Cellmates

"And where are you from, ma'am?"

California, can't you read?

"Los Angeles! I can't wait to get back, it's been way too long since I went to the beach."

The thought of Emily's full figure in nothing but a bikini seemed to smooth things over with the officer. He smiled.

"Tell you what, Miss. I'm gonna go run this license, and as long as you don't got anything bad on here I think I can let you off with a warning."

Emily beamed and tossed her hair back.

"Really? Oh, thank you so much, officer. I promise it won't happen again."

The cop sauntered back to his car and got inside. Emily checked her lipstick in the mirror.

What a shitty little stretch of country. No doubt she was the first good-looking woman that man had seen in months.

Emily wished her plans really were as simple as heading to the beach. She had thought seriously about quitting her job and moving back to LA. She planned to spend her time off looking for work - maybe a modeling job, if she could fudge her age a little bit.

The cop hadn't left his car. Emily began to worry. She didn't have any marks on her record, right? She racked her brain trying to figure out what could take him so long.

Emily looked back at the officer through her window and thought she saw him on his radio. He hadn't turned his lights off - didn't they usually do that for traffic stops?

Finally the officer emerged. He walked slowly back to Emily's car. The sunglasses blocked his eyes, but she could see he'd furrowed his brow.

"Uh, Miss?"

Emily smiled and said a silent prayer.

"Yes, officer?"

"Uh, I don't really know how to say this," he said, casting his eyes to the ground. "I gotta arrest you."

Emily's blood chilled.

"WHAT?! Why?"

The officer looked up, gestured to her beat-up sedan.

"Says the car's stolen, ma'am."

Emily blinked. She shot the officer a brittle smile.

"Oh, no, no, there must be some mistake," she said. "This is my car. I've had it for years."

The cop scratched his head.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure it is, miss, but I gotta bring you to the station. Protocol."

"The station? Like the police station? You're gonna take me to JAIL?!"

The officer put his hands out.

"Well, now, I'm gonna take you to the station, then you can talk to the sergeant on duty. Maybe you can get it all sorted out."

Emily groaned and slammed her hands on the wheel. She couldn't believe her luck.

"Who would steal this piece of shit?" She muttered.

The officer stood uncomfortably by her car door.

"Ma'am? I am gonna need you to step out of the -"

"Okay, yeah, yeah, I'm out," Emily said. "Can I at least bring anything?"

The officer watched Emily stand to her full 5-2, 130 pounds. As far as he could tell, she wore a tight floral dress and tan high heels - nothing else.

"Uh, no, unfortunately we - we gotta take everything into evidence."

Emily crossed her arms below her plump breasts.

"Evidence? Wait, what's gonna happen to my car?"

"We gotta impound it, but you can probly get the fee waived if this turns out to be nothing. Ma'am, can you turn around and put your hands on the vehicle, please?"

Emily groaned again. She made a point to stick her round ass out.

The cop lurched forward, grabbed Emily's hands and put them behind her back. She felt his erection.

"Oh, Jesus," she said.

The officer dropped his handcuffs and muttered an apology. Emily considered kicking him in the face and making a run for it.

He finally cuffed her, walked her to his squad car and set her in the backseat. Emily was almost as embarrassed as she was angry.

The officer climbed into the front seat and radioed in news about Emily. She sat cuffed in the back.

"What's your badge number?"

The drive to the police station didn't do anything to help Emily's impression of Harmon County, Oklahoma. She didn't see a single car on the road during the entire 15-minute trip. In fact, she didn't see much of anything besides turkey vultures.

Her companion wasn't much help, either. He didn't even try to make conversation with her, opting instead to hum along to a Christian radio station.

By the time Emily and the officer arrived at the police station, her feet hurt, her handcuffs chafed against her wrists and she had to pee.

And the station was nothing but a modest concrete building two stories high.

"This is your jail?" Emily asked as the officer pulled into the parking lot. Only one other car - a civilian one - in the lot.

"Actually, it's our jail-police station-city hall," the officer said. He looked back and Emily gave him an incredulous look. "It's a lot nicer on the inside."

It was, but not by much. Green doctor's-office carpeting and ugly wall plaques greeted Emily and the officer, who insisted on keeping up his idiotic perp walk routine.

The officer led her to a wooden desk manned by a man who could have been his brother: same uniform, same height, same cheap haircut. This one had glasses instead of shades.

"Evening, Donny," the officer said. "Here's the one I was telling you about."

Donny had definitely already noticed Emily. He couldn't keep his beady eyes off her.

"Yeah," he said. "Motor vehicle theft, right?"

