Crawlspace {Mx3Fmg Rape Bond Ince Virg...}

{All right, at some point, story codes break down, so I'm just going to come out explicitly with it.  I tend to pack variety in, and this one's got hours of fun with the whole family.
	This is a home invasion, involving three armed Atrocity War Criminals, and a family of four.  I chose one of each child for versatility, and let's just say noone makes it out unscathed.
	There are scenes of Hetero, and Homosexual rape, child sexual abuse, teen/child forced incest, coital, oral, anal, and gangrape, voyeuristic themes, and violence.}

In the text, {"Lang"} represents dialog spoken in the Abbreviated language. I.E, {"Russ"} for Russian, {"Engl"} for English, et cetera.}

Close to Home {NS}

	"Ah fuck," I tried not to think about it all the way home.  Music, numbers, money, anything to distract me.  The Archam Electronics account, some loose change there I could scrape together.  Not enough, to satisfy them, make them stop.
	Can't even think about what they said, threatened, my family.  Save them, maybe some phantom inventory for the general retail store, already sinking from the new franchise mart across the street.  It would fold soon, with a jumble of confusion, gathering all the records before the audit.
	A nice vacation, warm, with secure accounts, but no extradition.  I could get used to the island life, for my family.  I would be healthy for Audrey, she loves to swim, nice weather year round, she could get back in shape.
	That's all it was, she wasn't as pretty after all these years, and two beautiful children.  "We ken put them to woork," the strange foreign accent.  They never said were they're from, but their language sounds like nothing I've heard.
	No, the money has to be there somewhere, or half of it.  I could double it with some careful bets.  Stick to the system, and without any bad luck.  I don't even have to get lucky, with what I got worked out, juggle the odds, balance the bets, whoever comes in first, I win.
	But first the money to make the bet.  Anything I can sell?  So much invested in the homestead, the house, over an acre of yard, the stable, and the garage for my son.  Another genius, he was good enough in math to follow in my footsteps to finance.
	He loves machines, though.  Engines, his minibikes, and go carts, the $60K prefab structure to keep them in, the world's most expensive toybox.  And the fucking pony, but she adores it, and the nearly six figures it took to refit the existing barn into a stable.
	Sighing, I pull up to the courtyard between the stable, and house, garage too crowded to pull into.  Not even finished, perfect yet, and we may already have to leave it.  Hopefully, they'd understand.
	The Barn door open, stable stall empty, Katie gone on her horse.  The cart, and bikes missing from the garage, so I went in to the Radio.  "Hey, son."  Release the trigger so I can receive.
	"Rhnhnhn!" the engine idyling down to hear the static.  "Yeah, dad?"
	"Dinner's here," I picked up the to-go bag, and carried it in the kitchen, he'd tell his sister.  By the time I set it down, and got out the separate dishes, I could hear the two-strokes running up to the garage, distant hoofbeats getting louder once they were shut off.
	His friends rolled in the bikes, said goodbye, and went home.  Picked up by a teenage sister.  I went up to check on Audrey, who hadn't come down yet.  No surprise, she's passed out on the bed, in front of Soapnet, next to an empty bottle, and a half of Marsala.
	"Bnt!" the commercial went out, a white spot fading in the center of the giant wide-screen.  "Nnh!" she grunts, and rolls over.  I squinted, tried to remember the woman I married.  Young, thin, pretty enough to be an actress, or even a model.
	"Honey," I shook her gently.
	"HhhH?" wine breath.
	"I brought Chinese," the threads of the pillow printed on her cheek, so fat, and round you can't see the bones, any more.
	"Okhay," she yawns, and picks up the half bottle, "I'll be down in a minute."  A swig to wash out her mouth, no improvement for her alcoholic breath.
	Fuck it, I head down to the bar, drown some ice in single malt, and take it in to the dining room.  The kids are already there, digging into their sweet, and sour, rice, extra orders of potstickers, and spring rolls.
	I grab a bowl for my Twice Cooked Pork, and another for Audrey's Peking Beef.  She put some clothes on, grabbed a glass for her bottle at least.
	"I have a surprise," I went to the living room, and pulled the envelope from my jacket.
	"Tickets?" Audrey looked up interested.
	"Yeah," I dropped them on the table, "The Caymans, we can leave as soon as we're packed."  Nothing about the job, or former employer, now.  Just "a leave of absence," unpayed, until the audit, and investigation.
	"Okay," she gets the bite in her mouth before fumbling, and dropping the chopsticks.  Drunken sigh, so tired looking after just coming too, the bags under her eyes, frown lines around her mouth.
	"Spring Break starts this weekend," my son reminds me.
	"Yeah," 9 days, if we decide to come back.  It'd be safer down there, not much money in the account, but offshore, away from investigation, and my debtors.
	I took a bite, chewed, and swallowed in silence, coughed after a sip of scotch to wash it down.  We never talk anymore, like we used to, even in our nightly dinners, our family time.  Together for the meal, but still coming apart, the trip would help, make us a family again.
	Katie finished first, went out to take the saddle off, brush out the fur, and sweat.  "Come on," I helped Aud up the stairs, to the master bath, and a shower.  It's not like I don't love her any more, but she changed.
	Leaving her to the shower, I remembered her the way she was, young, thin, pretty.  Howie gone out of sight, as usual. The house quiet, except the water running upstairs.
	So I head down, roll back the wine rack, and move the panel to the side.  My inner sanctom, I fire up the computer, surveillance monitors.  Katie's coming back in, dropping her riding jacket on the sofa, but still no sign of Howie.
	I run the tape back to dinner, him getting up, going in his room, his closet.  His sanctum, I guess, he sure spends a lot of time in there.

