Chapter 4: Melton

Melton was feeling pretty good. He’d just banged two young white girls seven times in a basement with three other men: all part of the same online group. They’d all taken turns raping the man’s daughter and her young friend, with a live video feed to the group. It was totally illegal; the girls were totally underage. So, they all had worn ski masks. Melton thought he was worn out, but during the drive home he popped two more Viagra’s and burned a little more weed. Suddenly, he was rock hard and ready to go again. One thing Melton always did was to take care of his dick’s urges. Right now, he wanted him some more young, white pussy, bad. The crack he’d smoked earlier kept him focused on this rage to fuck something.

He exited into Brookfield, a high end, white neighborhood. He had to be careful here. He stood out alright. But it was only 8 o’clock, and he cruised the mall parking lot in his black BMW. It was his lucky night alright. He saw a Mercedes Benz SUV parking. Four people got out: Two adult white women and two younger girls. They looked like their daughters maybe? The girls were dressed like they’d just come from school. Just before they were about to enter the mall, one girl suddenly turned, saying something to her mom, then ran back towards the SUV. Melton moved over near the SUV. He saw the car lights blink. The girl ran by ahead of him, reached inside the car looking for something as he pulled up quietly.

Sharon Tillman dug around in her mother’s car. Suddenly she found it- her gift card for Starbuck’s. She stood up, closed and locked the doors. As she turned back to the mall entrance, she bumped right into some man standing behind her, startling her. She jumped back a bit; this person stood quite close, wearing all black. Suddenly, something hit her very hard, square in her forehead. She stumbled back, landing on the ground on her butt. She was dazed, couldn’t think; couldn’t see; couldn’t hear anything except ringing. Someone pulled her up; she stumbled to her feet, sort of. She was quickly rushed forward and suddenly she felt herself getting pushed into some car! She started to struggle; hard to do when she had almost been knocked completely out, by a hard punch to her head.

Melton shoved the girl into the car; grabbed the duct tape from the floor. Always be prepared. He quickly taped her mouth, then her wrists together behind her. One more jab to the side of her head, then he jumped in front and quickly drove off. He exited the mall through a back way, going nice and easy. The girl was moaning now, starting to come around. He got on the interstate quickly and drove down to the hood. Yep, he still packed a punch!

On the way, the girl came around, started yelling, asking questions after getting the tape over her mouth free. He turned, put his shiny .22 semiautomatic pistol to her face.

“Yo, bitch! You shut the fuck up or I’ll shoot all these mutherfuckin’ bullets into your mutherfuckin’ head, you got that!? Now get down on the mutherfuckin’ floor!” He wacked her with the gun once. Slowly, she did what he said, crying, asking why, please just let he go, going on and on. A couple of times she tried sitting up so he had to hit her again each time. In about twenty minutes, he pulled into an alley behind his crib. He parked, got out, looked around. All quiet. He reached in the back door, pulled the girl out. She was still pretty disoriented after being hit in her head several times. He slapped her once hard, leaned in real close; “You stay quiet, girl, or I’ll fucking kill you.” He didn’t care if she saw him or not. He was just another nigger to her. White people all the same.

Sharon got pulled roughly into the back door of some building. Inside it was an old, nasty, dirty looking place. She heard loud rap music. In a hallway, they knocked on a door. Someone inside said something, the man holding her said, “Yo, dogg, open up.” The door opened. The music was obviously from here. Inside stood a black man, quite large and fat, staring at her. She got shoved inside. The man holding her said to the other man, “Dogg, I got us some fun for tonight. Check it out.” He let the girl go. The music was loud. She stood there, trembling, looking at these two black men, slowly backing away. One was shorter, but quite fat. He had a fat head; kept staring at her body. The other man, the one who had dragged her in here, was younger, slimmer, a lot of muscle. They both looked scary as hell.

Sharon was seventeen years old, a student at St Mary’s Catholic School. She, her younger sister Sarah, her mom and her aunt had gone to the Galleria to do some shopping. Sharon stood 5’ 4” tall; weighed 107 lbs. She still had her school uniform on; black shoes. Black skirt that came down to about mid-thigh. A white blouse, a matching blazer and a red and blue tie. She had long, straight, light brown hair. She was relatively inexperienced sexually still. She’d had a boyfriend last year, at summer camp. They’d made out a lot; he’d even felt her up some. But she never went any farther. They’d broken up over the winter when Mom found out.

Sharon’s body was well past puberty. She definitely had breasts; 33B actually; that was apparent no matter what she wore. Her legs were still fairly thin; her thighs were almost touching now. She had a fat butt she thought; in reality, it was very sexy; very little girl cute. The fat man looked at her with dark sunglasses on. He said, “Where’d you get this?”

“Found it at the Galleria,” the younger man said, arms crossed across his chest; leaning back, looking at her with dark sunglasses on too. He barked at her. “What’s your name, girl?”

“Sh, Sh, Sharon. Please, just let me go, please. My mom will be looking for me...” She tried to be heard above the loud music.

“Shut up!” he barked again. “Hold old are you, Sharon?” he sneered.

“Sev, sev, seventeen. Please, can I go now, please...?”

The younger black man took one step closer; ran his hand down her long hair. “Sure, girl, I’ll let you go. I’ll even drive you home. But you gotta do something for us first.” Sharon shook as he touched her hair. He ran his finger down her arm. She looked at him, questioningly.

“What? What do, you mean? What do I have to...”

The black man leaned in close to her face, licked her ear. She grimaced, pulling away. He whispered in her ear, “First of all, take off that skirt, that jacket and that blouse while my friend takes a few pictures is all. Then I’ll let you go. Even drive you back to the Galleria.”

He stood back, crossed his arms again. Angrily, he snapped, “Well, get going, bitch! We ain’t got all fucking night, cunt!” She winched when he called her that. She’d never been called that name before. She awkwardly moved her arms around, confused; she asked, “You, you, you want me to do what?” as she cried, sobbing.

“Take off that skirt, little girl. Right fucking now.” He showed her the gun. The fat man held up an iPad camera. Slowly, Sharon reached to her hip, unhooked the skirt and slid the zipper down. Slowly, hands shaking, she lowered the skirt lower, pausing at her knees.

“Keep going, all the way,” the angry man said. She let the skirt slide down, then stepped out of it. She stood up, putting her hands over her white panties.

“Now the jacket, then the blouse,” he said sternly. The fat man spoke. “Yeah, and you keep looking at the camera, girl. You don’t ever look away from the camera, got that? Heh heh heh...” They both laughed.

Sharon looked at the camera with tear-filled eyes as she slowly removed the jacket, set it down, then took of her tie clip. She tried to undo the buttons on her blouse. Her hands trembled so much, though, she couldn’t get even one started. She was breathing really hard, really fast now, almost hyperventilating, panicking. They were staring at her chest as it moved in and out. The muscle man stepped closer, said, “Here, let me help you with that.” He grabbed the top of the blouse, then violently jerked both sides apart, tearing the buttons off; they flew all over. He stepped back again. “Keep going,” he growled.

Slowly, Sharon eased the torn blouse off. She tried to keep it in front of her, but he made her hand it to him. Now she stood there with one arm across her size 33B bra, the other hand over her white panties. She kept trying to turn, but they made her keep looking at the camera.

After a while, the black man said, “You didn’t do so well. You took too long; you didn’t smile like you were liking it. So, you gotta do some more now. Understand? You gotta do more girl. You gotta show us them titties of yours. And that little girl bush you got there, too. Come on, white girl. Show us them titties of yours.”