Cindy Ames and her young friend Susan were really a pair of innocent schoolgirls. They'd had brief encounters with sex, but for all intents and purposes they were really still pretty much virgins. But just because they'd never had any didn't mean they didn't want any.
And then came the fateful day when Cindy and Susan were savagely abducted by a squadron of leather-clad sadists, men who knew what they wanted and usually got it. And the leader of this sex-hungry mob was a woman, one of the most vicious and most voluptuous women that the girls had ever seen.
They had found out about sex the hard way.
CHAPTER ONE
Sixteen-year-old Cindy Ames brushed her auburn hair out of her eyes and stole a glance at her friend Susan. Susan was only fourteen, two years younger than Cindy, but already she was well on the way to physical maturity. Already her hips and bust had begun to blossom into young womanhood, and Susan was a very good-looking girl indeed. So was Cindy, for that matter.
Both the girls had recently been enrolled as students at the Gladys M. Forsythe Academy for Advanced Young Ladies, an extremely strait-laced girls' boarding school. The girls who were students there were forbidden to smoke, drink, or participate in so many of the other activities that young people like to engage in.
Actually, neither Cindy nor Susan really minded these restrictions, but there was one other restriction that they were very annoyed about indeed. That was the school rule that stated NO girl was to have anything to do with boys. It was very hard for them to obey this rule, because if there was one thing that Cindy and Susan were interested in, it was boys.
They were discussing this state of events one morning as they sat at the edge of the highway that bordered on the Academy's grounds. Neither of the girls was allowed to leave the campus without permission, but they had sneaked "over the wall", as they put it, to smoke a couple of reefers and to discuss the "no-boys" ruling.
"It really isn't fair," Susan complained to her older companion as she took a hard drag on the pot-stick. "I mean, they think that if we don't fool around with any guys we won't think about them. But it's just the opposite; I haven't even SEEN a boy in the last two months, and I can't think of anything BUT boys. How do they expect us to keep our minds on our studies when all we can think about is the opposite sex?"
Cindy nodded in agreement, taking what was left of the joint and inhaling deeply. "In a way I guess we really can't blame them, Sue," she replied at length. I've been at this Academy longer than you have. Every so often they'd relax the rules a little and let the girls invite guys onto the campus, but every time it happened some girl got careless and let herself get knocked up. So now they figure total chastity is the only way to keep us from getting preggo."
Susan could see the sense in that line of thinking, but even so she didn't like it. She had been living as a student at the girls' school for almost three months now, and she hadn't even set eye on a single male of the species. And the longer she did without boys, the more determined she was not to do without them any longer. She promised herself that some night very soon she would sneak off the campus, thumb a ride into town, and find herself a little male companionship.
Suddenly the young blonde girl was pulled out of her reverie by a noise in the distance. Cocking her head to one side and tossing her ash-blonde hair out of the way of her ears, she muttered: "Listen."
Cindy didn't hear anything. "Listen to what?" she wanted to know.
Susan gestured to the other girl to' keep quiet. "Don't you hear that?"
Cindy shook her head. "Can't say that I do. Just what exactly is it that I'm supposed to be hearing?"
The blonde schoolgirl shrugged. "I don't know. It sounds like some kind of engine. A racing car, maybe, or a motorcycle. Maybe a whole lot of motorcycles."
The older girl strained to listen, but silence was all that reached her ears. "I can't hear a thing," she complained. "Maybe you've been smokin' too much pot, Susie."
Susan started to answer, but then she noticed that the sound, whatever it was, had stopped as abruptly as it had begun. Susan couldn't help thinking that perhaps Cindy had been right; maybe she really HAD gone overboard on the potsmoking. Besides, if they didn't get back to the Academy soon their unauthorized absence would be discovered, and then they'd REALLY be in trouble. Cindy must have had the same thought, because she stubbed out the reefer butt against a rock and stood up, brushing her skirt down across her shapely legs as she did so. The faculty of the Academy had complained about Cindy's skirts, telling her that she wore them much too short, but Cindy had long since learned to ignore those prudes.
Cindy reached out a hand and helped her friend Susan to her feet. "We oughta be getting back to the campus, Sue," she announced. "We haven't been gone long enough to be missed yet, but we can't waste any more time."
The blonde girl nodded her agreement to that, and together they started trudging back towards the campus of the Academy. They had sneaked out through a convenient hole in the fence on the side of the campus that bordered on the woods, and if they expected to sneak back on campus undetected they would have to go in in the same way that they had come out.
As they walked along Susan couldn't help wondering about that mysterious noise she had heard. She was sure that it hadn't been her imagination, that some person or thing had actually been nearby making that noise. But what? The thing had sounded like some sort of vehicle, a car or a truck or something like that, but Susan and Cindy had been sitting right next to the highway and not a single thing had driven by. Oh well, she told herself, it really wasn't all that important. Right now her main worry was getting back onto the campus without getting caught.
Between the highway and the woods was a large open field, and the girls would have to cross this to get back onto the Academy grounds. Because the field was perfectly flat, with no places to hide, it was very easy to get caught there in case any of the teachers from the school happened to be standing around with a pair of binoculars, looking for girls who had gone AWOL. This had happened so many times in the past that Cindy and Susan were always very careful when they walked through that field.
They stepped into the field now, walking quickly so as to minimize their chances of being discovered. As they approached the woods Susan had the distinct impression that she was hearing the mysterious noise again, but she dismissed it as being merely a figment of her imagination. They walked through the field as quickly as they could. The woods were less than thirty yards away now, and getting closer. In a matter of minutes they would be back at the Academy and, hopefully, nobody would know that they had ever been gone.
As they walked Cindy began to wonder about that mysterious noise Susan had heard. She was beginning to hear it herself now, but of course that was just her imagination. Still, it did sound as though there were motorcycles quite nearby.
Cindy turned to her blonde companion and nodded in the direction of the woods. "If you ask me, I think that we should... "
She never had a chance to finish the sentence. Because suddenly her voice was drowned out by the deep-throated roar of engines, and the next thing the girls knew, two motorcycles were shooting out of the woods and coming directly towards them!
Both girls screamed and turned away, running frantically in the opposite direction. As they did so, the roar of motors grew louder, and two more motorcycles appeared from the direction of the highway and started to run them down!
Panicking, Cindy tapped the younger girl on the shoulder as they ran. "We've got to spread out!" she yelled to Susan, feeling her legs begin to weaken from running. "We've got to separate! That's the only way we'll get away from them!"
Susan nodded, and the two girls turned and ran in two opposite directions, and then Cindy almost fainted from fright, because yet another motorcycle was coming towards her! She turned to see how Susan was faring, and saw that the same thing had happened; a sixth cycle was bearing down on them and getting closer all the time!
They were surrounded!
Seeing that there was no possible chance of escape, Cindy stopped running. Susan, being a sensible girl, did likewise. The two of them looked on in helpless terror as the six burly choppers converged in a circle around them, a circle from which there seemed to be no escape whatsoever.
The motorcycle riders all cut their motors at the exact same instant, and now the only sound that Cindy could hear was her own heart, pounding like mad. Straining to get a grip on herself, she squinted through tear-stained eyes to get a good look at their tormentors.
They were six men in motorcycle outfits, all young and all so muscular that they looked as though they could snap steel beams in half with one hand. Cindy unconsciously gulped in terror as she looked into the hard, savage faces of these six young men. These were not so much humans as savage brutes, creatures who lived merely for satisfying their own ruthless pleasures.
Four of the youths, like Cindy and Susan, were white. Of the other two one was a tall, fierce-looking black man, and the other was a shorter youth of Hispanic origin, probably Puerto Rican. There was a desperate, almost furtive look in the Hispanic youth's eyes, almost as though he were constantly running from some unknown pursuer.
Cindy turned to look at the white men. One was short and squat. He wore a shiny black leather jacket covered with nickel studs, and over his left eye socket was a black leather patch with a single stud set in its center. Cindy shuddered and looked away from him hastily.
The next man she saw was slightly taller and very thin. He wore sunglasses, and his head twitched up and down spasmodically on his neck. Probably some sort of dope addict, Cindy told herself. The man seemed to be at peace with the world, but she thought that she could catch an underlying current of viciousness running through him somehow.
Straddling a motorcycle not too far from this man was another one, a much larger one with flaming red hair, scraggly beard, a hawk-like nose and piercing eyes. There was a decidedly foreign look about this man, and Cindy knew that she would have to look sharp when he was around.
But the sixth man looked more dangerous still. He was at least six and a half feet tall, and his shoulders stood out powerfully. A thin scar traversed his face from temple to chin, and a look of animalistic lust shot out from his eyes. This man was obviously someone to look out for. He was obviously the leader of this gang, and he looked more dangerous than all the others put together.
The two captive schoolgirls stood there helplessly, waiting for their captors to make an opening gambit. The longer Cindy stood there the more she wondered why these men didn't speak, or move, or do anything at all. They merely stood there, seemingly gloating in their domination of the two young girls who were their captives. Cindy decided that the suspense was killing her; if these men didn't do something damned soon, she decided that she would somehow have to take matters into her own hands.
Just then a buzzing noise came at her from the distance, and Cindy perked up her ears. Another motorcycle was coming! She noticed that the men around her looked as though they were waiting for whoever was riding that motorcycle to come and join them. Presently the red-haired girl could make out the shape of the seventh chopper coming towards them from the highway. Two of the men who were standing before her moved their vehicles out of the way slightly, to allow the seventh rider to pull up between them.
The motorcycle ground to a halt, and both girls gasped when they caught a glimpse of its rider. They had expected some sort of muscle-bound, supermacho stud, but instead the person who pulled up in front of them was a voluptuous woman!
She looked to be about twenty-four years old at the most, with three feet of bright orange hair streaming from her head. The chick's face was sharp and angular, at the same time both fantastically beautiful and unspeakably ugly. If the Devil were a woman, she would have a face like that.
The woman motorcyclist had on black leather hip boots and matching elbow-length gloves, and between the gloves and the boots was a one-piece leather garment that tightly encased the body within, showing it off in all its splendor. Down the front of the garment, starting in the deep valley between the woman's mountainous breasts and working its way down to her glistening crotch, was a shining metal zipper.
Dangling limply from the woman's contemptuous lips was the smoldering stub of a reefer. She plucked this from her mouth now and tossed it to the earth, grinding it derisively with one booted heel. Then she dismounted from her motorcycle and strode slowly and sensually towards the largest of the men, the one with the scar and the mean look.
She nodded coldly in the direction of the two innocent schoolgirls. "What've we got here, Scar?" she wanted to know.
The huge man named Scar grinned in reply.
"We got us a coupla pussies, Diana," he gloated. "An' if you ask me, tonight we're gonna have us a fuckin' orgy!"
"I didn't ask you," she replied icily, stepping away from him and striding towards the girls. Looking them up and down even more lecherously than the men had, she demanded sharply: "What's your names?"
It took several moments for the two frightened girls to work up the courage to answer this, but at last Cindy managed to gulp down her fears and tell this sadistic-looking woman who they were and what their names were.
The woman named Diana seemed pleased with that. "Cindy and Susan, hey?" she repeated. "Cute names." Her eyes ran appraisingly up and down the girls' delicious bodies as she spoke. "Cute bodies, too."
Susan was scared. Less than five minutes ago she and her friend Cindy had been enjoying some good weed, and now they had fallen into the hands of six lascivious, demented men, and their female leader who looked even more sex-hungry than all the men did put together.
The leather boy named Scar piped up again in his gruff voice. "Hey, Diana, whaddya say we take these pussies with us? They might come in handy some cold winter night." He burst into an attack of sadistic laughter at his own joke.
The laughter was cut short as Diana's gloved hand flew to the man's throat. "Shut up, Scar, you simp," she barked. "I give the orders, not you. You're here to obey them. Get that through your head or it'll be the worse for you."
Scar nodded resentfully. Cindy could see that this man felt he should be the leader of the cycle gang, and that he was angry about being humiliated by Diana in front of his comrades and the two girls.
Diana went back to her bike now and snapped the fingers of one hand impatiently. Instantly her male followers looked up, alert and ready to do her bidding. Pointing to the rider with the red beard, Diana called out: "Angus."
"Aye, lass," he replied, ready to serve her. "Tell me what ye might want an' I'll be doin' it." The way Angus was standing he looked to Cindy even more dangerous than Scar had. It occurred to the girl that Angus might very well be the only one of these men who could really stand up to Diana and live to tell the tale.
Diana called out: "Big Nig", and the huge black man leaped to attention. To this man and Angus, the huge woman ordered: "Get the chains and the hoods. I want you to tie these chicks up good and tight."
"I dig," called out Big Nig. Cindy didn't know what to make of what was going on. But one thing was painfully obvious: she and Susan were in a hell of a lot of trouble.
The tall, powerful Scotsman and the even more powerful black man were pulling knapsacks from the rear of their choppers and delving into them, searching for some unknown objects. At last the one named Big Nig gave a cry of triumph and pulled a length of stout iron chain from his bag. Cindy nearly fainted.
Angus had some chain of his own, and both of the men were holding crumpled objects of black leather that looked decidedly unfriendly.
Big Nig walked up to Cindy, holding the chain between his huge hands so tightly that the links bit into his flesh, turning the black skin white from the pressure. 'Turn around, bitch," the African ordered. "Turn around an' put yo' hands behind yo' back."
Cindy didn't move. Maybe these bastards had captured her, but she wanted to prove to them that she had as much guts as they did, and probably more. Any simp can talk big when the cards are stacked his way, but when you're outnumbered and up against the wall it takes real balls to stand up to people who try to hassle you.
Cindy may have been a beautiful chick, but she still had as much balls as any man. She didn't move.
"Turn around, bitch," the black man repeated, jingling the chain threateningly.
Cindy didn't move.
"Get tough, man," whispered Diana softly.
CRACK! The huge chain lashed out and caught Cindy full in the face. She staggered backwards and fell. There was a hot sticky taste in her mouth, the taste of blood.
She looked up, and saw that Big Nig had straddled her body like some mighty colossus. On either side of her helpless form were the heavy black motorcycle boots, while directly above her was the black man's bulging crotch.
He stepped back so that she could stand. "Get back," he ordered, and this time Cindy knew that she had to obey. Apparently she would be allowed to stay alive only so long as she obeyed orders implicitly.
Big Nig turned her around and placed her hands behind her back. Cindy winced in pain as she felt the cold iron bite into her wrists, binding them together so securely that she seriously doubted they would ever separate. A moment later she could feel the other end of the chain being pulled uncomfortably tight about her slender ankles, preventing her from running away and even making it difficult for her to stand upright. Out of the corner of one eye she glimpsed Angus giving the same treatment to Susan. Oh well, Cindy told herself, as long as they've got our ankles chained together they can't rape us.
The chains were bound securely now, and Cindy found herself wondering what sort of atrocity would be next on the agenda.
She didn't have long to wonder. Big Nig was holding up the black leather object, and she now saw that it was a mask to cover the entire head, with no slits for the eyes or mouth. A lacing arrangement in the rear of the mask, culminating in a padlock, saw to it that the mask would stay where it was put.
Ignoring the poor girl's protests, the huge black man pulled the mask over her head, plunging Cindy into darkness. She felt something strike her cheek, and saw that where the mouth opening of the mask ought to be, there was instead a rubber object shaped like a six-inch long penis. The next thing Cindy knew, the thick phallus was thrust into her mouth and down her throat, gagging her. She could feel Big Nig pulling tight the laces in the back of the mask, and locking the padlock.
With no holes for her mouth or ears and with that artificial cock in her mouth, Cindy was now deaf, dumb and blind. Two tiny apertures allowed her to breath, and by twisting her eyes at an agonizing angle she could look through one nostril-hole and make out a green object, but the hole was too small for her to make out what it was. Obviously the breathing holes would be no good for looking through. Cindy sighed and shut her eyes. She felt like crying, but she knew that that would do no good.
The iron chain was holding her wrists and ankles securely, with a foot or so of chain in between acting as a handle. Big Nig now seized this handle and pulled his captive roughly into the air. Being unable to see, hear, speak or move she was no longer a human being. She was now merely an object, a plaything in the cruel hands of this sadistic sex fiend.
Cindy could feel herself being carried through the air and then being bent over something, ass upwards. The thing she was leaning on felt like the rear of a motorcycle, and she had the idea that somewhere quite nearby another cycle was groaning under the weight of her friend Susan's luscious body. Through the thick leather mask Cindy could vaguely make out noises that sounded like a chain jangling, and a moment later she could feel her body being chained by the forearms and thighs to the rear of this chopper.
Suddenly a hand brushed against her captive buttocks, and then it was burrowing into her panties, feeling the firm cheeks of her ass. Cindy gasped, and involuntarily bit down on the rubber cock she was being forced to suck. "We won't need these anymore, she heard a voice say, and then her panties were being pulled down her legs and off her body.
Then the woman named Diana was saying something, but Cindy was unable to make it out through the thick mask. A moment later she felt the hot throb of the motorcycle directly beneath her as it roared into life, and then she could feel herself being carried across the field and onto the highway.
Cindy knew she was in trouble.
CHAPTER TWO
Having nothing better to do, Cindy began to assess her own and Susan's chances of survival. They were two girls against six men and one woman, but Cindy knew that in a fight she could not depend upon Susan for much help. She would have to do it all alone, and having to help Susan escape would make things all the harder for Cindy.
She began to size up the enemy. The really dangerous one was definitely Diana. Getting rid of her would be like killing the queen bee. Cindy would have to attack her suddenly, with everything she had and all at once, and depend heavily on the element of surprise. She knew that in a fair fight Diana could easily paint the ceiling with her.
And one of the leather boys had seemed to be a junkie, which meant that he might not offer too much of a threat. In fact, Cindy felt that she might possibly win him over to her own side, with promises of drugs... and possibly sex.
She wasn't sure that she would ever get out of these chains, but she was positive that eventually the mask would be taken off her head, if only so that she would be forced to witness the atrocities that they performed upon her.
The motorcycle began to pick up speed, and Cindy could feel the cold air whipping through her flimsy skirt and battering itself against her naked ass. It was extremely degrading to he here bound and restrained like this, without even the benefit of panties to keep out the cold air.
After what seemed to be an eternity of riding, an infinity of bumps and potholes jarring her battered body, Cindy could at last feel the motorcycle pull off the highway and slow to a stop. She could vaguely make out shouts and the sounds of many running feet coming closer to her.
A moment later firm hands were undoing the chains from her body, and then the helpless girl was pushed off the motorcycle frame and plummeting to the ground. Cindy hit the earth with such force that she bit right through the artificial cock in her mouth and very nearly swallowed it.
Someone was pulling her to her feet and unlocking the padlock that held the mask over her head. A moment later a barrage of daylight hit Cindy in the eyes, rendering her even blinder than she had been already. She staggered backwards and moaned in pain.
Suddenly Cindy felt a firm hand grasp her wrist, twisting her arm behind her back and bringing her to her knees. As her kneecaps hit the hard earth she moaned again and began to sob.
Diana was towering over her. Behind her, standing at a respectful distance, were Scar, the Puerto Rican, and the short man with the eyepatch. Cindy now noticed that the man had no left hand, merely a steel hook encased in a black leather harness that bound it to his wrist.
Diana walked right up to Cindy, standing scant inches away from her. There was contempt in the dominatrix's eyes that was impossible to mask, so deep was it. Slowly one hand reached towards the captive girl, long fingers flexing in a black leather glove.
CRACK! The powerful hand slapped her, then backhanded her, and Cindy felt her head explode in pain. Her eyes caught on fire and her tongue rolled backwards in her mouth until she was afraid that she would choke on it.
As her head went backwards, Cindy caught a glimpse of the man who was holding her arm behind her back: Big Nig. He seemed to derive some perverted satisfaction in giving her pain and humiliation in this way.
Diana nodded masterfully to the powerful black man. "Let her up, Nig," she hissed coolly, rolling the words around on her tongue as though she were making oral love to them. To herself Diana was thinking: This is going to be good, this is going to be sweet. These are two of the best-looking cunts I've found in a long time. I must be sure and make this last as long as possible.
Diana's hand flew out again, clutching at the soft submissive flesh of her captive's chin. She lifted Cindy's head so that the girl was forced to look her full in the eyes, then she twisted the girl's head sharply to the left. A cry escaped from Cindy's lips as she witnessed the atrocity that was going on not far away from her.
Susan was still chained to one of the other motorcycles, her ripe white ass pointing up to the sky. Like Cindy, her panties had been torn away and flung aside as an article for which there was no longer any further use. And Susan's short yellow skirt had been pushed up around her hips and waist, putting her bare buttocks on display for all the world to see.
