Agent Swann, FBI: Fucked, Blackmailed, and Impounded

One thing was clear in Natalie’s mind as she drove toward home. She had now ridden herself forever of those stupid fantasies she’d had of rape and torture. Some things were better left in the realm of dreams, as she had painfully come to experience. For now, she just wanted to get back to civilization without attracting any more attention.

Her bare feet worked the pedals as she sped down the empty morning roads, wincing at the uncomfortable contact of her bare, sweaty butt with the flimsy newspaper she had placed on the driver’s seat to protect it from her cum-leaking snatch. Under different circumstances, she might have felt a thrill from driving topless out in the open like this, but after the night’s adventures she’d had enough excitement to last her a lifetime.

Behind her, the urine-soaked jeans flapped in the wind of the rolled-down rear window, hooked on an old wire hanger she had found in the trunk. The improvised suspension might make them dry faster, but of course, it also left her freezing in the chill morning air, her naked skin pebbled with goosebumps.

Now and then, she made involuntary snorting noises through her nostrils as her teeth sunk deeper into the rubber doggie ball that nearly split her face in two. Getting that filthy thing out of her mouth would be such a relief, but she knew it would be difficult at best to pry it loose, and she did not want to even try her hand at that task before she had put as much distance between herself and that hellish trailer park as she could.

The rising sun brightening the eastern sky through the treetops made her feel safe for the first time in hours. She was a little roughed up, sure, but alive and unscathed. The cuts and scrapes would disappear in a few days. A next-day pill would prevent any unwanted pregnancy. Maybe the things she had suffered were a reasonable price for the freedom she now felt. And even though she hadn’t learned much to progress her case, she did have some new leads to follow. Joe and his entourage of redneck filth would soon just be a bad memory.

As she drove, Natalie considered her situation in a calmer mindset and began to plan for her next course of action. It was now 5:30 AM and she was exhausted. Her nightly ordeals had left her bruised, battered, and dirtier than she could ever remember being. She couldn’t go to work like that, and she didn’t have enough time to go home to clean up and still get in on time to the FBI office. In her state of exhaustion and turmoil, she wouldn’t be able to do much proper work anyway. Thus, she decided to call in sick for today and go home and take a nice long bath, treat her scratches, and get herself some well-earned sleep.

But there was still one more problem to solve. She couldn’t enter her neighborhood and risk being recognized in such a disheveled state. Someone might even call the police, thinking she’d been assaulted, and that kind of publicity could lead her down a very embarrassing path. She had to find a way to clean herself up to look at least somewhat presentable before rushing up the stairs to her apartment.

Just as she was reflecting on this, a sign announced a rest area coming up a couple of miles ahead. Moments later, she was pulling in at what looked like some seedy roadside restaurant and bar. She paused at the entrance of the area to check for any signs of movement outside, but the place seemed deserted.

Keeping the engine running, she decided it was time that she extracted that nasty ball from her mouth. She had been drooling all over herself as she drove so that ropes of saliva now dangled from her chin and connected to her bare chest. Her jaws ached, and she did not want to be seen with that obscene toy in her face. Her general state of disarray would be difficult enough to explain as it was.

Using her long, slender fingers, she tried again to pull the ball out. The problem was that she had no purchase on the saliva-coated sphere. It had been compressed when going past her front rows of teeth and could not be extracted the same way without putting as much force on it as had been used to pop it in. She could have tried to bite down hard to deform the ball, but at this point, she hadn’t enough strength left in her sore jaws to even make a dent in the thing.

Under the car’s dome light, she could see how dirty her hands were. There was brown dirt under her nails that, by the smell of it, could well be coming from her bowels. It was both disgusting and unhealthy, and some of it had smeared onto the steering wheel too. With a pinch to her heart, she realized it would be safer to first wash her hands with soap before attempting any actions close to her mouth with them.

She took a look out the window again at the 24/7 open restaurant. Still no signs of life. A worn, flickering sign stated its name in tacky red neon: ‘The Greasy Bear’. Natalie rolled her eyes at the aptly named joint. She wasn’t out of redneck country yet, it seemed.

The neat line of Harley Davidsons parked outside made her frown. That sight would have been a deterring factor for her on any normal day. It might even have prompted her to keep on driving to the next stop. But this was about as far from a normal day as a lone woman in her position could get.

She spotted a sign pointing toward the restrooms, which seemed to be located in a separate building a little off to the side. Ignoring the potential hazards of the area, she drove a little further and parked her car as close to the restrooms as possible. She figured there was no reason for the bikers to use the outdoor restrooms as the bar would have its own facilities. Besides, at this hour they were not likely to cause many problems if they weren’t already asleep.

She took the jeans that had been hanging next to the open window for the past twenty minutes. They were still damp but no longer dripping. The smell seemed to have gotten even worse though. She made a mental note to give her car a thorough cleaning as it would no doubt be stinking of urine after this.

She had to squirm her hips quite a bit to get into the wet pants as they stuck to her skin. Form-fitting in their normal state, they now seemed to have shrunk two sizes or more. The notion of having Joe’s piss touching her skin made her sick, but there was no other option. She couldn’t risk being seen running half-naked in such a place. With the pants on, she tied the flaps of her blouse under her breasts. The former pristine white shirt was a dirty mess. The way she had tied it left her midriff bare, exposing her flat, bruised belly. It was also embracing the shape of her breasts and leaving an ample expanse of cleavage on display as she couldn’t close the blouse above the knot without any buttons. With her ruined bra left somewhere on the floor of Joe’s trailer, her still erect nipples pushed hard against the fabric, and the distinct shape of the padlock on her left breast could be seen in a shady outline.

She looked at herself in the sunshade mirror. Her face and hair were a horrible mess. It must stink as well, although her nose would have grown accustomed to its full potency by now. She would have to avoid approaching anyone in such a whorish state. She passed her fingers through her matted curls, trying to control some of their wildness without too much success. She also tried to rub her dirty fingers over her face to get rid of the mascara trails that ran down her cheeks. Of course, that stuff was waterproof only when you wanted to remove it! All she could manage was to smear it out under her eyes so that she looked like she had tired black circles under her eyes instead of tear streaks. Maybe that was a bit better. Her lipstick was smeared too, but as she had used a natural color, it wasn’t too visible. Besides, most of it had come off during her cocksucking, which she’d rather not think about too much.

She rummaged in her purse, looking for her makeup kit. Some of it had been broken when thrown on the ground, but it was just an emergency pack to touch herself up with before work-related appointments anyway. Though she may still have enough face powder to hide the most visible marks on her body…

When she put the powder back into her purse and began to arrange everything neatly as she liked it to be, anguish struck her again. Where were her home keys? She rummaged again, then overturned the entire bag on the passenger seat. Nothing. After having searched around for long minutes, she had to admit the cold truth: her home keys were not with her. They must have fallen in the grass where she had not seen them. This new blow ruined her laid-out plans, and her mind went into overdrive.

