Kristen’s trip went well, she’d bought dozens of new outfits, spent a fortune on all kinds of indulgences, and enjoyed herself indulgence in the resort getaway. She felt satisfied and only wanted to get home to her husband to play the part of a loving wife. He’d be happy, she returned two days ahead of schedule, and she would satisfy his every whim, the old fart had always been an easy mark.
Passing over the exchange, she turned onto the highway to take her home. Glancing to her right, she saw the wretched part of the city. The ghetto, tenements where the worthless refuge of the community congregated in their despair and poverty.
“Niggers, spics, chinks, and trashy whites,” she spat the words into the air. She hoped her husband and his political allies could push this, disgusting element from their fair metropolis. Kristen had a vision of burning the scourge of inferior races from earth or regulate them back into slavery. Reduce their numbers, enslave them, and use them for the betterment of God’s people, the superior white race.
Her car coughed and sputtered, the warning bell clanged, check-engine light flashed on the dash, the vehicle lost power, slowing, threatening to stop. With no choice, she exited, into that part of town.
She drove for a block, then two, the car lurching, coughing, and shuddering all the while. She feared it would die, how could she get out of this part of town. She inched near the curb on a block devoid of parked cars. It crawled, slowing as she neared the middle of the block. With one last gasp, the car … died.
Looking about, Kristen took in the depressing vista. Most of the buildings were vacant, empty stores, locked up tight, windows boarded over, the impression of a lost civilization falling into dysfunction. The August sun beat on the hard-concrete sidewalks as waves of heat rose from the ghetto jungle. One building had a sign above a door that said, “BAR,” and flashed the word, “OPEN.”
Locking her doors, she grabbed her cell, she swiped, “Randel.” “No Service,” emblazed on the face of the phone. In the distance, she saw scantily clad women walking the streets, and men hung about them on corners, rough-looking characters — pimps or drug dealers. The men were mostly niggers and spicks, the darker inferiors that infest this part of the city.
Kristen had to find help. She had nothing to fear, all they need do is see her, and they know she was their betters. These miserable’s could never hurt someone so superior to themselves, they’ll view her superiority, and any intent to do her harm will leave their weak minds like a fog burnt off in the morning sun.
Getting out, she locked the doors, returned the keys to her clutch, and with the phone in her other hand she moved toward the bar. A knot tied her stomach, her head throbbed from the hot August sun. She took steps toward the door, secure in the knowledge of her own supremacy. With that said, there was a fearfulness in her. She pushed it down; after all, she was rich, white, and better than these … subhumans. They’d see it, and the nature of her superiority would protect her.
In the dim light of the bar, smoke hung in the air. So thick one could cut it with a knife. The door opened, and she walked into the room. A young white woman in this part of town was unusual in itself. Oh, there were cracker whores, wives, and live-ins of blacks and Latinos, but no wealthy white women. And not anyone as classy looking as this white woman. The woman wasn’t older than 26 or 27, and she looked hot and creamy.
She entered slow, not with caution. No, the woman moved forward, with a measured stride, strutting like a catwalk model. The shapely creature hesitated while letting her eyes adjust to the smoky haze of the soft light.
The men looked her over good. These hard men drank in the sight of the curvaceous girl. A few of the men, those near her, sniffed in the scent of her expensive perfume. Breathing in the aroma deep, like a tiger, testing the smell of its prey.
One of the men bit his lower lip, he imagined his cock busting her pussy wide open, as a smile spread over his face. It wasn’t every day a rich woman, a cracker, walked into a place so — inhospitable. Opening his eyes wide, he sized up the gift of the gods.
Five-feet-four or five-inches tall, she’d tip the scales at no more than 110 pounds, if you soaked her to the bone, that is. In her hand, she clutched a cellphone. While she moved forward, her long toned legs caught the men’s attention, the pale white shapely calves and thighs were encased in light-colored stockings or pantyhose. The men all wondered which it was.
“A rich, white woman in da ghetto, how stupid could dis cunt be?” one man said in a hushed voice, reaching inside his pants, he took ahold of and rubbed his hardening cock. “Dis gonna be fun,” he told his companion.
“Yeah,” the other man watched her, waiting for the entertainment to commence.