The fellow named Angus was holding a whip in both hands, caressing it with his fingers, making passionate love to it. He raised his head and nodded to the thin junkie, who was standing not too far away.
Slowly, eagerly, with the air of a man who wants things to be done with maximum efficiency, the dope addict seized Susan's skirt and pushed it farther up against her body, until it was directly under her breasts. Now there was absolutely nothing to stand between the buttocks and the lash.
But to make completely sure of it, the junkie reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and produced a whisk broom. Solemnly he brushed off the girl's ass, as though preparing it for the ordeal that was to come.
Angus was holding the butt of the whip in his left hand and the flail in his right. He spread his arms, to put as much tension upon the whip as possible, and then he released his right hand, sending the business end of the lash careening skyward.
It seemed to Cindy as though the whip were sailing through its course in slow motion. As seen through her eyes, it took five minutes from the time the whip began its flight of pain and passion to the time it caressed Susan's throbbing butt.
She saw the tip of it dangling a fraction of an inch from Susan's captive buttocks. In an instant or so, the blonde girl would be screaming in pain. Cindy could not turn away, because Diana was forcing her to look. So she shut her eyes tightly.
A howl of unearthly agony tore at Cindy's eardrums, and she winced as she imagined what had happened to her comrade. Then suddenly hot pain was shooting through Cindy's face, and in the shock she opened her eyes. Diana was glaring at her. "Do not think to shut your eyes again, bitch," she commanded. " I want you to feast upon every crumb of pain that your young friend is being subjected to. If you do not care to witness it, then I shall be forced to think of some way of MAKING you watch... such as cutting off your eyelids."
Cindy shuddered. She knew that she could not prevent these monsters from torturing Susan, and that the only hope that either girl had of survival was for Cindy to protect herself as much as possible from the same punishment.
So she forced herself to watch as the tall Scotsman's flail crisscrossed Susan's ass again and again, and each time it caressed her flesh Cindy found herself wincing in sympathy with her friend.
Diana grinned cruelly. Past experience had taught her that the best way to do this was to abduct TWO girls at a time, and ALWAYS girls who knew each other well, who would stand by each other no matter what the price. In that way, whenever one girl was beaten or flogged or cut or raped BOTH girls would feel it, and the pleasure was automatically doubled.
The brawny Scotsman's systematic whipping was getting faster and harsher every moment, until Cindy felt that she could no longer tolerate having to witness this. Susan was tottering on the brink of unconsciousness, so great was the agony.
Cindy could stand it no longer. Turning her eyes towards the evil Diana, she asked: "How long are you going to go on torturing her like that?"
Diana's pleasure was indescribable. "Until you agree to take her place." Cindy's eyes widened in amazement. "You have a choice, cunt. Either watch her be beaten to death or allow us to give her rightful punishment to you instead. " Cindy glared at the evil Diana balefully. "You people are SADISTS!" she accused.
The huge crimson-haired woman only smiled more cruelly than ever, and in the background Cindy could make out the pained moanings of her friend Susan. "No," Diana informed Cindy at length. "We are not sadists, at least not in the clinical sense of the word. We get off on hurting people, true, but sadism is not our number one trip." She blew more tobacco smoke in Cindy's face as she spoke. "What we REALLY like is to LUCK."
Diana saw by the puzzled look on her captive's face that Cindy did not understand. "It's really quite simple," she hastened to explain. "My boys here would really like to fuck you chicks. So would I, for that matter--I've got a nice collection of dildos. But we like to rough our victims up a little first." She smiled again, and Cindy could see a thread of saliva dangling from the evil woman's mouth. "You might say that this way we... tenderize the meat." Diana laughed at her own joke, laughed a little more than she should have.
Cindy was getting desperate. She knew that it would be next to impossible for her to escape from this web of lust, and it would be even harder for her to take Susan with her, especially considering the weakened condition the blonde girl was in. Cindy saw that the only hope either one of them had would be for one of them to get away somehow so as to notify the police and rescue the others.
Cindy decided that she would have to make the supreme sacrifice; she would have to allow these sex-crazed monsters to have their lustful way with her innocent, body, in the hope that she could win Susan's freedom while her friend was still in one piece. With any luck at all, Susan could call the cops and have them rescue Cindy and put these bastards behind bars where they belonged.
The girl gulped. With a tongue grown dry and swollen from fear she managed to mutter: "I... I have a proposition for you."
Instantly Diana held up one hand. "Hold your fire, Angus," she commanded, and instantly the tall Scotsman pulled his flail away from the striped flesh of Susan, who gave one final whimpering moan and lapsed into unconsciousness.
They were all coming closer to hear what Cindy had to say. They had left Susan unguarded, but they knew that it would be quite some time before she would be able to get away. If ever.
Diana brought her lustful face closer to that of her young captive. 'Talk fast, bitch," she ordered. "What's your deal?"
"It's very simple," Cindy muttered. It was difficult to talk in this position. "But before I tell you you'll have to let me up."
Diana frowned, but then she snapped her fingers. "Rican," she called out, and the short Hispanic youth pushed forward and brought Cindy to her feet. She frantically began to rub at her chafed wrists and ankles where the chains had been biting into her flesh.
"Here's my proposition:" she told them. "If you let us go, you know we'll go straight to the cops. And you can't kill us, because if a certain person doesn't hear from us in three days the cops'll come looking for us. And when they look for us they'll find YOU." Actually there was no "certain person", but Cindy was hoping that these people would accept her bluff. She was hoping that, no matter how sadistic they might look, they would be hesitant at committing murder. Besides, if she and Susan did not get back to the Gladys M. Forsythe Academy pretty soon, the cops really WOULD be looking for them.
The huge man named Scar scowled. 'The cops'll NEVER find us," he rumbled. "We've hid from 'em before an' we'll hide from 'em again. An' if they DO find us... " As he spoke the thumb of one hand ran lovingly up and down the blade of a flick knife.
"Shut up, Scar," barked Diana, "and put that toy away!" She nodded at Cindy again. "Keep talking, kid."
"Well," quavered the red-haired girl, beginning to regain her courage. "If you kill us, kidnap us, or let us go you're in trouble no matter what happens. So what I suggest is: let my friend Susie go, and I promise she won't mention any of this to anyone. You can do what you like with me." It was a brazen bluff, and Cindy knew it, but she hoped that her captors wouldn't see through the flaws in it. If they would only let Susan go, then sooner or later Cindy would find a way to escape their clutches and get back to civilization.
"I don't like it," Scar growled thickly. "We got two pussies. Why should we let one o' 'em go just because the other one tells us to?" He ran a gnarled finger up and down the thin white line that had earned him his nickname. "I don't like it a bit."
"Shut UP, damn you!" Diana hissed, flailing outwards with one leather-gloved hand. A moment later Scar was flat on his back, sprawled in the mud. "Damn it, Scar, I've told you time and time again that I give the orders here, not some two-bit half-wit dipshit twit like you. Now get that through your ugly little skull before I pound it in with a fuckin' sledgehammer."
Scar wiped mud and blood from his face with the back of one hand. It was bad enough having to take this shit from a cunt like Diana, he reminded himself, but it was even worse with all the other guys around to see her give it to him. He promised himself that soon, very soon, there would be a slight change of leadership in this little social club. Yes; very, very soon. He wiped more grime from his leather jacket and struggled to his feet, trying hard to mask the resentment in his eyes, pretending that nothing at all had happened.
Diana had turned back to Cindy now. "I have a slight counter-proposition for YOU," she said finally. "We happen to be-in case you haven't guessed yet-a motorcycle gang. We call ourselves the DeSades. Here's our proposition, honeycunt: we're gonna let you and your blonde friend join the DeSades. That's an honor not to be sneezed at. Once you're full-fledged members, you have the right to either ride with the pack or to resign and do what you want, provided you never come near us again."
"Sounds fair to me," Cindy managed to say. This suggestion by Diana sounded a little TOO lenient, and Cindy couldn't help thinking that there must be some catch to it.
"I ain't finished," Diana snarled. "Being offered membership in our little sewing circle is an honor not to be refused. If you turn it down, we'll be offended. So offended that we just might forget our manners and let Scar open up your necks a little with his nice can-opener. And if you DONT turn it down, then naturally we can't let you be members unless you pass the initiation rites."
Here came the catch. "Just exactly what ARE the initiation rites?" Cindy wanted to know.
"Never you mind," came the answer. "You'll find out in good time. An' if you PASS 'em... every thing's peachy keen. But if you DON'T pass 'em... " Diana let the sentence hang in the air unfinished.
"What happens if we DONT pass?" Cindy inquired. She had a sinking feeling that she knew the answer to the question even before she answered it, but she wanted to be absolutely sure.
Diana just grinned again, grinned that hateful, sadistic, animal leer that Cindy was learning to hate more and more all the time. "If you don't pass the initiation, then my buddy Scar here will just do a little whittling... on your tonsils. Comprende?"
Cindy nodded mutely. She knew that she and Susan would HAVE to allow themselves to be subjected to the fiendish perversities of the initiation ceremony, and that they would HAVE to pass every test. Because, if they didn't pass, there would be no way out...
* * *
After several minutes of moaning and writhing, Susan eventually crawled out of her unconscious state, and Cindy explained to her what they were up against: that they would have to allow these monsters to "initiate" them, and that if they did not perform as well as they were expected to, there would never be a second chance.
"I don't like it one bit," Susan complained. "You and I both know we'll never get out of this so-called initiation alive. Why don't we just make a run for it?"
For answer Cindy pointed to a shadow not too far away. "THAT'S why," she muttered pessimistically. The shadow came closer, and Susan was staring into the single eye of the gang member known as Patch. His battered hand and his gleaming hook caressed a rifle in a way that suggested he knew exactly what to do with it.
"I have my eye on you chicks," he warned them, and laughed sardonically at his own joke. "Go ahead. Escape. Be my guests. We'll only catch you again. And when we catch you you won't like what we'll do to you."
Neither girl had to ask him to enlarge upon that statement. But Cindy knew that the suspense of having to wait here for their fate to be decided was almost as agonizing as the whips and the chains had been. "What's taking so long with the initiation, Patch?" she inquired.
"MISTER Patch to you cunts," he told her sharply. "And what's takin' so long is: Diana and the others are tryin' to decide exactly what to do to you in this initiation." He grinned at them in the same way that Diana had. "I can't tell yuh what it'll be, but I guarantee it'll be nice an' painful... and slow."
Cindy had noticed how Scar had seemed to resent Diana's domineering nature, and she knew that the best way to escape from this nightmare would be to create dissension amongst the members of the gang, to turn them all against their leader and each other. Smiling sweetly, Cindy told Patch: "It's funny that YOU'RE the only one who wasn't invited to the meeting. Doesn't Diana value your opinion?"
That had hit a sore spot, Cindy could tell. "Sure she does," Patch replied, sounding as though he were trying to convince himself rather than Cindy. "But SOMEBODY'S gotta guard you pussies. So Diana gave the job to the most reliable man she had."
"Maybe so," Cindy replied, "but if you ask me that's not the REAL reason she had you guard us."
Patch looked curious. "Huh? Now what the Hell is THAT supposed to mean?"
"Oh, nothing, nothing." Cindy turned towards her blonde companion. "Hey, Sue, did I tell you about the time all those boys and I went over to... " She felt the cold steel of a rifle barrel prodding against her firm breasts.
"Cut da shit, bitch," Patch snarled viciously. "I wanna know what you meant by what you said just now."
Cindy hadn't expected her plan to work so well. "Well, it's nothing really," she told him. "It's just that it seems to me that the REAL reason Diana didn't want you in on the initiation meeting was because she was afraid you'd come up with better ideas than she would, and in front of all the other gang members, too. Naturally she doesn't want the rest of the gang to know that you're as good a leader as SHE is." She winked at him conspiratorially. "But, of course, I noticed THAT right away. And so did Susan here. And if you help us pass the initiation and get into the DeSades, I can guarantee you'll have our support when you take over the leadership of the gang."
Patch seemed to be interested by that. "Well, lemme tell yuh something," he announced. "It happens that I been CONSIDERIN' takin' over this outfit for quite some time, an' I... "
He never finished the statement, because a moment later a leather gloved hand was reaching out of nowhere and encircling his thick throat. "And you WHAT?" demanded a voice, the voice of the lesbian Diana. A switchblade flicked into existence and pressed against Patch's neck. "Go on, Patchy Boy," she taunted him. 'This sounds interesting. And you what?"
Bullets of perspiration were breaking out all over the gang member's skull, and one trickle of sweat dripped down across his black leather eyepatch, causing it to glisten almost obscenely. The one-eyed man gulped. "Hell, Diana," he stammered, trying to laugh it off and not succeeding very well. "You know I was just kiddin'. Ain't nobody but you with guts enough to run this outfit. I was only kiddin'."
Diana's face was totally devoid of expression, and somehow that made her seem both ravishingly beautiful and horribly ugly at the same time. "Maybe you were jokin' and maybe you weren't," she announced with a low growl. "But next time you start jokin' like that I may just laugh so hard I'll forget what I'm doin' and kind of accidentally slit your throat. I can make jokes too, Patch. Jokes that'll make you die laughing." The blade of the knife pressed harder against his skin. "Get the point, Patch?" The woman laughed viciously, and then a moment later Patch was sprawled full length in the dirt.
Diana made a gesture with one hand and instantly all the other DeSades had converged upon the spot. "Okay, chicks," Diana informed the two helpless schoolgirls, "I'm sure you'll both be pleased to know that we've all agreed to accept you as members of our gang. PROVIDED, of course, that you pass the little initiation I mentioned. And you'll be glad to hear that we've decided exactly what that initiation will consist of."
"Good," declared Cindy. She was determined to show this demented woman that neither she nor Susan had lost their nerve. "Now maybe you'll have the hospitality to tell Sue and I exactly what you plan to do with us."
Diana seemed to' think that that was one hell of a funny joke, judging by the way she laughed at it. Cindy didn't like the way these bastards laughed at the drop of a hat; it implied that to them this whole affair was one big picnic, that Cindy and Susan were not human beings at all but mere sexual playthings.
Finally Diana stopped laughing. She gazed coldly at Cindy, with the look of a snake about to gobble down its prey. Cindy wanted to turn away from those eyes that were boring into her body, but somehow she saw that she couldn't. She felt as though she were being hypnotized, being stripped of her will. Soon she would be merely a robot, a body without a mind, forced to obey the commands of her captors.
Diana lit another cigar and jabbed it significantly in Cindy's direction. "Since you insist," she said icily, "the initiation we're gonna give you is one that we haven't used in a while, but it's one of our favorites. It's called the Seven Gates to Hell, because there's seven parts to it, and you gotta pass them ALL if you expect to survive." She stuck the tobacco-filled phallus between her ripe lips and puffed smoke at her two young captives. "Needless to say, each part of the initiation gets a little bit harder than the part before it."
"We can handle it," Cindy assured her. It was vital that both girls keep their cool, that they not back down in front of Diana or any of her men. Cindy hoped that Susan would be able to hold out under the strain of the ordeal.
Susan looked as defiant as Cindy. "We can handle it," the young blonde girl repeated. "Maybe you'd like one or two of your boys to go through the initiation WITH us to see if they're as tough as we are."
A snarl flitted across Diana's lips. "Don't you worry about none of my men," she growled threateningly. "Just worryin' about YOURSELF oughta be a full-time job from now on."
Cindy stepped forward, eager to change the subject. "Suppose we just get down to business," she suggested. "The sooner we start this initiation the sooner we'll get it over with."
She didn't like the way some of the DeSades had laughed at that.
Diana had a look on her face that reminded Cindy of someone who is about to dig into an extremely succulent meal, and who looks forward to it with the greatest of pleasure. Diana made a lazy gesture with one hand and pointed at two of her men: the big Negro and the junkie. "Big Nig, Needles," she called out to them. 'Take these pussy-holes over to the meeting room. Prepare them for the First Gate." Instantly the two gang members came forward, eager to do their mistress's bidding.
Cindy was wondering what the "meeting room" was, but she didn't have to wonder for long. Big Nig and Needles seized the two girls and walked them through a clump of trees towards what looked like a deserted farmhouse. Apparently the DeSades had appropriated this stretch of land as their own private turf, the place they used in order to hide from the police and to bring their sexual hostages to. And it was a well-chosen spot, too: if Cindy had driven past here on the highway she never would have been able to find the place, even if she had known where to look.
With one powerful foot Big Nig kicked open the farmhouse door, pushing Cindy through the black cavity of the doorway to land in a heap on the hard floor. A moment later Needles, the dope freak, was pushing Susan into the room, and then the door was being pushed shut again, plunging the room into absolute darkness.
This was their chance to escape! She and Susan were alone with two of the gang members, one of whom was a junkie and hence not in very strong condition. In the darkness it ought to be easy to get away from them and escape out a back door or a window.
She felt a hand brush against one of her breasts, probing in the darkness for the hard point of her nipple. It was literally now or never. "NOW!" Cindy shouted to Susan in the inky blackness. "RUN! GET OUT OF HERE!"
The hand took a firmer grip on her breast. Cindy, knowing that a man's hand is usually attached to the same body as a pair of nuts, lashed out with one foot for where the nuts ought to be. She felt her foot hit something soft and there was a groan of unearthly agony, and then the dull thud of a body hitting the floor. Cindy turned and ran through the darkness, not knowing whether Susan was ahead of her or behind her.
Without any light to see by, the terrain of the room was totally unknown to Cindy, and a moment later she felt the sharp edge of a tabletop leap out of the darkness and strike her in the gut. She collapsed against it heavily, feeling a strong urge to vomit. Ahead of her Cindy heard a crash of broken glass and the voice of Susan whimpering "Let me go!", followed by some undecipherable mutterings by Needles. Apparently the young junkie could see in the dark better than the two schoolgirls could.
Cindy was sprawled full length across the hard wooden tabletop. She tried to stand, to rush to her friend's aid, but before she could get up she felt the ponderous weight of Big Nig come crashing down on top of her. "I wouldn't try to get up if I was you, white girl," he gloated. "Unless, o' course, y'all is in a big hurry to commit suicide."
In the darkness she could feel his huge hot hands seizing her wrists, and then she could feel ropes being tied around her wrists and pulled tight. From the darkness in the distance, Cindy could hear strange noises, and she could only guess at the nature of the atrocities that Needles was inflicting upon poor Susan.
But a moment later Cindy didn't have time to worry about Susan, because too many things were being done to Cindy herself. She could feel Big Nig snatching at her clothes, tearing them from her flesh. The strong fabric of her bra dug into her breasts, struggling not to be stripped from Cindy's body, but after a few seconds it was ripping away. And then Cindy's shoes and stockings and skirt were going too, and she was stark naked and shivering in the cold darkness. She was scared, but her fear was nothing compared to her humiliation at being divested of her clothing by this big uncouth black man.
Cindy tried to struggle, to thrash her legs wildly in the faint hope that this would help her somehow, but Big Nig merely laughed at this. In the darkness she could feel him seize her thighs with his strong hands and press them against the table legs, and then stout ropes were encircling Cindy's ankles and restraining them against the wood of the table legs. Cindy was naked, tied up, and bent over the table with her ass pointing out as though begging all comers to help themselves to a piece. All in all, it was not the best of all possible positions to be in.
But the girl did not have much time to dwell upon the thought, because a moment later the door was kicked open again. There came the sound of a hand against a light switch, and then the room was filled with the harsh glare of several naked light bulbs. The bulbs were painted red, so that the light they emitted was also red. It made the room look as though it were catching on fire, and indeed Cindy could feel herself getting unpleasantly hot just at the thought of it. The space between her thighs was even hotter than the rest of her was.
In fact, the eerie red glow made the entire room look just like some sort of torture chamber in the depths of Hell. Which was only fair, because that was more or less exactly what it was. It was a torture chamber, and, even if Cindy and Susan were not in Hell, they were in a Hell on earth. Pretty soon the real Hell would seem like a vacation spot in comparison to this place. Cindy looked across the room, and through the dim red glow she could see that Susan was in the same condition she was: stark naked, bent over a table and trussed up like some sort of sacrificial offering. Susan was looking at her red-haired companion Cindy, and the expression on her face was not at all pleasant. Cindy knew that it was vitally important that both she and Susan hang onto their courage and their hope to escape. No matter what the cost, they would have to keep these things, or they would lose everything they had. Including what was left of their lives.
Diana strode into the room, followed at a respectful distance by the members of her gang. She stood between the two tables, where both the young prisoners could not help but look at her, and paused to inspect her men's handiwork with an expert eye. She nodded in satisfaction. This was going to be very good, she promised herself. This was going to be very good indeed.
