Tracking Evil, a Podcast Pt. 12b

"That's right my dear, you are warming up now I think," the sweet-talking Mrs. Williams cooed.

"Hot, uh, hot," Erica panted.

Slowly the thrusting dildo decreased in tempo until it was withdrawn completely from Erica's body.

"I'm getting a bit hot myself, I should lie down a moment," Mrs. Williams commented before doing just that, stretching her ripe body on the sofa alongside Erica. "Be a dear, climb up and continue for me."

Erica found herself more than willing to do just that. She clambered up to sit astride Mrs. Williams, positioning the rubber cock to enter on her descent. It went in smoother than many dicks she had ridden, the manufactured straightness of the shaft allowing for an easier mounting. Then Erica was in full-on jockey mode, riding the big purple dildo energetically, wantonly.

If her eyes slipped over the edge of the sofa, she could still see the furiously masturbating camera operator, a man close to spilling his seed in her honor. Dropping her eyes slightly, she could look into Mrs. Williams big brown ones.

There was nothing there, a flat hard mirror that left no clue to the soul trapped behind them. Emotionless, pitiless. They were deeply unnerving.

So instead, Erica focused on the swell and roll of Mrs. Williams big fat tits, watching the dark flesh quiver with each humping action from Erica.

The black woman's hands crept up to caress Erica's own tits. Long garishly painted fingernails tore and teased at Erica's sensitive hard nipples, tweaking the flesh so that the young white woman's body had no recourse but to vent the build-up of orgasmic pleasure.

"Cumming.... Fuck, fuck, fuck... uhhh," Erica whined grinding her supple body onto the dildo, striving to press it tight against the nerve cluster on the roof of her pussy.

Mrs. Williams pinched Erica's nipples as the young woman came, twisting them like she was dialing in a radio show, Erica grimacing as she rode the thin edge separating pleasure and pain.

Chapter Five: "The end may justify the means as long as there is something that justifies the end - Leon Trotsky"

All of Erica's self-recriminations about messing up, all her inner monologues and unvoiced encouragements to stay strong, stay focused... they had all been for naught.

After she had slumped off of the unflappable Mrs. Williams, a sole compassionate member of the crew had joined her on set, passing her a small paper cup filled with cool water. Erica had gulped it down and then just collapsed wearily on the sofa, eyes closing as she attempted to gather herself together.

Her eyes had snapped wide open a couple of minutes later with the return of Mr. Williams.

Ten minutes later and all her attempts at fortitude had collapsed like a sand castle falling before the incoming tide.

Erica lay propped up slightly to one side on the couch. Her left leg lay atop of Mr. Williams shoulder, her right leg stretched out and down, foot on the floor. He was feeding his insanely proportioned Frankenstein monster of a cock, would that it had looked as good as Frankenstein's creation, into her sore, stretched yet somehow still unappeased pussy.

She was taking it, her body felt like it was a piece of iron on a blacksmith's anvil, the shape of her being pounded and reformed under the unyielding blows of a hammer. She was taking it though.

He moved slow and steady, pushing her to her limits and then over them with thrusts that came in a bewildering variety of speed, depths and angles, the older black man keeping her constantly on edge, unable to anticipate what would come next.

The narcotic that was black cock travelled through her system, drugging her, shattering inhibitions, removing her better judgement, stomping on her prejudices. He was old, ugly, his cock looked like a car accident, but he fucked so damn well.

As always, the din of the crew, the director, cut across the edge of her awareness. It didn't disturb her but it was a strain to split her focus from the orgasm inducing black cock injection that Mr. Williams was administering to her and the babble of the film crew.

Something about the door? Did she hear that right.

Tap-tap-tap

Someone knocking on the faux apartment door.

Mr. Williams put a hand over her mouth so that her panting breaths became all but inaudible. He didn't stop fucking her though.

Apparently Mrs. Williams was scripted to answer the door this time.