"Well, that's apparently what I've been arrested for," she smiled. "But I've never stolen anything in my life."

Donny didn't look away from her breasts.

"Uh-huh."

"The lady was wondering if she could talk to the sergeant about things, get it straightened out," the first officer said.

Donny turned his head to the ancient computer at his desk.

"Sergeant's gone," he said.

Emily's eyes widened.

"Gone? He's gone? When is he coming back?"

Donny didn't look away from the computer.

"Monday."

Her jaw dropped. She mouthed the word "Monday."

"Aw, that's unfortunate," the arresting officer said. "Yeah, he likes to go home early Fridays."

Emily turned to him, still bound by the cuffs.

"What does that mean? Where do I go?"

The officer sighed and turned his head.

"You go there."

He pointed to a cell.

Emily spent the next three hours switching between sobs and shouts. The police - all two of them - told her she'd have to stay in lockup until Monday, when the sergeant could come in and talk to her.

Until then, Emily was a prisoner. In custody. She was fingerprinted, photographed and thrown in the tiny building's one cell with two familiar-looking black men. She was too busy trying to convince Donny to let her out to pay them much attention.

"Excuse me, officer Donny?"

The man sat immobile at his computer.

"Officer Donny, um, do you mind turning the TV down?"

Nothing.

Donny had barely glanced at Emily since she'd arrived. The officer who arrested her - Donny called him Chris - was much more sympathetic, but he'd left after booking to get back out on patrol.

Emily tried everything to get Donny's attention. She screamed, she pleaded, she flirted, she commanded. Nothing got through to him. He stayed in front of his screen.

Finally Emily gave up. She lay on one of the cell's hard cots - she'd chosen the one furthest from where the two black men sat and talked - and closed her eyes.

A deep voice startled her.

"We figured he was just racist when he ignored us, but I guess he's just retarded."

Emily opened her eyes. It was one of the two men in the cell with her. Both were tall, over six feet, dressed in jeans and t-shirts. Emily guessed they were brothers.

She shot the one who spoke a wrinkled look.

"Look," she said. "No offense, but I'd rather just keep to myself until I get out of here. Okay?"

The man raised an eyebrow, chuckled and turned back to his companion.

Emily closed her eyes again. But she started thinking about the two men in the cell with her. She knew she'd seen them somewhere...

"Oh my god," she said. "Donny. Donny!"

Still, Donny didn't look up.

Emily ran to the front of the cell, almost tripping over her heels in the process. She slammed her small hands on the bars.

"Donny, do you know who these guys are?" She yelled.

At this, Donny finally looked up, puzzled.

"Yeah," he said. He blinked. "Two guys with too many unpaid parking tickets."

Emily stamped a heel against the concrete floor.

"No, you idiot! Those are the Jones brothers!"

Donny didn't make the connection, but her cellmates did. They burst out laughing. The one she had spoken to - he was a bit skinnier, a cleaner look - shouted at Donny.

"Yeah, you hear that, man? We're murderers!" He punched the other man. "You found us! Does that mean we can get some better food?"

"Shit, we need a maximum-security facility, man," said the other. He had a higher voice than Emily had expected. "Certainly can't share a cell with no fuckin' car thief."

Emily kept her eyes on Donny. He watched the two men.

"Donny, listen to me," she said. "Jones. Brothers. Wanted for murder in three different states. That's them. That's them, Donny! You have them!"

The laughter quieted.

"Alright, seriously, though," the first man said. "Why the fuck you think we're the Jones brothers?"

"Cause we're black, man. We all look the same to white girls."

"Keep it down," Donny said. Continued watching the men. Concentrating.

"Remember all the news stories? You've seen these guys before, Donny. I know it."

Emily shot the officer a desperate look. She could overlook the arrest, the impounding. She could forget a lot. But putting her in a cell with two killers?

"Donny?"

Still nothing from the rotund man.

Finally he rose from his chair, walked to the cell. Stared in at the two men. They stared back, suddenly very quiet.

Moments.

"Nah."

Then three things happening at once. Donny turning - back to his desk, his thought on the matter settled, put it out of mind. The two men laughing, back to their jovial selves. Emily screaming - shocked, scared.

"HELP! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME HERE WITH THEM!"

But he did.

Hours later, at night. Donny left - despite Emily's pleas, he locked up the building, told her to quiet down, being hysterical, nothing to worry about, and left.

Emily hugged her knees on her cot, her shoes next to her. Ready to use them as weapons, if it came to that.

