Page 22 of Massacre Monday
At least a dozen brothers surround the girls. Gwen takes two in her mouth, one in her pussy, and one in her back hole. Another shoves his dick into her hand, groaning as he punches his hips in her grasp, then the man in her ass backs up, another swapping with him immediately for a few thrusts until they switch again.
“Fuck…oh my god. I’m coming!” Gwen yells, and the men shout in victory.
She’s entertaining six at once while the blonde struggles, but eventually does the same as if she’s given up any fight. The poorwoman looks tired even from here and in what little light I have to see her, slumping on the man beneath her with little sniffles.
I scratch at my skin, still not knowing if I should try to do anything. But I remain silent, guilt consuming my brain as grunts and moans and squishy sounds fill my ears.
Finally, I can’t take it anymore. Watching it is dangerous and makes me angry. I need to keep moving or they’ll spot me, too.
Using my dance training, I balance on my tiptoes and carefully step onto a branch near the back of the tree, then grab the trunk and slide down. Fortunately, with all the men preoccupied, none of them sees me.
When my boots hit the ground, I turn to run, but a hand grips my arm.
Immediately, my instincts kick in, and I grasp whatever he’s given me with a twist, the figure groaning in pain. But he falls on my back, his thighs on either side of my waist. With my arms pinned underneath my torso, I have enough room to slip a hand into my pocket and dig out my Harley key.
I hook my knee around his calf and roll, shoving my shoulder into his chest to throw him off balance. He grabs one of my wrists to pin it above my head, but I use the space to flip over and strike out with the grooved metal held tightly between my fingers.
The first one, he dodges and tries to grapple for my forearm, but I squeeze out from his heavy body and swipe at his face a second time and meet skin. A wailing screech comes from deep within his belly as he paws at his eyes, and I kick my heel into his balls, then slip out from under him.
Dumbass didn’t wear a cup.
Leaving the sounds of the gangbang and simpering sighs behind, I sprint toward the wall, which should be two and a half miles away, with a buzz of adrenaline forcing me forward with every step.
The night is clearing up, a bluish hue falling onto the Earth as I make it to another section of the woods. By the time I think about resting, it’s probably less than a mile until the wall and I’ve seen no one else. Has anyone made it this far?
Slowing to a jog so I can catch a breath, I make it to the next set of trees, these closer together. Leaning against one, I rest for two minutes before setting off again.
Pain suddenly sears through my scalp as my hair is yanked to the side, and I worry that it got caught on a low branch. But then a hand slaps around my throat, tugging me into a firm body behind me as my legs dangle in the air in his hold.
“Pink cheeks, you broke the rules… Now you gotta pay.”
eight
The spitfire kickslike a mule and tries to lock my legs with her toes, but I hold her higher off the ground in a bear hug. Good thing I’ve got a foot of height on her.
When I think she’s settled, she swings her torso in such a way that makes me roll forward, but I tuck her into my chest. As I land on all fours, she squirms out from under my body and darts away like a sprinter off the block. Must be all that track and field she did at Gnarled Pine Hollow High School.
A slow smirk warms my face from the cool breeze of the evening. This is amazing. Love this. Thrill of the hunt and all that… Especially because she’s gotten herself turned around and is running in the wrong direction, at an angle to the wall. If she keeps moving at this trajectory, she’ll add about a mile to her travels. Not to mention how tough the terrain is closer to the fence if she were to reach it.
Despite her agility, I’m much faster, but jog about ten yards beside her, giving her a wide berth. She’s like a mountain lion, dodging trees as if they aren’t even there. If I weren’t so focused on making sure I get in front of her, I think my dick would behard just watching the way her body moves like an athlete. My heart pounds harder at the fear in her eyes, at the way they dart around in the dark. It’s obvious she hears my steps, but she can’t spot me.
With an unexpected halt, she dives under a shrub and stills, the foliage doing a great job of hiding her figure. But I spy exactly where she squats. Snorting a laugh, I lean against the tree next to her bush while she takes a peek, not knowing I’m hovering right over her.
Catching my breath, I say, “As I stated, you broke the rules. I’m a judge and you’ll have to come with me. You’re disqualified.”
She freezes and slowly looks up, the white paint around her eyes disappearing as she narrows them on my face. “I didn’t break any rules. And how do I know you’re a judge? You’re not wearing the glow sticks on your jacket.”
I shrug. “They fell off trying to catch you. Doesn’t make me any less of an alumnus. I have seniority here.”
With resistance, she stands and turns to face me, lifting her chin with defiance. That spunk makes me want to grab it and kiss her.
She crosses her arms, her black T-shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of creamy skin around her waist. “Whatrulesam I supposed to have broken?”
“No weapons of any kind. Did you miss that one, criminal?”
Her jaw drops. “I don’t have any weapons!”
My hand swiftly pats her jeans pocket as she slaps a palm over it. I dig into the fabric and produce a key between two fingers. Hmm, to a Harley. Fitting.
