Rape Stories

Warning!

The Search

by Luckytom44

It was late Friday afternoon when Stacy Trimbull looked at the clock on the wall of the office. The digital readout indicated that it was four forty-five, fifteen minutes until quitting time. Standing up, she gathered several manila folders from the top of her desk and walked over to the filing cabinets. She should have just enough time to finish her filing before leaving for the day. She was anxious to get home today since her husband had promised to take her to dinner at that new Italian Restaurant just outside of town. Stacy was an absolute fanatic when it came to Italian food and she had been looking forward to tonight all week.

Bill Maxwell, a salesman in the same office as Stacy, looked her up and down as she stood at the filing cabinets. Although happily married and in his fifties, Bill still enjoyed looking at attractive women, and Stacy certainly qualified as an attractive woman. She was twenty-seven years old and kept her body trim with a daily exercise program. Her legs were long and well shaped. Her thick brown hair, which she wore several inches below the shoulders, framed a heart shaped face. She had large brown eyes, a pixie nose and full, pouting lips. She was dressed in a white silk blouse with a black skirt and black high heels. Bill sighed in appreciation as Stacy turned and walked back to her desk.

Stacy pulled up the "start" menu on her computer and selected the "shut down" command. As the system went through it's shut down routine, Stacy cleared off her desk and locked the drawers. The filing had taken a little longer than Stacy had intended. With the clock indicating fifteen minutes past five o'clock, Stacy picked up her purse and prepared to leave.

"Good night, Bill. I'll see you Monday morning."

"Good night, Stacy. Have a good weekend."

Stacy took the elevator alone down to the basement parking garage where her two-year-old Chevy was parked. Stepping from the elevator, she began rummaging in her purse for her keys as she walked through the garage, the click-click-click of her high heels echoing from the walls. She reached the maroon Cavalier and slipped the key into the lock. Before she could turn the key, she was suddenly slammed against the side of the car by a body crashing into her. Her body spasmed and she dropped to her knees as a fist was driven into her kidney, knocking the wind from her and sending waves of pain ripping through her. She felt a hand cover her mouth as an arm came into view over her shoulder and a knife passed before her eyes before being pressed against her throat. Stacy felt a flash of terror sweep through her.

"One fucking word, bitch, just one fucking SOUND and I'll cut your miserable cunt throat!" the harsh voice whispered in her ear.

Taking his hand from her mouth, he wrapped his left arm around Stacy's waist and pulled her to her feet, his right hand keeping the knife to her throat the whole time. Terrified by the knife, Stacy whimpered softly as he dragged her trembling body across the garage to a battered Ford F-150. Pulling open the passenger door, he shoved Stacy into the cab of the truck.

"On the floor, bitch! Kneel down on the fucking floor!"

Stacy did as she was told, the threat of the knife fresh in her mind. He slammed the door and hurried around to the driver's side of the pickup truck. Stacy got her first look at her assailant as he slid behind the wheel. He was a big man, over six feet tall and well over two hundred thirty pounds with a large beer belly, dressed in faded jeans and T-shirt. His hair was longish and greasy looking and he obviously hadn't shaved in several days. On his right bicep was a tattoo of a crouching tiger. He looked vile and dangerous.

"P-please," Stacy stammered, "p-please don't h-hurt me!"

The big man grinned at her evilly as he accelerated out of the garage. The look on his face told Stacy that her worst fears were going to come true. She felt the tears begin to roll down her cheeks.

********************

Bill Maxwell left the elevator and walked towards his car, his mind wandering aimlessly. He was nearly twenty feet past the maroon Cavalier when it suddenly dawned on him that it looked just like Stacy's car. Turning around, Bill walked back to see if he was wrong. It was then that he saw the keys hanging in the door lock and the purse laying on the garage floor.

"Oh shit!" Bill muttered. "Oh Jesus Christ!"

Bill ran back to the elevator, determined to find the closest phone to call the police.

********************

Jerry Driscole drove the battered F-150 out of town while the bitch on the floor of the truck cried quietly. She had finally realized that begging wasn't going to do any good and had shut up. It amazed him how these cunts always thought that a few tears and a little pleading would somehow change his mind. Stupid. Just like all cunts.

