Chapter 18
Eleanor Martin lay on the dirty old cot, panting and half-swooning. She felt too listless to move, and yet a seething turmoil was lodged between her twitching naked thighs. Darkness had fallen, and the room was now pitch black. It was as if she were in a kind of purgatory, a limbo in which only which the sensations of her quivering naked flesh assured her that she was still alive.
"We better light some candles," Mack Bolton growled.
"Only in the bedroom," Ben Salters replied, "And then you'd better find some black cloth or maybe clothes to hang up over that shade so the light won't shine through. It would be a dead giveaway to any cops looking for us," he chucked, then added, "anyhow, you don't have to see Ellie anymore, you all know what she looks like. It's just as good in the dark with a sack over her head as with all the lights on, I'll tell you that."
"You dirty, filthy coward," Ranee Martin croaked, lunging again at his bonds. His wrist and legs were chaffed, and loaded with sweat from the constant efforts he had made to get loose. On the floor beside the chair to which he was fettered, his son Kenny, his head lolling, half asleep.
"I-I have to go to the bathroom, PI-please," Dorothy Martin quavered.
"I'll help the little lady," Mack Bolton guffawed. None of the four convicts had put on their clothes. They were all standing around in shorts and socks, for the night air was warm and dry now with hardly a breath stirring. Outside, only the faint chirping of the crickets could be heard."
"Say, Ranee, boy," George Budrow spoke up, "ain't you got a flashlight in your car?"
"That's for you to find out. I won't give you any more help, not after what you've done to my wife," the Chicago jeweler declared with a hoarse groan.
"Go out and see, Georgie," Ben Salters ordered. "I'll take Dorothy into the John."
Groping his way toward the couch, he found the bare arm of the young brunette, who uttered a cry of terror in this sepulchral darkness, and shrank away from him. Roughly he yanked her to her feet snarling, "No tricks, you little bitch, or you'll get it here and now. I've got a gun in my pocket, so just keep moving like I tell you."
Steering the frightened brunette captive towards the bathroom, he stopped her on the threshold, and then told her to wait there while he went back to the couch coat and got his suit coat, found a match packet and returned to her. Striking a match, he told her: "Want me to take your pants down, baby?"
"Oh my God, no, No!" Dorothy Martin sobbed. "Please untie my wrists, I-I won't try to escape, I promise I won't!"
"You just better not try, baby, I can tell you that," he said roughly. The sight of her lovely creamy bare legs stirred him again to new desire, and as he struck another match, Dorothy's horrified eyes rested upon his stiffening cock, emerging from the unbuttoned fly of his shorts. She turned crimson and quickly averted her face to one side while he chuckled again sardonically: "You're a big girl now, baby, you better get used to seeing what a cock looks like. Before too much longer, you might just be taking us all on."
"Oh God, please no, oh don't touch me, don't do it to me. I don't want any of you to," Dorothy whimpered.
Ben Salter slapped her viciously across the cheek, and then, again telling her to stay where she was, made his way to the kitchen, found one of the candles which Ranee Martin had brought along with the rest of the supplies and came back to the bathroom. Holding the candle in his left hand, he struck a match on the dirty, rotted wooden floor and lit it to the wick. As the feeble light flared he saw Dorothy cringing against the washbasin, her eyes huge and scared, her magnificent bubbies rising and falling rapidly in her atrocious anxiety. He licked his lips greedily. Boy, what a piece of tail this little bitch was! Promise or no promise to Ellie, he was going to take this bitch's cherry before much longer, see if he didn't!
"Turn your back, and I'll untie your wrists. Just try something, and you'll be the sorriest girl that was ever born," he promised.
"I-I am already," Dorothy whimpered tearfully as she slowly obeyed. He took out his jackknife, slashed the cords fixing her wrists together, and then backed away. "Hurry it up," he directed, "and when you're done, knock on the door and I'll open it for you, hear?"
"Y-yes-yes I will," Dorothy stammered faintly. He held up the candle to her lovely, fear-tautened face, and chuckled again as he backed out and closed the door.
In a few minutes when she knocked, he opened the door again and ushered her out, walking beside her with the candle held above her head so that his cronies could see what she looked like.
"Seeing that pretty bitch parade around in those thin shorts," Mack Bolton hoarsely avowed, "makes me pussy-hungry all over again. How about divvying her up, Ben?"
"Goddamn you all!" Ranee Martin stormed.
"Gag that sonofabitch," Ben Salters directed. George Budrow sprang to obey, as he plunged his hand into the pocket of the Chicago jeweller, took out a handkerchief, pinching nose shut with his left thumb and forefinger, made the victim open his mouth, whereupon he crammed in the handkerchief. "Spit it out and I'll break your jaw for you," he warned as he looked around for something to tie over Ranee's mouth. Seeing one of the men's undershirts on one end of the battered old couch, he took it and wound it round the jeweler's mouth, made a knot at the back of the man's neck. "There, that ought to hold you!"
