Bad Loan (closed ... open for comments)

As the second cock penetrated her tight ass, she screamed in shock and in pleasure. Never had anyone fucked her like this before. Although her poor excuse of a husband had tried once, she had never allowed it. Anal sex was not something she thought she would enjoy.

Yet, now, she had never felt so good. She could feel both cocks pumping in and out of both her holes. The more the men fucked her, the more vocal she became, begging for more and the release that was soon to come. As she felt both men pulsating and spewing cum in her, she had the most intense orgasm she had ever had.

She felt herself being lowered to the floor as the men pulled themselves away from her. Dropping her head to her raised knees, she sat and listened as the men cleaned themselves and made their way to the door.

"When you're ready, there's a truck outside waiting for ya. It was sure a pleasure doing business with ya, ma'am."

Brenda heard something hit the ground by her feet as the door closed. She sat there for a little bit, wondering how she had gotten into such a situation. She had now had sex with five men she didn't know and two of them she had never even seen. She was embarrassed and excited. She was confused by her own thoughts and feelings on the situation. In her deepest, most remote fantasies, she knew this is what she had wanted. She had been craving the sexual adventures she was having, but she also wished she had had some warning, some idea that this was what was to be expected. Would she have made the choice to work for Giovanni if she had known? She had thought that Big Mac would have kept her for himself at first, but appearently she was just another trophy to him. She seemed to be just another trophy to another man.

Allowing herself just a few minutes of tears, she slowly rose, finding her bag at her feet. She wiped the last of the tears from her face and walked out into the sun, after throwing a small dress over her. She couldn't help but notice the small shower looking stall just off the corner of the building. Surely she could take a few minutes to at least rinse the dirt and grime and cum from her body.

The cold water had felt good agaisnt the heat of the day as she showered and dressed, preparing for the drive ahead of her.

Getting into the truck, she noticed the directions sitting on the seat and took a few minutes to read over them, seeing where she had to go. As she glanced at her watch, she realized she was losing valuable time.

AS she began the long drive, she became lost in her own thoughts. Anger at Giovanni for putting her into this situation blind, then thinking of talking to Big Mac and asking to work somewhere else. It wasn't that she didn't like Giovanni, it was that she didn't like the dangerous situations she had already been placed in and now was running the risk of being late to the next stop. But most of her anger tenede to drift towards Mitch. Mitch and his damn gambling had put her where she was now. And where she was was driving down a two lane highway in the middle of nowhere Texas, racing to get where the map was taking her.

She had been so lost in her thoughts that her foot seemed to sink a little harder on the gas pedal. All of the sudden, she heard the siren and saw the lights behind her. Glancing down, she realized that she was speeding through the little town she was driving through.

Great! she thought, just what I need now.

She pulled over and waitied for the officer to approach the truck. In the papers on the seat at least was an isurance card and she did have her license. Yet, who knew what a small town cop could find.

Hoping she looked alright, she lowered her top just a bit to reveal the swell of her breasts and raised the skirt a little to show a little more of her long, shapely legs.

"Is there a problem, Officer?" she asked as sweetly as she could.

Sgt Barry

Sergeant William Barry had been through a trying and tiring shift. Two accidents and a domestic dispute had drained him and filled his night with paperwork. He hated paperwork, even though he truly loved his job. The thrill of the chase, and the adrenaline rush were what kept him going, but it was during that lull in time, when the adrenaline wore off, that ten year veteran of the police force needed to just sit back and relax, trying to rejuvenate his body for the next call to duty.

He had found a secluded spot just off the side of the road along what was usually a deserted stretch of highway during the overnight shift. He parked the cruiser, killed the lights, and shut off the engine. With only the glow of his laptop illuminating the car, he set the radar adjusting the limit to twenty miles over the limit. Any speeding vehicles would cause the gun to chirp. In the meantime, he focused his attention on the laptop, filling in the necessary forms that accompanied his calls for the evening.

The combination of depleting adrenaline and focusing his eyes in the dark, Sgt. Barry found it difficult to keep his eyes open. He allowed himself a few moments to sit back with eyes closed. It didn't take long for him to succumb to sleep, albeit a half sleep, the surrounding sounds weaving their way into his dreams.