He turned off the main road and onto a little used dirt road that led towards the lake. He continued for a little over a mile before turning left off the road and through the trees. Even at five miles an hour, the truck bounced over the rough ground as he guided it around trees and brush, driving deeper into the woods. After nearly half an hour, he brought the truck to a stop and switched off the engine. Stacy looked up at Jerry, the fear shining in her eyes.

"Now, bitch, it's time to play." Jerry grinned at her.

"NO!" she screamed as he grabbed he and pulled her up onto the seat, "Please DON'T!"

She tried breaking away from him, but he was too strong. She twisted and squirmed as he pinned her to the seat and roughly squeezed her breasts. He tore open her blouse, scattering buttons over the floor of the truck and exposing her white lace bra. He began chewing on her neck as he forced his hand under her skirt.

"Stop it! Oh God please STOP it!" she begged as she grabbed his wrist with both hands, trying in vain to stop the advance of his hand up her thigh. His hand was grabbing her crotch, squeezing and kneading her private parts as his mouth played over her neck and face. She twisted her body as she tried to escape, but still he continued the abuse. She felt his hand twisting at the material of her pantyhose, ripping the crotch open and exposing her vagina to his probing fingers.

"STOP IT!" she screamed as he forced his fingers into her. She continued twisting her body and pushing against him, trying to break free. "Oh God, PLEASE leave me alone! PLEASE!" He continued moving his fingers in and out of her, forcing them deeper into her with every thrust. Stacy was crying uncontrollably with the pain of the assault.

Pulling his hand from between her legs, Jerry grabbed Stacy by the shoulders and forced her backwards onto the seat, throwing himself on top of her and pinning her down with the weight of his body. Barely five foot five and one hundred ten pounds, Stacy felt crushed under Jerry's huge body. She continued begging as he used his knees to force her legs apart. Stacy began to panic as she felt him moving his hand between their bodies and realized that he was undoing his trousers. This couldn't be happening to her! It COULDN'T be!

"DON'T! OH GOD PLEASE DON'T!" she screamed as she felt his rock hard penis pressing against her vagina. She dug her heels into the seat, trying to get the leverage needed to push him off of her as she felt him forcing his way into her. With each thrust he penetrated her farther, slowly driving him into her. Stacy tried everything she could to dismount Jerry, twisting her body and kicking with her legs as he steadily drove deeper into her. Then, with one final thrust, he overcame the resistance of her dry vagina and drove himself completely into her. Stacy arched her back and cried out in pain as she felt him sinks him into her.

"Oh noooooooo." Stacy groaned as she collapsed on the seat, pinned down by the weight of the rapist who was brutalizing her body. Knowing that further resistance would be futile, she closed her eyes and quit fighting. Silently, she prayed that it would soon be over, that he would finish quickly and then leave her alone.

Jerry continued driving into Stacy, using her mercilessly. He relished the way she winced every time he pounded into her, the way her body trembled beneath him as he raped her. The sounds of her sobbing and her groans of pain were music to his ears. His hands roamed over her body, over her breasts and her thighs, squeezing roughly wherever his hands paused. He grabbed the hair on either side of her head and twisted her into position so he could clamp his mouth over hers. Stacy nearly gagged as he forced his tongue deeply into her mouth.

"Uuuhh...uuuhh...uuuhh...uuuhh" Stacy moaned with each inward thrust of Jerry's swollen dick. She felt his pace quickening, felt him driving into her with increasing force as his excitement grew. She knew he was approaching orgasm, and the thought of him depositing his seed inside of her was sickening.

"Jesus!" Jerry groaned, "Oh Jesus Christ!" Faster and faster he drove into her. She could feel his dick swelling, feel it twitching inside of her, and then she felt the hot stream of cum shooting into her, flooding her insides.

"Ohhhhhhh nnnnnooooooooooooo." Stacy moaned as she felt him shooting more and more of his thick, hot cum deep inside her body. Still he continued pounding into her, milking every drop of the foul liquid from his dick. Then gradually his pace slowed until finally he collapsed on top of her, panting and sweating. She could feel his meat softening inside of her, feel it losing it's size. Stacy lay under Jerry, softly crying while she wondered what she had done to deserve being treated so brutally.

Finally, with a groan, Jerry lifted himself off of Stacy. As soon as she was freed from his weight, she pulled herself to a sitting position against the passenger door of the truck. Holding her blouse closed with one hand, she pulled the hem of her skirt down with the other while Jerry calmly lit a cigarette.

