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The Goth and The Goatherd	By : JayDee Category: +1 through F > Extreme Ghostbusters Views: 4700 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Extreme Ghostbusters or any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Goth and The Goatherd
- 1
The Goth and The Goatherd

By JD joandoe@gmail.com

Description: On vacation from the Extreme Ghostbusters, Kylie miraculously survives a tour bus crash. She needs urgent medical attention. She gets a goatherd rapist.

Content Codes: ChallengeFic, Contro, Exhib, Fingering, M/F, MCD, OC, Oral, PWP, Rape, Solo, Violence, WS

Warning: This story contains content that should not be read by people underneath the age of 21. It is 100% fiction and has no bearing on reality whatsoever. Real life rape is WRONG. The author does not condone illegal and immoral actions described. Please read the story codes and stop reading if you can’t stomach that shit. Seriously, you’ll just hate it if you keep reading and send me flames or do shitty unfunny MSTs or whatever. But do link me to funny MSTs!
Disclaimer and author’s note: I do not own Extreme Ghostbusters or any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. The original version was written by me in 2007 as part of a story exchange with Deathstalker. I hope DS likes this version too.
Though she thought she had worked through the stress fairly quickly, Kylie’s traumatic re-encounter with the Grundel proved too much to just shake off. She just had to get away from it all for a time, and the unexpected chance of a cut-price European bus tour the next year presented itself as an option. The goth Ghostbuster flew over with a backpack of vacation clothes and study books. Things were rowdy; there was a lot of European booze flowing, and hook ups amongst the travelers. In the first few days, Kylie ran found she got on best with a tough retired roadie, Rick. Hell, if a girl can’t have a brief romance on holiday, when could she? Books forgotten, she learned to live again until, in the third week, tragedy struck…
The Greek driver was singing. That should have been cause for concern - even if nobody spoke the language well enough to understand how badly slurred the words were. The tour bus was rammed solid with people, and the tourists were getting merrily wasted on the road from Delphi. None of them noticed the driver sipping from his own bottle as things got raunchy. Some were just going for sly mutual fingering and jerking under bags, less cautious couples were engaged openly in oral sex – an enthusiastic crowd cheered a redheaded girl on as her geeky brunette girlfriend pushed up the purple skirt and ate pussy. The back seat had been commandeered by Kylie and Rick, except for one elderly lady at the side who studiously ignored their behavior. The air-con wasn’t worth shit, but the old-fashioned tour bus had a back window that opened wide, and Rick had propped it up to let the air flow around their sweaty bodies.
The view across the peaks and valleys of the ruggedly dangerous Peloponnesian Mountains was an incredible sight for anyone who cared to look, but even Kylie Griffin, who faced the rear window, was not paying attention. Rick had bought her a short leather skirt from one of the tourist boutiques; it made for easier access. The leather was rucked up around her waist, and her panties were hanging on one leg. Her blouse buttons were ripped, the fabric pushed up above her bare breasts, giving access to tge heavyset roadie’s big hands as he fucked her from behind. His thick fingers wrapped around each tit and helped rub her stiff nipples against his rough palms. Kylie gripped the rubber seal that ran along the bottom of the open rear window with both hands, and pushed lustily back against thrusts.
‘Have to get my nipples pierced,’ she thought, wiggling for more friction on her niiples.
He was over sixty and had been a roadie his entire working life, on a tour for pleasure for once, but even with years of road experience he’d never met a girl as wild as Kylie Griffin. Though a college girl, she had the body of a teenage groupie, with a tight, gripping snatch and tits that felt nice firm handfuls. Not saggy at all. In the past, girls had come on to him to try and get at the band, but all the cute goth wanted was to share pleasure. She had given him a sensational suck before he’d returned the favor and lapped her pussy, and that was before most of the others were even all that drunk up the bus. Rick gently twisted Kylie’s head sideways and kissed her blue lips while his rough grey beard brushed against her smooth chin. They wrestled tongues, tasting whiskey from each other’s mouths and tobacco from Rick’s. He leaned back, breaking the kiss with a strand of saliva, and then gripped her hips in both gnarled hands for leverage. Grunting with age and effort, he fucked the groaning goth girl harder.
Kylie could feel a strong orgasm building. The roadie really knew his stuff, so much better than some dumb, young Ghostbusters fan-boy who couldn’t last more than thirty seconds back home. Hell, she was sure Eduardo had jazzed in his pants when she blew him a kiss. She released half her grip on the window frame, and rubbed her pale pussy frantically. Her pert breasts hung over the road; she was half out of the rear window under the force of the big man’s hard fucking.
“Give it to me harder! Faster! You gotta make me come!”