Her light, blonde hair fell below her shoulders in soft, shimmering waves. She had a pleasing frame, a large top without being too large, thin waist, and a small round ass. The kind of ass that would blister nicely with a few hard slaps of a callused hand. A shimmering, gold-satin blouse covered her upper body. Clinging to her curves, the shirt appeared not quite translucent. That notwithstanding, they could picture the tits underneath the sheer fabric. The woman’s tight skirt wrapped around her and tied at the waist. Golden flowers were pinned to her chest, just above her buoyant breast. The flowers’ color matched the color of her blouse. Black patent high heels with straps around her thin ankles completed the outfit.
Hushed, whispered grumblings came from the men scattered around the bar. Hateful glowers scowled at her. She didn’t notice the looks, didn’t see the men touching themselves, squeezing their cocks or balls. Kristen didn’t feel the angry lust that filled the men. Her baring didn’t change. Kristen held herself like a queen, who waited for her subjects to lay prostrate in front of her.
The grumbling talk softened, then the patrons quieted, and the room turned silent as death. Glaring at her, the impoverished, angry men desired her flesh while they hated her even being alive. This rich bitch just made a big mistake. She walked towards the bar, her hips swaying back and forth with each step. Kristen still held herself with a regalness that spoke to her perceived station.
Kristen fixed her eyes on the bartender, her expression still held a majesticness with a calm, confident appearance of self-assurance. The hateful scowl that bartender flashed her, niggled into her brain. In some primordial recess of Kristen’s mind, a tiny alarm sounded. Hairs on the back of neck prickled, sending a shiver down her spine. It was only at that moment, Kristen realized that the dozen or so patrons were all rough-looking blacks, as was the bartender.
As if on a cue, their leering stairs burned into her, and she sensed her helplessness. She wanted to turn and run, but she couldn’t. The woman inched closer to the bar, with cautious, faltering steps. The bartender stared at her, his hard glower made her heart race. She worried he imagined her nude.
He licked his thick, dark lips as he dried a shot glass. The bartender moved a step closer to the woman. Sitting the glass down, he picked up another and continued with his work. His lustful glower made her body quiver.
“Excuse me,” she said, with a plaintive, nearly pleading tone. Kristen’s clam shattered as the hopelessness of her situation dawned on her. Still, she was superior, they had to recognize this. “My car broke down, and my cell is dead. Would you be a dear and show me where your payphone is?”
“So, you think you have some right to just walk in here? We can’t just walk in your fucking country club iffin we a mind to,” the man sitting at the barstool next to her said. His eyes were hateful. His face was contorted as swarthy skin became darker on his cheeks, anger flared to a boiling point.
“Yeah,” the bartender said, “This my fucking place, I didn’t invite you in here, you fuckin’, cracker, ho.”
“I — I — ju — just want to ...” Kristen stammered.
“Nobody gives a shit, what you want, cracker. You got that?” the big man on the barstool interrupted her.
Kristen looked around, hoping that someone would stick up for her. It became evident that nobody, including the bartender, would side with her. Kristen’s fear screamed in her brain, RUN. She turned to start for the door, but a second man blocked her way. Grabbing her by the arms, he pulled her against him.
“Where the — FUCK — you think you goin’, whitey bitch?”
“Let go of me. Please, just let me go.” Kristen pleaded as she struggled in his arms. Her big blue eyes became teary as her heart pounded, threatening to rupture, and her body shuddered.
“Oh, we’ll let you go, alright. Just soon as we done with ya. Ya comes to our place; you got to pay the toll,” his big fingers clutched her tit tight. The other hand grabbed her crotch, clutching it, squeezing.
“You tell her, Nate,” she heard someone yell.
He released her tit and crotch, with his left arm the, bear of man, crushed Kristen to him, Nate grabbed her hair with his right hand, pulling her head back.
“No — Let go of me — Please MMMM ...” she pleaded, as Nate’s mouth clamped over her lips, muffling her words out of existence. Her mind clutched to the thought, I’m superior, only she wasn’t, she was just a stupid girl in the wrong place.
His thick lips covered hers. Spittle exchanged between them as he forced his tongue way back in her mouth. Disgust rushed into her, revulsion with him, his filthy hands, and nasty tongue invading her mouth. She struggled against him, but he was too big, too powerful. Kristen felt other hands rip her from Nate’s grip.
