast her as the only light he saw. Veronique had rejected it partially as trite, partially as opposed to her religious ideals. She said so to Ike, cap over her left eye, using much the same words as before.

"I know. I scared you. And you thought I was scary, or boring. Or both. How the fuck do those mix, anyway?"

Nervously, she shrugged. "They do mix. You were talking about great things, but it didn't sound like you knew what you were dealing with. And without the light of God, the conclusions you were reaching...I mean, calling me an angel is such blasphemy. Such blasphemy." She had to admit, a part of her liked it. Being glorified, being on a pedestal. 

"It was honest. I honestly felt so much for you."

The other men exchanged glances. What the fuck was up with Ike? He was normally such a charming sadist, a dastardly torturer. Was he playing favourites?

Jack spoke up. "Keep stripping, whore. Toss that cap." His dark, almost black eyes flashed over Ike, as though expecting objection, the order to be belayed. It went unchallenged.

Veronique kept dancing as before, feeling at her breasts through the thick cloth of the uniform, stroking her belly and her thighs. She turned about, bending over to show her ass against the trousers. Hands on her belt, she did small rotations, not really committed to this. Her hair was behind her head in a bun. She intended to suddenly loosen this, as a form of misdirection, and approach them, drawing the knife with the other hand...attacking suddenly, cutting each of them enough to give her time to get to the hostage-room with Jennifer.

"I felt so much for you," Ike almost shouted.

"I don't believe you. Look what you're having me do, now. Is that what someone who loves a girl does? Has the girl strip for his buddies? Perplexed and troubled at his bad success, The tempter stood, nor had what to reply, Discovered in his fraud". That's what happened. Your romance was just another cheap trick to get a girl in bed. Men are full of them."

Turning, she pretended to throw her cap to Ike, but changed at the last second to throw it to Jack. This was political. Her reason was returning. Multifoliate, steps of her plan were assembling. Jack caught it in his lap, and looked up, glancing at Ike Redford. He didn't blink. He walked behind the couch, as though to get a vantage point to watch. The men were all bunched together now, gathered around Jack as though he was the Birthday Boy.

"Get over here and start sucking then, babe. Let's see if you're sincere. Your pathetic tease didn't even get me hard, so you got some work to do."

Veronique smiled as though he had amused or aroused her, reached to her hairbun and released it, so her hair blossomed out like an auburn fountain. She sauntered over towards him. She had gotten the knife up her sleeve while stooping at one point. It could flash out at any point.

She was thinking rapidly: Jack first, because I'll be close to him; then Uncle, fast and hard because he's tough enough to take it unless he's surprised...back up to the door, slashing at anyone who gets close...that door better have a blasted bolt. Then out the window. Those side rooms have windows. They looked fairly big. Hope Jennifer can be untied quickly - the knife will help.

The men gazed up at her. All of them lower than her, even lumbering Uncle, for they knelt in anticipation. She stalked closer, tall and lithe in her close-fitting uniform, one hand plucking open the top bottom, teasing...

She wasn't bad at this, for a first-timer.

Fast as lightning, the blade was out into her hand, slashing Jack's grinning face - a flash of red - spinning so quickly her arm would ache afterwards for it - slashslashslashslash across Uncle's chest and briefly over his chin - only the last slash garnering any red - the other attacks seemingly absorbed into his bulk - and she was running backwards - Ike getting close - slashing his all-too-close hand - Larry suddenly with a gun (he was packing?!) - but she was through the door.

She slammed it closed. In mute surprise, she saw the knife was gone. Had she dropped it? A bolt - there was a crash against the door, and she flung the bolt through while pushing back against it herself. More crashes - bang bang bang.

"Nowhere to go, you crazy bitch! Nowhere to go! Uncle, go out the back, make sure she don't crawl out somehow. This door's coming down! We've got your cutesy little knife!"

She spun around. The room was dark. A television was playing some awful pornographic film, with a girl giving a hulking black man the blowjob of his life, deepthroating it eagerly. Did she enjoy that? What the hell? Veronique raced to the bed, and suddenly the shadows and the light revealed what she was seeing: her nude and tied-up sister, wriggling against her bonds. There was a rope up against her vagina, and she was shaking as though she was being tickled. The girl's face was buried against the pillow. She was grunting through the gag, trying to speak, Veronique incorrectly guessed.




Prisoners' Revenge Ch. 01



Without the knife, there was no time to fix with the bonds. Racing to the window, Veronique flung it open, and stuck her head out to see if there was anything there to catch her sister's tossed body, should she push her out. Just a dumpster. That would have to do. With more than a few grunts of her own, the uniformed female officer picked her sister up - with a surprised squeal from her - and pushed her out through the window. 

The door was smashed open, and the men came racing in, as Veronique lifted herself up and over, falling - 

- no, she wasn't falling.

Her leg was being held! She kicked back, once, twice, with the unheld leg, until someone grabbed that too, and she was dragged bodily back inside, her ribcage feeling like it was being torn open against the metal windowsill, crashing to the ground. She heard the window close above her. A boot crashed against her head.

The lights went out.

***

When she awoke, she felt as though she had been beaten long and hard, and been decapitated. She could see her left hand, and with an effort, could twist her head to see her right hand. Where was the rest of her body?

Officer Carne found herself incapable of turning to see properly. Wait! She knew what this was - stocks, as one of the criminals had mentioned. Her head and hands protruded through the wooden device, which closed down to isolate those parts from the rest of her body, which was splayed out behind her. It was not very high off the ground, so it was painful to remain in this position, her rump up in the air, her upper body forced down near the stinking carpet.

It was hard to move her legs, because she heard a rattle that indicated that they were chained together - probably because the stocks were fairly light, if durable, and could presumably be moved easily. But she did manage, and she became certain that she was still dressed. Well. That was something.

Ahead of her was a wall. Just a plain wall, whitewashed, with just a few words written in red ink: OFFICER VERONIQUE CARNE WORSHIPS COCK, and a picture of her face (roughly, at least) with her lips pursed around somebody's penis. It was rather vulgar, of course, and Veronique sealed her eyes and quietly prayed to detach herself from this horrible predicament. She reminded herself - you haven't been molested yet. Just poor Jennifer, but I think she's a little bit experienced. You haven't even shown any skin. Dave will be here soon. Maybe it's been hours. I feel like I've been in this damned thing for hours - my legs are tired. God, help me. Help us.

"Woe to men valiant for mixing intoxicating drink, Who justify the wicked for a bribe, And take away justice from the righteous man..."

A voice behind her said, "you really love your Bible, don't you?" Ike?

Veronique said nothing. There was a bawling cry from one side of Veronique, but she could not see what it was, until Jennifer was suddenly dragged into view, pulled along by Uncle and Jack, obscuring the graffiti. Her waist to her thighs was rather wet, and some lather was left along them - she had been shaven? As Veronique looked away, she nevertheless processed that the girl had been shaved into a 'V' shape of pubic hair. 