Crawlspace {mFg Solo Drug Voye Ince}

	Dinner killed my buzz, but my munchies too.  Moses had some, and I kept the roach.  Rednecks, out here the only ones I have for freinds, but his dad grows the stuff, and I got such neat toys.
	Can't smoke in the house, though, so I climb up on the closet shelfs, push open the trapdoor, and pull myself up.  The water's already running, in the tub, switching to the "Kshshshsh!" of the shower.
	I crawl down, get the forceps I stole from the first aid kit in the stable, and clip them on the rolled paper. "Bic!" {(c)} hold it in, "Kk!" nobody'd hear it over the rushing water, "Whuhhh!"
	The warm glow filling my head, I lay back a minute, pull a pillow back, look up at the rafters sloping out to the eaves.  The smoke hangs in the air, a line of light from cracks in the wall.  Rolling over, I peek over the side of the tub.
	I know, it's my mom, and all, but it's not like I have a whole lot to look at.  If I don't think about her as my mom, she's still pretty hot.  Not like the pictures, before I was born, all skinny.  Now she's got titties, I can look up, and see.
	She turns, hip hiding the triangle of hair over her pussy.  I came out of there, but seen her laying back on the bed, legs up, and spread, that big thing in her hands, and pussy.
	I close my eyes, think about Moses' sister.  Jesse, Jessica, older than him even, almost out of high school.  What she's got to look like naked.  I don't go to school with them, public school, but the all boy's prep school in the city.  That meas no girls, or even any around 'sides my mom, and sister.  She always wears those riding pants, tan, but tight, no pockets.
	"Hhuh!" the wet twitch in my balls, sticky splash on my fingers.  Tucking back in, I crawl to the end.  The old magazines, and catalogs around the camera.
	An old one, from the survailence system before dad upgraded, she's back from scrubbing down her horse.  I almost get hard again, watching her take off those pants thet make her but look so terrific.  
	So much like mom useta look, before she had us kids.  No boobs yet, not even a training bra, or hair on her tummy.  Looking down, I reposition the pinhole camera, switch jacks on the monitor, in black, and white.
	The shower stops, but the water's still running.  Filling the downstairs tub, the bathroom between our bedrooms, I crawl back with the camera.  She'd grow up, like Jesse, get boobs, hair.  Turning off the water, she lays back.
	Her legs swing open, and shut, swishing the water, mixing it up while she reaches back to run her fingers through her hair.  "Nhn," she smiles, eyes closed.  
	The water laps between her legs, faster as they come together, splashing over her tummy.  "Hhn!"  She don't even know why it feels good, just thet it does, and I wonder what she thinks about?
	Oh, yeah, getting hard again.  I know it's sick, wrong, but soon I'd be old enough to get my liscence, drive on the streets, get me a girlfreind like Jesse.

Cell {MMM MC Rape}

{"Russ"}"Sacha," he looks up from the table where he's talking with the other bois.
	"Da," he gets up.
	"Come," I wave through door, "Hev job for you." and let it close.
	He says something to them, muffled, receding down hall, but I hear door behind me, he follows.  "Da?" he joins me in my office, "Ser?"
	"I talk with one of clients today," I wave to couch, and he sit.  "Gembler, he lose agen tonite, eleven/one." I sit over him on corner ov desk.  "We go speak w/ hem tonite," I go on, "And hes femly."
	Hes eyes light up at 'family', "Children?"
	"Yis," turn computer around on desk.  "Son," a surveillance picture, standing next to enduro bike, "Teenage."
	"O," disapointed.
	"End Doter," next picture.  Mid gallop, posting out of the sattle, legs up like jockey, tights pulled across bottom.
	"OhH!" eyes bright from the screen, that creepy look of joy on his mouth.
	"Eleven."  Very pretty, blue eyes, sandy eyebrows under bangs hanging to side, brushing them away with his fingers.  Long blade of nose, like Russian.	I switch to overlook of house, and he finally looks back up at me.  
	"You have work with Viktor, da?"  Yes, eyes turn down with fear.
	"Da," he hide eyes in hair.
	"He think he lead this mission," does not know I was officer, Special Objectives in Army.  "I control him, he does not know this."
	"Wat is mission?" he mutters.
	I sit down with him. "Father owes money, I talk with him."  Sacha knows what I do in war.  I switch to pictures of daughter, put other arm around shoulders.
	Like son, displacing his father's abuse to his sister.  I do not like this, but is role.
	"Ken I?" he reaches for computer.
	"Da," already in folder of thumbnails, no nudes.
	"Viktor hes good tactical mind," I let my hand fall, "But no strategy, so..." on knee, "He handle invasion," run fingers up pant leg, "I ask father where money."
	Already turned on from looking at pictures, I touch it almost to his crotch.  Roll it in pants, up to belt, and zipper.  "Uh huh?" his breath.
	Young, but developed where it counts, in my fingers, slipping down the skin.  "Knock!" once, he jumps in my hands.
	"Come," tall, menacing, the look on his face always, except the unclean smile, seeing Sacha in my arms.  "Yes, Victor."  Struggling, crossing his legs.
	Familiar pathology, what western doktors call a 'Sexual Sadist'. Convicted of raping women in his native Afghanistan, he escalated to men in prison, only to be released by Army.
	The ersatz leader, he smiles, and joins me with the pedophile.  Also a good victim, some catharsis before the mission, so he can focus.  
	Sadistic Rape, he is so paraphilic as to override his sexuality.  Man, woman, child, an animal, as long as it could feel pain, it is what Germanich call 'Schadenfreude,' the shameful joy from someone's suffering.
	In my back room, temporary office, I hold his mouth, cover the screams.  Feel the tears roll down my hand.
{/"Russ"}

Saferoom {M Solo NS}

	Lots of VCRs down here, I turn off the feed from camera 4, in our room, and put in a tape.  Slipping "The Usual Suspects" into it's case, I look over the selection.
	I'd have to watch that one some more to make sure I got it all.  I mean, I understood the basic plot, but some of the characters still confuse me.  Especially the main one, the "cripple" who's really the master criminal running the whole show.
	Keyser Söze, it only credits his wife, almost to the end, so I don't know how his last name is spelled. I still don't have figured out what really happened, and all the lies in his story.  And that scene where he kills his familly.  Even with similar problems, the mob looming over me.
	What makes someone do something like that?  To me, familly is my life.  What I do everything for.  I know, it's just a movie, but it really happens.  Like every year, some guy comes home, usually with a pistol, shoots his kids, his wife, then himself.
	I shake my head, rattle the ice cubes, drop another in before the Scotch.  How 'bout a war movie, "Behind Enemy Lines"?  A different mob, not Hungarian like the usual suspects, or "The Whole Nine Yards."  
	A different accent, language.  Still eastern European, like the hunter in the Adidas jacket in the movie.  Yes, very close, but where are they?  Bosnian.
	Yes, very close.