"P-p-please, " she choked out between sobs, "p-please let m-me go now. J-just let m-me g-go."

"Let you go? Now why would I want to do that? Our little party has just started sweetheart! I'm nowhere near done with you yet!"

********************

Sergeant Steve Richards pulled his unmarked police car into the parking garage of the Taylor Building. He could see uniformed officers already checking the scene. He noticed Officer Jerry Allen interviewing an older gentleman in a business suits and approached them.

"Evening, Sarge." Officer Allen said as Steve reached them.

"Jerry. What have we got?"

"Missing woman. Looks like a kidnapping. Mr. Maxwell here works with her and found her car still here when he was leaving to go home around five thirty. Car keys were hanging in the door lock and her purse was on the floor next to the car."

"Any evidence of robbery?"

"Nope. Money and credit cards were still in her purse."

"Shit. That doesn't sound good at all." Steve sighed. "Anything to go on?"

"Not much. Mrs. Trimbull left work around five-fifteen. Most of the others had left at five, so she probably came down in the elevator alone. Mr. Maxwell has supplied us with the names and addresses of the employees who left on time. One of them may have noticed something suspicious."

"Okay. We'll get men out to interview these people, and I want a complete description of the woman broadcast to all units. Has her husband been notified?"

"Dan Reynolds is on his way to take care of that now. I'll tell you, Sarge, I don't envy him that job."

"That makes two of us, Jerry, that makes two of us."

********************

Stacy was completely naked and laying face down in the bed of the pickup truck. Ropes led from each wrist and ankle to tie down points in the four corners of the bed, holding her spread-eagled and helpless. She cried quietly as fear and frustration flooded through her.

Twenty feet away from the truck, Jerry hummed softly to himself as he dialled a number on his cell phone and waited for an answer.

"Hello." The voice that answered sounded shaky. Apparently, he already knew that something was wrong.

"Yeah. Is this Robert Trimbull?"

"Yes. Yes it is. Who is this?"

"Oh, my name isn't important. Let's just say that I'm a friend of your wife. A really good friend. She's here with me now as a matter of fact."

"Wha... look, please don't hurt her. I'll give you anything you want. Anything at all. Just please don't hurt her."

Jerry chuckled as he began walking towards the truck. This was going to be fun.

"Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. Now why would I hurt her?" Jerry said as he climbed into the bed of the truck and knelt between Stacy's spread legs. "And as far as what I want, why, I just want you to listen to something. That's all. Just listen to something." With that, Jerry laid the cell phone next to Stacy's head and pulled out his stiff dick.

"Oh no!" Stacy cried as Jerry lowered himself onto her back. "Not that! Oh God please NOT THAT! NOOOOOO!!" Stacy screamed as Jerry began forcing his dick into her asshole.

"STACY!! STACY!!" Jerry could hear Robert Trimbull screaming over the phone.

"S-stop! P-Please STOP it! Oh God it HURTS! It HURTS! PLEASE STOP!" Robert Trimbull could hear his wife pleading as Jerry forced his way deeper into her ass. Every thrust drove his dick deeper into Stacy, every thrust caused a new wave of pain to shoot through her body. Then, with a massive thrust, Jerry drove his dick all the way into Stacy.

"NNNEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEE!!!!!" Stacy screamed as Jerry buried his dick deep in her bowels.

"You hear that, Bobby?" Jerry said, his head only inches from the cell phone. "You know what that is? That's the sound of your wife being FUCKED IN THE ASS! Oh, and she is tight, Bobby. She is really tight! You must have never fucked her in the ass!"

"YOU BASTARD! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" Robert Trimbull screamed in helpless rage.

"Bobby, it's not nice to call me names!" Jerry said as he pulled his dick out of Stacy until only the head was still inside her, then drove he backs into her with one brutal thrust. Stacy's body jumped with the pain and she screamed out in agony. Her arms and legs pulled futilely at the ropes that held her fast. Robert Trimbull felt sick as he listened to his wife being brutalized.

"Nuhhh....nuhhh...oh God....p-please...nuhhh...st-STOP... nuhhh...nuhhh...oh please....n-no more...nuhhh...nuhhh...P-PLEASE no more!" Stacy pleaded as Jerry drove his dick repeatedly into her bowels. She had never experienced so much pain in her life.

