Chapter 1

 

Wayan Cole could feel the adrenaline start to flow the minute he saw her coming out of the store, a twinge of excitement instantly building within him. He had been ambling about the shopping mall for some time, on the lookout for a white pussy that he could hunt, a fancy paper carrier bag clutched in his right hand to give any nosey person the idea he had been shopping.

Immediately, his pulse started racing, causing his big ten-inch dick to twitch down inside his baggy blue jeans. If he could not suppress his carnal thoughts he knew he was in danger of having such a hard-on that he would find it difficult to walk.

The blonde-haired girl was not running although she was moving in purposeful manner, heading towards the exit for main car park, seemingly acting in a furtive manner, occasionally glancing about.

Picking up his pace, he followed, keeping a reasonable distance between them. Taking the opportunity, Wayan tried to assess her more fully. Over the last few years he had developed a real good knack of being able to size up prey in a matter of a few seconds. It still amazed him how much a momentary glance could tell him, what things would register upon his brain.

This time he reckoned the target was around twenty years of age, five-foot five-inches tall, slightly heavily built although shapely, with her hips as wide as her shoulders, giving her a nice round ass although it was not as large as the booty he had seen on many a nigga-sister. She looked to weigh around one hundred and thirty pounds so he thought he could easily handle her. Her roundish face was pleasing-looking. He had noted that there were tiny gold studs in her small earlobes, a large wristwatch on her left arm. Her long, straight, blonde hair billowed as she walked, he wondering if it was natural or bleached. She was wearing a short blue and black dress. It was stretched so tight that he could make out the panties underneath, there no hint of a bra though. A pair of blue lace-up canvas shoes completed her attire. Her shoulder bag was tucked tightly up under her right arm as if she was trying to protect it.

Slipping his hand into his polo shirt's breast pocket, he pulled out his cell-phone. Flicking it open, he dialled as he continued to walk along, keeping one eye on his quarry.

"Hi, Dajuan. We've meat on the hoof, heading to the car park. Get ready," he said into the mouthpiece.

"Yo. Rely on me," Dajuan Johnson simply replied, terminating the call at his end.

As the girl got closer to the automatic doors, Wayan pushed his cell-phone back into his pocket and increased his pace, rapidly reducing the gap between them. Seeing the Cadillac DeVille pull up in front of the entrance, he switched the carrier bag to his left mitt, pushing his other hand into his jeans' right front pocket, encasing his hand about the switchblade knife.

Once outside, he came level to her left-hand side. In one fluid motion, he jerked his hand and the knife from his pocket, extending his arm, and looping it about her neck.

 

***

 

Dayna Vincenti was down from New York City, staying in Orlando, celebrating Spring Break in a more restrained manner than the drunken time she had done last year. Her three friends were somewhere in the mall, no doubt trying on clothes in one or other of the chic boutiques.

As for herself, she had simply left the department store having just given herself a $200 five-finger discount, shoplifting a nice gold ankle chain that she had slipped into her shoulder bag.

Coming out of the store, she had intended to turn right, head towards the central fountain to meet up with her friends, but she spotted a security guard and thought it best to do a detour.

As she was adjusting her course towards the left, she noted the big baboon, he shambling along. He was tall - her guess, six-foot-two. He looked muscular under his tight black polo shirt, his powerful arms heavily tattooed. Like many of his kind, his jeans seemed to be several sizes too big. Why did African-American's always dress like that, as if they had crapped in their pants, she momentarily wondered?

The very sight of the Negro caused her to shudder. Not that she was prejudiced, she half-heartedly told herself. It was simply that she did not like blacks, they always far too arrogant for a start, she looking on herself as a good, wholesome, Italian/Irish American.

Deciding to head to the car park, then return via another entrance, she scanned around a couple of times, making certain that neither the security guard nor a store detective was following her. To her relief, no one apparently was - only that ape, but he was merely, obviously, heading for his car.

As she went through the automatic doors a brown four-door sedan pulled to a stop across the front of the exit.

Next thing she knew, that big black guy was walking along beside her, his right arm suddenly looping about her neck, pulling her tight to his side.

