Chapter 1

"Scream 'n' I'll blow a big ugly hole in that nice fat tittie."

Diane, hazel eyes blinking disbelief, mouth agape, stared at the man wearing the nylon stocking over his head. He was tall, well-built, and the blue-steel gun in his hand looked to be a foot long.

"Don't try anything cute, Pops." The short man, the one wearing a red bandanna over the lower part of his face, used his gun to wave Uncle John behind the long display counter. His eyes, like nuggets of coal, darted from Uncle John to Diane. "On the floor, girlie," he barked.

Bug-eyed, Diane stared down the barrel of the second man's gun. This kind of thing happened only in movies, she thought. Yet there they were; broad daylight, her second week out of high school and the first week on the job in Uncle John's jewelry store. And it wasn't a joke. There was no humor in the eyes of the short, stocky man, and no eyes at all in the face beneath the nylon stocking.

"Down!" snapped the short man.

"Do like he says," directed Uncle John. Then to the man: "Take whatever you want, but don't hurt my niece. She's... she's only sixteen. A baby."

"How about that?" The short man, obviously the spokesman, glanced sharply to his cohort. "Hear what the man said, Skeet? A baby! Sixteen! Bet she's got some good hot cunt, too." Looking back to Diane, eyeing her long, white-blonde hair, he asked, "You got blonde hair on your pussy, too, girlie?"

Diane felt the blood rush into her face. Her belly tightened. "You... you... you're horrible!" she managed, feeling an invisible hand clamp over her vulva. She did, indeed, have white-blonde curls down there. But they were curls no man had seen: a prize she was saving for Mr. Right. She watched the short man smile, walk leisurely around the end of the display counter, shove past Uncle John and stop... the muzzle of the gun inches from her round belly. Her heart raced. Was he going to kill her, she wondered. She looked helplessly into the dark unblinking eyes above the bandanna.

"You got a fresh mouth, girlie." The man's hand snaked out and cracked loud against her cheek.

"Ow!" Diane staggered back. It was so unreal. And now, the sting of the slap spreading like fire through her face, she watched-as an observer watches a group of play actors-Uncle John spring at the man, saw the other man's gun reach across the counter and send her uncle, unconscious, to the floor.

"Get the registers, Skeet," growled the short man. Then to her: "Since you don't like the floor, girlie, get a bag 'n' collect the best ice or I'll put you to sleep like Pops here." He waved the formidable gun over Uncle John's crumpled form. "If yer a real good girlie," he added, leering, "I may even let you carry the stuff to the car."

It was a dream: a bad dream! she told herself. But the wind in her face was real. And the squealing of tires as the car swept through the outskirts of the city, tipping as they turned corners, headed toward the Palos Verdes Hills, was no mere nightmare. Ten minutes before it had been a casual, California spring day. Now?

She cringed between Skeet and the short man; whose name, she'd learned since stepping into the back seat of the getaway car, was Tony. She felt Tony's big hand high on her thigh... rough... kneading the tender flesh close to her pussy. Not breathing, lungs refusing to work, she watched the last of the city whiz by, saw the driver steer them into the green rolling hills, and knew, before the day ended, the lovely blonde wedge between her slim legs would be violated.

The small log cabin sat high on a tree-studded hill: a perfect hideout, she thought, as the car stopped in a cavelike space hacked out of the thick brush. The police would search and search. Her braless breasts ached. The thin mini-dress felt scratchy against her taut nipples. They'd search, perhaps call in the F.B.I., and never, not in a lifetime, think of looking here. She was frightened: more afraid than she'd ever been. These men-Tony and Skeet, and the other man, Sammy, the driver-could do what they chose with and to her. "L-let me g-go," she whispered. "Please."

Tony's laugh was cruel. "No way, girlie." The hand on her thigh shot up between her legs.

"Oh, don't. Dooon't!" Trying to hold her legs closed, she balled her small hands into fists and pounded his broad, muscular chest. But the fingers were strong. And as she struggled, as the driver and Skeet stepped from the car, Tony's hand cupped her pussy. She gasped. She twisted and tried to break free of the steel-like arm around her shoulders. The fingers dug in... forcing the white nylon panties up her tight slit. "OWWWWW! Oh, don't, please!"

