An Officer's Last Night Out - a snuff story

[darkstalker]

Alright, first off, this story is heavy on torture and blood along with the rape. it is not mild. so you've been warned.
secondly this combines the ideas for the torture device by captive soul with ambush predator's desire for tortured cops. so those of you who continue, hope you enjoy!
ps. as a note, no, snuff this hardcore will not be common in my stories, but i wanted to experiment with something "hostel" like. so this is that experimentation.

******

Allison drags her feet on the floor, choking as she is dragged by the chain hooked to her neck. The leash at her throat tightens as she is pulled and she can only writhe against the bonds holding her, the bowler cap on her head, squashed down flat on her forehead, sweat sticking to her face and dripping down her forehead. She can barely see, but what she can see terrifies her. She coughs, her cheeks puffing out with each hacking gasp, her shoes scuffing against the highly polished wooden floor.
This is almost a battle in futility considering how there are two men holding her at either arm, pushing her forward. Still, she resist as best she can.
While the man in front of the audience can be considered laughable in his tailored tux with large great top hat and small white gloves, the speaker on loud, directed towards the highly extravagant audience in their gowns and suits, the device at the center of the room is anything but.
The device, a wooden table in the shape of an “X” with several belts along the length of it, looks as if it were stained with red blood and Allison Dranger does not want to experiment in the uses of the machine. She struggles against the men holding her, pushing her shoulders back against them, trying to dislodge herself. It seems foolish, even to her, but if she can somehow delay what she is certain will come...
Allison Dranger is, was, an officer of the British police. A rookie at 23, but wishing to pull her own weight. She’d been called on a simple domestic dispute in the backwoods of the city. But when she’d arrived, she’d found everyone to be overly cordial. There was no dispute. In fact, everyone seemed overly civil and interested in her. It was as if they’d known she’d be the one responding to the call...
Then everything had gone black as someone had clubbed her in the back of the head and she’d found herself in a small cell, a dog kennel almost, sitting on a hard metal bench, water dripping from the leaky pipe overhead. Her hands had been bound in tough leather and a gag had been pushed in between her teeth, forcing her jaws painfully wide apart. A bowler cap that was too large had been pushed down on her head and tightened beneath her jaw. Her belt and tools had been taken away, even her badge.
She’d waited for what seemed like hours until a man in an executioner’s mask had come for her, his body large and imposing. He’d brought the leash and after slamming her against the wall, tied the dog collar around her neck and pulled her out of the kennel.
And now she is here. The first man with a mask having been joined by a second, and she seemingly powerless to stop their advances. The men hold her fast between them, jerking her head back, tongues trailing over her neck and arms, hands running down over her sizable D cup breasts. Cupping them and squeezing them tight. She shuts her eyes and bites down on the gag, moaning.
Hands squeeze and mold the flesh of her breasts and she can only moan piteously behind the gag, drool trailing down her chin. Then one of the men is grabbing roughly at the white blouse of her uniform, grabbing handfuls with both hands and pulls, splitting the garment open, buttons flying out across the stage. The crowd gasp. Cheers go up along with applause and ruckus laughter.
Allison’s face burns red with shame. She would move to cover her exposed breasts but with her arms tied back painfully, she is next to powerless to stop it. The men continue to mold her breasts between them, the one before her slapping her right breast roughly. She groans and his friend crushes both breasts in his grip, pushing them out towards his friend. The man answers by slapping them again, the sound ringing loudly in Allison’s ears along with the sparks of pain.
Then again. The hand comes down on her bosom, making her flesh jiggle with each blow and then is slapped again. Allison strains against the second man’s grip as the first goes about abusing her tits, his blows on her breasts getting harder and louder, the stinging pain rushing up Allison’s head. Those on the stands, seated around the spectacle applaud and cheer.
Then it all stops suddenly and the crowd seems to go quiet. Allison can only shake in fear, her breasts now red with the pain of her injuries. Her heart beats with dread and she waits for the inevitable pulling of the chain, the men dragging her to the twisted contraption before her, but it does not come and she wonders, why?
