Preserve Whore Pt. 02

Her pitiful screams went unrecognized by them. They spent a good few seconds indulging in the feel of her body wrapped around their cocks, languidly grinding themselves against her lips and anus, respectively, torturing her. Her body hummed with pleasure, as if the Predators had pushed it to a whole new level of ecstasy. No other sex she had ever felt had even approached this; the first Predator had certainly been a formidable fuck, but here were three, expertly pushing her to the brink of lustful madness. And she was close to that brink. A part of her wanted to go over, to give in, but she knew it was unexplored territory and thus could be dangerous.

And then they pulled back, slowly, inch after inch dragging back along her insides. They stopped halfway from pulling out, Isabel suspended on their lengths. She flailed wildly, gurgling on the remaining inches of Green's prick.

They thrust as one, spearing her from both ends, filling her again with cock. Isabel came, feeling them so deep inside her, one's balls squashed against her chin, the other's pressed right up to her slit. She shrieked impotently, thrashing as much as she could, which given how easily they were holding her, was not much.

They pulled back again, just as slowly. Like before, they did not leave her, instead leaving half of their lengths in her depths.

Just as before, they thrust, packing her body with their meat again. It provoked yet another intense peak for Isabel.

They pulled back again. Isabel sobbed, knowing what was coming, knowing that she was powerless to stop them from taking their time. They seemed to know that she was on the precipice of sanity, her mind about to be broken on the jagged rocks of carnality. They wanted to break her, to give her so much pleasure, too much. She realized that she wanted the same thing. That thought, her own surrender to the Predators' whims, made her cum harder than anything they had since wrought from her.

Halfway through that orgasm, they thrust, impaling her on their pricks. She writhed, crying out, tears of joy and lust falling down from her wide eyes, pussy flooding yet again, adding to the steadily growing puddle beneath her. Shivers broke out all over her heated body as she felt her mind break, shattered by the endless and intense pleasure, riven by lust and need. She began to squirm, trying to push herself onto either shaft, to grind herself against them.

They sensed the change in her. Grunting in pleasure, they began to fuck again.

[Did not take long to break this one,] Red remarked offhandedly.

[Part of me was hoping it would take a while, like the last one,] Green responded.

[We do not have that much time,] Red said. [I am glad this one was half-broken to begin with.]

Isabel moaned at the way they talked about her. She was the preserve whore to them, someone there to be fucked. The comment about her being half-broken made her shiver; perhaps the first Predator had done a better job than she had thought.

The two Predators continued to ravage her. She hung there, like a skewered piece of meat, breasts bouncing and tanned skin rippling to the beat of their frenzied thrusting.

Green finished first. His cock shoved deep into her throat, Isabel's nose pressed against his abs. He ground against her lips, his balls against her chin, his length jerking in her gullet, pulsing as a thick stream of white-hot cream raced up the shaft. She could feel his length swell, her throat muscles working steadily to coax the load from him. Green threw his head back and shrieked, the sound making Isabel shiver in delight. One second later, his cock erupted, long bursts of cum firing into her belly. She did not even get the chance to taste it, as it was deposited straight into her stomach. The spurts continued, each one just as thick and powerful as the last.

Before he was done, Red came. He had been thrusting enthusiastically while Green clogged her maw with spunk, but finally thrust into her ass, hilting roughly. Isabel was so focused on Green's cum that she did not notice Red's stillness, at least until a second later, when a jet of semen fired out into her guts, followed by dozens more, the relentless spurts bathing her bowels white. She blankly wondered how he had managed to hold back what seemed to be the standard Predator shriek of orgasm. That thought was quickly drowned in the deluge of cum pouring into her body from both ends. Green was just finishing up, the last few blasts still potent and powerful. They finally died down, the sated Predator hissing, his grip in her hair loosening. But Red was still cumming. Isabel moaned, feeling his thick load coat her innards. He held himself in her depths, growling low in his throat, keeping her steady as the last few ropes found a temporary residence in her stomach. Only once he was satisfied that he had completely emptied his balls inside the preserve whore did he begin to pull out, Green following along. She tried to press against the cocks, to stop them from leaving, but Red and Green were far too strong. Despite her meager struggles, they quickly vacated her, the cool air suddenly caressing her bruised asshole and sore throat. The Predators let her down gently, showing a surprising care. Her legs buckled, and she dropped to her knees. She gazed up at them, Teal moving to stand beside his two compatriots.