"Hi, is my daughter Erica here?" Erica clearly heard a new voice, supposedly her mother in this movie, asking for her.

"No, my dear, did she say she was coming here?" Mrs. Williams was all solicitous, honey dripping from her tongue.

"Don't cum" Mr. Williams hissed, for Erica and the camera zoomed tight on them.

"No, she didn't say she'd come here, I just didn't know where else to look. With the rain and all, I'm sure she is just dripping wet right now. Maybe she came when Mr. Williams was here?" Erica's fake Mom sounded both drunk and worried as she dropped a double entendre left, right and center.

"Don't cum little bitch, don't you cum until I say you can." Mr. Williams was fucking her with menace now, straight up pounding her with his crooked length of black cock that had Erica shivering and aching for release. It was like a fever, her skin actually felt painful to the touch as she bottled up her orgasm, her nipples throbbed and felt like they might swell up and burst. 'Fuck off mother so I can cum' she screamed insanely in her own mind.

"Let me ask him. Dear... did you see Erica today.?"

"Uh, uh, uh-huh, saw her."

"She came here?"

"She came earlier, just not now." Mr. Williams yelled back. "Don't cum till you are told, you hear me?" he whispered threateningly and Erica nodded, her mouth still covered by his hand.

"Where could she be?" Faux Mom worried.

"Just wait at home for her. You head home now, I'm sure she'll cum soon after," Mr. Williams sounded prophetic as he yelled his advice across the apartment space. Erica felt a mini spasm in her pussy as she heard the apartment door shut, ending that particular segue.

"Need to cum huh?"

Erica nodded frantically, he just wouldn't let up fucking her, if he paused at least, she might regain some control, but no he just kept pushing his monster cock deeper and harder.

"Gettin' close too," he said then leaned as if he were licking at nibbling at her ear.

"I aint knocked up a fine bitch like you in a while. You lookin' forward to me bein' your baby Daddy?" He whispered in her ear so even the microphones wouldn't pick up on it.

"Say it!" he said and lifted his hand from her mouth.

"Yes, yes, ok, yes, let me cum, uhhhhhhh," Erica babbled in response to his lewd message.

"Cum on then bitch, cum for ol' Mr. Williams," he snorted as he plunged into her again.

"Moottthhheerrr fuuuuccckkkkeeeer!" Erica yelled as her body lanced itself of the boil that was her stifled orgasm. She shook, drooled, moaned and near wept as the orgasm blew her away. It took a full two minutes to recede and even then, she felt on edge.

Whiter than the white false teeth gleaming in his head, the old homeless man turned porn stud then began to ejaculate inside her. If Erica had assumed that what had felt like a bucket and a half of cum, he'd dropped on her face was the result of a backed-up supply, she was mistaken.

He seemed able to deposit vast quantities of black baby making batter each time. Add that to the fact his massive cock was wedged tight within her and Erica feared that every drop was destined for her womb. Still at least, it triggered yet another orgasm.

<0>

The huge black cock withdrew and Erica slithered off the couch to lie stupefied on the floor. Her legs were rubber, her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool and her pussy was a throbbing cavern of strained pleasure. Surely that was it. End scene. Fadeout. Whatever it was that directors were supposed to say to finish filming.

"Send in the extras," came the directors voice from his perch.

'Fuck that!' Erica thought. She was done. She couldn't care anymore if it was Lawrence Jackson or the Loch Ness monster that was hidden from view as he directed the film. Erica dragged her body across to where her red baseball cap lay on the floor.

"Oh, look dear," came Mrs. Williams voice from somewhere in the apartment. "My niece is here and she brought some friends."

Erica stretched out her arm, grabbing at the cap. It twirled between her fingers and thumb as she felt for the hidden tracker.

"Erica, oh I'm sure she'd like to hang out with you all, such nice young people." Mrs. Williams and her fucking honeyed tone and dead fucking eyes.

Erica found the small transmitter and she squeezed. Nothing. She squeezed again; this time rewarded by the sensation of it snapping in two. The signal was sent, help was on the way.

