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Message-ID: <60916asstr$1294737002@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Memento Mori <badfred99@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} The Party Where They Kill Girls (part 3 of 5) (FF Ff MF Mf bondage torture rape snuff viol caution)
Lines: 544
Date: Tue, 11 Jan 2011 04:10:02 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Summary:  To solve a series of horrible murders, a young and sexy Boston
detective must descend into the very depths of the sado-sexual underworld.



* * * * *

Part 3

Once again I sat at a lonely rear table at Sully's Diner with
Detective Scott and Counselor Green.  They both peered at me
with stupid, empty expressions, waiting for my report.  I sat and
munched on fries.

After waiting long enough, shifting in his seat, Green asked, "So,
has it been going well?  Have you made any penetration?" -- I had
to stifle a laugh.  "I mean, into the organization?"

"Trust me," I said.  "You don't want the details."

"I just wanna know if you've made progress."

"I made progress."  I reached and fingered the necklace, its heart-
shaped charm.  Detective Scott noticed and arched her brows.

"With who?" she asked.

I leaned back in my chair and held a sagging french fry eye-level
between her and me.  "A man who calls himself 'Omega'."

She seemed surprised.  "A man?"

"Yes."

Green turned to her.  "I'm sure the gender of whatever contacts
Detective Wimberly has made are not at issue here.  So" -- he
turned back to me -- "tell me about this Omega."

I popped the fry into my mouth and swallowed.  "He is a player in
The Culture who has taken a liking to me.  He's agreed to take me
to some parties."

"Very good."  He paused for a bit, waiting.  Then he asked, "When?"

"Soon.  I'll let you know what I find."

Green and I peered at each other for a bit.  Then he said, "That's
fine."

The detective shifted forward.  "Wait," she said, "I think we need
to know when and where these parties are, and definitely more about
this Omega.  This whole deal is dangerous, and I hate to think of
Detective Wimberly out there alone without cover."

"I don't want cover.  Not for this."

"Fine, but if you turn up missing, I'd at least like to know where
to start looking."

It made sense, but where to *start looking* was with my beloved
Sara and her fifteen-year-old niece Madeline, and all their pain
and fucking -- and how sore my ass and tits felt just then -- and
how wet that made me.  I would never -- never -- put them in the
path of the police.  Before that, I'd die a thousand times.  If
they ever must look, let them look for this imaginary 'Omega'.

"This assignment is beyond fucked up," I said.  "You want me to
continue, then I do it my way."

"Fine," Green said.  "Your body, your choice."


* * * * *


We walked west along Beacon Street, past the Public Gardens and
into the upscale Back Bay neighborhood.  Red-brick row houses
towered around us.

"How far is the party?" Madeline asked.

"Not much more, a few blocks," Sara replied.

Sara looked great.  She wore a little black strapless dress that
showed her beautiful pale cleavage and her lovely round ass.  It
was a very short dress.

Madeline wore a dress also, a red velvet thing with brass buttons.
Her shoes were tall, laced, and black.  Her hair was up, its lovely
ringlets falling over her ears and cheeks.  She wore heavy make
up, red cheeks and lips, green shadow over blue eyes.  She looked
like a darling little whore.

She wouldn't stop touching me.  As we walked, she held my hand and
leaned into me, rubbing her head against me.  She bit her lip and
giggled at anything I said.

"Madeline, give Robin some space."

"Aw!"

Since Sara had found out I was a cop, she took some small mercy on
me and didn't ask me to do anything forbidden with Madeline.  She
was an understanding master.

I was a grateful slave.

"It's okay," I said.  "I don't mind holding her hand.  Things like
that are fine."

"See!" Madeline said.  "Robin is my friend."

She smiled at me, a huge smile.  I squeezed her hand and we walked.

There was nothing wrong with holding hands.  Nor kisses, small
kisses.  Nor hugs.  Sweet Madeline.


* * * * *


The other partygoers were fascinated with me.  I was the novelty,
the new toy.  They wanted to touch and kiss, to hold and pet,
always with Sara's permission.  "She's so pretty," one woman said.

"What's her name?" asked a tall blond man in a tailored suit.

"Amber," Sara replied.

"Amber's a lovely name."

"Yes."

Everybody took a little pinch.

Lily, the woman hosting the party, brought forth a chair, a plain,
straight-backed chair, and set it in the center of the room.  "Sit
here," she said.

