Chapter 4
"Well, well," one mean biker said, "good afternoon, ladies."
"Hi," Lisa managed, practically in shock from the sudden turn of events. She had never been surrounded by a motorcycle gang before.
The big, hairy monster stepped on his brakes and reared his machine up as though he were braking a high-stepping horse. His front wheel kicked up and hit back down on the ground with a thud. He stopped his motor and engaged the kick stand with one jut of his big, black engineer boot.
"Name's Fox," the burly-chested man said.
Both girls had no trouble telling he was burly-chested. They could see every one of his chest hairs through the skin-tight T-shirt. The man was covered with tattoos from head to foot. And he was tall. The two of them standing end to end wouldn't come up to his chin.
"Name's Randy," the petrified girl said, extending her little hand for him to feel up.
It made her quiver to her pussy.
"I'm Lisa," the smaller girl added, taking in the whole panorama of leather-clothed and dirt-encrusted bikers still riding their rigs round in little circles all over the ravine.
"Guess you two kids are strangers around here," the big man said, leaning one gigantic black shining boot on the running board of his bike.
"Yeah," Randy said, sounding a little limp. The sight of the huge man standing there in front of her was awesome. He looked like a genie just sprung from a bottle, and he was about the same size from her vantage point.
"How did you know?" Lisa piped up, her pipsqueak voice failing to modulate even though she wanted to sound a little older than she was.
"Most people who live around here don't come down to the ravine," a blond weight lifter type shouted over to them as he, too, braked his bike to a halt.
"They don't?" Randy said, wishing she could think of something witty or chatty to say just now.
"Naw," another short redhead added, bringing his huge cycle to a stop in front of a giant oak tree. "They stay away."
"Guess you didn't notice the bike tracks," the beefy leader type said, taking one last big inhale on his short, yellowish cigarette and passing it to someone else.
If they were really as tough as they think they are, Lisa thought, eyeing the scene with a wary look, they wouldn't all be smoking off that same old cigarette.
"Bike tracks?" Randy said, as innocent as a new born lamb.
She looked around her as she did so to see a jillion concentric rings of tire tracks all over the ravine. Funny she hadn't noticed them before.
"Are those bike tracks?" Lisa tried, hoping the big bruisers on all sides of her would buy it. Even a little of it.
Funny how she hadn't seen them either. Had they really been there all this time?
"Where you girls from?" one of the crowd roared down, "And how old are you?"
Whoever he was, he couldn't help noticing that these two little girls were cute city. They both had hot little shapes on them, and seemed to have a spirit to match.
The others in the pack couldn't help noticing it, too. The kids were cute, but maybe they were jail bait. That would make things rough. It meant they would have to proceed more carefully.
"Hey, Fox," the blonde guy said, pulling his visor up off his cap and displaying a pair of white-rimmed eyes in the center of a road-tanned face, making him look like a reverse raccoon.
"Yeah?" Fox shot back up, still keeping his eyes peeled on the sweetmeats in front of him. They were a couple of knock-outs okay, but what the hell were they doing here alone?
The blonde guy came tear assing down the ravine to where the three of them were already standing and went up to his leader to whisper something in his ear.
Lisa and Randy stood by uneasily. What the hell were the two of them saying, what was going on? And why were they whispering in front of them? They had always been told that sort of thing was not polite. Not polite at all.
"Naw," Fox to said to the blonde guy. "I doubt that very much."
The blonde, named Loner, whispered something else into his ear and then, walked off a few steps.
Fox regarded the girls strangely. "You two chicks wouldn't be running with some other gang, would you now? We don't like to make trouble with other gang's chicks. It could mean a rumble."
Christ, these chicks are cute, Fox thought to himself as he waited for their answer. Maybe he'd been on the road awhile, but they sure looked good to him. That little black-haired one was a sexpot. With a hot shit body besides.
Loner arched one blonde eyebrow waiting for their answer. A lot depended on it. Like where he would put his stiffening pecker in the next few minutes. Into the soft poplar wood squirrel hole of the nearest tree, or into one of their juicy little cunts.
"We don't belong to nobody," Randy said, feeling her eyes grow wide as saucers with each passing moment.
She wasn't sure what was happening, but something about the way the six guys on the hill were picking up tire chains and whirling them around made her uneasy.
"Please don't fight over us," Lisa said, unable to bear the idea that gangs should go to war over her and her sister. Especially since they didn't belong to any gang, or to any bikers.
