tagChain StoriesThe Maltese Fuckin' Ch. 2

The Maltese Fuckin' Ch. 2

bySabrina©

Ch. II: The Streets of Sin City

"Shit!" Hugo swore, as he grappled with the door lock. "Shit. It's locked!" The blond was still screaming. He fumbled for the light cord and with trembling fingers pulled it but nothing happened. "Shit!" he yelled. The main corridor light switch must have been flicked. He kicked the door.

There was screaming from the room opposite and high pitched screaming from his own room.

"Shut the fuck up," he yelled at the blond.

"I'm shot," she moaned, "I'm shot!" Hugo cast an eye at her through the dim light.

"No, you're not," he brushed her aside. "It came from the cabin on the other side of the corridor." Hugo cast his mind back. What was the name of that cabin? Thirty something... Then it came to him. It was 33B. Suddenly he remembered. "Oh my god, Madeline!"

"What?" the blonde looked up from her sobbing.

"The cabin in which the shot was fired was 33B! Madeline said her room was 33-B! She may be shot!" He ran towards the door. "Madeline! Madeline!"

"Who the fuck is Madeline?" she snapped.

"She may be dead!" Hugo yelled. He started hammering on the door. "Help! We need some help in here!"

The blonde dramatically collapsed on the floor. "I may be dying!" she yelled. "Had you thought about that!" Hugo turned, exasparated. "You're not dying," he snapped. "There's no blood, no bullet. Can't you fucking see that? It's not that dark in here!"

"How would you know!" she shrieked. "You're not dying!"

"No, but Madeline might be! Now shut the fuck up and let me clear my head!"

After what seemed like an eternity, the train stopped. Hugo could hear passengers' muffled gasps and shrieks. There was a murmuring and Hugo heard a man's voice shouting.

"Stand aside, clear away, let me through! I'm the conductor here!" It was Utley. Hugo started hammering on the door.

"Help! We're locked in here! Let us out!" he yelled. "There's no key," he heard Utley say on the other side of the door. "Stand aside. We'll break it down."

Hugo grabbed the blonde and pulled her to the very back of the broom cupboard. After several attempts in which the door merely stood fast and creaked, Utley and two other male passengers successfully kicked it down. Utley hurried over to them. Hugo stood up and let him through to the blonde.

"Are you okay, Miss?" he asked, pulling her up.

"You've got to save Madeline!" Hugo yelled.

"Is she Madeline?" Utley looked at the sobbing blonde.

"No, she's Pam!" Hugo sighed. The blonde shook her touseled hair and leant against the conductor.

"No," she whispered dramatically. "I'm Sam Randall." The conductor threw down his hands.

"Who the fuck are you two?" he yelled in exasperation. Hugo grabbed him by the shoulders.

"I'm Hugo Kirby, she's Sam or Pam, it makes no difference, for the one who I'm trying to tell you to find is Madeline! She's in Room 33-B where the fucking shot was heard!"

The conductor pushed Hugo away. He pointed to the porters. "You, go check on Room 33-B with him. And you, go turn the main lights on" He looked at the blonde again. "Are you okay, Miss?"

"No," she whispered. "I think I'm shot!"

"She's just in shock," Hugo explained. "It's Madeline who may be in danger."

Utley gestured to another porter. Take this lady to a compartment where she can recover. The rest of you, go back to your rooms. There's nothing to see here." The crowd of people filed back down the corridors, murmuring amongst themselves. Hugo and Utley, who was holding a torch, went across to the door of Room 33-B where the porters were knocking on the door.

"Miss?" one of them asked. "Are you alright in there?" Utley pushed them away impatiently. "Leave them to me," he said. He knocked on the door. "Miss," he consulted his papers, "Miss...Cross? Open the door, I'm the conductor. "

There was no reply. Hugo could hear sobbing. The conductor tried again. "Miss Cross, open this door at once! I am William Utley, the conductor. Let me in at once, I say!" Still no answer. Angrily, Utley tried the door. The handle turned and the door opened at once surprisingly, making Utley stumble into the room. But what was in the room, was even more surprising. Hugo gasped.

There, on the plush carpet of the luxurious room, lay Madeline, in a way that Hugo had seen her many times before. Naked. She was crouched over someone, sobbing. Both Utley and Hugo ran forward and helped Madeline onto a chair. They turned around to see who lay there on the carpet.

