****** Depravity by MD ******
===============================================================================

Depravity


Mr. Shale stopped his car along the side of the road. They were on Highway 3,
in a desolate strip surrounded by a vast forest preserve on either side. Jack
Shale looked at his passenger, Claire, the fifteen year old girl who had
watched his son and daughter for him tonight while he was out having dinner
with his wife.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Shale?'

"Get in the backseat, Claire," he said, his voice having taken on a commanding
tone, devoid of all weakness. That was the hardest part, for this was a moment
of great intensity. What Claire would do now that he had given the order would
dictate the way the rest of the night went.

Sometimes they tried to run. The first runner had really pissed off Jack,
because he liked blowjobs. He refused to put his cock in the mouth of a girl
who was desperate to escape him. He had chased that first runner into the
woods, caught up with her, pushed her into a tree. He had fucked her mouth a
bit while she was unconscious, but it was nothing like the real thing. Anyway,
she had been a nice piece of ass, screaming and crying as he raped her six ways
from Sunday.

After that Mr. Shale had been more cautious. He always kept the child-lock on,
making it impossible to open the door from inside. Both backseats and the
passenger seat had this switch. The windows were electric, so only the most
desperate of victims could escape. He hadn't yet had a girl break any windows.

Claire sat still, nervously glancing up at Jack's grim expression. She was
beautiful. Mr. Shale gently ran a hand through her blonde hair. He leaned his
head back against his headrest, "Just get in the back, Claire, please," he
said, stressing the 'please'.

Claire wasn't a fighter. That was one of the reason's he'd chosen her. His last
one had been a fighter. They sometimes wore him out. Claire tried to open the
door. Not desperately, but hopefully. The handle gave way, but the desired
effect was missing. She looked back at Mr. Shale, a liquid fear floating in her
erotic pale blue eyes. Was she caught?

"Just climb back between the seats," Mr. Shale said softly, willing to pretend
that he truly believed that had she opened that door she would have obediently
stepped around to the back and gotten back into his car.

Claire managed to squeeze herself into the little space between the front
seats. Mr. Shale watched her in his rearview mirror. As she climbed, her small
white skirt lifted up, revealing cute pink panties.

"Claire, you've done a good job so far," he assured her. "I think you know that
you don't have to get hurt tonight. When we're done I can take you home and you
can just never think about this night again. Or I can leave you on the side of
the road, severely injured, and without your tongue or your hands. I'm willing
and prepared to follow through with both of these options tonight, Claire. All
I need to know is which one you prefer. The answer is in whether, in the next
fifteen seconds, I see your clothes up here in the front seat. All of them,
except your socks. If that happens, you can go home tonight with all your body
parts intact."

Mr. Shale closed his eyes and counted to fifteen.

"One . . . two . . ."

He heard rustling in the backseat.

"Three . . . four . . ."

Grunted and hurried movements. Something being flung past his right shoulder.

"Five . . . six . . . seven . . ."

"Okay!"

"Eight . . ."

"Mr. Shale! I'm done. Please."

Mr. Shale opened his eyes and looked at the clothes in his front seat: shoes,
skirt, blouse, pink panties, white bra.

"Please, just don't hurt me," Claire's soft voice floated up to the front like
clouds from Heaven.

Jack Shale slid his seat back a few inches to make more room to turn around.
Claire was on the seat behind the passenger seat, her knees were bent up to her
chin, her arms tightly holding them to her.

Jack climbed into the backseat, vividly recalling another mistake learned the
hard way. He had taken his clothes off in the front seat, and in the awkward
move from front to back, a fighter had taken the opportunity to kick his erect
cock. It had been a good kick. He had to smash her face into the window and
hold her down against the seat for twenty minutes while the pain subsided.

That had been a difficult night. His dick was tender, so shoving it into her
dry cunt was out of the question. But he'd proven victorious: he make her cum
even as she cried and held her broken nose. Her pussy juice even tasted
frightened. But she was wet, and so he was able to fuck her softly, enjoying
her sobs since he couldn't enjoy the screeches some girls made when he fucked
them very hard.

He'd cum on her broken nose and in her already tearing eyes. It wasn't his
favorite place to cum, but the pain and blindness made it easier for him to
take her into the woods. His anger hadn't been sated by then, however, so he
had to make use of some thick tree branches on her unlubricated asshole. He'd
have preferred it was his cock, but that night it was impossible.

But Mr. Shale did learn from his mistakes. He climbed into the backseat with
Claire fully dressed. His black jeans were no real protection from such a kick,
but without the obvious erection dangling in their faces, most girls wouldn't
think to try such a move.

