Chapter 1
"Stop it!" The blonde teenager shrank back, crossing her arms over her bare midriff while her fingers grabbed frantically at her torn halter. Strands of hair fell over her face as she slowly backed away from the approaching men.
"Come on, baby, come on," the tallest one said, his lips twisted into a crooked smile. There were at least four of them-big, dirty, obscene, approaching her there on Venice Beach. It was well after sunset, a time Patty Williams knew she shouldn't have been in that neighborhood. There had been so many assaults on both men and women in the past two months. Police seemed unable to control it. But the sunset had promised to be so beautiful. And her friends were such a drag, wanting to get home. Surely nothing would happen in an hour.
"Get away or I'll call the police," she stammered. Desperately she looked around. She was too close to the surf line to be heard some six hundred yards away by residents of Ocean Front Walk. No one could see her at this low end of the beach, and the usual joggers were nowhere to be found.
"Sure you will," a second gang member said, moving around the first. He was the tallest-thin, blond with the beginnings of a beer belly. They all looked as if they'd just escaped from prison.
"Yeah, all the cops gonna come running a third man said. He was the ugliest, a living skeleton. His head was shaved and glossy. He stared at her with those pale eyes and high cheekbones, features making him look like a living skull. He smiled, and Patty shrank back farther from his thin lips and discolored teeth.
"Man, I'd love to stick my cock into somethin' that young 'n tight," a fourth heavy-set man said thickly.
Patty began to realize the horror of her situation. She thought of running into the ocean. But she was such a poor swimmer and the surf was high.
"Please, I don't wanna . . . please ..."
Her voice trailed off while her lower lip quivered with terror. Patty felt her legs giving way under her as her chest tightened and her mouth grew incredibly dry. Were they going to rape her, hurt her in some way? The young woman remembered all those terrible stories her mother told about young girls getting picked up hitchhiking and then getting raped or worse! They came back in a jumble now, making the blonde teen shiver with horror.
"Yeah, that's what you all say," the first man said, wiping his lips with the back of one hand. "Then you get a hunk of cock in you and you can't stop your fuckin' ass from dancin' all over the place," he said, laughing at his own crude humor. The others joined in as Patty continued backing up toward the surf. If only someone would come along!
"No, please ..."
With that the first man lurched forward, stretching out one hand and grabbing hold of Patty by the wrist. At first in shock, the girl fought back in a second, her heels sinking into the grainy beach sand. Behind her the surf pounded, shaking the ground and sending curtains of fine sea spray over them all.
"Help me!" she cried.
"Shut your fuckin' mouth!" he growled, now holding onto both wrists.
Patty twisted violently, her hair splashing over her face, her body writhing around while she panted for air. During the struggle her torn halter gave way, floating to the sand. The gang leader stopped, his eyes popping out as he took in her big, hard-tipped tits.
"Man, get a load of them tits!" he said, whistling high.
The blonde flushed beet red, squeezing her upper arms toward her chest, trying to turn her body away from the gawking men. She'd never exposed any part of her body like this to men before. Patty nearly died of shame as she stood there helplessly, her tits exposed while the gang leader tightened his grip on her wrists.
His concentration had been momentarily broken when the bottoms of her summer outfit started opening at the front. The popping of those buttons, Patty thought, was the best thing to happen to her. Feeling his grip now loosen, the girl jerked her body down, freeing herself for an instant.
"Help me!" she screamed again, curling her fingers and raking her sharp nails across his face. The gang leader stumbled backward, one hand jerking up to his injured cheek. A trickle of blood oozed between his fingers as Patty started bolting up the beach toward Ocean Front Walk. She heard the men shouting angrily behind her, heard the sounds of their boots crunching into the shifting sand as they chased after her. "Help! Help! Help!"
Someone caught her by the hair, yanking back so hard Patty thought he was tearing it from her scalp. She let out a yelp of pain and fear, her arms flailing in front of her while her knees gave way. With a groan of defeat the young woman collapsed to the ground, her knees scraping over the sand.
"Drag her back," the leader snorted.
"Hey, baby, you don't fuck around with Mike Bradley," the tall death's-head gang member growled as he dragged her kicking and screaming back to the surf line. The wind had increased, raising goose flesh on her skin. Cindy cried, tears oozing out from under her long blonde lashes. She'd seen the row of bright lights illuminating Ocean Front Walk, saw lights in the windows of the expensive apartments and condos on the beach. She'd been so close to getting help!
He dragged her back, then let the young woman fall to the sand.
"Oh, don't, don't!"