"Oh, yeah!" Jerry groaned in pleasure. "Oh, yeah, Bobby, her ass is so good! Her ass is so fucking good!" Robert Trimbull's hand gripped the phone until his knuckles showed white. He could hear Stacy scream out in pain every time Jerry buried his dick in her. Over and over he heard her scream.

"Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah! We're getting close, Bobby! We're getting close! Oh shit!! Oh SHIT!!" Jerry groaned as he began blowing his load deep inside Stacy's bowels. Stacy cried out in pain and revulsion as Jerry buried his dick deeply inside her and she felt the heat of his sperm spreading through her. She could feel his dick twitching inside her, feel the streams of cum shooting into her. Finally, having drained himself, Jerry collapsed on top of her trembling body. Robert Trimbull could hear his wife sobbing over the phone.

"I filled her ass, Bobby. I fucking flooded her ass with cum." Jerry said into the cell phone. "Did you enjoy hearing that, Bobby? Did you enjoy hearing your wife get fucked up the ass? I'll bet you did. You've probably got a fucking hard on, don't you?"

"I'll kill you, you bastard. One of these days I'll kill you!"

"Bobby, is that anyway to talk? Tell you what. Just to show you there's no hard feelings. Later on, I'm going to stick my dick in her mouth and make her drink my cum. If you're nice, maybe I'll call back and let you listen. Would you like that, Bobby? Would you like to listen to your wife gagging on my dick? Would you like to listen to her gagging and choking as I stick my dick down her throat?"

With that, Jerry broke the connection, leaving Robert Trimbull trembling in rage.

********************

Officer Dan Reynolds stormed into Steve Richard's office and slammed the door behind him.

"That COCKSUCKER!" he yelled. "That dirty stinking COCKSUCKER!"

"Whoa," said Steve. "Who and what have you so fired up?"

Dan continued pacing back and forth in the small office. Steve noticed tears rolling down the police officer's face. Whatever it was, it was going to be bad.

"I was over at the Trimbull's place. I stopped to tell Mr. Trimbull that we thought his wife had been kidnapped. I was there when he got a phone call from the kidnapper. The son-of-a-bitch raped her, Steve. He raped her in the ass! He sodomized her while her husband listened on the fucking phone! Mr. Trimbull had the phone to his ear, and I could STILL hear her screaming! He's sadistic, Steve. Twelve years I've been a cop and I've never run into anybody this fucking sadistic! This bastard deserves to die, Steve! He deserves to die slow and hard!" Dan slammed his fist onto Steve's desk. "We've got to stop him. No matter what it takes, we've got to stop him!"

Steve picked up the receiver of his phone and punched an inside number.

"Chief? Richards. Do you have a couple of minutes? Reynolds and I want to talk to you about a case. Yeah, it is definitely important."

********************

Chief of Police Archer had been in law enforcement for nearly thirty years. In all that time, he couldn't remember ever hearing a story as disgusting or depraved as the one just related by Officer Reynolds. Forcing the husband to listen to ... he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Okay," he said "we are obviously dealing with a dangerous situation. How do you want to handle it, Sergeant?"

"We have officers interviewing Mrs. Trimbull's co-workers to see if any of them noticed anything suspicious when they were leaving work. Other officers are interviewing people who work in the surrounding area. Additionally, I want to put a team together. Myself, three other detectives, and six uniforms. That way they can devote themselves solely to finding Mrs. Trimbull without dividing their time with other cases. Also, I'd like to call in Denise Rhodes to sit in with the team."

"Why Miss Rhodes?" the Chief asked. "She did a great job working as a decoy for us a few months ago, but I don't believe this case will require that type of operation."

"Agreed, it won't require a decoy. I want her to help us with developing a profile of the prep. Due to her job at the Rape Crisis Centre, she's made a thorough study of both rapists and their victims, and understands their psychology. I think she could be a big help in figuring out what our boy's next move may be."

"I see. Is she still on the books as an Auxiliary Police Officer?"

"Yes, sir, she is."

"Okay. Call her in if you feel she can help. Just get this son-of-a-bitch!"

