The Pizza Girl

It was Bree's last delivery of the night. She was shivering, and wet. It was still warm enough out that the tight white t-shirt she was wearing should have been enough, except for the idiot on the last block that had sprayed her with a garden hose. Luckily she hadn't crashed when they doused her. Delivering pizza by bicycle seems like a good idea when it is warm and dry, much less so right now. This wasn't even her normal job, she was just covering for a friend.

Bree is barely five feet tall, her black hair cut in a short pixie cut. Her haircut and the nerdy glasses she was wearing tonight make her look like a teenager. Since her thin white bra is just as soaked as her shirt it does very little to conceal her little breasts. Bree shakes her head while looking at her barely covered chest and unstraps the pizza warming bag, which is comically large compared to her small frame, and holds it against herself. The warming bag covers her breasts, and her very hard nipples.

Squaring her shoulders she mumbles, "I've got this."

The door is opened by a young looking twenty something guy with a mop of blonde hair. He calls out, "Pizzas here!"

Bree says, "$45.20."

The guy hands her 3 twenties, "The rest is for you."

Bree stuffs the cash in a pocket and fishes the two large pizzas from the warmer. She is shivering as she passes the pizza over. She had to move the warmer to open it, and Blondie was now staring at her soaking wet chest, and still hard nipples.

"Oh, shit, you're soaking! Mark! Go to my room and bring a towel and a sweatshirt, my laundry basket is on my desk." A thin guy with brown hair in the same sloppy hairstyle scampers away.

Blondie puts the pizza boxes he was holding on the table behind him and asks, "What happened to you? It's not raining. Are you ok?"

Bree says, "I'm fine, some idiot on the last block sprayed me with a hose while I was at a stop sign."

Mark has passed the towel and sweatshirt off to Blondie, and opens the pizza boxes.

Blondie says, "Put the warmer down and you can take your wet stuff off in there." He points behind Bree to a small, cleanish bathroom.

"Oh, I can't do that."

"Sure you can, you can bring the sweatshirt back another time, don't worry about it."

Two other guys have now arrived, both with black hair, and they too are pretending to look at the pizza. Bree sees them checking her out, though. She hands Blondie the warmer and takes the offered sweatshirt and towel. All four of the guys get a good look at her. Bree flushes a little at the obvious attention.

Bree enters the bathroom, removes her phone from her back pocket and stands it up on the windowsill, facing the door. She then strips off her shirt and bra, and begins drying herself off with the towel, with her back to the door.

Suddenly the door opens wide and Bree spins around, her arms crossed and her hands covering her breasts. She screams, "What are you doing! Get out!" She hunches her shoulders a little to make herself smaller.

"Smile! Show us your tits, baby!" All four of the guys have their phones trained on Bree, and are actively recording.

"No! Don't record this, you can't!"

"Sure we can, and we are doing it right now. You can either give us what we want, or we can take it. You wouldn't want that, would you?" Blondie didn't sound as charming and pleasant as he had earlier, he sounded viscous.

"If I show you my breasts will you let me go?" Brees eyes were wide, and she looked scared.

Blondie, back to sounding charming and supportive, said "Of course, sweet cheeks, we just want to see your titties."

Bree stands up straight and doesn't look scared any more. "Does that usually work? They show their titties, and then you threaten to publish the pictures unless they give you blowjobs? Which you then record and threaten to share unless they fuck you? Does that usually work?"

Bree takes a step toward the door, and the guys step back. They are usually in control, but Bree isn't scared of them. "And then you have footage of you guys fucking them that you can use to keep them from reporting you?"

Bree looks at Blondie, "Well Peter, I know you guys are stupid, but none of you are dumb enough to be live-streaming this attempted rape, are you?"

Peter looks surprised that the woman knew his name. "No. No, that would be dumb."

Bree dropped her hands from her breasts, and the guys automatically brought their cameras up again. She took a couple of steps back into the bathroom and picked up her phone, she did not turn her back to the guys, and they continued to record her.

"I'm not live streaming either, but my video is being backed up in the cloud. Even if you got my phone you couldn't delete the recording." The guys looked at each other.