Terror caught at her throat, nearly choking off her breathing. She wriggled away from the grotesque men. Mike, the leader, advanced slowly, his boots crushing the sand as she scooted backward. He was reaching down, unbuckling his belt, slip ping it from his pants. He made a gesture with one hand that told the others to keep away. Patty stopped, her hands behind her digging into the sand. She thought if she could just wait for the right minute, she'd throw sand in his eyes and take her chances with the high surf. Surely anything was better-even drowning-than getting gang-banged by these men.
"Hey, Mike, come on, we wanna see 'er dance," the tall skinny one yelled. "Yeah, and she's gonna move that little ass around for me," he said, smacking his lips.
As long as she kept out of his reach she was relatively safe, Patty told herself. He had doubled the strap, snapping it like a weapon. She knew he wanted to beat her. No, she couldn't think about it. She wouldn't consider the damage that terrible thing would do.
"Come on, baby, come here," he crooned. His cock strained in his pants while his hand trembled.
Terror knifed through the young woman. This was no wild dream or television show where the heroine always gets away. Patty could guess at his brutality. She knew he'd take her on first, then toss her over to the others to beat and fuck. What was left might be thrown to the dogs to finish. The thought made her sick.
"No . . . no," she whimpered, her cries growing louder as he came close.
"You're gonna dig this. Most chicks do. They say they can't take it, then they want more," he said, scratching his cock with one hand while lightly tapping the doubled belt against his leg with the other.
The men behind him laughed in approval. Patty let out another terrified cry, her scream blending with the roaring surf behind her. She knew what her chances were.
"Please . . .oh, please," she sobbed. "Don't do this. Oh, God, please ..."
Nothing in her past had prepared her for this. To be used as a whore, as a whipping post for these depraved men was something she'd never thought of. Her rational mind couldn't grasp the twisted paths of criminal brains.
She slid backward, her terror-stricken eyes wide and focused on that swinging belt. He gained on her, obviously growing tired of the foreplay. Patty screamed, grabbing two fistfuls of sand and flinging them at Mike's face. He stopped, startled for the moment by her defiance. But a strong gust of wind took the sand well past his face. He laughed, wiping his lips again with the back of his free hand and advancing on her.
Moaning with fear she turned and, like an animal, ran on all fours out of his reach. Twice she tried running to the side, avoiding his grabbing fingers while trying to get away. But the other gang members blocked her way, laughing, at times even slapping her on the butt or face to drive her back to the surf line. Her tits hung down, the peaks brushing the sand. The cold damp sand bit her nipples and thighs. The wind blew up against her jiggling ass and mussed her cunt hair. She tried to crawl around faster and slipped, falling face down in the sand. A wave splashed down near her, fanning out and catching her by the ankles. She screamed, digging her fingers into the damp sand. What was worse-drowning or facing whatever these madmen had to offer?
Somehow Patty managed to evade both the sea and Mike and got back up on all fours. Mike took shorter steps, obviously enjoying the game once more and not wanting to end it too quickly. He toyed with her the way a lion plays with its food before eating it. The girl breathed faster, her lungs feeling as if they were going to burst. The wind whipped her blonde hair from her shoulders, some strands washing across her face.
"Ohhh!"
Patty slipped again on the wet sand, falling on her ass. Mike moved in for the kill.
"The game's over now, bitch," he growled, snapping the belt. "Now it's time for me."
Patty covered her face with both arms. At that point the gang leader unfurled the belt, snapped it twice and brought it down hard. The pointed leather tip bit the flesh along her ribs, just below her left tit.
"OOOWWWW!" Patty shrieked, her body snapping from the force of the blow. The girl twisted around and rolled on the wet sand, dirt clinging to her flesh. She sobbed, beat the sand with her clenched fists and tried crawling away from the pain. Her knees slid futilely against the eroding sand and she slipped once again to Mike's feet.
"That's it, baby. You're always gonna come back to old Mike."
"No, no!"
Patty screamed in a mindless torrent of sound, scooting on, only to be stopped by the surf. Oh, God, it seemed to be getting worse! There was no way she could escape them by diving into the ocean. Surely she'd drown. Now the girl realized that whatever Mike and the others did to her, there was always the chance of survival. With the ocean she had none. And, at this moment, the blonde teenager realized she was a survivor.
"That's right, chick. You ain't gonna get away in the Pacific. Man, it'd pound the shit outta you right on them rocks," Mike said, indicating a long rocky point stretching into Santa Monica Bay.
"Agh!" she squealed.
Mike swung the weapon over his head. The tip came down almost in slow motion, or so it seemed to Patty. The belt chewed the flesh along her hips. Still screaming mindlessly, Patty ran back and forth, looking like a confused mouse trapped in an electrified maze. "No, ughhhh, no!"
