Chapter 1

"Oh, come on," Queenie said, "it's easy."

"Well, I don't know. It's not right." Justine stood uncertainly outside the dress store. She was beginning to wish she hadn't accepted Queenie's invitation to visit her during the spring break. Queenie was a hot head, getting into all sorts of things, and Justine was scared. And Queenie's mother was never there either, so Queenie did just about what she wanted to do.

"Come on, it's easy, I'll show you," Queenie said and pushed Justine through the door. "You just keep a watch out."

They walked down the aisle of the large store. Justine was frightened, but didn't dare show it. She was sure she shouldn't have come.

Indeed, there was such a great difference between the two girls that everybody wondered why they were friends. Queenie was a sexy little blonde, with dyed hair, teased out around her pretty, pouting face.

Justine, on the other hand was dark, her hair cut to her shoulders, with a soft, doe-eyed beauty that stood in complete contrast to Queenie's sharp, street-wise manner. Justine's figure was fuller than Queenie's, but with even longer legs and a pair of luscious, swelling tits that hung from her rib cage and swung with each movement she made.

A lot of men noticed the two of them; Queenie in her tight tank top and jeans, Justine in a more demure dress. At Queenie's insistence, Justine had shortened it the night before, so that the hem was almost halfway up her thighs.

They reached the lingerie and wandered around in it, fingering the tiny nightdresses, bras and slips. Justine was trembling with mind-numbing fear.

"Relax," Queenie whispered. "Which one do you want?"

"Er, that one," Justine said, pointing to a little white lacy slip with matching panties.

"Anyone around?" Queenie whispered.

Justine took a fast look. "No," she said, with her heart in her mouth.

Queenie took the slip off the hook and examined it. Turning, she almost dropped it and, when she came up, it was stuffed into her large purse. It was neatly done, even Justine had to admit that. Queenie wandered around and chose a baby doll nightie set. She did the same thing, dropped it and stuffed it into her purse.

They were just through the door when a man stopped them. He flashed a badge. "Let's see in that bag, miss."

"Run for it!" Queenie yelled and swung her bag at the man.

He dodged, grabbed Queenie's hand and had a grip on the frozen Justine's arm in a second. "This way."

"Oh God!" Justine burst into tears as she was pulled through the door, along the aisles to the back of the store.

He dragged them through the storage area and into a tiny office, right at the back. He spun the two girls to the wall and sat down at his desk, between the girls and the door.

"Well," he said, "shoplifting, huh?" He took the stolen clothes out and dropped them on his desk.

"Sorry, mister," Justine wept, "we didn't know what we were doing."

"Right," he said, "give me your phone numbers, we'd better get your parents in on this."

"My mom's away all weekend," Queenie said defiantly. "So you won't get her."

"Oh, really," he said slowly. "And you?"

"I-I'm staying with Queenie for the weekend," Justine stammered.

"Yes, but your home phone, come on."

"Oh, please, don't tell my parents, they'll kill me, they really will, they'd-"

"Let me get this straight," he said, his voice changing. "You're staying with her for the weekend and her mother is out all weekend."

"Yes," Queenie said.

He leaned back in his chair, his balding head breaking out into a sweat. "Well, we'll just have to go down to the police and sort it-"

"Oh no, please!" Queenie screamed. "Please, we won't do it again, we'll pay for them, we'll do anything if you don't tell!"

He laughed. "Anything?"

Justine had no idea what he was getting at, but she said yes, along with Queenie.

He leaned forward and made a phone call, watching them all the time.

"Yeah, Norman," he said, "this one's a dead hit, and two of them. What? Yeah, one blonde, one dark, yeah, real nice. Okay? See ya." He leaned back in the chair again. "You may be in luck. Maybe we can get out of this without having to turn you in."

"Oh yes," Justine wept, "anything you say, we won't do it again."

He fished in his drawer and pulled out a set of documents. He took two of them and pushed them across the desk at the girls, along with two pens. "These say you will do everything we tell you to in exchange for dropping the charges. Sign them."

Justine took one look at the paper. It looked official enough and anyway, the man looked impatient. So she signed it, and so did Queenie.

"Good," he said, "no charges if you behave. Come with me."

Both the girls were terrified now, and they followed him like obedient dogs. He took them along a corridor and down a freight elevator to an echoing basement, running with pipes and wires. Across debris and some pools of water, he took them to another larger room with a table and several chairs. There were no windows. In the echoing silence the girls waited, shuffling, looking at each other with terrified, downcast eyes.

There was the sound of footsteps outside. The door was flung open and two massive cops walked in.

"No!" Queenie screamed. "You said you'd-"

"Shut up!" one of the cops snapped. He walked up and looked the two of them up and down. "Heyyyy, you did do well, Ronald, real well."

"Hey, thanks, guys," Ronald said. "When's your party start?"

"Not for a couple hours," the other cop said.

"I gotta get back," Ronald said, "so lemme have the blonde real fast."