"Naw," Fox said, rubbing the stubble of his beard and scratching his huge, muscle-inflated chest under his T-shirt, "we're not fighters, basically."
"That's good," Randy said, feeling a little tinge of relief.
"We're lovers," he said, a wide, shit-eating grin crossing his rugged face.
Lisa almost giggled out loud. It seemed like such a corny thing to say. This big, hulking man standing up there grinning like a kid and saying he was a lover. He didn't exactly look like the type to her. She couldn't see how anyone could stand to get close enough to him to find out. He didn't smell too good and there were sweat rings cirling his clothing everywhere.
Randy couldn't take her eyes off the rest of the gang members long enough to look up at their leader. Some of the guys were taking knives out of their boots. Others were sharpening the knives they had already taken out of their boots. One guy was actually picking his teeth with a knife.
"Nice day," she said, trying not to think about what it all might mean.
"Yeah," the big oaf said, staring back at the girl without changing his expression.
He still bore a sinister grin across his dirty oil-stained face.
"We're waiting for our parents," Lisa popped up brightly. It seemed like a good time to bring it up.
"You are?" the big one said, raising his eyes open a little, "where are they now?"
"Playing bridge," Lisa said, wondering if there were any truth to that at all, but grabbing it as a possibility in this sticky predicament.
"Ha!" the blonde said, tearing off a pair of thick black leather riding gloves. "You chicks wanna come for a spin with old Loner?"
Lisa couldn't resist the impulse to run over and jump on his bike. It was so big and fast and he was so handsome, even if he was a little dirty. Nothing a good bath wouldn't fix.
But she felt Randy's hand at her throat. She stopped in her tracks and stared calf-eyed up at her sister.
"No good?" she said, timidly as a mouse.
"We have to go," Randy said, backing off a little.
She knew it was pointless to back off, there was a whole bunch of them behind her, but there was something about the way they stood there, lurking, menacing that she didn't like.
Whatever it was they had on their mind, Lisa was not yet frightened of. She kind of liked them. Especially blondie over there. The one who had just invited her on his bike.
Johnny Evans didn't even have a motorcycle. Just a blue four-shift bicycle that didn't even have a back seat. When they went anywhere together, she had to ride the handlebars. This guy was different. He was smooth. And she knew anybody with a name like Loner could probably use some company.
"Let's go, Sis," she said, pulling her sister by the wrist and whispering up to her.
"Good idea," the blonde girl said, trying to find a way out of the circle the gang had thrown up around them.
"I'd really like to ride on that thing, if only to the supermarket and back, we wouldn't have to let the folks see.. . "
"Bird Turd!" Randy said, making a terrible face at her sister, "I don't mean for a ride. I mean, let's get out of here."
Apparently she had whispered too loud. "I don't think you can really go anywhere just now," the leader said, crossing his gigantic Popeye arms across his chest and heaving slowly.
That's probably when Lisa noticed the bulge directly below his huge silver belt buckle. It was hard not to notice. It was awesome. Bigger than Johnny Evans's bulge. Bigger than Barry
Cormier's or Terry Johnson's. Bigger than the bulge her pillow made when it lay under her bedspread tucked in next to the headboard.
In her rush of interest, she tried to elbow her sister into catching it, too. But Randy's mind was elsewhere.
"We gotta get out of here," she said, in as soft a voice as she could muster, considering she was near panic.
"You heard him," Lisa said, a little resentful that her sister wanted to tear her away from the events that were happening just now. Specifically, the event in Fox's crotch. "There's no way to get out of here just now."
"Well, we gotta think of something," she replied in a muffled voice.
"I think you better leave this one to me," the raven-haired smarter of the two shot back.
"Oh, joy!" her sister said, feeling a wave of defeat wash over her.
She felt like she might as well give into whatever was going to happen. And from the way that blonde cutie pie was looking at her, it probably had something to do with them getting fucked.
"We'd love to," the little girl said, grinning sweetly to Loner. "We'd love to go for a ride on your bike."
"Uh huh," Fox said, rolling his huge eyes and spitting onto the ground, "One of you isn't going.'
"No?" Randy said, a trifle too quickly.
"No," he said, shaking his head slowly, "one of you is going with me."
Hope Hills stood up to get the coffee pot off the stove. It had been perking long enough to deliver hot, steaming streams of black liquid into the four cups that she had set out on the table.
This part was always a little difficult for her, chatting in the kitchen before the four of them pranced off to the bedroom four a four-way orgy of discipline and non-stop sex.
