Thursday, 19 September 2013

THE BANK ROBBER

The blast of cool air that caressed the long-legged 
young woman's body was a welcome relief in the Southern 
California September afternoon. For a few seconds, she 
just stood there, reveling in the coolness. Then, she 
moved over to one of the customer convenience counters. 
There were several people in the bank, but she didn't pay 
any particular attention as she concentrated on filling 
out her deposit slip.

Finished, she straightened up and had just taken one step 
toward the line waiting for a teller, when the street 
door suddenly slammed open with a loud bang. Billie's 
shoulder length brown hair whipped around her face as she 
whirled her head around. She heard a woman scream. Five 
men, each holding what Billie would always think of as a 
huge pistol, were fanning out through the bank lobby. 
Billie's heart leaped into her throat where it beat 
furiously, choking her.

"Okay, everybody just stay still and keep calm and nobody 
gets hurt," one of the men shouted. "Everybody into the 
corner... over there. Move! Now!"

For a second, nothing happened, then the other customers 
began shuffling toward the corner the man had indicated. 
The bank employees, herded by a sixth man who had 
evidently came in another door, flowed out from behind 
the counters and joined the customers in one frightened 
mass.

To Billie, everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. 
She couldn't seem to force herself to move at all. There 
was an old man standing near her, and he too seemed 
rooted to the spot. One of the men, wearing a nylon 
stocking over his face, stomped threateningly toward 
them. "You heard the man, into that corner. Now, 
goddamnit!" He shouted at them. His voice thundered in 
Billie's head, echoing as though they were in a small, 
empty room. She began to shiver, her stomach whirling...

"Now, now, see here..." The old man began, sputtering.

The gunman brought his hand up, viciously cracking it 
into the side of the man's head, knocking him to the 
floor, blood spurting from the side of his head. Billie 
stared down at his crumpled form, her skin tingling as if 
her body were electrically charged, every cell awake and 
tingling.

With the same eerie slowness, the gunman moved closer to 
Billie. He was black, they all were she realized, and now 
that he was next to her she saw that he was huge, and 
muscular. His eyes, even through the veil of the nylon 
stocking, were cruel and deep. Her shivers deepened into 
body-whacking trembles.

"That means you too, bitch," he snarled at her. Still she 
couldn't move, could only stand there, panting. Her 
nipples were hard, she realized, poking out against her 
suddenly too tight bra. They ached, feeling like they 
would burst at any moment. A tiny stream of moisture 
began to wet her panties. She stared at the man like a 
bird at a snake.

"Move it, slut," he snapped again, lashing his open palm 
across her cheek. Stinging pain spread over her face. Her 
ears echoed with the exciting sound of his palm striking 
her flesh. The trickle between her legs became a stream. 
Tiny whimpering sounds came from her throat. Her eyes, 
even as she trembled with fear, danced with the flame of 
the confusing fire raging within her.

Gradually the thug began to realize what was happening to 
the good-looking young girl he was towering over. A big 
grin began to spread over his face beneath the mask, and 
he slapped her again, laughing slightly. Around them the 
noise of breaking glass and splitting wood filled the 
room as his companions began to smash open cash drawers.

Neither of them paid any attention to the noise. 
Casually, almost contemptuously, the man ran his hands 
over Billie's body while she stood, whimpering softly. 
His hands squeezed her breast, hard, and she moaned, 
swaying toward him, her eyes closing before the wave of 
passion sweeping over her. His hands went lower, sliding 
down over her waist, reaching around to cup her buttocks, 
pulling her to him. His hot breath seared her cheeks and 
she felt his hard-on burning into her through their 
clothes. She groaned out loud and he laughed again, 
suddenly grabbing her arm and twisting it up behind her 
back.

She cried out at the sudden pain, spinning in his grasp 
as he cruelly turned her around, twisting the other arm 
back and holding them both painfully high up between her 
shoulders. Sobbing, her arms on the verge of breaking, 
she stumbled before him as he pushed her toward a table 
against one wall opposite where the other captives had 
been herded and were watching. All the way, his phallus 
was growing in his pants, poking into her rump as he 
walked her across the floor. As they neared the table, he 
shifted his grip, holding both her arms with one hand. 
With his free hand, he began tearing at her clothes even 
as he pushed her face down over the table.

