Chapter 19
Ben Salters had stuck the end of the white candle into a cracked glass ashtray on top of the old chest of drawers, so that he could be free to watch and, if need be, to force the two naked victims to their ordained task. But now, having seen both mother and daughter achieve the throes of orgasm, he could readily perceive that Pete, George and Mack were as savagely excited as he himself and would not content themselves with merely watching this incestuous act of Lesbianism.
"Better let the two broads go to the John and clean up a little before we start anything, boys," he announced.
Eleanor uttered a startled cry: "Oh dear God, surely you can't mean to do anything more to us, after what you've already done? OH don't, please let us go, please let us be now!"
"Shut your trap, Ellie," Mack Bolton roughly interrupted. "You got nothing to squawk about, you haven't. All we did was fuck you once apiece, and Dottie here ain't hardly been touched, except by your blowing her. It's time she was taking up some of the slack. Our cocks want some pussy now, and by God, we're going to get some."
"Then take me, for God's dear sake, take me, not her," Eleanor Martin wept.
But again it was Ben Salters who acted as arbiter to quell the angry wrangling which sprang up between his three cronies: "Hold it, you guys! Now we all know that Dorothy's cherry. And her Mummy has been pretty cooperative, you guys ought to hand her that. Now you don't take a cherry so fast, not till you sort of guide her along and show her what she's got to do. Anyway save the dessert for last-that will be her cherry. I say we make her blow off now each one of us guys in her mouth. How's that?"
His proposal met with acclaim from the three men, but not alas, from the horrified mother and daughter. Eleanor Martin scrambled out from under her trembling naked daughter's body and, swaying as she stood, her hands clasped in terror, her hair disheveled, her naked titties rising and falling turbulently, sobbed, "Oh my God, don't make my poor girl do such a filthy thing! I told you, I'll do everything you want, if you'll only spare her."
"Listen, Ellie," Mack Bolton jeered, "We've been pretty nice so far. A lotta guys would have ganged up on your brat and hosed her without even thinking twice about it, see? Now you tell her she's gotta make up her mind. Either she blows us, or she gets shagged. It's one or the other, and maybe it'll be both if you don't hurry up and tell her what to do, see?"
Faced with this dreadful dilemma, the lovely matron sat down on the cot and cradled Dorothy's head in her lap, bending down to kiss the trembling lips and to soothe her weeping daughter: "Shhh, baby, don't take on so. It-it's lots better if you do-do what they want this way-than-than the other. You-you won't get a baby this way. I know it's terrible, but please, for my sake, I can't bear to see you r-raped, please say you will!"
Slowly Dorothy Martin sat up, wincing and groaning as her burning bottom made contact with the scratchy blanket of the cot. Tears ran down her cheeks as she stared at the grinning convicts who had ranged around her. Through their unbuttoned shorts, their pricks stood out boldly, throbbing and angry, the lips puckering with the load of gism intended for her orifices. Her eyes went wide with horror and revulsion at the obscene sight, and she gulped nervously in a kind of anticipatory revulsion of what was destined for her.
"You're gonna get down on your knees, Dottie, and French us, see?" Mack Bolton declared^ "Ben, I'm gonna let you go first, because you thought all this up and you were the guy that picked these two sweet bitches for us. But I'm next, you hear, Pete and George?"
"Okay, Okay I can wait a little. Fact is, I get a kick just out of seeing her work on you guys," George Budrow laughingly declared.
Ben Salters accordingly seated himself on the edge of the cot, spreading his wiry hairy legs, and grinningly crooked his forefinger toward the aghast naked young brunette. "Down on your knees, Dot-tie, like you were about to say your prayers, and start blowing," he ordered.
"Oh Mother-" Dorothy sobbed helplessly as she turned piteous, tear-drenched eyes to her weeping mother.
"You have to, darling, oh please, for my sake!" Eleanor Martin groaned.