The restful respite was short-lived, as the police cruiser rocked from side to side from the large box truck that whizzed by. The radar had chirped and whistled, the red LED lights flickering the speed of the vehicle that was already gone, out of view, having rounded the bend.

He bolted upright in his seat and fled hurriedly in the direction of the truck, firing his lights and siren in the process. It didn't take long for him to catch up to the truck, lumbering up a steep incline. He was relieved the truck immediately pulled over to a small shoulder, glad he didn't have to give chase.

He sat in the car, adjusting his searchlight towards the mirror of the truck, trying to spy the driver. He called in the traffic stop over his radio before approaching the truck. He lumbered his six foot- four inch frame out of the cruiser, adjusting his cap while standing behind his open door. With the flashlight in his left hand, his right hand resting on the revolver stuck to his hip, he carefully approached the truck. His dark chocolate features helped him blend into the night, only his crisp grey uniform visible in the near total blackness, save for the colorful, blinding lights.

"Is there a problem, Officer?"

Sgt. Barry's eyes widened at the voluptuous blond sitting in the driver's seat. He didn't consider himself chauvinistic, but he had expected to see a man driving a truck like this. On the rare occasions that women did drive trucks like these, they sure as hell didn't look as good as she did. He allowed his eyes to linger on her beauty a little longer than he should have, taking note of her generous cleavage and long legs, before scanning the truck cab for other passengers.

He realized his faux pas and regained his composure quickly. After receiving her license and registration, along with the insurance papers, he spoke rather firmly, his face showing no signs of his appreciation of her beauty.

"Seems you were going a bit fast there, um ... " He looked at her license again for confirmation "... Ms. Peterson. Why are you in such a hurry at this hour of the night?" He listened to what seemed like a stock reply to such a canned question.

"Well, you wait right here, and I'll be right back!" Sgt. Barry marched stoically back to his cruiser and climbed in behind the seat, keeping a keen eye on the woman in the truck. With her papers in hand, he called in the information and waited to see if there were any warrants or capiases listed, as well as verifying the vehicle information. Everything came back clean, except the truck was registered in Texas, while Ms. Brenda Peterson's license was in another state. Getting all the necessary ticketing information together, he exited his car and made the walk towards the front. Again, his eyes lingered on the creamy white swells of her exposed breasts, seemingly put on display to gain his favorable disposition.

Sgt. Barry was about to hand back her documents and the ticket, when he asked, "So? What are you haulin' through our little town at this hour?"

Brenda began to get a little nervous as the officer began to run her paperwork in. For all she knew, she was in a stolen truck carrying God knew what. As she waited for him to approach the truck, she began to form an idea in her head.

She had noticed the glances she was gettingfrom him and decided quickly what she would tell him if he asked any questions.

As he approached her, it seemd he was just going to right the tickety and be done with it. But, then the question came.


"I'm so sorry for speeding, Officer. I guess I was just lost in my own thoughts and wasn't paying attention," she purred as she leaned over to retrieve her documents, her chest threating to spill from her top. "I own a little shop back home and, well, I had purchased some items from this little place down newar the border and had to fly down her and drive them back myself. Guess I should have read the fine print on the order that said no shipping available. But, you don't want to hear all the boring details do you? I'm sure you are a very busy man."

She galnced down at the hand that was resting on the window of her truck and noticed that there was a ring on it. "Your wife is a very lucky woman, Sir, to have such a nice man in her life. I hope she ealizes just how lucky."

She had hoped that with just a little flirtation, he would let her go. She was running out of time to meet her deadline and wasn't sure she wanted to know what would happen if she were late.

Sgt Barry

He listened to what sounded like a harried response in regards to her haul for the evening. Something, for whatever reason just didn't seem right. Whether it was the Texas registration and the Illinois driver's license, or the way she was obviously flirting with him, something didn't add up. No one ever commented on his marital status, and Brenda's mention of it made him look down at his ring finger, something he'd never done during a traffic stop.

He took another look at the lovely lady, whose breasts seemed ready to pop out of her top. He was used to the flirtatious poses from women, hoping that their good looks would get them on their way with nothing more than a warning. Then Sgt. Barry replayed her response in his head again.

"I own a little shop back home and, well, I had purchased some items from this little place down near the border and had to fly down here and drive them back myself..."

She never did tell him WHAT she was hauling!