Tony relented. The bandanna like a bib around his bull neck, dark face flushed, he removed his hand from her pussy and dragged her from the car. "This is it, baby," he said. Then to Skeet and Sammy: "You guys cover the car, brush over the tire tracks and camouflage the road in. Me 'n' Miss Girlie here got us a date in the back room."

Inside, the cabin was pleasant enough: two bedrooms at back, a wide front room with a fireplace, and a tiny kitchen off to one side. Under different circumstances, thought Diane, head spinning as Tony shoved her toward one of the bedrooms, she might even enjoy spending a few days here. But now, no longer any doubt in her mind concerning her fate, the place was hideous. She stumbled into the small, dimly lit bedroom, was flung onto the bed, and lay trembling. Terrified, she watched Tony close and lock the door and come toward her.

"I... I'll scream!" she threatened, coming off the bed and trying to dodge past him. "I'll yell so loud they'll hear me back in L.A."

"Holler yer fuckin' head off," taunted Tony.

Diane shrieked. She bellowed so loud she thought sure her lungs were going to burst from the effort. She screamed and backed into the night table, tipping the lamp, and watched her tormentor advance... maneuvering her into a corner... grinning as he trapped her at the head of the huge, feather bed.

Tony waited until she stopped screaming. Then his big calloused hand covered her left breast, and the hard thing, the cock which seemed to be a foot long, dug into her crotch. "You never answered my question, baby," he rumbled close to her face. "About your pussy, I mean. Whether it's blonde or black or what. Guess I'll just have to see for myself."

Again Diane shrieked. But it was useless, she knew. They were hidden away in the middle of nowhere, with only Skeet and Sammy to hear her cries. She closed her eyes and bit her lip as the hand on her breast slipped down, over her belly. "Oh, don't. DON'T. DON'T!" she sobbed.

"Don't what, girlie? Don't do this?" Tony's hand slipped beneath the hem of the mini. His fingers dug brutally into her hot pussy.

"OWWWWW!" She felt the nylon being shifted... felt the eager cigarlike finger burrowing between her tight cuntlips. She gripped his thick wrist. With tiny, inadequate hands, she fought to stop him. "Not that. No! Nooo! I... I'm v-v-virgin!"

Tony growled-a hungry bear. Hand working between the girl's soft, creamy thighs, he kissed her neck. With his free hand, he gripped the neck of the minidress... yanked! "A fuckin' cherry!" he choked. "A motherfuckin' pretty little blonde bitch like you. We'll take care of that, baby. Don't you worry. There won't be nothin' left cherry when I'm done."

Shaking, body rigid, Diane heard the dress rip. She felt the cool rush of air-woodsy air from the broken pane in the window beside the bed- on her naked breasts. She felt the hard thing stabbing in and out of her vulva, and the harder, longer, more awesome thing against her young thigh. Oh God! she thought. Someone! She was about to be raped. Her virgin pussy, the precious little hole she'd been saving to give to her husband on their wedding night, was about to be ravished: ripped open like the halves of the dress hanging on either side of her ripe, pink and white breasts.

The panties came next. Slipping his fingers from her moist cunthole, Tony took hold of the waistband. Again he yanked. Again the terrible sound of material being shredded tore through the room. "Holy sweet fuck. Lookit that pretty snatch," he croaked, staring as if mesmerized at the wedge of silky blonde curls atop and between the girl's lovely legs. "Jesus shit! You got a gold mine there, girlie. A fuckin' sunken treasure."

Diane held her eyes tightly shut and tried to think herself back in Uncle John's jewelry store. She was there, behind the display counter, before the armed thugs came in. But Uncle, too, she recalled, had developed a hard thing in his pantsleg. They'd been doing the inventory... she standing in the narrow aisle behind the counter... he rubbing against her each time he went from one end of the counter to the other. He'd made too many trips, it seemed. And she'd felt him, his cock, digging stiff into her soft ass each time he squeezed by. His thing had been almost as hard, almost as long, almost as awe-inspiring as the dick Tony now pressed to the mouth of her wedge.

