[Ambush-predator]

“Me too – fucking coconut. She deserves all she’s gonna get. You hear that, Miss Piggy Coconut? Hey, that’s what PC stands for, Piggy Coconut, yeah? Julie just stared at him, wet-eyed. “You saw what we done to your boss cunt. Did you look up to her, Miss Piggy Big Tits?” he asked.

“Yes, I looked – look – up to her,” she replied.

“Don’t you think she gave in easy? Look, she’s our slave now,” he taunted. He suspected the Black pig was made of tougher stuff than the inspector and he hoped he was right, because it would be more fun breaking her down – but he knew she wouldn’t want to admit to being disappointed in her boss.

“Can I do absolutely whatever I like with her?” Elise asked her man.

“Yeah, just as long as you leave something for me to fuck,” he replied. They both enjoyed the scared, helpless look on their captive’s face.

“I want to hang her up,” said Elise.

“Fine,” said Jerome. “Better just secure the white cunt first, though.” In fact he reckoned the Inspector was so thoroughly enslaved that she wouldn’t even try to escape, but there was no reason to risk it. Elise had a black leather collar and thick metal chain in her equipment and soon the Inspector was chained to a door handle.

“I’ve changed my mind,” said Elise. “Can you free her up, sweetie – no tape and that? Great. Now let’s give her a chance to get away. Would you like that, Miss Coconut? WOULD YOU LIKE THAT?”

“Yes,” said Julie.

“Then RUN! Jerome stood between Julie and the door they’d come in by, so she ran for the other door. She found herself in a sort of corridor. Down one way, towards the house’s front door as she thought, she saw a side door open. She couldn’t see a back door at the other end, but a flight of wooden steps rose right in front of her. Maybe it was possible to jump from an upstairs window on to something that would break her fall, or maybe she could shout for help.

Jerome and Elise arrived at the foot of the steps to see a huge amber-pantied arse wobbling its way up them. The sight was too attractive for them to hurry in pursuit. Elise threw her keys at it and struck it smartly in the middle of the right buttock. Jerome threw a pound coin very hard and it disappeared in her arsecrack. She screamed. They ran in pursuit. They were both made for quicker progress than their quarry, but she had a head start and made the top of the steps. She was faced by a landing and four closed doors. She headed for the nearest and almost grasped its handle, but Jerome brought her down with a rugby tackle and was left with his face buried in her arse. It smelt good. He was happy that he’d get to know it more closely. Elise planted one foot on Julie’s back, ground it in and posed in triumph. She saw that the black pig’s huge tits were being squashed and planted her foot higher, directly opposite the tits. She pressed down as hard as she could. Jerome slapped the giant, quivering arse smartly. Elise jammed her foot down one last time and came over to the arse, which she bit hungrily. Two sharp teeth cut through the thin panty-material. The pig squealed.

“Tastes good,” said Elise, “but pork isn’t very good for you, is it? Too fatty, they say? Perhaps we hang her now?”

“Suits me,” said Jerome.

He thought about where they could find something the Black Fed could be hung from, bearing in mind she was heavy, and decided it’d have to be the bathroom or the garage. He decided on the bathroom: after all, if they hung her over the bath and she bled, the problem was easily solved. He wasn’t quite sure Elise just meant to string the pig up and not to hang her by the neck, but with Elise, you could never be sure. Elise cuffed her hands behind her back with the inspector’s cuffs and they dragged her up the stairs, not worrying about her head, tits or thighs bumping as they went. After all, she was well-padded and she had a thick head or she wouldn’t be a cop.

They dumped her contemptuously on the bathroom floor. Pipes ran across the ceiling and Jerome was pretty sure they’d take the strain. They wouldn’t be able to hang her very high, but that was fine if they wanted to get at her tits and arse while she hung there.

“I want the chain AND the rope,” Elise said. Jerome stood on a stool as Elise took rope and chain from her bag. A short length of rough, hairy rope went round Julie’s neck and Elise tied the end to the chain. Jerome attached the other end of the chain to a pipe, dragging Julie upright so that she had to stand on tiptoe to avoid pressure on her neck. She watched in fear and confusion as Jerome approached with a long length of thinner, smoother rope, almost cord rather than rope. He was staring at her titties and she didn’t like his expression. Grabbing one tit roughly, he looped the rope round it and drew a noose tight at the base of her tit. Soon Julie was suspended not by her neck but by one tit, which was being pulled up to point at the ceiling. The noose tightened, making the tit balloon out. The cord was now looped around the pipes and the far end was held by Elise. Jerome joined her.