Just before handing her license back, Sgt. Barry withdrew his hand sharply. "Mind if I take a look?" He stepped away from the truck, asking her to step down from the cab also, and join him at the back of the truck. "Why don't you show me what you bought, and tell me about your little shop back home?"

Sgt Barry felt his instincts were right on target, a clear look of panic crossing across the face of the beautiful woman. As she opened the door, however, Sgt Barry was treated with a glimpse of her pussy as she swung her legs to descend from the truck. He bit his lip to keep the smile from brewing on his face. He kept one hand on his pistol, readying for the unexpected as Brenda stood nervously before him.

Nervously, Brenda got out of the truck. She didn't realize how big or how much taller he was than her. Slowly, she made her way to the back of the truck wondering what she was going to say or do.

Suddenly a thought came to her, she acted like she stumbled on something in the road and fell back towards him, her breasts rubbing against his chest rather seductively. Looking up at him, through lowered lashes, she regained her composure and began to walk again.

As she got to the back of the truck, she came up short. There was a lock on the truck and she knew she didn't have a key. She had to think and think fast.

Sinking to the tailgate, she placed her hands over her eyes and rested her elbows on her knees. Her ample breasts were in danger of spilling out of her chest.

Brenda let the past few days consume her and let the tears start flowing.


"Now what am I going to do? I didn't put this lock on here and I know I don't have the key. All I am trying to do is establish a business to support myself since my husband's death. I can't believe what is happening. What did I do Ito deserve this? All I wanted was a little shop that I could sell things from the south to the people of Chicago. I....I just....can't.... She let her words die there, under the flood of tears. She hoped that she could play the sympathy card with this man and he would just give her the ticket and let her go.

Her sobs caused her chest to rise and fall, making her breasts even more visible under the flimsy shirt she wore. She was hoping that the "damsel in distress" routine would work on this man.

Sgt Barry steeled himself as the clumsy blond stumbled into him. His initial instinct was to grab her, and if he had, his hands would have most likely inadvertently landed on her magnificent breasts. His quick maneuverings managed to grab her shoulders instead, keeping her upright as he maintained proper distance. He was not about to get nailed with an improper conduct charge, nor get accused of molestation. Even though the black box camera in the cruiser was videotaping everything, Sgt Barry knew there was always room for interpretation.

He guided Brenda to the tailgate, expecting her to open the truck for his inspection. When she broke down and gave some lame excuse, his suspicion was aroused beyond what it had already been. Even in her hysterical state, she still didn't say what it was that she had purchased while down south. His determination to find out what she was hauling had now truly intensified.

He politely asked Brenda to escort him to the rear of the cruiser where he opened the trunk and extricated a rather heavy pair of bolt-cutters. He closed the trunk and had Brenda escort him back to the truck. He deposited her at the warm hood of the cruiser, having her stand back as he cut the lock. It took a little extra effort, but the utility tool finally snapped the lock, the sound of metal falling against the metal bumper was followed by the lock landing among the gravel.

Not sure of what was inside, Sgt Barry stepped back from the truck and drew out his service revolver. He released the safety and targeted it on the truck. Once he was satisfied that he'd be out of the line of any surprise fire, he waved Brenda towards the truck, indicating for her to open it.

Her tears went totally ignored, his determination to search the interior magnified by the increase in adrenaline coursing through his veins. He eyed her carefully as she reluctantly moved towards the tailgate. His gun was trained on her delicate hand as it reached for the latch and released it. With his gun, he motioned for her to raise the tailgate.

The tears seemed to be flowing down her face in rivers, but he was not about to be taken by surprise. When the door rolled up, Sgt. Barry was greeted with only a view of boxed crates stacked upon each other. There was no indication of any gun-wielding inhabitants hiding inside the truck, so he holstered his gun.

He directed Brenda back to the hood of his car as he approached the truck, determined to inspect its contents. She had tried to object, but he searched anyway, since she had not detailed the contents when given the opportunity. The crates were not nailed shut, which surprised him. However, when he opened the first crate and dug through the straw packing and retrieved an automatic rifle, his surprise turned into a sense of accomplishment. He had intercepted an arms shipment!

He turned, holding the rifle for Brenda's eyes, as well as the recording video. Never taking his eyes off the wide-eyed blond, he returned the rifle to its crate. With eyes narrowed, the sparkle long gone, he approached the trembling woman, pulling the steel handcuffs from the little black pouch on his belt. Turning Brenda around to face the camera, he grabbed one wrist and slapped the cuff over it while beginning to issue his rehearsed dialogue of her rights. He calmly ushered her to her new place in the back of of his cruiser.