"Sure, Ronald," the first cop said. He had fair hair and massive shoulders. "Well, hey, missy." He turned to the girls. "So what're your names?"

"Queenie, and this is my friend Justine," Queenie whispered.

"Great, now you behave and we'll all get along real well. I'm Norman and this is Ian," he said, pointing to the other cop. "But to you we're both sir, got that? Let's try it."

"Sir," the two girls said, terrified out of their minds.

"Good, now poor old Ronald here has to get back to work, so you," he said, pointing to Queenie, "get those jeans off."

"W-what?" Queenie gasped. "Ohhh, my God, no! No, not that, no!" She shrank back against the wall.

The cop smiled. "You signed the paper?" he said, leaning close to the trembling Queenie.

"Yes," she whispered.

"So take those jeans off," he said.

"No, no, you can't make me-aaaghh, no, let me go!"

The cop picked Queenie up as if she was a feather and slung her over his shoulder. Ronald reached into a drawer under the table and pulled out a length of rope.

"Nooo!" Queenie screamed, panic over­whelming her. "Nooo, not that, nooo!"

She wept as the rope was lashed around her wrists and Ronald leaned on the other end, pull­ing until the screaming, thrashing teenager was hanging by her arms. Ronald tied the loose end around a pipe that ran along the lower part of the wall and Queenie was helpless, her feet just flapping on the floor.

The police didn't waste any time. Norman unclipped Queenie's jeans and dragged them down her legs.

Ian grabbed her tank top and ripped. The material parted, tearing down the entire length as Queenie screamed in terror, until the huge, dark-haired cop threw it away.

Queenie hung over the pipe, her blonde hair tossing frantically as she pulled helplessly on the ropes. Her young thrusting tits bounced as she struggled, for she never wore a bra. All she had on were her tiny panties and her shoes, neither w of which protected her at all.

Justine clung to the corner, as terrified as Queenie. She had the sense to know that whatever was being down to Queenie would be done to her. She stared at the door, and started edging along the wall towards it.

"Right," Norman said. "Time to teach you some proper behavior, honey."

"Ohhh, God, no!" Queenie screamed as she saw him slide his thick leather belt out of the band of his pants.

Norman doubled the belt and walked up to the wailing, sobbing Queenie.

"Learn from this," he said. He stepped back and lashed the belt across Queenie's heaving ass. The tiny panties were no protection at all and a thick red line burned in the bound blonde's flesh.

"Aaaghhh!" Queenie's scream rang around the room, echoing from the metal pipes. She screamed again as the belt lashed her ass, cutting into her flesh, beating another thick line of agony into her flesh. "Oooohhh, please, let me go, let me goooo!"

She heaved up on the rope as the belt cut her ass, but nothing saved her. The belt slapped into her ass flesh, bouncing the screaming blonde off her flapping feet for an instant.

"You ready to obey now?" Norman snapped.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Queenie screamed.

"Yes, what?" Norman demanded, lashing her ass again.

"Yes, sir!" Queenie screamed.

Justine reached the door. It opened as she pulled at it. In a burst of panic she heaved it open and ran. She didn't get very far. In a moment she was lost. She rushed down between some pipes and fell over a pile of garbage. She struggled up and a massive hand gripped her.

"Stupid slut," Ian said. He swung her around and threw her back the way she had come. "Get in there and watch."

Sobbing and weeping, the terrified Justine went back into the room.

Norman had the young blonde off the pipe. She stood, snuffling, rubbing her ass and wrists.

"On your knees," said Norman.

Instantly, Queenie did as she was told. Grin­ning, Ronald came over and stood right in front of the trembling girl.

"Open his pants," said Norman.

Queenie sobbed louder as she opened the front of Ronald's pants, sliding the zip down.

"Take his cock out," Norman said, leaning back on the wall, enjoying it all. He lit a cigarette.

Queenie snuffled and sobbed as she reached into Ronald's pants and found his cock. Her sobs got louder as she pulled it out. It was long and hard, the swollen cockhead throbbing with lust. It bobbed before Queenie's terrified eyes.

In the corner, Justine felt as if she would pass out. She had no idea how they had fallen into this trap, but she was a virgin and utterly terrified that they would rape her. Queenie wasn't, or said she wasn't.

Queenie wept as she held Ronald's stiff prick, the cockhead inches from her mouth.

"Okay, Ronald," Norman said, "take it anyway you want."

"Lick it," Ronald ordered.

"Ohhh no," Queenie whispered, but she leaned forward and licked at the swollen cock-head.

In her corner, Justine felt sick.

"Suck it," Ronald said.

"W-what?" Queenie sobbed.

Ronald grabbed her blonde hair and twisted her around, thrusting her tits up. Almost lazily Norman came forward and lashed the belt across Queenie's tits, bouncing them horribly on the young girl's chest. Queenie's scream rang around the room and Justine buried her face in her hands.

"What do you call us?" Norman snapped.

"Sir, sir!" Queenie screamed.

