The Black Van
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The Popular Stories board houses stories that were able to convince the community by gaining a rating of 30 or higher. New stories are never posted here but have to earn their place here in the Public Stories board first. Other than that, there are no restrictions on the stories that might find their way here. Whether it's forced sex or consensual BDSM, a German short story or an English epic, all kinds of stories can join the hall of fame.
Please honor the authors and their stories who have provided the community with these classics with respectful comments and ratings. It's a simple thing that helps to keep the community alive and to motivate the authors to write more stories of such high quality for all of us to read. Thank you!
The Popular Stories board houses stories that were able to convince the community by gaining a rating of 30 or higher. New stories are never posted here but have to earn their place here in the Public Stories board first. Other than that, there are no restrictions on the stories that might find their way here. Whether it's forced sex or consensual BDSM, a German short story or an English epic, all kinds of stories can join the hall of fame.
Please honor the authors and their stories who have provided the community with these classics with respectful comments and ratings. It's a simple thing that helps to keep the community alive and to motivate the authors to write more stories of such high quality for all of us to read. Thank you!
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Grimnir
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Horsechoker
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Vile8r
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Re: The Black Van
I really liked this new chapter. The breaking-in of Lucy was done very well, especially the forced lesbian action with Jennifer.
"Lucy lay on her side, her hands bound behind her back with cable ties pulled so tight they were cutting into her skin. A wide strip of silver tape was stuck over her mouth, stretching from cheek to cheek, turning every cry into a stifled, nasal whimper."
Now, this is just me, but when you wrote this part, a nice touch would have been for David and Mark to have purchased a package of cable ties and a roll of duct tape when they were in the store, and have Lucy see them. Of course, she has no clue why the men are making such a purchase, and frankly, doesn't give a shit. Then later in the back of the van, as the men have grabbed her, she sees the duct tape and cable ties and now knows exactly why they bought those items!
Like I say, that's just me. I like little details like that.
"Lucy lay on her side, her hands bound behind her back with cable ties pulled so tight they were cutting into her skin. A wide strip of silver tape was stuck over her mouth, stretching from cheek to cheek, turning every cry into a stifled, nasal whimper."
Now, this is just me, but when you wrote this part, a nice touch would have been for David and Mark to have purchased a package of cable ties and a roll of duct tape when they were in the store, and have Lucy see them. Of course, she has no clue why the men are making such a purchase, and frankly, doesn't give a shit. Then later in the back of the van, as the men have grabbed her, she sees the duct tape and cable ties and now knows exactly why they bought those items!
Like I say, that's just me. I like little details like that.
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Shocker
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Re: The Black Van
Great second chapter, my in er eye kept conjuring up the images as drawn by Roberts. Small thing, for the minty fresh fuck, he possibly would have worn a rubber.
My collected stories can be found here Shocking, positively shocking
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LaLia
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Re: The Black Van
Chapter 3
While Jennifer was still licking Lucy, the two men still hadn't had enough. After a short break, David went behind Jennifer and thrust his now-erect penis into her pussy. Mark, meanwhile, had removed Lucy's gag and was fucking her mouth again as she trembled under Jennifer's tongue. Mark and David came again—David ejaculated on Jennifer's buttocks, Mark spread his semen on Lucy's face, before they tied the two women up again and left them lying there.
The next morning dawned; Mark and David had only slept a few hours. The cot was a mess of rumpled sheets, sweat stains, and dried semen. Lucy lay half-curled on her side, her legs still spread. Her body trembled in irregular spasms—the aftereffects of the mint, which still burned inside her, and the overstimulation, which didn't let up for a second. Jennifer lay beside her, her body no less exhausted. Both women were breathing heavily, panting, through their noses.
David wiped his chest with a dirty rag, tossed it aside carelessly, and lit a cigarette. The smoke curled upwards in the cold barn air.
Mark leaned against the van with his arms folded, eyeing the two women like cattle at a market.
"One of theme’s almost done for," he said quietly, nodding to Jennifer. "In a day or two, she'll be begging us to keep her. The new one..." He grinned crookedly. "She's still got fire. But that'll burn out eventually."
David took a long drag, blowing the smoke toward the two women. Lucy flinched as the smoke brushed against her.
"Should we keep her? Or..."
Mark shook his head. "Too risky. Two at once is already pushing it. The cops will start asking questions eventually, looking for the missing women. The young one works at that shop; they'll miss her there. Tomorrow at the latest."
David nodded slowly. "So, throw them away?"
"Or sell them," Mark said calmly. "Good price. Fresh stock, both still young, both still... malleable. Jacob always pays well for that sort of thing. And he doesn't ask many questions."
David chuckled softly. “Jacob. That old pervert. He took the redhead last time and ruined her in two weeks.”
“That’s exactly why he pays cash and upfront.” Mark pulled his cell phone out of his pocket—an old prepaid thing, no tracking, no contacts except the few that mattered. He scrolled through the few numbers, found the one with the name “J,” and pressed call.
It rang three times.
Then a rough, deep voice came on the other end. “Who’s this?”
“Mark. From Rick. Remember him? Rick from the asylum, cell 47, the one with the devil tattoo on his shoulder.”
A short pause. Then a low, appreciative grunt. “Mark… yeah. The one with a nice smile and the bad ideas. What do you want?”
“I might have some fresh stock for you. Two of them. A brunette, college girl, long hair, brown eyes, pretty much untouched. And a blonde, also a college girl, great ass. Both fit, both scream beautiful, both clean. No drugs, no diseases.”
Jacob laughed—a dry, coughing sound. “Two at once? You’re getting greedy, Mark.”
“Quality comes at a price. The brunette still has some fight left in her. You’d like her. The blonde… well, she’s a bit soft. You can take her as a bonus if you want the other one.”
“Price?”
Mark glanced at David, who gave a curt nod.
“75,000 for both. Cash. No questions asked, no questions asked. You pick them up, or we deliver, whichever you prefer.”
Jacob was silent for a moment. His breathing was heavy and thoughtful.
“The price is steep. But… I have clients right now who are looking for exactly this kind of thing. Fresh faces. Send me a video so I can get a sneak peek.” Jacob said.
Mark grinned. “You’ll get it right away.” Mark hung up, put his phone away, and turned to David.
“He’s biting. Let’s make them look nicer again. They should look like they’re in a catalog.”
David flicked away his cigarette butt. “And if he says no?”
Mark shrugged. “Then we’ll keep them for another week. Or we can do whatever we want with them and dig two holes in the woods. But I bet Jacob’s paying up.”
The barn had a small, partitioned-off side room—formerly a kind of laundry room, now just a concrete hole with rusty pipes, an old showerhead on the ceiling, and a drain in the middle. The floor sloped to allow the water to run off. The walls were covered in greenish mold, the air damp and cold. Exactly the right place to prepare "goods".
David and Mark had freed both women from their restraints—only their wrists remained in leather cuffs, now connected by a short chain that ran over two rusty hooks in the ceiling. Lucy and Jennifer hung side by side, their arms stretched high above their heads, their toes just touching the wet concrete. Both were naked, shivering, their skin already covered in goosebumps. The pink ball gag was back in Lucy's mouth, while Jennifer was wearing the red one again.
Mark turned on the tap. Cold water shot from the showerhead—a hard, needle-sharp jet that immediately crashed over their bodies.
Lucy screamed first—a high-pitched, stifled squeal through the gag. The water hit her like a thousand tiny needles, running over her breasts, her stomach, between her legs. She thrashed about, the chains clanging loudly.
"NO! STOP IT! PLEASE!!" She tried to scream, but only a muffled, nasal whimper came out.
Jennifer flinched as the stream hit her too. Her blonde hair instantly plastered to her head, water dripping from her nose. She let out a soft, resigned "Mmmph…" and turned her head away—to no avail.
David held the hose, guiding the stream with precision. First over Lucy's breasts—her hard nipples immediately tightened—then lower, directly between her legs. The cold pressure struck her sensitive skin like a blow.
Lucy arched her back, her legs jerking uncontrollably, trying to twist her hips away. The water penetrated everywhere, washing away the sweat, the semen, the remnants of the mint—but it still burned, cold and merciless.
Mark chuckled softly, stepped closer, and grabbed Lucy's chin, forcing her to look at him.
“Stop? But you’re far from clean, sweetie. Your new owner wants his pussy clean. Smooth, fresh, ready.”
He took the hose from David and turned up the pressure. The stream became a hard jet of water, almost like a pressure washer. He aimed it directly at Lucy’s clitoris—precisely, mercilessly.
Lucy’s whole body tensed even more, her muscles trembled, her eyes rolled back. Tears mixed with the water and streamed down her face. She thrashed about, but only hit air.
David went to Jennifer, grabbed her hips, and turned her halfway around so her backside was facing the stream. He pressed the showerhead between her buttocks, letting the cold water shoot directly into her.
Jennifer threw her head back, the gag rattling against her teeth. Her body trembled, her legs almost buckling—only the chains kept her upright.
"Look at this," Mark said to David as he continued to direct the stream at Lucy's most intimate area. "The new girl is totally freaking out. The blonde's practically taking it in stride. Just the way Jacob's guys like it."
David nodded and turned the tap up a notch further.
"Has to be clean. No dirt, no smell. They're supposed to smell brand new when he picks them up."
The stream traveled over their bodies—breasts, stomachs, thighs, back between their legs. Both women writhed, screaming into their gags, their voices growing hoarse and weak. The water cascaded incessantly, filling the room with its rushing sound and their stifled cries.
Mark eventually turned off the water. Drops fell from their bodies, forming puddles on the floor. Both hung limply in their chains, gasping and trembling, their skin red and sensitive from the cold pressure.
David stepped in front of Lucy, stroking her wet, swollen labia with a finger—she flinched as if electrocuted.
"Looks good," he murmured. "Smooth. Empty. Ready for the next one."
Mark retrieved two large, fluffy towels from a corner—probably the last clean things in here. They roughly dried the women, rubbing them over breasts, bellies, and between their legs until their skin burned.
"Now a little makeup," Mark said. "Red lips, emphasized eyes. Jacob likes it when they look like dolls before he breaks them."
David nodded and took Lucy's makeup from her small bag. They both applied their makeup: red lipstick that dripped over the gags, dark eyeliner smudged by tears, blush on their cheeks that looked like fever spots.
When they were finished, Lucy and Jennifer hung there—clean, made up, trembling, their eyes filled with panic and resignation.
Mark pulled out his phone and turned on the camera.
"Time for the video. Jacob wants a sneak peek. And to see how clean they are."
He pointed at Lucy first.
"Say hello to your new owner, bitch."
Lucy shook her head, tears streaming down her face again.
Mark grabbed her jaw.
"Say it. Or the hose comes out again. With hot water this time."
A stifled "Mmmph... pleee..." came through the gag.
Mark grinned at the camera.
“She’s shy. But she’s a quick learner.”
He turned to Jennifer.
“And this one… she’s almost perfect. Tell her, Jen. Tell her you’re ready.”
Jennifer closed her eyes, a soft whimper.
David laughed.
“Good enough. Let’s send it. And then we’ll wait for Jacob’s reply.”
Mark tapped send.
“Soon we’ll know if we’re going to be rich… or if we’ll keep her.”