Two black men - Zander and Malcolm Jones, she was sure of it - across the cell on cots of their own. Curiously quiet - the jokes and teasing stopped when Donny left. They huddled close, whispering to each other, occasionally glancing at the full-figured blonde. Were they arguing?

Emily stayed vigilant for any signs of movement. She thought of home - friends, friends she hadn't seen in so long, and whose idea was it to move so far away anyway? She should have known the job wouldn't pan out.

But Emily couldn't focus. Instead considered the Jones brothers' history - all the people they'd left dead, and for what? Reporters seemed to believe it was a robbery that got out of hand. Once they had killed a few they had to keep killing to stay free. Why Oklahoma? Surely they'd be long out of the country by now.

And yet here they were. Emily knew. That redneck cop couldn't see it, and he had probably just left her for dead.

Long night. Long drive. Long ordeal. Emily caught herself drifting. Dug the spike of a heel into her leg to stay awake. Awake. Drifting.

She thought she was dreaming. A heavy weight on her - crushing, pinning, then -

Emily opened her eyes, felt the hand on her mouth and screamed.

"Shut up, bitch."

He was on top of her - the skinny one, that would have been Malcolm - straddling her waist. Something else was holding her arms down.

Emily bit the hand.

"Ow, Jesus, man, don't -"

"HELP! PLEASE! SOMEONE JUST -"

Malcolm slapped her. Emily saw stars. Tears bubbled in her eyes.

"Don't, lady. Nobody can hear you."

He replaced his hand over her full lips. Emily smelled something in the air but couldn't place it.

Malcolm bent low, inches from Emily. Her eyes bulged. She kept squirming; it was the other one - Zander - behind her, holding her arms. She kicked her bare legs from side to side.

"It's too bad that cop didn't believe you, honey," Malcolm said. He grinned. "'Cause you were right."

Emily screamed into his hand.

Malcolm rolled his eyes. He wrapped his other hand around Emily's neck.

"Listen, lady. Just fuckin' shut up and listen for a sec." He glanced up at Zander, back down to Emily. "Use your brain. We're all in here together for the night. Nobody's going to hurt you."

Emily paused. She glanced at Malcolm's hand, then back at him. Pleaded with her eyes.

He removed the hand slowly.

"Please don't. Just - I'm not worth it, okay? Nobody knows where I am and I - " cut off. The hand returned.

Malcolm seemed calmer.

"We're not going to hurt you, lady. It would be too messy. But you're going to do something for us." He grinned at his partner.

Emily groaned, screamed again. Malcolm pressed down on her throat and she stopped, terrified.

"Hey. Hey. Listen to me. This is not a big town, okay? We don't plan to be here long. We can find you, lady. I promise we can find you."

Tears rolled down Emily's cheeks.

"We can find you, but we won't. Just do it good and it'll be over and we'll be gone." He took his hand off her neck. "Okay?"

Emily blinked away tears. She nodded.

"I want to hear you say it. I'm taking my hand off you now. And if you scream again, baby, I'm serious. Just don't. Do you get me?"

The hand removed. Emily heaved, shuddered.

"Okay."

Malcolm looked up at Zander, and Emily felt the heavier man release her arms. His partner - the other murderer - kept his eyes on her as he slowly climbed off her cot. Emily lay there. Saw her heels on the floor. Too far to reach, now. No weapons at all. She had failed.

Emily sat up and looked at the killers in front of her. They glanced awkwardly at one another before pulling off their shirts.

"Uh..." Malcolm said. Emily thought he was blushing. "Switch places with us."

So she did. The blonde beauty on her knees as the two black men - who she had to admit cut decent figures, though Zander was a bit chubby - sat on her cot like two excited schoolboys.

Both men reached for their pants. Malcolm stopped and awkwardly grabbed Emily by the throat again.

"Don't -" His voice broke. "Don't bite or any shit like that."

Emily gave him a numb look and nodded.

The pants came off and Emily saw two monsters.

"Oh, no," she said, momentarily forgetting her situation. "Nuh-uh."

The two men grinned at each other. Emily blushed.

"Your - I can't - "

"You don't have a choice, baby," Malcolm said, and grabbed her by the hair.

Emily didn't know how to react. Malcolm shoved her into his shaft and she kept her mouth closed, bumping into the thing. He tugged on her hair hard and she yelped.

"Okay, okay, I will. Just let go!"

Malcolm did-slowly.

Emily took a deep breath. She was no expert, but both dicks were at least 7 inches long. Zander's looked as thick as a Coke bottle. And they both had such fat balls...

Emily flushed and almost cried again. She had felt the first twinge of arousal between her legs.

