Alone Ch. 06

After realizing I didn't have an answer for him, he threw me off him, opened the car door and immediately got out, a look of disgust on his face. With the leash still attached to the handle above the door, I had to scramble to get to a kneeling position inside the car, keeping my head up. With the car door open now, I could feel a serious chill all down my legs as cum, piss, and other various juices combined to create a disgusting smelling concoction, the likes of which I couldn't begin to describe. Now that I finally didn't have his cock in me anymore, I felt like I could think clearer, like I didn't need to set aside half of my mental energy to accommodate it. That newfound clarity made me recognize what was about to happen next. He'd gone to get the gas. My fears were confirmed when, only a few minutes later, he returned with a bright red jerry can.

"Stand up." He said coldly, putting the can down at his feet.

I stayed kneeling in the footwell, piss dribbling down my leg, neck still leashed to the grab handle, hands cuffed uselessly in front of me. I couldn't move, I couldn't speak, and I could hardly think properly. I'd done everything he asked. I'd degraded myself on camera, and now he was going to burn me to death anyway.

"Stand. Up." He repeated, pulling out Thomas's gun from behind his back.

I awkwardly got to my feet outside the car, trying not to wince as the stony surface of the road dug into my bare feet. Oddly enough, the leash gave me more than enough slack to stand up straight. The advantages of being 5'5", I guess. I watched as he walked around to the driver's side door and took my phone from the door pocket, where it had been recording the whole sordid affair. He then walked back around to me, pointing the phone at me, as he kept the gun at his side.

I knew what this was. I could almost picture my dad, sitting in front of the TV as he always did until the early hours of the morning, watching old action movies. He'd get a message and find a blurred out video thumbnail, impossible to make out. He'd download it, start watching it, and the first thing he'd see was me, kneeling in the dirt, tied by the neck to my own patrol car, and stark naked, save for my uniform shirt and a pair of model 100 handcuffs. I couldn't let him see what came next, or whatever else he sent.

"Dad!" I got out tearfully, staring right at the camera. "Dad, look away." I begged hysterically. "Don't watch this dad, please."

"Shut up!" Greg snapped, raising the gun.

"Dad, I love you. Tell mom I love her too, don't let her see me like this!" I got out rapidly, holding back more tears as I saw him settle his aim at my knees.

"Get on your knees." He said bitterly.

Hesitantly, I did so, the leash allowing me just enough slack to kneel upright without it pulling on my neck.

"Said your goodbyes?" He asked simply.

"No." I croaked, tears still streaming down my face.

"Shame." He replied bluntly, and locked his arm out, ready to take the shot.

"Please!" I got out through my sobbing, causing him to falter. "Please don't burn me." I choked out.

"You pissed on me." He said, his voice low and warning.

"I didn't mean to." I whispered desperately.

I looked him right in the eyes, appealing to whatever humanity was there. There had to be something, anything. He'd just fucked me senseless, staring into my own green eyes as he did so, and watched as I came around his cock. He had to feel something for me after that, anything that would make him show me some mercy.

"Well, you still did it." He shot back, but I could see his arm slackening, and his aim lowering.

"I'm sorry!" I cried hopelessly. "I'm so sorry!"

He laughed cruelly. "Oh, you're sorry you fucking pissed on me? I made you come, you stupid fucking whore! And then you fucking pissed on me! What kind of a thanks is that?" He ranted.

"I can make you cum again." I promised quietly.

He lowered his aim further. He seemed to be considering it for a second, but after a glance at the piss running down my legs, he turned his nose up.

"I don't want to fuck you after that." He replied simply, raising the gun again.

"Wait!" I shouted, begging him for just a few more moments to save my life. "Wait. I'll suck your dick!"

That made him stop. His eyes went from my stained and battered legs, and the well-used hole between them, up to my face, where, except for a small cut on my lip, my mouth lay untouched. I knew he was going to agree the moment he looked back up at me. The disgust was gone, and the hunger was back. Somehow, despite just saving myself from a bullet, seeing that expression back on his face scared me more. He considered for a moment, before putting the gun back in his pants, his mind made up.

"If I feel any teeth, this footage gets sent to every news station in the country." He said simply. "And then it goes on every porn site there is, and your name goes right along with it."