[You are quite the preserve whore,] Red commended. She blushed, feeling the thick cum leaking from both her cunt and sphincter. Her hand moved to her belly, where two loads from different directions had been deposited, and she rubbed it idly, a small, dreamy smile appearing on her face.

[We have quarry to find,] Red said. [We will be back.]

She nodded, gesturing for them to leave, still in the afterglow of such sublime pleasure. When she tried to stand, her legs buckled again.

[Do you want me to move you to your bedroom?] she heard Teal ask.

Isabel nodded again, and he moved to her. He bent over and easily scooped her into his arms. The other two watched as he brought her into the bedroom. He laid her on the bed, staring down at her. She giggled, spreading her legs, still drunk on the pleasure. Her hand darted to his cock, but he moved away.

"Come on," she pleaded, dragging herself to the edge of the bed, staring up at him with a needy expression.

[We will be back,] he said, turning on his heel to leave.

Isabel laid there, listening as the trio clomped outside. She stretched in her bed, feeling more relaxed than she had in a while. Certainly relaxation had been impossible to find when she had first landed on the planet. But now here she was, safe and sound, the payment for said safety easily and eagerly paid. Her hand drifted down to her slit, which was leaking globs of alien cum, the mess meeting the one dripping from her gaped ass. She started to stroke slowly along her pussy, but stopped herself.

I should wait until they come back to get off. It'd only be right to do it with them.

She managed to stave off those lustful thoughts for a few long hours. First she took a hot shower, cleaning off her body, soaping herself up more than she probably needed, if only to caress her curves, to slide her hands along her nudeness. After the shower, she made herself a meal, sitting down at the kitchen table, wondering what the Predators were up to. Once she had finished the meal, and cleaned off the plates, she popped one of the DVDs into the player, this time selecting I Am Legend. The aforementioned lustful thoughts crept into her mind here and there, distracting her. By the time the movie was over, she was craving the rough attention the trio had lavished upon her. Her hand slid past the waistband of her sweatpants, dipping into her panties, Isabel shifting to lie back on the couch. But after a few more moments, she reconsidered, wanting those three cocks instead of her hand. Isabel decided to go outside, as dangerous a proposition as that could be, to see what was happening. She chalked it up to curiosity, but she really knew that she needed their cocks, needed their cum, needed them to fuck her. Her masters were out there, and she felt a strange duty calling her out to go service them.

Isabel changed outfits, going from a simple t-shirt and sweatpants combo, to a more practical top and trousers, complete with boots. A machete, taken from the supply room, finished the look, hanging off her belt.

It was still light out, so Isabel trudged down the hill, back into the forest. She thought back to the first time she had seen the foliage and terrain, way back before she had been broken. Terror and adrenaline had ruled her then. Lust ruled her now.

She had been walking along for a few minutes when she heard a growl. Her machete was quickly in her hand as she spun, dropping to a knee in a defensive posture, immediately regretting her decision to leave her sanctum.

In front of her was a large, dog-like creature, covered in spines and strange ridges. It resembled the creatures that had served as hunting dogs to the first three Predators that had attacked her own group. This one crouched, as if ready to pounce, but then sniffed at the air. Instantly, its demeanor changed. It whimpered obediently as it came forward, scratching at the dirt beneath it. Isabel tilted her head, confused at its reaction.

Maybe it knows I'm the preserve whore.

After a few seconds spent sniffing her, the creature ambled along, and Isabel trudged deeper into the forest, by now the tall trees obscuring the sunlight.

She spent more time walking along, keeping to the trees, attempting to maintain a low profile. More time passed, the trees giving way to a swampier terrain, with viscous mud, and puddles of thick, gurgling liquid, dark gray in color. She was not too far from her sanctum, and in any event, had brought a device that seemed like a Predator's version of a GPS. The small black disc had been in the supply room, and she had stumbled upon it while cataloguing the items inside. It had a screen, with one dot representing the location of the sanctum, and the other, smaller and blinking, representing her. Conveniently, it boasted an adjustable strap that she had wrapped around her wrist. Thanks to the device, she was not worried about getting lost.

