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From: punchinello@pulperotica.com (Punchinello)
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Subject: {ASSM} Diamond House Break-in (MF,nc,interr,MF,bond) Pulp Story!
Date: Sat, 17 May 2003 04:10:03 -0400
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THE DIAMOND HOUSE BREAK-IN
Jewels, guns, fear, lust. Double-cross.

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. If you are offended by sexually
explicit material or are under the age of 18, stop reading now. This
material cannot be reproduced for commercial purposes without the
consent of the author.

MORE PULP EROTICA AND ART AT http://www.pulperotica.com!


The Diamond House Break-in

(MF, nc, FM, interr, MF, bond)
By: Punchinello


Gently, Connecticut, 1950

"So this is the diamond house?"

"This is the diamond house."

"Nice place." It was a very nice place that Lloyd had invited Chas to
break into. Brick walls covered in ivy and fancy topiary shrubs gave
the place the proper look a mansion should have. They huddled in the
shrubs near the vast slate patio.

"I have a special sense about some things," Lloyd said.

Paul and Stag brought the tools up from the truck, all the way up
through the garden behind the house. "Jeez Louise, that's a big
backyard," Stag huffed.

"You're wiping the shit off," said Paul. When Stag wiped his brow,
some of the black makeup he wore had rubbed off on his arm, giving him
a pale forehead. Lloyd and Chas wore it too. The wiry Paul didn't need
any makeup; his skin was dark already.

Lloyd turned to them. "Get the ladder up and get inside." Chas
directed them; that was his role. He was the second-story man; he knew
the slickest ways in and the quickest ways out of a building, guarded
or unguarded. Lloyd liked to say that Chas was skilled in the arts of
penetration and escape--so did Chas's girlfriends.

Lloyd was the planner; he had the gift of gab and a mind that worked
overtime solving problems nobody else had even thought of; his
connections had let him choose the target and put the team together,
and they would help them move the merchandise when they brought it
out. Paul was the sneak-thief; he knew locks and alarms--and he knew
the values of the things they guarded. Stag was the muscle; big, fast,
good at taking orders.


They broke in through a second-floor window in the back of the house,
via a tall ladder. Lloyd knew the layout well enough to know that this
was a music room. Chas knew that it would be thickly insulated from
the rest of the house and--being on the second floor--without the new
electric alarm.

The place was as quiet as a church at midnight. The four men pulled
the ladder up and closed the window, but not quite all the way. They
crept through the huge house and marveled at the art and other
valuables. But they weren't here to pull down big, bulky paintings
that could easily be traced. Lloyd knew there were diamonds here.

Lloyd also knew that the man of the house was gone on business and
that the maid had the weekend off. A maid is a lousy keepers of
secrets, especially just after she's been balled to nirvana in a nice
hotel room by a smooth-talking "lawyer." The pretty little
south-of-the-border dish had let out a squeal and a cry out to the
Virgin Mary that no saint could ignore, just when her eyes rolled back
in her head, her toes curled up, and her tight little pussy squeezed
Lloyd's dick like a hot, wet, velvet vise. He had spurted his cream so
far inside her little brown body that she'd surely feel his cock in
her belly for days. Then, naked and mussed, she had laid curled up
next to him and spilled all the choice details of her employer's
house, job, and plans to be away--totally unaware of Lloyd's
calculating character.

So nobody was surprised when the four house-breakers slipped into the
master bedroom to find only the wife...nobody but the wife, that is.
She was surprised as hell.

"Oh, God, please, please don't hurt me!" she begged, falling out of
bed onto the carpet. "Please, I'll give you anything!" Lloyd calmed
her down by jamming a .38 in her face.

But Chas just stood there, trying to grasp the moment. This woman--he
knew her from somewhere. She was a bottle-blonde, mid-thirties, very
good-looking in an upper-class sort of way.

