[Ambush-predator]

(And now what you probably guessed, happens...but there'll be more to come...)

The next day was the only one of the three when both Cathy and Julie were acting as decoys. They wished one another luck: each saw in the other excitement and determination. Cathy had chosen a short, pleated tartan skirt to show off her long, lithe legs and a buttoned white top: she could leave a couple of buttons undone on this warm, muggy evening without looking too obviously tarty. Julie was presenting herself in tight blue jeans and a tight white top which showed no skin but also showed that her massive breasts were innocent of a bra.

“Julie, you look really sexy!” Cathy giggled.

“And what do you look, posh white woman?” Julie riposted. Then they became serious and clasped one another’s shoulders. There was work to be done.


As always, Jerome Hammond had prepared carefully, checking his equipment like a commando and driving by each of the entry points to the Heath to make sure there was no kind of problem. It was all fine and he felt good about this night. It was too warm to wear a rain-hood, but the bush-hat helped hide his features as did the phone he held close to his face, talking into it though it was not on. He wasn’t even the only big Black guy alone on the Heath, he noted with satisfaction, and he soon saw cunt. Or azz, rather, as she was waddling her huge azz across an open grassed area in front of him.

As he followed her and gained on her, though, he confirmed to himself what he had already suspected: she was Black. He did fancy raping that big, bouncy, wobbly azz, but he was more fiercely drawn to white cunt. He decided to let big-azz waddle on for a while and see if he could get him white azz instead. If he couldn’t, he could go looking for the sister and take her if he found her.

He walked on a bit and decided to hide in some bushes, from which he could look out without being seen. It was close to two paths and especially promising as one of the paths crossed a stream by a small bridge nearby, forcing anyone on that path to come close. A fat male jogger passed and then two kids with a dog. He waited a few more minutes with nothing happening. Then he saw her.

She was tall, white, and moved like an athlete. She was walking, almost dancing, down the path listening to music on her earphones. She was beautiful, and totally oblivious to what was waiting for her. She had long, red hair.

Jerome had never fucked a redhead, not by way of rape or otherwise. It was definitely an experience he wanted to chalk up, and it seemed to him now that a friendly fate was drawing the redheaded cunt right into his clutches. She just kept on coming; and he could now see that she was singing under her breath to the music.

He stepped out, walking steadily as if he’d just come down another path.

“Er...excuse me, madam,” he said, putting on a slight foreign accent, maybe French, “I’m supposed to be meeting someone at the Stephen Street entrance. Do you possibly know where that is?” She smiled, took out her earphones and apologised prettily for having to ask him to repeat his question. She was a real gift! But his alert senses did pick up that behind the smile, she was somewhat wary. Well, she’d heard girls had got themselves raped on the Heath. It hadn’t stopped her coming out alone there, though, the slut. She gave him directions and inevitably had to turn away from him a bit to point. He grabbed her by the unbuttoned top of her white blouse and pulled her into a good, meaty punch to her neat, pretty mouth. He felt lips squash and teeth crunch. He wasn’t always that rough, but this babe was really making him hot, and hot for him meant angry. She groaned. He hit her again, with force again, but this time a flat-handed swipe which knocked her head sideways. Just a big slap to show her who was boss.

“Don’t trouble me, slag, and you won’t get hurt much more!” he said, and dragged her behind the bushes.

He did not notice that as he dragged her, those slim fingers felt for her belt and pressed something.

Cathy was in pain – and shock, despite all her preparation. The bastard had hurt her and he was horribly big and strong. But she was triumphant because the others were going to get him and by doing her duty, she’d got him caught. He didn’t know it, but he was history.

He threw her down, ripping her blouse right from her tits, showing a pretty white bra with translucent bits. One muscular hand pressed round her slim neck as if he was thinking of strangling her while the other lunged between her tits and gripped the central bridge of her bra. He pulled it straight off her lovely, plump, firm, sweet-nippled white tits, pulled it until something snapped and twanged and he could toss it away.

Cathy realised it would take a minute or so for her colleagues to race to her rescue and they probably wouldn’t want to make a lot of noise doing so in case the rapist took fright too early and escaped. The speed with which her breasts had been bared scared her. Her face hurt but she was going to have to fight the bastard as hard as she could – not that she was reluctant to do that. She didn’t want to actually get raped.

“Nice tits, white trash!” the man sneered. She scratched his left hand, hard and deep, with her right. He screamed. She aimed her knee at the huge bulge in his jeans, but he’d jerked back when scratched and she merely slightly winded him in the belly. Still, he was shocked and the initiative was with her as she tried to rise to...