Sgt Barry radioed in to dispatch and was forced to babysit the truck until backup arrived. He smugly pulled out the clipboard and began the paperwork. It was going to be a long night indeed. There was no need to interrogate her now. There'd be plenty of time to do that back at the station. This was a major shipment of arms across state lines. Mandatory ATF notification along with the FBI had to be made. They'd take over anyway, so it was useless for him to gather any information. He'd let them take care of the dirty work.

Brenda's cries and ramblings and fallen on deaf ears, and was becoming quite annoying. He was glad when she had finally run out of tears and breath. Looking in his mirror, he saw a defeated woman, head slumped forward. Almost a full hour had passed, before Brenda was escorted from the scene and taken into police headquarters, ushered past several hookers, and a town drunk, before being placed in an interrogation room. Now they had to wait for the bigwigs to show up!

Brenda wasn't sure how long she had been forced to sit in the tiny room, waiting for the federal agents to show up. She had long since run out of tears and was sitting there wondering what she would do next.

She had already missed her deadline according to the instructions she was given, and was in fear of what would happen when she got home. How had things gotten so totally out of control? She was used to order and structure in her life. But the last few days, everything had changed.


She had been well and truly sexed by at least 5 different men and she loved it, if she was truthful with herself. She had loved the freedom she had felt of being able to relax and enjoy sex the way she had always wanted. Yet now, she was in fear for her life.

What would happen when the Feds showed up? Would she be sent to prison? How much should she tell the Feds? Should she play innocent and act like she had no idea what was going on?

Well, to play innocent wasn't actually far from the truth. She had no idea that she was carrying guns back home for Giovanni. Again, this would be something she would have to take up with Big Mac. This was not what she signed up for. She thought she was literally picking up little nick nacs and such.

Brenda heard the lock turn in the door and tried to straighten herself up as much as she could. The door slowly opened and she waited, silently as two people entered.

Jack Peterson and Lawrence Jackson had arrived at the station and spent considerable time getting all the necessary details, as vague as they were, from Sgt. Barry. In the meantime, they kept darting their eyes to the closed surveillance camera screen, eying the unconventional mule, chosen to transport the illegal weapons. "Are you sure she doesn't know anything, or is she an accomplished cover? I can certainly understand why they'd use her. Probably figured we'd let her slide!" Jack Peterson was the lead investigator on this case, and he'd seen the angle so many times before. However, none of the mules looked as good as the one on the video screen.

The two gentlemen fixed their tailored suits before entering the room. Jack led the way in, his large frame and obviously muscular body hiding the slightly smaller and thinner Lawrence behind him. Jack threw a manilla folder onto the table bofore taking a seat across from Brenda. Lawrence took the other seat, closer towards the door.

Jack introduced himself and his partner, his gruff voice matching his physique. Jack did most of the talking, leaving Lawrence to scribble notes and merely observe Brenda's actions and reactions.

"So Brenda! I think you know why you're here! Why don't you start from the beginning? Where did these guns come from? Where were you headed? Who are you working for?"

Jack already figured he'd be stonewalled or played like a fool, filled with stupid babbling bullshit. All the women did the same thing. They seemed to think tears were enough to soften a hardened detective's heart. However, jack had been through it many times before, and he let Brenda know ahead of time, he was not a man of games.

"Before you start babbling through fake sobs of tears, let me tell you that if I don't get some real hard answers right here and right now, I'll just throw your ass down in the state pen for a couple nights.

His large hand slapped down hard on the table, his steel grey eyes boring into the woman sitting across the table from him.

Brenda stared at the two men as they walked into the small, stark room. As the agent undid the cuffs, she rubbed her wrists, trying to get some feeling back into her arms and hands. She was going to thank him when he sat across from her and began asking his questions. She listened closely as the bigger of the two introduced them and began throwing questions at her in rapid succession.

Her mind had been racing as she waited. Question, after question racing through her mind, trying to put all the pieces together. The biggest answer she had come up with so far was that she was more afraid of Big Mac and Giovanni, than she was of ever going to jail. Whatever it cost, she had to maintain her silence about them. Her mind kept playing over and over the scene of the sheer brutality that had been exhibited on her husband. If Mac could be that cruel with Mitch, there was no telling what he would do to her.

