Getting Away with Murder Chapter 5 - Extra-Judicial

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Isabella sighed, slumping down against the wall and rubbing her face in her hands. “Fuck,” she breathed. “That was…”

“Yeah.” Zahira nodded, massaging her neck. “It’s hard to believe that people like that are real.”

“Life in prison seems too good for him,” Isabella said. She shook her head disdainfully. “He just wants attention, and he got it. He’s playing us like a fucking fiddle.”

Zahira didn’t answer at first. The silence stretched on for minutes, until finally Isabella looked up and saw the thoughtful look on her partner’s face. “Zahira?” she asked.

Her partner blinked, her eyes refocusing back on Isabella. “H-huh?”

“What’re you thinking? You okay?”

“Y-yeah. Just—” Zahira licked her lips, tugging anxiously at her smooth blonde ponytail. “You’re right. Prison is too good for him. What if… what if he didn’t make it to prison?”

Isabella frowned. “What do you mean? That’s where he’s going, Zee. There’s no way he escapes. He’s a freak and a sadist, but he’s no magician.”

“No, no! I mean… what if we didn’t let him make it to prison?” Zahira stepped closer, grabbing Isabella’s shoulders and lowering her voice to a whisper. “What if… I don’t know, he tried to escape… and caught a bullet or twenty?”

Isabella’s eyes widened. She gasped, whispering back, “Zahira, you’re talking about murder!”

“Who gives a shit. It’s what he deserves, isn’t it?” Zahira hissed darkly. “You heard the shit he was saying, Bella. It’s just like you said, life in prison is too good for him.”

“That doesn’t mean we just kill him!”

“Why not? Why shouldn’t we?!” Zahira squeezed Isabella’s shoulders, nodding energetically as she talked through the idea. “It’d be easy, wouldn’t it? We can just say he resisted in transit and we had to shoot him. We’re in transit… no body cams, no one to argue… and you know no one is going to look too deep into it. Nobody’s gonna care if a serial rapist shows up dead, Bella. If we just bend the rules a little, we can make sure he never hurts anyone again!”

“But…” Isabella grimaced. It was tempting. It was damn tempting. She hated Grant more than anything, and the idea of his smug face paling in shock just before she put a bullet between his eyes had her reaching instinctively for her gun, rubbing the smooth metal with her thumb. “How would we even do it? There’s no way Captain Mendoza has us drive him.”

“Fuck Mendoza,” Zahira spat. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Look, we find out who’s doing the transit and we ask them ourselves. Bribe them if we have to. They get a few hours to relax and we get some alone time with that rapist prick.”

Isabella bit her lip. She wanted to say yes, but there was doubt in the back of her head. It seemed wrong… but then the image of Grant’s cocky grin flashed in her mind. All the sick shit he’d said just to get under her skin, how he’d made innocent women beg for their lives only to kill them in the most terrible ways.

She’d make him beg before she shot him.

“Fine.” Isabella nodded, straightening up and taking a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

---

There was a light drizzle falling as Isabella and Zahira stood in the lot outside a few hours later. Zahira was pacing nervously, her arms crossed under her breasts and her head swiveling side to side as she scanned the street.

“Relax, Rach,” Isabella said. She’d taken a position leaning against the brick wall, one hand resting on her holster. Though she’d been reluctant to agree to this plan, now that things were in motion she’d settled into her usual determination, but Zahira had been practically bouncing off the walls.

“Look! There.” Zahira perked up, jerking her head. Isabella followed the motion and spotted the pair of officers escorting Grant out of the police department. Both his wrists and ankles were cuffed, forcing him to shuffle awkwardly as the officers brought him to a patrol car and pushed him into the backseat.

The door slammed shut, locking him inside. Rather than get into the car themselves, however, the two officers went straight back inside. One of them paused at the door, looking towards Isabella and Zahira and giving a short nod.

“Well, it’s in our hands now.” Isabella pushed off the wall, leading the way to the car with a determined stride. She looked into the tinted windows of the rear seat with a smirk as she approached the driver’s side door. She couldn’t see inside, but she knew Grant was in there, and she knew he could see her.

The key was left in the door. Isabella slid into the driver’s seat with a sigh, reaching up and adjusting the rear view mirror until she could see Grant’s surprised face.

“Detective?”

“Rapist.”

He blinked. “Might I ask what you’re doing here?”

“My job.” Isabella turned the key as Zahira sat beside her, the engine revving to life. “Now shut the fuck up.”

The drive passed quickly and in silence. Isabella kept a tight grip on the steering wheel, fingers tapping impatiently. She found herself glancing from mirror to mirror, jumping every time the radio crackled to life with some innocuous traffic. Had anyone noticed her absence, or the unexpected presence of the officers that were supposed to be in her place right now? Another patrol car passed from the opposite direction, its occupants giving her a wave and nod. She smiled stiffly in return, her knuckles tightening when Zahira reached over to give her thigh a comforting squeeze.

