[Ambush-predator]

The Policewoman and the Tramp – Part 2

Derek could see there’d be trouble and tried to get up, but found it hard. The porker was coming at him, straddling him, reaching for his wrists to cuff him. He kneed her hard in the cunt and she pitched forward on to him, her big bouncy left tit hitting his face. He bit it and felt his teeth go through the fabric. She screamed again and tore free, leaving a swatch of white cloth in his teeth. He grabbed her by the torn blouse and pulled her down enough for his fist to thud on to her chin. She went limp and he threw her off to the right, rolling over to get on top of her. He hadn’t knocked her out, but she was still dazed. Without that he wouldn’t have managed to get on top of her, for he wasn’t a quick mover. But there he was. She’d rolled on her back and he was kneeling on either side of her hips looking down on her. As he lowered himself down the end of his stiff cock came in contact with her trousers just above her cunt and he shot off again into the material. Her big brown scared eyes were staring in his face, at his cock, in his face. This was fucking great. He wondered if the old posh cow had seen or heard anything, but he’d heard nothing more from her, so maybe she’d gone inside her house.

The porker made a grab for her belt – for the CS canister – but he pinned her nice neat hand to the ground. She had an expensive watch and an engagement ring with what looked like a diamond. She made a move with the other hand and he pinned that down too. Just one problem, though, he thought. That takes both MY hands out of action. I’ll need to soften her up a bit more or I won’t get anywhere and someone’ll see us. Maybe I could stamp on her wrists. He made to stand up. She kneed him in the balls.

Even as he groaned and collapsed he was angry. He should have seen that one coming. He’d fucking do her for that, lezzie bitch. He stumbled back and fell off the grass, banging his head on the pavement. He lay still.

Kapila was fit and athletic, but she was surprised by the completeness of the reversal. The sense of triumph and relief lasted only a few seconds. The tramp had banged his head and was lying still. He could be fatally injured or suffering brain damage. Ignoring the CS gas she’d been about to use, she rushed to check him out. The best place to check a pulse was the side of the head, not the wrist. She bent to do that. He grabbed her round the neck and squeezed.

For Derek the sensation of squeezing the stuck-up cunt’s slim brown neck was sensational. She was in his hands to do what he wanted with. He could feel her breath failing as she struggled. Should he just keep squeezing? She was already goggle-eyed and gasping. No, she’d be far less fun to fuck dead than alive. But if he kept on squeezing for a bit she should be much less trouble. She was trying to scratch him but reaching only ragged clothes. He kept squeezing. She tried to kick his legs but couldn’t manage any force and soon it was not aggressive kicking but uncontrolled jerking. The second she went limp he relaxed his hold. He kept her in the air for a while in case she was shamming. She wasn’t. He threw her to the ground in a heap, got up, loaded her over his shoulder, warm hip in rough uniform trousers pushing against the side of his head, bent arse leading, head hanging down loose behind, picked up her fallen chequered hat as well as the cider bottle and took her behind some rose bushes. He dumped her, stood staring at her, spat in her face and as she began to make weak movements, plucked her handcuffs from her belt, forced her arms behind her head, crossed her wrists at the back of her neck and cuffed them.

On lonely nights he’s thought about what you could best do with a policewoman and that was an idea he’d come up with. It looked good. He stuck the hat back on her head.

“Please leave me alone, please, please...” she moaned weakly. He planted his foot firmly in her belly and stood in the pose of a hunter with his kill. Just pushing his foot down a little shut her up.

Well, Christmas had come early. What should he do to her first? Maybe he should gag her in case she started screaming and someone cared. He looked around. The best thing he could think of was her white uniform blouse. He gripped it hard at the top and ripped it ruthlessly. Well, there was a distraction – her lovely warm brown jugs in a nice white bra. He stuck his hand between the warm, wobbly tits and hooked the bridge of the bra. He pulled the bra right off her lovely Paki tits – she had big nipples and aureoles, a nice touch – and forced it up over her glossy hair till he could twist it round her trapped hands, stopping her from pulling them over her head. He was ripping the blouse some more to get a good-sized bit for a gag when she spoke again:

“What are you doing this for?” Well, there was a fucking stupid question. No fucking brain, these people.

“Because you’ve got a cunt,” he replied.