********************

Jerry Driscole stood back and looked at his handy work. Stacy Trimbull, still naked, was kneeling in the grass near the rear of the pickup truck. Several tight loops of rope ran over the tops of her thighs, down and underneath her shins, and back over the tops of her thighs, making it impossible for her to lift her buttocks off of her ankles. Her arms were pulled behind her back, her left wrist tied to her right bicep and her right wrist tied to her left bicep. Another length of rope was wrapped around her head and tied at the back. The other end of this same rope ran down behind her where it was tied tightly around her ankles, pulling her head back so her face was turned skyward.

Humming contentedly, Jerry took out his cell phone and started dialling.

*********************

Robert Trimbull grabbed the receiver on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Bobby boy! How's it going, pal?" Robert Trimbull recognized the voice immediately.

"Please, please listen to me. I've managed to put together some money. A lot of money. It's yours. All of it. Just don't hurt my wife anymore. Please don't hurt her anymore."

"Keep your money, Bobby. I've got what I want. You should see her, man. Trussed up like a little Christmas present. She can't move an inch. Now I'm going to do what I promised, Bobby. Remember my promise? I said you could listen while I stuck my dick down her throat. While I make her drink my cum."

"Why are you doing this? Why are you doing this to us? What did we ever do to you?"

"You were born, Bobby. You were fucking born. Now listen close, Bobby. You'll get your rocks off on this one." With that, he laid the cell phone on the back bumper of the truck, only two feet away from where Stacy knelt.

"Please don't! Please don't do this!" she pleaded as he moved towards her, his dick in his hand. The way she was tied, she couldn't move, couldn't try to avoid him. She could only watch as he approached her mouth. "Oh, no! Oh PLEASE no! No! NO! NOOUUUUMMMMMPPHHHUURGGGG!"

Robert Trimbull ground his teeth together as he listened to Stacy gagging and chocking. His mind's eye could picture what was happening, could picture the animal forcing himself deeper into Stacy's mouth. He could picture the look of terror and revulsion on her face.

Jerry had a hand on each side of Stacy's head as he fucked her in the mouth with long, slow strokes. Stacy continued choking and gagging as he forced him into her throat. She had trouble breathing around the swollen piece of meat that was violating her.

"Oh, yeah! Oh fuck yeah! Can you hear me, Bobby? Can you hear me? You should see it, Bobby. God, I wish you could see it! Her pretty little lips wrapped around my cock as it slides in and out of her mouth. Oh, that warm, moist mouth! Hear her gagging, Bobby? She's gagging because my cock has completely disappeared into her mouth, man! Her fucking nose is buried in my pubic hair! Oh fuck it feels good buried in her throat!"

Stacy felt nauseous. She could feel the bile rising in her throat as he fucked her in the mouth. He was forcing himself into her throat! She fought down the urge to vomit.

Robert Trimbull had never felt such rage. For the first time in his life, he wanted to kill someone! He wanted to kill the motherfucker slowly and painfully. Stacy was gagging so much that he didn't see how his wife could even breathe. Oh, God! Maybe that's what he was doing! Maybe he was going to suffocate Stacy with his dick!

"Shit, Bobby, your bitch has a really great mouth, man! You should be grateful to me, pal. I'm teaching her to deep throat for you. Oh, Jesus! Oh, Jesus Christ! I feel ... oohhhh ... God my balls are swelling, Bobby! I'm going to ... to have ... a real load ... oohhhh ... for her! Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Ooooohhhhh....."

"RRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH...RRRRR... RRRRR...RRRRRRGGGGGHH!!!"

Robert Trimbull felt the tears tracking down his cheeks as he heard Stacy reaching. He knew what that meant. The animal was pumping his cum into her throat. Every time she retched he knew that it meant another stream of disgusting liquid spraying into her mouth and throat.

"Swallow it, bitch! SWALLOW IT! There! Yeah, that's a good girl! That's a good fucking girl! You hear that, Bobby? She drank my cum, man! She drank every fucking drop! Did she ever drink your cum, man?"

Robert Trimbull heard his wife coughing and gasping for breath. The bastard must have taken his dick out of her mouth. How must she feel? How much terror must she be feeling?

"You still there, Bobby?"

"You bastard! I'll ... I'll ... someday ... I'll ..."

"Yeah. Sure you will, Bobby. Sure you will." Jerry snickered and broke the connection.

********************
Steve Richards stood at the head of the conference table. The team he had assembled were seated around the table, notebooks open in front of them.

