Rape Toys

Chapter 7 – Homecoming Queen

As his Lear jet sped its way to Bogotá, Pablo felt the sense of relief and contentment that a person always feels as he comes home. The number one cause of death in Columbia for men over the age of 10 is murder. It was an environment Pablo felt totally comfortable in. A man with a knife or a gun was something a person could handle, quickly and with deeply gratifying violence. Invisible, lethal germs and getting old and feeble were much scarier concepts.

Next to him, his new tongue-clipped bitch was considerably less euphoric. Strapped naked into her seat with her legs spread wide, Yvonne tugged futilely at her bonds as she watched Mellita the mouth whore work, topless on her knees. Her big soft breasts bobbed, swaying rhythmically as her full red lips sucked Pablo's thick knob like a lollypop. She ran her tongue skilfully along the sensitive underside of Pablo's penis, making him hard and cruel. She hadn't been with Pablo long, but Yvonne recognized this as the prelude to another Scream and Squirm drama with her making a return appearance as the Shrieking Victim.

Pablo held up some tablets and a glass of water.

"I want you to swallow these down. If you don't I'll cut off your nipples."

He held a wickedly sharp pruning knife with a hooked blade an inch from her eyes.

"I've already sliced off the tip of your tongue and clipped an small iron ring around it. Your nipples would be much easier to harvest."

He gargled a bit at the back of his throat and spat a thick, green wad of phlegm into the glass of water.

"Water is bland, so I though that I'd add a bit of flavour."

Yvonne looked a bit sick as he placed the pills in her mouth. Her Adams apple bobbed as she gulped them down along with the slimy snot water.

"Just some uppers to keep you wide awake and lively."

He gave a few moments to allow the drugs to work, watching her carefully for the tell-tale signs. When Yvonne flushed and her pupils dilated, he wrapped his hand in Melitta's long black hair and lifted her bobbing head from his lap. Yvonne was surprised when Pablo spoke a few words in Spanish to the tongue tart and Melitta scooted over and dipped her head between Yvonne's parted thighs. Melitta's muscular tongue felt warm and comforting as she licked Yvonne's labia and playfully teased her clit out of hiding. Yvonne's cuntlips were soon engorged, wet, red and fully distended. Her stiff, diamond cutter clit was throbbing on the very verge of orgasm when Melitta lifted her head and stopped.

Pablo was gratified at the way his new tongue-clipped bitch began gibbering in inarticulate horror, making loud, pathetic pleading noises, eyes bulging as she saw the gleaming pruning knife delve between her parted thighs. She tried frantically to close her legs. Her groin muscles strained like taut steel cables, her inner thighs aquiver, but her knee straps held firm. Digging deep with the point of the razor sharp pruning knife to get at the very root of her love nubbin, he deftly excised her erect clit.

Yvonne screeched like a fire siren. Pablo grinned as he deftly threaded the thick black thread onto the sewing needle and began stitching shut the bleeding gap where her clit used to be. He loved a bitch with a high threshold of pain. He grinned into her shocked, pasty face as she sobbed miserably.

"You've caused me a lot of trouble, you fuckfaced mouthy cunt. You'll be opening your holes a lot. That's about all that you're good for these days. I wouldn't want you enjoying yourself."

He tugged at her pretty ears. He liked giving his tongue-clipped bitches a future to dream about.

"Tomorrow, I'll be slicing these off. Don't worry. You just have to keep your hair brushed forward and hardly anybody will notice."

He didn't think that she'd actually complain when he 'forgot' to do this, but she'd always wonder if he would suddenly remember his promise every time he stuck his wet, slimy tongue in her ear, one of his favourite habits with a fucktoy. He continued stitching her up.

As Yvonne screeched out raw, haunting cries of anguish and despair, the Lear jet started the landing approach.

At 10,000 feet, trapped in a druglord's personal Learjet, only the perverts can hear you scream.

On another continent far to the North, in the secret Montana survivalist bunker of the Aryan Masters, Shivonne awoke groggily to a rhythmic pumping between her legs. She groaned with pleasure, and then the memories came flooding back. Her eyes popped open. Ernie's face, up close and very personal, grinned back at her. Shivonne was spread-eagled; buck naked except for the police cap on her head and the gleaming black police boots on her feet, hanging by her wrists from the ceiling, with her ankles spread wide and shackled to the cement floor. Her lips were duct taped shut. A tasty, urine soaked sponge was sealed inside her mouth. Shivonne's eyes blazed furiously. She hated Montana Neo-Nazis.