"Better look, watch good," came Larry's voice from one side. "One of you is going to get gang-banged. You, or her. We don't care. She's already had some fun, and we'd prefer you - "

"Then why haven't you raped me? I've been out cold...isn't that what you fuckers want, a defenceless woman to molest?"

"Why, Veronique! Vulgarities from the noble officer? Constable, is it?"

"I'm a sergeant," she snappily responded.

"Well, Sergeant Carne, we don't like vulgarities. We'll wash out your mouth with...well, not with soap, let's put it that way...we'll wash it out good, if you give permission. And it's simple. Give permission...no, beg for it...or your kid sister gets fucked good and hard in all her holes. More than just that vibrator. You gave us quite a fuss with having to drag her out of the dumpster. So you'll also get a good spanking. Naughty girl."

Veronique hung her head - the most natural position for it, given her present condition. She glanced up. Jack's calloused hand was feeling around her pubic mound, and his fingers were pushing into Jennifer's pink pussy, two at a time, slipping in and then crooking in a shape like a beckoning finger. Jennifer was moaning: "no...no...", and was of course being ignored. The ogre Uncle just held her steady, kissing her neck lightly. Jack became more forceful, finger-banging the young fiancée. 

"Okay!" Sergeant Carne suddenly cried. "Okay, you win! I'll...I'll do it!"

"You'll do what? Tell us precisely," demanded Jack, not even slowing in his masturbation of Veronique's pretty sister, really going at it. "Tell us everything you're willing to do, item by item."

"I'll suck y - I'll give you oral sex, vaginal sex, whatever. Just wear condoms. You might have AIDS."

"Did you almost say 'suck us off', Sergeant Carne? That's filthy language. Extra spankings for that!" Larry enjoyed being the lecturer, and let his hands slide under Veronique's uniform shirt, along her toned back, feeling around, sneaking around like a snake set loose across her body.

The finger-banging slowed down, and Jack drew out one finger, so just a single digit continued the abuse of the poor, sobbing, forced-to-stand girl. He glanced at Carne. "Okay, we're listening. Go on. Although you can forget about condoms...you want to taste us, every last bit of us, and of course you want to have our kids, don't you? No, no...I joke. We'll cum on your skin instead, on your uniform, your face...whatever. So go on."

"Well, what about diseases?" Veronique fiercely demanded. "If I die..."

"Then it's better than your sister dying of the same thing, isn't it?" barked Uncle, as though disapproving of Veronique's selfishness.

"I said, fucking GO ON!" shouted Jack.

Ike nodded, coming into view from the side. His erection swung in the air. Veronique paused, shocked by the sudden appearance of his dick in her vision - an oversized eight inches of hard cock. She knew from sex education that the average was not quite six inches, so even being experienced, she was startled, wondering if it would hurt. Ike shook it at her, as though threatening her with a nightstick. "You heard him."

"Oral sex...anal sex, if that's what it takes. Whatever. Everything."

"The good Officer doesn't have much imagination," laughed Larry, his face coming into view from the right, but mercifully ceasing his stroking. "Repeat after me, and with passion. You'll suck our hard cocks 'til we blast your face..."

"I'll suck...your hard...oh God...your hard cocks, until you...blast in my face."

Larry, the most lascivious of the lot, ran his finger around her lips. "Such a dirty mouth. But it smells so sweet, of mint and...oh, your perfume is lovely. Hope I can smell it through the cum. Well, you'll also beg to be triple-penetrated by all of our dicks at once."

"I want you, please...I mean, sirs, please let me be triple-penetrated, by all your dicks at once." Veronique said this without passion. Ike struck her face with his erection. "Again. More seriously."

She repeated, this time focusing on 'penetrated' and 'dicks', and Ike sauntered back, contented.

Larry continued his list. "Beg to be titty-fucked until our cum runs over your chest. Beg to be like a puppy, eat out of a bowl, get fucked doggie-style, get videotaped begging for a gangbang...get eaten out by a whore...who knows, maybe play with your sister a bit..."

She repeated this dutifully, trying her best to sound sincere. Until she reached the end. "Hold on. That doesn't work. If my sister gets involved, especially with incest on the table, then it defies the point of my volunteering to this. I'm only volunteering to avoid her getting touched."

Uncle laughed. "Too late for that." He scratched at his pants, right where his balls would be. Tossing Jennifer over his shoulder, he took her out of sight.

Ike said bluntly, "here's the logic of it...you know I love logic. If you are the own fucking around with your sister, making her into a little fucktoy, then one - she won't get our diseases, if we're diseased. Two, she won't get pregnant, unless you just drip that much cum over her tight pussy. Three, you can control it, so she won't get hurt or bruised, like by us..."

Veronique shivered at the implications - after all, she would not be granted any such protection.

"I guess I just have to trust you," she said slowly and sadly, "you sons of bitches. You'll burn in hell."

"If there is one," smiled Larry, never one to contemplate heaven or hell too extensively, "you'll be there for being such a tramp for us."

"Yup," agreed Jack, "hell is for evil people, and their whores. See you there."

"It'll be fun," chimed in Ike. "Well, you begged for so much to happen to you, let's just start off slow. Let's get you hot. Then your performance for us will be so much more...enthusiastic. Larry, you are the master, right?"

Larry eagerly vanished from view, going behind Veronique. Ike knelt down in front of her, so they were eye-to-eye. While she waited, he smiled at her, a rugged gargoyle, he looked at if carved by an aggressive hand, from granite. He gazed into her eyes, leaned in, and began to nibble at her lip in a little, gentle kiss. "C'mon baby, this'll be fun. The fun you missed in university. This all could have been so much more private, just you and me, you know? All your choices, coming back to haunt you." 

Veronique's attention was jolted back to reality, when she felt someone fumbling at her belt, and her pants were eventually drawn down. "Oh, momma," Larry said, feeling at her panties, rolling her fingers down her long, tough legs - legs that could curl two-hundred odd pounds at the gym - and squeezing at what he deemed his favourite places. "No more knives in here, right?" he laughed, toying at her boots. He let the pants bunch up around her ankles, and blew hot air against her hamstrings, and then up to her crotch from behind.

In front, Ike was just staring at her face, waiting for her to react.

There was nothing yet, of course. Her face was stoic, tolerant, uninterested. Ike did not like this. He went behind her, and she heard a Sharpie being unclasped. "What should we write? Brainstorm!"

"Officer Cunt!"

"Veronique Cockgobbler!"

"The Cum Vacuum!"

In the end, it was resolved that "COCK HERE" should be written with an arrow pointing to her ass, and "ANYTHING HERE" should be written on her belly, pointing to her quim. This was written in big, block letters in red across her skin, her shirt being variously tugged at for these purposes. Eventually, Uncle tossed the knife Veronique had brought over to Ike, who simply tore open the uniform shirt, letting it crumple underneath her in a pile. Now she simply wore lingerie, black bra and black panties, dry as though fresh from a laundry room, perhaps a little sweaty. Certainly unexcited.