Besides, Claire wasn't a fighter. He could see that by the way she had curled
herself up in a ball and simply stared at him with those gentle blue eyes. Now
settled in the back, Mr. Shale pushed his seat up as far as it would go, giving
him only a little more space. He kicked off his shoes and made quick work of
slipping from his pants. His black turtleneck shirt came off next, and the
three items were placed in the front seat.

Claire was looking at his erection. Seven inches. Nothing to brag about, but
not bad. Anyway, thought Mr. Shale, it's not the size that matters, it's how
you use it. He wondered what Claire might think of that.

"Do you know what I want, Claire?" Jack asked.

She took a moment to respond. "Not exactly," her voice cracked. Her eyes were
reddening.

Mr. Shale reached out and took her arm. He pulled her next to him, putting one
arm around her shoulder, pushing her knees down with the other. He looked at
her cunt. Her pubic hair was light blonde and sparse. Claire began to cry. Mr.
Shale hugged her, shushed her, and whispered, "Nothing bad is going to happen
to you, Claire."

He ran his left hand along her waist, gently caressing her small ass. When her
sniffling lessened, he kissed her forehead, then gently eased her head down to
his lap. "Have you ever done this before?" he asked.

She only shook her head. She didn't do anything for a while, as though she were
trying to decide just what to do first or what it was possible to do. Then she
kissed--ever so slightly--the underside of Jack's cock. Then again, a little
higher. Again. She looked up at him, a frightened questioning in her eyes.

"You're doing fine, baby, just keep going. Use your tongue, too, and your whole
mouth."

Claire turned her body around so that she was kneeling on the seat, her small
breasts hanging ever so gently from her chest, her left hand on the back of the
seat, her right on the seat between his legs. She ran her tongue along the
underside of his cock, up, up, to the mushroom cap, sending a shiver up Jack's
spine. She opened her mouth and slid his cock along her tongue until it
disappeared into the warm confines of that orifice.

Claire sucked Mr. Shale's cock for a while, moving her mouth up and down his
shaft on her own, almost as though she was getting into it. Mr. Shale did not
fall for the illusion, though. He knew what was happening. This was the moment
when the girl felt that the solution to her problem was easy. Suck his dick and
then go home and shower and rinse out your mouth and tell your mom or whoever.
Sucking dick isn't very hard, nor too traumatic, really. She was excited that
it was so easy. She was not enjoying it.

Mr. Shale had read so many stories on the Internet about girls being raped 'so
well' that they enjoyed it. Even that fighter he'd forced to cum did not enjoy
her orgasm. He'd only done one girl who enjoyed it, but she'd been willing from
the start. She had been a real slut, probably turned into that by a lascivious
father. Mr. Shale had fixed her. When she went home, she hated the very thought
of sex. No, girls don't enjoy the experience. At least, not girls like Claire.
Good girls. Innocent girls.

Mr. Shale was gently guiding her head with his hand. He had begun to press a
bit harder so that whenever she went down, she went too far down and gagged a
bit. Saliva and precum were making a mess of her face and his cock. He liked to
see a messy face like that. She was beautiful. He finally pulled her up, all
the way up, his cock slipping out of her mouth. Strings of sticky saliva
bridged the cap between her mouth and his prick. When they broke, they fell
down her chin and neck.

Mr. Shale had seen movies and read stories where men would kiss a girl on the
lips at this point, sharing the sticky mess with her. He'd even seen men taste
their own semen from a girls mouth or off of some other part of her body. Jack
Shale would not do this, however. Not because he despised the taste--for he'd
consumed many other things whose taste disgusted him. Rather because the base
fluids of the body were not his drink. It was her position that required the
drinking and wearing of the sticky mess; his too eject it from his body. It was
their roles that dictated such. Man and girl. Adult and child. Violator and
victim.

Mr. Shale positioned the obedient girl where he wanted her: on her knees,
facing the back of the seat, her head crooked in the small space between the
back window and where the seat became a horizontal shelf-space. He knelt behind
her, pressing the side of his shaft against her tiny little butt, sliding it up
and down the virgin crevice. He looked out the back window as he leaned over
shoulder, pulling her long hair back away from her face. No one was coming. No
one would come. That is why he chose this spot of all others for these moments.

Jack kissed Claire's ear, then her shoulder, then he slipped his cock down
under his ass, finding the other virgin crevice. He pressed his cock into her
pussy, feeling it spread under the pressure. She was warm, slightly wet. It was
not arousal, however, but her body's natural reaction. She wasn't soaked with
lubrication, a whore. She was only moist, not terrified enough to be bone dry,
for she believed that when he was done, she would go home and her life would be
normal again.

