Chapter 1
Donna Jean DeLong stared at the man sitting on the edge of the wooden packing crate in the back storeroom of the department store. She was completely bewildered.
"You want me to what?" she blurted in dismay.
"Take your pants off, honey. Otherwise, I give the full story to the old man and everyone in the store will know by tonight."
She gazed tearfully at her accuser. "But I haven't done anything," she wailed. "I didn't steal that ring."
The man was viewing her with a sardonic smile and seemed rather anxious to prove that he was right. "They all say that," he retorted. "It doesn't matter. You fuck me and I forget all about the ring. Okay?"
Donna tried to quiet her mind and to slow her rapidly beating heart. She had to think about what the man was saying.
"I haven't done anything," she repeated.
He held up the diamond he had taken from her at the jewelry counter. "You were wearing this," he sneered.
Donna gasped as a mounting fear gripped her. "I was trying it on for size," she said, seeking to explain. "I intended to put it back."
The man's sneer became a part of his smile and his eyes became more arrogant as he glared at her. "They all say that too," he stated harshly. "Girls who steal always claim they were just putting things back."
"But I was," she insisted, about to cry.
He eyed the small purse she carried, reaching for it with a pudgy hand. "Let me see what else you have in there."
She handed it to him, certain it contained no store property, realizing that being cooperative with a store detective could be in her favor.
"You can see there is nothing there," she said, hopefully.
He opened the purse, digging into it with his finger and turning over the contents in search of store property. He gave an unsatisfied grunt, dropped the ring into the purse and snapped it shut.
"This will go hard on you, young lady," he sneered.
Donna sought to protest but couldn't find the words. "But... but... but... " she moaned.
The store detective raised a hand to stop her stuttering. "Don't be so uptight, honey. I'll help you. Just be nice to me."
He was staring at the front of her tight fitting knit dress. "For a little favor, I can forget all about this." He held the purse behind his back as if afraid she might attempt to retrieve it. "The local law frowns on girls who rip off local merchants. This could get you ninety days," he added grimly.
Donna pressed a hand to her lips to restrain the cry of fear that was about to burst from them. He leaned forward as if to take hold of her hand.
"You fuck me, baby, and I'll forget everything."
"You won't tell anyone... " she stammered.
The detective's grin broadened and he began to look pleased. "I can't remember anything when I'm playing with a good looking pussy."
She had to think, to remember what he was saying. He would forget the charges. He wouldn't tell anyone. All she had to do was take her pants off and let him fuck her.
He was boldly staring at her, scrutinizing her short skirt, the shapely legs that showed below it. His eyes bored into her crotch as if able to see her cunt.
He frowned at her hesitation.
"Get them off, baby. I've got a big hot cock that wants to taste the juice of your cute little pussy. Then, I'll drop the charges."
Donna tugged the short skirt up her hips, then removed her bikini panties. She stepped out of them, placed them on a cardboard carton and stood waiting, holding her dress at waist level.
The man stared at her bare pussy, viewing the dark patch of kinky hair that framed it. He looked immensely pleased. He licked his lips and leered. "You're a good looking chick," he told her. "A real nice cunt."
She waited, nervously, for him to finish looking. "What you want me to do?" she inquired timidly.
"Get over there." he nodded to a pile of blankets and dust covers. It looked suspiciously convenient.
Donna saw the pile hazily through the film of moisture which filled her eyes. She was on the verge of crying but refused to let the tears fall. She paused beside the blankets.
The man grunted with satisfaction, scrutinized the dress and the bountiful curves it covered. "Take it off," he ordered.
She removed the dress, dropped it on the floor and peered at the makeshift bed.
"Do I have to?" she asked hopefully. One tear welled into Donna's eye and she brushed it away quickly. "Isn't looking at me enough?"
One look at his domineering smile proved it wouldn't be. His voice was harsh and demanding.
"You've got a beautiful cunt, baby. I don't want to just look at it, I want to eat it."
She covered her face with her hands to shut out the vision of his mean face and burning eyes. "Oh no!" she cried with rising despair. "You can't... "
"I can, sweetie," he hissed. "Get your ass on the blankets."
She realized now it was useless to beg. The man was a lust-filled animal who cared nothing about her other than the fact that she had a cunt that could be used. She went down on her knees, crept onto the blankets and spread her legs and closed her eyes. She knew she would have to let him stick his cock in her cunt but she didn't intend to watch him while he did it.