"The spanks first, the pleasure later," said Larry, and began to slap her ass quite firmly. It was not as though the panties were any protection, and his firm palm crashed against her toned ass again and again, one and two, left and right. SMACK. SMACK. Veronique bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. He hit really, really hard. SMACK. SMACK. "Bad girl gets twenty spanks, ten per cheek!" Larry declared. He continued on, Veronique's face furrowing up in displeasure. When it ended, Larry declared, "my, these are some rosy asscheeks!" before tearing off her panties in a single swipe of his hand, to better reveal his handiwork.

Ike was scooting underneath Veronique, and she felt hands across her breasts, before her bra was rudely, roughly torn from her body, letting her moderate-sized orbs fall free, gravity pulling them towards Ike's licking lips. He tightened his lips to a tiny vacuum, and sucked her left nipple good and hard, twirling his tongue around the nipple generously, while Larry began to lap at her ass, forwards and between her legs - towards her pussy, though not reaching it by any means. The suction on her fine rack began light, but rapidly became determined, as though the Brit wanted to get milk from her or something. The now completely nude police officer let slip a brief moan as the two worked in tandem, teasing her towards arousal. Though they had not even started yet.

Since Veronique's face was untended to, Jack approached, dropping his pants. "She did promise," Jack chuckled, and he lowered her police cap onto her head, patting it a couple of times condescendingly. "There you go, officer. You shouldn't be out of uniform, you know. That's not protocol at all." He dropped his boxers as well, and his flaccid penis inclined slightly towards her. She had to stretch her neck to reach it, to her increased humiliation. Finally reaching it, she simply rolled it around on her tongue, unsure what to do, and certainly reluctant to do it. It tasted sweaty, even from this brief taste. "Gross," she spat, but pulled it with her tongue into her mouth, beginning to suck on the dick like a baby at a teat.

Meanwhile, the two other men were both under her chest, sucking at her teats eagerly. Both handling one breast, they sucked determinately with their mouths while one hand cupped the tit firmly, and one hand from each roamed around her taut and tight front muscles. Veronique felt herself aroused, despite herself, a kind of heat burning through her, a kind of tingling along her spine, and she suppressed the feeling as best she could. She focused on the cock in her mouth, which was becoming harder and harder. It was disgusting, tasting foul, mostly sweaty, and this was sufficient to turn her off - partially. Jack was apparently well-hung for his smallish height, and it was getting to be too much to hold all the cock meat in at once. This led her to slide back and forth on it, with her neck's limited flexibility. Sucking the entire time, she felt extreme shame wash over her as she gave this horrible rapist and mugger the time of his life. At his command, her tongue rolled along the underside of his unwashed penis, feeling its length. It seemed impossible that mere years ago, she had been arresting this asshole for raping a poor young banker woman - impossible that months ago, she had been declaring to a court that loved and respected her, that he should stay behind bars. The power had flipflopped. Now, she was his cumslut, nothing more. A sexual toy. "A cumrag!" Jack laughed.

Eventually, Jack grew bored of her sloppy, inexperienced performance. Grabbing her beautiful, loosened hair in his rough hands, he simply face-fucked the young officer, roughly shoving her up and down his long shaft. "Suck it, bitch. Suck it like there's no tomorrow. Oh, yeah, suck that fat cock, you stupid cumgobbling little tart. Mmm, tastes good, doesn't it?"

Veronique felt she had to affirm this lest she be punished further (though, wasn't all of this punishment?), and reluctantly made a grunting little 'yes' from below his waist. He laughed. Squeezing the hair all the tighter in his fists, he redoubled his efforts, really pounding her against his dick, and it slipped past some strange part of her throat, pushing further in, so that she was deepthroating his cock against her will, almost choking on it. Drool began to drip down his cock in rivulets, from her overstuffed mouth. This did not escape Uncle's notice. "God, she must find that tasty, man!" he laughed, leaning in from the side. "Look at her gulping it down. Is she deep-throating, man? Shit!"

Was Jennifer unguarded, then? Had she been secured? Was Uncle just a fool?

One of the men detached from her breast - which one was that? - and whoever it was, stuck his tongue into the cop's pussy, lapping up it like a hungry dog. Long, sweeping laps all the way up it, flicking against her clitoris just momentarily, before starting again from the base, slow just when she needed it fast, fast when she wanted him to remain focused on a point. The very paragon of a teaser, whoever that tongue belonged to, it belonged to someone who was a master of keeping someone on the edge, a master of teasing, of binding someone's attention entirely to their pussy.

"Virgin, nothing!" the mystery voice suddenly said, "there isn't any hymen here. Care to explain, missy?" It was Larry, Ike still pulling hard at her breasts, now using both hands to cup and toy with the hanging tits.

Veronique could hardly explain that she had lost her hymen a while ago during a rather vigorous training exercise with the mounted police. Riding on a crappy saddle was a great way to lose it, especially at the late age of twenty-six. By thirty, of course it was gone, virgin or not. She tried to explain a little, but Jack just held his cock deep inside her mouth, almost down her throat, so that nothing but a spit-frothing gurgle emerged. "Oh, I think she has an explanation. Maybe...she's actually a little whore for the whole police department?"

"Is that true, Sergeant!"

"Is that how you got promoted? You slut! Bent over your boss' desk, was it?"

"She's bent over well, now, isn't she!"

Jack suddenly pulled out of her. Confused, she looked up at him and he grinned down mischievously, still tugging at his penis with his hand, yanking the foreskin back and forth from the helmet of the penis. Groaning, he leaned back, not even looking where he was aiming, and cum fired out of him in long streams, the first shot surprising her and catching her in the left eye, the next firing onto her hair, then her cheek, and then two more pulses firing over the wooden stockade, to crawl down beside her.

"Move over then, Jack!"

The third penis to enter Veronique's view was similarly impressive. Uncle was well hung. Between seven inches of Jack, eight of Ike, and this ten-inch monster (long and thin like a salami), she had faced down more than two feet of rock-hard cock. Infinitely more than her naïve and sexless life before this night. Uncle liked to play around, and he let his cock drift around her face, under her nose - "Sniff it!" he demanded, and she complied, finding it had its own smell, a gamey smell but at least relatively clean - across her forehead, spreading Jack's thick cum around her face in traced patterns.

Finally, Uncle jammed it into her mouth. He must have coordinated this with the criminals behind her, on the other side of the stockade, because she suddenly felt a hard cock enter her pussy at the exact same time, so that her cry from the second dick was muffled by the gag of Uncle's massive rod. The new penis was not very long, but it was the first one ever received by Sergeant Carne's tight cunt, so it felt plenty big to her. In fact, the sum total was thirty inches of penis, if one were to do the math: a lot for one girl, especially with her utter lack of appetite. That said, her appetite had been growing with all the teasing going on, as the dick in her mouth had not proved very satisfying, and finally having something inside of her was almost a - relief?

She could not pray out loud for it to stop in one smooth chain, for Uncle gave few breaks for a prayer, but what she squeezed out between plunges of the great rod into her mouth was: "Does it seem good...to You that You should...oppress, That you should ...despise the work of...Your hands, And smile on the...counsel of the wicked?" Uncle enjoyed this, being a sacrilegious fellow, and grinned at the others over Veronique's bent and stooped head. When she finished, the prayer taking a good full minute to complete due to his controlling her breathing, he simply said - being of simple wit - "who would despite the work of Larry's hands? Or Ike's?"

