Copyright (c) 2014,   madvlad.  ALL Rights Reserved

Date of first publication in Mr Double's Palisade :
Monday, September 22, 2014

This story may be downloaded by Palisade members uniquely for their private use, and 
may not be distributed for profit or posted to newsgroups or other websites.  Mr Double 
may be contacted by emailing mrdouble@mrdouble.com.


A Palisade Author story from MrDouble's archive, 
Filename: apocaly5.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com



story_codes: MMM+/g(10/11), rape; F/g, cons

story_intro: In the wilds of the zombie-infested wastelands of what used to be the United States, a young girl finds herself taken captive for the purpose of being a sex toy for a band of raiders. 

story_language: English






Apocalypse Road: Detour

Written by madvlad


Note: Although not needed, you can read Apocalypse Road: The King of Kansas City for background on some of the characters at the end of this story.


	The End, when it came, was not on the meeting's agenda. Perkins wasn't even sure which committee was meeting and what the purpose of it (the committee and the meeting) was. Of course, that was pretty much the standard for any meetings anymore. Just five years out of college, his dreams of a soaring career in investments had been bridled and smothered in an endless series of meetings.

	Had Perkins had a decent sex life and social life, it would have been tolerable. But being completely tongue-tied and embarrassingly awkward around women had left a big zero in the first category. And his social life consisted of Dungeons and Dragons and debates about the latest science fiction or fantasy material with the same constant group of Doritos-munching basement dwellers. As he had a real job, he was held in awe by the others, but being the chief zero in a group of zeros with nacho cheese powder-stained fingers added up to yet another zero in his life. 

	He glanced over at Samantha Watkins, dressed as always in the dark business suits she favored. Her face was slightly round and her body, while well-conditioned, was more stocky than model-like svelte. She kept her blonde hair pulled tightly in a ponytail, adding a severe look to her usually serious facial expression. Although they were the same age and had joined the company right after college, she was now a mid-level manager in the firm while he was still in his same job, hemmed in physically and psychologically by the institutional-tan borders of his cubicle. 

	Although Perkins often found himself fantasizing about Watkins and what she would be like out of her suit, he doubted she knew he existed aside for being another body filling a seat. He had even made an attempt at conversation once, but it was painfully inept as she couldn't be bothered to even give him a disdainful look after he asked her opinion about the only thing his panicked  mind could conjure once he had  opened his mouth - the freeze-spell casting abilities of albino elves versus Level 8 human mages.

	Mayhew was chairing the meeting, as usual. Perkins knew the manager shared the same last name as the actor who played Chewbacca in Star Wars, but had never asked him if they were related. Anyway, his company's Mayhew didn't resemble a wookiee so much as he did a large Pilates ball with a rapidly balding bowling ball stacked atop it.

	Shortly into Item 2 on today's agenda, there was some sort of ruckus outside of the room. Dooley from Auditing acted quickly and decisively and closed the meeting room door to muffle the noise. Mayhew returned to his reading aloud when Samantha cleared her throat. Mayhew looked up, annoyed that Item 2 had now suffered two interruptions. He was rather proud of Item 2 as it was one of his better ideas of late and didn't want it thrown off-course. 

	Ignoring the cross look she was receiving from Mayhew, she spoke.

	"Those are screams outside, shouldn't we investigate? After some of the news stories we've been hearing and-"

	"Screaming has nothing to do with Item 2," he interrupted in a lemony voice. 

	Perkins thought that Item 2 had plenty to do with screaming, as did every other item for this meeting as they all wanted to make him scream.

	"Now, if we can continue with Item 2," Mayhew continued. "I think it has the potential for a positive impact on our growth forecasts. After all, it-"

	Mayhew - and Item 2 - were interrupted by a pounding on the door. Weng from Secondary Analysis stood up.

	"That might be De Rozier with the Accounts Receivable transfer reports," he said.

	Mayhew began to turn beet red at this blatant disrespect toward Item 2 when he suddenly remembered that the transfer reports were an integral part of Item 2. With a curt nod, he allowed Weng to answer the door. When Weng opened it, two zombies - neither of which had the Accounts Receivable transfer reports with them - fell on him and began to tear at him with their fingernails and teeth. More of the undead staggered in, finding meaty living people rooted to their seats as the meeting was still in progress. 