"You dumb fuckers should stop recording, now." It didn't seem like an order, but Peter was the only one who continued recording.

Bree looked right at Peter, "Are you aware that every single pornographic image of a minor is its own felony? And that digital recordings are just stacks and stacks of still images?"

Bree takes another step forward, and stands in the bathroom doorway. "You don't know who I am, or how old I am. Every image you took could be a felony, but you thought it would be cool to take pictures of someone without their consent. And then threaten to take what you want? That kind of threat is called coercion. If you threaten someone with violence, and they give in to your sexual advances it's still rape."

The four guys have quickly gone from excited to scared. Peter had been able to convince the other three that what they were doing was ok, but they all knew that it was not. The just thought they could get away with it.

Bree looked at the taller of the two black haired boys, "So, Paul, have you planned how to get rid of the body?"

Paul, shocked to be addressed by name by this dark haired powerhouse stammers "What body?"

"Well, my body, of course. I wouldn't let any of you take "what you want" without fighting back, so you would have to end up killing me." Paul looked shocked.

"What, you didn't think that was how this might end? Accidentally, or on purpose killing one of your victims? I'm sure Peter has thought of it. Which one of you do you think he would pin the blame on, when it happened?"

Bree puts her phone in her back pocket, and crosses her arms beneath her breasts. This has the affect of making them look a little bigger, but really just displays they to the guys better.

"I'm not worried about you guys doing anything to me now. My boss knows I was delivering here, and my boyfriend tracks my phone. So if something happens to me they will know to look here. And I'm scrappy enough to mark one or two of you." Bree makes a little cat scratching motion with her right hand.

"Now, what I need to do is to delete those pictures off your phones." Mark, Paul and the other black haired guy all start to do something with their phones.

"No, no, no. I'll have to do it. You could be forwarding them away before you delete them. Put them in the warming bag and we will go into the living room, it might take me a few minutes to clear each phone. You, too, Peter." Bree motions to the warming bag, and points toward their living room. Her wet shirt and bra are still in the bathroom sink, and the sweatshirt she had been offered was on the floor.

When Bree enters the living room she looks around. "You guys don't have any cameras in here, do you John?"

John, as shocked as the others that she knew his name, answered, "No, no cameras. How do you know our names?"

Bree places the warming bag on an end table, and kicks off her shoes. She adjusts her glasses, "Mary is a friend of a friend. You remember Mary? She delivered here two weeks ago. Same kind of setup, last minute order, late at night."

The guys did remember Mary, and what they had done to her.

Bree unbuttoned the top of her jeans, and started to pull down the zipper. "So, I looked into all you guys, and I knew what you planned to happen when I agreed to deliver out here."

"Now, what I want to happen is that you are all going to get naked, I am going to take my pants off, and you are going to crawl over here and open your phones for me. While I'm deleting the photos you can lick my pussy, no hands, just licking. If you all do a good enough job maybe we will do something else afterward." Bree slid her pants down, and the guys saw a word on the front of her panties, covering where her pubic hair would be, if she had any. The guys read, "CONSENT", and immediately started stripping off.

The guys did as instructed and crawled between Brees knees, opened their phones, and licked around her panty-covered vagina. As she was working she said, "You other guys can get in close to see what he is doing." From Brees point of view it looked like whichever guy was licking her was being ass fucked by the naked guys behind him. When she was done she tossed the phones back into the warmer and waived the guys away. John was last, and Bree ran her hands through his hair and said, "Good try, you did the best. I just couldn't pay enough attention to you."

"Ok guys, I was able to delete the photos and videos of me, which is great. It also looks like you weren't able to forward them away, which is even better." She stood up and crossed her arms again, the guys looked hopeful that they might get some satisfaction tonight after all.

"The problem, of course, is Mary and the other girls you've abused. I tried to convince Mary to report you all for rape, but she is worried that you will use edited footage to make it look like she was a willing participant. And any footage you supply to support that claim would be public record, and she doesn't want people to see it. My uncle, Sheriff Coltrain agrees that video footage would become public record although he doesn't know the details of this case." When John heard the sheriffs name he looked scared.

