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Chicken Hawk: Karen (1/5) [m/f, rape, torture, yf
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Buy a clue from the subject header, and practice a little personal
responsibility and self-determination and don't read this if you're
afraid of being squicked.
Cheers,
Mark E.
Here's you're linefeed so I don't get accused of practicing non-con
News.
(C) 1992 Mark E. Dassad. May be reproduced and redistributed
un-edited and un-altered in electronic format for NON-PROFIT
ONLY with this notice intact. The author reserves the right
to sell paper copies at huge profit to the disconnected. Any
other use constitutes fraud, and you'll be hunted down like a
dawg and violated if you violate this. Okay you can fix typos,
but only if you send me corrections.
+++++++ It's not about violence, it's not about sex. +++++++
+++++++++++++++ It's about violent sex." +++++++++++++++
Archive-name: MED-Chcknhwk1-1
**********CHICKENHAWK: CHAPTER 1 "Karen" **************
I'd been hunting chicken at the New York Port Authority for about six
months when I picked up Karen, fresh off the bus from Chicago, a
runaway from one of the rich 'burbs that circle that city. She wasn't
really my type; she was at LEAST 14, maybe 15. Long curly brown hair,
almost frizzy really, a handful of freckles splashed across her nose,
and it was one of those damn smashed little Irish pig noses, but at
least her skin wasn't that awful dead white like so many of them have.
Big round firm tits; I could tell that even with the expensive down
jacket she was wearing, and she had a really tight little ass, and
slim hips, too slim for a girl really. Hell, a woman. If they can
drop a kid, I say they're women.
*I* usually go for the younger ones, 11, 12 years old, nice blonde
hair, big and fleshy, that healthy farm look. When I'm in the mood
for female flesh and not boymeat, anyway. But I was in the mood for
something different that afternoon, and this girl, whose name she said
was Karen, had runaway written all over her, from her duffle bag to
her nervous darting glance, like someone was trailing her, and like
she'd never been to New York before. Which she hadn't. Shit I'd bet
my left nut she'd never even been to Chicago before she changed buses
there. But she looked athletic, and so damned upper-middle-class,
that I wanted her, BAD. The biggest part of my kick is making them
*come*, the prey, making them buck like they never knew they could,
flopping franticly like a fish out of water, shaking and twitching
like they might never have another orgasm in their insignificant
little lives, as they gyrate, my fat dick buried deep in their loins.
The power, of making some punky little brat writhe in ecstasy while
they twist on the spit of their own pride and drown in humiliation,
making them KNOW in the pit of their groin and the base of their brain
that pain = pleasure = pain, and I'm their fucking GOD, because I
control it all, man, there's no bigger rush.
So I sidled up to her, I was dressed real nice, conservative little
blow-dry haircut, smelling sweet, looking like some college asshole,
like I always do when I'm out jailbaiting. The kids that think
they're tough get this idea I'll be an easy mark, and the stupid ones
think I'm safer than the sleazier looking pimps who start salivating
at the sight of fresh chicken. The pimps hassled me at first for
muscling in on their turf, but since I started doing commission work
for Nunzio's crowd, they leave me the hell alone. I don't know what
happens to these kids after I deliver them to Nunz' and I like it that
way. He's offered a couple times to let me in on a bigger piece of
his scene, but I get my kicks and he pays me a couple bills or more
for each kid I deliver, depending on how pretty they are to begin with
and the condition I deliver them in. I try not to mark them up too
bad, though a couple times I've gotten a little carried away. That
kid Gary, I think he said he was on his Jr. High wrestling team, from
like Iowa or Ohio or Idaho or somewhere. Christ, Nunz' didn't want to
give me 50 bucks for that one after I'd had my fun... but that's
another story.
"Hey, Good to see you!" I said to this ripe little Karen chick,
taking her arm and leading her to the down escalator. Startled and
confused, she fell into step with me. "Don't look back, honey," I
whispered conspiratorially. "Those two men, the PR in the overcoat
with the gold tooth, and the black guy with the hat, they're pimps."
I glanced over my shoulder at Hector and Big James and winked. "You
want a burger?" I asked her. "You look hungry."
She smiled at me, perfect white teeth. Rich kids' teeth. Braces,
good dental care. "I thought New Yorker's were supposed to be rude
and unfriendly."