"To begin," he said with a nod towards Denise, "I believe that you all know Miss Rhodes ... excuse me ... I mean Officer Rhodes. She is a member of the Auxiliary Police for those who aren't aware of it, and she's here to help us build a psychological profile of our suspect."

The others around the table murmured greetings to Denise. They were all aware of the fact that Denise had twice before worked with Sergeant Richards and they accepted her as one of their own.

"Before we get to that, I have some information to pass on. The officers who interviewed Mrs. Trimbull's co-workers have come up with a possible lead. Two of them remembered seeing a pickup truck in the basement garage when they were leaving for the day. It was old and battered and they were both sure that they had never seen it before. It is either dark blue or green, and one of the witnesses remembers it being a Ford, although he's not sure of the model."

Steve let them finish jotting the information down before continuing.

"One of the witnesses say's the suspect is a white male. He was in the truck, so the witness couldn't see him clearly, but he had the impression that he was a big man. Dark hair worn long."

Another pause while the information went into the notebooks.

"We also canvassed the area to interview other people. The clerk at the newsstand on the corner of Jennings and Clark remembers seeing a battered pickup going east on Jennings, headed out of town. He describes it as being a dark blue Ford F-150. He remembers it because the driver ran a red light and nearly caused an accident."

He again paused while the officers recorded the information.

"We have also recorded the last phone call our boy made to Mr. Trimbull. The sound technicians are trying to isolate any background noises that may help pinpoint his location. Okay, that's it. I know it isn't much, but it's better than nothing. I'll now turn it over to Officer Rhodes."

Denise stood up and faced the group. She was casually dressed in a white silk blouse, faded blue jeans and sneakers. Her jacket was hanging over the back of her chair. None of the officers questioned the butt of the small automatic pistol that protruded from her waistband slightly in front of the left hip.

"Our suspect is a highly dangerous man. He thinks he is clever. More clever than we are. He thinks that he can't be caught. That means he is willing to do anything, since he doesn't fear retribution. He is highly sadistic, as evidenced by the fact that he not only seems to be going out of his way to hurt Mrs. Trimbull during the rapes, but he is phoning her husband to inflict pain on him as well. He is probably anti social with few, if any, friends. If he goes out, it will be to seedy, low class bars. Cheap beer and cheaper whisky would be his beverage of choice. In all likelihood, he is poorly educated, probably a high school drop out. He will either be employed in a menial job or will be on welfare. He will blame others for his station in life. He will probably feel that he has been unfairly held down by those above him. That is probably his motivation for this crime. In his warped mind, he is punishing those who have held him down, or at least those that he views as being from the class of people that held him down. He will continue abusing Mrs. Trimbull and her husband for as long as it gives him a feeling of vengeance. When that feeling passes .... I believe that he will kill her."

"Alright," said Officer Allen, "so we have to find her before that happens. Where do we start?"

"On the wrong side of the tracks." said Steve. "I want the uniformed officers checking dive bars and rooming houses. You're looking for someone who fits our profile and who hasn't been seen in the last couple of days. The detectives I want on the phones. Call every business in the city that might hire untrained, unskilled, uneducated people. Labourers, janitors, pump jockeys, anything. You're looking for the same thing. Someone who fits our profile and who has gone missing. When we find out who he is, then we can start working on where he is."

As the officers filed out of the room, Denise turned to Steve. "Do you think we'll find her in time, Steve?"

"I wish I knew, kid. I wish I knew."

********************

Steve and Denise were in his office calling different businesses, looking for their suspect's place of employment. They had each worked halfway through their list when Detective Hart pushed open the door and said "Got him!"

"What? You've I.D.'d him?" Steve asked.

"Bet your ass! Name's Jerry Driscole. Works as a labourer at Mayfield Steel Fabricators. Caucasian, loner, no friends. Wasn't at work either yesterday or today, and he drive a beat up blue Ford F-150."

"Sounds like our boy. Did they have an address for him?"

"Sure did. Rooming house over on Crest Mont. Fifteen-oh-two."

"Okay, you and Dave get over to his job and see if you can find out anything from his fellow employees. Denise and I will take the rooming house."

********************

Fifteen-oh-two Crest Mont was a large, old house in a bad neighbourhood that had seen better days. At some point the single family home had been changed over to a rooming house. The rooms were small, cheap, and rented by the week. Few tenants stayed longer than that.