Victor {MMM Home Inva}

{"Russ"} I assembled them on hill, overlooking farmhouse, barn, and steel building.  Like small portable hangar, corrogated metal in sections.
	"You know how to use this?" I passed out Vz. 64 Skorpions, 9.3x18mm Makarov, and show Sacha how to fix the silencer.
	"Da," Slav military use Russo, because they trained us. "Da," from new one, Sveli.  Kommand order his participation, simple extortion of debts from father, all leverage acceptable.  They no say it, no have to.  Is what I do, specialty.
	"Take thim off inside," I tell them, "no nede for stealth, and the extra lenth can hang you up in close quarters."  I aim the spotter's scope, "We hev no floorplan, but there is doors in front, side," I zoom to piktor of kitchen door, sliding glass like a double door sized window, "end back."
	I move from scope for Sacha, "You sed there surveilance, end alarm?" his specialty.  Ex- Communications, he also runs profitable child pornography.  He pan scope, following motion, very quiet tapping in distance.  The youngest, riding, hoofbeats out of time at this range.
	"Yes," company installed it has one of our men inside, "Deadman alarm monitored at company headquarters."  I hand him schematics.
	"Hmn," he looks them over, "I do this, easy, {"Engl"}peice of cake."
["Russ"}"Now," he goes down to van, advances with bag of tools, and parts.  "I take front door," I tell Sveli, "You take glass kitchen door.  Have cutter?"
	"Da," he pulls it out on lanyard.  I look back to Sacha, invisible, good kamoflage.
	"Good," I check watch, "I hev 09:57," he winds his to mine, "on,.. Mark." he push in stud.
	"Wat ov Sacha?" he ask.
	"He vil com," there's children to play with, "After we in, and take control."  Simple, three on four, but two a child, and teen, no weapons I know of beyond the usual houshold items, perhaps I should take kitchen, control access to knives.
	None of them military, the wife a good one, no work, stay home, not much fight.  Looks good enough in survailance photos I took from here with bipod for heavy telescope lens.  Like Sacha say, in English, {/"Russ"} "Piece of cake."

Crawlspace {B Solo MFg Rape}

	"Ksh!" I jump up in bed.  Sounded like the kitchen, I crack my door.  The moon shines in the patio door, half of it in shards.  "Krunch!" heavy boots, camouflage.
	I pinch myself, the guy right out of an action movie, twisting the stovepipe silencer off of his pistol.  Blinking hard, he's still there, tucking it in a pocket.
	I hold the knob, slowly loosen it to let it slide back in the frame.  "Click!" the lock, I hold my breath.  "Klunk Klunk," I run to the closet, climb up to the crawlspace as quiet as I can.
	He tries the knob, "Klunk, Klunk" down the hall.  I crawl past the bathrooms, look through the peephole in the crack of the ceiling over Katie's room.
	The door swings silently, creaks of the floor, behind him.  Up the wall, no, the stairs, I move up over the baseboards.  Another man, his boots, weird camouflage legs.
	"MmM!" I hold my hand over calling her, passed out on the bed.  He leans down, masked, just an oval around his eyes, touches her.  I close my eyes, open them when I hear her gasp.
	His hand is gripping her nighty tight, not a fist, but crushing her chest through it.  His other hand is over her mouth, eyes wide.  "Mwo!" so scared, my heart fast in my ribs, loud in my ears.
	"Shhhh!" his hand comes back, and she bites back her lips.  He pulls out a big black knife, slides the back of it up her nightshirt, fist in her face, turned away, eyes tight, squeezing out tears.
	"Tktk," the serrated edge ripped through the fabric.
	"Mm MnN!" back down at Katie's room, two men now, pulling her struggling out the door.  Not even touching the floor, glove over her mouth, big eyes wide, wet with tears.
	What do I do?  What can I do?  Those pistols look like mini machineguns, and they're dressed all commando.  What does a military team want with my family?  
	"RhiI!" Mom squeiling in the pillow, naked now, the commando man forcing her head down.  I crawl back, don't look at my Mom's room again.  I can hear it, the bed shaking.
	I'm crying, scared, alone, but safe, for now.

Safe Room {M Voye, MMMFg Rape Moll}

	"Slam!" upstairs, I jump to the monitors.  Howie's room, door open, hanging from the top hinge, and the soldier standing in the frame.  "Gasp!" another, in the living room, with Katie!
	"No?" the gun locker, frantically tucking in shells, "Clakat!" chambering one, and replacing it with a fifth.  The magnum, 6 rounds, switching to the bedroom feed.
	Thank god the intercom was off, and the floors too thick to hear her screams.  "Mother fucker," I snapped the cylinder shut, looked away from her head all the way back, mouth wide in a scream, hair twisted in his black gloved hand.
	Wait, even through the rage I can see that this is a trap.  One's in Howie's room, thumping overhead, searching it, ripping the door off the closet.  Throwing out clothes, flipping the bed, picking something up.
	A video cassette, he sits on the frame, and pops it in the slot under Howie's TV.  The other one is dragging Audry down the stairs, naked, raped, terrified.
	To the living room, the couch, Katie on it with the third man.  "No," she's naked now, struggling in his camouflaged arms.

