Tracking Evil, a Podcast Pt. 13a

The lubricant was smeared across the upthrust pale white cheeks of her ass, sweeping circular strokes of a stranger's hand applying it across her soft pliant flesh. Then that same hand smeared lube between the cheeks of her ass, two fingers scooping a spreading it. The alarm bells began to ring in her mind when a lone finger began to work the cool lube onto and into her sphincter.

Denisa wanted to object, to clarify that even though she was sampling three cocks at once, there were most definitely limits to where she was prepared to go. Limits these men damn sure needed to adhere to.

The shame was that the authorative speech in her head never made it any further than that, the bruising, tongue heavy kissing keeping her silent.

When the cock began to press against the entrance to her ass, it was too late.

She winced as the first pressure increased, what started as a strange feeling moved to discomfort. Discomfort then bade Denisa a fond farewell, ushering in pain and shame as the head of the black cock breached her ass.

She wrenched her head free, tossing it fiercely as her eyes welled with tears.

"Bastards!" she spat, in French, English, Romanian, Spanish, back to Romanian and one last time in French.

"Slut!" the man whose cock was three quarters sheathed in her pussy said in rejoinder.

The cock in her ass pressed forward and Denisa found herself panting and blowing like she was in labor. The cock paused, a count of ten, then it crept forward again. Another bout of panting, another count of ten and yet another inevitable advance as the cock moved forward. Denisa blinked her eyes furiously, flicking the tears away, refusing to show weakness, not now. These men thrived on weakness and what was a potentially dangerous situation could turn nastier still if she didn't keep her composure. He father had taught her, if you run with a wild pack of dogs, you need to show them the length of your own fangs or risk being bitten.

Time to show them what a woman raised strong by a soldier was made of.

"Again." Denisa bit the words off between her clenched teeth. "Again, push it again, open me up if you are able."

Beneath her she could see the surprise on the face of the black youth. This wasn't what he'd expected, she doubted his friends had either. The satisfaction she got from that almost offset the discomfort of another inch of black cock getting shoved up her ass. Almost.

"That's it, now fuck me bitches, I need to cum again," Denisa said defiantly.

It might have been better if she'd left off the part where she called them bitches, the men responding aggressively to her taunt. The cock in her ass began moving rapidly in and out, the one in her pussy sinking and shafting as her petite body was rocked back and forth by the ass fucking. The third man then appeared, cock in hand.

"Three-hole slut," he said, contemptuous words delivered in elegant French.

Denisa opened her mouth, doing her best to mouth his shaft but the ferocity of the fucking made it hard, the cock plopping free of her lips at times.

The ass fucking moved along. Pain passed, discomfort changed to a strange numbness and then, five minutes after they had begun, the sensation in her butt began to approach something very much like pleasure.

She had a moments respite, the men switching once again. Surely, they were close to finishing, the thought was in her mind as her own body had now experienced four orgasms that were as draining as they were utterly satisfying.

One of them picked her up, her small body being lifted up, her legs curling around his waist. Strong legs, toned from years of training, length after punishing length in swimming pools giving her the stamina and body strength that allowed her to meet these men head on.

She threw her arms around his neck, working in unison with him as she humped on his black cock while he stood statue like in the middle of the room. Then a second man approached from behind her, Denisa finding herself double stuffed once again as a new black cock found its way with grudging resistance into her firm taut ass.

The cocks alternated in their punishing entries, a long black cock shoving forward in her pussy to cause her guts to churn, then a fat black cock plunging into her ass, her bowels shuddering under the strain. In and out, in and out, a sexual see-saw that had Denisa mewling and whimpering like a newborn kitten, blind to her surroundings, her body trembling and jerking as she was fucked hard. Her head lolled backwards, mouth agape as she drowned in cock.

She was allowed to slither free, her pale body flushed with the exertion, flesh mottled in places where the men had gripped her tight as they used her hard. There was no letup, not now that the three men were close to their own ends.

Denisa was rolled to her back, a fresh cock in her pussy, plunging in hard and fast.

"Close," the man muttered in French.

"Pull out Ahmed, remember what Ibrahima said. Her father wouldn't welcome her being returned with a swollen belly," an unseen comrade cautioned the man fucking Denisa.

