10 comments/ 23991 views/ 2 favorites Day of Reckoning Ch. 01 By: 75corner I found her in the back alley behind my store. She was bruised and battered and just this side of unconscious. I rushed over to her, barely making out in the darkness the bruises that puffed her face. She was covered in debris from my refuse container. Someone had taken the time to spew garbage from my bin all over her. A message? Or just a final insult to punctuate her beating? I didn't care. What I saw was an injured girl before me and I would do my best to make certain she got proper treatment. "Can you hear me?" I asked loudly, tapping her face lightly. She moaned a little and moved her head slightly. "Can you tell me your name?" No response. "Ok. Can you tell me where you hurt?" I was loath to move her, wary of possible broken bones or internal bleeding. Again I got no response. "Ok. You hold tight. I am just going to run inside and call an ambulance." "No," she gasped and suddenly grasped my wrist with a surprisingly strong grip. "No policia. No federales." Her whole body shook violently. No police? What was this? Although her Spanish clued me in slightly. "Listen. You are hurt badly. You need a hospital. Doctor. El Doctor. Nosotros voy el hospital." My Spanish is quite horrible, but she understood my intent. She strained herself making certain I understood she wanted no part of anything official. "No. No!" she exclaimed, trying to pull herself up using my arm and spitting blood. "No," she said and collapsed back down, breathing heavily and raggedly. Damn, I thought, and began running my hands over her body to try and determine if anything was broken or bleeding badly. I wished there were more light so that I could see. Blasted street punks were always knocking out the lights in the alley so that they could do their drugs, engage in prostitution and do whatever else it is young miscreants get up to. I couldn't feel anything out of place on her body, so I decided to risk carrying her inside. "You can't stay out here," I told her. "I am going to take you inside, see if we can't get you fixed up." She didn't answer. I think she was now fully unconscious. My suspicions were confirmed when I tried to lift her. Her body sagged badly and I had a hard time getting her into my arms. Nothing is heaver than the dead weight of an unconscious human body. Her arms and legs were limp and loose and her body sagged at the waist every time I tried to get her up. Finally I settled for grabbing her from the front and lifting her from under her arms. I struggled to my feet and her body collapsed against mine. I was disastrously aware of a very healthy pairs of breasts pressing firmly into my chest and I felt disgustingly shameful that such a thought would pass through my brain at a time like this. I shuffled her over to my back door, leaned her against it and fingered to door handle. We tumbled inside and I winced as her battered body hit the ground. I tucked her feet inside and kicked the door shut, locking it. In the light of the storeroom I got a much better look at her. Under the bruises and blood that matted her face she appeared to be a very attractive, and young, Hispanic girl. I would say between 18 to 20 years of age. Both eyes were blackened, her cheeks bruised and swollen. He nose was bleeding and her lips were cut. Her neck had blue and black marks around it where it appeared someone had tried to choke her. I looked at the rest of her body. Her clothing, scant as is was, was disheveled, but not torn. She wore a short black fishnet top that exposed her belly. Under it was a translucent black chamois. She wore extremely tight and short cut-off denim jeans. From her intact clothing I surmised that, whatever the intent of her attacker, it was not rape. The bruises continued down her body, dotting her arms and thighs. If she had been hit on her stomach or chest, those wounds would not show yet. Maybe in another few hours. I pressed lightly on her chest, patting her rib cage. No bones seemed to move, so perhaps she did not have any broken ribs. I put firm pressure with my hands on her abdomen and, even though she was unconscious, she gave out a moan. Shit. I pressed again but could not detect any obvious swelling, firmness or pocket of pressure that might indicate internal bleeding. I sat back and looked at her, weighing my options. She very adamantly did not want to go to the hospital. However, if there was internal bleeding, I would have no choice. A dying or dead girl in my store would be very bad news indeed. I took a second appraising look at her...the bruises, how she was dressed...and reflected upon the condition in which I had found her, buried under garbage and all. Someone wanted her taught a lesson, but not necessarily dead. The beating was too