[Ambush-predator]

“Take them back to the bathroom,” Jerome said. Elise had no idea what lay behind this, but happily helped by dragging the Inspector by the hair while Jerome dealt with the much heavier Black pig. “I want their hands tied behind their backs, both of them,” he said when they’d arrived. “We’ll put them both in the bath for the time being. Now I’ve got to get something.” He left and Elise amused herself arranging the two pigs so Julie was sitting on her boss’s face. That could have been fatal for the Inspector. Julie’s efforts to get her rump off her superior merely embedded the older woman’s face deeper between the vast, dusky buttocks, while the Inspector’s squirms, jerks and kicks had little effect. Worse, the frightened and confused Julie farted. But Elise knew Jerome would be displeased if he came back and found one of his captives dead – he’d want at the very least to watch her dying – so she tugged the white pig clear. Jerome came back with more beer and packets of dried apricots, figs and prunes. He tore the packets open and dragged the Inspector up to a kneeling position. “Eat – fast!” he ordered.

She ate. Elise had no idea what he was up to, but she amused herself rubbing the stiff bath-brush up and down the fat Black pig’s huge flayed arse. It was very effective in removing more skin. Jerome watched the Inspector eat all the dried fruit. He motioned Elise to share a beer. They lounged around doing nothing much, watching the cowed policewomen too hurt and afraid to do anything except what they were ordered to do. The black one looked up at them with an unspoken question which they ignored.

Jerome looked at his watch.

“That should do,” he said. “Help me drag the fat coconut bitch to the toilet.”

“I don’t need to go,” Julie whimpered, but Jerome just chuckled. He didn’t want to sit her on the toilet. With Elise helping, he shoved her head down the bowl, face looking up and body angled away from the cistern. Elise had hold of both her ankles and was making sure her legs were both stretched out straight and well apart. This allowed Elise to stare straight up her cunt. Jerome left Julie’s head and dragged the Inspector over.

“Please – get her out. I need to, er, evacuate my bowels!” the Inspector pleaded.

“Miss Prissy White Piggy needs to evacuate her BOW-WELLS!” Jerome taunted while Elise giggled. “She don’t shit like normal people. Maybe her shit’s white too!”

“Please!” the Inspector cried.

“You want to shit, then talk shit, bitch!” Jerome told her. “Say you want to shit!”

“I...want...to......shit,” the Inspector quavered.

“Of course you can, darling,” said Jerome. “Just straddle that toilet bowl and let fly. Here – I’ll help you.”

“But...” she protested. That was all she could manage before Jerome pulled her over the bowl and pushed her shoulders down so she was squatting over Julie’s face. She let fly. In the moment of letting go she heard an indistinct voice, Julie’s voice, saying “No, please, no, please...” but it was too late. A stream of loose shit hit Robbie’s face, some of it going in her open mouth as she pleaded. She shut her yes just in time but could feel shit sealing the eyelids. The Inspector could do nothing but finish her shit. Jerome dumped her in the bath and returned to the toilet.

“I need a piss,” he said loudly. He pissed on the pig’s face, aiming especially at her eyes and mouth, but washing most of the shit off.

“So do I!” said Elise. As the pig spluttered, they changed places. Elise lowered her trousers, squatted and pissed on the pig. She got up and stared at the spluttering, snivelling, shit-smeared, piss-soaked object that had been a policewoman’s face. She took a photo with the flash.

They dragged the wretched thing out and threw her in the bath, where they cleaned her up with cold tap-water.

“Sweetie, there’s one more thing I’d like to do to her,” said Elise, snuggling up to her man.

“Yeah? What?” Elise went to her bag and pulled out a monster dildo. It was roughly in the shape of an erect penis, but bright red and with little spines towards the end. Behind the bulging balls were plastic straps. She stripped, lower half only, and fastened the strap-on to herself.

“Over the bath will do,” she said. Soon Julie was bent over the side of the bath, her vast rump presented, her head low in the bath. As Elise stared hungrily at the official arse and the well-used cunt, Jerome put the plug in the plughole and ran the cold tap. Elise rammed the dildo between Julie’s lips, mimicking manly thrusts. Julie’s mouth and nose went below the water-line. She writhed around, trying to find air to breathe, and managed to take a quick gasp. Then Jerome forced her neck down again – and all the time there was more water. The pig was desperately trying to save herself from drowning while Elise fucked her. It was so much better than if she was keeping still, Elise thought. It would be hurting her more, which was good.

Jerome was a good judge of when the pig would die. Just in time, he pulled her head up so she could gasp in air. Then he turned the tap off – but plunged her head down in the water again. Elise went on thrusting. After all, she was a strong woman, and with the strap-on there was no problem of running dry. A second time Jerome allowed the pig to live when a moment more would have killed her. After the third, Elise was finished. Jerome pulled the spluttering, sobbing, quivering lump of pork out of the bath and dragged her towards the bedroom, while Elise took charge of the Inspector.

“We can’t let them go now – they’ve seen too much,” she said. “Have you got any ideas what to do with them?”

“Maybe some,” he replied, “but I’ve never taken them home before, so this is a new situation. I get the impression you’ve got a suggestion.” The black pig and the white one were both listening.

“I know a bunch of guys from back home, living in London,” she started. “They run black girls into Europe and make good money out of them. They tried to run me when I turned up here, but I spoke to a couple of my regular clients. One was a police inspector and the other a very rich guy who could get people to do any job for enough money. They sorted these guys out between them. One of them was put in prison, one of them was found in the Thames and the others got the message. So instead I did some business with them on my terms. Now they’re not only running black cunt into England, France and Germany, they’re running white cunt into Africa. Not many, but the money is big. A police inspector, a young one with good tits and arse and a cunt in usable condition – that would be very big money indeed, and plenty of it for us, my sweet. Do you like the idea?”