Stepping to one side slightly so that both schoolgirls could see her face, Diana addressed them both. "You have now attempted to gain entrance to the Seven Gates of Hell," she informed them ominously. " 'Abandon hope all ye who enter here.' " She checked to see that her men were ready for what was to follow before she continued. "The First of the Seven Gates to Hell," she announced. "The First Gate is known as: the Gang-Bang."
CHAPTER THREE
A gang-bang! Poor Cindy shuddered at the mere thought of being ravished and violated by all these perverts. And she remembered that Diana had promised that each successive Gate of the Seven Gates to Hell would be worse than the one before it. If Gate One was a gang-bang, what would Gate Seven be like? Cindy couldn't begin to imagine it, and she wasn't too sure that she wanted to. The way things were going right now, she and Susan would be damned lucky to survive Gate Three.
Diana snapped her fingers as a signal to her men, and they stepped forward, eager to do her bidding. She did not have to tell them what to do, for they had taken part in so many other feasts of the flesh that by now they knew exactly what had to be done.
Scar and Rican came over to Cindy's table, while Angus and Patch crossed the room and strode towards the table where Susan was bound. Straining slightly, the men turned each table one hundred and eighty degrees, so that the two girls who had been looking directly at one another now had their backs to each other. Cindy could appreciate the sane thinking behind this last maneuver. Now, with their backs to each other, neither girl would be able to see what gruesome indignities were being forced upon her companion. Even though they would not be able to SEE each other being raped and tortured they would be able to HEAR it, and the sounds they would hear, coupled with their fevered imaginations, would have a much greater effect than the truth could ever have. Apparently these aptly-named DeSades knew exactly what they were doing, and that fact of life made it all the more unlikely that Cindy and Susan would ever leave this nightmare alive.
Out of the corner of one befogged eye Cindy could dimly make out Diana striding towards the light switch. She heard the door to the outside world slam shut with a bang, and a moment later they were plunged into pitch-black darkness.
Cindy could hear heavy footsteps on the floor behind her, footsteps made by men's feet clad in heavy motorcycle boots. Apparently all six of the men were standing between the two girls, waiting impatiently for the festivities to begin.
From somewhere in the darkness the sharply sadistic voice of Diana assailed Cindy's tortured ears. "At my signal the initiation will begin," she intoned, and Diana's voice unattached to Diana's body was even more frighteningly awesome than Cindy would have imagined. She could feel herself breaking into a cold sweat. She didn't know how Susan was taking all this, and she prayed that Susan would faint at the very beginning of the atrocities and not wake up until they were over.
But they would never be over.
"The initiation is about to begin," Diana announced. "Each of our two inductees is to receive two men at once: one in the vagina, from the rear, and the other through the mouth. It will be... "
"Aw, hell, Diana," complained a thick masculine voice, a voice that Cindy recognized even in the darkness as coming from Scar. "You know that I like t' ass-fuck. Why can't we ass-fuck 'em for a change?"
There was a sound of steel upon flesh, and then Scar was whimpering in pain. But Cindy knew that his pain would be as nothing compared to what she and Susan were about to be subjected to.
"I don't want to have to tell you again, Scar," rasped the voice of Diana through the blackness. "I'M the one in charge here. If you forget that again I may just have to open up your head and NAIL it in next time."
That's good, Cindy was thinking to herself. Keep on mistreating these guys, Diana. Pretty soon they'll all gang up on you. And then, like they say in the song, there'll be some changes made.
Diana was still giving her instructions. "Each of our inductees will be fucked in the mouth and the twat, from behind, at the same time. Each man is entitled to the mouth of one girl and the cunt of the other one, but no more." Scar sounded as though he was going to protest that ruling, but he apparently thought better of it. He did not relish the thought of another confrontation with Diana so soon after the last one.
"The ceremony of the First Gate will last exactly twenty minutes, no more no less," Diana proclaimed. "Within that period, our two subjects must make each man climax at least once. If they fail to do this, then they have failed the ceremony of the First Gate, and must not be allowed to survive for the ceremony of the Second."
Even though Cindy was totally blind in the absolute darkness of that room, in her mind's eye she could still see Diana standing before her, legs wide apart, as she raised one hand commandingly and announced: "LET THE GAMES BEGIN!"
What came next happened so fast that Cindy wasn't able to think about it until it was far too late. For suddenly a huge pillar of man-meat thrust itself between her throbbing thighs and into the tightness of her quivering vagina, and at the exact same time an even bigger wad of flesh was forcing its way into her mouth, across her tongue and down into her throat. Cindy felt like screaming, but she was unable to with that huge organ inside her mouth. Besides, no one would come to her aid, so what good could screaming do?
The two pistons of lust had both gone into her with such force and such suddenness that all the air had been knocked out of Cindy's battered body, and now it was difficult for her to regain her breath what with that immense dong inside of her. And even as she struggled to breath she could feel both cocks plunging deeper and deeper into her flesh, until Cindy felt sure that they would meet in the middle and she would be impaled like a piece of meat on a spit.
Deeper and deeper the peckers plunged. Was there no end to them? In Cindy's fevered mental state it seemed as though the two organs were literally endless, that they would just go into her farther and farther and farther, that they would PASS each other and both come out the other end, and that would be that. Not at all a very attractive proposition.
Finally she could feel her face buried in the masculine stench of someone's groin, and at the same time she could feel someone else's muscular torso up against her body. So it looked as though the cocks had reached their limit!
But Cindy was wrong. For now the two men who were within her began to pump, to send their organs shooting up and down inside of her in a frantic attempt to pierce their way another quarter-inch, another half-inch, another inch into her flesh. And there was nothing that Cindy could do. Nothing at all. Except to lie there and take it.
Again and again the twin daggers of cock-flesh forced their way into her. They were now pumping in perfect unison; in together, out together, in together, out together, and Cindy found that the friction of those powerful phalluses was getting her hot against her will, was sucking her into a vortex of lust and a pit of passionate pleasure. Even though she despised these men for abducting her and stripping her and beating her and raping her, even though she despised them and loathed them with all of her might, still she had this feeling that in some strange and perverse way SHE WANTED THEIR COCKS, she longed for their meat, she hungered for their flesh.
She didn't want it, but she longed for it. She hated it but she loved it. The faster and the harder the organs pumped, the more Cindy could feel herself being overwhelmed by a flood of confusion. She could not think properly. Her mind was just as helpless as her body. And, with both mind and body totally helpless, there was nothing she could do. Nothing at all. Except to lie there and take it.
Suddenly she could feel the spear of meat within her pussy shake and throb, and then it was gushing red hot cock-sauce deep within her cunt. The man had creamed into Cindy's flesh! And then a moment later the pungent meat in her mouth began to erupt like a volcano, and its boiling molten lava was sliding across Cindy's tongue and down into her captive throat that lay in wait beyond.
Cindy and Susan had been good friends for quite some time, and to a great extent they had lived through each other. So now, as Cindy felt those two cocks shooting out their love-juice into her body she could hear Susan moaning in involuntary passion as two other men did the exact same thing to her, and it seemed to Cindy as though she and Susan were the same person. Oh God, she thought to herself, I'm being fucked by four men at once. That thought was so overwhelming that Cindy herself very nearly had a climax. Almost had one, but not quite.
Two men had creamed into her. Two down, she thought, and four to go. The ceremony of the First Gate was supposed to last for twenty minutes. Cindy couldn't tell if the ordeal had been going on for twenty seconds or for twenty years. It felt like an eternity of agony and a fleeting moment of pleasure at the same time, and this thought merely confused Cindy all the more.
I just can't think and be fucked at the same time, she realized. I'm not made to think. I'm a woman. Women are made to be fucked; that's all they're good for. Men are the ones who are supposed to think. Men are the masters, men give the orders. Women are just supposed to lie down and get fucked. I'm glad I'm a woman. It feels nice to get fucked.
WHAT AM I SAYING? Cindy's eyes widened in terror as she realized the nature of the thoughts that had just run through her battered head. It was definitely NOT her role in life to be a sex object. It was her role in life to get the hell out of here as fast as she fuckin' could!
But there was no time to think about that, because now the two limp phalloids were crawling out of her flesh and two new ones, primed and at the ready, plunged into her. This time the shock of the double-entry bookkeeping was not quite so great to Cindy, because of what had gone before, but even so it was extremely strong. It was a pain, but it was a good pain somehow, a pain that she felt she deserved. I'm a woman, she repeated to herself, men are SUPPOSED to hurt me, if it makes them feel good. That's what I'm here for.
And then Cindy realized what a lie that was. But why did she keep thinking it unless she believed it? And if she believed it then it was the truth, not a lie. But how could it be the truth if it was a lie? And how could it be a lie if it was the truth? Cindy could feel her brain shriveling up and blowing away. It hurts too much to think, she thought. But women don't have to think; just get fucked. NO! That's a LIE! Women are great thinkers! I can think as well as any man! I can think about these two huge cocks which are going into my... what am I saying?
Cindy felt her brain explode, and then she could not think at all, only moan as the two gleaming pillars of flesh went deeper and deeper into her.
And as they went into her she could feel the huge barrels of meat growing gradually bigger and harder and more tumescent, and the bigger they got the harder her body squeezed them, and the more it hurt and the better it felt, and the more it hurt the better it felt. The better it felt. The better it felt. The better it better it better it felt. Thebetteritbetteritbetteritfelt.
And then, suddenly, suddenly, thuddingly suddenly, both cocks were creaming at once, and Cindy screamed in boundless passionate delight as she felt the twin volcanoes erupt and gush their hot torrents of molten love-lava deep down into her at the same time, rush into her faster and faster and harder and harder and more of it, more of it, more of it, more.
There would never be enough.
And then the cocks were out of her and Cindy moaned with pleasure as she felt two more phalluses coming towards her in the dim dank darkness. She wanted those cocks, she needed those cocks. Her twat was hot from those rock-hard cocks, and her mouth was full of the sweet cream from the cocks, and she wanted the cocks, the cocks, the cocks, she wanted those cocks in her hot twat box.
And then they were going into her deeper and deeper and more and more, and ten million thoughts were bouncing around in Cindy's fevered head: I want their meat I want their meat I want their meat. All she could think of was more cock, more cock. Hundreds and thousands of organs were dancing before her eyes.
The cocks went into her, deeper and deeper, and Cindy realized that in the darkness she could not tell which cock belonged to whom; the men themselves had lost their individuality, they were nothing but cocks to fuck her, cocks to fuck her, cocks to fuck her more and more.
And she herself was no longer a person, she was merely a zero, a round hole in which these formless faceless dicks stuck themselves, shooting their hot rich cream into her waiting eager flesh. More of it, more of it. There had to be more. There had to be more, there never would be enough.
More!
MORE!
Give me your cock!
Give me your COCK!
Give me your give me your give me your COCK!
The rhythm of those frantic thoughts was beating through her brain. They filled her throbbing body with their pleasure and their pain. She wanted it, she wanted it, she wanted it again. She wanted it. She needed it, she had to have it.
And then both men were creaming at once, and the pleasure for Cindy was so intense that she started to cream too, and it seemed to her as though she was creaming from her cunt and her mouth and her ass and her tits and her eyes and her ears and her whole damn body was caught up in an explosion of cream, glorious cream, more of it, more, more of it, more!
As fast as her own cream was shooting out of her she could feel the cocks shooting more cream into her, and that made Cindy feel so good that she creamed again, and again and again, until she was sure she would never stop.
But the pumping and the thumping and the bumping and the humping rose and swelled to a fever pitch, and Cindy could feel herself begin to scream, to scream and cream, to scream with pain and passion and agony and delight all mixed together and jumbled about. It was good, and she wanted it. It was bad, and she wanted it. It hurt, and because it hurt it felt good, and because it felt good she wanted it. Cindy wanted it all, and not even all of it would be enough. There would never be enough. She opened her mouth and her cunt at the same time to swallow all the cock in the world.
"AAAAHHH! I want it, I want it, I want it! Give me cock, give me cock, give me cock cock COCK!" She wanted it all, she wanted it all.
Suddenly Cindy felt a bolt of pain flash through her whole body, and then she was flying through the air and crashing painfully against the opposite wall. A huge powerful hand reached out and snatched her back into Reality.
Diana, the dominatrix of the DeSades, knew all the ins and outs of pleasure and pain. She knew that, after sufficient degradation and humiliation and pain and rape the subject reaches a point where she actually WANTS to be hurt and humiliated and raped. And when that happens the sadist must instantly STOP hurting her, because at that point hurting her will make her feel good, and the only way to HURT her is by NOT hurting her. When the victim actually begs for the pain the tormentor must withhold the pain until the victim has creeped back to Reality, until she no longer wants the pain. And then, when she no longer wants the pain, that is the time that the pain can begin anew. And in larger doses...
Cindy shook the carillons of pain from her throbbing head, and with the back of one hand she wiped feebly at the warm flow of blood in her mouth. A moment ago she had been in sexual heaven, but now she was in Hell. She was back within the torture chamber of these six insane sex maniacs, and the lecherous lesbian who led them.
Diana smiled when she saw the fear and terror begin to well up inside Cindy's eyes. Her plan was working very well-, very well indeed. Give the girl pain until she wants it, and then bring her back to the real world in which pain is undesirable.
Slowly, deliberately, masterfully, the powerful dominatrix strode across the room towards the huddled heap of ravished humanity that had once been Cindy. A single foot in a high-heeled boot lashed out and struck the girl's firm flesh. "Get up, bitch," Diana commanded. "Get up and take what you deserve."
Oh my God, was all that Cindy could think. A moment ago these people had been hurting her with their daggerlike cocks and she had loved it. But now the very thought of that pain repelled her. She wanted to get out of here. But there was no way out. No way out at all.
Diana kicked her again, kicked her square across the clit, and against her will Cindy creamed from the pain. "Get up, bitch! Do as I say or it will be the worse for you."
With what felt like a superhuman effort Cindy managed to climb to her feet. Through one red-rimmed eye she saw that Susan was being given a similar form of persuasion on the opposite side of the room.
Some gang member-Cindy was too confused to be able to tell who-seized Cindy's chin and forced her to look at Diana. The flame-haired vixen lashed out with one hand, and a moment later Cindy's face was a welter of pain-.
"You have successfully passed through the First Gate," Diana told the two captive females, "and I feel that congratulations are in order, even though you are unworthy of them. Hopefully you are now ready to attempt entrance through the Second Gate."
Cindy nearly fainted. With a courageous effort she managed to hang onto her conscious, but then she felt that she was going to get sick. If she did it in here, in the presence of all these sadists, it would be the last thing she would ever do. She HAD to hold it in, or else Death would be just around the corner.
Cindy's tortured face and pain-wracked body went through a series of convulsions as she struggled valiantly to keep from vomiting. Diana saw what was going on and smiled. Sometimes it was good to have a little mercy, so that the victim would fail to become disciplined enough to survive the final, crushing blow.
With a wave of magnanimity she turned to address both girls: "If there is anything you would like to do... other than trying to escape, of course... you have three minutes in which to do it." She gestured to the gang members to let them pass. There was a fleeting look on Scar's battered face as though he wanted to protest this leniency, but he remembered what had happened the last time he had spoken out of turn.
Like lightning Cindy and Susan were bolting towards the door, stumbling and staggering from the after-effects of the orgasmic orgiastic ordeal. Cindy had both hands clamped over her mouth, and Susan did not look very healthy either.
The two girls pounded out the door and sank gratefully into the soft cool grass that beckoned them. It seemed to Cindy as though she were completely expelling herself into the grass, as though she were vomiting and pissing and shitting and spitting and crying and creaming and everything else all at once, as though she were turning into a puddle of excretions.
She wept.
Finally she could feel a remnant of normalcy returning to her body, and she managed to pull herself into a sitting position. She saw that her friend Susan had already "done her thing" and was sitting and watching the gasping, groaning Cindy. Apparently Susan had endured the ordeal better than Cindy had.
The two girls stared at each other for a long moment. At last Susan opened her mouth and out came: "Feeling better?"
"Feeling less bad." Cindy seriously doubted that she would ever experience any sensation remotely resembling healthiness again.
Susan stole a glance at the sweat-streaked, naked body of Cindy, then nodded at her decisively. "Now's our chance," she whispered hoarsely. "Nobody's watching us. Let's run." No sooner were the words out of the blonde girl's mouth when a bullet whined inches away from her left tit and sent splinters of rock rebounding from a nearby boulder. Apparently they WERE being watched, and being watched very closely.
From somewhere or other a voice that sounded suspiciously like Diana's called out: "Ready for Gate Number Two?"
Cindy fainted.
CHAPTER FOUR
She was dimly aware of a tightness around her body, as though she were heavily bound by cords or cables. Cindy found that she was unable to see or speak or hear.
Had they deliberately blinded her and deafened her and muted her? Cindy wouldn't put it past them. She tried to move her arms and legs, and discovered that not only could she not move them, but that she couldn't even FEEL them? Had these sadistic monsters amputated her limbs?
An even more horrible thought struck her: was she dead? It seemed to Cindy's fevered mind that she WAS dead, in fact she hoped it was true, because she knew that even the most painful of all deaths would be far more pleasant than the endless agony that she had just been subjected to.
But no, she knew she was alive. Probably crippled, possibly maimed, but definitely alive. Damn it.
The only question now was: how long would she be allowed to go on living before they crushed her like a helpless insect? Cindy had barely survived the First Gate, had she not been granted a three-minute rest period she might not have survived at all. Cindy knew with a certainty that she would never survive the Second Gate, even if it were to be less severe than the First had been.
And Cindy knew that, however bad the First Gate had been, the Second would be infinitely worse. And the Third would be Hell Incarnate. And the Fourth...
Cindy would not survive the Fourth.
She would not survive the Third.
For a moment she considered killing herself right then and there, killing herself with one quick, merciful stroke, and thereby give herself the pleasure of denying one more lascivious thrill to her tormentors. She knew that they wanted her to live, to live as long and as painfully as possible, so that when every last throe of agony had been wrung from her battered body then and only then would they begin the actual Death ceremony. And when Death finally did come, it would be slow and painful and mercilessly agonizing.
Cindy screamed, but no sound came out. She was certain now that during her unconscious state those demented DeSades and their gleaming switchblades had been at work upon her body, blinding her, crippling her, making her even unable to scream.
As they slowly lessened the wretched treatment her battered senses needed to begin functioning again. Now she could see and hear and feel and do everything else again. And now that she could sense things she didn't want to, because her senses told her that she was still in the clutches of the motorcycle gang, and that she was not going to escape.
Not even through Death. Not even Death itself would be an escape from this web of pain and agony. There was no escape at all.
"Feeling better?" a voice called out sarcastically, and Cindy did not have to ask whose voice it was. She could see Diana coming towards her, and the look in those piercing eyes was infinitely more evil than it had earlier been.
Cindy saw that she and Suzy were huddled naked in a corner of the "torture chamber". Both of them had been bruised and scratched, and they'd even bled a little, but Cindy was surprised to see that the damage had been much less extensive than she had imagined it to be. She shuddered as the thought came to her that perhaps these people wanted them to remain reasonably healthy NOW, so that the pain would be all the more intense later on...
Diana seemed to be psychic, because she laughed as this thought went through Cindy's brain. "No, bitch," Diana said cruelly, "we do not get our thrills or our pleasures from bleeding people or killing them. My men could have beaten you or tortured you, but they raped you. There was pain in that act, yes, but it was still an act of sex, and not an act of sadism. We only choose to use sadism as a means to make our subjects more... willing... for the sex."
Cindy and Susan merely glared at this woman. Cindy didn't know how to take this news at all. Apparently they were not going to be tortured so much as ravished, THAT much was promising. But she knew that as they passed through each successive Gate of Hell the sex and the pain that went with it would gradually become more painful. And, in the long run, was it better to be tortured to death or raped to death? Either way you're dead.
Diana was coming closer all the time, and so were her six playmates. "Are you ready to enter the Second Gate?"
Cindy was too weak to answer. Susan started to say something, but Diana cut the words off in mid-syllable. "It matters not whether YOU are ready," Diana said coldly. "The fact remains that WE are ready."
"Just a minute," protested Cindy. She knew that she had to keep her resistance up for as long as she could, that it would be fatal to submit. "What if we refuse to enter this so-called Second Gate? We didn't like the First one too much."
The smile upon Diana's face became even more evil than before, and there was beauty in that evil, for truly pure Evil is always filled with fascinating qualities that make it hard to resist.