She had been quiet until the head of Jack's cock struggled against her hymen.
As he tore through it, she let out a gasp and a sob. But Mr. Shale was gentle.
He continued his upward thrust until he had buried himself into her to the
hilt. He held her left shoulder with his left hand, and reached around to grasp
her apple-sized right tit with the other. He pulled out slowly, then pushed
forward again. She moaned a little. He repeated the thrust, over and over.
Eventually she was quiet again, the pain having subsided. Now was only the
uncomfortable rubbing of his cock against the lips of her cunt.

Soon, Mr. Shale knew, she would be unable to help but to cum. It would be okay
if she did, though, because it was natural now. She still wouldn't like the
experience, that was for sure, but her body--not traumatized by a brutal
physical rape--would have to respond to his manipulation of her clit as he
fucked her. It would not make her a slut.

Mr. Shale began to speed up his motions and make them harder. His pelvis
slapped against her hard ass and he could see it growing red with the abuse.
Jack pulled out of her and quickly put her down on her back, her head resting
uncomfortably against the passenger side door. He found her box again and
slipped inside of her. As he fucked her furiously, she began making tiny
squeaks as sensations beyond her understanding filled her. Mr. Shale bent down
and took her left nipple in his mouth, gently sucking and licking the pale
protuberance.

Jack could feel his balls tightening. He thrust devastatingly hard a few times,
then pulled out and moved forward, shoving his cock into her mouth. Claire
sucked his prick and held the base with one hand. He batted it away as the
first stream of cum splashed into her sucking mouth. He pulled out during the
second, his jism dripping down her lower lip and chin, drooling to her throat.
The third blast slapped her across her face, up her nose, on her forehead, and
in her blonde hair. She had closed her mouth as a reflex to having the bitter
cum on her tongue. He pushed the head of his cock against her tightly sealed
lips, letting two more streams splash as they erupted from his balls and hit
her lips. The spunk splashed her cheeks, her lips, gathered in her ears, and
found its way into her hair on either side of her face.

Mr. Shale got off of her and sat back against the other door. She looked at
him, the questioning in her eyes again. He knew her so well. "Go ahead and
swallow it."

He watched her throat muscles work. Twice. She just lay there then, unable to
move of her own volition. She was like a pet suddenly thrown into the wild,
unsure of how to act now that it was free. For the first time since getting
into the backseat, Mr. Shale was not telling her or making her do something.
Should she sit up? Stay there? Speak? Remain silent?

Jack Shale knew each question as she thought it. He understood so perfectly the
precariousness of her situation. So close to being free for good, finished with
the bad man in the car, yet seemingly so far away as the path to safety was
hidden from her. Mr. Shale watched Claire for some time, enjoying the way his
cum ran down her face, over her upper lip, into her mouth. Or from her teeth
down onto her lower lip, down her chin, dripping down to her neck. From her
cheek to her ear or her hair.

"You can sit up," Mr. Shale said finally. "You're almost done."

She sat up. "W-what else?" she stammered, fearful of a punishment for speaking
out.

"When I'm able again, I desire to make use of your ass. It's a very nice ass
and is sure to feel wonderfully tight around my cock."

"I'm afraid," Claire said, her face turned away from Jack Shale, "that I simply
cannot wait for you to be 'able again'."

Her tone was suddenly so different, Jack put his hand on her shoulder and
demanded: "What?"

She took hold of his hand with her own, slowly turning her head back to face
him. What he saw only had time to register on the unconscious level of his
mind. Had he had the opportunity to remember that moment, he would have
remembered her face: her blue eyes dripping blood red; her semen-covered face
now as pale as the cum she wore; her mouth snarling with twin fangs, semen or
saliva hanging from them in glistening strings. He also would have remembered
losing all bladder control and pissing all over his backseat.

He never did get a moment to remember that one, though. For her small hand had
gripped his with a strength unparalleled in a vise, and her other hand grabbed
him by his throat, fingers suddenly long and supple enough to hold his neck
securely, and her fluid motion at one and the same time broke the hand on her
shoulder and ran his head into the window by her side, shattering the glass and
the bones in his face.

He probably died on impact, his nose bone being shoved into his brain. But
sometimes I like to think he was still alive when Claire pulled his back into
the car and began the long process of draining Mr. Shale of all body fluids,
beginning with the blood issuing from his face, ending with the tart juice of
his slowly rotting testicles.

For it was her role, as vampire, to consume the fluids of her victims. And
their role to bleed so obediently for her. She left Mr. Shale dry husk in his
car, returned her clothes to her body, and walked home. It was a long stretch
of Highway 3 and there were no cars to offer her assistance.

That was why she always brought her victims there.

MD at daddy6669@hotmail.com

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
You may also want to visit:
    * Sexy_Top_100_Stories
    * Erotic_Top_100_Story_Sites