Her only spare key was in her locker at work, along with a spare work suit she kept there too, which would come in handy now. She had put it there in case she had a food accident before an important meeting but had never needed it. She would never have imagined a situation like this would come up. The difficulty, of course, was getting to that locker without attracting attention.

She checked the time. The earlier she arrived at the office, the less risk there would be of her bumping into anybody except for the night guards at the entrance. There was no time to lose. She took a deep breath, looked at herself in the mirror one final time, and glanced all around her car. Everything was clear, no one was in sight. Clutching her purse under her arm, she got out of her car, closed the door, locked it with the remote control function of her key, and ran barefoot to the restrooms.

Shivering from the cold, she had to navigate a stretch of sharp gravel before getting to the shabby building, wincing at the short stabs of pain that shot up her legs but managed to reach the place without incident. As she pushed open the door, she was met by a stench that rivaled that of her own; the unmistakable waft of stale urine. This place must not have been cleaned in ages, which was not surprising given the dilapidated surroundings. Scrunching up her nose, she tiptoed inside.

* * *

“Hey, Clive! I just saw something out there. Looked like a... a bare-titted angel or sumthn’... running across the lot.”

“What? Yeeeaah, sure, man. And I’m a nine-foot giant with a cock the size of Texas! Hey, miss, one more round of…whatever he’s having. That’s clearly the good stuff!”

“Coming right up. And anything else for you, sir? Sir?”

“Don’t mind him, buttercup, he’s seeing winged tits fall from the sky! Just get me that drink. And be quick about it. We haven’t got all night.”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir... ... ...shithead...”

“Yeehaw! Would you look at that ass go... now there’s a real angel for you!”

“What? No, I’m serious, man. There’s a girl out there! Half-naked. Pretty hot too. Looked just like that chick on TV...”

“Shut up, dude. OK, OK. I’ll have a look. Oooh, nothing there, what a surprise… You saw a parked car, man. That’s real hot. Come on, let’s drink. I bet you can still stand straight. I ain’t leaving here until this hole runs dry, or I’m seeing giant angels too, with huuuge knockers! Hee, hee.”

“No, no, no, she was there, I swear! She ran over to those... toilets or whatever. She must still be in there. I’m gonna go have me a look. You comin’?”

“Nah, man, I’m good. Have fun with your ghost chicks, Robbie.”

* * *

Natalie stormed into the ladies’ section, hiding her gagged mouth with one hand in case there was someone inside, cringing as her bare soles came into contact with the nasty, sticky tiles. As expected at this early hour, the restrooms were empty. With a sigh of relief, she hurried to the sinks and began her washing session. As she stood there scrubbing her hands, she dared to look at her reflection in the cracked mirror and saw herself in full for the first time since last evening. She was shocked by her appearance. She looked like an overworked whore on a Sunday morning. Barefoot, with dirty clothes in tatters about her half-naked body and a face and hair that looked as though she had gone through a gang-bang marathon, she had a lot of work to make herself anywhere near presentable.

She used her soapy hands to wash her face, removing the mascara smears and all the nasty, crusty traces left by Joe’s cock. She rinsed it all. There was no hot water, and the icy touch tightened her skin. She examined her fingers. They looked clean, although there was still some dirt under her long nails. It would have to do. She didn’t want to stretch her luck too thin.

Looking at her mirror self, she pushed her little finger inside her mouth at the corner of her lips, trying to get a hold on the huge ball. There was hardly any room to get in, and the tension stretched her poor lips even further. Yet, one finger wasn’t enough to pry it loose. The ball was just too slippery and too big.

* * *

Rob swayed a bit as he stood up, his beer gut taut with a full night’s worth of heavy drinking. Winding his way between the tables, he managed to get to the front door and pushed it open, leaving his companion to settle the tab. The chill mountain air sobered him up a bit, and he steered his feet toward the place he thought his vision of divine femininity had gone off to.

It was all quiet around the rundown old restrooms, and he began to wonder if Clive hadn’t been right. Maybe he had just been seeing things. But her car was still there. That was real. He decided to at least check the place out before returning to face the laughter of his drinking buddy.

With a swift motion of his thick boot, he kicked in the door to the restroom area, which flew open with a loud bang, making him wince as his head hurt.

“Helloooo, any naked angels in here?” he called out. Moving toward the ladies’ room, where he thought he heard water running, he poked his head in and paused to listen. There may have been some movement and a scuffling noise down by the last stall. Knowing he shouldn’t be in here, on account of his gender, he shambled forward to investigate.

* * *

As Natalie pushed her other pinkie into her mouth, she heard something. Her eyes almost bulged out of her head. Footsteps; heavy, approaching, unsteady. Probably some drunk biker. Whoever it was, he should be heading for the men’s room, but she did not want to take that risk.

She pulled her fingers out of her mouth, grabbed her purse, and tiptoed toward the stall that was the farthest from the door, cursing how long it took for the automatic faucet to stop running. She went in. The place was dirty and smelled like shit. For a second she stopped to take in the grimness of her surroundings; the worn and chipped tiles, the lewd and crude graffiti on the wall, the poor lighting, and the dilapidated nature of the actual bowl. Even the lid was broken, with only the cheap plastic seat ring remaining somewhat askance on the ceramic rim.

Too late to check another stall. She closed the door, pulled the deadbolt, and hung her purse on the door hook. Then she sat on the dirty toilet seat. In her mind, she joked to herself that for once she would be the one dirtying it with her pee-soaked pants. She lifted her feet off the floor so they couldn’t be seen from under the door. Resting her naked heels on the seat in front of her, she hugged her legs to remain as still as possible.

Seconds later, the man barged into the ladies’ restroom. Her heart missed a beat at the nonsense he spouted. Naked angel? What? Had he seen her? She was in a tight spot if he had, but there was still a chance his drunken mind had popped those words into his mouth out of nowhere. She remained silent, holding her breath, listening, and trying to envision what he was doing.

“I know you’re in here, aaangel! Where are you, little one?” Rob singsonged as he swayed forward, pausing to check the stalls one by one, pushing their doors open with his hand to see if any winged, bare-breasted creatures were hiding within.

“Wanna play hide-and-seek with Robbie? Oooh, hee..heee…” his voice went up into a high pitch the way it often did when he’d had a few too many, but this was fun! He almost felt like a little kid again. And he was on a quest to find his little runaway angel. He knew she was in here somewhere. Where else could she have gone? He also started to feel a real urge to empty his bladder. Maybe his body recognized where he was and had begun to prepare itself for release, even if he was in the wrong section.

This was scary. He had seen her come here, for sure. But judging from the way he spoke, he was quite drunk… so maybe, if she didn’t make a peep, he would just be on his way and leave her alone. Her heart was pounding hard as he approached, checking the stall doors. He would find her door locked. She started to prepare herself. Because of the gag, she couldn’t answer him and tell him to go to hell, which might have worked. However, if he tried to force her door, she would have to fight him. Though in his inebriated state, that shouldn’t be too hard.