Both women slumped there, dripping, made up, broken—waiting for what would happen next.
The heavy metal door of the barn flew open with a loud bang. Warm air rushed in, followed by three massive figures who immediately dominated the space.
Jacob led the way—a colossus of a man, his shaved head glistening in the light, a wide grin on his face. His massive body was encased in an open black shirt that stretched across his enormous belly; gold chains and a huge pendant swung with every step. Thick gold earrings flashed, and several rings glittered on his fingers, including a striking one with a large yellow stone. His skin was dark and glistening with sweat, and he moved with the confident inertia of a man who knew no one could contradict him.
Behind him were two companions: one wearing a baseball cap and hoodie, the other a thick gold chain around his neck—both tall, muscular, arms crossed, eyes watchful and cold. One carried a black suitcase, the other's hand rested loosely on his belt, as if ready to pounce at any moment.
Jacob stopped, surveying the scene with a slow, satisfied nod. His gaze drifted over the two naked women on the cot—Lucy and Jennifer, kneeling, bound, gags in their mouths, their bodies shivering with cold and fear. He laughed deeply and growlingly, patting his stomach.
"C'mon, loco gringo!" he roared toward the door before turning back to Mark and David. "Hey! Stupido! You call me, remember?!"
His voice filled the room like a rumble of thunder.
Jacob stepped closer to the bed, the old wooden planks creaking under his weight. His massive body cast a huge shadow over the two women. Lucy and Jennifer knelt side by side on the stained mattress, their knees pressed into the fabric, their hands bound behind their backs with cable ties. Their naked bodies still glistened from the cold shower water, goosebumps prickled their skin, their nipples hard with cold and fear.
Jacob stopped directly in front of them, his open shirt hanging wide, his large belly protruding, his gold chains clinking softly. He leaned forward slightly, grasped Lucy's chin with a large hand—thumb and forefinger digging into her cheeks, forcing her head up.
"Meet your new master, puta," he growled deeply, his breath hot and smelling of cigars.
Lucy tried to turn her head away, her eyes wide, tears immediately welling up.
Jacob laughed—a short, barking sound—and released her chin, only to immediately grab Jennifer's long blonde hair. He jerked her head back, arching her neck.
Jennifer let out a sharp, muffled sound, her legs jerking involuntarily as if she wanted to crawl away. Jacob held her fast, scrutinizing her face like a piece of meat at a market.
Her eyes filled with panic, her pupils tiny with terror. Jacob grinned wider, his yellow teeth flashing.
"Both of them…" he murmured with satisfaction, almost reverently. "Very nice, gringo. Very nice."
He let go of Jennifer's hair, patted her cheek roughly once—not affectionately, but possessively. Then he straightened up, his gold chains clinking, and turned halfway toward Mark and David, never taking his eyes off the women.
"I want both of them!!!"
His voice echoed through the barn, deep and definitive. He slapped the suitcase of money beside him with the flat of his hand—a loud, hollow thud.
"This way! You got the money?"
Mark nodded curtly, stepped forward, and opened the suitcase a crack—bundles of bills, neatly stacked. He glanced inside, nodded with satisfaction, and closed the suitcase again.
Jacob turned back to the women, spreading his arms like a game show host.
"Meet your new master," he repeated with a grin, this time louder, as if he wanted them to really understand.
Lucy and Jennifer flinched in unison, their bodies trembling more intensely. A final, desperate gasp escaped the gags before Jacob leaned forward, placing his hands on their shoulders—heavy, hot, relentless.
Jacob stood with his legs spread wide over the cot, his massive figure towering over Lucy and Jennifer. His cock stood out hard and heavy as he pulled his pants down to his knees.
He gripped each of Lucy and Jennifer by one arm, pulling them tightly against his hips so that their bare breasts pressed against his stomach. Lucy's long brown hair hung messily over her shoulders; Jennifer's blonde strands clung damply to her neck.
"MAAA... VERY NICE, GRINGO!" he roared triumphantly. "I'M GONNA RAPE 'EM BOTH RIGHT HERE!"
He shook the two women gently, their bodies wobbling helplessly. Lucy and Jennifer threw their heads back, eyes wide with panic, tears streaming down their cheeks.
Devastated sounds escaped through the gags, their stifled screams vibrating against the tape.
Jacob laughed loudly, deeply, and growlingly as he pulled the women closer to him.
Mark laughed and shouted, “Okay, but be quick about it! We’re leaving town now… You’ll have plenty of time later!”
Lucy and Jennifer trembled uncontrollably, their naked bodies pressed against Jacob’s massive frame, their eyes filled with sheer terror.
Jacob knelt heavily over Lucy, his bulky body casting an oppressive shadow over her slender frame. The blanket beneath her smelled musty with stale sweat and the whiff of semen—a stench that burrowed into her nostrils and wouldn’t leave. His skin was hot and moist, beads of sweat trickling from his bald head down his thick neck, dripping onto Lucy’s chest and mingling with her own tears. The scent of his aftershave—cheap, sweetish, like cigar smoke and musk—hung over her like a cloud, mingled with the sharp, animalistic scent of his arousal.
His cock, thick and throbbing, slowly penetrated her, stretching her brutally. Lucy felt every inch: the hot, hard flesh boring into her, the veins pressing against her inner walls, the burning as he thrust deeper until the pressure became almost unbearable. Her lower abdomen contracted spasmodically, a sharp, stabbing pain mingling with the overwhelming fullness. She could hear the soft, wet smacking sound each time he withdrew and thrust again—a disgusting, intimate noise that echoed in the silent barn.
Her cry was muffled by the gag, vibrating only as a high-pitched, low whimper in her throat. Saliva dribbled from the corners of her mouth, running warm down her chin and dripping onto her breasts. The strip of tape clung to her skin, pulling painfully at her cheeks with every desperate head movement. Her lungs burned, each breath coming in short, ragged gasps through her nose.
Jacob's hands gripped her hips like vises, his thick fingers digging into her flesh, leaving red marks. His nails were dirty, the pressure painful. With each thrust, his heavy belly slapped against her lower abdomen—a dull, fleshy sound, followed by the soft clinking of his gold chains. Sweat from his body dripped onto her skin, hot and salty, running between her breasts, tickling uncomfortably.
"WHAT IS THE PROBLEM, YOU LITTLE WHITE WHORE?" he roared, laughing, his breath hot against her face. “THIS BIG LATINO COCK TOO MUCH FOR YOUR PINK PUSSY?”
Jacob slowly withdrew, only to thrust back in—slower this time, savoring every millimeter. The wet slide was clearly audible, mixed with his deep, gurgling moans. “OOO-YEAH… BIG Jacob GOT YOU STUFFED FULL OF HARD BROWN LATINO DICK!! GO ON, WHITE BITCH! SCREAM… I LIKE THAT!”
She couldn't think straight anymore, only feel: the friction, the pressure, the heat, the weight crushing her. Jacob leaned forward, his tongue licking roughly once across her neck—wet, rough, salty. Then he laughed again, deep and filthy.
“I’MA GONNA TAKE YOU CUNTS HOME… AND ALL MY FRIENDS GONNA FUCK YOU!! OH!!”
He thrust deep one last time, coming with a long, animalistic grunt—and pumped hotly into her. Lucy felt every thrust, the twitch of his penis, the warmth spreading through her. Her body trembled uncontrollably.
Jacob lay on top of her for a moment, breathing heavily, then slowly withdrew. The wet sound of his slide out was sickeningly loud in the silence. He patted her thigh as if she were a pet.
"Good girl... now blondie's turn."
Jacob turned to Jennifer, who was still kneeling on the bed, trembling, her bound hands behind her back, her legs slightly spread. Her blond hair hung damp and disheveled over her shoulders.
He grabbed her arm roughly, yanked her forward, and pushed her onto her back. Jennifer landed hard on the musty wool blanket, her head hitting the ground slightly, her eyes wide with panic. Her legs twitched instinctively, trying to close, but Jacob immediately knelt over her, his massive body descending like a shadow. The scent of his sweat and cigars hung heavy over her, hot and oppressive.
He groaned deeply and rhythmically as he forced himself between her legs. With a hard thrust, he entered her—deep, relentless, all the way in.
Jennifer arched her back, a stifled whimper vibrating against the ball gag. Her legs flailed helplessly, tears instantly streaming down her cheeks, pooling in her ears, making everything wet and muffled. She could hear the wet, smacking sound each time he withdrew and thrust again—loud, disgustingly intimate in the silent barn.
He thrust especially deep, paused, letting her feel the full length—the hot throbbing, the pressure against her cervix.
Jacob laughed lewdly as he sped up the rhythm.
Lucy sat beside him on her knees, her eyes glazed with shock, unable to look away, her own body still trembling from what he had just done to her.
Then Jacob came again, his breath hitting her face, his semen filling her.
"Good girl… now we're all gonna take a ride to my place… and have a real party with you bitches, c'mon!!"
Mark and David had loaded their things into the black van: provisions for the trip, restraints and toys, of course the money, and some personal items. Jacob and his two companions had now taken charge of Jennifer and Lucy, locking them in the trunk of the large SUV—still bound and gagged, semen dripping from them with every step. "Okay, call the guys, rape party tonight," the two college girls heard Jacob say as the trunk closed.
Jacob and his companions drove off in their new toys, and Mark started the engine of the black van. "Where to?" he asked. David pointed to the map – Daytona Beach. "I know an abandoned house nearby. And its Spring Break right now..." he said. Mark gave a short laugh and nodded as they both finally removed their masks: "Oh yeah, 100,000 drunk college girls to choose from. „I like that," he said, and so they set off.
While Jennifer was still licking Lucy, the two men still hadn't had enough. After a short break, David went behind Jennifer and thrust his now-erect penis into her pussy. Mark, meanwhile, had removed Lucy's gag and was fucking her mouth again as she trembled under Jennifer's tongue. Mark and David came again—David ejaculated on Jennifer's buttocks, Mark spread his semen on Lucy's face, before they tied the two women up again and left them lying there.
The next morning dawned; Mark and David had only slept a few hours. The cot was a mess of rumpled sheets, sweat stains, and dried semen. Lucy lay half-curled on her side, her legs still spread. Her body trembled in irregular spasms—the aftereffects of the mint, which still burned inside her, and the overstimulation, which didn't let up for a second. Jennifer lay beside her, her body no less exhausted. Both women were breathing heavily, panting, through their noses.
David wiped his chest with a dirty rag, tossed it aside carelessly, and lit a cigarette. The smoke curled upwards in the cold barn air.
Mark leaned against the van with his arms folded, eyeing the two women like cattle at a market.
"One of theme’s almost done for," he said quietly, nodding to Jennifer. "In a day or two, she'll be begging us to keep her. The new one..." He grinned crookedly. "She's still got fire. But that'll burn out eventually."
David took a long drag, blowing the smoke toward the two women. Lucy flinched as the smoke brushed against her.
"Should we keep her? Or..."
Mark shook his head. "Too risky. Two at once is already pushing it. The cops will start asking questions eventually, looking for the missing women. The young one works at that shop; they'll miss her there. Tomorrow at the latest."
David nodded slowly. "So, throw them away?"
"Or sell them," Mark said calmly. "Good price. Fresh stock, both still young, both still... malleable. Jacob always pays well for that sort of thing. And he doesn't ask many questions."