professional. Designed to hurt badly, but not disable or incapacitate. The careful damaging of her face was telling. Both eyes blackened evenly. And both cheeks. Lips busted but chin apparently not broken. Nose bleeding, but also apparently not broken. Someone wanted to preserve her looks. Someone was making money off of her. Well, not anymore. Not if I could help it. I considered options. Like as not, whoever did this would be back for her. It didn't do to leave a potentially illegal immigrant lying around for the cops to find. Too much to risk that perhaps she would be the one to crack and spill stuff to the feds who could not be bought. No. They would be back for their property. Best, I thought, to get her out of here, let them think she had come to and wandered off. I ran an electronics store. One of a chain of eight throughout the city. I paid my graft to the neighborhood, took care of the cops and street punks alike, and was basically left alone because I got people the neatest gear at rock bottom prices. I was cool in the neighborhood and beyond reproach in the street sense. Perhaps I could risk nursing her back to health. In retrospect that was not the smartest decision of my life and in more ways than one it changed me. I can ponder now about my motives in keeping that girl. It is rare, very rare, that someone possesses such beauty that it can still shine though despite a severe beating. I had gazed at her, squatting on the floor beside her, enraptured by her beauty. Long dark hair, slightly wavy that reached to mid-back. Small, pert nose, sensuous lips and slightly slanted eyes. Her breasts seemed the perfection of Michaelangelan beauty and her figure was slim and taut. I remembered those breasts pressed against me and experienced a slight reaction in my groin. "Alright," I thought. "Enough of this. Time to make a move." I was alone in the shop, my staff having already gone home for the night. I left her briefly to fetch my car and pulled it into the alley, making certain no one was about. Then I completed the awkward task of hauling her limp form into the backseat of the car. I locked up the store and drove home. My house is a very nice place. The electronics business in L.A. had been very good to me. I was situated on a bluff overlooking the ocean and sported six bedrooms in a modern, two story affair. I couldn't get her upstairs in her unconscious state, so I took her to one of the downstairs bedrooms and left her on the bed. I drew a couple big pots of warm water from the kitchen, grabbed some towels, washcloths and first aid supplies from the bathroom and returned to her. She was semi-conscious now, moaning and obviously feeling the pain of her beatings. "Hey," I whispered and knelt beside the bed. I placed a hand lightly on her shoulder and she jerked back from me, eyes wide with fear. The exertion must have been too much for she sighed and descended into unconsciousness again. I tried to rouse her by softly shaking her shoulders, but got no response. Oh well. At least I could get her cleaned up and maybe determine further the extent of her injuries. I would like to confess that it was an arduous task, a chore set about with professional detachment in the best interest of a fellow human being. But I am afraid that my masculine persuasion and the presence of an over abundance of testosterone, allowed me to ever so slightly enjoy the task I was about to engage in. I would like to say that the job of undressing and cleaning up a nubile young lady was one I did as a noble Samaritan, but honestly bids me to relate that it was a most enjoyable undertaking, one only slightly marred by the prospect that she would wake up during my administrations and slap me silly. I started with her face, dabbing away dried blood and smudged dirt with a damp cloth. The more of her face I revealed, the more enthralled I became with her beauty. This girl was an exotic treasure and I started to feel a boiling rage building inside me that someone would do this to so perfect a creature. I got her face cleaned up, rested a cold cloth over her eyes to help reduce the swelling and imagined what that face would look like with a broad, happy smile splitting its features. Or a seductive pout when teasing or enticing guys. Or the perfect O her mouth and eyes would form in the midst of sex and a rousing orgasm. I felt myself getting hard and decided to move on to the rest of her body, to continue cleaning up her sacred chapel of Athena. Her blouses were a bit of a difficult challenge to remove. They didn't button or zip but rather needed to be pulled above her head to get off. I accomplished this with minor hardship, rolling her first to one side, then the next to creep it up to her head. While I had her rolled away from me my hand contacted her bare breast