There was a flash of light and my head snapped back as my body was thrown to the floor. It hit with a thump and my head bounced hard against the polished floor making a wet, hollow sound like when you break open a ripe melon. There was a loud snap as my neck turned sideways under the weight of my falling body. I couldn't hear anything around me other than the ringing of the blast in my broken and bleeding ears. My vision swam like a school of tropical fish, blurred and indistinct, filled with after images of the flash of light. I could feel the blood pooling against the charred skin on my stomach and chest, the incendiary having burned away the front of my blouse and part of the bra. The shrapnel left deep bleeding tracts through the carbonized wasteland of my skin. Mostly second degree burns, it felt both painfully cool on the burns and burning hot on the edges and in the shrapnel wounds. The air in my chest wheezed and bubbled out through one such hole where it had pierced my lung and collapsed it. Every breath I breathed hurt like hell and whistled like the devil's own breath. Unable to move my head I wheezed out a cough and limply flopped a hand toward a wound in my side.
I felt a new pain as a hand wrapped itself into my hair, pulling my head around. The faint sound of a gruff voice pushed through the ringing in my ears as I was lifted up and off the ground by my scalp so I was face to face with him. "Hey, Frank! This one's alive!" he said, "She's mine!" My vision started to clear a bit as I heard the clatter of an automatic weapon somewhere else in the room. There was a very ugly and large man holding me up in front of him. Bald and heavily scarred, one eye augmented, probably because of a previous injury. He smiled a cruel broken toothed smile. His dark green shirt did little to hide the stiff body armour underneath, it also failed to show any insignia or crest.
The other man walked over, swinging a rifle from his left hand and a cigar in the right. His dark skin blending in with his similar outfit of a dark green shirt, body armour, and black tactical pants. "Bill, that is disgusting. Her jaws been burned off, you can see the bone and teeth. Not to mention her skin and the blood everywhere."
Bill grabbed the front of my pants and pulled, ripping the waist open and dragging them down to my knees. "I don't need her face or most of the skin," he said with a throaty chuckle.
"What about all the blood?" Frank sounded genuinely disgusted.
"Like fuckin' a virgin, makes good lube!" He leaned back and laughed deeply, to the obvious disgust of his partner.
"At least take her to one of the offices, no one wants to see that," Frank walked away shaking his head. A man groaned and tried to crawl away from the blast zone, one leg and arm little more than a mangled mess of blood and tissue. Frank put three rounds into his head as he walked by, silencing the groan.
Bill dropped me down again, but kept hold of my hair. I hit the ground and one of my ankles rolled and caused my left leg to twist under my body. There was a loud crack as my kneecap slipped up and my leg broke. I tried to scream but could only get out a gurgling hiss of bloody spit. I couldn't feel where my tongue was, but I figured it was hanging out past my disfigured face, lolling like a panting dog. "Woops," Bill said, laughing again, "I think I broke something else!" He started drag me, but all I could see was the ceiling, drop-down tiles hanging helter-skelter out of the grid work, thrown around by the blast. "Not that it will matter, I'll break you over a desk soon, then I'll put a bullet in your head to end this miserable life you've stumbled on."
Both my shoes got pulled off by debris on the floor as he dragged me across the floor. After a moment he stopped and then my body jerked hard as he kicked a door off its hinges. He fired a short burst from his automatic and continued to drag me into the room. There was a warm iron smell in the room as he tossed me stomach first across the desk. My head hung over the far side and I saw another woman in a business suit staring up at me, eyes huge and teary. She was trying to breath, or scream, but nothing came out except a bit of wet splashing from the hole in her throat where one of the bullets went through, opening her trachea and severing her spine. Paralyzed, bleeding out, and unable to breath, thankfully she will be dead in moments.
I felt his hand slide down between my legs as he rubbed warm, fresh blood into my pussy to lube it up a bit. I heard him unbuckle his belt and unfasten his pants, he spat and slapped my ass hard, "Ready for the last pleasure of your life?" He laughed and shoved his dick into me. My pelvic muscles involuntarily tightened around his cock and he groaned like an animal. He started thrusting and I slid back and forth across the desk, making my head shake like a ragdoll. Below me on the floor the other woman's eyes got even wider for a second as she realized what was happening, the tears streaming faster than Bill's thrusts. Then her eyes slowly lost focus and she was no longer staring at me, or at anything.