"I know." I assured him. "I- I know what I'm doing." I added, hesitating for only a moment.

He laughed harshly. "I'll bet you do."

"Please, can I-" I began, but stopped. There was no point asking anything of this man.

He raised an eyebrow, and emphatically gestured for me to continue.

"Can I wash myself?" I asked after a moment, gesturing down at my legs.

"Have you got any water?" He asked eventually.

"No, I've got-" I turned and gestured at the car behind me with my cuffed hands. "I've only got a can of monster."

He walked past me and looked inside the car, noticing the half-empty can sitting in the cup holder.

"Well that's no good. You know those energy drinks are bad for you, right?" He said after a moment, picking up the can and emptying it out on the ground next to me. "Messes up your circadian rhythm." He added quietly.

I had to stop myself from laughing, despite everything. It really was funny though. This rapist, who until a few moments ago, planned to set me alight and film it, was giving me health advice. You couldn't make this stuff up.

"I'll be sure to avoid them in future." I replied dryly.

He narrowed his eyes at me, and for a moment, I thought that last comment had sealed my fate. But instead, he just chuckled, and threw the empty can back into the car.

"Stay there. I'll get you some water."

He wandered back over to the BMW, seemingly not concerned in the slightest that I might run away. I knew why though. I was still trying to get my breathing back under control after being choked to within an inch of my life. I had no shoes, so running anywhere fast would be a challenge, especially with my hands still cuffed together. What's more, even if I eluded Greg, the cold November night wasn't kind to someone wearing nothing but an unbuttoned shirt. Then there was the leash around my neck, still tied around the car's grab handle, a tie which had shown its strength already by suspending at least half my body weight. With my fingers numb from the cold, and the rest of me shivering uncontrollably from the cold, I had no expectation of being able to undo either end of the leash, especially giving myself enough time to escape. On top of all of that, there was the price of failure, sitting in the large red jerry can just three feet away.

Failure meant a death I wouldn't wish on anyone. And I really mean anyone. As much as I despised Greg, as many unforgivable acts he'd inflicted upon me, I wouldn't wish it even on him. He came back a moment later, throwing a half-empty bottle of water at me. As I awkwardly picked it back up off the ground, he leaned past me and started undoing the leash from the car. While he was undoing that, I opened the bottle of water and started pouring it sparingly down my legs and ass, gasping at the cold. By the time the bottle was nearly empty, my teeth were chattering. My toes especially were freezing cold. Greg looked down at me, raising an eyebrow.

"How you gonna suck dick like that?" He demanded.

"I don't- I don't" I began, but stopped.

If I wasn't even able to suck him off, then how was I holding up my end of the bargain? That's what the deal was. He didn't burn me alive, and in exchange for that, I sucked his dick. Oh, and he was probably still going to kill me after, but he'd be so kind as to just shoot me instead. Not a great deal when I thought about it, but I wasn't exactly in a position to haggle.

He sighed. "Hold on a minute."

He reached over the door and grabbed something from the hood of the car, before throwing it at me. I caught it with my face, and realized it was my undershirt. What did he expect me to do with this? My hands were cuffed together, so I couldn't wear it, and even if I could, I knew he wouldn't let me cover my tits up.

"I can't put this on." I said awkwardly.

He took the near-empty bottle back from me and climbed back into the patrol car, looking at the seat for a moment.

"Use it to dry yourself off." He explained curtly.

I did so, drying myself off as best I could, as well as, despite the discomfort, using it to dry in and around my vagina a little, mopping up as much cum as I could. While I felt marginally better afterwards, I was still freezing cold. I knew I was pushing my luck, but I had to ask.

"Can I have my pants back?" I mumbled.

While I'd been cleaning up, he was laying my bulletproof vest down on the seat, before giving it a sniff. Satisfied it was a sufficient barrier against the mess we'd left behind, he sat down comfortably, and watched me as I stood up. He didn't even hear me, busy turning up the heat on the car's climate controls. I repeated the question, looked across at him as he tossed my boots over to the driver's seat and got himself comfortable.

He raised an eyebrow. "No?" He replied, as if it was obvious, before gesturing at me to get back into the car.

