Thread: Transporting Taylor (Dere and skittish_butterfly)

As Martin stalked out of the room with Sajur he felt a slow-burning fury that was hotter than the late afternoon sun. He exactly what was going to happen but was powerless to do anything about it. Every minute in the company of these two thugs felt like an hour to him. Pacing urgently behind the lanky policeman, he did everything he could to keep his anger suppressed. After an infuriating five minutes the pair managed to start the antiquated police truck, a dilapidated old Army Bedford. It came alive with a vicious cough and bellowed angry clouds of acrid smoke like an awakened dragon. Martin was long accustomed to uncomfortable transport, but after the comparative luxury of the SUV a ride in this shuddering jalopy would seem like torture. As the truck wheeled back around to the side of the station Martin quickly darted back inside - and his blood froze at the sight within. The bound Naidu sat there writhing before him, streaming a flood of expletives in English and Hindi. It was immediately obvious to the horrified mercenary what had happened. Somehow his entire mission had fallen apart in five minutes. The girl was obviously gone, probably lost already in the maze of buildings around the station. Martin's combat instincts kicked in, suppressing the shock and trying to steady his mind and focus on the situation. He met Naidu's foul torrent with one of his own, raining down every curse he could think of on to the half-naked policeman. Sajur then appeared, even more stunned at Martin at the vision of his feared boss in such a humiliating position. Gaping wildly, he fumbled for his keys as Naidu screamed at him to get him out. It felt to Martin like his head was about to explode. It had been a long time since he'd panicked about anything but he could feel it rising now, like a dull stone in his empty stomach. He thought for a wild moment for shooting both the other men dead and running, running, just bailing on the whole thing. But even in his near-delirium he knew how suicidal that would be. Instead he took a firm grip on his pistol hilt and yelled questions at Naidu. The tubby chief, nearly insane with anger and shame, had his own vivid thought of murdering the red-faced bastard screaming at him. But he too knew the stakes were far too high, and he also wanted revenge more than anything he had ever experienced. Seizing Sajur by the arm, he hissed She can't be too far, she would have to hide in her state! Get every man looking now! NO! bellowed Martin as both men turned to him with a start. No more fucking people! We got ourselves, now. She must be on this block and we cannot let anyone else get her. He turned on Naidu with an acidic gaze. You fucking cretin! Get your shit together now and let's go! As the trio of rapists headed out into the dusty street, Rajani was just turning back into her shop after shooing out a small group of customers. They were irritated at her sudden rudeness, but she ignored their entreaties as she locked the front door and shuffled tensely out the back. It felt to her like she had a pile of gold fallen right into her lap, and she was prepared to do anything to keep it. She felt no feelings at all for the golden-haired gori-gori that had fallen like some dislodged angel into her life. The hardened old woman was long used to doing whatever she must to provide for her family. Miss? You there, Miss? I have the book for you- She hissed a foul word to herself when she saw the booth was empty. Angrily she screwed up the note - she couldn't read the Latin alphabet anyway - and threw it down in the dirt. Grabbing her stick she hastened as fast as he could out into the back street, adrenalin fighting down the aches that usually racked her so much. Rajani knew this street like the lines on her leathery hand, and knew that clueless girl stood no chance of getting anywhere without being found. CHOR! she shouted - thief in Hindi. It was like a clarion call to the neighborhood, and worked like an alarm bell to bring everyone in the area to her. CHOR! CHOR! she called again as a dozen or so of her neighbors crowded around inquisitively. In a babbling torrent she told them a tourist had stolen a sari from her and was around somewhere. With a scandalized voice she told them the girl was obviously on some kind of drug and had been half-naked when she arrived in the shop. Rajani deliberately neglected to mention her suspicions that the tourist was apparently connected to the feared Naidu, instead depicting Taylor as the worst kind of foreign troublemaker the poorer folk despised. The angry mob quickly tore apart the surrounding area, turning over every possible hiding place. After a few minutes a wild shriek went up when Taylor suddenly appeared, flushed from a hiding place and running in a panicked attempt to get away somewhere. But her tangled sari and aching legs both conspired against her, and she tumbled down in the dust. The crowd were on her in a rush, their yells like the barking of angry dogs as their wooden sticks rained down over her. Yelling forcefully, Rajani pushed her way through the crowd. She grabbed Taylor by her hair and half-dragged her back down the street, a cloud of red dirt flying everywhere. The mob continued to hit Taylor, bruising her hands and arms as she struggled to protect herself. The whole scene was chaos, mad with noise and heat and an almost animal rage suddenly pulsing through everything. Only Rajani's grip on Taylor saved the wailing girl from being torn apart by the crowd. Suddenly a gunshot cracked through the leaden heat. All heads turned to look, even Taylor as she lay coughing and crying on the ground. Naidu stood there, legs apart, his smouldering pistol held high in the air. In a cold, steady voice he ordered the mob - now frozen like a collection of statues - to disperse. They sprang into movement as if electrocuted, their incredible anger suddenly evaporating in the face of the cold rage of a man they would never dare to contradict. Only Rajani remained, still holding Taylor like a sack as she stepped towards the glowering policeman. Normally Naidu would not have hesitated to stomp the old woman into the dirt. But the stakes were too high, and he knew the commotion would probably cause him more trouble than he could ever