TOMB HUNTER The Adventures of Larra Court Episode 2 Larra’s Mayan Adventure By L’Espion [email protected] Chapter 8 Larra’s Ordeal Larra watched Schroeder stride toward her. Behind him his two henchmen kept her covered, the muzzles of their Mauser rifles never wavering from her chest. Deep in the pit of her stomach Larra felt a twinge of fear. She quickly glanced around. A few feet away was a large boulder that might offer protection if she could reach it, but she realized that it was a poor choice. There was a very good chance that she would be shot and killed before she could reach its shelter, and even if she did, she would be pinned down in a hopeless situation. Her enemies had the advantage of her. She would be a sitting duck. Schroeder was only a few feet away from her now. He stopped near a large tree and pointed his Luger at her. “We meet again, Fraulein,” he said. “I was somewhat disappointed at the way you left last time.” Inwardly Larra cringed, although she showed no outward emotion. Schroeder’s words were spoken with a deliberate malice. It was clear that he harbored some sort of grudge against her. “I can’t say that I was especially pleased at your idea of entertainment the last time we met, Hauptsturmfuehrer,” Larra rejoined. “Hauptsturmfuehrer?” Schroeder said, “Hauptsturmfuehrer? I am Untersturmfuehrer now. Himmler was not pleased that you escaped me so easily. I lost two ranks because of you. We have a score to settle. But enough of these pleasantries. Put your hands on your head and drop to your knees.” “What,” said Larra, not moving, “afraid of a woman? Whatever is the German army coming to?” “Do as I say,” Schroeder commanded, “or I will put a bullet through your leg. I will not miss at this range.” Larra did as she was told. Slowly she bent her legs and raised her hands. She felt very helpless and exposed, but the number of her enemies gave her little choice. “Now," said Schroeder, “lower your left arm very slowly and unbuckle your gunbelt. Remember, slowly. I should hate to be startled into killing you.” A few seconds later, Larra’s gunbelt dropped to the ground. “Now toss it to your left,” Schroeder ordered, “and place your hand back on top of your head again.” With a flick of her wrist, Larra threw her sidearm about five feet to one side and replaced her hand back on top of her head. Schroeder was close enough to notice the dried blood on Larra’s shirt. “What happened?” he inquired. “Did you have a little accident? Ahh, yes, I almost forgot. The earthquake. It is fortunate that you were not killed.” Larra wondered a bit at Schroeder’s concern for her, but a queasy feeling in her stomach told her that his regard for her safety had some other motive. By this time the other members of Schroeder’s troop had moved in. They completely surrounded her, and began to move closer. Too late Schroeder saw that his own men were screening Larra off from those that carried the rifles. Larra was quick to take advantage of this mistake. Jumping to her feet, she lashed out with her hands and feet she took out three of the men around her before they realized what was happening. Struck by multiple kicks and punches, they fell to the ground, two of them clutching their private parts in agony, and the third grasping at his crushed larynx as he fell. Having cleared the area around her, Larra used her freedom of movement to tackle the three men armed with rifles. One of them drew a bead on her and fired, but his bullet did not find the expected target. Larra darted to one side and the nine-millimeter slug tore into one of Schroeder’s own men. Screaming in pain and clutching at his gut, the man fell writhing to the ground. This panicked the other armed men and they began firing wildly in Larra’s direction, but somehow she evaded the fusillade and closed with the panic-stricken riflemen. A blow from her right foot smashed the sternum of one of the riflemen, a hammer fist shattered the nose of another, and a knife hand cut off the breath of the third. In just a few seconds, Larra had deprived Schroeder of his best men. The remaining men did not wait for Larra to deal with them. They took to their heels and ran back down the canyon. Now only Schroeder remained. Larra saw to her amusement that the German had picked up a large branch that the wind had torn from a tree. It was about fifteen feet long and forked about five feet from the end. It seemed such a desperate and ludicrous act that she laughed out loud. “What are you going to do with that, Herr Schroeder” she chortled, “hit me over the head with it?” Schroeder did not