Tracking Evil, a Podcast Pt. 05

"Hook me up man." Erica heard Bishop say, the first sentence she'd been able to make out clearly. Someone, Shane maybe, lifted her up and Erica found herself now being laid on top of Bishop as he lay on the mattress. A pair of hands wiggled her hips and she could feel a fist, a fist pressing against the lips of her pussy. No, not a fist, a cock, Bishop's.

Her senses were still swimming but she was recovering fast, fast enough for her to prop herself up so that she was looking the calm features of Bishop as he wiggled her body, sliding her incrementally down onto his mammoth cock. She felt dominated before, older men, powerful men using her body for their pleasure but right now she felt like she was just a sex toy, a pale breathing plaything that this big man was entertaining himself with. Erica's eyes closed and a whimper crept from her bruised mouth as he stretched her out, only a few scant inches of his length in her yet.

"Yo, you want some? Bitch, hey bitch I'm a talkin' to you." Erica groaned; eyelids so heavy as another thick pussy bursting inch ground its way up inside her. She forced herself to open her eyes and tilted her gaze towards the speaker.

Cranston and Shane were stood watching her, the full bottle of wine was down to its final dregs and Shane was waving it towards her. They were drunk now; she could see it was no act this time. Both men laughed at her expression, Shane raising the bottle to his lips to drain the last of its contents. Erica let her head fall forward again but kept her eyes open, looking at the solid expanse that was Bishop's chest rather than at the ugly mess of his face. 'Body of a God, face of a goat' she thought to herself.

"Come on bitch, you didn't shut up earlier, now you gone all quiet on us. You got nothin' to say? No more fuckin' questions?" Cranston taunted the young reporter.

"Uhh... too, too busy." Erica replied with a trace of her inner fire.

"Too busy?" The confused look on his face was worth the consequences of her next sentence Erica thought to herself.

"Too busy...uhh, Jesus. Too busy taking a real cock in me...uhh, uh, uh, yessss!" Erica mocked him as another inch worked inside, her pussy pulsating and quivering under the strain.

Her hands were on Bishop's chest, the first tremble of his laugh as it rumbled in his chest vibrated against her fingers. The effect of his body rippling with his chuckling response brought another groan of extasy to her lips as his crotch shook and she slipped further still down him.

"Smart mouth bitch..." Cranston's mood turning as ugly as his face. He stepped forward but Shane held him back. By silent agreement the two of them opted to repay Erica's defiance by using her for their own satisfaction.

As Bishop's hands began to finally move her up and down his cock, Erica limp like a rag doll as he fucked her with near three quarters of his length, Shane prowled to her rear. She whispered a small prayer of thanks to whatever God happened to be looking out for at that moment as Cranston approached her face with his dark shaft in hand. At least the smallest cock, still eight inches long, would be used on her poor fatigued mouth.

The idea of three men inside at the same time was something Erica had never considered as a sexual goal for herself. It wasn't just three men though, it was three black men, ex-convicts, men with both a violent past and a violent present. Three black men, three black cocks, two big, one ginormous.

"Dat's how we utilize a slut." Cranston muttered, "Fuckin' airtight."

Erica was both proud and disgusted by herself. Her family would have wept to see their daughter treated in this manner. Any rightminded parent would have forbidden it if a curious Erica had ventured an interest in such an act. Now smothered by the lean hard black bodies of these men, all three entrances to her body corrupted and sullied by their rampant cocks, Erica found herself striving to please these cocks. Not the men who owned them but the cocks themselves.

She was being held up by Bishop. He lay unmoving beneath her, his cock buried deep, the black monster inside her pulsating but otherwise still. Shane was using her ass the same way he had used her pussy, a fuck sleeve for his cock. He humped her soft body furiously, seeking to prove his worth through fucking her hard to another orgasm. Cranston hadn't bothered with the pretence of having Erica suck his cock, like Shane he was intent on spilling his fury along with his seed inside her. Erica's hair was no longer tied back in a bun, her long brown hair now pulled loose and clenched, leash like, in the older man's hands. He seemed to revel in using her hair to subdue her, twisting and pulling on it till her mouth was exactly where he wanted it, lined directly up with his cock. He fucked her face that way, her lips gripping onto his shaft as it speared in and out.