David chuckled softly. “Jacob. That old pervert. He took the redhead last time and ruined her in two weeks.”
“That’s exactly why he pays cash and upfront.” Mark pulled his cell phone out of his pocket—an old prepaid thing, no tracking, no contacts except the few that mattered. He scrolled through the few numbers, found the one with the name “J,” and pressed call.
It rang three times.
Then a rough, deep voice came on the other end. “Who’s this?”
“Mark. From Rick. Remember him? Rick from the asylum, cell 47, the one with the devil tattoo on his shoulder.”
A short pause. Then a low, appreciative grunt. “Mark… yeah. The one with a nice smile and the bad ideas. What do you want?”
“I might have some fresh stock for you. Two of them. A brunette, college girl, long hair, brown eyes, pretty much untouched. And a blonde, also a college girl, great ass. Both fit, both scream beautiful, both clean. No drugs, no diseases.”
Jacob laughed—a dry, coughing sound. “Two at once? You’re getting greedy, Mark.”
“Quality comes at a price. The brunette still has some fight left in her. You’d like her. The blonde… well, she’s a bit soft. You can take her as a bonus if you want the other one.”
“Price?”
Mark glanced at David, who gave a curt nod.
“75,000 for both. Cash. No questions asked, no questions asked. You pick them up, or we deliver, whichever you prefer.”
Jacob was silent for a moment. His breathing was heavy and thoughtful.
“The price is steep. But… I have clients right now who are looking for exactly this kind of thing. Fresh faces. Send me a video so I can get a sneak peek.” Jacob said.
Mark grinned. “You’ll get it right away.” Mark hung up, put his phone away, and turned to David.
“He’s biting. Let’s make them look nicer again. They should look like they’re in a catalog.”
David flicked away his cigarette butt. “And if he says no?”
Mark shrugged. “Then we’ll keep them for another week. Or we can do whatever we want with them and dig two holes in the woods. But I bet Jacob’s paying up.”
The barn had a small, partitioned-off side room—formerly a kind of laundry room, now just a concrete hole with rusty pipes, an old showerhead on the ceiling, and a drain in the middle. The floor sloped to allow the water to run off. The walls were covered in greenish mold, the air damp and cold. Exactly the right place to prepare "goods".
David and Mark had freed both women from their restraints—only their wrists remained in leather cuffs, now connected by a short chain that ran over two rusty hooks in the ceiling. Lucy and Jennifer hung side by side, their arms stretched high above their heads, their toes just touching the wet concrete. Both were naked, shivering, their skin already covered in goosebumps. The pink ball gag was back in Lucy's mouth, while Jennifer was wearing the red one again.
Mark turned on the tap. Cold water shot from the showerhead—a hard, needle-sharp jet that immediately crashed over their bodies.
Lucy screamed first—a high-pitched, stifled squeal through the gag. The water hit her like a thousand tiny needles, running over her breasts, her stomach, between her legs. She thrashed about, the chains clanging loudly.
"NO! STOP IT! PLEASE!!" She tried to scream, but only a muffled, nasal whimper came out.
Jennifer flinched as the stream hit her too. Her blonde hair instantly plastered to her head, water dripping from her nose. She let out a soft, resigned "Mmmph…" and turned her head away—to no avail.
David held the hose, guiding the stream with precision. First over Lucy's breasts—her hard nipples immediately tightened—then lower, directly between her legs. The cold pressure struck her sensitive skin like a blow.
Lucy arched her back, her legs jerking uncontrollably, trying to twist her hips away. The water penetrated everywhere, washing away the sweat, the semen, the remnants of the mint—but it still burned, cold and merciless.
Mark chuckled softly, stepped closer, and grabbed Lucy's chin, forcing her to look at him.
“Stop? But you’re far from clean, sweetie. Your new owner wants his pussy clean. Smooth, fresh, ready.”
He took the hose from David and turned up the pressure. The stream became a hard jet of water, almost like a pressure washer. He aimed it directly at Lucy’s clitoris—precisely, mercilessly.
Lucy’s whole body tensed even more, her muscles trembled, her eyes rolled back. Tears mixed with the water and streamed down her face. She thrashed about, but only hit air.
David went to Jennifer, grabbed her hips, and turned her halfway around so her backside was facing the stream. He pressed the showerhead between her buttocks, letting the cold water shoot directly into her.
Jennifer threw her head back, the gag rattling against her teeth. Her body trembled, her legs almost buckling—only the chains kept her upright.
"Look at this," Mark said to David as he continued to direct the stream at Lucy's most intimate area. "The new girl is totally freaking out. The blonde's practically taking it in stride. Just the way Jacob's guys like it."
David nodded and turned the tap up a notch further.
"Has to be clean. No dirt, no smell. They're supposed to smell brand new when he picks them up."
The stream traveled over their bodies—breasts, stomachs, thighs, back between their legs. Both women writhed, screaming into their gags, their voices growing hoarse and weak. The water cascaded incessantly, filling the room with its rushing sound and their stifled cries.
Mark eventually turned off the water. Drops fell from their bodies, forming puddles on the floor. Both hung limply in their chains, gasping and trembling, their skin red and sensitive from the cold pressure.
David stepped in front of Lucy, stroking her wet, swollen labia with a finger—she flinched as if electrocuted.
"Looks good," he murmured. "Smooth. Empty. Ready for the next one."
Mark retrieved two large, fluffy towels from a corner—probably the last clean things in here. They roughly dried the women, rubbing them over breasts, bellies, and between their legs until their skin burned.
"Now a little makeup," Mark said. "Red lips, emphasized eyes. Jacob likes it when they look like dolls before he breaks them."
David nodded and took Lucy's makeup from her small bag. They both applied their makeup: red lipstick that dripped over the gags, dark eyeliner smudged by tears, blush on their cheeks that looked like fever spots.
When they were finished, Lucy and Jennifer hung there—clean, made up, trembling, their eyes filled with panic and resignation.
Mark pulled out his phone and turned on the camera.
"Time for the video. Jacob wants a sneak peek. And to see how clean they are."
He pointed at Lucy first.
"Say hello to your new owner, bitch."
Lucy shook her head, tears streaming down her face again.
Mark grabbed her jaw.
"Say it. Or the hose comes out again. With hot water this time."
A stifled "Mmmph... pleee..." came through the gag.
Mark grinned at the camera.
“She’s shy. But she’s a quick learner.”
He turned to Jennifer.
“And this one… she’s almost perfect. Tell her, Jen. Tell her you’re ready.”
Jennifer closed her eyes, a soft whimper.
David laughed.
“Good enough. Let’s send it. And then we’ll wait for Jacob’s reply.”
Mark tapped send.
“Soon we’ll know if we’re going to be rich… or if we’ll keep her.”
Both women slumped there, dripping, made up, broken—waiting for what would happen next.
The heavy metal door of the barn flew open with a loud bang. Warm air rushed in, followed by three massive figures who immediately dominated the space.
Jacob led the way—a colossus of a man, his shaved head glistening in the light, a wide grin on his face. His massive body was encased in an open black shirt that stretched across his enormous belly; gold chains and a huge pendant swung with every step. Thick gold earrings flashed, and several rings glittered on his fingers, including a striking one with a large yellow stone. His skin was dark and glistening with sweat, and he moved with the confident inertia of a man who knew no one could contradict him.
Behind him were two companions: one wearing a baseball cap and hoodie, the other a thick gold chain around his neck—both tall, muscular, arms crossed, eyes watchful and cold. One carried a black suitcase, the other's hand rested loosely on his belt, as if ready to pounce at any moment.
Jacob stopped, surveying the scene with a slow, satisfied nod. His gaze drifted over the two naked women on the cot—Lucy and Jennifer, kneeling, bound, gags in their mouths, their bodies shivering with cold and fear. He laughed deeply and growlingly, patting his stomach.
"C'mon, loco gringo!" he roared toward the door before turning back to Mark and David. "Hey! Stupido! You call me, remember?!"
His voice filled the room like a rumble of thunder.
Jacob stepped closer to the bed, the old wooden planks creaking under his weight. His massive body cast a huge shadow over the two women. Lucy and Jennifer knelt side by side on the stained mattress, their knees pressed into the fabric, their hands bound behind their backs with cable ties. Their naked bodies still glistened from the cold shower water, goosebumps prickled their skin, their nipples hard with cold and fear.
Jacob stopped directly in front of them, his open shirt hanging wide, his large belly protruding, his gold chains clinking softly. He leaned forward slightly, grasped Lucy's chin with a large hand—thumb and forefinger digging into her cheeks, forcing her head up.
"Meet your new master, puta," he growled deeply, his breath hot and smelling of cigars.
Lucy tried to turn her head away, her eyes wide, tears immediately welling up.
Jacob laughed—a short, barking sound—and released her chin, only to immediately grab Jennifer's long blonde hair. He jerked her head back, arching her neck.
Jennifer let out a sharp, muffled sound, her legs jerking involuntarily as if she wanted to crawl away. Jacob held her fast, scrutinizing her face like a piece of meat at a market.
Her eyes filled with panic, her pupils tiny with terror. Jacob grinned wider, his yellow teeth flashing.
"Both of them…" he murmured with satisfaction, almost reverently. "Very nice, gringo. Very nice."
He let go of Jennifer's hair, patted her cheek roughly once—not affectionately, but possessively. Then he straightened up, his gold chains clinking, and turned halfway toward Mark and David, never taking his eyes off the women.
"I want both of them!!!"
His voice echoed through the barn, deep and definitive. He slapped the suitcase of money beside him with the flat of his hand—a loud, hollow thud.
"This way! You got the money?"
Mark nodded curtly, stepped forward, and opened the suitcase a crack—bundles of bills, neatly stacked. He glanced inside, nodded with satisfaction, and closed the suitcase again.
Jacob turned back to the women, spreading his arms like a game show host.
"Meet your new master," he repeated with a grin, this time louder, as if he wanted them to really understand.
Lucy and Jennifer flinched in unison, their bodies trembling more intensely. A final, desperate gasp escaped the gags before Jacob leaned forward, placing his hands on their shoulders—heavy, hot, relentless.
Jacob stood with his legs spread wide over the cot, his massive figure towering over Lucy and Jennifer. His cock stood out hard and heavy as he pulled his pants down to his knees.
He gripped each of Lucy and Jennifer by one arm, pulling them tightly against his hips so that their bare breasts pressed against his stomach. Lucy's long brown hair hung messily over her shoulders; Jennifer's blonde strands clung damply to her neck.
"MAAA... VERY NICE, GRINGO!" he roared triumphantly. "I'M GONNA RAPE 'EM BOTH RIGHT HERE!"
He shook the two women gently, their bodies wobbling helplessly. Lucy and Jennifer threw their heads back, eyes wide with panic, tears streaming down their cheeks.
Devastated sounds escaped through the gags, their stifled screams vibrating against the tape.
Jacob laughed loudly, deeply, and growlingly as he pulled the women closer to him.
Mark laughed and shouted, “Okay, but be quick about it! We’re leaving town now… You’ll have plenty of time later!”
Lucy and Jennifer trembled uncontrollably, their naked bodies pressed against Jacob’s massive frame, their eyes filled with sheer terror.