Her hair was tousled, and her face was a weepy mess, but the tits were
terrific. They moved around under her flimsy silk nightgown like they
had a life of their own. The neckline of the damned thing plunged so
far that he could see them moving, swaying, every time she cringed. He
loved that V that pointed down a woman's throat to her tits; and he
couldn't help but wonder what kind of a lay she would be--probably a
damned good one if a rich jewel broker was willing to marry her.

Carrie Hollinger. That was her name. He had her at a party that he and
Lloyd had crashed in order to case another house. Jesus, she was a hot
number. He remembered the way her tits had sashayed their way around
the garden that day just inside the plunging neckline of a baby blue
dress before their owner stopped to him for a good while. She had
mentioned her husband a couple of times--hadn't said what he did for a
living, though--obviously keeping Chas at arm's length for the time
being, but not necessarily out of reach....

"I'll guard her," he said. "You guys can get the loot." It didn't take
too much more convincing than that.


Chas tied her hands and feet with the belts from the his-and-hers
robes hanging on the bed posts. "You're Carrie Hollinger." She
wouldn't look him in the eye. "I met you at the Gables' garden party."
She looked up, uncomprehending. She looked his face over, but in the
dim light, with the dark makeup, it was clear she didn't recognize
him.

He went into the master bathroom and washed his face and hands. When
he returned, she had crawled about four feet toward the door. He
shoved her back into a sitting position with a grunt and sat back away
from her. Suddenly, the light came on in her eyes.

"Vince Salloway." The name he had given her. She visibly relaxed a
little, brushed the hair out of her eyes with her bound hands. "So I
take it you're not a real estate broker." Chas shook his head.  "Oh,
my God," she sighed. "I told you all kinds of things about myself."

"Not nearly enough," the dark-haired man smiled. "You did mention your
husband a couple of times, though. I got the hint."

She brushed it off coldly. "What hint?" She could be a cool customer
when she wanted to be.

"You were hinting that you were married, Mrs. Hollinger, so I
shouldn't get my hopes up...even though you were flirting with me."

She lowered her head. "Did you come here to rape me?" she asked
quietly. Her hands were trembling in front of her. She clasped them
together.

"No," he said. "We came here to steal your husband's diamonds."

"You can have them, just...please...don't hurt me." She couldn't look
him in the eye again. She had looked him in the eye when they talked
at the garden party. She had been bold then.

"Look at me," he said. She finally did. She had wonderful eyes, bright
and thick with lashes, but they were red and moist now. "We're not
going to hurt you."


In the big library on the main floor, Lloyd, Paul, and Stag were
opening every cabinet and moving everything that wasn't nailed down.
"Shit. Where is it?" Lloyd asked.

Paul looked all around. They had moved the painting, the chairs, the
rugs, the desk, some of the books. "It has to be pretty big. This guy
likes things big."

"Maybe we're not looking for a safe," said Lloyd. "Maybe we're looking
for--"

Paul pulled a latch built into the bookcase and a whole section swung
outward. "A door?" he asked.


"Why did you say you would guard me?" the tousled blonde asked.

The dark-haired man thought for a moment. "I wanted to talk to you
again. Since I'd already met you...I thought I could make sure you
weren't too scared."

"You're awfully thoughtful for a thief and a gunman." Now she was
showing her stuff again. Her breathing was regular. Her hands had
stopped trembling. She wiped her eyes.

Chas smiled. "I guess I am. I don't want to hurt anybody. I just want
to lighten their burdens--in this case, by a few ounces of diamonds."
She was quiet. "You rob your husband too, don't you? About once a
week, I bet--only you don't use a gun."

She looked up at him. "You wanted to have sex with me, didn't you?"
She was earnest, her lips parted slightly; they were moist. She leaned
forward a little, showing him a little more of that powerful cleavage.
"That afternoon in the garden at the Gables'? You wanted to sleep with
me."

Chas was a fine liar. "I don't know that I was thinking that far
ahead, Mrs. Hollinger.... Carrie."

"Do you want to have sex with me now?" she asked quietly. "Is that why
you said you would guard me?"

