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 - <(...make sure they are a variety of sizes, so he knows you're entertaining a few gents. And make sure you get kinky ones - fruit flavours and ridged and stuff.))

'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!"