Getting Away With Murder – Chapter 3

The first thing Isabella became aware of was the cold air on her nipples.

She groaned, lifting her head and blinking the bleary fog from her eyes. She was kneeling on a hard wooden floor, arms bound behind her in cold chains, and wrists locked together in overly tight cuffs… her own handcuffs, probably. She was naked. A shiver passed through her as a breeze passed between her thighs and tickled at her shaved pussy.

It came back to her all at once. Grant’s confession, the plan with Zahira, and the betrayal. Grant smirking down at her as she laid helpless in Zahira’s lap. The pain as he knocked her out with her own goddamn gun. Her eyes shot wide open as adrenaline flooded her veins. She scrambled to her feet with a grunt of effort, the chain rattling as she stood and turned a quick circle, taking in her surroundings. Wooden walls, dusty cardboard boxes, a single window blocked by a thick curtain. She saw warm light leaking around a door opposite the window, and heard approaching footsteps.

Bright light flooded the room as Grant stepped inside and flicked the switch by the door, causing Isabella to flinch back and squint. He had changed into fresh clothes, a well-fitting dress shirt and slacks, and he smiled at her as he rolled his sleeves up and stepped further into the room.

“Well, well, Detective,” he mused, reaching a hand out. She danced away from him with a snarl, the chain rattling above her, and he chuckled under his breath. “What’s wrong? I thought we were really making a connection there… You don’t like me anymore?”

“Get the fuck away from me,” Isabella hissed. He took a step forwards and she lashed out with a leg, screaming in frustration, only for him to catch her kick easily under his arm and pull. She roared as she was dragged closer, kicking and screaming with every inch, until finally his calloused hand wrapped around her breast and gave the olive flesh a firm squeeze.

“No, I don’t think I will,” he said, his thumb rubbing circles around her dark nipple. “I’m going to get to know you very well, Detective. Maybe you’ll even learn a few things about yourself, hm?”

She drew her head back and spat in his face. “Next time I decide to kill you I won’t hesitate, you disgusting son of a bitch!”

He didn’t flinch. He wiped her spit from his cheek slowly, considering it for a moment. “No, detective. I don’t wager you would.” Then he balled his hand into a fist and drove it into her gut, knocking the breath from her lungs. He dropped her leg and grabbed her throat instead, squeezing tight while she gasped for air. Veins bulged in his forearm as he looked directly into her eyes, drawing back his other hand. “Unfortunately… you’re too late.” He rammed his hand forward, punching her again and again, ignoring her strained yelps. She felt something crack, a sudden intense pain flaring in her chest, her lips parting in a silent scream when he grabbed her breast and pulled so hard that for a moment she feared he’d rip it straight off her chest.

He let go all at once, turning and walking away with his hands on his hips as she fell limply to her knees. That bastard just stood over her, running his hand through his hair and shaking his head. “That look of hatred in your eyes, detective… I rather love it.”

Isabella finally caught her breath, coughing and groaning as she struggled back to her feet. She hated him, but she hated how helpless she was even more. She knew he wouldn’t kill her until he was convinced he’d broken her. If she just put on a strong face and kept her chin up, she could survive until someone at the department realized they were missing and went looking.

“Grant? Is she awake?”

Isabella’s chest tightened. She looked up, spotting Zahira’s slender silhouette in the doorway. Her old partner was topless, the Indian girl’s tits on full display. Her cheeks and breasts were flushed nearly violet, with teeth marks around her nipples and neck hinting at how the two of them might have spent their time while waiting for her to wake up. Zahira’s normally well-kept hair had been mussed up and hung free, the long dark locks framing her petite face and streaming down over her shoulders.

“W-why?” Isabella asked, tears welling in her eyes. Memories rushed through her head—long nights alone staking out suspected hideouts, lunch breaks by the bay watching the ships float past while they discussed a tough case, countless hours of pointless, stupid, endearing conversation as they drove around the city. They’d been partners for years and they’d never once discussed men. She’d even begun to think that maybe one day—

“You wouldn’t understand, Isabella.” Zahira stepped into the room with a dreamy smile, walking into Grant’s extended arm and biting her lip as he idly squeezed her breast. “Hey sweetheart.”

“Hey yourself,” he said with a smirk.

Isabella stared at her. “…Try me, here…” she growled out.

Zahira snorted. “Do you know how hard it was for me, working this case?” she asked with a small smile. “How… distracting… I found it? When we found those women chained up and turned into dead fuckmeat over and over again, I was horrified, yes… but I was also—” she shrugged, her tits bouncing with the movement “—intrigued.”

“Intrigued?” Isabella echoed. “Zahira, what the fuck! He raped them to death! And h-he intends to do the same thing to me!”

Zahira smirked, leaning her head into Grant’s shoulder. “Like I said, you wouldn’t understand. You’re a lesbian, aren’t you? I’ve seen how you look at me sometimes, and I admit I’ve been a little interested, but my barn door swings both ways. And you know what really gets me excited?” She sighed, bringing a hand up to grab Grant’s hind as he pinched her nipple between his thumb and index finger. “Two things. A man that takes what he wants, when he wants, and doesn’t care what anyone thinks about him. And the thought of you crying and begging for your life.”

“You can’t be serious.” Isabella gaped, looking from Zahira’s flustered face to Grant’s smug grin and back. She shook her head, her voice rising to a frustrated scream as she stood and lunged forwards, pulling fiercely at her chains. “He’s going to fucking kill me! He’ll probably kill you, too! Zahira! Stop thinking with your cunt and put this motherfucker in cuffs!”

Zahira purred as she smirked at her partner. “No, detective. I’m not his type like that.” She put her hand on his cock hardening in his pants. “I want this… I’m not fun for him. Unlike you.” She shuddered a little bit.

Isabella stared at her. “It was you…” she gasped. “You ruined that evidence. You threatened the witnesses. You did this…”

The topless accomplice made a humming, purring sound. “It was so easy,” she said with a smile. “No one suspected anything. Just a few notes nailed to people’s doors, a few samples left out a few hours or dropped… by far the hardest part was Samantha.” Her teeth were bright white in her smile. “Not drugging her tea or getting her to drink it, or putting her gun in her mouth. The hard part was not having fun with her first, because if I had someone might have figured out the dyke slut didn’t kill herself…”

Isabella’s eyes were wide. “How… could you!” she gasped.

Grant chuckled, kissing the top of Zahira’s head. “You’re wasting your breath, Detective. She knows what she wants, and it isn’t a dyke cop with no concept of work-life balance.” He began to unbutton his shirt, fingers moving deftly from one button to the next and revealing the firm muscle beneath. “She wants to live… to know what it’s like to live the way I do. To kill, fuck, and play your way through life and never settle for anything less. To take a tough bitch like yourself and reduce her to her true nature as a whore. Which is exactly what we’re about to do to you.”

Isabella shrieked, trying to kick at him again. “You rapist son of a bitch! I’ll bite your balls off and shove them down your throat!”

Grant stepped back, pulling Zahira away with him. He slid his shirt off his shoulders and began to undo his belt. “Zahira, grab the Detective’s phone, would you?”

“Yes, sir!” Zahira gave him one last squeeze before stepping bouncily to the corner where Isabella’s clothes had been discarded, bending down and pulling out a small smartphone. She turned it towards Isabella, the light blinking near the top indicating she’d started recording.

“Now, Isabella, we’re going to start out simple.” Grant began to circle her, letting his pants fall to the floor and stepping out of them without breaking stride. She tried turning to face him, only for him to grab her shoulder, holding her in place and cracking his belt sharply across her tight, tanned ass.

“Nngh, fuck!” Isabella yelled, back arching from the sudden pain. “Touch me again, you—aagh!”

The belt whipped her again, cutting off her taunt, and then again. He squeezed her shoulder painfully hard, keeping her from pulling away, beating her ass raw while she fought to keep her voice steady. There was a brief respite where she thought he was done, only for her eyes to bulge in shock when he began to whip her with the buckle, the hard metal breaking her smooth skin and leaving her gasping for breath.

Finally he stepped back, letting her fall to her knees with a groan. Thin curtains of blood dripped down her back, pooling in the dimples just above her ass before outlining the curves of her tight, raw buttocks. He nodded in satisfaction as she panted, hanging limply from the chains above her, and slid his boxers down to reveal his hard cock.

Isabella stared at his dick in horror and disgust. The horrible thing jutted out from his body like a knife, just as solid and just as lethal. She’d spent hours in a room with him as he described it and what he did with it, over and over again, and yet her imagination of the cruel tool between his legs still fell far short of the wretched truth.

Grant grabbed her hair and hauled her to her feet, pulling her back against his chest so she could feel his meat slide into place between her ass cheeks. She cringed as he licked the sweat off her cheek, squeezing her throat tight and whispering into her ear. “I’ve been waiting for this, detective… longer than you know. Every time I spoke in that interrogation room, every time I saw you in the courtroom, this is what I was thinking about. I’m going to fuck you now. And you see that?” He turned her head forcefully to where Zahira stood recording them, one hand playing with her breasts as she watched. “Once we’re done here, we’ll post it on your Facebook, Twitter, whatever other pointless social media you have. Your friends, family, and co-workers will get to see you cum on my cock and beg for your life — all in high definition. They’ll take it down, of course… but nothing is ever really gone once it’s on the internet. You’ll get to live forever in a way. Isn’t that nice?” He bit her ear, giving it a sharp tug that made her tense against him, but she pursed her lips, refusing to cry out.

More amused than annoyed by her resistance, Grant grabbed her hips and pushed her forwards, pulling her ass towards him. He sighed as he rubbed his shaft between her bloodied buttocks for a few seconds before lining his bulbous cockhead up with her pussy and beginning to press forwards.

Isabella kept her eyes forwards, jaw clenched and lips trembling as she felt him push against her. She wouldn’t break. She wouldn’t cry. She would bide her time, savoring every ounce of pain just so she could unleash it on him once she was free. She closed her eyes and grimaced as his hands squeezed her hips and caressed the small of her back, all while his cock forced its way painfully inside her.

A man was inside her. He was inside her. A deep, body-shaking nausea welled inside her. She hadn’t been interested in men since before she knew what sex was, and now she was being raped, that bastard forcing himself in her body. Isabella wanted to scream in sheer outrage and hatred, wanted to vomit in sheer disgust, wanted to cry in sheer degradation. Instead, she swallowed the bile back down, focusing on the physical hurt of her dry folds being split open inch by inch, because even thinking about the pain was better than thinking about how disgusting what was being done to her was.

Grant hunched over her, groaning above her, letting her hear just how much her body pleasured him. Truthfully, he wasn’t getting much out of it… yet. Her cunt was dry and tight, and each thrust of his hips chafed against him as much as it did against her. But he could see how much she hated it, how she desperately wanted to not give him what he was taking at the very moment, and that made it worth it.

