Chapter 6
An obscene polyglot of raucous voices were hurled into the air by the gang members who were white, black, and brown-skinned. A few were a mixture of all three colors. One had the slanted eyes of an Oriental, but his skin was Negro black. But they were all dressed alike: black leather jackets, tight cotton pants that bulged at the crotch, and the hobnailed boots. The back of each jacket was emblazoned with the words GHETTO GUTS GANG. At the moment, several members of the Ghetto Guts Gang were clambering up the fire escape towards Trish. The rest of the gang had climbed the steps inside the tenement and were thumping down the hallway. Trish was caught in the middle of the steamroller movement. They're like wild beasts, she thought desperately to herself. They'll tear me apart!
But they didn't tear Trish apart. In fact, they didn't even touch her. The Ghetto Guts Gang wasn't after Trish. And Trish hadn't been the object of their attentions when they exclaimed in excited unison their intention to "fuck her all together." The gang had been pointing to the apartment that adjoined Black Hammer's residence. But so awesome was the sight of the gang that Black Hammer had fled, and Trish just naturally thought they were after her. The girl on whom they intended to vent their lust was Black Hammer's neighbor, Rocio Valdez, a twenty-year-old beautiful Spanish girl who lived alone with her young brother Guido.
The thugs brushed roughly past Trish as they rushed towards Rocio's place like a river in flood. Nothing was going to stop them from stripping the girl naked and enjoying a gang rape. For some reason, Rocio or her brother had offended the gang. This was their way of exacting vengeance, and also it would act as a warning to others who defied them.
For a moment, as the thugs rushed past her, Trish was left alone and bewildered on the fire escape. She had been prepared to fight, but when the brutish gangsters rushed past and ignored her, she was left momentarily at a loss. But then, as she looked up, she saw the face of a terrified young Spanish girl in the window of the adjoining apartment. And Trish realized that she had been spared. But unlike the rest of the residents in the apartment, including Crumm, she wasn't the sort who could stand indifferently aside while a terrible crime was being committed. The code of the ghetto was, "Don't get involved." But this could never be a way of life for Trish. But what can I do! she asked herself as she still remained alone on the fire escape. It was already much too late to notify the police. By the time such help arrived, the Spanish girl would be raped and the gang far away. No one would testify against them. Crumm had no intention of incurring the wrath of the street gang. In fact, on occasion, he even used them to perform strong-arm tasks for himself. There was no one to help the Spanish girl except Trish. And she had never felt more helpless in her entire life. In fact, if she tried to interfere, there was an excellent chance of the gang's raping her, too. Warning bells clanged inside of Trish's head, and the melody they rang out all had the same lyrics. "Run away!" The words kept prodding at Trish. The girl from Park Avenue hesitated. Then, throwing back her shoulders as though berating herself for the hesitation, she turned and headed towards the apartment of the Spanish girl.
The card on the door read Miss Rocio Valdez. Underneath the nameplate, an illiterate scrawl threatened, She's gonna get fucked. This last piece of information had just been penciled across the door. And the door was partway open.
Trish looked into the apartment, and the scene that gripped her held her paralyzed, speechless, and with a sense of utter helplessness.
The apartment was a shambles. But despite the disarray, Trish was immediately struck by one salient factor. The apartment of Rocio Valdez and her young brother did not belong to the average, run-of-the mill ghettoite. For one thing, there were plenty of books in this apartment. At the moment, they were scattered all over the floor, for someone had toppled over the bookcase. But the mere fact that there were so many books distinguished the occupants of this apartment from any other that Trish had seen in the ghetto. Crumm's apartment had been barren of all reading matter, and the only printed word in Black Hammer's place had been a three-year-old magazine in the John. But a mere glance told Trish that the books in the Valdez apartment reflected a catholicity of taste and an inquiring mind.
There was one other piece of furniture that made the Valdez apartment shine as brilliantly as a beacon in a sea of mud. A piano. And from the appearance of the younger brother Guido, it was apparent to Trish that he was the musician in the Valdez family.
At the moment, sister and brother had been backed into a corner from which there was no further escape or exit. The girl Rocio not only had beauty but courage as well, Trish realized. "Pigs! Filth! Scum!" Rocio hurled the words at the gang as though each word was a weapon. Indeed, a few in the gang did flinch. But the others were all the more enraged and determined to have their vengeance. "You'll all go to the pen for breaking into my apartment!"