She felt the light touch of his fingers. He brushed the skin of her left breast, then moved his hand slowly around it, tracing a line at the base of Donna's firm pink mounds, then working into the crevice between them. She sensed that he was staring at her tits, possibly debating whether to suck them before thrusting his cock into her unhappy cunt.
The finger moved down her breast, across her stomach, paused for a moment at the indention of her belly button, then continued to the patch of dark hair covering her pussy slit. A slight quiver coursed through her body as he pushed into the soft flesh. She squirmed uneasily.
"You like that, huh?" his voice asked in her ear.
Donna set her lips, refusing to answer his question. That made the detective give a slight chuckle. His finger crooked into the soft lips of her cunt.
She cried, "Oh." Then closed her lips tight against her mounting desire.
The detective was examining her cunt lips, spreading them apart, massaging the interior to arouse the juice which could wet her pussy and make it easy to insert his cock. Donna closed her eyes even tighter, wanting to close out the vision her mind was forming. She didn't want to look at him, to see how large his cock was. She was certain he had lowered his trousers. He might even be aiming his hot prick into the opening of her cunt. I won't think about it, she told herself. She would think about Robert and how they had made out in the back seat of his car after the football game. The Raiders had beaten the Dolphins twenty-four to fourteen and they had celebrated by fucking in the back seat while waiting for the traffic to clear so they could get out of the parking lot. She just wouldn't think...
Donna felt pressure in the lips of her cunt. She set her jaw in a determined line, refusing to permit the groan of pleasure which was forming in her throat to escape. She would permit the man to fuck her, she thought. Yes, I'll let this man fuck me, Robert! I'm letting a man fuck me so he won't say I'm a thief.
There was a split second of pain and momentary panic gripped her, a fear that his cock was too large, that it would never be able to enter her tight cunt and would probably rip her apart. Then moisture oozed from her pussy, wetted the round knob of the detective's huge shaft and it slithered through her pussy opening into the confines of her cunt. She felt his ass bobbing up and down, the hard prick pushing in and out. The detective was actually fucking her and all Donna could do was to remain quiet until he finished. If she could.
Her mind was a whirlpool of torment, burning with the horror of what was happening to her, remembering how it began.
It had been so innocent.
It had been ten minutes before one o'clock when Donna stopped at the jewelry counter of Barker's Department Store. She had a few minutes to spare before returning to her own counter in the baby's wear department and her attention was drawn to the tray of diamonds on the third shelf. She wanted to examine it so she could explain how it looked to her boyfriend, Robert Barker.
"I want to see that one," she had told the young man behind the counter. "The engagement ring."
The clerk had lifted the tray from the case and placed it on the glass top. Then he picked the ring from the tray and held it for her examination.
She gave him a warm smile of appreciation, fully aware that he was gazing intently at her dress top which was pushed out by the contours of her firm young breasts, and examined the stone.
"It's beautiful," she commented. "Really beautiful."
The clerk reluctantly shifted his gaze from the front of her dress to the ring. "Try it on for size," he suggested.
She had placed it on her finger, holding her hand up so she could see the mounting. She had scrutinized it longingly, noting the dainty white gold band and the antique setting. One day, she hoped, Robert would place such a ring on her finger and when he did, she wanted it to be like that ring. Robert hadn't asked her to marry him yet, but he would, she told herself. She was sure that Robert was in love with her.
Then, the clock above the watch counter had struck one o'clock and she had jerked the ring, intending to remove it from her finger and place it back in the tray. If she was late, her floor supervisor would put her on report again for tardiness, and with only three weeks of employment, that could mean dismissal. She would have to hurry.
The ring stuck on her finger. The harder she pulled, the more it dug into her flesh. She turned away from the counter, unmindful that people were watching, thrust the finger into her mouth and wet the ring with saliva. Then she tugged it again. The ring slid free and she sighed with relief.
"You're under arrest!" a voice had proclaimed in her ear, and a hand clamped down on her wrist.
She stared numbly at the man who confronted her.
"Why?" she blurted in bewilderment. "I haven't done anything."
People began crowding around and there was a hum of voices.
"You better come with me," the man told her. "We can discuss this better in private."
So she had gone with the detective, not because she was guilty but because she couldn't stand the people staring. She was feeling self-conscious and humiliated and wanted to go somewhere where no one could see her. She had followed the man past rows of stocked counters, to the back of the store, then through a series of doors until they were in the storage room which was used for slow moving merchandise, and fixtures.
He settled down on the edge of a wooden crate and faced her with cold surveying eyes. "I'll have to place you under arrest," he said.
