Becca XXX: Dangerous Cargo Ch. 08

"Fucking hell. I don't know about you mate, but all this excitement has made me hungry," said the passenger. "Let's go and get some food."

"Shouldn't we stay and keep an eye on her," replied the driver.

"We don't need to. Killer over there hasn't fucked her yet."

I had my eyes closed and I was pretending to be unconscious, but hearing them call the last guy Killer wasn't filling me with much confidence.

"Oi, Killer, do you want to fuck the whore?" the passenger shouted over to the lookout.

"Fucking hell, yes," said a very young sounding voice. "I've waited all night for this."

"Get over here and have a go then. We're going for some food."

I heard footsteps on the concrete floor as the last guy approached. As I opened my eyes, I couldn't believe who it was.

Killer, as they'd called him, was about eighteen years old and I knew him by a different name.

Mother Fucker.

It was the guy from the warehouse, who I'd rescued from The Lees after he'd tried to steal their drugs. No wonder they were calling him Killer, they must have believed his story about killing the two drug dealers, which was then confirmed by the news report.

"She's pretty much out of it," said the driver. "But don't untie her, no matter what she tells you. We don't want her making a run for it. I want to fuck her again before the night's up. Her cunt feels incredible."

"I'm not stupid," replied Mother Fucker. "I'm going to give her a good hard fucking."

"Yeah right. Have you even fucked a girl before?" mocked the passenger. "Do you want us to stay and give you some tips?"

"I'm not a fucking virgin," he protested. "I know which hole to stick it in."

He was showing off in front of his new friends. It appeared that he hadn't even recognised me yet.

"She's got three holes actually, mate. Take your pick. You won't need any lube if want to take her up the shitter. She's dripping in spunk."

The driver and the passenger laughed at their piss-taking and walked off in the direction of the door. Things had just got a hell of a lot better for me. As soon as this boy recognised me, he was bound to let me go. I'd saved his life a few nights ago after all. I just had to wait for the other two to disappear through the door before I made my move.

I heard Mother Fucker undoing his zipper and belt as he dropped his trousers around his ankles. He was behind me and I wondered which hole he was going to choose. He pushed his hand underneath me and slipped two fingers inside my gash.

"Wow, they weren't kidding," he gasped. "You're super wet."

I stayed silent until the others finally made it through the door. I then pushed up from the table and craned my neck to see him. He looked at my cum-coated face, but still didn't recognise me. Maybe it was due to my new hair style, or the fact that it had been dark last time we'd met.

"Don't you remember me?" I whispered.

"Should I?" he snapped back.

"Yes. I saved your fucking life on Wednesday night, dip-shit."

He looked at me again and a glimmer of recognition spread across his face. He started to smile down at me.

"You again?" he gasped, with his fingers still buried in my snatch. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Keep your voice down and untie me," I said, wriggling my hands about.

"Don't be stupid," he smirked. "They told me not to."

"I don't give a fuck what they told you. You need to untie me, right now," I snapped. "You owe me your life."

"I don't owe you nothing," he said. "You got in the way of me stealing The Lees' stash the other night. These boys aren't very happy with me."

"Didn't you tell them that you killed the two dealers at the warehouse, like I told you to?"

"Yes, but they didn't believe me. They said I was bullshitting."

His fingers slid on and out of me as he stared me in the face. Maybe he wanted to get a reaction out of me, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

"But it's been on the news. Two men were found dead in that warehouse and you turned up here with a gun. Why wouldn't they believe you?"

"Because you hadn't thought it through, had you? I turned up here with an empty pistol and no drugs. They asked me why I hadn't brought the drugs back with me after I killed them."

"Oh yeah, I hadn't thought of that," I admitted.

"No, you hadn't. I got all flustered and they knew right there and then that I hadn't killed those men."

He forced a third finger inside me hard, as punishment.

"So, what did you tell them?"

"I told them I'd found the two men dead in the warehouse and that I stole the pistol to claim responsibility for it," he spat.

"You didn't tell them about me?"

"Course not. I didn't want them thinking I'd been rescued by a girl for fuck's sake."

"Whatever, just let me go. You fucking owe me. You'd be dead if it hadn't been for me."