Diane's eyes shot open. "Oh, nooo!" she wailed, suddenly aware that Tony had taken it out of his pants, and was trying-Oh, God! How he was trying!-to force the fat tip, the purple-red, fiery, nozzle-shaped glans up her pussy.

Whimpering, trying to fight him off, Diane clawed at his dark-almost brutishly handsome, she had to admit-face. Tony caught both her slim wrists in one huge hand. And, as if she were a rag doll, a thing to be used, swept her off her feet, one strong arm around her waist, and dropped her, like so many more feathers, onto the feather bed. On hands and knees, she tried to scramble away. He caught her ankle. She felt herself being dragged on her belly to the edge of the mattress. She felt her legs, her feet, drop to the floor. She felt the rough hand digging into her buttocks... spreading her cheeks, her thighs... opening her most secret parts to hungry eyes. She glanced back, gasped. He was undoing his pants... pushing the pants and shorts down his thick, hairy legs. And his dick, the big rigid thing standing straight out from a mass of black cockhair, was jerking and pulsing -anxious to be sheathed in her small round belly, she knew.

"Kinda dig it, huh?" Stepping out of the shorts and pants, clad only in a T-shirt, shoes, and socks, Tony took hold of his prick at the roots and shook the bloated monster at the terrified girl. "You'll like it even better once it's up you... in yer pussy. Almost a foot of hot meat, girlie. Enough to bust yer cherry three times over." He took hold of the hem of the minidress at her waist and tore the last shred of covering from the pink and white vulnerable body jack-knifed over the edge of the bed.

Fright had turned her legs to jelly. There was no resistance left when, after stripping the T-shirt off over his head, Tony fell heavily to his knees behind her. She felt his huge hands high on the insides of her thighs... spreading her open... making her front and rear hole more accessible. She sobbed, chewed her lower lip, and waited for the terrible pain of penetration. Yet despite her fear, her revulsion, there were butterflies batting excited wings in her belly. She'd often wondered what it was like. Fucking! A stiff hunk of man-meat sliding in and out of her wedge. But not in the back! she pleaded mentally. God! God! The front was tight, so tight. But she'd die if he tried to shove his big thing, his swipe-wasn't that what the boys at school had called it?-up her little backside.

"Hot as a fuckin' oven." Using two fingers on each hand, Tony opened the fat little lips of her cunt. He rocked from knee to knee, inching closer. "What's yer name, girlie? Tell me yer name."

"D-D-Diane."

"Yeah. Hold tight, Diane. Ole Tony's got somethin' big 'n' hard. Somethin' nice. Somethin' all the little girls like up in 'em."

"I'll do anything," cried Diane. "Anything else if you dooowwWWWWWW..."

It was too late. Tony was beyond hearing her entreaties, she knew. She twisted and gasped, clawed the bedspread, jerked her head from side to side, and felt the bulbous head of his dick pressing into her, opening the lips of her pussy. "Oh God, stoooooop! It... it's t-too b-b-big. You... you... OW, YOU'RE K-KILLING MEEEEEE!"

"Good. Good stuff. Jesus, it's tight. Um! Good fuckin' tight young stuff." Taking hold of her hips, Tony pulled back, until only the glans was embedded in her hot, white-blonde pussy and thrust.

Diane felt an excruciating stab of pain in her belly as the swollen head of his sex butted her maidenhead. She thrashed... trying to climb onto the bed... trying to escape the stiff thing boring relentlessly into her tiny love hole. She made incoherent noises; strange, strangled animal sounds, alien to her ears. The room spun. Multicolored rockets shot off in her head. Yet the awesome thing, Tony's long, thick dick, refused to relent. It pulled back again, thrusted, was repelled by the elasticlike barrier, and thrusted harder and harder and harder.

Then suddenly the fat pulsing meat was gone from her vulva. Was it over, she wondered. So soon? Had he done whatever men did: shot off without breaking the barrier, and without her being aware of the cream men were said to emit when they came?

"Get yer cunt up on the bed," directed Tony in a strained voice. "Gotta do this scientific... put a pillow under yer ass 'n' go in frontways." Without waiting for her to comply, he lifted her legs and threw her full length on the bed.

