Keep Busy

54.

The airplane was much bigger this time—more like a gymnasium than the actual fuselage of a commercial jet. It still had the little oval windows, but they were spaced out by 100 feet of cushy first-class seats. All empty.

Frank sipped his whiskey and looked around the cavernous cabin. There wasn't much to see except the massive movie screen toward the front which was playing a compilation of some of Frank's favorite porno scenes. He sat back, hitting the recline button and watched as a steady stream of lithe women got their asses and vaginas pounded, gagged on giant cocks and eagerly lapped up hot cum.

This isn't so bad, he thought as the woman on the screen wailed and shrieked as a man in uniform slammed against her from behind. Her hair rippled with each thrust as if blown by a short puff of air. She was saying, "Stop! Stop!" which momentarily threw Frank for a loop. Normally, no matter how aggressive and domineering the men were in adult entertainment, the women were usually fairly compliant—whether spurred on by the thought of their paycheck or actually getting off on the abuse, Frank didn't know. But it was an oddity to hear a girl actually ask her partner to stop.

The whole scene started to dissolve, folding in on itself as Frank's eyes began to open. Glaring LED work lights on 8-foot stands surrounded the immediate area. He was tied to a chair in what appeared to be an airplane hangar. The hangar A smaller commercial airliner sat a short distance away huddled in the shadows. In the immediate foreground he saw Jane, bent over a folding table, a soldier holding her wrists on one side, another soldier with his BDUs around his ankles on the other. He was fucking Jane hard as she shouted for the guy to stop.

"Take it," the soldier said through gritted teeth as he pumped a few more times and then stalled out, his ass muscles flexing as he poured his zombie seed into her. Jane's legs quivered, her bare feet slipping and sliding on the polished concrete floor.

There was a group of other soldiers standing around, waiting their turn, chatting casually.

Frank started to protest but realized he was gagged with a rag and duct tape, like the human cattle back at the barn. Despite the intense pain in his head, he swiveled his neck to the right, seeing Emily and Tristen, also tied to chairs. Tristen was out cold, his head hanging, drool spilling onto his pants his elbow bent at an unnatural angle.

Emily was awake. Bloody and scraped up from the crash but paying no attention to the extent or severity of her new injuries. She was too focused on what was happening to Jane. Her eyes were slits, her features carved out of stone, every muscle in her tiny body taut as a drum.

The soldier who'd cum in Jane pulled out and stepped back a pace, giving her a healthy smack on the ass. Her dress was bunched up around her waist, being used as a stabilizing tool for the men's vigorous pounding.

Another soldier stepped up, dick already out and gleaming with lube. He stood behind her, took a second to spread her cheeks and inspect the goods just before straightening up and sliding in. Jane's head shot up, sending her hair flopping over onto her back. She screamed out in agonized contention.

"Fucking stop!" she bleated, her voice raw and cracking.

Frank again tried to shout through his gag. Jane turned her head, tears streaming down her face and met Frank's eyes. By the glazed, unfocused look she had, he assumed this routine had been going on for a while.

"Frank," she said through a broken sob just as a fat, lumbering soldier approached and shoved a wadded-up rag into her mouth.

"Won't be putting it on your tits today, sweetheart," the man said. Frank immediately recognized the fat man as Sargent Gacy from the camp. The man who'd interrogated him in the Processing tent.

Gacy saw Frank and sidled up, swaggering a bit as he navigated his bulk through the crowd of waiting soldiers.

"Good. You're awake," he smiled evilly. "Hope you're enjoying the show."

"Mmmph een retah," Frank said.

Gacy pulled Frank's gag out of his mouth. "What was that?"

"I've seen better."

"Come on, apart from the circus, this is the greatest show on earth. I mean, look at your little girlfriend getting filled up by all these dutiful men."

"Fuck you." Frank jeered.

"No, fuck her. You are witnessing the beginning of something beautiful. You should feel inspired and reverent. You should be in awe of the natural wonder you see before you."

"I am going to kill you so hard," Frank said, realizing how uncool and a bit confusing that sounded.

Gacy squinted for a second but shook it off. "Listen buddy. You won't have to deal with this for long. The men are working up quite an appetite fucking your little girl there so pretty soon, you and the rest of your ragtag group of breathers will be put out of your misery. Think you and the kid with the broken arm will be the main course and we'll save little miss crazy over here for dessert."

"Let her go," Frank bellowed. "Both of them!"

"Not quite. Jane's got at least 10 more men to service before we lock her in that plane over there and wait for the miracle of life to happen." Gacy put a sausage finger to his cleft chin and mused aloud, "Miracle of death? That doesn't sound right." He shook his head, jowls flapping. "Either way, she's not going anywhere for a long time. So lucky you guys decided to head north after leaving the base. We would've had a hell of a time trying to track you down, had you gone south. So... thanks for making our job that much easier."

At that, Emily started shaking, fighting against her restraints, the legs of the wooden chair clomping like hooves on the floor.

"Whoa. Slow down, Missy," Gacy said as he side-stepped over to her. She thrashed and shook her hair, releasing a wave of muffled screams through her gag. Gacy touched his chest where she'd planted her knife earlier that evening. He slid a finger into the gash and pulled it out, glazed in thin blood. He drew a line down her forehead and flicked her nose. "Bet that one was a surprise for ya. Didn't expect that did ya? But it'll take a whole lot more than a puny little knife to put me down you little trailer trash bitch."

Emily continued to fling her head around, looking possessed, chewing and sputtering through the gag, her chair squeaking and wincing.

"You got something to say too?" Gacy reached up and pulled down the filthy rag.

Emily stopped thrashing her eyes narrowed to dark slits. "Come closer," she hissed, spittle flying from her lips.

"Nice try. Not happening," Gacy said, taking a step back and planting his hands on his broad hips. He tilted his head to the side, examining her, sizing her up. He smoothed his moustache down with the flat of his hand. "You got a lot of fight in ya for being such a tiny thing." He glanced back at Jane as her current suiter was finishing his job, unevenly thrusting and smacking his bare thighs against her ass. "Maybe you'd like to go next?" he asked, turning back to Emily.

"Come closer," Emily said again veins rising on her bloody forehead, pulsing in her neck. She was straining forward. Frank could hear the nylon binding on her wrists squeaking. He saw spots of blood dotting the floor behind her.

"What? You got a secret to tell me? You wanna whisper something in daddy's ear?" Gacy cautiously stepped closer, leaning down toward Emily with a finger pressed behind his ear. "What you wanna tell me?"

Emily's hands whipped around slinging blood across Frank, Tristen and the floor coming together hard on either side of Gacy's head. Her wrists were pouring blood, the skin flayed and hanging, having basically degloved both hands pulling them from the cords. She pulled Gacy's wide-eyed face closer to her own, not seeming to register the pain she was surely in.

"You forgot to pat me down. Again," she said as her right arm became a blur, her hand reaching into her boot and producing her knife. It swung back up in an instant, the blade planting itself deep into Gacy's left ear. His jaw dropped as his eyes rolled back into his skull. Emily let go and Gacy fell hard on the ground.