"You don't know that. They might have let me go."

"Yeah, right. Two drug dealers pointing guns at you after you stole their drugs were really going to let you go weren't they," I said sarcastically.

"Shut up," he spat. "I'm a laughing stock because of you. They all take the piss out of me, calling me Killer or Assassin. I'm just a lookout for them now and it's all your fault."

He thrust his fingers inside me again making me flinch.

"I'm sorry it worked out like that for you, but these people are going to kill me when they're finished with me. You have a chance to let me go. I saved you and now you need to return the favour," I pointed out.

"I'll return the favour alright," he said.

He pulled his fingers out of me and replaced them with his cock. He rammed in hard, making me lurch forwards with a screech of table legs on the concrete.

"How do you feel about it now, slut?" he said through gritted teeth.

"Well, you can add rape to your list of offences," I said. "You don't have to do this."

"Shut up. I have to fuck you or the others will know that I haven't. I'm already a joke to them. I need to prove I'm a man."

"Even it means fucking me against my will?"

"I don't care. You'll be dead soon, so no one's going to find out."

I couldn't believe it. I was lost for words. My one chance of escape seemed to be evaporating by the second. I had saved this boy's life and now he had his cock stuffed inside me, just like all of his friends had. I was usually a firm believer in Karma, but this was making me question it.

He started to ram in and out of me with hateful thrusts. In his mind I'd fucked up his whole night's work, even though it was me who had saved him. It never ceased to amaze me how a criminal's mind worked.

"How do you like that?" he said, in time with his thrusts. "Who's in charge now? You're not so tough without your gun, are you?"

"Untie me and let's find out," I replied.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me up from the dirty table. His hands grabbed my tits and he squeezed them hard to tell me who was in charge. I looked down to see greasy black marks all over my torso which were slowly being smeared all over my naked breasts as he mauled me.

"Shut up and take my fucking cock," he swore.

Being so young meant that he had a lot of energy, but not much sexual stamina. His meaty shaft bashed its way in and out of me with wet sloppy noises and I knew that the sound, sights and smells of sex would get him off quickly.

"Just cum in me and then untie my hands. I'm begging you," I pleaded. "It's the least you can do."

"Oh, I'm going to cum in you alright. Don't you worry about that," he panted. "But there's no way I'm untying you. You should be more careful who you choose as a friend. Yorkie's going to be killed once he gives up the source. Then you'll be joining him."

"It really doesn't have to end like this," I said. "Come on, let me go."

His young cock continued to abuse my tired pussy and I felt him slowing down and pushing in deeper. I thought I'd give him some encouragement to try and win him over.

"That's it... fuck my dirty pussy and cum in it," I swooned. "You've got such a big hard cock."

He squeezed my tits hard and pulled his body against mine as his orgasm hit him like a bus.

Spurt-spurt-spurt.

"Mmmm... Mmmm... Mmmm," he murmured through his nose in time with his spurts.

I barely felt it, but I made all the right noises.

"Oh fuck yeah... what a big hot load... give it to me," I cooed.

He finished twitching and let go of my tits. He then pulled his cock out and pushed my face back down onto the table.

"There you go, whore. I knew you'd like it," he smirked.

"It felt so good," I said. "You were better than all the others for sure."

"If you say so."

"So, are you going to untie me?" I begged.

"Don't be stupid. They'd kill me if you escaped. Besides, I might want to fuck you again before they get rid of you."

He pulled his trousers back up and started to walk off.

"Wait," I pleaded. "Can you at least cover me up. It's fucking freezing in here. Surely you owe me that much," I nodded at my pile of clothes on the floor next to the chair.

He looked at my clothes and then at me as he weighed things up in his tiny mind.

"I don't owe you a fucking thing, but I will keep you warm. I don't want to fuck a cold pussy," he laughed.

The only real choice he had to cover my naked body was to use my leather jacket. It was the only item of clothing big enough to be any use. Sure enough, he picked up my coat and draped it over my back like a donkey.

"I'm going to see what the others are up to," he announced. "Don't worry though - I'm sure someone will be out to feed you some more cock soon."