And now he was fucking her. The detective was jabbing his hard cock into her wet cunt with little rabbit jerks, slapping his balls down against her soft ass. She had expected him to be rough with her, grasping her flesh with claw-like hands, pulling her pussy lips apart so he could thrust his pole-like penis into her soft vagina. But he didn't. There was only a slight brush of something soft, then a pressure at her pussy lips, which moved farther up into her cunt tunnel.
The detective was pushing into her, gently, as if waiting to see if his prick could touch her womb before he gave in to his sadistic desire to pump his burning cock up and down in her cunt.
Then he began humping up and down, moving his massive prick in the confines of her reluctant pussy, stretching her cunny.
She opened her eyes, peering up into his sweaty face. His bushy hair hung down over his forehead and swung to and fro as he sawed his cock in and out of her slippery slot.
She wanted to tell him to stop, to cry that he was raping her, but she couldn't. A pain was building in the cheeks of her ass and working up her tender body to the base of her cunt. Her legs began to jerk and her thighs quivered with eagerness. She wanted this man to fuck her, to fuck her real hard.
She whispered, "Oh Jesus, oh dear Jesus!"
He thrust his hot cock into the spongy flesh of her slippery cunt and each thrust brought new sensations to her body. Sensations she had never experienced before. The head of his cockshaft stabbed into the underside of her belly. Each time it plunged home, she jerked on the padded blankets.
"Oh fuck me, mister!" she whispered in an urgent voice. "Fuck me real hard!" The sound gurgled in her throat and she thrashed her head from side to side, experiencing an ecstatic pleasure she had never known before. Robert had never fucked her like this.
She whimpered softly. "My cunt, oh my cunt! You're scraping the skin off my cunt! Ohhhhhhh!"
The man slowed, then stopped fucking. He glared down at her. "What the fuck's eating you?" he demanded. "Ain't a man ever fucked you before?"
"Don't stop," she pleaded. "Work your cock inside of me."
He started thrusting again.
"Fuck hard, real hard! Harder!"
He was beating his cock into her tight grasping cunt with the fervor of a humping dog on an overheated bitch. Like he wanted to come, to squirt his hot juice into her soft receiving pussy. Then, maybe, get down between her legs and lick that hot cunt until it was dry. He squeezed the nipple of her left tit and slobbered with pleasure.
"You're a good fuck, baby, a real good fuck. Don't give this away to kids anymore. This is man stuff. Just for me, baby. Save this manfuck cunt for me."
Donna didn't know what he was talking about. She hadn't fucked any kids. She didn't know how to fuck kids. During her teens, she had never had an orgasm until she masturbated in the bathroom. Robert had been her first sexual partner and she wanted him to be the last.
"I'll never fuck anybody but you, Robert," she whispered to herself.
"Robert ain't got no sense," the man growled. "Forget about him. You just save this little hunk of cunt for daddy."
"I like it," she cooed, in happy appreciation. "It's good... Oh God, it's good... push that beautiful cock all the way up my cunt!"
He was pushing his prick in her sex hole and the exertion was making him pant. Saliva dropped from his mouth and fell on her tits. He wiped it off with a rough hand. He was beginning to perspire and the odor of sweat and cunt juice was strong in her nostrils. It was turning her on like she had never been turned on before.
"Rub my cunt," she whispered. "Stick your finger in it."
He was jerking up and down, pumping his wet prick into her sucking cunt. Juice was welling out of it, running down his cock to the base of his scrotum, oozed down his balls, then smeared against the crack of her ass when he slammed his cock into her wet hole. She could feel the shaft jerk and the round knob slammed against the puckered opening of her womb. A spurt of hot cum flooded up the end of her vagina, oozed back along the length of her pussy and flowed through her cunt lips. It ran down her ass, trickled across the vibrating blankets and dripped down to the floor.
The man sank down flat on her trembling body. He was panting rapidly. "You're a real good fuck, baby. A real good fuck. We will have to do it again, real soon."
Then he pulled free, wiped his dripping prick on a dust cover, pulled up his pants, gave her a big grin, a soft goodbye and he was gone.
Donna lay exhausted for a long moment, unable to think, unable to speak, unable to move. Then she found her voice and began to cry softly. She wiped some of the mess from her soaked, matted pussy hair, then pulled on her dress, retrieved her panties and went to the ladies room. There, she washed as best she could, then went back to her counter, hoping that the floor supervisor wouldn't notice that she was almost an hour late.