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 Ma Butcher's Boys

   Chapter Three A Hard Day

   by Ozmanga

   3,015 words

   Just before dawn, Spike woke with a sore, but stiffening, cock.  The
young biker had spent much of the night in an orgy of sex with Helen, the
older of the two women abducted the day before.  He had taken some powder,
and some pills, to ensure he would not disappoint his bedmate.  She now
lay, naked and unmoving, on her back, beside him.  The businesswoman
sprawled on the stained mattress of the big brass bed.  She slept the sleep
of exhaustion.  Her legs were spread wide as if to invite further
penetration but one hand covered her swollen and painfully tender vagina,
in mute protest.  The other cradled a sticky, bruised, bosom.

   Spike stirred.  He propped himself up on one elbow and was about to
rouse the sleeping beauty when he felt a soft hand close around his fat,
tumescent, cock.  Katrina was awake too.

   "Let Helen sleep," whispered the teenager.  She pumped his morning
glory."Why don't you fuck me, instead?" Katrina tried a bright smile.  "Or
perhaps you'd like me to ...  er ..." she touched her pink lips.

   Spike grinned.  Katrina was on her elbows and knees.  Her round
pink-tipped breasts bobbed and swayed in time to the rhythmic action of her
wrist.

   Katrina had spent most of the night dozing, huddled under the bed's
single blanket.  She had tried not to listen to the gross demands Spike
made of Helen.  Demands which the petite blonde had done everything she
could to satisfy.  Her stepmother had said that she would play the slut,
and try to spare Katrina the sexual attentions of their captors.  But
nothing in the businesswoman's experience could have prepared her for
Spike, greedy for sex, high on drugs, and damn-near permanently erect. 
Nevertheless she had done everything the tubby biker wanted with seeming
enthusiasm.  Only once, during the orgy of violent sex, did Spike involve
Katrina in the action.  He was screwing Helen doggy fashion, and thought it
would be good if Katrina licked his swinging scrotum as he plundered her
stepmother from the rear.

   Spike now reached for the young woman's pendent breasts with one hand,
and her long black hair with the other.  He caressed each plump tit quite
tenderly, and guided her head toward his groin, where Katrina's hand had
resurrected his boner.  She stretched her lips to engorge the head of
Spike's stiff cock..  The fleshy organ filled her mouth.  Katrina, still
pumping with her hand, tried to massage the head with her tongue.  Spike
groaned with pleasure.

   Katrina began to choke.  Spike sensed her rising discomfort and laughed.
"Too big for you, Kid?" he said.

   The teenager tried to pull away from the task she had so rashly
undertaken in order to grant her stepmother some much needed sleep.  Spike,
grinned wickedly, and put his both of hands on the back of her head, and
forced it down, driving his meat deep into the teenager's throat.  Katrina,
who had not done this before, choked and panicked.  Her resistance excited
Spike, who began to push hard with his hips, as he felt his cock slide down
the young woman's throat.

   Unable to call out, or breathe properly, Katrina began to flail at Spike
with her arms.  One wild swipe hit Helen's bruised ribs, and the little
blonde woke up with a cry of pain.  She saw what was happening and swiftly
moved to the rescue.

   "Be careful, Spike!" She cried hoarsely, "The kid can't do that like me.
She doesn't know how!  She could bite you, by accident!  You'd have to have
stitches!  What would Ma say to that?"

   Spike released Katrina's head and the girl rolled off him, choking and
spluttering with tears streaming from her eyes.  The biker grabbed her and
flung himself on top of the terrified teenager.

   "Spread 'em!" he snarled.  Katrina's leg's parted.  Spike's wet and
dripping erection hovered above the young woman's cunt.  He fingered her
puffy labia.  Helen tried to come to the rescue again.  She laid her head
on her stepdaughter's belly, and guided Spike's throbbing organ into her
mouth, a few inches above Katrina's carefully plucked pudenda.  Skilfully,
she massaged Spike's cock with her lips, tongue, and hands, until the
overweight young man was quivering with anticipation.

   Helen was sure that he would come in her mouth, as he had several times
during the long night, but this time she was wrong.  Milliseconds before
the dam burst, he pulled his cock out of Helen's eager mouth and, with a
cry of, "Take this, you prick-teasing little bitch!" he rammed it deep into
the cringing body of the frightened teenager, and came, in several
juddering spasms.

