Chav Ch. 04 Pt. 02

It was a typical lads ploy. To force a girl to be the way they wanted her, the way they thought she should act and think and behave.

Lesbians were fun to watch for a bit, to get lads dicks hard, but once their dicks were hard, lesbians couldn't be lesbians anymore. That was the way they saw it and that was the way they were trying to force Kelly to think, through drugs and gang rape.

Right now they had an old delivery van, one of those private parcel delivery vans, badly parked down another side street.

The back doors were wide open and the West-Siders, eight or ten of them, were crowded together in the back, pressed up against the side panels and forming three sides of a square, the centre piece was a mattress and Kelly, naked and flopping like she was barely conscious, was on the mattress, being sandwiched between another two West-Siders.

Kelly moaned a little as she was humped by the two lads and felt up by the others, hands squeezing and pulling and slapping at her naked flesh anywhere and everywhere they could reach. But her moans were sleepy and half hearted.

Becky hurried on.

Five minutes later she was standing in the queue outside Corsairs, smoking a cigarette and wondering if she should offer an incentive to the bouncers to let her go straight in, but a quick glance along the line ahead of her revealed at least a half dozen other girls apparently with the same intention. She saw two of them working at their tops, amassing cleavage, shunting their tits to the best eye-popping position. One other girl she observed working her jaw prepare herself for stretching it around the huge cock meat she was going to offer to swallow down.

She flicked ash and glanced up the side street to Charles street beyond, one of the main avenues in the town centre.

At once, Becky started shaking, anxiety blossoming and her heart accelerating suddenly. Nervously, she slipped deeper into the queue, using other young bodies to conceal her from the big black Crysler that she had spotted which was snaking slowly up Charles street and getting closer. Parker's Crysler.

It stopped at the kerb alongside a group of young college types, four girls three lads.

A closer look confirmed that they were part of the group that Adam the slimy business bastard had been trying to chat up earlier.

The Crysler's rear door opened and Bull emerged in all his Police uniformed bulk. He was followed by an older man in an even flashier and well fitted Police uniform, some top brass bloke by the looks of his uniform and his tall, official looking standing and confidence.

The two officers stopped the group of Uni sluts. There was a brief, worried looking conversation and then the high ranker pointed out the brunette girl that Adam-smarmy-business-perv had been chatting up. She was the prettiest of the group by far too. Becky watched them.

They weren't locals and all of them were shocked and confused by the weird appearance of three police officers getting out of a private car. All but one of them at least. There was a short, weaselly lad toward the back, watching the pretty brunette with a barely disguised and definitely malevolent smirk on his goateed face.

Just short of reading lips Becky was able to approximate the way the conversation would be going.

Police Chief - "That one'll do."

Bull - "C'mon you. You've been pulled."

Girl - "What?! Wait... Get off me! I haven't done anything!"

Police Chief - "Look. You can either get in the car and get fucked by me. Or you can get dragged in the car and get fucked and beaten by these two. It's your choice dear."

A couple of her friends tried to intervene but Rod stepped in and held them back, with upraised hands and a murderous look.

Then he grabbed the second prettiest of the girls, a short blonde with an hourglass figure in hot-pants and a silky clinging top, and put his hands all over her curvy body. Meanwhile the others looked on in aghast silence, expressing their redundant disgust and horror at what was happening to their friends.

Finally, with a slumped, defeated posture, in floods of tears and with Bull's hands like vices on her slender shoulders, the chosen girl was pushed into the car.

Rod was still having fun with the University girl he had picked out for abuse.

She had, stupidly (unless Rod had made her), put her hands up over her head while he casually felt her up.

She had an impressive set of tits. She wasn't slender built so it was mostly puppy fat but they were a good D-cup at least.

They had been in an under-wired, cropped elastic vest-top but now that was all bunched up onto her chest, the tits bared and gripped tightly in Rod's evaluating hands.

And then his mouth fastened over the saucer shaped areola of one hefty tit, which seemed to glow a deep rosy pink in contrast to the pendulous orb of pale flesh it crowned.

Rod's full lipped, wide open mouth feasted on one tit and then the other, leaving a slick saliva trail across and all over both, while his hands mashed and crushed her soft, giving breasts in his horny aggression.