Jacob knelt heavily over Lucy, his bulky body casting an oppressive shadow over her slender frame. The blanket beneath her smelled musty with stale sweat and the whiff of semen—a stench that burrowed into her nostrils and wouldn’t leave. His skin was hot and moist, beads of sweat trickling from his bald head down his thick neck, dripping onto Lucy’s chest and mingling with her own tears. The scent of his aftershave—cheap, sweetish, like cigar smoke and musk—hung over her like a cloud, mingled with the sharp, animalistic scent of his arousal.
His cock, thick and throbbing, slowly penetrated her, stretching her brutally. Lucy felt every inch: the hot, hard flesh boring into her, the veins pressing against her inner walls, the burning as he thrust deeper until the pressure became almost unbearable. Her lower abdomen contracted spasmodically, a sharp, stabbing pain mingling with the overwhelming fullness. She could hear the soft, wet smacking sound each time he withdrew and thrust again—a disgusting, intimate noise that echoed in the silent barn.
Her cry was muffled by the gag, vibrating only as a high-pitched, low whimper in her throat. Saliva dribbled from the corners of her mouth, running warm down her chin and dripping onto her breasts. The strip of tape clung to her skin, pulling painfully at her cheeks with every desperate head movement. Her lungs burned, each breath coming in short, ragged gasps through her nose.
Jacob's hands gripped her hips like vises, his thick fingers digging into her flesh, leaving red marks. His nails were dirty, the pressure painful. With each thrust, his heavy belly slapped against her lower abdomen—a dull, fleshy sound, followed by the soft clinking of his gold chains. Sweat from his body dripped onto her skin, hot and salty, running between her breasts, tickling uncomfortably.
"WHAT IS THE PROBLEM, YOU LITTLE WHITE WHORE?" he roared, laughing, his breath hot against her face. “THIS BIG LATINO COCK TOO MUCH FOR YOUR PINK PUSSY?”
Jacob slowly withdrew, only to thrust back in—slower this time, savoring every millimeter. The wet slide was clearly audible, mixed with his deep, gurgling moans. “OOO-YEAH… BIG Jacob GOT YOU STUFFED FULL OF HARD BROWN LATINO DICK!! GO ON, WHITE BITCH! SCREAM… I LIKE THAT!”
She couldn't think straight anymore, only feel: the friction, the pressure, the heat, the weight crushing her. Jacob leaned forward, his tongue licking roughly once across her neck—wet, rough, salty. Then he laughed again, deep and filthy.
“I’MA GONNA TAKE YOU CUNTS HOME… AND ALL MY FRIENDS GONNA FUCK YOU!! OH!!”
He thrust deep one last time, coming with a long, animalistic grunt—and pumped hotly into her. Lucy felt every thrust, the twitch of his penis, the warmth spreading through her. Her body trembled uncontrollably.
Jacob lay on top of her for a moment, breathing heavily, then slowly withdrew. The wet sound of his slide out was sickeningly loud in the silence. He patted her thigh as if she were a pet.
"Good girl... now blondie's turn."
Jacob turned to Jennifer, who was still kneeling on the bed, trembling, her bound hands behind her back, her legs slightly spread. Her blond hair hung damp and disheveled over her shoulders.
He grabbed her arm roughly, yanked her forward, and pushed her onto her back. Jennifer landed hard on the musty wool blanket, her head hitting the ground slightly, her eyes wide with panic. Her legs twitched instinctively, trying to close, but Jacob immediately knelt over her, his massive body descending like a shadow. The scent of his sweat and cigars hung heavy over her, hot and oppressive.
He groaned deeply and rhythmically as he forced himself between her legs. With a hard thrust, he entered her—deep, relentless, all the way in.
Jennifer arched her back, a stifled whimper vibrating against the ball gag. Her legs flailed helplessly, tears instantly streaming down her cheeks, pooling in her ears, making everything wet and muffled. She could hear the wet, smacking sound each time he withdrew and thrust again—loud, disgustingly intimate in the silent barn.
He thrust especially deep, paused, letting her feel the full length—the hot throbbing, the pressure against her cervix.
Jacob laughed lewdly as he sped up the rhythm.
Lucy sat beside him on her knees, her eyes glazed with shock, unable to look away, her own body still trembling from what he had just done to her.
Then Jacob came again, his breath hitting her face, his semen filling her.
"Good girl… now we're all gonna take a ride to my place… and have a real party with you bitches, c'mon!!"
Mark and David had loaded their things into the black van: provisions for the trip, restraints and toys, of course the money, and some personal items. Jacob and his two companions had now taken charge of Jennifer and Lucy, locking them in the trunk of the large SUV—still bound and gagged, semen dripping from them with every step. "Okay, call the guys, rape party tonight," the two college girls heard Jacob say as the trunk closed.
Jacob and his companions drove off in their new toys, and Mark started the engine of the black van. "Where to?" he asked. David pointed to the map – Daytona Beach. "I know an abandoned house nearby. And its Spring Break right now..." he said. Mark gave a short laugh and nodded as they both finally removed their masks: "Oh yeah, 100,000 drunk college girls to choose from. „I like that," he said, and so they set off.
Last edited by LaLia on Mon Mar 23, 2026 8:16 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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LaLia
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Re: The Black Van
Chapter 4
David and Mark had left Los Angeles with 75,000 euros in cash, carefully stored in hidden compartments of the black van. The van rolled east - Interstate 10, then 20, later 40 and finally 95 down to the East Coast. Destination: Daytona Beach, Florida. Spring break. Chaos. Thousands of drunk, half-naked college girls. The perfect hunting ground.
They spent the first few nights in cheap motels on the side of the highway - neon signs, squeaky beds, the smell of stale cigarette smoke and cheap cleaners. Sometimes they paid in cash, sometimes they simply parked off to the side and slept in the van with sleeping bags in the back. Once, somewhere in Texas, they stood on a dilapidated campsite, between RVs and campfires. They sat outside in the evening, beer in hand, and watched.
Always vigilant. Young women staggering to the car alone. Drunk guys running away from the group. Couples who argued and broke up. Potential targets everywhere. But they didn't take action. Too risky. Not enough time to prepare – chloroform, restraints, a safe place, a clean handover area. And above all: no buyer. Jacob had made it clear to them that they should only call the East Coast. A contact was waiting there who answered and paid. Until then: discipline.
Four days. Over 3,000 miles. Dusty rest areas, endless highways, gas station coffee, fast food packaging in the van. On the fourth evening they finally rolled into Daytona Beach. The city was pulsating. Bass boomed from cars, girls in bikinis danced on the roofs of convertibles, boys screamed from open hotel rooms, plastic cups everywhere, foam parties, police patrols that didn't accomplish anything.
Hotels? Fully booked. No problem. They parked the van on a side street two blocks from the beach, among other vans and SUVs. Windows closed, curtains drawn, air conditioning on level 2. They lay awake, listening to the distant laughter, the sirens, the ocean.
David lit a cigarette and blew the smoke through the narrow crack in the side door.
“Morning,” he murmured. “The real work starts tomorrow.”
Mark just nodded. Both knew that here, in this sea of hormones, alcohol and recklessness, they would find what they were looking for. The real hunt now began.
The next morning, it was hot and bright over Daytona Beach. Around 9 a.m., David and Mark rolled the black van into a half-full parking lot just behind the boardwalk—one of those dusty, unguarded places where pickup trucks and rental SUVs sat among palm trees and rusty streetlights. They parked backwards so that the tinted rear windows offered a clear view of the stretch of beach: wide stretch of sand, turquoise water, the endless line of umbrellas and bodies moving in the heat.
David got out of the van first, stretching as if he were just another tourist. He pulled two folding camp chairs out of the back and placed them behind the open sliding door so they sat in the shade of the van but could see everything. Mark stayed inside, binoculars already in hand - an old but sharp 10x50 model with a matte black housing. On the armrest were two large paper cups of cold coffee and an open bag of donuts. They seemed like two bored guys trying to kill the day.
For the first few hours they scanned systematically. A group of teenagers - maybe 16, 17 - giggling, taking selfies, wearing neon bikinis and playing way too loud music from a Bluetooth speaker. David just shook his head. "Too young. Too many cell phones. Too many friends who immediately notice when one is missing."
Then a couple in their early 20s who were constantly kissing and arguing - he was tall and tattooed, she was short and loud. Mark snorted. "Too risky. The guy looks like he's fighting. And she's probably screaming like crazy."
Women alone were more interesting. A brunette around 22 who went jogging with headphones on. A redhead is applying sunscreen alone while constantly checking her cell phone. They both made mental notes - good candidates, but nothing that immediately screamed.
Then, just after eleven, David's gaze slid across the sand and stopped.
Two women, perhaps in their mid-20s, coming out of the water next to each other. They walked barefoot through the flat foam, hand in hand, laughing about something. Both tall, confident, but relaxed. No cell phone in hand. No group waiting for them. No friend to pick her up. They spread out towels just a few feet from the water, lay on their stomachs next to each other, and began rubbing lotion on each other's backs.
David nudged Mark with his elbow.
"Binoculars. Now."
Mark took it, focused, followed David's outstretched finger.
“Holy shit,” he muttered after a few seconds. “The two of them… they’re… perfect.”
“Not too young, not too old,” David said quietly. "On the road together, but no one else with them. They look like they're traveling - not locals. And look at the bodies. They sell themselves."
Mark zoomed in closer. "Both have this... this aura. Like models, but not aloof. More... naive and trusting."
David leaned back and took a sip of cold coffee.
"No ring. No bracelets from any groups. No guy around. If we clean it up..."
Mark lowered the binoculars and grinned crookedly.
"...then we have two at once again. Double money."
David nodded slowly, eyes still focused on the two of them now lying next to each other, the sun on their skin, unaware.
“We wait for them to leave,” he said. "When the crowd thins out. When they're tired. Maybe when they're walking back to the parking lot alone."
Mark handed the binoculars back.
“These two,” he whispered almost in awe, “they are our jackpot.”
Through the binoculars they looked like two girls from a damn summer vacation commercial - young, bright, completely clueless.
The dark-haired one - Brooke, as they would later learn - was 22, with wild, wet curls that fell just past her shoulders and glistened in the sun. Her skin was the perfect caramel shade from the Tampa sunlight, tanned but not burned. The emerald, green string bikini fit like a glove: the small triangles at the front stretched over full, heavy breasts that bounced slightly with every step, the strings dug deep into the round hips and emphasized the flat stomach. She moved confidently, laughed loudly, threw her head back - the kind of woman who knew she was being stared at and enjoyed it.
Beside her, Ashley, 21, the blonde with sun-bleached, straight hair that reached just above her shoulders in soft waves. Slimmer than Brooke, but with just the right curves - narrow waist that flowed into round hips, long legs. The white bikini was classic, almost innocent: thin ties around the neck and back that shifted slightly with every movement, revealing more skin than it covered. She seemed softer, dreamier, smiled more shyly, but her eyes sparkled with excitement.
They had known each other for ten years - best friends since middle school, now attending the same college together in Tampa. Daytona Beach had always been just a two-hour drive away for her, and spring break. That was mandatory. A girl’s trip, as they called it. No boys, almost no rules, just sun, alcohol and freedom.