His hand bumped against the last stall door, but this time, instead of moving inward, it stopped short. Looking down at it with a confused, cross-eyed glare, he tried bumping it again. No good. Was this door locked? Could this be where his angel was hiding?

“Aaaangel… are you in there? Are you hiiiiding from old Robbie?” he cooed, his mouth close to the barred entrance.

Natalie cursed under her breath but said nothing. She braced herself on the toilet bowl while lifting her feet into the air, ready to welcome the intruder with a double kick in his belly. As her weight shifted, the old plastic seat creaked, the gentle noise like thunder in her nervous ears.

“Angel! Open! Door! Now!” He banged each word into the door with his meaty fist, wondering if he could somehow force his way in. The flimsy piece of plywood trembled on its hinges as if its moorings were going to collapse at any second. Encouraged by the display of his own strength, he added his knee to the task at hand, but when that hurt too much, he stepped back to line up a kick. It had worked before, on coming in here, he remembered. Maybe it would do the trick again.

Damn! This guy is strong, or huge, or both! Natalie judged by the tremors his banging caused. The stall door was designed to provide privacy, not security. It wouldn’t take long for a strong guy like him to kick it open. She now realized that should he do something as drastic as that, she was in danger of receiving the blasted door in the face. She stretched her legs out and lifted her feet higher, pushing them up against the door, hoping to absorb the impact even if there was no way she could prevent it from breaking. Caught in this compromising position, Natalie’s mind whirled. What had she done to deserve this? She kept being forced into embarrassing situations when all she wanted to do was hide the evidence of her shame. She had to get out of this bad streak that she had initiated with her carelessness.

Robbie lined himself up with the bothersome door and stepped back as far as he could against the opposite wall and the line of sinks. Then he accelerated forward like a charging rhino, only to change his tactics at the last second. Instead of employing his booted foot for the task, he turned his shoulder to the front, leading with the meaty part of his arm. He barely felt any resistance as the door burst open, yielding under his massive bulk. It crashed inward and slammed into the side wall while his momentum kept him moving forward. He had only a split second to see two wide-open brown eyes over a strange, big, round, blue mouth before he slammed into his missing angel, pushing her up against the wall behind the toilet seat and pinning her to it with his frame. He’d had enough presence of mind to stop himself from squashing her like a bug, but she still took a pretty heavy blow from the impact.

The force of the collision had pushed Natalie’s legs to the side as, against all likelihood, the hinges resisted while the deadbolt broke. She found herself askew on the seat, with her hands gripping the toilet and her legs to one side. This was the worst position for self-defense, but she had no time to react. She met his eyes, which looked as surprised as hers, a split second before her world was engulfed by the biker’s fat belly. His sheer weight was enough to wedge her between him, the wall, and the toilet. He reeked of sweat and beer, the stench assaulting her senses just as she had refreshed them with soap.

Letting go of the toilet bowl, she tried to push the big guy off her, but he was too heavy and too drunk to react to her struggles, while her legs were trapped against her torso, both to the same side so that she had no leverage for a kick.

Finding himself face to face with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, at least around these parts, Rob could only stare down into her big brown eyes, looking up at him from under his wide belly. “You’re…you’re real?” he whispered in surprise, having not expected to find the stall occupied, much less by such a gorgeous creature.

Natalie, crushed under his weight, rolled her eyes at how stupid this guy was. She couldn’t voice the witty retorts that came to her mind because of the hated gag. She regretted not removing it earlier, dirty fingers or not. In the present moment, her voice would have been her best defense. Instead, she was forced to rely on pathetic, muffled gasps as the only means of communication.

As he looked her over from close up, making no move to retreat his bulk, he realized to his amazement that the reason why her face had looked so funny was that she had a big blue ball stuck in her mouth! The thing looked huge, making her cheeks puff out and her lips stretch around it in a wide oval. Who the heck was this girl, and why had she come here at this hour, looking like that? Then the smell hit him, and he wrinkled his nose, backing up a fraction from her. She reeked of piss! He had seen some pretty weird shit in his day, but this slut must be some real kinky freak.

“Whu... whaddare you?” he slurred. “You surr don’t look like no angel I ever saw. Nu-uh. I guess you made a... a wrong turn somewhere on your way down ‘ere, huh?” he grinned at his own attempt at a joke, revealing a row of yellow-stained, rotten teeth, and then reached down to grab her chin, slick with her drool. He could feel the tension on her cheeks from the strange blue thing expanding them. Was it a ball or something else? It looked blurry. He decided to take it out and see.

Unable to defend or speak for herself, Natalie resorted to a solution her normal self would have despised. She looked at him with big, sad eyes and made a weak attempt at removing her gag. If she could get him to feel pity for her, she might escape from this new situation unscathed.

He could see she was unable to speak through the blue grin and wanted to hear her response to his question, so with grubby fingers, he began to try and pry the ball out. It was stuck tight between her jaws though, and no matter how hard he tried, he somehow couldn’t get a good grip on the slick sphere.

“How’d you get that thingy in there anyways, pretty angel?” he mumbled as he kept attacking the problem from different angles, or what he thought were different angles, digging his hard, clumsy fingers into various parts of her lower face.

Natalie appreciated the biker’s effort to help her, but he was way too dumb and drunk to be of any use. He was strong too, using his muscles to replace his brains, making his efforts more painful than productive. She just wanted him to let her go so that she could continue with her cleaning up. She squirmed, trying to squeeze out of his crushing weight, feigned trying to push him off her, albeit with much less strength than she could have managed.

“Be still now, angel, and let Robbie help ya. No tricks! I’ll get this thing off ya, don’tcha worry...” He met her attempts at breaking free with a stronger push of his belly, shifting his heavy-booted feet on the floor to better brace himself. Now he almost sat down on her legs, pressing them to the toilet seat.

Natalie gasped as her body slid on the toilet seat, pinning her upper thighs in a very compromising position with her back pressed against the rear tank and her head against the wall behind it. She had managed to pull her legs out in the process so that her feet were now resting on the floor, but still, she could not move. During her contortions, her dirty, knotted blouse had shifted so that her left areola was visible near the edge, and part of the padlock protruded into her cleavage.

“Phew, you stink worse than a two-dollar whore,” he said through his long beard, knowing full well what such women smelled like from personal experience. To improve his control over her head, and his leverage on the ball stuck in her face, he grabbed her hair at the back of her neck and cupped her chin with his other hand, this time using his fingers to compress the ball through her cheeks with brute strength. It worked to some extent. He felt it shrink in circumference, and with a better grip on it, he could give it a few outward tugs. But her front teeth still hindered its progress, and in a moment of frustration, he wished he could just bash them in to make things easier.

She grimaced in pain and disgust as he pushed his fat, dirty fingers into her plugged mouth and yanked so hard on the ball that she was afraid he was going to pull her front teeth out along with it. She let out a grunt of pain and again made soulful dog eyes to attract his pity.