The thrusting became vigorous at both ends, and she became winded by the constant pulsation from both sides. It was just too much. Even the five-inch dick in her pussy felt like it was stretching her, tight as her pussy was, and it kept thrusting away crazily. In her hyperactive mind, a mind that was suddenly and inexplicably (to her) horny, despite itself, despite all its intentions to be clean and pure, to resist these devils, she had visions. Visions of being filled with cum, of coughing it up, of being plugged up by dicks so that when they all fired together, there was nowhere for it go and she drowned in it. 




Prisoners' Revenge Ch. 02



CHAPTER TWO: OUT OF EDEN

"Her rash hand in evil hour  Forth reaching to the fruit, she plucked, she eat:  Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat,  Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe  That all was lost."  -- John Milton: Paradise Lost, Book IX 

"Margaret came abruptly, the cry of pleasure seeming to be torn from somewhere deep inside her...he saw her face go slack as her orgasm swept through her, her head thrown back as she rode the wave of her pleasure. Then, curiously, a spasm of anger crossed her face, and she flushed with something like embarrassment, having been seen to lose control. To him it seemed that she was still fighting her body's needs."  



Prisoners' Revenge Ch. 02



"You are such a tight-ass little bitch," Jack whispered into her ear, his hot breath all around where her locks of delicate hair swept over the cleft of her ear, "and trust me, I've had your ass, and I know - you are such a tight-ass, it's going to be HILARIOUS taking you out in public. Yes, ma'am. People are going to love you, Officer Carne, they are going to love every inch of you. Head to toe, and back again, Officer Carne."

He truly relished this part of the rape - degrading the honorific that she had so often heard voiced with respect and admiration.

This threat brought Veronique back to reality. What was he saying? How could they 'take her out in public'? To be offered to some wandering stranger? What a ridiculous risk - for all they knew, the stranger would help her, call the cops, help her escape. Were they mad? Well - 'they are stupid criminals', she reminded herself, with a rapid burst of hope. 'That stupid? Maybe, maybe. They'll regret it, the bastards'.

Unfortunately, being back in reality just led to Veronique being much more aware of the hard rod slowly pleasuring her from behind. This was the second cock in a row, after only a single orgasm, and her body was crying out to explode again, in a second rush like the first. With horror, she realized that she would start quivering and shaking again, so that everyone - even her sister - would know that she had gotten off on these criminal studs. 

Quietly - too quietly for Veronique to even catch - the dark man whispered to Jennifer tempting words: "if you give in entirely, give us all the time of our lives without fighting, then we'll go easy on you. With her - she'll get abused anyway. But you - one good gangbang, and you can join our side. Admit it...admit it, she's your big sister, and you want to see her crawl, don't you? Want to see her bow to you? The stuck-up bitch - she probably treated you like shit as a kid. Want revenge? Help us ruin her, and you can control her - dominate her." Jenny almost felt the sneer of the man against her face, and heard it thick in his voice. She shivered, glancing down to where her sister was getting more cock. Jenny wondered - could she do that to this poor sister of hers? To save herself from being gang-raped?

Veronique glanced to her left, desperate to escape what she assumed would be the judging eyes of her sister, to avoid looking at the 'fifth man' who had rejected her pleas, made her plea in vain. She saw Uncle, kneeling, a digital video recorder in his hands. How long had he been recording? Had he captured every second of her reluctant pleasure? Had her face betrayed signs of enjoying this? "God damn it!" she cried, while the men laughed at what they called "the Christian's prude's little blasphemy". Uncle grinned oafishly. "We can edit this later," he said with what was meant to be a sly wink, "so it only has the bits where you enjoy yourself. So you'll look like a total slut."

"She IS a little slut," corrected Jack, going crazy inside her with his whole length. "And she knows it. A dear little slut." His fingers toyed with one nipple, while the other hand explored around her cunt, finding her clitoris easily, rolling that under his index finger. She involuntarily groaned, far more obviously than her previous noises of reluctant pleasure. "Sergeant, do you like your clit being stroked? I'm sorry we've neglected it," laughed Larry from the table.

"Yes, sergeant," Jack followed through, increasing the vigour of his assault, both on her tight box, and her relatively untouched clitoris. "I thought officers of the law didn't like getting fucked by the thugs they put away. Isn't that against your policies? But you're so wet...clearly you're enjoying this...I think you're breaking more rules, you naughty little whore!" Veronique moaned, long and vulnerably, unable to hold back any more. It was rising - rising. "Now cum for me, bitch," ordered Jack, sensing how close she was, and she had to obey. Veronique felt Jack's balls slapping up against her as he drove himself in to the hilt, moving faster now, although he was controlling his own orgasm much easier this time. The finger did not need to toy with her clit any more, and instead roamed through her thatch of pubic hair, not quite tugging it, but hinting that he might.

Jack's hand pushed Veronique's face forward as she screamed out her climax, pushing her face directly into Jennifer's pussy. In the meantime, the fifth man must have removed the crotch rope, for there was nothing between Veronique's open and howling mouth, and Jennifer's young sweet pussy, as Veronique's moaned and breathed great heaving breaths from her forced orgasm, snuffling against her own sister's twat. Veronique could smell her sister's musky odour - not unpleasant objectively, but to the sergeant this was nevertheless the greatest humiliation yet - and she felt the shame even in the great upheaval of these moments of thrashing pleasure. As she finished her orgasm, Jack's hand did not relent in pushing her into her sister, as though she was giving her sister oral sex. Nor did the big, thick cock stop banging into her, as she came down from her sexual high. She would just have to keep putting out, like it or not. Her own juices rolled down along Jack's length, but he was still dry, as though he did not care about this, as though he was just giving her what she wanted, what not moments ago her mind had been begging for, screaming for, praying for...

***

Dave Hollander moved into the station like a Greek god, tall, muscular, proud. He had a full head of somewhat curly brown hair, slightly childish, boyish blue eyes, and he wore his uniform with real dignity. Hollander rarely asked favours of anybody, but he readily provided them, being a decent, and occasionally church-attending Baptist. He saw a friend of his, Constable Matthew Grey, vanishing into a side office, and followed him - Matthew was just the man to speak to. A real whiz with the NYPD's exasperating database system, Matthew had been an officer for about twelve years, now in his early thirties. 

"Can we keep this a little quiet?" Hollander asked, sliding a paper across the table to Matthew. The paper just contained the block letters and wide, sweeping numerals of the license plate. "I need to track this van. Might be something really serious. And I hope you know, I wouldn't keep it confidential if it hadn't been requested of me."

"Course, course," Matthew replied, smiling warmly, "I know you trust me; it's not a biggie. Okay, well this might take a bit. You can speed me up if you help out. I know you aren't a fan of computers post circa-1980s, or Pong, or shit like that, but the manpower will count for a lot." Matthew was himself fairly small for an officer, but had a considerable strength in his smaller frame. He was the top marksman for the precinct in the last four years, and had come second-place for the city-wide trophy - quite impressive, considering the hawkeye-shooting of New York's finest. Still, computers were his real passion, and Matthew was an absolute genius with this particular system. 

