Lesbian runaway

CHAPTER FOUR

"What-what are you going to do to me?!"

"Guess!" leered Dan Waxer.

Stooping, he picked up the remnants of her shredded shirt and brought the wadded rag to her face.

"Gonna wipe that silt off your face, too! Wouldn't want to get it on me!"

Kelly squirmed as he roughly rubbed most of the come off her face. Enough remained to leave her face sticky and shining.

He tossed aside the soiled rag, discarding it like a used piece of toilet paper.

Kelly sat up on the bed, head hanging, eyes moist.

Dan Waxer took hold of her and forced her down on her back on the bed.

"Play with your cunt, bitch!"

"W-what?!"

"Play with your cunt, get it all hot and juicy!"

Kelly's body was rigid and angular with fear. Her pink flesh was now pale. Awkwardly, she moved her hands down to her pussy.

Stiffly, she stroked her pussy lips, hands trembling.

He took hold of his cock, stroking stiffness into it.

"Yeah… I'm ready."

He mounted the bed clumsily, moving the gross weight of his flesh.

He pushed her hands away from her pussy.

"I'll take over from here!"

His stiff hot cock was smeared with sticky saliva. Kelly shuddered as he rubbed it up and down her thigh.

"You sure don't look like a dyke!"

"Please, please let me go!"

"Not a chance, sweetie," he sneered.

He leaned forward, squinting at her quivering sex.

He rubbed her pussy, pressing the lips with his sausage-link fingers.

Kelly squirmed and moaned as his stubby fingertips prodded her pussy.

He fingered the pussy lips open and peered at her slippery pink membranes.

"Yeah, you sure got a nice cunt! Too nice to be wasted on some clit-licking dyke, when I could and should have been fucking it!"

"Well, it's never too late to make up for lost time!"

He pressed his fingertip to her slitted sex and stuffed it inside.

Kelly cried out when he plunged his fat middle finger in her.

"Christ! Are you tight!"

He pushed his finger back and forth, in and out, fucking her pussy with it.

But his lust burned too strongly to delay his violation of her.

"You ain't no virgin!" he accused. "I couldn't put my finger up into you this far if you was! Hey, how about that!"

"Well, I guess dykes ain't all you been fucking, Kelly!"

He pulled his finger out of her pussy.

It was wet – quivering – vulnerable.

He could invade and ravish it, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

His hulking form looked more bearish than ever, as he crouched over her on his hands and knees, his erection jutting downward.

He reached for her legs and spread them wide apart, so that her feet dangled off the opposite edges of the cot.

He reached under his hips and took hold of his cock.

Guiding it between her legs, he prodded her pussy with it.

It hurt, making Kelly squirm and writhe, making her pert breasts jiggle.

He rubbed the cock head up and down the slit.

Pressing the cock head to the slit, he wedged open the pussy lips, prying them apart, then stretching her membranes.

Kelly sobbed as she was entered.

His thing was thick and painful for her to take.

He gasped when his cock head was engulfed in the slippery silky heat of her pussy.

"Oh, yeah… oh, yeah! Yeah!"

His cock was in her now, partially… deep enough not to be dislodged.

He let his wide fat hips sink down then, the weight of his body sinking the shaft deep into her pussy.

Kelly's pussy twinged with pain as it was stretched by the invader.

Deeper and deeper into her it sank, filling and stretching her.

It seemed like the snake of flesh wouldn't stop filling her!

Kelly felt as though she was choking between the legs, from the size of the thing. Her sobbing moans only excited his sadistic lust.

He stuffed the cock deep, until its head fetched up with a bump against the pit of her pussy – she was totally penetrated.

His weight crushed her like a stone, flattening her thin form into the mattress, crushing the breath out of her.

She gasped for air as he covered her, his chest pressing her titties almost flat.

His hot sweating body covered and seemed to absorb her.

He squirmed, moving his fat hips, sliding his stiff cock back and forth inside her, pumping the rod in her pussy.

Her long thin legs were spread wide open, while his thick hairy legs were pressed together and lay between her limbs.

Ancient, the cot groaned its protest at the double burden of the weight of the oversized rapist and his slim, slight, pretty victim.

Kelly once had read in history class – how far away school seemed now! – that a medieval torture was to kill the victim by crushing him under heavy weights.

She felt as though she were under going a similar ordeal.

The penis raping her pussy punished it with hard, driving strokes.

Luckily for Kelly – her only luck, on this night of hell – her pussy internally lubricated, oozing juices in self-defense.

That aided her somewhat, permitting as it did Dan Waxer's fat thick throbbing cock to slide more easily inside her.

He rammed it into her, working on her pussy like a beast in heat.

The speed and force of his thrusts increased as his lust intensified.

He humped away at her, raping her hard.

His cock burned inside her violated pussy.

