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 Ma Butcher's Boys

   Chapter Two The 'Fun' Begins

   by Ozmanga

   2,697 words

   Helen and her stepdaughter were thrust into a shabby room on the second
floor of the old farmhouse.  It was furnished with a king-size bed a small
chest of drawers and little else.  There was an adjoining closet with an
old-fashioned flush toilet and washbasin.  A barred window, in the wall
opposite the bed, overlooked the back yard.

   Katrina, naked but for a pair of cotton socks, was trembling with cold
and shock.  She was sobbing uncontrollably.  Her thighs were smeared with
evidence of her recent rape.  Helen, despite nursing a suspected broken rib
and a badly bruised throat, did her best to comfort the young girl.

   Their jailer, Ma Butcher, stood in the doorway, hands on hips, and
announced, "You're in here to give my boys a good time.  Make sure you do!
I don't want to hear any crap about how much ransom money you could pay if
only we'd let you go.  Your husband has already tried that line and it
won't wash, Barbie!"

   "Why?" Helen interjected.  Her voice was cracked and it hurt her to
speak.  "Seems like good business to me!"

   Ma shrugged.  "Too risky!  It's safer and easier to make you disappear.
I'm keeping you alive because I like to see my boys have a bit of fun! 
Give me any trouble and, trust me, you're fucking history!"

   Helen tried to keep Ma talking but she went, locking the solid wooden
door to the bedroom behind her.

   The bed boasted a mattress, but no sheets.  The mattress was heavily
stained.  The darker stains could have been blood.  The lighter stains were
less identifiable.  There were ropes and leather straps attached to each
corner post of the solid brass bedstead which attested to the bed's past
history.  Helen was alarmed at these signs that the room had been used
before to cater for the boys' "bit of fun".

   Helen bathed Katrina, using the lining ripped from the skirt of her
dress as a wash cloth.  There was only a cold-water tap.  She found a
tattered brown blanket in one of the drawers, which she wrapped around her
shivering stepdaughter.  Evening was drawing on but it was still light. 
Katrina curled up on the bed while Helen explored their prison looking for
anything that could help them escape.

   The bars on the window were screwed to the window frame.  Helen tested
each screw with her thumb nail and was surprised to find the left-hand bar
was only loosely attached.  She managed to turn the screw a little before
her nail broke.

   "Damn!" she croaked.

   The window was jammed shut but not nailed.  By rattling the wooden frame
Helen was able to raise it a little.  Looking down she estimated it was
about a fifteen-foot drop onto the cobbled yard.  Not an impossible drop,
but risky.  The farmyard was flanked by two stone-built buildings and an
old wooden barn.  From the left-hand building Helen could hear an
unfamiliar noise.  Muted squeals and deeper grunts.

   "Pigs?" she wondered aloud.

   "Cops?" queried Katrina hopefully.  "Where?" She sat up and wiped her
face with the back of her hand.

   "No, Katrina.  Not police.  Pigs.  I think this place is a pig farm."

   The teenager looked blankly at her stepmother.  "What are we going to
do?" said the girl quietly.

   "Try and escape.  Survive until we do." Helen's voice gave out.  "Sorry,
Kat, my throat ..."

   "Yeah.  Don't talk.  I heard what that mean old bitch said.  They're
going to fuck us, aren't they.  And she's going to watch.  And when they
have had enough 'fun' she'll make us 'disappear'.  How do you think she'll
do that?"

   As if in answer to Katrina's question, there was a sudden increase in
the noise from the piggery.

   Helen shuddered.  "You get some rest while you can," she managed.  "I
think we will both need all our strength tonight!" She climbed onto the bed
and put her arms around Katrina.  They lay down.  Neither woman slept.

   The "fun" started about two hours later.  The door opened and the single
unshaded light globe that hung from the ceiling flickered into life.  Ma
Butcher entered carrying a stout wooden kitchen-chair, which she set down
by the side of the bed.  She stood behind the chair.

   "You got a visitor, Barbie," she said.

   Mark, his hands tied behind his back, was pushed through the doorway by
Spike.  The biker was still wearing his boots and leather pants.  His black
tee shirt was a mite cleaner than Ma's.  He was grinning broadly.  He
carried a short metal and plastic rod, which had two prongs on the end.

   Mark was dressed only in his shirt.  The buttons had been ripped off and
it was open and stained.  He had a black eye and a swollen lip.  A yellow
ribbon was fastened around the base of his penis, tied in a bow.  Spike sat
Mark on the chair.

   "Ain't ya gonna say, 'Hi' to your husband?" asked Ma.  Helen sat up on
the bed.  She said nothing.  She looked at Mark but he only gave her a
brief glance of absolute despair and resignation, then avoided her gaze and
stared at his feet.  Katrina quickly squinted at her father then looked
away, flustered and embarrassed.

   "I asked you a question, Barbie!" hissed Ma malevolently.  "When I do
that, you gotta answer or Spike will zap you with his prod.  Show her,
Spike!"