Now here was a problem. How did gangsters and serial rapists get the gags into their victims’ mouths? Shove them in quickly while they were screaming, maybe, but in reality that would mean a risk of her clamping her mouth shut at the wrong moment and the poor rapist could even lose a finger or two. If he hit her very hard her mouth would open, he assumed, but would he be quick enough to shove the material in her mouth? Probably not. Fucking idiot – the solution was very simple. He detached her baton and held it in her face with the end pointing at her eye.

“Open your fucking mouth!” he said. She opened her mouth. “Keep it open. Shut your eyes!” he ordered. She did what she was told. He scooped up a load of stinking dogshit and stuffed it into her mouth, following quickly with the torn length of her blouse tied round her mouth and head to keep it in. She had no alternative but to swallow some of it and the rest filled her mouth. He wiped shit off his hand on to the remains of her blouse. Now he could give her tits some real attention. Nice ones they were, too, big but not floppy. Bazookas. Torpedoes. He took a handful, pressing his palm down on her pert nipple, squeezing the titmeat, leaving grubby marks when he let go. He stroked the other one like it was a pet and tickled her nipple. It pushed out and hardened. Hot little cunt! He nipped it in his broken, grimy fingernails and felt her jerk in pain. He bent down and bit it, a strong, lingering bite he cut short just before he’d have drawn blood, but that left an irregular line of dark marks on warm brown tit.

He had an idea. He picked up her baton, showed it to her grinning, and whacked her right tit with it. The tit didn’t move as much as he’d expected. He tried again. It needed careful aim to land one on the nipple, but come in from the side and the tit jerked up or down or inwards against its sister. This was great! She couldn’t scream, but she gurgled and her eyes showed the pain. He kept on whacking till his arm hurt. Well, that was good, but she had an arse and a cunt too and he shouldn’t neglect them. He sat down on the grass and pulled Miss Piggy over his lap, head down, arse up. She was being quite a good girl now, not resisting. Yes, her arse was just as hot as he’d thought when the stupid cunt had first turned her back on him. What’s more, he could see the arsecrack better now and just the hint of a VPL arcing across the cheeks. He took a good chunk of piggy arsemeat in his hand and squeezed. She kicked out so he gave her arse a good whack to teach her respect.

That felt good. He’d never spanked a woman in his life, but in the days when he had some money and somewhere to live he’d collected spanking and BDSM mags. The idea of spanking a policewoman appealed a lot to him. It’d really be teaching the stuck-up cunt who was boss. Knocking her off her fucking pedestal. He gave her helpless arse another good swat and then another. He hadn’t realised how much her arse would flatten when he hit it, but it bounced back each time like it was asking for more. Well, it’d get more. He remembered that the undercheeks were supposed to be the most sensitive bit and gave them special attention. From the way she was kicking it looked like they’d got that right. The kicking was very hot. Each time she kicked one of her buttocks shifted a long way against the other, but she couldn’t do fuck all about what she was getting.

He realised he’d love to hear her scream and wail, but with the gag he couldn’t. Ungagging her would be a risk, but the idea of those screams and, who knew, pleas for mercy turned him on too much. He ripped the gag off. There was dogshit around her pretty mouth. Still, she probably ate a lot of curry and it looked much the same. Smelt the same in his opinion. He whacked her arse again and had the pleasure of hearing her scream. After a few more he thought it was time to get her trousers off. Couldn’t fuck her otherwise. Well, he could if he had a knife or scissors and cut a hole in them, but he didn’t.

Getting her trousers off proved unexpectedly difficult. He couldn’t work out how to get her thick, mannish belt off first, and then tugging the tight trousers off her big arse while keeping her on his lap was a bit of a challenge. Still, he did it in the end and it was worth it. There it was, his prize, all his to do what he liked with, its plump brown expanses decorated with a pair of panties which made him laugh out loud. They were white, which set off the brown arse nicely, but had little brown bunny rabbits on them. They looked like something a little girl might wear, except that no little girl, even nowadays, had an arse that size. They covered about two-thirds of her arse and the rest bulged invitingly outside the row of little holes and the elastic. A neat little curved crack divided one bunny from another. Derek shoved his hand in it, loving the smooth, silky feel of the panties and the way her tight young arsecheeks closed around his fingers like they wanted to eat them. She wriggled deliciously round his fingers, the warm panty-material sliding to and fro. He pushed harder and she wriggled more. An extra big slice of arsecheek had appeared on each side. He pulled his hand out and whacked the newly-appeared bits. It felt fantastic – the warm, satiny young skin, the bounciness of her arse, somehow soft and firm at the same time.