"I didn't grow up here," I smiled back at her, smiling inwardly to
myself. It was always so easy. "I'm from Delaware, but I'm studying
Social Work at Columbia. You looked lost, and those guys..." I
shuddered, for effect.
We were at the coffee shop at street level by then; it was
mid-afternoon, still too early for the commuter crush, and I bought
the girl a burger, some fries, and a coke. She told me her name was
Karen then, and that she'd left Chicago to find work; she wanted to be
a writer, and New York was where you did that kind of thing. I guess
because she thought I was a social worker she felt like telling me
about herself. She said she was 19 (yeah, uh huh. And *I'm* 19
too..) and was tired of the midwest "phoniness". Doris, the waitress
at this overpriced greasepit gave me the evil eye and dropped the
plate with my tuna sandwich from about 2 inches above the table so it
landed with a crash. I picked the limp lettuce off the day-old bun
and swore at her.
"Christ Doris, how many times I come in here I tell you no freakin'
five week old limp, grey lettuce?!"
"So sue me," she muttered, her back to me as she walked back towards
the kitchen. "Is yr limp wrist too fuckin' weak ta pick it off??"
I wanted to hit her. I imagined her head exploding from the impact of
a baseball bat I'd swing straight and true at the base of her skull,
bloody bits of brain and bone shrapnel spattering all over the place,
declaring my revenge. Instead, I smiled at the girl, Karen.
"Hey, welcome to Noo Yawk, kid," I laid on my best Bronx accent for
her. She laughed out loud.
We ate, she talked a little, mostly about music, bands, MTV, stupid
crap. I asked her when she graduated high school and she stumbled,
while she tried to remember how old she'd said she was, and calculate
what year she would have graduated. She was pretty hungry, and wolfed
that burger down.
"So listen, since you just arrived, why don't you come up to my place,
you can shower, read the paper for want ads, a place to stay." She
looked kind of nervous, so I babbled on. "You can shower or something
if you want, freshen up. I need to study, I have an exam tomorrow."
God I was a good liar! I'd been using this rap for a while though,
had practice. The older ones, you have to be pretty quick, some of
them are smart. Before she knew what was happening, we were in the
lobby of Nunzio's hotel on 43rd and 8th, just across from the bus
station, over one of his "Adult Arcades". This Karen girl was
starting to look kind of scared; Times Square will do that to fresh
meat; it made her look a lot younger, and I was already getting hard
thinking about all the fun I was going to have between now and the
time I handed her over to Nunz's boys.
"It's not the greatest place," I reassured her in my best college
asshole jive. "Social workers don't make a lot, and this city'll kill
you financially. I'll probably move to Jersey after I get my degree,
like everyone else."
She looked a little happier, but she didn't like the way Vito, the fat
slob that ran the desk days, was eyeballing her.
"Don't mind Vito," I said, as he handed me the key to my regular room
they kept available for me. I didn't pay any rent, it was a perk I
got as an `employee'. "There's plenty of worse creeps in this city
than him." I thought I heard Vito choking as we picked our way through
the debris lining the hallway.
***
I pushed her into the room ahead of me; it was dark, a windowless
interior room, and though the rest of the hotel reeked of puke and
stale cum, I kept this room clean; I had a real nice apartment in one
of the better parts of Brooklyn, but I spent a lot of time in the
room, and I hate filth. I fumbled with the light switch, pretending
the bulb was burned out, while I reached in the drawer of the little
table next to the door for the morphine kit. I'd only od'd a kid once
after Big James, the black pimp I knew from cruising Port Authority,
put me onto the trick of doping up the kids to get them nice and
docile. Shit, one dead junkie runaway, more or less, in the Big
Apple, nobody cares. And you don't want to have to mark them up too
bad, it spoils their value for a good couple days, sometimes weeks.
Plus, with them doped you don't have to worry as much about getting
kicked in the balls.
I popped her a hit in the butt, through her nice tight jeans,
pretending to stumble in the dark, as she yelped and started to get
scared. I was done being nice; I *had* the stupid little cunt now,
right in my own damn hotel room. Look, I make no apologies, this city
eats morons alive. Darwinism in it's purest form.
