Return to Oyster Gulch, Chapter 2

by Jackie

Emily Perkins answered the Sheriff's Department phone a little after midnight. She was glad for the distraction and hoped that it was something that would get her out of the office. 'I'd rather face down a perp with an assault rifle than go through these files' she thought as she picked up the receiver and identified herself.

"Hey Emily ... its Peggy ... have there been any accidents out on the twenty,"

"Nope," the deputy stated flatly, but knew that that wouldn't be the end of it based on the strain in the cactus farmer's voice.

"How about on the interstate ... say between here and Mason City."

"I haven't heard of any but that's pretty far away. Let me check with the Troopers ... hang on."

Peggy heard the line go on hold and waited nervously as she'd been doing for most of the last two hours.

"There've been no motor vehicle accidents on that stretch in the past twenty-four hours ... why do you ask?" Emily wanted to know what she was looking for.

"Heather and Caitie left San Francisco around noon with some friends of theirs ... they should have been here more than an hour ago and I can't reach them."

"You know as well as I do that cell phones are useless around here."

"I know, I know," Peggy agreed sounding more and more upset. "I just don't know what else to do," she added choking back tears.

"I don't think I can help you much right now, Peggy ... but I'll leave word for the Sheriff to look into it when she gets in tomorrow. That's if they haven't shown up by then."

"Thanks," the distraught woman said.

"Sorry I can't be more help," Emily said with genuine regret and hung up.

Just thinking about the gorgeous redhead and her daughter was causing a delightful little tingle between her legs.

She looked at the clock on the computer screen and thought, 'four more hours of this? I'm going to need a break.'

Carly was surprised that she was standing—surprised that she could stand—although the small tube that she'd been looking through seemed to be brightening around the edges. In the center, unclear as it was, she could make out the face of the stern woman who'd greeted them in the driveway; if her curt response to their arrival could be called a greeting.

She was trying to think back and it was really hard. She remembered being lost, finding the old house that she thought would be deserted. 'Lemonade! We were in the living room drinking lemonade ... and then what?' Her arms were going up as though a crane was lifting them. To her they felt heavy and floppy; no muscle control whatsoever. Then she realized that it was her top that was raising her arms. The woman, the old woman from the driveway, was pulling her top up over her head. Somehow her arms rose with the fabric and she felt her T shirt wipe over her face as it came up and off.

It wasn't embarrassment more like just a random thought that she was now naked from the waist up. She hadn't bothered with a bra that morning. Her friend had told her that even women who'd lost the perkiness of youth often omitted the supportive undergarment where they were headed. The dark-haired photographer was all for comfort on the long drive.

The release of pressure on her abdomen was minor but pleasant. She felt her shorts and panties being pulled down and once again it was simply an observation that she was now naked. Her hostess had stripped her of her clothing.

Hands on her upper arms pushing her back; something pressing into the backs of her legs, her knees folded and she was sitting. Legs being lifted, falling back ... Carly realized that she was lying down on something soft—probably a bed. She was naked and it didn't seem to matter.

Hands on her breasts, squeezing, kneading pinching the nipple!

"Uhhhmmm," she heard herself groan as a pleasure rocket shot directly to her crotch.

"You like that hmmm?" the voice was right near her ear.

The rush of hormones from the erotic contact seemed to clear her head a little. She felt something hard and uncomfortable on her left wrist and her hand being pulled up over her head. A moment later her right arm was also pulled up. Then that same sensation, like a bracelet that was too tight; now it was on both wrists and her hands were still uncomfortably over her head. She tried to lower her arms and the bracelet bit into her flesh painfully. The pain seemed to do even more to clear her head than the pleasure had.

"Aghhh," Carly cried out from the pain.

She tipped her head back to see her arms and why she couldn't lower them.

Her vision had improved enough that she recognized the handcuff shackles on her wrists and the connecting chain around a steel bar that was part of the bed's headboard. Her predicament was starting to sink in.

