Raped nurse

CHAPTER SEVEN

"What's your name?" Lisa asked the girl as the three females sat huddled on the couch. Art was watching them closely, his gun trained on them.

"What are you going to do?" the girl asked almost hypnotically as she stared at Art's pistol.

"We're sorry," Marilyn said, sitting on the edge of the couch and taking the girl's hand consolingly.

"But we didn't have any choice."

"She's right. We're as much a prisoner as you are," Lisa said, glancing at the smirking Art Decker.

The girl looked at the two women, then tilted her head down limply and sobbed. Claude and his brother began laughing and slapping each other on the back.

"You animals," Lisa said, watching the girl's face twist around and canton into an expression of disbelieving horror and grief. She stood up and spat in the direction of Hank.

"Stupid cunt," the big man said, wiping the puddle of hot spittle that landed on his cheek. He reached forward and grabbed Lisa by both hands. Clamping his fingers down slowly like a vise, Hank brought her down to her knees, screaming out for mercy. Her mouth twisted open in a cry of agony as he nearly shattered her wrist bones with his powerful hands.

"Tell me how bad you want to get fucked," he said, looking around at his smirking brothers and the horrified women.

"No, no," Lisa said, pulling her hands, trying to break away from Hank's powerful grip. He held her tightly, laughing as he twisted her arms slowly downward. Lisa sank to the floor, begging desperately for him to let her go.

"Go on. Tell me how much you want my cock. Tell me," Hank insisted.

"Oh God, yes. Yes, I want your cock," Lisa cried in a strained voice as she could hear her wrist bones snapping under the strain. One more ounce of pressure and she'd never be able to use her hands again.

"Better," Hank said, letting her go.

The blonde sank to the floor, rubbing her aching hands against her belly. Then she felt something grabbing her hair. There was a violent tug upward. She shrieked in pain as Hank pulled up and back, sending her crashing to the floor on her ass. In a second he was crawling on top of her, filling her nostrils with his stinking, breath. Lisa groaned with disgust as she let him unbutton her uniform and tear it off. She was helpless. She couldn't fight back. Better to let him do whatever he wanted to her.

Hank finished peeling off her uniform and panties, then stood up and towered menacingly over her.

"Let's drag the dining room table in here," he said to Claude.

Lisa stayed on the floor, fighting for breath as terror robbed her lungs of air. She heard the two men leave the living room and struggle with the heavy oak table in the other room. They scraped and banged that piece of furniture against the walls and floor as the two brothers finally brought it into the room.

"Let's get her up on it," Claude said.

Lisa felt herself lifted, then set down on the hard polished surface. Her arms dangled over the sides. She tried to control herself, breathing slow and easy, hiding the nervous flutter that rippled through her belly. She closed her eyes and hoped that lightning would rip through the roof and blast the Deckers away.

Lisa's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy breathing over her. She opened her eyes and saw Claude and Hank peering down at her. Suddenly the blonde felt as if she were on an operating table. Then she remembered the knife. She could imagine the joy they'd have with her.

"Ohhhh!" Lisa cried out as she doubled up suddenly. Her knees rose to her tits as her face twisted in pain. Hank had swung his doubled fist down into her lower belly with all his strength. The blow seemed to go past her belly muscles and tear down into her pussy. Lisa gagged. The dull pain seemed to wrench her guts inside out. Her eyes opened wide as she braced herself for another attack.

It didn't come. Hank moved quickly over to Marilyn and dragged her up off the couch. Art had been fingering her tits when his older brother dragged the groaning brunette over to Lisa.

"Come on babe and eat your friend," the big man ordered.

"What?" the brunette cried out in disbelief. Lisa raised her head and looked at the two of them in horror. What he was asking Marilyn to do was sickening.

"I said you're gonna eat out your friend," he growled, pushing Marilyn roughly against the table. She caught herself in time, nearly tumbling over the table Lisa still lay on. Claude grabbed Lisa's legs and pulled her down until her ass barely hung over one edge.

"Come on, baby, a hot lunch's on the table," Claude taunted nastily.

Marilyn looked at Lisa in disbelief, then turned away and shook her head silently back and forth.

"You ain't got much of a choice," Hank said angrily while Claude spread Lisa's legs far apart.

Marilyn still refused. Angered, Hank pulled her roughly away from the table and held her tightly by the hand. He raised his hand high in the air, then brought down the closed fist hard against her cheek. Marilyn shrieked with the pain as blood oozed out of her mouth. He was opening wounds he'd made in the same way earlier. He raised his hand again and again, crashing his fist over and over Marilyn's bleeding face until she screamed that she'd do anything.

He let the groaning woman go. Blood oozed down her chin and dribbled onto her uniform as she staggered toward the front of the table and Lisa's exposed snatch.

"I-I've never done this before," the brunette sobbed brokenly as she stared at Hank and Claude.