Don’t give him what he wants. Don’t…

He kicked her feet apart and slid a hand between her thighs, rubbing slow, insistent circles over her clit. The movement made her muscles tense against him, betraying the pleasure he was forcing upon her, and he smirked. “You can play coy if you like, detective… but women are born to be bred whether they like it or not. And you’re no exception.”

She clenched her jaw, tears welling in her eyes as she felt her womanhood begin to flush, lubricating itself for her rapist’s pleasure. Her whole body shuddered with the shame of it, her chest tightening as she fought to repress her sobs. He worked his hips in short, easy thrusts, wetting his cock with her juices and sliding deeper half an inch at a time, his quiet huffs of excitement filling her with disgust.

She couldn’t take it.

Isabella screamed, thrashing against him with every limb. She lashed out with her elbows, kicked and stomped, threw her head back—anything to get him out, but he was so much stronger. He grabbed her throat and hugged her tight as his cock hilted inside her, his groin meeting her tight ass cheeks with a resounding slap. She whimpered, going limp in his grasp as he squeezed her neck harder. “There we go. There’s no point in fighting, is there? You see.” Grant kissed her ear, pulling his hips back and then pressing in once more. His cock slid easily inside her, her tight cunt squeezing reflexively around him. “Though surely you aren’t giving up already?”

She responded with another wordless scream, bucking against him like a wild bronco, her nails digging into his flesh, but all her struggles did was entice him further. He could feel her heart racing as he palmed her breast and squeezed the springy flesh, leaving pale finger-shaped imprints behind. He felt her fear with the rhythmic throbbing of her pussy around his cock and her rapid, short breaths. And every time he thought maybe she’d finally given in for good she would suddenly cry out and redouble her efforts, wailing and shouting and cursing and kicking, all pointless vain attempts to stop him from using her like the worthless fucktoy he saw her as.

Zahira had pulled her panties down in her excitement, plunging her free hand earnestly into her soaked pussy, her pretty brown eyes glued to the video of her own partner being raped right in front of her. “Oh, fuck,” she panted, breasts heaving, “this is so hot.”

“Zahira!” Isabella shrieked, voice breaking. “Get him the fuck off me!”

Zahira licked her lips. She pulled her finger out of her cunt and stuck it in her mouth, sucking the juices off as she stepped closer. She knelt down, getting a closeup of Grant’s cock mercilessly plunging into Isabella with loud, wet slaps. The detective’s shaved pussy was flushed red, the little pink nub of her clit exposed to the open air. Sweat dripped down the swollen lips, mixing in with her unwilling arousal and Grant’s precum, trickling down the inside of her thighs in a frothy mix. “I think he’s doing a pretty good job of getting off in you himself…” she chuckled.

Zahira moved the camera phone higher, playing it up Isabella’s smooth belly and past her perky, bouncing tits, her brown nipples stiff and the skin pebbled with goosebumps. She went higher still, to Isabella’s slender throat gripped tight in Grant’s palm, and finally to her face, her eyes wide and watery, cheeks red with shame, lips parted to let out strained little gasps of pain and anger.

“Z-Zahira,” Isabella whispered, grunting as Grant smacked into her with a deep, hard thrust. “Please.”

“Oh, Bella.” Zahira smiled, grabbing one of Isabella’s hands and playing idly with her fingers. “I’m going to enjoy this so much.” Without warning, she grabbed one of Isabella’s fingers and pushed.

Zahira let out a giggle, and the tiny bone snapped. Isabella gaped a silent scream, her eyes bulging and muscles tensing in pain. Grant grunted, his rhythm interrupted by the sudden powerful squeezing of Isabella’s pussy around his girth, holding him in so tight that he couldn’t even pull out. Then she screamed, shrill and loud, her pussy relaxing and her voice bouncing with every brutal thrust of Grant’s cock deep into her cunt. “Zahira! F-fuck! Why?!”

Rather than answer, Zahira just bit her lip and grabbed another finger. She started higher this time, breaking it one joint at a time, rolling it up backwards like a tube of toothpaste. Isabella’s screams went up an octave, her voice breaking and her legs kicking. Grant clenched his jaw and tightened his hold on the panicked slut, one hand around her belly hugging her to his chest while the other squeezed her throat until her screams died to hoarse croaks. He lifted her off the ground so she had nothing to push off, her legs jerking wildly as he bounced her on his cock.

“I almost came when he described this in the interrogation room,” Zahira admitted. She didn’t slow down at all… her hands moving from knuckle to knuckle, finger to finger, keeping the camera trained on Isabella’s agonized face the entire time. “Wouldn’t that have been a way to blow my cover, huh?” Each little snap made her clench anew around Grant’s member, so tight that he could hear the squelch of their mess being squeezed out and feel the hot froth dripping down his balls. He began to time his thrusts, slamming balls deep before each pained spasm, groaning with the sensation of his entire length gripped tight in her slick, velvety pussy. He’d pull out with a snort of exertion, Isabella’s cunt rippling across his shaft, then slam back home right before Zahira broke another finger to start the cycle again.

Isabella lost all sense of time. She didn’t know how long she spent flailing on Grant’s cock, her wrists chained above her, her back arched against him, tits jutting forwards and nipples at attention. She barely had the presence of mind to count how many finger bones she had left to break. She lived in the moment, lances of agony driven into her adrenaline-flooded mind with each little crack, the white-hot awareness interspersed with rhythmic jolts of aching pleasure from her abused cunt as the pain faded, only to return even sharper with the next joint snapped in two. She was an animal, her shame forgotten in her panic, her usually stoic brown eyes screwed up and fluttering as her face twisted in pain.

Grant kept count, though. He grinned down at Zahira, holding her gaze as she worked her way across Isabella’s left hand. The pressure built deep in his sack by the time Isabella’s middle finger was rolled up, and he felt it build and rise with each clench and thrust. He snorted, gnashing his teeth, his thrusts strengthening until he was pounding Isabella with brutal, long bucks of his hips, balls swaying beneath him, his cockhead pummeling the entrance to the detective’s womb. He began to lose focus, his grip on her throat tightening until the whore lost consciousness, her eyes rolling back and her hoarse screams fading to dumb, animal moans… but even in the throes of asphyxiation her body reacted to Zahira’s torture, squeezing and flexing and massaging his cock towards a powerful orgasm.

Grant let out a deep, almost pained groan as he came, pressing his dick against Isabella’s cervix as his balls jumped up. His shaft flexed inside her, pumping powerful ropes of virile white cum in her most precious, private place, painting her insides with his seed and claiming her as his own for the rest of her life. He huffed, balls churning, immersed in the primal satisfaction and shuddering ecstasy of breeding a strong woman that would’ve sooner killed herself than be made his slut.

Finally he relaxed, stepping back and letting his cock flop out of her abused pussy. Isabella crumpled, the chains around her wrists the only thing holding her on her knees, a thick curtain of cum leaking down the curve of her ass as she swayed limply from her bindings as she struggled to catch her breath. “B—b—b—” she coughed out. Grant smiled at her… Then he shot forward and brought his fist right up into her stomach.

Isabella gasped, the detective’s eyes going wide as Grant’s fist smashed into her and robbed her of the air she had just been struggling to recover. The cop had always been used to being in control, but now she was chained and unable to even get enough air. His second fist smashed into the side of her head with a meaty thud that sent her sprawling on her ass with an agonized sound of pain, her head spinning from the violent assault.

“Get the fuck up bitch,” he spat. “Not so tough without a pistol in your hand, are you?”

Isabella tried to look back up at him, her vision swimming… but she was so dazed she didn’t even see it coming when Grant charged forward and kicked her square in the back, his booted foot slamming into her spine and forcing a tortured cry out of her as she fell forwards. Without her hands to catch her, the detective’s pretty face smashed down against the ground in front of her. “Dumb bitch,” Grant mocked. He stepped over her and grabbed her by the pony tail, painfully yanking on her body. “You stuck up, man hating…”

He used her hair as a handhold to smash her skull into the ground in front of her, driving her head against the hard floor like a hammer as he kept her dazed body pinned. Her fat tits squashed flat against the ground, bulging outward. “Dumb!” he growled as he made her grunt and whine and whimper as he bounced the detective’s empty head off the hardwood. “Fucking!” he snarled as he yanked on her hair, pulling her up only to slam her down again. “Dyke!” Her nose broke on the second blow and blood began to pour down her gorgeous face as he beat her senseless, showing the cop she was just as weak and pathetic as any other rapebait slut. “Cunt!”

He let the exhausted, beaten cop fall back down to the ground as he let go of her, tears leaking from her eyes. “What’s the matter, Detective Santiago? Not going to execute me now? Not going to hope your plunger is the real one now? Wanna try and intimidate me now, cunt? You don’t sound so cocky anymore…” Grant brought his foot between Isabella’s legs like he was punting a football, the sickening whump filling the room as his foot collided with her raped cunt only drowned out by the high pitched screech that came from Isabella.

Isabella laid there in pain, letting out weak little noises until Grant gripped her hair again and yanked on it like a leash, pulling the beaten cop up onto her feet. Isabella wanted so badly to fight back, to struggle, but her cuffed hands were balls of liquid agony and her lungs burned. Before she could even try to put up a fight, Grant had reared back his fist again and slammed it right into her stomach, forcing the air from her lungs once more and making her double over in agony. Only his hand on her hair kept her up. “Every time you wore your uniform I couldn’t stop thinking about your tits,” Grant admitted. His next punch flattened her right tit and Isabella howled in pain. The man’s fist slammed into her left breast next, knuckles driving deep inside and filling her with agony. “Every time I wanted to do just this… your tits are my fucking punching bags, you dyke trash!”

Grant began beating his fists into her breasts with rapid punches as he held her in place by her hair. All Isabella could do squirm and let out grunts and cries as her big breasts were treated like punching bags by the murderer in front of her, his fists connecting with each one with brutal smacks that made them bounce and jiggle on her chest. Isabella tried to stop herself from screaming as the fists smacked into her breasts but the agony was getting worse and worse with each heavy blow to her tits. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smacksmacksmackscmacksmack…

The captive cop could only struggle not to sob as her tits were beaten into one big bruise by her captor. His fist slammed into her tits over and over as he laughed at her, taking time out from his brutal beating of her tits to smash his fist into her face. Grant hit her right in her broken nose and made her head snap back sharply, her world spinning again. Her eyes began to roll back and her jaw went a little slack as his fists rammed into her body again and again.

“This is a great video…” Zahira moaned, holding up the phone and fingering herself as Isabella’s head lolled back and forth in agony from the repeated blows. “Make an example of that dyke bitch… teach her what sluts like her are really good for…”

“Zahira… I’ll… get free… and kick… kick… k—kick your goddamn… a— Agh!” Isabella slurred out only for Grant to smash her face with a right hook, her head snapping to the side and blood spraying from her cut lip and nose.

“Fuck that’s hot,” the corrupt cop moaned. “Best be careful, though… she’ll be less fun if she’s brain dead.”