"Where are you crawling away to?" A familiar voice spoke from above her and Erica twisted in place to look and see who it was.

The young black woman who had shown her about now stood over her. She wore a lace facemask that partially hid her face but it was her. She was naked as the day she was born, small A cup breasts with long nipples jutting out from them.

A harness, similar to the one Mrs. Williams had worn was about her waist, the dildo attached was smaller though and jet black.

Behind her stood three men. One was young, masked as well but an intuition told Erica that it was the masked girl's brother, twin even. Two other men, unmasked, flanked the siblings. They wore shit eating grins that were the only soft things about them.

From the prison jacked muscled bodies, the plethora of tattoos and the general aura of thugs, Erica fancied them to be ex-cons looking for an enjoyable way to make some money.

'Come on Trent' Erica thought to herself.

SCENE

Erica rode the masked young black man, his smooth black cock churning the sperm inside her into a buttery paste.

Crouched above and behind her, his masked sister pushed the unyielding rubber dildo she wore into Erica's asshole. It was a tight squeeze but the black woman had scooped two fingers of cum out of Erica's pussy beforehand, using the viscous fluid to lubricate Erica's puckered entrance before inserting the dildo.

On the floor alongside them, the two thugs were taking it in turns to fuck Mrs. Williams mouth, prepping themselves for their turn on Erica.

'Now Trent, come now, rescue me!'

SCENE

Held aloft between the hard bodies of the two tattooed ex-cons. One deep in her pussy, the other reaming her ass. Erica bit down on the shoulder of the man fucking her pussy, her sharp teeth digging into his flesh as she came hard on his cock.

If he minded the pain of the bite, he didn't show it, he just rode it out before leaning down to return the favor, nipping at her nipple savagely so that she cried aloud in pain and extasy.

At their feet, the masked black woman was jerking off Mr. Williams while her brother fingered Mrs. Williams to orgasm.

'Trent. Trent, what could have happened? Why aren't you here? I need help.'

SCENE

Erica lying on the floor, the two black women, guiding while holding a cock in each hand. Four streams of dark yellow urine arcing out to fall in a warm disgusting torrent onto Erica's exhausted body.

'Trent? Anybody?......'

<0>

A snarl of explosive sound. Thunder on a cloudless day.

Thunder? Indoors?

A second bark of noise, sharper, repeating itself twice more.

Not thunder. Gunfire. Shotgun blasts and handguns.

A voice calling out. Her own personal angel, come to save her.

Arlene.

Erica struggled to her feet. Calm now amongst the panic that had gripped everyone else in the warehouse.

Arlene!

Erica looked for her. Saw her.

Arlene, her red hair flashing like fire. A shotgun riding her shoulder as she sent blast after controlled blast at the scenery around her, tearing head sized holes in the plywood sheets.

Arlene. And around her Erica's other friends.

Trent, a rifle at the ready but using it as a club to subdue with precise swings the mass of men trying to escape.

Lincoln, hovering near the corridor leading to the exit, corralling, herding the film crew into a corner. JP, working with Lincoln, divesting the few men hired as security of their weapons.

And Sondra, standing stock still, an oversized .50 calibre Desert Eagle clutched in a two-handed grip. The gun trained on the platform where Mr. Smith and the director stood.

Limping, Erica slowly made her way to where Arlene stood. Cum and urine lay thick on her pale skin, there was no way that Arlene couldn't see it, smell it, know it for what it was. It didn't matter to Arlene. She simply folded her arms around Erica, drawing her into the tightest of hugs.

That was all Erica needed. It had all been worth it. Everything was good in her world once more.

"I wouldn't!" Sondra's voiced boomed out.

Erica looked over to see that the director, it was indeed Lawrence Jackson, had frozen in place, a hand on his hip as if going for a weapon.

"I wouldn't!" Sondra repeated. "You're a big man, you look like you aint fast and believe me sugar... I WANT you to give me a reason."