Flicking her eyes frantically, she saw that his hand encased a pearl and silver switchblade knife, the blade fortunately unopened. Switching her gaze to her left, she found herself looking up at his big grinning face, she guessing she was some nine inches shorter than him. He had one of those thin beards that ran along the edge of his lower jaw and around his mouth, she reckoning it gave him something of a demonic appearance.

Lowering his mouth close to her left ear, he hissed, "Yell or call out and I'll fuckin' kill you! Do as I say or I'll cut you from ear to ear and leave you to bleed to death here on the sidewalk!"

Fear filled her. Shock caused her to involuntarily discharge a thimbleful of urine, wetting her nice new lacy panties. Stunned though she maybe, she instantly realised her worst nightmare was unfolding, she being abducted by a Negro. "Yer what?" she managed to utter.

"Open the fucking car door and get in! Shuffle to the other seat!" he growled, propelling her firmly towards the automobile.

Fumbling, due to the panic, she managed to pull the back door open. Releasing his neck hold, he shoved her in, she slithering towards the other way out, desperately trying to open it.

"The child locks on, you stupid white ho!" the driver snarled, having turned to look at her. "Nice piece of tail, Wayan," he commented as the other creature got in, slamming the door closed, chucking his carrier bag onto the space between the seats.

"Drive, Dajuan!" the one evidently called Wayan said.

Dajuan turned back to his duties, his braided hair swishing like a set of tassels.

"What the fuck's going on? What do you think you're doing? Let me go! Let me go immediately!" Dayna yelled, frantically looking about to see if anyone outside the car had realise she was being kidnapped.

"Shut your motherfucker mouth, white bitch!" Wayan yelled, snarling fearsomely in her direction.

"Please! Please! Let me go, you black asshole!" she pleaded, trying to give herself time to think. Her brain was working frantically, doing its best to fathom out what to do, telling her to stay calm. Quickly, she realised, only a cool head would enable her to escape, to survive this ordeal.

"Shut the fuck up, white bitch! Or do you want me to cut you up real bad?"

"No! No! Let me go ... please!" she responded, bursting into tears.

"Hey, Dajuan, this piece of white pussy is crying already and we ain't even done anything to her yet!" Wayan crowed.

"White hoes ain't got no fucking sense. They don't seem to understand that a few tears ain't going to save them from being drilled by big black dicks!" Dajuan cheerily replied, patently studying her via the rear-view mirror.

She knew now, this truly was her worst nightmare. She was going to be raped by these black animals then probably killed and tossed into the gutter. Calm yourself. Do whatever you need to stay alive, she told herself.

Wayan's left fingers pulled his zip on his now-bulging jeans, a large black pole instantly thrusting through the gap. "Now, white bitch, gag yourself! Suck on my big black dick," he instructed, using his right fist to force her head towards his crotch.

"No! But-but-" she was trying to protest.

Whilst she was attempting to speak, his actions forced her face down. As her mouth was open, trying to plead, it was simply pushed over the crown of his truly large penis, she soon feeling as if she was choking. Placing his left hand upon the back of her head, he held her down. Clearly he had somehow put his switchblade somewhere because he used his now-empty right hand to lift the rear of her dress, slipping it inside her panties. She felt his middle finger push into her anus momentarily before being withdrawn. The hand reached under her, several fingertips stroking at her clitoris and pubic mound before starting to tickle her labia, forcing their way between them.

"Hey, nigga bro, this white slut is already wet! She's bald too. Just like we like 'em. And, I reckons she's had plenty of cock up her cunt and ass already so she must be gagging for some hot black dick!" Wayan merrily announced.

"Man, it's so unfair. You should do the driving sometimes, let me have my share of feeling the bitches up first," Dajuan replied, complainingly.

"Fuck you! You know the boss has put me in charge! You're the driver, I'm the capturer! Therefore I is the one that gets to have first feel! So, you fucking drive and get us there in one piece!"

"Huh!" Dajuan snorted in response, clearly peeved.

Things were apparently worse than Dayna already feared. By the sound of the exchange this was not the first time they had snatched a girl from the street. Also, there was clearly at least three of them - reference to a boss sort of indicating they were part of some sort of gang. Oh my God - did that mean she was going to get gangbanged?