The girl shivered and whimpered under his assault. Not resisting in the slightest but visibly shaking in her boots and fighting back the tears of her fear and humiliation.

Bull seemed to grumble something to his partner, who nodded before filling his hands with the girl's tits again, then he shoved his tongue filthily into her mouth for a quick, dirty, forced snog. After a while his hands attacked the cheeks of her ass through her skin tight jeans. And then, giving her a heartily slap on the backside and a final quick suck on each of her fear hardened nipples, he released her.

Rod and Bull slid back inside the car, once the chosen girl was secured, and then the doors slammed shut, the engine gunned noisily and then peeled away from the kerb.

Becky shrugged off the slightly shocking situation with Rod, Bull and the elderly Police Chief and shuffled along with the line until she got inside Corsairs.

All at once, with the deafening music and the heady aromas of stale sweat and thick clouds of perfume and aftershave clogging her nostrils and making the back of her throat sting and forging the beginnings of a headache, Becky tromped through the sticky, tacky floor which was all grubby wooden floor boards bordered by horrible sticky carpet around the edges of the wide space. Her feet were all but sticking to the worn, low-pile.

Skirting the edge of the dance floor, found herself a little corner booth and then bought as many Vodka Red-bulls as she could afford.

And of course, all too soon, she was attracting the attention of the boys and men that immediately surrounded her and she didn't have to buy herself drinks any more.

Unfortunately, her mum seemed to be the number one topic of conversation. Even the DJ was in on it. There were loads of requests for songs that reminded them all of Sandy, most of them came from the Grease soundtrack.

For Becky it never seemed to end. She had gone to Corsairs to forget, but no one was allowing her to.

She was switched to jager-bombs, whether she wanted them or not. She didn't even care. She just wanted to numb the world and drown her feelings.

Unfortunately, the lads who bought her the drinks and showered her with the attention were all bastards, with neither thought, compassion, sympathy or common sense.

They either just wanted to fuck her, or wanted to talk about her mum. Or, more accurately, talk about fucking her mum.

Had Becky not been so drunk she would have been shocked by the number of lads who had fucked her mum, or at least, said they had.

All too soon though, Becky, hemmed in and surrounded in her booth by around a dozen young and not so young men, was all but forgotten as the all-male group swapped stories and memories of their own experiences with Sandy Taylor.

"...I fucked her mum one time. She came onto me, took me into t'bogs showed me a fuckin' awesome time. Then the uppity bitch just fucked me off, had a pussy full'a spunk though..."

"...Last year, her an' a mate ov'hers took me and me bruvver back to her mate's place and we have a foursome! In the same fuckin' bed! Her mum gave us one 'ell of a tit-job! I fucked them fun bags three times in a fuckin' row, I did! Fuckin' fantastic she was! Shame she's gone..."

"...Remember her thirtieth? Suppose you would have only been ten or fifteen or something, Becky. Anyway, she went out, got herself off her head on smack and ended up with about a dozen lads in bed with her. Never seen an orgy like it, outside American porn shit, maybe she was after thirty flavours of spunk up her or something. She was at it all fuckin' night! Deffo made her quota. But then word got round and random lads started gate crashing so they could fuck her. She well was out of it by then though, lucky f'her..."

"...I had her four times that night I think. She was only conscious for that first time though. Best fuck of my life that was. She was still getting it long after she'd passed out. We did this mass cum all over her tits, there was more than twenty of us. She was well fuckin' out of it. Must a woke up the next morning with a mountain of dried spunk all over her face and tits. Must have been proper weighing her down, there would have been so much of that stuff. Fuckin' incredible..!"

Their stories floated about Becky like soot, dirtying the already rancid air and dragging her mood even further down.

"...I see you've inherited yer mum's big juicy tits babe. Fancy a quickie in't bogs wiv me and me mate Johnny? You know, fer yer mum? Fer old times sake, like..?"

Becky answered the latter and eldest of the stalkers by grabbing the closest empty beer bottle and smashing it over his head. He went down with a heavy wheezing moan and the laughter of the other men filled the space.

Becky forced her way through them, stormed across the remnants of the broken bottle and past the whimpering, bleeding middle-aged pervert and stormed out of the nightclub like a whirlwind.

<><><>

Back on the street Becky didn't find any solace or any help in forgetting.