I bolted the door, locked the deadbolt and dropped the key into the
drawer where I kept my fix kit, flipped on the light switch and
tackled the little cheerleader poonie, throwing her onto her back on
the bed that filled most of the small room. Landing heavily on top of
her, I pinned her arms above her head and held her there while I
slowly rolled my hips, grinding my crotch into hers, through our heavy
winter clothes. This little fox, she let out a blood-curdling scream,
but the locals weren't going to mind, and if they did they weren't
going to say anything.
I slapped her across the face, and smiled at her, enjoying the
hand-shaped mark that was blossoming on her left cheek. She screamed
again, and started crying. It was incredibly erotic.
"Why are you doing this?" She whimpered patheticly, the effects of
the dope making her weak and pliable as she made these pathetic
attempts to free her arms from my grip. I hadn't given her enough to
put her out, though. I like them feisty enough. It's no FUN if they
don't scream and struggle a bit; otherwise you might as well torture a
corpse, and I'm not THAT sick.
I slapped her again, because I felt like it, and locked her arms in
the cuffs I had attached to permanent rings screwed into the wall just
above the head of the bed. She pulled against the restraints, and
started really bawling like a little kid then.
"Let me go," she sobbed, tears running across my handprints on her
face. "I'm not really 19, my parents are looking for me, you'll go to
jail"
I just laughed at her. "Bitch, if you were REALLY 19 I wouldn't have
picked you up. What are you, 14? 15? I bet you're in high school
already, you're already older than *I* like." I was sitting up on her
now, my butt resting on her hips, straddling her. We were both still
fully dressed, coats, shoes and all. I shucked off my jacket and
carefully placed it on the chair next to the bed, and I pulled off my
shoes which were muddying the bedspread and placed them on the mat
next to the chair. No matter. I always burned the bedclothes after
each one of these encounters anyway. I unzipped her down jacket and
pulled up the fluffy pink sweatshirt she was wearing, while she
squirmed and begged me to stop. With that damn jacket though, it
wouldn't go up very far, so I left her there and retrieved a pair of
scissors from the bathroom drawer.
She started crying again as I cut the expensive down jacket off of
her, no doubt worrying that her mom would kill her when she found out
her new jacket had been ruined. The thought of some rich bitch
sitting in her kitchen in some suburban mansion out of some John
Hughes movie, fretting over her pumpkin's whereabouts made me smile.
I pulled the ruined garment off of Karen, trailing feathers that I'd
have to clean up later, and proceeded to hack off her fluffy pink
sweatshirt with the purple teddy bears. It might come in handy later,
so I folded it and placed it on top of my jacket on the chair.
She was left wearing just a bra from the waist up, and it wasn't much
of a bra, her nipples jutted sharply through the thin fabric, and it
offered no support. I'm not good at describing tits, I like girls
without them, but these were pretty nice, they were medium sized, just
a little more than a handful, but they were firm, not those disgusting
sloppy wiggly kind, and they had a sprinkling of freckles across the
top where the sun must've hit them in the summer, like her nose. I
chopped at the contraption with the scissors and yanked it from her
body and tossed it into the waste basket next to the dresser.
"Nice boobs kid," I leered at her. She closed her eyes and tears
started leaking from her again. I grabbed her left tit by the nipple
and pulled upward as far as it would stretch, then slapped the side of
her breast, hard, with my left hand. She screamed, and I repeated the
procedure on her right tit.
I sat back a moment.
"Look at me, you little whore." I commanded her. When she didn't, I
pulled the hair on the top of her head so her neck was at a right
angle to her body and with my free hand I grabbed her left nipple and
again pulled up as far as it would go. "If you don't open your eyes
and look at me right now, I'm going to cut this nipple right off." I
didn't know if I really meant it, but it worked, her eyes flew open
and she stared straight at me, then at her extended nipple, then back
at me, her pupils dilated in terror.
"Now listen up," I told her. "You're MINE now, and you'll do what I
say as soon as I say it, or things will get ugly. I'm going to do
whatever I feel like doing to you, and by the time I'm done with you,
you're going to beg me hurt you, beg me to fuck you, and you'll really
*mean* it."
Karen shook her head, and tears flowed from her face. "I won't." she
moaned. "You can't make me. My parents will find you, you'll go to
jail."
