Chapter 14
Old snoopy Mrs. Dougall had been a little worried when evening fell and she hadn't seen Jane come back home. And then she remembered that she had once seen a few leather-jacketed boys circling the neighborhood on motor bikes. With her usual instinct for alarm, she went to the telephone and called the police. A minute later she was talking to a sergeant about what she had seen and the fact that the next-door neighbor's daughter Jane Palmer had gone out and hadn't come back home yet. The sergeant promised he would look, and called all units, "Probably some juvenile delinquents, but the old lady's worried. Some kid hasn't come home, and she usually snoops to see what's going on over there, that's my guess. But you better check it out. Anyhow, we've had a few reports from storeowners about vandalism and thefts from these damn would be Hell's Angels. Take a look down the highway on all sides."
Thus unwittingly old Mrs. Dougall put into effect the forces of law and order which were to save Marva and her friend Jane from the savage bestiality of this unleashed gang of teenagers who had tasted the power of commander-ring pussy and of abusing even mature women just as they would a seventeen-year-old girl.
After Thelma and her daughter Sarah had been "gang-fucked," they were fed sandwiches and pop, and then they were tied on the old couch, kneeling across the back, their hands corded together in a communal cord around Thelma's right wrist passing around Sarah's left. Their knees were tied together with another set of cords, and Elsie and Ruth amused themselves yanking at the victims' hair, squatting down behind the couch to force the unfortunate naked captives to bend well over and stick out their already swollen bottoms. But this time it wouldn't be a spanking. This time it was going to be a buggering.
Thelma was first to endure this martyrdom. "Big Ed" honored her by opening up her ass-cheeks and thrusting himself home with almost a single thrust, dry, and then proceeded to bottom fuck her violently. Her shrieks and prayers rang out, she swore that he was tearing her to pieces, and that she was bleeding to death, and Sarah, whimpering and moaning, half-crazed with terror, suddenly felt Davy's sinewy fingers open her bottom-cheeks and thrust his prickhead menacingly against the shrinking petals of her asshole.
And so both naked helpless beauties lost their other maiden heads to the "Leather Lashers."
Two squad cars of Highway Patrol, the sirens not yet turned on, began to move down Highway 101. Meanwhile, Marge half-fainting from her whipping and violation, had been allowed to go to a little basement toilet by Dorothy, who had led her by the ear leaving her wrists still bound behind her back.
There was a ringing of the bell in the shop upstairs, and the quick ears of Bill heard it. "Better get your clothes back on, baby and go see what's what," he hissed.
Dorothy nodded, kissed her lover, and then hurried back up the stairs and out into the shop. One of the police squads had stopped in front of the shop and a uniformed officer was trying to gain entrance.
Dorothy opened the door quickly, a little flushed and just a little too glib with her answers to satisfy the officer. No, she hadn't seen anyone around all day. No, there wasn't anyone else in the shop with her.
But at that moment, Marge let out a piercing shriek. Bill had gone into the bathroom, pulled her up by the earlobe, and, pinching one of her titties with his other thumb and forefinger, had suddenly thrust his prick deep into her cunt, violently roused by the torture of her lovely body.
"What the devil's that, Miss?" the Highway Patrol officer demanded. Dorothy got panicky, turned to run, tried to yell out to her lover Bill, "It's the cops!"
Another officer, just entering the shop, seized her. And the first officer went into the dark shop with his flashlight, found the trapdoor, and then the ladder and descended. What he saw made him draw his pistol and level it at Bill, who was humping Marge as if this was the first piece of cunt he had ever had in all his life.
Bill raised his hands and slowly turned, sheepish, his prick nigh on to bursting. "Oh thank God," Marge moaned, "He and his girlfriend were beating me up and raping me and everything, Officer!"
"Yeah, who are you?"
"Marge-Marge Drummond," the ex-waitress panted.
"Where do you come from, sister?"
"Around," She gasped. "Aren't you going to arrest that man?"