They were pulling the rope. Their combined strength lifted Julie higher, pulling her breast away from her body. It was no longer like a balloon but shaped more like a club. She began to scream. Elise secured the rope around a bath-tap. Two feet hung and jerked two inches above the floor of the bath.

“How long before it comes off, do you think?” Elise asked her man. He took his time thinking.

“Couple of minutes, maybe five? Dunno. Let’s see,” he replied.

“NO, PLEASE, NO, LET ME DOWN, PLEASE...” Julie cried. “OH, NO, WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

“I think I’d like to hear that again,” said Elise. “Sweetie, do you feel the same?”

“Yeah,” said Jerome. Elise took a couple of packets of some powder and a big towel and placed them under Julie’s feet so she could just take her weight on the balls of her feet.

“That better, piggy?” she asked.

“Oh, God, yes, it’s better, but I can’t keep this up, my feet are hurting more and more, I’ll...” Julie babbled. Smiling devilishly, Elise began to tickle the underside of her feet. An extraordinary mixture of screams and giggles followed. Julie kicked – and the supports collapsed, jerking the noose far tighter around her bloated tit. Elise waited ten seconds before putting the supports back.

“Let’s get her boss up to see the fun,” she suggested. “Bring my black bag up, sweetie.”Jerome left and came back pulling the inspector by the chain. She looked horrified by what was being done to her subordinate, but she was helpless and cowed. Jerome decided the time had come to get rid of those amber panties. He took them by the waistband from behind and ripped them right down to her cunt. With one more tug they were converted to a dirty cloth and wafted down off the policewoman’s body.

“Shit!” said Jerome. The full glory of the Fed’s arse had unfolded before him. It had looked vast in those amber panties, but they had trapped it and held it in. Now it bulged out unrestricted. The funny thing was, this chick seemed basically quite fit. The only other arses that size he’d seen had been on fat, overweight waddling women. She was shivering and that made the huge buttocks wobble and quiver like a landslip about to happen. She had an arsecrack like the Grand Canyon. He jammed his hand in it, between the tight, warm, sweaty buttocks, and she screamed.

“Shit, pig, that azzcrack is so deep your whitey boyfriend must go in it with a rope-ladder and crampons,” he jeered. “No way can his cock get through to your smelly piggy azzhole!” He pulled his hand out and smacked one giant buttock hard. The vast, wobbly mass flattened, the captive animal screamed and one foot slipped off the supports.

The scream was magic. He smacked her again and the other foot slipped off.

“Oh, dear, this thing’s tit’s coming off,” said Elise. “Do we want that?” Jerome took his time to reply while the screaming went on.

“Nah, not yet,” he said. “Let’s take her down. You want that, Miss Piggy?”

“AAAAAAAAIAAAA...yes please, please....IAAAAAA...” Julie responded.

“Couldn’t quite hear that. You mind repeating that, constable?”

“AAAAAAAAAAH! Pleasetakemedown! Help!”

“Right. Now let’s see – how do we do that?” he mused. He loved the mixture of screaming and burbling coming from the pig, but it looked like her tit was going to go any time now. He had his knife, so he cut the cord. She collapsed in a quivering, ungainly heap in the bath, gasping, moaning and sobbing, her vast buttocks wobbling like a giant jelly.

“What a mess!” said Elise contemptuously. “What did you use this thing for, Inspector – a mattress? A small arms target? A doorstop? Manure? I WANT AN ANSWER, YOU INSOLENT WHITE PIG!”

“She’s a uniformed constable and a good, dedicated one!” the Inspector replied. Jerome slapped the side of her head hard.

“I want a proper answer, not that shit!” he shouted. She’s a fucking useless big lump of pork, isn’t she?” He stared into the Inspector’s eyes and she could not hold his gaze.

“Yes,” she said.