But, customs being what they were, it didn't hurt to offer the Dexters a cup of coffee before getting on with it.
After all, they had injected some new blood into the Hills's sex life. After that first afternoon they had watched Boyd and Paula fucking, they had gotten so aroused and interested in their pre-game warm-up that they had asked them all about it and picked up quite a few pointers.
"We love it," Paula insisted, to a shocked Doug whose cock hadn't been so stiff in six months, maybe longer. He had just tucked the thing back into his pants and the woman had regaled him with stories of how she and her husband got it on.
"Yeah," her obliging husband had said that afternoon, "I know some folks think it's a little odd, but it suits us. Besides, my wife is such a bad girl, she deserves a little hard hand once in a while."
The four of them had decided to meet together again soon and try it. It was agreed that the Dexters would show Hope and Doug how to administer discipline and react to it properly.
The week at the resort had passed all too quickly. Hope had allowed her husband to spank her bottom four times that week, once with the Dexter's paddle, then three times with his very own hand. They progressed to his leather belt after they got home.
As the four of them sat there, getting a little hotter by the minute. Hope was the hottest. He seemed so incredibly desirable to her these days. Not the least reason for that was because he had subdued her so beautifully.
And now, the four of them were meeting at the Hills house to try a little bondage out on each other. She was really looking forward to it.
Doug tugged at his wife's hand under the dining room table. He had fallen in love with her all over again these past few months. Ever since that day at the lake resort. They had renewed their relationship, and he felt for sure it had developed in a positive direction.
Other women just didn't interest him anymore. Even to look at on the street. He could only think how much he wanted to get home and get it on with his wife whenever he saw a particularly beautiful one pass by.
And so it was, with a clear majority, that the four of them retired to the bedroom. Doug had outfitted the room beautifully. And for a few minutes they all just stood there chatting and admired it.
"The best nylon cord money can buy," the proud consumer said, holding up a stout length of it for his visitors to see.
Boyd felt his cock perk up a little at the prospect of tying the beauteous redhead Hope down to the bed. He would be the one to do it, since Doug was yet unskilled in these matters. But, he knew it wouldn't take him long to figure it out.
"That looks like a good strong lounge chair," he said pointing to the chaise in the comer of the guestroom.
He decided that might be the best place for his wife to be tied, since he could keep an eye on events there. His schlong braced itself against his jockey shorts seam, just dreaming of the delicious prospects in store for them.
"Did you lock the front door, Hope honey?" Doug said, stepping out of his jeans. "Cause if you did, I see no reason not to get started. How about you guys?"
"Thought you'd never ask," Paula said, sitting on the bed and sticking her hard tits out. Way out.
Doug had bought a pair of French cut briefs for the occasion. They made his man bulge look even bigger than it was, which was sizable.
The women eyed the plump ass under his tight nylon briefs with envy. Each wanted a little shot at it, if only for a few minutes.
Then, Boyd dropped his pants and savored the attention as he presented his mammoth bulge to the audience. Hope eyed it lustily. The man's pecker was a hot handful all right. She hoped she might get a crack at it before their time together was over.
Hope sat on the chaise lounge a minute and waited for Paula to begin. She was still new to this stuff, and she relied on the more experienced of them to take the lead.
She didn't have long to wait.
Paula stood up and slowly unbuttoned the front of her blouse. Her huge knockers stood ready to pop out of her push-up bra as soon as she let the blouse slip off her shoulders.
Then, a curious thing happened. Curious to Hope and Doug, but they managed to catch on soon enough.
Paula stuck her ample tits, barely hidden under the blue lace of her half-bra into their faces as she unbuttoned her skirt. She let it slide off down her hips, down her rounded, exotic thighs and off onto the floor.
Hope was the first to notice that something was wrong, being a woman probably accounted for it.
The child bride was wearing a rather hot pair of nylon panties. But there was a big tear in the rear end. An unsightly rip that ran across her buttocks.
"Oh, dear," Hope said, sympathetically.
But Boyd's response, when he saw it, was not nearly so sympathetic.
"You pig!" he said, pulling her ass around so he could inspect the damage.
"I'm sorry, Honey," his wife replied sweetly, "I didn't know that was there."
"Fucking little liar," her husband snapped, "you did, too. You wore these panties on purpose just to embarrass me! You want the Hills to think I don't give you enough money to buy nice under things. Don't you think I know what you're doing?"
Hope felt her heart beat faster as the two of them continued their argument. She hated the idea that this couple should be arguing in her house, just as the four of them were about to have such a good time.