	"Now see here!" Mayhew roared, pounding a fat fist against the Item 2 paperwork in front of him. "This is no time for...Awwk! Gak!"

	Mayhew fell backwards onto the carpet as three zombies tugged him from the table. His last mortal vision would be the horrific cascade of the Item 2 papers falling from their formerly neat stack on the table. One of them landed on Fitzsimmons, immediately getting soaked with the pulsing blood from the man's chewed carotid artery.

	"Perkins."

	Perkins turned, confused by the unfamiliar use of his name. Then he realized it was Samantha Watkins and she was actually speaking to him. Despite the goriness around him, he felt his heart swell romantically while another part of him swelled lustfully.

	"Let's go, Perkins," she said matter-of-factly. "We're about to be the only ones left alive in here and then that won't last long, either."

	They stepped out of the room with Watkins leading the way while he happily tagged along. As they passed his cubicle section, he saw Donahue from the mailroom in his cubicle. That made him pissed because he had long suspected the clerk of pilfering his Doritos stash. But judging from the congealed blood on his shirt from several bite marks and the now gray pallor of his skin, he suspected that Doritos weren't on Donahue's lunch list.

	They continued on to the elevators, but Watkins stopped. 

	"I want to get to my office where we can lock the door, but we've got too many zombies here to wait for an elevator. And I see more of them by the fire evacuation stairs," she said, seemingly more annoyed than scared.

	"Freight access," Perkins suggested. When Watkins gave him a questioning look, he explained. 
"There are larger freight elevators they use for moving furniture and stuff around the building. They're hard to be made to look pretty, so you get to them by using utility corridors. Come on - I'll take you."

	He led her through an unmarked door that largely went unnoticed since it wasn't an office space. The hallway beyond it was spare - uncarpeted concrete floors, plain cinderblock walls, and uncovered fluorescent fixtures instead of the recessed lighting in tiled ceilings. They reached the elevator without any unwanted company and took it to her floor where they exited into another plain hallway.

	"How did you know about this?" Watkins asked with a hint of bemusement in her voice.

	"I'm always curious about my surroundings, so I explore," he said simply. 

	In reality, he had stumbled upon the utility corridors by accident. On more than one occasion, he had spent some time after work hours roaming the back and hidden areas of the building, fantasizing about being in a real Dungeons and Dragons scenario. But he didn't think she'd want that much information. 

	There was more panicked confusion among this floor's living occupants (the walking dead were rather calm by comparison - just very hungry) and the pair quickly made their way to Watkins' office where she locked the door. Going to her desk, she pulled out a notebook, opened it, and laid it on the desk. Then to Perkins' confusion and delight, she started to disrobe.

	When Perkins opened his mouth to ask what she was doing, she ordered him to strip.

	"Why?" he asked.

	"Sex," she replied brusquely. "These are the positions I really want to try before it all ends," she continued, pointing to the drawings in the notebooks. "But there's not enough time now. So perhaps the first five will suffice."

	When Perkins continued to stand there and gape, she blew out an impatient breath.

	"Strip. Now," she ordered.

	Perkins did as he was told, his erection growing as Watkins discarded her bra and displayed a firm set of breasts. When her panties came off, he learned that she was a natural blonde, as carefully groomed down there as she was everywhere else.

	Watkins' eyes locked onto Perkins' hard-on when his clothes were gone.

	"Glad you could join the party," she murmured as she visually measured his member. "Now get on the desk."

	Amid the chaos and screaming, Perkins had the best day of his life that he could ever remember.

	Although the van's jarring bump threatened to jostle the hand with the sewing needle and plunge the silvery tip into the thumb on her other hand, it didn't. Raimi put the stitch in perfectly, having grown quite accustomed to bad roads and other hazards while sewing. She was barely ten years old and while there were many things she couldn't do yet, she had become the group's de facto seamstress. 

	At some point, her parents had been part of the group. But as was often the case with nomadic bands after The End, they came to early ends - her mother by illness and her father by a raider's bullet. At least neither had been bitten. Like everyone else, Raimi had no wish to end that way.

	She barely remembered her parents but heard stories of their odd sense of humor. That included naming their only child after a man who had directed and produced a number of horror films. It was, in retrospect, rather fitting in this new Dark Age. 