Ronald twisted the young blonde back and rammed her lips at his cock, thrusting it deep into her mouth. Queenie's gurgled scream rang out from around the massive thick cock that invaded her mouth. Slowly Ronald pulled her face back by her hair until her lips were just at his cockhead.

"Now, you little whore, when I say suck it, what do you say?" he snapped.

"Y-yes, sir," Queenie wept.

"Good, now suck me off fast, I gotta get back to work. And swallow it all, you get any cum on my pants and you'll be in trouble."

It was horrifying, but Justine had to watch as Queenie sank her mouth over the swollen cockhead. The young blonde was weeping, her beaten, red ass throbbing, her panties torn in one place from the force of the blows. She held the cockshaft as she sucked, her mouth work­ing, her eyes closed.

Norman came over to Justine and stood over her. "Get up!"

Justine struggled up and stood trembling beside him.

"You're gonna be doin' that soon," he said, "so watch."

"Y-yes, sir," Justine stammered.

"Open your dress, I wanna see those tits."

"Oooohh, p-please, sir, please!" Justine wept. "Nooo, I'll do it!" She screamed as he grabbed her.

He let her go and waited.

Justine's trembling fingers went to the button at the neck of her dress. She struggled with it and got it open. She stood, the sides of her dress falling open, showing most of her bra.

"Take the fuckin' bra off," he said.

Justine was almost too frightened to do it. Her hand reached for the clasp. The only sound in the room was Queenie's moans of horror as she sucked Ronald's cock. The clasp opened, the cups of the bra fell away to reveal Justine's magnificent tits. They swung on her chest, spreading slightly, the weight hardly carrying them down at all, the nipples pointing slightly outwards.

"Heyyyyy!" Norman said with approval. "Hey, Ian, look at this pair."

"Yeahhh," Ian said, turning from the suck­ing Queenie for a moment. "Gotta tit-fuck that."

They both laughed and Norman turned away, ignoring Justine. She didn't know what to do. Shaking with fear, she reached up and tried to pull her dress sides back across her tits.

"Did I tell you to do that?" Norman snapped.

"N-no, sir," Justine trembled.

Ronald was getting excited. His hips thrust at Queenie's face harder, ramming his cock deeper into her throat. He grabbed her teased blonde hair, gripping it, pulling until Queenie was moaning in pain.

"Suck it, bitch," he yelled, "get your fuckin' teeth outta the way, bitch, or I'll whip the shit outta you!"

He spread his legs and pumped his cock into Queenie's helpless mouth harder and faster until it blurred with the speed of his fucking.

"Yaaaahhhhh!" Ronald yelled, as his cock swelled in Queenie's mouth. "Ohhh, keep it just like that and you won't do too bad, whore! I'm gonna shoot, and don't get any on my pants, cunt, yeaaahhhhh!"

His cock rammed at Queenie's throat, forc­ing her head back against the tight grip he had on her hair. Queenie's muffled screams burst out from around his fuckmeat as it slammed in and out, the purple cockhead swelling, throb­bing in her mouth.

"Yeahhh!" Ronald roared. "Ohhh yeahhh!" He spread his legs farther, his cock slamming in and out of Queenie's lips.

Suddenly Queenie gave a terrible scream. Thick white cum burst into her mouth and splat­tered over her lips. She gurgled, her body shak­ing with revulsion.

"Swallow it, whore!" Ronald yelled. "Ohhh, fuck, swallow it! Ohhh, you shit, shit!" More hot white goo pumped out of his cock, squeez­ing out of Queenie's lips, dropping to the concrete floor. Gobs of it dropped on his pants as his climax shot more jism at Queenie's mouth. "You shit, I'll get you! I'll fuckin' get you!"

He pumped another thick rope of cum at Queenie's mouth, and it slid out of the terrified, gagging girl's mouth and down her tits, more of it falling to the floor.

His cock dribbled some goo over Queenie's mouth as he twisted her hair viciously. Queenie sobbed and spat his seed out, weeping in helpless revulsion.

"You little bitch," he moaned, "you little bitch!" His cock was reduced to oozing cum and he rubbed it over Queenie's cheeks and mouth, raging at her. He threw her to the floor and grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket, rubbing at the cum on his pants. "Fuck, if my wife sees this, fuuuck!"

"Don't worry," Norman said easily. "Gimme a call Sunday. She'll give you a real good one then."

"What about the party, Norman?" Ronald asked, almost whining. "You promised to talk to them."

"Fuck," Norman said, spreading his huge hands, "I did, Ronald, I did, but they're real close, you know that. Nobody they don't know. I'll keep trying, but I promise you the best time of your life on Sunday, gimme a call."

"Yeah, sure, thanks, Norman," Ronald said. "See you guys," he said and left hurriedly, his face down.

Ian turned the key in the lock. "Jerk," he said.

"Hey," Norman laughed. "Come on, he's doin' real well. This is the third deal this month, fuck, whadaya want?"

"Yeah," Ian said and grinned.

Norman walked over to the sobbing Queenie. "See that cum on your tits? Get it on your finger and lick it all up, little girl, lick it all up."