"If you refuse," said Diana calmly and flatly, in a voice drained of all emotion, "then we shall quite simply have to kill you." It was not a threat, nor was it a promise. It was simply a statement of fact: we shall have to kill you.
Cindy was still defiant. "But you just said you're rapists, not sadists. If you kill us you can't rape us."
It was important that she confuse this woman, that she hold her up to mockery before her followers, so that the revolt which had been brewing would now burst into life and become a reality.
There was tension in the air: extremely high tension. Both Cindy and Susan could see that every single male member of the DeSades gang had turned to look at the voluptuous woman who was their leader. They were waiting to see what she would do, how she would react. And Diana knew that they were watching her, and that only made the tension grow worse. Cindy hoped that now-right now, this very minute-would be the time when Scar and the other men would try to wrest the leadership of the gang from Diana. Cindy held her breath and waited for the volcano to burst into eruption.
But Diana was cool. That was why she was the leader: because no matter what happened she never lost her head or her ability to use it. Slowly, decisively, she lifted one gloved hand towards the roof of the farmhouse and calmly, steadily announced: 'The Seven Gates to Hell. Gate Two."
She had not eliminated the confrontation, merely postponed it. When the showdown actually did come it would be all the bloodier as a result of this. Cindy doubted that she and Susan would be able to hold out that much longer.
"The Second Gate to Hell."
Instantly strong hands reached out towards the two female captives, reached out and dug into their pliant flesh, which was already beginning to show the scars of this ordeal. But Cindy knew that the ordeal had barely begun. They had come through the First Gate battered and bleeding. Would they come through the Second Gate alive or dead?
Cindy saw a hand reaching out to cover her face. She gave a little moan and then she fainted.
* * *
Everything was black, and Cindy could feel a tremendous pain in her wrists. Her face and her legs and her breasts and her buttocks were all nonexistent, they had all vanished. The whole world was gone. The only things that remained were her wrists, and the tremendous pain that flooded into them faster and faster every moment, giving no sign at all of ever stopping or even diminishing.
For what seemed like an endlessly infinite eternity she merely existed as a pair of throbbing wrists, radiating pain to every corner of a universe which had long since vanished, which had disappeared completely so as to make more room for the mountainously monstrous pain in those wrists. And then, after a millennium of agony, Cindy found that she had a mouth, and that it was screaming. And now there were two forces flooding the cosmos and battling for superiority: the pain and the scream. And now Cindy knew that she must also have ears, besides the wrists and the mouth, because she could hear her own scream. And the fact that she knew this meant that she had to have a brain, and if she had a brain than she had to be alive. And if she was alive then that meant that the pain was going to continue, that she would not be allowed to die, at least not yet.
Cindy screamed. And screamed. And screamed and screamed and screamed.
Something struck her across what was left of her face, and she found herself opening her eyes in surprise. And then she saw what these monsters had done to her and she screamed yet again.
Two thick iron manacles had been clamped about her pulsating wrists, and chains led from these bands of metal to a hook in the ceiling. Cindy was dangling in midair by her wrists.
She looked downwards and saw that her toes were a fraction of an inch from the floor. If she could only reach the floor that would take the ponderous weight from her wrists, and then there would be no pain.
Grunting and straining and sweating, Cindy expended every ounce of strength she had in a desperate struggle to make her feet touch the ground. But it didn't work. Apparently her captors, so finely trained and experienced in the art of tormenting women, knew exactly how far up to hang their victims to keep them from touching the ground. Because no matter how much Cindy grunted and gasped and struggled, she still could not put her feet on the ground. Once she thought she felt the floor brush against the tips of her toes, but then it was gone again and a million miles away.
A voice called out from somewhere in the fog of her battered brain. "Forget it, cunt. You're gonna hang there a while. You're gonna hang there like a piece of meat in a delicatessen, waiting to be butchered." The voice broke out into fits of raucous laughter, and Cindy recognized the source of that voice as none other than Scar.
Deciding to abandon her attempts to stand on her feet, the girl began to exert her strength in another direction. Straining with both hands, she managed to get her fingers to close around the chain directly above her wrists. Holding it firmly, she managed to pull herself another fraction of an inch into the air. Now she was supporting her weight with her hands, rather than her wrists, and this felt a little bit better, but even so she could feel the agony of those links cutting into the soft skin of her fingertips. Deciding that she had to keep her strength up no matter how much pain she brought on herself, Cindy let go of the chain to dangle by her wrists again. She fell downward slightly, and for one gloriously delicious moment the balls of her feet were touching the floor and there was no pain in her wrists. But then she was dangling again, and the pain was worse than ever.
She could see a few feet into the darkness now, and Cindy saw that she was surrounded by all the DeSades, with their lecherous lesbian leader front and center. Just behind Big Nig's gigantic left shoulder Cindy could make out the shadowy outline of a strange object. At first she thought that it was a side of beef hanging in a smokehouse, but then she saw with a suppressed scream of horror that it was Susan! Like Cindy herself, Susan had been chained at the wrists and strung up helplessly. Now the young blonde girl's head dangled towards the floor and her golden hair cascaded down her limp body, lightly touching her bruised and bleeding flesh. Susan was unconscious. Thank goodness for that much anyway, Cindy thought. But then she remembered that just because Susan was lying absolutely still didn't mean that she was unconscious. She could also be something else, and when Cindy realized what that something else was she was screaming all over again at the top of her tortured lungs.
"Shut up, you bitch!" snarled a voice, and by now Cindy had sunk so far into a chasm of agony that she could no longer tell who had spoken, or even whether the speaker had been Diana or one of the men. Somebody's hand flicked out of the darkness and slapped Cindy hard, and then backhanded her, and then slapped her again. Her ears were wringing and her teeth were throbbing. The blow to her jaw had been so severe that Cindy actually expected to see her jawbone fall off and tumble to the floor, where it would break into a thousand pieces and scatter teeth in every direction. But nothing happened. Except for more pain. More pain and the fact that the barrage of blows had sent her swinging back and forth on the chain, swinging back and forth like a target in some sort of sadists' shooting gallery, and the pendulum motion only flooded her bleeding wrists with more and more pain.
Suddenly the lights were turned on, and Cindy screamed again as she felt certain that this time she had gone absolutely, totally, permanently blind.
Finally the blazing inferno that swept through her pain-scorched eyeballs managed to diminish somewhat, and Cindy could see at last. She saw the hook that was holding her above the ground. And then she saw what had happened to her wrists. It wasn't at all pretty. For a long moment she was sure that she was going to be sick again, but then she felt the hollow emptiness within her writhing flesh and remembered that she had been sick once already. Unless these monsters became merciful enough to throw her a few scraps of food, she wouldn't be able to get sick again. So now there was a bad taste in her mouth. That was all. That was all, except for the burning hellfires in her agonized wrists.
Diana took a step closer to the dangling sex-object, placing one leathered hand roughly against the girl's shivering right breast. "Your entry into the Second Gate is about to begin," Diana announced calmly.
ABOUT to begin? Cindy knew that she had endured enough torture and torment for all the Second Gates that ever were or that ever would be. And now they were telling her that the ceremony was ABOUT to begin? Cindy very nearly fainted again, but the extent of the pain, as well as some sort of morbid masochistic curiosity about the atrocities these people were going to do to her made her stay reasonably conscious, so that she would know what it was that they were doing to her.
Diana signalled to her followers, and Scar and Angus stepped right up to Cindy; Scar in the front and the Scotsman behind. Two others, Patch and Big Nig, were closing in upon Susan in the identical fashion.
Diana smiled at the redheaded schoolgirl in a way that was not pleasant in any way, shape or form. "I feel that I really must apologize for the little, ah, inconvenience to your hands and arms. It is really not a part of the ceremony, because it is basically a sadistic act rather than a sexual act, and you are here for the purpose of satisfying my men and I SEXUALLY, rather than any other way." A cloud of cigar smoke found its way into Cindy's eyes. "But we have chosen to... keep you in suspense, you might say, like this because it is the best way for us to perform the ceremony." She smiled in what was almost a friendly fashion. "And don't worry. Soon there won't be any pain at all."
That was a statement that could be taken two different ways, Cindy thought to herself sardonically. She was beginning to wonder how many more times she would be fucked and hurt and bled and tortured before she would find herself actually longing for Death, begging for a chance to be put out of her misery.
Scar and Angus were starting to lower their pants. Not far away Patch and Big Nig were doing the same thing, each keeping a lecherous eye upon the helpless Susan.
Diana was looking Cindy squarely in the face. "The reason why you are hanging there like that," she informed her coldly, "is because you are about to get sandwich-fucked."
Sandwich-fucked? Now what the hell was that, Cindy wondered. Whatever it was, it certainly didn't sound very enjoyable. Were these perverts planning to shove a BLT up her cunt? Cindy wouldn't have put it past them. She knew that there was absolutely nothing that DIDNT turn these bastards on, providing that it called for the humiliation and sexual ravishment of a helpless naked female.
But then she saw the two men taking out their huge cocks, and Cindy groaned as she realized exactly what was meant by the term "sandwich-fucking":
both these guys were going to screw her at once: one in the front and one in the back, and she would be quite literally in the middle. It was going to be a human sandwich, with the men as the two slices of bread and Cindy as the filling. And the men were the ones who were going to be doing the filling...
Slowly both men reached out for her, until Cindy was pressed tightly between them. She was dimly aware that Susan had regained her consciousness, and was screaming and protesting as two more of the DeSades prepared to give her a sandwich-fuck of their own. But Cindy, concerned as she was for her friend's safety, really couldn't afford to worry about her, because she had herself to worry about.
Suddenly a glorious feeling shot through and through the girl's body as Scar and Angus came closer to her. For in so doing they were now holding her body up between themselves, and thus taking the awful weight from what was left of her agonized wrists.
This may not be so bad after all, Cindy was thinking to herself. But she knew deep down inside that actually the pain and the agony were only just beginning. And it would be a long, long time before they showed any signs of ending.
Cindy shut her eyes so as to blot out the hideous sight of Scar's bulging cock moving slowly and inexorably towards her vagina. With her eyes shut she hoped that she would be unable to see it, but actually this was no help at all: for some masochistic reason known only to itself Cindy's battered mind insisted upon visualizing that ugly twisted organ rubbing against her flesh. And then she felt the thing touch her, and that made it even worse.
And less than a second later she could feel a similar shaft of flesh rubbing against her scratched buttocks, and then Cindy was held at bay between the two cocks. The things were moving across her flesh like animals with minds of their own, sniffing about and finding holes to burrow into. Somehow the conception of those two pricks as living things, independent of the men to which they were attached, was extremely repelling to Cindy, and she very nearly became sick again, despite the emptiness in her stomach. She thought she heard a slight moan or a whimper from across the room, and then Cindy knew that already her young friend Susan had crossed the threshold of the Second Gate to Hell. But would either girl get through the obstacle alive?
And now those two thick heavy organs were pressing more firmly against Cindy's body, and she could feel them sliding down the length of her figure towards the twin clefts between her legs. They were there now, brushing their hot tips against the tight pink rosebud of her asshole and the only slightly looser expanse of her vagina.
The two men were pulling her body downwards, almost like some sort of erotic bellrope, and Cindy could feel hot stinging pain come jabbing its way into her tortured wrists once again.
And then her wrists were not the only parts of the girl's body that were crying out with pain, because she could feel those two swollen prick-pillars forcing their way into her, literally breaking down the door, because these were men who felt that sex was all the more enjoyable if they FORCED their way into a woman. They wanted to hurt her, they wanted to see tears in her eyes and blood in her mouth.
Cindy was on the verge of crying now. The two cocks were gigantic, and they refused to go into her. But their masters refused to keep them out, and they thrust them into her all the harder, and Cindy gritted her teeth. She was sure that she could actually feel the flesh tearing within her loins. It was bad enough for her to accommodate one organ, but each of these big fucksticks was making it all the harder for the other one. There was very little room inside of poor Cindy, and two cocks at once simply would not go in.
But they DID go in. They HAD to go in. The two men pulled her up and down and up and down on the chains that held Cindy to the ceiling, until finally the spears of man-meat had gone into her all the way. She gave a little moan of relief as she hoped and prayed that at last it was over.
But it wasn't over. It would never be over. Because now her two tormentors were pumping up and down inside of her, and in a sandwich-fuck the best way for a man to fuck is not by pumping his cock up and down, but by pumping the woman up and down.
So now poor Cindy was being pulled up and down faster and faster, and with each stroke she could feel those two glistening phalluses sliding up and down inside of her reluctant and captive flesh with ever-increasing vigor.
By this time Cindy was no longer a woman, or even a living thing. She was a plaything, a sex-toy, and she was being manipulated up and down by these two men for the sole purpose of their own erotic enjoyment. They didn't care what Cindy thought or how it felt for her. It didn't matter. Cindy was a woman, a girl, a cunt, a twat, and such things aren't supposed to think or even to feel. They're only supposed to lie there and get fucked. Or stand there and get fucked. Or sit there or kneel there or hang there and get fucked. That's what they're made for, and that's all that they're good for. A woman is supposed to make a man come. Whether she comes too or whether she screams in agony is completely unimportant, just so long as she makes the man come. Because that's what she's here for.
And then, suddenly, both men were creaming at once, shooting their hot sticky wads into Cindy's writhing interior from two different directions. She squirmed in panic and screamed, begging for mercy, pleading for mercy, offering to give these men whatever they wanted if only they would leave her alone. But they already knew what they wanted, and now they were taking it. Cindy screamed again. It seemed to her that those two gargantuan organs were burrowing right into her body and up her throat, to come out of her mouth. Just the thought of it repelled her.
And then at last, at blessed last, they were pulling out of her and she was dangling by her wrists again, which hurt like hell but was better than the agony of a sandwich-fuck. I made it, Cindy thought. I made it through the Second Gate.
Diana gestured to Rican and Needles, who had both been standing by watching all-this amusedly. "It's your turn," Cindy heard the dominatrix say to her two demented disciples.
As Cindy looked on in horror, Rican and Needles came slowly towards her, opening their flies as they did so.
She fainted again.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was an endless agony of nightmare from then on. They woke her up with some slaps and some kicks and some punches and a pot of boiling water, and Cindy was forced to watch as she was sandwich-fucked again. As they subjected her to the indignity, the girl hoped and pleaded and prayed to Heaven for unconsciousness, even if only for one merciful second. That would be enough. That would be enough.
But her tormentors did not want her unconscious. They wanted her wide awake and with her eyes open so that she could see all the atrocities that they were doing to her. And what they did lasted for several hours, and it was all the harder for Cindy to take when she heard the groans and whimperings from across the room that told her that Susan was getting the same treatment as she herself was.
But at last it was over, at least for the moment, and Diana ordered two of her men to take the girls down, and as soon as Cindy felt the pain leave her wrists she instantly lapsed into blessed oblivion.
* * *
She was lying down somewhere, and it was very cramped because she couldn't move. Her ass felt as though it were on fire, and Cindy noticed that she couldn't feel her arms from the elbows down to her fingers. Well, at least numbness was preferable to the excruciating agony that she had just been through.
With what was almost an indescribable effort, Cindy managed to open one eye. The other one just wouldn't seem to open for some reason.
It took at least a minute for her blearied vision to focus itself, but at last Cindy could make out the battered form of Susan not too far away. The fourteen-year-old blonde girl was still unconscious, and Cindy thought that she could detect what looked like teardrops on the edges of Susan's eyelashes.
Softly Cindy tried to call out to her companion. She opened her mouth and moved her tongue but nothing came out. Finally she tried again, and this time she was successful: "Susan."
But she had to try again, because Susan had not heard. It was very hard for Cindy to speak, other than by yelling so loudly that their captors would hear it, and it took quite a few minutes before she managed to find the right volume range, and after a while Susan's eyelashes fluttered and she looked up at Cindy.
Susan's lower lip was trembling. "W-w-where are we?" she asked fearfully. Cindy could tell by the look on the young captive's terror-stricken face that she already knew the answer to that question, but was hoping that she didn't.
Cindy couldn't see very much of their surroundings, and what she could see she couldn't recognize, but she was sure that, wherever they were, the DeSades were not too far away. Without even waiting for Cindy to answer her question Susan saw the look in her companion's eyes and burst into tears.
A sudden burst of pain shot through Cindy's wrists, and she looked down and saw that they had been neatly bandaged. So had Susan's for that matter. But the bandages looked as though they were in need of changing. Cindy wondered how badly their wrists had been damaged, but she didn't want to pull off the bandages and look at what was underneath. From what she could see of it it was very nasty. Her fingernails looked decidedly black at the edges.
Cindy nodded significantly at the bandages. "Well, at least we know they're trying to take care of us. Maybe they want to hurt us, and maybe they even want to damage us, but I don't think they're planning to kill us."
Susan didn't seem to want to believe this. "Maybe they just don't want to kill us ahead of schedule," she muttered glumly. "Besides, even if they DONT kill us, I think that pretty soon we're going to be too fucked-up to ever live normal lives again. Who WANTS to live if it means being a cripple? Especially when for as long as we keep living we'll never be able to forget what happened to us here!"
Cindy nodded glumly at these last remarks. She agreed with what her friend had said, but even so she wished that Susan wouldn't think such things. It was of the utmost importance that they gear their minds completely towards that one thought: ESCAPE. The moment that they gave up all hope was the moment that they would slowly begin to die.
Cindy was about to say something to comfort Susan when all of a sudden she became aware of voices talking through the thin wooden wall she was propped up against. "Listen," she whispered hoarsely to her friend Susan, and the two of them lay absolutely motionless so as not to miss a syllable of what was being said. They knew that any scraps of information they garnered might turn out to be of vital importance.
The voices were far away and speaking in very low tones, so at first neither one of the girls could make out the words that were being spoken or even the identity of the speakers. After a while it became obvious that the voices, and presumably the speakers, were coming closer. But even then it was hard to understand what was being said, because the speakers seemed to be walking over a stretch of gravel and kicking it with their feet as they walked. The sound of the tiny stones sliding across each other and scattering in every direction made it almost impossible for the two girls to hear what was being said. For some perverse reason, the harder they tried to screen out the gravel noises and concentrate on the voices, the louder the gravel seemed to get.
But finally the gravel sounds stopped, and both girls could feel the frail wall creak as two large bodies leaned against it. Eagerly they moved their ears as close to the wall as they could, which was not very far due to the fact that they were tied up and in pain.
There was the sound of a match striking and somebody puffing at something, and then one voice spoke up: "You do see, don't you, that it's got to be done?" That was Big Nig's voice, but from that small snatch of conversation it was next to impossible for either girl to determine what it was he was saying.
"Of course I see it," rasped the second voice. Scar's voice. "I ain't no fool. The only question I got is: when the fuck do we do it and how?"
There was a slight pause, and then a grunting sound that suggested Big Nig was nodding in agreement. "Good question," he admitted at last. "Damn good question. We'll hafta get as many o' the guys ovuh to our side as possible."
This time it was Scar's turn to grunt his agreement. "Yeah, right, baby," he muttered thickly. "But how many yuh figyer we can count on?"
There was another pause, as though Big Nig were doing some heavy thinking. "Let's see now," he mumbled. "Needles is no problem. He'll do anythin' anybody tells him to. If we ask him to fight he'll fight."
"Right," assented Scar. "But if Diana asks him to fight he'll fight. An' remember, coon: Diana's still the one who's runnin' things. Otherwise we wouldn't be sittin' here jawin' our nuts off."
Cindy drew in her breath sharply, and nearby Susan was reacting in similar fashion. So at last the male members of the motorcycle gang were planning their long-awaited revolt! This was the opportunity Cindy had been waiting for. She strained against her bonds as much as she could and then some, so as to be certain not to miss a word of what was being said.
"Let's not count on Needles, then," she could make out Big Nig suggesting. "Besides, even if we did get him on our side he wouldn't be much help. An' if he was on her side, he wouldn't be much hurtin'."
There were a few seconds of silence, punctuated by the sound of someone sucking furiously on a reefer, and then the big black sadist was speaking again. "Rican'll go where I go," he assured his companion Scar. "But Patch I think we can forget about. He'll stick to Diana till the day he dies, an' even then maybe. So that makes it three against two, wit' Needles bein' a toss-up."
There was silence again, and then Scar was sharply demanding: "What about Angus? Think he'll be for or against?"
It was sheer agony for the two girls as they waited for Big Nig to pass judgment on the loyalties of Angus. Finally the man spoke: "Angus? He's the kinda guy that'll make a damned good friend or a fuckin' deadly enemy. Whichever way he sides could probably swing the bat tie. Diana an' Patch are both damn good fighters, as good as we are, maybe better. Us an' Rican will hafta depend on him bein' with us if we expect to win. If he says he's neutral we can forget it. An' if he sticks with Diana, then you an' me is dead, boy." There was a pause. "An' Rican too."
