Lurayn County Blues

[SoftGameHunter]

Teaser: The kind-hearted northerner finds southern inhospitality runs to the sexually violent side, and men of any race have the advantage. When our hero finds a young gang-raped black girl in his yard, will he be a gentleman, or dip his toe into forbidden waters of abuse and exploitation?
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
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Title: Lurayn County Blues
Author: SoftGameHunter
Content Warnings: This is a racial story. There is racist language depicted and portrayed, and not just the kind directed at the victim girl. The warnings above about not endorsing this sort of thing are repeated here for emphasis. It's just for the sake of the story.

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Lurayn County Blues

I wasn’t even awake yet, and the sun wasn’t up. It was still cool despite the scorcher forecast for later. I wanted to stay asleep, and the sound of a hose running didn’t initially bug me enough until the waking part of my mind realized it was in my backyard. And since no one else lived here, it meant someone was in my yard using my hose.

I got up and peered out the window. And there she was. Some black girl, teenaged maybe, or older. She was stark naked, with her hair all disheveled, using my garden hose to douche herself. She was wobbly and fumbling, but she had the nozzle stuffed right up her pussy and was power washing herself, maybe crying a little too. Well, who wouldn’t? That had to hurt. But still, like everything else down in this armpit part of America, that water was expensive. So I threw on some shorts, grabbed the shotgun, and burst out the backdoor to confront the girl.

“Hey, bitch, what the fuck are you doing here?” I shouted.

She screamed and dropped the hose, but it continued to spray water all over her until she picked it back up and turned it off. Now she stood there staring at the barrel pointed at her. “Who the fuck are you?” she asked. Oh, she was a genius.

“I live here!”

“No, this is Tamara’s house,” she protested. “Uh, isn’t it?”

“Maybe it was, but I live here now.”

“Well I need your hose, then, sir. I got to clean myself out.” Wow. She addressed me as sir, but with no respect at all beyond that of the shotgun. Though it was pretty clear to me that I wouldn’t need it for this girl. I was starting to get the picture.

“Yeah? What happened to you? Get a little gang banged up and lost your clothes partying?”

“Yeah, I was gang raped, what of it? I wasn’t partying none, though.”

“Good for you,” I said. Now I was feeling kind of bad. Assuming she wasn’t lying her ass off, it had to be rough, getting gang raped and dumped somewhere, naked, with cum dripping out her pussy. “Alright, go ahead and clean yourself up. Then get the hell out of here.”

“Can you give me a lift, sir? It’s only over to Sycamore. I don’t want to walk around naked no more, and it’s a mile away.”

“Sycamore? There’s no Sycamore around here,” I said. I was pretty sure there wasn’t, though I was still quite new in town.

“Take Broad to Third and then take a left,” she said. “It ain’t hard.”

“None of those streets are around here, except Third, but it’s downtown.”

Now she looked confused. “This is Shippsville, right?”

“Shippsville? This is Bowler. You’re off by thirty miles.”

“Bowler?” She held her hands to her face trying to process it. “Those bastards! They drove me all over! I thought this was Tamara’s house.” Now she stared at my back wall in the growing daylight. “I guess it ain’t.”

“If you thought it was her house, why didn’t you knock and ask to come in?”

“She’s not home today and I didn’t want to wake her parents. Oh lord, I’m in Bowler! How am I getting home from here? I can’t walk naked for thirty miles!”

Actually, she could. I knew the history of Lurayn County as well as anyone, and naked raped girls walked home town to town with startling frequency here. “Well, go ahead and finish cleaning your cootchie then, girl. I won’t stop you. You’ve got a long walk ahead of you, so take a long drink before you leave.”

She slowly picked up the hose and shove the nozzle back into her cunt. It was set to a finer spray rather than a hard stream, but she still winced as she washed out whatever cum remained. I stood there, watching her. She tried to face away, but there’s only so much a girl can do to hide her modesty when she’s stark naked and douching with a garden hose in the backyard. She also cleaned out her ass crack, though she didn’t stick the nozzle up her anus.