There was a note of complaint in her squeals which angered him so he struck harder. He hadn’t known he still had that much strength. Obviously sorting out a piggy was good for you. Maybe he should give her some with her baton. After all, she would have used it on him, the prissy little bitch. He shoved the baton into her arsecrack, pushing the panties in still further. He heard something rip. He delivered a mighty thwack to the height of one sweet cheek – then the other, and SHIT, this was good!

Something had changed with her. In between the squeals she was sobbing. It went something like: “BHUR, HUR, HUR, HUR, HUR IAAAOOOOW! WAAAAAAAA, HUR, HUR, HUR, PLEASE IAAAAAOOOOIW! “ He loved it so he gave her plenty more. Her shitbrown arse wasn’t reddening like you saw on pictures of white arses, but he could see the colour was changing, getting darker with a reddish tint. He’d make it a bit darker and redder.

It was time to get those girly panties off. That meant rummaging in her arsecrack to pull out what he’d pushed in. It came out smeared with dirt from his hands and shit from her arsehole. He tugged hard with both hands and it tore. He pulled the pathetic scrap of material out from under her, smelt it – a magic mix of aromas most of which he hadn’t savoured for a while - and put it in his pocket. Easy as that.

There wasn’t a lot more he could see now at first, just a bit more arsecrack, but he could see her arse quivering and wobbling a bit better. He slammed a few more hand spanks into it, enjoying sending the buttocks this way and that. Now he thought it would be good to use a belt on her. The one she’d been wearing seemed too thick to be satisfactory, so he clumsily pulled out his own. It was too long to use while she was on his lap, so he doubled it up.

There was a slight noise behind him. He looked round. The posh woman was standing there watching. He could not find any words. He just stared at her.

“Please don’t let me interrupt,” she said. “You were doing very well.” He struggled to take this in. The woman had wanted him out of the way, but now she seemed to be saying she approved of what he was doing to the piggy. He was intending to rape the bitch. Did this woman want to watch? “I take it you mean to rape her,” the woman continued, “and I thoroughly approve. But my condition for not ringing for some real police is that I become your audience.” He kept staring at her. Then he got back to thrashing the Paki piggy’s arse. Knowing the woman was watching, it turned out, made him even hotter. The piggy, on the other hand, was comically confused.

“Please help me! Phone 999! Don’t IYAWAAAAAAAAAAAA! let him do something to me! You’re a IAAAAAAAOOOAAA! woman like me so...”

“Hit the stupid little piece harder to shut her up!” the posh woman requested. “The nerve, to say I was like her!” Derek hit the policewoman harder. She didn’t exactly shut up, but she stopped producing recognisable words. She also kicked somewhat more wildly, which allowed him to see her delicious, tight little pinkie cunt peeping pertly out under her arsecrack.

His cock was impatient. It was time to shove it up her. He gripped her glossy black hair with one grimy fist and groped down between her legs and over her cunt till he could get a grip there too. He got up and carried her a short way, dumping her at the posh woman’s feet face down. The pig looked up at the posh woman as if to appeal to her, but did not speak, and the posh woman stared back with a look of contempt.

“Cunt or arsehole first?” he wondered. Big decision. He’d only just seen her cunt, so it had a certain novelty. He’d start with that. He could use his fingers first: there was no hurry. He tugged at the lips, pushed – and met resistance. He pushed again, wondering if he’d made some mistake, and realised just in time what was happening.

“She’s a fucking virgin!” he told the posh woman.

“REALLY?” the woman replied. “How very out-of-date. I take it you’re going to put that right, Mr...?”

“Brodie.” Why the fuck had he given her his real name?