“Quit hogging’ her, man.” The even larger man who first spoke took possession. He viewed the new white toy. Pushing the other man to the side, “Get in line,” he said, setting the pecking order with him at the top.
“Please don’t … stop … please leave me alone.”
He had her pinned against the bar. Pressing her, pushing her back, his big body dominating her smaller frame. Kissing her neck, he kneaded her breast with large hands. Squeezing her tits mercilessly with his mighty mitts, he roughly massaging the big C’s.
She hated his touch, his nasty shit-skin hands on her pure white flesh turned her stomach. Kristen squirmed, trying to slip his grip. But those strong hands controlled her, held her, hurt her. The woman knew he used her with a vile purpose. He grabbed the top of her blouse and pulled sharply, tearing all the buttons off, they made a dull sound as they hit the floor. He exposed her black lace bra.
“Somebody, help me, please. Please, someone ... Make him stop …” Kristen only heard laughter in response. They had to know, she was white, superior in every way, why didn’t they help her?
“Get her to the pool table,” she heard someone yell, as two, more men grabbed her arms, dragging her across the floor. She tried to dig her heels in, but they were too strong, Kristen knew to these men all her sole purpose was as a flesh-covered fuck doll. Her heart raced, a coldness passed over her body, and her temples pounded. Kristen’s breath became ragged and shallow, her body quivered, like a leaf. This thought infested her mind, these lustful, hate-filled men would fuck her to death.
She felt warm wet, thick, streaks of goo running down her face. Big tears gushed, carrying mascara and makeup with them. Her fear filled the room, the beasts sensed it, smelled its sweet, sexual aroma. Her trepidation created a heated, sexual tension in the angry mob that needed a release. A white woman pleading for mercy from these pitiless men … mercy … the one thing they had not for any white woman.
Looking around, she saw the men, their big Angus cocks hanging out of their pants. They stroked them, getting ready, ready to use those nasty baboon pricks on her. She’d be ruined, her pussy would be destroyed.
For her, these hard men, only held contempt, hating her privileged life, they’d show this bitch. All their rage would explode on her hot tight body. Hands roamed her body, poking, prodding, exploring her softness, her ripeness.
A callused thumb ran hard circles around her clit, while fat fingers clutched and dug into her lips and hole. The fabric of her panties pressed into her skin, only just covering the rough hand.
“Don’t. Please don’t. Oh, Lord God, please help me. Somebody, Please Help Me.”
“We gonna help you, bitch,” one man said.
The two men threw Kristen onto the pool table. Pinning her arms down, the men held her still. Her hips on the rail while her legs dangled off the edge of the table. The wrap-around skirt had fallen open, exposing her lower body to everyone to see. She felt the big man’s hand reach for her, felt him grab the crotch of the pantyhose, and rip them open. Then his thick fingers grabbed the silken, nylon panties.
“Sexy,” he said as he grabbed the material. The smile on his face looked evil. His teeth were big and yellow stained from coffee and smoke. He ran his tongue over his lips as if he licked some tasty residue from them.
“Oh, no … Please leave me alone. Please don’t hurt me.” Kristen bawled.
Tears burned her cheeks, her blue mascara ran inside her tears. The big man couldn’t have cared less. Laughing, he yanked on the panties, a small tug, then a hard yank.
The delicate nylon panties were no match for the force used against them. Kristen heard a whisper of sound as the material ripped. The pitch of tear shifted, the ripping sounded harsher, the anger of tearing fabric split the air. The ripping of the cloth was the sound of her humiliation. The shame blistered her as the panties were snatched from her haunches, exposing her most private part for the world to view.
“Shit man,” he yelled out, holding her torn panties in the air, “this Aryan fuck-hole is a real blond — look at her white coochie-hair landing strip, just a pointing the way for my anaconda.”
Kristen tried to kick him, but her position was awkward, and she was to slow. Grabbing her leg, he pushed it to the side moving closer. The man forced her leg more to the side, giving him better access. The big man moved between Kristen’s legs, rubbing her nylon-sheathed thigh with one hand while he undid his pants with the other.