One of the porters fainted. The other ran out to be sick. Utley gulped, his face Hugo gasped again. He recognized the black porter, this time without his porter's uniform. And this time with a bullet hole right through his heart and blood pouring on to the white plush carpet "Shit!" Hugo swore, as he grappled with the door lock. "Shit. It's locked!" The blond was still screaming. He fumbled for the light cord and with trembling fingers pulled it but nothing happened. "Shit!" he yelled. The main corridor light switch must have been flicked. He kicked the door.

There was screaming from the room opposite and high pitched screaming from his own room.

"Shut the fuck up," he yelled at the blond.

"I'm shot," she moaned, "I'm shot!" Hugo cast an eye at her through the dim light.

"No, you're not," he brushed her aside. "It came from the cabin on the other side of the corridor." Hugo cast his mind back. What was the name of that cabin? Thirty something... Then it came to him. It was 33B. Suddenly he remembered. "Oh my god, Madeline!"

"What?" the blonde looked up from her sobbing.

"The cabin in which the shot was fired was 33B! Madeline said her room was 33-B! She may be shot!" He ran towards the door. "Madeline! Madeline!"

"Who the fuck is Madeline?" she snapped.

"She may be dead!" Hugo yelled. He started hammering on the door. "Help! We need some help in here!"

The blonde dramatically collapsed on the floor. "I may be dying!" she yelled. "Had you thought abou that!" Hugo turned, exasparated. "You're not dying," he snapped. "There's no blood, no bullet. Can't you fucking see that? It's not that dark in here!"

"How would you know!" she shrieked. "You're not dying!"

"No, but Madeline might be! Now shut the fuck up and let me clear my head!"

After what seemed like an eternity, the train stopped. Hugo could hear passengers' muffled gasps and shrieks. There was a murmuring and Hugo heard a man's voice shouting.

"Stand aside, clear away, let me through! I'm the conductor here!" It was Utley. Hugo started hammering on the door.

"Help! We're locked in here! Let us out!" he yelled. "There's no key," he heard Utley say on the other side of the door. "Stand aside. We'll break it down."

Hugo grabbed the blonde and pulled her to the very back of the broom cupboard. After several attempts in which the door merely stood fast and creaked, Utley and two other male passengers successfully kicked it down. Utley hurried over to them. Hugo stood up and let him through to the blonde.

"Are you okay, Miss?" he asked, pulling her up.

"You've got to save Madeline!" Hugo yelled.

"Is she Madeline?" Utley looked at the sobbing blonde.

"No, she's Pam!" Hugo sighed. The blonde shook her touseled hair and leant against the conductor.

"No," she whispered dramatically. "I'm Sam Randall." The conductor threw down his hands.

"Who the fuck are you two?" he yelled in exasperation. Hugo grabbed him by the shoulders.

"I'm Hugo Kirby, she's Sam or Pam, it makes no difference, for the one who I'm trying to tell you to find is Madeline! She's in Room 33-B where the fucking shot was heard!"

The conductor pushed Hugo away. He pointed to the porters. "You, go check on Room 33-B with him. And you, go turn the main lights on" He looked at the blonde again. "Are you okay, Miss?"

"No," she whispered. "I think I'm shot!"

"She's just in shock," Hugo explained. "It's Madeline who may be in danger."

Utley gestured to another porter. Take this lady to a compartment where she can recover. The rest of you, go back to your rooms. There's nothing to see here." The crowd of people filed back down the corridors, murmuring amongst themselves. Hugo and Utley, who was holding a torch, went across to the door of Room 33-B where the porters were knocking on the door.

"Miss?" one of them asked. "Are you alright in there?" Utley pushed them away impatiently. "Leave them to me," he said. He knocked on the door. "Miss," he consulted his papers, "Miss...Cross? Open the door, I'm the conductor. "

There was no reply. Hugo could hear sobbiing. The conductor tried again. "Miss Cross, open this door at once! I am William Utley, the conductor. Let me in at once, I say!" Still no answer. Angrily, Utley tried the door. The handle turned and the door opened at once surprisingly, making Utley stumble into the room. But what was in the room, was even more surprising. Hugo gasped.

