Plebs

by Jim Goforth

  It sure didn't seem like Haskell, Jett and the rest were behaving like they were under siege from hordes of hungry monsters, their concern for any threat from the Plebs appeared minimal to zero.

  Rather, they were essentially preparing for an orgy right here.

  Jett continued fucking Ryan, putting one hand on his throat now, pounding up and down, her sounds of pleasure and grunts of exertion a cold turn off for Corey, but sending the others into varying degrees of over excitement.

  If Tim was here, even trussed up like a doomed man on death row, he would have been able to have fun with this somehow, been able to muster up ribald comments probably even convince Jett to turn her sexual attentions on him...

  But Tim wasn't here. He was dead. Speared through the head. Still laying up in the dark, half in the Pleb yard.

  Britt was dead. Snatched by a Pleb. Heart and eyes torn out.

  Serena was dead. Stabbed by Raven, stomach sliced open to distract the Plebs.

  Caroline was dead. No doubt raped, tortured and mutilated by these homicidal freaks right here inside these walls.

  Blaise was dead. Shot by a trigger-happy loon and torn to shreds to the point of nothingness by the escaped beasts.

  Janet was dead. Shot by one of Raven's snipers before she even had the chance to cross the lake and escape from the even bigger murder scene that was the charcoaled camp all the women called home.

  Perhaps...just perhaps, all the others were dead too. Out in the woods. Outside in the field. Anywhere but in here because they weren't present.

  Just he, Desiree, Ryan and Caroline looked like they were the only ones to have made it inside the St Agnes horror house.

  Meaning Lee, Melissa, Pete, Tasha, Rachel, Dennis, anyone else that wasn't inside this grotesque unhallowed location had to be out there, and very probably dead.

  Along with Raven, Vickerman, the rest of the two psycho groups...

  But wait, hadn't Errol Haskell said, Raven wasn't here 'right now'?

  Did that then mean that even though Raven might not be here 'right now' indicate that she might be later?

  So she at least, was still alive?

  How was it that she was a survivor yet wasn't inside with her sister and co-conspirators?

  Did she somehow have some sort of sanctuary or way of avoiding the Plebs outside?

  Or were the Plebs no longer a threat? Had their presence been nullified?

  Shit, this jumbled jostle of what ifs, questions and quandaries was worse than being forced to gaze upon the filthy scenes inside the Spot where it seemed the motley assemblage of bystanders were taking steps to becoming more than mere onlookers.

  Gordon Cooper trailed in closer to the area where Jett viciously drove herself against Ryan’s helpless stretched out muscular physique and the zipper of his jeans was down, his penis erect and protruding from it.

  He caught the eye of one of the traitor girls over to the right of the church and she looked like she was in agreement with his unspoken suggestion, gravitating towards him.

  The girl who’d used the knife to cut Ryan's pants from his captured legs was still crouched there, intently watching Jett's pumping figure with lascivious glazed eyes, her thick lips parted and huffing out excited pants.

  Vaguely Corey recalled Jett referring to this short squat woman as Jodie.

  As he watched, straining vainly to loosen some part of his bindings, trying to feel a knot somewhere give way, Jodie started to disrobe also, shucking off clothes.

  She went further than Jett; under the malevolent dance of the candlelight she stripped herself completely naked.

  Her freckled skin looked like raw cookie dough dusted with cinnamon.

  Like Jett's partial displays of nudity the exposure of Jodie engendered no desire in Corey whatsoever.

  None of them could inspire anything of the firecracker explosions of desire and want that Desiree instilled in Corey, she would now and forever be the benchmark and the yardstick any other woman would be measured against whether intentionally or otherwise.

  Still, they would all continue to come up short.

  Now if only Corey Somerset managed to live long enough to see Desiree's beautiful body again in all its glory.

  He definitely did not want to see it like this, brutally exposed in the harsh orange glow that was ominous and eerie, on show at the hands of Haskell and these Neanderthals to be violated as a mere exotic plaything.

  Fucktoy.