"Ready to party, nigger-bitch?"

Ernie thrust hard and deep, his pasty white sausage tube slithering in and out of her smoothly shaven fuckhole. He cradled the back of her head with his hand and pressed her head towards him so that the tape sealing her lips was pressed against his ear hole. He intimately savoured every gasp, groan and grunt. Truth to tell, Ernie greatly preferred dark meat, enjoying the feel of Shivonne's large soft breasts pressed against his bare chest and her tight cunt enfolding his erect penis in its warm embrace. He nodded to Henry.

Behind her, Henry removed the glowing red branding iron from the brazier. He moved the branding iron slowly towards Shivonne's back, letting her feel the searing heat as it slowly inched closer to her bare skin. She began to writhe and squirm frantically, much to Ernie's delight. With the sizzle of raw steak freshly tossed onto the grill, Henry jammed the red-hot swastika against her back. Shivonne screamed shrilly into Ernie's ear through her piss-soaked gag. Her naked body arched against him in a delightfully violent agonised spasm. He grunted ecstatically and almost lost his load as her squirming nakedness writhed frantically and her cunt clamped down hard. The smell of roasting fuckmeat filled the air. Ernie smirked at Henry.

"I like my niggers well done. Could you cook her a bit on the other side, Henry, ole pal?"

"No problem, Ernie. Just let me heat the branding iron up again."

Ernie prided himself on his stamina when it came to raping over the lesser breeds. He cunt-reamed her patiently while Shivonne sobbed, her nakedness quivering delectably against his. He loved breaking tough black bitches with a high threshold of pain.

The glowing red swastika was, at last, ready. He touched it tenderly against her shrinking flesh, and then pressed hard for an extra deep sizzle. Once more, Shivonne screamed and squirmed, impaled on Ernie's plunging pole, her hot bod pressed snugly to his. She shivered feverishly against him. Ernie massaged her firm buns enthusiastically.

"I'm in the mood for a bit of rump roast, Henry."

"Just let me heat 'er up again, Ernie."

Henry put the swastika branding iron back into the red, glowing coals. Ernie kept punching his rock hard manrod into Shivonne's soft pink feminine depths.

"No rush, Henry."

There are limits to even the toughest bitch's resistance. Henry felt a hot shower of Shivonne's urine bathe his balls as she lost bladder control, quaking and moaning in fevered fear and pain. Her fear sweat commingled pleasantly in his nostrils with the smell of well-cooked meat and fresh piss. He breathed deeply, enjoying hugely the traditional stench of the torture chamber.

Henry removed the glowing swastika from the embers. As she felt the heat mounting against her buttock, poor shivering Shivonne lost bowel control, squeezing out a series of turd snakes that slithered out from between her quaking buns, down the back of her quivering thighs and plopped onto the floor. She ground her pelvis hard against Ernie's as the swastika hissed and sizzled against her exposed ass cheek.

"One more cheek to go, Henry."

Henry re-heated the branding iron. Shivonne shook like a leaf in a windstorm, waiting for the searing pain. As she felt the heat of it drawing near, she tensed her buns, clamping down hard on Ernie's diamond cutter pounding between her legs. As Henry touched the glowing red swastika to her tightly clenched buttock, Ernie grunted ecstatically, fire-hosing cum into her cunt. Shivonne bucked violently as he came and, at last, she fainted.

Still spread-eagled, Shivonne came to, coughing from the smelling salts, her back and buns on fire, throbbing agonizingly, white-hot pain that just wouldn't quit. Her well-reamed cunt burned between her legs. White, sticky cum dribbled down her inner thighs. She opened her eyes. Henry's smirking face was inches from her own. She glanced down and found that he was unzipping his thick, stiff, heavily veined, cunt-reaming tool.

He squatted down and picked one of her turds up off the floor. Shivonne threw her head back and screamed, jerking violently as he stood close and rubbed it into the swastikas burned into her flesh. His hands massaged her burning back and kneaded her throbbing buttocks. She crushed her warm, soft breasts against his chest as she frantically arched away from his pressing hands. His purple knob had a glistening, milky dewdrop on the tip. He pressed it urgently against her bruised and swollen cuntlips, his slick knob parting her tender female flesh with ease.

"A good infection will make those swastikas really stand out."

Sobbing brokenly, she whimpered as he jammed his thick, veined sausage into her cunt and came almost immediately, adding to the thick white jism oozing from her swollen slit and dribbling down the inside of her thighs.