And so slowly, shuddering Dorothy Martin knelt down between Ben Salter's legs and, at his order, put her hands on his knees and then bent her head forward to his stiff, readied cock. But her lips curled and her nostrils twitched in revulsion, and she twisted her face to one side and cried out hysterically, "OH no, I just can't, Oh my God, I can't do such a filthy thing!"
"Mummy, you're gonna hafta fantail your little stubborn bitch of a daughter, I guess," Mack Bolton hoarsely guffawed as he bent down and twisted his fingers in poor Dorothy's tumbled black tresses, "You've gotta teach her to mind, Elbe girl. Take her over your lap and whack her bare ass till she says she will, you hear? If you don't, we'll whack yours instead!"
And so horrified and yet coerced into surrender, the naked matron seated herself on the cot while Pete and George hurried up eagerly to grab Dorothy's wrists and to drag the pleading, sobbing and hysterical naked girl across her mother's lap. Then as before, Pete and George squatted down and took hold of Dorothy's wrists, while Ben Salters bent towards the mother, both palms pressing down hard on the small of Dorothy Martin's naked ivory back. Her upturned dark-reddened bottom already bore the stigmata of that brutal spanking which Mack Bolton had given her. That latter worthy, with a lecherous smirk, had squatted and was reaching out to fondle one of Dorothy Martin's panting round ivory titties with his pudgy fingers.
"Go ahead and spank her good, Ellie," Ben Salters advised.
"Oh darling, I have to, don't you see? You've got to do what they want or they'll hurt you-they-they'll rape you-please, Dorothy," Eleanor Martin sobbed. But her daughter, struggling and squirming, hysterically wailed, "I just can't, oh, Mother, don't make me, it's so filthy, I'd vomit, I'd faint, I'd be sick-don't make me-"
With a sob Eleanor Martin raised her slim right hand and then brought it down with a crisp smack on her daughter's naked, inflamed bottom. A wail resounded, and Dorothy began to kick. But Ben Salters crouched down at the end of the cot and, taking hold of Dorothy's slim bare ankles in his hands directed, "Go ahead, she can't get loose now, give it to her good and hard till she says she will!"
Eleanor Martin had no recourse but to obey. She began to spank her daughter, and Dorothy began to cry out at once, for the second chastisement after the burning torment which Mack Bolton's hard hand had lodged inside her tender behind at once attacked her sensitivities. But the atrocious thought of what she would have to do despite this second and undeserved punishment for a time over-weighed the pain and she continued to scream and tried to kick and wriggled while her mother's hand rose and fell crisply, making those reddened, swollen bottomcheeks dance and jiggle, contract and gape in the most shameless and uncontrollable manner.
FIinally, she could bear no more, and at last in a dying voice, implored mercy: "Arrrr! Oh, Mother-oh Mother-no, I can't-oh yes, please, don't spank me any more, oh Mother, I'll do it, just please do stop!"
"You did a great job, Elbe. Now you can tell her what she had to do," Ben Salters stated as he released the sobbing girl's bare ankles and stood up. Then he took his place beside the naked matron, winking at her lewdly, as he spread his thighs and poor Dorothy swaying before him, her hands feverishly rubbing her throbbing posterior, was compelled once more to kneel down and to put her hands on his knees.
"Tell her, Ellie," he urged.
You-you have to take his th-thing inside your mouth and then s-suck, darling," Eleanor Martin stammered faintly. "You-you have to do it till he-till he has his climax."
"Till he shoots his wad, you mean, Ellie," Mack Bolton broke in with a bawdy laugh.
Sniffling and sobbing, Dorothy Martin forced herself to open her lips and accept the stiff meatus which topped Ben Salter's rigid prick. Then she made a squirming recoil as revulsion again seized her: "Oh no, oh don't make me-"
But Ben Salters, anticipating just such a protest, had plunged his fingers in her hair, and twisted them until she screamed in pain. "Get to work, or I'll yank your hair out by the roots!" he threatened.
And under this duress, beautiful naked young Dorothy Martin achieved the first Frenching of her life. Choking and gagging, she was none the less compelled to swallow Ben Salter's viscous jet when at last the sweet suction of her lips and the trembling warmth of them had compelled his furious ejaculation.