I shrugged, and climbed off of her prone form. She moved lazily, the
morphine dulling her senses. Now was not the time to threaten pain;
she couldn't feel much of it, wouldn't for a few hours yet till the
dope wore off. Humiliation would still work though, just a plain
old-fashioned rape. Time later for the heavier stuff that would
really get my 'nads pumping.
"You ever been fucked?" I asked her, as I pulled her shoes and socks
off and worked her pants down. She didn't struggle much, just
whimpered. I snipped the scissors above her precious titties every
time she moved and that quieted her down.
"Well?!" I barked at her. "Anybody stick their meat in your box??"
"yes," she whispered.
I smiled, as I pulled her panties off, imagining someone just like me,
riding a younger version of this girl, imagined a big fat cock like
mine tearing into her fat, hairless, pre-pubescent pussy. Jesus she
was hairy now though. I'd have to shave her before I'd be able to
fuck her. Curly brown hair covered her mound, though thankfully it
didn't extend too far between her legs.
"Who fucked you?" I asked conversationally, "Your big jock boyfriend?
Your daddy? The boys' gym teacher?"
I abruptly thrust two fingers into her tight dry cunt when she didn't
answer me, and she yelped and used her legs to push away from my
probing fingers. It was time to get serious. Using plenty of the
silver duct tape I bought in volume, I bent her legs at the knees,
taping each leg in half, and with a considerable amount of physical
effort I managed to run a band of tape around her midriff so that her
legs were bound securely to her torso; her cunt, asshole, and buttocks
now lewdly exposed for my pleasure. I returned from the bathroom with
my shaving cream; menthol, it would burn a bit. I lathered up her
pussy and began scraping away all that disgusting evidence of her
maturity. She whimpered and moaned, asking me why I was doing it,
complaining that I was hurting her, that the shaving cream burned, but
I noticed that her clit spasmed involuntarily as I continued scraping,
and I asked her again who had porked her.
"You don't really want to make me mad when I have a razor at your
pussy do you?" I asked her.
"uncle larry" she whispered.
"Uncle Larry," I repeated. "So Uncle Larry shoved his big hot dick into
your tight little box. Was he the first?" I asked her. She was
sobbing uncontrollably as I described her encounter with this
relative. "Did he bust your cherry?"
"N-n-no no no no no," she choked, "he he he... he let his fr.. his
friend Bob do it the very first time in my... in my... while he did it
... d-d-d-did it in in in my m-m-m-mouth," she wailed.
It was an old story, I heard it from all these little pukes, their
father or some uncle or neighbor or priest or rabbi or little league
coach had been poking them in one hole or other so they ran away from
home. Some people think it's evil, but fuck that.
"So Uncle Larry and his pal Bob took turns grinding your pussy while
you sucked the other one off. I bet you liked being a shish kebob,
huh?"
"NO!," she screamed in denial. crying and twisting as I scraped at her
cuntlips with my razor. "I hate them I hate you!"
"...twisting around with one fat dick jamming your tight little hole
and another one fucking your mouth." I continued on, ignoring her
protests. "Your uncle's big fat dick sliding down your throat,
shooting his hot milky sperm into your mouth, while his friend humped
your horny little ass and came inside you. Did anyone else ever get
it wet in your cunt?" I slapped her now smooth, naked mound
playfully, wiping off the excess shaving cream with her ruined
sweatshirt. She was young enough; her cunt lips, thankfully, were not
yet swollen and sagging with the ravages of old age. God there is
nothing uglier than an old pussy.
When she didn't answer, I pinched her little clit painfully hard and
twisted till she cried out.
"No!" she wailed, her bottom lip quivering childishly, tears rolling
down her face, no doubt remembering her uncle's bone pistoning in and
out of her tight young twat while his friend's meat ravaged her wet,
gaping mouth, choking off her air passage. I heard that chicks come
harder if they can't breathe when they're being reamed. Time enough
for that experiment later. I slipped my fingers back into her pussy.
Just as I expected, it was quite wet now as I reminded her of her
previous humiliation. It was always this way with the slutty little
brats I picked up, they swore they hated it, at the same time they
were creaming all over themselves, as they remembered being nailed;
same way with the boys, they'd tell me Uncle Ralph had poled out their
butt every Friday for three years, they'd scream that it hurt like
hell when I stuffed mine in for my share, but their dicks would be
dancing against their bellies, begging for more.