Scar seemed to think that this was a telling point. There came the sound of feet sliding along gravel, and then Scar wanted to know: "Okay, so how do we find out which way he points his blade? You think we should just walk up an' ask him if he's on our side?"
Big Nig snorted. "Hell, no, baby. What if he says 'no'? Once he's in on our little plan, then unless he's on our side we've had it. Unless we get 'im alone when we ask him. Then, if he doesn't go our way we can just snuff him right there."
This time it was Scar's turn to snort. "Us? Snuff Angus? Up your ass, man. Cut him, yeah, but snuff him? No way. Unless we had Rican to help, an' maybe not even then. So it's us three against them three, but they got the big three. What we need is somethin' to break the tie."
There was a very long silence, and for a while Cindy was afraid that the discussion had ended with nothing being resolved. She was lying propped up on one elbow and it was a position she didn't think she could hold much longer. She was about to roll over when suddenly Scar spoke again: "What about the cunts?"
"Huh?" Big Nig sounded mystified. "What you talkin' about, man? What cunts? What's cunts got to do with anything?"
Scar sounded almost as though he were talking to a child. "Asshole! What the fuck you think we been goin' over for the last day, muskrats? We got us two cunts right here in this barn."
It took a while for Big Nig to pick up the significance of this statement, but when he got it he got it in a big way. Practically exploding, he roared: "Man, you tellin' me we should get them two chicks on our side?"
"Why not?" Scar wanted to know. Cindy and Susan were exchanging frantic glances. "They'll be glad to snuff Diana. I bet they hate her fuckin' guts after what she did to them."
"You mean they hate OUR fuckin' guts," the black man hastened to correct him, "after what WE done to them. Maybe Diana was callin' the shots, but we're the ones who pulled the triggers."
"Maybe YOU pulled a trigger, nigger," spat Scar ferociously. "Me, I'm gonna go make them chicks an offer they can't refuse." The girls could hear him standing up and making sounds as though he were about to walk away.
"Wait a minute," said Big Nig. "I'm not worryin' about what if they says 'no', but what if they says 'yes'? What good are they gonna be? They only little kids; that's why we snatched 'em, because we like our cunts young. I'll bet they never could fight, an' they sure as hell won't be any good aftuh what we been doin' to 'em."
"I don't care," countered Scar. "If we can get 'em to swing with us it'll be five against four, maybe six against three. An' who knows, Angus might be on our side. Maybe the chicks can't fight, but sometimes a whole crowd o' shitheads can whomp one fighter. A big crowd can kinda demoralize the opposition." Scar laughed as he said this, pleased with himself.
He was the sort of fellow who got a kick out of using big words correctly, especially when he used them in front of other people, because that was even more impressive.
There was a silence that both girls thought was agonizing, but then at last Scar was speaking again: "Well, I guess I got a little business to talk over wit' them chicks. An if they say 'no dice' then I'll just say a few things to them... if yuh know what I mean." There was a pause, followed by a sound that Cindy recognized as someone pressing the button on a switchblade and letting the business end pop out ready for action.
Suddenly a door opened not too far away, and there came the sound of heavy motorcycle boots coming towards them. "I'll take over guardin' the chicks for a while, Rican," they heard Scar's gruff voice booming. "You go see Nig. He wants t' talk to you."
Quickly both girls tried to get away from the wall so as to look as though they hadn't heard anything, but suddenly the door was opening and Scar was standing there. It didn't take long for him to figure out what had been going on. "So you heard, huh?" he demanded accusingly.
"Yes, we did," Cindy said, trying to drum up a touch of defiance in the tone in which she spoke. "We heard it all. What's it to you?"
"Never mind what's it to me," came the answer sharply. "You two got a decision to make. So which way you headin'?"
Susan glanced .significantly at the gleaming blade that Scar held in one hand. "We don't exactly seem to have very much of a choice now, do we?"
Scar seemed to think that was funny. As he laughed he snapped the blade back into the knife and then the knife went into his pocket. "No, you AIN'T got a choice. But tell the truth now... " At this his voice dropped to a conspiratorial level. "If yuh DID have a choice, which way would you go?"
"With you, Scar," Cindy said frantically, in such a way that he knew she really meant it. "Definitely with you. Now hurry up an' get these ropes off us."
As Scar bent to free them from their bonds Cindy turned the recent happenings over and over in her mind. Hopefully there would be civil war amongst the DeSades, and just as hopefully the survivors--if any-would be too messed up to be able to prevent the girls from escaping. But if not... well, Cindy didn't want to think about the if not.
They were free now, and they stood up with an effort. Not only were both girls stark naked, but they were also in extremely weak condition, and Cindy doubted that either she or Susan would be of any help at all in the battle that was about to begin. But she didn't want to communicate her doubts to Scar, because otherwise he might decide not to help them after all.
Scar stuck his head through the door and looked around, making sure that nobody was watching. Apparently nobody was, because he made a beckoning gesture to his two female allies with one hand. "Let's go. On the double."
Neither girl had to be told twice. As quickly as they could the two battered sex-captives stumbled and limped along behind Scar towards the door.
Big Nig and Rican were both waiting for them outside. The expressions on their faces were not very nice to look at, but then neither were their faces.
"Bad news," the black stud announced as the three came up to them. "Angus an' Needles are both swingin' their fists from Diana's side of the fence. An' Patch too, of course. So that makes it five against four."
"FOUR against four, you mean," corrected a voice, a female voice. They all turned to see Diana standing not too far away, and in her capable hands was a double-barreled shotgun.
Her finger squeezed the trigger, and the shotgun spat flame and smoke.
r There was an unearthly yell scant inches away from Cindy, and she turned to see Big Nig looking in horror as his white T-shirt turned pink and then red. It had been a close-range shot, but it had also been a shotgun and not a rifle. To Cindy's untrained eye the wound was serious, but not fatal.
Big Nig didn't seem to care about the distinction though.
Even as Cindy watched, the big black stud rolled his eyes heavenwards and muttered "Oh, Lawdy". And then a moment later he was writhing in the dust, spilling out his lifeblood. The wound was a small one, but Cindy knew that unless Big Nig was in a hospital bed within the hour he could kiss this world good-bye.
Diana tapped her finger noisily against the shotgun trigger. "Who's next?" she called out. "Shall we try for THREE out of four?"
At that instant something happened to Cindy that she never did understand. Suddenly all the pain and the agony and the torture that she and Susan had been subjected to was all merging and coalescing into one solid ball of fury. The next thing Cindy knew she was charging like a bull, head down and stark naked, straight for the gut of the woman that she hated more than anything she could think of.
Diana was so surprised at the attack from this unexpected quarter that she didn't react until it was nearly too late. Even though Cindy's lithe body was guided by all of her pent-up fury, still she was weak and hungry, and so her charge was not quite as fast or as well-aimed as it ought to have been, and there was a fraction of an instant between the time that Diana noticed the attack and the time that the two bodies met head-on.
Diana took advantage of that fraction of an instant. With a cry of triumph she turned her gun around to send the heavy wooden butt crashing against Cindy's temple. The young girl groaned and collapsed.
And the gun went off.
The shotgun pellets tore through the fabric of Diana's one-piece leather suit and kept on going, barely grazing the skin of her armpit. But they had drawn blood, and she was so surprised by the sound of the shot, followed by the pain in her side, that she jumped to the obvious conclusion.
For one brief moment there was a terribly pained look on the harsh lesbian's face as she suddenly thought that she had been fatally shot.
This was all the respite that Susan needed. "The gun's empty now!" she shouted. "Let's get her!"
CHAPTER SIX
No sooner did Diana realize that she had not been shot fatally after all than she had a new problem to worry about. Because suddenly Scar and Rican were both piling on top of her at once, pummeling her face and body with their fists and seeing to it that the gun that had brought down Big Nig would never do the same to anybody else.
Susan tried to join the fray, naturally, but she had been even more weakened by the sadomasochistic ordeal than her friend Cindy had been. The frail blonde girl took one step forward and then fell flat on her lovely face. There were two deep craters in the dust where her tits hit the ground.
The fight was short and sweet, and the outcome obvious. Diana was a better fighter than Scar or Rican, but not better than both men put together. Also the wound under her arm made her hesitate slightly when she threw a punch, and that little bit extra helped things enormously. In a moment Rican had his hand around Diana's neck and his knife to her throat.
"NO!" shouted Scar hastily, taking a step towards them. "Don't kill her! We need her alive!" The big lecher's eyes narrowed to slits. "Later on we can... let her pay for what she's done." A slight swelling in the vicinity of Scar's dungareed crotch told the world exactly what he meant by that.
The young Hispanic spat to show his contempt for that suggestion. "We make her pay NOW!" he hissed through battered and yellowed teeth. "She killed my frien' Beeg Neeg. We make her pay NOW!" The knife twitched in the direction of the leather-clad lesbian's throat.
Scar's foot, clad in its heavy motorcycle boot, lashed out, and the fragments of what had once been Rican's best switchblade bounced into the dust. "Do as I say!" He thundered. "Big Nig meant as much t' me as he did t' you. He still does. An' I'm tellin' you she didn't kill him; she just fucked him up a little. If we can just get him to a hospital he'll be good as new."
Rican looked angrier than ever. "YOU take him to hospital," he countered. "I keel this bastard fo' what she do to Nig."
The monstrous Scar took a menacing step towards his former battle companion. "Damn it, I told you we're not gonna KILL her!"
"Bloody right you're not," called out a voice softly. Both men looked upwards.
On the slanting roof of the farmhouse stood the fiery Angus, while directly behind him stood Patch and, a bit farther back, Needles. Angus might have been rough and merciless in matters of sex, but on the battlefield he was a gentleman. He would never think of killing a man from behind, preferring instead to have him turn around before he killed him. Now, outnumbered and several feet below their attackers, it was Scar and Rican who had the disadvantage, especially because Rican's knife and the shotgun had both been put permanently out of commission.
Angus nodded his burly head in the direction of their female captive. "I think ye'll be lettin' Diana go now," he said softly.
But Diana was the sort of fighter that preferred escape to rescue. Taking advantage of the diversion from above, she bent her head backwards and her arms up. Rican gave a yell of fear and surprise, and a moment later he was face down in the dust, with all the wind knocked out of him.
Scar saw that the jig, to coin a phrase, was up. But he was not the sort to surrender unless absolutely necessary. Knowing as he did that Angus fought according to a gentlemen's code of honor, he pointed out: 'There's three o' you an' one of me. Wouldn't be sporting for yuh to all take me on at once. If yuh had any decency or any guts you'd fight me one-on-one." He knew that neither Patch nor Needles gave a damn about whether or not they had any decency, but he was sure that they were concerned about their possession of "guts", as he had put it.
Patch wasn't the sort to give up an advantage, though, least of all on the field of battle. "Why SHOULDNT we all jump you at once?" he wanted to know. "You an' Rican seemed t' think yuh could do it to Diana."
Scar was about to answer that by saying "Fuck you" or some equally brilliant remark, when he heard a noise behind him. He turned to see Diana bearing down on him from behind. Apparently she did not share Angus's views on the subject of sneaking up on the enemy.
With lightning reflexes Scar stepped out of the way and stuck out one leg. He tripped the lesbian up quite neatly and sent her hurtling through space, howling and screaming all sorts of obscene revenge-laden threats.
Just then Susan climbed out of her unconscious state, just in time to see Diana come plummeting down on top of her. When one is a fourteen-year-old girl who has just been raped, beaten and sandwich-fucked it is not the most pleasant thing for one to wake up and see a bleeding six-foot tall lesbian dressed from head to foot in leather come falling down on top of oneself screaming and cursing. Susan gave a shout and reacted on pure instinct, drawing her legs and arms up to protect her face and body, which were the parts of her that a lesbian would be most likely to go for.
As luck would have it, one of Susan's uplifted feet caught Diana smartly in the gut, and the leather-clad vixen flew backwards and slammed against the wall of the farmhouse.
The shock from the collision was enough to send the entire side of the building on a shuddering spree, and Susan was dimly aware that the three men on the roof were having difficulty maintaining their balance.
Surprisingly enough Needles, who was in the throes of his most recent heroin jag, was the only one who managed to remain upright. His friends Angus and Patch were not so lucky. The brawny Scotsman, shouting some sort of Celtic oath that sounded very savage indeed, stumbled over his own feet and slammed against the rough shingling of the roof. Because the roof was built on a steep slant he was unable to prevent himself from rolling straight off the eaves of the farmhouse and hurtling down to the bloodstained earth below.
Patch didn't even have time to hit the roof; he merely keeled over and dropped to the ground, screaming and flailing at the air as he went. For one brief moment the steel hook that protruded from one wrist flailed frantically at the roof and managed to snag itself in the very last row of shingling, but then the rotted shingles gave way and Patch was heading for the same spot in which Angus lay.
Angus recovered from the fall just in time to see that ponderous body and that gleaming hook come straight down on top of him. With a cry of "Bloody Hell!" he rolled out of the way, only to find that his progress was blocked by the inert form of Big Nig.
Cindy recovered from the stinging blow with the gun butt just in time to see Patch falling groundwards, narrowly missing Big Nig as he fell. There were two screams, and then Cindy herself screamed when she saw what part of Angus's body Patch's hook had landed on. It was not a pretty sight.
Instantly Rican was helping Cindy to her feet, while Scar did his level best to calm down the moaning Susan. As soon as he saw Cindy was all right the gasping Rican rushed to the side of his fallen comrade Big Nig.
After he had seen the extent of the damage his face was not at all pleasant to look at. "We must get un medico," he mumbled, his distraughtness revealed in his accidental lapse into his native tongue. "Nosotros necesitamos... " he stopped,- looking very embarrassed, and then began again. "We need an ambulance. Pronto."
"Sure," said Scar bitterly. "Call an ambulance. Have them come and let them see Angus lying there. Have them come and see these two chicks all naked an' lookin' like they got gang-banged by every animal in the fuckin' Bronx Zoo. Have them come and ask a lotta questions." he spat derisively in the direction of Diana, who had not yet shown signs of coming around. "Get fucked Rican." There were signs of desperation on the young Hispanic's face, and he was struggling with himself to keep his breathing under control. "Beeg Neeg is my friend," he said pathetically. "Perhaps you would not be able to appreciate a friend, Scar, because I don't think you ever had one. But we mus' help the man quickly or he will die." Rican actually seemed to be fighting back tears as he spoke. "El sangre... the blood, he is pouring all over the ground. We mus' get medico quickly or he will die." There was desperation in his voice as he came closer to Scar. "You understand, hombre? DIE!"
Some sort of strange internal struggle seemed to be going on inside of Scar. "Sure, man, I understand. An' I want Big Nig to live as much as you do. That time I got my neck broke on top of that mountain I woulda froze to death layin' there if Big Nig hadn't helped me. An' I'd do the same for him a thousand times over. But we can't take a chance on the pigs comin' aroun' an' askin' questions."
Rican seemed to be metamorphosing into some kind of savage beast before Cindy's eyes. "DAMN YOU, Scar!" he shouted. "Damn you an' all your race! A gringo, a white man die an' you moan an' groan an' shed tears. Ten hundred thousan' negros n' hispanicos die an' you put it on the TV an' call it entertainment." The bitterness had gone from Rican's voice and been replaced by pure lust for revenge. "I warn you, gringo," he announced, biting off the words as he spoke, "eef Big Nig die then you die with him. This I swear! THIS I SWEAR!" And then Rican was toppling to his knees, crawling through the dust to where his comrade lay prostrate in the brown dirt which was rapidly turning to blood-red. "Que lastima, mi amigo! Que lasti... " At this he collapsed into a fit of sobbing.
Neither Cindy nor Susan could think of a single thing to say. Gradually the two girls became aware of an icy wind stinging against the scratches and lacerations of their flogged buttocks, and Cindy turned to see where the wind was coming from.
The sun was setting.
It was very cold.
* * *
It would be difficult, if not impossible, to determine whether or not Scar had been intimidated by Rican's threat that if Big Nig died Scar would die too. However, intimidated or not, Scar decided that it would be the best thing to try to get help for Big Nig while there was still a chance of his pulling through alive, even if it meant getting busted for all of the unusual endeavors that had been going on here. The police in that state did not look kindly upon men in black leather who rode motorcycles and kidnapped schoolgirls for the purpose of sadomasochistic rape, followed by a determined attempt to wipe each other off the face of this Godforsaken planet.
Scar announced to Rican that he would ride down the road until he found a diner or some other place with a pay phone, and he would call an ambulance. However, he made it abundantly clear that, if the cops were coming, then he sure as hell wasn't coming back. Whereupon Rican made it equally clear that he wasn't going to let Scar out of his sight until Big Nig's fate was known one way or the other, because if Rican found out that Big Nig had died then Scar could count on his own life coming to an end pretty soon after that.
At this point Susan got up the nerve to ask these men what the hell was going to happen to her and Cindy, whereupon Scar told them to stay there and keep an eye on the casualties. By now it had become apparent that Angus was going to need extensive medical care too. And when Patch had fallen he had landed with his spine and neck at a very unusual angle. His breathing had slowed down and he had shown no signs of reviving. So the nearest hospital was going to be having a triple-header night, apparently.
Cindy started to tell Scar that there was no way in the world that she and Susan would stand around naked and sore all over and keep an eye on three would-be cadavers while the cops were on the way and Needles and Diana were still on the loose. This last was said because, during the confusion over Big Nig and Rican, the tall lesbian had revived, and she and her junkie friend had sneaked off, taking their motorcycles with them. Cindy was yelling at Scar that she and Sue weren't going to sit there like sitting ducks with perverts of both sexes bouncing around in the underbrush, but Scar very politely and in his most gentlemanly manner invited her to go fuck herself. He also offered to show her how, but Cindy merely turned and fled, taking Susan with her.
A moment later they could hear Rican threatening Scar, and then there came the twin roars of the two men's choppers as they rode off to find the nearest hospital. That was how it had all started for herself and Susan, Cindy reflected: the roar of motorcycles in the distance, only then they had been coming closer and this time they were going away. Did that mean that the two girls were going to be left here abandoned?
As soon as the two survivors of the battle were gone the pair of girls went back to see what, if anything, they could do to help the casualties. "It's always the same fuckin' thing," Susan muttered thickly to herself. "The men have a war and go kill each other, and then the women come to clean up after them."
Various arms and legs of Patch were lying on top of Angus and Big Nig, but Cindy cautioned that it would be dangerous to move him since he seemed to have a broken back. The only thing they could do was stop the flow of blood from the black man and pull Patch's hook out of Angus without increasing the damage. Then the two girls moved to a spot where they would not have to look at the wreckage. They had an awful lot of talking to do.
Susan had managed to scrounge the makings of some reefers from one of the combatants, and now she rolled a pair of joints as they got down to business. "The basic question," Cindy began, "is: what the fuck do we do now?"
Susan tried not to show any emotion, and she shrugged in what she hoped was nonchalance. "Hitch a ride back to the Academy?"
It took Cindy several seconds to recall the significance of the phrase "the Academy". It seemed as though several years had gone by since they had been taken away from there, and now their life had come full circle: the whole affair had started with the two girls sitting in a field smoking weed and talking. They were doing the same thing now, except that they were both stark naked and their bodies were covered with the marks of some rather heavy sexplay.
Cindy reached out to take the joint that Susan offered her and took several long, greedy drags on it. "We can't go back to the Academy," she said at last. 'They'd ask us where the hell we were all this time. We could tell them the truth: that we got nabbed by a bunch of motorcycle perverts, but then they'd automatically know that we sneaked off campus, an' right away they'd be accusing us of actually forcing some guys to kidnap us and rape us. You know how the farts that run the Academy are about things like that."
Susan nodded grimly. She knew all too well. A thought seemed to occur to her, and she asked: "Why don't we try to get back home, to our folks? We could tell them that we ran away from the Academy because of the slave drivers that run it, and after we left we got grabbed by these people."
"That idea's even worse," Cindy opined. "First we'd get a big lecture about how we wasted our folks' bread by running away from a school that they paid a lot to send us too, and then they'd fuckin' send us right back to it. And once we got there we'd go through all the shit again for running away, and it would be even worse then because we DIDN'T run away, so why should we get the lecture?"