Then it was Mack Bolton's turn. Once again Dorothy pleaded brokenly to be spared, but the threat of another whipping, this time with a belt, soon quieted that revolt. And gagging, groaning, squirming on her knees, her face purple with shame and loathing the naked young brunette performed the act of fellatio on the sadistic fat bully till he too had his climax in her gagging mouth.
And then came George and Pete, by which time Dorothy was exhausted, bathed in sweat, her stomach retching, her eyes rolling with nausea.
She and her mother were tied up for the night on the cot, Eleanor lying under her daughter, mouth to mouth, titties, pussy to pussy, their thighs and waists tightly corded, their wrists bound behind their backs. And then the four convicts, hugely satisfied, went back to the living room to stand guard in shifts while each of them in turn enjoyed the bounty of sleep ... sleep in which lustful dreams of further exploits against the two helpless Martin women ran riot in their sadistic brains.
Rance Martin and his son had spent a virtually sleepless night. Both had heard the cries and pleas of Eleanor and Dorothy from the bedroom, and had closed their eyes and shudderingly pictured what was happening. The Chicago jeweller was haggard with thwarted helplessness and mental suffering. But his son was trembling, pale, and his groin ached from the lascivious images which had filtered into his precociously adolescent mind. Once again Kenneth Martin had seen his sister's naked body, lying on her bed, her hand between those ivory thighs, tickling the soft furry depths of her girlhood, till at last she had squirmed and wriggled and uttered a soft sobbing cry of bliss-fulfillment. And remembering his own manly prowess for the first time with Dody Brandon, he was able to imagine with vivid graphic detail what those four men had probably done to his helpless and beautiful mother.
It was about eleven in the morning, according to the stolen wristwatch, when Ben Salters decided to steal out of the cabin and take a looksee around. He came back to report that there seemed to be still no sign of highway patrol or police cars. Occasionally a heavy commercial truck, laden with cargo for some distant city, rumbled by, or an occasional automobile. But there was nothing on the highway beyond to indicate that the authorities had narrowed their search to this area.
Eleanor and Dorothy, still naked, were ushered to the bathroom, and Rance Martin and his son shuddered when they saw the victims pushed along like cattle, guarded by three men who exchanged lewd jokes and appraisals. Kenneth covertly observed that his sister's bottom was quite red and inflamed, and guessed that she had got a good spanking to make her do what they wanted. His body was aching from the cramped pose of sitting on the floor all night long, but as he shifted, he could feel the aching rigidity of his cock at the mere thought of what had happedned to Dorothy, as well as the sight of her black pussy-triangle between those white thighs, and her lovely jiggling titties and that red shifting and squirming ass of hers.
By mid-afternoon, the convicts sought new diversion with their helpless female victims who had been herded back into the bedroom, their wrists tied behind their backs. Mack Bolton was staring at Rance Martin, and then at Kenneth, whose face was flushed, and suddenly spoke up: "Say, you talk about two gals blowing each other, I'd sure like to see this young punk here give it to Dottie. Wouldn't that be something!"
"Hey, Mack, that's a great idea!" Pete Pullman chortled.
"My God, no!" Rance Martin hoarsely gasped, again uselessly struggling at his bonds. "You filthy degenerates, haven't you done enough to my family already?"
"If you keep up that line of chatter, buddy," Mack Bolton swore, "I'll smash your face in, I mean it. Unite the kid and let's take him into the bedroom and give him some lessons."
Ben Salters produced his jackknife and untied Kenny's bonds, while Pete and George helped the tow-headed lanky youth to his feet.
"Hey, look at that, the kid's already got a hard-on," Mack Bolton jeered pointing at Kenny's suspiciously stained trouser crotch. For indeed, during the night, Kenny Marting had been unable to hold back the gush of semen which had been stimulated by his hearing what had gone on in that bedroom.
