Chapter 13

"It's very simple," Marna said grimly. "I'm just setting myself up as a pigeon. That's all. And when those creeps jump me-"

"But what chance will you have?"

Jennifer's concern was reflected in her voice as she watched Marna wrap a maxicoat around herself.

"You're going to wear that?"

"Right. And as to the risks we're taking-"

Marna reached into her pocket and withdrew a small snub-nosed automatic.

Jennifer gasped. "A gun! Marna! You shouldn't!"

"I shouldn't, huh? Then maybe I should let those bastards haul me into the bushes and stick a prick in my mouth and shave the hair off my cunt? Not hardly. No buts, baby. Are you ready to go?"

I'm not sure- "I need you, sweetie. You're my decoy. You walk up the path after I get set on the other side in the bushes. You won't be in any danger. Not with me holding this persuader in my fist."

"Maybe they won't be there. I doubt if they do it every night"

"That's the chance well have to take. If they aren't there tonight, well go again and again until they do show up."

Logically, with the Barbers having been dissolved, there should have been no one waiting for them. But there was. Art Belden had gone into business for himself. He was the only one of the three who had gone over the edge, so to speak. The thrill, the attraction to what they had been doing was too much for him. It was like a drug that had him in its grip.

So when Jennifer crossed the mall that night, a good hour after Marna had hidden herself near the old Barbers' hiding place, Art Belden was waiting for her.

Had he recognized her as a girl the group had already raped, he might have allowed her to pass unmolested.

But he did not. He saw only a lone, attractive female, and his hands were already itching to touch her womanhood. "To grab some fresh, new cunt," as he put it in his mind.

And he was sure he could accomplish it alone with a few slight changes. Working solo, there would have to be a gag stuffed in her mouth. That would leave his hands free for other uses; the shaving, etc.

Also, he'd brought some strong cord in case he had to restrain her in that manner. Once gagged, he could spread her legs open and tie each ankle to a bush root, giving himself even greater freedom.

But taking her off the path would have to be done the old way, and alone. He'd thought of hitting her on the head and stunning her, but that was a little dangerous. He might injure her permanently. Besides, he wanted her conscious. It wouldn't be any fun, putting his cock into a girl who couldn't feel it.

Jennifer came closer. Art Belden moved swiftly. Even with the protection Marna afforded, Jennifer's heart went into her mouth as she saw the shadowy form rushing toward her. He came up slightly from behind, and even though Jennifer had been waiting for the attack, he was too fast for her. His arm went across her throat. The other hand covered her mouth, and he had her helpless even as she clawed at his restraining arm.

He pulled her, dragging her backwards toward the bushes with her heels scraping on the black tar of the pathway.

Then there was a voice. A harsh voice. A blessed voice: "Ok, buster. That'll be all. Let her go."

Jennifer saw the flash of a gun in Marna's hand; a small automatic placed against the man's temple. He released her instantly.

Coming clear, Jennifer turned to witness a dramatic meeting there in the half-gloom. Mama looked at the rapist.

"My god! You! Art Belden!"

The rapist looked at Marna.

"Jesus Christ! You!"

"Uh-huh, me," Marna answered with grim relish. "Let's take a little walk into the bushes."

"What are you going to do? Kill me?"

"If you let out a single peep, you're dead. And we'd be within our rights. We'd only be defending ourselves. Defending ourselves from a fate worse than death."

Mama's coarse laugh indicated that she thought that pretty funny. Not so with Art Belden.

"Can't we just call it quits?" he whined.

"Not hardly, buster."

"You calling the cops?"

"Shut up and get going."

Mama handed Jennifer the flashlight, and the latter led the way to the sheltered glade where the Barbers had taken her. Mama kept the gun pressed against the back of Art Belden's head.

"This looks like a good place," she said. "Now take your pants and shorts off, buster."

"What-what are you going to do?"

"Nut you, maybe. But anything's better than a bullet in the brain, isn't it?"

Terrified, seeking to placate her, Art Belden obeyed. A few moments later, he stood shivering there in the glade, clad below the waist only in his shirt tail.

"Lie down on your belly."

"Now wait a minute!"

"This gun's got a hair trigger." The threat brought quick obedience. When Art Belden was down on his belly in the grass, there was another order.

"Extend your arms horizontally." When this was done, Mama produced two lengths of stout cord and handed them to Jennifer.

"Tie these to his wrists and then to the roots of the bushes on either side. I'd do it, but I'm hoping he puts up a fight so I can shoot his head off."

Art was careful to give her no opportunity to do this, and when his arms were thus secured, Mama put the gun into her pocket and sat down on him. This brought a grunt of discomfort as Mama's whole weight came down on the small of his back, very little of it supported by her legs as she straddled him.

Then, handling him roughly, she pulled his head up sharply. He opened his mouth to protest and a thick, cotton gag was thrust deep into it Next, Marna bound the gag firm with a handkerchief. She got to her feet.

"Now we're ready for business."

Holding the light on the scene, Jennifer was struck by the look of deep satisfaction on Mama's face. Mama was a beautiful girl for all her size, but the look marred that beauty.

"What are you going to do?" Jennifer asked.

Mama did not answer Jennifer directly. She delivered the information directly to the now-helpless Art Belden.

"Ok, buster. You've been dishing it out to a lot of poor, scared girls. Now you're going to get it back."

There were some gargled, unintelligible words from Art Belden. But he was obviously asking how.

Marna told him with icy satisfaction. "You're going to get fucked, buster. You're going to get reamed and rotted for every hair you shaved off a helpless girl's pussy. When I get through with you, the score will be a lot closer to even."