“You ain’t really gonna make me walk back to Shippsville all naked like this, are you sir?”

“I’m not making you do anything except leave. I’m not taking an hour to drive you across the county. If you want help, go to the police and report the rape.”

“Bowler police? You serious, sir? Wow, you are serious. I guess you really are new to these parts.”

“Just get out of here, girl. I’m not your guardian angel. So scram.”

She dropped the hose, still running, and flipped me off with both hands. “Fine, asshole, I’m leaving. Fuck you!” She walked out the gate, leaving me to shut off the water. Well, good riddance. At least I got to see a naked girl humiliating herself. That was worth the water. I went back inside and started a coffee pot. I figured I may as well get up and get dressed.

It was maybe an hour later when there was a furious pounding on my front door. Now my guard was up. It had to involve the girl. Maybe she had some angry brothers coming by to teach the honky a lesson about being mean to their sister. I made sure to keep one hand gripping a revolver behind the front door as I opened it.

And there she was. The girl. Still naked, and very much alone. She was crying and looked like someone had roughed her up some more. “Please, sir, you got to let me in! I ain’t got no other friends in Bowler.”

“You don’t have this one either, but come on in I guess.” She stumbled in and I saw more cum on her thighs. Tough break. I guess she wasn’t able to get to a safe zone for black girls. Probably Bowler wasn’t a safe zone for black girls anyway.

“Thanks,” she said, beelining for my sofa.

“Hey, don’t sit that nasty ass on my furniture!” I shouted. She shrank back like she was hit.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Oh hell, go shower. That way,” I said, pointing down the hall. She shambled down the hall and into the bathroom. I heard the shower running and figured she was getting properly cleaned up. She was also washing off the evidence, but that wasn’t my problem. Odds are she wouldn’t report her rapes.

While she cleaned up I hopped on the computer to refresh my memory about this odd little bastion of weirdness.

Lurayn County, Mississippi, a racial hothouse of pent-up frustrations with one of the weirdest skewed crime rate patterns in the world. The murder rate all around is one of the lowest of any county in America. Even property crimes are modest for a rural county with a high poverty rate. But sex crimes are a different matter. For lack of a better description, all racial tensions in Lurayn county were playing out in a proxy war against the women here. The girl in my shower was almost certainly assaulted by groups of white men, and they would probably get away with it. She didn’t even seem to consider reporting her assault, and it made sense. The rape conviction rate in Lurayn was low by national standards, but considering the rate for white-on-black or black-on-white, the conviction rate was more of a theoretical concept than an actual number. White men could rape white women with reasonable chances of getting away with it. Black men could rape black women also remaining fairly sure of escaping justice. But white men could rape the black girls with near impunity, and surprisingly the black men could so the same against the white women with almost no chance of being arrested.

Instead, they just raped each other’s women in escalating vendettas. When the girl in my shower got home, her circle would know what happened and go find some white chick to take vengeance on. And so it would go, and so it would go. The annual rape rate in Lurayn County was a staggering thirteen thousand per hundred thousand, ninety percent of it interracial.

So it begged the question – what to do about that black girl in my shower. She was young and hot. She was slender of build, about five foot six, nicely large tits, quite shapely overall, and a pretty face too. If I raped her she would just brush it off as a lesson in trusting newcomers. I had nothing to lose but some self-respect, and what had that gotten me so far? Still, I wasn’t local and it was a big step.

She came out after a little while, wrapped in a towel. I spoke without thinking. “I didn’t say you could borrow a towel.” I snapped at her, sounding more annoyed than I actually was. She stood there, stopped cold by my tone. But she unhooked it and pulled the towel off her naked body.

“Sorry, sir,” she said. “I just thought… Sorry.”

“Alright, what the hell am I going to have to do to get rid of you?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t want to ruin your day. I just, I was almost out of town and some men came and picked me up in their truck and drove me to a barn and raped me shitless again. I only came back here cause I didn’t know where else to try going. I ain’t never gonna walk out of here in daylight. I’m hungry and tired and I don’t know what to do!”