Kat {gM Moll}

	I tried to scream, fight, but they were to big, and there was two of them.  I was so scared, even when one let go, and the other just held me on the sofa.
	"Shhh," through his weird mask.  Like a ski mask, but one big round hole around the eyes, like a grey ninja.  "Is okhay."  Don't talk like a ninja, or have those squinty eyes, but his are brown, like his eyebrows, light brown.
	I'm sorry, that's all I saw, but they all had masks on.  They spoke, foreign, like German, and Russian, and Kovslouski, that Polish exchange student from Poland.
	"Where iz Pather?" the other one asked, like Father with a P.  "Brother?"
	"Dad is," I looked at the stairs, "Working late," I lied, "I think."  Probly down in the basement, the new room I can't go in behind the rack of bottles mommy sends me down for, but they don't know about that?  "Who're you?"
	"Quoyit," he goes back to the hall, and shakes Howard's door.  He just shrugs his shoulders, and kicks it, right next to the knob, and it slams open.
	"Do not cry," the guy holding me brushes my hair with his glove, "You too pretty to cry."  I frose, held my breath.  I'm only eleven, I never even had a crush, but I'm not stupid.  "Hsn!" he sniffs my hair through the mask, knit like a toboggan hat, but rolled down over his mouth, and nose.
	Crashing, and thumping in Howard's room, searching for him.  Did he get out the window?  Maybe he could tell someone, get away on one of his bikes.  I could stall, until I hear the engine.
	"How old you?" his hand comes away from my mouth.
	"Eleven," I feel him under my butt.  Rolling in his lap like a stick.
	I squirm, his hand feeling my flat chest.  "You bleed, yet?"
	"I'm not hurt," he didn't hit me, or nothing, or even point that gun at me.
	"No," down my belly, "With the moon," between my legs, "Heere."
	Oh, "No," it felt dirty, nasty even through my pajamas, and his glove.
	"HhH!" not a word, I don't think, their language don't sound like that.
	Screams upstairs, mom, I start crying again.  "Ther ther," he wipes my tear off my cheek with his other hand, but don't stop touching me.  Another man, the biggest, but dressed like the rest pulling her down the stairs, kicking, and screaming.

Sacha {M Mili NS}

	I disable alarm easy.  Box around back, cheap fragile lock, I heve bolt-cutters.  Dedicated line to security company, easy bypass.  Inductive collar around cable copy all clear signal, and feed it back instant I cut cable.
	I plug in maintenance slot with adapter, bring up live feed.  From interior cameras, all in beds, mother, son, daughter, no sign of father.  Daughter's room, SW corner, under pink covers, hearts on sheets look red in dark room.
	Holding horned horse, unicorn, stuffed, hair spilling over face.  Disable perimiter alarms, closest to besment door, also padlocked.  "Klink!" carefull with doors, down stairs.
	In army, I was engineer, signal corps, lightly armed, and not much for combat.  Almost sneaky as sniper, lay wire without seen, herd.  Is survival in battle when outgunned by any grunt, or civilian with gun.
	Wine rack, bottles in backwards.  The way I do it, necks point out so easy to grab, even drunk.  On wrong wall too, should put against exposed studs so not block part of stairs.  These wood planks, not concrete, careful not to creak.  Door unlocked, remember screw off silencer like Viktor say.
	Like that bully say, is shorter in close quarters.  Nice outside, so neighbors no see, hear if we have shoot.  Czech design, these would  been nice in Army, the war.
	My job children.  Viktor already creaking up stairs from door, across over me.  Left side locked, right cracked, the bar of light over her bed, covers, tiny body shaping them.  Not in eyes, the square widens, lighting her bed.
	She moves, murmers something, turn away.  A lose board, take the weight off it, step to the next, reach over without touching her.  Shadow of hand slipping up blenket, over hair, closing on her mouth.  
	"Mph!" grab her, hold her, control her struggles, take her out.  She lite, week, helpless, scared.  On the seat, I get her calm down, stop crying, trying to scream.
	Sveli looks for boy, not in room.  Viktor brings down mother, naked.  Old looking, I see she must be pretty once, cute when she younger.  Much like daughter, that took after her.
	Sveli come out, window was closed, locked, alarmed.  "Were is he?" he demands.
	"With a friend," the mother says, "Sleeping over."  Still struggling, fat belly, and chest slipping around in Viktor's arms.  A big brute of a man, mean, and rough, he like make people suffer, get off on it.
{"Russ"}"Fix pents," Svely points to him, and he struggles to fix them up and hold woman.  He throws her down, on seat next to me, and points his gun at her.  "Satisfied?"
	"For now," he zips up, and makes his uniform more presentable.  Field uniform, we no longer in service, but he betray himself as an officer.
{"Engl"}"Yason," Sveli looks to the wife again, "Where is he?"
	"Business trip," she looks to her daughter, and me.
	"Not 'working late'?" so does Sveli.  "He is here," he points his gun through the broken window door, "His car is here," to me, "Did you check besment?"  In English, he is a tricky thinker, clever, he ment for her to understand?  Yes, looking at her when he says 'Basement'.
	"Concrete outside," I saw it, "Earth, may be false wall."
	"Show me," he turned to the kitchen.  "Watch them," to Viktor.
	Around the stairs up, to the ones down, across from the square hall, almost two meters to the doors.  Down to the concrete walled room, rack against the wall, stop.
	Hand up, back Sveli up the stairs.  {"Serb"}"The wine rack moved," whisper, "To other wall."  He takes a roll of tape sitting on a board in the wall on the way up.
	He thought, "No way to roll it back quietly," rubbing his short neat beard, "He may be armed, and that must be the only way in."
	"Shoot through it?" it's just wall board, paper|gypsum|paper sandwich.
	Shake head, "We need him, information, not dead."
	"Right," it could be armored too, ricochets in that tight cellar.
	"We make him come out," he smiles.  Not scary, like Viktor with a victim, but I know him enough to get a little uncomfortable.

"Safe" Room {MMM/Fg Gang Rape MC}

	I clutched my shotgun, watched them come partway down the stairs.  Glad I put the camera there, the short one must have noticed I moved the wine rack, put the panel up to the studs, and turned off the light.
	Upstairs, the big one stood over my wife, and child.  Crying, trying not to look at the machinepistol in his hands.  Czechs?  They didn't cut the internet, I could even send a message, and E-mail.
	To who, though?  The police would have to investigate, discover my debts, audit my customers, find out where the money was coming from.  I didn't know anyone else who could take on an obvious team, with military weapons, and cooperation, looked like.
	The middle sized one and the big one act like leaders.  The small one is outranked, and molested my daughter right in front of me.  Pointing at the drywall, no telling how much shot would get through the bottles they didn't roll back.
	"Fuck!" they knew where I was, calmly walking back to the living room.  The leader gets out his submachinegun, throws the tape to the little one.  Why didn't I wire sound?  Yeah, right, I'm not paranoid enough to bug my own family.
	"Clknt!" the intercom.
	"Ve no your down ther," the smaller leader, somewhere off camera.  "Your daughter, she is Virgin?"
	"What do you want?" there, under the living room camera, his legs in the kitchen monitor.
	"I em biznissmen," even over the intercom, his voice, and accent are familiar.  "You owe money to someone we do bizness wit."
	"How much?" I don't have any money here, the first place they looked.
	"U no how mush," exactly how he said it this afternoon.  He didn't give his name, but watched me.  His eyes had held mine, I felt like he was reading my mind through them.
	"There is no money here," and not much in the account.  If he was talking about full payment, we could be in for a long night.

