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From: purfect9@aol.com (Purfect 9)
Subject: STORYbyMISTY: Mounted Policewoman, pt 1
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The following copyrighted story contains sex, violence, and bestiality.
(yikes!)
Due to its content, it should not be read by anyone.  PARTICULARLY anyone who
is under 21, either in age or IQ.  Also, if your locale does not recognize the
first amendment to the US Constitution (for instance, if you live in parts of
Georgia or Iowa), you may be forbidden to read on. Check your local laws, and
ALWAYS, I mean ALWAYS vote Libertarian.  Also, you are NOT encouraged to try
this with your girlfriend. Trust me, guys, she'll get pissed and it won't be
worth it.  

See My pic and outlines of some of my other favorite stories and story ideas on
my web-site, which you may visit for free at Http://members.aol.com/Purfect9.
When E-Mailing me to inquire about obtaining the full text of other erotic
fiction I've penned, Always be sure to write "STORY INQUIRY" in the subject
line.

MOUNTED POLICEWOMAN   (M/Horse/f; nc. anal; oral bond)

Cast of characters (in case you want to launch a theatrical production)
…in order of appearance:

One of the victims: (nameless).  Busomly, blonde, attractive. Has only one
line.
The serial rapist:  (nameless)  Must have pierced tongue, integral to the plot.
The policewoman: Michelob Martin, (AKA Misty or Deputy Martin)
The Sheriff: (nameless) Gruff, coldhearted, backwoodsy kinda guy
The State trooper: Mary Lewinski.  Resembles Monica Lewinski, only thinner.
The horse: Slartibartfast (AKA "Slarty" or "Bart")  Mature stallion with spinal
curvature. Must be hung like 
  a , well, nevermind)
Therapist: (not to be confused with The rapist) (nameless)  Gotta look like
Siggy Freud 

And now, giddyup with the story:

…In and out of her tight anus pounded the man's huge cock.  Slickened with his
spit, relaxed by the unexpected tonguing he had given it, her stretched open
sphincter muscle milked and squeezed his throbbing manhood.  She thrust back
toward him, although the handcuffs prevented full movement.  It had hurt a
little when he'd first entered her back there, but now she was feeling nothing
but pure pleasure.  His hands reached around to grope at her fleshy knockers,
and when his fingers made contact with her nipples, that was enough to send her
over the edge.  Her orgasm, in turn, pulled him past the point of no return and
he slammed into her upthrust buttocks one last time, spurting a river of
white-hot semen into her most private orifice.
	More than a minute later, she noticed that they were breathing in synch with
one another as their heart-rates returned to normal.  He slowly pulled back,
his now slightly deflated penis pulling free from the snug embrace of her
rectal interior.  She squeezed, making his escape more difficult.  But suddenly
it popped free and the hole quickly sealed itself, trapping his love juice
inside.

She lay still as he released the handcuffs, then heard the snapping of the
phone cord as he yanked it from the wall.  The phone itself crashed against the
far wall and then onto the floor.  Another full minute later, she sensed that
she was alone, and trembling, she rolled over and looked around the moonlit
room.  Gathering her strength, she got up and located her purse.  Pulling out
her cell phone, she pressed the three digits and hit "send".  "Police Dispatch.
 What is your emergency?"

"I've just been raped."  

Deputy Martin should have gotten this case too.  So what if she'd become
emotional over the case.  She hated this rapist for what he did to his victims.
 Can you imagine making a woman take a dick up their tiny, helpless rectums?
She was the first to realize that they were dealing with a serial rapist.  That
had been easy.  The MO was unique, and so unchanging that the reports could
have been written in advance.  Each victim had been out drinking on the night
of her rape.  He apparently saw them in various area bars, and when they
left--by themselves--he followed them home.  He would gain entry to their
house, usually through an unlocked door or by finding a hidden spare key.  On
one occasion he had simply knocked, asking to use the phone because his car was
broken down.  And in the last two cases, he had actually picked up the women in
the bar and been invited back to their home! In every case, once inside he
would render them naked and restrain them with handcuffs.  And then--the real
"signature" move here--he would do something that is all but unheard of in rape
cases.  He would lick the victim's anus with his tongue.  On those rare
occasions when a rapist offers his mouth to a victim's genitals, it is usually
just a quick means of applying lubrication.  But this rapist seemed to take
great pleasure in the enthusiastic tongue lapping he gave to his victims'
bottoms.  And, in all honesty, his victims---every one of them--had stated that
they found this part of the assault shocking, but not in the least bit
unpleasant.

