Stolen Innocence 2:

Gorilla the Bitch

It’s Rick’s job to break her…

Destroy her self-worth… Train her…

Turn her out…

R.R. RYAN

© Copyright 2024 by R.R. Ryan

NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic, sexual nature. This tale is a work of pure fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously-any resemblance to actual persons, whether living, deceased, or real events, is entirely coincidental.

Gorilla the Bitch

Arvada, Colorado, Saturday, June 27th 2015

Tina lay crumpled in the darkened trunk. Her world shrunk into the stifling confines of the sheriff’s department cruiser. The claustrophobic space had an unpleasant aroma, like an old pizza gone off or a dead mouse. The persistent hum and vibration of the engine filtered through her body, a constant reminder of the car’s relentless motion.

But where was it taking Tina, naked, bruised, and feeling the weight of the world crushing her? To jail to be exposed to other deputies and other prisoners. A humiliation piled on top of degradation.

She felt each turn in the pit of her stomach. The tires’ rhythmic thrum against the pavement was the ticking of a clock counting down to an uncertain fate. Her cuffed hands were confined behind her back. It was a chilly night, and her limbs were numb from the cold metal of the carpetless floor and her thick, desperate fear. Tina could still taste the salty and savory flavor of his wretched cum in her mouth. The blurred sounds of passing automobiles occasionally pierced her ears. Her mind was convinced she was en route to jail.

A tear streaked down her cheek, lost in the shadows that cloaked her. But that destination had been a lie. A jail cell would have been a paradise compared to what was in store for Tina. The worst thing she feared was the disappointment of her parents.

How lucky she would have been if that had been her fate.

As the cruiser decelerated, winding its way into town, Tina’s thoughts churned in tandem with the slowing wheels. Could it be possible that the drugs had been planted in her cutoffs? She cursed her own naivety.

Images of Deputy Sheriff Mansard’s stern face flashed before her. An unsettling thought took root: What if he played a part in this nightmare? The car lurched around corners, and abrupt stops at intersections often caused Tina to slide helplessly on the trunk’s unforgiving surface.

Fear mingled peculiarly with an inexplicable excitement, an uncomfortable arousal borne from the night’s chaos, left her breathless with anxiety, anticipation, a tingley where she shouldn’t have one, and confusion.

The abrupt cessation of movement jolted Tina back to the present. Her senses grappled with the sudden shift. The familiar whine of a garage door resonated through the metal walls that cocooned her, its creaks and groans an ominous prelude to what awaited beyond. For a fleeting twenty seconds, the cruiser crept forward. Its powerful engine echoed in the confined space, mingling with the mechanical dirge of the door’s descent.

Suddenly, the world went still.

The trunk’s release latch clicked, a deafening sound in the silence, and a bright overhead light invaded the darkness. It blinded her. Unable to shield her eyes, Tina squinted as the figure of Deputy Sheriff Mansard appeared, silhouetted against the harsh light. His hands, firm and unyielding, gripped her shoulders, and the strong man hoisted her from the trunk’s depths.

Her bare feet met the cold concrete of the garage floor. The shiny gray cement sent a shiver up her spine. The chill was a stark contrast to the warm moisture inside her pussy.

Why was she turned on by this? It wasn’t right for her to have these sensations.

Rick Mansard loomed over her, his gaze intense and probing. In one fluid motion, he bent to her level, his lips finding hers in an invasive kiss. His tongue thrust into her mouth. It was a show of dominance, their tongues entwining briefly before he withdrew. Drawing out an involuntary response from Tina.

“Mmm,” she gasped.

The chase ended within the confines of her own mouth. She wanted more but couldn’t admit that. The kiss, broken, left them a silence heavy with intention. Lubrication leaked from her, marking the crotch of her tight cutoffs.

She clamped her legs tight together.

Without a word, Rick’s fingers moved to the buttons of Tina’s shorts, deftly freeing them from her hips. The man pushed them off her hips and shoved them downward. The fabric whispered down her legs, pooling at her feet like a discarded secret. The cool air of the garage whisked across her exposed skin. A reminder of her vulnerability under Rick Mansard’s imposing presence.

How can she hate something and crave it at the same time?

With purposeful nonchalance, Rick reached into the cavernous void where she had been confined and extracted a pair of high heels, tossing them carelessly at her feet. Tina gazed at them, wondering what this meant. She wanted the man to kiss her again, touch her, pinche her nipples, gently this time, unlike before.