"Don't struggle ... you're just going to hurt yourself," it was the same voice, but it wasn't nearby anymore it was on the other side of the bed.

The handcuffed woman didn't so much turn her head as she let it collapse to the side of the bed that the voice came from. Carly found herself looking at the stretchy lavender material of Heather's sun-suit hugging the redhead's perfect ass. A moment later she saw the suit being pushed off her friend's shoulders and pulled down her arms. The pale purple short sleeves cleared Heather's hands. All the naked woman handcuffed to the bed could see of the other woman was her hands pulling the suit over the pert buttocks and down the trim legs.

Her girlfriend was standing beside the bed being stripped by the woman who lived in this isolated house. Carly was amazed that she felt a twinge in her pussy looking at Heather's beautiful buns semi framed in the white lace of her thong. She didn't need to look up to see the matching back strap of Heather's bra but she did anyway. When the two inch wide strap came into view it included their hostess's fingers working the hooks. When the white lace disappeared from her view she knew her lover was topless.

Carly heard a sound that would be best described as a sigh and she knew that it wasn't Heather. She could well imagine that the lady of the house had quite probably never seen a more impressive pair of tits. Judging by the attention the jailor had given hers, Carly knew the woman was fond of boobies. The next sound was a moan and it was Heather's.

She felt the bed move as Heather sat down or was sat down on the edge. The redhead's legs swung up beside hers and then her lover was lying beside her wearing only the white lace thong. The light glistened off the saliva coating the newly prone woman's breasts.

Heather's head turned toward her and Carly saw the confusion in her eyes. As unclear as her head was, Carly still thought she was in better shape than her partner. The woman whose name she now remembered was Holly stood at the foot of the bed looking at their virtually naked bodies. Carly was completely naked and Heather's modesty was guarded by a triangle of cloth about the size of a deck of cards.

"Well ... I think I'll get a little more comfortable and then we can really have some fun," the woman at the foot of the bed announced as she crossed her arms and hoisted her simple shift over her head.

Ivan looked down at his prizes and was overcome with lust. It had been easy—too easy—to strip the lost little girls of their clothes. The girl Holly snatched for him was already naked and chained to the bed. Three teenaged girls, a blonde, a brunette and a redhead what more could any pedophile ask for?

His member was trying to rise but faltering. He was suddenly ashamed of himself. 'If you can't get hard as a rock under these conditions there's something very wrong with you.' That's why he'd sent his subservient partner to bring him a toy. He had not intended to abduct this close to his beloved childhood home. Any place else in the world he could abandon and never return but this place was special. He didn't want to be pursued here; it was his refuge.

The plan was to use the homestead as a manufacturing site, and stay away from his hobby while he was here. He did try.

The first time he broke his own rule over a year ago he regretted it. They'd left for California the next day. He promised himself he wouldn't do it again—not here—but masturbating to the DVDs wasn't working. That was his plan to hold his young girl obsession at bay but he couldn't even get it up watching his past rapes. Finally this morning he'd ordered Holly to go out and bring home something fresh.

He wished he'd listened to his better judgment because now he knew that this had to end very badly. The girl Holly picked up in the unique little town five miles east of here could be kept sedated and returned per the original plan—but the new comers—that was a fatal problem. They'd already seen the girl and knew where she was. It wouldn't take long before the cops were all over him if he let them go.

His plan was simple. Ivan knew which sedative and how much would ensure that the uninvited guests simply wouldn't wake up. He'd drive their vehicle up to the road wash-out; the very one Carly had briefly contemplated trying to cross. Even the expensive four by four SUV would bog down in the knee deep loose sand. Of course the women in desperation would try to get help on foot.

The redhead and her daughter would be the first to succumb to the desert heat and dehydration. They'd be found together—maybe in an embrace, 'Aw' —a mile from the vehicle. The little blonde would make it a little further and the other woman, the dark haired one who seemed the toughest, would be found another mile or so north.