She didn’t care how public it was on the bus. She’d got used to being stared at when she grew into the goth lifestyle after her Grandmother died. Anyway, the other tourists were too drunk or too busy fucking each other to care. Damn, it was good. Wind in her hair, a good sized cock filling her up and a skilled lover behind it and holding her. She stiffened as the pleasure peaked, felt the grip tighten on her hips, and cried out. The thinner mountain air seemed to catch in her throat, stuttering the cry, but Kylie squeezed the roadie into her, nearly pinched her clit between finger and thumb, as she came.
Rick had tightened his grip on Kylie’s bony hips as soon as he felt her stiffen and lose control. He had no wish to drop her out the back of the bus. He kept on screwing the pretty girl, 40 years or more his junior, through her climax, relishing the tight wet squeezing on his shaft, and the juicy spray into his gray pubes. She was a natural squirter; he took it as the sign of a job well done. It was only as she started to calm down and regained her grip on the window seal that he allowed himself to come. Shooting with the control of years, Rick filled the rubber with his seed. He sprayed watery spunk into the thin latex tubing and then started to withdraw. Kylie had told him with a cheery if nihilistic whisper that it was fine to ride bareback, and that had been enough to convince him to use the rubber. Same advice applied to any groupie who said the same, though he was damn sure Kylie was smarter than those girls.
They were both still panting as the bus’s breaks squealed. There was a lot of panicked shouting up front as the tour bus slowed, and then to their shared horror the front dipped down sharply. The roadie lost his grip on Kylie’s sweat slick hips and tumbled backwards, while she instinctively shoved herself forward. Rick’s last sight of Kylie was her panties fluttering from her ankle as it disappeared from view.
“Holy fucking shiitttt!” Kylie managed, as she flipped out of the tour bus’s open rear window.
She managed a half flip and came down hard on her shoulders, shattering her right scapula against the road. She unleashed a piercing scream. Kylie had once claimed not to be a screamer, but that was proved bullshit when the pain hit. Despite the efforts of worn and ill-serviced breaks, the bus kept on going, and Kylie bounced and scraped along the road behind it. The remains of her blouse came away in bloody shreds. The Ghostbuster’s foot caught in a pothole and twisted her whole body again while her leg broke like a dry reed. Then she was off the road, and into bushes that scratched and tore at her. The bus had passed right through them, but they were sufficiently bouncy to move back into shape.
The out of control tour bus sped right over the sheer edge, trailing panicked screams, and bounced against the rocky side of the valley on the way down, before exploding Hollywood style at the bottom. A flaming wheel burst from the inferno and rolled along, which was almost certainly in homage to something. Smoke rose up from the wreckage towards the wide blue Greek sky. Rick never had a chance, none of them did.
Kylie could see that one of her lower legs was twisted backwards; the kneecap was broken in two beneath the skin and the purple-red flesh showed torn ligaments bunched around it. She screamed even louder when she saw the unnatural shape of her leg, though waves of nausea prevented her lifting her head properly. She wanted shock to set in, but knew she had to try and fight it to live. The pain of her shattered shoulder blade and the cuts and scrapes from the road were nothing compared to the broken kneecap.
‘At least the other poor bastards got it quick,’ she thought, empathetic to the people she’d partied so hard with along the road. She’d had a strange sense of death at Delphi, but had put it down to the weight of the thousands of years of those who had passed through the old ruins.
The Ghostbuster fumbled one-handed at her pocket for sleeping pills, desperate to try anything for the pain. The leather was still hiked up around her waist, trapping the pocket in tight folds. Her screaming choked off as, red faced, she fought for the breath to continue. The wind carried sounds of distant agony, and she realized that a few battered and broken bodies were still alive as they burned in the crashed bus. They hadn’t all got it quick. On the plateau above, eyes were turned towards the crash. Most were goat; two were human.
Akakios the goatherd was the third son of the largest local landowner, but while his brothers were highly educated and important men in their own right, by their twentieth birthday, he was but a Goatherd after his. He was viewed as simple, and innocent, and whenever tourists disappeared nearby the local police took his father’s money and blamed the dangerous roads. One local lookout point in particular had suffered a lot of cars ‘accidentally’ driving over the edge, with the driver thrown clear and found further away down the mountain with wounds you might not expect from a car accident.
He was also the only person to actually see the bus miss the sharp turn and go over the edge. His heart leaped when Kylie bounced out and stayed on the edge. With her shredded top and pushed up skirt she was like a gift from the gods of the cold high places. He climbed down from the high plateau and crossed the road to where Kylie Griffin lay moaning, still unable to retrieve her damn pills. Closer, he considered her skirt the sign of a harlot. He didn’t know she hadn’t chosen it. Her skin was already corpse pale, but her lips were painted a blue too bright for death.