“Too right I do,” he said. “What about the coconut slag?”

“They won’t have any use for her. No market in Africa for black imported ones – there’s too many locals. They couldn’t use her in Europe because it’d be too risky. No, in money terms, she’s worthless.”

“So what do we do with her?”

“Whatever you like, sweetie.”

“Could use her azzcrack as a flower-pot, or a holder for some of my tools?”

“Or a letter-rack?”

“Nah – letters’d disappear in it.” Elise was silent for a moment, considering.

“English people have pets. We could keep her as a pet – and fuck her too, of course,” she suggested.

“We’d have to feed her,” Jerome pointed out.

“Dogfood,” said Elise.

In a dusty, African small town, the sun rose to its full, oppressive height. Thousands of flies sought shade or food. Many, drawn by interesting smells, settled on a figure in the middle of the market clearing. The figure twitched, but the flies ignored the twitches. They crawled over the fine breasts, the face, the belly, the buttocks. They investigated the arsecrack, the cunt and the mouth. Inspector Sylvie Mackay could keep them out of her mouth but not the other places. She was naked except for her chequered uniform police hat. She was tied around the waist to a wooden post. Her ankles and wrists were tied to posts on either side but further forward, so her legs and arms were spread. A thick, studded leather collar enclosed her neck and its chain was fixed to the post. The sun beat down on her. She sweated and the sweat attracted the flies.

Children came to stare at her. Nervously at first, they poked and sniffed at her breasts, bottom and cunt. The boys inspected mysterious parts closely while the girls tickled her and giggled.

Men and women came to stare at her – the women with contempt, the men with interest. They too poked and prodded, and examined her cunt with particular attention to detail, but this was business, not play, even if bulges and gleaming eyes did show pleasure. Two men did not come to her, but sat on wooden crates at a distance and watched, lazy-eyed, their sub-machine guns across their laps. One was a thin youth and the other older and plumper. Men came to them from the white woman and there were brief conversations. The men left looking disappointed or resigned. Then a fat man came. Fat oozed over the back of the collar of his pinstripe Western suit which he wore open-necked with a bright red shirt.

Ignoring the guards, he waddled up to the captive. He squeezed her breasts, stared in her eyes, grunting when she fled eye contact, and prodded her belly. He stumped round the back, opened her buttocks and stared into the crack. He sniffed and frowned. He stumped round the front and stuck a finger up her cunt. After a while he withdrew it and sniffed. He stared at the captive again, noting her still downcast eyes. He waddled over to the guards and spoke briefly with them. He drew out gaudy banknotes and counted a large number into their hands. They stood up and bowed slightly. Slave Sylvie Mackay had a new master.

Sandra Rees lay on her prison bunk and sobbed. After the terrible events that day on Tonford Heath, Sergeant Patterson had made clear to her that she would have to continue to co-operate if he was to protect her from misconduct charges. This meant regularly submitting to his clumsy lechery. He came to assume her vulva, her bottom hole and her mouth were his. That naturally led to him lending her to his close business associate, a local criminal chief. He’d enjoyed her and taken videos that would finish her in the police if they got out. That mattered, because she was still trying hard to be a good, conscientious officer. But the villain had seen profit in her. He’d ordered her out on the streets and blackmailed her with the videos. So she’d done what he wanted. In a way it wasn’t so bad, as not all the clients were as arrogant and repulsive as the criminal boss or as rough and stupid as Sergeant Patterson.

But then she’d been caught. A punter had turned out to be a new DC she hadn’t recognised. He, though, recognised her. Moonlighting as a prostitute constituted misconduct in public office, a criminal offence. Her efforts to smear Sergeant Patterson and the newly-promoted Sergeant Wilkins made a very bad impression. Police officers who find themselves prisoners in jail have a very hard time and she was no exception. But the big, butch female prisoners didn’t just want to bully her. They wanted their fingers up her cunt, followed by the stolen pepper and salt dispensers, and her lips on whatever they chose. She soon gave up trying to say no.

Jerome and Elise had enjoyed having a pet for a while. Dogfood cost more than they’d realised, but Julie could be fed on discarded scraps too and she only needed a little help to use the toilet. They even trained her to carry things around the house and to work as a footstall. Jerome wasn’t in the least worried that she might run away, as he’d chopped both her feet off.

After a while, though, they grew tired of her. She did cost a fair bit to keep, she needed attention and she just didn’t have the liveliness and character of the best pets. Maybe a guinea-pig would be better. Jerome had abandoned Tonford Heath but was continuing his career in other suitable locations, and he was not short of cunts and arseholes. So Elise’s news was welcome.

“That gang I dealt with have contacted me again,” she told her man. “They’ve got unusual clients. A bunch of far-right guys in the West Midlands are having some special guests, white supremacists from Mississippi and Alabama. It’s a kind of business meeting but they mean to have a good time, drink, music, barbecue, shooting contest. They wanted to order a black girl, preferably not the usual country girl forced into prostitution but someone who’d had some authority. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Will they mind no feet?” asked Jerome.

“The gang guys are checking that out, but they seemed to think no.”

“What price?” asked Jerome.

Soon after the deal was made. But Jerome insisted on one condition. When they’d finished with the pig, there was one thing of hers he wanted returned.


JUST ONE MORE EPISODE TO COME!