"In all due time, sister. I want to have a little talk with you in the car. Come along. Hey, you, Cecil, cut her loose and let her get some clothes back on, then put your hands back in the air fast. I haven't any use for sex maniacs like you, I don't mind telling you. Just give me an excuse to pull the trigger."
Bill then tried to bribe the officer, which was his second mistake. He was handcuffed, and led out, while poor Marge slowly and falteringly dressed. She was led out to the other squad car, and there two officers questioned her. Marge broke down and told them all about the "Leather Lashers," even revealing the hiding place of the gang.
And then the two cars started out in pursuit of the delinquents, their sirens going full blast.
"Big Ed" was in the process of buggering poor Sarah for the second time when the sound of sirens was heard and the rest of the gang began to cry out in alarm. "Big Ed" pulled himself out of Sarah's shuddering asshole, stuffed his prick back into his corduroy trousers fly, zipped it up, and then scrambled back to the bedroom where he had put his leather jacket with a zip gun in the pocket. But by then the Highway Patrol officers had seen the farmhouse and descended upon it. The door was broken open, and four officers with drawn guns entered.
They gulped and blushed, they gasped. The sight of Thelma and her daughter Sarah kneeling stark naked over the back of the old couch being held down by the two "mamas," with their bottoms violently swollen and streaked from the severe flogging they had endured, was something new even in the lexicon of the Highway Patrol.
In a few moments, the gang members were rounded up, handcuffed, and led out to the squads. The two "mamas" Elsie and Ruth were ordered to dress, and then they too were taken along. Thelma and her daughter Sarah were taken to the nearest hospital, as were Marva and Jane.
The reign of the "Leather Lashers" was at an end, and it had been a brief but violent and sadistic life indeed.. . . . .
It was the afternoon of the next day, and Marva was lying across her Aunt Edna's lap in the old familiar position, her panties down, her Aunt's left arm ticking in her waist, a hairbrush raised in judgment over the atrociously streaked and tender posterior of her niece.
"Oh don't, Aunt Edna, I couldn't help it, they kidnapped me-, " Marva wailed. "Can't you see how hard they whipped me, please, Aunt Edna, not the hairbrush, oh please, you can give me double next week, but please let my bottom heal!" Marva piteously implored.
"I will not, young lady. The very idea. When I had that talk with Mrs. Dougal, and I found out it was the same nasty tough that Mrs. Kedzie told me about on the phone that you were talking to, I feared you had a lot of punishment coming. I'm relieved to find that there won't be any complications-the doctor called me. You behaved like a nasty little slut, young lady, and we're going to send you away to a private school this fall. And your Uncle's going to give you a spanking when I get finished. Now lie still there and get ready-here it comes!"
And so indeed it did. Poor Marva kicked up her long legs, and soon she was wailing and squealing for mercy. She had forgotten her momentous adventure which had made a woman of her at her tender age. At the moment she didn't care if she ever felt another prick between her slim thighs or not, not with that terrible hairbrush coming down with its relentless whack-whack-whack. And her flesh burning and throbbing so that she knew she was going to scream for mercy before very much longer
But even Jane Palmer felt the parental wrath. Mrs. Dougal had the story all around the suburb, and so when the Palmers got back, almost an hour after poor Marva had endured her punishment, Jane was over her father's lap getting her bottom tanned furiously with a doubled belt, while her mother looked on and scolded her, and promised her a second dose when her father got through.
The only consolation Jane Palmer had was that she was sure she was going to sneak off somewhere with her boyfriend Buddy and have him relieve the itch in her tender pussy. Because now she was a woman, she had been fucked by the "Leather Lashers," and nobody could take that away from her. Now she was grown up, and she would choose a boy of her own liking, and somehow, in spite of all the pain and the threat of the hairbrush that she was now enduring with wailing cries and frantically kicking legs-would be more than compensated for by the hot passions of a teenaged stud.