by Paul Blades
All the glasses were raised and emptied. Jack relished the burning sensation as it went down his throat and the momentary headiness it gave him.
“One more,” Rocker insisted. The bottle made another round. This time, it was Rocker who made the toast. “To those who, for one reason or another, can’t be with us here today.”
There was a general murmur of approval at this. Jack thought of all his boys still locked up in the joint doing 20 or 30 years or life sentences. He thought of mates who had been killed doing this or that, knifed in a bar fight, gunned down by rivals, killed on their bikes, some who had caught the skank habit and had o.d.’d. He raised his glass in communion with his fellows and downed the ounce and a half of rye in a single swallow.
The glasses all went down. There was a moment’s pause. And then Big Betty spoke up.
“This is all well and good, but what about me? I need to pick up some sweet, new pussy for a special customer. I was going to buy Jack’s little honey, but I guess that’s out of the question now.”
Ike looked at her. Then his eyes moved over to Maureen standing in the corner quiet and unhappy. “What about her?” he asked.
Big Betty looked over at the girl. “Well, she’s got a nice ass. Nice and plump like it was made for a whip. What’s the rest of her like?”
“Come over here, slut,” Ike called out. Maureen shivered in place, but did not move. Ike turned to Stitch. “What’s her name?”
“Maureen,” Stitch told him.
“Hey, Maureen, get your ass over here!” Ike barked.
Maureen had been listening intently to the conversation. She had been listening earlier that day at lunch when Big Betty had described the fate of the girl she was going to acquire. The last thing she wanted to do was have the crass, cruel woman assessing her virtues. “Please, no! Please, no!” she thought desperately. She tried to pretend that she was locked in place, that if she didn’t move they would forget about her, that she could disappear into the walls that surrounded her on two sides.
“What the fuck?” Ike cursed. “What’s the matter with her? Hey cunt!” he yelled. “Get the fuck over here right now or I’ll beat your ass until you bleed!”
At this, hands locked behind her back, Maureen slowly turned. She was crying and her lips were quivering. She edged her way over slowly. She passed the table on the other side from where Big Betty was sitting. When she got within Ike’s range, he took hold of the ring in her collar and pulled her towards him. Then he gave her face a solid crack with his open hand. Maureen screamed and her head jerked back. When she turned it back she was sobbing.
“Hey, Ike,” Big Betty said. “She’s no use to me all marked up.”
“Don’t worry, she’ll heal real good,” Ike replied. “She’s just gotta learn to do what she’s told.”
“Oh, she’ll learn that all right,” Big Betty replied, laughing. “Hey, Rocker,” she said, “pour me another shot, will ya?”
Rocker smiled and fulfilled her wish, and then filled everyone else’s glass too. Jack was glad to have it. He shot his back with the rest.
Ike took hold of one of Maureen’s pale, melon sized breasts and squeezed it hard. Maureen squealed.
“She’s got what it takes up top,” Ike said. His other hand was still on the ring to her collar. He made her turn away from him. He ran his hand down her sloping torso and down over her plump rear cheeks. “I’d say she’s got everything you need.”
“Let me get a good look at her,” Betty said.
The girl was to Ike’s right and Betty to his left. He pulled her by the collar until she had gone around him and handed her off to the bull dike.
Maureen’s face was a mask of woe. Her body was shaking. Big Betty held her at arm’s length for a few moments. “She looks all right,” she said, approvingly. She grabbed her by the chin and turned her face right and left. “Not bad looking either.” She made her turn around and rubbed her hand over her ass. “Not bad,” she said. To the girl she said, “Bend over and spread your legs.”
Maureen hesitated. Big Betty’s hand flashed out and she gave her a mighty slap on her rear cheek.
“Ohhhhhh!” the girl cried out.
“Bend over, cunt!” Betty told her harshly. “Or I’ll fuck you up good!”
With a sob, Maureen folded herself at the waist and spread her legs. Big Betty snuck her hand between her thighs from behind and took hold of her shaven mons. “Her pussy’s nice and plump too. I wanna see how tight she is, or did you assholes drive a truck through her?”