	Now she was part of a group of survivors heading to Kansas City, one of the few metropolises where civilization and order had returned to some degree. The guy in charge called himself a king, but it wasn't as if the old federal government was going to make a comeback to fight him anytime soon or far away.

	"Christ! That was huge, Harry," Leslie exclaimed from the passenger seat. "Was it a pothole or did we hit something?"

	"I don't know what...Shit! Something hit us!" Harry cursed as he looked at the gauges on the dash.

	A whump and a roar came from behind the van. The shockwave sent the other two adults, Eric and Avery, tumbling from their seats along with Raimi.

	"Steve's truck just blew up!" Harry said as he watched in the side view mirror.

	"Watch out!" Leslie screamed as the lead truck in front of them suddenly bounced up at an angle from something they couldn't see. The truck tipped to its side and skidded on the pavement, shooting sparks from the protesting metal. As Harry swerved to avoid it, something else hit the van and the vehicle tumbled off the road. The three occupants in the back were thrown about while Leslie and Harry remained strapped in. Raimi remembered screaming before everything went dark.

	Raimi's eyes fluttered open and she saw Avery staring at her. The woman wasn't saying anything and then Raimi realized that she wasn't breathing either. Her neck was bent at a severe angle and the girl knew she was dead. She had seen plenty of death before. 

	Somewhere forward, she could hear Harry groaning. An unfamiliar voice told him to shut the fuck up and then there was another sound and Harry abruptly stopped.

	"Hey, here's another one," a different voice called. 

	A hand grabbed Raimi by the back of her denim overalls and yanked her up and out of the sliding side door of the van. The vehicle was on its side and as she was dragged around to the front, she saw Harry in his seat with a new neck wound cut nearly from ear to ear. A bloody mess that used to be Leslie was in the passenger seat, still securely belted in place.

	Most of the vans contents were scattered about as hard-looking men in badly mended clothing rifled through them. Raimi could see the same thing happening to the truck in front and knew the same must be happening to the three vehicles that had been behind them. They were ambushed by these men and Raimi wondered if there were any other survivors.

	Her answer came as Eric was dragged next to her. 

	"Is that all, Mace?" one of the ragged men asked. "A guy and a kid?"

	"Yep," Mace replied. "Just our fuckin' luck that both women died. Orville's sayin' that it was just men and women in the other trucks and vans. One cunt lived but they put her down 'cause she was too fucked up to last long. Two guys also lived, but not no more. Speakin' of such..."

	The man named Mace pulled Eric's head up by the hair. Using a finely honed Bowie knife, he opened the man's throat and dropped his head, letting his blood empty into the grass. Turning to the first man, he asked, "You want me to do the kid, too, Lem?"

	Raimi whimpered as she felt the steel, still hot with Eric's blood, press against her throat.

	"Hold on," said Lem. "Is that a boy or girl?"

	"She's a girl, boss," another man chimed in. "On account she's got long hair."

	"So do most of us, Gus," Lem said, making Gus drop his head sheepishly. "One way to find out."

	Lem yanked on the straps of Raimi's overalls, popping the buttons and letting the whole thing drop down. Raimi was wearing a pair of boy's boxer briefs because they were something that fit. Without warning, Lem slapped his hand to her crotch and gave her genitals a good feel.

	"It's a cunt," he announced. "Just a little one, but it's a cunt all the same. So tell me, have you been had?"

	"W-what?" Raimi asked tearfully.

	"You been had? Your cunt?"

	Raimi shook her head in confusion and Lem grunted.

	"I guess not if you don't even know what I'm sayin'. I guess that makes you plenty good and tight. And juicy when we prong you. You got a name?"

	"R-Raimi."

	Lem doffed his cap and gave her a yellow-toothed grin.

	"Well, hello there, Miss Raimi Cunt. My name is Lemuel Carstairs and I'm gonna teach you how to use your cunt."

	The men lived in a collection of small cabins clustered around a few short dirt roads. They returned with their carts piled with newly acquired goods from the convoy and one frightened little girl. Raimi could see a few women, but they were all older and had a much worn look about them.

