well a little bit more for you guys, with something slightly unexpected in this chapter. the real fun begins next section.
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As the tears stream down her face she feels more then sees the large black man grab the front of her skirt and wrench it to the side. He doesn’t bother with the buttons, instead preferring to grip it with both hands and tear it open. The fabric resist at first but quickly gives way with a loud ripping noise. The one behind her grabs pieces of the shreds, jerking her back as his hand tears away at the fabric. Piece by piece they jerk her back and forth as her once fine skirt is shredded away from her body, the thin fabric tossed aside and drifting gently to the floor as more of it is pulled away from her to join the rest of the remains.
Mitchell looks down at the little Asian before him, rubbing his grubbing fingers between the slit he can feel just under her panties. “Nice,” he purrs. “You got a nice little twat, you know that cunt?”
She simply answers with hiccuped sobs, not wishing to be slapped anymore. She hates the feel of him, his fat fingers on her most sensitive organs, and she twist around, trying to squeeze her legs together to keep him away from them. It’s a mistake.
There is a sharp slap against her pussy that makes her yelp, jumping slightly. “Keep those damned legs spread bitch! Spread them!”
She complies, and with a quivering movement, slowly opens her legs showing the perverse man the object of his desire. “Yeah,” he growls, rubbing his fingers roughly over the center of her snatch. “Gonna’ be a nice party down there once we clear away all this garbage you got on ya. Speaking of which...”
He grips the nylon between her hips and savagely rips it away, the tearing sound seeming loud in the closed room. There isn’t a peep except for her moans as the other men seem to be more interested in watching her humiliation then speak about it. So intent are they, rapt in her image.
“Yeah, you’re right brother. Gotta’ free this nice ass of hers!”
Soon the one behind her too tears away at the nylon keeping her legs safe. Soon the warm stagnant air is against her skin and she breathes raggedly, feeling the shredded pieces hanging off her legs.
“You sure are a fine piece of ass,” says the beast before her. She can see him stick his hands into his pants, stroking his cock. “Fucking fine!”
She can hear the one behind her quickly unbuckling his pants, the metal jingling behind her. Forgetting the fruitlessness of her endeavor she struggles with renewed passion and miraculously frees herself, dropping to the floor.
“What are you doing Jack? You dropped the fucking bitch!” Mitchell leans down towards her and Vivian screams kicking at his hands, making him back off as one of the points of her stiletto catches him in the wrist.
“Ouch!” he says, snapping his hand back. “Fucking bitch caught me on the wrist!”
She scrambles away from the duo as the other one still concentrates on removing his pants trying to shake them off his boots. She gets up on shaky feet, making a break for it and is grabbed, turned away from the door in a quick jerk, spun around, both arms pinned by strong hands as she looks into cold hard, ice blue eyes.
“You struggle vainly woman,” the large Russian says, and slaps her hard across the face. It resounds loudly, knocking her to the floor.
Her hair is jerked back up, her head suddenly pressed against his crotch, cheek rubbing hard against the slacks, skin burning against the zipper. But she can feel it, his large member pressing against his pants against her face.
“This,” he says. “This is what you fucking women are for! To feel my great manhood in your small throats and even smaller pussies!”
He pushes her away, grabbing at her hand, pressing the palm against the outline of his cock. “This! This is what it means for to be a man! Feel it! Feel what shall penetrate your foolish American body and end your days!”
“Noooo....” she cries.
She feels her other arm jerked, pulling her to her feet. “Hey, back off Ruskie! The bitch is mine first. And she’s Asian, you dumb twat.”
The movement is so sudden Vivian barely sees it. One moment the Russian is feet away from them, the next he is pressed against the black man, a large knife pressed against the man’s throat.
“Where I am from, we gut men like you like pigs!”
“Easy bro...” says Mitchell, perspiration beading on his forehead. “I got the bitch first. So...”
“So what?” says the Russian, pressing the knife deeper, drawing a line of blood. “You lost your hold on her. I think it is fair to hand her off to someone else since you lost her.”
“Let the Russians have her for now,” she hears Ahmed say. He is walking towards them, arms folded behind his back, a grave expression on his face.
“Fuck this,” says Mitchell. “I got first dibs...”
“Enough Mitchell,” and she turns seeing Caleb, his fat gluttonous self holding a gun with a large barrel pointed directly at Mitchell. “Do not make me shoot you. The Russians give me more credits then you earn my friend. I would miss you, but if you start trouble I will shoot you.”
“Fuck this!” says Mitchell, throwing Vivian’s arm aside. “Fuck!” And he stomps back towards the other black man, gripping him from the lapels of his suit. “This is your fucking...”
“Enough!” There is a click as the safety is unlocked the barrel rolling into place. “I won’t warn you again Mitchell. Again and I’ll put a hole through you. Now you’ll wait your turn till the rest of us are done.”
“Fuck this shit!” he says, stomping towards the door. The shot rings through the air and Vivian screams. The blood splatters across the room in a short spray as the bullet enters the back of Mitchell’s skull and lodges itself into the wooden frame. The man falls to his knees with a thump and flops face first onto the floor.
“Aaaaaaiiiiiiiiieeeee!!!” Vivian screams. The two Russians chuckle and look from one to the other, laughing. She is crying now, truly fearing for her safety. She has just been witness to a murder and these men don’t seem to care.
Ahmed looks from Caleb to the fallen guard and tsk. “A shame for your man Caleb. If he’d been more proper he would have enjoyed our play here.”
“Spilled milk,” says Caleb, pocketing the gun back into its holster. “I was thinking of letting him go anyways. Jackson! Put your pants back on and get rid of this mess.”
“Yes sir!” says the black man still standing. He is rushing, quickly pulling and jerking his pants up as hurries to obey orders.
“You certainly have a way with your men,” says Ahmed.
“One must, if we are to have proper business activities. Now... isn’t there a certain activity we were all enjoying until I had to bring my man to heel?”
“Ah yes, most truly,” says Ahmed, turning his eyes to Vivian. “Gentleman,” he says, motioning to the two Russians. “I think the fine lady is for your entertainment now that Mitchell is... indisposed.”
The two men smile, lifting Vivian by both arms. “Yes, we shall treat this woman proper,” says the cold eyed man.
Vivian is breathing rapidly, the tears running down her cheeks. “Please... don’t kill me.”
“No... little angel,” says the man, “there is much we must do to you first before we do that.” And both men begin to laugh.
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