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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Service With A Smile
by Realoldbill (no address provided)
***
A story about rape and the consequences of that
action. (MMF, nc, rp, v, sn)
***
The two women were dusty and sweating when they came
into my office and sighed with pleasure as they felt
the air conditioning ruffle their clinging shirts.
While the younger one went to the water fountain and
showed me most of her ass as she bent over to drink,
the older one came to the counter, exhaled loudly,
wiped the sweat from her face on her forearm, smiled
wanly and said, "We ran out of gas, couple of miles
back."
"Hot out there, ain't it?" I said admiring the way her
clinging shirt displayed her big boobs with their hard
tits.
She nodded and the younger one came and stood beside
her. Damn but she was a pretty thing, a freckle-faced
redhead and probably sixteen or so with a nice pair of
mams and long, long legs. It was right obvious they
were mother and daughter since the woman was a looker
too, just bigger all over, a bleached blonde and maybe
a 35 or 36 if I'm any judge of jugs, and I am. We
don't get many splittails as pretty as this pair our
here in the sticks, and I did not mean to waste the
opportunity I heard knocking. My big cock took control
of the thinking efforts.
"So," said the older female, looking a bit fretful
"can you take me down to the car with some gas?" She
held out her credit card.
"Spoze," I said and licked my lips, thinking of all
the ways I could use a brace of beauties. I laid her
card down by the register. Now and then, I had held
one woman at the station, usually one that owed me,
and rented her ass to my friends and neighbors, but I
had never had two at once. "Petey," I yelled.
He stuck his head in the service bay door, wiping his
hands on some waste and blinking, ogling the females,
looking them up and down, the horny bastard. They were
both wearing tiny shorts, the mother's denim and the
girl's white, fancy t-shirts and running shoes, the
stupid bitches. Dressed that way, they was asking for
it.
"Take this here lady down to get her car. Get a gas
can."
He nodded and smiled.
"You go on with him," I said. "The girl can stay here
and enjoy the cool air."
The mother cocked an eyebrow at me, glanced at her
pretty daughter and followed Petey out to the tow
truck. Her ass moved beautifully, fluid drive in her
hips, a rolling motion that was nothing but an
invitation. I imagined her on top, reverse cowgirl.
"Want a Coke?" I asked the girl as she looked at some
of my calendar pinups, a dozen or so nudes, Hustler
and Penthouse mostly.
"Left my purse in the car," she said.
"S'all right, on me," I told her, flicking the switch
under the counter and hearing a bottle rattle down the
chute.
She smiled, said thanks and fetched the drink and
parked her rounded butt on my old plastic chair. I
went to my CD radio and flipped on the mike. "This
here's Jason," I said, "spread the word, good buddies.
We got us a forty-two-ten down at the station, a
double, from now till dark. Come ready for action."
I put down the mike and looked at the girl. I hadn't
had one as young as she was for a coon's age. "How old
are you, darlin'?" I asked her as the bell rang and
somebody pulled up to the self-service side. We don't
do much gas business except on weekends, and I make
most of my money peddling moonshine and tax-free
cigarettes.
"Fifteen," she said with a cute smile. "Why?" She held
the Coke bottle between her high, round boobs,
enjoying the cold feel I suppose and stretching her
shirt nicely.
"You still cherry?" I asked her, hoping she was going
to say yes since I hadn't busted a virgin for I
couldn't-remember-how-long. Probably since that
Johnson girl back a couple of years. But shit, she was
only twelve, and I had to stick a road flare in her to
get her open.
The fair-skinned girl blinked her hazel eyes at me and
said, "Sir?" nice and polite. I do like the polite
ones; them uppity females, they get my goat.
"A hymen, sweetie, a maidenhead; you still a virgin?"
"Geeze," she said, pulling her knees together, "you
sure are noisy."
I grabbed her by the ponytail and yanked her to her
feet. She yelped, dropped the half-full Coke and
squealed as I pushed her belly down on the counter and
stripped off her shorts and tiny underpants. I ignored
her kicking feet, stuck my greasy middle finger in
her, wiggled it around some and slapped her bare butt.