	Taken to one of the cabins, Raimi was stripped of her underpants, boots and socks. Then she was thrown on her back onto a dirty, blue and gray striped mattress atop a metal frame bed. Her wrists were tied to the frame at the head of the bed and she was left that way. Lem, Mace, and several others gathered around, hungrily eyeing the smooth nakedness of Raimi's small, childish figure. 

	She clamped her legs together and then hooked one foot around the other, trying to do what little she could to hide as much of her privates as she could. This made the men laugh and Lem dropped his pants, sporting a very healthy hard-on. 

	"Don't worry, Miss Baldy Cunt," Lem chortled, "We found us a bunch of cases of Vaseline a while back so we got plenty to open your crack with."

	Raimi didn't understand when he took a jar of some pale yellow stuff and smeared it on his penis. But when he got onto the bed, she understood his purpose. Having spent her entire life in close quarters with grown-ups, she knew what men and women did together having seen it plenty of times. Those kinds of things had never held much interest for her until right now when this man was about to do that same thing to her.

	"No! No! I'm just a girl..." she pleaded.
"But I'll make you a women where it counts," Lem sneered as he mashed his greasy glans into the softness of Raimi's hairless twat, making the fleshy folds open and take him in.

	Lem grunted and shifted as he shifted his body, feeling the end of his prick straining at the girl's small entrance and the membrane of her chastity that lay just inside of it. Raimi writhed in discomfort beneath him, frightened but not understanding the full implication of what was about to happen.

	Lem jerked forward, making Raimi's untried entrance pull open and her hymen stretch unbearably. With another jerk, he made the child scream as her maidenhead gave way. Lem worked his prick, twisting and punching his way into the tight, virgin passage of the ten year-old's freshly bleeding snatch.

	Once he bottomed out, Lem pulled out and started with a brutal series of thrusts that made Raimi wail, her prepubescent sex being punished by the man's thick cock as it painfully stretched and formed a second skin around his dick. The child's sheath, now slick from her ruptured hymen and Lem's Vaseline, flexed with every violent stroke while she screamed helplessly.

	Now and then, Raimi had only been vaguely curious why men and women liked doing those odd acts with their private parts. Never had she imagined having something hard and thick boring into her, making her insides compress as they were pushed by the cock that was rubbing deep in a mysterious place. It hurt so badly - the stretching, the pushing, and contact of his rigid flesh against her tender pussy channel.

	"Gawd, you're so tight there," Lem groaned. "Yeah, so fuckin' tight."

	Raimi sobbed harder at his vague praise. Of course she was tight because she was just a little girl and his thing was so big! Why did he ever want to put it in there, anyway? She was still in shock from the carnage she had witnessed on the road, not yet accepting that Eric and Avery and the rest were all dead. But this thing stabbing inside of her and threatening to rip her apart was very real. 

	Suddenly, Lem jerked and Raimi felt a new horror as something hot and wet filled her in another place, creating a pressure there before back-flowing out her cunt hole. She screamed shrilly, believing that something else had torn and she was bleeding heavily. The little girl didn't understand how her rapist had just flooded her undeveloped uterus with semen until she couldn't take any more and her pussy got creamed.

	Lem squatted back on his knees and regarded Raimi's smooth little cunny, still bleeding but oozing an even larger amount of his jizz. She looked ripe and juicy and needful of a lot more fucking.

	"Breaking this cunt open is some hard work, boys. But at least now she's useful."

	In fear, Raimi jerked at her bonds but her wrists remained tied while Mace pulled her slender legs apart. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head to the side as he pressed himself against her. He pushed at her sore little mound, making her wince. Then her preteen tunnel reluctantly opened, agonizingly accepting the invasion of another master.

	Raimi cried as Mace penetrated her. The child's struggling and weeping excited him, but he wanted more. He rammed in and out with hard and swift piston-like movements. Now the little girl screamed more earnestly, thrashing as her new rapist took his pleasure in the tight, gooey warmth between her thighs. Once more, she was heavily inseminated, only gaining relief from the member stretching her pussy until the next man got on top of her and slammed his prick into her throbbing quim.

	In between rapists, Raimi became aware of one large man who kept watching her oddly. In a place where the others were on the thin side, he was somewhat fat - an oddity, for sure. He hung toward the back of the room and there was something in the way he watched her that was unsettling. He eventually seemed...disappointed and left the room. But with one man after another rutting into her prepubescent snatch, she had other concerns.