   The biker thumbed a switch on the barrel of the prod and touched Helen's
arm with the metal prongs.  The shock was violent.  Helen was unable to
suppress a cry of pain.  Spike offered to prod her again.

   "Hi, Mark!" she sobbed.

   "Good girl!" laughed Ma.  "That's rule number one!"

   Helen rubbed her sore arm.  "And what's rule number two, you sadistic
bitch?" she grated.

   Spike zapped her again.

   "Rule number two, Barbie, is don't speak until you're spoken to!  But
I'm glad to see someone in the family shows a bit of spirit." She grabbed a
fistful of Mark's hair and jerked his head back.  "This cur came to heel
without much of a whipping.  He fucks to order, don't ya, Mark?"

   "Yes, Ma!" he quavered.

   "And why are we here?" queried Ma, as she jerked his head back.

   "We're here to watch Spike ..." Mark sobbed.

   "Watch Spike do what, lover?"

   " ...  fuck my wife!" he blurted.

   Ma laughed.  It was not a musical experience.  "That's right!"said Ma.
She reached over the back of the chair and took hold of the loose foreskin
of his floppy penis then pulled, which stretched it upwards.  "D'ya like
the pretty ribbon, Kid?  Matches your step-momma's hair?"

   Katrina, eyes wide and brimming with tears managed a hesitant, "Yes, it
does!" and so avoided the prod that Spike was ready to use.

   "What's the matter, Kid?  You never seen your Daddy's cock before?" said
Ma.

   "No," said the young woman.

   "Well, get off the bed.  Come and have a good look."

   Katrina slid off the bed and took the two steps needed to be next to the
chair on which her father was seated.

   "Stroke it, Kid!"

   Katrina stretched out and gave the proffered member a tentative rub.

   "No.  Not like that.  Pump it like you saw my boy Pat do in the hall!"

   Katrina's hand wrapped around her father's plump but soft cock, She
began to gently stroke up and down.

   "Lose the blanket, Kid!"said Ma.

   Katrina let her covering slip to the floor.  Mark gasped to see the
bruising and puffiness around her vagina and the marks left by Ma's fierce
grip on his daughter's breasts.

   "My God!  She's been raped!" he yelled.  Spike gave a wicked grin and
applied the prod for a second or two.  Mark bucked and screamed in the
chair.

   Ma laughed.  "Rule Number Two!  Okay, Kid.  Stop pumping.  You can sit
on Daddy's knee while Barbie gets hers."

   Katrina hesitated for a moment then sat astride her father's bare legs.
Her firm round buttocks pressed hard against Mark's prickly pubic hairs. 
She shifted uncomfortably but Ma pressed down on the teenager's
shoulders."Good girl!" said Ma, "that's rule number three.  Do as you're
fucking told!" She chuckled and addressed Helen.  "Strip, Barbie!  Spike's
getting real worked up!" She took the prod from her son and winked at him.
He grinned back.

   Helen got off the bed and began, button by button, to undo her now
crumpled linen dress.  Her side ached from the earlier kicking, but she was
determined not to show any weakness in front of Ma and her offspring.  She
eased the dress down over her hips and stepped out of it.  Her generous
bosom filled a simple white bra.  Her neatly cropped blonde bush was
covered by white cotton pants.  She winced as she reached behind her to
undo the fastening of her bra.  Her breasts bounced gently as the
supporting garment was discarded.

   "Nice!" growled Spike.  "You've got real nice tits, Barbie!" He had
unzipped the front of his leather pants and his cock had flopped out, fat
and slug-like.  He cradled it in one hand.  With the other he reached for
her right nipple.  Helen tried not to flinch as the biker's finger and
thumb closed on the plump pink mound.  Spike kneaded the erectile tissue
with surprising gentleness while slowly stroking his flaccid cock.

   "You like that, don't ya, Barbie?" Spike suggested.  Ma hefted the prod.

   "Yes!" sighed Helen, not daring to exaggerate lest Ma zap her.  "That's
cool!"

   "Cool!" hissed Ma.  "I'll give you fucking cool!  Get on your knees and
lick that dick into fucking shape!"

   "Yes, Ma!" said Helen, as she sank to her knees in front of Spike. 
"Whatever you say!"

   Spike grinned as Helen reached for his fat member with both hands.  She
placed one hand softly under the growing erection and, with the other hand,
carefully caressed the young man's dangling balls.  Spike moaned quietly
with pleasure.

   "I'm gonna fuck you good, Barbie.  You know that?"he mumbled as Helen's
lips closed around the head of his cock.  She stopped sucking to reply,
"Yes, Spike, I know that.  You're growing so big!"

   Helen returned to her task by running her tongue slowly back and forth
along the raised vein on the underside of the swiftly stiffening erection.
She kept up the gentle massage of Spike's swollen scrotum lifting and
squeezing his heavy balls.  She kissed them before she took the head of his
cock into her generous mouth.  Out of the corner of her eye, Helen could
see Ma scowling over Mark's shoulder.  Katrina was looking shocked.  Mark
was trying not to look.  After a while, Spike heaved a sigh of satisfaction
and started to rotate his hips and push his cock into Helen's seemingly
eager mouth.  Helen used her tongue and lips to massage the head of Spike's
erection while one hand stroked its length.  Her other she thrust inside
her cotton pants.  She seemed to be relishing the situation.  The minutes
ticked by.  Spike gradually approached orgasm.