I sat, feeling pretty and special.  Then, while the crowd surrounded
and leered at me, Lily undid the buttons of my blouse.  "Let's see
those lovely breasts."  She freed them from my bra and saw the deep
red welts.  "Oh, I see Sara's been busy."

"Yes," I said.

A huge smile crossed my face.  She squeezed my nipples, rolling
them between her fingers.

I glanced across the room to the couch where Madeline sat.  She
looked back with a wistful stare.  Then, the tall man in the suit
came, sat beside her, and put his arm around her shoulders.  Her
smile deepened and she turned to him.  I looked away.

Next, Lily said, "So, Sara, do you plan to share your lovely little
slave with us?"

The crowd closed in.  Their attention shifted to Sara.

"You know what?" Sara said  "I'm going to try something completely
new."

There were a curious murmurs.  "What's that?"  "Something new?"
"How so?"  The crowd shifted.

"Yes.  Something completely unheard of."

Lily said, "Now, whatever can you mean?"

"I'm gonna let Amber decide.  Amber, would you like to be shared
among my friends?"

The crowd turned to me.  They came forward, closer to me, with
hungry eyes.

I'd come for one reason, to find the persons who were killing the
girls.  Sara knew, I'd told her everything.  Whatever else happened
-- she promised -- whatever sex I had, was up to me.

I glanced to Sara.  I wished very much I could talk to her alone,
to ask her if *they* where here, the men she had told me about, the
ones who always concerned her, who gave her that creepy feeling.
The Painter and the Engineer.

I glanced at Madeline, I couldn't help it.  By then, the man in the
suit had his pants down.  His cock stood erect, and she squatted
next to him, leaning over his lap and sucking hard.  Her cherry-
red lips slid up and down his shaft.  He gazed down on her, drawing
his lip between his teeth.  With his hand, he rubbed her bottom
through her red velvet dress, coaxing her butt into the air.

Lucky bastard.  I kinda wanted to kill him.

Then suddenly, Lily gave my right nipple a sharp pinch and brought
my attention back to the leering crowd.  "So, my little pumpkin,"
she said, "what will it be?"

I glanced back to Sara standing with her arms crossed, awaiting my
response.

"I want Lily to spank me until I cry," I said.  "Then, I want
every single person at this party to put something in my mouth.
Something wet."

The crowd seemed pleased.

"Even the boys?" Sara asked.

I glanced at the boys and their eager faces.  Already, two had
dropped their flies and pulled out stiff, veiny cocks.

"Sure," I said, "Even the boys."

"What a wonderful suggestion!" Lily said.  But my eyes returned to
Sara.  She looked so proud.


* * * * *


The men, the terrible, creepy men of whom Sara had spoken, arrived
late to the party.  By then, I'd been fucked so many times in so
many places that I didn't think I could even walk.  All evening,
my mouth had been filled again and again with cocks, cum, and spit.
My ass has been fucked raw.  A few had even fucked my pussy, when
all my other holes were full.

I lay on the couch with my head in Madeline's lap -- she cuddled
and stroked me -- while I watched my dear Sara get fucked in two
holes, in her cunt by the one man still able to get a hard cock,
and in the ass by Lily wearing a lovely tapered strap-on.  Sara
was riding them for all they were worth, bucking and crying out.
Surrounding us, draped over the scattered furniture, the other
partygoers were cast about, laying in little clusters.  Every so
often, one would squirm or moan for no evident reason.  The fucking
had been that good.  Our bodies still quivered.

There was a loud knock on the door.

"Can someone get that," Lily cried out as her dildo went *squish,
squish, squish* in Sara's ass.

One guy, bare assed, cock dangling, went and opened the door.
He lurched back as two men entered.  Everybody -- save the man
beneath Sara with his cock buried in her hole -- noticed the men.
The mood changed.  Even Sara looked up.  Her bucking slowed.  Her
moans flitted away.  Lily kept pumping, but I could see that her
heart was no longer in it.

"What's wrong?" the man on the bottom said.

"They've arrived," Sara replied, her voice flat.  "The Painter and
the Engineer."

I thought I could tell which was which.  The first to enter, with
his soft face and his deep brown eyes, with his tattered shirt and
brown dungarees, was probably the Painter.  As he strolled into
the room, he cast about his gaze, seeming to pull in each detail.
His eyes paused briefly on me.  I saw a hint of curiosity.