So incredibly tender and lovingly the way she’d always dreamed it would be.

With a resounding clamor, the trunk slammed shut. It jolted Tina from the haunting reverie of her predicament. She flinched, her heart pounding against her ribcage like a caged bird desperate for freedom.

“Put them on,” he commanded, his voice devoid of warmth.

Balancing precariously, Tina bent awkwardly to slip her feet into the shoes, the leather cold against her skin. Her wrists chafed against the unyielding cuffs, a reminder of the control he held over her. Once shod, she watched as Rick gestured for her to follow, his movements assured and owning every inch of the space around him.

He strode forward and opened the door to his abode-a threshold that seemed to separate two worlds. With trepidation etching lines across Tina’s forehead, she stepped over the threshold after him, her eyes darting around the unfamiliar surroundings.

The flick of a switch bathed the interior in a harsh light, casting long shadows that played tricks on her vision. In the dim glow, Tina’s gaze settled on a figure almost blending into the room’s muted tones. A young woman sleeping on a dog bed. The sight was so absurd it took Tina a moment to process, an unsettling vision that hinted at an untold tale.

Would this woman’s story become hers?

She couldn’t help but notice the prominent collar clasped around the sleeper’s neck. A symbol of restraint and ownership, chilling in its implications. She was a black girl and a slave, Tina thought.

That was wrong.

Rick’s attention turned to a small cabinet, his back momentarily to Tina. He retrieved a remote and placed it within easy reach while his hands rid himself of the weight of his gun and belt. The metallic clicks of lock and key resounded through the silent house, echoing off the walls like a gavel delivering a final verdict.

Then, without warning, Rick pressed down on the thumb button of the remote. There was no hesitation in his action. Only the cold, calculated press of authority asserted itself through technology.

The collar buzzed, sending a jolt of electricity through the girl’s body. She convulsed and twitched and rolled about and tumbled from the bed to the tiled floor. The convulsions stopped as abruptly as they had begun. This left the room in a tense silence punctuated only by the girl’s heavy breathing.

She rose to her feet with grace despite the violence of the moments before.

“Whats ya needs, Daddy? Jus tells me, I’s’ll do it.”

Her voice held a trained timbre of docility that clashed eerily with the fear still lingering in her eyes.

Rick closed the distance between them. His figure loomed above her. She rose on her tippy toes and offered him her lips, open, waiting for him. The intimacy of their kiss was empty of tenderness; it was perfunctory, a transaction of flesh without love or even affection. He pulled away and gestured dismissively towards Tina.

She was a slave dismissed by her master, almost indicating unworthiness.

“This cunt’s my new bitch,” he declared as if introducing one pet to another rather than a person to another person. “You’re taking a trip. Your new Daddy will be picking you up soon.”

“Y-Yes, Daddy,” the girl stammered, casting a venomous glance toward Tina. It was a look that carried the weight of hatred. However, beneath the stare, Tina sensed a current of shared desperation.

“I’s gonna go make money for my new Daddy…Daddy?”

“He’s paying me good money for your worthless nigger hide, so you better be an earner. Or else, I’ll come there and cut your throat myself.”

“Yes, sirs, I’s’ll be an earner, Daddy. I promise to makes you proud of me.”

Taking one of her big tits in his bear-paw of a hand, he clutched it, twisted it hard. “You better, bitch.”

Tina’s heart pounded against her ribcage, each beat a drumroll to an unknown fate.

The girl cried. He let loose of her. “Go pack your shit and put on a dress. No underwear. He may want to sample you.”

Without another word, the girl turned on her heel and exited, her steps carrying the heaviness of resignation.

“What’s going to happen to me?” she asked. Tina’s voice barely rose above a whisper. The plea in her eyes was naked and unashamed, the last vestige of hope glinting in the dark.

Rick’s expression hardened into something cold and unreadable.

“You’re going to be trained, like I did her, to be a whore.” He spoke with an authority that would accept no argument. A comment to crush spirits and dreams alike.

“I ain’t no whore,” Tina shot back, defiance flaring within her despite the tremor in her words.

Without warning, Rick’s hand whipped across her cheek, a sharp crack that filled the room. He struck her again with the back of his hand, a double insult stamped onto her skin. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her face.

That was a preview of Stolen Innocence 2: Gorilla the Bitch. To read the rest purchase the book.

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