Four men’s hands held her motionless, she struggled against them, to no purpose. Their enormous talons clutched her, digging their claws deep into her soft ripe flesh. The man between her legs leered and moved back a step — his swarthy skin shown as if oiled. Darkness as black as his skin, disconsolate, sullen mood overtook Kristen.
‘I’m superior,’ she thought. Shutting her eyes tight, she wished herself from this place. One of the men squeezed her arm tighter, and the wish died.
“Bet you ain’t never had a black dick a-fore, have you, whore? You’re in fo a treat tonight.” Fishing the already stiff prick out, he pushed himself closer he yanked her back toward him. The padded bumper of the table hit her back as he moved her closer.
“Niggertize that bitch.”
Kristen felt the big head of his mushroom head pressing against her vagina. He smacked the big cock to her pussy several times. She tried squirming away from him, but there was no escape. The men held her arms firm. He looked at her, ready to rip her open. The evil leer on his thick lips disgusted her.
“Don’t … Please don’t,” Kristen begged as she felt push inside her. Pain tore into her, it was too fucking big. The cockhead was more than twice the size of her husbands, it slashed inside her.
“Please, please, leave me alone, I don’t want to do this … please, stop, please, please, oh God.” She screamed at the top of her lungs. Arching her back, trying to move away, he slammed the big fat cock in full force, splitting her dry vagina open hard. “Oh, God, please, stop ... Please STOP. It hurts,” she stammered out in broken words. “Oh ... God ... you’re ... hurting ... me.”
“Good,” the group of men jabbered, slightly out of sync.
A ripping sensation erupted into the throbbing of slashed muscles. The big prick cut its way through her canal, destroying tissue and the delicate flesh as he plunged deeper and deeper. The agony raced throughout her crotch.
The angry rapist grabbed Kristen’s legs. He placed his arms under her knees, lifting her legs. Now he could hammer into her deeper. Her blouse hung open. Pushing her legs up high on his shoulders. The abuser moved his hands under her bra and grabbed her tits with both hands.
“Look, boys, I’m milking this cow.” Yelling out as he squeezed her tits. He was vicious and violent on them. She feared they would burst. He pinched at the fat nipples, squeezing them like tits hanging off the udder of a cow. Kristen could see her high-heeled feet pointing towards the ceiling. She tried to concentrate on the old cracking paint. Kristen needed to run and hide, she thought of her childhood. She thought of boys playing doctor with her, then the pain brought Kristen back to NOW and HERE.
“This whore can throw her legs higher and wider than any black bitch,” a second man said as he rubbed his cock, standing behind the man fucking Kristen. He was ready to move in as soon as the first man finished.
Kristen felt as if her pussy ripped in half. The big man continued driving into her. Pumping his cock in and out of her, he rammed it home fast and hard. He wanted the cunt to pay for every insult he ever heard from a white person. Letting go of her tits, he wrapped his arms around her legs, lifting her up; he pummeled her even faster and harder. Kristen’s tits bounced all over from the force.
“Bro, you’re fucking her now. Look at them fat tits bouncing.”
With that encouragement, he fucked her harder. With each thrust, the man hoped agony greeted the bitch. Driving into her, like a lumberjack swinging an ax into a tree, he tried to cut her in two. The glaring hateful eyes viewed her. The men licking their lips as lustful deadly passion filled the room.
Kristen never knew such pain. ‘Nothing more than a fuck piece,’ she thought, ‘but I’m white.’ Her inability to stop it made it more unbearable. Kristen retreated from the room. A surreal calm overcame her, she detached from her body, separated from the pain. A passive, contented expression covered her face.
The black hand came from nowhere. A pink, callused, rough palm jarred Kristen’s cheek once, then the back of the hand smacked the other. Again, and again, the hand whacked her back to her experience.
“Hurry, bro, I want to split that bitch open too.”
She could hear her attacker beginning to groan, his breathing getting faster as he approached orgasm. A new terror, Kristen realized she could end up pregnant.
“NO,” she screamed as she cried hysterically, “Please, I beg of you don’t cum in me.” Laughter filled the air. “Oh, dear God, don’t let this happen. Please, God.”
Struggling, she tried to move away from the men. The strong fellows just held her in place. she jerked this way or that but couldn’t break free. “Please, don’t please, please don’t do this.”