Even if a thorough toxicology was done they probably wouldn't detect the sedative he intended to use.

A limitation of tox-screens was that you had to know what you were looking for. Budgets being as skinny as they were the M.E. would need a very good reason not to accept the obvious.

Four women get off the beaten track, their vehicle gets stuck; while they are trying to go for help on foot they are overcome by heat stroke. Ivan didn't know for sure but he suspected that it must happen somewhere in the south-west at least once a year—a tragic end for four innocents.

The good thing was he didn't have to keep the lost girls sedated. That was bound to add to the fun.

"Let's have a look and see what we have to play with down here," Holly said as she sat naked on the end of the bed.

Carly could see her pretty clearly now. She was so skinny she looked almost emaciated. Her breasts were very small and every rib showed through her abnormally pale skin. She thought again as the woman started to push her legs apart that their jailor had once been quite attractive. The white powder on her nose and cheek wasn't from baking sugar cookies.

Carly resisted the force of Holly's hands pushing her legs open at first but then realized that she was chained to a bed and her captor could do a whole lot worse than just look at, or even touch her pussy. She let her legs part giving the skinny old woman a nice view of her bare vulva. She wasn't used to being shaved yet and was a bit self conscious about it. What was funny was that when she'd met Heather she had hair on her pussy and none on her head. Now it was the other way around. She'd been more comfortable bald on top where everyone could see all the time.

She knew her labia were swollen and inviting looking after the woman had paid homage to her breasts. When the woman leaned forward and inhaled her fragrance the photographer braced herself. 'There's nothing you can do about this Carly, ' she began to rationalize. Her tormentor was right; all that thrashing around and struggling would do was cut her wrists to ribbons. 'You could resist ... refuse to play along, but what good would that do? Might just as well relax and try to enjoy it.' The older woman's tongue made contact near the bottom of her crease and slowly, very slowly worked its way up seeming to wiggle from side to side as it went. 'She's done this before ... many times, ' the dark-haired prisoner concluded as a warm wave of pleasure washed over her.

Carly fell back supine on the bed as the woman's tongue dropped quickly down. Just for and instant her captor tickled the crinkled flesh around her back door and then began the agonizingly slow wiggly licking up her puffy inner lips. To Carly's disappointment she never quite reached the clitoris before taking the express elevator by-pass to the bottom. This time the withered blonde actually poked her victim's ass-hole with her tongue before replicating her gyrating lick toward the top. When the woman's tongue touched her anus Carly could not stop a little squeal from escaping. 'Haven't lost my touch in spite of not having any opportunities the last couple of years, ' Holly congratulated herself, and doubled her efforts to drive the woman's arousal to excruciating heights.

Heather's head had cleared and there was only one thought in it, 'Where's Caitie? If this is happening to me what in God's name might be happening to her—' Fear and panic welled up like lava rising in a volcano. She couldn't think about that—couldn't let it take hold. She had to get free and find her daughter; save her. She wouldn't be daunted, she wouldn't give up. She was prepared to give everything she had including her life, 'Oh God please help me, don't let me fail her, ' she wanted to wipe the tears away and automatically tried to bring her hands to her face.

The chrome cuff bit painfully into her tender flesh but they did move a bit. Her hands were closer to her head than they had been. Heather tipped her head back as far as she could and studied the intricate swirling pattern of the wrought iron head board. The shiny silver chain of the handcuffs was around a steel bar that had been coiled into a loose helix. If she followed it around there was an end. The bar stopped at the center of the spiral. The bars were also welded in various places. If she ran into a weld she was sunk. Form this awkward angle it was hard to see and impossible to tell. It seemed her only chance.

She'd just started working her way around the curly-q when she heard Carly squeal. 'That's it honey, ' she tried to send a telepathic message to her partner. 'Let her know that you're enjoying it ... make her want to go down on you more.' It was agonizing working over her head twisting and turning her wrists and shoulders to follow the curve of the metal. She had to stop forcing her head back to get more mobility in her shoulders. She was working by feel when the chain of the prison bracelets snagged on something. 'A weld! Oh dear God please ... NO!' pushing her head back to an extreme angle again she frantically looked at her progress. 'How long—how much time before she gets tired of eating her and sits up ... or maybe Carly will cum ... That'll probably make her stop too.'

