He reached out a long hand and slapped it right on her breast. Jenny took hold of it in fury and ripped her nails into the flesh and pulled it off.
‘I am not your bloody toy,’ she said. ‘Keep your fucking hands to yourself, you wanka.’
‘Hmm.’ Eddie smiled, looked at his bleeding hand. He brought back the other and slapped her hard across the cheek. It connected with a wet crack and she staggered to the right.

His hand grabbed the front of her shirt making tight fists of it and he shoved his face into hers. One arm snaked around her slender little waist, smoothed over the small of her back and slid over the material of her skirt. It covered the geography of her cute ass like paint and he grabbed and pulled at her buttocks roughly. She struggled and reached back for the intruding hand and wanted to pull it off but again his grip on her shirt and his muscles were too much for her. He cupped a handful of her ass and squeezed it, kneading the flesh under his fingers. A little smile crossed Eddie’s face and he moved his face forward and darted out his tongue at a little dribble of Mark’s cum. He dabbed it away and licked his lips.

She could have driven a knee into his balls but he stood too close. One hand tighly grabbing the collar of her shirt from behind, the other was around her waist, pulling her wet pussy into his erect cock.

She wanted him so badly to stop. It moved over her buttocks like a creature with a will of its own, kneading her flesh and cupping it, weighing it. When he touched her ass she felt the cock under his jeans twitching and pushing into her harder. He ran a finger down the middle of her crack, pushing the thin material against her asshole, into it. He groaned.
‘Oh you like that, don’t you, you shithead,’ she said. Jenny slammed her fist against his chest. He laughed. She hit him again and he slapped her cheek, not as hard, mocking, still laughing.
‘Nice try, bitch.’
‘I am not a bitch.’
‘You are a walking fucking pussy. Don’t you see that? You are mine. You belong to me. You’re my property.’

Vanessa was kneeling on the ground sobbing. She knew she had no choice but she couldn’t help trying to persuade Paul not to do it. The stupid fucking bitch tried to appeal to his good side. What a dumb slut. Paul’s ‘good side’ – there ain’t so such thing.   

“Please, please. Don’t make me do this. We can pay you more money. I can send it to you. I can’t do the things you want. Please. We love each other. We’re getting married in two days. Please don’t make me. My parents would die if they knew. Poor John. He’s done nothing to deserve this. He’s always loved me. Don’t make me. Not before my wedding day. I’m a virgin. Please don’t make me. Please. Please”
    
Paul and I turned to each other, whooped and did a high-five. A fucking virgin. And if she was virgin cunt, it was 100-1 she was virgin ass. One each. Oh this was going to be fucking fantastic. It always beats me that every time I rape a girl she tries to stop me with words that only help to turn me on and make my cock even harder. Don’t they teach them anything at school?
    
Paul decided it was time to see the goods and grabbed the front of her top. Bringing the knife up to her face he tightened his grip on her top and ordered her to stay still if she wanted to keep her flawless skin. She became quieter, but as Paul slipped the knife into the material just below her neck and ripped it downwards slowyly.. exposing her breasts, she began to cry again.

“Please, no .. don’t do this .. please .. please .. ”