Whispers begin in the audience and Allison turns, seeing a man striding forward in a white half mask, looking like something out of a kabuki show. The mask resembles that of a fox, she thinks, but she’s not sure. The man stares down at her through thin slits in the smiling mask, his eyes narrowed. There is a gleam behind his brown eyes she can see and it makes her shiver.
Save for a pair of black rubber gloves and a black Speedo, the man is fully unclothed, his body bare to the world. Thin and lanky with thinning hair, his skin a yellowish gold. An Asian of sorts, she thinks.
He seems to pull out something from behind his back, tucked into the Speedo and Allison screams when she sees the object, writhing within the arms of the two men. Their fingernails dig into her shoulders, and strong arms push her down onto the floor, knees banging against the wood panels roughly. She whimpers, a sharp pain rushing up her knees.
She shuts her eyes, trying to ignore the fact that the man before her has a knife. He is only going to cut her bra away, she thinks. Humiliate her further. Rape her. He’ll...
She hears the flick of the blade, feels the man leaning down and gripping her right breast painfully. She opens her eyes, looking at him, pleading in her muffled voice. Then the blade moves down towards her chest, the point sliding down the right side of her breast and digging in. She screams.
The men hold her as she bucks against them. The blood rolls down the side of her breast as the blade cuts deeply into her flesh, sliding down it like a twisted finger. The men grip her from beneath her chin, cupping it and hold her head back, nearly choking her in their grip. Her veins bulge along her neck as she screams but she is powerless against the cruelties of the men before her.
She feels the man with the kabuki mask grip her left breast and whimpers, knowing what is to come. It does little to lessen the pain as it comes through clearly, the pain receptors rushing up her brain, handing it dialogue and patterns within the neural network to analyze. And all of them say the same thing. Back away from the danger. And she can not. She can only sit back and let the man mutilate her breasts for his own twisted pleasure.
She cries against the men as they hold her, feels as the thin man grips her left breast brutally, drawing more blood with his wicked blade, sliding it down her tender flesh. When he finishes he wipes what blood has come away on his fingers, licking them. He then slaps her breast painfully, once, twice. The wound makes the pain sharper and she moans piteously against her captors. The audience seems to be whispering, like bugs in the background, but all Allison knows now is the pain radiating through her tit flesh. She whimpers, the pain against her breasts feeling fresh and new.
She’d never thought in all her years that someone would be so malevolent as to purposely injure her breasts with a knife. It is just too cruel.
The man whispers something to one of the executioners and the man nods. Slowly he peels away his leather gloves and takes a pair of mesh wire ones from the executioner. Allison can only stare wide eyed, wondering what exactly the man plans to do.
He pulls down the edges of his speedo and his member springs free, swinging forward, its head thick and bulbous, precum dribbling from the end. Stepping out of the speedo, he grips both her breasts tightly and Allisons bucks, feeling his fingers dig into the wounds along either side of her breasts.
The men behind her chuckle and she can hear laughter among the chorus of the crowd. She whimpers, wondering how people can be so cruel?
She feels the man’s member sliding between her two large globes, the slimy precum wetting the center of her breasts. The man squeezes her large breasts around his manhood, crushing them together so they wrap around tightly against his long shaft, the wire mesh cutting into her tender flesh. She whines against her two captures, rotating her shoulders, pushing her body back against them, but they simply laugh.
Pulling her jaw back, one grins down at her. “You think this hurts, you bitch? This is just foreplay! Wait until we get to the real action!”
His cheeks bulge and Allison realizes he’s going to spit on her but is unable to move away. The spit slaps down against her right cheek, sliding down the strap of her helmet, making it feel uncomfortably moist. Tears stream down Allison’s cheeks. What has she done to deserve this?