reply. Instead he charged toward her, pointing the forked end of the branch at Larra’s midsection. Larra attempted to move to one side, but the width of the fork made it impossible to avoid at such close range. She was forced to grasp each side of the fork as Schroeder pushed it into her. Larra was not unduly worried, she knew that Schroeder could not hurt her this way, but he was pushing her steadily backwards, using his superior weight and strength to shove her forcefully in the direction he was heading. She was compelled to backpedal rapidly to keep from falling. A glance over her shoulder suddenly revealed what the desperate man was up to. He was trying to push her into the pool where she had bathed that morning. Larra gripped the fork of the branch tightly and brought her feet up quickly, attempting to vault over it and deal with Schroeder, but he anticipated her move and raised the branch as she jumped, so that the fork caught her in the midriff, lifting her right off the ground. Schroeder was immensely strong, and he carried the branch, Larra and all, to the edge of the pool and pushed her into the water. Still confused by the strategy behind this attack, she struck the water with a large splash, her legs flying into the air as she hit its surface. For a second she disappeared into the pool, but almost immediately surfaced, ready for Schroeder’s assault. She saw that Schroeder had dropped the branch and was now charging toward her. Suddenly, she realized the idea behind his seemingly inane rush. Standing waist deep in the water she had lost her greatest asset, her mobility. She could not move fast enough to avoid Schroeder’s onslaught. Still running full speed he leaped into the pool, giving her only a second to brace herself before his powerful body slammed into her. The impact of Schroeder’s body drove her under the water. She found herself at the bottom of the pond with Schroeder’s powerful arms wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her sides. As they surfaced she struck at Schroeder’s groin with her right leg, but without proper footing and with the water literally dampening the force of her blow, she did not hurt him. Using his superior muscle mass, Schroeder pushed her under the water again. As she struggled to surface he caught hold of her long braid and submerged her head a third time. She held her breath, trying to strike Schroeder in some vulnerable spot as he held her under, but her blows were weak and ineffective. After what seemed like an eternity, he allowed her to come up for air, only to immediately submerge her again. After a couple of minutes of this, Larra was desperate for air, but Schroeder was relentless. He pushed her under again and held her under for a full minute before he allowed her to surface. Gasping and spluttering, Larra was unable to defend herself when she was finally allowed to reach the air. Still holding on to her braid, Schroeder stepped forward and struck her just below her jutting breasts. The blow finished her. Unable to draw a breath, she doubled over, her bosom heaving as she sought to breathe. Dimly, she was aware that Schroeder was propelling her toward the land, but she was too far gone to fight back. Schroeder dragged her to the edge of the pool and dumped her unceremoniously on the margins of the water; her legs still immersed in the pond. Still doubled over from the effect of Schroeder’s punch to her midriff, Larra felt the German unlacing one of her boots. She attempted to pull her foot from his grasp, but her efforts were too feeble to break loose. A few seconds later she felt Schroeder pulling her hands behind her back. Still gasping convulsively, she struggled to break free, but in her weakened condition she was unable to resist. In a few seconds, her wrists were securely bound with her own boot laces. “You’re a god-damned demon bitch,” Schroeder said. “But now I’ve got you and you are going to pay for what you have done.” By this time two of Schroeder’s men had returned. “Grab her, you fools,” he commanded. Larra felt the men take hold of her arms. As they dragged her from the water she heard Schroeder caution: “Don’t let her up. Tie her ankles.” One of the men sat on Larra’s back, while the other removed her remaining boot and used the laces to tie her ankles together. “Drag her over here,” Schroeder commanded. Cruelly, the two men caught hold of Larra’s arms and dragged her across the rocky ground, her breasts brushing the surface. To her mortification, Larra realized that during the fight with Schroeder her shirt had been completely torn open and