"I wouldn't do that," Paula said, sounding apologetic and adorable. She sat on the bed and stared up at her husband with wide, innocent eyes.
"You certainly would," the angry man huffed back at her. "You would do anything to make me look bad to other people. You would and you have."
"Now look who's lying, Boyd," the woman said back, standing up and glaring at him hard. "I don't do that sort of thing. If there's anyone who does, it's you. You're always making me look bad in public. You talk about my never having finished high school at the drop of a hat. How do you think that makes me feel?"
Doug was starting to shift in his seat next to his wife on the lounge. The argument had come at a bad time. He hoped it wouldn't ruin the afternoon.
"Look who's making who feel bad?" the man scowled at his wife and grabbed at her panties with both hands. "This is a fucking sin. It's a fucking outrage to have you go around like this. Didn't your fucking mother ever tell you to check your underwear once in a while. Guess you're used to wearing the same pair so many days in a row you forget."
Paula looked at him with contempt. She stood there in front of the other three, her eyes burning. Then she backed away an inch or so, and spat at him. She spat directly into his face.
"That does it!" the man shouted, totally out of control, or so it would seem to anyone watching.
He grabbed his stunned wife by the wrists and flung her down on the chaise lounge, within inches of where the Hills couple sat. Then he grabbed the length of nylon cord and made some deft knots in one end. Paula had already begun to protest. She shouted and screamed and spat at him again, but he held her fast by sitting on top of her and thrusting his knee into her back.
He tipped one end of the chaise up and lassoed the leg of it with a neat little circle of nylon cord. Then, he pulled it taut. He did the same thing with the other four legs, the whole time shoving his rude thick knee into his wife's backside.
He had her bound up like a side of beef before Hope could catch her breath. But as soon as she did, she jumped up to protest.
"Boyd," she said, in her kindly low voice, "don't you think you're being a little harsh. I mean, she only meant to.. . '"
"You lousy cunt," Boyd said, railing like a mad man, "I might know you'd jump in on her side. Women really do stick together against their men folk, don't they? Boy, I didn't believe it, but seeing it with my own eyes, I guess it's true."
Doug stood there and scratched his head. He was beginning to understand.
"Here, Boyd," he said, tossing another length of nylon rope to him, "you tie up the little bitch. If she's going to behave like an animal, she should have a strong man treat her like one."
Hope, finally, began to catch on, too.
"No, no, no!" she shouted, tossing her ample tits around and shaking her red-haired mane out. "You can't do this to me, I won't let you."
"I don't think you have any choice, Lady," her husband said, sounding like a real cut throat when he did. "You're in no position to protest, either."
"Tie the bitch to the bed," Boyd said, pulling his belt out of his pants loops. "And bring out some of those metal clothes pins. We'll see if we can't make these snot-nosed dames behave for once in their wretched little lives."
Doug picked up the length of cord and made a few crude knots in the end. He had difficulties. She was fighting him tooth and nail.
"Leave me alone, you brute!" she shouted, kicking at him. "Stop or I'll punch you in the eye."
"Such a little wildcat," Boyd said, jumping in to help truss the fair beauty down onto the bed.
He tied the knots securely to the posts of the bed, spreading her long legs out hard as he did so. She faced up when they were done, with her hands and legs spread out hard, creating a beautiful medieval torture effect.
Her silky caftan still clung to her voluptuous body. So much the better, Boyd thought. Well have fun tearing it off.
"Hope," he said down to her as he indicated for Doug to unloosen his own belt from his belt hoops, "you're a hopeless mouthy bitch. I think we're going to have to teach you a lesson. One you won't forget soon."
With that he leaned down and took a hold at the neckline of her caftan. He ripped it down, slowly slowly, past her huge, heaving breasts, her flat pulsating stomach, her gorgeous wide thighs and her long, sculpted legs.
She was totally naked under that thing and the effect was stunning. The redhead was proven by the fact that her bush was a lustrous tawny copper color.
Her tits were real, too. Gigantic mounds of gently sloping flesh with great thick nipples on the ends. Just the kind to take to metal clothes pins, Boyd thought eagerly.
Now, if only he could decide which woman should go first. Which one would be the first to feel the sting of his belt leather? The hot little gypsy-haired girl with upraised buttocks sitting atop a sweet, dark honey-pot or the spread eagle redhead with the tingling, moist cunt lips and the high-proud breasts?
The decision pulled at his crotch basket and he felt his cock ready itself whichever way he chose.