Through it all the Asian man has continued thrusting against her chest, his initial actions, slow and tentative at first as he fixed his position and got himself properly placed for fucking her. She’d barely noticed as he’d fucked her chest, the pain almost a shadow to her fear.
Now, as his thrust get more rapid and excited, his hands dig into her breasts, nails trying to dig into her flesh causing the mesh to tear at her tender tits. “Agh, you’re hurting me!” or at least she tries to say this but it comes out as a muffled sound causing the large men to chuckle, their massive bellies jiggling against her back and head.
She realizes it will do little good and simply bears with it as the Asian man continues to abuse her chest, the blood leaking down from the sides of her breasts warm and sticky. She can feel how slimy his own penis gets as a trickle of blood manages to get between her breasts and thinks how disgusting it is that even while hurting her this man is continuing to get harder. Then he is jerking on her chest suddenly, making her howl as the mesh scrapes away at her skin, the man’s groans becoming louder until he finally climaxes.
She feels the first hot spurt hit her beneath the chin then another against her sternum. The man holding her lets go of her throat, some of the hot cum having hit his fingers. He rudely wipes it across her shoulder while the Asian continues to drain himself between her round orbs, his member slowly going limp between her tits as the hot liquid drains down the center of her tits. He gives her breasts a few final jerks before pulling away from her chest, wiping the final dredges of his cum on her right breast.
His eyes gleam with malice, his hand running down her chest, brushing against her scratched flesh almost fondly. Then he is grabbing her bra, ripping it away so her breasts flop out from their confines and continues to pull and jerk, stretching the cotton material until the straps on her white bra snap.
She barely notices as the man pulls it close to his face, sniffing it and wipes his hands away on the material. The humiliation is too much and she tries to turn away, feeling all the people in the audience gawking at her massive orb with their perky pink ends. But it is of no use as the men hold her up, one pushing his knee against her back to push out her breasts, flaunting them to the crowd.
The crowd gasp and cheers, hands clapping in chorus. Allison moans in futility, the knee against her back grinding against her spine. The Asian man, she sees, rubs away at his dick with her once white bra, now stained red and torn in several places. He rubs it slowly, almost as if he is working himself into heat again and is going to cum again. But instead he turns around and walks back into the crowd disappearing into the midst of people. Too many people, she thinks, the sweat trickling down her body, large breasts heaving. How can so many of them be so depraved and sick?
“Well,” says the man before her, jerking her up by the chain on her neck, making her gag as she scrabbles to her feet. “That’s the end to the foreplay. Now we’re gonna’ get to the real show!”
Allison’s eyes widen, her fear making her heart beat rapidly in her chest. The man before her smiles, a wide showing of a his yellowed teeth. He grips her right breasts, twisting it savagely in his grip. Allison jerks back, bouncing on the balls of her feet. The man laughs, pulling her forward by her tender abused tits and runs his tongue along the edge of her neck. “Yeah bitch,” he whispers, “this is only gonna’ get rougher.”
He grabs a handful of her hair, jerking her head back. “You’re a pretty one, for a cop. Too bad really.”
The one holding her turns to the other. “Get those slacks off. She won’t be needing em anymore!”
Desperation surges through Allison as the large beefy man approaches her, his large tits swinging with his movements. With a sudden energy she turns and kicks the man in the groin as hard as she can as he draws near. The man topples over in a moment, cupping his manhood.
The other stares in shock for a moment giving Allison time to raise her foot and slam it down on his toes. The man yelps loudly, letting go of her hair. She hears clapping and cheering from the crowd but ignores the sounds, instead running forwards, into the audience itslef, simply looking for an exit. Any that might be available to her.
So it is from her fear that she does not notice the one in the tux suddenly come upon her from behind, an electric rod in his hand. The shock under her left tit is as sudden as it is painful. Her back arches with the electrical current, the veins bulging against her neck, eyes going wide, a muffled cry coming from her lips. She falls to the floor with a thud, her body twitching violently.