"Fuck him! Let her decide," the man grunted, his pace increasing as he leaned over her, he clutched her face, fingers and thumb pressing so that her mouth warped into a pout.

"You want me to cum inside you, don't you? You want to get the full experience eh? Hot slut like you, need a real man seeding you to put out those fires."

"Uh, uh, uh," Denisa grunted softly to the tempo of his thrusts, her own orgasm thickening within her.

"Uh, yes. Uh, uh. Cum in me," she panted, watching the mans face twist, voracious in his desire to defile her womb.

"Vreau sa intri in mine... I want you to cum in me, cum in me so my father cuts your eyes out of your head.... Uhhhhh," she moaned, twisting her body to grind into his inward thrust.

The thug leapt up as if scalded, anger and fear warring across his face. "Bitch!" he spat.

"Leave it Ahmed, we'll finish another way," his friend said.

They dragged Denisa off the bed and onto her knees, crowding her. Their cocks pushed forward and greedy still, she took one in her mouth, fending the others off with her hands, jerking on them until it was their turn to be sucked upon.

"Nnnnhhh - uh," one of the men groaned, Denisas recognizing him as the first man she had approached, the one whose hand she had sat on. He pulled his cock free of the mouth, the dark meat trembling as it began to squirt its tribute out and onto her face.

Wads of sperm landing with a splat across her forehead, then onto her nose and cheek as the ejaculations lost their force. Denisa took another cock into her mouth as the man stepped away. The second cock soon reached its zenith, spunk once more erupting out this time to splatter her tits. That left Ahmed, still bitter in having lost out on finishing inside her.

He shoved his cock roughly into her mouth so that it threatened to take her throat with its length. The angry black youth fucked her face, gripping her hair tight. Denisa heard him panting like a dog above her, until he groaned weakly. He didn't pull out though and she tasted black seed for the first time as his big black balls pumped their offering through his black cock and onto her tongue where it washed thickly across her taste buds.

As he pulled out, a measure of his cum spilled from her lips and onto her chin, the majority of it sliding down her throat as she swallowed in reflex.

The men remained crowded about her, looking down as Denisa pawed at her pussy, fingers delving deep to usher in her final orgasm as their sperm dripped and dried on her face and tits.

<0>

"You done having fun?"

Denisa peered out between the bodies of the men about her to see Sondra leaning against the now open door. She was fully dressed and a bit disheveled looking, though nowhere near as messy as Denisa.

Behind Sondra, Denisa could see Ibrahima and another man picking up clothing from the floor. They were nude, their cocks flaccid and spent.

She got to her feet, taking less than a minute to pick up her clothing. She joined Sondra at the door way and began using her panties to mop at the sperm that decorated her body.

"Sondra?"

"Yes Denisa?"

"Perhaps we could keep this between us? There is no reason my father should have to learn about it."

"Suits me, just get me out of here." Sondra held up the paper with the phone number on it. "We need to get back to the others and fast."

Chapter Two: "Never be afraid of opportunities, always be on the lookout for adventures - Alexander Dumas, The Three Musketeers."

Fortuitously, when Arlene reached out to Zeke about meeting up with his judge friend, the old man informed her that there was a poker game scheduled for that very night. He was happy, enthusiastic really, about her coming to the game and was sure that his friend would be open to advising and helping her out.

That evening, resplendent in her Sheriff's uniform and carrying a large folder stuffed with files, Arlene had arrived at the Four Seasons hotel where Zeke said the game was to be held.

She took the elevator up to the sixth floor and made her way down the corridor to Suite 609. Before knocking, Arlene took a moment to adjust her tie. Zeke had specifically told her to come in uniform, saying that it would lend gravitas to her request and help his friend take her seriously.

Arlene rapped her knuckles on the door smartly, a rapid fire rat-a-tat-tat before taking a step back.

It took almost a minute for someone to respond, so long in fact that she had been a half second away from knocking again when the door was opened.

A man, at least as old as Zeke, stood at the open door in a sweat pants set, a large lit cigar chomped between his teeth. He looked startled to see a law enforcement officer at the suite door.

"Help you, Deputy? You here to arrest me for smoking?" He pulled the cigar from his mouth, twirling it in the air so that a trail of fragrant smoke curled out.

