Alone

When he let me go, he threw me against the car, but with no energy in my legs, I simply slid down the hood and fell on my side next to the engine block. From where I fell, I could see Thomas's Smith and Wesson lying under there. Perfectly functional, but just out of reach.

"What's your name?" He asked after a moment, catching his breath.

I didn't reply. Why did he care? He just raped me into a stupor and now he was asking what my name was? Is that what he considered an acceptable post-violation conversation starter? He sighed and grabbed me by the shoulders, dragging me to my feet, and sat me atop the hood of the patrol car. I was sore all over, and tired beyond belief, but the chill of the cold metal of the hood against my bare ass woke me up a little.

"If you can't answer with what your name is, then we're done, and you can join your partner." He said simply.

That was enough for me to come back to life. The threat of execution will do that to you.

"Jane." I got out.

"Jane Murphy." He said simply. "Deputy Jane Murphy." He corrected himself after a moment.

I just nodded. I didn't have any fight left in me, not after that.

"Deputy Jane Murphy, do you want to live?" He asked me after a moment.

"Yes." I replied simply.

I didn't let myself be tricked by any sort of false hope. He was messing with me, obviously. He'd just had his way with me, and now he was going to kill me.

"If I remove your handcuffs, are you going to do what I say?" He asked after a minute.

I nodded immediately. I wasn't even lying. I didn't have the strength to fight right now. He'd fucked it all out of me, and he knew it. He smirked, and took the set of keys from my duty belt, quickly finding the large handcuff key. He turned me around and bent me back over the hood. I winced as I felt him grab my wrists and start fiddling with the handcuffs. In a few moments, he'd taken them off, but he wasn't done with me. The first thing he did was grab a handful of my ass with both hands.

"I think it's time for round two, don't you?" He said after a moment.

I had barely enough time to realize what was about to happen when I felt his cock nudging back up against my leaking slit. I groaned in shock and dismay as he pushed his way inside once more. It wasn't nearly as painful as before, but the worst thing was the shame, the humiliation, the knowledge that the person violating me had killed my partner, and was very likely going to kill me when he was done. For all his stupid dungeons and dragons talk before, he was right about one thing. He'd defeated me. This was the ultimate defeat, the complete and utter destruction of all that I am. I'm a sheriff's deputy, I'm meant to serve and protect. I'm the one people call when they're scared, when they need help, when it's the worst day of their lives, and they need protection. And this lowlife murdering scum had me bent over my own car as he raped me. He'd taken not just what I had, but what I was.

I'd buried my face in my arms in front of me as he continued his second assault, but he clearly wasn't happy with that, as he pulled out suddenly, and dragged me to my feet. He turned me around and looked me in the eyes for a moment.

"You're on camera sweetheart, don't you think you ought to show your face, come out of your shell a little bit?" He asked mockingly.

I didn't have an adequate reply for him, so I just looked away and stayed silent.

"Goddamn, you're a real knockout, you know that right?" He said after a moment, an odd tone taking over his voice.

Again, I didn't reply. What was there to say to that? Did he expect a thank you? Was I meant to thank my rapist for his compliments?

"I wanna see your face while I fuck you." He added simply, and pushed me back over the hood of the patrol car, but on my back this time.

He stood at the edge of the car and pulled my legs up, resting them on his shoulder. I could feel his penis, still hard, pressed up against my asscheeks. I didn't know what to do with my hands now that they were free, but I was painfully aware that Thomas' gun was still under the car. He seemed distracted, as once he had me on my back, he moved my phone around to the side and propped it up against the windshield, so it could see me from the side. I had little time to prepare after that though, as once the camera was set up, he slid back inside me, camera in one hand, the other holding my legs tight to his chest.

It was so much worse like this. The actual pain of the rape was almost secondary to the humiliation I felt at being taken like this. I didn't want to see his face, I didn't want to see him holding the camera, knowing he was recording my violation, likely to upload it God knows where when he was done. I tried turning away from him and the camera, but he wasn't happy about that, and after nestling the phone against my legs, tucked into the folds of my pants, he had a perfect angle for the camera to record me. I cried out in anguish as, with his free hand, he grabbed my ponytail and forced my head up, dragging me closer into him as he upped the pace, and making me watch as he fucked me with a new-found intensity.

I tried to pull his arm away with my own, but he responded by slamming my head back against the hood of the car, before holding my throat down, leaning forward and bringing his face closer to mine, significantly increasing how far inside me he was able to push.

"Did you think that was going to do anything?" He demanded, as he continued thrusting, his face just inches from my own.

I couldn't even turn away from him, as he was holding my head perfectly still, while not quite choking me. I didn't reply. He already had me splayed out, useless as he defiled me, but apparently he'd decided that violating the most private part of me wasn't enough, and that he also wanted to see every single flicker of emotion that made it past the wall I'd put up. He was slowing down his thrusts, and though I thought for a moment it was because he was about to cum again, his thrusting didn't get faster, yet more infrequent, it just got slower, and deeper. At first, I assumed he was just savoring it, slowing down so he didn't pop too early, but I soon realized what he was doing when he brought the hand on my legs down to my clitoris, and started rubbing. He wanted me to enjoy it. The sick bastard, he wanted me to enjoy my own rape. He wanted to get that on film as well.