None of them had ever experienced analingus prior to their attack.  In fact,
only one had ever experienced anal intercourse before.  He seemed adept at
selecting girls who were somewhat sheltered, somewhat naïve.  Two of the
victims had stated that it had never even occurred to them that it was even
possible to take a penis in their rectum.  Which made it all the more startling
that he was able to get every single on of his victims to surrender to the
assault without a struggle.  Every known victim, that is.  Seven out of ten
rapes go unreported, and in a case where the victim actually ends up liking it,
that figure is probably much higher.  Indeed, some of his victims may not even
realize that what was done to them is still considered rape.

Deputy Michelob Martin had a good record with the department.  (Yes, Michelob
is her actual name, on her badge and on her birth certificate.  Named after her
father's favorite beer.  You'd think that her mom would have intervened, but
she could not.  She had already agreed to let Mr. Martin choose the name of
their second born, since she had chosen the name of their first, a boy.  Mr.
Martin wasn't too keen on his only son being named "Ayn" after the author of
"Atlas Shrugged", but it was important to Mrs. Martin.  So he gave in on the
condition that he could get even by giving their next child an unusual name.
Ayn and Michelob Martin learned early in life that a well-chosen nickname was a
lifesaving benefit on the playground at school.  Ayn, by flipping a couple of
letters and adding an "R" became known as "Ryan"; and Michelob would come to be
called "Misty".  Or Deputy Martin.)  Yes, Deputy Martin had a good record with
the department.  She had taken the report of the first victim, highlighting a
valuable clue:  While having her anus licked, the young woman was pretty sure
she felt a solid, hard object in the middle of his tongue.  A piercing?  Yes,
she though so. A week later, another rape victim said the same thing, adding
that it was shaped like a tiny barbell.  A semen match was confirmed that both
women were raped by the same man.  A sketch artist was brought in from the
state police post, and Deputy Martin personally took the sketch to every tattoo
parlor in the area, inquiring about their tongue pierced clientele, but to no
avail.

Several more victims later, another pattern emerged.  All the victims looked
the same, physically.  And, with a shudder of empathy, Deputy Martin realized
who they reminded her of.  All were in their mid to late twenties.  All had
shoulder length blonde hair.  All had blue eyes, full lips, and a pretty face.
And all had a much larger than average bust size.  In short, they all looked an
awful lot like the woman who stared back from Misty's vanity mirror.  (Though
had it been a full-length mirror, one difference might have been obvious.  None
of the victims had large hips.  That's the only polite way to say it.  No one
would say that Misty was obese, really. Sure, she had some meat on her bones.
Breasts as large as hers didn't show up on skinny girls, except when a plastic
surgeon is involved.  Her waist, at 26 inches, might actually be considered
skinny, helping to enhance her classic coke bottle figure.  No, the extra
calories she consumed from time to time didn't collect themselves there.  Aside
from her oversized chest, every once of fat on her 5'6" frame had found its way
to her buttocks.  Yes, there is no kind way to say it:  Misty had a fat ass.)
She looked again at the pictures of the victims.  Then down at her body.  Then
at the donut on the wax paper in front of her.  A tear ran down her cheek as
she took another bite, her thoughts of the moment making it hard to enjoy the
rich, creamy filling.

She was thinking of her poor horse, Slartibartfast. (Named from an unusual
character in a Douglas Adams sci-fi book.  Rather than object to the unusual
name she had chosen--no one wanted to say to Michelob that unusual names were
bad--the other deputies simply called the horse "Bart".  She too had her own
pet name for Slartibartfast, she called him "Slarty".)  Hers had been the only
police horse in the county, and had represented the department valiantly at
parades, during career day at the local schools, and at fairs and festivals,
and once during the funeral of a police officer who was killed in a car crash
in the line of duty.  But her beloved Slarty had developed back problems a year
or so back.  The vet had assured her that the spinal curvature was hereditary,
and was not painful to the horse,  But the sag in the middle did create the
illusion that the horse had been "overloaded".  Continued display at police
functions would have been an embarrassment to the department, to the horse, and
certainly to "Mile Wide Misty" as she'd once overheard someone call her during
a parade.

And so when the department decided to retire its only police horse, they
offered him for sale at the police auction.  Knowing that the horse had been
more Misty's than anyone else's, No one bid against her at the action, everyone
was happy to see her take possession of the animal in exchange for her $1 bid.
A corral was built in her back yard, and now Slartibartfast had the run of the
place.