Chas shifted. "Now, I told you that I just--"

"You have me tied up," she said softly. "You can make me do anything
you want."


"Jeez, fellas, these are all diamonds? All these?" Stag looked all
around. The little room had numerous cabinets, each one with its own
lock, its own key.

"This is gonna take all night to bust these open," Paul told Lloyd.

The tall man slicked back his straight, black hair and sighed. "Let's
pick a box and bust it."


Chas kissed her softly, savoring the softness of her lips, the feel of
breath exhaled from her nose. "Please...don't," she murmured weakly,
admitting his bold tongue. She was fragrant and soft all over, womanly
over every part of her. As he lifted her up onto the bed, he could
feel her curves through the delicate film of her nightgown. She wore
nothing underneath it. As his lips found hers again, his hands roamed
her body, caressing her big breast, her narrow waist, her round hip.

"Oh, no," Carrie whimpered, and tried to break the embrace, but he
pulled her back, kissing her, pulling off his black pullover. "Mmmm.
Don't force me...please," she pleased through the kiss. Chas broke
away and left her lying in a tousled heap upon the bed, panting and
disheveled, her thighs and breasts exposed lewdly.

Bare-chested now, manly curls adorning a muscled torso, Chas went to
the door and locked it. He returned to her and untied her ankles, ran
his hands up her smooth, shapely legs, parted them. Carrie held him
off for a moment with one foot, a frightened look crossing her face.
"Please don't hurt me," she begged softly. But he stroked her ankle,
her calf, her thigh, and she surrendered and spread her legs for him.

Chas took Carrie's hands in his and kissed her again even as he put
her arms over his head to encircle him. She embraced him in this way,
forced to, and caressed his hair and neck. "Tell me you want it," he
demanded.

"I wanted to sleep with you that afternoon," she confessed. "You were
so handsome and smooth; you stood apart from everyone else. I had to
talk about my husband to stop myself. But now-- Please don't force
me." But her pleas were weak and dubious.

But there was no stopping him now. She let him pull off her nightgown
and toss it away. She lay back in the bed, naked and vulnerable.
"Please, please," she said as he pushed down his black trousers, "You
can't. You just can't." When he was naked, he loomed over her, pressed
the head of his prick against the wet lips below her dark thatch of
pussy hair, and pressed slowly forward. "Oh!" she groaned as his stiff
length of meat sank into her. "It's hard." She huffed and panted.
"Please, please don't hurt me."

Chas was gentle, thrusting slowly, evenly, gradually deeper and
faster, groaning along with her. "Is this what you wanted that day? Is
this it?"

"Yes!" she moaned. "Oh, yes! All the way!" Chas began to pound her
with quick, long strokes, mesmerized by the shaking of her big tits
with their big, red nipples. "Yeah! Oh yeah!" she groaned hotly, and
pulled him against her. "You're hitting my clit! Oh yes!" He knew just
how to hit her clit, rocking hard against her, getting the shaft of
his cock up against it. "Oh! OH! OHHH!" she squealed. And she locked
her legs around him, moaning through tightly-closed lips, squeezing
her eyes shut, and letting her orgasm take her into orbit.

Seeing her go over, Chas rocked forward again and held his position
for a long moment, letting her come hard, utterly taken, and then
feeling his balls coil up to prepare a blast of thick semen. He pulled
back and banged her harder than ever now, his balls slapping heavily
against her ass, her pussy slopping wetly, and at last stiffened to
deliver a heavy load of come inside her, balls pumping, ass clenched,
his breath a hot panting groan. "UHH!" he grunted at last, letting the
last of the contractions subside.

They fell together, perspiring and exhausted, into the soft, expensive
sheets, her wrists still tied together. Carrie wrapped a leg around
him, nuzzling his ear. "Thank you," she breathed. "Thank you for not
hurting me." Chas licked her ear lobe and said nothing.