  'And how are you going to prevent that Scummerset?' his voice railed mockingly inside his mind. 'How? You can't save her, you can't save yourself. She isn't yours anymore Corey, she isn't her own person, she belongs to these animals and they'll do as they please with her. Right before your very eyes. Like they're doing with Ryan.'

  As if they were probing right into his troubling thoughts and reading his mind, Albert and Allan Lombardo suddenly lurched away from their positions in the cluster and started to make for Desiree's captive chair.

  "C'mon," whined Allan. "Cut loose that beautiful bitch up there and let's all get into her."

  Thicker set Albert nodded eagerly in agreement, poking his tongue out to lick his blubbery lips, a hand balled at his crotch fumbling and fondling.

  Haskell whipped a pistol up from underneath the top of the lectern and zeroed in on Allan with it then swung its nose to point at Albert.

  "Back the fuck up you dago fucks. She's mine. You even think about one more step her direction and I will shoot holes in your heads and fuck your eye sockets."

  The lusting brothers exchanged glances and stopped in their tracks, probably tossing up the options, gauging how genuine Haskell's threat was.

  Corey couldn’t quite recall whether he had seen the brothers outside in the field, but if they'd been present they should well know the level of Haskell's violent psychosis.

  He wasn't joking and the sight of him hammering his foolish compatriot to a battered pulp with his own weapon was testament to that.

  "Come ON Errol," Allan wheedled. "This shit's got me horny and that black-haired slut is as fine a piece of ass as I've ever seen. Let's all get some."

  "You'll get some fucking lead," Errol snarled. "I don't care what you do down there, sort it out who you want there like Gordo is doing, shit you two can fuck each other for all I care, but this sexy piece is going to be mine, all mine."

  "Aw, shit! No fair," Allan groaned while his brother who'd yet to say anything merely stared with his piggy eyes at first Errol then Desiree. "Come on, share."

  "There's bitches down there," Errol said emphatically. "If they don't want you, that's not my issue. Go out and catch another."

  The brothers retreated, furiously cheated expressions darkening their features.

  They murmured in undertones, glancing at Jodie, naked on her knees alongside Ryan's outstretched legs, masturbating.

  Albert shrugged, obviously not going to be picky about it while Allan peered into the shadows where the other girls were.

  Mohawk, Jett, Jodie, the other girl who'd assisted in stripping Ryan -Lynn or Linda, something along those lines, the girl who was drifting towards Gordon plus two others, one a shapely but heavyset woman with multiple facial piercings and a nondescript dirty blonde haired girl.

  Pretty slim pickings, at least in comparison to the stunning stygian haired beauty Errol had lashed to a chair, adamant she was his, though the currently absent snake eyed black girl Raven adamantly also laid a claim on her.

  The Lombardo’s cousin Spike Alessio wasn't going to be as choosy as his relatives, he knew that Haskell wasn't pulling their leg, if they pushed the issue they would be pushing up daisies.

  He crept in closer to the action in the aisle, watching alternate views of Jett from the front thrusting herself relentlessly down on Ryan and Jodie from the side, working herself with plump fingers.

  Abruptly Jett released a loud harsh cry, flung back her head, her cornrows flying down her back and shouted out a directive obviously to Mohawk.

 
"Now! Do it now!"

  The powerfully built Mohawk swept up the axe she'd been leaning on, filling her hands with the firm hardwood handle.

  She swung the weapon overhead in a savage arc. The blade sparked in the orange glow. Then it dropped at a rapid rate.

  With a single vicious blow Mohawk cleaved Ryan's head from his body.

  CHAPTER 43

  Beyond terrified, completely brainfucked by this, Corey felt a ragged scream tear from his throat, trying to fling himself from his restraints.

  "No!!!"

  Climaxing furiously Jett uttered a gargled sequence of moans and cries then either dismounted herself or was shoved out of the way by Jodie, who threw herself onto Ryan's body, his organ still erect.

  His severed head bounced away with a shower of blood as a heinous chorus of cheers rang out from the congregation and Pierced Girl stooped, and snatched it up by the bloodied blond curls, mashing its face between her thighs.

  "Hey, this is the best head I ever got!"