'Hold on honey don't cum yet, ' she tried to transmit her wishes to her hair-triggered lover.

How many times had she been in Holly's position and saying just the opposite, 'That's it honey just let it go ... cum for me baby.' she'd said it countless times. The irony went unnoticed.

Heather saw the impediment. It was a piece of weld spatter. Just a tiny tear shaped blob of metal that didn't belong there. Pushing her hands toward the headboard to get slack in the chain she was able to get over the obstacle. A second later the chain slipped over and off the end of the bar.

She almost thought that her tortured shoulders weren't going to respond; but with the creaking feeling of a long unused garden gate the hinges of her shoulders rotated back toward a more normal position. She moved her cuffed hands to her chest and gave herself time for one small victory sigh. She was free and Carly yelped loudly as Holly's tongue engaged her love button for the first time.

Ivan sat on the edge of the bed and let his hand trace down the pale very lightly freckled skin of Caitlin Logan. The girl jerked and twitched in what Ivan knew were the waning moments of sedation. He'd have them all before he was done but he was going to use the prettiest and the curviest one for the huge load he'd been building and carrying around for a couple of weeks. Trying and not being able to get off made his balls feel like they were made of lead—achy lead.

First things first; he had to make sure that the girl Holly had abducted didn't come out of her trance.

He went over to the bureau and donned a latex glove. Next he tore open the foil packet containing the Rohypol suppository. A dab of lube on his gloved right forefinger and another on the conical shaped sedative and he returned to the bed.

Ivan was pleased to see that the pretty little redhead had her eyes open. They were big and glassy but she was coming around. 'Good, ' he thought as he gave the dark-haired tween in the middle a hard shove. He wanted the curvy red haired girl as wide awake as possible for what he was planning next.

The youngest girl moaned and turned on her side. He shoved her again. As anticipated she curled into the fetal position, a primal response to assault that protected the vulnerable abdominal organs. It wasn't her belly that Ivan was after.

With his left hand he pulled the adolescent cheeks apart exposing the light brown pucker. Palming the suppository he applied his lubed forefinger to the hot tiny hole—his dick twitched. The girl moaned sleepily again as the digit breached her resisting sphincter. The hot incredibly tight feeling on the tip of his finger went straight to his balls and he pressed in to the second knuckle. She tried to pull away but he held her tiny hip bone with his free hand and continued to explore the virgin orifice.

There was a moment of relief when he realized that his cock was as hard as rock. 'It still works just fine ... all I need is the right stimulation, ' he concluded.

The girl's bum-hole clenched around his finger and he decided on a different order for taking his pleasure.

The little one in the middle had to be returned tomorrow. She'd be first. He could keep the other girls another day or even two.

He began working his finger in and out of the tween's rectum trying to imagine how that hot tightness would feel on his cock; his balls jerked indicating that they already knew.

Ivan went back over to the bureau and put the suppository down before stripping off the exam glove. Then he removed his trousers and underwear. His fully erect manhood pointed straight out in front of him as he returned to the end of the bed.

Caitlin hadn't seen many penises but she'd seen enough toys to know that their captor wasn't excessively large. Her mind was clearing and she watched the stiff member bob as the man put one knee after the other on the foot of the bed. The skinny old man's sinewy arms jerked and twisted the dark haired girl's hips until she was basically on her knees.

Caitie knew a little about sexual positions and was aware that from the doggie style pose a man could access either hole. If she hadn't just watched their jailor finger the unknown little girl's ass-hole she wouldn't have jumped to the conclusion. 'He's going to put it in her bum, ' she thought and the strangest sensation washed over her.