   When he had gone, locking the door behind him, the women climbed off the
bed and helped each-other wash and dress.  They didn't speak.  Katrina gave
Helen a hug, which caused the older woman to wince.  Her bruised ribs hurt.
From her suitcase, Helen chose pants, slacks, and a tee shirt.  Katrina
managed to fit into a pair of Helen's stretch jeans, and one of her loose
cotton tops.  Both women were dressed when Ma unlocked the door of the
bedroom, and told them to get downstairs for breakfast.

   Breakfast was served in the old farmhouse kitchen.  The stone-paved room
was cold despite the sunshine outside and the antique wood-fired stove that
occupied one wall.  The furniture - solid wooden chairs, table, and plain,
panelled, cupboards - was functional.  The small un-curtained windows were
barred.  Spike and Mark Outhwaite, both dressed in faded blue overalls,
were sitting at the large wooden table.  Spike was eating a huge plateful
of ham and eggs and freshly baked bread.  Mark had a bowl of oatmeal.  The
same grey mush was given to the women.  Katrina, normally a fussy eater,
spooned down the tasteless goo eagerly.  Helen was unable to do more than
peck at her food.  Her throat hurt from a blow Ma had given her the day
before.

   Ma sat down at the head of the table in front of a plate of ham and eggs
every bit as big as Spike's.  Between mouthfuls, Ma gave her orders for the
day.

   "Spike, take Mark to Pigboy.  He can help the dummy clean up the old
pens.  That should keep him busy!  Then you, cut some wood.  Mark can stack
it, when Pigboy has finished with him."

   Ma forked in a load of thick ham, smothered in egg yolk."And tell Pigboy
he's not to play with Mark.  Not yet.  I've still got a use for the city
slicker!"

   Ma ate.  "Barbie, you can clean the cellar where your old man has spent
the night.  There's blood, and shit, and vomit.  He's a messy bugger, but
eager to please.  Aren't you , Henry?" Helen noticed the cattle prod was
close to Ma's right hand.

   Mark looked up, startled.  "Yes, Ma," he gabbled.  "I'm eager to
please." Ma chewed another morsel.

   "Kid, you can do the dishes, and when you've finished you can scrub the
kitchen floor.  I'll be in here from time to time, so if you slack I'll
beat the daylights out of you.  Understand?"

   "Yes, Ma, I understand," replied Katrina eyeing the cattle prod.

   "That's good," said Ma, mopping her plate with a lump of fresh white
bread.  "Any questions?"

   "One or two!" croaked Helen.

   "Yeah?" said Ma ominously.

   "How long have you been pulling this stunt?  Staging a breakdown,
recovering the vehicle, stealing it, and abducting the occupants?"

   Ma grinned at the dainty blonde.  "The Butchers have been here a long
time, Barbie.  Guess my great grand-daddy was the first to syphon the juice
out of an automobile then offer a tow to the poor suckers stranded on the
roadside.  Must have been the 1930s.  During the Depression."

   "So there have been hundreds of disappearances?"

   "More'n a thousand, Barbie, over the years.  And none of them traced to
the Butcher family.  See, we've got this system.  Pat has driven your Merc
to the coast.  We've got connections there.  It will be exported, probably
to China.  Our agent, a cousin of mine, will then take your credit cards,
cell-phones, other disposable items like your Rolex, jewelry and pearls,
the Kid's DVD player, the checks Mark made out to 'cash', to another big
city.  He'll book you in to a fine hotel, dispose of the goods, then go
home.  You will have vanished into the underworld of a metropolis.  A
mystery a busy police force will soon label, 'too fucking hard', and
forget."

   Helen glared at Ma, "How long ..."she began but her voice cracked and
she wasn't able to finish the sentence.

   "Like I told you, Barbie, as long as you're useful!" Ma stood up.  "Now,
who told you whores you could wear pants?  Get 'em off.  While you're
working around the house the boys and I like to see a bit of pink."