"Your gun and your badge, deputy Martin!"
"It's not fair!  She doesn't look anything like the victims!!!"
"Neither do you, Misty. Not one of them had 44 inch hips.  You were taken off
this case.  Your persistence has jeopardized trooper Lewinski's investigation!"
 She fought to keep from laughing out loud.  Trooper Mary Lewinski used to have
a nice, common name.  Probably the type of schoolgirl who would have made fun
of someone named "Michelob".  But now things were a little different.  It must
be bad enough to have "M.Lewinski" on the nametag, but she actually looked like
the famous intern, too.  But she did not look like the victims in this case,
and Misty couldn't believe they had brought her in to use as a decoy.  And so
on her own time, she had gone to the nightclubs where the rapist might prowl.
Even though she had been warned not to.  She had a much better chance of
cracking the case, but trooper Lewinski had gone to the same club last night,
and tattled to the Sheriff this morning.  "One week.  Without pay!  Now hand
them over!"

She placed her service revolver and badge on the desk, and the Sheriff quickly
slid them into a drawer.  Misty quickly left the office, before the sheriff
could see the tears welling up in her eyes.

That night, she dined at one of the more upscale places in town, the Yacht
Club.  (It wasn't really a yacht club, the only body of water nearby was a
small stream that dried up completely during any hot spells.  But they did
decorate the place with a nautical theme, and the seafood was excellent.)  She
sat with her back to the wall, and with the tablecloth hiding her extra few
pounds, she could easily have been mistaken for the most attractive woman in
the crowded room.  Indeed, several guys tried to start conversations with her
or buy her drinks, but as soon as she was able to rule them out as a suspect,
she quickly and efficiently blew them off.  Most hadn't met the physical
description, and the ones who did, she only spoke to until she saw their
tongue.  (My name is "Michelob"--Say it "Mi kel Ob".  When they did, she could
see they had no tongue ornament.)

But then one guy came along, who did resemble the sketch.  She swore she heard
a "clink" when he raised his crystal glass to drink.  And sure enough, when she
made him say her name, she saw the telltale flash of silver.  "Is that a
barbell ornament in your tongue?" she asked innocently.

   "Yeah", he said, sticking it out for her to examine.  "Makes for better oral
sex."
   "Oh really?  I think you should let a lady be the judge of that. <wink>
Where did you get it done?"
   "I did it myself!" He exclaimed proudly. That explained why none of the
tattoo parlorkeepers had seen him.
   "I've been thinking about getting a belly button ring.  Do you still have
the needles and the disinfectant and stuff?  Maybe you could do me!"
   "Sure I do!  Well, I'd have to run home and get it.  Say, why don't you give
me your address?  I could drop by your place in, say an hour?"  She scribbled
her address on a napkin, and he turned to leave.  But on his way out the door,
he literally bumped into Trooper Lewinski, who also engaged the suspect in
conversation.  
   "Damn"  thought Misty, slipping out the back way unseen. Unseen because she
didn't want to get in any more trouble for disobeying the sheriff.  And unseen
because she didn't want the suspect to see her oversized rump and decide that
trooper Lewinski--wearing an obscene micro-mini leather skirt--was a better
catch.

And so, back at her small home, she waited.  It was a hot night, and she opened
the patio door, shouting a greeting to Slarty.  It was OK to shout, there were
no neighbors around for miles.  Slarty whinnied back to her.   After an hour,
she was sure that the rapist had taken the bait of Trooper Lewinski, and was
probably in custody by now. For a second, she found herself fantasizing that
he'd instead managed to consummate the rape of Trooper Lewinski, but then
chastised herself for such a horrible thought. An anal rape is not something
that she would wish on any woman--not even an enemy. Just in case the rapist
hadn't fallen for Lewinski's bait at all, she left her front door unlocked as
she moved the coffee table aside and folded the couch out into a bed, turning
her living room into her bedroom.  She stripped naked, turned the light off and
the TV on.  (This far from town, there was no light coming in the window on a
moonless night, and the TV on mute gave just the right amount of light for
sleeping.  Some nights, she left the volume on just  a bit, for distraction
noise, but tonight, she wanted to be able to hear any visitors arrive.)  Soon,
she was fast asleep.

