Chapter 5
Diana looked up as Matt and the gun-toting blonde girl went into the other room and the door closed behind them. "No," she whispered, "please, don't, leave me alone!"
She shrank against the wall, one arm drawn up defensively in front of her tits. They were unprotected beneath her top and the nipples were stiff with fear, obvious protrusions in the clinging polyester garment which hugged and molded Diana Flaherty's breasts. She stared at the door, closed now, and she held her breath, waiting for it to open again, for her son to come back out. He couldn't help in the car-not with that girl up front, holding a gun on him-but here he could protect his mother, defend her against any further invasions of her privacy, any more outrages like the ones she had endured in the back seat of the car.
"What's the matter?" one of the men said. It was the sandy-haired one, the one who'd pinned her while the other abused her body. He took a step nearer and Diana skinned back, till her body was literally squashed against the wall. She couldn't move back another inch, but she kept trying, pushing at the wall which reared up to block her way. Her breath came faster and faster and her throat ached from the rasp of breathing. She drew her arm back, held it tightly against her breasts, ready to strike out if he dared to touch her again. He came nearer, smiling, his arms outspread as if he meant to sweep her up in some kind of lewd, ugly embrace. She gritted her teeth, clenched her fist, made ready to defend herself.
"Don't be afraid," he told her with a twinkle in his voice. "I don't want to do anything that hasn't been done to you before. Know what I mean? Hmmmm?"
And he reached for her, one hand snaking out to grab at Diana's hip. She reacted instinctively, slapping, and as soon as she did, she knew it was the wrong move. He grabbed her hand when it flew at him, and he pulled her kicking and moaning and sobbing into the middle of the floor. She sprawled as she was jerked, almost falling flat, but the red-haired man caught her other hand and, between them, the two men stood her up.
She looked back and forth, now at one, now at the other, and she was trying to find the proper dimension of evil in their faces. She couldn't. They looked so goddamned ordinary! Like any twentyish boys she might see any day on the streets in Albany. Like boys, both of them.
The redhead flexed his grip on Diana's wrist and she stumbled toward him. With his other hand he seized a fistful of tit and squeezed the ripe boob. His fingers dug into her flesh and it was as if he was handling her bare titty. She closed her eyes, confident that the emotion which coursed through her body was pain. The hollow of his palm ground down on the end of her tit, and her nipple throbbed spiritedly in his grasp, and Diana opened her eyes.
The redheaded boy pulled her to his breast, wrapped his arms around her body. He forced her head back with his own and kissed her hungrily, savagely, thrusting into her mouth with his tongue. Diana whined in protest, but she couldn't move and, while she was being kissed from the front, the sandy-haired boy was busy behind her, dragging at the waistband of her jeans. She heard the button pop, felt the jeans begin to slide down her hips and ass.
"Nnnnnn-" Her cry was a feeble growl into the kissing mouth that occupied hers.
"Stop it, damn you!" she wailed, fighting her head free. Her mouth was wet from being kissed and she could see smears of her glossy lipstick on the redheaded boy's face. She felt numb. No. She wished she could feel numb. There was a difference. She staggered as the other boy finished pulling her jeans down. He knelt behind Diana and rudely lifted her feet from the fallen trousers. "No," she said, looking back over her shoulder, and down. Her eyes were half-closed in despair. "Please, don't do this to me." "Listen," the sandy-haired boy said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the bedroom. Both boys grew extremely quiet. Diana could hear only her own breath, and a curious rushing in her ears at first, but it slacked and then she was aware of another sound, coming through the wall and door that separated this room from the other It was the steady creaking of bedsprings. And with it, almost, but not quite inaudible, the soft pleased murmuring of a female voice. A lot of Mmmmm and Ahhhhh, and Diana knew what they meant.
"Listen to that," the red-haired guy said. "He must be giving Kim forty kinds of hell. How long since you heard her moan and groan that way?"."You know how she is," the other one shrugged.
"No matter how good she's getting it from you or me, she'd cut her own mother's throat for a few inches of good strange. Sounds like she's getting it. That kid-is he really your son?" You don't look like anybody's mother, lady. Big sister, maybe," and he cupped her tits from behind, squeezing tightly. "And I do mean big-did you feed him with these boobies? Christ, what nipples! Do you still feed him at the tit? Those things couldn't have gotten so big naturally. They must have been sucked fat. Tell me the truth. Is he your son or just some hot young cock you're balling around with?"
"He's my son," Diana said weakly. He kept rolling his fingers on her hardened nipples and she couldn't stand still. Her body began to move up and down on the coiled springs of her feet. "He's my son," she repeated. "I am thirty-seven years old and I don't mean you any harm-I just want you to let go of me and allow my son and I to go home-we won't tell anyone we saw you. I promise. No, please, don't do that-no, stop-I-oh, God, Ooooooo!"