   Katrina watched Helen's performance with concern.  It seemed that her
stepmother had betrayed both her, and her father, by welcoming the forced
attentions of Spike.  The teenager was appalled to see her step-mother
apparently masturbating, while fellating the young biker.  She did not
realize the effect Helen's seeming compliance was having on Ma and her son,
as well as her father.  As the young woman watched Helen stir Spike's
libido into overdrive, she felt a gradual pressure between the cheeks of
her buttocks.  She looked down to see that, like Spike, Mark too was
becoming aroused.  Ma saw what was happening and laughed

   "That's enough fore-play, Spike!" growled Ma.  "Fuck the smartarsed
bitch!"

   "But Ma ..." Spike began to protest.  He was clearly enraptured by
Helen's skilful demonstration of fellatio and wanted his pleasure to
continue.  Helen held the tip of Spike's now rigid penis tenderly between
her teeth and flicked the tip with a rapid to and fro movement of her
tongue.

   "Don't 'but, Ma' me, Spike!  Get the pants off the horny bitch and fuck
her!  Fuck her hard!  Make the city bitch howl!"

   "Yes, Ma," the biker said with resignation.  "On your feet, Barbie!"

   As if eager for the inevitable consummation Helen leaped to her feet and
quickly stripped off her cotton pants.  Strings of pre-cum dripped from her
determined chin.  "Where d'you want me, Spike?" panted Helen.  Her sore
throat gave her voice a sexy, husky, tone that surprised even her.  "On the
bed?  Or..."

   Ma interrupted, "Stand close to the chair, Barbie, so we can all see. 
Bend over.  Grab your ankles.  Do it now, God dammit!" Helen complied.

   Seeing her stepmother's cunt displayed at such close quarters disturbed
Katrina in a way she didn't understand.  She was also aware of her father's
swelling cock.  She could feel the pressure of his expanding flesh at the
back of her thighs.  Looking down she could see, between her legs, the tip
of his erection just beneath her swollen vagina.

   Spike entered Helen from behind in one swift effortless thrust.  "Oh!"
cried Helen, "Oh!  No!" In a tone that implied "Oh, yes!" He pumped away
gamely but Helen's foreplay had brought Spike to the edge and it was not
long before he was banging hard and grunting "Yeah!  Yeah!  Yeah!", like a
demented Beatle, as he pumped his load of sperm deep in Helen's womb.  She
reacted as though she too had reached orgasm, moaning and gasping and
cupping her breasts in ecstasy.  As Spike withdrew his dwindling prick, she
looked wide-eyed at her husband, "I couldn't help it, Mark!  It was rape
but ..."she croaked before dissolving into tears and throwing herself onto
the stained mattress.

   Ma took Mark out of the room.  He looked upset and confused.  His
erection poked out between the remains of his torn shirt.  Ma called Spike
to follow.  They left the light on.

   As the door closed Helen stopped her theatrical behaviour.  She jumped
off the bed and crossed to the wash basin and began to clean up.  Katrina
was amazed.  "Why did you do that?  With that fat biker?  With Daddy
looking at you?  You enjoyed it!  You came!  It was disgusting!"

   Helen finished her ablutions and dressed before replying to the younger
woman's angry questions.  She was cross herself, but entirely in control of
her feelings.  Her rib-cage ached and the inside of her throat felt as if
it had been sandpapered.

   "Listen to me!" she began with quiet intensity, "We must survive to
escape.  The alternative to going along with our captors is resistance. 
That would mean the boys will get their fun by tying us to this stinking
bed so we can be raped and beaten until we break.  That would make escape
even more difficult if not impossible.  What I hope I did was show Spike
that here, in this room, is a slutty little blonde who'll be only too happy
to oblige his every fantasy.  It would not surprise me if he came back
later tonight without Ma.  If he does, leave him to me.  Understand?" She
lay down on the bed, closed her eyes and feigned sleep.

   Katrina was quiet for a long time.  "What if they come for me?  Pat ..."

   Helen turned to the girl.  "In that case I'll try and distract them.  I
don't expect you to play the whore too and I don't know where that bastard
who raped you has got to.  But fight too hard and we'll both be tied up. 
Now try and get some rest." She turned her back on the teenager and tried
to sleep.

   Helen had just dozed off, when the door opened quietly.  It was Spike.
"I brought you some cold pie, and your clothes from the car, Barbie." He
grinned.  Spike dropped Helen's suitcase and placed a large piece of meat
and potato pie on it.  He'd removed his boots and leather pants.  His cock
was dangling under the hem of his tee shirt.  He slid onto the bed.  "But
first, I want you to do what you did earlier."

   "Only this time I'm gonna come in your mouth!"