"Uh no, I'm expected," Arlene said, cursing herself for not ringing Zeke from the lobby before heading up.

"Abraham you fool, let her in, that's a friend of mine," Arlene heard Zeke's voice from inside the suite.

"Zeke, you organize a stripper or something?" Abraham called back, stepping aside anyway to let Arlene in.

She stepped in, hearing the door close behind her. As it clicked shut, Zeke appeared at the end of the short hallway leading into the suite, beckoning her forward.

"Don't go teasing the poor girl Abraham, you knew she was coming" Zeke said. Arlene turned to find Abraham grinning at her from behind the cigar fixed once more between his teeth.

"Sorry Deputy, I couldn't resist," he offered as both explanation and apology.

Arlene was ushered through to the main room of the suite, two more men sitting at the large table, poker chips and cards arrayed before them in four distinct piles.

There was the inevitable round of introductions. Aside from Zeke, Abraham was the only other retiree, he having served as a judge till just the year before. The two seated men were as casually dressed as Abraham, Karl was a defense attorney who specialized in corporate law. Jonathan was a sitting judge, still a few years shy of retirement himself.

The four black men ranged in age from early sixties to mid-seventies and despite the disparity in their professions and age to Arlene they were welcoming and eager to put her at her ease.

From the unobtrusive looks she received from Karl and Jonathan, Arlene suspected that only Abraham was aware of her reason for being here. She set the folder aside she was carrying, sat down in a chair between Zeke and Abraham, pulling out a hundred dollars as chips were pushed towards her.

"Kind of overly formal attire for a poker game," Jonathan observed as he dealt out the cards.

Arlene blushed, loosening her tie and opening the collar button on her shirt.

"Yeah, that would be Zeke's idea," she replied.

"The man loves his jokes," Karl said as he scooped up his cards, his eyebrows flickering as he looked at them.

Arlene had grown up a military brat, half her childhood spent around men in uniform. If there was one thing true about soldiers if was that, when not training or in combat, they loved to gamble. As she watched Karl reveal the quality of his cards with his 'tell' she picked up her own, done right, this evening could be profitable regardless of Abraham and Zeke being able to help her out.

<0>

"And the lady wins again, straight flush to the ace of spades. That beats your full house Jonathan," Abraham chortled as Arlene raked the pot towards her.

Two hours had passed since entering the suite and she was four hundred dollars and five beers better off than when she had sat down. The four men were open books to Arlene, unmindful of any tells that they might telegraph as they played, more interested in having fun with old friends and engaging in one-upmanship with each other, each feeling they had to better the anecdote told by the other man before them.

As evenings went, Arlene hadn't had as pleasant a one, with strangers at least, in quite some time. She was almost sorry for taking their money from them. Almost.

"Dammit Karl, your deal is as crooked as your clients," Jonathan complained, slapping the table in frustration.

"Don't go blaming me, you were losing to her on your own deal as well. Blame Zeke for bringing Lady Luck into the game," Karl replied indignantly. Arlene grinned at him, taking pleasure in stacking her chips high as she did so. To his credit, Karl shot her a wink and rolled his eyes towards the still grumbling Jonathan, Arlene's grin widening as he did so.

"Maybe. Anyway, that's it for me," Jonathan said pushing back his chair and rising to his feet, grumbling at an end. "Arlene, been a pleasure, expensive one but a pleasure all the same. Zeke... fuck you."

"Fuck you right back, your honor," Zeke replied, a poker chip dancing across his knuckles.

"Yep, time to go" Karl agreed. "Unlike you two old men", this delivered towards Abraham and Zeke, "two of us still work for a living."

Arlene excused herself after saying goodbye, going to use the bathroom while the good-natured ribbing continued behind her. Five beers made her visit last a few minutes so that by the time she had emerged, both Karl and Jonathan had left.

Zeke and Abraham were still seated at the table but now the folder she had brought was set, unopened, before them.

"Zeke tells me you want our opinion on something. Before we crack this open, how about you give us a brief summary, save us all a little time," Abraham said, all business now.

Where to start?