He let her go for a moment to take a breather and consider his options. As he shifted his belly, he was rewarded with a nice downblouse view of her cleavage and smiled at the inviting sight. But there was something off with that part of her too. Her one tit had a different shape than the other. Curious, he reached down to grab it, taking the opportunity to feel out both of her small, firm mounds while he was at it, just to make sure. There was something hard and square-shaped under his fingers, and wanting to know what it was, he pulled down on her blouse, baring the mysterious breast to his eyes, along with its odd decoration.

Natalie grimaced and glared at him as he groped her breasts and touched her sore nipple. She slapped at his hands and tried to pry them off her bosom, her fingers unable to even circle his thick hairy wrists. She blushed as her left boob was pulled out of her blouse, firm and bouncy, its nipple pierced in the strangest way.

“What the hell… You’re...you’re… What kind of...perverted shlut are yah?” he said right into her face from two inches away, his long beard almost tickling her chest. She closed her eyes and wrinkled her nose at his thick beer breath.

“I’ve never sheen anythin’ like that befooh, and I’ve seen a lot, a LOT, let me tell ya. Looks painful too, eh? You’re bleedin’ even. Who put that on ya? Or did you... did you do it youseff? Huh, angel?”

A series of muffled grunts and moans were all the answers he got, along with a pair of huge moist brown eyes looking up at him. Now he had to know. Renewing his attempts to remove the offending ball from her mouth, he used the same method as before, only this time he did not give up, but kept pressing, yanking, and twisting the bothersome toy with no concern for its wearer’s comfort until, finally, it popped free of her mouth and bounced off the wall, leaving a wet trail on the broken-tiled floor as it rolled away underneath the stalls.

Natalie groaned, moaned, and then screamed as he twisted her jaws in all directions in his frantic efforts to free her mouth. To her surprise, he actually succeeded, and she felt the ball leave the cramped grip of her teeth. A thick gobble of saliva flooded out of her gaping mouth as she wailed from the sharp pain at the back of her jaw. That was when she realized she could not close her mouth as it had been spread so wide for so long. This new predicament made speaking awkward.

“Hank ou… ‘ut ou cou’g ha ‘een ‘enkler!” she complained. Not only was her articulation compromised, but her voice itself was one octave lower than usual, raspy, and rather thick as a result of her brutal throat rape. This all added to make her appear even more like a burned-out whore. Her front teeth also hurt from having been nearly uprooted.

He looked down at the strange female underneath him. Despite her hand-me-down condition and the less-than-pleasant surroundings, their position and closeness felt very intimate, and her warm body stirred a new sensation within his loins. Suddenly, he felt quite sober, his earlier playfulness gone, replaced by a much baser desire darkening his eyes.

Natalie felt a bulge growing and pressing against her crotch, and she knew that this was very bad news for her. She had to find a way to turn his thoughts away from sex before things got out of hand. Her pussy was not going to bear getting another brutal rape tonight.

“Mmm, you’re so pretty,” he said, moving down on baser instincts to kiss her, pushing his fat tongue into her open mouth, knowing he wouldn’t encounter much resistance. His hands were still gripping her hair and her chin to hold her head in place as he slobbered all over her, letting his copious saliva dribble into her throat.

It was the most disgusting kiss she had ever gotten. His breath reeked and tasted of cheap beer and smoke. She couldn’t even close her mouth to protect herself, making her seem consenting. Yet, her brilliant mind was churning at breakneck speed to find a solution. Something flashed among those racing neurons. She had to try it before it was too late.

Turning her head to the side, despite the pain in her scalp, she said, “I’e ‘een assaul’d hy e ‘lack Ang’ls.” From the tattoos on his arms and printed tags on his vest, she had guessed which biker gang he belonged to—some faction called the ‘Dusk Disciples’ from what she could decipher—and hoped that by accusing their rival gang of foul play, she would make him change his mind about her.

Rob pulled back from the forced kiss. “What did youssay? Sumthin’ about angels? I know you’re MY angel, sweetface.”

Natalie grunted and tried to repeat the phrase in a more intelligible way, but she was interrupted as the big guy leaned in for another lewd makeout session. When she turned her head away, making a disgusted face, his anger seemed to flare as he tightened his grip on her hair, gave her a quick slap with the other, and then shoved two fingers into her still-open mouth and down her throat.

His fingers were fat and stained with ingrained bike grease. She tried to bite them, but again her mouth refused to close, leaving an inch-wide gap between her front teeth. The intruding digits reached the back of her tongue, causing her to retch and gag, her eyes bulging as she groaned with disgust.

“You think you’re better than me, huh? I could tell right away what kind of kinky slut you are, so don’t crawfish on me now,” Rob said.

To hammer his words in, he pushed his fingers deeper down her throat, enjoying the choking sounds she produced and the despair in her wide-open eyes. He could feel her belly spasm as she coughed and gagged, her body fighting to expel the obstruction. Her slender hands gripped his wrist, trying to pull it away, but he could tell she lacked the strength to break his hold and couldn’t get the right grip for a more advanced move, making her struggles even more pathetic.

Just as she was about to throw up, he pulled his fingers back, only to lean in closer and spit a thick glob right into the dark abyss of her mouth. Natalie blinked. This was beyond disgusting. His teeth were yellowish and askew, and at this distance his breath would have killed flies. He had let the foul gobble of phlegm dangle from his lips as if to show it off before it was launched into her mouth. Then he shoved his fingers back in again, driving that wet slobber down her throat hole.

“I’m going to fuck that kinky head of yours, and no one’ll hear ya scream. Not around here they won’t,” he threatened.

Natalie was still trying to recover from her frantic retching and avoid drowning in bile. Her throat and trachea were on fire from the stomach acids that had flooded them for the second—or was it the third?—time this morning. Her mind tried to focus. Was she really going to get raped again in less than 24 hours? In all honesty, she wasn’t sure her brief coupling with Joe could be called rape since she had been the one goading him on most of the time, but with this guy, it was very different. All she had done was use the bathroom when he attacked her out of nowhere! There had to be a way out. She was not a common, defenseless street slut. She was a predator, not prey!

In his eagerness to get his straining cock out of its confinement and fulfill his promise, Rob pulled back his weight from her, shuffling his legs apart a bit to prepare to push down his pants. Still holding her hair, he yanked his fingers out of her mouth and put them down to his crotch, fumbling with his zipper.

This was the opportunity Natalie had been waiting for. This was her chance to turn the table on her assaulter, and maybe the only chance she would get before she had been rendered too weak to fight. Forcing her mind to ignore her woes and focus on the present, she kicked her knee up with all the strength she could muster.

Just as Rob lowered his eyes to see what he was doing, something flashed by in his field of vision, followed by a pain so intense it filled his entire world. The next thing he knew, he was lying on his side on the restroom floor, groaning like a baby, hands cupping his groin, wondering where his angel had flown off to.

Agent Swann extirpated herself from under the mass of fat and muscle, panting and gasping, trying to swallow back the bad taste in her mouth. She reached behind the broken door to recover her purse, which still hung on the hook there. The biker was so big she had to step on his chest to get out of the stall. She winced as she felt his sweaty t-shirt and warm, flabby body under her bare sole.