her brassiere had snapped apart with the exertion of combat, fully exposing her breasts. “Lift her, you idiots,” shouted Schroeder. “I don’t want to damage her tits.” Picking her up by her arms the two men hauled her face down to a large flat boulder. There they arranged her so that she was bent over the slab with her feet touching the ground and her breasts pressed against the rock’s flat surface. Schroeder moved to her right side. Grabbing her long braid in his left hand he yanked her head back so that he could look into her face. “And now, Fraulein, I would like some information.” He pulled hard on her braid, causing Larra to wince. “You managed to get here without the aid of the research material we assembled. I want to know what additional information you possess.” “I don’t have any extra material,” replied Larra. “Only what you showed me.” “You certainly don’t expect me to believe such a lie,” Schroeder declared. “How could you have made it here with only a glance at our documents?” “Nevertheless, it is the truth,” Larra said. “I have a very good memory.” “Have it your way, Fraulein,” said Schroeder, menacingly. “I was hoping that you might make this difficult.” Schroeder was about to release Larra’s hair when he spotted the gold chain and the diamond ring that dangled between the hollow of her breasts. “What is this,” he queried, as he seized hold of the ring, “some sort of memento of a past romance?” He closed his hand over the ring and with a powerful jerk snapped the gold chain, tearing it from her neck with enough force to lave a red welt on her skin. “Return that, you thief,” Larra demanded. Schroeder laughed. “You are hardly in a position to make any demands, Fraulein. I think I will keep this for now.” He tucked the ring into his shirt pocket and then moved behind her. She felt his hands move around her waist and fumble with her belt buckle. “No!” she protested. “Is this the honor of a German officer?” “Officially, I am not an officer,” he answered. “Therefore, I am able to operate any way I like.” Schroeder finished unbuckling her belt, and pulled her trousers down over her hips. A few seconds later he pulled down her lace panties, exposing her exquisitely muscular derriere. She squirmed on the slab, realizing how vulnerable she was. Her greatest fear was of rape and humiliation. Having lost her virginity in a brutal rape, she was haunted by the memory of that ultimate degradation. In her mind there was nothing more brutal that a man could do to a woman. And the experience did not get easier with repetition. She had been raped a second time and that defilement had been just as horrible and degrading as the first. The myth that a woman would “get to enjoy” a rape was just that, a myth. There was nothing to enjoy about the ultimate debasement of womankind. And now, she had fallen into the hands of a man whose affiliation with Nazism told her that she could expect the worst. “Hold her still,” Schroeder commanded. The other two men came forward and pinned her to the rock. “Now, Fraulein Court,” Schroeder gloated, “we will enjoy a little punishment. I hope you relish it as much as I will.” Schroeder pulled the belt from Larra’s trousers. Doubling it up, he struck her hard across her perfect behind. Larra gasped at the savagery of the blow, but otherwise made no sound. Her resistance infuriated Schroeder. His next blow was harder still, this time she did not even move, steeling herself against the pain. “You are amazingly strong, Fraulein,” jeered Schroeder, “but I have all day to break you.” Putting all the strength of his 250-pound frame into the blow, Schroeder brought the strap down again, and again, and again. Larra counted ten blows before he stopped. “Ah, too bad, Miss Court,” he sneered, “I seem to have drawn blood. I don’t want to damage you too badly – yet.” Larra’s buttocks ached agonizingly. She was glad he had stopped. She did not know how much longer she could have stood the beating. Schroeder shifted his attention to Larra’s ripe breasts. “Let’s see if these are as wonderful as I remember them," he gibed. Still leaving her face down, he slid his hands over her back, under her armpits, and cupped her flawless white globes, squeezing them softly at first, and then pinching her erect nipples. Larra gave a small gasp of protest as his touch turned from caress to deliberate torment. He pushed up against her bruised backside sending spasms of pain shooting through her buttocks. For several minutes he continued to play with her breasts, twisting and pinching the nipples of the helpless adventuress. Larra