  "You fucking piece of shit!" Desiree spat in vile disgust. "You pack of scum!"

  "No..." Corey repeated, but this time it wasn't a scream, it was a desolate choking moan, his throat raw and parched.

  He realised hot tears were streaking his face, pouring in rivulets down his cheeks.

  "Hey, nothing to lose your head over Somercunt," Haskell jeered, slapping his thighs as he walked out in front of the lectern. "Some of these bitches probably have STDs, good news for Richards. He won't be catching any."

  Corey attempted to dislodge words from his throat, but nothing would come, they balled up like a great chunk of alphabet soup.

  Atop Ryan's decapitated corpse Jodie feverishly rode, striving for a necrophiliac orgasm while around her the others tore at their own clothing, and each other’s, driven into an orgiastic frenzy by the brutal meld of sex and death.

  Haskell's ultimate dream. This ruthless act perpetrated by Jett and Mohawk was a visceral feast for his murderous eyes and his jeans bulged at the crotch.

  "Ah yeah," he declared, vigorously rubbing at this prominent lump. "Time for the Haskell Horn to impale some delicious pussy. Time to break out the top shelf stuff."

  Albert Lombardo had been getting down on his knees behind Jodie's gyrating body, ready to get in on the act from behind, but Haskell's words halted him for the moment and his head swiveled around.

  Other eyes also went to Errol Haskell to see what his plans were.

  "Carry on," He said dismissively. "You keep doing what you're doing."

  They didn't carry on doing what they were doing bar Jodie, who kept on grinding at Ryan's corpse. They all acknowledged what Haskell meant by top shelf stuff.

  They wanted to see.

  They knew if Haskell wasn't going to let any of them at Desiree, at least he should let them see her gloriously naked, tamed and submissive.

  He stalked across to Desiree's captive figure.

  He made a big exaggerated show of it, fondling himself and licking his lips.

  Corey raged against his ropes. He struggled and kicked. None of the knots gave him any sign of weakening.

  His heart kicked in his chest. His tears were still coming.

  "Hold on Errol." Jett.

  "Huh?" Haskell grunted, glancing around.

  Still naked from the waist down Jett walked towards Errol.

  "Fuck me first."

  "Huh?" Errol grunted again like an echo parody of himself.

  "You heard me. Do me first."

  Errol turned around. He had a knife in his hand, but not the gun, obviously it remained on the shelf under the lecterns top or was holstered.

  He placed the flat of the blade against his face, blood from unknown sources now crusted in his visage, and tapped it on his cheek as if mulling over Jett's proposal.

  "Shit, sloppy seconds. Dunno about that. Why would I fucking do that?"

  "You don't have to use the same hole."

  Interest flared in Haskell's eyes. Then they narrowed to questioning slits.

  Corey himself wondered what Jett's motivation was.

  Was she trying to stall Haskell, plotting to save Desiree in order to keep her in one piece for Raven?

  Did she actually want Errol Haskell? After molesting Ryan and having him beheaded while his hard penis was still up inside her?

  Haskell voiced the thoughts Corey's head was filling up with, addressing Jett with one word.

  "Why?"

  "Because Curlylocks was a dead lay," snorted Jett with a sandpaper laugh.

  "He got you off. Looks like he got your friend off too. After he became a headless horse."

  "Yeah well I've got an appetite now. I want a hard rough violent fucker who knows how to combine fucking with the mean stuff. Sound like you?"

  "Ha, yeah. That is me, to a T," Haskell sneered with more than a touch of pride seeping into his voice. "Still, here's the thing. I want...no, make that I NEED...this sexy fuckhole right here. And she won't be able to stop me sticking it wherever I want."

  He sauntered back towards Desiree.

  "You're going to knock back a willing rough fuck partner? This will be a warm up for you."

  "Get your top off then," Haskell gestured up and down with his knife blade. "Tits out, get as butt naked as Miss Corpsefucker there and we'll see."

  Simultaneously the two complete stained glass windows on either side of the church just behind the couple of rows or original pews exploded inwards.

  Colourful fragments and busted shards of glass showered in, blasting in a rainbow spray of force, sending in sharp broken debris in violent clatters across the stone and wood of the floor.