There was general laughter around the table. “We only took her out on Sundays for a ride back and forth to church,” Rocker said, laughing. “Honest!”
This was followed by more mirth. Big Betty ignored it. She was stroking the poor young girl’s pussy, waiting for it to lubricate defensively. Ike reached out a hand and took hold of a breast and began to caress it. “I’m trying to remember what fucking her was like,” he said. “If I recall, she was pretty hot. Or was that the other one?” he asked Stitch.
“No, it was her,” Stitch said. “The other one takes a lot more warming up.”
Rocker pulled out a fat joint and lit it. He handed it to Jack. Jack took a deep toke and handed it to Stitch.
‘Ooouu, baby,” Big Betty said softly as she caressed the girl’s crevasse. “What a sweet little honey pot. Make it wet for me, baby. Come on, loosen up for Mama, make it good and wet…. There you go…. There you go….” she urged her slowly as she worked her fingers expertly up and down the line of the girl’s denuded love lips. “There you go….That’s better,” she murmured as the divide began to moisten. “Just a little bit more, my little whore, just a little bit more…. More…. More…. That’s it….That’s it….Yeah, right in!” she exclaimed as her two thick fingers slipped easily into the unhappy girl’s now lubricated tunnel. Maureen issued a groan of dismay.
“Nice and tight,” Big Betty said. “Looks like you were right, Rocker,” she added mirthfully.
Maureen’s hands were squirming behind her back. Her long, black hair was hanging down the sides of her head, covering her face. She was sniffling and moaning as Betty continued to stroke her fingers in and out of her purse from behind. Finally, she pulled them out. “Let’s see how tight her ass is,” she said. Maureen released a whine of dismay.
She placed two thick fingers, slimy with her discharge, at the entrance of the girl’s bowels and squiggled them around until they began to descend within her. Maureen groaned and whimpered. Betty sank two fingers in way past her knuckles. “Oooooouuuu, nice,” she said. “Either she’s pure as the driven snow or all you guys must have small dicks,” she said, laughing.
The boys took it good naturedly. They all knew that Maureen had had plenty of use and put down her relative freshness to her youth.
Betty withdrew her digits. “Here,” Stitch called out as he tossed a soapy washcloth to her. “I don’t want your shitty fingers on our joint.” More laughter.
Maureen stood as she had been left while Betty wiped off her fingers. She tossed the washcloth back to Stitch and then slapped Maureen on the ass.
“Turn around, honey,” she told her playfully.
The black haired girl rose and turned to face the bruising biker. Betty took hold of the ring in her collar and pulled her close. Maureen’s face was sour with dread. Betty wrapped her thick arm around the girl’s waist and fastened her mouth on one of her teats. Maureen’s lips tightened into a grimace. The joint was still being passed around and Jack took another big toke. Rocker’s stuff was not like the stuff in the old day, it gave him an immediate, mind numbing rush, a rush that was welcomed heartily.
The girl emitted little whines as Betty suckled her breast. She shifted to the other one for a while and then emerged. Taking hold of her right breast, she squeezed it tight and then flicked her finger over the taut, rigid nipple. Maureen’s nipples were long and fat. Her areolas were small and dark maroon. “Nice,” Betty murmured. She shifted her attention to t
he other one and flicked that too. “Very nice,” she said. Then she took hold of the girl’s teat and gave it a vicious twist. Maureen screeched in pain and tried to withdraw from the cruel woman, but Betty held her tight. Her other hand snaked out and clamped over Maureen’s other teat and began a vicious twist of that one too.
“Ohhhhhhhhh!” Maureen called out. “Pleeeeeeeae don’t! Pleeeeeeease! Pleeeeeeeease!”
Betty pulled the girl close again. “Don’t ever back away from me, bitch,” she snarled sternly. “You’ll find yourself in a whole world of trouble real fast, got it!”
“Yes! Yes! Please let go! Please!” Maureen yelled.
Betty turned to Ike. “She’ll do fine,” she said.
