Utter Rot

Lester appeared to consider, head swaying. "'S a fair offer," he lisped at last. "A fair offer 'tween gents." He paused, laid a finger to his crooked nose. "But ain't... ain't 'choo a workin stiff? Ain't you got a job? Big spender?" he added with a giggle.

"I'll take a sick day," Simon snapped. "Just bring her, you hear me? And one more thing --" he looked back towards the SUV "--no-one, not you two or anyone else, gets to fuck her again before I do."

"Oh sure, boss, sure." The hunchback, leaned over, cleared his throat and spat a wad of yellow phlegm into the dust at Simon's feet. "LIttle girlie's gonna need her rest after that romp you gave her."

As the Escalade pulled away, Lester slapped his brother awake and pushed the girl's limp body over one of the giant's broad shoulders.

"Shift yerself, fucker," he grunted. "Get a move on." He reached down, grabbed the policeman's cap off the ground and crammed it on to his own misshapen head.

"This little slut's been ass-sos-iatin' with the enemy," he grinned. "Guess we better take 'er downstairs for questionin'."

Simon's thoughts were a roil of confusion as he pulled through the dumpyard gates and began to retrace his way back along the network of twisting rural roads. He was operating on instinct now, unaware that his hands were guiding him out, taking him back towards the interstate seemingly of their own volition. Instead, his mind was a jumble of searing images, so vivid they were almost hallucinations. Her red lips wrapped around his cock while his pudgy hands wrenched spastically at her ponytailed hair; the curve of her slender back, shoulder blades raised as she braced herself against the door; those perfect breasts, crushed in his kneading, ravenous grasp, his cock pumping crazily between them. And that ass... unconsciously he let out a low moan, and one hand fell to his lap and began to paw. He'd torn her skirt off without thought, burning with desire, and when he'd seen it -- the full, firm curves, accentuated by the cut of her thin panties -- he'd flown into a frenzy. He'd fallen on her, slobbering mouth working between the spheres, tongue straining, and gobbled at the tight hole till she was moaning and twisting on the floor of the Escalade. How many dozens of times had the mutant brothers, those polluted freaks, pumped their own full loads up that same ass before his tongue found it? The thought repulsed him, yet somehow excited him too, as if her debasement, rather than his own release, were the real fruition of his pent-up desires.

They would ignore his instructions, he was suddenly sure. They're probably fucking her at this very moment, he thought, and as he did so he could see it in his mind's eye -- the girl, blindfolded and ballgagged, hanging by her wrists in a low-ceilinged basement room; the giant behind her, a tectonic mountain of heaving flesh, huge hands wrenching her hips, engorged cock driving as the imp watched from the foreground, hideously naked, eagerly pumping an erection that glistened with a thick coat of vaseline. (Case you ain't noticed, bitch is tighter'n a fuckin drum, the thing had said. She had been.)

To his amazement, Simon found that these thoughts filled him not with anger, but with clear, savage satisfaction. Let them have have her, he thought, his mouth twisting in a snarling smile. For now. She'll be in my hands again soon enough.