Sveli {MMM/g Rape}

	"Sacha," I pushed the talk button, "Rape littel gerl."
	"No!" over the communication system, "Please don't."
	She shrinks back against her mother.  Both naked, their relationship is obvious.  They look so alike, he'd already seen Viktor with his wife.  "Tye them up," I hold it back, in reserve.  "Come upstairs." over the CS.
	"Okay," he sobs, "Just please don't hurt her."
	Silencer already attached, this requires folding out the stock.  I lean on the wall, and plant it, set on full auto.  The first thing I see is the barrel, and magazine of a western shotgun.
	"WHDUDUDUDUDUDUDUGH!"  Not chirping like in Hollywood pictures, but a repeating slap, it crashed louder through the kitchen.  I was thankful for thinking of suppressor.
	"Unarmed!" I order, look back at Sacha finishing with the tape.  Squeiling against each other, squeezing tears from their eyes.  
	"Clackter!" the shotgun bounces across the kitchen floor.
	"Come OUT!" click back to semiauto.  Smoke rising from the barrel, I have to let go of the hot shroud.  His empty hand first, they both are up, wide.  "Come here."  I wave him to the living room with the gun.
	He's crying like a baby, dripping from his nose, sputtering from his lips.  "Please!" he brings his hands together, "I'll get the money, but there's no cash like that here."  Falling to his knees.
	"Where is yor son?" I burn his forehead with the muzzle.
	"Ahh!" he jerks back with a pink ring over his eyes, "I don't knohoho!"  sobbing.
	"Tape," I take it, hang my gun from the strap, and secure his hands.  "On the couch," I pull him over by the wrists, "Sit with your family."  The huddle against him, his shirt untucked, hair a mess, weeping.  "You have valubells?"  I unscrew the silencer, "Safe down there?"
	"No," he looks away, "nothing."
	"Whoot!" I blow it out, fold up the stock, "I go check," holster it, and put away the cleared canister.  On the way down, I replace the magazine, tuck the part empty back in it's pouch.
	Tiny, smaller than the wine room it's behind, or the bathroom upstairs.  Room for a cot, flipped back over a supplies locker.  The computer desk next to it, monitors built onto the wall, not even a toilet.  Not equipped for a long siege, or even armored, just concealed with a possible escape out the cellar door.
	VCRs, running, I stopped them, and dropped the tapes in pillowcase.  Movies, Behind Enemy lines in one, The Usual Suspects still out.  Good, stale alcoholic stink, plastic bottle of whiskey, glass full of mostly icemelt.
	Some food in the locker, and ammunition for the shotgun.  Under bed, flipped back, I glance up to monitors.  A different box, open, pistol rounds, .357, six missing.  I pick up the shotgun on the way back, rack out the round already chambered, ready to go.  I pick it up, tuck it back in, and flip off the safety.
	They're back to back on the couch, the parents, daughter in Sasha's hands on her shoulders, covering herself with her's.  Victor covering all of them, his pistol in his right, covering the girl, maschinepistol on the couple.
	Back to back, his hands in front, but her's behind her.  Not a good shooting position, but she could even have her hand on it.  "Virgin, eh?"  Victor, winking.
	Feeling better already, I almost forgot how fast he could when there were people suffering.  I reach between them, her arms, hands.  "No," I pull out the revolver, "Rape him."

Victor {MM MC rape Anal}

{"Russ"} "What?"
{"Serb"} "Cover them," to Sacha.
	I follow him up the stairs.  {"Russ"}"Did they tell you what I did, in the war?"
	"No," I shook my head, "Just that you were very valuable to the cause."
	"Yes," I remembered, "I was a Special Officer, Interrogator."
	"What?" Yeah, I knew about the Genocide, mass graves, and rapes.  Why do you think they recruited me?  His sektor, psychological warfare against the hated Croats, and other undesirables corrupting the purity of our people.
	"I'm on this job to get information," he informed me, "Find the money, or if it is how he says, compel him to transfer it.  He is an accountant, may have it offshore."
	"Ah," but why not deflower the girl, to convince him?
	As if reading my mind, "Right now, the best next move is to rape him, hold her in reserve, like negotiation."  He pushed the revolver in my hand, "He also must be punished for this."
	A fine arm, it felt powerful, heavy, American.  [Taurus] on the side, medium lenth barrel.  "You are right," of course.
	"Let me handle the interrogation," I prefer women, but have had plenty of men too.  Is better demonstration of my strength, than little girl, establishes dominance.  "All right," I salute, "Sir."  An officer, just to get in that secret corps, I could still hev fun with this.
	"Klunk, Klunk, Klunk," down the steps.  Slow, menacing, using my weight.  {"Engl"}"Zo, what vil it be, Papa?"  Hold the gun in front of his face.  "Someone hez pay for this."  Point it at the little girl, "Her?"
	"No!" he sobs, "Please kill me instead."
	"I cannot kill you," I grab his collar, "But I no hev to."  Yank him over to the low table.
	"Pop!" a button skids across the table.  "Nice gun," to the back of his head, "But this is not power."  Open my pants, stroke the bottom of his, "This is power."
	"Gah!" gripping, crushing, twisting.  Reach around to his belt, open them, slide them down.  "So," lean down to whisper in his ear, "Where is money?" press against him, "Beich?"
	"Agh!" tight, dry, dirty grunt.  
	"Tight," clenching in pain, "Tighter then your woman." I kiss his cheek, through the mask.
	"Ehn?" the little girl, turning away.  Chin crincled, tears pouring out.  "Dahaddy!"
	"She is tighter," I bet.
	"No," he whimpers, "Please God no."
	"Yehhh," breathing in his ear, "Come on," pulling back for another.
	"Unha!" or something when I stab back in.  
	"Tell us before is her turn," Sveli, standing on the left.  So clever, "You stole so much, even from our clients in common, you didn't spend it all on this."
	Then he walked out, without giving a chance to answer.