Bill grunted and pulled out. He set his rifle on the desk next to me, grabbed my shoulder and flipped me over onto my back. He stepped up and shoved his dick back into my pussy, spitting on it again to give it some more lube. "I need those tits," he said as he ripped off the remains of my blouse and bra. The skin over my breasts was fairly unmarred as the extra layer of clothing absorbed a lot of the blast. His hands were warm in a completely different way as he grabbed hard at my tits, twisting them in his hands to hold onto me. He used them as leverage to start fucking me again, thrusting hard and deep inside me. My hips hurt from the stress of being forced apart every time he thrust in. It was a minor pain on top of a hundred other pains, and yet from some reason it was more real; the pain inside me and between my legs. I wanted to cry and puke and rail against the man taking advantage of my shattered body, but I could not move. I only sat as a silent observer to my own rape and murder.
Then, with one extra hard thrust, my head snapped back and forth and there was another click. The pain everywhere came flooding in ten thousand times stronger. I could acutely feel my burned skin, collapsed lung, bleeding punctures, broken knee, and my raw pussy. I screamed in pain, a real scream, even lacking most of my lips from the third degree burns it was obvious what the sound was.
Bill's groaning got louder, "I see you've got some life left in you yet," he said between panting thrusts, then he shoved in really hard and cried out in ecstasy. I felt his hot seed fill me inside and finely the tears started to fall down the sides of my face, digging runlets through the charred remains of my face. Bill stepped back, dripping his semen on the floor as his dick, now limp, slid out of my body.
With a great effort I lifted my head up to see him. He was looking down as he tucked himself back into his pants and fastened his belt. He sighed and said, "Oh, that was pretty good, even if you do have small tits." My arm, relatively unharmed, reached over and grabbed the automatic rifle. I didn't have the strength to pick it up, but I twisted it to point at him. He looked up in time to see me pull the trigger. A moment of confusion on his face as the report from the gun slammed three or four rounds through his crotch and thighs. He screamed and collapsed onto the floor, grabbing at where his dick used to be.
I tried to say, "Fuck you," but it just came out as rasping slur. Unfortunately he bled out in just a few seconds, one of the bullets having severed his iliac artery.
Very slowly and in great pain I sat up. I don't know where I was pulling the strength from, but every motion made me feel stronger, more whole. I looked down at my throbbing and twisted leg, the kneecap having almost broken out of the skin above the joint, the lower half of the socket having ripped loose and was pressed to the side, making another stretched, bruised lump. I pressed down on the bump as hard as I could and screamed again in pain as more cartilage gave way and the bone snapped back into the socket with a sickening pop. I then pressed the kneecap back down, screaming more as it slid down with a near inaudible grinding. I sat trying to catch the half a breath I still had, willing the pain away.
"Bill, you okay in there. We're hearing a lot more screaming than normal," the voice, Frank, came from just beside the door. I picked up the rifle and cradled it in my lap like a child. "Bill?" Frank stuck his head around the corner, his eyes going wide as he saw the barrel of the automatic pointing at him. He started to pull back around the door frame, but it didn't matter, I fired at the wall, opening up with a burst as long as I could hold the gun in mostly the right direction. Frank collapsed in front of the door, blood pooling slowly around him.
I pulled the remains of my pants up over my bloody body and gingerly stood up, every muscle and joint screaming in abject agony. My left leg was unable to support my weight; I collapsed to the ground with another scream. I managed to pull myself up into a sitting position and dragged myself to the wall next to Bill's corpse. I fumbled the magazine release and dropped the nearly empty magazine to the ground. I pulled two fresh magazines from one of the pockets in Bills pants and put one in to the gun. I pulled the bolt and checked that a round was still loaded in the chamber.
.... There is more of this story ...