“This dumb dyke slut is already brain dead,” Grant laughed before delivering another volley of blows to Isabella’s breasts, his fists slamming forward again and again as he beat the arrogant cop slut brutally. Each heavy blow forced soft cries and screams out of Isabella as he beat her breasts savagely, blood and tears flowing down her arrogant face as she was treated like nothing but a fat titted punching bag. As she hung there in Grant’s grip, suspended by her hair, sobbing weakly and sniffling like a pathetic piece of street meat with her pimp for the first time, her rapist grabbed her by her chin and tilted her head to look at him. “Aww, Isabella… are you crying? Is the big bad detective crying because the scary man was too mean to her?”

Isabella glared at him as defiantly as she could with tears in her eyes. She spat at his face, but it didn’t make it further than landing on her own tits. “F—fuck you, you sick animal,” she spat. Grant’s fist smashed into the side of her face again and he let go of her as she did, sending her sprawling onto the ground with a dull moan.

“Oh, you will, bitch,” Grant promised her. “You’re going to spend the rest of your life doing just that. Now, you mouthy slut, I’m going to teach you exactly what that fucking hole in your face is for.” She heard Grant moving around for a bit before he gripped her once more by the hair and yanked her up onto her knees. His cock was stained with blood, his cum, and her juices… right in front of her face, the thick, massive monster looked even more threatening that it had felt inside her cunt. He was already rock hard and eager to stuff her mouth.

As she stared at it in horror and disgust, her eyes focused on him, her features contorting into rage. “If you put that near my mouth I’ll bite it the fuck off,” she snarled. “Don’t you fuc—”

She was interrupted when he punched her again. “Hey Zee,” he said as Isabella felt him begin pushing a ring gag into her mouth. “What do you tell a dyke with two black eyes?”

“Nothing,” Zahira smirked. “You already told her twice.”

“Damn right,” Grant said as he tightened the gag’s band behind her head. “This is me being merciful, bitch. If you bit me, I’d have to spend the next few hours knocking out every last one of your teeth… and then I’d rape your throat anyway. This way, we get to skip that. Say thank you.”

“Guuuh fuuuuuuuufh yuuuuusef, baaahsta— URK!” Isabella had barely started her response when Grant shut her up. Showing no regard for what this mouthy little cop whore was trying to say, he decided to put that mouth of hers to good use and force his thick monster of a cock into her mouth. Isabella winced as his bloodstained dick scraped over her tongue, forcing her to lick it clean with sheer friction as he silenced her with his meat, her mouth used as nothing but a hole for him to slam his cock into. Isabella let out a gagging choking sound and he laughed. “Man you sound pathetic, Isabella. Was your mommy proud when you became a detective? Do you think she’d be proud now, if she could hear how pathetic you sound gagging on a cock you dumb dyke?”

Grant gripped Isabella’s skull like he was trying to crush it in his hands, and he shoved her down to the balls on his dick. Muscles bulging with the effort, the rapist worked to jam every last inch of his thick cock straight down the startled and spluttering Latina’s hot little throat, to give her the skullraping that she’d had coming her entire bitchy, man-hating life. “Oh fuck yes! Give my cock a tongue bath, you stuck up cop cunt!”

“GLACGH GLACKGH GLUCKGH!” Isabella choked and gagged around the thick behemoth of a cock that had been forced straight down her throat, stuffing her utterly. For all her life, since the very first time she had even heard of a blowjob, the idea had disgusted her… the act was the most horrific, most disgusting, more degrading thing she could imagine. Now it was happening to her in the most brutal fashion she could imagine, making her eyes go wide in shock and disgust and pain as her throat bulged outward. She couldn’t even clench her broken hands into fists for the pitiful comfort that might bring. Grant clearly didn’t give a shit if Isabella passed out from the pain and lack of air… the way he saw it, he was just using her mouth for what every man who’d had to suffer listening to this bitch had always wanted to do with it, teaching the stuck-up cop the lesson she’d needed all her life.

“That’s what this fucking mouth is for!” he growled. “Not spouting your bullshit or acting like some tough bitch… you’re nothing but a fuckhole, Isabella. Nothing but a hole for me to plug my cock into, like every other dyke… a badge and a gun doesn’t change that!” Grant slammed balls deep again and again, raping the detective’s hot little throat and relishing the sloppy, wet gargling and puking sounds her throat made as his cock impaled its way down her untrained neck. The forced choking sounds would be amazing for the camera, painting a perfect picture of her degradation while he slammed his shaft down her throat. “You might not know how to suck a cock you dumb bitch, but I’m happy to give you the crash course!”

Isabella choked, puking up a thick, gooey mess all over Grant’s balls as she gagged. He didn’t care… he held her skull in place by her smooth dark hair and violently pumped his dick down her throat, his cock throbbing with the pleasure of forcing her to slobber and choke on his thick cock like a stupid whore. Flattening one hand on the back of her head, Grant punched it with the other, smashing his fist down and driving his cock down her gagging throat. Isabella desperately tried to pull away and be able to breathe. Her face was flushed and little cum bubbles blew out of the corners of her mouth and nose as she tried to suck down oxygen around his dick, pained tears streaming down her cheeks. The colossal cock forcing its way straight down her throat was rough enough to be agonizing even by itself, but when combined with the burning in her lungs it was overwhelming… and he just kept pummeling her gullet, giving it the stretching he had decided it needed. Isabella’s struggles didn’t matter… the handcuffed cop was forced to choke down a mix of her own saliva and the thick, creamy pre-cum of her rapist, his dick lodged to his balls down her neck. His spit-soaked nuts slapped her in the chin every time he bucked his hips forward to force that cock down her throat and each time he thrust his cock down towards her stomach he gave her a bone rattling skull jarring punch to the back of her skull.

“NGGUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHH! NUHHHHUUHHHHHUHHHHHHHH” Isabella gagged out the screaming sounds like a weak little whore as he crammed every last inch of that murderous cock straight down her neck, force-feeding the filthy muffdiving cunt a cock meal.

“Mmmmm,” Grant purred. “Dyke cop might not know how to suck cock for shit… but I’m still going to nut right down this tight socket.” He hammered further, staring down into her wide eyes. Isabella was screaming in horror, not realizing that all her yelling was doing was giving the man raping her throat even more pleasure as he humped faster and faster past her lips. His dick plunged in and out of her as he set out to make a mess in the cop’s mouth.

Isabella wanted to scream and protest and curse but all she could do was gurgle and choke, the detective reduced to nothing but a rapehole for the man she had hunted. Grant ignored her desperate gagging and squealing and started to shoot his thick cum straight down her throat, sending ropes and ropes of thick jizz down her clenching gullet. She was forced to choke most of it down, but some drooled out around his dick as he filled her throat to the brim with his cum. Isabella spluttered and choked as he force fed her his cum, making the spaced out dyke bitch choke down a mans spooge as her eyes rolled back into her head, tears streaming down her cheeks and mixing with the mess of jizz and drool she was expelling from her mouth and nostrils as she was used like a cum toilet, her lungs starting to give out of her.

“Not so tough now are you bitch?” Grant grunted as he held her down. “Drink it, dyke! That’s what your fucking mouth is for you stupid slut!” He mocked her as she was forced to swallow or choke to death. He slammed himself in a few more times down her gullet, making the Latina bitch kiss his balls as he rammed in and out of her cum-drooling mouth while his dick pulsed violently down her throat to fill her stomach up with his seed. A thick torrent of sticky, slimy cum exploded out of her mouth and nose as she violently puked on the cock that was shooting down her throat as she vomited up the thick, milky mess down onto her bruised tits and bare knees.

Her throat made a wet, sucking pop as he pulled out of her, breathing weakly as she collapsed to the ground… passed out around his cock. She was barely breathing, but Grant knew from experience he hadn’t killed her. She’d wake up soon enough, retching and shaking and covered in a cold sweat. It didn’t matter to him… he was done with her for the moment. “Come on,” he said, beckoning to Zahira and starting for the door. “I’m hungry. Make me some dinner.”

Zahira turned off the phone and shuddered with pleasure. “Yes sir…”

The door creaked open with a plaintive squeal. Zahira bit her lip, poking her head into the dark room that Isabella was doomed to spend the rest of her life in and smiling as she saw her. The abducted cop was leaned up against one of the walls, bonelessly limp, head down, the sweat of her first rapes still gleaming on her dark skin. It was the middle of summertime, and though the rest of the cabin — an old family property left to Zahira by her doting, dead grandparents — was well-ventilated with open windows and fans, the storage room Isabella was locked in had only a single door, firmly shut, locked, and sealed. It became a stuffy, choking hotbox in the day, one which Zahira had always loathed entering whenever she’d needed to help her grandpa find some old lost doodad. Now, however, her heart fluttered with excitement every time she thought of it.

Grant was sound asleep in the bedroom, his belly full and his balls drained by Zahira’s diligent service, and that meant she had some time to herself to play with their new toy. He wouldn’t mind, she was sure… as long as she didn’t break anything.

Zahira shut the door behind her with a gentle bump of her rear, one hand drifting up to tease her nipple as she flicked the light switch and stepped further inside. Grant’s cum was still warm in her womb from their post-dinner lovemaking, thick dollops occasionally sliding down the inside of her thigh when she moved. She leaned down in front of Isabella’s kneeling form, inspecting her. Her partner — former partner, she supposed — never had been one to wear much makeup, but there was enough to form ugly black trails over her cheeks from her tears. A band of ugly purple circled her slender neck, and bloodstains marred her back. Blood had dried on beneath her nose and lower lips, and her tits looked black, purple and swollen. The beginnings of black eyes were starting to show, and her wrists were still handcuffed behind her, but one of her hands was held protectively off to the side, its fingers broken and crumpled.

She had done that to her.

“Psst.” Zahira pressed her lips against Isabella’s forehead, licking the salty sweat from her skin. Her fingers pulled at the gag buckle, undoing it, pulling the ring from her slack mouth and letting it drop to the floor with a tinny ring. “Time to wake up, beautiful.”

“Nnngh.” Isabella groaned, pulling weakly away. “Z-Zahira?”

“Mmhmmm.” Zahira smiled, caressing Isabella’s smooth cheek. “I’m here now.”

“Are you—” Isabella coughed, wincing in pain. “Are you gonna let me go?”

Zahira’s smile widened. She cupped Isabella’s chin, pulling it up until their eyes met, then shook her head. “No.”

Isabella stared back stiffly. “Then why are you here?”

“I just felt like having some girl time, you know?” Zahira winked, revealing the gun she’d been hiding behind her back: a polished Beretta 92FS. Isabella’s gun. She stuck the barrel into Isabella’s face and gave it a little wave. “Open up, Izzy.”

Isabella didn’t react at first. She stared blankly at the gun, then up into Zahira’s pretty brown eyes. She thought of the disgusting sensation of Grant’s cock throbbing and flexing deep inside her, of the way she’d panicked and screamed and given him everything he’d wanted in her wild attempts at escape, and she was filled with a deep shame.