Tactile nerve endings tingled all over her body and she thought with mixed emotions about having something pushed in back there. She'd done it to Claire and Carly with a dildo and they really enjoyed it, but she'd been afraid to let them try it on her. 'What if it hurts, ' she'd thought.

Her bum hole wasn't as big as the two grown women's but it was surely bigger than her unfortunate little bed mate. 'He's going to hurt her, ' the compassionate teen concluded.

"No ... Do it to me!" the redhead nearly shouted, shocked by her own valor.

As she spoke the nimble sixteen year old flipped around and got to her knees.

Kneeling behind the girl Holly had snatched from the nearby town and holding onto his throbbing dick Ivan looked over to the girl that he'd originally thought should be first. Looking at the round firm heart-shaped posterior that heredity had blessed the girl with thrust so wantonly in the air, it really was no contest.

Ivan positioned himself behind the brazen if fearful teen and surveyed his target. The rosy pink sphincter seemed to wink at him above the over stuffed pink gash. The girl's vulva looked so swollen and inviting that Ivan had a moment of indecision. He was holding his throbbing achy hard-on trying to decide.

Peggy Baker looked at the clock through watery eyes—almost one in the morning. 'But it's only midnight in California, ' she calculated. 'I shouldn't call this late.' The cactus farmer was at her wit's end. Calling Caitie's home at this late hour was really unfair. She knew from the e-mail exchanges with Caitie that the woman who owned the house they were living in would most likely be there. 'Maybe they called her ... maybe she knows something, ' Peggy wished.

It was desperation that made her dial. The voice she heard sounded sweet and smoky but thankfully not sleepy.

"Hi you don't know me, my name is Peggy ... Peggy Baker and—"

Claire's grand-maternal instincts kicked in instantly, "What's wrong ... what's happened?"

It was the reaction she'd dreaded.

"Uh ... uh, I don't know maybe nothing it's just that—"

"They're not there yet!" the woman in the San Francisco mansion interrupted again.

"Well no but that doesn't mean that there's anything wrong," Peggy could hardly believe that she was trying to reassure the woman she'd called for reassurance.

The Mitchell matriarch calculated, 'they left around noon ... should have been there by ten—latest.' She didn't need to look at the clock to see that it was past midnight. Her mind immediately went into problem solving mode. Life as a fugitive had imbued her with the ability to suppress the panic and anxiety that had initially threatened to overwhelm her. 'They're somewhere between here and that butch little town Heather had mentioned so often ... what was it called?' She wished she'd paid closer attention to the women's travel plans. They were accompanied by her granddaughter. She loved and cared for the two older women and Caitlin but Stevie—Stevie was in a whole other class. How to pin point their location that was the first problem to be solved.

"On-Star!" Claire shrieked into the phone when it came to her. "I've got to go."

Peggy looked at the receiver of the phone as if it could clarify what the woman was talking about. Then she hung it up and hung her head to cry.

Claire Mitchell was on a mission. She bounded down the stairs and across the studio to the corner where Carly did her editing and had set up a little office space. She knew her long lost teenaged model, who'd studied and worked hard to follow in her footsteps was organized—almost compulsively so. The girl, now a woman had closely followed Claire's own career path like a mother might dream that her daughter would. When she opened the neatly labeled file drawer she drew a sigh of relief.

Under 'A' for Automobile was a folder labeled '2006 Escalade'. Claire opened it and stapled to the inside cover was a copy of the Bill of Sale and the ownership. It took just a second to locate the VIN number. She had almost everything she needed.

Flipping to the back of the file through the oil changes and warrantee service she found the 'On-Star' service phone number and dialed it immediately from the phone on Carly's desk. All she needed to get GPS coordinates of the vehicle was its identification number and Carly's password. Since she'd created the password in the first place, she knew that she'd have her information in a very few moments.

Carly had owned the vehicle for a year before her reunion with the Mitchells. She had never activated the On-Star service that came standard, so Claire did it for her.

