repost: Twelve Years Later (by parker)

[an21...@anon.penet.fi]

TWELVE YEARS LATER
By Parker

WARNING: Included within the text of this story are
depictions of non-consensual sex between members of the same
and the opposite sex. This story is nasty, brutish and
short. Any resemblance to the characters and events depicted
herein and real life is entirely intentional.

=================================================================

Twelve years later...

Well, almost twelve years. With a perfect record - it's hard to
get into trouble when you're in solitary - and some effective
lobbying by various "battered womyn's" groups for whom she had
become something of a hero, Paula was free on parole in a little
under ten years. Two years less than an already absurdly short
sentence. Of course, she'd had to make all the right noises and
gestures to obtain her freedom: remorseful confessions... long,
heartfelt letters to her family, and, of course, the right
organizations... a new-found religious belief...

Whatever it took.

Paula sighed as she closed the hotel room door and flopped
backwards on the soft bed, her long blonde hair splayed out on
the bedspread.

It was boring.

Tedious.

Mindnumbing.

But worth it. Oh god, it was worth it.

She was free!

Her thin lips - devoid of makeup, of course, in keeping with her
image as a penitent - twisted upwards in a contemptuous sneer.
Those idiots lapped it up at the trial and they were still
lapping it up. She couldn't help but laugh at the memory of Karl
staring out at her from the prisoner's box. The memory was almost
as delicious as the look on the face of that idiot prosecutor the
first time he saw the tapes.

After the deal had been done.

He - Karl - knew... they'd played their sadistic games together
often enough that she knew that he knew what was happening... and
that she'd win.

Like she always did.
And she had!

He was rotting in jail for the rest of his life while she, who
had participated wholeheartedly and with twisted delight in the
kidnappings... the rapes... the murders... was free. And more,
she was booked solid on the talk show circuit for the next three
or four months. Geraldo... Donahue... Ricky Lee... After that,
she'd be set for life, with enough money to retire to some warm
paradise and fuck her life away with all the young studs her new
wealth could buy. Paula couldn't help but shiver at the thought
of it as a familiar thrill of sadistic lust coursed through her
belly. She dropped her hand to her crotch and rubbed.

Maybe she'd send him a postcard.

Her hand began to move more quickly, rubbing her sopping cunt
through her conservative, grey skirt as the thought of Karl
receiving her postcard - a warm, beach sunset - in a prison cell
set off a short, intense orgasm.

Perfect.

Laughing, she slid off the bed and walked into the large
bathroom. A couple of hours in a luxurious bubble bath followed
by a night on the town...

Just what the doctor ordered.

***

A couple of hours later...

Well, not quite a couple of hours. She'd planned to spend longer
relaxing in the tub, but the necessary parody of "good" behaviour
had taxed her patience and the tiny orgasm she'd experienced on
the bed had whetted her appetite for more. She wanted to party!
In the end, Paula had been out of the tub, makeup and party
clothes in place, and into the club within the hour.

The terminal, repetitive bass of the latest 21st century dance
music throbbed heavy and thick in her head through a warm haze of
smoke and alcohol. Dizzy and more than a little overwhelmed by
her first taste of the night life in over a decade, she staggered
out the rear exit for some fresh air. A short breather and she'd
be ready to go again...

Paula's ears were ringing from the music, so she didn't hear them
coming up behind her until it was too late. A gloved hand reached
around from behind her face and pulled her backwards. Arms
flailing, Paula opened her mouth to scream, but succeeded only in
smearing her bright red lipstick over the black leather glove as
it filled her mouth. The familiar metallic click of handcuffs
fastened her wrists together behind her body and a heavy leather
sack was brought down over her head. She finally managed to
gather her breath for a muffled scream, but it was already too
late. Thrashing wildly, she was thrown down and the trunk hood
slammed down...

***

An hour later...

Or was it?

The mind played tricks in total blackness. And fear was no aid to
clear thought.

A blast of cool air swept over her as rough, gloved hands grabbed
her blonde hair and jerked her headfirst out of the car trunk.
Paula let out a quiet whimper as her miniskirt caught and then
tore on something hard and sharp.