could do nothing but endure the humiliation, trying her best not to give Schroeder any satisfaction by showing pain or mortification. Finally, to Larra’s relief, he stepped away from her, but her relief turned out to be short-lived. “Do you know what the secret of inflicting true pain is Fraulein?” Schroeder gloated, placing his mouth close to her ear. “It is to punish a certain part of the body, let’s say your shapely backside,” and here he slapped Larra’s swollen buttocks, causing her to wince with pain,” and then let it alone for a few minutes. Do you know what happens? The blood rushes into the afflicted area and the welts become engorged with blood. The nerve endings become highly sensitized to further stimuli, so that the next round of punishment is truly agonizing. I think it is time to give your sweet ass ten more of the best.” Oh God, no! Larra thought. Please no! But she remained silent. Schroeder had been accurate about the increase in pain. Too accurate. The belt whooshed through the air and struck her inflamed derriere. The blow felt as if it had torn all the skin off her backside. This time, she could not hold back a tiny cry of pain, and Schroeder grunted in satisfaction and flogged her again. She bit her lip until the skin broke, desperately attempting to remain in control. The third blow struck, and then the fourth. “Aaahh!” Larra could not hold back her cry of torment. Each blow of the belt brought exquisite agony; like nothing she had ever experienced before. Another blow. "Aaahhaa!" Her cries were louder now. Between blows her breaths came in great ragged sobs, tears streaming from her violet eyes. In all, Schroeder gave her ten more lashes just as he said he would, before stepping back to admire his handiwork. He grinned in satisfaction. Larra’s tight backside was crisscrossed with red striations. Here and there, a trickle of blood added to its now bright red color, but he had handled the lash well. He had broken the skin in only a few places, preserving the beauty of Larra’s posterior, while inflicting maximum pain. He was impressed though, at how well the defenseless woman had borne up to the torture. He doubted that any man could have stood it as well or lasted as long without giving in to wails of agonized protest. With his henchmen holding her, Schroeder began to finish stripping Larra, untying her ankles so that he could removed her trousers and panties, and then using his SS dagger to cut the rest of her shirt and bra from her body. She was now completely naked and helpless as Schroeder called two of his men over. “Spread her,” he ordered. “She seems more than flexible enough.” Larra grunted as her legs were pulled painfully apart. At Schroeder’s instructions she was lifted from the ground, her legs pulled so far out to each side that her torso had to be supported by a third man. It was a humiliating a degrading position, but she kept calm. It was her only chance to escape. She had been in tight scrapes before, and her presence of mind had allowed her to find a way out. “Now, Fraulein,” said Schroeder, licking his lips, “I think it is time that you did some of the work in our relationship.” Schroeder eyed his helpless victim and then removed his trousers, revealing an erection that matched his height and weight. It was all Larra could do not to flinch at the sight of it and it brought back painful memories of a similar horrifying experience. Schroeder chose a large sloped boulder and eased himself onto it in a reclining position. “Now bring her over here,” he ordered. “Oh God, no,” Larra exclaimed, suddenly realizing what Schroeder intended. She struggled to escape, but could do nothing as she was maneuvered over Schroeder’s body and slowly lowered onto his stallionesque shaft. “No” she cried, straining frantically at her bonds and the men that held her as she attempted to avoid the inevitable. But they were three to her one and Schroeder added his hands to help guide her into position. Her last cry was almost a sob, as she felt her own weight forcing her onto Schroeder’s penis. “Ah!” Schroeder exulted. “That’s it, move that tight ass; it makes it so much better.” Larra tried to squirm away, but her captors held her and guided her slowly but surely onto his erect phallus. “Aah!” Larra moaned, as Schroeder slowly penetrated her. Larra contracted the muscles of her vagina. It was an art that she had perfected when making love to her first and only love, the father of her son. This time, however, it was not lovemaking she was interested in; she intended to lock Schroeder out. “Damn,” Schroeder cursed. He