The man walks slowly towards her and Allison can only stare, breathing raggedly. The clapping in the background rings loudly in her ears, making his words hard to understand as he whispers to her. He says something to one of the other men who turns her over roughly and puts the heel of his boot between her shoulders. Pain shoots down her spine as the man grinds his boot into her back while the other moves towards her hips, gripping the belt of her pants and quickly undoes it.
Allison struggles, writhing beneath the large men, kicking out futilely but she has waited too long and both men overpower her easily. One of them jerking her legs back and pulling her slacks off, ripping her boots off with them so they thump on the floor. She hears the tearing of cloth and watches from the corner of her eye as her slacks are violently pulled off her body, ripped in shreds and jerked off callously. Her panties soon follow with one violent tug, pulling between her cunt lips, making her whimper behind her gag.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” says the one in the tux, spreading one arm wide. “We’ve had our foreplay! Now... it’s time for the real entertainment to begin!” And Allison can only whine beneath the boot of the man who holds her, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Take her over to the table gentlemen,” says the man in the tux, as the two men lift her to her unsteady feet. She is now fully naked except for the bowler hat that falls over her eyes, obscuring her vision. Sweat drips down her body, dribbling down the curves of breasts, the blood now clotted in their wounds.
“And this time,” says the one in the tux lunging towards her, zapping her underneath her right breasts this time, making her arch her body suddenly against one of the large men, her body straining, breasts flopping as she lets out a horrendous scream. “Don’t lose her,” he says as she falls forward, held up only by the strength of the large man behind her, holding her up by the shoulders and one meaty hand around her wrists. Her body feels like gelatin and is too weak to actually move.
The man in the tux lifts her chin up with the electric point of the rod, looking at her. He has deep blue eyes on a face lined with light wrinkles, a thin mustache covers his upper lip. She’d say he looks kindly if she didn’t know what he was about. The whole of her body shivers as he looks her over, inspecting her with a dark look almost as if she were cattle. “Very well, then,” he says. “You may unshackle her now. I don’t think she’ll be putting up much fight for a bit.”
The one behind her kicks her down and grabs her wrists, jerking her arms up and quickly tears the bindings off. “No funny business, bitch,” says the large man, pulling her hair back and then pushing her head forwards again as he tosses off the shackles, letting them clatter against the wooden floor. She’d think this would be the perfect opportunity to up and run, except she is winded and her vision is blurry, sweat dripping into her eyes making them sting. So she has little in the way of fight when the pair of men grab her arms and drag her across the stadium towards the table shaped like an “X.”
As she gets closer she can see the red stains more clearly. There is dried blood at the center of the table and by where her hips would be as well as at the ends of each X. The stench coming off of the table is strong, smelling of bile, shit and urine. Small slivers jut out of the wood from between the dried blood making her wonder what exactly was done in those areas. She is turned over, placed on her back, her arms stretched across the two overhead bars. She feels the slivers bite into her back and buttocks, into her legs and thighs, the dried blood rubbing off on her body.
She shuts her eyes, feeling her arms pulled taught and twisted around so her palms are flat against the wood. She groans as her arms are stretched out but hasn’t woken up enough to fight. She simply tries to adjust her body, pushing up on her legs as her shoulders cry out in agony. She feels the leather straps at the ends tied around her wrist and pulled painfully tight.
It’s when the fingers on both of her hands are stretched out as well, pushed in between clamps that tighten to the point her finger joints are screaming that she turns her head to ask what they’re doing. Though all that comes out is a muffled murmer. She can see her fingers being stretched out. Her thumb, pinkie and first digit are stretched out and locked in small metal clamps that are squeezed tight. Only the two middle fingers on her left hand are left free. On the right she can see all of them are stretched out painfully making it feel as if her hand is going to split open. And the movement she has in her left fingers is limited, coming up against three large buttons. She hadn’t seen those when they’d first dragged her here. One orange, green and red. She wonders what they’re for and why she is being allowed access to them?