She spotted Rod and Bull ahead of her with their backs to her. They were harassing girls at random. Becky watched them hone in on a group of twenty somethings, who actually tried to run but they were grabbed and herded to the pavement like terrified sheep by hungry wolves. The herd was thinned as Rod and Bull pulled the sexiest out of the group and drew them into the mouth of an alley.

The other girls, the released herd, stood about uncertainly for a few seconds, as if debating whether to wait for their friends of just leave them to it. They ended up leaving them to it.

Bull pushed one girl up against the wall, kicked her legs wide apart, hiking her mini skirt up to her hips as she took the position. Then the huge Police officer gave her a heavy, randy and entirely inappropriate frisking.

Rod didn't even initiate a pretence. He shoved his choice, a pretty young looking brunette with short pixy styled hair, down on to her knees, took his cock out of his uniform pants and slapped her about the up-turned face with the huge shaft of weighty cock meat.

Becky watched him, and almost immediately found herself rethinking her earlier idea. She looked him over, taking in his size, his cruel, malignant features and, on top of his live, sadistic performance with the pixy-girl slut, it brought back everything Becky had heard about and witnessed of his brutality, his corrupt nature, his sadistic perversions.

And the way he preyed on Becky and her like, the estate kids, lads and girl's alike, the violations, corruptions, embezzlements, abuses, assaults, rape after rape, the forced pimping.

She threw her idea away with disgust. What had she been thinking!? She wouldn't have lasted five minutes under his control!

Even though Rod and Bull were both busy, one face fucking his beetroot red Pixy-girl whore, the other with three sausage fingers stuffed up the pale soft arse of the other skinny blonde woman, Becky took no chances and crossed the road before taking a side street back in the direction of where the main road snaked back on itself.

Down another alley she caught up with the exploits of Adam, the smarmy businessman, and the retired-cop-turned-pimp.

Adam had the young piece, that the retired Scot had been busy pimping, bent over a commercial dumpster, one of those red council ones. The girl was naked, her legs dangling free, arms tucked under her chest, supporting her, gripping the black plastic hinged lid.

Smarmy Adam had his face buried between her creamy, pert, buttocks and he was feasting hungrily.

The girl's face was a picture, wide eyed, worried, uncertain and yet a little horny too. She kept looking back over her shoulder and chewing on her bottom lip as she was rimmed or eaten or whatever he was doing to her. Knowing him, probably rimming. He had one hand squeezing her naked ass while his other was at his open crotch, tugging mercilessly at the big, long, thick erection that Becky herself had sampled only a couple of hours earlier.

Then the girl grew panicky as he pulled suddenly back and climbed up onto a stack of pallets to get the right position to fuck her. It was all there in the girl's face as smarmy Adam arranged himself, pushing that party-sized helmet, more than likely against her tiny sphincter and then forcing his way inside.

Her face went from wide eyed fear, brimming tears and slack, pouty mouth, to bulging eyes and silent scream, to screwed up tear-flowing eyes and gritted teeth, as he shoved his way home and then started to hammer away ten-to-the-dozen, sodomising her with loud grunts of pure sadistic passion. His guttural cacophony was perfectly accompanied by the whimpering, gushing, blubbering noises the girl made as she was brutally and openly buggered over a commercial rubbish bin, down a filthy town-centre back alley.

As she passed by from a safe distance, Becky spotted the retired copper standing in the shadows of the same alley, one eye on his young bitch taking a hard ass fuck the other on the wad of cash he was thumbing through. His face was practically split by the wide satisfied grin.

<><><>

Parker's Crysler appeared once Becky was back on the main thoroughfare, apparently waiting for her.

Chloe and the Police Chief were in the back seat. She was ushered in to join them by a cruel faced, stubble-jawed twenty something driver, dressed in jeans and leathers, with tribal tattoos crawling up his broadly muscled neck.

She got into the back of the car in mute despair, knowing what the rest of her evening was going to entail. And knowing there was nothing she could do about it.

The trip to the town centre had proved one thing to her. She belonged to Mad-Dog Parker and there was no one who could help her.

Chloe introduced her to the Chief of Police. Tall, thin and grey, though supremely smart in his polished and pressed uniform.