She was a good cop, wasn’t she? She did good work. She saved people. What she was doing right now, she was doing it to save people, and she was sure that if she asked any one of her co-workers they’d all agree that the bastard didn’t deserve a warm bed and three meals a day on the taxpayer’s dime. No one was going to look twice… So why was she so goddamn nervous?

The brakes squealed as the car rolled to a stop under an old bridge. They were in an older, poorer neighborhood, the sun already dipping towards the horizon. The big, expensive high-rises of downtown cast long shadows that plunged the rundown homes here into a premature night. Cops usually only came to this part of town in force… executing drug busts, rounding up any gangs that tried expanding into the wealthier neighborhoods, or just performing shows of force. “This will do. Get him out.” Isabella nodded to Zahira as she pushed the door open and walked around the patrol car’s hood. She pulled her gun from her holster, thumbing the rubberized grip before sighing and racking the slide back. Her heart was pounding now, but she knew this was the right thing to do.

“C’mon, asshole,” Isabella heard Zahira say. There was a masculine grunt and a few staggered steps, and Grant fell to his knees next to her, looking down at the hard rocks where the bridge’s foundation met the dirty river water.

“I see you’ve grown some balls, Detective.” Grant let out a low chuckle as he looked up at her with a lopsided grin. “I admit, this is a pleasant surprise.”

Isabella growled, whipping her pistol into the side of his face. He fell over with a groan, and she couldn’t help but smirk when she saw his dumb grin finally gone. “You don’t think I’m gonna do it, do you?” She squatted next to him, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling his head roughly off the cracked concrete. She pushed the gun up to his eye and cocked the hammer, the slight trembling of her hands stilling as the climactic moment drew closer. “I want you to beg me.”

He still had the gall to smirk up at her, damn him. She pistol-whipped him again. “Beg you miserable piece of shit!”

Grant looked up at him, anger in his voice as his eye bled where she hit it. “No, Isabella. You are the one who’ll be begging.”

A sharp prick in the small of her back was the only warning Isabella had before fifty thousand volts of electricity went coursing through her petite body. She cried out, muscles spasming, every limb going rigid as Grant rolled away from her gun barrel. There was an ear-piercing crack as her clenching finger pulled the trigger, a round smacking into the ground and sending little shards of concrete splintering into the air.

Isabella knew what it felt like to be tazed from her training, but it was entirely different having it sprung on her unexpectedly. Her eyes watered and her teeth clenched together so hard her jaw hurt. She pissed herself, her cheeks reddening in shame as a dark patch soaked into her pants and a warm trickle ran down her leg. Her body refused to listen to her commands, each muscle undergoing rapid, painful contractions as she gasped for air.

It felt like an eternity before the current faded, leaving her to fall limply to the side with a quiet whimper. She landed on something soft, and looked up to see Zahira cradling her head in her lap, her soft, friendly-looking lips stretched into an energetic smile and her delicate fingers wrapped around a spent taser. She softly stroked the limp Isabella’s hair out of her face, and the detective blinked up at her partner, brow furrowing in confusion. “W-why?”

Grant stepped into view above her, rubbing the marks on his wrists where the cuffs had been. He was holding her gun in his hand, and he slowly knelt down and pressed it against Isabella’s forehead. She groaned, straining to get up and defend herself, but she was still weak from the taser. There was a click as Grant uncocked the pistol and drew it back, smiling down at her. “Why not?”

Then he brought it down hard across her head, and she fell back into darkness.

---

The first thing Isabella was aware of was cold air over her nipples.

She groaned, lifting her head and blinking the bleary fog from her eyes. She was kneeling on a hard wooden floor, arms suspended above her by a cold chain and wrists bound in overly tight cuffs. She was naked. A shiver passed through her as a breeze passed between her thighs and tickled at her shaved pussy.

It came back to her all at once. Grant’s confession, the plan with Zahira, and the betrayal. Grant smirking down at her as she lay helpless in Zahira’s lap. The pain as he knocked her out with her own goddamn gun. Her eyes shot wide open as adrenaline flooded her veins. She scrambled to her feet with a grunt of effort, the chain rattling as she stood and turned a quick circle, taking in her surroundings. Wooden walls, dusty cardboard boxes, a single window blocked by a thick curtain. She saw warm light leaking around a door opposite the window, and heard approaching footsteps.

Bright light flooded the room as Grant stepped inside and flicked the switch by the door, causing Isabella to flinch back and squint her eyes. He had changed into fresh clothes, a well-fitting dress shirt and slacks, and he smiled at her as he rolled his sleeves up and stepped further into the room.