handle. As she hissed and cackled at him he surveyed the trembling Taylor, who despite some scratches and bruises seemed more terrified than injured. He nodded distractedly at Rajani's demands as she pulled Taylor to her feet, quickly cuffing her chafed wrists in front of her. He hissed in her ear You really thought you could get away, cunt? You will pay for what you've done. You will wish your whore mother had never birthed you. He laughed with an angry wickedness. You're my slave now. In a angry spurt of Hindi he told Rajani to go back to her shop, that her protection was now covered, and to send her imbecile son by in the morning for a reward. That satisfied the old lady, although she still complained loudly of the loss of a good sari. Making sure that the street was deserted, he ran down the dusty road as fast as his bullk and Taylor's bouncing body would allow him. Twisting into a broad side alley, he saw Sajur standing over Martin's prone and unconscious form. The three of them had been heading up this alley just as they heard Rajani's shouts. Without missing a beat Sajur had coshed the unsuspecting Englishman, just as his boss had coached him to do before they set out. Naidu had had enough of Martin for now, and wanted Taylor all to his own to torture and violate until he had his revenge. Back at the station, Sajur locked the unconscious body in one of the spare cells. Then he and Naidu carried Taylor down into the basement. It was a fetid hole, ten foot by ten foot, that had served as a torture chamber for over a century, since the colonial days. The atmosphere hung with despair and desolation, black shadows fluttering about like bats under a single bulb's harsh light. A steel bar, set six feet up, ran from wall to wall. Without a word, Sajur hooked Taylor's cuffs onto the bar, while Naidu cuffed her ankles and then lifted them up alongside. Her agonized cries seemed to echo in this purpose-built hell. She was now hanging like a trussed pig, her pussy and ass exposed to all as she swung painfully back and forth. Both the policeman were laughing, in mingled relief and delight. Taylor could see Sajur, a blurred shape swimming upside-down in her blurred vision. He knotted a heavy steel ball through her hair, pulling her head down hard and stretching her elegant neck painfully. Meanwhile Naidu look a long wooden rod from a selection available in a nearby rack. He slid it hard and deep into Taylor's pussy, pounding her for a minute as she begged and screamed. Then he proceeded to beat it across her exposed soles with the full weight of his body. The bastinado had been a standard means of torture - and one of Naidu's favorites - for a very long time. Despite all her previous suffering, all of the abuses Taylor had thus far endured were nothing compared to this. Every time the rod beat against her tender feet, the pain raced right through her. Her hell was compounded by the blood pounding in her head and her straining neck. Barely had see recovered from one blow than another would come down. Naidu kept no steady rhythm, never allowing Taylor to know when it was coming. Sometimes he allowed her to gasp a few ragged breaths between strikes. Sometimes they rained down in a fury as he vented his utter hatred of this bound girl. Sajur was masturbating furiously just in front of Taylor. She was staring up at him, her blue eyes filled with screams. He came quickly, groaning he has rained the cum across his pert sweat-soaked breasts. With a shake he showered a few drops onto her face, watching them with amusement as they streaked down her cheek in into her eye. Naidu finally stopped, panting in exhaustion. Taylor was convulsing with pain even after the blows ended, reflexively spasming as the waves of agony throbbed through her. As sweat rolled off his flat brow like a waterfall, he slowly but firmly forced the rod into Taylor's ass. He twisted it about, stretching the tiny pink hole to allow for easier entry. The noises she made were barely human. After a minute he pulled it out once more, and dropped his trousers. Beg me to forgive you bitch! Unnnnnfuck- he groaned, as he pushed his beer-can cock into her ravaged asshole. Say you are sorry! Beg me to stop! He locked his hands tight around her quivering thighs to give him more leverage and she began to steadily fuck her, harder and deeper than the first time she had been sodomized. On the other side of the room Sajur was transfixed by the sight of Taylor's pretty, sweet face now a red rictus of utter suffering. He pissed into a nearby jar and poured it into her gaping mouth as she spluttered, while laughing as if it were the greatest joke in the world. Naidu took his time with her. His humiliation at this girl's hands was the worst thing he had ever endured, and he wanted her to suffer every torment possible up to the brink of death. He had raped and tortured women to the point of madness before, and he was intent on making this blue-eyed bitch his masterpiece of brutality. Every thrust was punctuated with either orders for her to beg, or lurid promises of what she was to endure next. I'm-UH!-I'm going to pull out your fingernails!' he grunted. Fucking fry your clit! I-ll fucking-UGH UH-I'll fucking shock your tits till they turn blue! I'll- His words were cut off by two sharp gunshots. Naidu wobbled for a moment, confused, before falling dead on the stone floor. A pair of dark red stains spread across his chest. Sajur, still naked and grinning, barely had time to register Martin standing on the stairs before he too was shot down with a bullet through the neck. Taylor could see him fall, his smooth brow furrowed in confusion, bloody pouring like a tap from the wound. Fuckers! roared Martin in a rasping voice. He pumped some more bullets into the dead Naidu. Motherfuckers try to backstab me! Rot in hell you bastards! Spluttering in a fury he stood over the corpse of Sajur and gave it a kick. I swiped your keys ages ago, fuckhead. Some cop you are. He put a final bullet into the gurgling body, then turned to the swinging Taylor. Well at least you're still alive, bitch, he snarled. And you're a screamer, alright. As her eyes rolled back into her head, and a wave of blessed unconsciousness came over her, she heard him say in an almost amused tone You can sure take a beating. I guess he'll like that...