Sveli {M NS}

	Back upstairs, no safe in the cellar, so perhaps up here.  Nothing behind the paintings, to cheap to find a fence for, so just stacked back against the walls.
	Still alcoholic breath, just raped, family abused in front of him, forced to watch.  Must be getting close, but how to stage it with gun in hands?
	The carpet is taut, tacked down with nailboards, and even moving the furniture doesn't reveal anything.  "Bump!" I stop, creep to the bathroom.  Nice, lavish even, but empty, noone inside.  "Rattle" a brush swings around in a cup on the sink.  
	I put my ear to the wall, sound like pretty big vermin, farther down.  Behind the back wall, or below it.  Short over the bathtub, the ceiling slants with the slope of the roof.  I close my eyes, think spacialy, remember the profile outside.
	A crawlspace, had to be less than a meter wide, sloped with the roof, continuing down behind the wall.  Where all the pipes were, something crawled back there.
	I ran out, down.  That was the boy's side, the missing one everyone lied about being gone.  I searched the closet, but stupidly didn't look up.  At a hatch in the ceiling, closed, the shelves on the side like a ladder, worn at the tops of the edges.

Crawlspace

	Ofuckofuckofuck!  As soon as they were out of the rooms, I couldn't see.  I could hear, screams, and this weird rapid thudding, like a basketball bouncing down the stairs, but all sped up and crashing in the kitchen.
	But I had my monitor up here.  All the wiring for the surveilance was back here, so I guess I could wire into the system.  I had a tool up there, like pliars, or scissors, but with notches for wire, and stuff.
	It took me a while to hook it up.  Find the box first, and all the connections, and strip the ends of the RCA cables to touch them.  Signal's to low current to spark, but by touching certain ones, I could tap into the right feed.
	Almost by feel, and the glow of the screen, I switched around until I saw them, in the living room camera.  Talking, and fighting, mom, and Kat were on the couch, and dad was being tied up.  I wished I could hear, what the man was saying, standing alone. 
	His mask went down on the bottom, and he used his hands, swung his head like a club to punctuate.  Not hitting with it, but aggressive, dominant.  Then they went upstairs.  I crawled back to the bathtub, but it sure wasn't English, or anything else I heard they was speaking.
	They stopped, and the big one went downstairs,  The smaller one went too, but not the smallest.  He stayed with Mom, and Katie, and stood behind her.  He took off his gloves, and I wondered if you could get fingerprints off skin.  Right where he touched her shoulders, and arms, and face, and chest.
	A molester, I'm sure of it, he wasn't touching her like that, yet, but she was naked, and I could tell he was enjoying it.  "Clunk," back in mom's room, I looked over the baseboard.  The leader guy, or at least the one that won the last fight, and seemed to be running everything.
	He put the paintings down carefully, looked at the walls, checked the floor, and moved everything.  Looking for something, obviously, I looked back at the camera.  Ono, o god no.  I had to hold my hands tight over my mouth, close my eyes, try to cry quietly, not scream.
	Why? no sound, but I couldn't even stand being so close to the monitor.  What the hell, why did they have to rape dad like that?  My ass tightened, clenched, and I couldn't stop, help feeling it.  I could hear him screaming, damn it!
	I wanted to puke, quietly, and gagged.  "Thump!" I sounded so loud in the crawlspace. "KnknKNK!"  I froze, the man in the door, through the crack over the tub.  I held my breath, but he leaned in, listened to the walls.  Overcome with terror, I couldn't stop myself crawling back, as fast as I could.
	The rumble down the steps, coming around the side, closer, to my room, the closet, so close!  The trapdoor pushing up, light.  Fight overcame flight, and I kicked him.  "Uh!" but he pinned my leg on the side with his arm, grabbed my foot.  Yanked me back, kicking frantically.
	"No!" to strong, "Help me," heavy, "Somebody," dragging me down, "Please!"
	I hit the floor hard, my head on a shelf on the way down, woke up with a headache.

Sacha {M NS}

	I jumped, let her go while Viseli pulled him out.  Young, but very much like his father, only much cuter.  "The closet," Viseli wrestled him around, "Search up there."  
	I led the little girl back to the couch, set her down gently.  He could make me rape her, either of them, but hadn't yet.  Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.
	"Go!"  I jumped, ran back to the locked room, door kicked out, and off the top hinge.  The closet, open, trapdoor, shelves, crawlspace.  A little big for it with all my gear, I took off my vest, and dragged it behind me.  I'd been in tighter places.
	A glow, all the way in back, one of those Eastern Vidio Disk Players.  RCA plugs crudely spliced to the breadboard box, the survailence system.  Hmm, I spliced in a clip lead, and touched around, memorized the camera layout.  Another camera, stripped to board, and lens, wired into a VCR.
	Nice, looking around the little pervert had peepholes, into both bathrooms, and the other two bedrooms.  Like a personal surveillance system, I ran back the tape.  
	Touching over, I saw the girl's room, me coming in with her, struggling, fighting her onto the bed, stepping back, arm out.  Then a jump/cut.  Her in the bath, splashing water between her legs.
	"HhHh!" tight, I hev turn on side.  Swinging them in, and out, straight, not like swimming, but making waves, lapping up between them, over her lips.  Already zoomed in, it panned out, backwards, her pouring the water up the spout.
	|>, foreward again, laying back, wetting her hair, shorter then the tub.  Y of her legs sideways, sweeping together, pushing the water out to the end, spreading them, the first wave coming back, rippling up her legs,
	"Uhn!" I could not keep my eyes open.	Stopping, I popped it out for later.  Did Viseli not get a tape from his room?  I crawl back out, take it all downstairs.  "Clever boy," I show Viseli, on the stairs, watching, and covering the livingroom.