Susan nodded again, even more grimly than the first time. And to think that all this had started by the simple act of sneaking through a fence to smoke a few joints and talk about sex! It just goes to show how dangerous marijuana really is. And after all the rapes and gang-bangs that the two girls had been through lately, they were both sure that it would be quite some time before either one of them would feel in favor of having sex again. And when two luscious girls like Cindy and Susan start thinking about things like THAT, it's a sure sign that they've had more cock than they can handle for a while.
Cindy couldn't help thinking that, no matter which way they decided to go, they were sure to run up against a brick wall. They couldn't go back to the Academy, and they couldn't go back home, and they couldn't stay here. There didn't seem to be that much else that they could do. Except for one thing. It was a last resort, but it seemed to be the only alternative possible for them.
Cindy jumped to her feet and flicked away the remains of her reefer. "We've got to hit the road," she announced, with an air of finality.
"It's simple, Suzie. We rip off two of these guys' motorcycles. God knows they owe us at least that much. From somewhere we get hold of some clothes, because we can't go cycling around naked, and once we've got some threads and some wheels we just go on down the road until we find some place that might be a good place to stay for a while. We take life as we find it."
It was clear to her that Susan didn't think much of this plan, but Susan had brains to go with her looks, and she saw that this was the only practical plan, desirable though it might not be. They were stuck with it.
She shrugged. "Okay. Let's go see which two cycles have the most gas in them, and then we'll check 'em all to see if there's any money or clothes or anything like that. We really need some clothes, Cin. I'm fuckin' desperate."
Cindy shrugged. "You need clothes? Take some off those three dudes over there." She gestured towards the inert forms of Big Nig, Angus and Patch.
Susan gave her a look. "I'm not THAT desperate."
The two of them walked silently away from the scene of all the sado-sexual horrors and down to where the three remaining motorcycles had been parked. Although none of them had much gas to speak of, all of them had knapsacks on the backs with men's clothes in them, and the girls managed to outfit themselves with complete rigs, except for boots. The clothes were too large and did nothing at all to hide the fact that the shapely teenagers wearing them were girls, not men.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The hour had come.
Cindy made sure that both she and Susan had motorcycles that worked properly, and then they both roared off down the road, the broad black highway upon which they would find unknown adventures and thrills.
After they had gone a mile or so they saw an ambulance coming towards them from the other side of the road, its siren screeching as it came. Behind the ambulance were two motorcycles and behind them a police car. As the four vehicles zoomed past Cindy recognized the riders of the two choppers as Scar and Rican. She said a silent prayer that Big Nig and the others would be all right.
Now that she and Susan were safely out of the clutches of the DeSades, Cindy was slightly surprised to realize that she actually MISSED them. Now that she had had some time to recover from the beatings and the whippings and the rapings and the fuckings she found herself thinking that the orgy of sadism to which she had been subjected really hadn't been so bad after all. In fact, the more she thought about those huge cocks that had gone into her cunt and her mouth and her ass the more she was absolutely certain that she wanted more of that, that she HAD to have more of that.
So that was it, then, she told herself. There was no way out of it now. Now that she was out on the road she had to find more men, men who would give anything for a chance to violate her flesh, men who would long for an opportunity to possess her body. With a sudden thrill Cindy realized that this was what she wanted, this was what she needed.
She may have had the body of a teenager, but she had the emotions and the desires of a fully mature woman. She knew now that she had to have men make love to her and possess her and pierce her body with the hard spears of their cocks. For this was what she had been made for; to give men pleasure.
Cindy stole a sidelong glance at Susan and saw that her companion looked more thoughtful than was usual. Was Susan thinking about the same sort of thing that Cindy herself was? Cindy decided that that might not be such a bad life; for two girls to travel around the countryside as they pleased, each one in search of men to make love to them. If handled properly, it could turn out to be a very enjoyable life indeed.
The two girls rode on in silence for a time. After the ambulance and the other vehicles had passed them neither girl had seen a single motorist. They were riding along one of those stretches of back road that are so frequent in certain parts of the United States-too out-of-the-way to be highways and too close to civilization to be old Indian trails. Cindy wondered how far it would be to the next town and how civilized that town would be. She wasn't surprised at all to discover that she was also wondering about how many men she'd meet there and what kind they would be.
Suddenly Cindy saw that Susan had dropped behind her slightly, and that the girl's motorcycle engine was now making very odd noises. Cindy looked into the driving mirror that protruded from the handlebars of her own chopper and saw that the younger girl was making signals for Cindy to stop. Obediently the red-haired girl cut her engine and turned her own motorcycle around.
"What's wrong?" she wanted to know, as soon as she'd pulled up beside Susan.
The blonde girl nodded in the direction of her motorcycle's fuel gauge. 'Tank's almost empty," she reported.
Cindy was baffled. "But just before we left we made sure that both tanks were almost full." She checked her own fuel gauge. "Mine still has most of the gas."
"Well, mine doesn't," came the reply. "I must have developed a leak somewhere. I remember hearing some funny noises when we drove over that gravel." She sighed wearily. "Anyway, unless we can figure out a way to siphon some gas from your wheels into mine, I'm stuck."
"You mean we're BOTH stuck," Cindy retorted defiantly. It was important that both girls stick together now, that they depend on each other, because neither one of them had anybody else to depend upon now.
Susan was about to say something when all of a sudden she stopped talking and cocked her head to one side. She gestured to Cindy to remain silent. "Listen," she whispered softly. For one brief moment there, Cindy felt as though they were both in the field near the Academy again, that fateful day when Susan had heard the engine roar of the oncoming motorcycles. Cindy realized with a start that "that fateful day" had in fact been that very morning, and that they had been gone from the Academy for less than twenty-four hours! It seemed almost impossible to believe that a single day could have been packed with so large a quantity of pain and pleasure and passion.
The sound of the engine was getting louder now, and closer. Whatever it was, it was not a motorcycle; it sounded like some sort of heavy-duty truck. Through the thin phalanxes of the trees that lined the road Cindy could make out the glaring headlights of the oncoming vehicle.
At Cindy's direction, both girls turned their cycles so that they were perpendicular to the road, making it impossible for a truck to pass in either direction without running right over the motorcycles. Then the two girls stood in front of their choppers and started waving their arms and jumping up and down frantically, trying to get whoever was driving the truck to see them and stop.
At a distance of about fifty feet the truck started slowing down, and it pulled to a stop less than ten feet in front of them, the brakes squealing in protest. Shading her eyes from the glare of the headlights Cindy could vaguely make out the form of a large man in the driver's seat throwing the truck into neutral and then sliding over to open the door and leap out.
The man was coming towards them. Because it was a moonless night, it was almost pitch dark, and the brilliant headlights shining directly into the girls' eyes made things even worse. They could see the man coming towards them, but it was impossible to tell what he looked like. He could have been thin or fat, black or white, handsome or ugly. There was absolutely no way of knowing.
From a distance of about two feet he called out: "You chicks in trouble?" The man had a very unusual voice, one of those voices that cut through your ears like a radio announcer's voice, fantastically clear. It was impossible to tell by the voice whether the man was white or black. The voice was definitely an American voice, and what they could see of the man looked American, but somehow there was something about the voice that sounded foreign.
Cindy came forward. "My friend's cycle has a gas leak and we can't siphon any gas from my chopper to hers. Is there any way you could give us a lift to someplace where we could get it fixed?"
The man seemed to be taking an eternity to answer. Cindy felt herself growing very impatient. Both of the girls were barefoot, and the surface of the road was extremely cold beneath their naked feet. Cindy wondered why the man wasn't answering. There seemed to be something very strange about him but she couldn't quite tell what.
Finally he spoke again: "Yeah. You can both ride in the back, I guess. We'll help you get your motorcycles into the back." The man turned and called out to someone riding in the cab of the truck. "Hey, Willie! Willie! Wake up, you big gorilla! We got company!"
There were the sounds of someone waking up with a snort, and then: "Huh? Who? Wha... ? What you say, Archer?" It was hard for the girls to understand what Willie was saying over the sound of the truck engine, but judging from his voice he was obviously a black man.
The first man, the one who seemed to be named Archer, was getting impatient. "Shut up and get out here, Willie!" he commanded. "We've got company!"
"Company?" There was a slight pause. "Archer, man! Don't tell me the cops fou... "
"SHUT UP, DAMN YOU!" Archer screeched nervously. "Just get your ass out here and give me a hand."
There were some strange sounds from inside the truck, and then Willie, whoever he was, was leaping to the ground. It was very hard to get a good look at him, but he looked to Cindy as though he were well over six feet tall and at least three feet across.
Willie went over to Archer. "What's goin' on, man?" he wanted to know. "Why ain't we movin'? We shoulda gone over the state li... "
"SHUT UP, I SAID!" roared Archer. A moment later there was a flurry of arms and the one named Willie was lying flat on his back. Willie might have been huge, bigger than Archer, but apparently Archer knew just how to handle him. Cindy wished that she could get a good look at these guys. There was something very strange about them, something not quite realistic. She felt as though she had wandered onto a movie set somehow.
Archer was standing over Willie now, sounding as though he were having difficulty controlling his temper. "Now listen, you fat ape: these two chicks here want a ride INTO THE NEXT TOWN." The words were emphasized for some reason, as though they had a secret meaning that the girls weren't supposed to know about. "Help me get them and their motorcycles into the back of the truck, and then we're going to take them INTO THE NEXT TOWN. Do you understand?"
Willie was struggling to his feet with a groan. "But what town, Archer? We gotta be... "
There was the sound of a fist against flesh, and then of a body striking the side of a truck. "Damn it, do what I tell you to do."
"Okay, Archer, okay. Sheeee-it." A moment later the two men were picking up the motorcycles and loading them into the back of the truck, which seemed to be full of boxes and crates of various sizes. "There's no room for you girls in the front," Archer told them politely. "You'll have to ride in back and keep an eye on your motorcycles."
"That's fine, sir. Thanks," Cindy assured him. "Come on, Suzie." The two of them clambered into the back of the truck, and Archer pushed the heavy metal doors closed. They shut with a click.
Susan jiggled the handles of the doors. "We're locked in," she pointed out.
"They always lock the doors on trucks so the cargo doesn't fall out," Cindy told her. "Don't worry about it. The main thing is we're heading for civilization." Just then they heard the sound of shifting gears, and a moment later the truck was moving again, gradually picking up speed as it went.
Cindy stuck her hands in the pockets of her too-large jeans, which had come from the knapsack of one of the gang members. In one pocket were several crumbled bills; a five and three ones. "You have any money?" Cindy asked Susan.
Susan checked. "Four bucks and some coins. Not enough to get the motorcycle fixed."
"We'll think of something," Cindy said, leaning against one of the walls of the truck. As she did so she could hear the voices of the two men talking in the cab of the truck. She motioned for Susan to be quiet and join her, and the two girls started to eavesdrop. As a rule Cindy didn't believe in listening in on private conversations, especially those of total strangers who had done her a big favor like this, but for some reason she felt that there was something about these men that she ought to know.
The first voice to speak belonged to Willie. "Damn it, Archer. What the fuck you gotta go pickin' up them cunts for?"
Archer sounded annoyed. "I do what I feel like doing. I'm the brains of this outfit and don't you forget it. If there's any decisions to be made they get made by me, not by certain dumb baboons I could mention. Them chicks said they needed a ride so I figured I'd give them one."
"Yeah, but what the hell for?"
Even though she couldn't see him, Cindy was sure that Archer was shrugging. "Who knows? They're both good lookers. I wouldn't mind screwin' them. And if worst comes to worst, we can use them as hostages."
Hostages! Cindy and Susan exchanged an anxious glance. Who were these men and what had they been doing?
The big one, Willie, was talking again: "I still don't like it, Archer. We shoulda been over the state line two hours ago."
"Fool," was Archer's reply. "You've been watching too many Humphrey Bogart movies. What we've been doing is a federal offense. It doesn't matter HOW many state lines we cross; as long as we're still in the country they can try to get us."
Willie mumbled some sort of a reply, and then they both started talking about basketball. Since the New York Knicks were one of the subjects that neither Cindy nor Susan gave half a fuck about, they turned away from the truck wall and started carrying on a conversation of their own, in low tones just in case the back of the truck wasn't soundproof.
Susan was understandably upset. "These guys are crooks," she pointed out.
Cindy nodded her agreement. "I know. I wonder what the hell it is that they did that they're making such a big getaway."
"Who knows?" asked Susan sharply. As she spoke her glance fell upon one of the stacks of crates that the truck was loaded with. "Hey, I wonder what they've got inside these boxes." Cindy had qualms about snooping on other people, but she felt that in this case they could make an exception. She helped Susan pry open the lid of one of the cardboard cartons. There was very little light in the back of the truck, and they both had to lean forward to get a good look at the contents.
Inside the box were several neat rows of glass jars. Susan picked one up by the metal lid and looked at what was inside it. "It's sugar," she reported. "You think maybe these guys went and hijacked a sugar truck?"
"Let me see that," Cindy requested, taking the jar from her friend. Placing the jar in her lap she unscrewed the lid, then stuck her hand inside and pulled out a pinch of the contents. "It doesn't feel like sugar," she announced. "Feels more like baking powder." She held a pinch of the substance up to her nostrils and sniffed. "It's not sugar, and it's not baking powder." She stuck out the tip of her tongue and touched it against the strange substance, then let out a yell. "HOLY SHIT! This stuff is HEROIN!"
Susan managed to b"lf Stifle a shriek as both girls looked at each other in terror. Suppose the men in the front seat had heard? They put their ears to the wall and listened. No, the men were still babbling about how Jerry West was a million times better than Walt Frazier.
Cindy put down the jar of acid and she and Susan started to check some of the other boxes and crates. Most of them contained heroin, or LSD, or marijuana. A few held empty glassine envelopes and hypodermic needles and various other tools of the trade. Apparently Cindy and Susan had walked right into the clutches of a couple of dope-suppliers!
Just then they heard Archer's voice again, so loud and clear that it sounded as though he were in the back of the truck with them. "I'm worried about those cunts in the back of the truck," they heard him telling Willie. "As soon as we get to the warehouse we'll tie 'em up. Maybe we'll even beat 'em a little, and I guarantee we'll screw their asses off. I just hope they didn't start poking around inside our cargo."
Cindy turned to her blonde friend. "We've got to get out of here," she announced, which was probably one of the most unnecessary statements of all time.
Susan was busily engaged in stuffing cocaine into one of her hip pockets. "What for?" she wanted to know. "We've got lots of dope an' these guys say they're going to fuck us."
"SUSAN!" There was panic in Cindy's eyes. "Don't you see that, as soon as these guys find out we're on to them they'll kill us?"
Susan shook her head. "I don't think so. Maybe if we offer to let them fuck us every day we can be their gun molls or something." She giggled slightly. From the dazed look on Susan's face, she was apparently a bit woozy from going without food and from the torture she'd suffered at the hands of the DeSades. In any event, she wasn't thinking properly.
Cindy slapped her friend full in the face. "Don't you see" she clamoured, trying to keep her voice down so that they wouldn't be overheard by Willie and Archer. 'These guys will KILL us! We've got to get out of here!" Susan only looked confused for a minute, and then she nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Okay. So now that we've walked right into their clutches, how the fuck are we going to get out?"
"I don't know yet," Cindy admitted. "But I'll think of something. Now give me a hand with these boxes."
As Susan looked on in confused bewilderment, her companion opened several of the boxes and dumped their contents onto the floor of the truck. Then she started rearranging them, putting jars and hypodermics and the other heavy things equally distributed in each crate, and then filling up the rest of the area with the envelopes and so forth, packing them in the dead spaces so that there were five or six crates of equal weight.
Cindy picked up one of the boxes and hefted it. "Just right," she declared, sounding pleased with herself. She explained to Susan: "They've got to be light enough for throwing, but heavy enough to do some damage."
Susan opened her mouth and nodded. She still had very little idea of what was going on.
Just then there came a sound as the truck pulled off the road and up some sort of embankment. A moment later it stopped and they could hear somebody getting out. "Now's our chance, Cindy," whispered Susan excitedly. "Let's get out of here."
"We can't. They locked the door, remember?" Cindy stepped over the boxes and crossed to the motorcycles. "Come on. Help me get these out of the way of the door. When we make a run for it, we can't have anything stopping us."
Susan still didn't comprehend completely, but she knew better than to argue. "Now remember," Cindy was telling her as they wheeled the two motorcycles away from the doors. "When we jump out of the truck it's a long drop to the ground. You've got to be prepared for it or you'll fall flat on your ass."
Susan nodded and bit her lip. She didn't want her friend to see how scared she was.
Cindy could feel the truck starting again, and it sounded as though it were being driven into some sort of a garage or a warehouse. They could hear doors opening and closing and somebody walking impatiently towards them.
"This is it," Cindy announced, handing three of the boxes to Susan and keeping three for herself. "As soon as they open the door throw one box with each hand. Leave the other box on the floor and kick it out in front of you when you jump out. We've got to make every shot count. Just because there were only two guys in the truck doesn't mean there are only two guys wherever we are now."
Susan nodded again. When they'd been captured and raped by the DeSades there had been nothing she could do about it except to lie back and submit. But in their current predicament they had a chance to fight back and they had to make use of it. The fact that their fate was more or less in their own hands was what made Susan so scared. She knew that when the gang members had had complete control over whether she lived or not there was no sense in being scared, because it wouldn't have helped one way or the other.
But now was the time to be scared.
Susan put one of the boxes down in front of her kicking foot and balanced one more on each shoulder. She'd never thrown with both hands before and she hoped she would be able to now. Her life might depend on it.
Cindy had readied her own boxes, and now she was nodding towards the doors at the back of the truck. "Look," she hissed.
Susan looked.
The doors were opening...
CHAPTER EIGHT
It seemed to Cindy as though the whole world had stopped moving, that the only thing which still existed was the door handle that turned slowly as those two metal doors started to open.
They could hear Archer calling out to them. "End of the line, girls, everybody out. I hope you... "
"NOW!"
There were only two people there, Archer and Willie. Maybe there were others, on the other side of the truck, but they had to take a chance that there weren't. Cindy tossed two boxes at once. The first one caught Archer full in the face and laid him out, while the other one missed Willie by three feet. At the same time she sent the box next to her foot flying. Out of the corner of her eye Cindy could see Susan doing the same thing.
Archer got the worst of it, because he was standing next to the truck. Willie was at a distance and got hit a single glancing blow by one crate, but Archer was brought down by the very first box, and the three boxes that followed changed his mind about standing up for a while.
Both girls were sailing through the air simultaneously, trying to leap clear of Archer and the boxes and reach the ground. In midair Cindy suddenly realized that her pants were falling down. Talk about poor timing, she thought.
They hit the floor hard but were up and running, Cindy tugging at her jeans with both hands. They were in some sort of warehouse, and about ten feet away were the sliding doors that they'd come in through. Run to those doors and then open them and then you're free, Cindy was thinking. These were going to be the longest ten feet she'd ever run.
"No, you don't!" Willie was yelling as he ran forward to tackle them. Susan, who was so scared by now that she didn't know what she was doing, lashed out with one fist, and Cindy was surprised to see Willie stumble backwards and fall face downwards. Something small and white like a tooth skittered across the asphalt, but Cindy didn't have time to worry about such things. All she could think about was escape.
"Come on, Sue!" she shouted triumphantly, as she felt her hands close around the door handle. She bent forward to push the door open with every ounce of strength in her young body.
THE DOOR WAS LOCKED!
Almost sobbing with grief, she turned. Archer and Willie were standing there and not looking very happy. Archer was walking with a limp and Willie was holding his jaw as if he was afraid it would fall off.
For the first time Cindy got a good look at Archer. He was black, but much lighter than Willie. He wasn't too big, but he was powerful. He was obviously a man to be reckoned with, and now Cindy and Susan were going to be reckoning with him whether they liked it or not.
One backward glance was enough to assure Archer that his two prisoners had not only been snooping through the contents of the truck, but that they had had ample opportunity to find out just what those contents were. He faced the two girls again. "You realize, of course, that we're going to have to kill you."
The girls didn't answer.
"Don't get me wrong, ladies," Archer was saying. "I'm not a murderer or a bank robber or a mugger. I don't want to hurt anybody. I sell dope, sure, but dope makes people happy, and if it happens to be against the law I can't help that. But I also can't afford to let you girls go to the cops and tell them about us. So we'll have to kill you. We don't want to, but we have to. You girls made a mistake and now you have to pay the price."
Susan was starting to whimper. "Please let us go, mister," she was pleading. "We won't tell a soul. We promise."
Archer's face did not look at all nice. "You say you won't. And maybe you really mean that. But I can't take that chance. So Willie here and I are going to have to put you out of your misery."