Try as I might, I couldn't fight the signals that my clit was sending to the rest of me. I was panting, my body got tingly and hot, and he was starting to slide in and out of me much easier now, as my body did what it could to prevent damage. I would have honestly preferred a repeat of the pain and discomfort of the first rape, over the shame of knowing that he'd been going for so long that I was starting to get wet.

"Stop." I whispered desperately, as the tears began to fall again.

He laughed quietly. "What? Couldn't hear you there sweetheart." He replied with a smug grin.

"Please, just stop." I got out, unable to stop myself from crying.

Much to my surprise, he stopped for a moment, pushed as far in as he could go.

"I can't stop now, you're just starting to get into it." He said with a wicked grin, and continued fucking me in the same slow, methodical rhythm.

"You're fucking raping me, I'm not-" I began to reply, but he cut me off.

I wasn't expecting him to kiss me. When he forced his lips to my own, holding my face still as he could, I was overwhelmed, and unable to resist as he forced his tongue past my lips and into my mouth. All the while he continued fucking me, slowly picking up the pace. Finally, he pulled away from my face, took the hand of my neck, and without even pulling out, flipped me back over onto my stomach. I cried out in shock as his cock twisted around inside me, but that was nothing compared to what came next. He put both hands on my hips, grabbed tight, and started railing me as hard and fast as he could manage.

The sudden and drastic increase in pace brought back the sharp pains I'd experienced before, and I couldn't stop the tears from flowing freely, as he seemed to be challenging himself to outdo his previous performance. That was, until he realized I wasn't looking at any cameras. Whereas before, he'd set the cameras up facing me, this time, he simply pulled me back, grabbed me in a huge bear-hug, and, staying inside me the whole time, picked me up and carried me around to the front of the car, where he then shoved me over the hood again, facing the phone and dashcam. He immediately continued fucking me, and again, I tried to face away from the cameras, hiding my face by nestling it in my arms. The punishment for that was my ponytail being used to yank me back up, causing me to cry out in pain. He then thrust forward, pushing his cock deep inside and pinning my legs against the car.

"Hold yourself up, and look at the fucking camera." He demanded, turning my head round so I could see him.

He didn't need to add an 'or else'. I knew what the or else was. The moment he decided I wasn't entertaining him anymore, he'd take out my gun and put a bullet in my head. I just had to endure for long enough that... that what? That he decided not to kill me? That he spontaneously dropped dead? No, I was relying on my own wits to make it out of this one. Thomas's gun was still under the car, mere feet from where I was right now, likely right underneath me. I nearly got it before, and the handcuffs were off now, so perhaps if he was distracted, then I had a chance. What's more, he can't have known it was there. He wouldn't have let me out of the cuffs if he thought there was an unattended firearm nearby.

"Okay." I got out, and I did as he said, holding myself upright, and looking at the phone.

He'd set it up so it was recording from the front selfie camera, and with the bright lights of the takedown and sirens, I could see the whole scene being captured perfectly from my own phone screen. It had only been recording for fifteen minutes so far. It felt like hours. I held myself up for another seven minutes as he fucked me, only stopping for a moment so he could reposition his phone between our legs. Of course he wanted a close-up of his cock in me, why wouldn't he? I just tried to zone it all out. He told me to look at the camera, and I did. I kept my gaze focused on the phone, tried my best to think about other things, any other things, and whenever I felt the tears coming, I tried to just blink them away.

When he finally finished, he pinned my chest down against the car and pulled my head back by my ponytail as he ramped up the speed and force drastically. I didn't beg this time, I just clenched my jaw and endured, staring at the camera with a look of pure, unadulterated hatred. He seemed to really enjoy the look of revulsion the camera had captured on my face as he groaned in ecstasy, letting loose another torrent of seed directly into my womb.

What had I done to deserve this? I thought about every awful thing I'd ever done. I used to bully that girl in middle school because of her Minnesota accent, and she moved school because of me. Was it that? As nasty as I'd been to her, I couldn't have been bad enough that I deserved what was happening to me now. I didn't believe in God, maybe that was my crime? Then again, Sarah believed in God. Guess that didn't do her much good. As I thought over my sins, staring into my own soul through a screen, he slammed my face against the hood of the car, before letting go of my hair. I started crying openly after that. It was all just too much. I'd tried staying strong, I'd tried to put on a brave face, but I'd just been raped, twice, and he was recording the whole thing. I wasn't prepared for this, who would be?

"Ohhh, here come the waterworks." Greg groaned. "I don't mind a bit of tears sweetheart, but don't make a scene, or you'll be joining your partner sooner than you think." He added snappily, leaning forward and putting his face next to mine.

He killed my partner in front of me. He just raped me, twice, without protection. He'd just ejaculated inside me and then slammed my head against the car. He was still pinning me to the car, pushed right up inside me, worming out every last drop. He'd also told me in no uncertain terms that he was going to kill me, and now he was complaining that I was crying. The absurdity of that was impossible to ignore, and I couldn't help but start laughing. A choked, cackling laugh, one that if I'd heard, it would raise the hairs on the back of my neck. It seemed to concern even Greg, who froze when I started.