Behind him came the Engineer.  He was tall, sturdy, and blond.
He wore a buttoned up white shirt, a pair of well-cut slacks, and
laced boots.  "Well, what have we here?" he said when he saw Sara,
Lily, and their man.

"Hi," Sara said.

"Well well.  You are indeed something, Miss Sara.  Always the last
to quit.  Always the hungriest.  How have you been?"

"Fine," she said.  Lily had stopped pumping.

"Well, don't let us stop you," the Engineer said.  "Keep fucking.
Well -- unless you've grown tired of that silly bit of latex.  So
inferior to a real cock, don't you agree?"

"Lily, please keep fucking me," Sara said.  Lily started to pump
again, but it seemed mechanical, methodical.  A hint of pleasure
crossed Sara's face, but so much less than before.

"No, that clearly doesn't satisfy."  The Engineer advanced toward
them.  "You definitely need a real cock in that ass."

While he said that, the Painter moved toward me.  "But what is
this?  We have a newcomer."

"Oh?"  The Engineer turned and saw me.  "My, my.  Very pretty too.
Who do you belong to, my dear?"

The Painter squatted before me, reached out, and took hold of the
heart pendant.  "She belongs to Sara, it would appear."

A smile crossed the face of the Engineer.  An unpleasant smile.

"Oh!  Oh my!  Sara has a new slave?"

He closed on me also.  Soon, both men knelt in before me.  Madeline
squirmed and curled up her legs.  She drew in her arms and looked
away.  I sat up also.

"Let's get a look at your asshole dear," the Engineer said.  He
touched my hips and thighs.

"Get your hands off of her!" Sara said.  She broke away from her
lovers -- the dicks, real and fake, pulling from her holes -- and
rushed across the room.

The Engineer turned and watched her approach.  "Ah!  I've angered
the mama-cat."  But still, he kept his hands on me.

"There are rules!" Sara said.

The Painter stood and turned to Sara.  "You know we've never been
the type to follow rules."

"Yeah.  We make our own rules," The Engineer added.  I closed my
legs tight, but he still managed to slip his thumb down to my clit.

I looked into his eyes, for a while, his cold gray eyes.  Soon,
he began to grin.

I opened my legs.

"Sara," I said.

"Yes dear?"

"I want to go with them."

"No!" she said.

They say when you look into the eyes of a killer you see an
*emptiness*.  That's bullshit, of course.  The eyes of a killer
look like everyone else's.  But still... When I looked into his,
a chill passed over me.  Maybe it was my imagination.

"They're worse than you think," Sara said.  "Worse even than me."

The Painter shrugged.  "It's true.  We have certain -- well --
urges."

"Strong appetites," the Engineer added.  "Now, lets see that ass."

I turned over for him.  He spread my cheeks.

"Oh my!  You've been a busy girl.  I bet if I opened that ass,
the spunk would come pouring out."

"Sure you wanna stick your dick in that?" the Painter asked.

"I wanna stick *something* in that.  Something big."

Then Sara grabbed his arm and tried to pull him away from me.  He
didn't budge.  She pulled and pulled, but he didn't move at all.

"Keep that up dear," the Painter said, "and at some point you'll
piss him off."

Lily came over and laid her hand on Sara's shoulder.  "Come on,
sweetie."

Sara released him.  I rolled back over and sat.

"Sara," I said.  "It's okay.  I want to go with them."  I turned my
attention to the Engineer.  "You're cute.  Perhaps we could retire
to the bedroom for a private party?"

A dark look crossed Sara's face.  Madeline shifted away from me
and started to cry.

Was I crazy?  I'd planned to fuck my way to the killer, and I had
no doubt I sat face to face with one of the killers right now,
perhaps two of them.  But knowing that there was some guy called
"the Engineer" was hardly enough.  That he gave me the creeps
wasn't evidence.  I needed a name, an address, his habits.  If I
could get him to trust me, to believe I was like him, then I might
catch him.

I touched his leering face.  "You know what I want?" I said.

"What?"

"I want you and your friend to bind me, torture me, and fuck me
silly."

"Very nice," the Painter said.  "Except were not really into the
'bind' part.  Bondage is for wimps who can't control a girl."

"Right," the Engineer added.  "But we'll make up for it with extra
torture.  Come along."

He grabbed my hair and yanked me to my feet.


* * * * *


A locked door.  A smacked face and laughter.  They threw me onto
the bed.

"Poor fucking bitch," the Painter said.  "You girls never learn
that being willing doesn't help."

"True 'dat," the Engineer said.