There, on the plush carpet of the luxurious room, lay Madeline, in a way that Hugo had seen her many times before. Naked. She was crouched over someone, sobbing. Both Utley and Hugo ran forward and helped Madeline onto a chair. They turned around to see who lay there on the carpet.

One of the porters fainted. The other ran out to be sick. Utley gulped, his face Hugo gasped again. He recognized the black porter, this time without his porter's uniform. And this time with a bullet hole right through his heart and blood pouring on to the white plush carpet.

Utley went white. With his voice shaking, he called for more porters. Three came in running and gasped at the sight of the porter James Brown. "You, boy," Utley told him. "Go to my private compartment. There's a, there's a telephone in there. Call ahead to the next top, that's Los Angeles, and tell them what is happening. You, you go to the driver and inform him of the circumstances. Tell him to start up the train again and to make full speed to LA." Both porters ran off quickly. He gestured to the third. "And you, go through all the coaches and rooms and try to find a doctor, nurse or anyone who can help. And bring the medical kit." He paused. "This boy is going to need it..."

Hugo went over to Madeline who was crying in her chair, and gave her her clothes. She quickly pulled them on, her fingers trembling, and hugged him.

"If you ask me, she's lying, Barry!" one of the policemen called to the cop.

"Well I'm not askin you, I'm askin' her," the police inspector glared at Madeline, who sat next to Hugo on the opposite side of the desk. The police inspector leaned over on his desk. His name tag read Inspector B. Owner.

"So, Miss Cross, all we've gotten out of you is your name and the name of your friend here. Well my name's Barry Owner, I'm 6ft two, I'm a police inspector and I'll 'ave you fucking thrown into the cells if you're not more talkative. So go on, we're," he nodded to the officers behind him, "we're listening. Tell us more." he said, mockingly.

Madeline looked at Hugo. "M-my name's Madeline Cross and I'm a model."

Owner looked her up and down. "What sort of model?" he smirked.

"I was Miss 1956 and 57 for Class Act magazine," she stammered.

"Oh, I see." Owner got up and walked around Hugo and Madeline, breathing heavily on her neck. She fidgeted nervously in her seat. He sat down again. "Now, would you care to shed some light on why you were in your room with a black porter?"

"He - I called him in to ask him to bring me some tea," Madeline said hesitantly, her eyes conveniently fixed on the patterns on the ceiling.

"You were both naked, Miss Cross."

"I, I - " Madeline looked to Hugo desperately.

"What was a fucking black porter doing with you, Miss Cross?" Owner demanded.

Madeline looked from one face to another. "He wasn't raping me, if that's what you mean," she declared defensively.

"Are you telling us you fucked a black porter willingly, Miss Cross?" Owner whispered softly, yet somewhat menacingly at the same time. Madeline nodded defiantly. Like Hugo, she believed there to be nothing wrong with that. Unfortunately Inspector B. Owner and his fellow policemen obviously took a different view.

Owner again got up from his seat and slowly walked over until he was directly behind Madeline. She squirmed as she felt his hot breath on her bare neck.

"Whore..." he hissed at her. She tensed up and closed her eyes tight. Owner leaned over and ripped her blouse right open.

Hugo leapt to his feet. "You can't do that, leave her alone!" he yelled. Owner looked up, laughing.

"I'd be careful about what you say, Mr. Kirby, about what I, a police Inspector, can and can not do. Otherwise you may find yourself spending a considerable amount of your time down in our humble cells. And they're not as comfortable as the Station Hotel, I am sorry to say." He motioned to the police guards. "Chain him to the bench over there."

"Stop!" Hugo cried as the four police officers descended upon him, the front one wielding a shiny pair of silver handcuffs. "You can't do this!" But he was powerless to stop them all and soon found himself attached to the uncomfortable bench, forced to watch as Owner tore off the rest of Madeline's black blouse. Off went her black skirt too, just as quickly. Madeline sat there, motionless, quietly whimpering. Inspector Owner was obviously happy at the lack of resistance.

"Good," he sneered. "A slut who knows what's good for her!" He pointed to Hugo. "You should take lessons from this nigger fucking whore here, Mr Kirby!" Hugo closed his eyes, not wanting to see the injustices which were bound to follow.

Madeline felt her bra being gently taken off and lifted over her head. How can they do this, she sobbed to herself. She knew there was nothing she could do and would could only hope it would be over soon. Soon she felt her knickers and tights being removed. She closed her eyes, unable to gaze at her soon to be rapist.

