Chapter 12
Marge tried to kick Bill, but he clouted her along the side of the jaw and stunned her. Meanwhile his sweetheart Dorothy Maxton, a tall, sharp-featured but slinky twenty-four-year-old short-bobbed brunette, had hurried out of the electronic supply shop and grabbed Marge by the wrist. The two of them dragged her back into the shop and into the storage room.
"Quick, Dottie," Bill panted, "lock up the store and put out the 'Closed Till Tomorrow' sign. I've got a little settling to do with this bitch."
"Didn't she used to be your darling once, honey?" Dorothy asked.
"You're right. We shacked up for a while, but she was a little thief."
"You goddamn liar you, Bill!" Marge panted, as she struggled with her two captors. "You know damn well what you did to me! You kept me on my back humping for you for about three years to hold my crummy job, and then you pulled the real deal of all time. You wanted to have your buddies fuck me whenever they wanted to, and you know it!"
"Go on, you're probably peddling it for free now, you slut," Bill sneered. "Dorothy, you've always wanted to whip a girl, haven't you?"
An evil light glowed in the dark-blue eyes of the tall brunette. She had a somewhat angular face with high-set cheekbones, and her mouth was too small and a bit too thin to be ailed really pretty. But she had a magnificent pair of pearshaped titties, and a long sleek bottom which undulated and shifted the cheeks whenever she walked, and lithe springy long calves and thighs which had got Bill mad for her pussy. They were actually going to be married, and he had been courting her for about seven months.
Dorothy had grown up in Eureka in Northern California. Her mother had remarried a man who was as lecherous as they ever came, and even though Dorothy was only fifteen and did not have the lovely development she now boasted nor the smooth, tawny complexion (hers was then a bit pitted with acne), he nonetheless had had the hots for her. One evening when her mother was out playing bridge with a group of high-school alumni friends, Dorothy's stepfather had coaxed her into his bedroom to "show her something." What he had to show her was both his belt and a prick, and the one came down because she wouldn't take the other. She had kicked him in the shin and made her escape, and they had sent her to a juvenile home for about a year. Later, her mother had seen the error of her ways and divorced the stepfather, and then promptly remarried again, and decided to move all the way out to Trenton, New Jersey.
Dorothy was therefore left an orphan at the age of about fifteen, and the juvenile home which had been picked for her by the court was an unhappy choice. There was a head matron there named Mrs. Gardenheimer, with a moustache on her upper lip, thick bifocals, fat as a waddling duck, with a sour body odor and a mean disposition. She was forty-nine, and one of the jokes among the young teenaged inmates at that particular home, which was located near Pittsburgh, California, was that if she had it in for you, you were bound to "swing on the Garden Gate," This quaint pun meant simply that Mrs. Gardenheimer had in her private chambers an iron fence-like door which was fixed to a post centered in the middle of the floor. It would swing, and it had handcuffs on the one side up at the top and another pair of cuffs at the bottom on the other side. The culprit was fixed to it with her ankles turned out and twisted painfully and her feet pointing in opposite directions with the ankle cuffs locking her ankles on the side she faced, while her wrists went into the other set of cuffs on the other side at the top. In this pose, the least movement was torture, because of the twisting of the ankles. It was her favorite sport to have a prisoner stripped naked except perhaps for sneakers and bloomers, put on the gate by two other matrons, and then tickled with a feather for a time until Mrs. Gardenheimer grew weary of that sport. Meanwhile, the girl's squirmings and wrigglings would agonize her already tractioned and twisted muscles in ankles and calves and knees, and by the time Mrs. Gardenheimer was ready to use her favorite implement of an old leather sole on the girl's naked seat, she was just about ready to do anything-even to gamming the sourish, evil-smelling loins of the cruel matron.
Dorothy bravely refused to muff dive, and she suffered three hour-long applications of the "Garden gate." It was so-called because one of Mrs. Gardenheimer's favorite matrons, herself a venomous lesbian, would come in and take hold of the edge of the gate and swing it back and forth with the girl on it, while Mrs. Gardenheimer sat in a swivel-chair, wearing just her slip and sandals, guzzling gin which she held in a glass with her left hand while she leaned out with her leather sole to take a swipe at the wriggling, reddening naked ass swinging before her from side to side.
From this experience which lasted three years until her eighteenth birthday, Dorothy had received a traumatic conditioning against being whipped. It was shameful and painful, and when it was combined with a coercion to lesbianism, it was absolutely odious to her. When released, she was given a job as a clerk in a small department store in a little city where the institution was located. The manager had his eye on her, but not for her work, rather for her body. He made the usual proposition, and Dorothy slapped him. Instead of reporting her to the president of the firm or firing her, the unscrupulous manager decided to enjoy her pussy under coercion. He took her down to the basement one evening, presumably to help him with inventory, and there tied her up by her wrists to an overhead beam, so that her feet just touched the floor, and slowly undressed her down to her stockings and garter belt. Then, taking his belt, he whipped her so viciously that Dorothy at last agreed to be fucked and also to French him.