Dave readily agreed to the deal, looking around the messy office with a wince around his left eye - that wince that always emerged when he knew that Time was mocking him, that someone was being victimized because Dave could not travel at the speed of light. He found himself checking his watch more and more often. The blue lights of the racing second-hand glowed terribly in the dark office chamber, glowing like a cold blue fire.

***

Jack had finally came, and Larry and Uncle had gone through their turns before they were done with Veronique for a time. She almost smiled, grateful as she was for the end to the seemingly endless pounding. She lay at Jennifer's feet, feeling too exhausted and weak in the knees to move, or even protect herself. Why bother covering up? Not only had everyone in the room seen all there was to see, but they seen those parts in operation, seen her at her most private moment - of climaxing - the thing she had wanted to preserve only for the dearest partner she ever met, and only for one man in her life.

"Can I - sleep?" she asked softly, to no one in particular. Larry just chuckled. Jack spoke a little further - "no, slut, you can't sleep. You haven't banged everyone in the room yet, let alone everyone on the planet. So your life purpose is not fulfilled. I mean..." he looked down at her with his smouldering dark eyes, like the eyes of the devil himself, and his thick eyebrows rose, "...we haven't even taken you for a walk around the lot. Who knows how many people would be willing to lend you a bit of cock to pass the evening by? Priorities, slut. Pleasures before rest. And pearls before swine - at least, your pretty little pearl."

Veronique closed her eyes, although in truth she was not sleepy - her muscles were just tired, worn out. But how could she sleep, even if they let her? God only knew what they would do to her while she slept. Well - God only knew, along with the Devil.

"Get your clothes on, woman," Jack was now saying, gesturing to the ruined pile of her uniform. "Or did you want to stroll out there stark naked, huh?" 

In truth, Veronique might have rather gone out naked. She did not dare to say so. Hustling over to the pile, she pulled her trousers back on along with her panties, her boots almost tearing them further as they passed through. It wasn't so bad, was it? Just a few stains over the trousers, revealingly white as they were, and the black cotton panties a little ripped. Jack was smiling. He knew very well what was coming, with a clarity of mind that Veronique had simply lost from shellshock. She tugged on her uniform shirt directly over her chest, after finding the bra essentially useless from having been ripped - but found that it did not come together properly. When whoever had ripped it, it must have torn! Now, it only buttoned up about halfway, so that no matter how often she corrected it, her luscious breasts were almost entirely falling out, the nipples only millimetres away from showing. Worse, it was coated with lines of cum - far more than she could rub off - so it looked as though she had been fucked while wearing it, and quite often, and quite recently. She did not even bother trying to remove the cum-stains. Strangely, she felt more naked with the uniform on, than off.

"Is Princess ready?" asked Uncle, but Jack shook his head. "Not quite," he said, and stepped over to her. He pushed an ear-bud into her left ear, pushing the hair back over her ear in a creepily delicate motion to get access. She twitched and jerked her head away a few times before he succeeded. "Now," he said, "we'll be listening from nearby. Following you, like, in case you try to bolt. You do exactly as we say over the radio. Basically, you're going to look like a total slut, and go get us some beers. You remember the store?"

She nodded briskly.

"Well, we want lots of beer. I guess you might have to ask for help carrying it back here. Hmm, I hope that doesn't lead to anything too - stimulating for you. Those grocer-boys at this time of night...well, they can have itches to scratch, see?"

She nodded again, standing suddenly at attention. One of her boobs fell out in the process. This got a guffaw out of Jack, which was exactly what Veronique had intended. While he laughed, he turned to the others to share the joke, and Veronique snatched a pen and shoved it into her back pocket. The uniform had already been searched for anything like that, by one of the guys, somewhat earlier. This was the only weapon she would need.

What she had not exactly wanted, was Jack stepping up, and feeling her nipple a little too energetically, while pushing it back inside her shirt. "Thank you," she spat at him, and he nodded with a lilting half-smile. "Yup, yup. You're welcome. And thank YOU for getting the beer, honey-pot. Now get the fuck out of here. Show that hot cop's body all around the place. No one should be neglected, guys or gals. Everyone wants to see what a little slut you cops can be once your uniforms get a little ripped."

***

Another man drove along a distant street, looking out at the streetlamps he was passing by with a certain curiosity. He was fairly tall, and very slender, with a buzz cut of blonde hair and eyes that were grey and apathetic- unless he was looking at the bright fluorescent bulbs of a New York City street, which seemed to enliven him, and gave his eyes a golden tint. It was one of the few things that enlivened him, these lights, short of the fantasies that he indulged in - daydreams of himself as a great success, a man on top of the world. And another dream that he nursed in his heart, of two forms becoming one, until there was no line between them any longer. He drove along, knowing full well that his dreams had a funny way of becoming reality. His car's clock read 11:26 in glaring red numbers, and he smiled down at it. "Not late yet. Quite a drive. Quite - quite a drive."

The man was enervated by truth, and other agents of ugly reality, and plagued by it, as though the facts of his life were each a Fury, flocking together to blot out the sun. But he had a weapon against the Furies now - something that would pluck their wings bare, so that they could not fly. As a child, he had always enjoyed pulling the wings off of flies or flying ants, seeming them struggle to manage without them. Even with a child's idiot brain, he had known full well that nothing but misery would await them thereafter. But he had done it all the same, and smiled a secret smile. 

"I am a dreaming man, and the world is my oyster," he said slowly, in a seductive, drawling voice. "Yes, yes, that's good." He scratched it into a journal he kept for these little spontaneous thoughts, for he was a songwriter by trade. He would need these thoughts later. Seeing the lights buzz by his car like dive-bombing UFOs, he thought of how the world would be, if it really was his oyster. He envisioned two forms becoming one, and his smile grew terribly wide. His grey eyes were golden, in New York's light, with greed and hunger.

"By midnight, I'll arrive, with all the timing of theatre," he said quite earnestly, before realizing that this might work as a line somewhere too, and once again scratching the words into the little brown faux-leather book, clasped with a little golden 'PJ'.

***

With a long sigh, and one last threat to the men - "don't you dare touch my sister, or I have no reason to comply any longer. I will fucking kill you if you touch a hair on her head!" - Veronique left the motel room, and started along the hallway to the end of it. There was no immediate guiding voice from the ear-bud, but she remembered the store they were referring to: a little one, that primarily serviced the motel itself, as well as passer-by motorists. Reaching the end of the hallway, she wondered if she really was being shadowed - then someone (she was not sure who) slipped out into the hall, and she saw that he carried a portable radio of some kind.

'Won't make a difference', thought Veronique, 'my plan is so simple, and so obvious, there's no way it can go wrong. What could go wrong in it? And the joke is, all the effort they've put into making me look disgusting and slutty, only helps this succeed. They dug their own fucking graves...' Profanity had slipped into her thoughts, and despite being an unwelcome guest, it had locked itself in and was not soon leaving.