He buried his huge right fist in her belly. She fell back.

“CUNT!” he yelled, stamping on her right hand. The pain was awful, but she knew her colleagues were about to burst upon him. He was going to get retribution for all the pain he was causing her, all the pain he’d imposed on other women.

Jerome was angry with her. No woman had dared scratch him before. Who did this prissy white cunt think she was? He’d teach her respect. She was wearing a short, pleated tartan skirt, almost like a mini-kilt. He pulled it up and got a look at his target. She had pale blue panties, plain except for a thin white border, and tight over a nice little bush. He approved: thongs were too tarty, as were black panties. With the hand he hadn’t stamped on, she tried to pull her skirt down again, so he picked on one of her fingers and pulled it back. She let go of her skirt pretty quick and he left it at that. He loved that moment when the cunt realised he was so much stronger, if she fought on, she’d just get hurt worse and still get fucked anyway. Still, it might be best to rip her fucking come-on skirt so it couldn’t drop down and spoil his fun. He tore it apart and with one more tug he had it ripped right from hem to waist. He pulled the two ends out from over her cunt and let them flop to the ground. Her little pink belt had popped open and he threw it aside. He could just see the slightest sweet little crease in her panties where her cunt began. Things like that mattered to him: he wasn’t a wham, bang, thank you ma’am type. He was a wham, enjoy all the subtleties of tits and panties and wriggles and appeals for mercy, bam, take that, slut type.

“Let’s have a look at your nice white azz,” he said to her quite quietly, almost politely. He gripped the top of one arm and the side of her panty-waist and flipped her over. The ease with which he did this underlined how strong he was, how much stronger than her.

Fuck, what an azz she had on her! Plump, round, white, not sagging at all but quivering softly to her fearful, heavy breathing. Both white cheeks bulged out of the protecting panties, but comically, after her struggles the left one was nearly three-quarters free and bare, while the right one was nearly three-quarters covered. He just had to take a photo of that before he ripped them off. But first she deserved a spanking for fighting him, for scratching him, for being white and for having a cunt.

Cathy was now very bewildered and frightened. Why hadn’t the others come? Surely they should have got here by now. There was only one possible explanation – they hadn’t received the signal from the alarm. Maybe it wasn’t working – but maybe she hadn’t pressed it hard enough. Where was her belt now? She could just see it to her side. Thankfully, it was to her left side and she could reach for it with her unbroken hand. Could she do that without the rapist noticing? He was holding her down but not doing anything else for the moment, so his attention was almost certain to be caught by any unexplained movement on her part. So she’d better wait till he was distracted.

SPLAT! The sudden, sharp, stinging pain seared her bottom. He’d spanked her! She didn’t recall that he’d done that to any of his other victims. No, she wasn’t a victim and she wasn’t going to be. SPLAT! The part of her buttocks under her panties stung almost as much as the bare part, but the direct contact of his big, muscular, sweaty hand on her bare cheeks sent a more powerful message of his mastery of her. SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLAT! She tried to stay silent, but she was shrieking. She remembered the alarm. Now was the time to try to press it again. She writhed as if in reaction to the pain and contrived to thrash her arms so the left was stretched out and her hand touched her belt. She had to feel for the alarm button, though.

His massive hand grabbed her slim wrist. He squeezed – and squeezed harder. He just did not stop squeezing still harder and she was forced to cry out. He looked into her eyes for the first time since he’d grabbed her. She saw anger, hunger, power, determination. He was going to crush her wrist-bones if he didn’t stop.

“Please...” she began.

“What’s this on your belt, darling?” he asked slowly, almost lovingly. He eased his grip somewhat.

“On my belt? What...what...” she said. He tightened his grip again.

“Don’t fuck with me, white cunt!” he said, pulling her head up until any more would have snapped her neck and leaning over to leer into her face. “This thing on your belt you were trying to get at – interesting little gizmo, isn’t it? Do you know – I think it looks like some kind of alarm. Only it doesn’t look like your average girly alarm, does it? You wouldn’t be a cop sent out to trap me, would you, darling? ANSWER ME – FAST!”

He got a kind of answer, for she burst into tears. He loved the bitches crying, especially before he’d raped them. It showed they knew they were overpowered, defeated, mastered.

“FAST!” he repeated.

“Oh, God, please...” she began. He gave her nice red hair a little tug upwards to remind her to stick to the subject. “Oh, God, yes, I’m a police officer and yes, I’m a decoy.” The words rushed out. “That thing is an alarm, you’re right, and I pressed it as soon as you attacked me and my colleagues will be here any moment.”