“Ohhhhhhh, no! No! Please don’t sell me to her! Please! Please!” Maureen screamed, all decorum and training forgotten. “I’ll do anything you want! Pleeeeeeeease! Pleeeeeease!”
“I think we need to shut you up,” Betty said. She twisted her nipples harder. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll twist these fuckers right off! Understand?”
“Yes! Yes! Oh, yes!” Maureen responded. “Ohhhhhhhhhhh!” Then she pressed her lips together. The effort to remain silent filled her whole face. But, except for a small whine, she was successful. Betty loosened her grip on her nipples. She turned to Vida, her slave girl.
“Go get my bag, pig,” she told her sharply.
The scrawny, blonde leapt to her feet and ran from the room. Betty released one of Maureen’s nipples and wrapped her arm around her head, pulling it towards her. She brought their lips close. “Open your mouth, slut,” she told her. Maureen obeyed. Betty pressed their lips together and thrust her tongue into the girl’s mouth. Maureen struggled and writhed, but she did not pull away. Her whines and moans could be heard arising from her throat.
Betty released her other teat and put her arm around the girl’s waist until her bare breasts were pushed up against her own, heavy, fat mammaries. The girl looked like a toy in the bigger, heftier woman’s arms. Betty kept up the insulting kiss until some moments later when Vida came rushing back through the door. She was carrying a large black gym bag with a worn out, silver Oakland Raiders’ insignia. Vida put the bag next to her mistress, opened it and then knelt down in her former position.
Betty released Maureen from her kiss. “I’m going to have a whole lot of fun with you, kitten,” she told the panting girl. “I hope you like pussy, ‘cause you’ll be licking mine two or three times a day. We’ll try you out in a little while, but first I think we need to get you outfitted.”
Holding on to the hair on the back of Maureen’s head, she leaned over and fished around in her bag. She emerged with a jumble of straps. It had a metal studded prong on one end. “Get up and hold the cunt still,” Betty told Vida. Vida sprang back to her feet and circled behind the distressed Maureen. She took hold of her shoulders and pressed her body up against her back.
Betty struggled briefly with the tangle of straps, straightening them out. When she had managed to sort it out, she held it out to the group and said, “This is what I call my persuader.” She then took hold of the prong and presented it to Maureen’s lips. “Open up, sweetie,” she told her.
Maureen’s lips turned into a piteous frown, but as the prong was moved forward, she opened her mouth and received it. The prong was long and fat and the metal studs had pointy tips. Betty glided it in over her tongue and then, when it was in, wrapped a leather cup that hung underneath it around the girl’s chin and pulled it tight.
Maureen’s eyes were widened as if in wonder. Jack was sure that she was experiencing the sensation of the sharp points digging into her tongue. She was holding her mouth open as wide as she could and tears were flowing down her face. She started to struggle, but Vida, with a fierce grip on her arms just below her shoulders, held her still.
Betty began to wrap the straps around Maureen’s head. One went up over her nose between her eyes to the back of her head and another around her head just above her eyes. Betty pulled on and adjusted them until they began to be drawn tight. Straps went along the girl’s jaw line and, from the corners of her mouth, just above her ears and behind. As Betty tightened them, the girl’s mouth began to be pulled closed. She squealed and struggled and moaned. Her eyes were as wide as saucers. Betty gave the straps another little tug and Maureen’s body stiffened and she shrieked.
“There you go,” Betty said releasing the straps. “That’s much better. No more talking, understand? Not ever, ever without permission. From now on.”
Maureen nodded her head up and down frantically. There was a brass ring on the front of the gag. Betty took hold of it. “’Cause all I have to do is give this a little shake and I’m sure you will be very unhappy.” She did as she said, jiggling the ring. Maureen’s eyes lit up and she shrieked again. She moaned, deep and long.
“Catch my drift, cunt?” Betty asked her sinisterly. Maureen dared not nod her head while Betty had hold of the ring. She tried to make her acquiescence known with her pleading eyes.
“Okay then,” Betty said. “Go stand there in the corner like you were before. I’ll take you upstairs in a little while and we’ll see how good you are around a pussy. And, for your sake, you better be damned good.”