As she descended the stairwell to the parking lot, the shadow slipped along behind her, always just out of sight, behind cars and vans. And as the shadow crept along behind the degraded officer, other shadows flickered in the motel room itself. The voice was like a shadow in Jennifer's ear, now speaking simply, knowing that elaboration was unnecessary, "so, you heard the deal. Going to put out?"

Jennifer had finally been properly released. She stood, free as a (caged) bird within the room, arms across her chest, and looked at the eight eyes staring her down. There was a long, tall, and incredibly dusty mirror across the room, capturing her downcast face, her fragile appearance, and the parts of her anatomy that she did not have hands enough to cover. The man was finally visible - a clean-shaven black man with a head of straight black hair, a stern and uncompromising expression across his handsome face, and eyes that seemed to take Jennifer into them entirely. She felt that his eyes saw more than mortal eyes could see. In the same way that Veronique felt unnerved by Jack Sines, Jennifer felt unwrapped by this man, who wore a pair of tight jeans and stood very straight, gazing at her.

"Yes," she choked out, finding herself on the verge of tears. Her emotions were running out of line, and she felt that the longer she stood here, the more worked-up she would become, unless - unless - 

The black man approached her, and brought her face against his chest. Jenny cried lightly against his black-and-grey striped t-shirt, leaving small marks on him, and he whispered "sssh, sssh," wrapping his arms around her and shaking her slightly, like a baby given comforting rocking. The others approached, reaching their fingers out, and the man just stared them down until they retreated a little. 'Give her time', his eyes were calmly saying, 'and it'll be worth it. So very worth it.'

Slowly, reluctantly, she pulled away from the stern man, and simply asked, "what is your name?" He shook his head gently, before answering, "you can call me Gregory. You can't have my name." Jennifer looked at him strangely, but understood, and backed up another step, suddenly feeling a hand on her back. She spun - Larry's hands were outstretched to feel her beautiful skin, and as she turned, his fingers swiped across her breasts, feeling at the strawberry-shaped nipples. Ike was to the side, hands across his chest. He simply nodded his head up and down, approvingly, and Jennifer felt herself shiver all over, seeing how perverted his gaze had become. Like the Big Bad Wolf, from the high school production of Into the Woods that they had performed at Jennifer's school not two years ago. The actor they had chosen for it had been such a stud, and the girls had thought he was hot with the wolf costume - Jennifer more than the others, had been squirming in the audience, placing herself in that red riding hood, growing wet seeing handsome Kevin strutting about on stage. Ike's lips were pulled into a lusty smile, wet, like that of a freshly-fed wolf. Something stirred in Jenny. These predatory men aroused her against her will.

"I'll give you guys what you want," she said nervously, trembling over each word, "I'll join you guys. Vero - my sister, I mean, she - she should be taken down a notch. This is wrong, but in a way, it's kind of good for her. Isn't that weird?" 

"You could not even say her name," stated Gregory softly. "Do you have the guts to do this? Could you even face her?"

"I could face her. After all, it makes...sense, doesn't it? You'll molest her anyway. But this way, you won't hurt me, right?"

Gregory nodded slowly. "Still, for all we know, you'll backstab us when the chance comes."

Jennifer's green eyes focused in on the man she knew was the smallest - Larry. She had seen that his penis was shorter than the others, and figured she could deal with him the easiest. She approached him as sexily as possible, with long, graceful strides, although it was difficult without flirtatious clothes to make her alluring - just her raw body, nude and unaided. As she sank to her knees, she shifted left and right, like a snake slithering down his front. Repulsed by how dirty his pants were - almost as bad as Veronique's trousers, really - she nuzzled her face against his groin, where his - 'his parts', Jennifer thought - package pushed out. She licked and lapped at the pants around the slowly growing bulge, trying to remember to look up now and then, at where his eyes were gazing down hungrily at her. The stain of her saliva joined the other, less innocent stains.




Prisoners' Revenge Ch. 02



Slowly, her hands tugged at the flexible waist of the pants, and tugged them down, so that his penis jutted out against his equally-nasty boxers, 'pitching a tent', as they had laughed in high school. Jennifer pulled at these, too, and before long she saw his thick red pubic hair, and the semi-hard erection pointing at her chin. Larry gave her no assistance. He let her stroke at it with one hand, slowly, all with the greatest hesitation, as though a guardian angel might intervene at any moment. Not that - like Veronique - she believed in divine intervention anyway. On that thought, she decided to get things over with, and put the somewhat floppy dick onto her tongue, trying to pretend it was her fiancé, her handsome and confident boyfriend, yes, her boyfriend, though the taste was unwashed, and her boyfriend always cleaned himself so that oral could be fun for both of them. And her fiancé did not play with her hair, like that, bringing the strands all the way over her head and then dropping the hairs one by one, in clusters, as though it was raining over her. And her fiancé did not whisper slowly, sinisterly, in a tone of barely-suppressed contempt, "yeah, yeah, suck it, suck it you greedy little cock-whore. Like my cock, do you? More effort than that, or you'll be at it all day. Or do you want my cock in your mouth all day - is that it, slut?"

It was now fully hard, and despite being short, was still five inches too long for her comfort. His hairy balls hung over her chin, and as he ordered it, she slipped the dick from her mouth long enough to take in and gently suck them too, a little underneath, almost to his ass. Jennifer closed her eyes and continued. The smell was mostly gamey, unwashed, sweaty. Returning to the dick, she began to thrust her mouth onto it, trying to get him off quickly to end this encounter and win their favour. Someone moved behind her, as she grazed along his cock, and shifted her around a bit. At first, she thought they were just getting a better view, but then she felt something scrape around her thighs. It stayed there for a long time, playing along her narrow thighs, along the creamy skin there, and she felt the cock head trail along as though she were some masturbatory toy of his. It was a good-sized cock, and she trembled, thinking that he might push deeper into her than her fiancé ever had - really TAKE her, as he never had. She gurgled on the small cock like a baby with a bottle, as Larry was pushing her head down forcefully onto him, in sudden rude shocks that messed with her breathing.

In the meantime, Uncle was pushing his cock against her leg in a way that let her feel his length - the whole ten inches, nearly a foot - long and somewhat skinny, like a poker cue rubbed against her, but smooth, so smooth it was almost a pleasure to feel it. But was this how it was to be? Fucked from both sides like a rutting animal? In her fantasies, sex had always been forceful, but not this vulgar, animalistic, crude. She felt like she was being used, whereas in the dreams she was usually worshipped.

"Small tits. Barely enough to wrap around me," Jennifer heard Larry say, before her head was pulled off of the dick, and she was pushed back a bit, into Uncle's arms. He held her steady, though she was not really fighting, as Larry stepped forwards. One step, then another, slow and purposeful steps so that she could see the waving cock flapping back and forth, almost threatening despite its only moderate length. He grabbed her sweater-meat in both hands, and put his dick between them, squeezing them together so that his dick was sandwiched between them as she knelt. Her arms were held behind her, so her chest was thrust forward as far as it could go, her stomach taut, her arms stiff and aching behind her.