He unshackled her and hustled Shivonne over to the Pig Pens. The newly constructed concrete survivalist bunker was a full facility, including breeding pens. The Pig Pens were being slowly populated with 'genetically superior' (Ernie's term for good-looking) members of the lesser breeds to be bred (Ernie-speak for fucked) to provide servants for the Master Race. The Pig Pens were divided up according to Ernie's somewhat skewed view of the universe with separate sections for Asian, Black, Semitic and White Trash Breeders. The men of the Aryan Masters were encouraged to 'purify' these lesser races by mating to produce as many 'half-breed' slaves as possible; half-breeds fortified with good ole Aryan DNA. This was a popular program with the redneck horndogs who ordinarily wouldn't have a chance at top quality fuckmeat.

Although hosed down regularly, the rutting Breeders in the Pig Pens smelt like dripping cunts. Each Breeder reeked of the cathouse, emitting a hormonally overripe combination of dead fish and overheated cat piss. There was no mistaking their role in the Aryan Master universe. They looked like whores. They smelled like cunts. They talked like fear-trained guttersluts. They fucked like minks.

Wearing only her police hat and black combat boots, Shivonne was trotted to her stall at the beginning of the Black section, next to the Semitic section. She stared unbelievingly through the railings at the row of nude beauties lying on their backs, masturbating shamelessly, their bare bums parked in slimy pools of cunt juice and cum. Henry unlocked the gate to Shivonne's stall. He pushed her in and kicked her to her knees.

From all around her came the sound of guttersluts groaning in orgasm. He shackled her ankles to widespread ringbolts set in the cement floor. A heavy chain was padlocked around her neck. The other end was padlocked to a ringbolt on the floor by a few short links, forcing her to bend over and rest her forehead on the floor with her legs spread wide. He took a hose and sprayed ice-cold water over her exposed crotch until Shivonne was shivering, her nipples erect from the cold.

"Reach between your legs and masturbate. From now on, you're a Breeder. Fucking is all that you're good for. I want you wet and ready to open your fuckhole to your masters at any time. If you're awake, you have four options: you're either whacking off, being fucked, squeezing out a new servant for the Master Race or screaming in punishment."

He adjusted the security camera so that it was focussed on her crotch.

"Every Breeder masturbates for the camera. The guards monitor the cameras closely. If your stiff clit isn't clearly visible, if your cuntlips aren't fully distended, if you aren't wet and ready, a warm wet willing wench waiting to be fucked, with her mind firmly focussed on what's between her legs, you'll be punished. Unless you want the soles of your feet branded, get those fingers stroking, bitch."

He slapped her on the rump, hitting the brand dead centre. Shivonne squealed in pain.

"NOW!!!"

Shivonne started frantically massaging her clit. He waited until she had teased it out of hiding and it was stiff and erect for all to see. He gestured at a row of water bottles.

"Suck on those if you get thirsty. Conversation is forbidden. You speak only when spoken to. Do you understand?"

Shivonne nodded.

"Yes."

He slapped her rump hard. Shivonne gasped.

"Yes, MASTER!! Understand, cunt?"

Shivonne barked out her reply like a marine recruit on parade.

"YES, MASTER!"

Unlimited access to the Pig Pens was one of the privileges of membership in the Aryan Masters, a privilege Henry made full use of. Henry pulled out his dick and went to the next stall where a dark haired Jewish girl with big breasts was sweating in ecstasy, on her back, legs spread wide, fondling herself shamelessly. He had personally selected Daphne's revealing costume: thigh-high, black, seamed stockings with spike-heeled fuck-me pumps and long elbow-length opera gloves. Her black, studded dog collar, chained to a ringbolt embedded in the floor, completed her fetching ensemble. Her long black hair was fanned out, spread like a carpet beneath her bare back and buttocks. She gasped as Henry unceremoniously plugged himself in and started humping her warm, wet fuckhole, enjoying the feel of her large erect nipples rubbing against his chest.

Daphne went into action reflexively, a thoroughly trained Breeder. Her tongue snaked into his mouth. Her wet cunt squeezed his dick tightly. Her small, gloved hands caressed and fondled him skilfully. Henry grinned as her humped her hot hole.

"Lucky you! I'm in a Semitic mood, cunt."

Stroking herself all day was easy. Daphne had more difficulty accepting that, to the Aryan Masters, she and the Arabs were lumped together indiscriminately as 'Semitic'.

"You smell like a whore, Jew-girl."

