Belly Trample Novels & Stories

Undercover, he was too confident that the monster could hardly identify him. Unless . . . Cameras clicked, some flashed. When the African tribe passed in front of the thickest wave of spectators, a muffled shot was fired in unison to the beating of the drums. The banging of the bullets mingled with the cadence, drowned for anyone to have heard it. Almost a second later, Art slumped on the pavement, his hands curled up to cover his head. People nearby thought he was one of the drunkards who fell on the ground.

The gates fell soon after. There was a mad rush to enter the city of Muzagah and destroy every living human. Having being in suspense for hours; anticipating and visualizing what they desired: the rape and the sharing of treasures; they drove in furiously into Muzagah with the intention to kill and destroy properties. Suddenly, the sound of a trumpet filled their ears. It was a signal to stop. Prince Habeb had ordered a trumpeter to send the desperate soldiers his message. It wasn’t yet time for the killing game to begin.

Everything that was stolen from me. By her. Cordelia Greyson. “And the winner of tonight’s fashion show…” The emcee has given us our signal. In neat rows, all of us waiters march out from the back holding our trays high above our heads. This isn’t the most stable way to carry glasses, but it is easily the most noticeable and impressive. A few feet away from the tables, I move my tray to a more stable position as I purposefully fall forward, hitting the back of the man in front of me. He stumbles forward, his tray and all of the champagne glasses tumbling to the ground, landing with a crash.

the guy cowardly replied while trying to lift himself from the ground. Bella turned her attention back to the fallen man as he struggled to get up, his words still slurred and hostile. But before he could pose any further threat, he received an unexpected and powerful blow to the stomach. The force of the kick made him double over in pain, and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

“The Immortal does not waste his time.” A shout drew her attention before she could question the unusual title. Trellax teetered on a post, balanced on a boot heel. He slipped. With a yell of outrage he fell to the hot coals, somehow managing to land on his feet at a run. In seconds he was across the flaming surface, stomping his feet to extinguish any lingering sparks. Nausea rolled over Andrea as she realize what would have happened to him, to Mathin, if either of them had landed on their back, or their hands.

Falling into the hands of this perverted beast was a totally different case! She silently prayed that God could make a miracle and save her from this nightmare! Lord, please don't let him win and do anything he wants to do to me! "Over here, sl*t!" He dragged her into the center portion of the maize and even forced her to lie down on the grasses. "Let me go, b*stard!" She struggled repeatedly, but to no avail. He hit her again with a slap as he positioned himself on top of her. She cried in pain and horror.

Caught off guard Salomon fell to the floor and this made all the six ladies to start hitting every part of her body. The commotion in the bathroom gathers the attention of students and the door opens but none of the students seems to have the intention of lending a helping hand to Salome who was overpowered by the sixth lady's voracious expressions. Look what is going on here? One of the students whispered but Salome, who was trampled on, could hear vividly.

"I'm giving you a chance here!" The tramp shrugged, unaffected. "And I refuse to take it. Come on, show me what you got!" The geezer smiled and appeared in front of the tramp in a flash, launching a jab straight at her stomach. As the tramp was unable to dodge in time, the punch struck true and sent her stumbling a couple steps backward. "Bleurgh!" Even as the tramp coughed a mouthful of blood, the geezer did not even afford her time to catch her breath and launched another jab at her face.

I shouted out between barely repressed whimpers, "I don't enjoy such thrills." "Good," was the mischievous answer. He moved down, still taking all the time in the world, the stubble on his chin offering a tickling scratch. He loosened my belt, and pushed aside my robe, further and further, until it left my chest. At once. I instinctively tried to cover myself. My wrists were regained by his hand, which pinned them above my head.