"Come in!" She heard herself say in response to a knock on the door.  And he
did.  
"Hi, it's me.  I had a little trouble finding the place.  And I had trouble
finding my piercing equipment at home.  But I got it all, right here."

"Oh, yeah."  She said, rubbing her eyes as they focused on him in the dim light
from the TV.  "Well, I changed my mind on that after all.  But you can come in
for a while anyway, if you want."  She sat up, clasping her thin sheet to her
body with one hand, rubbing her shoulder with the other.

"I'll just set this bag of stuff at the foot of the bed, then.  Say, is your
shoulder sore?  I give great massages, why don't you roll onto your stomach?!"

"OK" she answered, tossing off the sheet and exposing her 38 D cups to his
almost shocked gaze.  This is it, she thought.  The moment of truth.  She knew
that if she fucked this part up, she might end up actually getting raped in the
ass. She rolled onto her stomach, reaching under the pillow to make sure her
pistol was still where she had placed it.  She felt the cold steel in her
fingers, and waited to feel the hot steel of that tongue stud delve between her
ample buttocks.  She was actually looking forward to that.  No one had ever
done such a thing to her, and she felt a shiver run up her spine, knowing that
she intended to let him lick her back there longer than she should before
making the bust. As soon as she could positively identify that as his MO,
that's when she should arrest him. But what difference would a few minutes of
tonguing make?  She felt his hands upon her buttocks, softly, gently. 
Spreading them, then pressing them together.  Massaging them, feeling their
mass.  And then the hands were gone.

"Look, I'm sorry, I've made a mistake coming here I think.  I'm just gonna go
now."  

She begged his pardon. "I beg your pardon?!"

"Yeah, look, it's really late.  I just remembered I've gotta get up in the
morning. Maybe we can go out next week or something, I'll call you.  Yeah,
that's it, I'll call you!"

"What?"  She asked, drawing the gun from beneath the pillow as he made his way
toward the door with the bag of stuff he'd brought.  "My ass is not good enough
for you?  Since when are rapists so damn choosy!"

It took him a moment to see that she was pointing a gun directly at him. 
"R-r-r-r apist?" He stuttered, knowing something had gone wrong.

"Look, I know you're the rapist, you know you're the rapist.  There are no
lawyers here, so you don't have to enter a plea.  I just want to know why you
didn't want to rape ME.  And you better choose your words carefully, I've been
a little sensitive about the size of my rear lately."

"I'm not no rapist!"  he insisted, lamely and with bad grammar.  If there was
one thing Misty didn't like, it was double-negatives.

"Fine" she said, flicking on a lamp.  "Empty the bag. Let's see your 'tattoo
kit'."  He stood still.  She pulled back the hammer with a "click".  He dumped
the bags contents onto the floor:  Four sets of handcuffs, a length of chain, a
padlock, and a roll of duct tape.  And none of it admissible in court, because
of how she'd obtained it.  And of course, she hadn't gotten him to expose his
MO, either.  He was gonna walk.  Not only that, but SHE was in trouble.  She
was the criminal here.

"JUST TELL ME WHY, AND I'LL LET YOU GO!  But if you say 'I'm not no rapist'
again, I'm gonna do society a favor and shoot you six times."

"Well" he said meekly. "When I seen you laying face down, I just suddenly
realized you weren't my type, that's all."  

"Not your type!  NOT YOUR TYPE!!!  You're a rapist!!!! How can I not be your
type."  She was waving the pistol in a way that made him fear for his very
life.  "My ass is fat!  Say it!  SAY IT!!!!!"

"well, it's just a little bigger than I'm used to, that's all."

"And what about the girl you talked to after me in the bar tonight.  Didja like
her ass?  Why didn't you go visit her?  Hmmmm?  Hmmmm?"

"Well, yes, she had a very nice butt." He saw her trigger finger start to
twitch.  "But she wasn't as pretty as you!" he added quickly.  "And I love your
hair, and your lips, and, and your chest, it's just awesome.  Please don't
shoot me.  I'm sorry!"

"Put those cuffs on. But first, kick that key over here.   One pair for your
ankles, one pair on your wrists--no, behind your back--and one pair linking the
two."  When he'd done what she asked, she picked up the key and told him to
kneel at the foot of the bed.  It was awkward, hogtied as he was.  Pressing his
pelvis to the bed, he managed to balance on his knees, but it was very
uncomfortable. Meanwhile, she disappeared for a minute into the bathroom,
telling him he'd better not move a muscle till she came back.

