The blast of cool air that caressed the long-legged young
woman's body was a welcome relief in the Southern California
September afternoon. For a few seconds, she just stood there,
reveling in the coolness. Then, she moved over to one of the
customer convenience counters. There were several people in the
bank, but she didn't pay any particular attention as she
concentrated on filling out her deposit slip.
Finished, she straightened up and had just taken one step
toward the line waiting for a teller, when the street door
suddenly slammed open with a loud bang. Billie's shoulder length
brown hair whipped around her face as she whirled her head
around. She heard a woman scream. Five men, each holding what
Billie would always think of as a huge pistol, were fanning out
through the bank lobby. Billie's heart leaped into her throat
where it beat furiously, choking her.
"Okay, everybody just stay still and keep calm and nobody
gets hurt," one of the men shouted. "Everbody into the
corner...over there. Move! Now!"
For a second, nothing happened, then the other customers
began shuffling toward the corner the man had indicated. The
bank employees, herded by a sixth man who had evidently came in
another door, flowed out from behind the counters and joined the
customers in one frightened mass.
To Billie, everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.
She couldn't seem to force herself to move at all. There was an
old man standing near her, and he too seemed rooted to the spot.
One of the men, wearing a nylon stocking over his face, stomped
threateningly toward them. "You heard the man, into that
corner. Now, goddamnit!" He shouted at them. His voice
thundered in Billie's head, echoing as though they were in a
small, empty room. She began to shiver, her stomach whirling..
"Now, now, see here..." The old man began, sputtering.
The gunman brought his hand up, visiously cracking it into
the side of the man's head, knocking him to the floor, blood
spurting from the side of his head. Billie stared down at his
crumpled form, her skin tingling as if her body were electrically
charged, every cell awake and tingling.
With the same eerie slowness, the gunman moved closer to
Billie. He was black, they all were she realized, and now that
he was next to her she saw that he was huge, and muscular. His
eyes, even through the veil of the nylon stocking, were cruel and
deep. Her shivers deepened into body-whacking trembles.
"That means you too, bitch," he snarled at her. Still she
couldn't move, could only stand there, panting. Her nipples were
hard, she realized, poking out against her suddenly too tight
bra. They ached, feeling like they would burst at any moment. A
tiny stream of moisture began to wet her panties. She stared at
the man like a bird at a snake.
"Move it, slut," he snapped again, lashing his open palm
across her cheek. Stinging pain spread over her face. Her ears
echoed with the exciting sound of his palm striking her flesh.
The trickle between her legs became a stream. Tiny whimpering
sounds came from her throat. Her eyes, even as she trembled with
fear, danced with the flame of the confusing fire raging within
her. Gradually the thug began to realize what was happening to
the good-looking young girl he was towering over. A big grin
began to spread over his face beneath the mask, and he
slapped her again, laughing slightly. Around them the noise
of breaking glass and spliting wood filled the room as his
companions began to smash open cash drawers. Neither of them
paid any attention to the noise. Casually, almost
contemptously, the man ran his hands over Billie's body while she
stood, whimpering softly. His hands squeezed her breast, hard,
and she moaned, swaying toward him, her eyes closing before the
wave of passion sweeping over her. His hands went lower,
sliding down over her waist, reaching around to cup her
buttocks, pulling her to him. His hot breath seared her
cheeks and she felt his hard-on burning into her through their
clothes. She groaned out loud and he laughed again, suddenly
grabbing her arm and twisting it up behind her back.
She cried out at the sudden pain, spinning in his grasp as
he cruelly turned her around, twisting the other arm back and
holding them both painfully high up between her shoulders.
Sobbing, her arms on the verge of breaking, she stumbled before
him as he pushed her toward a table against one wall opposite
where the other captives had been herded and were watching. All
the way, his phallus was growing in his pants, poking into her
rump as he walked her across the floor. As they neared the
table, he shifted his grip, holding both her arms with one hand.
With his free hand, he began tearing at her clothes even as he
pushed her face down over the table.