With that, she threw off the maxicoat she'd worn through the whole performance. And Jennifer gasped as she saw the reason.

Marna was wearing the huge, jutting dildo she had used on Grace I A question blurted unbidden from Jennifer's lips. "My god! You're going to fuck him with that?"

Again, Marna hurled the answer at Art Belden with increased tones of vicious satisfaction. "You're going to get reamed till you can't sit down for the rest of the month or longer. And I hope you're a virgin. I hope I'll be taking your cherry with this thing. It would be the happiest moment of my life."

Jennifer could not analyze her own reaction. Surprise dominated, of course. Alarm. Horror, perhaps.

But she wanted to stay and watch. Of that, she was sure, and the anticipatory excitement frightened her, also.

Art Belden was positioned so that he had not seen the dildo. So whatever came would be at least a partial surprise.

Marna went to her knees and seized his ankles, spreading them wide. Then, moving closer so that her knees planted firmly on the ground kept him from closing his legs, she said, "Let's have some light-Jennifer aimed the flashlight, and saw Marna open the waiting cheeks. She saw Marna aim the dildo carefully until its bulging tip touched the target.

"No Vaseline?" Jennifer asked. "No-no nothing?"

"No nothing," Marna snapped. "He gets it dry. The hard way. He'll remember it longer that way."

He'll remember it until his dying day, Jennifer told herself. There was a pause while Marna savored her triumph, and Art Belden lay quivering, muffled complaints and pleases rising from behind his gag.

Then Jennifer's whole body, all her orifices, tightened in sympathy as Marna drove down with her whole weight.

The squeal of pain and protest that came from Art Belden was like a cyclone loosed behind a barrier. It could be heard only faintly, but its intensity could be sensed.

Marna had prefaced her drive with a tight, harsh declaration: "Right-up-your-ass-baby!"

And even with the whole dramatic horror of the situation, Jennifer thought Marna's expression was the most shinning part of it.

Her look was that of a beautiful, savage animal at the kill. There was an added look of pleasure, as though the artificial penis were a part of her, and she'd experienced physical delight from the cruel penetration.

Art Belden's reaction was cyclonic. His tortured legs splayed out, and his shoe tips hammered the ground. His hands strained against the play in the cord. They formed claws and dug at the sod.

Marna lay for a few moments with her entire weight on him, driving the dildo in to its greatest possible depth. She lay there, enjoying her victory.

Then she slowly withdrew, poised again, and drove in anew.

Again, the howl from under the gag as Art Belden swallowed his second dose of agony.

Again the wild bucking and flopping of an imprisoned victim. And again, Mama's look of total, savage joy.

But now, Jennifer changed. Without realizing it, she had stopped regarding the scene with horror. She was now engrossed in it in a different manner. She began to understand Mama's delight because she herself was experiencing it "Give it to him," she heard herself murmuring.

The flashlight beam shook as Jennifer held it on the spot where Mama's body was in contact with that of Art Belden. She caught her breath as Marna lifted her hips and the long, vicious dildo came into view.

A new, fierce happiness, a new excitement, sang along her nerves as the dildo plunged downward, as Mama's naked belly slapped against Art Belden's buttocks and the automatic howl of pain came from behind the gag.

Jennifer's voice again, but a new, gloating voice: "Fuck the bastard, sweetie! Rip his goddamn ass out by the roots!"

Jennifer went to her knees. They spread wide as they hit the sod, and her hand went between her legs. "Fuck him-oh, fuck him till he can't stand up!"

Desperately, her hand went under her panties, seeking her hot womanhood. It had started to respond erotically even before she touched it, and now her mad fingers rolling her clitoris into action was a new kind of heaven.

"Fuck him! Let him know how it feels! He deserves it, after what he did to us!"

Her words poured out over the grunting of Mama as she exerted every ounce of her strength; over Art Belden's moans and pleas as he took the punishment.

"I'm coming," Jennifer hissed. "Oh, god! You're making me come just watching you give it to him. I never blew it this way before!"

She momentarily forgot the weird rape scene before her, the strange, unnatural reversal of classic rape. She was too deeply preoccupied with the hot ecstasy that was flaming out of her.

"I'm commg-coming-coming! I can't stand it! It's too good! Too good!"

It was over. Weakness seized Jennifer. She fell forward, gasping for breath. Again, she saw Marna, savagely driving the artificial penis into her victim.

But with her passion having spilled out, Jennifer's sane reaction was one of pure horror!

Great heavens . . . what's happened to me? . . . From a decent person a short time ago, I've gone down step by step to this ... I've given my body over to this perversion and that one until now I can watch a man being unnaturally treated and get joy from his suffering ... I can squat here in the night and have an orgasm just from seeing a man get buggered by a mad woman ... I've learned everything from Mama, and now I'm learning to enjoy the infliction of pain ... what will it be next? ...

There wasn't going to be any next.

Loud and clear, the conviction came as Jennifer staggered to her feet, pushed through the bushes, and ran across the mall.

If anyone saw her, that would have been all right too, but it was late, and no one did. Back in her apartment, it was a matter of moments before she had some things thrown into a bag. She was out again, hurrying toward a nearby cab stand. It would take her to the bus depot where something would be going out. A bus had to go out, because she needed one.

She had to get away from this place and the things the place had done to her.

She would never go bad. She would never know the end of it Would there be revelations? Arrests? A scandal?

She would never know because she would be so far away they would never find her. She'd caught herself in time. She would clean up her life and start anew.

Mama, I love you.

From somewhere deep inside, the anguished thought surfaced.

Jennifer stifled it with a sob.

Then she cried softly until she reached the bus depot. ...