The loudness of Agent Petersen's hand against the table brought her to full attention. She tried to remember the questions he had been asking of her, before she started answering them.

"Agent, my name is Brenda Peterson. I live at 5625 Lakeshore Drive in Chicago. I am a small business owner. I flew down her to purchase a truck load of small nic nacks and such for a small shop I am trying to open. I...I have been a stay at home wife for the past few years and am needing something to occupy my time, so I thought this would be a good idea. I looked over the inventory as it was loaded on the truck. It was late when the men finished loading and I spent the might at a small motel before heading out for home. I was pulled over by Sgt. Barry for speeding and here we are. I don't know what else I can tell you. I have no idea what happened with the merchandise I purchased. Even Sgt. Barry can tell you that I didn't have the correct key to the lock. I just think there was a mistake somewhere and someone switched out the inventory.

She knew how silly and stupid her story sounded, but she stuck too it. For hours it seemed that Agent Petersen asked the same questions over and over again. Brenda noticed that Agent Jackson never said a word, but kept a close eye on her, watching every move she made. Agent Petersen on the other hand, seemed to walk around, breathing down her neck, whispering his questions in her ear at times. She could feel the heat of his breath down her neck. He kept threatening to through her in jail. And faced with the fear of what Giovanni or even Mac might do, jail didn't seem so bad.

After a few more rounds of the same questions, with the same answers, an idea finally struck her.

Gathering as much strength as she could, she steadied her voice and turned her head, looking at Agent Petersen over her shoulder.

"I want my phone call now, Agent. I want to contact my lawyer." Brenda said, staring into the steel, steady gaze of the Agent.

She saw a muscle twitch in his jaw. He didn't seem to like that answer anymore than he liked the others.

Grabbing her by the arm, he lead her out of the room and into a waiting cell. He somewhat roughly shoved her in and she heard the distinct click of the lock as the cell door slammed shut.

She turned and looked at the Agent walking away, not making a sound or even a comment as to if she would get that call or not. She did notice that she was in the cell alone, completely alone.

She sat down on the cot, wrapping her arms around her legs, curling herself into a tight little ball. Slowly, silently, the tears began to fall again.

Her mind began going over and over everything that had happened over the last week. Her life had spun completely and totally out of control. She feared every step she took, yet, she hoped that if she could call home, that she would be able to get a message to Mac or Giovanni. Hopefully they would help her. Hopefully she hadn't screwed up so bad that they would leave her hanging out to dry.

In her mind, she played out the conversation when she got to call home. She had to would things just right so that whoever was listening would understand her message. And she knew they would be listening just as they were watching her now.

Somewhere, in the deep recesses of her mind, she wondered what would happen if she tried to gain sympathy from Agent Jackson. She knew she wouldn't gain any from Agent Petersen, that was obvious. He thought her nothing but a criminal.

She laid down on the cot, making sure her skirt raised just a bit and her blouse fell a little open, exposing herself just enough to not look as if she had done it on purpose.

Exhaustion finally won out and Brenda feel into a fitful sleep. She wasn't sure how long she had slept, but the sound of the key opening the lock woke her.

She slowly opened her eyes and looked at the man who had entered her cell.

Jack Peterson was none too pleased with the way the interrogation had been going. Brenda had not been very cooperative and he could tell there was something she was hiding. There was definitely more to her story than she was alluding to. He asked about the little store she was planning on opening, repeatedly asking what she intended to sell, the nic nacks answer was just not enough, yet Brenda never elaborated.

She couldn't back up her story of the motel she stayed at. She didn't even state what city she'd been in. She couldn't identify where her purchase was made, or who she bought from. Her story had more holes than swiss cheese, yet she didn't sway from her story one bit.

Jack was getting quite hot under the collar, and loosened his tie, along with his stiff collared shirt on numerous occasions. The bulging veins in his neck clearly showed his rising anger, as well as his increased blood pressure. He huffed and sighed, banging his fist on the table repeatedly, demanding answers that made sense. Brenda continued to offer nothing but bullshit information, nothing that mattered any to them. She had no history of criminal record, so Jack wasn't sure about her intentions, or her connections.