and I gasped as goose bumps suddenly ran the length of my arm. Oh, how firm and soft that fleeting contact felt. I let her roll back onto her back and stared down at two exposed, perfectly round, C-cups crowned with half-dollar size areola and two perfect, half inch round and high, delightfully brown nipples. I caught myself actually panting as I gazed at her half naked torso, her blouses pulled up to her shoulder line, the flimsy black of the material contrasting nicely with the deep tan color of her skin. I was weak. I knew it, and my only care was whether or not she would wake up while I was performing my 'doctorly' chores. Those breasts were hypnotizing me, calling me, urging me to touch them, to grasp them in my hands and massage them. They begged me to feel their softness, to caress their fullness, to handle their nipples. I was weak. I was scared. I was a bastard. Looking at the young lady's face for signs of wakefulness, I rested a hand on her bosom. She didn't stir. The touch tingled. My hand felt electric. I cupped her right breast in my hand, felt its silky smoothness and marvelous weight. I squeezed slightly, enjoying the give and play of her flesh. My hand shivered with nervousness as I checked her face again. She was out cold. I played with her breast further, massaging it, creeping my fingers up to joyously tickle a nipple. I felt it grow hard under my manipulation and I let out a long, deep breath. Oh, how her body was calling to me! I leaned over her, moved my hand to caress her left breast and lowered my mouth to her right. I hesitated only a moment before taking her nipple between my lips and then sucking it deeply into my mouth. Oh my gosh, the ambrosia. My body tingled from toe to head at the thought of that perfect nipple nestled in my mouth. I tongued it slightly, tasting its rough texture as I made small circles around its circumference. I squeezed her left breast tightly in my rapture and felt the heat rising rapidly in my groin. She moaned and shifted slightly in the bed. I jerked away from her and stayed perfectly still for a long minute. She didn't make any other sounds or movement and her breathing was even and regular. "Shit. What am I doing," I thought. My biggest fear at the moment was her waking up and catching me fondling her body. I resigned myself to finishing the legitimate task of medically treating her. I raised her arms and finished pulling her blouse up over her head. I washed her arms, chest, stomach and breasts trying my best to ignore her beauty and finish up with clinical detachment. Her upper body completed, I focused on her lower body. She would need a through cleaning there too. Her jean shorts came off easily, revealing her sheer black thong underwear and very, very shapely hips and thighs. Oh my god. Oh my god. Where had such beauty and perfection been hiding and what in the name of heaven was she doing out on the streets? "Well," I pondered. "No help for it, those thongs will have to go." I striped them down to reveal an immaculate pussy with a very short Brazilian cut. My breath stopped short. I was staring again. I had stolen the treasure of Arion. I had dared gaze upon the very wealth that only kings, nay gods, could grant a mere mortal such as I. Her vagina was neat and perfect, tucked between symmetrically curved thighs, a puffy swelling to which only the mound of Venus could compare. How I longed to drown myself in those depths, to plunge like a diver into the sea of her body. I delicately stroked those vaginal lips, mindful that I did so lightly so as not to disturb fair, sleeping Eurydice. I touched her bare flesh with the tender mastery of Arion playing his harp. The flesh of her vulva were the strings, her thighs the enfolding, perfectly molded wood, my fingers the wand that enticed so delicate a tune from the depths of her soul. But cursed be me as I shook myself from school boy poetry. I continued to wash that delicate body, however still mindful of the succulent treasure hidden within. I finished washing my new charge. With the exception of the bluish-purple marks that dotted her body, she looked more than human again. I pulled down the covers, intent on covering her nakedness and paused. Her beauty was so outstanding, I just wanted to stand and watch her forever. My penis, though, had such different ideas. Oh, I dared not touch her again. Enough time had passed that this time she might awaken and discover my sins. I chanced another route, and lowered my pants. I took my erection firmly in hand and, standing over her, started to stroke myself. I first imagined those cherry lips enfolding my cock, smoothly traveling up and down it, licking it, sucking it deeply into her mouth. I sighed as I imagined her soft tongue tickling the underneath of my rod and deftly