Living room {MM Rape MC}

	I had failed.  In all ways, the illusion I kept up came crashing down.  The perfect family, destroyed.  My lovely wife so aged, and fat I couldn't bare to touch her, raped in my bed while I was forced to watch.
	My happy daughter, kidnapped, her virginity threatened, held in front of me while.
	I,
	I couldn't protect them, I couldn't protect myself.  She turned away, cried against the pervert who had her, but didn't watch me.  Him, what he was doing to me.  I tried not to make her listen to me scream, choked back the cries.
	Ah, god it hurt.  Like a glowing poker, burning, sawing in, and out of me.  But more then the pain, the utter defeat, the horror, subjugation.  I tried to crawl inside myself, think of anything else.  Slavery, they threatened to kidnap them, and sell them, me, as slaves.
	Slavic slavers, that's what they were, and I wondered if there was any connection between the words.  Thank god, I felt so relieved when he stopped.  I vomited, spraying from my mouth and nose, and goddamnit, that's what got him off.
	"Hrlk!" the spasm, clenching him painfully.  More scotch, and twice cooked pork, tasting worse then the first time.  More, him softening in me, slipping out, "Rghlk!"
	All of a sudden, I understood.  Him, Keyser Söze, or whatever.  I wanted to die, end it all, kill them all, save my family from this.  Her, kill Katie first, before...
	Looking up, past her, him, to the stairs.  The masked man, not the one standing up behind me.  Nothing but his eyes, watching me.

Stairs {MM/Mm Rape}

	Yes, coming along nicely.  The father, broken, desperate, everything lost, but the last.  That tiny important thing.  I'd read about them, but when he looked up, I got to see into the eyes of what your psychologists call a Family Annihilator.
	They happen all over.  Unrealistic Family Ideation, holding them up this perfection.  Closely tied to Narcissism, he also hold them up as  mirror, to reflect them as the perfect father.  They beg, borrow, steal to make that reality, lie to themselves, and the ones they "love."
	The final trigger, the cherry, let him suffer more degradation before I even ask again.  I'm not a pedophile, or a sadistic rapist, so it just took me a while to feel it.  What I need is the mind fuck, the rape of the psyche, preferably an attractive man.
	Yes, I am also that.  I like strength, handsome beauty, and a strong will, to break.  "Cover us," I gave Sacha my Skorpion, and stepped into the family room.  All here now, there was not one, but two yet to be abused.  So much like his father, his strength and will already starting to show through.
	"Let's see what we have here?" I took the tapes to the television.  Huge, flat, broad, and expensive, worth at least several $thousand.  "Kuklupt!" it sucked in, and dropped the flap.  Must have replaced the large CRT upstairs, state of the art, we didn't even have displays this nice, High Definition, before now.
	"Well!" the one I'd gotten from his toppled bed, "What have we here?"  His sister, in the bathtub, just floating naked from above.  "Did you take this?"
	"No," looking away, from his father, crying, legs crossed.  
	"Who did?" I wondered, "You had to be in the crawlspace, your parents did not climb up to zoom in on her pussy," I hit pause, reached up to point, a circle around it.  "Zee how is hand held, she did not take this film."
	"I," eyes closed, leaking tears.  
	I walk over, put my hand up on his shoulder.  "You like look at her," lower, "Naked," whisper, "Touch yourself."
	"no." so small, almost as tall as me, but skinny, young, weak, helpless.
	"Yes," breathed in his ear, "She right here," touch him, "Naked, in same room."
	"Nm!" father's mouth taped, straining to look up.  
	"Go on," I turn him gently, "touch her."
	"Please don't,"  How you say, 'muzik to my ears?' "Don't make me."
	"Clickt," let go of the charging handle, "KlackT!"
	"I know you want to," I chuckle, "think about it."
	"NO!" he lies, but the hardness down his pant leg tells the truth.
	"Look at her," looking up, still scared, but now of her brother, betrayed.  "Touch," the muzzle running up his back, "Her." spine.
	"Uhn?" his hand shook, but I pushed him up in his pants, out of the leg.
	"Ze?" to the littlest, "How much he love you?"
	"Zippp!" down, reaching up to pull down the front of his underwear.
	"Wants touch you?"  Her eyes down, but even wider, mouth hanging open in shock.  Not bad, smaller than his father's, I think, when hard.  I take his hand in my other, hold it out to her, brush the fingers up her chest.
	So flat, white, no ribs, maybe even a little baby belly left.  Up her neck, short gasping breath, hair brushing my knuckles, his fingers on her soft looking round cheek.
	"Tell her you love her," I whisper for her.
	"I love you," he ment it, and started crying too.
	I stepped back, no longer having to force it.  His hand came down, her arm, took her's.  "You kin touch me too."
	"Touching," I leaned down to the father, turned away, trying to cry softly again.
	"RIP!" he sobbed with the pain.  
	"Now," I reached to help him off the table, "Lets talk bizness."
	"Okay," broken, "Anything, just please don't," he couldn't even say it.  "HhHhHuh!"  Shuttering gasp.
	"Keresnyk," Victor's last name, probably sounds enough like a word in our language to them.  He looked up, and I looked up to them.  "In Five," look down at my cronometer, his sidearm.  A Makarov copy holstered with the silencer, if I counted further down it would mean seconds instead of minutes.
	I catch Sacha's eyes, nod an order to him, the son, then the daughter.  We weren't here to kill.  He nodded back, smiling, but didn't salute.
	"Zo," I push the father further down the hall, "You hev nest egg, yes?"
	"In the Caymans," he stumbles a little, "And four tickets there if you need them." ready to please, stopping to try to fix his pants with his hands bound like that.
	"Doun," I push him with the muzzle.
	"Okay," he almost falls on the stairs.  "I can transfer it online."
	Why we didn't cut the highspeed.  Phone, alarm line, but the house was still wired to the internet, and Cable.
	"Did you tell anyone when you were down there?"
	"No," he turned in the wine room, "I don't get cell reception here."
	"Email?" I brot back my gun, to retain it if he tried something, and pistol whip him if necessary.  "Chat?"
	He shrank back, "Nobody," arms up.  
	"Get in there," I come around the opening, "hands where I see, all times."
	"Okay," he twisted, even spread his fingers.
	I glance at the monitors, the family room, everyone standing around and talking.  Still a couple minutes, I just point my gun at the computer like to stab with bayonet.
	"You got an account?" I recited the digits for my personal account.  A Suisse bank, with confidential polocies not unlike the Caymans.
	"How Much?" he showed me, only mid tens of thousands in U$.  "All of that."
	"Will this pay it off?" knowing he's in the hundreds of thousand$.  
	"It will save your life," I took his face in my hand, "and your daughter's purity."
	Turn him to look at me, away from the monitors, Victor reaching up to point at one, before there's a flash, and it goes dark.  It's quiet, I don't hear a thing.
	"Huhuhuh!" he saws in a breath, "all of it," and turns back to the keyboard.  The transfer flashes [Complete] before he looks up, at the screen.
	[No Signal] flashes.
	"What's going on up there?" I wonder.