"You sure'nuf is, sweetheart," I said. "And I'll get a
hundred for that cherry at least. You wait and see.
You ever taken it up the ass?"
She struggled and begged me to let her go, but I had a
foot of height and probably a 150 pounds on her so she
weren't going no place 'till I gave her leave.
"Come on, girl," I said, shaking her some and slipping
my hand up under her shirt to squeeze her young
breast, "I need to know. Don't want'a do no false
advertising. I suppose you have sucked cocks."
She shook her head. "No, no," she sobbed, and I could
tell she was scared and crying and probably telling
the truth. About then Petey pulled up in the truck,
his usual four-wheel slide. He jogged into the office,
saw me yanking the little redhead around, her bare ass
hanging out. I had fingered her ass hole by then and
after hearing her yell, decided that was unspoilt as
well, badly in need of corn-holing.
"Kin I have her first?" he asked eagerly. "Huh, can I?
Please."
"Hell no," I said, turning her around and grabbing her
by the tit. "Not 'less you got a hundred bucks on you,
and if you do, it's my money."
He made a face, and then together we walked the girl
out the lift, ignored her pleas and tied her wrists to
the roller and adjusted it some so that she had to
stay on her toes. I left her shirt and shoes on her
and then stepped back to admire my work. Damn, but she
did look good with her long legs and her tiny bush and
rounded butt, her pretty little boobs lifted high by
having to stretch up her arms like that.
I eased the lift down a mite cause she was going to be
there a while, and we still had her mother to take
care of. I had a hard-on already as I tied a gag on
her so I wouldn't have to listen to her whine and beg.
Tears was running down her face and dripping off her
chin.
About then, the mother came into the office and said,
"Where's Jeannie?"
"Right out here," I said, holding open the door. The
woman stepped down and then saw her girl, hanging from
her wrists, naked from her middle on down to her
kicking ankles, her pretty face turned toward us with
a greasy rag in her mouth, her eyes just as wide as
she could get them.
"Ain't that pretty?" I asked, taking her purse and
tossing it in a corner. She turned on me, squawked
something and I hit her in the belly, a good stiff
right that folded her up, and then slapped her face
back and forth a few times. I got her arm bent up
behind her and walked her past her weeping child to
the other side of the lift while she was still gasping
for breath and spitting blood. Then Petey and me, we
tied her wrists to the ramp roller just like the kid's
was, and I pulled off her shorts and underpants. She
had a well-trimmed bush and a terrific ass, big and
round.
I looked at her and then sliced open her t-shirt with
my box cutter, right down the middle between her big
boobs. She was wearing a white bra, so I chopped that
open too, cut the straps, yanked it off, checked the
label and saw it was a 39D, and threw it in the trash
barrel, proud to be right again. She had a fine rack
with real dark nipples, a lot more than a mouthful,
like they say. I admired the way the cut-open shirt
dangled so I left it.
"Can I, please, boss?" asked Petey. "Just once." He
was unbuttoning his britches.
"OK," I said, wanting to keep the help happy, "But
don't hurt her none."
Petey had a long, thin cock and by the time I got back
to the office, he was ramming that thing into the
girl's mother like an air compressor was up his ass.
He was actually getting her feet off the floor, and
she was screeching to beat the band. I propped open
the door so I could watch although I had seen Petey in
action before and knew he was going to come twice
before he quit, and I also knew he'd go after the
little redhead given half a chance.
He had her mother's legs just flapping loosely as he
enjoyed the big woman. He was grunting like a pig and
rutting like a dog, taking her from the back, and she
was gasping and crying, "No! No, no, please no!" just
as loud as she could.
"Don't tear her jugs off!" I yelled at him, and he
just grinned at me as he twisted the woman's grease-
stained breasts. She put her head back and cried out
for mercy. He cackled and humped harder, bending his
back, up on his toes.
Then the usual white lightening customers started
arriving one by one and pickup by pickup. Within an
hour I had gotten a hundred and fifty for the girl's
untouched pussy and another hundred for her unused
asshole while her mother handled the short-term trade.