  Jumping in through the left window came Melissa, through the right Blaise.

  Melissa. Blaise. Toxic Twin. Black Widow Justice. Both very much alive. Both wild and armed with two knives apiece. Both savage eyed, fast moving and deadly.

  Melissa's booted feet hit the floor between Gordon Cooper and his would be lover, and Pierced Girl with Ryan's head.

  Her left hand knife punched Gordon in the throat and then came out bringing a gout of blood with it, all in one fluid lethal movement.

  Cooper went backwards; clawing with spastic hands at his neck then fell away as Melissa kicked Pierced Girl in the kneecap, smashing the leg in a direction it wasn't supposed to go.

  Puncturing an already clamorous chaotic atmosphere with a shrill shriek of agony, Pierced Girl dropped the best head she'd ever gotten and rolled on the floor, clutching at her knee. Melissa whipped her right hand knife around in a massive semi-circle that sliced the air then sliced Cooper's girls face right open, going right through one cheek and then the other, cleaving her flapping tongue as well.

  On the other side Blaise landed a couple of feet from Mohawk, her long plait swinging, her eyes steely and colder than a winter blizzard.

  Mohawk hefted her axe in a mighty swing, droplets of Ryan's blood flying off its blade.

  Almost too easily Blaise ducked under the axe swing, stepped inside and stabbed one knife into the side of Mohawk's neck, the other up into her abdomen.

  "What the fuck? What the fuck!" Errol's panicked bellows burst over the mayhem.

  He snatched for his pistol, grabbed it then smacked its muzzle against the edge of the lectern in too much of a rush to raise it, and dropped it on the floor.

  Blaise yanked both knives out, put a foot on Mohawks bleeding stomach and propelled the stunned looking Amazon away, cannoning her into Spike Alessio.

  Alessio rolled away from Mohawk, thought better of it and came back to prise the axe out of her palsied hands.

  Blaise seized a handful of his hair, pulled his head back and cut his throat open.

  Like unbelievably sexy ultraviolent assassins Melissa and Blaise flashed from person to person in an unremitting assault of chilling vengeance.

  The two men in Haskell's posse who Corey didn't know went for weapons, diving on the floor beneath the pews lining the walls.

  Evidently the murderous o
utfits decided to keep their church seats cleared for their own purposes and left their guns underneath.

  They didn't make it.

  The one on the right landed in the busted collage of stained glass wreckage and Melissa stamped on his face, mashing the other side of it into the jagged shards.

  The other she dropped her knees down onto his spine, following through with a short rapid thrust of a knife at the base of his skull.

  The knife lodged as far as it would go and she released it, attention turning to the first guy.

  He sat up screaming with the left side of his face a bloody frightmask adorned with bits of broken glass.

  He looked like some chump who hadn't quite completed a Halloween costume.

  A long thin sliver of green glass punctured his eyelid and stuck out of his eye, squirting crimson and sticky optic fluid. Others perforated his cheek, decorated his chin like bizarre beard whiskers, hung in his hair.

  Melissa ended his misery with her remaining knife, slitting his blood-drenched throat from ear to ear, stepping away from the spray.

  "Cut us loose!" Corey found his voice, pushing a desperate plea out as the inside of the church seemed to fill with a red mist, blood literally flying through the air, highlighted in the candle glow.

  "Jesus fuck!" Haskell scrabbled on the floor for his gun, had it, lost it again.

  Jett dove on the floor, going for the same gun, but Errol finally closed his fingers around it.

  He aimed from his crouch, looking for a target in the speedy blur of the melee, spotted Blaise striding up the aisle.

  She ducked down swiftly, suddenly, and came up again, hauling the naked and formerly frenetically deadman copulating Jodie with her.

  Haskell blasted with his gun. Blaise kept coming with the figure of Jodie in front of her.

  Haskell got off three shots. Three bullets punched into Jodie, two in the back, the third vanishing in a fleshy freckled buttock.

  As Jodie capsized against Blaise, Albert Lombardo came up with Jodie's knife and stabbed viciously.