Lawrence Jackson sat back down; hands raised in surrender.

<0>

"I'm so sorry," Trent apologized for what must have been the twentieth time.

Erica leaned in to kiss him. She felt comfortable doing that, now that she had showered and changed. It hadn't been Trent's fault. He wasn't the type to let someone down on purpose, especially not someone he viewed as a comrade in arms. Trent had been sitting in a van, all ready to go. The whole crew, armed to the teeth in the back of the van.

Just a few minutes before Erica had sent the signal, a police cruiser had pulled up. Five minutes later, two other cop cars had been summoned to the scene on account of the original officers discovering the five individuals in the suspicious van were armed and apparently ready for World War Three. It took some time and a lot of quick talking but between Arlene's credentials and Special agent Sam Murphy of the FBI interceding on their behalf, they had been released an hour later. Released, only to discover they were an hour late to answer Erica's signal promptly.

Now they sat and waited on some chairs taken from an office in the warehouse, waiting while Arlene and Lincoln worked their magic on Mr. Jackson. By the screams coming from the small room that they had taken him too, answers should soon be forthcoming.

Sure enough, Arlene and Lincoln emerged not long after. The deputy sheriff looked around at the film crew, all zip tied and gagged. The equipment they had used was in a neat pile, the recordings however had been destroyed.

"Leave them, Agent Murphy can send someone to deal with them. Pretty sure what they were up to will lead to one federal charge or another." With that Arlene led their band of hunters out into the sunlight and away from the stench of sex and violence.

<0>

Not too long after, Erica, her rescuers and Victor were all united, sitting about a kitchen table, each person clutching a well earned bottle of beer. Victor had arrived after liaising with Sam Murphy, buoyant with the news that all the people had been picked up with charges ranging from federal copyright infringements, health and safety violations, tax evasion and unlicensed production of a movie being laid against them all. None of the individual charges would carry any real time but the cumulative charges along with evidence that vulnerable individuals had been coerced into performing, some of the crew were looking at serious jail time.

Less good was the fact that Special agent Murphy could only give them three days while he 'verified' the fact that the director was in fact Lawrence Jackson, returned from the grave. This meant they were against the clock, should The Hockey Fan learn that his former boss had been arrested, he would no doubt change his current identify and they would be back to square one again.

"According to the talkative Mr. Jackson, Adin Hodzic is going by the name Adam Hughes these days. Seems like he sticks to the East Coast but he moves from city to city but keeps apartments in a few places. He likes dealing with European syndicates mostly. French, Czech, Latvian, Russian, Polish crews and criminal organizations. He provides local resources and knowledge; they provide cash and muscle." Arlene looked around the room they had all gathered in.

"Thoughts?"

"Won't be easy to find. I doubt his places are registered under any alias we have for him," Victor offered.

"I agree," Erica said. "This guy prides himself on being low key, the shadow behind the throne. He won't be staying in big hotels, driving flashy cars. That just means the pool of potential leads jumps exponentially."

There was a general grumbling murmur of agreement from the others save from Lincoln who spoke next.

"I know someone. Gheorghe Teodoroiu is ex Romanian special forces. He came to the U.S. a few years back and set up a security business. He also does retrievals for bail bondsmen which is where our paths crossed. This guy is plugged in to a lot of the European criminal groups. He doesn't exactly break the law but he offers them consultation services from time to time. He's got an old-fashioned sense of honor so I can't see him being big on helping out a serial killer. He has a daughter as well, Denisa, guess she's nineteen or twenty now. Anyway, she came over when she was about sixteen, been helping her father since she finished school. I reckon he might be a good source of intel, especially if he hears how some of these guys like hurting and killing women. Like I said, he has a daughter. Fathers, you never want to fuck with fathers." Lincoln looked about to see what everyone's response might be.

"Fuck it, we got nothing to lose. Where's this guy living?" Sondra was already halfway to her feet as she asked the question.