I didn't reply, I was just glad that he'd given me my coat back. He'd unwittingly given me a lifeline to aid my escape. The leather jacket was draped over my shoulders and covered my hands which were still tied behind my back. I waited for Mother Fucker to leave and then I got to work.

The knife was in the left-hand side of my coat lining, right where I'd left it. I used my finger tips to tug the jacket down and then I shrugged my shoulders to move it into position. I was careful and deliberate in my actions. If I got this wrong then the coat could slide onto the floor and I'd be fucked. I was also mindful that I had to get this done before anyone came back to fuck me.

I managed to get my fingers into the coat lining by bending my wrists at an uncomfortable angle. Months of yoga had paid off once again. I felt the end of the handle and I managed to worm it out of the coat lining as carefully as I could.

I let out a long, satisfied sigh as I finally removed it and held it in both hands. I then pushed my arms upwards, away from my body and pressed the button on the flick knife.

Click.

The noise of the blade popping out was like music to my ears. Luckily the dickhead whom I'd stolen it from had kept it razor sharp and I knew it would make light work of cutting through my ropes. Again, I had to move my wrists like a contortionist to position the blade onto the rope. I could only move the blade about half an inch at a time in a sawing motion, but it was enough.

I nicked my skin a couple of times and felt sticky blood soaking between my wrists, but it certainly wasn't life threatening. After a couple of minutes of cutting, I felt the rope give way and I managed to free my hands at last. Relief washed over me as I glanced at the doorway again for anyone coming to check on me. I saw and heard nothing so I quickly rose up from the table and cut the ropes which were securing my ankles to the table legs.

I was free at last.

There was no time to lose now. I needed to get out of sight and sort myself out. I looked over at the parked coaches. They provided good cover from view as the gaps between them acted like long corridors. I picked up my jeans, T-shirt and boots, and I ran to the corridor furthest from the door. It put me between a large coach and the back wall of the building.

Once again, I stopped and listened. I still heard nothing so I started to get dressed as fast as I could. I caught sight of my reflection in the bus window and realised what a state I looked. I had cum all over my cheek and my makeup was streaked down my face. My torso and breasts were covered in greasy black handprints from being groped and molested while they'd fucked me. I had no time to clean up other than by wiping the cum from my face and pussy with my T-shirt.

I pulled on my jeans, followed by my boots. My T-shirt was now soaked in cum and my own juices so I threw it under the bus and just pulled my jacket on, doing the zipper half way up. I then took a deep breath and assessed my situation.

I was a lone, highly-trained agent who was up against nine armed criminals. They had one hostage, but I didn't give a shit whether he lived or died, I'd already gotten enough information from him to step up my assignment. He'd gotten me into this mess and had thought nothing of letting our captors rape me, if it meant that it diverted the attention away from him. I would treat him in the same way as the rest of them. Every one of them had committed atrocious crimes, if not against me, then against some other poor soul. Their list of crimes just from tonight included kidnapping, torture, rape and assault and I knew murder was going to be next on their list. Taking them all out of the equation seemed to be the right thing to do.

They were all going to die.

My only problem was that they all had guns and I only had a knife. It wasn't going to be easy taking them all on. My plan was to lure one of them out and then kill him so that I could take his pistol. I'd then be able to use it against them, having the advantage of being tactically trained rather than just being a meathead with a gun.

Surprisingly, my heart beat was slow and steady and I felt completely at ease with the task in hand. I was actually looking forward to taking them on. I had a rage building up inside me, which I hadn't felt before, but somehow it was very calming. It felt like a ball of energy in my belly, churning and glowing as though it needed to be unleashed.

I was about to move to the doorway to see where everyone had gone, when another thought entered my head. My mind flashed back to when we'd first arrived at Simon's party a few hours earlier. Brian had taken the messenger's bag from the boot of his car and I'd seen a green hold-all sitting in there too. I remembered thinking that it was an odd shape and that it may well contain an MP7.

Could I really be that lucky?

My luck had been pretty shitty so far tonight, so maybe I was due for a change.