Sharp, yelping sounds rose from her throat as her body
twisted on the rough wood, her legs spread and her feet dangling
inches off the floor. He clawed her skirt up over her waist and
ripped at her pantyhose, tearing them to shreds and yanking her
skimpy panties from her moist crotch. For an instant she felt
cool air caressing her heated sex, and she spread wider arching
her hips up, her head rolling and twisting in passion. He
smacked his wide, calloused hand down on the upturned, white
flesh of her ass. Once, twice, three times he hit her...and she
cried out in pain at each blow, her nails clawing the table top,
but she never for a moment tried to escape.
Finally, panting, he stopped beating her and fumbled at his
fly. She heard the sound of his zipper, seeming to drown out the
continuing backdrop of breaking glass and curses. She threw her
head up, mouth open, screaming as his hot, hard cock slammed deep
into her dripping cunt.
"Oh yes, yes!" She screamed in delirium, pounding the table
and throwing her head in neck wenching circles, her hair swirling
around her face.
Flashes of lightening went off in her head. She began to
come immediately, filled with the pain/pleasure of his cockhead
bumping, pounding against the depths of her welcoming sheath.
She couldn't stop cumming. His huge prick filled and streched
her pussy. She could feel every inch, every blood filled ridge.
The inner flesh of her hole gripped him, caressing and milking
his raging cock, embracing and saluting the brutal ravagement.
The man knotted his fingers in her long brown hair, pulling her
harder back against him, forcing her to arch her body more,
opening herself even more for his pleasure. The pain in her
scalp seemed to intensify the pleasure in her crotch and her body
surrended totally to the flood of sensations leaping and dancing
within her. In her delirium, her hands tore her blouse open
and ripped her bra off, freeing her swollen breasts. Now the
firm, full mounds rolled beneath her as she writhed, her nipples
painfully crushed against the table.
Incrediblly, the man's companions had, up until now, been
too occupied to pay any attention to what was happening on the
table. Only now did one of them, after glancing at his watch
look up.
"Okay...let's... Shit! What the...?" He laughed. "Hey
man...finish it...Drop your load. Let's get the fuck outta
here!"
The man riding Billie quickened his movements. He began to
grunt, then cried out. Billie's body bucked, a high-pitched
wail rising from deep in her throat as she received his seed.
Hot, steaming semen gushed deep into her hole, bathing the torn
tissues within. Her orgasm leaped to new heights as she bucked
and tossed on the table, clawing at her breasts.
His movements slowed, then ceased. For a moment he lay
drained on top of her twitching body, then, with a sigh, he
heaved himself to his feet. His cock slid from her hole with a
loud plop, followed by a gush of mingled semen and cunt juice
which ran down her legs, dripping onto the floor, in full view of
the shocked and numb captives. He swatted her once more across
the ass, and then turned, zipping up his fly as he ran to the
door with his fellows.
Billie, barely conscious, began to slip off the table,
unable to find the strength to arrest her fall. Like an old,
discarded sack, her body sagged to the floor, where she lay, a
sobbing, moaning heap of satiated flesh.
For a few long moments the room was perfectly still. The
unhurt victims seemingly unable to move, frozed in place by the
orgasmic scene they had just witnessed. They just stared at
Billie. She had fallen with her legs sprayed, her open pussy,
oozing semen. Finally, an older woman moved. She went to
Billie, crouching down beside her and gently taking the still
moaning woman in her arms. As if that had been some kind of
signal, the others shook themselves and began to live again.
The police didn't take long to get there, nor did the
ambulance they called. It was too late in any case. The thugs
were gone, and the old man was already dead. Billie received the
news with a loud sob and buried her head in the ample bosom of
the old woman, who held her comfortingly.
They took Billie to the hospital emergency room, but, except
for the scratches on her breasts which she had inflicted upon
herself, she was unhurt. A rape counselor talked to her there,
and Billie listened politely, feigning an interest that she
didn't feel. After all, she knew she hadn't been raped. She had
wanted it...probably, at least at first, more than he did. From
the moment she had seen those pistols, she had been excited. And
when that man struck the old man, and then slapped her and called
her a bitch and a slut...Oh God!
In front of those people...all those people...Jesus...He
beat me, hurt me...and I loved it.
She realized the rape counseler, a big, older woman, had
stopped her spiel, and was staring at her kind of funny.
"Uh...I'm...I'm sorry. I really am okay. Please...I'd just
like to go home."
"Sure," the woman said, shrugging her shoulders. If Billie
didn't need her there were surely others that did.