“Well, well, Detective,” he mused, reaching a hand out. She danced away from him with a snarl, the chain rattling above her, and he chuckled under his breath. “What’s wrong? I thought we were really making a connection there… You don’t like me anymore?”

“Get the fuck away from me,” Isabella hissed. He took a step forwards and she lashed out with a leg, screaming in frustration, only for him to catch her kick easily under his arm and pull. She roared as she was dragged closer, kicking and screaming with every inch, until finally his calloused hand wrapped around her breast and gave the olive flesh a firm squeeze.

“No, I don’t think I will,” he said, his thumb rubbing circles around her dark nipple. “I’m going to get to know you very well, Detective. Maybe you’ll even learn a few things about yourself, hm?”

She drew her head back and spat in his face. “Next time I decide to kill you I won’t hesitate, you disgusting son of a bitch!”

He didn’t flinch. He wiped her spit from his cheek slowly, considering it for a moment. “No, detective. I don’t wager you would.” Then he balled his hand into a fist and drove it into her gut, knocking the breath from her lungs. He dropped her leg and grabbed her throat instead, squeezing tight while she gasped for air. Veins bulged in his forearm as he looked directly into her eyes, drawing back his other hand. “Unfortunately… you’re too late.” He rammed his hand forward, punching her again and again, ignoring her strained yelps. She felt something crack, a sudden intense pain flaring in her chest, her lips parting in a silent scream when he grabbed her breast and pulled so hard that for a moment she feared he’d rip it straight off her chest.

He let go all at once, turning and walking away with his hands on his hips as she fell limply to her knees. That bastard just stood over her, running his hand through his hair and shaking his head. “That look of hatred in your eyes, detective… It rather love it.”

Isabella finally caught her breath, coughing and groaning as she struggled back to her feet. She hated him, but she hated how helpless she was even more. She knew he wouldn’t kill her until he was convinced he’d broken her. If she just put on a strong face and kept her chin up, she could survive until someone at the department realized they were missing and went looking.

“Grant? Is she awake?”

Isabella’s chest tightened. She looked up, spotting Zahira’s slender silhouette in the doorway. Her old partner was topless, the Indian girl’s tits on full display. Her cheeks and breasts were were flushed nearly violet, with teeth marks around her nipples and neck hinting at how the two of them might have spent their time while waiting for her to wake up. Zahira’s normally well-kept hair had been mussed up and hung free, the long dark locks framing her petite face and streaming down over her shoulders.

“W-why?” Isabella asked, tears welling in her eyes. Memories rushed through her head—long nights alone staking out suspected hideouts, lunch breaks by the bay watching the ships float past while they discussed a tough case, countless hours of pointless, stupid, endearing conversation as they drove around the city. They’d been partners for years and they’d never once discussed men. She’d even begun to think that maybe one day—

“You wouldn’t understand, Isabella.” Zahira stepped into the room with a dreamy smile, walking into Grant’s extended arm and biting her lip as he idly squeezed her breast. “Hey sweetheart.”

“Hey yourself,” he said with a smirk.

Isabella stared at her. “…Try me, here…” she growled out.

Zahira snorted. “Do you know how hard it was for me, working this case?” she asked with a small smile. “How… distracting… I found it? When we found those women chained up and turned into dead fuckmeat over and over again, I was horrified, yes… but I was also—” she shrugged, her tits bouncing with the movement “—intrigued.”

“Intrigued?” Isabella echoed. “Zahira, what the fuck! He raped them to death! And h-he intends to do the same thing to me!”

Zahira smirked, leaning her head into Grant’s shoulder. “Like I said, you wouldn’t understand. You’re a lesbian, aren’t you? I’ve seen how you look at me sometimes, and I admit I’ve been a little interested, but my barn door swings both ways. And you know what really gets me excited?” She sighed, bringing a hand up to grab Grant’s hind as he pinched her nipple between his thumb and index finger. “Two things. A man that takes what he wants, when he wants, and doesn’t care what anyone thinks about him. And the thought of you crying and begging for your life.”

“You can’t be serious.” Isabella gaped, looking from Zahira’s flustered face to Grant’s smug grin and back. She shook her head, her voice rising to a frustrated scream as she stood and lunged forwards, pulling fiercely at her chains. “He’s going to fucking kill me! He’ll probably kill you, too! Zahira! Stop thinking with your cunt and put this motherfucker in cuffs!”

Zahira purred as she smirked at her partner. “No, detective. I’m not his type like that.” She put her hand on his cock hardening his pants. “I want this… I’m not fun for him. Unlike you.” She shuddered a little bit.

