Béla Book 1: Target Girl
Chapter 12

Copyright 2004 Revised 2013

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 12 - Author's note: Before you read further, be advised that this story contains brutal, violent and graphically detailed savagery committed against women.

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   NonConsensual   Rape   Slavery   Lesbian   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Science Fiction   Superhero   Extra Sensory Perception   Paranormal   Vampires   BDSM   DomSub   MaleDom   FemaleDom   Rough   Light Bond   Sadistic   Torture   Snuff   Gang Bang   Orgy   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Sex Toys   Water Sports   Necrophilia   Exhibitionism   Body Modification   Public Sex   Violence   Transformation  

Earlier that afternoon...

Frank helped Jake through the door of his apartment.

"Ah! Home at last!" Jake sighed. "It feels great to be out of that hospital!"

"You have to take it easy for awhile, you know," Frank told him.

"I want to go get Béla," Jake replied. His vision of Béla in the night sky kept replaying in his mind. He desperately needed to see her to know she was all right.

"Not now," Frank said, "I want to be sure you're ready to travel. Another day of rest will be better for you."

"Yeah, I know," Jake said, defeated.

Frank left, promising to be back first thing in the morning, then they'd go look for Béla.

Jake went into the empty kitchen and looked around. There was the dartboard on the wall, the refrigerator, a sink full of week-old dishes, the dried bloodstains on the floor from their rough lovemaking...

He opened the fridge and took out a pitcher of orange juice he'd made for breakfast last Friday morning and swirled it around. Deciding it was still good, he poured a glass, went in and sat down in front of the TV, and pushed a button on the remote. Before he found something actually good to watch, he fell asleep.

'Béla!' Jake screamed her name as he jumped out of the car. He ran over to where her lifeless body had dropped and bounced after he had slammed into her at fifty miles an hour.

He tried to pick her up. He could feel her bones moving where they should be stiff. There was blood seeping out of her ears, both eyes and her nose. He put his ear to her breast, trying to hear her heartbeat. Her ribs were crushed. She wasn't breathing and he couldn't hear her heart.

Trembling and repulsed by the horror of what he'd done, he tried to straighten out her broken body. Her hips had been twisted almost completely around and her legs bent where they shouldn't.

'Béla! For god's sakes! Please wake up!' he cried. 'Oh my god! She's dead!'

Trying to control his panic, he tried to think what to do. He pushed on her chest, trying to get her to breathe. As he pressed his hands up and down, her ribs crackled and crunched sickeningly, panicking him even more. He started to give her mouth to mouth, trying to remember how to do it. He pinched her nose shut and pulled her mouth open. Her jaw was smashed and broken. He threw up all over her hair.

Forcing himself to touch her smashed corpse again, he put his lips against her broken face and exhaled into her mouth. Her chest didn't rise.

'Something's blocking the air passage!' he realized. 'If I breathe into her harder, it will just force the blockage deeper – like water into a drowned man ... I've got to get the blockage out!'

He turned her on her side, nausea almost overpowering him again as he felt broken bones moving inside her too-limp body. Forcing his arm underneath her side, he locked his hands together across her stomach and squeezed as hard as he could, trying to force whatever was inside, up and out through her throat. He released the pressure around her abdomen, then squeezed her again. And again. Then he heard her sudden exhale and he was squeezing air and blood out of her lungs.

Rolling her onto her back again, he began pressing down on her diaphragm. He could push there and not press down on her broken ribs.

'1-... ', '2-... ', '3-... ', '4-... ', '5-... '

He leaned down, pinched her nose shut and breathed into her mouth. This time, her chest rose as he breathed into her. He pressed back down on her diaphragm, repeating the cycle.

'1-... ', '2-... ', '3-... ', '4-... ', '5-... ' Breathe!

'1-... ', '2-... ', '3-... ', '4-... ', '5-... ' Breathe!

As he began to press down on her diaphragm again, he saw her chest rise slightly by itself. Not daring to hope, he pressed his head down between her breasts, his ear against her shattered breastbone.

'I can hear her heartbeat!' he realized, and let out a "Whoopee", overjoyed that she was alive.

If her blood was circulating, she could heal herself. Overcome with emotion, he sat there and wept uncontrollably.

After a few moments, he looked up; trying to discover where all the shouting was coming from.

"And now for the Five O'clock News!" Jake looked around the room, then finding the remote still in his hand, pressed the 'volume down' button.

'I must have pushed the volume control in my sleep, ' he decided.

He wondered briefly why his face was wet.

"In other news, a Helena businessman, Joseph Palinni, was found dead in his apartment this afternoon by a neighbor returning home from work. Mr. Palinni had apparently surprised a burglar in his apartment and was shot to death.

"Mr. Palinni, owner and manager of 'B.B's Exotic Guns and Arrows', was seventy four years old. He left no children behind."

A cold chill went down Jake's back. He knew Béla had known Joseph Palinni.

'He's the guy that sold us that pistol! He was the one Béla was with before she was with Frank!'

'Shit! That can only mean somebody's after Béla!' he concluded, beginning to panic.

Quickly, Jake picked up the phone and called the Target Club. The phone rang and rang. 'For God's sake! Frank! Somebody pick up!' he thought fearfully.

After ten rings the answering machine finally turned itself on and started bleating out its message. Barely able to contain his patience, Jake waited for the 'beep'.

"Frank! This is Jake!" he spoke urgently into the phone. "Somebody murdered Joseph Palinni! They must be after Béla! I'm going to go get her!"

He hung up and headed for the door, holding his stomach so he wouldn't tear the skin around his stitches. Then he turned around and went into the bedroom. The little automatic pistol that Béla had given him was exactly where he had left it. He wished he had more than just the one clip of ammo.

He tucked the gun into his pocket and closed the door behind him.


 
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