Before they took Kenny into the bedrrom, they replaced the gag they had put in Rance Martin's mouth, having taken it off to let him enjoy a scanty breakfast. One of their gripes was that they didn't have any hot coffee, and breakfast itself had consisted of canned fruit and bread. But this gripe was quickly forgotten when the four of them entered the bedroom where Eleanor and Dorothy Martin lay helplessly bound on the cot.
Kenneth Martin's eyes bulged as he stared at his mother's nakedness, and then at his sister's. Mack Bolton poked him in the ribs with his elbow: "Eating stuff, ain't it, kid? Well, we're gonna let you fuck Dottie!"
"Oh no-oh God, you can't mean that," Eleanor Martin cried hysterically.
"Put that bitch in the corner so the kids can have the cot and steal the show," Ben Salters ordered.
Pete and George dragged the sobbing pleading matron off the cot and towards the corner of the room, where both held her by the wrists with one hand, and using the other to squeeze her bottom and belly and titties, as web as to tickle her furry cunt and make her squirm and groan as the tears ran down her controrted face. Meanwhile at Mack Bolton's order, Kenneth Martin tremblingly began to undress till he was down to his shorts and socks. Ben Salters meanwhile untied the cords binding Dorothy's ankles, but left her wrists tied behind her back, then rolled her over onto her back. "Now you're gonna get it from Kenny, baby," he chuckled, "You see, we're letting you keep it in the family. But we exepect a good show, you hear? If you don't shag real nice with Kenny, we're all gonna take it away from you. Maybe we'll even put two on you at once, one from behind and one in that soft black little hairy hole of yours, get me?"
Then he turned to the trembling youth: "Okay, open up those shorts and let's see what you've got. Put it into her twat, and fuck the living hell out of that sweet piece of cunt!"
"Oh no, K-Kenny-don't do it to me-please don't-" Dorothy Martin's eyes were huge and glazed with fear, as she tried to shrink back into the cot, squeezing her thighs shut, jerking frantically at her bound wrists behind her back, her titties frantically rising and falling.
"I-I'll have to, Sis," the youth panted thickly, his eyes feasting on the ivory loveliness of his naked sister. He remembered now how she had looked on her bed, playing with herself. The thought made his prick spring up with savage rut, and Mack Bolton roared with laughter at this evincement of lust: "By God, look at the size of Kenny's hard-on, would ja? He really wants a piece, he does. Okay, Kenny, take it away from the little bitch!"
"Oh no, don't, don't you dare oh Kenny, no, oh, Mother, help me, please don't let him do it-" Dorothy shrieked. She tried to fling herself off the cot, but Mack Bolton seized her by the shoulders and forced her back on, while Ben Salters crouched at one side and put his hands on her belly to press her down to her destiny. Kenneth had unbuttoned his shorts, and his prick stood out in bold virility as it had done with Dody Brandon.
On his hands and knees, crouching over the squirming naked brunette, Kenny was panting with pentup lust as he stammered, "I-I gotta, Sis, don't you understand? They'll do it to you if I don't. I've got to, don't get mad at me, I've got to!"
"Quit the chatter and fuck," Mack Bolton growled.
Kenny glanced nervously at the sadistic fat bully, then lowered himself while Ben Salters swiftly seized one of Dorothy's bare ankles and yanked it towards himself, thereby gaping her legs, and calling, "There you are, Kenny, get between her legs and give it to her good!"
His eyes shinging with lust, Dorothy's younger brother sank down on his naked sister, his prick-head gouging the thick black fleece between her struggling ivory thighs. She uttered a horrified scream, twisting her face to one side, trying to wriggle away, but the eager youth was maddened by the feel of her nakedness against his body. His prick thrust vigorously and found the mark, slipping into the grotto that came up against the hymenial seal. Dorothy arched and shrieked, "Oh don't, Oh it hurts, don't do it-"
Mack Bolton had gone around to the head of the cot, bending down, was holding Dorothy down by the shoulders while Ben Salters kept hold of her left leg and his other hand clamped against her naked side to pinion her to her doom. "Stick it all the way in, kid," he hoarsely advised.
