TWELVE.TXT
A Short Story
TWELVE YEARS LATER
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
WARNING: Included within the text of this story are
depictions of non-consensual sex between members of the same
and the opposite sex. This story is nasty, brutish and
short. Any resemblance to the characters and events depicted
herein and real life is entirely intentional.
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Twelve years later...
Well, almost twelve years. With a perfect record - it's hard to get into
trouble when you're in solitary - and some effective lobbying by various
"battered womyn's" groups for whom she had become something of a hero, Paula
was free on parole in a little under ten years. Two years less than an already
absurdly short sentence. Of course, she'd had to make all the right noises and
gestures to obtain her freedom: remorseful confessions... long, heartfelt
letters to her family, and, of course, the right organizations... a new-found
religious belief...
Whatever it took.
Paula sighed as she closed the hotel room door and flopped backwards on the
soft bed, her long blonde hair splayed out on the bedspread.
It was boring.
Tedious.
Mindnumbing.
But worth it. Oh god, it was worth it.
She was free!
Her thin lips - devoid of makeup, of course, in keeping with her image as a
penitent - twisted upwards in a contemptuous sneer. Those idiots lapped it up
at the trial and they were still lapping it up. She couldn't help but laugh at
the memory of Karl staring out at her from the prisoner's box. The memory was
almost as delicious as the look on the face of that idiot prosecutor the first
time he saw the tapes.
After the deal had been done.
He - Karl - knew... they'd played their sadistic games together often enough
that she knew that he knew what was happening... and that she'd win.
Like she always did. And she had!
He was rotting in jail for the rest of his life while she, who had participated
wholeheartedly and with twisted delight in the kidnappings... the rapes... the
murders... was free. And more, she was booked solid on the talk show circuit
for the next three or four months. Geraldo... Donahue... Ricky Lee... After
that, she'd be set for life, with enough money to retire to some warm paradise
and fuck her life away with all the young studs her new wealth could buy. Paula
couldn't help but shiver at the thought of it as a familiar thrill of sadistic
lust coursed through her belly. She dropped her hand to her crotch and rubbed.
Maybe she'd send him a postcard.
Her hand began to move more quickly, rubbing her sopping cunt through her
conservative, grey skirt as the thought of Karl receiving her postcard - a
warm, beach sunset - in a prison cell set off a short, intense orgasm.
Perfect.
Laughing, she slid off the bed and walked into the large bathroom. A couple of
hours in a luxurious bubble bath followed by a night on the town...
Just what the doctor ordered.
***
A couple of hours later...
Well, not quite a couple of hours. She'd planned to spend longer relaxing in
the tub, but the necessary parody of "good" behaviour had taxed her patience
and the tiny orgasm she'd experienced on the bed had whetted her appetite for
more. She wanted to party! In the end, Paula had been out of the tub, makeup
and party clothes in place, and into the club within the hour.
The terminal, repetitive bass of the latest 21st century dance music throbbed
heavy and thick in her head through a warm haze of smoke and alcohol. Dizzy and
more than a little overwhelmed by her first taste of the night life in over a
decade, she staggered out the rear exit for some fresh air. A short breather
and she'd be ready to go again...
Paula's ears were ringing from the music, so she didn't hear them coming up
behind her until it was too late. A gloved hand reached around from behind her
face and pulled her backwards. Arms flailing, Paula opened her mouth to scream,
but succeeded only in smearing her bright red lipstick over the black leather
glove as it filled her mouth. The familiar metallic click of handcuffs fastened
her wrists together behind her body and a heavy leather sack was brought down
over her head. She finally managed to gather her breath for a muffled scream,
but it was already too late. Thrashing wildly, she was thrown down and the
trunk hood slammed down...
***
An hour later...
Or was it?
The mind played tricks in total blackness. And fear was no aid to clear
thought.
A blast of cool air swept over her as rough, gloved hands grabbed her blonde
hair and jerked her headfirst out of the car trunk. Paula let out a quiet
whimper as her miniskirt caught and then tore on something hard and sharp.