Maureen gave the woman a distressed look. Then she looked around the table to see if there was anyone who would give her aid or succor. There was no one. Rocker was busy pouring another round of shots. Stitch had the joint and he took in a deep draught. The others, including Jack, were just looking at her, wondering off handedly if they would get a shot at her before Big Betty took her away forever.
With a forlorn moan, the poor black haired girl moved to obey her new evil mistress. She stood in the corner, her hands clasped tightly together behind her back, sobbing heartily.
Betty raised her shot glass and the others followed suit. “To pussy,” she called out. Everyone laughed and threw their liquor back.
Jack was welcoming the deadening feeling he was getting. He had always rejected drinking as a weakness, but now he was getting to like it. But his hurt was not yet over.
Ike rose from his chair. “I’m going upstairs to fuck your little cutie, Jack,” he announced pointedly. “I wanna see what makes her worth 25 g’s in case Mr. Morales asks me. You don’t mind, do you?”
Jack’s blood ran cold. For a second he wondered whether he could get Killer’s Bowie knife off of his belt and drive it into Ike’s chest. He knew that Ike was testing him. If he said yes, then all bets would be off and he would be back where he started, a deep hole in the desert awaiting him. If he said no, Ike would befoul the only female he had cared about in 30 years.
He looked quickly around the room. When Ike got up, Mouse, who had not been drinking but rather watching over events solemnly, had come to alert. The others were looking at him expectantly. Jack felt his belly fill with bile. He had just barely accepted the idea that she was to be taken from him, but the thought that he would have to sit here and stew while Ike was fucking her upstairs less than 100’ from where he sat, was another thing entirely.
But what choice did he have? He had already sold out. He had to face it, the girl was no longer his. What did it matter in the long run? In a day or so, maybe even sometime tonight, the Mexican would be fucking her and maybe his boys too. And for every day from here on out until her uncertain future came to an end. His mind was boiling with helpless rage. He gripped his glass tightly. He realized that he would have to answer. And answer soon if he wanted to retain any semblance of pride. “No,” he finally managed to mutter. “I don’t mind. Help yourself.”
“Thanks, Jack,” Ike said slowly, as if in emphasis that Jack’s permission was no longer needed, that the question had been a mere courtesy. Ike was the leader here, not Jack. And as the leader he got whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it and no interloper has-been, like Jack, would ever stop him.
Ike took hold of the remnant of the joint that had just passed Killer’s lips. He took a toke off of it and then to
ssed the tiny butt into the ash tray on the table. “I’ll let you know what I think of her,” he said.
He walked past Jack to the door and exited the kitchen. Mouse stayed, his beady little eyes fastened on him.
CHAPTER NINE
When Carly heard the footsteps outside the door to the room, she knew right there and then that something terrible had happened. They were not the footsteps of her captor. She would know his tread anywhere. These were heavier, more plodding, than his. His boots had soles of rubber and these sounded like they had hard, leather heels. And when the door opened and the man came in, she sensed a malevolent presence looking down at her. It made her body sour with dread.
She had been a long time bound and still. The man had left her this way so many times now, you would have thought that she would have developed a strategy for enduring it, but she hadn’t, not really. When the man had left, she knew that she would remain there imprisoned into motionlessness, silenced, blinded, for a very long time. She tried to prepare herself for the wait. For a while, it worked. She thought of songs that she knew, she revived memories of her childhood, she tried to remember the names of all her teachers, she, in essence, tried to ignore where she was and how she was for as long as humanly possible.
But it did not last long. It couldn’t last long with her arms pulled back tightly, her legs in the air, her elbows bound together, that rude, invasive instrument in her mouth. Despair kept raising its ugly head. And fear. And shame. And self pity. She passed through these emotions in stages, overcoming one by sheer will only to have another creep into her consciousness. She couldn’t count how many times she pulled at her bonds uselessly, knowing it was useless, but needing desperately to try all the same. She tried not to cry, but at times her carefully shored up psyche would collapse and she would break out into heartfelt sobs.