She recalled telling her ex-model and current partner in the Kiddie Porn business, "Your pass word is 1pussy4u." They'd all laughed.

The pleasant voice said, "On-Star, my name is Michelle ... how may I help you?"

Claire stated her need and thought she heard Michelle clear her throat when she gave her the password. 'I hope I didn't shock the poor dear, ' she thought as she ran back up the stairs with the string of numbers she'd scribbled on the slip of paper.

Fifteen minutes later she was being directed by the synthesized voice of her GPS unit to take Interstate eighty east for five hundred and fifty-six miles. She'd made great time since the phone call with Peggy but it would still be nine in the morning by the time she arrived where the SUV had been located at half past midnight. If for some reason it wasn't there she could always get an update from the vehicle's GPS service provided she had a phone connection.

Sheriff Brenda Carlyle sat in front of her computer with the hood of her black satin robe pulled up. She looked like the Grim Reaper except for the sexy bare legs showing below the hem of the knee length gown. She'd assigned her deputy the task of reviewing the same files in their home state of Nevada. Brenda was scouring the California Law Enforcement data base.

The search criteria were: young girl between twelve and sixteen missing for twenty-four to forty-eight hours and having no recollection where they'd been or what had happened to them in the missing hours.

The sheriff would never forget the case of Chrissie White.

Fourteen months ago the then thirteen year old had vanished without a trace. Brenda brought every resource at her disposal to bear immediately but, in all honesty, the investigation was going nowhere when the girl just showed up the next afternoon in the park. Medical examination clearly showed that the teen had been seriously and repeatedly sexually abused but Chrissie had no recollection of who had taken her or where and, mercifully, practically no memory of the assaults.

With no evidence except the DNA of the perps (which lead nowhere) and the victim unable to provide even the most rudimentary clues, the case had gone cold in a matter of weeks but it troubled the Sheriff frequently ever since.

It was the first—and up until yesterday—the only abduction in the history of the tiny community. Brenda thought there might be a connection. Part of her hoped that there was, because it would mean that little twelve year old Angela Perissi would just reappear only slightly the worse for wear.

It was curious that it had been so long between incidents though. That's why she had Emily checking for similar occurrences in Nevada while she reviewed the California records. Maybe their perp was mobile.

Wearing only her lacy thong Heather carefully got to her feet and picked up the heavy wrought iron table lamp from the bed stand. She was aware of the squishy wet slurping sounds and the moans of her partner who was still shackled to the bed. Unplugging the lamp from the wall she grasped the top near the socket and brought it down with as much force as her tiny frame could deliver on the back of the old woman's head.

A large patch of red appeared in the blonde hair. Holly screamed and looked up from between Carly's legs just in time to see the base of the lamp speeding towards her. Heather's second blow struck the shocked coke head in the nose and drove her completely off the bed. Her once attractive face dissolved into a bloody mess and she lay motionless on the floor beside the bed.

Carly screamed as the woman who'd been eating her pussy thumped to the floor. Heather stood there holding the bloody lamp, stunned by her own violent act. 'Is she dead?' the redhead wondered and her stomach knotted instantaneously. 'Oh my God I've killed her!' The thought didn't take hold. It was immediately eclipsed by the terror she'd felt for her daughter. Her magnificent boobs bounced as she scampered over to the dresser. Beside the silver plate with white powder on it was the tiny key. The distraught mother was amazed at how steady her hands were as she released the cuffs.

She stepped over the naked skinny woman with the red halo staining the carpet, and unlatched Carly's wrists from the bed frame.

Carly's initial shock turned to gratitude and admiration as Heather rounded the foot of the bed.

"We've got to find Caitie," Heather said as she began to shimmy into her lavender sun suit.

The photographer jumped off the bed and located her own clothes. She didn't waste time with underwear. As soon as she'd fastened the shorts and pulled the T shirt down over her pendulous pear shaped tits Carly headed for the door. Her partner picked up her weapon from the bed where she'd dropped it and they both paused at the closed door to the hall.