Inspector Owner laughed at the sight of his helpless victim. Her underwear was removed, leaving her cold and naked on the iron chair. Her eyes were still tightly closed and so she didn't see him take out his dick. She did feel herself being lifted from the chair and being thrown onto the floor, where she began crying to herself. She was Miss 1956, 57 and hopefully 58 of Class Act magazine. How could he do this to her? But there was no point in resisting. He had the power, she did not, and they both knew that.

She winced as he landed on top of her, pinching her breasts. Roughly, he shoved his dick into her and she bit her lip, trying not to squeal in pain. Her head banged on the cold metal floor as he pounded into her, again, and again. Just when she believed the nightmare would never ever end, he tensed up and filled her with all of his cum. Madeline felt tears trickling down her face. My god, she screamed to herself. I better not get pregnant with this bastard's child!

The Inspector pulled out of her and threw her her clothes. She sat up, surprised that it was over so early. "Normally," he told her, "I would offer you to my friends here, but we're busy with other things tonight, so shove on your clothes. I hope that's taught you a lesson not to give your filthy body to even filthier black bastards~!"

Quickly, Madeline pulled on her clothes for the second time that night. Hugo was unchained and they were both roughly handled out of the room and towards the exit.

"Is that it? Aren't you going to try and find the murderer?" Hugo asked in disbelief. Madeline clung on to him, still sobbing. Owner laughed.

"Why bother? He did a good thing, killing that nigger. The black porter was punished by being shot, and - "

"For what?" Hugo yelled. "For being black?" Owner laughed.

"Spot on, Mr. Kirby," he smiled. "And this slut here has just been punished for sleeping with such vermin. And good day to you."

The door was slammed in their faces. Hugo and Madeline walked down back into the streets. They carried on walking in silence, both contemplating what had just happened. Finally, Hugo cleared his throat and looked at her. "The conductor said our luggage would be taken to the Station Hotel. We should go and collect them."

Madeline nodded silently. They continued on, not speaking a word. Then, Hugo stopped. "What were you doing in there with a porter, Madeline?"

"What the fuck do you think I was doing?" "Fucking a porter in your room, you could have lost him his job!" "No," Madeline retorted sharply. "No. Instead, I cost him his life."

Hugo felt guilty for interrogating her. He could see tears in her eyes. She was obviously feeling extremely guilty. Not knowing what else to say, he told her," You shouldn't blame your self, Madeline."

Madeline looked up at him. "What else can I do?" she said softly. "It was my fault he was in there in the first place, I persuaded him to, to..." she broke off, unable to look at Hugo. Hugo motioned for her to continue. "We were in there, doing, you know, and then suddenly the lights went out. I heard the door open fiercely and then the shot. I, I felt James go limp and he slipped from my grasp. I screamed and looked up."

"What did you see?" Hugo asked.

"No, I didn't see who ever it was clearly. It was dark, and I could just barely make out a figure slipping out of the door. Then someone else screamed and I then carried on screaming and screaming..."

Hugo looked at her, pale. Madeline sighed. "I don't understand," she whispered. "I don't understand why anyone would want to kill him. He was merely a young black porter. No one cares about them. Why would someone want to shoot him?"

Hugo suddenly stiffened. Madeline noticed this and looked at him. "What's wrong?" she asked. Hugo grabbed her hand and broke into a run, pulling her behind with him. "What's wrong?" she cried out again. Then it dawned upon her. "You don't think, no you can't." She paused. "You don't think the killer was aiming at me do you?"

Hugo turned. "Why would anyone want to kill an unknown, considered inferior, porter? When there was you, heiress, rich with all your modeling fees and likely candidate for Miss 1958? A shot in the dark missed you and hit the porter, with whom you were unfortunately entwined with, rolling on the floor. Yes, the shot was obviously aimed at you. We must get you to safety quickly, because..."

He looked onto the street, which was dark and deserted. The streetlights were dull, no match for the midnight darkness which had descended on the street. A dog's howl could be heard and the welcoming lights of the hotel were faint distant glows, too far. Hugo sighed.

"Because... when whoever tried to kill you finds out that he missed, will surely be after you again..."

To Be Continued...

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