She looked at the row of sinks with a sigh. She would have to wash somewhere else. It was too dangerous to stay here even for another minute. She ran for the door, but just as she reached it she heard footsteps on the other side. Shit! She backtracked as fast as possible, trying to reach another stall.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Clive yelled as he entered the desolate restroom, wondering what was taking his friend so long. He had half expected to find Robbie sleeping off his stupor under some bush, or even taking a nap on the floor in here, but instead he was met with the sight of his downed comrade, moaning in pain with some half-naked chick standing next to him! Was this the ‘angel girl’ he had been raving about earlier?

Damn! Natalie cursed. Too late! She gauged the newcomer. He was as big as his buddy, but with more visible muscle, and he looked less drunk too. This wasn’t going to be an easy fight. She became aware that, on instinct, her mind had cooled to a calm, focused state, and her body had assumed a fighting stance, the result of long hours spent at the Academy in Quantico and later in her local dojo. It felt a bit strange to have cold tiles under her bare feet instead of a tatami, but she had been taught how to adapt to her surroundings. Her tight wet jeans stuck to her legs and were going to slow her movements. She would have to take that into account. Her purse was also going to hinder her agility, and she would have to drop it if the situation got serious.

“What did you do to my friend?” Clive yelled, taking a step forward, but then pausing to reconsider. Anyone who could lay Robbie low was a force to be reckoned with, and he wasn’t going to underestimate this opponent, no matter that she was a woman and no matter how wild and dirty she looked. He could tell from the way she stood, and her fierce, yet cool stare, that she had had combat training and some real life fighting experience.

On any given day, Natalie would have been able to talk herself out of this situation. Heck, just flashing her FBI badge reduced most street trash to mewling lambs. She doubted such a move would work now. She looked and smelled like a whore, and her blocked jaws made her sound like a retard. Considering the man’s rage over seeing his friend on the floor, chances were any such antics would just make him even angrier. Besides, she didn’t want her presence here to be associated with the Bureau. No, she would have to rely on her hand-to-hand skills to see her through this one.

“You want a fight, girl?” he said, shrugging off his black leather vest and balling his huge tattooed fists in front of his face. “Come on then, I’ll give you a fight. Let’s see how well you do against an opponent that you can’t sneak up on.” In his mind, that was the only way she could have managed to fell a big guy like Rob. No way had he lost to her in a fair fight! He knew that with his height and weight advantage, he could take her down with ease if he got close enough. But again, he suspected this one didn’t play clean. He kept a vigilant eye on her hands, looking for any hidden weapons or tools she could have used to ambush his buddy. Step by sliding step, he approached her.

Natalie had to react. She stood no chance if that mountain of muscle could put one of his paws on her and take her to the floor. She had extensive training against this type of situation, compensating for her lack of mass with speed, momentum, and expert use of her feet and legs. But in her exhausted state, she was far from at her best, and despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins she had serious doubts about the outcome of this mismatched encounter.

She mirrored his arm position to lead him on the notion this was going to be a boxing match. As he advanced, she gauged the reducing distance between them and when he stood where she wanted him, she changed her stance and threw a powerful kick aimed straight at his pouting beer belly. She felt the tightness of her wet pants strain against her thighs and had to adjust for her standing foot sliding on the filthy tile. Because of this, her kick did not achieve the perfection in form she aimed for in her training. Still, it should carry enough power to drop this brute.

As Clive had expected, there was more to this bird than met the eye. Her bare feet shifted on the floor with fluid ease, and before he knew it, one of them had been driven right into his middle. The average woman would not have caused him much pain with such a maneuver, but this kick had power behind it, and he could feel the last beer he had downed make its way back up his throat. Spewing a mouthful of malt-laden bile at his opponent, he hunched over but recovered within seconds. A little higher and she would have knocked the wind out of him, but his massive gut had absorbed much of the impact.

Natalie grimaced in disgust as she was sprayed with half-digested beer straight from her opponent’s stomach. It was perhaps the one remaining body fluid that was missing from her recent collection. She had thought he would fall after such a kick, but the brute was as tough as he looked, or rather, his pot belly offered him good protection. She was used to fighting lean, athletic opponents, and had measured her kick to hurt without killing, though she had failed to take into account the biker’s layer of fat. That was a mistake she would correct in her next attack.

It took her a second to get out of her fair-match mindset. She was not in a dojo or on a training mat. This was a street fight with only one rule; The most ruthless fighter would be the last one standing. She reminded herself that she was up against ruffians who had not hesitated for a second to assault a woman in obvious distress.

The big biker was already straightening himself up, wiping the bile from his greasy beard with the back of his hand. She did not leave him more time to ready himself. Feigning a punch attack at his unprotected face, she lunged a lateral kick aimed low at the side of his knees, hoping this would be enough to make him lose his footing. Given his weight, a fall onto the hard tiles might do more actual damage than the blow itself. Using her legs was of the utmost essence as she could not allow herself to get too close to his reach. She might be shorter than him, but her legs were still longer than his arms. This allowed her to score hits without being hit in return.

Clive sucked the stomach fluid out of his beard and launched another oral missile, this time an aimed spit glob in the general direction of his female opponent. He didn’t wait to see whether it hit. While the spit was still in the air, he ducked low, turtling up with his arms curled around his head, and set his feet in preparation for the forward lunge that had become something of his trademark. To this day that attack had never failed to surprise his opponent. The crouching maneuver proved well-timed, as instead of swiping his legs from under him, the kick just bounced off his meaty shoulder. Moreover, this left the karate chick unbalanced as he drove forward, intending to head butt her in the solar plexus and topple her backward.

Natalie was taken aback by the unexpected dodge. She knew her attack would fail even before her foot connected. When it did, she was ready to retract her leg and took a preventive backward step to give herself some time to respond to whatever came next.

His attack was slow as he had to mobilize his entire mass. Yet, it was difficult to dodge and impossible to parry, given their weight difference. Instead, she chose to let him make his move but then accompanied it, rolling backward and using his momentum to try and project him over and behind her. If the move worked as intended, it had the potential of throwing him onto his buddy, using one bastard to beat the other, while clearing her way out of the restroom.

“You’re a slippery little bitch, aren’t you?” Clive remarked, as for the first time in his life, his signature move had failed. At least he had been able to slip out of her countermove before she had time to follow through. Once more, the two of them faced each other at a distance, a newfound respect palpable in the air, akin to that between two boxers having felt each other out in the ring.

He glanced down at his friend, still on the floor. Robbie was moving now, scrambling to get up. For a second their eyes met, and Clive gave a subtle nod to his partner, who returned it with a tight grin. If he knew Rob, and after ten years of riding at his side he had to say he did, the big man would be out for a hot vengeance to restore his honor after such a humiliating defeat—and at the hands of a woman, no less! He would have to make sure his friend didn’t outright kill her. That could be messy, and difficult to cover up.