"Becks, this is Mr Clarence Clive, Deputy Chief Commissioner... And my boyfriend." Chloe said with a wide and overly excited smile.

She was dressed in little black and white polka dot pumps, black and white striped knee socks. There was a tiny black latex skirt with a little white plastic belt hanging loose from her narrow hips and a soft, almost transparent clingy, floaty top, with half sleeves and a wide, gathered neckline. Slutty, bright red lipstick and iridescent silver and diamond earrings and nose studs finished off the alluring young portrait.

She looked like she was high. Her eyes, framed by long curling fake lashes, even looked a bit glassy. Becky had seen it often enough to recognise the signs.

"Nice to meet you, young lady." Chief Clive said with his own wide and distinctly creepy and perverted smile. And his eyes never made it any further north than Becky's cleavage.

"Yeah, hello." Becky muttered in response.

"I might well be young Chloe's partner," He turned to the girl beside him and eyed her with cool appraising lust. "I'm too old to be described as a boyfriend, child." Then he turned back to Becky with a malicious grin spreading his thin lips wide. He even had a narrow grey moustache framing his upper lip. It made him look like he belonged in the last century, Becky thought.

"Whereas young Chloe here is probably best described as my personal cum dumpster." He added.

Chloe set about in quivering fits of hilarity, giggling away for a while.

"Don't mind her. She's been given something I assume. Sometimes she needs something to make her... Pliant." The Chief added, cutting through the girl's giggles.

"Daddy wants you home. I've been sent to collect you." Chloe finally managed, once the giggling was over.

Becky sat there in silence, watching the other two. It was obvious what was going to happen. The Police Chief's lust was thick, almost palpable, filling the back seat of the car, even though Becky knew he must have already fucked that girl girl he had picked up near Corsairs earlier.

The Chief wrapped an arm around Chloe's neck, the crook of his elbow tight around her as he pulled her hard against him.

His hand slid down from her shoulder and cupped one of her small perky breasts, while the girl obediently twisted her face to meet his as he moved in for a kiss.

He pulled Chloe's face forcedly against his, pushing the kiss hard onto her uplifted mouth. While their lips met and spread, wet tongues meeting, the Chief's hand shoved its way down the scooped neckline of her thin, filmy top, to cup and then mash her small, braless breasts.

He caught a nipple between finger and thumb and twisted it cruelly, enjoying Chloe's pain-filled whimpering reaction even as she sucked on his think probing tongue.

His hand shifted around under her translucent top, pulling and pinching at her caught nipple, the flurrying movement increasing until it was practically a blur of sadistic mistreatment.

Chloe whimpered and whined, tears brimming in her huge doe-like eyes and the Chief withdrew from the kiss in order to bask in the power he had over the girl.

A nasty predatory grin formed on his face in response to Chloe's pain and his other hand went to his fly.

His attention was momentarily caught by Becky, who was sat watching in pale, mute silence. Well, his attention was caught by her jutting bosom.

"You look like shit girl!" He grunted, nodding his head at the spilled booze stains, bloodshot eyes, tussled hair and generally unbalanced drunkeness of her. "But get your tits out all the same. I wanna see them."

"Ha!" Becky grunted. "You fuckin' wish old man!"

The Chief smiled, but his annoyance came through in the way his fingers twisted and tortured Chloe's nipples and in the girl's responsive pleas and moans of pain and mercy. He seemed to drift off for a moment, quiet, thoughtful. Then his grin returned and he eyed Becky again.

"There are three convicted rapists, really sadistic individuals, currently out on bail and they all live less then ten minutes from here. How would you like to be locked up in the back of one of my Police vans with them all for a few hours? Or, alternatively, you could do as I say and get your tits out?"

Becky stared at him, sullen, sickened, annoyed and knowing it was all redundant. Muttering to herself as many colourful curse combinations as she could think up, she reached for her top.

She pulled the hem up and out to free it from catching onto her alcohol hardened nipples and then drew it high up on her chest and held it there, twisting side on in her seat and putting her back to the rear door so the old pervert Deputy Chief got a proper eye full of her big, pert melons.

He grinned that horrible predatory, perverse smile, his eyes going wide and locking on Becky's hot young tits, while his hand freed his erection and levered up up out of his fly. Becky couldn't help but check it over.