"Say, you know what I'd really like to see?" Pete Pullman spoke up. "I once saw a magazine with two babes doing it to each other. You know, dykes. Boy, what I wouldn't give to see Elbe and Dottie here going down on each other."
A cruel light appeared in Ben Salters narrowed eyes, "Yeah," he whispered, "So would I. Okay, Mack, let's take her into the bedroom. We'll all watch the fun."
"Oh, what are you going to do to me, oh please, don't touch me, oh Mother, help me-oww!" As Mack Bolton seized her by the elbow Dorothy Martin began to cry out for help, but Pete Pullman coming up behind her, drew back his right hand and applied a solid swat to her voluptuous bottom, shaped out so seductively by the tight playshorts, and Dorothy jumped with a squeal of pain as she glanced frantically round her.
"Move," Mack Bolton growled in her ear, and gave her another smack on the bottom to quicken her. Bursting into tears, the helpless young beauty was constained to follow her captors down the hall and into the room where her mother still lay, half-conscious, her heart pounding wildly, the flesh of her inner thighs still twitching from the violent siege set against her most intimate feminine nervous system.
"If you want to see the fun. I told you guys to get something to put over this shade, so the candlelight won't shine through," Ben Salters snapped.
Mack Bolton and George Budrow contributed their trousers, which they hung from the roller of the shade down over the thin, faded covering. Ben Salters took a critical look. "That'll do with just this one candle. Now, then, make Dorothy strip down bare. Look at Ellie there, just lying on her ass and taking it easy. Cheer up, Mummy, we've brought you your little girl to keep you company. Haw, haw, haw!"
"Oh-M-mother, please help me!" Dorothy Martin sobbed hysterically, as she sank down on her knees and clasped her hands as if in fervent appeal. But Mack Bolton reached down, and plunging his right hand into her black hair, dragged her to her feet as she screamed out in agony, and clapped his other hand over her mouth to silence her outcry. "Shut your trap, or I'll slit your throat," he hissed in her ear, and the shuddering girl fought to control the horror that mounted in her.
Ben Salters continued to hold the guttering candle in his left hand, as he backed against the old chest of drawers near the door of the room. It cast sufficient light for all of them to see the sprawled nakedness of the beautiful matron, her hay-colored chignon rumpled and awry, her face streaked with tears and sweat, the marks of fingers on her breasts
-rid belly, on her thighs and hips and sides and arms. And the matted curls of her pussyfur spoke only too well and eloquently of what had been done to her.
"Okay, Pete," Ben Salters, "Tell Dottie here what you want her to do. And listen good, sister, and you too, Elbe."
"Well, like I said in this magazine, I saw a picture of two naked janes giving it to each other. They was sort of lying over each other the wrong way, if you know what I mean. One gal had her face down between the other girl's legs, and vice versa."
"Muffdiving, you mean," Ben Salters snickered. "Sure, the French call that sixty-nine. Okay, Dot-tie, you heard Pete here. Start peeling off your duds and get on top of Mummy there and start sucking her pussy while she sucks yours."
"Oh God, oh how can you horrible men make me do such a filthy thing to my own daughter?" Eleanor Martin wailed as she propped herself up on her elbows, staring at them with dark-circled eyes, glazed with tears.
"It's that or getting shagged for Dottie," Ben Salters told her. "Now, a mother is supposed to be her daughter's best friend, so tell her what she ought to do, see, Elbe? Dh it quick, or we'll peel Dorothy down ourselves, stretch her out on the floor and gangshag her till we've all had a piece of her cunt."
"Oh my God, Dorothy, oh my poor little baby, you better do what they want! Oh, it's so horrible, but I can't bear to think of their each having you." Eleanor sobbed hysterically.
"Oh, Mother, Mother, what am I supposed to do? Oh I'm so ashamed! Oh I want to die!" Dorothy Martin sobbed.
"You can take off everything you've got on, that's what," Mack Bolton growled, advancing toward the shrinking brunette and drawing back his left hand. Cowed, Eleanor Martin's beautiful nineteen-year-old daughter grabbed at the hem of her pullover Tee-shirt tugged it off her body, and stood revealed in a clinging white nylon bra. The four convicts licked their bps as their eyes feasted on the succulent round, closely spaced titties with their wide coral circles in whose centers there rose the dainty, pert buds of her nipples. "Get that bra off fast," Mack Bolton drew back his hand again, and Dorothy sobbed aloud, "Oh don't hit me, I will, I will!" as she fumbled with the hooks and eyes at the back. It fluttered to the floor, and the magnificent ivory turrets of her virgin bubbies were exposed to all those inimical eyes.