“Let’s get the fat bitch out of the bath. The bedroom will do,” said Elise. She helped Jerome load Julie on to his broad shoulder and pulled the Inspector along behind. “The dressing-table, not the bed, I think,” she said. Jerome dumped the policewoman tit down on to the solid dressing-table. She lay there like a beached whale, quivering but not resisting as they pushed pillows under her belly and arranged her so her legs were dangling down, her arse was thrown up high and her neck and waist were tightly roped in place. Jerome lightly smacked one huge buttock. He pushed it sideways, making the vast crevasse of her arsecrack yawn wide. Elise giggled. She laid a choice of implements on the bed: a long, vicious whip, three canes of varying thickness, two decorated paddles, a black leather strap and a large wooden spoon. “Do you want to choose?” she asked Jerome. He picked up each object and examined it, knowing the fat Black pig was watching.

“I reckon we could use all of them, except maybe only one of the canes,” he replied at length. “And one of those paddles.”

Julie was trying desperately to keep that smiling face of her beloved Tony in her mind through all the pain and humiliation and the threat of death; but it was getting harder and harder. Sometimes his smile seemed to be crudely painted on, like a child’s bad artwork. She’d gathered that these two half-mad sadists meant to beat her with various implements, and she supposed it couldn’t be as bad as being raped, but this bastard was going to do that to her in his own time. If only he’d get it over with.

“I’ll give you a lesson,” Elise said to her man, staring at the vast, quivering, wobbly target. “You can start with the sharp stuff – canes and whips – but most people start with the things that make her arse go SPLAT and then when it’s warmed up and sore go it for the kill with a cane or whip. That’s what we’ll do.” She picked up the wooden spoon. She held it close to Julie’s face and demanded,

“Hey, pig - what’s this for?” Julie knew that not replying meant extra punishment.

“For cooking, for stirring stuff,” she replied.

“WRONG!” Elise crowed. “It’s for smacking your big fat piggy arse! Just like this!” She began to whack the huge, wobbly mass with the spoon, hooting with excited laughter. Jerome cheered and clapped. He could see just why Elise had made this strange choice: being beaten up with a wooden spoon was massively humiliating, ridiculous and painful at the same time. The giant arse was flattening and distorting one way and another, rebounding and wobbling, under the assault. From the thing attached to the arse came a weird mixture of sobs, shrieks and wails, with even a few simple words like “Help!” and “No!”. Elise danced around the target, darting in for yet another cunning shot, giving particular attention to the thing’s undercheeks.

After Jerome turned down a chance to use the spoon himself, she exchanged it for a wooden paddle. It was leaf-shaped, intricately decorated on one side, but plain on the other, and had a narrow slat in the middle. She stroked it, kissed it and raised it high. Down on the fat black policewoman arse it slammed with such a crack that two bottles on the bedside table wobbled. Julie’s scream continued long after her arse had rebounded. Elise locked eyes with Jerome and delivered another cruel blow. The fat pig’s arse was flattening more with the paddle than the spoon, and Jerome noticed with fascination that each time it struck, a bit of fatty rump squeezed up through the slat. Elise gave her eight and made to hand the paddle to him. He took it.

It felt good in his hand. The handle featured several small rings that made a good grip easier. As for the target, wasn’t there something about a barn door? But a barn door was flat. He raised his arm as high as he could, and he was a big, long-limbed man. The paddle came sizzling down and pulverised a wide area of plump buttock. The wretched traitor, the fat pig, was wailing, shrieking and snivelling beyond his wildest dreams, and all at his command. SPLAT! Serve the slut right! WHAM! Who’s laying down the law now? Elise’s eyes were gleaming: she seemed impressed. He made sure he covered every square inch of the giant target. It didn’t mark like a white one, but it was getting darker. It was a bit like tenderising a steak, he thought, a real big one at that. He recalled there were other implements still to use on it, and handed the paddle back to Elise.