"How I deal with a smart mouth." Butterman's old cell mate growled, "I fucks it like a pussy. See that bitch? Fuckin' yo mouth like a pussy which makes you a fuckin' cunt."

"Glomp, urkk, glom, blech." Erica gargled and gasped in reply, the sounds of her frustration only serving to please him.

Shane and Cranston finished within a minute of each other, Erica's mouth and ass flooding with seed as they pounded her all the harder at the moment of nutting inside her. Her chin dripped with the creamy offering Cranston pumped into her mouth, she swallowed it on reflex, tongue licking escaping dribbles of sperm as she savoured the taste.

She expected Bishop to begin fucking her again but instead he eased her off of him, half carrying her from the bedroom to the bathroom door. He left her to stagger in on legs of melted rubber. Erica gripped the edge of the toilet, retching slightly. She could feel cum oozing from her butt, the warmth of it as it dripped onto her lower leg. Alcohol, rough sex and fear had churned up a maelstrom in her stomach and she retched again and again, burning bile in her throat.

Erica emerged from the toilet a quarter of an hour later, face and hands wet as there was no towel in the bathroom. The powerful figure of Bishop once more loomed at the end of the passageway. He handed her some cloth. Taking them, Erica recognised them as the bandana's belonging to Shane and Cranston. They were slightly damp with the sweat of the two men but she still rubbed them across her wet face and hands, smiling her thanks to Bishop.

"They asleep. Drunk." he volunteered softly, answering her unspoken question.

"Oh, okay. Now what? Can I go?"

"Now? Now you mine." he answered, reaching for her.

Erica swayed side to side in the crook of Bishops arm as the black giant carried her out of the trailer, walking back towards the place Erica had first met him and Cranston.

"Too small in there, need room." was the only explanation he gave as he hefted her weight effortlessly.

Reaching a small clear area near the piles of steel he lowered her to the packed dirt of the ground. For a mad moment she considered bolting away before slumping resignedly to the ground. She was nude, exhausted and miles from anywhere. What was the point in running?

Bishop walked over to a small pile of what appeared to be scrap metal, cut offs too short to be of any use in the manufacturing of the trailer frames. Selecting a couple of foot long lengths, he returned to where Erica lay. A handy fist sized rock was employed as a makeshift hammer and while a bemused Erica looked on, Bishop drove each rod of steel into the ground a few feet apart so that half their length was sunk into the earth.

He half dragged, half carried Erica over to his handiwork, a glimmer of understanding coming to her as he produced the bandana's the other two men had been wearing. She tried to sit up but he was just so damned strong. A grip as hard as the steel rods he had just hammered into place clamped onto her arm. Erica found herself helpless as Bishop tied first one wrist and then the other to each of the makeshift pegs, leaving her restrained on her back in the dirt.

Standing above her, a blacker figure outlined against the night sky, Bishop began stroking himself back to full hardness.

"So pretty." he murmured, "I never fucked a pretty white girl before."

He lowered himself down, bouncing the meat club against her clit, rubbing it back and forth so that Erica began squirming against it, hips beginning to writhe.

"Gonna give it to you good now, got you alone." he dragged it down one last time before pressing the head against her entrance. She jerked her arms futilely, tightly restrained. The feeling of helplessness should have had her crying in fear but the sensation deep in the pit of her stomach wasn't panic, it was lust. Erica realised she enjoyed it, maybe not being tied up on the dusty ground, but the feeling of powerlessness, being controlled, dominated, used... fucked and owned.

His cock began its journey inside her. Despite her excitement and his already having stretched her out, her young pussy still resisted the sheer volume of dark meat entering it. Tight white pussy struggled in vain against the black invader, the battle between her young pussy and his stiff cock could only ever have one outcome. Inch by inch he took her, Erica's legs rising from the hard earth to coil behind him, heels dragging against his back as she encouraged him onward.

