1. Policewomen 2: Trina and Son


    Date: 10/5/2015, Categories: Fiction, Authoritarian, Bestiality, Blowjob, Bondage and restriction, Coercion, Consensual Sex, Cruelty, Cum Swallowing, Death, Drug, Extreme, Hardcore, Horror, Incest, Males / Female, Rape, Teen Male / Female, Torture, Violence, Water Sports/Pissing, Author: tw_holt, Rating: 83.7, Source: sexstories.com

    the guy, walking towards the back of the mansion. Trina snuck down the stairs, making sure Derrick was out of sight. She propped open the front door, peeking outside, making sure the coast was clear. “Goodnight,” she heard a man’s words echo in a corridor behind her. She darted out the door and saw someone sleeping in a chair, snoring lightly. All the rage she suppressed, all the patience she mustered, all the waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, all the thoughts of what they might’ve done to her son came pouring of her when she saw Roger sleeping in the chair. She attacked him. She pummeled him with punches, waking him up, causing him to fall out of his chair, putting his arms up, hoping to deflect her blows. Several landed on his nose, breaking it, another busted open his mouth. Trina wanted to scream at him, at everyone. She remained silent, opting to kick him instead. She broke a few of his ribs when she stomped on him. She straddled him, snarling into his face, choking him out. Then she stopped, the rage subsided, she thought of Richie and using Roger to assist her with finding him – she needed Roger alive, for now. Trina pulled him to his feet, slamming him against the nearby way, pulling his arm around his back, trying with all her might to resist dislocating his shoulder. “Listen you piece of shit, you will take me to my son right now, or I’ll snap your arm off,” Trina whispered in his ear. She took a step back, glancing over Roger – who was now crying – she ...
    saw a large knife in a holster on his belt. “Ok, ok! Please,” Roger begged, struggling to breath. “Where is he?” Trina demanded, through grit teeth. “I know where, I’ll take you to him, please don’t hurt me,” Roger whimpered, sniffing, his nose running with blood. “If you lead me into a trap, I’m using you for a body shield – you’ll die first. Got it?” Trina pulled up on his arm some, inflicting more pain. “Yes!” he understood. “Quiet. Now lead me to him.” “He’s in a shack over there, the last one in the row,” Roger said, nodding to the row of crude buildings to the left of the mansion. “I, ow, saw them take him there.” “Go.” When Roger whimpered, or groaned in agony, Trina shushed him, loosening her grip his arm. They crept across the compound, Trina taking in everything. Each side of the mansion had several shacks, save for the garage on the right side. She figured there must be a purpose to each one. She’d find out soon enough. Roger guided her to the first building, dim light shining through the glass windows of the shack. “He’s in here?” Trina asked. “Yes, but,” “Remember what I said?” Trina cut him off. “If this is a trap, you die first.” “It’s not, but there may be someone working in here. People sometimes work all night,” Roger explained. “Knock,” Trina ordered, crouching behind Roger, removing the knife from his holster, while still pushing his arm up behind his back. Someone answered the door, removing a gas mask. “Roger? What you want?” Before the man had a chance ...
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