I decided I'd go and check Brian's car. I just prayed that the vehicle wasn't locked. There was no reason why it should be. I checked the doorway again as I made a dash for the rear of the vehicle. My boots sounded deafening on the concrete floor but there was no one around to hear them. They must have been too busy quizzing my cowardly boss as to how they were going to contact Ryan.

I kept low as I peeked over the boot lid to check the door again. There was still no one around so I pressed the boot release and waited. There was a whirring sound as the motorised boot-lid opened up above me.

I peeked inside.

The messenger's bag was still in there with the green hold-all behind it. I pulled it out and dropped it onto the floor with a loud metallic clunk. I then unzipped it and pulled the bag open, almost holding my breath in anticipation.

Bingo.

I felt like I'd won the lottery.

There wasn't an MP7 sub-machine gun in the bag.

There were two.

The black weapons gleamed up at me like some sort of mystical prize. Brian hadn't spared any expense on these beauties -- they had all the bells and whistles. I picked one up and realised how lightweight it was. The weapon was basically an oversized pistol and this one was fitted with a suppressor which added to the length, but not by much. The top rail was even fitted with a reflex red-dot sight which I doubted Brian would have ever used.

The bag also contained six forty-round magazines which were all fully loaded. I picked one up and slid it into the pistol grip. I then pulled the charging handle at the rear of the weapon just like the guy in the YouTube video had demonstrated.

Click-clack.

I made a mental note to comment on his video and thank him when this was all over.

It didn't come as a surprise to me that the fire-rate selector-switch was pointing to full-auto. Brian and his gang would have opted for the spray-and-pray method of shooting, rather than aiming well grouped shots. He'd have done it gangster-style out of a car window, firing blindly and hoping that some of his bullets would find their target.

I flicked the switch back to single shot and pulled out the rear stock until it clicked.

Click.

I then unfolded the foregrip handle.

The weapon was ready to fire.

I pulled the stock into my shoulder and rested my cheek onto it to get the correct firing position. I saw the red-dot reticule on the sights and carried out a few drills without squeezing the trigger. It felt completely natural and the fact my hair was tied up on the right-hand side of my face meant I had a clear line of sight.

I fell in love with the MP7 from that moment on.

I stuffed two spare magazines into the rear pockets of my jeans, making sure that they were orientated the correct way around so I could just grab them and slam them into the pistol grip. The attention to small details like that could be the difference between life and death. I now had one hundred and twenty rounds on my person. If it took me more than that to kill ten people then I had no right to pick up the weapon in the first place. The remaining MP7 was stuffed back into the bag and I placed it back in the boot of Brian's car, closing the lid to keep it from view.

It made me smile that Boss lady had been torturing us both to find out where the weapons were and all this time there had been two of them sitting in Brian's boot about twenty metres away. They obviously weren't intelligent enough to check the obvious, but they had been clever enough to take the car keys with them.

Now that the weapon was sorted out, I planned my exit. I checked the van for keys, but again drew a blank. The roller shutter door was operated by a box on the wall and it appeared to be operational. I didn't risk trying it in case it made a noise. There was also a fire escape next to the roller shutter which I assumed was unlocked. It was law that fire doors had to be unlocked, but that didn't mean that it was true. At least I had two options for escape which should be enough.

Next, I assessed my surroundings from a new standpoint. I was no longer tied and helpless; I was armed and dangerous. I looked further into the vast building and saw all of the coaches parked up. It created good cover, almost like a maze between the vehicles. It would be an ideal place to hide and carry out shoot-and-scoot executions. If I could stay silent and out of sight, I could pick them off one at a time.

I moved away from the roller shutter and positioned myself between the centre line of coaches. There were two coaches between me and the door and two coaches between me and the wall where I'd gotten dressed. From there I had an ideal view of the open area between the tables and the doorway which they had all gone through.

That open area was to be my initial killing-ground.

Human instinct is a very powerful thing. As soon as they saw that I was missing, they would instinctively move to the tables to investigate. They'd be flabbergasted that I wasn't where they'd left me and would go to my last known location without thinking. They'd then check the vehicles to see if I was hiding there. It would be a classic example of curiosity killing the cat. The only difference was - I wasn't a cat.

I waited.

One minute passed.