I did so, squeezing myself between his legs. The footwell was fairly large, but he was a big guy, so it was still tight, and I found myself pushed pretty far forward. My knees were jammed just underneath the seat, with very little room to maneuver. Once I was in, he shifted my leash around and closed the door behind us. Almost immediately, I felt the foot heater working its magic, quickly warming up my bare ass and feet. I sighed in relief, and soon stopped shivering. I'd have preferred to have my pants on, as my knees and legs weren't getting much heat, but it was still better than being outside in the cold, and considering I'd only just managed to talk myself out of being given the IRA special and then set alight, complaining about the cold seemed ironic.

A sudden yank of the leash pulled my face forward, inches from his crotch. I looked up and saw him looking down at me, an evil smirk on his face, one hand wrapped around the end of my leash, the other one holding my phone. The sick absurdity of it all was overwhelming. Here I was, about to suck the cock of a murderer who'd brutally raped me, filmed it all, killed my partner, and had promised to kill me when he was done with me. Why? Because if I didn't, he'd kill me in a far more painful way, and then he'd send all the videos to my family. This really was a shit deal.

"Come on then, get to it." He said impatiently, giving the leash another little tug.

I brought my cuffed hands up, and started undoing the buttons of his jeans, focusing on that, not wanting to look at him. Once that was done, I tried to pull them down slightly, but with my hands cuffed together, I had no leverage. Greg put the leash down for a moment and helped get them down, where they rested just below his knees. I then started on his underwear, where I could already see a noticeable erection bulging, just desperate to fall out. I could already smell it. It smelt overwhelmingly like sex, and I could make out the tip of his cock pushing hard against the stretchy fabric. The moment I got my hands around the hem though, he grabbed the chain of my cuffs and pulled them away. I looked up at him in confusion.

"Teeth." He said simply, giving me an evil grin.

"I know, no teeth. I've done this before." I replied cautiously, looking back down at his crotch.

He laughed. "No, use your teeth."

"What?" I demanded, looking up at him again, horribly confused.

"Get my cock out, using your teeth." He clarified.

I figured it out then. He wanted me to pull his underwear off, using my teeth, somehow, all without biting his prick. I didn't complain. It wouldn't do me any good. I knew he'd want to make a game out of this, milking every bit of humiliation out of me he could. Awkwardly, I stuck my teeth out and grabbed a hold of the hem of his boxer briefs. Immediately I could smell it. He'd washed himself a bit, after my accident, but I could still smell a disgusting concoction of sweat, cum, and a little bit of piss. It didn't smell too different to how I expected, but as I grit my teeth and pulled them down further, it became overpowering. I had to close my eyes as his glistening, meaty shaft dramatically rolled out, slapping me across the face. He already had a half-chub going. He'd come in me four times now, and he still wasn't done. As I pulled his boxers clear, I could see him hardening by the second.

***

I'd given a blowjob before, and while it wasn't my favorite thing to do, I'd done my research. You'd be surprised how many articles there were out there on how to suck dick. In my defense, it was Kyle's birthday, and he was going away to Phoenix for university, and I wanted to give him something to remember me by. He certainly remembered me, once he was able to bring himself back down from the clouds, and I was secretly quite pleased with how much he'd enjoyed it. To cut a long story short, I knew how to do it right. The trick was employing the tongue, but not too much, and making noises to stimulate the vocal cords. I never thought my fellatio skills would determine whether I lived or died, I just wanted to give my first boyfriend a nice going-away present.

I brought my hands up and awkwardly wrapped them around his length. I couldn't even get a full grip around him, he was just too damn thick. It was almost funny when I thought about it. Of all the guys I'd ever been with, which, admittedly, was only three, well, four, now, the biggest cock of all of them, by far, belonged to my rapist. As I stared at the massive beast in front of me, I wasn't sure where to begin. I knew I wouldn't be able to fit much of it, so the hands had to come into play as well. I heard the telltale click of a phone camera, and looked up to see him still filming me, a massive, shit-eating grin on his face. I didn't care anymore. He had me on camera, orgasming around his cock as he raped me. Sucking dick under pain of being burnt alive couldn't be any more shame-inducing than that.