Brooke had just broken up with her boyfriend a few weeks ago - an argument that had escalated and she wanted to prove that she was better off without him. Ashley, on the other hand, had been with Steve for four years, loyal as a boy scout. She flirted a little - a smile here, a compliment there - but nothing more. Last night, however, Brooke struck: she went out with a cute guy from one of the beach bars and spent the night in his hotel room. Hot, wild, no regrets. Now, lying on the towels, she whispered every detail to Ashley - how he had pushed her against the wall, how they had both laughed afterwards. Ashley giggled, clapped her hand over her mouth, blushing but her eyes lit up. “You’re crazy,” she kept saying, “but I love you for it.”
They felt free, invincible, alive. Little did she know that less than 50 meters away two men were watching her through tinted glass, registering every laugh, every touch, every movement like hunters taking measurements.
The day dragged on. The sun moved westward, the crowd thinned out - the loud groups moved off to their hotels or to the next party, the beach became quieter. Around four o'clock, Brooke and Ashley also packed up. Brooke wrapped only a light, transparent skirt around her hips - red, semi-transparent, which revealed her long legs and the thong with every step. Ashley pulled a pair of tiny denim shorts over the bikini - skimpy, frayed, little more than a piece of fabric. With over 30 degrees and thousands of half-naked people, this wasn't noticeable. Bikinis were the uniform here.
They strolled across the sand, laughing, towels over their shoulders, flip-flops in hand. Brooke's red convertible - an old but well-maintained Mazda MX-5 - was parked in the parking lot, right in the second row, not far from the black van.
David and Mark sat motionless, engine off, window ajar. The van smelled of coffee, sweat and anticipation.
“They’re coming straight at us,” Mark muttered.
David just nodded, finger already on the ignition key.
"Stay cool. We'll wait until they get to the car. Then... timing."
The two women came closer, still giggling, still in their own little world.
David slowly started the car, drove off quietly, rolled right next to the red convertible and then...
The moment when everything tipped over came so quickly that Brooke and Ashley barely had time to comprehend the horror.
They had just reached their red convertible - Brooke threw the towels onto the passenger seat with a laugh, Ashley was still fiddling with her shorts and called out: "Hey, Brooke! I'm driving today!" Brooke grinned back, “Not!” – an old inside joke between them about who was driving. The sun was still blazing mercilessly, the parking lot was almost empty, only a few cars away and the black van that was suddenly much too close.
The sliding door flew open. A man in a black balaclava jumped out, a silver pistol in his raised hand. “Get in the van!” he shouted. His voice was muffled but sharp as a knife.
Brooke froze. Ashley turned around, eyes wide. "What the hell..." she managed to say before the masked man was with them. He grabbed Ashley from behind, yanked her back, pressed the gun to her head and his other hand over her mouth. “MMPHHH!!,” she squeezed out in panic, her legs kicking uselessly in the air.
“Ashley!!!,” Brooke shouted, throwing herself forward, wanting to help – but the second masked man – David – was already there, gun pointed at her. “Shut your face and get in the van!” he hissed. Brooke hesitated for a second too long. He hit her in the temple with the butt of his pistol, not hard enough to knock her out, but enough to stagger her. “Oh God…” she moaned as he grabbed her arm and threw her into the van.
Ashley was pushed in next, still with the gun to her head. The sliding door slammed shut. Brooke landed on her knees, hands immediately thrown behind her back. Coarse ropes tied around her wrists, tightening brutally until the blood throbbed. Her green bikini top was pulled up, the strings broke, fabric slipped to the side. Her breasts were exposed, the skin tingling with shame and fear. “Please don’t do this!” she pleaded, her voice shaking. “Let’s go!”
The masked man just laughed harshly. "You'll be lucky if I let you bitches live. So shut up!"
Ashley knelt next to her, also tied up, the white top already ripped and torn away. Her bottoms sat askew, the thin straps stretching over her hips. The man behind her - Mark - reached forward and tore at the fabric, completely exposing her. “Let’s see those cute titties now!” he growled and laughed ugly. “Ha ha ha!!”
Ashley screamed, "No! Please!!" Her body bucked, but the bonds held her in place, her hands useless behind her back. Tears streamed down her cheeks as the masked man grabbed her roughly, kneading her breasts as if they were goods.
Brooke tried to fight back, pulling at the ropes until the flesh turned red. "Stop! Please!" she shouted, but the man just laughed. The two women were now alone with their captors, tied up, half naked, helpless on the dirty floor of the van.
Brooke and Ashley were still kneeling on the dirty floor of the truck bed, hands tied tightly behind their backs, tops ripped or torn away. Their bodies were shaking, sweat beading over tanned skin, bikini bottoms were askew and out of place. The masked man behind Brooke - David - had just pulled the rope tight again until she gasped. Mark knelt in front of Ashley, holding her chin with one hand and studying her like a piece of meat.
But suddenly Mark froze and made a quiet “shhh” as he covered Ashley’s mouth. David did the same to Brooke, looking questioningly at Mark.
A woman in a police uniform got out of a patrol car that had just stopped next to them. Dark hair tied tightly in a ponytail, name tag “LOPEZ” on her chest, uniform trousers and a white shirt that stretched over her curves.
“Is everything okay here?” she called suspiciously, stepping closer to the open van. “I got an emergency call about a suspicious vehicle.”
David and Mark froze for just a second. Then they acted.
Mark jumped out first, the mask pulled low over his face, pistol already in his hand. "Heh heh... perfect!" he murmured. Lopez spun around – too late. His fist crashed into her face, a hard, well-aimed blow to the jaw. “UGCK!!,” she gurgled, blood spurting from her lip. She staggered and tried to reach for her weapon, but David was already there, grabbing her arm from behind and yanking it up.
Another blow, this time with the pistol butt to her temple. Lopez's eyes rolled back and she half slumped but was held upright by the two men.
“You have the right to remain silent, bitch!” David hissed in her ear as he pulled the handcuffs from her own belt – the police’s own shiny steel cuffs. “But only until we want to hear you screaming.”
Kate Lopez came to, just enough to spit and curse. “You damn…” – but Mark brutally stuffed a black ball gag into her mouth. “A-A-G-K-K!” she choked as David clicked the handcuffs around her wrists, brutally bending her arms backwards. She screamed into the gag, struggled wildly, kicked backwards - in vain. David also gagged Brooke and Ashley: Brooke with a piece of fabric from her skirt and a strip of duct tape that he stuck over her lips, Ashley with an old white rag that was lying in the van.
“I love girls who bring their own cuffs,” Mark laughed maliciously. "Ha-Ha!"
David ripped her shirt open, buttons popping away, revealing a black sports bra. Kate's eyes widened in anger and fear. Mark grabbed her by her hair and dragged her into the van. “Stuff this cunt in the van and let’s get the hell out of here!”
She was thrown in, landing hard on the floor next to Brooke and Ashley. Her uniform pants slipped, revealing more of her bottom. The two young women stared at her in horror - a police officer, her last hope, now bound and gagged just like she was.
Kate tried to rear up, screaming muffled into the gag: “Mmmphhh!!” David knelt over her and pressed the blade under her chin. "Shut up, Officer Lopez. You're coming with us. Three at a time - it doesn't get any better than that."
The van started moving now, doors slamming shut. Mark was at the wheel; David was in the back. Inside, only the whimpers of the three tied women, the deep laughter of the men and the monotonous hum of the engine that carried them from the beach.
Ashley knelt, arms drawn up, wrists secured to the ceiling of the van with crude chains. Her body was naked except for the slipped bikini bottoms that cut deep into her hips. Tears streamed down her face; the cloth gag sat tight between her teeth and only let out muffled sounds. Her head fell forward, blonde hair clinging to her cheeks and breasts, wet with sweat.
David knelt behind her, masked, pants open, pushing himself hard between her legs. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her backwards onto him, he thrust deep and brutally, pushing his cock deep into her pussy. “Ooooh yeah!” he grunted. Ashley reared up, a strangled "UH! UHHH!" pushed through the gag as he sped up, her breasts bouncing with each thrust.
Brooke had to see everything. She was crouched in the corner of the van and watched her best friend being raped. Officer Lopez was lying half on her side, still in her torn uniform - her blouse open. Her hands were secured behind her back with her own handcuffs; a ball gag was stuck deep in her mouth and only made gurgling sounds.
The van drove on, the screams becoming quieter, more muffled, until all that remained was the sound of the engine and the rhythmic slap of skin on skin. Mark drove the car through the streets of Daytona, grinning in the rearview mirror. There, David fucked Ashley harder and harder.
After some time they reached their destination: an old, abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. They left Kate lying in the van, which they had parked in one of the halls, but Ashley and Brooke dragged her into a bare room, the last of her clothes fell and Ashley was tied to a chair. David and Mark looked at their work and nodded with satisfaction - then Mark was left alone. He slowly took off his clothes; the black mask was all he had left on his body.
Brooke was hanging from a rusty pipe in the ceiling, her arms raised high above her head and secured with several layers of tape and rope. Her bare feet barely touched the dirty concrete floor. The green bikini bottom had long since been torn to the side and hung uselessly down one of her thighs. Her whole body shone with sweat, her full breasts rose and fell quickly, her brown curls clung wetly to her neck, shoulders and back.
Mark stood directly behind her, both hands gripping her hips tightly, fingers digging deep into the soft flesh. With one hard, jerky thrust he penetrated deep into her.
“C’mon CUNT!!,” he growled hoarsely. "I'm gonna FUCK your pussy FULL!! UUH!!"
Brooke screamed into the wide cloth gag that was firmly between her teeth and taped around her head. Her body arched, her shoulders shook, her bound arms pulled at the ropes
Mark pushed even deeper, even more brutally, pressing his abdomen firmly against her ass. "THAT'S RIGHT BITCH!! MMMHHH!!"
His thrusts became faster, harder, the slap of skin on skin filled the hall. Brooke's breasts bounced wildly with each impact, the hard tips dark against her sweat-soaked skin.
She screamed into the gag, eyes wide, tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping onto the concrete.
Mark laughed harshly, leaning closer to her ear. "You LOVE being FUCKED full of big COCK, don't you, SLUT? Hmmm?"
He roughly reached forward with one hand and cupped one of her heavy breasts, kneading it brutally, while with the other hand he held her hip even tighter and pushed himself deep into her.
Brooke shook her head desperately. Her whole body tensed, the muscles in her arms and legs trembled from exertion and overwhelm. Mark kept her pinned tightly, thrusting further, faster, more greedily - until only her muffled, ragged screams and his heavy, satisfied grunts echoed through the empty hall.
The van sat still in the darkened warehouse, the air heavy. Officer Kate Lopez lay on the dirty floor of the truck bed, her long black hair sticking damply to her face and neck, sweat and tears mixing on her cheeks. The handcuffs - her own - held her wrists brutally behind her back, the chain clanging with every movement. A ball gag was stuck deep in her mouth, the strap cutting into her cheeks, letting out only strangled, desperate sounds.
David knelt over her, masked, pants open, silver pistol in one hand. He pressed the cold muzzle of the gun firmly against her cheek while with his other hand he opened her pants, cut the white thong underneath and her bra with the knife, leaving her naked except for her torn uniform blouse. Then with his free hand he forced her legs apart.