playing with its solid surface. I remembered the feel of her breasts and stroked harder, picturing myself cupping them, squeezing them as my princess swallowed my cock. I saw her beautiful face full of my manhood, heard her hungry slurping as she gobbled me up, more anxiously now that I was crushing her breasts with my hands. I stroked even faster as I saw myself push her off my dick and onto the bed. Her legs spread open for me and her pink flower bloomed, unfolding its petals to my view. I invaded her, plunging into her depths, crushing her flower with my weight, hearing her gasp in pleasure as she enfolded me, wrapping her legs about me, encouraging my thrusts into her. She breathed loudly in my ears, pulled me to her with her arms, gasped loudly with my every push. Her waist gyrated upwards, meeting my stabs, trying desperately to rob from me that which I was freely pounding into her. Her passion increased, wanting me in her, wanting my juice, wanting me to spray her with my essence. Her rounded breasts pressed hard into my chest, a cushion of love as she frantically whispered her longing for me in my ears. I pounded harder, grunting out loud now, fever overtaking me as I forced my own love into her. Our moans were loud now. The friction increasing, the pleasure overflowing. The softness of her vagina gripped me, grabbing at my penis, flooding me with sensation. I ground into her harder now, straining with agony, shouting as I reveled in her pleasure. She screamed at me, letting out a provocative stream of Spanish that signaled her orgasm. She bucked beneath me. I tried to tame her with my cock, pressing harder with each stroke, busting at the seams to give her my fluid. She grabbed my ass, yanked me hard into her and I broke. My dam burst. My water crashed out and we suddenly drowned in a torrent of passion. I pumped and pumped, flooding her valley with my sperm. Stream after stream, scream after scream, flooding us with its power. I came down from my high, heart pumping hard, breath ragged, body shaking and sweaty. I looked at my sleeping angel. Her gently rising and falling breasts and stomach were spewed with my semen. I took in the milky richness slowly running down her bronze skin. I loved the sight of it. I stroked my cock a few more times, squeezing a last few drops of jizz from the opening to fall on this delicate creature's skin. A last drop remained on the tip. I lowered myself to touch my cock to her mouth and shivered excitedly as my last drop of cum stuck, sparkling like a pearl, to her slightly parted lips. I calmed down slowly from my masturbation. I had never experienced anything like it. Never had I cum so powerfully with my own hands. I silently thanked this young stranger for her kindness, then proceeded to clean her body once more. Finally I covered her with the bed sheets and retired for the night. The next morning I was up early and anxious to see to my house guest. I felt some guilt from the night before and a slight fear that she might be aware of my touching and other acts. Well, for certain she would know that I had undressed her and cleaned her up. First things first I called the store and let them know I would be in late today. That was another mistake that clued in my guest's assailants to the identity of her rescuer. But this I wouldn't realize for a few days. I got dressed and went downstairs. I knocked on the door to the room I'd left the young lady in, then poked my head inside. She was awake, sitting on the bed and clad in one of my t-shirts. "Well. Good morning," I said cheerfully. "How are you feeling today?" I should have expected what happened next, Hispanic temper being so legendary. The bedside lamp crashed into me and she was on her feet yelling, punching and screaming at me in a stream of Spanish of which I understood not a word. I grabbed her shoulders to stop her hitting and earned a series of kicks in return.. I grabbed her to me and hauled that dynamo of fantastic dervish energy over to the bed and sat on her. "Calm down," I yelled. "Be still, dammit!" She had fire in her eyes, explosives in her words and thrashed about below me like an epileptic. "Silencio! Quiero ayudar." I finally yelled in one of the few phrases I knew in Spanish. That seemed to get her attention and she stopped squirming, and lay there, panting hard. There was still fire in her eyes, but I figured that was to be expected. I slowly got off of her and, keeping my arms open and extended, stood up beside the bed. She sat up slowly, never taking her eyes off of me. "¿Dónde estoy yo? ¿Dónde están mis ropas?" she spat out at me. I picked up the words Donde, yo and ropas and figured she was asking something about where her clothes were. "In the washing machine," I said. "They were dirty." She cocked her head at me, giving me a suspicious glance. "¿Dónde estoy yo?" She said again. I scrunched my eyes and tried to dissemble her words. 