"Oh, it looks like John knows about Sheriff Coltrain. He is presently under investigation for breaking a prisoners ribs by kicking him in the chest, while the prisoner was in custody and handcuffed. There is no question he did it, it was in the precinct and caught on two security cameras, and another cops body cam. His defense is that the prisoner spit on him, which is assault, and he was just defending himself. Can you imagine what someone like that might do to someone who raped a poor innocent girl? And recorded it? Luckily he doesn't know about you guys, yet. Hopefully for you he never will."

The guys hadn't heard the front door open, so they were surprised by the big guy standing in the doorway to the living room. He was wearing a black hooded mask and tactical armor. He held a cattle prod and a duffel bag, which he offered to Bree. The guys looked at the words "CAN BE REVOKED" on the back of Brees underwear as she took the bag.

Bree took out a stack of shot glasses and a small bottle of vodka. She spread five of them on the table, and filled each of them. "I want to be certain that if you have any videos of Mary, or any of the other girls, that none of you will ever let anyone else see them. So, we are going to make another movie. Drink up, boys!"

Bree took a shot and somehow each of the boys did, too. "Now, of course I am not going to be in the video, so you will all just have to fuck and suck one another."

"No fucking way!" Peter swore. The big guy in the doorway pulled the trigger on his cattle prod, and the electrical sparks lit up the room briefly.

"Would any of you like another shot before we continue?" All of the boys took another shot.

"Ok. Mark, Paul and John, you are all rapists because you let Peter convince you that what you were doing was ok, but you are still rapists. Everything bad that happens to you tonight is because of Peter. And because you couldn't do what was right when given the chance. You can start to make it better now. Grab Peter and hold him down." Peter suddenly looked scared of his friends, and the crackle of the cattle prod made it worse.

With three against one obviously Peter would be caught and held. The naked boys fought and wrestled while Bree recorded it. Eventually Peter was held down and Bree walked over and handed John a stick, "Shove this end up his ass about six inches. Leave the other six sticking out."

Bree walked in front of Peter and showed him another stick, it was twelve inches long and about an inch thick. "Peter, this is a road flare, just like the one stuck up your ass. The way it works is you take the cap off and strike it against this part, and it burns at about a thousand degrees. They usually burn about thirty minutes. I've got no intention of lighting it now, but I will if necessary. Leave it where it is, or I'll have them fuck you with it when they put it back in." Peter groaned.

"Ok boys, get him up on his knees. Peter? Peter? Pay attention Peter. I know it's uncomfortable, but it's no worse than the dicks you've forced women to take. You will be ok. Now, what you need to do is to blow your friends. And make it look like you want to do it for the video, ok? Talk dirty to them." Bree took Peter's left hand and put it on John's semi soft dick and started stroking it.

Peter was not good at head, and kept gagging. The guys were all surprised that they were getting hard, not realizing that their shot glasses, but not Bree's, had been coated with a mixture of Viagra and Cialis. Peter tried to make it sound like he was into giving head, but it was clear that he was not. Bree said, "Come on Peter, as soon as they come you can be done blowing them. You can do it."

Peter was alternating between blowing each of his friends and jacking the other two. Bree was recording it with her phone, and the special geeky spy glasses, and the cameras hidden in the warming bag. "Ok you three, this is taking too long. Just start throat fucking him. When you come shoot a little in his mouth, and the rest on his face." Mark, then Paul, then John did as instructed, leaving Peter with strings of come dripping down his face, and his left eye burning.

"Ok Peter, stay there on the floor. Don't take that out of your ass." He was right in front of the warming bag camera, breathing hard, with cum dripping down his face and his hard dick visible.

"Come here you three, behind the couch. Put your shirts back on for this part, ok? You are each going to go to your rooms to give us access to your computers so that we can delete any footage you might have. The rest of you will stay here under the watch of my friend." Bree took three sets of handcuffs from her duffle, locked them on each of the guys wrists, pulled their shirts down their arms to cover the handcuffs and pushed them over the back of the couch.

"Peter? Peter, dear? Come around here. These are the guys that just throat fucked you. Don't you want to get even? Why don't you fuck them in the ass? You can pretend it's me, ok? If that makes you feel any better." Peter grabbed John's hips and thrust into his ass.