"Bitch, will you fuckin' hurry up?" It was the first thing Zander had said since her attack.

Emily bounced back to attention. You're getting raped. She looked again at the monsters before her. These men are going to rape you.

She shuffled forward on bare knees, feeling for the first time how hard and cold the cell floor was. Placed her hands on Malcolm's thighs.

"You..." Rape you. "You promise you'll never hurt me."

Malcolm spoke then, with remarkable compassion.

"We would never."

Emily had nothing more to say. She was out of stall tactics. So she started sucking cock.

Skillfully, for someone in her position. From the moment she slowly opened her mouth to accept him, Malcolm was impressed.

Emily started by kissing and licking the head of Malcolm's black pole.Soon she opened wide and put a few inches in, hearing Malcolm moan with approval.

His meat tasted slightly salty. Emily's mouth watered around it. She saw Zander massaging his own cock out of the corner of her eye.

Soon the tip of Malcolm's cock glistened with spit. Emily pulled back and looked - she guessed it was longer than her arm, throbbing in the poorly lit cell.

"Like that, don't you?" Malcolm grinned.

Emily blushed, looked at the ground.

"I can't fit that in my mouth," she murmured.

"What's that?" Malcolm said.

"I can't fit it," she blurted. "It's too big. I can't put that all in my mouth."

Both men burst out laughing. Emily flushed again. She sat in front of two men with their pants around their ankles, cackling like madmen.

Malcolm and Zander settled down. Emily saw their massive poles had wilted slightly.

"Ah," Malcolm sighed. "You wanna help her, man?"

Emily furrowed her brow. Zander nodded and rose, removing his pants.

"What? What are you doing?" She backed up slightly, still on her knees.

"Relax, bitch," Malcolm said. He gripped his half-hard cock and flopped it onto her face. "Keep going."

Emily watched Zander move behind her. He, too, kneeled and grabbed the back of her head.

"HEY!"

Suddenly she was moving, hurtling into Malcolm's pole. Emily opened her mouth - a reflex - and felt three, four, five inches push inside.

Everything stopped. Emily gagged around the massive black dick, fighting unsuccessfully with Zander. He wrapped another arm around her waist and held her still.

"That's good, man. Just let her go on her own," Malcolm said. His brother grunted and let up pressure on Emily's head.

She got the message. Emily started pumping her head back and forth on Malcolm.

"Good girl," he said. "Now keep that up and we'll be good, baby."

Emily whimpered. Zander fondled her full breasts, grabbing and rubbing with a big rough hand.

She slobbered on Malcolm, working as much as she could inside her. When she opened her eyes she guessed she had made it halfway down his pole.

Minutes passed, Malcolm occasionally grunting over rough sucking sounds. Zander plucked Emily's nipples, twisting them when she came up for air.

Emily felt her body heat rising. Zander's fingers found stiff nipples. She turned an even deeper shade of red and buried herself in Malcolm's crotch, trying to hide it. But the man behind her could tell.

"Oh, shit, man." A hand on her dress, above her legs. Chuckles. "Fuck me."

"She likin' it?" Emily felt worse than death.

"Yeah. Ooh," as Zander slipped his hand beneath her dress. "She's not wearin' panties, man. Fuck!"

Malcolm groaned and grabbed Emily's head, thrusting deeper into her mouth. Her eyes watered. Meanwhile, Zander lazily sawed his hand across her lips.

Malcolm groaned. "Should we cum together, baby?" He laughed. Emily couldn't think, certainly couldn't speak. She moaned around him - but was it a yes or a no?

Emily throated at least 6 inches now. Malcolm pulled her back and forth on his meat, her drool pooling on the floor and covering her chin. Zander pushed two fingers inside her with an in-out motion of his own.

She shook.

"Not yet, man!" Malcolm slammed his eyes shut and groaned loudly.

Zander's fingers slowed inside Emily, but it was too late. She felt her toes curl as a small orgasm gripped her.

"Nah, man, she's gone," Zander said. His rock-hard cock pressed against the thin dress covering Emily's back. She shuddered and came on his hand.

Emily felt Malcolm's load just as her own hot burst of shame subsided. Her eyes bolted open as his balls pumped cum into her mouth.

Malcolm was silent. He held Emily still.

Burst after burst coated Emily's throat. Soon she sputtered and retched around Malcolm's long cock, Zander slowly rubbing her all the while.

Emily pulled away, gasping as semen dripped from her open mouth onto the floor. Zander held her still and Malcolm kept shooting. Ropes of hot cum struck her forehead, cheeks and chin.