“Hartington, Veronica Hartington. Do carry on.” He didn’t really need encouragement to do that. The fucking stupid pig was a VIRGIN! One in a fucking million! And the way she was going to lose her precious, carefully-preserved virginity was by being raped by Derek Brodie, tramp. She had an engagement ring, she’d been keeping herself for her Mr Ideal, and now D.Brodie was getting to do the honours instead! Fingers, cock or her own baton? Using the baton would be very amusing, but his cock couldn’t wait. He straddled her, pulled her warm brown thighs apart and rammed her. That moment of futile resistance – it was magic. How long since he’d felt that? He’d still been at school. Thirty-four fucking years since he’d had a virgin. And now IN and IN and IN and IN! Take THIS, you cunt! Take THIS, Miss Piggy! Take THIS, slut bitch! Take THIS for thinking you ruled over me! Take THIS for troubling me! Take THIS for playing Lady Bountiful! Take THIS for having a cunt! Take THIS for being a virgin! She was a squirming, clutching sex toy tight and enslaved around his cock. He hadn’t had a fuck like this for ages.

When he pulled out she was a limp, sobbing, bloody mess. Now for her arsehole. To start with he couldn’t get his cock in, which made him angry, but he knew they generally needed lubrication so he shoved his fingers in her cunt and lubricated her arsehole with its female juice, cum and blood. Then for good measure he shoved her baton in and eased it around one way and another. That should do. She was almost certainly an arsehole virgin too, he thought, so in a way he’d have had two virgins in one day, a first. He forced his cock in, crushing all resistance. Fill her up this end too – give her something she’ll never forget. Even if she recovers, she’ll always know a tramp fucked her up the arse. Her arsehole was even tighter than her cunt. It was the best fuck ever. The cop girl was moaning and sobbing, which was only right and proper. He’d finally had enough. He placed both hands firmly on her arsecheeks and levered himself out. She lay there defeated, helpless, sticky, sobbing.

He’d forgotten about the posh lady for a while, but now he looked up. She stood smiling, seeming neither offended nor uncontrollably excited by his cock.

“Well done, Mr Brodie. She was a virgin, then?” The blood spatters would have told her that.

“Yeah,” he said.

“How ridiculous. In this day and age, positively perverted. Never mind – you’ve put that right.”

“Yeah,” he smiled.

“Now, Derek, I’d like to suggest something,” she said coquettishly.

“Yeah? What’s that, Veronica?” he asked. This could be good.

“You could do with a wash. I’m sure you’d appreciate a drink and some nibbles after all your efforts.”

“Uh?”

“I’m inviting you in my house,” she said slowly and clearly as if she thought him slow on the uptake.

“What about...”

“Oh, that is a point. Let’s take her with us. I’m sure we can make good use of her. Now there is a risk some nosy person could see us carrying her, so if you just stay there a minute, I’ll get Martin’s old cricket bag.” She made to go, but Derek was curious.

“Here, Ver...Veronica. When you turned away from this bit of pigshit and went back over to your house, almost straight away Miss Piggy saw my cock sticking up and screamed and then she came for me and I grabbed her. You must have heard her scream, but you didn’t turn round.”

“Oh, yes,” she replied, “I did hear her scream and I thought, ‘That wretched little jumped up immigrant nobody is getting what she richly deserves!’ But I didn’t want to get directly involved, so I rushed into the house, picked up Martin’s binoculars and went upstairs to my bedroom window to see what was going on. I watched until it became just TOO exciting and I came out here.”

The policewoman had recovered from her fucking enough to start sobbing more. The sound made Derek hard again so he jerked up her head, shoved his cock in her big brown tearful eye and gave her one load more which stuck up her eye and dribbled over her face.

He watched Veronica dancing across the road and into her house. Would she come back? She might phone the police and then no-one would believe she’d stood there and encouraged him. But she seemed keen. He needed something to keep him busy while he waited. He noticed Miss Piggy’s pretty, shapely ear. He gave it a good tug with one hand and then, with two hands, twisted it round as far as he could. She screamed. He grunted and laughed.

Between the bushes he could just see the door opposite. It opened and Veronica Hartington came out carrying a large, very long bag. Yes, it was a cricket bag. It should have had bat, ball, stumps and pads in it. This would probably be the first time it’d had a raped policewoman in it, but it was the right size. Veronica came tripping across the road. Derek noticed she had nice legs.

“Here we are, Derek. Let’s just pop her inside,” she said on arrival. “We’ll take all her things too.”

“Maybe we should gag her again,” Derek suggested.

“Good point. Can’t have screaming cricket bags. What would the umpires think?” The grass-covered earth was quite soft. Veronica clawed up a sod and pushed it into Kapila’s mouth before tying her own pale pink handkerchief round it to keep it in place. Kapila fitted the bag nicely and they were soon carrying her across the road after waiting for a couple of cars.