"Spit down on it. Lube it up," ordered Larry imperiously, and Jennifer obeyed, although reluctantly, hating to see her own drool dripping over the cock that invaded between the valley of her chest. That part of her was sacred - untouched - she had not even considered involving her sensitive breasts as an avenue for a thrusting cock. It was warm, though not as warm as the cock, and he slid faster, holding her boobs by their nipples so that the motion was accompanied by a degree of pain for Jenny. His pelvis thrusted up and down as he pulled her breasts the opposite way, to double the speed, and he began to pump faster and faster as Jennifer squealed a bit. 

He was reaching orgasm just as Uncle began to push into her, just one inch at first, then another. Hot cum spattered up her neck and onto her chin. "Suck it up lick it drink my hot cum you fucking cum bitch cum bucket whore" Larry was bellowing in one long, grammatical string, as he fired up and onto her face. Almost crying again, Jennifer felt the cock head shift, the helmet of the penis spearing up another inch or two. Invading deeper and deeper - and she knew there was so much more to go. Her tongue darted out when Larry yelled again, and she tasted the deeply salty cum on her tongue, in her mouth, seemingly everywhere. Uncle released her arms, and Larry grabbed one wrist, scooping up some cum from her neck, and wiping it over her lips. Instinctively, she licked it off, hating the wetness smeared over her face. Larry looked down approvingly. "A genuine cum vacuum, and so very compliant."

Uncle picked Jennifer right off of the ground by the waist, and for a terrifying moment Jenny thought he might smash her against something in a kind of idiotic rage. Instead, he lowered her onto the bathroom counter, standing by the toilet so that her body was slung along the counter, her face roughly in the sink, her legs partially dangling off Uncle's edge. He started to fuck her, then, forcefully, so that her body scraped against the hard, marbled counter - so cold against her hot skin. Her tits made a kind of wiping sound, as friction heated her with each thrust from behind. A round 'O' shape appeared with her lips, and she gave out a long moan, just one big 'ooooooohhh', as Gregory flicked the bathroom lights on fully, illuminating Jennifer's fuck-slut status more clearly, a camera held in his hands...

A blur of sex followed. Jennifer was pounded thoroughly over the counter; was pounded in the shower as it ran, with water running over her face and down her ass crack as the fucking continued on; was pounded on seemingly every surface of the household. Uncle was a machine showing no signs of relenting. Against walls and countertops; against rugs and hard-wood floors. It was a whirlwind of sex, leaving her breathless, eternally on the brink of orgasm.

He dragged her by her hair to a balcony-window overlooking the carpark. 'Wait', she wondered, 'did we change rooms?' Somehow, this made no sense - no - there had been no such window before. Where were they? Uncle wordlessly threw her against the glass, stepped in behind her, and sank her down onto his mammoth length. The whole ten inches invaded her, deeply penetrating her fine twat, and she relaxed onto it, until he pushed her against the floor-to-ceiling sliding balcony door, so that her smallish orbs pressed against the glass, her nipples squished, her thighs pressed against it too, and her right cheek smushed too, her head being turned to the left, her breath making warm clouds against the clear glass. The cock pounded long and hard, so that she scraped up and down against the glass, forced to stand erect as the proud erection thrusted her against the glass hard. Her right eye remained open, looking out for anybody who might notice her. She saw a few people walk by without noticing - they were a floor up after all, but she would be quite visible with the room's lights turned faintly on. 

Suddenly, she saw a man stop and stare, looking at her and staring right into the eye that was against the glass. HE SAW HER! She could do nothing but moan and plea for Uncle to relent, so that her shame would not be public, but nothing she cried or burbled changed a thing. "Brought you to the window," he said when she finally became quiet and sank only into moans, "so you could show the world your hot little goods." The man seemed to be getting an erection, and looking around, he ducked behind a parked car and unzipped, wanking off to the sight of Jennifer's hot skinny body being fucked madly by the muscle-bound ogre behind her. Jennifer almost shed a tear, but she was too out of breath to cry.

***

Veronique did not look back. She was almost running to the little store, and she could see through the glass that there were three people on. 'What the hell?' she wondered, 'how could I have such terrible luck? Why do they need three people on for midnight or whatever time it is?' She could see that they had mops out, and supposed they were cleaning at night. The ravaged officer stopped just out of sight of the people inside, and wetting a finger, began to scrape at the cum-stains on her beautiful but torn uniform. 

((Don't touch it. Leave it as is. Let them see you as you really are.))

The voice came from nowhere, almost making the officer jump, but she remembered that it was the ear-bud. That thing was going to be a pain in the ass. She could not even see her 'stalker' any longer. ((Go in now. Walk up and down the aisles a bit so they see you. Buy a cucumber, chocolate sauce and a pack of condoms. Um...)) - the radio-voice laughed a little, truly amused at these little games - 

'Oh. My. God.' Veronique thought, but there was no way out of it. She hesitated for a moment. ((If you take too long, I'll send a message back to the motel room. Offence level one means she gets a spanking. Offence level two means she gets a whipping. Offence level three means she gets a good fucking. Level four, is a good ass-fucking. So pay attention, you stupid slut, or she'll get some real good welts.))

She approached the automatic door, and it slid open to cheery waltz music and bright lights. Approaching the first aisle, she almost ducked behind it, but the voice ordered ((walk slowly. Show yourself. I see you.)) Veronique obeyed, and the boy behind the till saw her quite well before she vanished, and did a brief double-take. In the relative security of the aisle, Veronique walked fast, turning back only once - to see Ike standing near the glass, looking down the aisle at her, from outside. He saw something. ((Pick up the handcuffs.)) There was a gag 'handcuff kit' that said "FOR KINKY COUPLES" on it. Veronique blushed and snatched it up, holding it by her side limply. ((Good. Now the rest of it. I'm waiting with your dialogue.)) 

Veronique gathered the rest of the items without interference or being seen, but now began the long walk to the front. This led her past a young woman doing the mopping: fairly attractive, short spunky black hair. The kind of girl that Officer Carne would have looked at suspiciously - a 'punk'. They were all punks in this store, the girl as well as the two guys. Carne repressed the instinct to question them, and her hand played at her collar, trying to pull together the flaps of her uniform shirt, to hide her jugs. ((DROP IT NOW!)) came the order. She released the flaps again, and the girl raised her eyebrow, seeing Veronique's breasts more or less in view. ((Hide yourself again, in any way, and that'll be an offence.)) Stifling a cuss with an immense effort, Veronique threw her basket of 'goodies' onto the counter, as well as the beer.

The guy, an 'Arnold', was looking at her with definite interest. He swiped the items very slowly, really taking his time, and gave occasional 'looks' to the other guy, 'Sammy', who was not really hiding the fact that he was admiring the officer's ass. ((Say anything that'd turn them off, that's an offence. Now. Improvise a little, but basically say that you're having a bunch of men over tonight.)) Veronique would have slapped the bastard if he was nearby, but remotely controlled as she was, she mumbled, "I'm entertaining tonight."