Isabella stared at her. “It was you…” she gasped. “You ruined that evidence. You threatened the witnesses. You did this…”

The topless accomplice made a humming, purring sound. “It was so easy,” she said with a smile. “No one suspected anything. Just a few notes nailed to people’s doors, a sample left out a few hours or dropped… by far the hardest part was Samantha.” Her teeth were bright white in her smile. “Not drugging her tea or getting her to drink it, or putting her gun in her mouth. The hard part was not having fun with her first, but someone might have figured out the dyke slut didn’t kill herself…”

Isabella’s eyes were wide. “How… could you!” she gasped.

Grant chuckled, kissing the top of Zahira’s head. “You’re wasting your breath, Detective. She knows what she wants, and it isn’t a police dyke with no concept of work-life balance.” He began to unbutton his shirt, fingers moving deftly from one button to the next and revealing the firm muscle beneath. “She wants to live… to know what its like to live the way I do. To kill, fuck, and play their way through life, and never settles for anything less. To take a tough bitch like yourself and reduce her to her true nature as a whore. Which is exactly what we’re about to do to you.”

Isabella shrieked, trying to kick at him again. “You rapist son of a bitch! I’ll bite your balls off and shove them down your throat!”

Grant stepped back, pulling Zahira away with him. He slid his shirt off his shoulders and began to undo his belt. “Zahira, grab the Detective’s phone, would you?”

“Yes, sir!” Zahira gave him one last squeeze before stepping bouncily to the corner where Isabella’s clothes had been discarded, bending down and pulling out a small smartphone. She turned it towards Isabella, the light blinking near the top indicating she’d started recording.

“Now, Isabella, we’re going to start out simple.” Grant began to circle her, letting his pants fall to the floor and stepping out of them without breaking stride. She tried turning to face him, only for him to grab her shoulder, holding her in place and cracking his belt sharply across her tight, tanned ass.

“Nngh, fuck!” Isabella yelled, back arching from the sudden pain. “Touch me again, you—aagh!”

The belt whipped her again, cutting off her taunt, and then again. He squeezed her shoulder painfully hard, keeping her from pulling away, beating her ass raw while she fought to keep her voice steady. There was a brief respite where she thought he was done, only for her eyes to bulge in shock when he began to whip her with the buckle, the hard metal breaking her smooth skin and leaving her gasping for breath.

Finally he stepped back, letting her fall to her knees with a groan. Thin curtains of blood dripped down her back, pooling in the dimples just above her ass before outlining the curves of her tight, raw buttocks. He nodded in satisfaction as she panted, hanging limply from the chain above her, and slid his boxers down to reveal his hard cock.

He grabbed her hair and hauled her to her feet, pulling her back against his chest so she could feel his meat slide into place between her ass cheeks. She cringed as he licked the sweat off her cheek, squeezing her throat tight and whispering into her ear. “I’ve been waiting for this, detective… longer than you can know. Every time I spoke in that interrogation room, every time I saw you in the court room, this is what I was thinking about. I’m going to fuck you now. And you see that?” He turned her head forcefully to where Zahira stood recording them, one hand playing with her breasts as she watched. “Once we’re done here, we’ll post it on your Facebook, Twitter, whatever other pointless social media you have. Your friends, family, and co-workers will get to see you cum on my cock and beg for your life — all in high definition. They’ll take it down, of course… but nothing is ever really gone once its on the internet. You’ll get to live forever in a way. Isn’t that nice?” He bit her ear, giving it a sharp tug that made her tense against him, but she pursed her lips, refusing to cry out.

More amused than annoyed by her resistance, Grant grabbed her hips and pushed her forwards, pulling her ass towards him. He sighed as he rubbed his shaft between her bloodied buttocks for a few seconds before lining his bulbous cockhead up with her pussy and beginning to press forwards.

Isabella kept her eyes forwards, jaw clenched and lips trembling as she felt him push against her. She wouldn’t break. She wouldn’t cry. She would bide her time, savoring every ounce of pain just so she could unleash it on him once she was free. She closed her eyes and grimaced as his hands squeezed her hips and caressed the small of her back, as his cock forced its way painfully inside her. A deep, body-shaking nausea welled inside her, but she swallowed the bile back down, focusing on the physical hurt of her dry folds being split open inch by inch.

Grant hunched over her, groaning above her, letting her hear just how much her body pleasured him. Truthfully, he wasn’t getting much out of it… yet. Her cunt was dry and tight, and each thrust of his hips chafed against him as much as it did against her. But he could see how much she hated it, how she desperately wanted to not give him what he was taking at the very moment, and that made it worth it. He kicked her feet apart and slid a hand between her thighs, rubbing slow, insistent circles over her clit and smirking when her muscles tensed against him, betraying the pleasure he was forcing upon her. “You can play coy if you like, detective… but women are born to be bred whether they like it or not. And you’re no exception.”