Her cries fell on death ears as he pounded even harsher. The men had to know how much she hated it. That notwithstanding, they didn’t give a shit what she felt or thought.
The men watched intently their cocks growing as they watch him devastate the bitch. Some pulled their cocks, content to jerk off while watching others were more willing to get in line and take a turn. All of the onlookers yelled their appreciating and encouragement.
Kristen felt him drive is enormous dick deep into her holding himself in her. Thick burning splashes of hot sticky man scum coated her insides way down deep. Kristen sobbed, her weeping an uncontrollable reaction to the dread as he filled her. These bastards would knock her up … disgust filled her while his cock kept spurting and spurting as the nasty goo deep inside her womb. This couldn’t be happening to her. It couldn’t be. She felt him withdraw from her as he dropped her legs.
“I’m. Next, I’m NEXT,” the man behind said. Kristen filled with a new dread. She thought it would be over when the big man had finished with her. The truth dawned on her realizing every one of these nasty men in this dirty, grimy bar would use her. The dread of being fucked to death once again blossomed in her mind. Or worse, surviving to bear some bastard child and her husband deserting her. Kristen was helpless. She could see the next one moving toward her, his cock already sticking out of his pants. His cock larger than the last man’s. Kristen clamped her eyes shut, shaking her head back and forth as she pleaded.
“No more. Please no more. What did I do? Why, please, why are you doing this to me?” she sobbed.
“Cause you a cracker in the ghetto, bitch.”
“No, please, you’re hurting me.”
“Now ya jus trying get mo horny.”
“No, please,” her words were broken by her crying, “no more please, oh, it hurts so much.” she cried as the new rapist jammed himself balls deep. Her back arched up from the pain.
The man’s hulking open paw struck her face. His dark eyes glowered, and spit flew from his mouth as he barked.
“Let go of her. Let her fucking buck, it’ll be a better ride.” They moved off her and watched.
With each hard thrust, he would withdraw, drive back inside her with a violent force. He continued pounding his fat prick into snatch, so hard, each time she arched her back, wiggled, attempting to move away from the assault. Each time he, he clamped his hands tight on her hips, yanked her back into him matching his forward thurst. After a few more jabs, he grabbed her hips when she tried to move away, digging his fat fingers deep into the flesh.
His big balls slapped her ass, spit slipped from his mouth, landing on her face, neck, and chest. The disgust churned in her belly, but mixed with first man’s semen was her own lubrication. She refused to let them see her climax and hid with fighting him.
He’d had enough of her spunk. The attacker lifted her up high, picking her up off the table. For a moment, suspended in mid-air, she hung between the ceiling and the pool table. Then Kristen slammed hard on the table, her body erupted in anguish. The back of her head exploding in pain, but the worst of it, that awful feeling that you can’t breathe. A screeching sound came from her. A horrible sick sound of air trickling though threw a collapsed passageway.
She tried to suck air in her deflated lungs panic took hold. New anguish joined the agony already present. Her back exploded from the rough landing. She sucked hard, trying to get air as her attacker just continued to fuck her hard.
“I’m going to annihilate this bitch’s panty-pie,” yelling out his intentions to others, pounding his fat cock into her faster and faster. Harder and faster, he pummeled, the pain tore through her body as that fleeting joy retreated behind the sting. The man’s face grimaced, and he bit his lower lip grunting like a pig as a thick stream of semen gushed inside her. He ignored her renewed appeals to spare her that.
“Filled the Becky ho with nigger baby-batter,” he said, and the others hollered with joy.
“My turn to give her some black man buttermilk,” the next one in line said.
Kristen didn’t know how much more she could take. Three more times, men climbed on her, used her. Her legs still dangling off the table as each man took his turn. The men once again pinned her arms above her head, while a new angry man plundered her. Mauling her tits and hurling insulting at her. Three more times, her assailants ignored her pleas, busting their nut, its thick spewed juice coating her insides down deep in her womb.
Every effort she made to retreat to a place in her mind to be away from this place failed. Her body couldn’t get away, and her mind couldn’t free her. Nonetheless, Kristen was sure it couldn’t get any worse as the sixth man approached her. God was she was wrong.