A part of her recognized the futility of it. What would be the point in fighting, in putting on some tough facade when there was video footage of her being raped like an animal? She’d lost all self-respect already, hadn’t she? But she was a proud woman, and she hated being told what to do. Isabella shook her head firmly, glaring a challenge at her old partner.

Zahira cocked her head. “No?” She pressed the gun barrel against Isabella’s lips, letting her feel the smooth, cold steel. Isabella’s brow hardened, but she didn’t say anything. A bullet to the skull was hardly a threat after what they’d already done to her. “Hmm.” Zahira straightened up, tapping the gun thoughtfully against her chin. “Oh! There’s an idea…”

She hummed to herself, strutting over to Isabella’s discarded clothes and bending over. Isabella couldn’t help but cringe when she saw the cum welling in her partner’s wet pussy. “You slept with him?”

“I made love to him,” Zahira said, straightening up. She held Isabella’s nightstick in her free hand.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Isabella growled. “You’re just an object to him, you know. He’s using you!”

Zahira answered by closing the distance with two long steps and swinging the nightstick hard into Isabella’s already agonized breasts. The abused cop screamed, and Zahira hit her again. “You’re the only one being used here, you cocky little slut. By both of us!” She scowled, walking behind Isabella while the bound officer gasped for breath, eyes wide after the punishing blow. Zahira hit her again, in the back this time, causing her to grunt in pain and arch her back. There was a jingling and a slight pull on her wrists, and Isabella fell forwards as she was unbound from the chain holding her cuffs in place.

Before she could even think of getting up to fight, though, Zahira was on top of her. The Indian woman grabbed the handcuffs tight as she planted a knee in the small of her back, grinding her breasts into the grimy floor and pinning her in place.

Isabella growled as her cheek was shoved into the floor, squirming under Zahira’s knee. “You’d better hold me tight, Zahira, cause I swear to God if you let me go I’ll put a fucking bullet through your skull!”

“Yeah, I’m sure you would. Now shut up!” Zahira smacked the nightstick across the back of Isabella’s toned thighs, causing her to tense and hiss with pain. “You’re gonna wake up Grant!”

“That’s what you’re fucking worried about? Really?” Isabella scoffed. “Guess I’ll fucking scream, then!” She drew in a breath — as deep as she could with her chest pinned between the hard floor and the knee in her back — only for Zahira to clamp a hand over her mouth.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll make you scream, all right,” she purred. “But not yet…”

Isabella snarled into Zahira’s hand, twisting her head about like a muzzled dog as the nightstick’s cold tip trailed down her back, around the tight curve of her buttocks, and came to a stop over her asshole. Isabella’s eyes widened, but too late. Zahira grunted as she shoved the nightstick forwards, pressing it against Isabella’s anus. Isabella cried out against her hand, kicking and squirming and bucking, but there was nothing she could do.

“Hold still, you stubborn cunt!” Zahira hissed, twisting the nightstick side to side. Isabella went stiff, focusing on clenching her asshole tight, her muscular ass bulging with the strain as fresh sweat broke out on her skin. But Zahira had leverage, and no matter how strongly Isabella fought, she was going to lose eventually.

Isabella screamed into her partner’s hand as the nightstick finally overwhelmed her, squeezing into her anus and sending a mind-numbing lance of pain up her spine. She thrashed like an animal, her shrieks muffled by Zahira’s hand as she was violated one agonizing inch at a time. Zahira sneered down at her from above, her bare nipples stiffening and her pussy swelling with arousal as she shoved the stick deeper still, careless of the dark red blood drooling down Isabella’s rippling thighs.

“Are you gonna be a good girl?” Zahira taunted, giving the stick another sadistic shove. “You gonna do what I say, or are you going to make me gut you with a fucking blunt object?” Isabella shook her head, her squirming redoubling. She’d be damned if she broke again, no matter the pain! She growled, snapping at Zahira’s hand as best she could with her teeth—

—and immediately fell to pieces again as Zahira forced three more inches of hard metal up her ass.

She couldn’t take it. Isabella’s chest heaved with a wretched sob as she rolled wildly under her old partner, a puddle forming between her thighs as she pissed herself.

“You had enough yet?” Zahira asked again. She let go of the nightstick, spanking Isabella’s ass and giving it a rough shake. “Ready to do what I say?” Isabella sobbed, going limp and offering a weak nod, and her partner smiled at her. “That’s a good girl. Kiss my hand,” Zahira said, leaning in. “Suck my fingers.”

Isabella had been battered around, beaten, raped, and given no time to recover and barely any time to rest… and as much as it shamed her, Isabella couldn’t take any more pain. She did as she was told, pressing her soft lips gingerly against Zahira’s palm and then accepting her slender fingers into her mouth. She caressed them with her tongue, suckling them gently until Zahira’s middle finger shoving itself down her throat and forcing a shuddering retch from her.

“Good girl.” Zahira stood up, leaving Isabella prone with half a nightstick shoved up her ass. She flipped her onto her back with one foot, grinning as the movement disturbed the nightstick and caused her to wince and hiss with fresh pain. “Now, open your mouth.”

Isabella opened her mouth. Zahira pushed the thick barrel of her gun inside, and Isabella wrapped her lips snug around it with a resigned groan. She closed her eyes, letting Zahira ease the gun in and out.

“Moan,” Zahira commanded, her free hand roaming down to finger herself. “You didn’t do a very good job sucking Grant off… I’m going to need to teach your dyke ass to do it properly. Use your tongue, slut… Suck it like you mean it!”

More tears dripped down Isabella’s cheeks as she forced out a husky moan, twisting her head side to side with quivering lips. She tongued the barrel, grimacing at the oily taste, her cheeks flushed a deep red with shame. Zahira slowly pumped the barrel of her pistol in and out, making her wince each time it scraped against her teeth or dug into part of her pallet for the long minutes while she tongue-fucked it. She hated this. She hated being this. She felt like a whore.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the gun was pulled out and replaced with something warm, wet, and stinking of sex. She flinched as Zahira sat on her face, pressing her soaked pussy against her lips. “Now eat me out!” The sound of a hammer being cocked preceded the gun’s cold muzzle poking against her smooth belly. “Or I’ll put a bullet in your guts. You’ll survive long enough that I’m sure Grant can have the rest of his fun with you while you bleed out…”

The threat was barely necessary. Isabella had already given up, and to be honest having her old partner’s cunt rubbed in her face was the nicest thing that had happened to her so far. There were nights that she’d fantasized about this… although not like this. The context made even a desirable thing horrific, but she tried not to think about that. Isabella stuck her tongue out, cringing as a thick, musky cream dripped into her mouth..

“Something wrong?” Zahira purred. She bit her lip, grabbing one of Isabella’s perky, bruised tits and kneading the flesh around her nipple. “Can you taste Grant’s cum in there? He packed it into me not even a half hour ago.” She tightened her grip, squeezing until Isabella tensed with pain. “Make sure to eat it all.”

Isabella froze, shivering in disgust as the drop of cum slid down her tongue and towards the back of her throat. She thought back to the shame she’d felt when he’d pumped his load into her womb, the choking sensation when he had slammed it down her throat. In neither case, however, had she needed to do anything actively to encourage it. Now, it was different. Now she would have to take in more of him, willingly, in her mouth. Isabella wanted to sob… would no part of her be left unsoiled by his repulsive seed?

Zahira leaned forwards and grabbed the nightstick. “Eat it!”

The thought of that pain coming back quickly overpowered her reservations. Isabella leaned up and buried her tongue deep into Zahira’s snatch, scooping Grant’s seed out with long flicks of her tongue and swallowing it down quick as she could, trying to race past the taste. “Good girl.” Zahira grinned, keeping her grip on the nightstick as she began to twist her hips and grind into Isabella’s face. She sighed, closing her eyes and listening to the quiet schlicking of Isabella’s tongue against her pussy. “Do a good job now. I’ll let you get some sleep once you get me off.”

Isabella sobbed into Zahira’s cunt. Her heart ached and her belly churned, but the insistent throbbing pain in her ass spurred her on. She tilted her head back, pursing her lips around Zahira’s clit and swirling her tongue around the little nub, suckling and licking as Zahira rode her face and drooled cum over her chin.

Zahira let out a breathy moan, her voice shuddering in lust as she worked her hips in small, jerky thrusts. She squeezed Isabella’s head between her thighs, biting her lip and rubbing her breasts, feeding the warm fire in her groin that sent tingling waves of electricity through her body. She hunched over, eyes fluttering, and pushed out in a squeaky voice, “Oh, Isabella, you’re such a f-fucking whore! Fuck!”

Isabella flinched as Zahira’s pussy clenched around her tongue, forcing a thick rush of cum out into her mouth as the blonde’s thighs shuddered around her head. Her voice rose into a high-pitched, stuttering moan, tits flushed red and heaving with rapid breaths. Powerful convulsions rocked through her, each one sending another deluge of femme cum flooding down Isabella’s face, her thighs gripping so tight that she couldn’t even breathe.

Zahira grabbed the nightstick tight through the fog of her ecstasy, giving it a malicious twist and shove. Isabella bucked beneath her, feet scrabbling across the floor, her shocked screams muffled by her partner’s clenching thighs, and Zahira rode the sweet song of her shrieks like a wave, her own moans rising and falling with it.

Finally the bulk of her orgasm passed through her. She sighed, her lips parting to loose a soft moan as she idly ground her cunt into Isabella’s face a few seconds more. “Well, I’m a woman of my word.” Zahira stood with a sigh, stepping back and smirking down at Isabella. The sexy detective curled up into a shivering ball, her face glistening with a mix of tears, spunk, and Zahira’s cum. Sweat clung to her body, highlighting the smoothness of her skin, and she winced with every motion, the nightstick still shoved halfway up her ass.

“I’ll let you keep the stick,” Zahira said, stretching her arms and starting for the door. “See you in the morning… partner.”

Isabella held her breath as she pushed her ear up to the door.

She didn’t know exactly how long it’d been since Zahira’s last visit, but it must have been hours at least. In the fog of her post-orgasm high, Zahira had, Isabella hoped, made a critical mistake. She had neglected to re-chain her cuffs to the wall, or even to pull the nightstick from her ass. Her uniform was still in the room where they had stripped her while unconscious. She’d cried herself into a fitful sleep after being left alone again, and when she’d finally jerked awake it had taken an eternity for her to work up the courage to move… every twitch of her body made the nightstick feel like a sword in her guts… but after more than an hour of pain Isabella had managed to worm-crawl her way over to it and get into her pockets. Thankfully, just like they had raped her with her own gun, they had used her handcuffs to restrain her, and that meant her keys opened them. One of her hands was useless, but one of them was good enough… and that meant that Isabella still had a chance to fight back.

It wouldn’t be easy. She had nearly passed out as she tried to grab the nightstick and agonizingly ease it out of her asshole. She’d nearly screamed several times, but she’d bit her tongue and doubled down, determined to survive, to break free and kill these bastards that had tortured her… and eventually it had come out. The door was locked from the outside, and she couldn’t break it down… certainly not without getting their attention. As much as she wished otherwise, Isabella couldn’t be confident in her ability to take the both of them in a straight-up fight. She’d have to wait and strike the next time one entered the room. If she took them off guard she might be able to take one out and turn on the other, or better yet steal back her gun and get her vengeance.