The excited murmur of voices stopped her in her tracks. She ducked down behind a thick tree, glancing around quickly. One of the voices raised briefly, and she was able to discern their location. She snuck up, not quite sure what she was hoping to get from any potential encounter.

Three men sat on a fallen tree trunk in a small clearing. One was tall and broad, his skin a rich brown, his black hair scraggly, complemented by a thick beard. On his lap was an assault rifle, and stuck in the soft ground before him was a huge machete, twice the size of Isabel's. He wore combat fatigues, sweat spots visible at the armpits and collar.

Next to him was a lean, lanky, pale man, wearing an orange prison jumpsuit. Isabel was immediately reminded of Stans, the death row prisoner who had been a part of her first group. This convict had torn the sleeves of his top off, showing off two tattoos: a naked woman with comically large breasts adorned his right bicep, while the left one was graced with a large knife, dripping thick splats of blood. His hair was close-cropped, his chin covered in five o'clock shadow; he had painted his face in what appeared to be blood, the dark red crisscrossing his forehead and staining the skin of his cheeks. In front of him were five handguns, and one hatchet.

While he was arguing with the first man, the third was watching out, his eyes darting here and there. This one was handsome, with strong features and wavy blonde hair. He wore all black, from the surprisingly stylish kerchief tied around his thick neck, to his combat boots. A shotgun was slung over his back, with a handgun on one hip, and a large knife on the other.

She watched the first two argue, over where to go next, fighting back a smile at the knowledge that their spirited debate was likely to just attract attention.

Something at the edge of her vision caught her eye. Before she could react, a knife was pressed to her neck, and strong hands propelled her forward, before the three men.

"Alright, finally, a woman!" the convict crowed, standing, gazing appreciatively at her body, covered as it was by the clothes.

The person behind her shoved her forward. The blonde man pointed his shotgun at her.

"Were you dropped too?" he asked. She nodded. His voice was deep, with a hint of an accent coloring his words.

"All they gave you was a machete?" the first man asked. She nodded again.

"Guess that means you know how to fuck shit up with it," the convict said, smiling widely.

"Good job, Twenty-Seven," the blonde man said to whoever was behind her, "but you can put the knife down."

She turned to see a pale, scrawny man staring at her from underneath a mop of kinky black hair. The only clothes he wore was a pair of green boxer-briefs, dirty and stained with sweat. In his right hand was a combat knife. He smiled at her, and she gasped; his teeth were filed into sharpness. As she stared, still stunned, he bowed.

"Yeah, he freaks us out too," the blonde man said.

"Nah, I like 'im," the convict cut in. "Reminds me of me. If I were a Chinaman, that is..."

"Why is your name Twenty-Seven?" she asked.

He smiled again, and turned his arms over. There were little scars across the flesh, like tally marks. Isabel quickly counted them, and of course, they numbered twenty-seven.

"It's his kill count," the first man said.

Twenty-Seven smiled again, but was silent.

"Can he talk?" she asked the blonde man.

He shook his head. "Don't know why."

"He's shy," the convict joked, flashing a wide smile.

"What's your name?" the blonde man asked. Twenty-Seven sat on the ground, Indian-style.

"Isabel."

"I'm Max."

"I am Adnan," the first man said.

"I'm Lou," the convict said, "but my friends call me Loon."

"We're not your friends," Adnan said. Lou blew him a kiss.

"Why do they call you Loon?" Isabel asked.

"Cuz I'm crazy."

Isabel nodded, again reminded of Stans. "What were you in for?"

A sinister grin stretched his lips out. "Sweetheart, we don't got time for that story."

She nodded.

During the past few days, she had spent a lot of her alone time reflecting on her experiences on the planet, and the people she had met. Across the board, one characteristic they had all shared, was their unsavoriness. Royce had been a decent man when it had come down to it, and Nikolai had been friendly and helpful. But everyone else had been bad people back on Earth, had done terrible things, and even Royce and Nikolai had most likely done detestable things back home as well. Isabel at least regretted a lot of what she had done. She remembered one instance, where Mo and Seamus had had a pissing contest of sorts, listing their exploits, trying to one-up each other, each boast more horrid than the last. Isabel had been forced to work with them, and others like them, but the more she reflected on those other survivors, the more she was convinced that the Predators only took what was a combination of the strongest and the worst.