“Maybe using the strap is a bit de trop,” said Elise. “Not on her derriere, anyway. It’d go well on her tits, though. Watch.” Julie’s giant tits were partly squashed under the weight of the rest of her, but they were far too big, bouncy and firm to disappear entirely. There was quite enough for Elise to target. There was nothing quite like one woman torturing another one’s tits, thought Jerome. Elise certainly seemed to be enjoying it, but the cop cunt was shrieking and wailing so much she might explode. Elise stopped. “The cane before the whip, I think,” she said. She selected the medium cane and flexed it in front of Julie’s face. Then she slashed Julie across the face with it, leaving a red weal across her cheek. “Oh dear, I’ve caned your face,” she hammed. “I’m afraid it’s a very easy mistake to make because your face looks very much like your arse.” The only reply she got was sobbing and wailing. She positioned herself behind the huge, gently quivering arse and stared hungrily at it. She raised her arm, smiled, and cut into the massive target.

Jerome saw the thin cane bury itself in piggy arseflesh. “Like a knife through butter,” he thought, and there was something exciting about the very thought. The pig screamed, the cane withdrew and the arseflesh bounced invitingly back. A red line formed across the buttock.

Julie’s bottom was already a burning mass of pain, but now a fiercer pain cut in like a sharp sword. She did not think she could stand much more. She tried to think of Tony, but Tony was leering, his eyes gleaming, a bulge in his trousers. The sword sliced in again.

“It’s easier to see on a white one, but even on this thing you can see if I make pretty patterns,” Elise told her man. “Look – I lay the cane across that line and we have a cross!” She illustrated the point by slicing a big cross on each of Julie’s buttocks. “Where the cane cuts into the line made by an earlier stroke, it hurts EX-QUIS-ITE-LY,” she explained. Then the most obvious target is the fat, blubbery bits in the middle of the arse, but you can hurt her more if you strike higher or lower. See, the top bit has very little padding.” She struck and the policewoman screamed. “On the other hand, this bit down her just around her cunt is wobbly and well-padded but VERY sensitive. We in the trade call them undercheeks or underbuttocks. They’re very pinchable.” She pinched the sore and throbbing flesh. “Hit them and you should be able to get the biggest scream of all from her.” She gave Jerome a little affectionate joke punch and sliced the cane into Julie’s undercheeks. The scream was truly impressive. “You try,” she suggested.

Jerome was in a wonderful dream, slashing and cutting at the giant wobbling, quivering, flinching, rebounding black buttocks of the pig. The swish of the cane, the crack and soft crushing sound of the impact, the wails and screams of the pig, the red weals with which he was magically decorating her arse, seemed wilder, more noble, sexier than any drug high. She was his to slice. The redder he made her, the more she sobbed. And this thing had once been a police officer set on catching him and putting him in prison!

Finally he had had enough. He stopped, but the policewoman kept on sobbing and quivering.

“Now for the whip,” said Elise. “I think our fat piggy would like to have a good look at it.” The fat piggy even stopped sobbing to stare at the evil instrument. The handle was jet black and as thick as the thin end of a baseball bat. From it snaked a long, sinuous, waxy projection, also black. At the end were three tight little knots, spaced about three inches apart. “I’m going to use this on your big, fat arse, piggy,” said Elise.

“Nooo, please!” said Piggy.

“She wants it, sweetie – she said please!” Jerome commented.

“She’ll get it!” said Elise. She knew just how far to position herself behind her target. She was an expert – but she wouldn’t have had to be an expert to hit that massive target. “It’s just about raw meat now, that thing, so this is going to hurt her out of this world!” Elise continued chattily.

She was quite muscular, Jerome thought, as she drew her arm back to strike. It was kind of a moving target, because the pig was quietly sobbing and this made her buttocks quiver, but Elise was going to land her cut where she wanted.

The whip zipped through the air and cracked on one huge buttock. The arse convulsed and the pig let out a full-throated scream. He hadn’t imagined it: a few flecks of blood had spat out from it. Now Elise was preparing for her second shot. He’d thought it would be on the other buttock, but instead, brilliant girl, she hit the precise same place so it burst into raw red. He’d remember that scream for the rest of his life. He’d get off on it dreaming in the night. Now Elise cut into the other buttock. A couple of strokes later, she asked Jerome if he wanted a go. He turned it down because he couldn’t imagine his untrained arm doing nearly as well. He just wanted to watch Elise flay the fat coconut pig. She gave the big, wobbly arse eighteen cuts, the last two snaking right into the arsecrack. Now the great lump was as red as it was blackish-brown and the thing attached to it was making a constant, confused, animal groaning mumble.