A man laughed.
Stumbling blindly on her high heels, she followed her captors as they half
pulled, half pushed her along. Eventually, they came to a halt. Paula heard
some male voices talking, but couldn't make out the words though the heavy
leather of the sack. Straining, she heard a metallic slam as a heavy door
crashed open in front of her. She was pushed through and, as her heels clicked
hard and hollow against the rough concrete floor, she knew where she was.
In prison.
They had brought her back to prison.
What was happening?
Tears ran black streaks of mascara down her pasty cheeks and dissipated in the
warm, sticky perspiration which beaded and pooled on her face in the dark,
sweaty confines of the leather hood. Fighting to remain on her feet, Paula
followed her captors down one long, concrete and iron hall after another. Then
into an elevator; Paula panted for breath as the slow, jerking descent settled
like dread in the pit of her stomach. Without warning, a hand ripped open the
front of her blouse. She shrilled into the leather mask, twisting and squirming
against the elevator wall as a rough hand jerked one large, soft breast out of
her bra and mauled it.
A male voice said something and the hand went away.
After what seemed like an eternity, the elevator stopped and another long,
blind walk began.
Doors slid open and slammed shut, hollow and heavy. Finally, the walk came to
an end and Paula was pushed into a wall. A hand grabbed the top of her hood
and, without warning, tore it from her head.
Gasping at the cool fresh air, Paula blinked as her eyes adjusted to the weak
florescent light. She was in a short, concrete corridor, studded with heavy,
metallic doors. Two doors were open.
Solitary.
But not the solitary she was used to. Just a short, concrete hallway half lit
by a row of flickering florescent lights.
"C'mon cunt." One of the men grabbed her by the arm and dragged her down the
hall. "They're waiting."
Waiting?
The men, wearing the blue and grey uniform of a prison guard Paula now saw,
pushed her roughly ahead of them down the hallway. She stumbled along in front
of them, her hands still cuffed behind her back. A few moments later, they
passed one of the open doorways. Paula glanced inside and stopped in her
tracks.
It was Karl.
Her ex-husband.
Naked, his body covered with welts and bruises, he was bent double over the
side of a rusty metal cot. A thick chain ran from a heavy leather collar to
the head of the cot. A large black man knelt behind him, brutally thrusting
his crotch at Karl's naked ass.
Fucking him.
Paula let out a wordless scream. Karl and the black man looked up at her
through the open doorway. A look of doomed recognition came over her
ex-husband's face. He opened his mouth to speak, but only managed to gasp in
pain as the black man pulled back and brutally buried his cock deep into Karl's
bleeding ass. A thin line of drool trickled over Karl's lips as he jerked
forward over the cot. Paula stifled a second scream as she stared at Karl's
open, toothless mouth.
"C'mon boy," the black man growled, slamming his fist into his plaything's
thigh, "I'v tol' y'befo... y' squeal 'n I fuck ya." Karl let out a loud, pain
filled squeal, bucking in pain as the man brought his fist down on his bruised
back.
One of the guards jerked Paula away. "That's enough," he told her, pushing her
down the hallway towards another open doorway. "You'll have lots of time for a
reunion later." Paula looked up at the guard, her eyes wide with fear. "H-he
beat... me," she gasped.
It's not my fault!
"Uh huh."
The guard shoved her through the open doorway into a small cell containing
nothing more than a small, metallic cot...
***
Moments later...
Paula grunted in pain as the cock burned its way into her dry, unwilling cunt,
slamming her stomach into the side of the cot. Her grunts were muffled by the
long, hard cock sliding in and out between her lips. 'No teeth,' the man had
warned. 'Or we'll take them out.' The image of Karl's toothless mouth served
warning of the reality of that threat.
"Hurry up in there," a man cried from behind her.
"No rush," came the answer. "She'll be here for a long time."
>From the other room, the distant sound of Karl's squealing rang in her ears as
Paula's body jerked back and forth like a helpless puppet between the two men.
A long time...
THE END
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