seemed to understand what Larra had done. “I should have known that an Asian half-breed bitch would know some sort of Oriental tricks.” Despite her ordeal, Larra wondered at how Schroeder had discovered her one-quarter Japanese ancestry; an ancestry that she was very proud of. Gripping her tighter, he rammed his penis into her, but to no avail. He could get no farther than two inches. Reddening in rage and embarrassment, Schroeder dumped Larra off, his huge erection bobbing in front of him. She fell with a thud to the hard ground, landing on her inflamed backside. A yelp of pain burst from her lips. “Bring me the rations pack,” he yelled at his cohorts. A few more of Schroeder’s men had returned to the scene of their encounter with Larra. There were now about six of them and they scattered in search of the pack in question. Larra lay on the ground, watched by two of Schroeder’s men, her tortured derriere pulsing with pain. A few seconds later, one of the men showed up, carrying a large pack. Schroeder set it on the ground and still naked from the waist down he began to empty the pack, tossing items left and right. Eventually his hand closed on what he wanted, a small bottle of olive oil. “Thank God for the Italians,” he laughed. Returning to Larra’s side, he knelt beside her. “This should loosen you up, Fraulein,” he said, unscrewing the top of the bottle. Pouring a few ounces of the oil into his palm, Schroeder rubbed the oil between Larra’s legs, inserting his fingers into her vagina to make sure that she was well-lubricated inside. He then smeared the remainder on his swollen phallus, which was once again coming into full erection after drooping a little when he had left Larra. “You bastard, Schroeder,” Larra spat. “Does it inflate your ego to dominate helpless women?” “I do not find you helpless, Miss Court,” replied Schroeder, as he once again resumed his position on the boulder. “I find you dangerous, and that excites me.” Once again, Larra was splayed and lifted so that her vulva was directly over his tumescent penis. She tried to lift her body to keep from sinking onto the huge shaft, but the olive oil that he had used to lubricant her pubic area now coated the inside of her legs as well, making her quite slippery. The glans of Schroeder’s penis slipped between the lips of her vulva almost without resistance. “Oh Jesus!” Larra cried. The words burst from her involuntarily as Schroeder’s enormous sex organ slid into her tight vaginal canal, forcing the soft yielding tissue apart. She flexed her thighs, striving desperately to prevent herself from being impaled on his rigid shaft. Temporarily, she rose an inch or so, before sliding back onto his phallus, even farther than before. Again and again she repeated the movement, but each time the result was the same. Despite her best efforts at tightening her vagina, she was now too well lubricated to prevent her body weight from driving Schroeder’s penis deeper and deeper into her. “Uuhn,” she grunted as despite her struggles he slowly penetrated her. She whimpered in pain, gasping as a series of involuntary cries escaped her. She was experiencing acute pain as well as the humiliation of being watched by a half dozen of Schroeder’s drooling henchmen. Slowly, but surely, her own body weight, as well as her gyrations as she tried to escape, forced Schroeder’s engorged organ deeper and deeper into her. She began to buck as if she were trying to break a horse. The pain was excruciating. She was now fully impaled and the olive oil made further penetration easy despite her gyrations. In fact, the movements of her body forced Schroeder more deeply into her, an action Schroeder finally aided by pulling hard on her bruised buttocks and thrusting up suddenly with his pelvis. She screamed in pain and degradation. Schroeder had now almost fully penetrated her and with increased excitement he began to thrust vigorously upward, trying to penetrate to the full length of his manhood. Holding Larra tightly, he rolled over, so that the moaning woman was now pinned beneath him. He then used his full weight to completely finish her. A few more powerful thrusts and he was through with her, but his men weren’t. They had watched in growing anticipation as their leader enjoyed the helpless captive. As Schroeder heaved her off, they closed in and carried her over to another boulder. This rock stood about two feet off the ground and was hemispherical in shape. Holding her tightly, the men draped her over the rock, arching her body over its curved surface. One man held each of her limbs so that