Policewomen 2: Trina and Son - Sex Stories

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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

son. “They RUINED our camping trip. A mother and son camping trip.” Roger coughed, trying to make some noise, but struggled with his broken ribs. Trina stomped on his chest again for good measure. “I cannot let that stand. Do I make myself clear,” Trina said, returning her gaze to her son. “Yes. I’ll turn left, go a little ways and hide just off the road,” Richie answered. “Good. Whatever you hear or see, just wait for me,” Trina kissed his lips hard, causing him to wince with pain. She watched her son limp down the pathway into the darkness, gradually becoming a shadow, then invisible. “Getting through that ordeal last year changed me. If I get through this one,” Trina thought, when Richie was out of sight, “I’m fucking that boy’s brains out,” she said out lout. “Huh?” Roger asked. “Shut up, Roger,” Trina said, pulling him to his feet, his arm behind his back, a knife pointed to his side. Chapter 10 - Vengeance Trina dragged Roger across the compound to the garage. She searched him for keys after dumping him at the door. “Which one?” she held the key in front of him, hoping the moonlight was enough for him to see. “Th-that one,” his whispered, pointing his good hand. Trina tried it, saw it worked, and carefully, as quietly as possible slid open the garage door from the bottom. She dragged Roger inside, immediately searching for the gas cans in the dark. She had a plan, but was missing a few pieces. “Roger, these other crappy little huts, what’s in them besides meth labs.” ... “Weapons, is next door. One is a moonshine still. There’s a few other labs for different drugs. I don’t know, I’m not allowed in there,” Roger coughed. “So drugs and weapons, and who knows what else ol’ Shaun was up to,” Trina said. “Huh?” Roger asked. Trina didn’t explain her use of past tense. “I need you to stay here and be quiet. Can you do that?” “Please just let me go, I won’t call for help,” Roger begged. Trina kicked him in the chest again, causing him to gasp with pain, making sure he’d be unable to scream for help with those broken ribs. “I’ll let you go when I’m done,” Trina smiled, making her way to the corner where she saw gas cans and oil drums. Using a hand truck she found, she wheeled the oil drums outside. “Roger, do any of these keys open the other huts?” “Y-yeah, just take them,” he said barely above a whisper, his breathing shallow. Trina set the knife down, on a workbench. She saw the small blow torch in the dim light coming through a window. She confirmed it worked, left the garage, keys in one hand, blow torch in the other and went next door. She tried a few before getting the correct one. Turning the blow torch off in case Roger lied about the shack next door being weapons and actually being a toxic lab, she entered and reached around in the dark. She felt a few open boxes, filled with ammunition. She turned on the blow torch, seeing a wide variety of guns on racks, shotguns, rifles, semi-automatics and automatics, banned assault weapons and a couple ...