"I am a fucking god-damn whore, master."

Daphne had been one snotty, smart-assed bitch in high school, a gorgeous honour student humiliating slow-thinking rednecks like Henry by her very existence. In high school, she had only looked at him pityingly, like he was some sort of moronic sub-human. He had overheard her suggest to her friends that she was going to tell the Biology teacher that she had discovered the Missing Link, looking at him significantly. Their derisive giggles still lingered in his memory.

When she moved back to town after graduating Summa Cum Laude from university, Henry had delighted in stalking and capturing her to serve in the Pig Pens. He loved putting the once-proud beauty in her place.

"Wrong again, fuckhead. You're lower than a whore. Whores get paid. You get nothing."

"I get paid in peckersnot and the privilege of conversation with you, master."

He fucked her at every opportunity. Daphne wasn't exactly a smart-mouthed brainiac anymore. Spending every waking hour with her heavy lidded eyes glazed with lust, she diddled herself to orgasm after orgasm when she wasn't putting out for Henry and his buddies. This had definitely dropped her IQ a few points and kept what remained of her mind firmly focussed on what was throbbing between her legs.

Despite the fact that he and his buddies spent a lot of time fucking her stupid and pounding respect into her, Henry hadn't quite liked the sound of Daphne's last statement. Determined to carve the snot out of her, Henry studied her pretty face carefully for any sign of insolence. He saw none, but slapped her hard on principle. Her long hair flew as he slapped her forehand and backhand. Her cheeks flamed red as she stuttered her apologies, eyes brimming with tears.

"Thank you, master. I'm extremely sorry if I, a worthless grovelling second-rate fuckslut, gave offence. I won't let it happen again."

Henry grunted in satisfaction as he unloaded inside her. Henry stood up and zipped up. Daphne dutifully went back to masturbating, his semen seeping from her slit to pool on the plastic mattress underneath her sweating buttocks.

On his way out, he paused to watch an extremely pregnant Eurasian beauty squatting over a bowl, squeezing out thick moist turds under the watchful eyes of a handler. The fucksluts of the Pig Pen were only permitted to pee and poop at specified times. Any deviation was punished. Henry supervised his high school buddy Daphne a lot, testing her bladder and bowel control daily, making her beg and plead for the privilege of voiding her bladder and bowels while everyone watched, listened and wrinkled their noses.

The pregnant ones often had a big struggle to hold in their piss until permitted to empty their child-compressed, foetus-kicked bladders. After almost a year in the Pig Pen, being fucked over 24/7, the Eurasian girl knew the drill. Every trace of dignity and self-respect had been carved out of her.

The Eurasian beauty's lovely face dripped sweat as the gravid girl squatted like a sumo wrestler. Her hands were clasped together, fingers interlaced behind her head, elbows pulled back to lift her heavy breasts, her bulging belly hanging out in front over her shaven cunt. She looked up pleadingly at her handler.

"Please, master! I know that I'm a worthless, knocked-up, butt-stupid bitch, unworthy of the smallest consideration. Although you have graciously allowed me to shit myself in front of everybody, I still need to piss quite badly. May I? Please? Please? Pretty please???"

Her handler kept her waiting, squatting like a toad, the surrounding men looking down on her, smirking and sniggering at her obvious discomfort and distress. Her pretty toes curled as she strained to contain herself, while he carefully considered her request. Her bulging belly moved as her unborn slave-child kicked and squirmed restlessly inside her. As her foetus bounced, pounding her bladder with its tiny fists like a boxer working a punching bag, the Eurasian beauty licked her lips and her sweating face took on a look of ever more agonized concentration.

An expression of pure bliss suffused her features as, at a word from her handler, she was finally permitted to empty her bursting bladder. Yellow rain splattered noisily into the basin beneath her. The ring of men surrounding her laughed derisively.

She brokenly expressed her gratitude.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you for having mercy on a valueless cumslut, master!"

It was always pleasant to see a pretty girl who knew her place. Henry chuckled in delight and went off to consult with Ernie about their plans for world conquest. He had lots of ideas for fucking over the lesser breeds. Perhaps they could recapture Star and add her to the White Trash section. In his opinion, that bitch definitely needed the snot carved out of her. A long session in the Pig Pens was definitely indicated. He wondered if they could track down those fucking Arabs for a good ass kicking. Perhaps they could kill two birds with one stone. He felt pretty sure that Montana Neo-Nazis could beat the ragheads and take their women.

He wondered what fucking a belly dancer would be like.