Natalie was panting. That last move had needed a lot of energy for a disappointing outcome. The fight was back to where it had started. She decided to give herself some time to recover. That brute was too slow for her anyway. If she let him attack first, there was a good probability that he would make a mistake she could use against him.

As Rob was almost to his feet behind the girl, Clive started waving his hands around, hooting and jeering to draw her attention, even making short forward lunges toward her while his friend got in position.

At first, Natalie grinned at her opponent’s useless flailing. All good for her, as this allowed her a longer break to catch her breath while he wore himself out. However, after a moment it became suspicious. He was overdoing it, gesticulating to attract her attention. Was this thick brute even able to conceive of something like that? And to what purpose? The obvious one was an attack from behind, but she had not heard anything from the beer bag she had emasculated. Maybe he only wanted her to think there was a danger behind her so that she would divert her attention from him. No, that was way out of his depth. She made half a step backward and gave a glance over her shoulder to check that the first biker was still wallowing in his drool.

Rob opened his arms wide to welcome the stupid cunt who backed up right into his grasp. She even bumped into his chest before he closed those arms around her in a tight bear hug, lifting her off her feet and crushing her to himself.

“Oh, you got it coming now, bitch. No more angels for you.” That last part did not make any sense, not even to him, but he didn’t care. He had this slut in his grasp, and now she would pay for hurting his manhood.

Natalie had no time to react. How that mountain of a man had managed to sneak up behind her without making a sound was a shocking mystery, but not as rude as the pair of tree trunk arms that now crushed her ribcage. His hold trapped her arms against her side. The air left her lungs as she was squeezed so hard that she was afraid he would break her already injured ribs. The pain shooting from her middle was paralyzing.

The biker had lifted her clean off the floor so that she had nothing to brace against. She tried to kick her heels into her attacker’s shins and knees, but her bare feet could not hurt the way a good pair of shoes would have.

With a short victory hoot, the man carried her toward the closest stall, using her head as a battering ram to push it open. Natalie saw the door rushing toward her but was helpless in his tight hold. As her head connected with the door, she felt like her skull exploded. He dropped her on the floor inside, half bent over the toilet, facing the wall. She was too dazzled to react and just lay limp over the seat, her vision reduced to the filthy bowl and the yellowish water at the bottom of it, her arms listing at her sides. She didn’t have the strength or direction to resist as he kicked her feet out to the sides, opening her jeans-clad groin to his view. Pulling his leg back, he said, “This one’s for my nuts,” and drove his heavy boot so hard up between her legs that her knees left the floor for a moment.

Pain exploded in her crotch as her tender vulva was squashed against her pubic bone, the pant seam imprinting itself onto her labia. At the same time, she was propelled forward and her head banged a second time against something harder than itself. The pain and the shock had her out of the fight, struggling to remain conscious, incapable of any coordinated movement. She lay listless on top of the toilet seat.

“Yeah, payback’s a bitch, innit?” Rob said, hawking up a rough one and spitting it at the back of her head, watching the thick glob catch in her curly brown hair. Her moans of pain and her trembling legs were a beautiful show to make up for the earlier mishap, as the throbbing in his balls now turned into a much more pleasant tingling. Her torso slid backward, pulled along by the weight of her butt until her head dropped through the seat hole, and there she was left hanging over the edge like a broken puppet, the ends of her long messy hair floating on the dirty water.

The cramped, filthy porcelain world in which Natalie found herself was spinning around in mad loops. Her crotch throbbed from the brutal kick, and nausea clenched her gut. Her blouse had shifted during the fight so that both of her breasts were hanging beyond the edge of the toilet seat. Yet, she was unable to even raise her hands to adjust it.

With Clive backing off to take up a position by the door, watching for any visitors, Rob was left to work undisturbed as he readied himself to mete out his revenge on this fucking slut whore. Who did she think she was, coming here to their favorite watering hole and messing up a perfectly good buzz?

He grabbed the back of her neck and shoved her face down into the bottom of the toilet bowl, dipping her nose into the thick sludge floating around down there. Then he yanked her back up by her hair to look into her woozy but still very beautiful face from a kissing distance. He had no desire to make out with her now, however. That time had long since passed. And this whore was too dirty even for his low standards. Now he just wanted her to suffer.

Natalie moaned as her drenched hair was grabbed for the hundredth time, but her voice came out muffled as her face was shoved underwater. The submersion was short-lived and her head was soon yanked back and contorted. Her vision was blurry, and she had trouble controlling her eyes but the chillness of the toilet water had revived her enough to notice the cruel, hateful grin on her aggressor. Her lock-jawed mouth was still agape so that some of the filthy water drooled out of it.

With his free hand, Rob delivered a resounding slap to that pretty face, sending her wet hair flying about, and spraying the wall with an arc of dirty water. “Thought you could kick me in the fucking nuts and get away with it, huh? You dumb cunt! That was the worst mistake of your life!”

Her mouth moved, and her lips tried to form words, but only slurred, throaty noises came out. She was still too dazed to speak. She even had trouble understanding what he was telling her.

Hand to her throat, he lifted her to her feet and slammed her into the separating wall with such force that the flimsy plywood nearly splintered. His fingers dug into her trachea as he delivered a hard punch to her stomach, the dull thud of it echoing in the cramped stall. Then he gave her another open-palmed blow to the face.

Natalie’s body hung limp in his grasp as she was far too groggy to do anything but take her punishment in silence. Her head rang, her crotch throbbed, and now she had the impression that her bowels were reduced to pulp by that battering ram of a fist. Her body jerked around as each punch drove the air out of her lungs until bile started to spurt as well, running down her chin to be funneled between her bare breasts and continue down her flat belly.

“You stink too much to fuck,” he said. “Not that I would dip my dick in a set of whore-holes as filthy as yours anyway.”

He lifted the toilet seat ring and pushed her down to her knees before the bowl. This time he shoved her head all the way down underneath the shallow pool of yellow-brown water, holding her there until he could see bubbles rise to the surface.

Natalie could not believe such degradation was possible. She thought she had gone to the end of humiliation during the long night with Joe, but what she was suffering now was beyond anything even that misogynist slob had put her through. Her legs and arms felt so heavy that she could not move them. She was his to manipulate as he wanted. The hard front edge of the toilet bowl pressed against her breastbone. As he pushed her head to the bottom, her nose got crushed against the slimy porcelain while her face was wedged into the drain hole. Meanwhile, her breasts, which had remained out of the toilet rim, were stretched and crushed toward her lower ribs as though flattened by a rolling pin.

She could not breathe. She was being drowned in a filthy toilet bowl! That was about as degrading a death as she could think of, even worse than being choked by a cock. With her mind still in a haze of pain, it did not take long for her to try to scream and then inhale. Filthy water entered her lungs, causing more coughing and frantic sputters. Her limbs jerked without strength or coordination, her fingers and toes clawing in blind desperation at the dirty tiles.

“How does that can beer taste, huh? That’s the only kind of drink you stinking piece of shit whore gets!” Rob was so worked up he was starting to make little sense again, but he kept going, not able to stop himself now.