John screamed, but Peter just kept stroking. Bree let him go for fifteen or twenty strokes and then pulled Peter back. "That's good for now. It will hurt them more if you switch back and forth every few strokes. When you are ready to come, shoot mostly on their backs, ok?" Bree gave her phone to the big guy and he continued recording while she was gone.

Bree took John to his room, interrogating him the whole way. How many girls have you raped? How many has Peter told you about that he has done on his own? Who were they? What are your computer and cloud passwords? Do you have any files on thumb drives? Do you know if any of the others do? Where are they hidden?

Bree had her own thumb drive that installed copy and erase software that uploaded all the pictures and videos from any computer it was installed on to the cloud and then deleted them and reformatted the drives. It was a pretty effective piece of software. That and the wireless scrubbing tech in the bottom of the warming bag would make sure there were no pictures or videos left anywhere in the house when Bree left.

Bree and John were only gone about ten minutes. In that time Peter had continued to rape Mark and Paul, and was coming over Paul's back as they reentered the living room. "Oh, good job Peter! Here, do John now while I take Mark to his room."

Bree asked Mark all the same questions, and got more answers recorded on her spy glasses. Then it was Pauls turn. Bree got more incriminating answers, and corroboration of lots of other information.

Peter had come on John, and was now just hate fucking his former friends ten strokes at a time. He still had the flare up his ass, but it had slipped out a little. When Bree took Peter to his room she asked all the same questions, and got most of the same answers. Peter did leave out a couple of girls that the others had already told Bree about, but she didn't ask about them.

When Peter and Bree returned to the living room the other three guys were standing together whispering, they were still handcuffed though. "Ok guys, almost done here. It looks like we got all the video footage from your computers, and your cloud storage, so nothing should ever leak out. Remember if any of the videos we found here tonight ever leak, it will go badly for each of you."

Bree removed their handcuffs and let them stand together for a moment. "Just one more thing. Can you get Peter on the ground so I can remove that flare?" The other three were not gentle with Peter, punching him and throwing him to the ground.

Bree ripped the flare out of Peters ass, "You know guys, as long as you are holding him down, you might as well return the anal rape, right? He did it to you all, and it's his fault that you are here."

The other three fucked Peter one after the other, pulling out and shooting across his stomach. By the time John and Mark were done the constant friction past Peters prostrate, and the effects of the ed meds had Peter super hard, and he was jacking himself off. He and Paul came at almost the same time.

"Good job guys. Just hold his legs apart for me, ok? And his hands, please?" Bree pushed the first four inches of the flare back up Peters ass. Peter was so out of it that he almost didn't notice.

"Peter? Peter, are you still with me? You didn't answer my questions correctly earlier. You left out Emily, from high school? Remember her? What was her last name, Peter? Tell me, and tell me everything else you tried to leave out. The others told me everything, and I did some research before I ever came here. Tell me everyone you've ever raped or wronged." Bree took the cap off the flare and lit it. "I figure you've got about twenty minutes before the flare permanently scars you so you constantly shit yourself. Unless it just outright kills you, I guess."

Peter tried to struggle against his former friends, but they held him tightly. He started yelling, begging and pleading. "Tell me what I need to know, Peter." Peter told Bree everything, he gave up names, dates and places of women he had raped, coerced or tricked. He even gave up the location of a hidden thumb drive in his room.

After about ten minutes he started repeating himself, and by fifteen was continually begging and repeating himself again. The guy in the doorway came in and pulled the flare out of Peters ass with a heat resistant glove, leaving him sobbing on the floor. The flare was extinguished in the bathroom sink.

Bree pulled on her shorts, and a replacement shirt from the duffle. "You guys probably feel awful after being ass raped like that, and you should. That is what the girls you raped felt like when you violated them. Don't do that again, or I will find you. I'm going to talk to all the girls involved, and if any of them decide to press charges against any of you, you really should admit to it and take your legal punishment. If they don't want to deal with the hassle of trial, if they don't want to have to relive what you did to them, consider yourselves lucky. But if they want to punish you more, take the legal punishment. You wouldn't want me to have to visit again."