"Now the play shorts," Ben Salters' voice was thick with rutting anticipation. Again the sobbing half-naked brunette obeyed, unbuttoning them, and stooping to pull them down and let them slide down to her ankles, stepping out of them. Now all she had on were nylon pantie-briefs which clung tightly against the prominent mound of her virgin cunt, through the crotch of which one could see the vague outline of her triangular patch of pussyhair.
"That too," Ben Salters pointed to the panties, and Dorothy Martin began to cry hysterically as she slowly and with trembling fingers tugged down the final veil. Immediately she clapped a hand over her pussy, and crooked the other arm over her panting, naked titties, shrinking there before the guttering eyes of the four convicts, while her own mother stared, eyes blurred with tears at her own daughter's self-preparation for this perverse exhibition of ignoble lust.
"All right, Dottie," Pete Pullman was trembling with excitement, "now you be down on that cot with your snatch over your mother's face, and your face right over hers, and then you two girls start eating ii, get me?"
"Oh Mother, I can't, I can't. Oh please don't let me them make me, please don't! I don't want to do it!" Dorothy wailed, ringing herself down on her knees and clasping her hands as she stared imploringly at her mother. The flickering candlelight which Ben Salters held in his hand cast an eerie pattern of dancing shadows on the walls and the floor and the ceiling of this squalid, long-abandoned room. The musty smell of age and of rot and of moisture clung to it like an auro of the tomb.
"Teach her a lesson, Mack," Ben Salters hissed, his prick sticking out in all its ferocious rigidity. "Spank her sweet white ass for her a little, the way her Mummy would when she won't do what she's told!"
"Oh no, oh Mother, don't let him-Oww, my arm-let go-Ohhh, stop it, please!" Dorothy wailed as the grinning fat, narly-bald sadist gripped her by the fleshy part of one bare white arm, posed his left foot on the left of the cot, and shoved her down over his fat hairy thigh, bending her in two and uprearing her ivory-satiny naked bottom for all to see. "Hold her wrist so she won't cover up while I'm fan tailing the little bitch," he called to his cronies. George Budrow and Pete Pullman promptly hurried up to the sobbing, struggling, naked brunette, and, squatting down in front of her, each seized a wrist in both hands and held on tightly staring up into her tearstained, scarlet face, watching the way her dangling naked titties heaved and jiggled.
"Oh don't hurt her, oh please don't! Don't hurt my little girl!" Eleanor Martin sobbed as she feebly sat up on the edge of the cot, clasping her hands and staring pietously at the grinning scarfaced convict.
"When she says she'll do it, I'll stop paddling her juicy ass, Mummy," he guffawed. "Here goes!" And with this, lifting his right hand, he brought it down with a violent Smack against the ripest curve of her naked right bottom cheek, leaving a fiery outline of his heavy palm.
"Oww! Ouch, that hurts! Oh, Mother, Mother, make him stop!" Dorothy wailed, dancing from foot to foot and trying frantically to break loose. But Pete and George held her down tightly and now Mack Bolton clamped his left arm across her back to crush her down against his thigh and immobilize her so that her naked bottom would be entirely vulnerable. A second Smack rang out, this one on the other cheek at its ripest apex. Again Dorothy Martin squealed tearfully and kicked up first one leg, then the other, as she protested this rude and painful treatment.
She could feel his prodding prick against the edge of her naked hip as she struggled, but in a few moments she quite forgot the obscenity of this contact; his heavy hand rose and fell now with rapidity, visting the cheeks of her rounded, succulent ivory bottom alternately and sonorously. A rapid Smack-Smack-Smack of the impact of his hand against her bare resilient flesh filled the room now, punctuated by her cries and sobs and wails. Her legs began to kick, she twisted and tried to throw herself off his thigh, but the two men holding her wrists now each seized her by the hair as well with their other hands, further immobilizing her and making it painful for her to execute the slightest movement of her torso and head and shoulders. Only her bottom and legs could move, and bottom now danced and jiggled and twisted and arched and flattened under Mack Bolton's rapidly descending palm. The ivory tint disappeared, and a fiery crimson spread from the tip of her hips to her upper thighs, while the cheeks of her behind yawned and clenched and gave vent to convulsive spasms which only set into relief all her delicious virginal charms. Mack Bolton was grunting and panting with rut, and his prick was swollen with lust as he continued the furious spanking till ast last Dorothy Martin could bear no more. "Ohwww-oooo-uuuu!!! Stop it, I'll do anything-oh stop, oh Mother, please make him Oowweeeeyaahrrr!!! I'll do it. Please stop spanking me, I'll do it, I'll do it!"