Dorothy's face congealed with horror and pain as she felt her brother's stiff young cock bang up against her cherry. She arched and squirmed, but to no avail; as he gruntingly shoved home, she felt her membrane rent asunder, and a piercing scream attested to the loss of her maidenhood: "EEER-RRHHHOOHHH!! Oh don't, oh take it out of me, Kenny, it hurts so!"
But the youth was enraptured by the tight clinging feel of Dorothy's cuntwalls against his ripping ramrod, and with a gasping cry, seized her by the titties as he forced himself forward to the very hilt.
Her face twisted frantically from side to side, her eyes bulging and glassy, her nostrils flaring and shrinking, as she emitted cry upon wailing cry.
And then he needed no exhortation from the convicts to fuck his beautiful naked sister. Rabid with rut, remembering her as she had lain down in her own bed playing with her soft pussy, Kenneth Martin fucked his naked sister as violently and as enthusiastically as he had done Dody Brandon on that fateful Saturday afternoon back in Chicago.
In her corner, held by George and Pete, who continued to feel her up, Eleanor Martin closed her eyes and wept helplessly.
"Now you know what would be good?" Mack Bolton thickly gasped as he saw Kenny's body jerk and sag in the last convulsive spasm of hot gushing gismic come. "I'd like to see the old man shag Dot-tie here and Kenny give it to his Mummy!"
"Terrific idea," Ben Solters licked his lips and grinned. "Get our fried Rance. And you, Pete, get yourself a kitchen knife out of that drawer, we'll need it to talk sense into our helpful head of the family, ha, ha, ha!"
While George remained to hold Eleanor against him, one arm around her waist, the other hand squeezing one of her panting titties, Mack Bolton went out with Pete Pullman to help cut Rance Martin loose and then take him into this room of rampant rut.
When the handsome mature jeweller saw his wife in the corner with George Budrow, and his son sheepishly rising from the cot on which the sprawled naked form of his daughter lay, he uttered a shout of rage and tried to run toward the cot to protect her. But Pete Pullman dug the point of the knife against his back and hissed, "Easy, easy, Mr. Martin, easy! You do as we say, and nobody'll get hurt. Otherwise I'll shove this in up to the handle, savvy?"
Rance stopped as if paralyzed, his eyes wide with horror, as he slowly looked back at the grinning gray-haired convict. "All right, what do you want now, for God's sake?" he stammered, his voice breaking with exhaustion and agony of spirit.
"Take off your clothes first, Mr. Martin," Pete Pullman ordered. "Go on, you heard me! Start stalling and I'll bloody up your suit!"
Slowly Rance Martin began to undress, until he was down to shorts and socks. Then Pete prodded his bare back with the knife: "All right now, get there with your kid, Mr. Martin. You heard me. You're going to fuck Dottie!"
"No! I won't! You can kill me, but you'll never make me do a thing like that," Rance Martin cried, beside himself with despair.
"Gimme that knife, Pete," Mack Bolton sneered as he ambled over and took it from the gray-haired convict. Then he walked to the cot and directed the point of the knife right against Dorothy's left tittie: "I'm gonna count to five, Mr. Martin. If you aren't on top of her by then, she gets this shoved down as far as it goes, get me? one ... two...."
"But it's my own daughter, my God, you can't ask a father to do that-"
"Three ... you better start getting to it, Mr. Martin. After all, you won't be the first with her. Your boy's already knocked off her cherry. Might as well keep it in the family, I always say. Four ... your last chance. Because next comes you know what-" he paused dramatically, bfted up the knife as if to stab. Dorothy Martin shrieked, struggling with her bound wrists, trying to twist to one side.
"No, wait, I will, Oh my God, I will!" Rance Martin shouted hoarsely.
His daughter's eyes were pools of incredulous consternation as she saw her father unbutton his shorts and mount the cot, which creaked under his weight.