“Did you hear what I just said, or do you have shit in your ears too?” he yelled. More bubbles were the only reply he got. He pulled her head to the surface, grinning at the loud gasp of air that she pulled into her lungs, and then shoved her back under again before she had finished the inhalation cycle.

The next time he hoisted her up, after giving her ten seconds or so to marinate in the stinking filth, she not only gulped for air, but she also started vomiting at the same time, her body sounding like it was trying to turn itself inside out.

“Fuck!” was all he managed to express at the obscene display. He pushed her head back over the edge, letting her empty the contents of her stomach in the place where it belonged, and flipped the seat ring down so that it rested across the back of her neck.

He left her in that less-than-glorifying position for a few minutes, taking the time to straighten himself up and calm down a little while he listened to her croaking wet coughs. There was no need to rush things, and now that he had her where he wanted, he was going to enjoy this in a more controlled manner.

By the time she sounded as if she was somewhat recovered, he had come up with a new idea. Unzipping his pants, he pulled them down to his knees, kicked off one of his heavy boots, and freed that pant leg before stepping into the boot again. He liked to be comfortable when he did his business, and this would be a special moment to savor.

Grabbing her shoulders, he flipped her around so that her body leaned up against the toilet with the back of her neck hanging over the front edge and into the bowl, the plastic seat ring now resting on her clavicles. For his safety, he wanted to tie her hands up with something, but from the way her arms hung limp at her sides, she seemed to be out of the fight for now.

Her breasts thrust upward from the steep arch of her back, rising and falling with her labored breathing, the odd padlock ornament still baffling him. She had a killer body; tight, slender, and athletic. He leaned over the bowl and looked down at her face shining up at him from inside, damp with her sweat and lingering toilet water. He had banged her up pretty well, but she still looked bright and beautiful to him. Impressed with her endurance, he had to admit this chick could take a beating.

Lifting one hairy leg high, he straddled the seat and sat down on it, pinning her neck to the toilet rim. Despite his size, most of his weight was toward the back of the seat, but her lower throat was still crushed between the rim and the seat ring so that she emitted gurgling, choking noises as she took his weight.

Knowing she would not be able to extract herself from that tight lock, he took his time pulling down his stained underwear and freeing his manhood. Looking down between his spread thighs, he could see the delicate curve of her throat, looking very vulnerable in its exposed position, her chin and nose below that, and the thick mass of dark brown hair spreading out across the filthy water at the bottom. He had never seen anything so pretty looking into a public toilet bowl before. It sure beat the usual sight that he met when taking a leak in such a sordid place.

Although her face was now out of the water, the pressure on her throat prevented her from breathing unhindered. Her lungs craved for air, her belly heaved in and out to suck some in, and her breasts bounced around on her upthrust chest, but little to no oxygen came through. Not that the fetid air inside her porcelain prison would have been considered breathable under any circumstances; it was a nauseating mix of ass, filth, piss, and her own vomit. The stench was so strong it seemed it would penetrate the pores of her skin, never to abandon her.

She tried to lift her head to buck about, but was too dazed. Her head felt so heavy, its weight seeming to drag her down further into the horrible bowl, and it was not just because of her drenched hair and awkward position. She was almost glad for her blurry eyesight as her view was now reduced to an extreme close-up of a man’s hairy ass and low-hanging balls. It was not a pretty sight.

Of all the ordeals she had suffered over the past 12 hours, this one was by far the most humiliating and uncomfortable. The pressure on her clavicles felt like her upper chest was about to cave in at any moment, crushing her under his bulk. But despite the pain jolting through her neck, her well-conditioned body held itself together.

Although she wasn’t bound or restricted in any other way beyond the awful seat ring, her limbs remained unresponsive. She felt so weak that she was unable to make more than a few pathetic attempts at reaching for the obstruction over her neck. Even had she had her full strength, she doubted there was much she could have done in that compromising position. She just had to wait it out and hope he would release her when he’d had his fun, and without him causing her any permanent damage in the meantime.

Rob let his flaccid cock hang down and sit against the warm, smooth-skinned bulge of the feminine throat just below his crotch. It felt so much better than the cold hard porcelain that would otherwise have touched his dick in this position. With his package more or less resting on the lower part of her face, the whore functioned as his personal cock warmer in this chilly place, making for the most comfortable bathroom experience he had ever had.

Again, he felt the strain of his bladder, filled to the brim from hours of heavy beer drinking. It ached for relief, and that was just what he gave it. Starting with a gentle trickle, his hot, yellow urine began to pass through the tip of his limp cock, impacting against the creamy white throat below and flowing down over it, running in spidery tendrils over her chin, and parting in twin rivers past her ears with a central runnel hitting the two black slits of her upturned nostrils.

There was barely any sound of the piss stream as it merged with the water below, suffused as it was with a thick mane of brunette hair. The only noises that disturbed the privacy of the empty restroom were the angry sputters and gasps reverberating from inside the bowl underneath his parked ass.

While he kept pissing, he leaned forward and placed his hands on her inviting bare tits, small in size but firm and soft. His fingers stroked the warm, smooth skin along her flanks and then came up to play with her hard nipples, twisting and pulling at the strange but fascinating little padlock and key clipped to her left breast.

She moaned in pain and tried to lift her arms to defend herself. They still felt so heavy she could barely move them. Just as she reached her chest, Rob just slapped them away and they fell back limp to her sides.

With his forward-leaning posture, more weight was shifted onto her trapped neck, and he grinned to himself as he heard the little feminine grunts and choked coughing increase in intensity.

His cock had grown a bit from the heat of the moment but still managed to gush out from his body a steady stream of beer-colored waste, all of which ran over the pinioned woman’s tender throat and face before depositing in the lower depths of the toilet bowl to marinate her hair.

Trapped below the big man’s ass, Natalie tried to turn her head to the side, away from the filthy stream, but it was difficult to move her head at all, trapped as it was under the seat ring. There was nothing she could do to avoid the warm, pungent shower. It ran down her face, filling her nostrils and burning her eyes. With her jaws still refusing to close up, she felt trickles of acrid piss enter her mouth faster than she could spit it out, its filthy warmth sickening. She was forced to take gallons of liquid waste onto her face in an unending flood with no respite. The moment she managed to blow out her nostrils, they were instantly refilled with warm, stinking piss as if she were being waterboarded with urine. She had some training for that, but knew that in the end, no one would be able to resist such torture. And she wasn’t even being questioned about anything. Her last few minutes of existence had been pure hell. Agony and shame fought for the right to be the worst cause of her misery.

As his stream came to an end, Rob remained seated on his comfortable throne of male supremacy. The feeling of total control he had over the troublesome female below was exhilarating. He wished he needed to do number two as well, but since he did not, he would have to save that pleasure for another time. With a contented sigh, he shook out the last drops, stood, shuffled forward, turned, and then reached over to flush the toilet, just as if he’d had a regular visit to the bathroom.