"Well if you don't laugh, you'll cry, I guess." He mumbled eventually, pulling his face away, but I could tell it was unnerving him a little.

The threat of death was enough though, and again, I pulled myself together and forced myself to be quiet. The only noise I was making now was a soft tear-laden breathing. Greg too was silent. After the first rape he'd been smug, gloating, and exhilarated. This time he just pulled out of me in silence and stumbled backwards. I managed to stay where I was, unwilling to even attempt moving, lest my legs give out once more.

I heard the crackling of something from nearby, and what was unmistakably the sound of voices over a radio. I turned around, holding onto the car's push bar for balance as I tried to get some feeling back to my legs. Greg was leaning against the BMW, pants still around his ankles, gun in one hand, radio in the other. Even flaccid, his cock was big, and I found myself subconsciously measuring it, comparing it to what I'd had before. It was thick, circumcised, and had to be at least six inches right there, and probably several more when fully erect. No wonder I couldn't walk, any bigger and that thing would've split me in half. My speculations were mercifully interrupted when he walked back over to me and held out the radio microphone.

"Fourteen-Tango-Five, you there?" Came the crackly, tired voice of the dispatcher.

I looked up at Greg in confusion. What did he want me to do? Did he actually expect me to answer the call, mislead my dispatcher, and seal my fate?

"Answer it, or I'll kill you." Greg said simply, still holding the mic out to me.

"You're going to kill me anyway." I replied, sounding a lot braver than I felt.

He sighed, and gestured back at the car. "Look, I got a can of gas in there. There's good deaths, and there's bad deaths. I've been told that burnin' is a bad death."

I stared him down. He didn't look like he was bluffing. He'd cuff my hands together, throw me in a ditch at the side of the road, pour gasoline over me, and light me on fire.

"Fourteen-Tango-Five, I need an update." The dispatcher piped up after a moment.

"You know I'll do it sweetheart." Greg promised, still holding the mic out.

I blinked away the tears and took a deep breath. I held out a hand to take the microphone, but he pulled it back suddenly.

"If you try to tip them off, you will burn before they get here." He said quietly, before handing it off me.

I glanced down, and I could see the gun in his hand, leveled right at my gut. With his promise to burn me alive, I knew I had to convince the dispatcher everything was fine. What's more, I had to have a reasonable explanation as to why we were still at the cell tower. I momentarily considered trying to figure out a way to tip him off that something was wrong, but quite simply put, I didn't trust him to understand, and I didn't trust myself to be able to hide it. Maybe if I used the wrong code somewhere, or snuck in a 10-24, he'd understand that I was under duress. But then again, 10-24 was the distress call across the whole state. Maybe Greg wouldn't know what it meant, but then again, maybe he would.

"Fourteen-Tango-Five." I said calmly into the radio mic. I was shocked by how calm I was able to sound, given the circumstances.

"Fourteen-Tango-Five, why haven't you been picking up?" The dispatcher demanded, sounding more than a little displeased.

I could see my hands shaking as I held the mic. Here was my lifeline. I was speaking to them, and I couldn't call for help. A glance across at Greg made it clear he was watching me closely. He had his fingers wrapped around the plug that connected the mic to the radio, ready to pull it at a moment's notice.

"We had interference before. It might've been the cell tower." I replied after a moment.

Even I knew that didn't make sense. The cell tower wouldn't be interfering with our radio signals, after all, they pinged back to our car, where a repeater sent it back to headquarters, usually through a series of large radio masts spread across the county. The cell tower would have nothing to do with it. The dispatcher didn't reply immediately. I suspected he thought I was just coming up with an excuse as to why we'd been ignoring our radio.

"Fourteen-Tango-Five, can you take a call right now?" He asked after a moment, wearily.

My head was racing, trying to come up with a good excuse as to why we couldn't. I knew I couldn't just say yes, because then they'd be expecting the car to start moving again. I also knew that if the dispatcher, who already seemed annoyed with me, asked to talk to Thomas, it was all over. Greg would shut off the radio, finish me off, and get going so he could make good time before they arrived to check up on us. I needed to buy myself time.

"Negative, we're 10-6, assisting a motorist." I replied eventually.

No immediate reply again, but I could almost hear the dispatcher sighing. Please let that be enough, please. Please let that be it. He didn't reply for the longest time. Greg was looking at me, narrowing his eyes. My own eyes were locked on his, silently pleading with him. Finally, the dispatcher got back on.

"10-4 Fourteen-Tango-Five, 10-18, let us know when you're 10-98." He replied sharply.

I looked down and let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding in. I was relieved. Why? I was still sitting bare-assed on the car, cum leaking down my legs and across the headlight. I'd just convinced my dispatcher that everything was fine, and now this man was doubtless going to continue raping me. Greg took the microphone back from me and put the radio on the roof of the BMW, before walking back over. He put a hand under my chin, lifting it up and putting his face close to mine. He was sporting the nastiest of smiles, and all I could think about was how I had to get that gun.

"Good work sweetheart, you don't die yet."