"Why did you and your fairy brother squeal on us?" One of the gang members demanded. For the first time, Trish's eyes scrutinized the features of Rocio's young brother. He did look a bit on the effeminate side, but this didn't necessarily mean that he was queer. Certainly he wasn't an insensitive ruffian like so many boys in the ghetto. He hadn't, as yet, been brutalized. But if he was a serious musician, and a boy of refined tastes, it was obvious he'd look a bit more effeminate than the other boys. But that was no reflection on his manhood. Yet the boy had hair that was as long and well groomed as the tresses on any boy-conscious teen-aged girl. He could be queer. But Trish was going to reserve judgment as far as that was concerned. Right now, there was only one immediate problem, and that was to scare off the gang of street thugs before they raped Rocio Valdez. But before Trish could formulate a plan of action, or even make any kind of move at all, the gang, like ravenous wolves, moved in concert.
As the gang leader, a Spanish type, dived at her waist and knocked her to the floor, several others ripped off her blouse, skirt, panties, and shoes. Almost quicker than the blink of an eye, Rocio was stark naked. Two of the gang seized her under the armpits and hauled her to her feet in order that all could get a good look at the naked female flesh. The girl was breathtakingly beautiful, and Trish couldn't help but notice that each boy in the gang got a hard-on at about the same time. There was never any secret about their intentions. And to be perfectly fair, Trish couldn't blame any normal boy form having sexual desires at the sight of the naked Rocio. She was darkly beautiful in a sensuous manner that was able to stroke any male penis into an instant erection.
Rocio couldn't have been more than twenty years old, a fruit that was ripe for the plucking. But this girl was extremely discriminatory about the type of person who did the plucking. And certainly she was much too decent and refined a girl to permit herself to be plucked by any of the brutish ghetto gang. The black-skinned boy with the slanted eyes dropped to his knees before the naked Rocio and attached his mouth hard against her cunt. "No!" the girl screamed out, and revulsion made her young and pretty face look old and wrinkled. She squirmed and tried to twist her body away from the boy's leechlike mouth, but to no avail. He sucked and tongued on the cunt until other members pulled him away. They wanted a crack at a valley of love that had long been denied them.
"We fucks her three at a time," a lust-perverted voice cackled out. The owner of the voice intended for a cock to be injected into her pussy, another into her asshole, and yet another inside her mouth.
The look of abject horror and degradation on Rocio's face was matched only by the terrified face of her brother Guido. "Let my sister go!" his thin, reedy voice broke out. He tried to struggle free of his captors, but his resistance was met only by laughter of a ribald nature and a fist in the pit of the boy's stomach. He doubled over, and all the fight drained out of him like air from a punctured balloon. The rapists paid no attention to him at all. Their eyes were unable to move from the naked, female flesh of Rocio-the luscious-looking breasts with the almost black and erected nipples, the curve of her solid body, the tangle of curling black cunt hairs that swept up her belly and reached out for her navel, and the curving cheeks of her ass that looked just as edible as any other part of her body. "Three to a fuck!" The cry leaped out of all of their throats, and each gang member unzipped his fly and took out his erected tool of flesh and bone that throbbed in unison for the body of the girl prisoner.
They pushed the girl over on her side. In this manner they'd consummate the three-handed fuck, as they called it. On her side, one stiff prick would slide easily between the cheeks of her ass, another would batter its way down into the genital love valley, and still another would be thrust roughly into her mouth.
"Please don't!" Rocio's screamed pleas were entirely ignored. And when they forced her over on her side, she instinctively knew that her body would be abused by relays of three-handed fucks. There was a total of nine gang members, and that meant a total of three three-way fucks. And when they were through with her torn and bleeding flesh, the chances were very great that they'd kill her. The members of the ghetto gang were without conscience, feeling or remorse. And certainly they wouldn't have the guts to rape a girl openly and in broad daylight if they weren't positive they were immune from prosecution. There were other gang members who'd take permanent care of any witness bold enough to testify against them. And of course they knew that the sheep in the ghetto existed from day to day with the philosophy of silence. They saw no evil under any circumstances, and even if they did they'd never testify in court against it. There couldn't have been a single resident in the apartment building who didn't hear the ghetto gang storm up the stairs. And even the deafest resident heard Rocio's screams and pleas to the gang when she begged them not to rape her. But not one ghettoite had lifted a finger to save Rocio, and no one had phoned the police. They all sat quietly in their apartments with ears and eyes blinded to anything but their own thoughts.