“Now, you’re in MY jail, cop CUNT!” he growled close to her ear. "My PRISONER!! I'm gonna RAPE you, right NOW!!"
Kate's eyes widened in panic. She tossed her head back and forth, shouting into the gag: "NNNNNNN!!!!...STPPP!!!!...NN-NNNNNNN!!!!" Her body arched, the muscles in her stomach and thighs tense desperately, but the handcuffs and his weight kept her pinned.
David laughed harshly, carelessly tossed the pistol to the side and grabbed her by the hips. With brutal force he turned her onto her stomach, pulling her knees up so that her ass was in the air. The tattered remains of her uniform slipped further up, completely exposing her. With a hard grip he parted her cheeks, positioning himself behind her.
And thrust - hard and without mercy he fucked her ass. He panted, panted and enjoyed it for a moment, but then he changed positions.
"Now SIT ON IT!!! All the way IN!! FUCK yourself!!!"
He pulled her head back by her hair, forcing her to lower herself onto him. Lopez screamed in a choked voice, tears streaming down her face: "UUUUUUUHHHH!!!!... NNNNN!!!!... PLSSS!!!!" Her body shook uncontrollably as he pushed himself slowly, agonizingly deep into her pussy. The pain made her howl, a long, broken scream breaking through the gag.
David moaned contentedly and gripped her hips tighter, pulling her backwards on top of him until he was fully inside her. “That’s it, cop bitch… take it all…”
He began to move, hard, recklessly, each thrust causing her body to jolt forward. Her muffled screams became endless, desperate whimpers.
David just laughed: “My little prisoner cop… you’re gonna learn what real jail feels like.”
The van rocked slightly with each thrust, David didn't stop - he continued to take her, mercilessly, until only her strangled sobs and his heavy breathing filled the hall.
Ashley was now kneeling on the cold concrete floor. Her wrists were tied behind her back with coarse ropes that bit into her skin with every movement. She had seen one of the men raping Brooke while Ashley herself was still feeling the pain in her body.
The man - she didn't know his name or his face, just the rough, masked silhouette and the deep, mocking voice - grabbed her blonde hair like a handle and violently jerked her head back, removing the cloth that had previously gagged her. “Open WIDE!!!” he yelled, slapping her face lightly with the palm of his hand, just enough to force her mouth to open wide.
“Oooohhh… that’s it, whore!” he growled contentedly as he pushed himself deep into her throat. Ashley immediately gagged, her throat convulsing, but he held her mercilessly. "Lick my cock...right there! UUHHH yeah!" Saliva and tears ran in thick threads down her chin, dripping down onto her bare breasts. Her pink nipples were hard with cold and fear.
Choked sounds came from her throat as he thrust faster and faster. “I’m gonna cum in your pretty slut face!” he promised with a sadistic grin under his mask.
Ashley felt him swell, his grip on her hair tightening like a vice, she tasted Brooke's taste. Then came the hot gush – salty, sticky, unstoppable. He pulled back at the last moment and sprayed the thick strands across her cheeks, her lips, her closed eyelids. She gasped, coughed, tried desperately to breathe as the rest dripped down onto her chest.
But he was far from finished.
Strong hands dragged her up by her arms until she was standing half on her feet, half hanging. Behind her, the masked man laughed darkly. He stepped close behind her, grabbed the chain that ran between her wrists, and pulled it up taut, pulling her shoulders back painfully. Her back arched, her breasts pushed forward even more.
"LET US GO... PLEAAASE!!! NOOO!!," she pleaded, but the plea was lost in a strangled sob.
Ashley closed her eyes. She knew that the evening and the night would be very, very long.
Mark thrust again as his cock grew back to full size. Brooke hung in the same position, panting and crying.
David now came back with Kate, who he roughly threw onto the floor. His sperm ran out of her bottom and the young policewoman just whimpered. With a glazed look she looked briefly at Ashley and Brooke, she couldn't help them, they shared a common fate.
While Mark continued to fuck Ashley with wild animalistic thrusts, David lit a cigarette, took a sip and picked up his cell phone.
The phone rang three times before Gary answered. His voice sounded sleepy but alert.
“Yeah?”
"Gary? This is David. Greetings from Jacob from L.A."
A short break. Gary's tone immediately went from annoyed to businesslike.
"David. I've heard about you. What's up?"
David leaned back into the old office chair that stood in the damp basement room. There were muffled sobs and the sounds of bodies slapping together in the background - he had left the door to the next room open so Gary could hear.
"We have put together a small package for you. Three pieces. All young, all fresh, all... well almost unused. No junkies, no broken lives. Clean goods."
Gary whistled softly through his teeth.
"Three at once? That's brave. How fresh exactly?"
"Bagged today. Less than two hours ago. One of them is particularly... interesting. But more on that later."
"Price?" Gary got straight to the point.
David grinned in the darkness.
"I thought you would tell me what three top quality pieces are worth to you. Current market price, good condition, available immediately."
Gary laughed short and dry.
"Current market price? Boy, the goods are just floating around now. Borders are closed, but the smuggling routes are running like clockwork. I get fresh deliveries every week from Eastern Europe, South America, even a few from the States themselves. I'll tell you honestly: 75,000 for all three. That's pretty generous."
David let the silence sink in for a moment.
“So 75,000.” He sounded disappointed but not surprised. "And if one of them... let's say... had very special training? Uniform, service weapon, handcuffs on her belt when we catch her?"
Gary became quiet. That was a different tone.
“You have a policewoman?”
"Yep. Still in uniform. Name doesn't matter, but she's got the typical cop body - fit, disciplined, and just out of the academy, I guess. Panic in her eyes, but still, that look that says, 'I'll get you.' The guys are into it. Especially the ones with... special fantasies."
Gary took a deep breath.
"Shit. A real one? Not a fake costume?"
"Really. Badge, radio, everything. She was too curious. Service weapon is here on the table next to me."
At the other end of the line, David heard Gary lighting a cigarette. The click of the lighter was clear.
"Okay... that changes the situation. A policewoman is something else. They usually go for 40-50 alone. But three together, with one of them as a bonus..." He thought about it. “I’ll stick with 75. But if you want to beat the cop out extra, we can talk.”
David laughed quietly.
"No, Gary. All three in the package. And I want 100,000. Cash. No installment payments, no crypto games."
"100? You're crazy. I said 75, and that was nice."
"You're getting a fresh cop, Gary. Do you know how rare they are? Most disappear without a trace or turn up dead. A live, uninjured one who can still scream and fight? She'll easily fetch twice as much on the market if you market her right. And the other two are icing on the cake."
Gary puffed on the cigarette, blowing out the smoke.
"90. Last offer."
"100. My last word. You can come by tomorrow morning at nine. I'll send you the address via encrypted message. You bring the money, look at the goods, take them with you. We'll be gone."
Silence again. Then a long exhale.
“You’re a tough negotiator, David.”
"I have the goods. You have the money. It's fine."
Gary laughed quietly.
"Okay. 100. But if one of them has even a scratch or is high, I'll take down 20. Got it?"
"Clean like the first day. You'll be happy."
"Nine o'clock tomorrow. Send the coordinates. And David... if this is a trap..."
"It's not. Jacob vouches for me. And you know Jacob."
"Good. See you tomorrow."
The line clicked dead.
David put the cell phone on the table, turned around and looked into the next room. Three pairs of eyes stared at him from the darkness - panicked, pleading, angry.
He smiled.
"Tomorrow morning, ladies. Then you'll meet your new owner. But you're still ours."
He closed the door. The sobs grew louder again, muffled by the thick wood. He unzipped his pants and stepped behind Brooke, who just panted desperately as he penetrated her pussy again. Mark had just finished with Ashley - his cum was dripping out of her onto the floor, running down her inner thighs. With teary eyes she looked at Brooke, who was just as broken as she was. They knew there was no way out of this nightmare.
David and Mark had left Los Angeles with 75,000 euros in cash, carefully stored in hidden compartments of the black van. The van rolled east - Interstate 10, then 20, later 40 and finally 95 down to the East Coast. Destination: Daytona Beach, Florida. Spring break. Chaos. Thousands of drunk, half-naked college girls. The perfect hunting ground.
They spent the first few nights in cheap motels on the side of the highway - neon signs, squeaky beds, the smell of stale cigarette smoke and cheap cleaners. Sometimes they paid in cash, sometimes they simply parked off to the side and slept in the van with sleeping bags in the back. Once, somewhere in Texas, they stood on a dilapidated campsite, between RVs and campfires. They sat outside in the evening, beer in hand, and watched.
Always vigilant. Young women staggering to the car alone. Drunk guys running away from the group. Couples who argued and broke up. Potential targets everywhere. But they didn't take action. Too risky. Not enough time to prepare – chloroform, restraints, a safe place, a clean handover area. And above all: no buyer. Jacob had made it clear to them that they should only call the East Coast. A contact was waiting there who answered and paid. Until then: discipline.
Four days. Over 3,000 miles. Dusty rest areas, endless highways, gas station coffee, fast food packaging in the van. On the fourth evening they finally rolled into Daytona Beach. The city was pulsating. Bass boomed from cars, girls in bikinis danced on the roofs of convertibles, boys screamed from open hotel rooms, plastic cups everywhere, foam parties, police patrols that didn't accomplish anything.
Hotels? Fully booked. No problem. They parked the van on a side street two blocks from the beach, among other vans and SUVs. Windows closed, curtains drawn, air conditioning on level 2. They lay awake, listening to the distant laughter, the sirens, the ocean.
David lit a cigarette and blew the smoke through the narrow crack in the side door.
“Morning,” he murmured. “The real work starts tomorrow.”
Mark just nodded. Both knew that here, in this sea of hormones, alcohol and recklessness, they would find what they were looking for. The real hunt now began.
The next morning, it was hot and bright over Daytona Beach. Around 9 a.m., David and Mark rolled the black van into a half-full parking lot just behind the boardwalk—one of those dusty, unguarded places where pickup trucks and rental SUVs sat among palm trees and rusty streetlights. They parked backwards so that the tinted rear windows offered a clear view of the stretch of beach: wide stretch of sand, turquoise water, the endless line of umbrellas and bodies moving in the heat.
David got out of the van first, stretching as if he were just another tourist. He pulled two folding camp chairs out of the back and placed them behind the open sliding door so they sat in the shade of the van but could see everything. Mark stayed inside, binoculars already in hand - an old but sharp 10x50 model with a matte black housing. On the armrest were two large paper cups of cold coffee and an open bag of donuts. They seemed like two bored guys trying to kill the day.
For the first few hours they scanned systematically. A group of teenagers - maybe 16, 17 - giggling, taking selfies, wearing neon bikinis and playing way too loud music from a Bluetooth speaker. David just shook his head. "Too young. Too many cell phones. Too many friends who immediately notice when one is missing."
Then a couple in their early 20s who were constantly kissing and arguing - he was tall and tattooed, she was short and loud. Mark snorted. "Too risky. The guy looks like he's fighting. And she's probably screaming like crazy."
Women alone were more interesting. A brunette around 22 who went jogging with headphones on. A redhead is applying sunscreen alone while constantly checking her cell phone. They both made mental notes - good candidates, but nothing that immediately screamed.