"Mmmh, I can hear it, hear that pussy talkin' to me." he whispered, "Sayin' give it to me, give it to me."

"Fuck me." Erica whispered back.

He straightened out, a hand either side of her head, his ass skipping back and forth as he moved in her. Each stroke took him further inside, each stroke brought her closer to coming. She still struggled against her bounds, not because she wanted to escape but just a natural impulse to wrap her arms around him, squash her soft breasts against his hard chest.

"Uh, uh, I cum, I cum." she moaned in broken English, her mind aflame, "Give me, uh, uh, uh, give me that big black dick, urrghh, I need it, need it."

He pressed her harder, slamming himself at her now, pushing Erica to limits she didn't know she had. Bishop dropped his head to catch a flopping tit in his mouth, fastening onto it like a limpet. Erica could feel his crooked, broken teeth snapping at her nipple and she came again. His cock was smeared with her juices, churned by his rampant cock into a creamy white goo. He released her tit, pulling back and then swinging his right hand across her chest, open palm smacking into her left breast, then the back hand careening into her right one. Erica moaned under the abuse, pussy gripping his cock as she came from his treatment. The aspiring young reporter, tied and spanked, dominated and abused by the ex con and loving every moment, every inch, every slap.

"Yeah, you need it, need it bad. Talk to me, tell me what you need." Bishop's soft voice never rose in volume, never quavered with emotion as he fucked her with punishing strength, her body soaking it up, coming back for more.

"Fuck me, uh, uh, fuck me harder, harder. Fucking use me. I'm a slut, black cock slut, need it, need big black cock." Erica panted like she was on camera in a porno, watching the delight in his face as she begged him to go harder.

He tore the restraints from her wrists, Erica's arms flinging themselves around his neck. She clung to him, arms and legs holding on for dear life. Bishop got to his feet, the trembling body of Erica rubbing itself against him as he clambered up from the ground. Seven feet two inches of black male stood naked under the night sky. Five feet six inches of white female juddered and jolted against him. Erica fucked herself up and down his pole, her nails dug into his back as orgasms tripped through her, multiple bolts of energy sparking through the nerve endings of her body.

"Shane had it wrong...urrrrrhh." he bellowed, his voice finally raised in emotion, "You aint built to abuse, you built to use. Built to fuck. Urrrhhh... sweetest pussy I ever had... urrrh... Built to fuck, built to fuck hard, fuck all night. Built for black cock."

"Yessss... yes, yes, yes. Uh, uh, uh, fuck me, cum, cum in me... uh, uh, uh... ooooh!"

The orgasms were one now, all melded into one rolling wave of pleasure. His cock unloaded inside her, seed pumping into her womb. Erica's hands fell away, her body falling back till she hung perpendicular to the giant black stud, only her legs round his waist, the cock buried deep inside her and his hand at her back keeping her from tumbling to the ground in an orgasmic heap of flesh.

Episode 4: "Si vis pacem, para bellum" *If you want peace, prepare for war

The car park to a McDonalds drive thru was the agreed meeting point. The area was half full, mostly with mothers looking for ten minutes of peace as their children demolished happy meals in the back seats. It offered Arlene and Erica somewhere to meet that reeked of anonymity and transience. No one looked for new faces or took note of out of state licence plates in this setting.

Erica sat in the passenger seat of Arlene's car waiting for the older woman to share her findings. There was a general mood of weariness coming from the two of them. Some of it was down to their activities over the last few days but there was something more beneath the physical stresses. It had been a long search and having lost one of their own there was a sense that the search was far from over.

They'd spoken already, not only to set up this meeting but to share their discoveries with each other. Taken on its own, what Arlene had found in the prison and the few pieces of gossip that Erica had gleaned from Cranston meant little enough. Little considering the efforts to obtain it.

Though they had shared their findings, neither had shared their experiences in recovering the information. Nor had they shared what had come after.