Steve's knock was answered by and evil looking old crone who took one look at them and spat "This is a respectable house! I don't rent to men and their floozies!"

Steve stopped her from shutting the door and held his identification in front of her face. "Sergeant Richards and Officer Rhodes. We're here on official business."

"Cops! That's even worse. I got nothing to say to you!" She tried closing the door, but Steve held it firm.

"We can talk here or downtown. And if we go downtown, I just may have to have the Board of Health and the Fire Inspector both check this place out. Do you think you would pass inspection?"

The shrew gave him a dirty look, but opened the door. "I'll talk to you, but I'll talk to you right here! You isn't coming in!"

"Fine. We're looking for Jerry Driscole."

"Him! Huh! Nothing but trouble. Lowlife, he is. Comes in drunk nearly every night, banging' around 'n' waking' people up. I'd throw him out, 'cept I need the money."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"Day 'fore yesterday. Went out in the morning', isn't been back since."

"You said he comes in drunk most nights. Do you know where he drinks?"

"The Stoke Inn, down on the corner."

********************

The Stoke Inn was a run down bar with little to recommend it. When Steve and Denise entered, they noticed that there were three customers at the bar, and there was little to recommend them, either. The bartender was wearing a dirty t-shirt and hadn't shaved in several days.
"You two must be lost" he grinned while his eyes roamed over Denise's body. "We don't get your kind of stuff in here, baby."

"Sergeant Richards, Officer Rhodes" Steve held up his I.D.

"Hey! Whoa! I mean, no offence, you know? Who'd think her for a cop?" the bartender stammered.

"Jerry Driscole. You know him?"

"Well, yeah, sure. He comes in here nearly every night. Haven't seen him the last couple, though. What did he do?"

Steve ignored the question. "You got any idea where he might be?"

"Me? No. Not at all. He wasn't a friendly type, you know? Came in her to drink, not to bullshit."

"Driscole?" the old drunk at the bar asked. "You mean Jerry Driscole?"

"Yeah." Steve replied. "You know where he might be?"

"Maybe. Maybe. He ... he was in here one ... one night. Talking' to himself, you know? Scared me, he did. Talking' 'bout ... 'bout getting' even ... 'bout making' someone pay. Said the woods over ... over by Carson Creek ... said nobody's find him there."

Steve put a twenty-dollar bill on the bar in front of the old man. "Have a couple on me, old timer."

"Why, thanks. Thanks!" the old man said as Steve and Denise hurried out the door.

********************

"Hi, Bobby. How's it hanging?" Jerry said into the cell phone. Stacy was once more tied spread eagle in the back of the pickup, but this time she was laying on her back. "I was thinking, when I first picked your bitch up, I got too excited. I got carried away and fucked her without letting you listen. That was downright unfriendly of me, wasn't it?"

"Please don't hurt her anymore. Please. Haven't you done enough already?"

"Naw, not yet I haven't. Hey, Bobby, you should see your cunt now. Tied down, naked spread out likes a big X. And now I'm going to fuck her. I'm going to fuck her good. Want to listen, Bobby? Want to listen to her moan and groan?" Without waiting for a reply, he set the phone next to Stacy's head and undid his trousers.

"No more! Please, no more!" Stacy whimpered as he lowered himself on top of her. "I can't t-take it anymore. Please leave me alone! Oh, God, nooooooooo!"

Jerry sunk himself into her battered body with one vicious thrust. Robert Trimbull could hear his wife groaning and crying as she plead with her attacker to stop. He could hear her whimper and cry out in pain when Jerry began getting rough with her.

"She's got good pussy, Bobby. Real good pussy! Nice tits, too." Robert Trimbull heard Stacy scream in agony, then Jerry said "I love twisting her nipples man. I just love it!"

"Oh God, stop!" Stacy begged as her body was wracked with sobs. "Oh God, please ... leave me ... leave me alone! Nnnnuuuuuuuuu! Uh ... uh ... uh ... please st-stop h-hurting me! Pu-pu-please!"

Robert Trimbull listened to his wife begging, and he could hear Jerry grunting and groaning as he continued the brutal rape. How could this happen? His wife was so sweet, so good. How could this happen to her?

"Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah! Here we go, Bobby! Here we GO!" Robert Trimbull heard Jerry groan deep in his throat as Stacy cried out, and he knew that the animal was filling Stacy with his cum. If he ever got his hands on the bastard...... He heard Stacy softly crying while Jerry panted from the exertions.

Finally, Jerry withdrew from Stacy and got to his knees. He fastened his trousers, then untied Stacy's ankles. He next untied the ropes that bound her hands, rolled her over in the bed of the truck, and tied her hands behind her back. He climbed out of the bed of the truck and pulled Stacy out after him.

"You still there, Bobby?"

"I'm here, you bastard!"

"Yeah, well, I just wanted to tell you that it's been fun, but all good things must come to an end. I've had enough of your bitch, Bobby. I'm done with her."

"Let her go! Please let her go!"

"No, Bobby, I don't think so. There's one more thing that you have to listen to. Get the picture, Bobby. She's naked. Her hands are tied behind her back. There's a stream real close. I'm going to take her over to that stream, and I'm going to let you listen while I hold her fucking head underwater and drown her! I'm going to let you hear that, Bobby boy!"

"NO! PLEASE NO! LET HER GO!" Robert Trimbull was screaming into the phone.

Stacy tried fighting, tried holding back as Jerry drug her towards the creek. "Please don't! Oh God please don't kill me! PLEASE don't kill me!"

Jerry had her to the creek and forced her to her knees. He grabbed her by the hair and began forcing her head towards the water.

'POLICE! TURN HER LOOSE!"

At the shouted command, Jerry spun around, pulling Stacy so that she was between him and the police. He pulled the pistol from under his belt and jammed the barrel against her temple.

"GET BACK!" he screamed. "I'll KILL he if you don't get back!"

Steve, Denise, Jerry Allen and Dan Reynolds were in a semi-circle in front of the rapist and his helpless hostage, their guns in their hands. Jerry Driscole's eyes blazed. "You can't stop me! You're not GOOD enough!"

Steve thumbed the hammer of his .357 Magnum back to full cock. He raised it in a two handed grip, closed his left eye, and lined up the sights. He took up the slack on the trigger.

Driscole saw the gun come up. "You shoot me, my gun goes off and blows her fucking head off!"

"Steve..." Denise whispered.

"One chance, mother fucker. Let her go." Steve's voice was icy calm.

"FUCK YOU!" Driscole screamed.

The .357 bucked in Steve's hand. The 125-grain hollow point bullet screamed across the short distance, hit Driscole in the centre of the forehead, mushroomed, and blew the back of his scull out as it knocked his lifeless body back into the creek.

Mrs. Trimbull screamed and collapsed to the ground as Denise ran to her, wrapping her arms around the terrified woman. Steve walked over to where Driscole had dropped the cell phone and picked it up.

"Mr. Trimbull? This is Sergeant Richards. Your wife is safe."

********************

Steve finished writing the reports on the shooting of Jerry Driscole. He leaned back in his chair and sipped at his coffee.

"Steve?" Denise said softly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, kid. What is it?"

"When Driscole had Mrs. Trimbull in front of him and his gun to her head, weren't you taking a big chance shooting him like that? I mean, his gun COULD have gone off, couldn't it?"

Steve grinned. "Not likely, kid. He had a Smith and Wesson .38. I noticed that the hammer was forward for double action fire, which gives the pistol a very heavy trigger pulls. No way would it go off just from his body jerking. Now, if he had cocked the hammer back for single action fire, I probably wouldn't have tried it because of the light trigger pull in that mode."

"I see. Always thinking, aren't you."

"That's what they pay me for, kid. Tell you what, I'm finished up here. Feel like stopping at Danny's for a drink?"

"Sounds good to me, Steve. Let's go."

********************

AUTHOR'S NOTE: People have fantasies, and there is nothing wrong with that. Read, write, join chat rooms and talk. But remember, rape is a heinous, despicable crime perpetrated by twisted, cowardly individuals against those who cannot defend themselves. If you have any inclination to cross the line between fantasy and reality, please, PLEASE seek counselling. The Rape Crisis Centre in your area can direct you to the appropriate place to get help.

References were made in this story to previous tales involving Denise Rhodes and Steve Richards. See "Natalie", Predators", "Dark Justice" and "Low Life's" for details.

LUCKYTOM44@HOTMAIL.COM