“BITCH!” He slammed her face into the ground. Unluckily for her that bit of ground was not soft grass, but hard, bare dirt. When he jerked her head up again her face was decorated with bits of grit, tiny twigs, two cigarette stubs and a used condom. He pushed it down again and ground it in. “Well, then, darling, I’d just better get a move on with raping you!” he drawled.

He was dubious right away about those Feds she said were coming. If she’d pressed the alarm right away as she claimed, surely they’d have been on the scene by now. Maybe she’d lied and she hadn’t managed to press the alarm – and maybe she’d pressed it and for some reason it hadn’t worked.

Anyway, get on with fucking the bitch. He hooked his finger in her panty-waist, dead central so he felt it slip into the beginning of her piggy arsecrack, and pulled them right up so he could see the whole of her nice, tight arsecrack. The effect was comical but short-lived. He quickly moved his other hand across and ripped the pathetic panties from top to bottom, tugging them out from under her with contemptuous ease. He sniffed their delicious bouquet of cunt and pocketed them for a trophy to add to the others.

What had he got here, then? An absolutely delicious azz. It was plump, round, firm, white and quivering beautifully as she sobbed. He took a handful from the undercheek up and squeezed hard. He felt her tense in response, so he squeezed harder. He let go and slammed his big, strong hand so hard into her piggy cheek that it flattened like a squashed fly before rebounding just in time to take his second swat. She squealed in between the convulsive sobs.
Get on with it. He pulled her arsecheeks wide apart so he could study her tight little shithole. Lower, a few strands of red hair came into view and a hint of her piggy cunt. He’d take her up the azz first. She probably wasn’t a cunt virgin, but he strongly suspected she was an azzhole virgin and he was going to take that away from her. Pity she hadn’t been in uniform, because then he could have opened up her hole with her own baton. Never mind – he’d use a finger instead. He stuck his index finger in, encountered resistance and kept pressing. Her ring gave way as he knew it would and he shoved his finger as far up her as he could.

When he pulled it out he saw that it was smeared with pigshit. He wiped it clean on her face. Then he mounted her.

Although he had already brushed aside her ring, he still did not find it easy. Her arsehole was just too small for his massive cock, but he was not a man to be defeated by a little thing like that. He just kept pressing till in it went. She was beautifully tight and her weak, pointless struggles delighted him. His belly pressing against her bouncy arsecheeks, he rammed her in a powerful rhythm till her hole overfilled with his cum. When he finally pulled out there was blood as well as cum up his triumphant cock. He wiped it on her torn skirt. Then he turned her over. The tightly-curled red bush was almost as pretty as her cunt, he thought. He hooked his fingers in the hair and tugged hard. The hairs resisted and only a few came out in his fingers. He tugged harder and got a good handful. He held it up to her face.

“Eat, pig!” he ordered, “Or I’ll fucking pop you off!” Either she believed him, or she was totally crushed and subjugated. She opened her mouth and swallowed.

There were definitely no Feds coming, so she’d lied about using the alarm or it hadn’t worked. Nonetheless, it might include some kind of homing device and if it was working, it was best not to leave it where the bitch might get at it. He ripped it from her belt and threw it into the stream, where the current carried it away.

Now for her cunt. He fucking wasn’t going to be hurried the first time he raped a pig. He shoved two fingers up her, feeling her writhe and shoving harder in response. She was gripping him tight, the little whore. He moved his fingers around and was satisfied that she was getting juicy. He pulled them out and sniffed them like some people sniff a rose. He was getting firm reminders from his cock and he wouldn’t frustrate his old friend any more.

Her cunt looked pretty small to take his big black cock, but he’d shoved it in her arsehole so he didn’t doubt he could get it up her cunt. She did wail when he shoved it in, so he assumed he’d hurt her, which was cool. She was tight, she was wet and she was everything he’d ever wanted to fuck. He held on to her nice squashy tits as he rammed her with such power that she seemed to be just a toy stuck round his cock. He got the idea his cock was going all the way up to her little piggy brain and fucking her there.

He was not far wrong. He was indeed fucking her brain and it would never be the same again. All her beliefs, all her self-image, all her self-confidence, all her professionalism were being crushed like grapes beneath the relentless pounding of his massive weapon. He had mastered her.

Despite her loathing for him, despite her despair, she felt something welling up in her...no, she must not! She couldn’t stop it. She cried out. He hooted in triumph.

Like any good predator, Jerome did not let himself get so taken up by the kill as to forget to look out for danger. Just after that hoot he checked for any approaching cops, but there was neither sight nor sound of them.