Arlene did her best, looking to summarize all that had occurred since Erica had first set out on the trail of a serial killer. She glossed over some of the more lurid details, the sexual elements of the case being of no import from a legal standpoint. Brief as she was, it still took fifteen minutes of talking and she found her throat to be dry by the time she was done.

Professional through and through, neither man made comment during her summary simply listening to her, faces solemn and intent. Arlene was unsure precisely how convincing she had been given the lack of reaction they had shown during her report.

"So what we have here...." Zeke prompted Arlene, tapping his finger on the folder.

"What I just told you, some specifics and documentation. A lot is what the Criminology Professors at Rutwell College have put together over the last few decades. Mostly I am looking to see if there is enough there to open an official investigation into the man, we believe is the leader of this network of killers."

"A man you identified through the ramblings of an old woman and the unsubstantiated findings of a dead computer hacker?" Abraham clarified, a throwback to his time on the judge's bench, clarifying for benefit of a jury.

"Yes," she replied simply.

Zeke and Abraham exchanged a look, Zeke rising and fixing the two men a couple of glasses of bourbon. Abraham put a pair of reading glasses on, Zeke reaching for his own as soon as he set the drinks down on the table.

"Fix yourself a drink Deputy, take a load off," Abraham indicated a comfortable looking armchair to one side. "Let myself and Zeke have a look at what you've got."

He broke open the clasp on the folder, pulling out files while Arlene went to where the bottle of bourbon stood, pouring herself a double measure before taking a seat.

<0>

"Deputy?"

Abraham's voice woke Arlene, off kilter, she snorted awake, breaking free of the doze that she had drifted into, the sound of rustling papers and the two men discussing their contents having lulled her to sleep. Over an hour had passed and Arlene wiped at her eyes and mouth as she recovered herself, standing up to face the retired practitioners of the law.

"First off, let me say this. The story you told us and this file you brought, well both Zeke and I want to say that you and this other young woman... uh, yeah, Erica, well you are both remarkable, just remarkable."

"Thank you, Sir," Arlene said respectfully, added a belated "Abraham" when the old black man arched a white eyebrow at her reproachfully.

"Secondly, between study and practice I have fifty years behind me of seeing the best and the worst that mankind is capable of...," Abraham took off his reading glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, his wrinkled visage grave as he spoke. "What you presented here is nothing short of evil, pure evil."

Arlene nodded and hope flared in her chest.

"Given that, and given what I am about to say regarding it, this next bit is going to sound both crass and self-serving," Abraham continued, Arlene's brow furrowing in confusion.

"Uh-ahem...Urr, Zeke implied that a certain amount of 'Quid Pro Quo' might be on offer," Abraham's facial expression never changed but Arlene could see a lecherous glint in the old judges eye. She had half expected this, Zeke's almost giddy encouragement for her to come along tonight had been a red flag. Still, they had read the files first, without seeking compensation, given the givens, beggars couldn't be choosers here.

"Yes I believe that something like that could be agreed upon," she replied, what was the harm, she had sacrificed more already and at least Abraham and Zeke were gentlemen of a sort.

"Excellent. Okay, let's leave that aside. Zeke, you want to give her our opinion?"

"Arlene, to put it simply, you haven't a case at all. To call the evidence circumstantial would be an exaggeration. Its conjecture, theories, gut feelings and in some places, it reads like fantasy."

Arlene couldn't help but feel devastated by Zekes appraisal of all that she and the others had put together.

"Some of these cases, most, were ruled as accidental deaths. So, you are not only looking to open an investigation into a myriad of deaths, you are also looking to overturn police and court findings on a host of them. That makes this difficult in the extreme. No, not difficult, I would say impossible." Zeke's face clouded with concern as he watched Arlene's own visage crumbled, the old black attorney offering her a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"If I was a young man starting over again, I could devote my life to this case and not see it come before a jury in my lifetime. I can't imagine any prosecutor taking it on," Abraham added.

"I... I see. Well thanks, I appreciate both of you taking the time to, to read it all," Arlene responded miserably.

"Hold on, wait, we aren't finished yet," Abraham said. He looked about the room furtively, as if worried of being overheard as ridiculous as it might appear given their location.

"Here's our advice, take it or not but know I say this as a former judge, a former attorney, a man, a father, a grandfather and a Christian...," Abraham said, voice now thick with emotion for the first time.