“That pussies gettin’ sloppy, man,” he said. “Flip that cunt over, ass in the air face down, bros. I gonna take me some brown eye.”
Kristen’s eyes got huge as she realized what he meant. “No, oh god, no, please do not do that. Please, I beg of you, not that.” He laughed, and all the men in the bar joined him. Some of the began spurting cum from there cocks as they jerked off feverously to the woman’s distress.
The men pulled Kristen off the table. Trying to fight, they were amused; the girl was no match for their strength. At last, the work of removing her clothing neared completion. Collectively three men wrenched her blouse and skirt from her. This left her only her bra, now crotch-less pantyhose and high-heels on her body. Turning her around, the men quickly forced her face down on the table. Feet still firmly planted on the floor, they forced her legs wide.
Terror, her heart pounded, her chest heaved. They held her there, ass point toward whoever stood behind her, open wide by men pulling her cheeks apart.
“My God, no, no, don’t fuck my ass. Please.”
Her words, still broken from her heavy sobbing, fell on unsympathetic ears. She had allowed her husband to try anal sex with her one time. It had hurt too much. They quit before he had even entered her an inch. Although he was as gentle as he possibly could be. Kristen knew that the animal about to mount her wouldn’t consider being gentle. She knew it was a waste, but still, she begged.
“Stacy girl, you bout ta get da bone in da dry hole. Here it come, payback, for every whitey bitch whats ever done me wrong.”
“Don’t do this. Please … not this, honestly, I can’t take it. God, Please, please, don’t do this.” Kristen felt him move between her legs, felt him place his dick against her rectum. The only lubricant, cum which leaked from her pussy and dribbled across her ass as it ran down between her legs.
“Gonna be a tight fight,” one of the men said, rubbing himself through his pants.
“Yeah, brother, I’ll get lose for you,” the man said, pushing his bulbous head against the puckered hole. “Bitch don’t want this mofo in her.” Laughter filled the room.
She felt him pressing against her, “Oh God, please don’t,” she felt his cock beginning to split her sphincter, “Don’t. Please don’t,” ripping, tearing, spreading the sphincter her ass tried to resist, it pushed back against the cock, but the pecker destroyed the resistance, slashing inside her deep, deeper still, he pounded inside her.
“Muderfuck, it tight. Gonna break me some cracker ass.”
“No, please, God, no.” Her voice was scratchy from all her begging and pleading. The feeling of him driving into her was so painful. He withdraws himself, only to plunge in even further inside her gunts, harder with anger and fury.
She no longer screamed, she whispered.
“Jesus, please stop, please just stop…”
Kristen’s ass opened for him, and he dove the full length of his shaft deep into her bowels, pressing shit back inside her. It was useless; she just shut up and took it.
He held himself inside her, impaling her on his cock, pressing as deeply as possible into her while gyrating against Kristen’s hips. He wanted to hurt this bitch as much pain as possible.
“No more.” she murmured, “Please, no more. Oh, God, I can’t take this. Please, stop …”
“Go, man, go. Fuck that whitey snob, good.” somebody yelled.
The cum coated her insides, it ran from her, down the crack of her ass. They’d all cum inside her. They’d put their wicked, wretched sub-human seed inside her womb. Was she fertile? She couldn’t remember the cycle. Why had she yield to her husband’s wishes to stop using birth control she couldn’t have some half ape child.
Kristen realized she was only a floor-show for these animals. Her shame increased with that realization. The onlookers were all jerking off or impatiently waiting for their turns. A live sex game show, Kristen could hear him, like an announcer.
“Rastus come on down, you da next contestant on Demolish da Trixie ... Keyon gets ready, mutherfucker, you are up soon. Remember the prize is a white cunt. So, destroy her, right good.”
Now the ass rape began in earnest. Her assailant withdrew his dick until nothing was left inside her but the head. He moved slowly for a moment, moving into her a new position. Withdrawing, the attacker lunged forward with force, driving himself into her with a vicious furry.
Kristen shrieked, her head snapped back. The man kept thumping into her. Forceful driving his cock into her as fast, as hard as he could working out a long frustration, he held for with the wealthy, elite whites, that in his mind, oppressed him.
Kristen felt as if her mind slipped away from her. She only wanted it to be over, to have this animal out of her.