Sometime during that pathetic speech of Diana's, the two men got her onto the floor, on her knees. She looked up suddenly, astonished to find that she was kneeling, one of them in front of her, one of them behind her. And her shirt was pulled up again, rolled high to set free the proud full thrust of her tits. The fingers were on her bare nipples now, and there seemed to be so many fingers. It felt as if every inch of "her were being stroked and tickled and fingered, but always those fingers returned to her stiff nipples and squeezed them again and again and again.
The sandy-haired one pressed against her from behind, ramming his groin against her ass, and she was horribly aware of the erection that had blossomed in his pants. He rubbed her butt and let her feel every inch of his pants-covered hard-on. She tried to squirm and scoot away, but when she did, it brought her up dead-firm against the other one, the redhead, and-oh, Jesus! He too was stiff in his trousers, and only too willing to let Diana get a frontal feel of his boner. "All for you, baby," he said with a grin. He put his hands on her shoulders and bent in to kiss her once again. She wanted to jerk her face out of his way, but her muscles wouldn't respond. His mouth came down on hers, hard, and again his tongue was ramming into her mouth and their bodies were tightly pressed, every inch of his stiff cock tactile to Diana's groin.
She tried to ignore what was happening to her, but the only other point of concentration she could seize upon were the sounds-the horrid, horrid sounds coming from the other room. The faster and faster creak of bedsprings, the increased moans of female pleasure-God, is that my son in there? she wondered in despair. Has he forgotten about me? Is he only interested in servicing that blonde bitch? Doesn't he know what they're doing to me-what they want to do to me? A hand slipped into her panties, pinched her ripe firm ass and she whimpered. Whimper was all she could do.
"Stretch her on the floor," she heard the sandy-haired one say. "If I don't get my cock into her, it's gonna fall off."
"Says you?" his buddy chortled. "Well, I get first crack at this crack." His timing was perfect. Diana's beige panties were just sliding down her hips as he spoke, and he finished the declaration with a gesture-his finger shot into Diana's crotch and pushed impatiently at the slice of her pussy.
She jerked at the touch, but the jerk of her body only dragged her back, where she could feel once more the hard pressure of her sandy-haired assailant's prong, jabbing at her ass. She recoiled from that, and when she did, it seemed that her pussy just opened up and sucked in the redhead's finger. He thrust with a whoop of glee and Diana felt as if she'd been stabbed in the guts.
"This doesn't feel like anybody's mother's pussy," he announced, screwing his finger into her and working it like a drill bit. Diana whined as she was cuntally assaulted, but she couldn't disengage herself. Not when the one behind her was busily engaged in pushing her down, down, down, upon that stabbing finger, her pussy to suck it home.
"She's getting wet," the redhead announced, and Diana's face went scarlet. She could feel it too, the lubricative juices seeping through her pussy walls as that finger kept drilling and diving in her cunt, and each fresh seepage of moisture seemed to be pumped directly from her heart. Behind the ample roundness of her left tit, her heart was throbbing like a drum, and her temples pounded ominously. Her vision flickered, going in and out of focus in swift alternation. And through it all, that finger reaming her twat.
"Stop," she whispered, her final protestation. She realized even as she spoke the words how hollow and empty they sounded, how ridiculous they must seem in view of the increasing response of her pussy. How can you betray me so? she asked her body. Shamed, it did not even try to answer.
"Cunt like a snapping turtle," the redhead added. He gave that cunt another reaming finger plunge, then withdrew his sopping digit and sniffed appreciatively. "Ahhhhh," he said. "The food of the gods." He grinned. "Want a smell?" he asked his friend, offering the cunt-juiced finger.
"Goddamn!" the sandy-haired man admired. "If you think I'm giving you first shot at that, you've got shit for brains!"
Redhead clamped his fist over Diana's puss, held her in a possessive grip. "I've got her," he said, "and I'm gonna take her. You can wait your turn."
"My God," Diana whined. She could feel more juice leaking from the lips of her wet twat, melting onto the flesh of the hand gripping her.
"Wait a minute," the other one put in. "We've been friends too long to fall out over first crack at a piece of ass. Even-" his hands closed on Diana's tits, fingers caressing the hard, sweat-dampened flesh "-a piece of ass like this one. Let's do it like gentlemen. You fuck her pussy and I'll fuck her mouth. Then we'll switch. Alphonse and Gaston, huh?"
"After you, my dear Gaston," his companion leered. "Come on, Mommy-it's time to get this show on the road."