She returned, placing the gun on an end table.  Then she knelt--still nude--on
the bed with her buttocks facing him.  She then backed toward him till they
were, uh, cheek to cheek.  Almost knocking him off balance as he attempted to
keep a little distance between his face and the mondo ass approaching him.

"The string you see coming out of my asshole is attached to the key.  If you
can retrieve it using only your tongue, you can free yourself and leave.  If
you use your teeth to pull the string, I'll bust them out with a billie-club,
and then we'll try again.  Understand?"  In answer, he ran his tongue up her
groove, trying to use his barbell stud to catch the tiny loop in the string.
It wasn't easy.  The loop was small, and the stud was back a ways from the tip
of his tongue.  He had to stick his tongue all the way out and press it hard to
her ass-crack as he licked upward.  After several attempts, he hooked it!  But
when he pulled back, he realized that he couldn't pull hard enough without
hurting himself, since the key was apparently lodged quite tightly up her ass.
So he used the tip of his skillful tongue to work at loosening and lubricating
the tight sphincter muscles---darting inward around the string, leaving a wet
trail of slippery spit.

Misty was in heaven during all this.  She'd never had her butt licked before,
and now she knew suddenly that she would need to have this done on a more
regular basis.  She understood why all the victims liked this part of the rape.
 She rested the weight of her heavy hanging tits onto the mattress, reaching
back with both hands to rub her clit and the lips of her vagina, which had
begun to secrete it's nectar.  She pressed her buttocks harder onto his face as
she felt her climax draw near.  And he worked harder and faster at extricating
the key from her ass.  But what she didn't realize, is that he was also working
at opening the handcuffs behind him, using the spare key that he always carried
in his back pocket.  That was no easy task, especially trying to do it quietly.
 But finally, his hands were free, and he was grasping the cuffs by their metal
chain.  

Just as Misty reached her peak, he bit the string with his teeth and pulled the
key from her throbbing, clenching anal ring.  Then he grabbed her hands, both
of which were conveniently buried in the fur of her climaxing cunt, and slapped
the cuffs on her before she could say "what the fuck!"  In a moment, the cuff
which had held his ankles now held hers.  He had intertwined the chains from
the wrist and ankle cuffs, eliminating the need for the third pair she had made
him use to complete the hog-tie.  Now SHE was the helpless one, and he began to
strip, all the while explaining that he had changed his mind about her ass
being too big.  She wanted to have her ass raped, eh?  He'd show her than an
anal rape was no goddamn picnic.  It wasn't a game.  She was gonna get
butt-fucked, but good!

Oh my God!  Taken aback by this terrible turn of events, she assessed her new
situation:  She was tied up, her ass sticking up over the edge of the bed.  And
her gun way over there on the end table!  How had she allowed this to happen?
His hands slapped down onto her ass with a lewd SPANK.  This time, the hands
weren't massaging, or fondling.  They were spreading.  Peeling the big cheeks
asunder.  Then, two spade-like thumbs pressed into the crevice, parting the
edges of the hole itself!  Just for good measure, he leaned down and ran his
tongue up the crack once---which even under these new circumstances still sent
a shudder of pleasure jolting to her brain.  But then she felt the throbbing
head of his penis press right between his powerful thumbs.  Lodged firmly
against the moist, virginal asshole, he released the cheeks, allowing the
gelatinous buttocks to close around the shaft.  His hands moved to the front of
her hips, pulling her back against him as he pushed forward into the deep
canyon.

"NOOOOOOOO" she moaned, feeling the slick muscle start to give way.  What can I
do!  Oh god, what can I do!  Her mind raced in frantic panic.  Then it hit her.
  "SLARTY!!!" she screamed, adding the three little whistles that had been
their police code for "come here, I need help right now."

"What the fuck's a 'Slarty'?"  he asked, just as his cockhead was about to pop
in.  His question was immediately answered as 2000 lbs of horse came crashing
through the patio door screen.  He screamed, breaking for the door but tripping
on his own pants as Slartibartfast skidded to a stop right were he'd been
standing.  The horse looked over at the silly naked man on the floor, and then
down at the figure kneeling on the bed.  It took him a moment to recognize
Misty,  Slartibartfast was not used to seeing her at this angle, and there was
something a little different about her familiar scent.  He put his huge
nostrils against her crotch and sniffed.  Then his big tongue suddenly slurped
her from her belly button to the small of her back, smearing pussy juice upward
to her ass crack.  He stared at her butt for a moment, noticing how much it
resembled the horses' ass of a mare he'd known long ago.  

