Blackshaft 1-05 – Lines p2

Rama – Blackshaft 1-05 – Lines p2
(Adults Only. Copyright@Rama. 2013)




St Ignatious. Back of the Playing Fields. Day.

She wrapped her legs around him as he began thrusting into her. Isabella quickly kissed her Italian stallion’s shoulder and slid her hands down his back to squeeze his thrusting buttocks. He plunged into her and looked her in the eye. Isabella smiled up at Carlo Bructanni as he fucked her. She could hear the grunts and the whimpers from the nearby hut. The thought of what was happening in there got her so horny. “Harder, Carlo. Give it to me harder.” she told him.
Carlo grinned and started slamming into her. He closed his eyes. “AAAHHHH…” he gasped and she felt him cum inside her. Carlo sank down, pulling out of Isabella who simply lay on the rug on the ground among the trees. He rolled off of her and she looked at him and sighed as she rubbed her sensitive pussy lips. He pulled the condom from his softening cock and tossed it away. A slap came from the hut and they lay there listening to the sounds coming from the hut for another five minutes before Carlo got up and started pulling his clothes back together. Isabella picked up her small, white panties and knelt in front of him. She pushed them down the front of his jeans with a smile. Then stood up and straightened the school’s uniform up.
The hut’s door slammed open and the three Italian boys wandered out, laughing. “Next time,” one said as another stretched the panties between his hands. They were ripped. Useless now. They stopped on seeing Carlo and Isabella. An air or respect came over them as they waited for Carlo. “Later,” he said and looked into the hut. Isabella smiled as he blew a kiss inside then led them away through the bushes towards where they had climbed over a wall to get in. Isabella sighed, getting to her feet. There was nothing like a good fuck. She walked to the hut and peered it. Then smiled. The figure was curled into a ball on the rough wooden floor. The little bitch’s blouse and skirt was torn open. Isabella saw the cum stains on the rug and the condoms that had been thrown aside. “NO!” the small figure of Paula Guerina begged. “STOP! No more!” Paula blinked as she saw it was Isabella. “You–”
“What!” Isabella said. She stepped into the hut and pushed the scared blonde onto her back, pinching her tear-stained face hard. “I what? You about to call me something, you dumb cunt! I tell you to do something, you fucking WILL do it. Or next time they’ll do you up your fucking ASS! And they might not bother with rubbers either.”
“No… Y-Y-Y-Yes… I mean yes!.”
“Good,” Isabella smiled, standing up. She looked at the used condoms again. A couple of them were stained red. “Congratulations, bitch. First time too, huh?” She stopped at the door, looking out at the trees and bushes. “Oh, and you tell anyone about this. Your sister is what now, 16-17? A year under you? Maybe she’ll get a little party. Just her and some of Carlo’s crew.”
“NO!” Paula yelled. “I won’t tell anyone! I’ll do what you want!”
Isabella nodded her head. “Was that so difficult?” she said. “Now if you’d said that when I asked you to that essay for me, you might still be…” She thought about it. “Pure. And not just another little fucking whore.” She said and saw the condom Carlo had thrown away and picked it up. “Now, I want you clean this mess up. You can start with drinking down all the cum that’s in every rubber that’s in this hut.” Isabella threw Carlo’s used, full condom onto Paula. “Starting with that one.” she smiled and laughed, crossing her arms as she looked down at the terrified girl….




Lilgrove. The Old Brewster Place. Day.

Callam stopped the jeep at the front door of the old farmhouse. From the overgrowth, it fitted with what the old man he’d found had told him, that it hadn’t been used as a farm in over 30, maybe 40 years. At least. He switched the engine off and stepped out. Callam had never considered himself to be merciful or even feeling but the old white man had struck something in him. He’d found him living here when he had checked the town. A couple of bums were ‘dealt’ with then he’d come out here. The farmhouse was a speck in the distance but it had to be checked anyhow. That’s when he found the old man, in what had been the kitchen, busy cooking something nasty on a wood fire. A bullet would have been a mercy for the man. This wasn’t any existence. But there was something in the old voice that made him just stop and listen. A politeness the old man had called it. He sat and listened to the old man’s story about the farm, the old Brewster place. Callam listened and then left.
He pushed open the door and saw the dusty hallway. “Hey, man!” he called out, then waited a moment. “You in?”
Only the wind replied to him as he heard something, maybe a window, close.
He looked at the stairway up to the bedrooms. “Weird things happened here, them women were wild bitches.” the old man had told him. Callam walked in and headed for the rear of the house, towards the kitchen. “Yo, got some real food for you man!” he said, walking into the ruined kitchen. The old man was lying on the cot in the corner. “Yo, dude.” Callam said, approaching him slowly. He stopped as he saw the look on the old man’s face. He knelt down and held his hand in front of the old man’s mouth. “Shit.” he muttered. The old man was dead.
A quick check told Callam it seemed to be natural. At least there was no sign of violence. And from the peaceful look on the man’s face it must have happened in his sleep. Callam stood up and nodded his respect to the old man. He looked about him and wondered why he would have stayed here. The kitchen was a mess. In the front room he found some old pictures. Two fine white bitches, mother and daughter by the look. They looked decent enough. The house didn’t look like it would need much to fix up, if they needed it. He would check the upstairs when someone was with him in case they were weak. Callam looked in some of the cupboards and stopped as he found himself looking at the door the old man had told him never to go through. Callam opened the door and looked down some stone steps into darkness.
He got a flashlight from the jeep and slowly made his way down into the dark space under the farmhouse. He stopped at the foot of the stairs as the small details stared back at him. The old rotting mattresses on the floor, the chains that hung from the walls, and two wooden beds. In one corner an animal cage was on it’s side. He noticed an old book and opened it with a foot. It was a photo album. He saw the faces in the pictures. Two of them were those decent looking women from the photo upstairs, only here they weren’t so decent. The older one was watching the younger one, watching what she was doing with a look of lust in each picture.
“Jesus,” Callum muttered feeling sick at the pictures and kicked the album away. He walked back up, picked up the old man’s body and carried him outside. He had seen somewhere nice and peaceful he could bury him. Then he’d come back and burn this fucking place down.



St Ignatious. English Class. Day.

Another crappy so-called lesson, Isabella thought as the class began to file out. Mr Jameson was the talk of the school. A very filthy talk at that. Forget that he couldn’t teach worth a damn, they wanted to fuck him sideways! Well, that was how you got the likes of him. Tease the fuck until he couldn’t help himself and then yell rape before watching him squirm. Just like that time with one of Papa’s bodyguards, when she drove that one to blowing his brains out. That was the reason she was here. A girl’s finishing school would be best for her, her slut of a mother had decided. That bitch had just wanted the competition out of the way. And Isabella knew she was becoming some serious fuck-hot competition.
She watched him before finally standing up. She had left the nigger ‘teacher’ a little message in the report on Othello she’d handed in. And that fucking nigger hadn’t looked once at her. Didn’t seem slightly pissed off or turned on even. What the fuck was wrong with him? She was putting herself out on a plate and he wasn’t batting an eye-lid! Maybe she was missing some things, like a cock a balls! Isabella sniffed. Nah, that wasn’t it. She could tell a straight one right off and Jameson was one hundred percent hetro!