Damn if it wasn't that preacher from up in the hills
that corn-holed the little redhead, and the truck
driver who delivers the gas paid me $150 to bust her
cherry after he pulled in his tanker and saw what was
going down. Then, after that was taken care of, it was
in either hole and for either of them fifty bucks cash
and fifty-five on the credit card. I wrote "service"
on the bills and smiled when I did it. Got right noisy
out there.
Out in the garage I had taken off the girl's gag to
help her breathe, and we were getting a real chorus of
groans and shrieks as some of my buddies and good
customers enjoyed themselves rather vigorously. I must
admit I do have some rough friends and customers. When
there were breaks in the traffic, I hosed them down,
sticking the nozzle in their holes and washing them
out some. They didn't even seem to appreciate that.
Damn woman had a ripe vocabulary but the girl just
begged and such.
The Johnson boys arrived after the first hour or so
and asked if they could double-team the girl. "Sure,"
I said, "long as you both got fifty bucks." I let the
lift down a foot to make it easier and then Petey and
me and the girl's mother watched as those two big
roughnecks got that little redhead turned sideways
between them and went to town. When one was pressing
in, the other was sliding out, the one behind her was
pawing her boobs and the one in front had a'hold of
her buttocks.
After they both came, by damn if they didn't switch
sides and jolt her for another ten minutes or so,
really getting their money's worth, keeping her feet
right up off the floor. You'd a'thought they was
killing her, the way she howled and writhed. It was
their little sister I had busted open a while back.
She's married and got two a'her own now, so I hear,
probably one a'them's mine cause I used her for a
week.
The sheriff came in about five that afternoon, and I
wasn't a bit surprised to see him. By then the females
were a lot quieter, resigned I guess since they
couldn't do nothing about what was going on. They both
had a lot of goo sliding down the inside of their
bruised thighs and dripping off their feet. Most of
the men only took five minutes or so to get their
rocks off so they were nearly always getting a fresh
cock to take care of.
The apron was packed with cars and four or five guys
were waiting their turns and sucking on 7-Ups and
moonshine at a buck a can and watching the show as two
men raped two fine looking women side by side to the
blaring music that Petey loved, that damn rock and
roll shit. I had been keeping a rough count and after
three busy hours the woman had taken on about thirty
men and the girl almost two dozen, including that pair
that had her at the same time.
Buck looked around. "Land office," he said as I handed
him the usual envelope. Nobody in this county does
moonshine unless the sheriff gets his cut. He looked
out in the work area, sniffed and said, "Why don' you
crank 'em down so's we can use their mouths iff'n we
wants to?"
I made a face at him. "That what you want?"
He nodded. "Don' want to stick my pecker where all
your rough trade's been, 'sides you can get two goin'
at once and shorten up your line."
"How much for oral?" asked one of the men who was
waiting to fuck the mother.
"Twenty-five," I said, my usual fee for blowjobs when
one of those trailer trash girls came and worked for a
day behind the counter.
"OK," he said, "I'm going to get both mouths so you
kin keep the fifty." He was a good-sized bricklayer
with the hardest hands I ever shook.
I went out and let down the lift so the women were on
their knees at the end of the ramps, kneeling in the
oil, cum and waste water on the cement floor, their
wrists tied down before them and their mouths easily
available as well as their backsides. The sheriff put
down a clean rag from my stack, knelt on the metal
ramp, flipped out his enormous cock, held the
redhead's pug nose until she gasped and then fucked
her face for a good fifteen minutes, one hand tangled
in her curly hair and the other abusing her young
tits.
When he was done, the boy who had gotten a blowjob
from the mother came right on and made the kid suck
his big, limp cock until it was hard again and then I
thought he was never going to finish. I swear three
men fucked the youngster before he was done in her
throat, one of them using the grease gun I left there
to make the job easier. You'd a'thought it was
charged, the way she jumped when he poked that thing
into her.
Later on, I put mats down for the men to kneel on.