Diane bounced. Then she was on her back, and Tony, kneeling between her gaped open legs, was forcing a doubled-up pillow under her hips. She saw his magnificent-No! she thought. Not magnificent! Ugly!-cock jerking above her sweet little bush. It was wet. The purple-red tip glistened with clear fluid from her cunthole. And veiny. Veins all over the shaft: blue wiggly things beneath the loose jacket of skin that ended in a crewneck at the throbbing glans. Her cunt tightened. She couldn't tear her gaze from the long hard thing.

"Yeah. That should do it, baby." Tony bent, face close to her sex. "Now I can see yer soldier. What it needs is a little coaxin'. A tongue lick or two."

His hot breath made her shiver. She felt his lips at the tiny bud protruding from her hot cuntlips, and moaned. What was wrong with her, she wondered. She was being raped, forcefully taken, violated, ravished by a thug. Her tight virgin vulva still ached from the partial penetration of a moment before. Yet her body was reacting as it reacted when she necked... when she allowed special dates, extra nice boys, to pet her titties, or get atop her, in the back seat of a car, and ride and hump until the pleasure of coming contorted their faces. Her cherry was about to be taken by a brute! A criminal! she reminded herself. And yet... his stiffness held her attention, as if it were a big lollipop, and she was a hungry little girl anxious to suck him off. "No more," she made herself say. "No! No! No! No! NOOO!"

"Shuddup!" Again, as in the store, Tony's huge hand shot out and cracked loud against her face. "Fuckin' cunts're all alike. Wanna be persuaded? Okay!" He slapped her again. And back the other way. "Now open yer pussy, bitch. Raise her knees 'n' help me get it in."

Tears smarting in her eyes, throat tight, Diane obeyed. She raised her knees, spread her legs wide, chewed her lip and watched the thick cylinder of meat held tight in Tony's hairy hand. She watched him come down on her, watched him set the fat tip at the mouth of her pussy once more. Then she closed her eyes and tried not to think, not to feel. She clutched the bedspread. She listened to the sound of the breeze in the treetops outside... trying not to hear his labored breathing... trying to make herself an object apart from herself.

"That's... ahhh! That's it, girlie, Diane. Relax. Yeah. Yeah, baby, that's good."

It was no use. She couldn't ignore it; couldn't not feel the hotness, the stiffness. She opened her eyes and watched breathlessly as the lengthy-so incredibly long-meat swipe inched up her pussy... parting the blonde curls... going in, in. She dropped her knees out sideways, opening her tight cunthole even more. Her body knew instinctively what to do. It reacted. She held tight to the bedspread, dug in with her feet, and watched until the pain ripped through her belly. Then she humped. Gritting her teeth, she thrusted her ass up off the pillow, using all the strength in her hips, and drew the fat throbbing dick through the thin membrane.

"Motherfucker!" gasped Tony.

"Don't hurt me," she whispered. "D-do it, but be gentle. It... it feels like a b-baseball bat in me.

"Shuddup 'n' fuck!" Tony reached for her breasts. His fingers dug cruelly into the succulent, tender young flesh.

"Ohhh! You... you're h-hurting me."

"You ain't seen nothin' yet, baby. Get yer ass workin' or else. Fuck that sweet blonde pussy aroun' some. Fuck it up into me. Fuck!"

Diane moaned as he took her nipples between thumb and forefinger and squeezed. Tentatively she moved her hips. Round and round. Up and down on his manhood. He was hurting her, wracking her trembling body with pain. Yet she lifted her ass off the pillow and fucked her white-blonde pussy, her tight cunthole, onto his cock. Her hands released their hold on the wrinkled bedspread... fluttering... reaching for his broad, muscular shoulders. No! she scolded herself. She mustn't let him know that aside from the pain there was something, something exquisite, something indescribably good happening inside her belly.

She closed her eyes, chewed her lip and clawed the bedspread. She fucked her cunt up at him. She felt his big dick begin to piston faster and faster, in and out, and thought, God! It was as if she'd waited all her life for this moment! As if nothing else mattered. As if her cunthole, her sweet little blonde pussy, was ablaze with a fire which never would go out. Never be quenched. As if her young, straining, newly awakened body would never again be whole without long, hard, brutally demanding man-meat inside it.