"Learn," the big blond Decker brother said, putting both his hands on Marilyn's shoulders and shoving her to her knees. Lisa raised her head higher and saw her friend's broken, twisted, bleeding face level with her pussy. She dropped her head back to the table, wishing she could have a gun just for a second.

The blonde gritted her teeth as she felt Marilyn's lips touched her pussy. She tried to think of anything that would take her mind off this. But Hank, Art and Claude kept making filthy remarks about how much it turned them on to watch two women making it.

"Shit, witch the way that one's tongue keeps fucking inside her snatch. See? Fuck, blondie over there's gettin' turned on," Art said.

In fact, what he observed was partially true. Lisa at first resisted what was happening down on her snatch. The idea that another woman was actually eating her snatch. That idea had never turned Lisa on before. But trapped here in this farmhouse with those maniacs, the blonde nurse felt her body doing strange things. She had reacted crazily in the mountain cabin before under Hank's big knife and cock. Here it was turning on to a woman's mouth. She closed her eyes and gave into a warm lush feeling washing over her juicing pussy. She felt Marilyn's warm tongue sliding up and down the sensitive area between her fat outer labes and her smaller, more tender inner ones. Her clit slowly slid out of its sheath, pepping up and growing stiff and red with blood as Marilyn's mouth magically worked over her swampy box.

"Look. Fuck, her titties are growin'," Hank said.

Lisa could feel her nipples poking up and stretching deliciously as the brunette concentrated her licking on that sputtering clit.

"Ahhhh," Lisa instinctively sighed as she felt her friend's warm lips brush over her clit. Her spread legs trembled with excitement as she felt the mixture of spittle and cunt juice trickle out of her wet slit and ooze down into her asscrack. It was incredible, but she felt herself rocketing up to a big cum. It was the first time she'd ever had anything sexually to do with another woman. Yet here she was, helpless on a table and about to blow her load into her best friend's mouth.

"Okay, enough," Hank said, reaching down and pulling the brunette roughly away from Lisa's wet pussy.

The blonde looked up and saw her snatch hairs sticking around Marilyn's glistening mouth. Marilyn covered her face in shame and turned away, groaning with humiliation. Hank raised his foot and pressed it against the back of the sobbing brunette's head. With a mighty forward thrust, he shoved Marilyn down on the floor, then pressed his heel down hard on her neck. The brunette cried out, her scream turning into a sickening shriek.

"Never cared much for dykes," Hank said, pressing down until Marilyn gasped, then sank into unconsciousness. He took his foot off the limp woman and walked over to Lisa. She stared at him with a mixture of hate and contempt.

"You broads are always talkin' and talkin'. What you got to say now, huh?" Hank sneered.

"What's the matter with you?" Lisa sneered back.

"What do you mean?"

"You can't make it with women, so you and your brothers bait to destroy them? You talk about bating dykes. I think you're just as bad as they are. You can't fuck right, at least without beating someone half to death. You're all sick – a pack of impotent bastards, the scum of the earth."

"Why you…" Hank said, his face turning purple with rage as he shot his fist high in the air.

"Hang on," Claude said, catching his brother's hand as it was about to crash down on Lisa's belly. "Let's string her up and show her what we do with a smart-ass," Claude said, looking up at the overhead beam running the full length of the living room.

Lisa looked triumphantly at the Decker brothers as they searched around for rope. Whatever they did to her, she knew she hit home with her remarks. They might destroy her, but she had at least some revenge that might.

"Fuckin' dumb bitch," Hank said under his breath as he pulled out a two-foot piece of rope from a tool box that doubled as a window seat. Lisa turned her head around and looking encouragingly at the terrified teenaged girl watching helplessly from the chair. She wanted to give some kind of strength to her. Lisa knew she'd need it later on.

"String her up," Claude said, tying her wrists tightly with the rope. Lisa's flesh around her wrists was still badly scraped from the last binding. This rope cut painfully into the raw skin.

"This ought to hold," Hank said, pulling a longer, thicker piece of rope out of the tool box and throwing it over the beam. He tugged on both ends of the rope to test it, then tied one end around Lisa's hands. She groaned as Hank moved a few steps in front of her, then pulled down with all his weight.

"Oh, God help me!" Lisa cried out as she felt her arms jerked up. Every muscle and tendon in her arms strained agonizingly as the blonde's body jerked up in the air. Hank, Art and Claude laughed as Lisa swung like a pendulum in the center of the living room. The big blond Decker brother finally lowered her until her toes barely touched the floor. Lisa sagged in her bonds as she looked at the leering Deckers. Even Art had managed to stand up from the couch, supporting himself on the back of the piece of furniture. He laughed, then limped up to her hanging, stretched naked body.

"Bitch," he cried out with a lewd gleam in his eye. Claude handed him a poker from the fireplace on the other side of the room. The younger brother slashed the end of the poker across Lisa's body, peeling a narrow strip of skin from the blonde's right tit.