The Painter climbed onto the bed next to me.  "You poor little
thing.  Being willing just means we have to work extra hard to good
and truly rape you."

"Right," the Engineer added.  "If you were good little virgin,
a mere pussy fuck might be adequate.  But for a dirty, dyke whore
like you, I can't imagine what we'll have to do to break you."

I studied them.  The Painter leaned over me.  The Engineer circled
the room.  "Oh, I'm not worried.  I want you to break me."

The Engineer shook his head.  The Painter said, "She has no idea."

"Anyhow," the Engineer said, "I'm starting with that ass."

The Painter made a face.  I looked back and forth between them.
"Why don't you guys double team me?"

"Ha!  I would," the Painter said, "but he never will."

The Engineer grabbed my ankles.  "Right.  No way!  I don't want my
dick that close to some other guy's dick.  I'm no faggot."

Charming fellow, the Engineer.  He yanked my ankles, lifting me
from the bed, and tossed me back face down.  He began to spank my
ass hard.  At the same time, the Painter began to remove his belt.
"I'm gonna strangle you," he said.

"Okay."

He looped the belt around my neck and tightened it, cutting off
my breath, but not all the way.  I huffed and began to feel light-
headed.

"Mmm," I said.  "Fuck yeah!"

"Aren't you afraid?" he asked.

"No.  You won't kill me."

The Engineer stopped spanking.  The Painter loosed the belt.  "How
do you know?"

"Two reasons -- and keep spanking you faggot!"  The Painter got
wide-eyed.  The Engineer began to smack me very hard.

I had to grunt out my words.

"Two reasons."  *Smack, smack*.  "One."  *Smack, smack*.  "Too
many people" -- *smack* -- "saw me" -- *smack* -- "go with you."
*Smack, smack*.  "Some may stay" -- *smack* -- "quiet.  But" --
*smack* -- "they all won't."

"Fucking bitch!" the Engineer shouted.  He spread my cheeks and
began to finger my ass hard.  Luckily, it was still moist from all
the lube and cum.

"Mmm.  Second reason..."  I began to buck my hips, driving my ass
against his pumping fingers.  My eyes fell closed.  My fingers
gripped the sheets.  "Oh, oh, oh."

After a bit, the Painter asked, "What?"

"I'm gonna fuck you like you've never been fucked before.  Now,
strangle me, fucker!"

I had a plan.  The whole thing, the whole crazy act, was a plan.
To seem so extreme, to seem such a perfect fuck-demon, was just
so that they couldn't help but want me around, to invite me into
their lives, just until I discovered enough to catch them.

That was the plan.

However, none of that meant a damn thing when the Engineer began to
drive my ass with his rigid cock, and while the Painter yanked his
belt, cutting off my blood and breath, tight then loose, tight then
loose, keeping me just on the edge of the darkness.  Quivering.
Muttering.  Eyes wide-open, but looking down a tunnel of perfect
pleasure.  At some point, I released my bladder and pissed all over
the bed -- and the Engineer's swinging balls.

"Fucking piss-bitch!" he shouted, but he didn't stop fucking me.

Moments later, he grunted three times.  I felt his cock go rigid,
then the warm flow.

He collapsed on top of me.  "Oh fuck!" he said.  The Painter
loosened his belt.

"Fuck no!" I shouted.  "Don't you dare go soft on me.  Fuck my
pussy.  And you" -- I turned to the Painter -- "tighten that
fucking belt and put your cock in my mouth."

I was just following the plan.

The Engineer rose from on top of me.  I flipped over, legs spread,
wanting it.  It was the plan, and I loved the plan.  "Come on!"
But his dick hung limp.  "Get hard, asshole."

He reached and grabbed my hand.

"Uh-oh!" the Painter said.

The Engineer got a solid grip around my index finger.  Then he
bent it until it snapped.  Next, he grabbed and snapped my middle
finger.  I cried out.  I screamed as loud as I could, until the
Painter's belt squeezed and stopped my screaming.

"Hold her up," The Engineer said.

The Painter raised me.  I clawed at the belt and gasped.

The Engineer punched my face.  Hard.  I felt the bones around my
left eye shatter.  He kept hitting me and hitting me.  He beat me
until I spat teeth.

Then the Painter cast me down to the floor.  "I'd fuck you and kill
you," he said, "but why bother?"

They left me whimpering.

* * * * *



-- 
BadFred
Read my stories: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/badfred/www/
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