"Let her go, you guys, and let's see if she will or not," Mack Bolton added with a final resounding whack that bridged both inflamed naked buttocks and drew a piercing cry from the unhappy naked brunette. "Now get over there to Ellie and suck her off," he commanded.
Crying as if her heart would break, the naked girl stumbled towards the cot, both hands frantically rubbing her swollen bare behind, tears flooding her cheeks, while her mother wept in sympathy.
"Oh my poor baby, oh my darling, I'll show you-I don't want them to hurt you anymore-you have to do it, you have to, Dorothy, darling," Eleanor Martin sobbed heartrendingly. She lay back on the cot, spreading her thighs, and holding out her arms to her daughter, stammered, "Get over me, h-honey, and I'll show you what;-what they want us to do."
"Well, now," Mack Bolton sniggered with a wink at his crones, "Ellie sure knows the score. I thought that tight-cunted bitch was a real swinger. Why, she's got more on the ball than little Dottie, here. Go ahead, Ellie, teach your girl the facts of life, haw, haw, haw!"
Dorothy Martin was crying so hard she could hardly see, but terror at the thought of being spanked again made her awkwardly assume the lubricious pose her vile captors desired. Stretching out slowly over her mother, supporting herself in her palms on the edge of the cot, she found herself with her mouth right over her mother's furry-grove while her own loins were placed just over Eleanor Martin's trembling lips. She felt her mother's hands close over the small of her back and press her down, heard her mother's gasping "Just relax, baby, and do what I do to you-do that to me too!"
Then suddenly Dorothy Martin felt her mother's warm trembling lips press against her cunt and apply a lingering kiss. She uttered a gasp and squirmed uneasily while her lips brushed her mother's pussyhair. "Do it to me, hurry, baby, or they'll spank you some more," her mother urged.
"That's sure as hell right, Dottie," Mack Bolton jeered as he moved closer to the cot. Dorothy looked up at her executioner, seeing the fiendish glitter in his beady eyes, the slavering looseness of his fleshy mouth, and terror seized her again. With a cry, she plunged her mouth against her mother's cunt and began to kiss. Ingenue that she was to this Sapphic game, nonetheless her terror gave her expertise; moreover, Eleanor had begun to kiss her cunt with a fervor and enthusiasm that perhaps was not born entirely out of desperate urgency to comply with the wishes of this cruel gang of convicts. She squirmed and writhed as her mother forced her loins down to this maternal tribute and she emulated her mother by placing kiss upon kiss on Eleanor Martin's quivering moist and love juice fragrant cunt.
"Look at them go for each other," Pete Pullman breathed, his prick stiffening with savage ardor. "Boy, oh boy!"
"You two have got to do it until you both cream, you hear?" Ben Salters directed.
"Oh Dorothy, Dorothy, my poor baby darling, do what I'm doing to you, do it to me and don't stop," the naked brunette heard her mother pantingly gasp. "We've got to, or they'll hurt you terribly-please, for my sake, I want you to, Dorothy darling!"
Then again Dorothy felt her mother's lips press through the pussyfur and find the coral pink petals of her virgin slit. And then she felt her mother's tonguetip delicately brushing and rimming her orifice. She moaned and sobbed, and her burning bottom seemed to throb now with another feeling that was not entirely that of pain. It was her own sexuality being wakened ... as she had wakened it herself with her own finger that Saturday afternoon when Kenny had spied upon her....
To distract herself, shamed and dying humiliation that these men were watching her and her naked mother perform this perverse sport, Dorothy Martin kissed and sucked and licked just as her mother was doing to her own virgin pussy. And soon the two women began to writhe and groan and sob and gasp, as, urged on by the duress of this brutal coercion, and under the eyes of four brutish and dangerous criminals, Eleanor and Dorothy Martin gamahuched each other until suddenly Dorothy lifted a sobbing cry of "Ooooh, Mother-oh God, oh Mother, I-I'm coming!" and her body heaved and threshed, so that Eleanor Martin had to dig her fingers into her daughter's naked sides to hold her loins to her own mouth to complete the task of drawing her own tender virgin daughter to the ecstasy of cunny-climax.
And in turn, excited by what she had done as well as what Dorothy had done to her, Eleanor Martin felt her own flesh betray her for the third time ... twice by the raping of these four brutes, and now drawn to crux by her own daughter's innocent lips and tongue! Before the eyes of the panting, almost naked convicts, the two naked bodies on the cot wriggled and jerked and finally sagged in the dreamy-creamy limbo of mutual hot girl-come!