	It was sometime after dark when the men were eventually satisfied. Their little victim was bleeding at the wrists from the ropes holding her and her hairless pussy was dribbling cum from its undersized interior. Exhausted, Raimi fell into an uneasy sleep.

	The rapes continued daily. While she never had the entire group of twenty or so men at one time again, she received visits from them in smaller groups who always left her aching and sticky between her legs. Her interactions with the few women in the camp who were all sullen and haggard were when she was fed or taken out to relieve herself. 

	After two weeks, one of the women spoke to her, likely on orders from Lem. The woman pointed out how far they were from any other outpost of civilization and that the only nearby highway was patrolled by the men who were on the lookout for easy prey. The wilderness only offered confrontations with zombies who still prowled the area. In other words, a naked little girl would likely not last a day on her own.

	When they returned to the cabin, the woman did not tie Raimi to the bed. The girl got the message - there was no place safe where an escape could lead. 

	Although she was more comfortable without her wrists tied to the bed frame, Raimi still had trouble falling asleep that night. She had taken another six men throughout the rest of the day; two of them commenting on her lack of bonds and how good it was that she knew her place. But she felt more trapped than ever as she now knew she had no safe haven outside of this collection of cabins.

	Heavy footfalls interrupted her thoughts and she saw the man who had looked at her funny on the first day enter the room. Wordlessly, he took the jar of Vaseline that was always left out and lubed his dick. Raimi felt her panic well in her belly as she saw that he was much more heavily endowed than the others. He stared at her naked body for a moment and shook his head.

	"The name's Jig - least that's what they call me and it works good enough. I know your little pussy's gotta be hurtin' but don't worry about me. I'm not into little girls."

	With a large but surprisingly gentle hand, he grasped her by one hip and rolled her over. Then he pulled her up so that her butt was in the air.

	"I like little boys instead," Jig continued softly. "So I'm going to use you like a little boy."

	This confused Raimi, but she thought that anything was better than the foul abuse she had been taking. But when she felt his greased head poking between her buttocks, she jolted and tried to get away. One of Jig's hands closed around the front of her throat, making her freeze.

	"Don't fight me, boy," he whispered, his breath hot and humid in her ear. "Just work your ass like you're taking a shit and it'll go better for you."

	Raimi resisted at first, but when Jig's hand kept squeezing her neck, she finally relented. Jig's hand went back to her hip and suddenly Raimi felt the crushing force of his hardness forcing her anus open. It stretched so painfully that Raimi couldn't muster the strength to scream; only producing a whispery choking sound as her eyes watered.

	As the man moved into her, it hurt the worst at her entrance, as her overly widened sphincter felt every part of Jig's cock as it was forced into her. Inside the entrance, her rectal tissues were subjected to more ruthless contact as they expanded enough to seal around his prick. There was no place inside the child's rear that remained untouched until he was nearly to her colon.

	Then came the heavy thrusting she had learned from the other men in a different orifice. This increased her agony as her rectum was battered by his heaving flesh. The greased friction against her asshole made the muscular ring go into spasms and Jig noticed that. He also saw how his little sex victim was clawing at the mattress, her fingers actually tearing the cover and sinking inside.

	"That's right," he crooned quietly over Raimi's agonized gasps. "Little boy sluts like you love having their asses reamed by a huge cock. And I've got everything you need."

	Raimi shuddered beneath him as she her anal invasion deepened. Jig's brittle pubic hairs mashed against her silky little buttocks once he had finally managed to bull his way completely into her. Raimi's fingers were just quivering now as all of her strength went into trying to breathe. The big man kept pummeling her slim little body, ravaging her virgin ass with harder and harder thrusts that finished with him flattening her soft round rump. 

	When the thing inside her jerked, Raimi knew what to expect. Hot jets of goo slammed into her colon, making the child aware of how deeply she was being violated. While he was still inside of her, Jig grabbed her by the throat again.

	"The others know I'm an ass man, but they don't know about my thing for little boys. And you ain't gonna tell 'em, are ya?"

	Raimi uttered what might have been an affirmative choking sound when he gave her neck a shake. It was enough to satisfy him and after some pulling and twisting, he withdrew from her bottom.

	"Remember what I said or it will go bad for you."