"Oh no, Rance, oh dear God," Eleanor Martin sobbed from the corner, and turned her face to one side so as not to see.
Rance Martin lay upon his daughter, his hands at her shoulders, tears running down his cheeks. But Mack Bolton wasn't funished yet. He put the point of the kitchen knife to Rance Martin's neck, and hissed, "All right, you had those kids by fucking, so you know what to do. Start rubbing your cock up against Dorothy's cunt till you get a hard-on, then stick it in and give it to her good. It'll go in, don't worry, Kenny did a fine job on her. Go ahead, start rubbing cock and cunt, Mr. Martin!"
Grinding his teeth and closing his eyes, Rance Marting slowly obeyed. He felt the prick of the knife and winced, as he whispered, "Dorothy, my God, honey, you know that I don't want to do this to you, I have to, please forgive me, child!"
Dorothy was sobbing softly, and her eyes were closed, too, as she felt her father's cock friction the tangled matted curls of her pussy.
"Watch, Ellie, see how your old man works on Dottie," George Burdow sniggered, goosing the beautiful naked matron and making her squeal and jump.
"Keep it up, Mr. Martin, you're doing fine," Mack Bolton jeered, as he pricked the knifepoint against Rance Martin's wiry neck. With a groan the jeweler quickened his rubbing movements, and suddenly his eyes widened, for he had felt himself grow hard and turgid. The soft quivering thighs of his naked daughter, her panting young titties, rasping their crinkly points against his straining chest, had made his cock harden against his very will.
"Let's get with it, Buster," Mack Bolton urged, pricking Rance Martin on the bottom with the dull, heavy kitchen knife. With a gasp, Dorothy's father arched himself and prodded against the curly thicket of pussyfur, found the mark and felt himself slip slowly between the palpitating lips of his daughter's young cunt.
"Ohh-D-Daddy-Oh my G-God, oh Mother, he-he's in me," Dorothy wailed.
"Get all the way in," Mack Bolton panted, pricking the father's bottom again with the knife.
In desperation, Rance Martin thrust home, and his cock drove down the still narrow, moist and twitching channel of his daughter's love-cavern to the very hilt. Dorothy uttered a strangled cry, twisting her face to one side.
"All right, Kenny, it's your turn to go on Ellie," Ben Salters grinningly decreed. "Pete, bring Ellie over here and make her get down on the floor and spread her sweet legs so her boy can find the way he came out of, huh?"
"Sure thing," George Budrow sniggered. Cupping both of Eleanor Martin's breasts with his hands, as he stood behind her, he rubbed his own stiff cock against the crease of her bottomcheeks, muttering, "Go on, baby, if he doesn't do a good job upon you, I will."
Sobbing, the naked matron shamefacedly moved forward, and then lay down on the floor. Ben Salters took Kenny by the elbow and with his other hand pointed down at Eleanor's sprawled and readied nudity: "Go to it, kid!"
Kenny Martin gulped and swallowed. His glittering eyes studied his mother's panting titties, the soft dimpled belly, the brown fleecy curls of her, soft cunt. He felt himself stiffen again, and sank down on his knees between hers, as he panted, "Gee, Mom, I have to, I just have to, I don't want them to hurt you none, I have to, Mom!"
"Oh my God, my poor darling, oh what's happening to us?" Eleanor Martin whimpered as she closed her eyes.
Kenneth Martin sank down on his mother's nakedness, and his stiff cock rooted against the thicket of her pussycurls. Eleanor uttered a whimpering little cry, biting her lips almost to the blood as she felt her son's prick enter the sanctum and perform its incestuous cohesion.
Mack Bolton still stood over the cot, occasionally pricking Rance Martin with the knife to urge the latter to greater enthusiasm: "Fuck her faster than that, give it to her till that goddamn cot breaks down," he gloated.
Rance Martin, his face flushed, his eyes closed, breathing stertorously, obeyed. Now clasped by the soft tightening walls of his young daughter's cunt, he knew only the delicious, forbidden rapture of this incestuous union. Her jerking body under his, the rubbing of her panting titties against his chest, inflamed him. And on the floor beyond, as he slowly turned his face and opened his eyes, he saw his son topping his wife, who had her arms around him at Ben Salters' injunction, humping away like mad.