she was spread-eagled across the rock, with her pubic mound and exposed vagina raised slightly higher than her torso. Helpless before her defilers she took the only action remaining to her. Her body went completely limp as she retreated into her own mind. It was an act borne of desperation, as it put her into a trance-like state. In this hypnotic condition she would be completely oblivious to what was happening around her. It would protect her from the brutal attentions of Schroeder’s men by making her unconscious of their actions, but it would also leave her so unaware of her surrounding that she would not be able to take advantage of any chance to get away. It was a condition that she turned to only because of the hopelessness of her situation. She had decided that escape was temporarily impossible, and that her ordeal was no longer endurable. Schroeder’s men would have their way with her, but it would be like raping a corpse. Too aroused to notice her lack of response, they stretched her across the rounded boulder and maintained their hold on her while a fifth mounted her. It was not until this man had reached orgasm and a second had taken his place that they realized that Larra was not reacting. “Damn,” the second rapist cursed, “the bitch has fainted.” Drawing his hand back he tried to slap her awake, smacking her head from side to side, to no avail. Finally, in frustration he raped her anyway, ramming hard into Larra’s limp body. The third man also found it less enjoyable to rape a woman who was oblivious to his actions. He pinched her legs and breasts, attempting to arouse her, but got no reaction. Finally, he too raped her unconscious body. By this time Schroeder was once again taking an interest in Larra and he strode over to the rape scene. “The damned bitch has gone into some sort of Oriental stupor,” Schroeder observed, “but I think I know a way to bring her out of it. Pick her up and bring her over here.” Schroeder tramped over to the side of the pool where he had captured Larra. “Make damned sure you hold onto her,” he cautioned. “I don’t want a kick to the side of the head.” Schroeder dipped what was left of Larra’s torn shirt into the pond. Then, holding her head he dripped the water from the soaked cloth onto her sweat-stained face, washing it clean of some of the grime. There was no reaction. Only the gentle rising and falling of her breasts indicated that she was alive. Dipping the cloth into the water again, he lowered it so that it completely covered her nose and mouth. “She may be impervious to pain,” mused Schroeder, “but I expect that she still has to breathe.” For a few seconds Larra lay inert, but then, as the water entered her mouth and nostrils she began to cough and sputter. Instinctively she tried to raise her hands to her face, but her arms were tightly held. She tried to turn her head, but Schroeder clamped the damp cloth down firmly over her face. Her chest heaved and suddenly her eyes popped open. “Welcome back, Fraulein Court,” Schroeder taunted, “we were beginning to miss you.” Larra awoke with a start. In her Zen-like trance she had been drifting through an endless sky, but suddenly in her dream she found herself plunged into water and struggling for air. When she awoke, she found it was true. “It is time to get on with our games,” continued Schroeder. “Take her back to the rock where you had her, it looks like an excellent location.” Larra began to struggle violently. Now that her meditative state had been broken, she would not be able to easily enter it again. She knew that Schroeder had some horrible new plan for his entertainment, and dreaded what it would be. The men carrying Larra bent her over the rock as they had before, fitting the arch of her back to its contours. It was almost as if the boulder had been made for the purpose. They stretched her limbs tight, spread-eagling her on the stone, so that she lay face up and vulnerable to any attack, her impressive breasts quivering slightly as she struggled to escape her captors. She was a sight to excite any man. “Carry on as before,” ordered Schroeder. “I believe some of you were denied your pleasure.” Immediately, one of the men not holding Larra placed himself between her thighs, his engorged manhood at the ready. Larra steeled herself for the assault, but could not help crying out slightly as the man entered her abused vagina. Squeezing her already aching breasts, the man began to pump steadily into her, eventually reaching orgasm and ejaculating into her tortured vaginal canal. Then it was the next man’s turn, and then the next