If she failed, she expected they would rape her again. But then she expected they’d do that again anyways, so she considered it a worthwhile risk.

Walking was still painful and her whole body was sore and bruised, but she was confident in her skills. Isabella couldn’t see a window, but the light under the door was growing brighter. The sun was definitely up by now… they would be coming for her soon, she wagered. Now she knelt by the door, wrists still together like they were manacled, her nightstick wielded tightly in her good hand while the other dangled limply beside it. She listened intently as Grant and Zahira moved around the cabin. She’d heard some conversation, the sound of cooking, and the nauseating cacophony of Grant fucking Zahira’s psycho brains out.

She didn’t count the seconds. She busied herself instead with imagined scenes of Grant and Zahira on the floor, bloodied and bruised as she smashed their faces in. Maybe she’d even go a little further. A wicked grin spread across her face as she imagined herself grinding his nuts under her heel, cutting his dick off and making him eat it. Oh, she’d make him scream. She’d get her revenge on that bastard.

Isabella was so caught up in her daydream that she almost didn’t recognize the sound of approaching footsteps until it was too late. She jumped, lifting the nightstick just as the door swung swiftly open. She brandished the nightstick and released a furious, animal battle cry, rushing forwards on clumsy feet… And Grant’s fist slammed into her face. Her roar turned into a squealing wheeze as she staggered sideways, her world exploding into stars. She collapsed, her ass smacked into the hard floor, a hot flare of pain rushing up her spine as the impact agitated her previous abuse.

“Detective!” Grant flicked the light on and smirked down at her, bemusement clear in his eyes. He was nude, soft cock still glistening and stinking of sex. “Have I interrupted something?”

Isabella blinked, struggling back to her feet with a hiss of pain. She rushed at him again, nightstick swinging… but he didn’t even try to get out of the way. He grabbed at one of her wrists as it came down, stopping her… while the other found her broken hand and squeezed. Broken bone ground against itself and she screamed, the nightstick falling from her hands. His knee came up, slamming into her gut, as he followed it up with another punch to the face. Stars burst in her vision, conscious thought ripped away like a plastic bag in a hurricane. She toppled, landing on her broken fingers, the sudden impact forcing a strangled shriek from her dry lips.

He kicked her onto her belly and dragged her up to her knees by her hair, winding up and driving his fist into her face a second time. She smacked into the floor yet again, groaning and curling up into a shaky ball. “Really? Is that all you have, you dumb bitch?” Grant teased, bending down and giving her nipple a harsh pinch. He easily slapped her hand away as she reflexively tried to stop him. “When Zahira told me she’d left a weapon with you, I’d honestly expected more. The way this went, I think you might actually just be asking for it. Do you like getting the shit kicked out of you? Is that it?” He slapped her cheeks, digging his nails into her breast until he broke the skin. “Did I rape you straight already? You hoping you’ll get my dick again, hmm?”

Isabella hardly registered his words. She was still contending with the ringing in her ears and the nausea sloshing about in her gut. She rolled onto her belly, struggling to push herself up, only to be dragged across the floor by Grant grabbing a fistful of her hair. “I expect you’ll get your wish,” he said, hauling her out through the living room and into a warm, spacious bedchamber with a fire crackling in the hearth. He pulled her to her feet, closing another set of cuffs onto her wrists, and gave her ass one last overzealous squeeze before shoving her forwards.

She stumbled, catching herself on the hard wooden foot of the bed. It was a big four-post affair, with deep, plush sheets and expensive blankets that glimmered like gold in the sunlight streaming through a wide, room-length window. A smooth, glittering lake was visible through it, with green trees and a distant mountain peak completing the picturesque view. It looked wonderfully peaceful… completely at odds with her nightmare. Unfortunately, it also looked isolated. No one was going to hear her screams here.

The click of a door opening drew Isabella’s eye. She looked over and spotted Zahira posing in the doorway of the attached bathroom with her hands on her hips, her bare tits thrust proudly forwards and a long purple strap-on bouncing between her legs. “What do you think?” she said, striking a pose. “Never had a chance to use one of these before.”

Grant grinned at her. “Suits you,” he said warmly.

Zahira smiled broadly, stepping fully into the room and leaning over to grab Isabella’s shoulders with both hands. She dragged her up onto the bed with a strained grunt, rolling her onto her back and spinning her until she was splayed out sideways across the bed.

“Ready for some more fun, Bella?” Zahira asked, slapping the strap-on across Isabella’s face. It was hard plastic, the kind of cheap toy that a teenager might buy before eventually upgrading to something that actually felt good to have inside you, and it felt like being struck by a cane. “I thought I’d see what it’s like to really step into Grant’s shoes.”

Isabella coughed, pushing the fake cock away with one shaky hand. “Z-Za—hrnk!” Her plea was interrupted by eight inches of cold, hard plastic being shoved down her gullet. Isabella’s eyes bulged, a rush of acidic bile surging up her throat and spilling out her nostrils. She groaned, hands flying up to push against Zahira’s thighs, but she was weak and disoriented, quickly reduced to a spasming, gagging mess by the long shaft churning her throat.

Zahira showed no finesse whatsoever. Though raping her old partner was shudderingly sexy just as a concept, unlike Grant’s cock being buried down Isabella’s clenching neck her plastic facsimile of a dick didn’t give her any physical pleasure whatsoever. Her spikes of ecstasy only came when she slammed home and the impact sent titillating vibrations through her pussy. She’d hilt for long moments, grinding her clit into Isabella’s face and biting her lip with breathless pants, one hand caressing the hard shaft visibly outlined in Isabella’s throat as it went up and down her slender neck, while the other pinched and tweaked at her nipples.

There was a brief, fleeting moment of sanity. Zahira paused between thrusts, watching Isabella’s entire body shake with the force of a particularly powerful retch, and all at once fully understood just how deep a betrayal she was committing. They were partners. They’d sworn to protect each other, to back each other up even if the whole city came down on them. Isabella had, in fact, expected that she was going to be her partner is murdering someone, trusted her absolutely. And now Zahira was the one holding Isabella down, leaning down and kissing at her abdomen, slapping her bouncing, bruised tits while she choked her on some cheap plastic cock. All of it in the service of helping the man that Isabella hated more than anything to violate and dominate her in the most visceral way any woman could imagine.

It was a terrible act. If there was a God then Zahira surely would burn in Hell for this. She could hear the truth of that in the wet, choking sobs that Isabella sometimes managed to squeeze out past the brutal throatfucking, clogged with bile and spit and tears.

But it was that betrayal which made this whole thing so unbelievably hot.

Zahira’s thighs shuddered. She cried out, finger crushing and twisting both of Isabella’s nipples hard and grinding her pussy against her face as a powerful orgasm rocked through her. She was such a terrible partner. She was a horrible human being, and she was cumming her fucking brains out on her partner’s face, and the only regret she had was that she could only betray Isabella once.

Isabella, for her part, was having a far less cerebral experience. She’d nearly passed out by now, her throat throbbing with a sharp pain as the hard plastic scratched at the muscle inside. She was biting down reflexively, alternating between gagging and swallowing, her fingers and toes curling and her hips bucking and her legs kicking. The plastic ground against her teeth, adding a sharp sound to the lewd chorus and a new note of pain to the mess in her head. When Zahira finally came down from her orgasm and stepped back, leaning against the wall with tits heaving to catch her breath, Isabella didn’t immediately respond. She lay still on her back for a moment, spit bubbling up the back of her throat and eyes unfocused. Then she sucked in a great, haggard gasp, jerking to life with a full-body seizure that made her abused tits bounce wildly on her chest.

“Welcome back,” Zahira cooed, rubbing her false cock in her palm. The stroking didn’t do much for her, but it somehow felt right. The rubber was coated in a thick coat of spit now. “I hope you enjoyed the warmup as much as I did.”

Isabella grunted. Warmup? She tried to speak, but she could only get out a dumb moan.

“You didn’t think we were done already, did you?” Zahira teased, sauntering around to the other side of the bed. She grabbed Isabella’s ankles, dragging her closer and pushing her legs up towards her shoulders until only her cum-drenched cunt and tender red ass were sticking off the edge. “We’re just getting started…”

Zahira spread her legs, baring her tight dyke cunt and winking asshole to Grant where he stood, watching and sneering at the sight of the mighty, haughty cop being manhandled by her partner. “I’m just here to help… this is his show, after all…”

“Don’t worry, dyke… we’re going to put these holes of yours to good use, I promise,” Grant snickered as Isabella sobbed out broken little noises from the terrible pain she was in. There was a ragged texture to her breathing now and every suck of oxygen ached… she wondered if she was bleeding inside her neck from that dildo. She whimpered again as she felt the rapist’s thick dick pressing up against her tight little snatch, his thick shaft pushing against her sore slit. “God this is such a nice, tight hole,” he moaned as he slowly pressed himself into her. “Once was nowhere near enough… you still feel like you’ve never been penetrated before, don’t you, you cute, cock-hating rugmuncher? How’s it feel knowing your cunt is finally servings its purpose?”

Isabella wanted to scream at him to threaten him, but she lost her will when she let out a whiny little sound as Grant pushed his murderous cock into her. “Please… please don’t…”

Zahira slapped her. “Bella, Bella… You’re not calling the shots anymore, you dumb fuckhole. Don’t you get it? You’re no cop… you’re just a rapetoy now.” She gave her partner another hard slap to her thigh that left a darkening bruise and forced another pathetic whine out of her mouth.

Grant, however, chuckled, and Isabella sighed in relief as she felt him pull away from her pussy, his cock slipping out of her. “No need for that, babe… if she doesn’t want her pussy filled, that’s alright with me. I can accommodate her.

Isabella’s relief vanished. “What do you mean you a— AGH!” Isabella was cut off as the man slammed his rock hard cock straight into her ass. It felt titanic as it skewered her, slamming deep. It must have been lubed to be able to do that but she couldn’t tell by the way it felt… hell, if she were blindfolded and Zahira told her his cock was wrapped in sandpaper then she would have believed her. Getting skewered by the baton had been bad enough but this was far worse as he rammed him way forward, smashing her down into the bed as he sodomized the cop that had just yesterday been planning to kill him. No preparation could have helped make this feel any better… even that first thrust felt like he was going to tear her asshole apart and split her in two like a log. “OH GOD…” she screamed. “OH… MY… G… G… G… G…”

Zahira laughed. “Listen to the dumb cunt stutter!” she mocked as she held onto her partner by the shoulders. “What’s the matter? Forgot English, bitch? What are you trying to say, joder con mi culo de puta, slut?”