Yet, when Brenda cocked her head and demanded a lawyer, Jack nearly lost it. If Lawrence hadn't been in the room with him, he might have well backhanded Brenda across the face, hard enough to knock her head off.

However, he collected his emotions and roughly dragged Brenda out of the room and deposited her within the locked chambers of a holding cell. He ensured she was in an empty unit with no other prisoners, giving her some time in isolation to consider her options, while giving him some time to rethink his interrogation techniques. She'd get her call in the morning. Until that time, she'd sit behind bars.

He met with Sgt. Barry and Lawrence to compare notes. He also inspected the truck for any indication of where she had come from, or where she was headed. He found the driving directions, yet they were too vague to pinpoint any specific location, other than someplace in Texas. It was too late in the evening to get the Texas authorities involved; another task that would have to wait until morning.

A couple of hours had passed when Jack had returned to where Brenda was being held. In the outer chamber, Jack and Lawrence met with the guard on duty. The three men chatted for a little bit, while Jack's eyes scanned the monitors. There was a camera trained on Brenda's cell, and he could see a rather enticing view of his suspect, apparently sleeping on the uncomfortable cot. Her short skirt had risen and twisted, drawing his eyes to the shadowed area at the juncture of her thighs. Her blouse had also met a similar fate, equally drawing attention to the swells of flesh spilling out of the low cut blouse.

Jack looked directly at Lawrence and gave him a knowing look, one they had shared on multiple occasions. Lawrence nodded imperceptibly, and moved between the guard and the monitors as Jack excused himself. Jack eased into the corridor that contained six cells, only one occupied by Brenda. He walked down the narrow corridor after taking the keys off the hook by the door. He stood in front of Brenda's cell, eyes fixated on her form, and the slow methodical rise and fall of her chest with each sleeping breath she took.

He took off his jacket and quietly hung it over the camera, effectively cutting off the view of Brenda's cell from the control room. With the key in his hand, he tried his best to quietly open the iron gated bars. However, the loud, distinctive click of the lock, mingled with the sounds of clanging metal parts, woke the sleeping beauty. Jack noticed her startled jump and immediately leaped into action.

Within the flash of a split second, he was atop of Brenda, pinning her back down onto the cot. The surprise attack, combined with his larger size kept Brenda immobile under his aggressive manipulations. He forced himself between her legs and ground down hard against her pelvis, his cock swelling with his pent up anger. He already had a heavy hand pressed against her mouth, stifling her screams, only muffled yelps filling the empty corridor, her cries echoing off the brick and steel.

"Get used to it Bitch! This is the life of prison bitches! You'll spread these sweet legs for every guard. Otherwise, they'll turn you over to the biker chicks, and you'll be cleaning their dirty pussies with your little mouth while they butt fuck you with push broom handles!"

His free hand had already reached down into her cleavage, roughly mauling a tit before pulling it out from within her blouse. His fingers cruelly pinched and twisted the nipple causing the blood to rush to the pained area. He bent his head down and nipped at the sensitive tip before raking his teeth across the flesh. He continued gnawing while viciously freeing her other tit from its confines, giving it similar treatment, tearing her blouse somewhat in the process.

"Not a fuckin' sound from you either! You understand Bitch? You're gonna take this like the rest of them, and you're gonna like it! The more you fight, the more it hurts!"

He didn't give Brenda a chance to respond, his hand still covering her mouth. He didn't need to worry about her screams though. There was no one around, and Lawrence had managed to have the guard escort him to the cafeteria for some coffee.

In the process of wriggling and grinding his hips against hers, her skirt had ridden up and exposed her naked sex in the process. Jack wasn't surprised to find she was without panties. He reached between their bodies and freed the angry snake, aiming the ugly purple head at her target. He rubbed the helmet against her petals until they parted and yielded to his presence.

With a strained grunt, Jack thrust into Brenda and fucked her hard. The fire in his eyes was unmistakable as he raised up and dropped back down onto the helpless victim. Over and over again he brutally raped her, fucking his massive length in and out, sawing back and forth until her resistance faded.

Jack finally felt the tingles of excitement coursing through his cock and slammed into her hard one last time before slumping all his weight upon her as his cock pulsed, sending his hot semen deep into her insides.