She looked up as the olive skinned Goatherd stood astride her head, and blocked out the sun. He was thin, with a hard, wiry build, and she thought through tear-blurred eyes that the wispy beard accentuated his youth. He couldn’t be much older than her, maybe the same age. He was bare-chested, wearing dirty denim cut-off shorts and trainers. Though pain twisted Kylie’s beautiful face, she managed a smile of insane gratitude and pleading,
“Help me, big guy! This pain is fucking intense! Get help! My pills, no, wait, knock me out! Please! Knock me out…!” Kylie’s voice was broken and hoarse from screaming as she pleaded, her brain was producing endorphins full on and hardly touching the agony in her kneecap.
Akakios could barely speak Greek, so English was meaningless babble to him. He could see the foreign girl was wounded though; if she were a goat, she would be likely beyond help. He said nothing to her, and instead picked her up fireman’s-carry style onto his shoulders. Kylie’s leg twisted freely in the air, and the sound of bone scraping together was audible through her skin.
“Bastard!”
She screamed as the extra pain jolted her kneecap. She’d faced ghosts and demons with fear controlled, but pain was another matter. She pissed herself and blacked out with her last thought of the shame of losing control. The goatherd paid no attention to the heavy yellow stream splashing his arm and running down into the bushes. He re-adjusted his grip for Kylie’s sudden limpness, and then followed the road to a goat path which he walked down. The goth’s heavy booze-fuelled piss slowed to a trickle and stopped as he followed the narrow trail to a small ancient cave, perhaps 22 feet deep, cut under the road. There were goats in there, but they were used to Akakios and he ignored them.
Kylie didn’t stir as the goatherd laid her down onto the cave floor. He twisted her leg, trying to make it look right. Bone crunched freshly under the skin as he forced Kylie’s foot around the right way. The goatherd ran his fingers through Kylie’s blue hair and laid the strands out around her head like a halo. He even brushed the sweaty strands away from her forehead. That was how he liked his girls. Kylie’s skin was so pale it seemed to glow in the shadow of the cave, except around the dark swollen bruising and bloody splashes of her wounds.
In the more confined space of the cave, the smells of sweat and piss and blood were almost overpowering. He shifted his position until his face was above Kylie’s pussy and drew in a deep breath. He licked into her recently fucked folds, getting a slight hint of the condom lubricant even with the acrid taste of dehydrated piss. He couldn’t understand why she was so pale; she hadn’t lost that much blood. Didn’t the sun shine in her land? Akakios slid a finger into Kylie, then another. She was wet and ready, as if the nectar of the gods flowed from her womb. He lifted his wet face from between her thighs, and moved up to kiss her lips. The alcohol taste made him wince, and he stood.
Akakios stripped his shorts off then, revealing a cock that smelled even more heavily of goat than the rest of him. There was a reason the local peasants, when out of hearing of his family, called him by a name that translated roughly as The Extreme Goat Buster. The goatherd knelt between the unconscious Ghostbuster’s legs and jerked his cock in one hand, while reaching down to continue fingering her piss-wet pussy with the other. His fingers squelched in her honey pot; Fear and pain and her recent fuck, and even his own tongue. Truly, she was a gift - thrown free from death and prepared for his pleasure. Akakios’s wiggling fingers worked inside Kylie. He was greatly aroused by her limp helplessness and the stillness beneath her eyelids. Her breathing seemed to quicken, and he imagined that she was being rewarded with pleasure for being so ready to receive him.
His cock was dripping precum when he stopped stroking. He broke off to lean over Kylie and take a flushed and stiff nipple into his mouth, suckling on the flesh. The taste of sweat and female skin filled his mouth as he worked his tongue around the hard nub. He enjoyed both nipples before pulling his fingers free from between her thighs and slurping the mixture of arousal and piss from them. He shifted position, ready to take satisfaction from Kylie Griffin.
The purple crown of his cock slid into her pussy slowly, followed by the rest of his olive skinned shaft. She was tight, but very wet, and he was able to slide his cock all the way in to her sheath. He groaned as the exquisite pleasure of Kylie’s snatch moving around his cock reached his brain. The goatherd felt his balls pressing against her hot slit. He began to hump, bringing his dick out all the way, and them hammering it home to make the limp goth’s breasts bounce on her chest. Surely they couldn’t be so pale in one who lived? The remains of her clothing seemed to accentuate the girl’s white skin.
Kylie regained consciousness and regretted it. She was aware of intense pain and insistent pleasure, though far more of the former. Half crazed with agony, she started to cry as memories of the crash came flooding back, and then cried harder as she fullest extent of her injuries announced themselves. She felt an incredible sense of betrayal from life, to survive a terrible accident only to be raped. She was a hero, who with her friends had helped save humanity, and yet nobody had saved her. Instead, she had awoken in some cave, with a drooling halfwit violating her. Some of the paranormal entities they’d faced had sought to use her sexually. The Grundel had come closest, having been so close to raping her ass before she was rescued that she could feel his cock against her asshole. Roland had saved her. Hell, none of the ghosts or demons had succeeded because of her friends, and her own damn skills. She tried fighing back.