	Lying alone in the darkness with her cunny sore and her ass throbbing and oozing cum, Raimi wasn't sure what constituted "going bad" when this was now the norm.

	The next morning, Mace decided to stop by for a pre-breakfast fuck when he saw Raimi still lying on her belly with dried semen all over her rump, particularly where it had collected at the bottom of her ass crack.

	"Holy shit, boys!" Mace boomed. "The midnight ass bandit has struck again."

	Several other men, including Lem and Jig, gathered around as Mace pulled Raimi's buttocks apart to display her reddened sphincter still tacky with half-dried cum.

	"Jeezuz Keerist," Mace cackled. "Someone's getting' jiggy with her."

	The other men laughed at Jig's back door proclivity until Lem pointed something out.

	"Best that Jig uses her ass 'cause that monster pecker of his would rip her little cunt into two if he tried to put it there. You better be okay with that, Jig, ya hear?"

	"I hear ya," Jig affirmed.

	The men shuffled out, with one man calling "Hi-yo Silver. It's the Rump Ranger!"

	While the others bellowed, Jig stayed behind for a moment, placing one hand on Raimi's ass and covering one entire buttock. Giving her bun a squeeze, he leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Good boy."

	Raimi could tell how time passed by the seasons. While she was kept untied most of the time, some of the men, like Mace, preferred to have her tied to the bed and completely helpless while they pleasured themselves with her immature body. So the bloodstained ropes remained fastened to the bedframe.

	Although she was never allowed any clothing except for a blanket when she went outside to use the latrine, she had taken up mending clothes for everyone else. Sewing and lying back in bed with her legs open (or turned over with her ass up in Jig's case) were her responsibilities and she was kept very busy in all regards.

	After nearly a year, she knew she was a little taller, although like many nomadic children in these years she would remain small and slightly built, and her hair was a little longer. Having turned ten shortly before she was captured, she figured she was at or near eleven years old now and as of late had noticed how her nipples were a little tender. Over the following weeks, the flesh beneath them puffed ever so slightly, signaling the start of her new breasts.

	There wasn't much to her tiny buds, but Lem noticed them.

	"What have you got here?" he asked as he groped her budding titlets. 

	Raimi shivered as he fondled and pinched them, rubbing the tips until they stiffened. Lem's erection jutted stiffly, coated with Vaseline in preparation for her rape. Then he took one in his mouth, swirling his tongue over it before favoring her with some bites that would leave a bruise or two.

	A calloused hand gripped her mons as he sat up again.

	"You ain't got any hair yet," he grinned. "So you're still a baby cunt."

	Then he slid his hand along her side, testing the modest, pre-pubescent curve of her hip.

	"When these start to widen, you're gonna get bred for sure. Them tiny tits of yours will be burstin' with milk and you'll be beggin' us to suck 'em dry. We'll have lots fun making you birth babies for us. Boys to grow up like us. And you know what we'll do with the little girls."

	Lem's grin terrified Raimi so much that it was almost a relief when he busied himself in her snug little twat and was no longer looking at her. She almost gratefully endured his grunting and the savagery of his greased cock burrowing in her preteen pussy until he seeded her again. It was better than watching him talk about her future babies.

	Jig, of course, had no interest in her approaching baby-making status that evening Raimi was once again playing the part of a boy, weeping quietly as the man happily sawed in and out of her overstretched ass. Neither of them was aware of the shuffling footsteps behind them. Raimi grunted when she felt the first lava burst of jism soil her insides. During the second wave, Jig yelped as something grabbed him and jerked him backward.

	"Gawdallfuckinmighty!" he screamed as a rotting face appeared in his line of sight.

	The face came closer and the brown teeth sank into a pudgy cheek. Still ejaculating inside the girl, Jig screamed as the side of his face was torn away. Another chunk of flesh left his arm as a second zombie began to feast. Raimi's scream was caught in her throat as she frantically pulled away, finally managing to get her ass off of Jig's rapidly deflating dick. Curling up at the head of the bed, Raimi watched in horror as five of the walking dead descended on Jig.

	She went ignored while they slurped and shredded their meal. Outside, she could hear yelling and gunshots. Then the gunfire and the human yells went away and the watery groans of the zombies and the sounds of noisy eating were all she heard. 