Unsafe Room

	Almost time, I was ready.  Time to show them, "these men of will what will really is." {(c) Bryan Singer}  The middle pervert, the brains of the operation took me down, forced me to give up what little money I had left for what was left of my family.
	I looked down, his arm tight on his gun, hanging from the strap, empty holster on the other side.  The safety, back is semi auto, foreward full.  "Don werry abot et," Slavic, sometimes better controlled, but I could see his excitement.
	Reaching back, pushing the gun foreward, clicking back the little lever.  "No, if you bite," his other hand in front, of his pants, "I won kill you."
	"Nnm!" I close my mouth before he can jam his gun in it.
	"You rether suck on zis?" his finger out of the trigger guard, I close my eyes, shake my head.  "Open," zippered, brass, I look away.  "Here!" he hits me with it.
	I can't remember crying so much, ever feeling so worthless.
	"Ther," he kisses me with it, nasty smelling foreskin, pulling back in his fingers.  "Maybe I make you rape her," I think, "Your son?"
	"Noagh!" pulling my hair, "Ghll!" gagging me with it.  
	"En my country," he just keeps talking, "es pathers right."  Gagging me, "He take daughter's verginity before she marry, gentle, zo she no hurt by husband.  Or mother, with fingers, but you no get it up for her, yur gerl, or wife."
	I can only cry, try to breathe between gags.
	"You hev truble wit dat, yez?  Wwit you sex, any more.  You drink, nd gembl, end hide it all, from thim.  You debt, you theft, all for thes, 'the perfect femly."

"Living" Room {M/MMFmg Snuf, MM Viol}

	Finally, the job done, and a little something for me.  Of course, that's why the job was given me.  Victor lacks the impulse control to handle leadership without a handler.
	That is real control, letting someone "run the show", while orchestrating it.  For that, you have to control yourself.  I could let go, a little, trusting the men upstairs to act on their impulses.
	Even the little one, promise for his age, but I'm still in control.  Supress the urge to pull up my mask for cigaret, like Sacha's gloves, or Victor's pants.
	I did let off that spray into the kitchen, to assert control early on, but I did not touch this gun.  I put on gloves before I received it, the only evidence I left swallowed by My victim.
	I see I was right, coming around the corner to the living room.  I gave them time, they are done, but the father not see it.  Brother crying, can not look at sister, horror on mother's face.  She is curled up, covers self, hands between legs folded up like beby.
	Victor smiling, bottom ov mask up, Sacha looking away, uncomfortable.  He make brother take sister, verginity.  Then they rape her, gang rape.  Victor kiss her, mouth over her screams, then take his turn.
	Behind me, I stop, my strap caught, tight on my shoulder.  Holding it to my side with my arm, I hear the distinctive "TnG!" of the fire select behind me, but can't tell if it's foreward, or back.
	"I'm sorry," over my shoulder, then the deafening racket of unsilenced fully automatic fire in a closed space.  Not even looking, I twist away from it, jacknife my arm around me, high, looking over my shoulder.
	Soundless thump of the back of my arm striking his head, grabbing the machinepistol, before it stops firing, high under my arm, the climb of recoil traching it up almost in my face before I got control of the jumping but, and flipping it back to Safe.
	Jerk my arm down, a little larger, but weaker, breaking his elbow, forcing the gun over, pointing it at him.  "Goon," I click it over to single shot, "Pul trigger," force the muzzle to his head.
	"No," mindless eyes, pure madness.
	I look back, at the carnage reflected in his eyes.  "Do it," I think, "I will dress them, cover their shame."
	"No!" the realisation, finally counting the bodies, far more than my two men.
	"Make me kill you," I twisted my head back, "And I will put your penis in your daughter before I leave."
	"NoOo!" sobbing.
	"Then the world will know you raped your dead little girl before you suicide."  I realised I couldn't hear my own voice, in one ear, and my face burned.  Even the lid I'd closed in time.
	"Choose," I smile, "Hero sacrifices himself protecting his familly, and cannot live without them, or pervert murders five, and despols their bodies.
	"Hhhhn?" broken down, wordless cries.  Slip my hand around his, to the finger on the trigger guard. 
	"Time almost up," whisper, then turn away, ear against my shoulder, eyes winced shut for the shot.  Still deafening, I smelled singed hair, patted my hot mask, then beat out the smoldering hot spots, brushed the embers off.
	Skorpion on floor, jerked out of hand by strap on arm.  No prints, Victor load it.  Take Sacha's, still in holster, put mine on father's hand, holding down fingers, his prints on handle.
	I do none of that I said, must assume someone heard that, and must to flee before someone came investigate.  Stepping back from the spreading blood, I pulled off my mask, rubbed away my bootprints on the way out.
	Down to besment, take tapes, all in beg from pocket.  Leave one upstairs, in VCR son took.  His sister, naked, in tub, mother showering, end playing with large toy on bed.
	Dark, still, silent, the world still asleep.  I flee through yard, to back road we park on, and gone before ever hear sirens.  Good job, if lost two soldiers in it.  Other then that, as plan.
	Familly Annihilator, investigation find debts, mob ties.  Two men come to collect, he get gun from small one.  Kill all, in burst, then self.  Alcahol, gambling, collapse of perfect familly, see them raped to get him out of hiding, his son's perversion.
	No evidence of third man, prints, hair, blood, nor spit for DNA.  Boot marks on floor, 3 sizes, but before they put together, I'm long gone.  New city, market, same business.