He was going to peel the skin from her. When the belt came down a third time, she screamed at the top of her lungs, rolling away and, in doing that, exposing her right asscheek. The belt sliced into that white round globe. But this time, instead of pain, the girl felt an odd warm glow spreading over her ass. It quickly radiated up around her thigh to her pussy. She screwed her eyes up, wrinkling her forehead, unsure of what this strange sensation was.
"Yaggghhh!"
The belt swung in the air above her head. Patty edged away, covering her face again while trying to crawl toward the beach. Her breathing had become labored while her body felt strangely heavy. What was going on inside her? That question was interrupted by the sound of Mike's belt slicing through the air and this time catching the rounded bottoms of both asscheeks.
The girl jerked back like a broken spring, her legs and arms kicking directionlessly. And again the needle-sharp heat shot through her pussy. When it reached her rising clit, the pain turned completely to pleasure. Patty found herself drawing her legs together and rubbing them against one another. The subtle friction created by that movement generated more heat. A slick clicking sound reached her ears as her puffy cuntlips began to be covered with hot fuck oil.
Suddenly there was a shout. At first Patty thought it came from one of the gang members. , Then she saw two pairs of bright headlights bouncing over the sand.
"Cops!" Mike said under his breath, folding the belt in half and spinning around. "Come on, split up!"
Sand flew in the air as the men ran from the approaching vehicles. Patty stretched out one arm toward the cars, moaning softly, unsure of what she'd felt toward the end when Mike was beating her close to her pussy.
"You all right, miss?" she heard someone ask. Both cars had stopped on either side of her.
"Yes, I think so. They didn't touch me," she said meaningfully, struggling to her feet. Oh, she felt so dizzy! Someone was holding tightly onto one arm, guiding her into the back of a patrol car while another was calling in the incident. The radio crackled in the dark as Patty slid into the rear seat. Only then did she realize she was half-naked. Crossing her arms modestly over her thunderous tits, she also noticed one of the policemen had been staring rather strangely at her.
"Good. It's those fuckin' Satan's Angels again," the tall cop muttered, clicking off the radio and staring into the distance. "They disappear out here before we can get a lead on 'em. Why don't you go back to the Pavilion with Jack here, miss, and he'll take your story. Fred and I are gonna try to find 'em for you."
Patty mumbled something, feeling the cold of the approaching night more now. Somewhere on the sand lay her halter. How could she go home half-naked like this without causing a real row with her parents? They wouldn't let her out for days!
These and similar thoughts assailed the young girl as Jack slammed the door shut and put the patrol car in gear. Patty wondered what time it was. Surely it had to be way past seven, the time she told her parents she'd be back. The teenager knew she should call them. But the thought of telling them what happened made her shiver and her face turn red with embarrassment.
"We're here. Hey, here's something to cover yourself with," Jack said, pulling a small green blanket out from under the front seat.
Patty thanked him for it, sliding the scratchy woolen material over her slender shoulders, then climbing out of the car. The Pavilion was brightly lit, although apparently no one was inside. A few skaters drifted by, stereo headsets looking like mouse ears on their heads.
She stepped into the large damp building, noticing the patrolman had locked the door behind them after flipping on the overhead lights. Strictly security, Patty told herself, realizing she'd certainly be jumpy after the sort of experience she'd had.
"Now just sit down there, miss, and I'll take your story," Jack said, pulling out a folding chair and placing it near his. Patty thought he'd touched her shoulders a little too familiarly when he helped her down. She adjusted the blanket over her body, holding it tightly over her big tits and keeping her-legs crossed together.
She examined the patrolman as he assembled the tape recorder and readied it for her story. He was tall, broad-shouldered, ruggedly handsome with a thick moustache that matched his thick black hair in color. He was muscular, not having a beer belly like so many of the policemen she'd seen around the area.
"Okay, go," he said, shoving a mike in front of her.
Patty cleared her throat and began, trying not to look at the officer who continued to stare at her. When she finished, she put the receiver down, wondering when she could call her parents to have them come and pick her up. What happened next was something not totally unexpected, but still shocking. The officer clicked off the recorder, then stretched one hand over the table and began pulling the coverlet off her shoulders.
"What . . . what are you doing?" Patty gasped, clutching the woolen blanket.
"Honey, I can smell you from here. Man, I can't help it. You want it too, don't you?" he said in a shaky voice, tearing the blanket from her body. Patty screamed, scooting back in her chair. Oh, God, he was no better than those awful gang members!