She clenched her jaw, tears welling in her eyes as she felt her womanhood begin to flush, lubricating itself for her rapist’s pleasure. Her whole body shuddered with the shame of it, her chest tightening as she fought to repress her sobs. He worked his hips in short, easy thrusts, wetting his cock with her juices and sliding deeper half an inch at a time, his quiet huffs of excitement filling her with disgust.

She couldn’t take it. She screamed, thrashing against him with every limb. She lashed out with her elbows, kicked and stomped, threw her head back—anything to get him out, but he was so much stronger. He grabbed her throat and hugged her tight as his cock hilted inside her, his groin meeting her tight ass cheeks with a resounding slap. She whimpered, going limp in his grasp as he squeezed her neck harder. “There we go. There’s no point to fighting, is there? You see.” Grant kissed her ear, pulling his hips back and then pressing in once more. His cock slid easily inside her, her tight cunt squeezing reflexively around him. “Though surely you aren’t giving up already?”

She responded with another wordless scream, bucking against him like a wild bronco, her nails digging into his flesh, but all her struggles did was entice him further. He could feel her heart racing as he palmed her breast and squeezed the springy flesh, leaving pale finger-shaped imprints behind. He felt her fear with the rhythmic throbbing of her pussy around his cock and her rapid, short breaths. And every time he thought maybe she’d finally given in for good she would suddenly cry out and redouble her efforts, wailing and shouting and cursing and kicking, all pointless vain attempts to stop him from using her like the worthless fucktoy he saw her as.

Zahira had pulled her panties down in her excitement, plunging her free hand earnestly into her soaked pussy, her pretty brown eyes glued to the video of her own partner being raped right in front of her. “Oh, fuck,” she panted, breasts heaving, “this is so hot.”

“Zahira!” Isabella shrieked, voice breaking. “Get him the fuck off me!”

Zahira licked her lips. She pulled her finger out of her cunt and stuck it in her mouth, sucking the juices off as she stepped closer. She knelt down, getting a closeup of Grant’s cock mercilessly plunging into Isabella with loud, wet slaps. The detective’s shaved pussy was flushed red, the little pink nub of her clit exposed to the open air. Sweat dripped down the swollen lips, mixing in with her unwilling arousal and Grant’s pre and trickling down the inside of her thighs in a frothy mix. “I think he’s doing a pretty good job of getting off in you himself…” she chuckled.

Zahira moved the camera phone higher, playing it up Isabella’s smooth belly and past her perky, bouncing tits, her brown nipples stiff and the skin pebbled with goosebumps. She went higher still, to Isabella’s slender throat gripped tight in Grant’s palm, and finally to her face, her eyes wide and watery, cheeks red with shame, lips parted to let out strained little gasps of pain and anger.

“Z-Zahira,” Isabella whispered, grunting as Grant smacked into her with a deep, hard thrust. “Please.”

“Oh, Bella.” Zahira smiled, grabbing one of Isabella’s hands and playing idly with her fingers. “I’m going to enjoy this so much.” Without warning she grabbed one of Isabella’s fingers and pushed, snapping the tiny bone and letting out a breathless giggle.

Isabella gaped a silent scream, her eyes bulging and muscles tensing in pain. Grant grunted, his rhythm interrupted by the sudden powerful squeezing of Isabella’s pussy around his girth, holding him in so tight that he couldn’t even pull out. Then she screamed, shrill and loud, her pussy relaxing and her voice bouncing with every brutal thrust of Grant’s cock deep into her cunt. “Zahira! F-fuck! Why?!”

Rather than answer, Zahira just bit her lip and grabbed another finger. She started higher this time, breaking it one joint at a time, rolling it up backwards like a tube of toothpaste. Isabella’s screams went up an octave, her voice breaking and her legs kicking. Grant clenched his jaw and tightened his hold on the panicked slut, one hand around her belly hugging her to his chest while the other squeezed her throat until her screams died to hoarse croaks. He lifted her off the ground so she had nothing to push off, her legs jerking wildly as he bounced her on his cock.

“I almost came when he described this in the interrogation room,” Zahira admitted. She didn’t slow down at all… her hands moving from knuckle to knuckle, finger to finger, keeping the camera trained on Isabella’s agonized face the entire time. “Wouldn’t that have been a way to blow my cover, huh?” Each little snap made her clench anew around Grant’s member, so tight that he could hear the squelch of their mess being squeezed out and feel the hot froth dripping down his balls. He began to time his thrusts, slamming balls deep before each pained spasm, groaning with the sensation of his entire length gripped tight in her slick, velvety pussy. He’d pull out with a snort of exertion, Isabella’s cunt rippling across his shaft, then slam back home right before Zahira broke another finger to start the cycle again.