So she felt little guilt about the knowledge that these four men would all die soon. Lou wore his awfulness on his sleeve, but the other three, as polite as they seemed, had to have done some terrible things to end up on this planet.

Rustling sounded from nearby trees. Twenty-Seven rushed over to investigate. The other three waited, guns at the ready. Isabel took cover behind them. After a few long seconds, Twenty-Seven ambled back over, shaking his head at them.

"We should get a move on anyway," Max said. Isabel quickly nodded, the others agreeing as well. They headed out, progressing in single file, Twenty-Seven at the head, followed by Adnan, Isabel, Lou, and Max.

"Your ass is awesome," Lou told her. She rolled her eyes.

"Eyes on the prize," Max scolded. "We have to focus or we'll end up like the others."

"My eyes are on the prize," Lou said. "After this is all done, I'm taking that ass."

Isabel turned back, shooting him the best death glare she could.

"Sweetheart, I've raped tougher bitches than you. Maybe I'll put that machete of yours up your cunt while I break in your ass."

"Lou," Max growled. "Cut it out."

"Ever been fucked in the ass before?" Lou asked. "I'm wondering if it'll be like, really tight, or if you've taken, like, tons of dicks up there, maybe it's like, a huge hole."

"Cut the shit," Max ordered. Isabel fought back a smile. Her ass was much less tighter than it had been before the day, before Red had broken it in. But Lou did not know that.

"Whatever," Lou said. The quintet trudged on, the thick heat and oppressive humidity making Isabel regret this ill-advised jaunt.

They took a quick break after a little while. Max let Isabel drink from her canteen.

"If Lou tries anything, I'll protect you," he said as she gulped down warm water, again regretting leaving her sanctum, where she had cold water and other liquid delights. The Predators had actually brought her a case of Capri-Sun, a child's drink that she had once tried in America and had greatly enjoyed. It had been a great stroke of luck to receive such a thing, but the pouches were now languishing in the storage room.

"I can take care of myself, but thanks."

Max shrugged, taking the canteen back. "Alright, folks, let's get moving."

They had not even taken a few steps when Twenty-Seven froze. Immediately, the other three drew weapons.

A long moment followed, with Isabel drawing her machete, not actually expecting to have to use it.

A blur burst from bushes ahead. She recognized it as one of the creatures she had stumbled upon earlier, that had avoided her. It raced towards them.

Before any of the gun-wielding men could bring their firepower to bear, Twenty-Seven leapt into action. He met the creature halfway, slamming his scrawny frame into it, both of them tumbling to the ground. It was ten seconds of tearing claws and ripping teeth, with nobody able to get a good aim.

The winner was Twenty-Seven, who was straddling the creature's twitching body, driving his knife deep into its side, deep enough that his hand sunk in with the blade. Dribbles of green fluid trickled from his mouth, his teeth having torn chunks from the creature. Across his chest was a long, deep slash, with other scratches along his arms and legs. He ignored them, finally taking his knife from the gored creature. It dripped with blood and guts, but he ignored that too as he pressed the knife to his arm, and slowly cut into his skin, adding another tally.

"Guess we have to call you Twenty-Eight now," Lou muttered.

Another rustling came from the same set of bushes. Max reached to his belt and yanked off a grenade.

"Run!" he yelled, pulling the pin and tossing it into the bushes. The quintet ran, in haphazard fashion instead of single-file. Isabel heard an explosion, and a series of pained howls. The howls followed them, grunts and growls mixed in. Max tossed another grenade back. Isabel watched it sail through the air. A creature burst from nearby foliage, right into the path of the grenade. It was inches from the creature's hide when it exploded, turning the animal into chunks of gore.

Adnan was in front of them, with Max now taking up the rear. The howls quickly died down, but the group kept running, Isabel's lack of exercise over the past few days coming back to bite her. She fell behind, but pushed herself onwards, still aware nonetheless that no real danger faced her in this situation. Some strange thrill was her reward for this, as if she was the keeper of a secret that the others knew nothing about.