The first prick that made a successful penetration of Rocio's lush body was the one that was thrust at her from the rear. The thug spread the cheeks of her ass apart and plunged his already near-erupting tool between the deliciously flexible ass cheeks. The head of the cock sank into the rear valley and hammered against the hair-framed rectum. Rocio threw back her head as she felt this violation of her buttocks. "No!" she screamed out again. But this was a mistake. As she opened her mouth, another gangster arched his hips forward and his throbbing prick slid easily between the two shapely and red lips of the dusky Spanish girl. Vainly she tried to disgorge the offending piece of meat, but the feel of her hot mouth over the cock flesh charged the gangster with such body-shivering delight and ecstasy that he thrust his cock even deeper within her mouth. The girl was shaken apart with nausea, but the gangster was attuned to only one sensation-his cock inside a girl's mouth.
There was only one more cavity that had to be violated-her cunt. And that's when Trish got her chance to make her move.
The gang leader and his lieutenant started to quarrel about priority. The gang chief naturally wanted first crack at the cunt. But his lieutenant, whose prick was pulsating dangerously, had to have an immediate fuck or experience a premature ejaculation, an ejaculation that would rob him of all fun with the girl. He tried to explain his desperate situation to the chief, who could care less. A matter of status was involved now. As chief, the cunt was reserved for his special consideration unless he waived rank and permitted a lesser member the privilege. But the chief, who was a mulatto with a few Oriental features as well, wasn't about to waive rank. He had suffered enough humiliations in the course of his young life. And now that he was a gang chieftain, he wasn't about to surrender any of his prerogatives. "I get to fuck the broad first!" he spat out to his lieutenant. "You'll be next. But I'm first. I'm first in everything and don't you forget it, buddy!"
The lieutenant, who was white, snarled back. "Fuck you, nigger chinkman!" And the fight was on. The chief and the lieutenant lunged at one another. And that's when Trish dragged the fire hose in from the hallway, aimed it at the gangsters, and turned it on full blast.
The gangsters were blown into a corner of the apartment, and even the two thugs who were raping Rocio in the rectum and mouth disengaged themselves from the girl and cowered for protection behind a couch. Rocio, who was also caught in the water blast, crawled into an adjoining room and locked the door. "What the hell you doing?" the gang boss finally called out at Trish. "You crazy, or something?"
"Get out of the building. Right now!" Trish ordered. "Or I'll drown each and every one of you!"
"She's nuts," one of the other boys piped up. The gang nourished their strength when they intimidated rational people who were sane enough to be frightened of them. But they were completely helpless against the insane who knew no fear and were even crazy enough to do something like accidentally killing one of them or drowning the lot of them for crazy kicks.
The other gang members nodded in agreement. "She's nuts," they chorused. Certainly no one but an insane girl would turn a fire hose on the entire gang of the Ghetto Guts. Crumm wouldn't have tired it, or anyone else in the building. But this girl was nuts, and there'd be no dishonor in retreating from the irrationality of a mad girl. One by one the members of the Ghetto Guts Gang struggled towards the window and made their way down the fire escape.
When the last thug had reached the street below and scattered, Trish turned off the fire hose. She walked into the water-drenched apartment. The place was a shambles. Trish looked slowly around the place where Rocio Valdez and her young brother lived. Instinctively she picked up a few books. And when she bent over, Trish didn't see Rocio slip out of the next room and enter the living room. Quietly Rocio locked the door. And when the latch clicked, Trish straightened and whirled around. Rocio remained in front of the door to bar any escape. Trish sensed the fact that she was now the prisoner. She tried to explain. "I saw what they were doing to you. So I turned the hose on them. If I ruined your apartment, I'm sorry. But at least you-" and she faltered.
"I'm still pure," Rocio said mirthlessly. "I didn't get fucked."
Trish looked past Rocio at the chained door. "I don't understand," she said simply.
"As I was saying," Rocio explained. "I didn't get fucked. But you are going to. And right now!"