They let her lie and quiver and moan for a minute. Then Jerome grabbed her frizzy hair and hauled her off the bed, throwing her down in an untidy, groaning, wobbly lump on the floor. He jerked her head round so she was staring up at him.

“Look at her!” he sneered. “This fat bit of shit was out to arrest me and put me in prison. Can you believe it? OK, coconut, I want to hear you admit what you are. Admit you’re a fat, useless cow.”

“I’m a fat useless cow,” Julie mumbled in between sobs and snuffles.

“Admit you’re a pig and go OINK, OINK.”

“Oh, God. Oink. I mean, yes, I’m a pig. Oink, oink.”

“You know what pigs are good for, don’t you, fatarse?” Elise prompted. She didn’t immediately reply, so Elise cracked the whip. The pig burst out crying, but she was struggling to speak and finally she achieved it:

“Pigs are for eating.”

“She says pigs are for eating,” Jerome observed to Elise. “Didn’t know that, did we?”

“Admit you’re a coconut,” Elise told their victim. The reply was another burst of sobbing – and then,

“I’m a coconut.” Julie felt utterly humiliated. She couldn’t handle the awful pain in her bottom, she’d been forced to say horrible things, her most private parts were on display and she knew she was about to be raped by the rapist she’d been trying to catch. She tried thinking of Tony, but the Tony who came to her mind was leering and cheering the torture.

During all this, the Inspector had remained silent, just watching. She looked horrified but too frightened to say anything. Now Jerome turned to her.

“Not much fucking good, your subordinate, is she?” he asked. “She’s a coconut and a useless cow and a pig good for nothing but pork. And her tits are so big she’d have to drive a car from the back seat.” The Inspector just stared at him, too scared to say anything. “This one can’t even talk,” he said. “OK – time to fuck the coconut, yeah?”

“Yeah,” said Jerome. Too right it was time. Inside that vast, deep, dark crack he knew there was a neat little piggy arsehole. Below it he could already see nice juicy cunt-lips peeking out. Pigs weren’t just for eating.

“Remember I’ve got a knife, pig?” he said softly. “Spread your legs and keep them spread – or I’ll carve a nice juicy steak right out of your fat black azz!” To his delight, she obeyed. Now he’d be able to get at her arsehole as well as her cunt easier. He knelt. “Here it comes, Piggy!” he said, but it was his fingers he shoved roughly up her cunt. Shit, she was wet, and tight, too. American rednecks fucked pigs, didn’t they? Maybe they had a point. He shoved his fingers up as far as he could, enjoying her moans. Elise was yelling at him to go for it. Right, he would.

He grabbed hold of her fat piggy thighs and felt them give. They were slippery with sweat and a bit of blood. Her cunt, her arsehole and her sweaty fear mingled in one delicious bouquet. He rammed into her, shoving on, on, till he’d buried his massive cock. It was just in time. He gave her all he had.

Julie had known what was coming, but it was still a shock. It was so big, so stiff. It felt like the bastard was splitting her apart. She imagined two half-Julies rolling apart and the rapist still pumping. She hated him. She would not be mastered by him, not in her soul. But something horrible, something that should be wonderful, was happening.

Jerome knew what the bitch’s wail meant, but there was something of despair in it too.

“Sounds as if she likes you!” Elise said.

“I’ll see if she likes me up her azz,” Jerome replied. “Maybe I should lubricate it.” When Elise brought him Extra Virgin Olive Oil, he laughed. “She’s no fucking extra virgin,” he said. But he jammed the bottle up Julie’s arsehole and half-emptied it. Then he rammed it, right between those massive buttocks, and shit, it was tight. The cry this time was simply of pain. He was squashing those giant heaps with each thrust, forcing the meat outwards, but still it bounced back and still the pig sobbed and wobbled. It was a long time before he pulled out, wiping the smears of shit off his cock on to her face.

“So what do we do with her now – her and the Inspector cow?” Elise asked.


(This is, of course, a work of pure fantasy. The author does not condone actions like those portrayed, especially those about to happen...)