His fat sweaty hands burrowed under her bottom, clutching her buttocks.

He gripped them tightly, one bottom cheek in each hand.

Holding them, he squeezed them viciously, so that soft pink bottom flesh oozed through his fat gripping fingers.

He squeezed and kneaded her buttocks, and pinched them painfully.

His fingers sank into the crack of her buttocks.

He fingered the tiny hole of her rosebud anus, prodding it with stubby fingertips and irritating it with his crude handling.

Sweat rolled off his beached-whale form, as he thrust into her.

He was close to coming now.

He pressed the tip of his middle finger against her quivering anus and shoved it in, jamming the fingertip up her ass.

Kelly cried out in shock at this crude invasion.

He stuffed his finger in her up to its first joint and wiggled it inside her.

His cock pumped in a fury of fast motion.

Suddenly he threw his hips forward, plunging his cock into the vortex of her sex, jamming the cock head against her womb.

He did not pull back for yet another stroke, but kept his cock in her.

He shook and shivered on top of her.

Her already stretched pussy was stretched even further, as his fat cock expanded under the surge of erupting semen.

His throbbing cock spurted out a seething mass of come.

Kelly wanted to vomit, when the first jolt came gushing.

Come was pumped into her at high pressure, befouling her precious pussy.

He groaned and gasped on her like a dying man.

His cock filled her pussy to the brim with thick, gooey come.

His thrashing faded, after his orgasm, had peaked.

His red face sobbing for breath, he collapsed on top of her.

His cock was still hard in her.

After a while, Kelly wondered if he had passed out in a drunken stupor.

Indeed he had – which did nothing to aid her.

Even though he was out, he was on top of her, and his heavy weight held her fully pinned to the cot and immobile.

His cock was still stiff in her.

Gradually, it softened, losing some of its thickness.

Dan Waxer came awake with a sudden start.

He leered down at her.

"Yeah, that's just what you needed, some cock from a real man! Some more of that, and you'll never want to lap another pussy again!"

"I hate you!" Kelly sobbed.

"Before I'm done with you, you'll learn to love it! And you're gonna have plenty of chances to get used to some good hard cock!"

He rose off her then, withdrawing his semi-erect member from inside her.

He pulled free and climbed off her.

Staggered by the force of his orgasm, and exhausted from the violent action of raping Kelly, Dan Waxer rested for a moment.

He sat on the edge of the cot, feet on the floor, head hanging.

Idly he played with her breasts, inflicting little abuses on them.

Kelly's aching body was smeared and dripping with clammy sweat.

She ached all over… her mouth ached from the raping it had endured, and her face ached from the slapping around he had given her.

Her nipples were sore and swollen from his mistreatment.

Her pussy lips glowed redly, irritated and chafed from the rough raping.

Inside her pussy, she was sore and throbbing from the stretching given her by his fat, oversized, brutal cock.

His come oozed inside her. Some of it dribbled from her pussy, trickled down her crack, and spilled on the bed to stain the rumpled sweaty sheets.

Kelly was too drained from her ordeal to cry.

Worse lay ahead of her.

Presently, Dan Waxer got up. He stumblingly groped around for the bottle of whisky which he had brought up to the attic.

The bottle lay on its side, close to the stairwell. He was disappointed to discover that little more than a mouthful remained.

He pulled up his shorts, covering his rapist's groin.

"I'm going down for more booze," he muttered, "but I'll be back!"

Kelly knew he would.

He climbed down the stairwell, his gross body disappearing from her sight until only his pumpkin-sized head remained.

He turned to look and leer at his victim.

"You better rest up while you can," he chuckled. "You're gonna need it for later, when I give you a real workout!"

He staggered downstairs.

Drunk as he was, he did not forget to lock the attic door, as Kelly had hoped he might. She heard the lock click into place.

She listened to him make his stumbling, staggering progress through the house, going downstairs to the first floor.

Then she gave in to the bitter grief which she had repressed while he was here. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry!

Now that she was alone, she could give vent to her feelings.

She rolled on her side, stifling a moan of pain. She pressed her thighs closed, as if that could somehow protect her ravished pussy.

Bitter tears spilled from her eyes and ran down her face.

The sheets were rumpled, clammy with sweat, stained with semen. They were cold and unpleasant against her flesh.

Worst of all to her was the knowledge that Dan Waxer was right.

If she ever accused him of raping her, all he would have to do is claim that she was out of her head and had made up all of it.

He need only point to her lesbianism as proof that she, not he, was the pervert.

"Oh, Laurel," she whimpered, "where are you now? Please help me, somebody!"

She covered her face with her hands and cried bitterly.

Things couldn't be worse or so she thought.

She would learn differently – and soon!

Captive prisoners of lust such as she were vulnerable to any forms of abuse that their sadistic captors could devise.

As Kelly would discover – to her anguished sorrow!