Isabella lost all sense of time. She didn’t know how long she spent flailing on Grant’s cock, her wrists chained above her, her back arched against him, tits jutting forwards and nipples at attention. She barely had the presence of mind to count how many finger bones she had left to break. She lived in the moment, lances of agony driven into her adrenaline-flooded mind with each little crack, the white-hot awareness interspersed with rhythmic jolts of aching pleasure from her abused cunt as the pain faded, only to return even sharper with the next joint snapped in two. She was an animal, her shame forgotten in her panic, her usually stoic brown eyes screwed up and fluttering as her face twisted in pain.

Grant kept count, though. He grinned down at Zahira, holding her gaze as she worked her way across Isabella’s left hand. The pressure built deep in his sack by the time Isabella’s middle finger was rolled up, and he felt it build and rise with each clench and thrust. He snorted, gnashing his teeth, his thrusts strengthening until he was pounding Isabella with brutal, long bucks of his hips, balls swaying beneath him, his cockhead pummeling the entrance to the detective’s womb. He began to lose focus, his grip on her throat tightening until the whore lost consciousness, her eyes rolling back and her hoarse screams fading to dumb, animal moans… but even in the throes of asphyxiation her body reacted to Zahira’s torture, squeezing and flexing and massaging his cock towards a powerful orgasm.

Grant let out a deep, almost pained groan as he came, pressing his dick against Isabella’s cervix as his balls jumped up. His shaft flexed inside her, pumping powerful ropes of virile white cum in her most precious, private place, painting her insides with his seed and claiming her as his own for the rest of her life. He huffed, balls churning, immersed in the primal satisfaction and shuddering ecstasy of breeding a strong woman that would’ve sooner killed herself than be made his slut.

Finally he relaxed, stepping back and letting his cock flop out of her abused pussy. Isabella crumpled, the chains around her wrists the only thing holding her on her knees, a thick curtain of cum leaking down the curve of her ass as she swayed limply from her bindings as she struggled to catch her breath. “B—b—b—” she coughed out. Grant smiled at her… Then he shot forward and brought his fist right up into her stomach.

Isabella gasped, the detective’s eyes going wide as Grant’s fist smashed into her stomach and robbed her of the air she had just been struggling to recover. The cop had always been used to being in control, but now she was helpless and unable to even get enough air. His second fist smashed into the side of her head with a meaty thud that sent her sprawling on her ass with an agonized sound of pain, knocked her to the ground helplessly, her head spinning from the sudden violent assault.

“Get the fuck up bitch,” he spat. “Not so tough without a pistol in your hand, are you?”

Isabella tried to look back up at him, her vision swimming… but she was so dazed she didn’t even see it coming when grant charged forward and kicked her right in her back, his booted foot slamming into her spine and forcing a tortured cry out of her as she fell forwards. Without her hands to catch her, the detective’s pretty face smashing down against the ground in front of her. “Dumb bitch,” Grant mocked. He stepped over her and grabbed by her pony tail, painfully yanking on her body. “You stuck up, man hating…”

He used her hair as a handhold to smash her skull into the ground in front of her, smashing her head against the hard floor as he kept her dazed body pinned, her fat tits squashed flat against the ground. “Dumb!” he growled as he made her grunt and whine and whimper as he bounced the detective’s empty head off the hardwood. “Fucking!” he snarled as he yanked on her hair, pulling her up only to smash her down again. “Dyke!” Her nose broke on the second blow and blood began to pour down her gorgeous face as he beat her senseless, showing the cop she was just as weak and pathetic as any other rapebait slut. “Cunt!”

He let the exhausted, beaten cop fall back down to the ground as he let go of her, tears leaking from her eyes. “What the matter, Isabella? Not going to execute me now? Not going to hope your plunger is the real one now? Wanna try and intimidate me now cunt? You don’t sound so cocky anymore…” Grant brought his foot between Isabella's legs like he was punting a football, the sickening whump filling the room as his foot collided with her raped cunt only drowned out by the high pitched screech that came from Isabella.

Isabella laid there in pain, letting out weak little noises of pain until Grant gripped her hair again and yanked on it like a leash, pulling the beaten cop up onto her feet. Isabella wanted so badly to fight back, to struggle, but her cuffed hands were balls of liquid agony and her lungs burned. Before she could even try to put up a fight, Grant had reared back his fist again and slammed it right into her stomach, forcing the air from her lungs once more and making her double over in agony. Only his hand on her hair kept her up. “Every time you wore your uniform I couldn’t stop thinking about your tits,” Grant admitted. His next punch flattered her right tit, and Isabella howled in pain as his fist slammed into her boob. The mans fist slammed into her left breast next, knuckles driving deep inside and filling her with agony. “Every time I wanted to do just this… your tits are my fucking punching bags, you dyke trash!”