Some of the boys got to flipping them females over and
humping them from on top, generally standing hunched
over some. It was kind of messy, but it sure didn't
matter to me. I hosed 'em down once while they was
a'lying on their backs and, boy, didn't the water
splash up when the next fuckers got to work with the
female's legs up on their shoulders, seeing who could
come the quickest or last the longest I guess. I
watched one a'them damn wetbacks fuck the little
redhead that way on his kneepads with only the top of
her head down on the floor. He did have a good old
time, and she did screech like a banshee as he rotated
her left and right on his thick pike and counted his
strokes in Spanish- un, dos, tres, un, dos, tres, over
and over.
It was Petey's idea to get out the creepers. "Pussy on
wheels" he called it and got a good laugh. One of
mine's padded and I put the kid on that one and tied
her down and then I laid the mother on the old wooden
one with the little headrest and she spat at me when I
wrapped a bungee cord around her middle. I damn near
twisted off a big nipples in reply. I guess they did
good business like that for a spell, legs bent and
knees spread. By them they was getting' kind'a loose,
y'know.
I had to open the doors now and then to air out the
place. Shoot, it was still about ninety outside and my
a/c only does the office, but the fans helped some out
in the service area. Still, it was hot work and them
females was sweating like horses. About sundown, I
hoisted them back up so's Petey could squeegee off the
floor.
As it got to be supper time, the business slowed to a
trickle so I let Petey fuck the redhead he'd been
pestering me about all day, and I started my usual
bookkeeping while the humping and howling continued
over in the service bay. I was amazed them girls could
carry on for as long as they did, screeching almost
every time some good old boy plugged 'em hard and
fast. Around nine o'clock I turned off the pumps and
the front lights and when the man using the girl's
mother was done with her, and dropped her feet back in
the filth and zipped his fly, I shut down the sign. I
was closed. Come hell or high water, I closed at nine
on the dot. I man's got to have some principles.
I had taken in $4,550 in cash and had charges totaling
another $1,100, and, of course, Petey and the sheriff
had gotten theirs for free. So between them, in a
little more than seven hours, the visiting women had
serviced 116 men and boys, including me, and I guessed
that maybe the mother had done two-thirds of them and
the girl the others and, as I recalled, a few of my
buddies had come back for seconds so it really wasn't
that many different guys. One of the best days I ever
had, all of it profit, every damn cent, hard earned
too and nothing for the IRS. I used the mother's
credit card and charged her twenty bucks for road
service and put the receipt on the counter.
Then I went out and untied her, handed over her
pocketbook, shorts and underpants and walked her,
rather rubber legged, to the office and told her to
sign. I tried not to look at the stuff coursing down
the inside of her thighs or the bruises and bite marks
on her big breasts. She cursed me something awful,
vile language no lady should use, and I forced her
down on her knees, bent her over my swivel chair and
drove my rigid cock into her soggy pussy. I had
already fucked her that day when business was slack,
but this time a really tried to hurt her, and she
screamed and begged as I reamed her out and filled up
her bruised cunt with my spew, pulling out bunches of
pussy hair just to be mean and thumbing her asshole
too.
She signed the charge although her hand trembled some,
and I handed her my stapler and said, "Fix your
shirt." Then I went out and fetched her kid, who was
slumped with her forehead down on the ramp and her
rounded ass in the air, a temptation that I resisted
since my cock was kind of sore. I had fucked her
twice, once in each hole after using the gun I had set
on the ramp by her head so men could grease her up
more easily. When I did her, she was really tight
despite all the action she had been through. Her ass
looked a lot looser now and she seemed to be bleeding
some from her cunt. Her thighs were black and blue and
her face was a mess.
I brought her to the office, handed her one of the
leftover 7Ups and by damn if she didn't throw it in my
face. I pushed her right up against the plate glass
window, beat her ass until my hand hurt and then
rammed a Coke bottle into her pussy. She sounded like
the volunteers' fire siren going off, and her mother
pulled on my shoulders and begged me to stop.