A man laughed.

Stumbling blindly on her high heels, she followed her captors as
they half pulled, half pushed her along. Eventually, they came to
a halt. Paula heard some male voices talking, but couldn't make
out the words though the heavy leather of the sack. Straining,
she heard a metallic slam as a heavy door crashed open in front
of her. She was pushed through and, as her heels clicked hard and
hollow against the rough concrete floor, she knew where she was.

In prison.

They had brought her back to prison.

What was happening?

Tears ran black streaks of mascara down her pasty cheeks and
dissipated in the warm, sticky perspiration which beaded and
pooled on her face in the dark, sweaty confines of the leather
hood. Fighting to remain on her feet, Paula followed her captors
down one long, concrete and iron hall after another. Then into an
elevator; Paula panted for breath as the slow, jerking descent
settled like dread in the pit of her stomach. Without warning, a
hand ripped open the front of her blouse. She shrilled into the
leather mask, twisting and squirming against the elevator wall as
a rough hand jerked one large, soft breast out of her bra and
mauled it.

A male voice said something and the hand went away.

After what seemed like an eternity, the elevator stopped and
another long, blind walk began.

Doors slid open and slammed shut, hollow and heavy.
Finally, the walk came to an end and Paula was pushed into a
wall. A hand grabbed the top of her hood and, without warning,
tore it from her head.

Gasping at the cool fresh air, Paula blinked as her eyes adjusted
to the weak florescent light. She was in a short, concrete
corridor, studded with heavy, metallic doors. Two doors were
open.

Solitary.

But not the solitary she was used to. Just a short, concrete
hallway half lit by a row of flickering florescent lights.

"C'mon cunt." One of the men grabbed her by the arm and dragged
her down the hall. "They're waiting."

Waiting?

The men, wearing the blue and grey uniform of a prison guard
Paula now saw, pushed her roughly ahead of them down the hallway.
She stumbled along in front of them, her hands still cuffed
behind her back. A few moments later, they passed one of the open
doorways. Paula glanced inside and stopped in her tracks.

It was Karl.

Her ex-husband.

Naked, his body covered with welts and bruises, he was bent
double over the side of a rusty metal cot. A thick chain ran
from a heavy leather collar to the head of the cot. A large
black man knelt behind him, brutally thrusting his crotch at
Karl's naked ass.

Fucking him.

Paula let out a wordless scream. Karl and the black man looked up
at her through the open doorway. A look of doomed recognition
came over her ex-husband's face. He opened his mouth to speak,
but only managed to gasp in pain as the black man pulled back and
brutally buried his cock deep into Karl's bleeding ass. A thin
line of drool trickled over Karl's lips as he jerked forward over
the cot. Paula stifled a second scream as she stared at Karl's
open, toothless mouth.

"C'mon boy," the black man growled, slamming his fist into his
plaything's thigh, "I'v tol' y'befo... y' squeal 'n I fuck ya."
Karl let out a loud, pain filled squeal, bucking in pain as the
man brought his fist down on his bruised back.

One of the guards jerked Paula away. "That's enough," he told
her, pushing her down the hallway towards another open doorway.
"You'll have lots of time for a reunion later."
Paula looked up at the guard, her eyes wide with fear. "H-he
beat... me," she gasped.

It's not my fault!

"Uh huh."

The guard shoved her through the open doorway into a small cell
containing nothing more than a small, metallic cot...

***

Moments later...

Paula grunted in pain as the cock burned its way into her dry,
unwilling cunt, slamming her stomach into the side of the cot.
Her grunts were muffled by the long, hard cock sliding in and out
between her lips. 'No teeth,' the man had warned. 'Or we'll take
them out.' The image of Karl's toothless mouth served warning of
the reality of that threat.

"Hurry up in there," a man cried from behind her.

"No rush," came the answer. "She'll be here for a long time."

From the other room, the distant sound of Karl's squealing rang
in her ears as Paula's body jerked back and forth like a helpless
puppet between the two men.

A long time...

THE END
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