	With Jig nearly reduced to a dismembered skeleton, one of the zombies, a balding man wearing the remains of a bloodied business suit, took notice of the young and tender flesh quivering on the bed. As he lurched toward her, Raimi grabbed the nearest object she could, a gas camping lamp, and brandished it as a weapon. 

	The eternally hungering ghoul did not recognize the threat, only seeing the living creature as more food. On the first swing, Raimi shattered the glass bulb, making the white flame sputter and leap within the jagged edges of the remaining glass. Unfazed, the zombie lunged at her. Remembering defense lessons about using the eyes to get to the brain, Raimi jabbed the broken end into the thing's right eye. The glass couldn't penetrate the bone in the back of the eye socket, but the zombie seemed confused by the change in its vision. 

	Raimi twisted the gas knob on the lamp, increasing the flame. As the zombie grappled with her, the girl screamed in terror, avoiding the gnashing teeth while the remains of the eyeball bubbled and cooked. The intense heat also seared the brain through the optic nerve canal and other natural fissures in the back of the socket. The zombie jerked backwards, quivering spasmodically as its brain was frying. It wasn't completely destroyed, but it fell to the floor while its damaged brain malfunctioned and could only shake one leg randomly.

	"Hey meat bags," a woman's voice sounded.

	The zombies turned at the noise and Raimi saw a silhouette of a female figure in the doorway. The newcomer was holding some sort of wide-barreled gun with a round, vertically mounted magazine hanging beneath it. The woman fired rounds in quick succession, the magazine rotating as each round struck a zombie in the midsection. The impact made them stagger and then fissures of white-yellow heat opened throughout their bodies, starting from where they were each hit by a single round. Within ten seconds, each of them collapsed into a pile of ashes. 

	Raimi gulped as the woman came into the room. She was wearing a form-fitting suit of red leather with a wide belt holding several gadgets and a pistol around her waist. Her hair was long - blonde and curly with fluorescent red highlights. Looking down at the zombie with the smoldering eye socket, the woman nodded and looked at Raimi.

	"Not bad for a newbie," she said approvingly. "I've got some better weapons you can use that will get through the bone and really cook their brains. But I like your ad-lib style."

	"W-who are you?" Raimi managed to ask, in awe of this person who was so cool and collected amidst the carnage.

	"They call me the Fire Witch," she said with an air of pride. "I'm out of Kansas City and we came up this way on a Z-hunting excursion. King Elander wants to expand and having a bunch of biters about really kills the real estate value."

	"We were going to Kansas City before...before I got here," Raimi said quietly.

	The woman looked the girl over more closely, noting the bruising on one immature breast and the marks on her thighs. The ropes on the bed frame and the crusty stains on the mattress told her the rest of the story.

	"I gather you don't want to stay here anymore?" the woman asked, getting a nod in return. "Okay, let's get you cleaned up and put a decent dinner into you. Oh, what's your name?"

	"Raimi. R-A-I-M-I."

	"Raimi...Raimi...Oh yeah. The Evil Dead guy. Hey cool name!"

	Raimi took her threadbare blanket and wrapped it around herself. Before they left the room, the woman handed her the gun. 

	"There's not much kick when you shoot if you want to finish the job," she said, pointing to the half brain-baked zombie on the floor. 

	Raimi awkwardly took the gun, following the woman's instructions, and fired a round into the zombie. The body cracked from the spreading heat and then the thing was gone except for some gray ashes drifting on the floor.

	"Nice work," the woman said as she took her gun back. "I could use an apprentice. What do you think about lighting things on fire?"

	"It's okay, I guess," Raimi replied. "I like what your gun did to the zombies - that was pretty cool. I also like to sew."

	"Needlepoint and arson," the Fire Witch mused. "I like it."

	There were smoldering bodies of zombies and the well-gnawed ones of Raimi's former captors all about. There were also ashes floating in the wind that told Raimi that the Fire Witch had been busy. Some other people in combat gear making sure that none of the newly dead humans would rise. 

	An open, heavy-wheeled vehicle approached the Fire Witch. A lanky man was behind the wheel and a short, muscular woman was manning an odd-looking weapon in the back. The small tongue fire flickering out of the end of the barrel marked it as some kind of powerful flame thrower.