“Please,” she begged in a hushed husky voice, “please hurry. Please hurry. Please hurry.” Tears flooded down her face.
“No, fucking way, bird shit, will I hurry,” he whispered into her ear, all the while hammering his fat cock inside her guts. He seemed to fuck her ass forever.
Faster and faster, he drove himself into her. Forcefully he slammed into her ass. Finally, he came, spraying his cum deep inside Kristen’s entrails. Kristen sobbed as he withdrew from her. Then, to her horror, she felt a second one move between her legs.
Well lubricated with the previous rapist’s cum, the next one had no difficulty entering Kristen’s asshole and driving into her. Kristen continued crying and begging, but it did no good. One after another, seven men fucked her in the ass, each shooting his cum into her bowels.
Kristen had long since given up fighting. In shock, she laid on the table, her eyes closed. She only waited for it to be over, for the world to stop its wild spinning. Once they had all used her, they just threw the bitch onto the pool table and left lying there. She curled into the fetal position. Her emotions crushed; she whimpered, begging the men.
“Please stop, please, please stop.” She had no idea how many times she had been rapped.
In shock, Kristen laid there, not moving, terrified to do so. The men were at the bar, drinking and laughing. Her mind told her, ‘get up, run away.’ Her body simply refused to move. The pain and humiliation held her to the table like glue. She cried so hard the felt was wet where face lay against the table. Kristen had no idea how long she lay there before she heard one of them saying.
“Shit, I think I’ll hit me some more of that poontang pie for dessert.”
Kristen heard him coming toward her. Still, she lay there, not moving. The feeling of his hand on her shoulder sent shivers down her spine. Kristen didn’t resist as he rolled her onto her back. He climbed onto the pool table and knelt between her legs. She watched with a dazed expression as he undid his pants, pulling his dick into view.
“No...” Kristen said softly as he lowered himself on top of her. Her voice hardly more than a whisper... “please, I’m begging you, no more. Please.”
“Go to your happy place, cracker ho,” he said while he rubbed his big cock head over her pussy, smacking it against her getting himself nice and hard. “Think of nigger’s waiting on you hand-and-foot while I split you in half.”
She felt him enter her, his weight crushing her to the pool table. He took a handful of hair, bending her head back, kissing her, forcing his tongue deep into her mouth. His other hand fondled her breast under her bra. She felt him moving inside her, faster and harder, his ragged breathing filling her ears.
He thrust harder as though he fucked with a purpose. Kristen closed her eyes tightly and whimpered as she felt him cum, depositing his load inside her all their nasty. This show aroused the others, and Kristen lay unresisting, staring at the ceiling and crying softly, while the other men again began taking turns on top of her.
It started all over again. One by one, the men lined up and fucking her hard and deep. Fewer this time, but still there, they were taking turns at her. Intent on making her pay for all the perceived wrongs they had endured at the hands of white people.
Seven men had finished using her. The eighth man climbed onto the table, and instead of moving between her legs, knelt over her chest. This brought Kristen out of her lethargic state, filling her with a new horror.
“No. You can’t. I won’t let you,” Kristen hit the man, slapping him as hard as she could.
“Grab her hands.” the new violater yelled as Kristen again fought.
Two men ran up, one on each side of the table, and pinned Kristen’s wrists straight to her sides. Kristen kicked with her legs. Digging against the table with her high heels, she tried to move away from her assailant. She arched her back, snapping her head from side to side. First, her defiler slapped her face hard, grabbing the hair on each side of her head, he twisted until the shear pain of hair being ripped from her head, forced Kristen to shriek.
This was what he waited for her mouth gaping wide open as she squealed; he jammed his dick inside her mouth. Kristen was once again helpless, her arms pinned to the table as she choked and gagged on the dick forced down her throat. As her rapist continued to fuck her in the mouth, Kristen kept trying to get away from him. Arching her back and digging her heels into the table, her hips moving back and forth as she tried to free herself. As the dick invading deep into her throat, she felt a second man move between her legs.
She tried to scream as the second dick entered her pussy, driving into her without mercy. The thick prick that choked, filling her throat so much it prevented screaming. Kristen couldn’t believe that her pussy and mouth were violated at the same time. The man fucking her mouth began keeping his dick lodged in her throat. He held in position, deep down her throat, she couldn’t breathe. As she began to feel as if she were suffocating, she began fighting harder.