"Is this how much you hated it?" I pulled my fingers out of her box
and smeared her juices on her her upper lip. She twisted her head and
shrieked in revulsion. I leered into her face as she continued
sobbing. "I bet you BEGGED them to fuck you, I bet you slurped their
dicks every chance you got, sucking on their cocks and gulping down
their hot sperm like it was your mother's titty I think you rub
yourself every night thinking about big fat cocks grinding into your
cunt I think you fucked your cunt back at your Uncle Larry and
imagined it was really your DADDY's dick inside you."
She was howling hysterically, sobbing wildly, thrashing her head from
side to side and twisting her bound body as much as she could, as I
detailed my version of her past, all the while her cunt continued to
form it's juices, her clitty twitching ever so gently in it's newfound
nakedness. I had to have her then, I'd gotten myself too hot,
describing her childhood.
I pulled off my pants, folded them up and placed them on the dresser
along with my underpants and socks, though I left my shirt on, and
quickly jumped on the bed and mounted her. She wailed pitifully as my
shaft sunk deep into her teenaged cunt; I thrust hard and fast and
deep, with such force that the crown of her head slammed into the wall
with a resounding thump, and she screamed again at the shock.
Her pussy was tight enough; I had never found a virgin yet, and I'd
fucked girls as young as eight; but *this* girl's pussy was used to
the feel of cock. I was pretty sure from the way she sobbed as I
described her Uncle and his friend balling her that it had been a
regular event, probably once or twice a week, and she fucked me back,
in spite of herself. I managed to catch a violent rhythm, slamming
into her, her agonized shrieks peaking each time the swollen head of
my dick traveled the length of her tight young cunt and banged into
the entrance to her womb, her back arching as her head slammed into
the wall. The other guests at this "adult hotel" knew better than to
complain about one of Nunzio's employee's making too much noise, even
if it sounded like someone was being dismembered.
Her pussy walls gripped my cock with an amazing heat, almost seeming
to suck me into her as I lurched on top of this little babe, my fat
rod ramming into her in a hard, steady rhythm timed by her head
banging the wall. I didn't last very long this first time; but when
I'm in hunting mode I can get it up four or five times a day and the
firsts one's usually a quick one. I could feel her belly tightening
beneath me as I slammed my shaft in and out of her snatch, slickly
lubricated with her own lust, and I knew she was going to come soon,
and I knew she would hate it more than if I simply caused her pain, so
I rode her high and deep, my rolling, fucking motions placing extra
pressure on her engorged clit.
She started climaxing then, whimpering and sobbing and thrusting back
at my driving thrusts as best she could, bound the way she was, her
cunt spasming around my turgid shaft pistoning between her legs, and I
started to come then too, and humped into her with all the force I
could muster; I leaned over her and sank my teeth into her left
breast, not breaking the skin, but leaving a nice red bite mark that
would last many hours. Even as she arched her back and screamed at
the sudden pain in her tit, she came, as powerfully as any girl I'd
ever fucked up to that moment. It felt as if her twat was literally
sucking the cum right out of my nuts as I shot load after sticky load
of my jism deep into her steaming box, her tit still gripped between
my teeth. I pulled out of her as soon as I had shot my last load, and
standing naked from the waste down, my dick slowly softening, I cut
the duct tape to free her legs, ripping it from her body in several
passes, smiling as she screamed at the fiery pain of her flesh
seemingly torn from her body. I watched her belly and clit twitch
again as this last surge of pain caused another smaller orgasm to
course through her body. I wonder what cruel trick of biology causes
pain and pleasure to be so easily confused?
I showered, whistling some stupid television jingle, cleaning our
mingled juices from my body, and put on a new set of clothes. It was
actually quite some time since I'd first picked Karen up, and we would
need some dinner, some food to see us through the long night ahead.
I slapped her on the thigh as I left her there on the bed with her
arms still chained to the wall above the bed. "You're a pretty good
lay, I guess you've had a lot of practice." I gathered my coat and
gloves, put on my shoes and headed out the door. "I guess I'm not too
bad either, from the way you were flopping around on the end of my
dick."
I stopped at the front desk on my way out to leave a message with
Vito.
"Tell Sal Wednesday, any time after, say, 8am. 4 C. Kind of old." It
was Monday now. I'd have another day and a half to play; if I got
bored, she would keep till Sal came by to pick her up.
===End Part 1===
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