Carly pressed a finger to her lips, indicating the need for stealth and then opened the bedroom door.

Ivan really couldn't decide. He retracted his foreskin and wiped it through the plump juicy pink folds, up and down a couple of times. His balls clenched as the red haired teenager's juices coated his dick.

Caitie couldn't stop the moan from escaping as she felt the intimate contact with her engorged labia.

"You like that don't you honey," Ivan commented as he continued to rub his dick head around the kneeling teenager's slippery vulva.

Caitie had been penetrated with toys, but never the real thing. Her face was in the pillow and her gorgeous ass stuck in the air toward the Hungarian drug dealer. She was hoping that he'd be satisfied with her pussy, that wouldn't be so bad. In spite of her fear she knew her coochie was ready for it.

In the hallway the lesbian couple listened intently—no sound. There were three other doors, all standing open and the stairway down. Tip-toeing to each door they peeked around the frames. The rooms were all empty. Heather recalled that the naked girl they'd seen while standing in the foyer (what seemed like a year ago) had emerged from a hallway off the living room. She headed for the stairs—Carly close behind.

Holding the heavy lamp in one hand and the railing in the other, the redhead stated creeping down toward the first floor.

Ivan felt as though his balls were in a vise. He made one quick thrust and buried his raging hard-on in the hot wet teenaged quim. The kneeling rapist felt his head spin as the intense pleasure of the hot tight folds enveloping him went straight to his head.

The little redhead moaned into the pillow as the hard cock went deep inside. She'd always wondered what a real live dick felt like. She had to admit that despite the fact that it was smaller than some of the plastic toys she'd used, and had used on her, it felt pretty good. Caitie began pushing back against Ivan's thrusts. The collateral benefit of the rhythmical coupling was that the kneeling man's heavy sack was slapping gently and very pleasurable against her throbbing clit. She pushed back even harder to see if she could increase the wonderful but not quite sufficient stimulation.

Ivan was sure that his dick hadn't been this hard in twenty years. It was positively aching. The teenager's obvious enjoyment of the activity was new. In all of his previous rapes his victims had barely moved, paralyzed by the powerful sedative that ensured their future silence. He was savoring the experience but knew the end was near. He wanted one more thing before it ended.

Pulling out of the youngster's hot tight pussy the skinny Hungarian grabbed his throbbing manhood and rubbed it on her puckered pink anus, wiggling and pushing gently until he felt the slippery tip centered on the girl's sphincter. Just a little more pressure and half of his dickhead pushed past the restricting muscle.

Caitlin wailed at the invasion of her virgin ass hole and tensed as her captor began to penetrate.

There was no doubt in Heather's mind who had made the sound. She didn't know and didn't want to even imagine what had elicited the squeal from her daughter. She simply hurried toward it.

Caitie made another strange sound, louder than the first as the man's penile glans slipped inside her bum. Tremendous heat radiated out from her anus enveloping her whole pelvis. The teenager pressed her head into the pillow and remained motionless as the intensity of the new sensation grew. She couldn't stop the wailing sounds that continued to rise from her core.

The incredible hot tightness overwhelmed the drug maker and he continued to push until the head and maybe an inch of the shaft penetrated the teenager's ass. He felt his balls jerk and at the moment of his glorious release he got a horrible pain in the side of his head. He turned his head and all he saw was a black object hurtling toward him. Instinctively he raised his arm to ward off the blow.

Heather's second swing was deflected by the sinewy arm and her tired hand lost its grip on the heavy lamp. Her weapon bounced off the foot board of the bed and clattered to the floor. With a murderous roar Ivan lunged at his attacker, knocking the small woman backward—he was on top of her.

Blood streaming from the six inch gash above his left ear and cum draining from his deflating cock the drug maker rapist grabbed the gorgeous redhead by the throat. When the lamp slammed into the back of his skull he toppled sideways onto the floor.