and then the next. Schroeder watched with growing arousal as his men possessed the tormented woman, delighting in her low cries of pain and moans of distress. He was amazed that Larra bore up so well. Any other woman would have been reduced to a shrieking wreck by now, but she was still fighting back, attempting to break free from the grasp of her defilers. The last man finally finished his turn, and Schroeder, fully erect once more stepped forward. “Turn her over,” he commanded. The weakly resisting woman was placed face down on the boulder, her reddened and striated derriere situated uppermost on the boulder. Larra forced her pain-wracked body to greater efforts at escape, but she was too tightly held, and she was too exhausted to have any hope of breaking free. What terrified her were Schroeder’s’ words about “leaving her ass alone.” She was almost paralyzed with the thought of what might happen next. Schroeder was holding the bottle of olive oil again. Pouring a generous amount onto his hand, he lubricated his throbbing penis and then moving between Larra’s widespread legs, he smeared oil over her tiny anus, thrusting his slippery fingers into the tight orifice. Larra screamed in rage and protest. “Noooo!” she shrieked, “You can’t do this.” With the last of her remaining strength, Larra attempted to move her exposed backside away from Schroeder’s probing fingers, but he merely laughed and pushed his finger even farther into her anus, moving it in tiny circles to ensure maximum lubrication. Then, climbing on top of her he flattened her thrashing body to the boulder and moved the tip of his heavy shaft into position. Larra felt the dripping tip of Schroeder’s swollen rod pushing against her tight anus. Schroeder spread her cheeks and pushed hard against the almost impenetrable opening. Larra tightened her sphincter muscles, denying him entrance. Schroeder grunted; Larra seemed impossibly tight. He was going to have his work cut out for him. But it was going to be enjoyable work. Lying fully on top of her, Schroeder pushed hard against her anal opening. He extended his arms beneath her so that he was able to grip her shoulders from below, and used Larra’s own body as leverage for his assault. Pulling hard on her shoulders, he forced her sweet body back in an arch, lifting her torso clear of the boulder so that the gorgeous teardrops that were her breasts swung back and forth alluringly with every thrust of his penis. “"Aahh!” A low cry escaped Larra’s bruised lips as the tip of his massive organ slipped into her. Slowly, but surely Schroeder forced Larra open, moving his rigid member slightly in and out, and with each inward thrust moving another millimeter into her. Larra twisted beneath him, her arms and legs still tightly held by Schroeder’s men. Schroeder penetrated a bit more, he was now a full inch into her anus, stretching it wide. Gathering all of his massive strength, he thrust powerfully forward, feeling the soft tissue of Larra’s colon give way before him. “Aaagghh!!” Larra screamed as Schroeder violated her rectum, pushing three inches into her incredibly tight cavity. “Stop, stop!” she begged, but Schroeder merely increased the pressure, intent on burying himself inside her. “Oohh God!” Larra screamed. “It hurts, it hurts! Please stop! Please!” Larra had lost all sense of control. Her terrible ordeal had reduced her to what Schroeder wanted, a battered frightened woman, wracked with pain. His triumph was almost complete, but first he had to finish his most enjoyable task. Schroeder found that his anal rape was getting easier. Despite her exhaustion, Larra was struggling against her brutal violation, and each movement of her arched body pushed Schroeder a little deeper into her. “Aaahhhh! Aaahhhh!” Larra shrieked. Schroeder was now deep within her, and attempting to get deeper. Another half inch, and another; each convulsion of Larra’s body thrust him deeper within. Larra felt like her insides were being torn apart, and finally, she could fight no more. Her magnificent body bathed in sweat, she slumped in Schroeder’s arms and let him finish her off. Too debilitated and demoralized to even scream, she simply sobbed as Schroeder’s fully penetrated her. But Schroeder was not finished yet. Withdrawing halfway from her anus, he began to thrust rhythmically into her, driving his penis back and forth as he moved towards climax. After what seemed like an eternity to the beaten woman, Schroeder reached orgasm. Gasping from exertion he withdrew and temporarily collapsed on the ground. For now, Larra’s ordeal was over.