Diana had no resistance left. She moved limply as they spread her body full-length on the floor. Her face rested only inches from an opened magazine, and she found herself staring at a spread-out centerfold, the focus of which was a shaven, wide-split pussy, belonging to a sullen brunette whose not-especially-pretty face was half cropped away. The magazine editor knew which part of the girl his readers wanted to look at, and it wasn't her face. The girl's cunt appeared enormous, a detached vagina floating in space, hardly connected to the rest of the woman who owned it and was revealing it for the camera. How vulgar, Diana thought in distaste, just before she felt her legs being spread.
She looked down quickly, in panic, saw the redheaded man with his pants dropped, kneeling between her legs. His shorts were opened and a hard, slender cock thrust forth in erection. He was circumcised, and the tip of him looked like a fat grape surmounting his slender column of stiff meat. Not a big cock, not a cock she should have any difficulty accommodating in her vagina, but she didn't want to! "No," she growled, trying to squeeze her legs together. But he was already between them, and it was just like the childhood game of scissors cut paper. Her legs tried to scissor shut and his legs were the stone that broke the scissors, kept her thighs widespread. He moved toward her, preparing to mount Diana. Her belly heaved in resistance, but that was the only thing she could do. The sandy-haired man had her by the arms, kept her from sitting up. She could only lie there-she must lie there-and take it.
The tip of red's cock slid through her forest of curly pubic hair and she squirmed as best she could. The touch was unbearably ticklish. She wanted to laugh, but this was no laughing matter. She was about to be raped.
His cock pushed at the petals of her labia and thrust them aside, and he was stabbing into her, penetrating as easily with his cock as he had with his finger, and she moaned, feeling him slide deeply, ferociously, plumbing the depths of her twat with his six-inch cock.
The other one bunched her two hands together, nailed them down with the point of his knee. It hurt a little, his bony knee clamping her hands to the floor, and she whispered, "No, please," but he was stroking her hair now, petting it the way one might pet a furry cat, and she felt strange shimmers of response shooting through her head. She liked to have her hair stroked. It seemed that she couldn't keep her own fingers out of her black tresses, that she was always combing them and playing with them, and now, these strange fingers toying in her hair-it felt nearly as good-almost enough to make her forget the cock deep-drilling in and out of her cunt.
Sandy's fingers trailed across her cheek. Her eyes were shut. She opened them, just in time to see his cock, sticking through his undone fly. He was stiff, too, slightly thicker than his companion, with a pointed knobby tip capping his rod. And even as Diana-looked upward with horrified eyes, the man was aiming the point of his dong down, toward her half-opened lips. "No!" she had time to say, just before he drove between her mouth with the barrel of his peter.
"Suck it," he commanded. "Suck as if your life depended on it. Because-" he tapped her forehead lightly with one finger of his left hand "-it just MIGHT."
Good God! she told herself. My life is at stake!
These are desperate people. They've robbed a bank. They've kidnapped. Kidnapping is a capital crime. What-what's to stop them from killing us-both of us-no witnesses-oh, Jesus! His cock was a heavy bulk in her mouth, and she realized that an even heavier bulk hung above her head. It was no time to make excuses. She could hate herself tomorrow. Diana gripped the sandy-haired boy's dick with her wide, red lips and she began to suck, calling on every instinct and talent at her command.
Down below, she didn't need any help. The redhead was still pile-driving her pussy, and her pussy was reacting the way it always seemed to react when it was being fucked. She could feel the little muscular caresses, the twitching of her pussy lips, the increasing flow of interior juices to wet redhead's way, make her hole a greasy chute for his tool to plunge into. My cunt, she thought. My cunt doesn't know it's being raped. It thinks this is just a friendly fuck. Well, whoever said a pussy had any intelligence? She sucked a little harder, making her tongue roll around the pecker in her mouth. Already she could taste little escapings of cum on the tip of the sandy-haired rapist's tool. It tingled on her tongue, and the flavor wasn't as unpleasant as she might have expected it to be. It tasted like semen, she thought, and the realization surprised her nearly as much as the response of her cunt had surprised her. I am coping, she thought. I am being degraded and ravished and humiliated, but I am coping.
The cock slipped deeper into her mouth. She nearly gagged on it the first time it plunged so far, but that was because of the surprise. Diana relaxed her throat muscles a little and she was able to take him almost as deeply as he was able to thrust. Her throat couldn't compare with Linda Lovelace's but she could take a man deeper now than she could when she was nineteen, or even twenty-two. If she'd been a willing participant in this disgusting scene, she might have tried a little harder than. she' was doing, but her efforts seemed satisfactory enough for the situation.
The redhead appreciated what he was getting, too, it seemed. "If she's giving you half what she's giving me," he told his friend in a breathless, fuck-rushing voice, "you must be one lucky sonovabitch!"
"Mmmmm, yeah!" the other one agreed. "You wanna switch now?"
"Sounds okay."
Diana felt the cock being withdrawn from her cunt. She tightened her lips on the one in her mouth, wondering why she was doing that.