Suddenly Dorothy uttered a sobbing groan, "Oh, Daddy-oh Daddy, I can't help it Daddy, oh what are you doing-oh oh, oh Daddy, Oh I'm going to-oh yes Daddy don't stop now, oh make me come, OOHHHH!!"
Her body leaped and jerked in the throes of her first orgasm as a woman as her panting father thrusting deeply inside her quim felt himself explode and lay moaning and drained, tasting the sweetness of his own daughter's naked palpitating flesh united with his in lascivious and forbidden climax!
It was night again, and the frugal evening meal had been quickly finished for by now the four convicts were eager to enjoy their lustful "dessert."
This time, Dorothy Martin was to take on all four of them, after which Mack Bolton proposed that they watch Rance do it to his wife and then Kenny finish the night off by fucking his own sister again-after both had done a sixty-nine on each other.
Rance and his son had had their wrists tied behind their backs, and their ankles corded, to prevent their trying to escape and also to make it easier for the four convicts to operate on the two helpless females. Mack Bolton, who had won the card deal for the first crack at Dorothy, was leading his trembling and sobbing victim by an elbow towards the bedroom when suddenly there was a sound of a distant siren. The convicts froze, and Mack Bolton gasped, "Blow out that Goddamn candle, Ben!"
Ben blew out the candle instantly, while Pete grabbed the handle of the kitchen knife and brandished it in readiness.
Silence fell on the room, as they waited. It was broken only by Dorothy Martin's soft whimpers, till Mack Bolton hissed into her ear, "Keep your trap shut, or I'll strangle you, you stupid bitch!"
The siren had stopped. And suddenly from a bullhorn, there came the booming voice, "This is the police! Salters, Bolton, Budrow, Pullman, come out of there with your hands up or we'll start shooting! We're going to count to twenty-five, and then we're going to use machine guns."
Rance Martin had been testing the bonds of his ankles, and in the darkness had discovered that they were loose. Silently he hobbled towards the front foor of the cabin, and then turning his back, grasped the knob with his bound hands and twisted it open, and yelled out, "Don't shoot, they're got my wife and my son and my daughter in here as hostages!"
It was over. The nightmare, the ordeal of terror, the coercion and the lust were over ... or were they?
The Buick turned into the motel on the Nevada line, and Rance Martin got out and went into the office and signed the register, He would take two cabins.
The Martin famly had been rescued four days earlier, and had testified the following morning before the State Highway Patrol commander and his deputies before being allowed to go on their way. They had been taken to a hostpital for a checkup, and released, after giving their California address so that the authorities could get in touch with them if need be when the escaped convicts would stand trial to have their sentences augmented for the prison break, the kidnapping and the criminal assault upon the two Martin females.
But Rance Martin's handsome face bore no sign of the suffering and the horror he had witnessed as he emerged from the office, two cabin keys in his right hand. Ad he got back behind the wheel, his daughter put her head on his shoulder and whispered, "I feel so nervous, Daddy, just like a bride," and turning to her with a smile he whispered back, "That's the way I want you to feel, baby. You aren't jealous that Kenny's going to be with your mother tonight, are you, Dorothy sweetheart?"
"Uh uh. Not so long as I've got you all to myself, Daddy darling. You don't know how much I need it. I can't wait till we're alone together, can you?"
"No I can't, baby. And maybe if Elbe isn't feeling quite up to it tonight, we might just have Kenny in and make it a threesome. Would you like that?"
The raven-haired young girl glanced back at where Kenneth Martin and his mother were cuddling in the back seat of the Buick, oblivious to all else. Then she turned back to her father and whispered, with a sly wink: "You better not count on Elbe's being not up to it. From the way they're necking in the back neat, they're probably good for all night. We'll have to let it go until tomorrow night, Daddy darling."