After a while, when my anger cooled, I did,
remembering that one time when I did that the bitch
ended up in the hospital but that was because the
bottle still had its cap on. The girl fell to the
floor and curled up into a ball, with the back end of
the Coke bottle still sticking out of her. Her mother
pulled it out and put it in the rack, sniffing and
avoiding my eyes.
I handed the woman her car keys and the girl her
shorts. I kept her underpants. I've got a couple of
rows of them in the back room, souvenirs.
They left, hugging each other as they walked to their
car. I wondered how far they would get with only a
gallon of gas in their tank. There wasn't an open
station for about a hundred miles the way they were
heading.
**
About six weeks later - Jason and his grease monkey
were on their way back to the station after the
service at the funeral home for the sheriff and his
son. There hadn't been any bodies or caskets since
very little of either man had been found after the
fire, just some crusty black stumps that might have
been leg bones and a couple of grinning skulls.
"Lookey there," Petey said, pointing at the roadside.
"A damsel in dee-stress by damn."
Jason pulled his five-month-old Thunderbird in behind
the car that was well off on the shoulder with its
hood up, and both men walked up to investigate.
Jeannie stepped out from under the hood and blinked at
Petey, forcing herself not to smile. She picked up the
Glock she had concealed on the air cleaner as her
mother stepped out of the car with her big Colt in her
hand.
"Hi, Jason," the smiling woman said. "Remember me?"
He looked at her and shook his head as Petey raised
his hands and lost control of his bladder.
"Ah well, you're getting old. Lift that deck lid and
get in there." The woman gestured with the big
revolver.
"Where, in the trunk?" he asked, still not
understanding.
The woman fired a .44 caliber round right between his
feet, not more than an inch or so from his left foot.
"Be quick," she said flatly as the sound echoed in the
hills. By then Jeannie had Petey's hands cuffed behind
him and was holding him at gunpoint by the back
fender. As soon as Jason climbed into the trunk of the
big Dodge, she nudged Petey to follow. Then her mother
slammed down the lid.
"You drive the T-bird," she said to her daughter.
Ten minutes later the two cars pulled into the gas
station that lay well out on the state road. They
eased past the closed sign on the driveway and parked
behind the garage. Jeannie got Petey out and then
closed the trunk lid again. Once she had the young
mechanic securely roped to a chair in the work area,
his hands still chained behind him, she came back and
helped her mother get a set of handcuffs on Jason and
then pull him out of the car trunk.
"I been thinking," Jason said as they hustled him back
into his station. "You're the two bitches we had here
on the racks, ain'cha?"
"Yep," said Jeannie. "And you thought he was just
dumb," she said to her mother.
The woman laughed and then forced Jason to his knees
and then to his back under the lift with his service
truck on it. He lay crosswise, his head under one ramp
and his feet and ankles under the other. "Get us a
Coke, Honey," the woman said to her daughter. "His
changemaker's probably in his desk drawer."
Jeannie returned with two bottles and the women sat on
folding metal chairs, crossed their legs and drank.
"What'chu planning on doin?" Petey asked.
Jeannie smiled at him and shot him in the right leg.
Just below the knee. The bullet broke both bones.
Petey screamed and jumped, turning over the chair he
was tied to. The Glock 29 was a 10 mm weapon that hit
very hard.
The older woman set down her drink and her gun, walked
over to Jason, unzipped his britches, pulled them down
to his knees along with his Jockey shorts and flopped
out his cock. Then she tied his ankles to the lift
ramp about a yard apart, and took another length of
thin nylon line from her pocket and tied a couple of
loops of cord around the man's penis and scrotum,
pulling it tight. She stepped back and her daughter
let the lift come down until it and truck were just
three feet off the floor. Crouching, the woman tied
the white cord to the tow truck's drive shaft and
nodded to her girl. Up went the lift until the thin
rope was taut. Jason screamed as his genitals were
stretched upward.
Jeannie and her mother resumed their chairs and drank
their Cokes. Petey was whimpering behind them and
Jason was begging them to let him go, his balls and
penis stretched out much farther than he ever thought
they could be.