Grant began beating his fists into her breasts with rapid punches as he held her in place by her hair. All Isabella could do squirm and let out grunts and cries as her big breasts were treated like punching bags by the murderer in front of her, his fists connecting with each one with brutal smacks that made them bounce and jiggle on her chest. Isabella tried to stop herself from screaming as the fists smacked into her breasts but the agony was getting worse and worse with each heavy blow to her tits. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smacksmacksmackscmacksmack…

The captive cop was helpless, and could only struggle not to sob as her tits were beaten into one big bruise by her captor. His fist slammed into her tits over and over as the man laughed at her, taking time out from his brutal beating of her tits to smash his fist into her face. Grant hit her right in her broken nose and made her head snap back sharply, her world spinning again. Her eyes began to roll back and her jaw went a little slack as his fists rammed into her body again and again.

"This is great video…" Zahira moaned, holding up the phone as she fingered herself as Isabella’s head lolled back and forth her head in agony from the repeated punches. “Make an example of that dyke bitch… teach her what sluts like her are really good for…”

"We're gonna make an example out of you bitch...and teach you what sluts like you are really good for" the man behind her growled

"Zahira… I'll... get free... and kick... kick… k—kick your goddamn... a— Agh!" Isabella slurred out only for Grant to smash her face with a right hook, her head snapping to the side and blood spraying from her cut lip and nose.

"Fuck that’s hot,” the corrupt cop moaned. “Best be careful, though… she’ll be less fun if she’s brain dead.”

"This dumb dyke slut is already brain dead," Grant laughed before delivering another volley of blows to Isabella's breasts, his fist slamming forward again and again as he beat the arrogant cop slut brutally. Each heavy blow of his fists forced soft cries and screams out of Isabella now as he beat her breasts savagely, blood and tears flowing down her arrogant face as she was treated like nothing but a fat titted punching bag. As she hung there Grant’s grip, suspended by her hair, sobbing weakly and sniffling like a pathetic piece of street meat with her pimp for the first time, her rapist grabbed her by her chin and tilted her head to look at him. "Aww, Isabella… are you crying? Is the big bad detective crying because the scary man was too mean to her?" he mocked her.

Isabella glared defiantly at him or as defiantly as she could with tears in her eyes. She spat at his face, but it didn’t make it further than landing on her own tits. "F—fuck you, you sick animal," she spat. Grant’s fist smashed into the side of her face again and he let go of her as she did, sending her sprawling onto the ground with a dull moan.

"Oh, you will, bitch,” Grant promised her. “You’re going to best the rest of your life doing just that. Now, you mouthy slut, I’m going to teach you exactly what that fucking hole in your face is for." She heard Grant moving around for a bit before he gripped her once more by the hair and yanked her up onto her knees. His cock was still out right before her eyes, stained with blood, his cum, and her juices… right in front of her face, the thick, massive monster looked even more threatening that it had felt inside her cunt. He was already rock hard and eager to stuff her mouth.

As she stared at it in horror and disgust, her eyes focused on him, her features contorting into rage. "If you put that near my mouth I'll bite it the fuck off," she snarled. “Don’t you fuc—” She was interrupted when he punched her again. “Hey Zee,” he said as Isabella felt him begin pushing a ring gag into her mouth. “What do you tell a dyke with two black eyes?”

“Nothing,” Zahira smirked. “You already told her twice.”

“Damn right,” Grant said as he tightened the gag’s band behind her head. “This is me being merciful, bitch. If you bit me, I’d have to spend the next few hours knocking out every last one of your teeth... and then I’d rape your throat anyway. This way, we get to skip that. Say thank you.”

“Guuuh fuuuuuuuufh yuuuuusef, baaahsta— URK!” Isabella had barely started her reponse when Grant shut her up. Showing no regard for what this mouthy little cop whore was trying to say, he decided to put that mouth of hers to good use and force his thick monster of a cock into her mouth. Isabella winced as his bloodstained dick scraped over her tongue, forcing her to lick it clean with sheer friction as he silenced her with his meat, her mouth used as nothing but a hole for him to slam his cock into. Isabella let out a gagging choking sound and he laughed. “Man you sound pathetic, Isabella. Was your mommy proud when you became a detective? Do you think she’s proud now, when she can hear how pathetic you sound gagging on a cock you dumb dyke?” He sneered down at her, gripping Isabella's skull like he was trying to crush it in his hands, and he shoved it down to the balls on his dick. Grant made sure to jam every last inch of his thick cock straight down this startled and spluttering Latina's hot little throat, to give her the skullraping that she'd had coming to her her entire bitchy, man-hating life. "Oh fuck yes! Give my cock a tongue bath, you stuck up cop cunt!"