As he spoke one hand strayed downwards towards his belt. "You girls did a lot of damage to the goods in my truck. You owe me money for that. And I have a right to charge you money for transporting you and your motorcycles. You owe me for that too." He started to undo his belt. "So I guess before Willie and I kill you you're going to pay your debts by doing us a little favor."
He started to lower his pants.
Cindy screamed. They were going to get raped! Both girls turned and tried to open the door again, even though they knew it was locked. Behind them they could hear Archer and Willie coming closer and closer.
They could feel strong hands on their shoulders, hands that pulled them away from the doors and back into the center of the room. Cindy felt her hands clawing at airy emptiness and saw the door to freedom moving away faster and faster and knew that she was in more trouble than she ever had been in before.
Archer had Cindy now, and Willie was coming ever closer to Susan. "I want the blonde one," Cindy could hear the huge black man saying. "I like 'em blonde." Susan screamed, but even as she did so she knew that screams would be no help. There was nothing that could help her now.
Cindy found herself being pushed down onto the hard asphalt. She saw the big hands of Archer pulling the shirt and jacket from her body, pulling away the pants until she was naked. This made it all the more humiliating for her. It was bad enough being raped, but being stripped made it even worse.
She was naked now, and the black man who called himself Archer was right on top of her, fondling her breasts with his hands. The blackness of his hands looked filthy and impure against the lily-white purity of Cindy's creamy skin, and she knew that rape by a black man was even more of a violation than rape by a white one. Not that she was in any position to choose, because now Archer was using his powerful knees to spread Cindy's naked thighs, to spread them wide. And there between them was her captive cunt, naked and glistening for all the world to see.
She shut her eyes so that she wouldn't have to look at that huge piece of black meat going into her, but even with her eyes closed she could still see it. There was no escape from it. And she gritted her teeth and hissed as she felt the long cylindrical organ thrusting itself into her body, to ravish her, to rape her, to violate her purity.
Deeper and deeper the monstrous organ went, until Cindy was sure that she was being tom apart. Finally she could feel Archer's flat stomach pressing firmly against her own, and she knew that he was in her all the way. And even as that cock lay burning deep within her like the Devil's own firebrand Cindy could feel it getting larger and larger, pushing her farther and farther open. It was getting bigger and bigger, and the bigger it got the longer it got, and the longer it got the farther into her it went, and the farther in it went the more tightly Cindy's pussy squeezed it, and the tighter she squeezed it the bigger it got. She opened her mouth and screamed for mercy, for this man to stop tearing open her flesh with his erotic dagger.
She begged him to stop it, but he only laughed and slapped her several times. "Shut up, bitch," he hissed between his teeth. "You take it and you like it. Bitches like you are supposed to get fucked whether they like it or not."
And even as he spoke the black man was pumping, was sending his organ shooting up and down inside of her, and Cindy discovered that against her will the friction from that big organ was getting her hot, was stimulating her desires, was dragging her involuntarily into a state of passion.
Deeper and deeper the organ went, deeper and deeper and faster and faster, pumping and humping and jumping and thumping and bumping and grinding and everything else, turning fifteen different directions within Cindy's captive flesh, until she found that she was actually being brought to a climax, a climax she didn't want. She knew that it was degrading to be raped by this man, but that the degradation would be even worse if he made her come. She wasn't SUPPOSED to be enjoying this.
And then she could feel that enormous donger getting excited, and it was jerking back and forth in syncopated rhythm, and as it throbbed and convulsed and pulsated Cindy found that her vagina was moving with it, and that she was tottering on the brink of an orgasm. And then she slipped and fell in, screaming with unwanted passion, as the man's red-hot creamstick burst into an erection eruption with a brilliant erotic fireworks display. And, at the exact same instant that Archer creamed, CINDY WAS CREAMING TOO! And no matter how many times a woman lays a man she has never experienced the perfect fuck until she and her man both come at the exact same instant.
And the two simultaneous ejaculations both came shooting out and skyrocketing towards each other, barreling along the passages of Cindy's inner anatomy, and just the feel of that hot stuff rushing through her was enough to make the girl cream again, cream as she never had before.
The two steaming wads of love-juice came hurtling towards each other, and they came together with a crash deep within the chasm between the white girl's thighs. They mixed and mingled and intertwined, each one trying to push the other one out of the way. But it was Archer's ejaculation that was the stronger one, because soon Cindy could feel her own vagina-juice being forcibly pushed back down the throat of her own vagina, back down deeper and deeper and faster all the time, and that felt so good that she creamed again, even though she didn't want to.
The man was pulling out of her now, and Cindy was surprised to see that his cock was still hard. He may have shot but he hadn't lost his wad yet. "You're good, chick," he told the white girl, and there was a suggestion of tenderness in his voice. "In fact, you're DAMN good. But now I think I'll cut me a slice of the blonde girl." And then he got up and walked away. For a moment, for a beautiful moment, Cindy thought that she was free, but then she saw the big black beast named Willie come lumbering towards her, and she realized that the ordeal had just begun.
Willie was coming closer to her now, and Cindy could see that his cock too was still stiff, was still rock-hard and straight as a stick. "On your knees, bitch," he ordered his helpless captive. "I like my pussies on their knees. Now KNEEL!"
There was nothing Cindy could do but obey. There was only one way that she could hope to get out of this, and that was through obedience, through submission, through degradation and humiliation. She got down on her knees, wondering what sort of perverted fate was in store for her now, and as Cindy kneeled she noticed that she was in the traditional position for praying. But not even prayers would help her now.
As she watched, the big man named Willie put one hand to his cock, raising it slowly until it was on a level with her face, while with his other hand he suddenly gripped Cindy's neck firmly. She saw the bulging muscles in those long black fingers and knew that it would be a very simple matter for Willie to break her neck, to snap it as if it were a matchstick.
And even as the fingers gripped her neck she felt them squeeze until the pressure on her windpipe increased oh so slightly. "Open your mouth, bitch," the big black man commanded her. "Open your mouth. You're gonna give me head."
Cindy was too dazed to respond, and the fingers squeezed just a little bit tighter until Cindy's eyes goggled and her tongue was hanging out of her mouth. She could feel everything going black and realized that without oxygen her brain would die, and she would die with it. "Open yo' mouth, bitch," the huge man repeated, tightening his grip just the teeniest tiniest bit. "Open yo' mouth before I kill you."
Cindy was so dazed by now that she did not think she could obey, but she knew that she would have to if she expected to survive. With excruciating slowness she opened her mouth an inch at a time. She could barely see by this time, her breathing was growing slow and labored and she felt as though she were underwater. Everything seemed to be happening very slowly, until Cindy was sure that the world had stopped moving altogether. It was like watching one of those instant replays on television, where everything happened so slowly, only things were so slow that it seemed to take three or four minutes before any movement at all was noticeable. From somewhere or other a bell seemed to be ringing, to be ringing so very very slowly. Cindy tried to count the number of times the bell rang, but it was impossible to concentrate, it was impossible to think about anything but that monstrous cock which was coming closer and closer to her mouth with every passing second.
And then the big thing was inside of her, was forcing its way into her mouth and across her tongue, across her tongue and down her throat. Against her will Cindy was giving the black man head.
She found her mouth closing in around the thing, to kiss it, to suck it, to mouth it, to make passionate love to it. Cindy was on her knees before this big black man, and that was the position that she was supposed to be in: on her knees, in a gesture of submission, of sexual surrender to the majestic male of the species.
Deeper and deeper into her the thing went, all the way into her mouth, and Cindy felt even more degraded than before, because now she could TASTE the cock, and the taste was awful. The hot glistening stickiness all up and down the surface of the rod was being sucked off into her mouth, being washed away down and into her throat, and Cindy was sure that she was going to be sick. The big meat pushed into her farther and farther still, showing no sign of mercy, until the white girl was sure that she was going to choke on the big organ. It was the biggest piece of meat she'd ever had, and the fact that it was in her mouth made it seem all the bigger.
Suck, suck, suck, that was all that existed now, suck or die, suck or be killed, and as Cindy sucked she could feel the big creamstick getting bigger and bigger still, swelling up with the hot tumescence of its own juice, of its own red-hot cock-sauce which was destined for a trip down Cindy's hot slavering throat.
More of it, more of it, moremoremoremore. The thing got bigger and bigger and longer and longer. Would it never stop, or would it keep on swelling up like some sort of erotic balloon, keep on filling up until every inch of Cindy's helpless body was filled with cock?
And then suddenly the thing stopped getting bigger and started getting hotter, until Cindy could feel her throat catch on fire.
The thing got hotter and hotter, and then from far away Cindy could feel a distant rumbling, a rumbling that grew slowly and inexorably closer and closer and louder and mightier and more of it more of it more of it more. Then the rumbling was not a tremor but an earthquake, getting bigger and more powerful as the entire mountainous pillar of flesh within Cindy's hot throat began to quiver and quake and shiver and shake and thump and throb and bob up and down and then suddenly burst into ten thousand pieces as its hot steaming cock-juice went shooting out like a volcanic eruption, like a geyser of goo, come shooting out and down and across Cindy's tongue and down into her throat and more of it more of it more of it more.
More of it. More.
CHAPTER NINE
The black man had creamed in Cindy's mouth! It felt so goddamned good that he threw back his head and roared in delicious delight as that bolt of liquid lightning went shooting into the young girl's mouth. And she was so surprised at this sudden flood of cockness in her throat that Cindy forgot what was happening and BIT, The man screamed, and his hand grew tighter around Cindy's throat, and she was so scared that she bit down harder, and the man screamed again and again as the hot frothy liquid poured into Cindy's mouth, the hot white cream from his cock. But there was redness in the whiteness.
Willie staggered backwards, clutching at his crotch. There was blood on his lips and he was shrieking and wailing. It seemed to Cindy that she would never get the taste of that meat out of her mouth, that she would carry the memory of that taste to her grave. She was dimly aware that Willie had backed into one of the crates and fallen over. His head cracked against the asphalt and he lay still.
Archer had stopped fucking Susan when he heard his friend scream, and now he was coming closer to Cindy. "Damn it, you bitch," he hissed, spitting out the words as he came towards her. "I'll teach you to hurt my man Willie!" She saw a hand dive into his trouser pocket, and a moment later Cindy found herself staring down the business end of a revolver. As she looked on in helpless terror the black thumb pulled back the hammer of the pistol and the black finger tightened on the trigger.
Suddenly Cindy saw that Susan had jumped to her feet and was running across the room. The blonde girl went into a nose-dive and crashed into the base of Archer's spine. He yelped in panic, and at the exact instant he pulled the trigger of his pistol the firearm flew upwards and the wad of hot molten lead streaked up towards the ceiling.
The bullet flew into the roof and brought a barrage of plaster and concrete tumbling downwards. Pieces of it showered down upon Susan's naked ass, and one enormous chunk plummeted earthward and connected with the top of Archer's skull. He groaned once and fell. The pistol tumbled from his hand and clattered across the room, echoing hollowly in the concrete emptiness.
Neither of the black men moved.
There was a pause, and then Susan looked up at Cindy. "Let's get out of here."
While Susan put on her clothes Cindy went to inspect the damage. Willie was conscious, but he wasn't going to go anywhere for a while. The big black man was moaning softly and puffing air in and out of his cheeks in a grotesque fashion.
But Archer had not been rendered harmless yet, and even though he was not as powerfully built as Willie, Cindy knew that he was still the more dangerous one of the two. While he was still unconscious she stripped him, and then used his own clothes to tie him up with. He wouldn't be scampering about for some time to come.
The two girls dressed quickly, pulling on their ill-fitting men's clothes as best they could and in total silence. Finally Cindy spoke: "You saved my life, Sue."
Susan grunted. "I mean it," Cindy continued. "That dude Archer was standing three feet in front of me. He couldn't possibly have missed me at that range, even if he was a bad shot. If you hadn't jumped him from behind I would be dead by now."
"And so would I," Susan reminded her friend. "Forget about it. You would have done the same for me."
They finished dressing. Cindy had gone through both men's pockets. Willie hadn't had anything of interest, but Archer, who was obviously the leader of this little group, had been holding onto some very interesting things indeed. Besides the revolver there were a box of bullets, a wallet filled with money and credit cards, the keys to the truck, and a little notebook filled with the names and addresses of what were pretty obviously drug connections.
At that moment Archer groaned and raised his head. He tried to sit up, and his eyes widened as he saw that he had been securely bound with his own clothing.
He glared balefully at Cindy. "Let me up," he said. It was not a demand, because he was not in a position to demand. It was not a request for mercy, because he was not the sort who begged for mercy. It was merely a statement. "Let me up."
Cindy calmly leveled the black man's own gun at his face. "Why should we let you up?" she asked. "A minute ago you wanted to kill us."
There was a desperate catch in his voice. "You can go. Just let me up and I swear you can go."
She let the revolver dangle from her finger casually. "And what guarantee do we have of that?" She smiled at him thinly. "No, Mister Archer, Mister Big Bad Superfly who rapes helpless white girls, I think you're going to stay just where you are for a while, so that Susan and I can go to the police and show them this nice little book of yours with all the names and the addresses in it."
Archer's eyes widened until Cindy thought that they would fall out of his head. "I've got to have that book!" he screeched. "I'll give you anything you like for it! I'll give you all the money in my wallet!"
Cindy smiled cruelly. "I've already got all the money in your wallet." She dangled the leather billfold where Archer could see it. "I've even got the wallet."
Bullets of sweat were breaking out on the black man's forehead. "Look here, miss... " he stammered. For some reason he had stopped calling her "bitch" and started calling her "miss"
"I've got to have that book, do you hear me? I've got fifteen thousand dollars in a bank near here, and you can have it all. But I've got to have that book."
Cindy idly tapped the revolver with her Fingernails. "Not a chance, fella," she said calmly.
"Now wait a minute, Cin," Susan interjected. "Fifteen thousand dollars is a lot of money. Maybe we should do what he says." Cindy snorted her contempt for that suggestion. "Of course it's a lot of money. But if we let him go and give him his book do you think we'll get it? All this guy would give us is a couple of lead sleeping pills." She turned back towards Archer again. "Sorry, Supercool. I hope you look good in stripes because you're going to be in jail for so long that by the time you get out marijuana will be legal."
There was a groaning noise behind Cindy and suddenly Archer looked up. "WILLIE!" he shouted. "Get her!"
Cindy turned to see Archer's enormous pal lumbering towards her. Without thinking she fired straight at his face, but the recoil sent the bullet several yards to one side of him. Willie groaned again, tripped over his own feet and fell face down. Archer muttered something that sounded like "fuckin' shit."
Cindy turned to her friend Susan. "Let's get out of here."
* * *
In a corner of the garage, hidden under a canvas tarpaulin, was a motorcycle, practically brand-new. The gas gauge showed it had just been juiced up, and the two girls wheeled this and Cindy's cycle towards the front door. Cindy had a ring of keys that she'd fished from Archer's pocket, and after several trials she found the one that unlocked the door. Together she and Susan pushed the warehouse door open and looked at the world that they hadn't seen in several hours.
The sun was coming up.
Cindy kicked her motorcycle into gear and looked back at Archer. "Be cool now," she said sweetly. "The next voice you hear will be your friendly neighborhood police." She gave her blonde companion a swat on the fanny. "Let's hit the road, girl."
They closed the door from outside, locked it and roared off towards the highway. They had wheels now, and money to buy food and clothes. And Susan had a pocketful of speed, in case they needed a kick that they couldn't get from sex.
And now there would be one quick trip to the police station, and another one to a clothing store, and then the two girls would be off down the open road. Cindy knew that there were a lot of cocks out there, a lot of cocks and a lot of thrills, and she knew that she and Susan would want them all.
And they would get them.
CHAPTER TEN
The two girls rode in silence for at least an hour. As they pounded down the highway Cindy couldn't help but think back over the many strange erotic activities that she and her good friend Susan had been through in the last twenty-four hours. Little had she known, when she and Susan sneaked off the campus of the Gladys M. Forsythe Academy for Advanced Young Ladies, that they would never return, that they would instead embark upon an odyssey of thrills that neither girl had ever imagined existed. They had sneaked away from the Academy to smoke a few reefers and get some cheap kicks. They had ended up getting a lot more kicks than they had bargained for.
Two days ago they had been almost total innocents, practically virgin schoolgirls. They had known about sex, and they'd gotten into some heavy petting with boy friends, but up until their fateful rendezvous with the DeSades neither girl had been into sex in a big way. Well, now they'd been brought out, in fact they'd been brought out in a big way. Neither girl would be able to go back to her days of lollipop-licking. One taste of sex, of REAL sex, and now they would never settle for anything less.
After an hour or so of cycling they saw the dim streetlights of a backroads rural town coming towards them on the horizon. It was very early morning now, and the two girls, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, could barely make out what their surroundings looked like. Cindy pulled her chopper up to some very large bushes by the side of the road and cut her motor, gesturing to Susan to do the same as she had.
Cindy jerked a thumb in the direction of the bushes. "Well flop here for the night," she announced, having a bit of difficulty stifling a yawn. After all the excitement they had had it was quite natural that Cindy be a little tired. "Well just hit the hay right here and sleep all night," she added.
Susan grinned in amusement. "You mean well sleep all morning," she corrected, gesturing towards the sun that was already well up over the horizon. "You think it'll be safe to flop here during the daytime? At night, yeah, but it's morning now; somebody might see us an' figure we're a couple of bums." She yawned too, then added: "Why don't we at least go into the woods a ways?"
Cindy nodded to show that the plan was all right with her, and then the two girls dismounted from their motorcycles and started to push them through the bushes and into the woods beyond. Cindy noted with satisfaction that the forest floor was coated with a soft lining of dead pine needles and leaves. It wouldn't be a bad place to fuck in, she told herself.
"Well, be it ever so humble," she said out loud as they leaned their cycles up against a tree. The two girls took off most of their clothes and lay down on the soft ground to catch up on all the sleep they had gone without.
All through the rapings and beatings and whippings and torturings, both girls had been desperate for a chance to get some sleep, to lie back and relax and let the pain and the suffering all wash away. But now that everything was all right and the girls were actually trying to get some rest they discovered that they were wide awake.
"I can't sleep," Susan confessed, propping herself up on one elbow.
"No we don't," protested her blonde friend. "I'd rather have a look at this town and see what kinds of cocks it has."
"We'll do that," the older girl promised her. "We'll ball our way through the whole town and the whole county and the whole state and maybe even the whole damn U. S. of A. But we've got to get some sleep first. And after that we've got to go to the cops and tell them about our good friends Archer and Willie." As she spoke Cindy reached out for the dungarees that she had taken off and placed beside herself. She patted the pocket where she had put Archer's address book, to make sure that it was still there. It was. And so was his wallet with all the money and the credit cards.
Susan pouted as though she were a little girl rather than a full-grown teenager. "Oh, Cindy, not the POLICE! We don't have to bother them about Archer. They'll keep us busy with red tape and all kinds of shit like that, and by the time they let us go we'll be so old our tits will fall off. Why waste time fooling around with the police when we could be out fuckin' and funnin'?"
Cindy stood absolutely steadfastly firm on this one point. "Sorry, Sue, but it's just something that's gotta be done. People like Archer and Willie are just crooks an' that's all there is to it. I had a boy friend once who used to do business with people like that. He did an O. D. Folks like Archer and his big gorilla friend are plain old everyday murderers, and that's all there is to it."
Susan sighed as she lay there semi-naked. "Yeah, I guess so," she admitted at length. "And, what the hell, those bastards raped us. I wouldn't mind getting 'em busted for that alone."
"There, you see?" retorted her redheaded friend. "Now roll over and get some sleep."
Susan rolled over, her long golden hair obscuring her face and one of her breasts as she lay there. "Good-night," she whispered to Cindy.
There was no reply except for a snore.
Cindy was one of those girls who woke up a little at a time, the kind that would lie there for an hour arguing with herself over whether or not to get up. At last she yawned and, eyes still closed, reached out with one hand for the dungarees that she had taken off the night before.
They weren't there.
Frowning slightly, the girl reached out farther, trying to recall exactly where she had put the things. She felt her fingers close around the hardness of a tree trunk. Knowing that she had left the clothes around there somewhere, Cindy began to poke around over a wider and wider area until at last her hand came in contact with something that wasn't part of the landscape.
A motorcycle boot.
Cindy opened her eyes.
Towering over her was Diana, still clad in the one-piece leather body stocking and looking about two feet taller than the day before. Cindy noticed that there was a hole in the leather tunic under Diana's armpit where the charge from the shotgun had grazed her. Cindy could see the naked skin underneath and saw that a slight wound had been partially healed over.