   Helen and Katrina peeled of their slacks and panties.  Ma took the
clothes and stuffed them in a cupboard and the work-day began.  As Spike
and Mark shuffled out of the kitchen, Ma attached Katrina to a ring-bolt in
the floor, next to the sink ,with a length of light steel chain.  The free
end was wrapped tightly around the girl's waist, and secured with a brass
padlock.  Then she pushed Helen through the kitchen door, and down a
corridor, to the cellar entrance.

   The cellar was a large stone-flagged storage space, which extended under
most of the farmhouse.  Stone steps led from a heavy wooden door, down into
the damp, dank, darkness.  Brick pillars surmounted by round arches
supported the floor above, giving the space the look and feel of a crypt.
Boxes and crates and dusty, discarded, pieces of furniture crowded the
floor.  One section had been walled off with cement bricks to form a
separate cellar.  The wooden door stood open.  It was this area Helen was
told to clean.  Ma showed her a cupboard which contained disinfectant,
rags, a mop, a scrubbing brush, a plastic bucket and a block of gritty grey
soap.  Ma told the blonde businesswoman to get on with and locked the cell
door as she departed.

   Helen stood and assessed her task.  This was where her husband, Mark,
had been kept for most of the past twelve hours.  The place stank.  Nearly
all of the mess blood, seminal fluid, urine, vomit and faecal matter was
spattered around a solid-looking saw-horse that occupied the centre of the
rectangular space.  The saw-horse had leather straps fastened to each leg,
as did the three heavy wooden chairs, and matching square table, that
occupied one corner of the large room.  There were eye-bolts let into the
walls and floor.  From the ceiling dangled a block and tackle.  A coil of
rope lay on the table.  In the opposite corner was an iron bedstead.  On it
was spread a thin mattress, and a heavily stained travelling rug.  A
variety of whips and studded leather straps hung from hooks on the wall. 
They all looked well maintained.  On the floor by the bed was a strap-on
dildo, a double ender, which had been carelessly dropped after having been
used, the evidence suggested, for sodomy.

   To Helen's surprise the dungeon, for that was what it seemed to be, was
furnished with a modern shower, with hot and cold water, and a flush
toilet. She set to work, determined to finish the job as quickly as
possible so she could enjoy the facilities before Ma came for her.

   Without her watch Helen was unable to tell how long she had been working
before she judged she'd done enough.  The dungeon was as clean as she could
get it.  She had mopped up, flushing the mess down the lavatory.  Then, on
hands and knees Helen had scrubbed the floor, table, chair and saw-hose. 
She had washed the walls and wiped each implement of torture, including the
double-ended strap-on dildo.  She had turned the mattress and folded the
travelling rug so the worst stains were hidden.  The smell of carbolic and
disinfectant had replaced the vile reek of the morning.  She peeled off her
t-shirt and was about to treat herself to a hot shower when the cell door
banged open and Ma Butcher sauntered in.

   "Enjoying yourself, Barbie?" growled Ma.  "Going to take a shower, were
you?"

   Helen jumped with surprise, her full bosom bounced attractively.  She
recovered quickly.  She saw Ma was carrying an armful of towels, a
sponge-bag and a small whip.

   "Yes.  The hot water is good," Helen said.  "But I would like a less
coarse soap!"

   "You cheeky bitch!" grinned Ma, tossing the towels, and sponge-bag, onto
the table."Let's see what you've done to deserve any sort of soap."

   Ma Butcher looked around the cell."Huh!" she grunted eventually.  "You
done a good job for a rich bitch!" she said.  "You ever had to go on your
knees and scrub a floor before?"

   Helen nodded.  "Yes.  I was brought up in a charity convent," she said
quietly.

   "Well you done a better job than your old man.  The stupid sod just now
fell in the sullage pit.  I told Pigboy, and that idle bastard, Spike, they
got to hose every bit of shit off him before they bring him back here.  And
your daughter, she's a clumsy little tart!"

   "What has Katrina done?" asked Helen anxiously.

   "Broke a plate.  Gave me some lip, so I punished her."

   "Punished?"

   "Yeah, Barbie, 'punished'.  I put her over my knee and spanked her sorry
ass.  I was slapping some respect into her, when Pat came back.  You know,
Patrick, my eldest boy.  Would you believe it?  The horny dope had got rid
of your auto, and all your bits and pieces, as fast as he could, so he
could get straight back to that tight little cunt, Katrina."