Carly stood over the evil Hungarian ready to hit him again but decided it was unnecessary. Heather was already up and hugging Caitie on the bed. Crying and stroking the girl's hair she sobbed,

"Oh sweetheart, my baby ... what has he done to you!"

The dark haired photographer pulled out the handcuff key she'd thoughtfully tucked in the pocket of her shorts, and released the shackle that secured the unknown naked tween. Stephanie at some point sat up and was scanning the room as though she'd just arrived. Carly turned to her and said as calmly as she could,

"Get dressed sweetie we've got to get out of here."

Then she took the handcuffs and secured Ivan to the bed frame. She didn't know if the comatose man was dead or alive nor did she care. 'Better safe than sorry.' By the time she'd completed her task Heather was well on the way to getting her daughter dressed. Carly went and helped the somewhat spastic blonde granddaughter of her mentor. The four wayward travelers were adequately clothed and all looked at the naked tween on the bed. The girl, still in the fetal position, had barely moved.

Carly rolled her in the sheet, picked up her tiny body and headed for the door,

"Let's go!" she said emphatically trusting her partner and the girls to follow.

Peggy couldn't sleep. She couldn't even rest—she had to do something. Dressed only in the velour lounging suit she drove her pick up truck out the state road to where it joined I-80. She sat on the shoulder beside the on-ramp crying. The odd transport whizzed by, but other than that even the heavily traveled main thoroughfare was deserted. Exhaustion over took her and she slept for a while.

Gravel flew as the Escalade's tires spun. Carly guided the powerful SUV back onto the side road from the driveway of the God forsaken old house. They'd come from the left and she knew there was no joy in that direction so she turned right. They needed to find civilization but at the moment she was willing to settle for putting distance between them and the monsters who'd abused them.

There was a glow in the eastern sky giving the driver a sense of direction. It was the dawn after the worst night of her life. Her partner was cuddled with the teenagers in the back.

When she encountered the black top she stopped. There was an abandoned auto service center on one corner of what she assumed was the state road, although she didn't see a sign.

"Turn left," Heather advised sounding exhausted.

Driving slowly east into the soft glow of dawn Carly wondered how they were going to be any more successful finding the elusive road than they'd been the night before.

Heather slipped from between the girls and got to her knees behind the Cadillac's wide center console. In the dim light she scanned the horizon for anything familiar. 'It's all my fault, ' she shrieked at herself and prayed in desperation.

Her eyes widened in disbelief when she saw the faded pick-up truck traveling in the opposite direction. There was no way she could be sure with the other vehicle about a mile away but there was something—a tingling intuition that welled up in her. The truck turned right, and God smiled.

"You see that truck," Heather said urgently.

"Yeah," Carly responded wondering why that was important.

"Follow it," the kneeling redhead commanded.

Less than a minute later they were driving through the settling dust raised by the pick up truck that was just out of sight over the next rise. When the cactus farm came into view in the early dawn light Heather jumped forward and squealed,

"That's it ... that's Peggy's place."

Carly saw the woman get out of the truck in front of the house as she turned into the driveway.

Peggy stood beside her vehicle not daring to hope.

The luxury SUV rolled to a stop and the door burst open. The cactus farmer barely had time to register the enormous wave of relief before the impact of the darling redheaded teenager's running leap nearly bowled her over. It reminded her of a greeting she'd gotten once before.

The girl clung to her sobbing and crying into her neck.

"Where have you been?" Peggy sobbed too croaking against the teen's strangle hold.

Heather and Carly were approaching, with a blonde teen trailing them. The grim looks on their faces was not the expression the cactus farmer was expecting.

"We need to call the police," Carly announced flatly and without introduction.

Five miles west, Ivan Symenkov was regaining consciousness. His head ached horribly and he could feel the blood pouring over his cheek from the large nasty head wounds. He tried to reach up to touch the lacerations and discovered that one hand was chained to the bed. The intense rage that overtook him eclipsed the pain.