She was actually wanted for assault in that town, because a week later, profiting when there was a crowd around the time clock, she edged into the throng near the manager, and stabbed him in the back with a paring knife, leaving the knife in the wound while she ran out in the melee and made good her escape.
By the time she was twenty-one, she was working as a salesclerk in a Los Angeles lingerie shop, but the proprietress happened to be a butch and, after about a year, decided that Dorothy should share her bed. Dorothy thought otherwise, but the madam had a girlfriend who teamed forces, stripped Dorothy naked, tied her up to a couch and blindfolded her, and then both women took turns whipping her bottom and the insides of her thighs until she finally weepingly agreed to gamahuch and pussy rub them both.
It was no wonder therefore, that Dorothy relished using the whip herself, considering how often she had suffered it. And the prospect now of punishing this busty, mature woman in jeans and a pullover sweater and sneakers-for Dorothy had discarded the pair of jackboots which her lover "Big Ed" had given her in favor of the sneakers so that she could case the joint and prepare for a robbery-thrilled her inexpressibly.
There was a trapdoor at the back of the electrical novelty shop, which opened to a descending narrow ladder-like flight of stairs. Dorothy and Bill dragged Marge over to it, and then let her down, so that her. feet were kicking in empty space. "We'll drop you, bitch unless you climb down that ladder yourself," Bill snarled so Marge did, glowering and making threats of reprisal which she knew at the moment she was powerless to carry out.
The two of them then scrambled down the ladder and grabbed Marge before she could think of getting back on the ladder and escaping. Bill cuffed her around, while Dorothy found a length of rope and tied Marge's hand behind her back. Then they dragged her over to an empty barrel, bent her over it, and pulled down her jeans. That is, Dorothy pulled them down while Bill squatted down on and held Marge down by the shoulders. Her curses and threats were violent now, and when her panties were ripped off and her spacious and excitingly contoured naked ass came into view, Dorothy purred. "Oh lover, is she built! I just want to whip this bitch until she bleeds!"
"You've got my permission, baby. I owe her," Bill snarled."
"You crummy mother-fucker!" Marge shrieked beside herself with humiliation and rage. "I ought to go to the cops and tell them what I know about you and what you made me do to keep my lousy job! Owwww!" At the end of her tirade, she uttered a shrieking cry of pain, because Dorothy had taken the rubber tube of an enema bag and, doubling, lashed Marge solidly across the ripest part of her jutting naked ass. Frenziedly the ex-waitress kicked one leg and then both into the air and threatened to topple off the barrel. They decided then to take a rope and tie it around her waist so that she couldn't evade her punishment. And after this was done, Marge was really helpless. She could kick all she liked, but with her wrists bound behind her back, and the rope tightly compressing her waist against the round wooden cask, she had no other recourse but to lie there and take her medicine.
Dorothy applied about forty strokes of the doubled rubber tube, till Marge's shrieks had turned to raucous, wordless groans and horse sobbing. Her bottom was blazing, and many of the earlier marks were turning purple.
Dorothy Maxton panted, "I've got another idea, Bill. Want to see me do it?" She held up the enema bag. Sweating, her eyes glistening, she stirred Bill enormously and he felt his prick grow hard.
"A great idea. Clean the dirty bitch out. And then we'll fig her, and I'll spank her myself," he promised.
Dorothy didn't know the meaning of the word "fig", but Marge did and she yelled like one possessed as she tried to kick herself loose. About two months, ago, just before she had joined forces with "Big Ed," she had seen another rival gang further on down the highway and nearer Encino capture a cute freckle faced coppery-red-haired girl of about seventeen, who had been a gang member and who had apparently broken the law by going with a boyfriend from a rival gang. They had tied her over a crate and whipped hell out of her, Marge remembered, because she had been invited to watch and also invited to join-though at the time she wasn't ready for such an alliance. It had taken "Big Ed" and his brutal brand of fucking and mastery over a helpless female to rouse her to the point she really wanted to have her jollies in. But she had watched anyway, and learned a good deal.
After they had whipped the poor girl till she was bawling for mercy, one of the girls brought along an enema bag just like the one Dorothy was now using, filled with hot water and soapsuds. All of the contents were infiltrated into the girl's anus, while two boys held her bottom-cheeks open so she could receive the offering.
And the girl who had given her the enema, took a glycerin suppository which was coated with burning menthol, and stuck it right into her asshole to plug her up. This was what was called "figging." Then all of them gathered round the unfortunate victim and began to spank her lustily with a hairbrush, the flat of their hands, a belt or switch or ruler or a piece of wood picked up from the ground. And all the time her bowels were in an uproar and she wanted desperately to evacuate them, but the suppository had been put in in such a way that she couldn't. She almost died of agony, and she was a mass of sweat.