"Ohhhh," she cried out, jerking her body as if an electric current had passed through her. She felt the warm blood flowing down her ribs. It trailed down her belly and filled her sunken navel as the three brothers laughed.

She wished they'd step just a little closer. If she were going to die, she wanted to fight back as much as she could. She wanted to kick at least one of them in the balls and cripple him for life: it was the least she could do for the world.

Hank looked at her, licking his lips with excitement. Brutality always turned him on. Lisa's twisting, bleeding, tortured body hanging in front of him made him grow more excited. He came closer to Lisa, throwing down the poker.

I can do it if he moves closer, the blonde thought as she moved her foot experimentally.

Hank grabbed at Lisa's cunt suddenly, twisting the hairs and her pussylips violently in his fingers. That pulling, tearing sensation ripped through her body like a knife. Lisa brought her knee up automatically as her mouth twisted open and let out a shriek of agony. She'd had her chance to blast his balls with a hard kick. But the suddenness of Hank's violent attack on her snatch destroyed that opportunity.

"Stupid cunt," Art said, spittle flying out in the air as he reached down and picked up his brother's pistol. The sight of Lisa hanging there helpless seemed to incite the younger Decker. Holding onto the grip tightly, he swung the gun high in the air, crashing it across her face, her lips, the tops of her tits. He began pistol-whipping Lisa mercilessly, laughing crazily as he slashed the hand wildly across her bucking body.

"Oh God, stop him! He's crazy. He's crazy. He's crazy!" the girl wailed from the chair as she watched wide-eyed with horror.

But nothing reached Art of his brothers. While Hank and Claude looked on, Art kept on beating the helpless woman. Lisa continued to struggle, tugging and pulling at her bonds. The rough surface of the rope chewed skin from her wrists. Lisa felt her hands going numb as she became bruised and torn. She screamed as the wild-eyed young Decker. He cursed at her in return, occasionally losing his balance because of his wounded leg. Then he would wince, curse his leg and her, then start whipping her with that horrible gun barrel again with more force than before. Her shrill cries echoed off the walls, drowning out the obscenities Art hurled at her.

"Bitch, motherfuckin' slut. I'll kill you. I'll slice off those tits and stuff 'em in your fuckin' mouth before I get through with you," Art shrieked at her, spittle drooling out the corners of his mouth. Lisa stared at him in horror. His eyes rolled sometimes, gleaming as Lisa begged, cursed, threatened and pleaded with him to stop.

But nothing would satisfy the young Decker, it seemed, short of her being beaten to death there in the living room. Lisa remembered again the descriptions of some of the Deckers' victims. Some of the women were cruelly reduced to piles of bloodied flesh. That's what she and Marilyn and the girl would look like – she was sure of it.

"God!" Lisa howled as she tried to battle with Art. It seemed useless. When she tied to spin around, the wild strokes of the gun barrel slashed across her back. When she hunched up her legs, Art cracked the cold metal across her knee, then beat her tits mercilessly. When at times she actually tried to kick at his wound or slam her toes into his balls. Art laughed, dodging even though his leg was wounded. Then he reached forward and took a hard grip on her cuntflesh, twisting her sensitive labes between his powerful fingers until the blonde screamed out in pain. In several seconds, her cunt was on fire with agony.

Art lashed and beat at her, grabbing her cunt again and again and twisting the labes mercilessly until Lisa found herself losing consciousness. She was going to die. Thank God it was going to be while she was unconscious. At least she wouldn't have to endure the sneers and obscene comments the Deckers certainly hurled at their helpless victims.

"Hey, take it easy, Art. She's slippin' away," Claude warned his younger brother as he watched Lisa's eyelids start to flicker, then droop. "We can't lose her now. We might need her later."

"Guess you're right," the younger brother said, leaning against the back of the couch and panting heavily. Sweat poured down his forehead and formed a puddle under each armpit as he let the pistol dangle from his hand. His sweat-soaked hair was plastered to his skin while blood oozed through the bandage on his wounded leg.

Lisa found herself coming to, something she found both unusual and disgusting. She'd actually been praying for death. Even that was denied her. Her arms ached horribly. Welts sprang slowly up around her thighs and tits, while black and blue marks blotched her face and chest. The blonde felt as if every part of her body had been mined, pulled apart by the maniac now panting breathlessly in front of her.

"Let her down. She's got to take care of Art's leg," Claude said to Hank.

"He can bleed to death," Lisa said almost wearily as the dark-haired brother untied the rope he'd fastened to the solid oak living room door.

"Better not say things like that," Art gasped, limping to the couch and crashing down on the pillows. He raised his leg and pointed at the bleeding spot. "I'll get mad, and there's no tellin' what I'll do when that happens."

Lisa crouched on the floor, her wrists still tied tightly together. As Claude roughly untied the rope holding her hands, the blonde staggered to her feet. She had never felt so deserted and filled with hopelessness before in her life.