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He called her a whore!
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Yes indeed, this little dark headed fuckdoll was something special! Very special! So special in fact that Boss raped her five more times that evening, savoring every delicious thrust and spank! He called her a slut! He called her a whore! He called her a cunt and a fuckdoll! He used her asshole rape pictures in movie and mouth as well as her cunt! By the time he had finished force number six, all fuckdoll could do was just lie there limp and catch her breath. She was too exhausted to beg or plead; too exhausted to even think. Her mind was numb but her pussy was sore and sopping wet! Her ass was sore. Her jaw was sore for being jammed open with thick cock. She just lie there sobbing and gasping.
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Boss carefully placed the last used condom into the zip-lock baggie that he always carried to be raped, making sure that no semen spilled, and stuffed it back into his shorts pocket. No evidence. Leave no evidence. He supposed that the cops might find a hair or two but that was too much of a hassle for him to deal with. If they didn't get any DNA the evidence would only be circumstantial anyway. Bitch hadn't scratched him, so he didn't need to worry about cleaning out her fingernails. All he had to do was trash the phones, retrieve his cuffs and get the hell out of Dodge. He really hated to leave this one. She was absolutely perfect! A rapin' like this only came once in a lifetime, but it was over and time for him to go, never to return. Ah, but he would always remember THIS one!
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Boss threw on his uniform and ran through the house, checking for telephones. He found only the one in the bedroom and the one in the living room, ripping the wires right out of their modular wall sockets. For good measure he removed the coiled handset cables and used them to tie fuckdoll's wrists and ankles together. Finally, he took out his key case, fingered a key out of it and retrieved his handcuffs from fuckdoll's wrists. Then he spoke:
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"I'm only gonna say this once, BITCH!" he growled. "You don't move! You don't look! You don't even breathe! You just stay right there until you wake up tomorrow morning or I swear I'll fuck you again! And I won't be so tender next time! You got that, BITCH?"
"Yes sir." Her reply was soft and weak, but it was convincing enough to satisfy him that it would be safe to leave now.
Boss made his way to the front door, picked up his fake package, and let himself out.
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Jim had been sitting in his own car, parked at the end of the street, waiting for Boss to leave for about two and a half hours now. His patients was beginning to wear thin. That was the problem to begin with: He was getting really tired of doing so much work and only getting to dip his wick just half of the times. He knew that Boss had to endure the same frustration, but that gave him no comfort. He also knew that he should stick to the program he and Boss had established, for safety's sake, but dammit, he couldn't take it any longer. Especially not THIS time.