Standing directly behind the huge lesbian amazon was somebody that Cindy realized with a start of surprise was Needles! From the expression on the junkie's face he was right in the middle of a powerful acid trip, and both he and his mistress Diana looked as though they were about to do something very enjoyable. Such as raping helpless girls.
Cindy opened her mouth and screamed with all of her might. "SU-U-USAN!" She wanted to tell herself that this was all a dream, or rather a nightmare, that she was still asleep, that she would soon wake up. But deep down inside Cindy knew that it was all very real. And that it was about to get realer.
Susan's eyes fluttered open. She still looked about half-asleep, but as soon as she saw who was standing there she was wide awake herself. In a single glance the frightened girl took in the situation: their clothes were gone, and so were their motorcycles. Either Diana or Needles had taken the opportunity while the girls were asleep to slip a length of chain with a padlock around the leg of each girl and lock it, after first doubling the leg up so that the foot was directly under the back of the thigh. Cindy knew that if she stood up with that chain on she would have one leg tucked under her ass like a stork. Running away was quite clearly impossible.
For a long time neither girl dared to speak, either to each other or to their captors. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Diana herself opened the red slit of her mouth and spoke.
"The Seven Gates of Hell... Gate Three... "
Cindy felt the long shadow of the dominatrix fall across her helpless body and at last she managed to work up the nerve to speak. "You can't be serious," she protested. "The Seven Gates of Hell were so that we could get into your gang. We passed the First Gate, and then the Second Gate, but then Scar broke up the gang. You've got to let us go."
"The Seven Gates of Hell," Diana repeated. "Gate Three. And then Gate Four. And then Gate Five. And then Gate Six. And then Gate Seven."
Cindy remembered how, when she had tied up Archer, she had gotten a kick from watching him struggle, from listening to him bargain for his freedom. The knowledge that she had had control over another human being had been a big kick for her, almost a sexual kick. Now she was beginning to understand the kick that Diana got from abducting girls, from tying them up, from torturing them and raping them.
But Cindy didn't want Diana to get that kick. Not at the expense of her own and Susan's bodies. Struggling to pull off the chain that bound her leg and held her captive, Cindy protested: "Please try to listen to reason. You can't do this to us. We've earned the right to freedom. You've got to let us go."
"The Seven Gates of Hell," Diana repeated. "Gate Three. And then Gate Four. And then Gate Five. And then Gate Six. And then... " Cindy saw that she was trapped. She and Susan had escaped from the arduous ordeal to find themselves a few hours of freedom, a few minutes of liberty. But now that was all being denied to them. They had just been thrust back into the cage, the prison, the torture chamber of sadistic lust.
"The Third Gate of Hell," Diana announced, as though she were making a bid in a game of contract bridge. She held up one hand and, without turning around, spoke to the faithful Needles, who stood waiting behind her, eager to serve. "Give me the- apparatus for the ceremony."
The two girls looked on in fearful apprehension as Needles reached beneath his faded, tattered jacket and pulled out an object wrapped in felt, which he began to unroll with great care as though he were unveiling a prized heirloom or even a sacred relic. Cindy remembered that the Royal Sceptre in the Tower of London was wrapped in cloth like that, and the thing Needles was unwrapping was about the same size and shape. And he even handled it as though it were some sort of hallowed object. Did Diana possess some sort of sceptre that symbolized her imperial power over her captive sex-slaves?
And then the object was pulled out of the cloth, and Cindy saw what it was. It was a sceptre, at least in a manner of speaking. It was certainly a staff of power, and a symbol of domination.
It was a dildo.
Cindy couldn't help staring in morbid fascination at this thing that Needles held in his hands, held as though it were the object he worshipped above all else in Creation. Cindy had seen big dildos, but this one was literally a monster; it was at least a foot long and as wide around as a grown man's fist. The artificial cock was perfectly contoured, and was crafted from the most realistic latex that Cindy had ever encountered. The thing even had a pair of well-formed testicles dangling below and a small but definite outcropping of pubic hair. Except for the gigantic size of the thing, it looked and felt exactly like the real McCock in every way.
Slowly, haltingly, Needles approached his tall flame-haired mistress. He came before her with bowed head and then dropped to his knees, offering up the divine object as though he were some sort of altar boy offering the Sacred Chalice to his priest.
Cindy saw that some sort of divine light seemed to be shining out from the haggard junkie's pockmarked face, as though he were taking part in some sort of blessed event. My God, she thought to herself, that woman's really got this guy brainwashed. I don't care what she does to Susan and I as long as she doesn't try to rape our minds like that.
Slowly Diana reached down and took the awesome dildo, cradling it in her fingers as though she were the Virgin Mary and the dildo was the Infant Jesus. The look of total devotion that shone from her face was so intense that the scene was actually inspirational. Cindy knew that she ought to be scared out of her wits, but for some reason she felt almost as if she were participating in some form of sacred rite.
And then she realized that it WAS a sacred rite. It was going to be a sacrifice, a burnt offering to the God of Lust, and she and Susan were to be the sacrificial victims. They were going to be ravished, they were going to be impaled upon a pillar of fire, a cylinder of artificial flesh shaped like a monstrous phallic symbol.
Slowly Diana took the dildo and raised it heavenwards, uplifting her head as she did so that she might see the orgiastic organ pointed directly towards the sun. A look of tremendous rapture was bursting forth upon the woman's beautifully ugly face as she opened the walls of her mouth and spoke.
"In the name of the Flogger," she intoned, "and of the Stunned, and of the Holocaust. As it was in the Big Sinning, is now and ever shall be, Pain Without End. Hymen." The words sounded sacred somehow, and Cindy realized that this woman actually believed them, that she revelled in a demented catechismal creed of Pain and Lust and Torture, that she was the divine priestess of a cult of pain worshippers, of flagellators, of torture inflictors. And, even though Cindy knew that she ought to escape, she could not help thinking that somehow she and Susan had been given an honor they were unworthy of, by being chosen as the sacrifices on this woman's Altar of Blood.
And now Diana was coming closer, with Needles not far behind. And somehow the sadism and the filthiness had fallen from them and they seemed to be divine missionaries, spreading a credo of pain and suffering and humiliation. Their eyes were uplifted towards the heavens, and they seemed to glow from within. Even the Dildo, the Sacred Dildo, seemed to be gleaming and glittering with a divine light of its own creation.
The world had stopped moving now, everything had stopped to watch the Priestess of Pain and her Divine Dildo advance upon the two chosen sacrificial victims, the ones who had to die for their sins. Cindy glanced down at her naked legs, and as she watched it seemed as though the flesh upon her feet was melting away to reveal open wounds, wounds that bled and did not heal, wounds such as might be made by nails tearing into the flesh. And she saw the same marks upon her hands, and a gaping gash opened in her side and from it seemed to flow the very lifeblood of her tortured, twisted, agonized soul. Cindy was to become a martyr now, she was to be crucified upon the lance of the Divine Dildo, and Susan was to die at her side. Together they would die for the sake of the God of Pain.
Diana turned away from Cindy now, to devote her full attention to the blonde girl Susan. "You shall be the first," she intoned, and there seemed to be a sacred quality in her voice that had not been there before. "You shall be the first. For the lashed shall be forced, and the thirst shall be lust."
Cindy looked, and there was wonderment in her eyes, and awe in her heart, as she saw that Sacred Organ coming downward, ever downward towards Susan's shuddering cranny, towards the Tabernacle between her thighs.
Cindy saw that the Divine Diana was attaching the base of the Dildo to some sort of a metal fastener that protruded from the crotch of her leather garment. Now the Object of Adoration protruded from between her legs, so that now it was a more powerful Dildo than ever, a Dildo that would be put to good use upon the two sacrificial victims that lay waiting to receive it.
Slowly the thing came towards Susan, and as Cindy watched she saw that Susan too had acquired the same stigmata, the same Holy Marks upon her hands and feet and in her naked side. For now they were going to be martyrs, to die the most blessed Death there ever was or ever would be, to die as willing disciples of the Dildo of Diana.
And now Cindy could see the huge thing going into Susan, slowly at first but with gathering speed. In the beginning of it Susan merely lay there quietly, meekly accepting her fate, passively submitting herself to the divine power of the entity that entered into her body.
But then the thing thrust deeper, deep within her until suddenly Susan was screaming in pain and fear and suffering, and it seemed to Cindy as though the young girl's body had been entirely consumed in an all-powerful onslaught of infernal Hellfire. Susan opened her mouth to scream, and it seemed as though a river of blood, a red sea of suffering, gushed out of her mouth as though it were an open wound. And then the blood was coming from her eyeballs and her fingertips and every inch of her body at once, and Cindy saw that the girl was not bleeding at all, but burning, burning under the hot flames of passionate lust, but the flames were blood-flames, and every particle of the girl's captive anatomy was swept up into the blaze, burning and shriveling up in a blaze of blasphemous heat hot heat hot heat hot heat until her eyes and her lips and the mounds of her breasts were turning into blood-red flames of passionate pain, and her pubic hair had become a burning bush of blessedly brazenly blaspheming bloodening bliss, with a hiss of disconsolate doom and defeat and demented despair, and exotic erotic I despotic delight.
And then the blood-red flames of passion turned golden yellow and then virgin white as from out of Susan's ravaged ravished body poured gallons and gallons of orgasm goo, as she creamed and she screamed and she seemed to be burning and turning to churnings of hot liquid cream, cream of the orgasms, cream of the comings, cream of the thousands and millions and billions of people who died on the altar of Lust, who devoted- their lives to the pleasure of pain, that dominate, subjugate, liberate waves of libidinous Lust. Lust was the Father, Lust was the Son, Lust was the Trinity, all three in one. Lust was the Deity that dominated us all, filling Susan's body with every sacred and profane emotion known to man, woman, angel or devil. Goodness and evil no longer were distinct, they blended and ended a lifetime of life without sex. Because Lust was not evil now, nor was it good. It was All That There Was. Lust, Lust, nothing but Lust. Lashes to Asses and Bust to Dust.
Just Lust.
Lust was a Must.
More of it, more of it, more of it, more. More of the passion would open the door as never before to lust, Lust, Lust! LUST!
"Torture me! TORTURE ME!" Susan was screaming, screaming and dreaming and dreaming of Lust. Lust was the Answer, Lust was the Prayer. Every land, every race, every place, everywhere needed LUST, LUST, NOTHING BUT LUST, ASHES TO ASHES AND DUST TO DUST!
Susan was creaming and Susan was crying, Susan was screaming and Susan was dying, and trying to fly to the sky on a pillar of LUST, LUST, NOTHING BUT LUST, Lust is Salvation, Lust is our Hope, the Whip and the Lash and the Chain and the Rope.
Lust!
Pain!
Torture and Blood!
And Susan expired in a murkied-up maze, and a haze of hot passion, of passion and LUST. At last she collapsed in the throes of her passion, her pleasure, her pain. Now she was satisfied, now she was crucified, now she was purified, now she was pure. Now she was sure of the cure to be pure, it was LUST, LUST, NOTHING BUT LUST!
Susan creamed out her life on the bare forest floor, pleading "More! Give me more! Oh, like never before give me more!" And her orgasm shattered to bits, with her hips and her tits and her lips and her ass, as. she lapsed into pits of emotional passion. It was good, it was great, it was what she deserved. She had managed to serve the Almighty God, Lust.
And now it was Cindy's turn.
She saw that glistening organ all coated with the cream of Susan's orgasm, and she knew that now she would be the one to feel its hard thrust within her. She wanted it all. She needed it all. Without it there was nothing, but with it there was all. She wanted to die on the altar of Lust.
Closer it came, closer it came, and Cindy felt as though she could see with her vagina, as though she could taste with it and feel with it, as though her entire body had become a part of that one all-powerful organ, as though her entire life revolved around that one thing between her legs.
She actually could see with her vagina now, and she could see the glistening nose-cone of the Sacred Dildo coming towards her, coming forward to go into her, to penetrate her, dominate her, fenestrate her, subjugate her. She opened her legs to receive the hot power of the Dildo, the Dildo, the Wonderful Dildo, the cock that would give her delicious delight.
And slowly it was coming towards her, slowly it was drawing near, and now Cindy could feel the thing coming up against the edge of her flesh, touching the lips of her vagina, kissing her. And then the kiss became a tongue-kiss, but the tongue was going so far down within her that it was not a tongue at all but a cock, a dong, a dildo, a huge shaft of artificial flesh that worked its way deeper and deeper and farther along, more of it more of it, farther along.
Cindy could feel a fire burning deep within her loins, a fire that slowly spread and grew as it consumed more and more of her inner flesh, gradually more of her body. More of it, more, and she wanted it all, she needed it all to enthrall the huge wall that divided the pain from the land of delight, the wall had to fall so that all of the pleasure and all of the pain could combine altogether and mingle and mix until pleasure and pain were the same, all the same.
Cindy came.
Cindy creamed. Cindy shot out her wad, and the hot rubber rod prodded all through her body to fill her with Lust.
Every spot in her twat was so hot that she not only shot but she got to a level of Lust where she had to have sex, throbbing Sex, driving SEX, writhing S*E*X! There was nothing but sex now, except for the Lust. There would always be Lust.
Cindy creamed once again, and the session was done. There was nothing but Lust. There would always be Lust.
It was over.
And done with.
As Cindy gradually crawled back to a state of mind roughly resembling consciousness, she saw a long fuzzy object dancing before her eyes that gradually began to focus into a voluptuous leather torso: the body of Diana. Cindy moaned once again, but it was a moan of pleasure. She realized now that she HAD to have pain, she needed the firm disciplinarian hand of such a person as Diana. Cindy sighed with sexual contentment and lapsed into a state of euphoria such as she had never felt since the day her erotic adventures began.
Suddenly a, red-hot bolt of pain lashed across her thoughts as Cindy felt searing agony blast its way through her body. Diana had struck her with one leather gloved hand.
Diana was standing, hands on hips, legs spread wide apart, where both her young sex-slaves could see her. "Stand up, slaves," she commanded to them.
Susan gestured helplessly towards the chain that was binding her leg. "We can't stand," she pointed out, which was a statement that happened to be quite true.
THWOCK! One high-heeled hip boot shot out and caught Susan in the face, the stiletto point of the heel coming dangerously close to an eye. "SLAVE! You will not contradict me. You will do as I say. Now get UP!"
Susan saw that there was no sense in arguing, which was something Cindy had already found out long before. The blonde girl sighed wearily, and then she and Cindy were both struggling to their feet. Because if the chains that wound about their thighs they were each forced to stand upon one foot, grasping the other one with one hand and holding it flat against their buttocks. It was a very humiliating posture, and a very painful one.
Diana nodded in what appeared to be satisfaction. "Not exactly what I wanted. But I suppose it will have to do. I should have known better than to expect even such a simple act as obedience from such incompetents as you." She balled one gloved hand into a fist and stroked it lovingly against her leather-clad hip. "What you two need is some corrective discipline." She smiled at them in a very cruel way. "You two ought to thank me for taking time from my busy schedule to help such worthless creatures as you two."
Susan's only answer to that was a very angry look, but suddenly Cindy lowered her head submissively and murmured, "Yes, Mistress." Susan was totally stunned with surprise. Had her friend been dominated once too often?
But not even Susan was half so surprised at this as Cindy herself was. She suddenly realized how much she really did WANT this woman to dominate her and humiliate her like this, not merely sadomasochistically but sexually as well. The more the girl thought about it the more sure she was that she WANTED this woman to make hot sexual love to her. VIOLENT love. Love that HURT.
Diana had appeared interested by what Cindy had said. "I did not hear what you said, unworthy slave. Repeat it to me, if you please."
Cindy tried to do as her Mistress commanded her to, to repeat her oath of undying loyalty to the lust and the lash. But the words would not come out. She was struggling with her own conscience, with her own mental processes. She wanted to be possessed by this woman, to feel the hot lustful thrust of her Dildo. But at the same time there was something within Cindy that told her this sort of thinking was wrong, was immoral, that pain and sex were two separate things which were not to be combined under any circumstances.
Manfully she labored to bring the words to her tongue, to force them out of her mouth. She was painfully aware that Susan and Diana and Needles were all watching her with very intense expressions and somehow this one little extra bit of humiliation was enough to tip the scales for Cindy. Raising her head to proclaim to the heavens, she shouted: "YES, MY MISTRESS!"
And then the ground came up and hit her in the face. Cindy felt a pain in her knees, and then everything went black. Now I can sleep, she thought. Blissful sleep. Now I can rest and recover.
But Diana would not let her victims rest. She seized Cindy firmly by the chin, digging her long pointed fingers into the flesh, until Cindy was again standing on one foot, holding the other one aloft because the chain would not allow her to put it down.
"I am glad that you have learned to accept your slavery," Diana announced, smiling at Cindy almost kindly. Then, turning to frown at Susan, she said: "I fear that you will need a bit more training, slave. I will see to it that you receive what you deserve."
Cindy could think of very little to say. A whole new world had been opened up to her here, a world in which sex was combined with pain. For pain is after all the most vivid feeling of all, infinitely more vivid than sex, and only by combining the two can a truly pleasurable experience be achieved.
Diana turned to face her servant Needles. 'The slaves are ready," she announced. "Bring me Brahmo."
Needles nodded silently, and a moment later he returned tugging at a leash, to which was attached an enormous black Great Dane. Apparently Diana had a pet, Cindy thought, and she wants him to watch what we do from now on. As Cindy stood there she couldn't help admiring the sleekness of the animal's pelt, his huge wet tongue, and his long pendulous organ.
Diana came closer to both the girls in chains, until they were forced to look at her, forced to wonder what was going to be done to them next. They watched as Diana raised one arm, the arm from which the leather had been tom by the gunshot, and as the arm went upwards the half-healed wound underneath was exposed.
"The Seven Gates of Hell... Gate Four."
Cindy fainted.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It seemed to Cindy, in retrospect, that her entrance through the Fourth Gate of Hell had been the most erotically arduous ordeal that any human being could ever have imagined. More and more she could realize-and appreciate-what a fantastically demoniacal mind her mistress Diana really had to be able to think up such painfully delicious excruciations of sadomasochistic lust.
Cindy had passed through four of the Gates now. She still had three to go, and she knew that each of those three Gates of Hell would be significantly more pleasurable than the ones that had preceded it. Cindy decided that she couldn't wait to go through the Seventh Gate.
But she knew that she HAD to wait. She knew that from now on she would have to do everything exactly as her Mistress wanted her to.
But that was how she liked it.
Cindy tried to get up from her bed of pain and passion, but found that she was still too weak. She hoped that her Mistress would be kind enough to allow her some time to rest, to recover from the agonizing ordeal that she had just undergone. Cindy wanted a chance to recover some of her strength, so that when she would be called upon again to enter the Fifth Gate she would be able to perform with a maximum of ability.
She wanted to please her Mistress.
Cindy's friend Susan had not yet learnt the pleasures of submission, and Diana had promised Cindy that, after Cindy had passed through the Seven Gates successfully, Diana would take her in hand as an apprentice dominatrix, and show her how to manipulate Susan until she would want to be punished for her frailties. Cindy told herself that that would be a very exciting experience indeed.
Suddenly a hot searing bolt of pain shot through Cindy's body and sent her writhing in a contortion of pain. Her wonderful dominatrix had made love to her with the beautiful pointed toe of her boot. Cindy loved that boot. She loved the foot that wore that boot, and she loved the person who owned that foot. And the person who owned that foot was also the person who owned Diana.
The boot kicked her again.
"Get up, slave," called a voice.
Diana's voice.
"Get up, slave," she repeated, and there was not a trace of patience in the voice. "Your useless body is needed, slave. It is time for you to ATTEMPT to enter into the Fifth Gate." Diana laughed mirthlessly. "Although personally I am certain that you will prove too feeble to do the job."
It took at least a minute for Cindy to climb to her feet, because every ounce of her flesh was still throbbing from the delicious feel of that Dildo. She was wondering what was in store for her now.
Diana walked up to her holding yet another Dildo, one that was nearly half again as large as the first one had been. As Cindy stood by passively Diana knelt and strapped the huge artificial organ across Cindy's crotch and between her thighs. Cindy liked the feel of the leather straps against her ass.
But she didn't know what she was supposed to do with the Dildo. Up until now Cindy had always been the one who received the pain, not the one who gave it.
As Cindy watched, Diana pointed towards a nearby tree, against which Needles was tying Susan. The blonde girl was screaming and kicking, but all her struggles were useless. Soon she was bound and helpless.
Diana tapped the Dildo lightly, and then pointed a single black leather finger at Susan. "She is yours," she said simply to Cindy. "Do as you please with her."