He triumphantly got up off of Brenda, making sure to wipe his cock clean on her skirt before tucking it into his pants. He strode confidently towards the cell door and locked her behind the bars once again. Twirling the key on his finger, he called out over his shoulder, "Yeah, you'll make a good prison whore!"

Jack returned to the empty control room, and knew where to find his partner. Jack joined Lawrence and the guard in the cafeteria. Jack casually cursed that he forgot his jacket while 'talking' with the prisoner, and Lawrence quickly volunteered to go get it, leaving Jack to keep the guard busy with cop stories!

A few minutes later, Lawrence entered the corridor, standing at the front of Brenda's cell with a key in his hand ...

Brenda was amazed at the spped in which Agent Petersen attakced her. She had tried to move out of his way, but he had been to fast and too strong for her.

Tears feel from her eyes as he forced his way inside her. She felt like she was being torn in two at first, but the more he thurst and the harder he thrust, she felt her body betray her, wetness forming allowing him more and more access. She gave up trying to scream as his big hand stayed on her mouth. Besides, who was going to come to her rescue.

She was grateful when he exploded insides her and began to leave. She sat there, her body curled upon itself and began to cry. How had things gotten so bad so fast? She reran her experiences over the last few days in her mind. Something was almost familiar about what was going on.

That first night, or was it the second, when she was held in that tiny Mexican jail, when she had been assaulted by the guards there. There was something trying to make its way to the front of her mind. Ahw looked around the small space, trying to remember, when she heard someone coming back down the hall. She curled herself up tight and plastered her back to the wall. She wasn't going to be take unaware this time.

She was surprised to see that this time it was Agent Lawrence coming to the cell. Hadn't Agent Petersen done enough? She wanted to yell and scream at Lawrence. She wanted to tell him to just get it over with. That he couldn't do any worse to her than Agent Petersen had done, but she held her tongue. She didn't want to add fuel to a slowly building fire.

But the look in his eyes was different. He walked over to a nearby cabinet and withdrew a cloth and a small towel. Running it under water, her turned and walked into her cell, handing her both.

"Look, Brenda. You have to tell us what you know. You have to trust us on this. I know that, well, things have been bad for you, but they could get much worse. Prison isn't a place for you. You are much to refined for that. I am sure there is a logical explanation for all this, you just have to tell us and let us help you. Here! Take this, get yourself cleaned up." he spoke softly to her as he handed her the warm cloth. He even turned his back to her as she began to clean the mess between her legs and straighten her clothes the best she could.


There was a part of her that wanted to trust him, that wanted to tell him everything, yet, she knew she would be dead before nightfall if she did. If she even spoke a word of Mac or Giovanni to the feds, she was gone. She fearded them more than she feared being gang-raped in prison or worse.

"Agent, I told you everything I can. I don't know what more you want from me. I have said it to you and your partner over and over again. You don't believe me. But I have told you the truth. I just want to call my husband and get in touch with my lawyer. i don't know what else to say to you that hasn't already been said. I am......." she let her words trail off there and began crying again as she sat back down on the cot.

She knew that they could keep her here for at least 24 hours before they had to offically charge her or transfer her, hopefully she would get her phone call before then and have time to get some help.

Agent Lawrence just looked at her. A sad look of defeat on his face. It was almost as if he felt sorry for her for something. As he turned to leave, she heard him say that he would see what he could do about the call. As he walked out of the cell, she noticed that he removed a jacket from what looked to be a camera as he walked away.

Help! That was what was trying to creep into her mind. The last jail cell she had been in had a secret tunnel under it. Maybe, just maybe Lawrence was on Mac's payroll and this was his way of helping. Without trying to be obvious, she began trying to move the cot around, to see if it would trigger some way out. After trying for awhile, she gave up realizing that it was useless. This was the real thing.

As light began to shine in the small window in the cell, Lawrence made his way back down to the cell, keys in hand. He opened the door and motioned for her to follow him. At the end of a corridor was a payphone. He told her that she had 3 minutes to make her one call.

Quickly she dialed the number to her home only to have the new "housekeeper" answer saying that Mitch was still asleep. Briefly she told the housekeeper that she was in trouble and that she needed Mitch to call the attorney and get him to Texas as soon as possible. She was in bad trouble. During the explanation, the phone went dead. Her three minutes were up and she was lead back. But not to the cell, to the interrigation room where Agent Petersen was there, waiting.