'Where...something....I' Oh! 'Where am I'! "Mi casa," I responded. "¿Por qué?" She suddenly shouted and was on her feet. "¿Por qué tomó usted de mis ropas? ¡Pervertido!" I suddenly thought she was going to attack me again and stepped back. Instead she hurled into another stream of Spanish which I had no hope of translating. I sighed. "Look. I do not understand your Spanish, Ok? You were hurt. I found you. You told me not to take you to a hospital and I couldn't leave you there. I brought you to my house because I didn't know where to take you. You were bleeding. I had to make certain you were not dying. I had to clean you up. Sorry I had to take your clothes to do that, but there was no other way. I will get you your clothes. You can have something to eat if you want and then I can take you home or wherever you want to go. But I don't understand a word you are saying so you will just have to bear with me. Ok?" Day of Reckoning Ch. 01 "Ok." She said and I was taken aback. "What you name?" "Huh? Oh. Stan Corbin. What's yours?" "Maria." "Of course," I said, rolling my eyes. "What you mean, 'Of course'." "Maria, Angela, Consuela. Nicole, Margarita. All you immigrants pick the exact same dozen or so names for yourselves. You think it makes you blend in, but it makes it stick out like a sore thumb that you are illegal." "Mi madre name me Maria. You have problem?" "No, no. Your mother named you Maria. Good enough for me. Just please don't tell me your last name is Rivera or Torres or Martinez or something like that. I'll scream." "Ok. You no scream. I no tell you my last name." And she actually smiled. It was as beautiful a smile as I could have imagined. Even more so. But the smile was only for an instant. She remembered herself and her situation and turned it off like a light switch. "Can I have food," she said. "Sure. Do you want your clothes first?" She tugged at the t-shirt and shrugged. "¿Por qué? You already see your eyes full." "What? No. You understand I had to?" She laughed then. A full, rich soprano that sent erotic chills down my spine. "Poor hombre. I hope you no suffer too much?" "I no suffer too much," I grinned and led her out the room and to the kitchen. During breakfast I took the opportunity to query her a little. English she knew, and knew quite well. She had been playing with me with her broken English and strong accent. When she wanted to, she really sounded like any other valley girl except when she forgot herself and got excited or emotional. Then her Spanish heritage came out. "So, how long have you been in this country?" I asked. "Since I was twelve. My mother came over with me and my brother. I have been here what, six years now." The story of her youth in Los Angeles was a tale of horror and exploitation. Her mother was granted illegal transport over the border with her children in exchange for years of labor in a sweat shop. But when they arrived in LA, her sponsors were more interested in the outstanding beauty of her and her daughter. Rather than being put to work in the fields or making cheap clothing, the two were forced into prostitution and the boy separated from them as ransom. "The bastardos made a lot of money from me. A lot more than from mi madre. I got food, some clothes as payment. Once in a while, they let me see my brother, so I could see he was alive, so they could hold me. They knew that I knew that I was too valuable to them to deport, so they could not hold that over me. Instead, when I refused to work, they beat my mother and my brother. Bastardos! They wouldn't beat me. Wouldn't risk ruining their treasure. They sell me every night since I get here. Even on my period...sick pervertidos who even paid more to have me like that." I saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes, but she blinked and made them disappear quickly. Even through the bruises on her face, I could see the beauty that made men make a slave of her. I changed the subject from her past. "Last night. What happened last night?" "I was stupid. I heard that immigration laws had changed. I heard that anyone in the country five years could become a citizen. I took a chance on it being true. I was stupid." "But it is true." I was puzzled. Hundreds of illegals had been applying through the new amnesty from Congress. "I know people who got their papers." "Si. Though I think you as stupid as I am. Nothing happens without the police knowing and putting their greedy hands in. Even the federales. When I show up at Immigration, they take me to a room and make me wait by myself. Then this nice man come in and ask me what I am doing. I tell him of course I come for my papers. He say alright and make me