"How much did you make that day we were tied up out
here?" the woman asked.
"I dunno, five thousand, something like that," Jason
said. He was trying not to cry but his voice broke.
"How much money do you have in the bank?" she asked.
"I'm gonna bleed to death!" Petey groaned.
Jeannie picked up her gun and fired a shot into his
buttocks. The bullet went all the way through and
clipped some cinderblock behind the bleeding man.
"Let's go up a few inches more," the woman said and
Jeannie smiled and nudged the lever a couple of times.
The lift staggered up three inches or so and stopped
with a quiver. Jason arched and screamed until his
throat was raw and he ran out of air.
Jason's penis was now turning purple and was stretched
out so that his whole groin was being lifted up by the
rope. His testicles seemed ready to explode.
"What do you have in the bank?" asked the woman after
she finished her Coke and handed her daughter the
bottle.
"Please, please," Jason cried as tears ran down his
face.
Jeannie smiled and licked her lips.
"Go on," said her mother. "It's as good a time as
any."
Jeannie pulled down one of the grease guns and walked
over to Jason with the empty Coke bottle in her other
hand. She stuck the business end of the grease gun in
Jason's anus and gave him a couple of shots of
lubricant. Then she let the gun retract and shoved the
Coke bottle into him, twisting and pushing until it
was almost out of sight. She stood back, smiled and
kicked the end of the bottle three times, hard.
Jason blubbered and writhed, his whole body jerking.
Petey started crying. "Please, please, help me! I'm
bleeding."
Jeanie took careful aim and shot him in the left
shoulder so that he and the chair he was on was spun
around and the man faced the wall.
"Let's go up and down a few times," said the woman.
Jeannie ran the lift up and down so that the ramps
actually touched Jason's forehead and toes and then
stretched his penis out fully again and again. The
upper half of his member was now almost black and his
balls were turning purple.
"What do you have in the bank?" the woman asked.
"I dunno," Jason sobbed. "Maybe twenty thousand."
"Where's your checkbook?"
"Top drawer on the right," he said finding the pain in
his cock and balls unbelievable. He was sure he was
going to die.
Jeannie brought the checkbook and a ballpoint pen and
dropped them on Jason's belly, wrinkling her nose as
the sight of his male member being squeezed and
distended.
"Sign three checks for five thousand each," said the
woman. "If the banks cashes them, I'll let you go. If
it won't, I'm going to tear off your prick and feed it
to you." She smiled "Uncuff him," she said to her
girl.
Jason rubbed his wrists and signed three checks
quickly. Jeannie then pulled the Coke bottle out of
his ass.
"I'm bleedin' t'death," Petey whined.
Jeannie walked over to him and shot him in the right
knee, shattering the joint. By then there was a
growing puddle of blood where he lay.
The women did not bother to put the handcuffs back on
Jason; they just ran the lift upward until his
buttocks were off the cement and watched him claw at
the air after fumbling with the knots on his prick.
Jeanne left with the checks and her mother sat and
waited, ignoring Petey's pleas and mumbling behind
her. Jason let his arms drop and moaned, hanging by
his prick.
By the time the girl returned in half an hour, Petey
was unconscious. "They wouldn't cash them," she said
shaking her head.
The woman sucked her teeth. "Oh well, his car's worth
at least twenty. It will have to do. We'll deposit
them in town."
She stood and aimed her big revolver at the belly of
man lying under the lift with his genitals nearly torn
from his groin.
He sobbed and closed his eyes.
"Don't, Ma," the girl said. "Let's just leave."
Together the women went out to the gas pumps, got all
four hoses down with the nozzles aimed at the garage
doors and lifted and locked the handles to get them
pumping. They left quickly.
Five minutes later with the underground tanks nearly
empty, the air compressor in the back room kicked on
igniting the gasoline fumes that filled the service
area which by then had a couple of inches of fuel on
the floor. The explosion was heard in town some five
miles away and the fireball lit up the clouds.
END
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of
the scenarios in this story; should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 75