Grant sneered as he drew back, preparing to thrust again. “She doesn’t sound so tough with a cock rammed right up her shitter, does she?” He tightened his hands on her spread legs, squeezed hard, and rammed himself forward. Isabella drooled and screamed, her eyes rolling back into her skull as she took Grant’s thick cock to the hilt. Her rapist slammed into her like she was nothing but a cheap sexdoll he was going to hate-fuck into oblivion. Then, a second later, he pulled back and did it again, then again. She panted and whimpered like a bitch being mounted, her body thrashing and struggling as she tried to get away for dear life, desperate to escape the brutal ass raping she was being subjected to. She couldn’t move, though… Zahira and Grant worked together to hold the bound cop motionless and helpless as he withdrew his thick pole of man meat out of her ass just a few inches before ramming it back in, smashing her down to the bed in time with his thrusts.

Zahira was slapping her bruised tits around, and he joined her in the effort… beating the pig stupid even as he assraped the dumb dyke like a cheap hooker. “Your ass is fucking GRIPPING my cock bitch… guess you wanna milk all my cum out of it huh? Told you I’d fuck you straight, Isabella. Don’t worry… I’m going to give you so many loads you’ll be a fucking spunk toilet” he growled as he thrust balls deep up the whining and shuddering bitches ass, stretching her wider and wider as he forced the stuck up bitch to take a cock fucking deep up her guts as she writhed and twitched in agony

“TAKE IT OUT!” she shrieked helplessly. “Please! PLEASE!” She felt like she had no dignity left, no pride. “F—fuck my pussy! FUCK MY PUSSY INSTEAD. Please, just take it OUUUUTTTTTTTTT!”

“Told you you’d appreciate me eventually,” Grant laughed as he felt her asshole clench on him each time Isabella sobbed in horror and pain. “But we’re not done yet. Not gunna be done until I’ve taught you… thoroughly… how to be a good little cocksleeve.” He grunted and slammed himself in and out as Isabella’s sweaty, bruised body thrashed brokenly beneath him as she got her tight little ass ruined by the first and only cock she would ever take in her life. She screeched as he penetrated deeper and deeper into her, his bitch breaker of a cock ramming deep into her guts.

Isabella had thought the rape she’d already endured had been bad. She had thought being forced to choke on her rapist’s cock was the worst nightmare she could imagine. She was now being proved utterly, horribly, pathetically wrong… taking her rapist’s cock up her ass was a thousand times worse. Her eyes had rolled back into her head and her mouth was gaping open as she got her ass stuffed. “I can’t… I CAN’T… TAKE… IT!” Isabella choked out, begging for mercy. Unfortunately, the murdering bastard that was currently slamming her right up that hot ass evidently didn’t give a shit if the disgraced cop could take it or not – he simply continued to pound his cock deep up her ass and use her as the worthless cockwarmer that he’d decided that she was born to be.

“God, look at the bitch’s tits jiggle!” Zahira said excitedly as she slapped them one after the other, watching as Isabella’s body jerked and bucked beneath her rapist.

“Please, Zahira! Stop, please!”

“She’s not on your side you dumb bitch…” Grant moaned. “You’re gonna take it while I use your asshole for the only thing a dyke fleshlight is good for, and then I’m going to cram my cum right into your guts!” He impaled her ass on his cock, her once virgin asshole in agony as he smashed into her like a freight train, thrusting into her body over and over again.

“Mmm,” Zahira purred, stroking her strap on and clearly imagining what it would be like to feel Isabella’s tight asshole all around her. “Yes, Grant… do it… Make the bitch a cocksleeve!”

Isabella scrunched her face up in both agony and disgust from the brutal agony of her being stuffed full of cock, her tight ass being ruined by the killer’s hard dick. Knowing that her former partner, someone she had liked and even fantasized about, was getting off on watching her be raped was making it even worse. She had thought she was a good cop… that she was doing the right thing. If she was, though, then how could it end like this… with her as nothing but a rapetoy for this monster to enjoy? Isabella howled as the cock pounded into her harder and harder, making her scream like he was killing her with just his cock. Her body shook and her mind reeled as she blubbered like a baby, weeping as she was assraped.

Zahira just laughed at her as her new boyfriend rammed against the Latina with body shaking thrusts. “Aww, don’t cry yet, Bella.. I’ll give you something to cry about.” She picked up the lighter, clicking it until the flame was on… then grabbed onto one of her nipples and used it to pull her breast out as far from her body as she could.

“Don’t!” Isabella shrieked, trying to struggle, but Zahira just moved so her knees were on her former partner’s shoulders, the vomit-slick plastic cock resting against her cheek as leaned forward. Then she pressed the lighter against her breast and the detective had something new to scream about.

“Oh I think this bitch likes it!” Zahira purred as Isabella thrashed beneath her. These nice titties good and sensitive, cunt-licking slut?” She moved the lighter to a new place, burning more of her already bruised breasts. “You already look roasted golden brown, bitch… maybe we can work towards well done?”

She moved to the other breast when Grant reached up to grab a handful of the already-burned tit flesh, wrapping his fingers around it and squeezing hard. He groped and squeezed her agonized body while he fucked this whining little cunt up her shitter. Zahira kept burning her other tit, forcing more screams out of the raped detective as they worked to torment and crush her tits like they were udders to be milked, making her moan and cry as he raped her senseless. “Guess this bitch likes having her titties grabbed,” he chuckled as her screams turned into miserable moans as Zahira dug her nails into the other breast. “That what you like, dyke? Your tits being played with?”

“I duhhhh…duhhnnnnnn’tttttttt…” Isabella slurred out as she yelped in pain at the feeling of having her large breasts squeezed and crushed and burned all while she was hammered up the ass. The formerly capable, intimidating detective now looked utterly pathetic, her body slick with drool and cum and sweat as she bounced and shook with every hard and violent thrust of her rapist’s cock up her tight little ass. Tears trickling down her face, slowly washing the strap on clean as her body was used and abused violently. Grant’s other hand dipped down towards her cunt, his fingers jamming into the detective’s already raped slit and finger fucking her while her ass was reshaped to match his dick. Isabella now had both her holes being invaded by a man, something that until now she would never have allowed to happen, and she was too busy screaming and moaning to even protest the new violation.

It didn’t go on for long, however, before he ripped her fingers out, cramming them into her mouth and making her choke as he forced his fingers deep into her, his hand pushing her mouth so wide that she couldn’t bite down as his fingers quested for the back of her throat. “How’s the taste of your own cunt, slut?” he mocked her. “You like the taste of pussy? How’s yours?” Grant laughed as he finger fucked her face, forcing a thick mess of drool to spill out all over her cheeks and chin, pooling in the hollow of her throat. One blob of it was flung far enough by her struggling to splatter against her burned rack, gagging and drooling and looking ridiculous. “How does it taste bitch?” he moaned as he pushed his fingers deeper, stopping her from breathing as he continued savagely pounding her guts. “How… does… this… taste…”

And his cock swelled and exploded inside of her, a preposterous amount of hot, thick ball butter spraying right into the helpless detective’s tight anal entrance as she gagged and choked. Isabella was lost in misery as she felt him shoot his burning sperm deep into her guts, keeping her impaled on his cock hard cock. Her body’s instinctive attempts to push him out of her only served to milk his dick, drawing load after load from his cock and spraying her insides with his seed while she moaned in disgusting and agony. She felt like garbage, like a weak, pathetic little fucktoy, a trash whore filled with jizz. She had no part of her the man hadn’t touched now, no part he hadn’t made his, and she felt miserable and worthless. Her pitiful crying, however, did nothing to convince her rapist to stop pumping the dyke bitch full of baby batter.

“I’m going to fuck the soul out of you,” Grant promised her as he came deep in her ass, his fingers in her mouth turning her pleading for mercy into weak sounding little gurgles as she moaned in agony at the feeling of that thick hot cum being pumped deep up her tight little dyke asshole. “Fill you so full of cum there’s no room for pride, or dignity, or personality, or thoughts about being a person… until there’s nothing left but a good little cocksheath who wants to avoid being hurt.” His cock continuing to pound her up the ass to smash into the detective’s guts even as he came in her, his cock pumping into her to fuck the his cum even deeper into the whimpering bitch.

Isabella looked up at the man who planned to use her until she died, and could barely see him through the tears in her eyes… already feeling like nothing but a worthless hole made for storing mens cum, nothing but a jizz dumpster with a snotty attitude and big ideas.

And she’d been a free woman less than 24 hours ago.

About a week later, Isabella hung limply in the too hot storage room, her arms pulled back behind her and cuffed in place, and for the life of her she couldn’t remember the last time they had been free. If she hadn’t been completely numb, the pain in her swollen wrists and strained arms would have been unbearable, but that hadn’t been a problem for a while. These days, everything was numb. Numb or sharp agony, anyway… there was nothing in between. Her cute nose was swollen, having been broken… was it a day ago? A few days? A few weeks? She couldn’t remember… she wasn’t sure how long she had been here. Her eyes were all but completely swollen shut and her lips were one big bruise. Every muscle of hers ached and there was more bruised or welted or cut skin than there was untouched.

The disgraced cop leaned unmoving against the wall, hurting. Her holes were gaping, raw, and bleeding. She struggled to think anymore, to focus on anything at all. Her treacherous former partner had fucked her throat several more times with that cruel dildo, and at this point her raw neck had been abused so much Isabella wasn’t sure she could even talk… not that she had tried in quite a while. No one cared what a cunt had to say.

That’s what she was. She was cunt, or bitch, or dyke, or fuckhole. Not Isabella. Isabella had been fucked to death already… days ago? Weeks ago? She really couldn’t remember. She thought that this was maybe her second week here, but she couldn’t think straight enough to be sure. Not that it mattered. Not that she mattered. She was just a disposable set of holes, a worthless fuckdoll.

She hadn’t even noticed at first when her former partner showed up to rape her again… sinking her cunt down onto her face, riding her. Grinding against her broken nose just to enjoy the screams and hope they made her cum. She labored to breathe instinctively, panicked at the way she was being suffocated on the other cop’s pussy. She felt it when Zahira’s body convulsed on top of her, felt it when her thighs tightened, then her vision went dark as she blacked out again… going limp beneath her former partner, another fragment of what was left of Isabella snuffed out for her pleasure.

Hours passed. Days passed. Grant and Zahira came and went, fisting, beating, kicking, and fucking her. There was very little of a person left inside her now… no amount of struggling had ever gotten her anything. They were going to kill her, and the human being inside her was the only thing that felt like it was left. She only dreamed of a chance to take either of them down with her. Grant, however, was always careful. She never had access to a gun, was never unbound, was never free. Any time he took her mouth, she was always gagged, her mouth held open and helpless. She wasn’t sure if she even could bite anymore, but it was probably the one bit of resistance left in her… the one thing he hadn’t taken, and the ruins of what had once been Isabella was curled around it in a fetal position.

When they killed her, she would die with this shred of dignity.

Zahira slapped her favorite toy, the hard plastic strap-on, against Zahira where the wreck of a police officer laid on a table. Her legs lay most of the way limp… closing them, even to protect herself, seemed like an arbitrary and far too difficult level of effort. “I can see why you like this so much Grant,” the Indian woman said, slapping her faux cock down against the bruised and raw hole that she once would have called her pussy.