	"Two of my people," the Fire Witch said to Raimi. "They're a nice pair, have a couple of little kids we look after in the city while they're out on patrol. Only odd thing is that they always call each other by their last names."

	"Does she need a medic?" the man asked when they stopped, nodding toward Raimi.

	"No, just a shower and a hot meal - she can use my trailer," the Fire Witch replied.

	"The Z's were coming from the south, munched on some guys there before we fried everything," the woman reported. "Kelly and her squad have it staked out with sensors in case more show up to party. Looking at the gear we found, those guys must have been road pirates, so no prayers for them."

	"Good enough," the Fire Witch replied. "Go down to Outpost A-9 for tonight and then go onto the city in the morning. Give those kiddies a big hug for me."

	"Will do, boss," the woman said before slapping the driver on his helmet. "Drive on, Perkins."

	"Roger that, Watkins," he replied and turned his vehicle south.

	The Fire Witch led Raimi to what looked like an armored camper and helped her up the steps and inside. Opening a Plexiglas door off to one side, the woman revealed a shower stall.

	"We have plenty of water in the city, but we're limited here, so you've got ten minutes, okay?"

	Raimi nodded, excited about this luxury. She remembered having a brief shower one time before, but it wasn't warm like this one was. Most of her bathing had been done with wet cloths so this was simply heavenly. She seemed to breathe easier once the stink of rape residue and the damned mattress were gone from her body. 

	"Time's up," the woman said, opening the door. 

	Raimi turned the water off and could smell something delicious in the camper. The woman saw her sniffing and smiled.

	"Just ordinary beef stew, but it's good and filling," she said before her face grew serious. "How long did they have you here?

	"About a year. And they did bad...they hurt me and..."

	When Raimi started to break down, the woman held her, unmindful of the water on the girl.

	"I don't know...I don't know," Raimi muttered.

	"What?"

	"I've seen men and women doing stuff before when we had the caravan, but they never acted like it hurt like it did when...when..."

	"Shh," the woman said, sensing the girl's vulnerability and an opportunity. She hadn't planned on seducing the child - at least not tonight - but she was always ready to act when the time was right.

	"It can feel really good," the woman said softly.

	"No, how can it? I...Oh!" Raimi exclaimed.

	The woman's fingers had found her crotch and she was now gently stroking Raimi's bald cunny. Tilting Raimi's head back, the woman leaned down and locked her mouth over the girl's and soon was exploring her mouth with her tongue. Raimi had stiffened at first, but relaxed under the woman's tongue and fingers. 

	The stroking between her legs became more intense and Raimi was surprised to discover the woman had put a finger inside her. And the things that finger was doing in there while she was also caressed on the outside made her hot and tingly there...and wet for some reason. Raimi shivered as she felt a new kind of pleasure between her legs, something that seemed to be growing until the woman slipped her finger out.

	"You want more, little girl?" the woman teased.

	"Uh huh," Raimi admitted softly.

	The woman didn't reply, instead using her wet finger to coat Raimi's bruised breast puff with the girl's own nectar. Then she carefully lapped it clean before sucking on the tiny bud in a way that made Raimi's pussy even wetter. Raimi pushed her chest out, trying to give the woman as much of her as she could.

	"Mmm," the Fire Witch said when she raised her mouth of Raimi's chest. "Yes, you'll definitely make a good apprentice in many ways. But first, let's eat. I don't want to make you cum on an empty stomach."

	"Cum?"

	"You'll find out tonight. Several times, I hope."

	While Raimi shoveled the stew in her mouth, the woman spoke some more. 

	"I definitely need to train you on a few things before we get back to KC because Brooklyn's going to have a little homecoming party for us. It's a small affair that was just meant to be for three of us, but you'll be a welcome fourth."

	"Who's Brooklyn?" Raimi asked through a mouthful of stew.

	"The king's consort and a very supple fourteen year-old. And there's also our little princess, Aleisha, who joined us a month ago. She's six years old and very tasty."

	Raimi didn't know why someone would describe another person as tasty unless they were a zombie (and they couldn't talk, anyway). But something in the way the woman had said it made Raimi feel warmer between her legs. She hurriedly finished her dinner so she could begin her training.

	

madvlad@mrdouble.com
http://www.mrdouble.bz/htm/authors/madvlad.htm
























This story is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


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