One arm was useless, the other not. She lashed at his face with painted black nails, wanting to blind him. He reacted faster than she imagined, honed by high mountain life. Her muscles bulged beneath the ragged arm of her blouse as she fought to dig her fingers into his eyes. His were stronger. If only her nails were nine inches longer… He didn’t even stop the rape as he forced her arm back down. She could feel his thick hairy thighs against her creamy skin, the same hair on his forearm as he pressed one arm across her chest and gripped her shoulder. Pulling sharply with the hand on her wrist he dislocated first her shoulder, then her elbow. Kylie felt her body tense, with even her pussy milking his cock as the new agony tore into her.
“Please stop!”
She screamed with pain and frustration. The wail echoed around the cave, startling the goats. Akakios interpreted it as a sound of pleasure. He dropped the arm and gripped Kylie’s face tightly in his hands. In his simple way took her struggling as actually intended to give the additional pleasure it brought him. He liked the fight, the writhing beneath him. The ghost-pale girl was the best time he’d had in months. He kissed Kylie on the cheek, and then knelt, tugging his slick cock from inside her. He looked passionately down at her breasts, her flat belly and open labia as he jerked the length furiously.
She recalled through the pain the past pleasure she’d shared with Rick, playfully asking him to come inside her. Did nobody want too? That had been consensual, lustful. Not this brutal rape with her body too broken to fight back. She snarled angrily at her violator, as heavy drops of sperm splattered from the end of his cock. They splashed right across her stomach, even as far as her breasts. Hot against her even through the sweat and splashed blood. As Kylie felt the sticky wet drops on her belly she hoped her suffering was over. That the sick fuck would get relent and get her help. She hoped, but doubted.
She saw him stand up between her thighs and walk towards the cave mouth, taking his shorts with him. She thought he was leaving her there. Perhaps he had thought about leaving her in the cave until he got horny again and then coming back to fuck her over and over, even after death. She didn’t want to be the plaything of a necrophile. She wanted to go back home, heal up, investigate paranormal threats, and kick their asses. She felt a brief surge of hope as he seemed to look concerned, even sympathetic, and come back towards her.
Akakios had thought about coming back later, but a sense of duty found its way into him. His father had managed to make it clear that bodies needed to be found close to crashes. He turned in the cavemouth and saw the pale body splayed out in the dirt. Another memory came into his mind; though he’d never been through formal education some things had stuck with occasionally imperfect understanding. If Kylie was dead, didn’t she need coins for a ferryman? The drawing from an old book stuck in his mind. Yes, he thought, this one already had the body of a ghost. She would have coins.
Just before he reached her, he reached into the pockets of his carried shorts, found two small coins. He dropped his weight onto her breasts, and placed them onto her eyes.
“You… you stupid fuck. I’m a goth, I’m not dead.”
Kylie shook her head, dislodged them. The goatherd put them back. She shook them again, and then spat up into his face. He took the coins up again, pressed them to her eyes, and pushed.
“No! NO!”
Kylie realized his intention too late. Her legs kicked despite the agony of a shattered knee, she writhed, but couldn’t shift him. Pressure built against her eyeballs, bright colors exploded in the darkness beneath metal as the pain intensified, and then they popped. She thought it his vengeance for trying to scratch his eyes as her own burst wetly around coin and finger. There was hardly any part of her that didn’t hurt. Kylie was vaguely aware of pissing again as the hairy goatherd’s ass shifted from her breasts. She felt a hand stroking her hair, and then gripping as much as would fit in one palm. She groaned as he dragged her broken body across the rough stone floor. Bloody humored tears ran down her cheeks and mixed with the semen on her breasts. Roland wouldn’t be coming to save her this time.
“You son of a bitch, I’m going to come back and haunt you!”
She managed the final curse and then she was falling through the air. The first jutting boulder smashed into the goth girl’s pretty face, and shattered her head like an egg. Coins clattered uselessly on the rocks. Kylie Griffin’s pain was over. Brain tissue dripped from the jagged rock, one of the brightest minds of a generation reduced to bird food. Kylie’s corpse landed amongst the still burning wreckage of the bus. Her fingers still twitched even as blood spurted from the ragged remains of her head. It might have looked, from high above, as if a vengeful ghost had already begun to coalesce in the smoke….
The End?
Review, please. Or comment. Or at least point out spelling and grammar errors for me. Thank you.
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The Goth and The Goatherd