The sudden rush of water was loud in her ears, like a crashing waterfall, and she barely had time to hold her breath as her features were inundated with ice-cold, but clean water. She was being swirlied as if she was back in high school! As the humiliating wash ended, she gasped and sputtered, trying to catch her breath, which came much easier now that the pressure on her chest and throat had at last been relieved.

For a brief moment, there was almost no sound in the restroom as Natalie lay there, dazed and confused, with her tormentor watching, an insufferable grin plastered on his ugly, bearded face.

“What the fuck did you do?” Clive’s voice broke the spell. “Is she dead? I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone with her! Shit man!”

Rob chuckled at the sight of his defeated opponent and reached down to flip up the seat ring. The slut’s body drooped down to the floor, but her weary coughing and feeble movements told him she was still very much alive. Her face was a total mess. Even a drenched cat would have looked glorious beside her. Her features were covered in slimy piss even after the swirlie, and her hair stuck to her skull, soaked with toilet water. She started coughing and gargling throat slime as though she wanted to puke her guts out again.

“Looks like she’s still breathing,” Clive remarked, shrugging his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get out of here. The others have already started up the bikes. We leave in ten.”

Rob zipped up his pants, turned around, and was about to walk away when his eyes caught something on the floor beside the toilet. His face lit up in a grin as he recognized the blue rubber ball he had pried out of the slut’s mouth on first coming in here.

“There you are!” he said as he bent down to pick it up. Its chewed-up, pockmarked surface was coated with an assortment of unidentifiable filth, old and new. It looked beyond disgusting.

“Look, you almost forgot your whore toy!” he said to the semi-conscious creature hunkered down beside him. “Can’t leave you here without it, can I? Now be a good girl and open up!”

Natalie half opened her heavy eyelids and tried to focus her eyes. She recognized the blue ball but it was now much filthier than before. It had rolled over the floor of a public restroom, after all. Guessing what was going to happen, scared that the brute would continue to beat her if she did not behave, she forced her tired jaws apart. She let out a sigh. All this because she had been reluctant to push her shitty fingers into her mouth…

He had not expected much of a response, but to his surprise, the dumb cunt opened her mouth as if to accept the offering as he squeezed the ball down to half its size in his paw and mashed it in behind her teeth to its proper place, along with whatever slop had attached to it on its little floor-rolling adventure. Watching the ball expand to its original size and shape, lodging itself inside her mouth and once more distorting her face into that silly grin he had almost come to like, he gave the sprawling woman a final kick to the ribs before taking his leave. It was a good morning for a ride.

Natalie yelped and curled into a ball, crying and hiccuping, wracked with pain and humiliation. For some time she was unable to do much of anything. Her stomach was turning, and her limbs hurt. She lay on the filthy floor, her head resting against the base of the toilet, her wet hair splayed around her and sticking to her face. With the ball back in her aching mouth, the situation was right back where it had started, except that her blouse was even dirtier now than on arrival, her skin carried more bruises and she hurt bad. What had happened in this restroom made Joe’s antics look like the tender ministrations of a gentleman. At least she had not been sexually assaulted, just beaten up to within an inch of her life... and then pissed on. Still, she had been through worse and was tough enough to need more than this to break her.

She tried to move, moaning as every joint ached. She had to brace herself on the toilet seat to kneel and then stand up. As she exited the stall, she caught her reflection in the stained, cracked mirror. She looked like a half-drowned junkie having been beaten by her pimp after a ten-mile high. Almost on autopilot, she readjusted her filthy knotted blouse to hide her breasts.

She hesitated. Should she continue to clean herself here, now that the bikers were gone? What if they came back to gang rape her, once her assaulters had told the others about her? That was way too risky. Even her resilient body and mind couldn’t handle much more abuse today.

After recovering her purse, which she had dropped during the fight, she stumbled back to her car and sat down in the driver’s seat, adjusting the rearview mirror to reflect her sorry image. She almost laughed at the irony of it all. She looked much messier now than when she had first stopped here.

As she drove away into the sunrise, Natalie wondered to herself what other horrible things could possibly happen to her on this, the worst night of her life. But no matter what came next, she vowed that she was going to take back control of that life, even if it was the last thing she did.

* * *

The day after Swann’s nightly visit to his trailer saw Joe lying in bed nursing a truly epic hangover; the kind that wipes out not just the morning after but the rest of the weekend too. Turns out celebrating his victory over the haughty agent with a bottle of Jack Daniels before going to bed had not been the most brilliant of ideas, though it sure had seemed like it at the time.

As he lay on his filthy mattress feeling sorry for himself, Joe heard strange sounds coming from the next room. It almost sounded like someone choking, or sputtering. Was Heather back home? Then he heard a feminine voice speaking and recognized the voice of Special Agent Swann.

In a rush, it all came crashing back to him and he sat up in bed with a start, wincing as his head punished him with a hammer blow that nearly split his skull in two. Groaning, he grabbed a blanket to cover his nakedness and dragged his fat bulk into the TV room, where indeed his daughter was sitting in front of the large screen, taking in the scenes from last night. She had her computer out and from the way she was moving the mouse around and typing on the keyboard, it looked like she had done some editing of the footage already.

“Mornin’ Kitten,” Joe wheezed. “What time is it?”

“Oh. Hi, Dad. Hope you don’t mind, but I got started on this little home porn flick of yours… pretty intense stuff! And FYI, it’s well past noon.”

“Shit. Uh, yeah…about that… you probably shouldn’t be watching that stuff,” he mumbled in a gravelly voice, still trying to clear his head of the lingering whiskey fumes.

In response, Heather just rolled her eyes and mumbled, “Like it would be the first time…” Then her eyes hardened into a frown.

“Dad, were you in my room last night?”

“Your room? No, of course not, pumpkin. I, uh… yes, but I didn’t touch anything. I swear. I just borrowed… something.”

“Dad! What did you take?”

“Nothing! …just that small padlock I gave you last week.”

“The padlock? What did you want that for?”

“I used it to…uh…lock that bitch agent’s work key to her pierced nipple.”

“Wow. That’s... kinda weird, but hot! I wish I could’ve seen that. Way to go, Dad!”

“Uh, thanks, Kitten. Yeah, I thought it was pretty clever myself.”

“So, when are you going to show her this video? You are going to use it to blackmail her, right? Turn her into our slave and all? I can’t wait to try out some of my new toys on that stuck-up bitch!”

“Of course, sweetie, of course. She’ll be ours to play with soon. It’s all going according to plan. Don’t you worry. Wait…how did you know I was…?”

Heather rolled her eyes. “Like I said, it wouldn’t be the first time… Look, Dad, I’ll have this thing edited and ready for you in a couple of days, and then you can use it to tame the bitch for us. Just don’t fuck it up, OK? I have a feeling about this one, like she’s gonna be real special. I think Mom would’ve liked her.”

Joe grinned and moved over to ruffle a hand through his Kitten’s unwashed hair, then leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

“Like father, like daughter…” he sighed.