"Slarty, what are you DOING!"  came the voice of his master,  No, this was no
mares' ass.  This was the ass which had broken his back!  That had dug him with
spurs.  That made him practically beg for an apple or a carrot.  That would
ride him, even when he was tired.  Well, paybacks were hell, and now it was his
turn to ride.  Her ass was not as fine as a mares, but it would have to do in a
pinch.  Slartibartfast reared up, nearly banging his head on the vaulted
ceiling.  When his front hooves came down, they crashed through the mattress
and springs and down to the floor just above her shoulders.  And his hind legs
were right up to the foot of the bed, his saggy tummy resting heavily on her
sloping back.  His massive cock, as big and hard as the thick end of a baseball
bat, pointed straight down, the shaft of it running adjacent to her upturned
anal crack and down past her pussy.  Not being a particularly kinky horse, he
would have liked to slide into her fragrant pussy, but the angle just wasn't
right for that .  On her knees, with her tits pressing down into the collapsed
bedsprings, her asshole was aimed straight up.  And his cock was aimed straight
down.  So when he stepped up onto the bedframe with his rear hooves, the hole
that his 15" cock lined up with was her slick little asshole.  And when the
metal bedframe sagged, giving way under his weight, the horse dick slowly slid
into her tight, virginal ass.  

Meanwhile, Mr. Rapist sat there staring on in shocked amazement as he watched
the expression on Michelob's face as her butt filled with horsemeat.  She saw
him looking at her, and wanted to turn away, but could not even toss her head,
much less move her body, so pinned was she beneath the weight of the stallion.
"help me" she mouthed weakly as the last of the mighty cock slipped unimpeded
into her colon.  Then, things got worse.  Slartibartfast began to fuck.  When
he first began to pull his cock out, she felt a sense of relief.  She had
somehow accidentally been impaled, but now the cock was being taken out, and
some of the crushing weight of the horse's saggy stomach was lifting up as
well.  She managed to take a breath, gritting her teeth against the agony as it
felt like the cock was pulling all of her internal organs out with it.  But
before it cleared the gateway to her bowels, Slartibartfast heaved forward,
burying it to the hilt again, and this time the entry was not slow.   15" of
radiator hose-thick cock shot into her guts, his groin slamming against her
buttocks.  His huge nutsack whacked her pussy, and the force of the lunge
smeared her tits along the mattress. Now that she was a little lower, he could
pull all the way back out to the tip of his cock with every thrust.  And so the
fucking began in earnest.  Slartibartfast stroked the full 15" with every
thrust, knocking the wind out of her and flattening her onto the bed.  She was
gasping and coughing and choking and crying and praying all at once, and yet
the pain kept getting worse.  The strokes kept getting harder and faster and
more violent.  

With a mighty whinny, the horse thrust forward with all his might, and finally,
the long-straining bed collapsed completely.  Both horse and rider (ridee?) hit
the floor as his legs gave out from under him.  The full weight of the big
animal was on her now, crushing her flat by breaking the chain of the handcuffs
that had held her tied in a kneeling position.  She could not breathe.  The
throbbing cock sunk another inch farther than it had gone until now.  She could
feel it deep inside her as it re-arranged her guts and straightened her bowel
tract.  And now it expanded, swelled within her, stretching her anus and the
walls of her colon still farther as the head pulsed like a beating heart.  His
nuts churned against her bruised pussy flesh, and the liquid made its long
journey up the imbedded shaft.  Her tensed body finally let go, suddenly
relaxing as the warmth of the soothing balm expanded within her.  

As she neared the oblivion of unconsciousness, she felt a great weight being
lifted from her, and darkness had turned to light.  "Go toward the light" she
though to herself, before remembering that the light was just her lamp, and
that the great weight that had been lifted from her was a horse that had just
sodomized her. "Nice horsey"  said the rapist--the human rapist--as he shoo'd
Slartibartfast toward the kitchen.  

Air rushed into her lungs as she pulled in her first full breath.  God it felt
good to be able to breath!  She gulped in air, rolling onto her side, then to
her back.  Faster and faster she breathed, her big tits heaving.  She couldn't
get enough air!  "Here"  he said, handing her the paper bag in which he had
brought his "rape kit".  "Breathe into this."   And she did.

[end of pt. 1 ]
---M
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