Then, just after eleven, David's gaze slid across the sand and stopped.
Two women, perhaps in their mid-20s, coming out of the water next to each other. They walked barefoot through the flat foam, hand in hand, laughing about something. Both tall, confident, but relaxed. No cell phone in hand. No group waiting for them. No friend to pick her up. They spread out towels just a few feet from the water, lay on their stomachs next to each other, and began rubbing lotion on each other's backs.
David nudged Mark with his elbow.
"Binoculars. Now."
Mark took it, focused, followed David's outstretched finger.
“Holy shit,” he muttered after a few seconds. “The two of them… they’re… perfect.”
“Not too young, not too old,” David said quietly. "On the road together, but no one else with them. They look like they're traveling - not locals. And look at the bodies. They sell themselves."
Mark zoomed in closer. "Both have this... this aura. Like models, but not aloof. More... naive and trusting."
David leaned back and took a sip of cold coffee.
"No ring. No bracelets from any groups. No guy around. If we clean it up..."
Mark lowered the binoculars and grinned crookedly.
"...then we have two at once again. Double money."
David nodded slowly, eyes still focused on the two of them now lying next to each other, the sun on their skin, unaware.
“We wait for them to leave,” he said. "When the crowd thins out. When they're tired. Maybe when they're walking back to the parking lot alone."
Mark handed the binoculars back.
“These two,” he whispered almost in awe, “they are our jackpot.”
Through the binoculars they looked like two girls from a damn summer vacation commercial - young, bright, completely clueless.
The dark-haired one - Brooke, as they would later learn - was 22, with wild, wet curls that fell just past her shoulders and glistened in the sun. Her skin was the perfect caramel shade from the Tampa sunlight, tanned but not burned. The emerald, green string bikini fit like a glove: the small triangles at the front stretched over full, heavy breasts that bounced slightly with every step, the strings dug deep into the round hips and emphasized the flat stomach. She moved confidently, laughed loudly, threw her head back - the kind of woman who knew she was being stared at and enjoyed it.
Beside her, Ashley, 21, the blonde with sun-bleached, straight hair that reached just above her shoulders in soft waves. Slimmer than Brooke, but with just the right curves - narrow waist that flowed into round hips, long legs. The white bikini was classic, almost innocent: thin ties around the neck and back that shifted slightly with every movement, revealing more skin than it covered. She seemed softer, dreamier, smiled more shyly, but her eyes sparkled with excitement.
They had known each other for ten years - best friends since middle school, now attending the same college together in Tampa. Daytona Beach had always been just a two-hour drive away for her, and spring break. That was mandatory. A girl’s trip, as they called it. No boys, almost no rules, just sun, alcohol and freedom.
Brooke had just broken up with her boyfriend a few weeks ago - an argument that had escalated and she wanted to prove that she was better off without him. Ashley, on the other hand, had been with Steve for four years, loyal as a boy scout. She flirted a little - a smile here, a compliment there - but nothing more. Last night, however, Brooke struck: she went out with a cute guy from one of the beach bars and spent the night in his hotel room. Hot, wild, no regrets. Now, lying on the towels, she whispered every detail to Ashley - how he had pushed her against the wall, how they had both laughed afterwards. Ashley giggled, clapped her hand over her mouth, blushing but her eyes lit up. “You’re crazy,” she kept saying, “but I love you for it.”
They felt free, invincible, alive. Little did she know that less than 50 meters away two men were watching her through tinted glass, registering every laugh, every touch, every movement like hunters taking measurements.
The day dragged on. The sun moved westward, the crowd thinned out - the loud groups moved off to their hotels or to the next party, the beach became quieter. Around four o'clock, Brooke and Ashley also packed up. Brooke wrapped only a light, transparent skirt around her hips - red, semi-transparent, which revealed her long legs and the thong with every step. Ashley pulled a pair of tiny denim shorts over the bikini - skimpy, frayed, little more than a piece of fabric. With over 30 degrees and thousands of half-naked people, this wasn't noticeable. Bikinis were the uniform here.
They strolled across the sand, laughing, towels over their shoulders, flip-flops in hand. Brooke's red convertible - an old but well-maintained Mazda MX-5 - was parked in the parking lot, right in the second row, not far from the black van.
David and Mark sat motionless, engine off, window ajar. The van smelled of coffee, sweat and anticipation.
“They’re coming straight at us,” Mark muttered.
David just nodded, finger already on the ignition key.
"Stay cool. We'll wait until they get to the car. Then... timing."
The two women came closer, still giggling, still in their own little world.
David slowly started the car, drove off quietly, rolled right next to the red convertible and then...
The moment when everything tipped over came so quickly that Brooke and Ashley barely had time to comprehend the horror.
They had just reached their red convertible - Brooke threw the towels onto the passenger seat with a laugh, Ashley was still fiddling with her shorts and called out: "Hey, Brooke! I'm driving today!" Brooke grinned back, “Not!” – an old inside joke between them about who was driving. The sun was still blazing mercilessly, the parking lot was almost empty, only a few cars away and the black van that was suddenly much too close.
The sliding door flew open. A man in a black balaclava jumped out, a silver pistol in his raised hand. “Get in the van!” he shouted. His voice was muffled but sharp as a knife.
Brooke froze. Ashley turned around, eyes wide. "What the hell..." she managed to say before the masked man was with them. He grabbed Ashley from behind, yanked her back, pressed the gun to her head and his other hand over her mouth. “MMPHHH!!,” she squeezed out in panic, her legs kicking uselessly in the air.
“Ashley!!!,” Brooke shouted, throwing herself forward, wanting to help – but the second masked man – David – was already there, gun pointed at her. “Shut your face and get in the van!” he hissed. Brooke hesitated for a second too long. He hit her in the temple with the butt of his pistol, not hard enough to knock her out, but enough to stagger her. “Oh God…” she moaned as he grabbed her arm and threw her into the van.
Ashley was pushed in next, still with the gun to her head. The sliding door slammed shut. Brooke landed on her knees, hands immediately thrown behind her back. Coarse ropes tied around her wrists, tightening brutally until the blood throbbed. Her green bikini top was pulled up, the strings broke, fabric slipped to the side. Her breasts were exposed, the skin tingling with shame and fear. “Please don’t do this!” she pleaded, her voice shaking. “Let’s go!”
The masked man just laughed harshly. "You'll be lucky if I let you bitches live. So shut up!"
Ashley knelt next to her, also tied up, the white top already ripped and torn away. Her bottoms sat askew, the thin straps stretching over her hips. The man behind her - Mark - reached forward and tore at the fabric, completely exposing her. “Let’s see those cute titties now!” he growled and laughed ugly. “Ha ha ha!!”
Ashley screamed, "No! Please!!" Her body bucked, but the bonds held her in place, her hands useless behind her back. Tears streamed down her cheeks as the masked man grabbed her roughly, kneading her breasts as if they were goods.
Brooke tried to fight back, pulling at the ropes until the flesh turned red. "Stop! Please!" she shouted, but the man just laughed. The two women were now alone with their captors, tied up, half naked, helpless on the dirty floor of the van.
Brooke and Ashley were still kneeling on the dirty floor of the truck bed, hands tied tightly behind their backs, tops ripped or torn away. Their bodies were shaking, sweat beading over tanned skin, bikini bottoms were askew and out of place. The masked man behind Brooke - David - had just pulled the rope tight again until she gasped. Mark knelt in front of Ashley, holding her chin with one hand and studying her like a piece of meat.
But suddenly Mark froze and made a quiet “shhh” as he covered Ashley’s mouth. David did the same to Brooke, looking questioningly at Mark.
A woman in a police uniform got out of a patrol car that had just stopped next to them. Dark hair tied tightly in a ponytail, name tag “LOPEZ” on her chest, uniform trousers and a white shirt that stretched over her curves.
“Is everything okay here?” she called suspiciously, stepping closer to the open van. “I got an emergency call about a suspicious vehicle.”
David and Mark froze for just a second. Then they acted.
Mark jumped out first, the mask pulled low over his face, pistol already in his hand. "Heh heh... perfect!" he murmured. Lopez spun around – too late. His fist crashed into her face, a hard, well-aimed blow to the jaw. “UGCK!!,” she gurgled, blood spurting from her lip. She staggered and tried to reach for her weapon, but David was already there, grabbing her arm from behind and yanking it up.
Another blow, this time with the pistol butt to her temple. Lopez's eyes rolled back and she half slumped but was held upright by the two men.
“You have the right to remain silent, bitch!” David hissed in her ear as he pulled the handcuffs from her own belt – the police’s own shiny steel cuffs. “But only until we want to hear you screaming.”
Kate Lopez came to, just enough to spit and curse. “You damn…” – but Mark brutally stuffed a black ball gag into her mouth. “A-A-G-K-K!” she choked as David clicked the handcuffs around her wrists, brutally bending her arms backwards. She screamed into the gag, struggled wildly, kicked backwards - in vain. David also gagged Brooke and Ashley: Brooke with a piece of fabric from her skirt and a strip of duct tape that he stuck over her lips, Ashley with an old white rag that was lying in the van.
“I love girls who bring their own cuffs,” Mark laughed maliciously. "Ha-Ha!"
David ripped her shirt open, buttons popping away, revealing a black sports bra. Kate's eyes widened in anger and fear. Mark grabbed her by her hair and dragged her into the van. “Stuff this cunt in the van and let’s get the hell out of here!”
She was thrown in, landing hard on the floor next to Brooke and Ashley. Her uniform pants slipped, revealing more of her bottom. The two young women stared at her in horror - a police officer, her last hope, now bound and gagged just like she was.
Kate tried to rear up, screaming muffled into the gag: “Mmmphhh!!” David knelt over her and pressed the blade under her chin. "Shut up, Officer Lopez. You're coming with us. Three at a time - it doesn't get any better than that."
The van started moving now, doors slamming shut. Mark was at the wheel; David was in the back. Inside, only the whimpers of the three tied women, the deep laughter of the men and the monotonous hum of the engine that carried them from the beach.
Ashley knelt, arms drawn up, wrists secured to the ceiling of the van with crude chains. Her body was naked except for the slipped bikini bottoms that cut deep into her hips. Tears streamed down her face; the cloth gag sat tight between her teeth and only let out muffled sounds. Her head fell forward, blonde hair clinging to her cheeks and breasts, wet with sweat.
David knelt behind her, masked, pants open, pushing himself hard between her legs. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her backwards onto him, he thrust deep and brutally, pushing his cock deep into her pussy. “Ooooh yeah!” he grunted. Ashley reared up, a strangled "UH! UHHH!" pushed through the gag as he sped up, her breasts bouncing with each thrust.
Brooke had to see everything. She was crouched in the corner of the van and watched her best friend being raped. Officer Lopez was lying half on her side, still in her torn uniform - her blouse open. Her hands were secured behind her back with her own handcuffs; a ball gag was stuck deep in her mouth and only made gurgling sounds.
The van drove on, the screams becoming quieter, more muffled, until all that remained was the sound of the engine and the rhythmic slap of skin on skin. Mark drove the car through the streets of Daytona, grinning in the rearview mirror. There, David fucked Ashley harder and harder.