“I know how it goes around here, girl. What do girls in your place usually do?”

“They don’t do nothing! They fail. We all done it, most of us, crawling home in the dark and taking days to recover. But now I’m four towns over, and I ain’t got some secret method. I just wants to get home!”

Oh hell. I guess nice guys do finish last. “Alright, let’s go. I’ll drive you I guess. What the hell, it’s not like I wanted a Saturday morning to relax or anything.”

“You’re gonna drive me home?” She was a bright one. “Oh, thanks you, sir.”

At least she was clean so I could put her naked ass on my car seat. We hit the road. She didn’t talk much, and for that I was glad. Maybe it was the gang rapes, but the girl seemed to have the IQ of a porchlight. In my car, she was safe from being picked up. We were twenty-five miles along before the smooth plan fell apart.

We were on Haymoore Road, which was pretty remote and wooded, when I almost had to veer off the road to avoid hitting a woman that ran out into the street right in front of me. The ABS brakes kicked on and I ground to fast halt on the shoulder. And then I took in the scene.

Two pickup trucks. One white girl. About ten black men that I could see. They’d pulled her all of thirty feet off the road to have their time with her. She’d probably gotten loose for all of five seconds when she ran into my path, and by the time I came to a stop they had her again.

Her white skin didn’t hide her bruises. She was a blonde, though her hair was limp and matted now, and dirt was crusted on her sweaty body from her time on the ground under them. Now, though, several of the men were standing in my way. I wasn’t going to run them over if I didn’t have to, but this wasn’t good. Ten of them with a naked white girl, and one of me with a naked black girl.

“Hey, it’s Shailyn,” one of them yelled to the others as he stared into my passenger seat. Now the others shuffled over, still holding onto their girl. Now her hands were tied behind her back and she stood shakily between two of them, still crying, still hurting.

So her name was Shailyn. The guys knew her, apparently. We were almost to her hometown, Shippsville, so it made sense.

“Get out of the car, cracker!” one of them yelled. This was bad. I knew the stats. I probably wasn’t in danger of life and limb. Probably. But they were right there and I was alone with one of their girls.

But Shailyn got out first. “No, Rodney, he’s just giving me a ride home.”

“This limp white boy?”

“He’s some northerner. It’s cool.”

Now I got out. It seemed I was likely to live. “Rodney, is it?” I asked. “She was in my backyard in Bowler. I’m getting her home. You want her, you can have her. In fact, I’ll trade you, man to man. I’ll take her,” I said, pointing to the white girl, “And you take Shailyn. Deal?”

It was no deal. They didn’t have to give me anything. I took the chance, but it seemed to work. “We all got her pussy,” one of the men said. “Let’s just go.”

“Yeah, alright. Come on, Shailyn. You ain’t decent, running around all naked like that.”

“Sorry,” she muttered. She walked away from the car, and the men shoved the white girl to the road where she lay sobbing and shaking. I didn’t move until they all got in their pickups and drove off, onward to Shippsville. Then I went over to the naked white girl.

“Come on, I guess I’ll give you a lift.” I untied her hands and helped her up. I could probably have raped her myself, but the legal jeopardy was higher, and she was messier, cum soaked and filthy. Crap, she’d have to sit on my car seat like that.

“Uh huh,” she muttered. I resolved to keep some towels in my car forever as her filthy ass pressed down in the seat. I began driving.

“Where do you live?”

“Oh. Barton.” Great. Twenty miles out of Bowler but in a different direction. It was going to be a long drive. I got us going, wondering how many other sexual assaults I would come across that day. What a weird place, this county, where raped girls just keep falling like pennies from heaven. How long before I started a penny jar of my own? Time would tell.

[Shocker]

Well he is very good in picking up naked chicks.

[RapeU]

This is like a longer flash fiction story where leaving things out to tease the reader is the point. Consider me teased. White girl gangraped, black girl gangraped twice and we didn't get the details on either of them. I want more and hope you expand this into something bigger one day.