Out of the corner of Isabella’s eyes, she saw Grant step inside, a small toolbox dangling from one hand. She hadn’t even noticed him leave, but she definitely saw it when he came back with that damn box that had caused her so much pain over the last days… weeks? Months? “Don’t mind me, you two.” Grant smirked, setting the toolbox on the bed next to Isabella’s head and flipping it open. Pliers, screwdrivers, needles, knives, and wrenches jostled together inside, all neatly organized and polished, and a sudden surge of fresh adrenaline rushed through Isabella’s heart as the sight and the memory of what he could do to her with them.

Her senses came into sharp clarity just as Zahira pushed the strap-on into her sensitive pussy, driving a pained yelp from her lips. She tensed, her fists trying to clench behind her and failing in pain. If her hand had ever had a chance to heal properly, Zahira had ended that with a hammer on the third day, and it hurt just as badly now as it had that first night here. The dildo was long and hard and unyielding, and Zahira thrust it into her with no sense of how deep or hard it stabbed, nor any care. The hard tip slammed into Isabella’s cervix with every thrust, causing her strong legs to tighten and jerk against Zahira’s hands.

Grant hummed to himself, grabbing a plain pair of pliers from the toolbox and giving them an experimental flex. He arched a brow down at Isabella, watching her pained expression until he was certain she’d seen the tool in his hand.

“We’ve had a lot of fun together, haven’t we Detective,” he asked conversationally. “You remember what I said? About that look in a dyke’s eyes that could get me hard in an instant?” Grant smiled. “You’re almost there. Not quite, though… Are you? You’re a strong-willed woman, Isabella… I can respect that. You might be my favorite I’ve ever had.” He stroked her cheek with his other hand. “Thing is… you’re not all the way gone yet. I imagine that if I were to stick my penis between those little pillow lips of yours, you’d happily bite it off and choke on it.” He paused, arching a brow. “What do you think?”

Isabella’s gaze flitted between the pliers and his eyes. The implication was not only obvious, but terrifying. In a moment, Isabella saw that she had been lying to herself… holding onto her promises to herself to emasculate this master. She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t suffer for it. A worm didn’t kill a god, after all. Isabella whimpered, shaking her head frantically, straining to push words out past the burning in her throat and the scabs on her lips and the rhythmic, stabbing pain of Zahira’s strap-on battering her cervix. “N—no,” she croaked. “I w—won’t. I’ll d—do what y—you want… y—you can d—do w—what y—you want to m—m—me. P-please…”

Grant’s grin widened. That same, smug grin that Isabella had hated so much during his confession now filled her with a cold, clammy fear. His eyes weren’t cold and emotionless like she’d always imagined a psycho killer’s would be. They were warm. Excited. “See Detective… I’d like to believe that, but I just don’t know if I can trust you. You’ve spent so much breath already promising how you would hurt me, pretending you were tough when I was the one in handcuffs. I just don’t think you’re telling me the truth. But that’s alright.” He reached down slowly, grabbing Isabella’s jaw as she tried to look away and wrenching it back towards him. “We’ll fix that for you. Now open your mouth and be still. If you fight too much I may crack a tooth, and that’ll hurt far worse.”

Zahira watched the little interaction with wide eyes, biting her lip and grunting as she put more force into every thrust. She kept ramming against the barrier between cunt and baby oven like she wanted to hammer her way through, and Isabella had no doubt her partner knew exactly how much it hurt… could feel it in the way Isabella’s body tensed with every thrust… she had already confessed many times that it made the sympathetic vibrations of impact tingling over her clit that much better. The plastic dildo slid in and out of Isabella’s cunt with loud, sloppy shlicks, and Isabella swore it went just a little bit deeper every time. She went as deep as she could and held herself there, making little circles with her hips, grinding the tapered tip of the cheap cock against the entrance to the brutalized Latina’s womb.

Isabella couldn’t pay attention to that, though… her eyes were only for Grant as he grabbed her chin and pulled, straining to force her lips apart. “Open up, cunt!” he purred, pleased with himself. She shook her head vehemently, moaning protests through tight lips. He shook his head, eyes glittering. “There you are, Isabella…” he purred. Then Grant slammed his fist into her jaw, then again, unleashing a rapid barrage of brutal strikes across her pretty face. He pummeled her until her face began to swell with ugly purple bruises and blood streamed down her face in rivulets, her lips cut on her teeth in several places.

When Isabella was limp and dazed, only then did Grant force her mouth open, ignoring her weak moans and grabbing one of her pretty white teeth with the pliers. He had some experience with this, so he took a moment to get a good grip and angle — not out of any concern for her, but because he knew a broken tooth would still have to be removed and was twice as much hassle — and pulled.

Isabella shrieked. Her legs kicked wildly in Zahira’s arms, and her shoulders flexed and heaved as her hands instinctively fought her bonds to try to protect herself. Animal panic warred with the pain that flooded her mind as she bucked her hips and arched her back, her perky breasts bouncing wildly and a rush of urine spurting out past the strap-on as she pissed herself.

Zahira kept tight hold of Isabella’s legs, fucking the struggling slut through it all. There was a brief respite as the first tooth came free and Grant shoved it to the back of her throat, forcing her to swallow, only for the fight to redouble as he went back in for the next one. At some point she forced herself all the way in, Zahira’s chocolate thighs slapping wetly against her ass. The pain Isabella felt in her cunt was excruciating, but she barely noticed it beneath the blinding agony of having her teeth pulled out one by one.

Zahira threw her head back and screamed in pleasure as she came, grinding her clit against Isabella’s and churning her old partner’s womb with the strap on. Femme cum streamed down the inside of her thighs, pooling between her feet as she stood on her tiptoes and leaned forwards, her eyes squeezed shut and cute little pants of lust escaping her lips. When the waves of ecstasy washed over her and she opened her eyes, three more bloody teeth had been dropped down Isabella’s throat into the fucktoy’s slender belly.

Time flowed together for all involved. Grant worked quickly and efficiently, singularly focused on his work, but for both of the women the mere seconds he took to pull each tooth from Isabella’s mouth felt like hours. Isabella’s eyes rolled back, white-hot pain filling every nerve. If she’d had enough conscious thought to pray, she would’ve prayed for God to kill her, but at the moment the only thing running through her mind was the deep, overwhelming instinct to escape the pain. By contrast, Zahira was letting herself drift from one orgasm to the next, heart pounding in her chest and long howls of ecstasy escaping her lips. She kneaded her tits and slid a hand to find other places on Isabella’s body to molest and abuse, shuddering and panting every time she came down from her high.

At some point Isabella became too weak to fight. Her screams faded to pathetic moans and her violent struggles to weak twitches, and though from the outside she seemed almost peaceful, she was going through just as much pain as before. Zahira leaned down over her, rubbing her face against Isabella’s sweaty abs and kissing at her bloodied nipples, still lost in the addictive wave of constant orgasm and grinding her entire body against Isabella’s. “Oh, I love you Isabella…” she whispered. “I wish I had come onto you, sweet thing. I wish we had had something. That way, when I did this, it would have hurt even more…”

It was quite a while before Grant finally stepped back with a satisfied sigh. Isabella groaned up at him, eyes unfocused, her beautiful smile reduced to a swollen, fuckable hole. He’d done a perfect job this time, not a single broken tooth, and he was proud of himself. His dick was already stiff from her suffering, eagerly anticipating what came next. “Good. Very good.” Grant let the pliers clatter to the floor. He stuck two fingers into Isabella’s mouth, shoving them back until his knuckles bumped up against her busted lower lip. She gagged weakly, throat squeezing around his fingers. “Now then. Zahira?”

Zahira answered with a husky groan, stepping back and discarding her strap-on. Her pussy was flushed red and swollen with excitement, visibly twitching in time with her racing heart and drooling cum. She gave Grant a breathy nod as she grabbed Isabella’s calves and dragged her off the bed, letting her back slap wetly against the wood floor.

Isabella put up no fight as she was hauled into the open spot between the table and the door. She only blinked blearily as Zahira grabbed her hair and pulled her up onto her knees, then plopped her police hat back onto her head. She sucked in haggard breaths, staring blankly at the wall as spit drooled down onto her abused tits, painting runny pink paths through her breasts.

Grant stepped in front of her. He leaned down to her level, looking into each of her unfocused eyes in turn. “Detective?” he said, snapping his fingers in front of her eyes. “Come back to us, Detective.”

Isabella coughed. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, gaze focusing on Grant’s cocky grin. She knew she hated that grin, but the aching, overwhelming exhaustion filling her bones was like a fog, suppressing every emotion.

“There you are.” He smiled at her. “Do you still want to live, Detective?”

Did she? She’d suffered more in the past couple days than she’d thought was possible. So many times before she had begged to die in the depths of her mind… hoping that this would be the time they ended her, and being disappointed when it never was. Even if she lived, this experience would haunt for the rest of her life, and that didn’t even account for the physical after-effects. She could feel the broken things inside her, nerves complaining with every breath. It would be so easy to just lie down and die.

But there was a difference between saying she wanted to die, and choosing to… and despite herself, Isabella Santiago was not a woman who laid down and died.

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, aware she looked pathetic and not caring. She nodded, slowly.

“I thought so. Alright. I’ll let you live,” Grant said, straightening up. His dick bobbed gently in front of her, proud and strong. “If you suck me off, slut.”

He didn’t mean it. Isabella knew he didn’t mean it. This was the exact same offer he’d given to the lesbian couple: suck a little dick, shame yourself on your rapist’s cock, and he’d let you go. He’d been lying then, and he was lying now. Zahira bit her lip excitedly, anticipating the response. Everyone in the room knew it was a lie.

…but what if it wasn’t?

“Think about it, Detective. What else are you going to do? Are you going to try and ambush me again, with your broken hand and your repulsive toothless maw and eyes half-swollen shut? You can barely handle kneeling and breathing as it is. I’ll tell you this for sure: if you don’t do it, I’ll shove a rake so far up your cunt it comes out your mouth and leave you for Zahira’s parents to discover when they next go on vacation. It’d break their hearts, I imagine.”

Grant paused, taking a thoughtful breath. “But don’t worry about them. What about you? This is your chance, dyke slut. If you say no, you get to die a proud woman… a woman who fought to the last.” He smiled at her broadly. “No one will ever know that. You’ll die here, alone and miserable and in as much pain as I can possibly inflict on you until your heart gives out. But if you say yes…” He snorted, grabbing his cock and giving it a little stroke. “You still have a chance. You can make it out of here. You don’t have to die just to make a statement nobody will ever learn about. And all you have to do—” He pushed his hips out, pressing the rounded head of his dick against her lips. “—is be the good little cocksucking dyke slut we all know you are.”

He was lying.

…but what if he wasn’t?

Several seconds passed. Zahira held her breath.

Isabella opened her lips, leaned forward, and took Grant’s dick into her mouth.