   "Oh!" exclaimed Helen.  She had hoped the overweight slob would not
return so soon.

   "And when he comes in to the kitchen, what's the first thing Pat sees?
His heart's fucking desire winking at him from his Momma's lap!  He had his
dick out and up her before he said, 'Hi, Ma!' The ungrateful tike!"

   "He raped her?  Again?"

   "Yeah.  What did'ya expect.  Fine healthy boy.  Teenage ass for the
taking.  Tight little bitch.  I had to prise her cheeks apart so he could
squeeze his cock into her ring.  Keerist!  Did she squeal!  I tell you,
Barbie, it made me horny too, just watching my boy have his fun."

   "Fun!" croaked Helen.  She had turned pale.

   "I said I was horny, Barbie.  I hope them nuns taught you how to satisfy
a horny bitch like me.  Or do I have to spell it out?" Ma Butcher, still
grinning, started to undress.  Ma was slightly taller than Helen.  Her
muscles were more developed.  Not as well defined as a body-builder's, but
she was, without a doubt, the stronger woman.  She stripped off her
t-shirt. Helen noted that Ma's breasts were larger than hers.  Blue veins
showed through the older woman's white skin and her brown nipples were much
more prominent.

   Ma unzipped her denim skirt at the side and let the garment fall to the
ground.  She wasn't wearing pants.  Helen saw she had clipped and shaved
her pubic hair into what looked like an inverted ace of spades.  Ma crossed
to the chair and sat down.  She sat with her legs apart, and her leather
boots planted firmly on the stone floor.

   "Your man's no good to me while he's covered in pigshit!" Ma said.  "So
it's up to you, Barbie.  Do it right and we'll both have a nice shower
afterwards.  Do it wrong, and I'll strap you to the table and beat the
bejasus out of you for starters!"

   Helen had little choice.  She moved to where Ma Butcher sat, and sank to
her knees between her captor's leather booted calves.  She reached forward
to caress the soft white flesh of Ma's inner thighs, before lowering her
head and gently kissing Ma's proffered cunt.

   Helen used her lips and tongue to pleasure the mistress of the dungeon
in much the same way as she had been taught by Sister Margaret Rose.  Ma
Butcher was transported.  She demanded a repeat performance and was not
disappointed.  At last she pushed Helen's sweaty face away from her wet
crotch.

   "Enough, Barbie.  We'll shower!  But first I need you to help me get my
boots off!" she said.

   Helen obeyed.  "You know how, Barbie?' queried the older woman.

   Helen nodded.  "I wear boots for riding," she croaked.  "Horses."

   Ma laughed.  "I wear boots for riding too, Barbie." She pointed her whip
at one of the the strap-on dildos Helen had cleaned, and hung on a peg with
the other implements.  "Husbands!" she laughed.

   Ma Butcher stuck out her right leg, and tapped the boot with the little
whip.  Helen turned as she stepped over the extended limb, and bent down to
grasp the sole and heel of Ma's boot.  Her back was toward her tormentor.
Ma's right leg was between Helen's thighs.  As Helen wrestled to remove the
skin-tight, leather, boot, Ma raised her free foot, planted the sole
against Helen's plump buttocks, and pushed.  Helen flinched in anticipation
of the pain she knew Ma intended to inflict upon her.  The pointed heel of
Ma's left boot parted Helen's swollen labia, but, at that moment, Helen
succeeded in dragging the tight-fitting footwear off Ma's extended leg, and
moved away from the probing heel, avoiding serious injury.

   Helen was trembling as she got astride Ma's left leg.

   "Don't worry, Barbie." Ma chuckled.  "I don't think I can get my bare
foot up your ass!"

   The boot came off without a struggle.  Ma stood up, grabbed the sponge
bag she had brought with her, and dragged Helen into the shower.  As the
hot water cascaded over the naked women Ma opened the sponge bag.  "You
wanted a toilet soap, Barbie?" she asked.

   Helen, relishing the cleansing flow, nodded.

   "Good.  This is for you.  Use it now, Barbie.  Let's have some inner
cleanliness!" said Ma and handed her captive a large piece of pale pink
soap-on-a-rope, in the shape of a giant penis.