Arlene didn't tell Erica about how she had stumbled, dishevelled and red faced from the prison, her files clutched to her chest like a shield. She didn't talk about driving back to her motel, quivering with repressed emotion, only breaking into tears and huge gasping sobs when she'd slammed the door to her room behind her. She'd cried on and off for an hour, deeply hurt, deeply lonely and mourning the life that could have been, should have been. She didn't confess to the young woman beside her that after she had emptied herself of tears, she had cleaned herself up and gone out to a local bar. She'd emerged not thirty minutes later with a young black man, leading him by the hand to her car.

Likewise, Erica didn't share how she'd been fucked twice more by Bishop, taken to the edge of reason and sanity by his size, stamina and aggressive sexual hunger. Only after he'd succumbed to sleep had she been able to pick her way silently into the trailer, recovering her clothes, car keys and phone. She'd driven fast and far to leave them behind her. Once she felt safe, she had spent an hour under the hot spray of a shower, cleaning every scrap of cum and dirt from her body. Long after she was clean, she'd kept scrubbing at herself. Long after she'd stopped scrubbing, she'd still stood there, water running over her battered body, thinking. She didn't open up to Arlene that she'd spent that time running the words of men like Elias, Amos, Randell and Bishop through her mind. After stepping from the shower, she'd flushed her birth control down the toilet.

"Here's where we are." Arlene began. "His aunt who had been a lifelong resident of Missouri died while he was in prison. We both assumed he'd inherited her property and that's where Butterman was hiding out."

"Right." Erica said.

"Wrong." Arlene replied, "According to the records she left all her possessions to a local animal welfare trust. So, no refuge for Butterman in Missouri."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Erica said banging the back of her head against the car seat in frustration.

Arlene patted her hand and smiled. "Don't get upset, there's more. After you told me how upset Butterman got at her death I followed up with the aunt's lawyer. Turns out he knew the old lady well. Seems she didn't take well to her favourite nephew resorting to the murder of his wife, cut all ties with him. Hence no inheritance."

"Okay, but how does that help?"

"It doesn't. But then the lawyer begins by telling me how the old lady had been very well respected in the local area, especially among the local wildlife enthusiasts. Seems she was considered quite the font of knowledge. Amateur ornithologist."

Erica nodded, "Cranston said that Butterman used to talk about birds a lot."

"Exactly", Arlene said her face animated now, "And the lawyer went on to mention that auntie dearest used to take the young Gerry Butterman with her on camping trips, sharing her knowledge with her nephew. Sometimes two or three times a year for over a decade."

"So, you think where he used to go with his aunt, that's his happy place? That's where he'll be hiding out? So, what now?"

"Could be he is hiding there, I think it's the best lead we got", Arlene fished out some half cold French fries from the bag sitting on her lap. She paused to chew them down. "Let's face it, it's the only lead. As for what now, we hunt the fucker down, finish it, finish him." Arlene patted the shoulder holster she wore as she said this.

Erica nodded. She had no problem with Butterman getting justice through a bullet. The podcast would happen and she'd tell the story but it would be the story of the victims and the brave people who avenged them, people like Arlene and Amos.

"Where is the place they used to camp?" Erica asked Arlene, already firing up her map app on her phone.

"Right, well the lawyer couldn't be specific. He was working off half remembered conversations with an elderly client who tended to wander a little in her thoughts."

"That doesn't sound exactly promising" Erica commented.

Arlene took a folded map out from the side pocket in the driver's door. As best she could she unfolded it between herself and Erica, indicating two circled areas within the Ozark region of Missouri.

"As best as he could recall, these are the two areas the old lady mentioned when she talked about her nephew" Arlene said. Erica tapped the locations into her phone, scrolling down for information.

"Jesus Arlene, that's almost fifty square miles between the two sites" she exclaimed, looking at the older woman in shock.

"That sounds about right, fifty square miles of forests, creeks, hills, hiking trails, mountains....and one monster" Arlene spelled it out.

The situation sucked. They couldn't be sure that Butterman was hiding out there and even if he was, in that sort of environment they could walk within ten feet of a hidden campsite and not even know he was there. Erica looked at images of the land on her phone, resigned to the plan but not exactly skipping with enthusiasm.

"We're going to need help" Erica said.