She didn’t have any tears left to shed. She sniffled, wrapping her lips tight around his shaft and swirling her tongue along the underside as she began to bob her head in slow little pumps. Inside, she screamed at herself. What was she doing? How could she give in to him like this? She knew he was still going to kill her! She was humiliating herself, giving him everything he wanted, for nothing! But she wanted to live. Under all the tough talk and threats, she knew the truth… knew he was right about her in this way. She was just a slut afraid to die, grappling onto even the tiniest chance of survival. She wanted to tell him no, to die with some semblance of pride, but she very literally couldn’t bring herself to. Her body moved on its own as her mind drew back into a small, quiet corner.

Grant laughed, clapping his hands in satisfaction before placing one gently on her head. “There we go! That wasn’t so hard, was it? Just imagine how much easier this could have been if you just dropped to your knees in the interrogation room instead.”

Isabella wished she wasn’t thinking about that, that there wasn’t a part of her that agreed it would have just been less painful and better. She began to suck with more energy, almost urgently, as if she subconsciously hoped that doing a better job would increase her odds of survival. She sobbed quietly, her expression blank and distant as she leaned forwards and buried her face into his groin, her throat massaging his cock with a slow rhythm. She enveloped his entire length in the warm embrace of her mouth as his masculine scent filled her senses.

“Lick my balls, cunt,” Grant instructed. “And look at me! Let me see your eyes!”

She responded immediately, gagging slightly as she struggled to open her mouth wide enough to accept one of his smooth nuts into her mouth. She looked up at him, gazing blankly at his face. She didn’t focus on either eye, or anything at all. In many ways, she’d already left.

Grant pursed his lips and worked his jaw side to side, nostrils flaring as his grip on her head tightened and his eyes took on a dangerous light. He’d broken her, utterly, completely, and the thought made his cock flex powerfully inside her throat. This was exactly where she belonged, the stupid bitch, between his legs, choking on cock and suckling his balls. He groaned loudly, his cool facade giving way to a lustful eagerness. He could’ve waited for her to suck him off herself, and it probably wouldn’t have taken that long with how aroused he was just then, but now that she’d surrendered herself he wanted to indulge more than ever before. “Zahira… do your thing.”

“Yes, sir,” she moaned happily as she knelt behind her partner, grabbing her head in both hands… and then slamming her head forward, bashing her head against his hips, her broken nose smacking painfully against his pubic bone. Muffled gags and glucks filled the room, her throat bulging with every thrust as her arms stayed limp in the cuffs. He glared down at her, breathing hard, picking up speed with every forceful thrust Zahira forced on her, causing her bruised tits to bounce and sway as spit and blood dripped across them. Salty daubs of pre leaked from his tip, pausing on the back of her tongue before dripping down her throat as he met the eyes of his new lover and partner in crime, seeing the lust and anticipation shining in her eyes.

This was it. He’d beaten her. He’d walked straight into a police station with a confession on his lips, and barely any time later he’d tamed this upstart whore who thought she was something because she could squeeze her perky tits into a uniform and shoot a gun. He’d even collected her sexy partner to keep as a pet. Zahira moaned with lust as she slowly killed her partner with Grant’s cock, eyes half-lidded with lust. One of her hands moved around to knead at Isabella’s tits from behind, her head lowered to kiss the Latina’s slender neck. She looked up at Grant adoringly, leaning past Isabella’s shoulder to apply a few tender licks and kisses of her own at his cock. Zahira raping the other cop’s face like the horniest psychopath she had ever heard of… she had no intention of letting her partner breathe again until Grant was satisfied. “You don’t come up for air until he’s spilled his cum down your throat,” she purred like a lover into Isabella’s ears, twisting one of her bleeding nipples…

And her tongue actually started trying to work harder.

That was all it took. Grant let out a prideful roar as his balls tightened, his cock swelling with the most powerful orgasm of his life. He kept his gaze focused on Isabella’s face as he pumped the first rope of thick cum down her gullet, hilting deep down her throat and letting his balls churn against her chin. Zahira cooed, holding her head to the base on her lover’s dick. She wrapped her own lips around Isabella’s distended throat, feeling his manhood flex with every shot of cum through her sweat-and-blood-soaked skin. Grant gasped for breath, surprising even himself with his virility, white flashes of warm ecstasy racing up his spine and causing his muscles to bulge as his body tensed. But still he didn’t look away, drinking in the broken, empty expression of the ex-detective beneath him.

“Ffffffuck!” He hissed, heart pounding against his chest. He watched Isabella’s eyes roll back into her head as her cheeks began to turn blue, felt her throat begin to squeeze tight around him, desperate to push him out. The convulsions traveled agonizingly slowly up his shaft, starting at his tip and then rolling all the way to his base in a way that made his toes curl. Isabella’s broken fingers spasmed, a loud retch causing her tits to bounce.

And still he didn’t move.

Deep down, Isabella had known it was a lie. Had known before she had ever opened her mouth. She had thought, however, that they would execute her after he shamefully face-fucked the once-proud cop into senselessness. Instead, as he and Zahira kept the full length of his member wedged down her gullet, her bulging eyes flooded with shameful tears as she’d realized that she was wrong… that this was her execution. As he came he wasn’t fucking her face at all… the serial killer was simply smothering her with his throbbing length, working with her former partner to choke and gag her way to a slow death around his cumming dick. The muscles of her throat constricted around him, milking even more cum from his balls as she gagged and coughed endlessly around him.

Drool and cum leaked around her stretched lips as she hacked and choked around Grant’s cock, every sound from her now no longer the meaningless prattle of a lesbian authority figure but merely a desperate dyke bitch straining pointlessly to go on living another minute or two. She would have pulled back but Zahira’s grip on her head kept her there, choking off whatever ability she might have had to suck down air through the cramped passage. Her body writhed and twisted sexily before her murderers, sweat drenching her caramel flesh as foamy slobber dripped down to cover her jiggling tits. The only way she had to go on living was for his orgasm to finish and his cock to shrink down enough… it was the only way.

Finally, after long, slow seconds of pleasure, Grant’s orgasm ended and he smiled down at her. He groaned, muscles relaxing once more, blinking down at the broken woman weakly asphyxiating on his cock. If he pulled out now, she would likely survive, albeit probably with some brain damage… but what did a whore need a brain for, anyway? Grant entertained the notion for a moment, considering. Perhaps that would be better, an even greater torture to let her live. He could take her with him, another plaything… or just leave her to stew in the knowledge of what she really was, what she’d done in the end. Zahira looked on in lustful anticipation. His cock was shrinking slowly, giving her back her oxygen. He felt her neck pulse as she drew in the first tiny whisper around him…

Then, smiling down at cop and meeting her desperate eyes, Grant relaxed his bladder. Letting out a deep, low groan, he let a long, stinking stream of piss down flood down Isabella’s throat. Her gagging convulsions grew weaker as she started to drown in what he relieved himself of, her body weakening further as her air gave out. Grant gently caressed her cheek with one hand. Some of his urine bubbled back up, escaping out her nostrils with a few drops of cum and meandering down her cheeks.

In her final moments, Isabella felt the cold creeping in from her fingertips, up her arms and legs, sinking into her bones. She knew she was dying, and she accepted it with a distant peace. Even the desperately proud woman screaming for revenge inside her had given up. There was nothing left.

Her last sensation was of Grant’s warm urine settling into her stomach and into her lungs as well. It was no better than she deserved

.

Grant let Isabella slide off his cock and thump limply to the floor. Her head lolled side to side, a frothy mix of blood, cum, spit, and piss bubbling out of her lips and dripping down either side of her dark face. She twitched faintly, tits bouncing a final time, and then laid there… still.

Grant sighed in satisfaction. He took a deep breath, smiling at Zahira, who earnestly climbed over Isabella’s limp carcass, slid up his body, and pressed her lips against his. She shoved her tongue into his mouth, rubbing her perky nipples against his chest and caressing his back with her hands. “I fucking love you,” she panted, pulling back after several seconds.

“Good.” Grant nodded, pushing her back. “Now get dressed. We’ve got one last job to do.”

Epilogue

They found her on the steps of the courthouse when he had gotten off.

The beautiful hue of her skin and bruises was somewhat diminished by the harsh dawn light as it covered her posed body on the granite steps, her cold form stiff and unmoving. Isabella’s baton had been forced down her throat, the rigid stick clearly outlined in her slender neck and acting as a sort of surrogate spine, keeping her back straight and her tits out where she knelt. Her broken hands still cuffed behind her kept her posture stiff enough to keep her up with the baton. Her bosom was bruised and bleeding, visible bite marks prominent around her nipples and a deep cut running the breadth of one curving breast. Her police badge, it’s cleanness almost surreal against the grotesque backdrop of her bloodied corpse, was pinned over her left breast, the needle pushed straight through her nipple. Her legs were spread wide and her gun had been shoved up her ass to the grip. Cum dripped from her used cunt in thick globs, pooling beneath her, with even more sliding down the curve of her cheek or staining her belly and tits. Later DNA tests had found Grant’s sperm, but also samples from dogs, horses, and at least one pig… as well as, amusingly, at least one other person… presumably a homeless man who had seen her that night and couldn’t help but add his own load to her toothless mouth.

She’d been propped up in a sitting position against one of the big marble columns. The letters on her belly in dark, black ink read simply “Dyke Whore,” and directed onlookers to her facebook and instagram pages. Her eyes were still open, neither peaceful nor horrified in expression.

The autopsy later confirmed what was obvious at a glance: she’d been raped, tortured, and killed. Her social media, as it turned out, contained uploaded videos of her rape by the Sapphic Killer. They were taken down almost immediately, of course… but nothing on the internet ever goes away, and the news story was high profile enough that there was no shortage of people looking for the videos of the pretty detective’s final days. Certainly no few of her former coworkers and other police officers and detectives looked at a video for its evidential value… many times.

It was assumed that Zahira had been killed as well, and the police searched for two weeks for her to no avail. For years, every time a lesbian turned up dead in the city, it drew headlines questioning if the Sapphic killer was responsible.

Grant and Zahira, though, didn’t care much. They didn’t bother tuning to any news stations or listening to the chatter on the radio about the mysterious man that had fucked and murdered his way through the city and came out the other end. His identity was known now… but hers wasn’t, and she was a better lure to find lesbian women to play with than he ever could have been alone. The two lovers drove from town to town, enjoying the sights, fucking in every hotel, Grant whispering his plans for the next poor woman they decided to abduct next into Zahira’s ear while she bounced breathlessly on his cock and came her brains out.

It probably couldn’t last. Someday, maybe he would kill her, too, after he had gotten everything he wanted from her. For now he found her endearing, like a hunting dog. Someday, maybe she would kill him, after he had taught her everything he knew and she no longer needed him to satisfy her desire for violence, and the sweet lure of betraying his trust called to her more strongly than what she could get working with him. But that was for later. For now, both killers were content to relax, to travel the world… to find prey.

There were plenty of fish in the sea, after all…

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