"Holy shit. Now, that's diamonds." Paul held them up to the light.
"Beautiful. Nothing like them." Broken locks, cabinet door and
drawers, and bundles of cash lay all around him. The drawer full of
diamonds didn't take as long to find as they'd feared.

Lloyd looked with approval. "This is what we came for," he said with a
smile.

"We're taking the other stuff, though, aren't we?" Stag asked, eying
the cash on the floor.

Lloyd pulled held out a small black pouch for the diamonds. "Oh yeah,
you'd better believe it," he said. "Take it all. As long as it's small
and valuable. But first, I've got another job." Both men looked at
him. "You know what we talked about. You know Chas is a weak link now.
We don't need him."

"You want to get rid of him?" Paul asked, "Right here?"

Lloyd ran a finger through the heap of diamonds in his hand. "We do it
now, we only have to split this three ways," he said. He looked at
them soberly. He had deep, domineering eyes.

"I thought we were just going to leave him out next time. What
happened to that plan?" Paul didn't like the idea of a double-cross. A
black man didn't stand much of a chance in a gang that worked that
way. However, he did like the idea of a three-way split, and he could
always walk away from Lloyd after this loot was divvied up. He looked
at Stag; Stag was already looking at him.

"You do it," Paul said.

Stag didn't say anything. He just hefted his bulk past Lloyd and went
out into the library. He paused to double-check his revolver.

Stag went up the wide oak staircase in the center hall, a beautiful,
curving, furniture-like piece or architecture. He went through the
upstairs corridor to the master bedroom slowly, letting his eyes
adjust to the weaker light.

When the bedroom door wouldn't open with a twist, he knocked quietly.
"Chas? Chas, it's me, Stag. Lloyd wants you."


Something in the big man's voice made Chas reach for his pistol. All
he carried was a little .32 auto. He finished buttoning his shirt and
left his shoes untied. When she saw the gun, Carrie pulled the sheet
around her and cowered behind it, naked and helpless again.

Chas unlocked the door and stood at the side to twist the knob. But as
he did, the door came open fast, Stag's beefy hand shoving it hard.
"What's with the lock?" Stag said slowly. The big gat in his other
fist asked the same question a little quicker.

"What do you think?" Chas replied, and jerked a nod toward the blonde
on the bed. She tugged the sheet up a little higher and bit her lip,
red in the face.

"She's a cutie," Stag said. He took a step into the room, turning his
gun to track Chas. "What a woman." Chas started to walk around behind
him casually, but Stag twisted, raised his gun and came down hard on
the top of his shoulder. Chas was just quick enough to twist out from
under the blow and let it glance off. Still, it knocked his sideways
enough to make him stumble into the door. He bounced off it with his
.32 handy.

Pow! Pow! Stag's big .44 revolver punched holes in the oak door next
to Chas's head. At only four feet away, the big dope had missed him by
several inches.

Chas punched the .32 into Stag's side and squeezed two shots into him.
The big man staggered back, and Carrie screamed. He lumbered into the
bed and fell back on it. Still, he raised his heater and jerked
another round off, this one into the ceiling above the door. Chas
calmly put another round in the wounded man's chest and stepped back
to keep out of the blood spray. Carrie screamed again and kicked out
at him, pushing the dying man on the to floor. He coughed and reached
weakly for his revolver, but suddenly breathed a groaning sigh and
gave up the ghost.


Lloyd and Paul came up the stairs two at a time, guns drawn and jaws
set. Chase picked up Stag's .44 and went out into the hall. "Lock it,"
he told Carrie. But he wasn't gone for a moment before the woman heard
the voices of the other two men. She cowered in the bed, curled up in
the thin sheet, her hands tied.

"Check on Stag," a voice said. "Chas went this way. I've got him; make
sure she doesn't get away." The door opened with a snap, and the black
man slid inside, pistol pointed in every direction at once. He kneeled
down to check on Stag, but his look was grave. He looked up at Carrie.

"He was trying to kill...the other man," she said, trembling.