After some time they reached their destination: an old, abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. They left Kate lying in the van, which they had parked in one of the halls, but Ashley and Brooke dragged her into a bare room, the last of her clothes fell and Ashley was tied to a chair. David and Mark looked at their work and nodded with satisfaction - then Mark was left alone. He slowly took off his clothes; the black mask was all he had left on his body.
Brooke was hanging from a rusty pipe in the ceiling, her arms raised high above her head and secured with several layers of tape and rope. Her bare feet barely touched the dirty concrete floor. The green bikini bottom had long since been torn to the side and hung uselessly down one of her thighs. Her whole body shone with sweat, her full breasts rose and fell quickly, her brown curls clung wetly to her neck, shoulders and back.
Mark stood directly behind her, both hands gripping her hips tightly, fingers digging deep into the soft flesh. With one hard, jerky thrust he penetrated deep into her.
“C’mon CUNT!!,” he growled hoarsely. "I'm gonna FUCK your pussy FULL!! UUH!!"
Brooke screamed into the wide cloth gag that was firmly between her teeth and taped around her head. Her body arched, her shoulders shook, her bound arms pulled at the ropes
Mark pushed even deeper, even more brutally, pressing his abdomen firmly against her ass. "THAT'S RIGHT BITCH!! MMMHHH!!"
His thrusts became faster, harder, the slap of skin on skin filled the hall. Brooke's breasts bounced wildly with each impact, the hard tips dark against her sweat-soaked skin.
She screamed into the gag, eyes wide, tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping onto the concrete.
Mark laughed harshly, leaning closer to her ear. "You LOVE being FUCKED full of big COCK, don't you, SLUT? Hmmm?"
He roughly reached forward with one hand and cupped one of her heavy breasts, kneading it brutally, while with the other hand he held her hip even tighter and pushed himself deep into her.
Brooke shook her head desperately. Her whole body tensed, the muscles in her arms and legs trembled from exertion and overwhelm. Mark kept her pinned tightly, thrusting further, faster, more greedily - until only her muffled, ragged screams and his heavy, satisfied grunts echoed through the empty hall.
The van sat still in the darkened warehouse, the air heavy. Officer Kate Lopez lay on the dirty floor of the truck bed, her long black hair sticking damply to her face and neck, sweat and tears mixing on her cheeks. The handcuffs - her own - held her wrists brutally behind her back, the chain clanging with every movement. A ball gag was stuck deep in her mouth, the strap cutting into her cheeks, letting out only strangled, desperate sounds.
David knelt over her, masked, pants open, silver pistol in one hand. He pressed the cold muzzle of the gun firmly against her cheek while with his other hand he opened her pants, cut the white thong underneath and her bra with the knife, leaving her naked except for her torn uniform blouse. Then with his free hand he forced her legs apart.
“Now, you’re in MY jail, cop CUNT!” he growled close to her ear. "My PRISONER!! I'm gonna RAPE you, right NOW!!"
Kate's eyes widened in panic. She tossed her head back and forth, shouting into the gag: "NNNNNNN!!!!...STPPP!!!!...NN-NNNNNNN!!!!" Her body arched, the muscles in her stomach and thighs tense desperately, but the handcuffs and his weight kept her pinned.
David laughed harshly, carelessly tossed the pistol to the side and grabbed her by the hips. With brutal force he turned her onto her stomach, pulling her knees up so that her ass was in the air. The tattered remains of her uniform slipped further up, completely exposing her. With a hard grip he parted her cheeks, positioning himself behind her.
And thrust - hard and without mercy he fucked her ass. He panted, panted and enjoyed it for a moment, but then he changed positions.
"Now SIT ON IT!!! All the way IN!! FUCK yourself!!!"
He pulled her head back by her hair, forcing her to lower herself onto him. Lopez screamed in a choked voice, tears streaming down her face: "UUUUUUUHHHH!!!!... NNNNN!!!!... PLSSS!!!!" Her body shook uncontrollably as he pushed himself slowly, agonizingly deep into her pussy. The pain made her howl, a long, broken scream breaking through the gag.
David moaned contentedly and gripped her hips tighter, pulling her backwards on top of him until he was fully inside her. “That’s it, cop bitch… take it all…”
He began to move, hard, recklessly, each thrust causing her body to jolt forward. Her muffled screams became endless, desperate whimpers.
David just laughed: “My little prisoner cop… you’re gonna learn what real jail feels like.”
The van rocked slightly with each thrust, David didn't stop - he continued to take her, mercilessly, until only her strangled sobs and his heavy breathing filled the hall.
Ashley was now kneeling on the cold concrete floor. Her wrists were tied behind her back with coarse ropes that bit into her skin with every movement. She had seen one of the men raping Brooke while Ashley herself was still feeling the pain in her body.
The man - she didn't know his name or his face, just the rough, masked silhouette and the deep, mocking voice - grabbed her blonde hair like a handle and violently jerked her head back, removing the cloth that had previously gagged her. “Open WIDE!!!” he yelled, slapping her face lightly with the palm of his hand, just enough to force her mouth to open wide.
“Oooohhh… that’s it, whore!” he growled contentedly as he pushed himself deep into her throat. Ashley immediately gagged, her throat convulsing, but he held her mercilessly. "Lick my cock...right there! UUHHH yeah!" Saliva and tears ran in thick threads down her chin, dripping down onto her bare breasts. Her pink nipples were hard with cold and fear.
Choked sounds came from her throat as he thrust faster and faster. “I’m gonna cum in your pretty slut face!” he promised with a sadistic grin under his mask.
Ashley felt him swell, his grip on her hair tightening like a vice, she tasted Brooke's taste. Then came the hot gush – salty, sticky, unstoppable. He pulled back at the last moment and sprayed the thick strands across her cheeks, her lips, her closed eyelids. She gasped, coughed, tried desperately to breathe as the rest dripped down onto her chest.
But he was far from finished.
Strong hands dragged her up by her arms until she was standing half on her feet, half hanging. Behind her, the masked man laughed darkly. He stepped close behind her, grabbed the chain that ran between her wrists, and pulled it up taut, pulling her shoulders back painfully. Her back arched, her breasts pushed forward even more.
"LET US GO... PLEAAASE!!! NOOO!!," she pleaded, but the plea was lost in a strangled sob.
Ashley closed her eyes. She knew that the evening and the night would be very, very long.
Mark thrust again as his cock grew back to full size. Brooke hung in the same position, panting and crying.
David now came back with Kate, who he roughly threw onto the floor. His sperm ran out of her bottom and the young policewoman just whimpered. With a glazed look she looked briefly at Ashley and Brooke, she couldn't help them, they shared a common fate.
While Mark continued to fuck Ashley with wild animalistic thrusts, David lit a cigarette, took a sip and picked up his cell phone.
The phone rang three times before Gary answered. His voice sounded sleepy but alert.
“Yeah?”
"Gary? This is David. Greetings from Jacob from L.A."
A short break. Gary's tone immediately went from annoyed to businesslike.
"David. I've heard about you. What's up?"
David leaned back into the old office chair that stood in the damp basement room. There were muffled sobs and the sounds of bodies slapping together in the background - he had left the door to the next room open so Gary could hear.
"We have put together a small package for you. Three pieces. All young, all fresh, all... well almost unused. No junkies, no broken lives. Clean goods."
Gary whistled softly through his teeth.
"Three at once? That's brave. How fresh exactly?"
"Bagged today. Less than two hours ago. One of them is particularly... interesting. But more on that later."
"Price?" Gary got straight to the point.
David grinned in the darkness.
"I thought you would tell me what three top quality pieces are worth to you. Current market price, good condition, available immediately."
Gary laughed short and dry.
"Current market price? Boy, the goods are just floating around now. Borders are closed, but the smuggling routes are running like clockwork. I get fresh deliveries every week from Eastern Europe, South America, even a few from the States themselves. I'll tell you honestly: 75,000 for all three. That's pretty generous."
David let the silence sink in for a moment.
“So 75,000.” He sounded disappointed but not surprised. "And if one of them... let's say... had very special training? Uniform, service weapon, handcuffs on her belt when we catch her?"
Gary became quiet. That was a different tone.
“You have a policewoman?”
"Yep. Still in uniform. Name doesn't matter, but she's got the typical cop body - fit, disciplined, and just out of the academy, I guess. Panic in her eyes, but still, that look that says, 'I'll get you.' The guys are into it. Especially the ones with... special fantasies."
Gary took a deep breath.
"Shit. A real one? Not a fake costume?"
"Really. Badge, radio, everything. She was too curious. Service weapon is here on the table next to me."
At the other end of the line, David heard Gary lighting a cigarette. The click of the lighter was clear.
"Okay... that changes the situation. A policewoman is something else. They usually go for 40-50 alone. But three together, with one of them as a bonus..." He thought about it. “I’ll stick with 75. But if you want to beat the cop out extra, we can talk.”
David laughed quietly.
"No, Gary. All three in the package. And I want 100,000. Cash. No installment payments, no crypto games."
"100? You're crazy. I said 75, and that was nice."
"You're getting a fresh cop, Gary. Do you know how rare they are? Most disappear without a trace or turn up dead. A live, uninjured one who can still scream and fight? She'll easily fetch twice as much on the market if you market her right. And the other two are icing on the cake."
Gary puffed on the cigarette, blowing out the smoke.
"90. Last offer."
"100. My last word. You can come by tomorrow morning at nine. I'll send you the address via encrypted message. You bring the money, look at the goods, take them with you. We'll be gone."
Silence again. Then a long exhale.
“You’re a tough negotiator, David.”
"I have the goods. You have the money. It's fine."
Gary laughed quietly.
"Okay. 100. But if one of them has even a scratch or is high, I'll take down 20. Got it?"
"Clean like the first day. You'll be happy."
"Nine o'clock tomorrow. Send the coordinates. And David... if this is a trap..."
"It's not. Jacob vouches for me. And you know Jacob."
"Good. See you tomorrow."
The line clicked dead.
David put the cell phone on the table, turned around and looked into the next room. Three pairs of eyes stared at him from the darkness - panicked, pleading, angry.
He smiled.
"Tomorrow morning, ladies. Then you'll meet your new owner. But you're still ours."
He closed the door. The sobs grew louder again, muffled by the thick wood. He unzipped his pants and stepped behind Brooke, who just panted desperately as he penetrated her pussy again. Mark had just finished with Ashley - his cum was dripping out of her onto the floor, running down her inner thighs. With teary eyes she looked at Brooke, who was just as broken as she was. They knew there was no way out of this nightmare.
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Shocker
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Re: The Black Van
Excellent chapter, always adds spice throwing a cop into the mix. It might raise the heat on the boys as well, as there is a higher degree of solidarity between law enforcement officers.
My collected stories can be found here Shocking, positively shocking
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Grimnir
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Re: The Black Van
Clearly the gas prices are not the only things rising in and around the Black Van. Please keep the story rolling for a long time.
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Interception
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Re: The Black Van
Oh yeah, dofantasy comics are great, and it's a fantastic idea to write a story based on a comic. The Black Van series is a good choice for that, and the home invasion episode should be coming soon, right? You're welcome to write more stories based on other dofantasy comics after that; there are lots of possibilities.
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Overdose
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Re: The Black Van
I actually like this better than the original comic. I’m surprised it works so well.