Sharp, yelping sounds rose from her throat as her body 
twisted on the rough wood, her legs spread and her feet 
dangling inches off the floor. He clawed her skirt up 
over her waist and ripped at her pantyhose, tearing them 
to shreds and yanking her skimpy panties from her moist 
crotch. For an instant she felt cool air caressing her 
heated sex, and she spread wider arching her hips up, her 
head rolling and twisting in passion. He smacked his 
wide, calloused hand down on the upturned, white flesh of 
her ass. Once, twice, three times he hit her... and she 
cried out in pain at each blow, her nails clawing the 
tabletop, but she never for a moment tried to escape.

Finally, panting, he stopped beating her and fumbled at 
his fly. She heard the sound of his zipper, seeming to 
drown out the continuing backdrop of breaking glass and 
curses. She threw her head up, mouth open, screaming as 
his hot, hard cock slammed deep into her dripping cunt.

"Oh yes, yes!" She screamed in delirium, pounding the 
table and throwing her head in neck wrenching circles, 
her hair swirling around her face.

Flashes of lightning went off in her head. She began to 
come immediately, filled with the pain/pleasure of his 
cockhead bumping, pounding against the depths of her 
welcoming sheath. She couldn't stop cumming. His huge 
prick filled and stretched her pussy. She could feel 
every inch, every blood filled ridge. The inner flesh of 
her hole gripped him, caressing and milking his raging 
cock, embracing and saluting the brutal ravagement.

The man knotted his fingers in her long brown hair, 
pulling her harder back against him, forcing her to arch 
her body more, opening herself even more for his 
pleasure. The pain in her scalp seemed to intensify the 
pleasure in her crotch and her body surrendered totally 
to the flood of sensations leaping and dancing within 
her. In her delirium, her hands tore her blouse open and 
ripped her bra off, freeing her swollen breasts. Now the 
firm, full mounds rolled beneath her as she writhed, her 
nipples painfully crushed against the table.

Incredibly, the man's companions had, up until now, been 
too occupied to pay any attention to what was happening 
on the table. Only now did one of them, after glancing at 
his watch look up.

"Okay... let's... Shit! What the..." He laughed. "Hey 
man... finish it... Drop your load. Let's get the fuck 
outta here!"

The man riding Billie quickened his movements. He began 
to grunt, then cried out. Billie's body bucked, a high-
pitched wail rising from deep in her throat as she 
received his seed. Hot, steaming semen gushed deep into 
her hole, bathing the torn tissues within. Her orgasm 
leaped to new heights as she bucked and tossed on the 
table, clawing at her breasts. His movements slowed, then 
ceased.

For a moment he lay drained on top of her twitching body, 
then, with a sigh, he heaved himself to his feet. His 
cock slid from her hole with a loud plop, followed by a 
gush of mingled semen and cunt juice which ran down her 
legs, dripping onto the floor, in full view of the 
shocked and numb captives. He swatted her once more 
across the ass, and then turned, zipping up his fly as he 
ran to the door with his fellows.

Billie, barely conscious, began to slip off the table, 
unable to find the strength to arrest her fall. Like an 
old, discarded sack, her body sagged to the floor, where 
she lay, a sobbing, moaning heap of satiated flesh.

For a few long moments the room was perfectly still. The 
unhurt victims seemingly unable to move, frozen in place 
by the orgasmic scene they had just witnessed. They just 
stared at Billie. She had fallen with her legs sprayed, 
her open pussy, oozing semen. Finally, an older woman 
moved. She went to Billie, crouching down beside her and 
gently taking the still moaning woman in her arms. As if 
that had been some kind of signal, the others shook 
themselves and began to live again.

The police didn't take long to get there, nor did the 
ambulance they called. It was too late in any case. The 
thugs were gone, and the old man was already dead. Billie 
received the news with a loud sob and buried her head in 
the ample bosom of the old woman, who held her 
comfortingly.

They took Billie to the hospital emergency room, but, 
except for the scratches on her breasts, which she had 
inflicted upon herself, she was unhurt. A rape counselor 
talked to her there, and Billie listened politely, 
feigning an interest that she didn't feel.

After all, she knew she hadn't been raped. She had wanted 
it... probably, at least at first, more than he did. From 
the moment she had seen those pistols, she had been 
excited. And when that man struck the old man, and then 
slapped her and called her a bitch and a slut... Oh God!

In front of those people... all those people... Jesus... 
He beat me, hurt me... and I loved it.

She realized the rape counselor, a big, older woman, had 
stopped her spiel, and was staring at her kind of funny.

"Uh... I'm... I'm sorry. I really am okay. Please... I'd 
just like to go home."

"Sure," the woman said, shrugging her shoulders. If 
Billie didn't need her there were surely others that did.

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