So now Marge remembered with a worried and sinking sensation that maybe this vindictive hussy who had helped her former blackmailing lover Bill capture her had in mind a similar procedure . . . which was exactly what Dorothy was thinking.
The tall brunette looked around the basement, and finally her eyes gleamingly rested on a can of thick motor oil. "I've just got the right thing for this bitch, because she needs a change of oil, anyway," she quipped. "Open up that ass of hers and get it ready for me, lover!"
Bill chuckled, glimpsing the can, and at once gleaming the fiendish idea of his fianc‚. "I'm way ahead of you, Dottie baby. Well now, Marge honey, it's like old times, isn't it? I always did have a yen for a nice piece of your ass, and right now it looks as if I'm going to get it, doesn't it?"
"You go rot in hell, you cocksucking lousy cowardly bastard," Marge swore through choking sobs and tears, for her bottom blazed like fury and being bent over this hard-surfaced barrel was hardly any fun, either, her pussy rasping against the coarse wood and the rope cutting into her waist cruelly.
"Temper, temper, baby," he chided. Stepping behind her and to the left, he raised his right hand and gave her a tremendous spank on the right ass-cheek, followed by one on the left, which took the breath out of her and then made her lift her face and utter wildly hoarse shouts of agony.
Then, chuckling at his own ingenuous addition to the young woman's penance, he dug his fingers into her swollen ass-cheeks and yawned them mercilessly apart as Dorothy now approached and inserted the nozzle between the puckering lips of Marge's plump asshole. With all her might, the young woman tried to expel the invading object, and at the same time to clench shut her behind and to diminish it, but all these maneuvers were impossible. Then with a wailing scream, she announced the slow trickling of the thick, vicious, dark motor oil into her asshole. Grinding her teeth, her eyes blazing with tears, she moaned and squirmed, digging her fingernails into her sweating palms almost to the blood.
Every drop in the can was inserted where Dorothy wanted it. Then, having found an old wooden cork which apparently had once belonged to a wine bottle long ago imbibed and disposed of, she nodded to her lover to keep holding Marge's bum hole open, and inserted the cock as far as it would go.
Marge let out a roar of pain, and began to try to kick. The two conspirators stepped away and enjoyed visually the sight of Marge's striped and darkening ass-cheeks, with the obscene cork just stocking out of the apex between the globes.
Tm so hot, Bill, I need it," Dorothy panted as she began to strip naked down to garter belt and hose. Bill didn't wait. All he had to do was zip down his fly and he was rampant and raring to go.
Dorothy went down on her knees and kissed his cock in almost reverence, caressing the backs of his legs with her slim hands. Then she rose, putting one hand to his cock and the other to her quim which she opened, steered him into her and then flung her arms around his neck, arching up on tiptoe and began to thrust herself back and forth, doing all the work of fucking.
He stood there, amused by her antics, and also violently aroused. With hands on her hips, he guided her, and from the squeezes and pressures, Dorothy could tell when he was going to cram forward and when he was going to pull back.
Both of them were excited by the sobs and groans of poor Marge tied over the barrel and fighting the horrid inroads of the lubricant they had flooded into her rectal sheath.
"Now then, you bitch, you can give me some answers," Bill said hoarsely as, after his violent come into Dorothy's twat, the two lovers had separated and he was smoking a cigarette. "What were you doing around here?"
"You go straight to hell-ooohhh-it's griping me, for God's sake, lemme go to the can!"
Marge suddenly wailed, turning her congested face towards him, tears running down her cheeks. Her teeth were chattering from the frenzied effort and commotion and tumult going on in her bowels.
"Tough titty, kid. Now if you'd been nicer to me back in Los Angeles, we might have got along fine. As it is, I just love to watch you wriggle that big ass, Marge, and get it where the getting's good. And you haven't answered my question. Dorothy, baby, see that fly swatter over there on that old crate? It's dusty, but I think we can put it to good use and dust off Marge's tail."
Dorothy giggled as she hurried to get the flyswatter and bring it to her lover. He put his left hand on the chin bone of Marge's back, lifted the flyswatter and began to spank her very noisily and quickly.
Her bottom nodded and jerked, and her screams became desperate and frenzied, and the words incoherent in her babbling tumult of sonic proof of her suffering.
And so, while Marge groaned and squirmed, grinding her teeth and closing her eyes and trying to keep the pain from exploding inside of her, Dorothy and Marge's former sadistic blackmailing lover fucked there, standing in the basement of the shop which Marge was casing for the purpose of having it robbed by the "Leather Lashers."