Sandy tapped her forehead again. "Leggo," he said. "Or I'll sock you." She opened her mouth and he slipped free. There was lipstick and spittle on his cock, lots and lots of it. God, was she drooling that much? She tried to swallow and almost choked on her own spit. A dribble of juice spilled from the comer of Diana's mouth as the two rapists changed places.
"Spread 'em a little wider," said the sandy haired one, lying on his belly between Diana's thighs. "You've got a real man down here now." He slid upward, bringing his dick to bear on the itchy lips of her twat. She didn't know they were itching until his prong began to scratch her itches away, and by that time he was starting to slip it inside. "Christ, she's tight!" he said gleefully, working his cock a little further inside Diana.
"She didn't feel that tight to me," the redhead sneered.
"Well, if you had a dick instead of a toothpick, maybe you could appreciate tightness. Oh, shit!" And with that he drove himself into "Diana, bringing their bellies together. He ground against the older woman, wiggling his cock inside her pussy, and she moaned in spite of herself. He had an appreciably thicker tool, she was quick to notice, and it really filled her well-tended snatch when it was driven up her ,tube. She could feel his balls jiggling in the crack of her ass, and his pubic hair was coarser than her own silky growth. The stubby strands worked their way through Diana's fine hairs and began to scratch at her pussy flesh. She quivered beneath him. He mistook it for a wiggle of enthusiasm and he began to screw her in quick, short strokes. His cock had a provocative frictioning effect, working in and out of Diana and she kept on writhing beneath the sandy haired rapist, pussy muscles working a little more flexibly than they had when his friend was in her.
The redhead straddled her chest and sat down on her tits. "Ah, Jesus," he said, "talk about upholstery!" He pointed his prick at her mouth and said, "Suck it, Mommy. I've heard a lot about your style and I'm expecting a hell of a good blow-job. Oh, yeah, that's it, baby. Get your hands on it. Play with it a little. Feel how wet I am?"
And the worst of it was, he seemed to be analyzing her reactions almost perfectly. That first taste of him, with her pussy fluids coating his wet cock. Her tongue had exploded. She couldn't stop licking him. No matter how filthy he talked, sitting on her chest and directing her actions, no matter how crudely he used her with his mouth, she couldn't stop licking him.
And when he told her to get ready, she got ready. Her mouth opened welcomingly, and her tongue flittered in the grounded gap, as if it were inviting him to stick it in! And stick it in he did! His cock slammed into Diana Fluharty's mouth and she locked her lips and started sucking as if it were the sweetest lollipop ever to leave the candy factory. He was coated with the taste of her, all up and down his length, and her mouth sucked away that delicious flavor, avid for more.
To be honest, redhead was getting more than a little assistance from his bigger-cocked buddy. Paul, that was what he'd called him, and Paul was fucking the goddamned hell out of Diana, pronging her in short strokes-she loved short strokes-quick ones, that tickled and itched her pussy lips, just kept going in and out and in and out and in and out, and her pussy leaking and pissing cum all over him, and it might have been degrading and it might have been rape but she knew, oh, Jesus, she knew-that in very short order she was going to be exploding all over the inside of this cabin.
From redhead's angle of penetration, she couldn't get too much of his rod into her mouth. He had to lean forward too far, and it threw him off balance, causing him to lean back and pull cock out of Diana's mouth, so she got her hand inside his shorts-he'd taken off his pants during the journey from he twat to her mouth-and cupped his balls with one fist, locking the other set of fingers round the base of his prick where it stuck out of the shorts. She was mostly sucking his knob and she was jerking him while she sucked, jerking him in eager, quick strokes just like the ones Paul was feeding up her snatch.
"Here goes!" Paul shouted, and his cock slammed into her seven times in rapid succession. Each thrust was accompanied by a jerk and a discharge, and Diana felt cum rolling up her tubes, into her uterus, fired from her rapist's cock. He kept stroking even after he'd quit shooting, and she felt her cunt melt into jelly around him. Her legs twitched and straightened, then curled into deceptively fragile locks of sheer power, enfolding Paul, pulling him into the gushing core of her body. She was coming too, and she went around redhead's slippery cock. Her tongue couldn't keep up the careful pattern of licks and swipes she had begun with. She was too preoccupied with the responsive excitement in her pussy. Rape or not, she had hit a climax and it was a good climax. Her body shivered and tingled and she couldn't lie still. Quickly, Diana clamped her lips shut on the head of red's pecker and she started to jerk him off, into her bottomless well of a mouth. It only took four strokes, and then he 'was grabbing her head, trying to strangle her with his spouting peter and the flood of semen that sprayed from him in torrents. Diana drank at the faucet of life, and she drank, and she drank, and she drank.