wait. I wait for hours. Then he come back in with my pimp. My pimp, he is mad, very mad, and now the nice man not so nice. My pimp, he tell me take off all my clothes. With the Federale watching, he run his hand all up and down my body. He turn me so the man get a nice full view. Then he start playing with my breasts, telling the federale how I like it. He take his hand and push his fingers into my pussy, telling the fed how wet I am. Then he ask fed if he want some. He tell the fed I do blow job. That I fuck him for hours. That I take it in the ass. "The fed, he unzip his pants, tell me to suck him dry. I say no and my pimp, he pinch my tit hard and make me kneel. The fed, he push his dry, nasty thing in my mouth. My pimp, he push me on hands and knees, then he fuck my ass. He just fuck my ass hard. I start to scream and the fed, he take his dick out my mouth, shove his filthy underwear in it, then he cuff me hard on my head. My pimp, he laugh and fuck me harder. The fed start jacking himself and laughing. "Then my pimp cum in me and roll me on my back on the floor. The fed, he then get on me and start fucking hard. He only take ten seconds to cum, then he blame me. He start punching my stomach, start slapping my breasts. Then he get hard again and start raping me again. He was rough and called me bitch, whore, traitor and slut. He tell me I never get legal in this country and that he own me now. My pimp just sit in chair, grinning and watching. Then fed done again and get up and leave. My pimp take my ass again and fuck me until the fed come back with two others. "He tell me, just in case I think I can go to someone else, he bring other feds to see me first. They take their time, fucking my mouth, my cunt and my ass. They keep me there all day into the night. Then, when it is late, my pimp and his friends, they drive me into town, take me into alley and beat the shit out of me. Something happened, there were sirens on the street, and they leave quick. They cover me in trash so now one find me. I hurt too much to move, then I wake up here." We were both silent for a while after that. I was surprised to see not a tear in her eyes, though I certainly felt like crying. "Eso es la vida," she said softly and suddenly I felt worse than I ever had in my life. Last night, in the bedroom, I had acted like one of those monsters, taking advantage of this beautiful young female just for the pleasure of her flesh. How would she feel if she knew I had fondled her? What would she think if she knew her rescuer had masturbated on her, had placed his cock on her lips, had put cum on her mouth. I couldn't look her in the eyes. "Do you want me to take you home now," I asked quietly. "I cannot go home," she said just as quietly. "When you took me out of that alley, it meant the end of my life. They cannot risk that I did not go to someone else, someone out of the reach of their network. They cannot trust me now. You should have left me in the alley." "I am sorry. I did not know." "But what is done, is done. I have no place to go." "Uh, you can stay here as long as you like. I have a girlfriend, but I don't think she will mind, once I explain." Maria glared at me. "Of course she will mind. You think she is stupid? You think I am stupid?" she yelled. "What? Huh? I don't understand." "Fucking prick. I've been with men all my life. You'd love to have a little Spanish maid running around, cleaning out your house by day, cleaning out your dick by night." "No, no. You misunderstand." "I don't think so. How come you no call your girlfriend last night to take care of me? I no stupid. You find pretty girl in alley. You take her home, fix her up. She thank you with dose of pussy, no? You fuck me last night while I knocked out? No, I no think so. What? I too ugly now? You wait til I pretty again then get your rocks off? I no stupid, you know. You touch, yes, but no fuck. Too fucking scared." She stood up suddenly from the table, knocking over her chair while I sat in flabbergasted shock. "Come. Fuck me now. Get it done, over with, then I stay in your house until I figure out where I go." She yanked the t-shirt up over her head and stood scowling at me in magnificent, naked glory. I sat there, stunned, not knowing what to do. "Fuck you, then" she spat. "You just another scared, stupid man. No cajones to face me like a man. What? You only fuck your woman while she sleeps? Fucking coward." She turned from the table and stormed to her room. "Maria," I called to her retreating back. She paused for a second, didn't turn around, but said quietly and dangerously in perfect English: "You ever touch me again and I will cut your balls off and mail them to your girlfriend." With that she entered her room and slammed the door so hard the whole house vibrated. END OF PART ONE