Arnold nodded. "Yeah-huh," he said, giving her The Look, a look of scorn and disgust and definite sexual arousal. ((Louder.)) "I'm entertaining tonight, having a few friends over." ((Male friends.)) Veronique began to turn redder and redder. "Having some male friends over."

"Yeah?" Sammy asked from behind, suddenly very close, "am I invited?"

"Sammy, seriously, shut up," said the young woman, 'Melissa'.

((Say: "well, why don't you help me with my groceries and you'll find out."))

Veronique dutifully said, "help me with my bags, up to my room, and you'll find out for yourself." She did not turn as she said it, so it was not clear who she was speaking to. ((Hmm,)) buzzed in Ike, ((that was loosey-goosey. Tell me, which fellow do you prefer?)) Veronique, unable to respond, nodded at Arnold - he was sarcastic, but at least he was not creepy. She figured that Ike would see this and understand her answer. Ike digested this, and then fired back: ((Oh? Take Sammy, then.))

'What a cheap little trick', thought Veronique, but it was too late to do anything about it. She would have to invite the slime-bag to service her, however Ike might dream up. That made her sick. The cucumber got swiped through, and Arnold rolled his eyes. "Do you even need Sammy?" he muttered quietly, giving her a disgusted look. Ike was now in the store, but must not have caught that line. He was tucked behind an aisle, so as to prevent his transmissions being observed.

Sammy laughed. "Ladies always need me. Even cops want a piece of me. Ain't that right, ma'am?" Something about the way he said it reminded Veronique of Jack's drawling, derogatory use of 'sergeant', that same degenerate tone about female police officers - and she turned and slapped him, a sudden blow across his cheek that sent him backwards a little. Sammy was startled, and drew back. Immediately Veronique regretted it. She could hear the words even before they arrived. Ike barked: ((That's an offence level one: a turn-off. I'm sending off for a spanking. But - hmm - panties on or panties off for that spanking? Which do you think Jennifer would prefer?))

Little did Veronique know it, but Uncle was at this moment giving Jennifer the screwing of her lifetime. With her panties off.

((If you want to earn her panties back on for the royal spanking you just earned her, tell Sammy that you just like to play rough. Or let Uncle's hands run all over your sister's fine, bare ass crack. I don't give a shit. But I am listening.))

Slowly, with great dignity almost, Veronique looked up and said, "sorry if I surprised you. I just really like to play rough, with the boys. You know?" 

"Are you a real cop, lady?" demanded Melissa. "What the fuck is that stuff on your shirt - is that - sperm?" Her dark eyes judged Veronique dispassionately, having received the ill treatment that many cops put in the direction of young punks like herself.

((That's between me and Sammy.))

"That's between me and Sammy," replied Veronique with sorrow, avoiding Melissa's gaze, finding herself looking at least towards Arnold, who was not perverted. Arnold had finished. Sammy offered, gentleman-like, to help Veronique with the bags. Melissa and Arnold exchanged glances. As Veronique gathered up the bags, and accepted the offer (with a poke from Ike), Sammy took a deep breath, crossed his fingers, and slapped her ass. Veronique gave a little 'ooh!' and turned, face now scarlet, eyes burning with a fire that she was not permitted to release.

A long line of laughter from the radio. Melissa turned her head, suddenly aware that another person was in the store. It didn't come to anything. Arnold's eyes were bulging, but he remained silent. He assumed that Veronique would probably arrest Sammy for that, or something. But somehow, by dumb luck, Sammy had a bead on this situation, on his own primitive level. He had played a safe card. 

((Oh, that's funny shit. Say this or else automatic-ass-fuck for your girly lil' sister. Say: "Thank you sir, may I have another.")) Veronique knew where Ike was, and turned in that direction - the others looked at her oddly - and her face was priceless. Her normally sharp eyes were pleading, puppy-like, pleading for an end to this torment. Framed by her auburn hair, she made an attractive and appealing sight. ((Baby, you look so cute. I did suggest this might end in more than just beer, didn't I? Say it, bitch. Five seconds. Four. Three...))

"Thank you sir, may I have another?" Veronique managed in her best seductive but submissive tone. Sammy's eyes bulged. "Yes, you may," he responded, and gestured for her to turn. She turned 180 degrees, but her back remained straight and proud as she could manage. "Bend over," he added slowly, relishing this, wanting to extend and prolong her shame. Slowly, very slowly, Veronique turned. She could not believe she was doing this. What would her parents think, if they were here? This was worse than Jennifer - worse than the prostitutes Veronique had met on Vice Squad - worse by far. She was the common sex object of any straying eye that Ike happened to favour. Her left breast fell out of her torn-up shirt, thanks to her now-bent position. Arnold began to mention it to her - as though she had not noticed her beautiful breasts tumbling out - but words failed him and he just watched. He reached for the phone at last, probably meaning to call the 'real' police. "Don't you fucking DARE!" growled Sammy, and swung back his hand to slap Veronique's fine, firm ass. She bit her lip, which made her all the sexier, little did she know it. She saw Sammy in a mirror by the counter - he was about twenty-one, or -two, her junior by far, with a grinning, impish look, and only occasionally a nasty snarl that would spread over his thin-lipped mouth. 

Veronique desperately, desperately wanted to set her plan in motion. But she could not yet use this time, because of that bastard Ike. Not five minutes ago, she had whipped the pen out, ripped the label off of a tomato-sauce can while she behind cover, and written a quick note.

It read: "This sounds incredible - please believe me. I'm being blackmailed. Help me and I'll pay very handsomely. Felony not to help. Hostage situation playing out. CALL DAVE AT 555-9481!"

She could not use it now. Ike would see. She had to wait until she had Sammy isolated. But he looked almost as mad as the criminal freaks back at the motel room. And when would she have a chance, between here and the room, if Ike was going to stick so damn close? Her plan had been good - but now it was beginning to unravel. She just needed thirty damn seconds with Ike out of visual range - even if Ike could hear them, the note would save her. Sammy slapped her ass a few more times, getting a good feel for it, his face becoming less amused and more intensely focused.

Then they were outside of the building, Melissa and Arnold exchanging further glances of sheer incredulity. Sammy was walking with a heavy bag in each hand, which temporarily prohibited him from any funny business. Still, he made little clicking sounds with his tongue, the way one might call a cat, and clucked, "hey pussy pussy pussy, why the long face?" and such things. Ike was coming out behind them, mostly in the dark, and Sammy noticed her looking. "Who's that? Crazy guy stalking you or something?" Ike drew closer, probably close enough to hear, but maybe not. ((Say anything except when I order you to, and I'll assume you're saying something really naughty, indeed. You know there'll be punishment for that. Now, say: "I can't wait. Let's go to the bathroom. It's close by - just there by the lobby.))

"Ignore him. I - I can't wait for you. I want you, now. Let's just go to the ladies room, there." "Nah, let's use the men's. I don't want chicks thinking I'm weird or something, taking a gal in there, and besides, a man will just watch, a woman will freak out and phone the cops or something." Sammy grinned at her. "God, you are super-horny, aren't you!"