"GLACGH GLACKGH GLUCKGH!" Isabella choked and gagged around the thick behemoth of a cock that had been forced straight down her throat, stuffing her utterly. For all her life, since the very first time she had even heard of a blowjob, the idea had disgusted her… the act was the most horrific, most disgusting, more degrading thing she could imagine. Now it was happening to her in the most brutal fashion she could imagine, making her eyes go wide in shock and disgust and pain as her throat bulged outward. She couldn’t even clench her broken hands into fists for the pitiful comfort that might bring. Grant clearly didn't give a shit if Isabella passed out from the pain and lack of air… the way he saw it, he was just using her mouth for what every man who'd had to suffer listening to this bitch had always wanted to do with it, teaching the stuck-up cop the lesson she’d needed all her life.

"That's what this fucking mouth is for!” he growled. “Not spouting your bullshit or acting like your some tough bitch... your nothing but a fuckhole, Isabella. Nothing but a hole for me to plug my cock into, like every other dyke… and a badge and a gun doesn’t change that!” Grant slammed his cock balls deep again and again, raping the detective’s hot little throat and relishing the sloppy, wet gargling and puking sounds her throat made as his cock impaled its way down her untrained neck. The forced, sloppy choking sounds would be amazing for the camera, painting a perfect picture of her degradation while he slammed his shaft down her throat. “You might not know how to suck a cock you dumb bitch, but I’m happy to give you the crash course!”

Isabella, choking, puked up a thick, gooey mess all over Grant’s balls as he held her skull in place by her smooth dark hair and violently pumped his dick down her throat, his cock throbbing with the pleasure of forcing her to slobber and choke on his thick cock like a stupid whore. Flatting one hand on the back of her head, Grant punched it with the other, smashing his fist down and driving his cock fucking down her gagging throat. Isabella desperately tried to pull away and be able to breathe. Her face was flushed and little cum bubbles blew out of the corners of her mouth and nose as she tried to suck down oxygen around his dick, her eyes streaming pained tears down her cheek. The colossal cock forcing its way straight down her throat was rough enough to be agonizing even by itself, but when combined with the burning in her lungs it was overwhelming… and just kept pummeling her gullet, giving it the stretching he had decided it needed. Isabella’s struggles didn’t matter… the handcuffed cop was forced to choke down a mix of her own saliva and the thick, creamy pre-cum of her rapist, his dick lodged to his balls down her neck. This spit-soaked nuts slapped her in the chin every time he bucked his hips forward to force that cock down her throat and each time he thrust his cock down towards her stomach he gave her a bone rattling skull jarring punch to the back of her skull.

"NGGUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHH! NUHHHHUUHHHHHUHHHHHHHH" Isabella gagged out the screaming sounds that made her sound like a weak little whore as he crammed every last inch of that murderous cock straight down her neck, force-feeding the filthy muffdiving cunt a cock meal.

"Mmmmm,” Grant purred. “This dyke cop might not know how to suck cock for shit... but I'm still going to nut right down this tight socket.” He hammered further, staring down into her wide eyes. Isabella was screaming in horror, not realizing that all her yelling was doing was giving the man raping her throat even more pleasure as he humped his cock faster and faster past her lips. His dick plunged in and out of her as he set out to make a mess in the cop’s mouth.

Isabella wanted to scream and protest and curse but all she could do was gurgle and choke, the detective reduced to nothing but a rapehole for the man she had hunted. Grant ignored her desperate gagging and squealing and started to shoot his thick cum straight down her throat, shooting ropes and ropes of thick jizz down her clenching gullet. She was forced to choke most of it down, but some of it drooled out around his dick as he filled her throat to the brim with his cum. Isabella spluttered and choked as he force fed her his cum making this space dyke bitch choke down a mans spooge as her eyes rolled back into her head, tears streaming down her cheeks and mixing with the mess of jizz and drool she was expelling from her mouth and nostrils as she was used like a cum toilet, her lungs starting to give out of her.

"Not so tough now are you bitch?” Grant grunted as he held her down. “Drink it, dyke! That’s what your fucking mouth is for you stupid slut!” He mocked her as she was forced swallow or choke to death. He slammed himself in a few more times down her gullet, making the Latina bitch kiss his balls as he rammed his cock in and out of her cum-drooling mouth while his dick pulsed violently down her throat to fill her stomach up with his seed. A thick torrent of sticky, slimy cum exploded out of her mouth and nose as she violently puked on the cock that was shooting down her throat as she vomited up the thick, milky mess down onto her bruised tits and bare knees.

Her throat made a wet, sucking pop as he pulled out of her, breathing weakly as she collapsed to the ground… passed out around his cock. She was barely breathing, but Grant knew from experience he hadn’t killed her. She’d wake up soon enough, retching and shaking and covered in a cold sweat. It didn’t matter to him… he was done with her for the moment. “Come on,” he said, beckoning to Zahira and starting for the door. “I’m hungry. Make me some dinner.”

Zahira turned off the phone and shuddered with pleasure. “Yes sir…”

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