Digging in her heels and flinging her hips wildly, an attempt to break free. This had the unintended effect of impaling herself on the enormous cunt abuser. Kristen moved about as if she were trying to give him the ride of his life.
The woman felt the second man begin to cum inside her, thick, disgusting spurts of nasty goo. The one in her mouth drove as deep into her as he could and shooting cum down her throat. Kristen was choking, there was no choice other than to swallow his cum.
As the depleted men climbed off Kristen, two more climbed onto the table. One knelt between her legs, and the other sat on her chest. Kristen tried to fight, but it was useless. She screamed, cried, and begged for mercy, but there was no mercy.
Once again, she felt the cock of a rapist violating her throat, choking and gagging her, while a second drove himself into her pussy. Kristen lost track of how many times she this happened. They all attacked her repeatedly. She had no idea how many times people had cum inside her. She had no idea how many times people had cum in her ass. She had no idea how many times people had cum on her face or hair. Kristen completely lost track of time.
Finally, after hours of abuse, the men, worn out and satisfied, returned to drinking. Her skirt, blouse, and panties gone, they pushed her purse into her hands. Dragging her by her hair, the first man, the one that barked at when she came in, shoved her out the door, and she landed unceremoniously on the grated drain.
Wearing only her bra, remnants of pantyhose, and high heels, Kristen stumbled down the street towards her car. Reaching it, she pulled the keys from the clutch, unlocked the door, and Kristen climbed inside and locked the door. Collapsing onto the seat, Kristen laid there crying. She was still there when the police found her the next morning.
It never cooled off that night. She lay there, cacked in cum, still filled with seed and blood, sobbing. Begging men that no longer were around her, no longer using her. Her mind cracked, she nonetheless felt the big pricks inside of her. Her husband wouldn’t ever touch her again, not that she’d want him to. She was worthless now, used by those … things.
“Please, no more,” she murmured in a hushed voice as the cops finally got her out of her car. Placing her in the patrol car. One officer climbed in the back with her while the other got behind the while. Pulling away from the curb, the officer driving adjusted the mirror so he could see her. The other office yanked on her bra until it ripped off her body.
“Dave, what the fuck are you doing?” The first officer asked. Dave clamped down hard on one of her tits, leering at her.
“This whore is city councilman Edwards wife, you know the bastard that blocked our raises.” The cop said, milking on her tit hard. “Hank … pull into the alley between 16th and 17th at Claremore. We can be alone there and let her know how much we appreciated her husband’s position.”
“This car 871 to any units in the vicinity of 17th and Claremore, code 18, 01, 16, 5,” he said. Every cop in the city knew they had some bitch for the taking — Code 18(R), 01(A), 16(P), 5(E), or RAPE was reserved for any time they had someone that deserved to be raped. From all over the city, the units started rolling toward the alley between 16th and 17th Streets on Claremore Drive. “Someone bring a turkey baster and vinegar, need to do some, cleaning here.”
Between the calls of the other cars announcing they were responding and the way the cops were looking at Kirsten, she knew it wasn’t over, not yet. Her nightmare had just begun, there were at least 1400 cops on duty, and every one of them would take a turn, she just knew it. God, they were going to fuck her death.
“We need to wash her cunt and ass out,” the officer next her said. “Ghetto juice is leaking from her.”
“Yeah, theirs a tap, over yonder, with a hose,” the other cop said, getting out of the unit he turned on the water, while his partner drug the woman to him. He adjusted the nozzle to mist and sprayed over her body. The dried cum, rehydrated rolled off her body, the make, caked in streams from her tears washed away, leaving her flesh, wet but clean. Turning up the pressure, he adjusted the nozzle to hard spray.
“Open them legs up, bitch,” he pushed the nozzle into her pussy; the water gushed into her, washing the cum from her. Then he thrust it into her ass.
“I hope they get here soon,” one cop said as he pulled down his pants, his log of cock sprang free. “I want to tighten the bitches holes up before I rip her open.”
She looked at his cock, bigger, fatter than any of the nigger’s dicks. Oh, shit, would it never end?