"So am I," Paul said. He turned back to the door. The tall man was
moving smoothly down the shadowy corridor. He turned back to her.
"So...was he good, baby?"

Carrie covered her mouth and flushed red. Tears welled up in her eyes.
"I mean, you fucked him, right?" Paul asked. "You wanted to make sure
he didn't hurt you?" He came to the bedside. "You got some nice
titties, honey," he taunted. "You know...I won't hurt you."

"Please," the defenseless young woman gulped. "Please, don't."

The black man laughed. "You're scare shitless that a black man is
gonna fuck you," he said, shaking his head.

Just then, Carrie saw Chas step out of the shadows behind Lloyd. He
wrapped an arm around the taller man's throat and pulled him back,
choking him. The tall man dropped his gun on the carpet runner. "Don't
worry, baby," Paul said. "I'll leave you alone. I got some business."
He started to turn.

"Wait," Carrie said to the black man. He turned. Slowly, the blonde
lowered the sheet. Her big breasts were heavy and round; their nipples
were hard and puckered. "Don't go," she said softly.

"Ohhh," he said, turned back. "I like that. I surely do like that."
She moved closer to the edge of the bed, letting the sheet slide away,
revealing more of her soft, feminine body. "Those are the prettiest
titties I have ever seen," Paul said. "I know why that rich man
married you.... You like to suck it, baby?"

"What?" the woman asked apprehensively.

"Come on, honey," the black man said. "You got to be able to suck it,
if you can get a rich dude like that to marry you." He was stroking
his bulging crotch now, highly aroused by her nude, white body,
vulnerable and submissive.

"Yes," she said. "I can suck it. I-- I want to suck you."

"Okay...." Paul smiled. "That's more like it." He caressed her face,
running his hands along her jaw and up to her ears, through her
luxurious yellow hair. "You're gonna like this, baby," he said. He
reached down and unzipped his fly, opened his pants, and pulled out a
heavy member, black and pulsing, hardening right before her eyes.
Carrie swallowed hard and involuntarily licked her lips. "Yeah, baby,"
Paul said. "Get that pretty mouth ready. You hungry, baby? You hungry
for this?" He stroked his dick slowly, getting good and hard for her.
Beyond him, Chas pulled Lloyd's struggling body into the darkness of
another room.

Carrie bit her lip and reached out to Paul with her bound hands. He
guided his thick cock into her mouth and filled it up to overflowing.
The hot dick was astonishing to her. Instinctively, she began stroking
the shaft and backed off, licking and sucking the tip, overcome with a
wetness between her legs again. She had never been with a black man
before.

Carrie began to finger her slick pussy lips as she stroked and sucked
Paul's cock. He held her head gently and fucked her mouth, head back,
eyes closed. "You like that, baby?" he asked. "You like suckin' a
black man's cock? Oh. Oh. Uhh!" He groaned heavily, running his hands
through her hair.

Carrie sucked hard, licked the shaft all over, down to the black man's
balls, even while she fingered herself. She couldn't believe the
filthy pleasure of it. She couldn't stop herself. Her hot pussy
practically gushed juices onto her fingers. Her mouth was filled with
hot, hard cock; and she secretly loved it.

"Oh, suck it, baby!" Paul moaned. "Oh yeah! Suck on it hard! Suck the
tip! Lick it, baby! Oh yeah! Oh yeah!" And suddenly, the black man
gripped her head and thrust his prick deep into her mouth, nearly
gagging her, and shot a load of creamy jism right down her throat. She
gasped and gagged, almost choking on the big, meaty rod. Her pussy
went into rapid spasms around her fingers as her swollen clit and the
pulsing dick in her mouth triggered a wracking orgasm that shook her
whole body. She mumbled a lusty groan and pulled back, letting a thick
string of jism drip all over her heavy tits.

"Ohhh, shit, baby, that's good," Paul gasped, letting her go. "That's
a natural-born cock-sucker in you, baby." He turned away, stroking his
cock slowly, massaging it and enjoying the feel of its length in his
hand.