He was getting impatient. The sudden yank on my leash made me aware of that. Gingerly, I opened my mouth and started licking up and around his tip, instantly causing him to go rock-solid, releasing a tiny bit of precum. He tasted like salt, cum, and sweat. The last time I gave a blowjob, I didn't have nearly as much sheer cock to contend with, and he'd actually washed, which was nice. This time though, I was essentially just tasting my own juices, as well as his. As I continued stimulating the tip, rubbing slowly up and down his length with my cuffed hands, I could hear him snapping photos above me. I didn't look up again, I just focused on the task at hand. Once the rest of his shaft was sufficiently lubricated, I finally slipped the tip inside my mouth.

I knew the girth was going to be a problem, but when I was barely able to open my jaw wide enough to get my lips past the head, I started worrying a little. I wouldn't be able to take much of him in my mouth at all. He wouldn't be happy with that. I knew he wouldn't. He seemed to be content with the novelty of having a pet deputy with her mouth around his cock for the time being though. I started bobbing my head up and down in rhythm with my hands, making sure my tongue was engaging with the underside of his cock as much as possible, trying my best to ignore the taste, as well as the putrid smell that was invading my nostrils. This had to be part of the reason why the articles always recommended not giving blowjobs after sex.

Putting those reservations aside, I focused on giving the best damn blowjob I could. I worked my tongue along his length as I bobbed up and down, puckering my lips to get as much of him inside as I could, applying a uniform suction as I went. I stimulated the tip whenever I was all the way up, working my tongue in and around it, and even pulling him all the way out, to vigorously lick and slurp up and down his length. When I was all the way down, the tip of his cock just tickling my throat, I made little humming noises, so the back of my throat was vibrating, giving him that extra little bit of stimulation. Despite the hatred and self-loathing I felt at having to do this for the man who murdered my partner, I knew my life depended on this, so, in the interest of making him come as soon as possible, I made eye contact with him the whole time, no matter what I was doing. I could see he was loving it, and was studiously filming the whole thing. The fury I felt at such a thing being filmed was burning away inside me, but I did my best to keep it down, using it to fuel the mental energy I needed to keep going. I'd make him come, because I had to.

I thought I was doing a really good job, considering I had a whole 11 inches to contend with. I had a good, solid rhythm going, and my tongue was working hard, teasing his sensitive spots and lubricating the whole thing, allowing me to keep a relatively respectable pace going. I was right before though, he soon got bored of only being able to get four inches of his cock in my mouth, and so without any sort of warning to speak of, he forced my head down. Unluckily for him though, he bottomed out entirely at about five or so inches, pushed right up against the back of my throat, causing me to choke and gag, despite my best efforts. I looked up at him in protest, stopping the rhythm I had going with my hands, letting go of his cock, and slapping his legs.

"Keep going." He snapped immediately, not letting up at all.

I continued slapping his legs desperately, and after a moment, he pulled me off, and I was left gasping for breath.

"What?" He demanded bitterly.

"I'm trying to suck you off, I can't do that if you're fucking choking me!" I replied sharply.

"You're just lickin' and bobbin'. I've got eight more inches sitting here with nothing but your nasty mitts to keep 'em occupied." He said, his frustration on full show.

I didn't really have an answer for him. I simply didn't have the ability to take any more than four or so inches in my mouth and still be able to give a proper blowjob. I'd hoped that with enough stimulation and enthusiasm, and by maintaining a nice rhythm with my hands and mouth, he might come quickly and not get bored, but apparently not.

"How are you gonna make me cum like that, huh?" He demanded, grabbing the leash and pulling my face against his dripping wet cock.

"Just, fuck my face then I guess." I said eventually, though in truth, I wasn't thrilled about the idea, even if he did come faster.

"What do you think I'm fucking trying to do?" He shot back.

I sighed. "I've gotta be lying down." I said after a moment, confused as to why I had to explain this to him.

He was a serial rapist, that much I figured, so presumably, he'd fucked someone's face before. He must've known that in order to get his cock all the way down the throat, they needed to be looking up, so the throat was straight. I'd never done it before, but I'd seen... videos, on the internet, when I was lonely, so I knew how it was done.

"What, why?" He asked, genuinely confused.

"The throat goes-" I began, but stopped, frustrated myself now. "Look, we can just- I can get you to come the way I've been doing, believe me." I argued.