Carrie lay back, wiped her mouth, and swallowed hard to try to clear
the taste of his cock and his semen. Awkwardly with hands tied, she
picked up a pitcher of water from the bedside table and poured a cup.
But as she gulped down the cool water and watched Paul stuff his dick
back into his pants, she saw Chas coming up the corridor.

"Motherfucker!" Paul cursed, pulling his gun as he saw the same sight.
But Carrie rose up behind him and bashed him across the back of the
head with the heavy metal pitcher. The wiry black man crumpled to his
knees and wavered for a moment, pistol dangling in his hand. Carrie
swung the pitcher again and split his scalp, spilling blood and water
and sending him heavily to the floor.

"Are you all right?" Chas asked.

"Yeah," Carrie said. "Why were they trying to kill you?"

"A double-cross," he answered. "That's all."

She pressed against him, naked and warm. "Look, you can have the
diamonds for yourself," she whispered. "I'll tell the police that the
others fought over them and killed each other."

He kissed her. Her mouth tasted of Paul's cock. "You sucked his dick,"
he said.

Carrie looked in the eye. "Yes," she confessed. "It made me come
again."

He smiled. "I have to go now," he said, kissing her forehead. "The
police may already be coming."

"Wait," she said, pulling him back, sitting down on the bed.
"First...tie me up again. I have to get myself loose to call the
police."


Quickly, Chas tied her up with a length of cord from the drapes,
strong but soft, like cotten rope. She spread her knees for him, naked
and vulnerable, and let her ankles be tied and and her hands to them.

When he was done, Chas looked her over. Carrie looked up at him with
those big, plaintive eyes. Her pussy was open, moist and pink. It made
his cock hard. She bit her lip, almost begging for it.

Chas stroked the thick member growing in his pants and got down on his
knees. "Oh!" the blonde squeaked when his tongue slid into her warm,
wet box. "Oh, God! N-- No! Not again!" But Chas's tongue slid up and
down her sex lips, tasting the juice and come, making her groan. He
massaged his dick to full strength as he licked, opening his pants at
last to let the little devil out. "Uhn! Oh!" Carrie whimpered.

Then Chas rose up between her legs, still tied at the ankles, and her
hands, still tied at the wrists. She was embracing him again,
involuntarily, with her juicy slit exposed her him below. Chas jammed
his hard cock inside her with a grunt and was rewarded with a wailing
cry from Carrie that turned into a hot whimper. "Oh, please! Please,
you bastard!" she begged. "Not too hard! Oh, yes! Oh, God... Take me!
Oh!"

He pounded into her, filling her, splitting her in two even, making
her scream--half with fear and half with pleasure, like a girl on a
thrill ride. He fucked her hard, grunting, groping, loving the feel of
her big tits, her soft, yielding flesh. "Ohhh!" she groaned. "Oh yes!
Yes! Take me! Make me come! I'm coming! Oh, God, oh, God, oh God!" Her
begging fell to tortured moans as her body convulsed again with the
ecstasy forced upon her. Her pussy squeezed his cock, gushed wetness
lewdly; her bound legs squeezed his buttocks. Chas loosed another load
of hot jism inside her, pumping come deep into her belly with forceful
thrusts while he held her tightly to him, grunted, gasped.

At last, they relaxed. Chas pulled out of his blonde captive and
slipped out from under her bound legs. He pulled up his trousers and
left her, tied up, lying on the edge of the bed, thoroughly fucked,
and half passed out from the experience.

She murmured something to him as he left, picking his way around the
dead men on the floor, but he ignored her. He double-checked the bag
of diamonds, the other bag of loot. In the vault room, he left the
smaller bundles of cash and made off with the larger denominations. He
didn't want to take so much that the cops would be too suspicious and
take Mrs. Hollinger to jail for insurance fraud...or murder.

After all, he wanted to come back to this house some night. And he
wanted Carrie Hollinger to be there.


MORE PULP EROTICA AND ART AT http://www.pulperotica.com!

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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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