Return to Oyster Gulch, Chapter 4

by Jackie

The stones crunched and scrapped together as Claire Mitchell's wheels slid to a stop behind Carly's Escalade. The sixty year old woman's guts were churning as she bounded up the steps to the front door of the house. Before she could press the bell the door opened and the shorter more full figured of the two cactus farmers looked her quickly up and down.

"Hi ... my name's Claire Mitchell and I think you have friends of mine visiting."

Margaret immediately recognized the name from Caitlin's e-mails and her stern expression turned to a smile.

"You're absolutely correct ... come on in," she welcomed, holding the door wide.

"Look who's here," Peggy announced as they entered the living room.

Carly was sitting on the couch with Heather's head on her shoulder. Her voluptuous partner alternately sighed and sobbed. The photographer stroked the strawberry hair but knew that there was little she could do to comfort the distraught mother. 'She'll never calm down until she gets Caitie back, ' the dark haired woman conceded.

At the sound of Peggy's voice she looked up and was shocked at what happened to her. Suddenly a torrent of powerful emotions exploded. She had not felt as though she was bottling anything up, but when she saw Claire her throat closed up and she knew she was going to burst into tears.

Fortunately Heather also raised her head when Peggy spoke, otherwise she would have been severely jostled when Carly jumped to her feet and practically launched herself at the unexpected visitor. She threw her arms around her mentor and buried her face in Claire's neck sobbing uncontrollably. She felt like such a baby. 'What wouldn't I give for a tall glass of Jack right now, ' she immediately and firmly rejected the idea even as she struggled to gain control of herself.

Claire returned the embrace and whispered soothingly,

"It's okay honey I'm here now."

The soft calmness of her words was in conflict with the churning in her stomach. She scanned the room for Stevie and the churning got much worse. It was obvious something very traumatic had happened—but what? Claire was amazed how calmly she was able to say,

"Where's Stephanie?"

"She's fine ... there's nothing to worry about," Peggy reassured the new arrival; "but we've got a lot to tell you. I think you'd better sit down."

Claire felt instant relief when the cactus farmer told her that her granddaughter was okay, but the reprieve was short lived. She wasn't being asked to sit down to be told the girls were outside playing.

With her arm still around Carly they both sat down on the couch beside Heather.

Peggy began to relate the tale as best she knew it, while the other two women continued to sob softly.

---

Virginia Patterson let the backs of her hands graze her patient's inner thighs to prepare the teenager for the most intimate contact possible. The doctor had long since stopped worrying about the wet spot she was creating on the back of her slacks and ground her pussy against the seat of the low examination stool in an effort to staunch the throbbing.

The visual evidence of the girl's extreme sexual arousal wasn't half as thrilling as the tactile. The right side wing of the teen's inner labia was folded over toward the left. When Ginny gripped the engorged flesh and pulled it outward to expose the introitus she heard Caitie exhale in a soft wail. Taking the left labial wing between the fingers of her other hand, she spread the girl's sex wide, feeling the slippery hot plumpness of her inner folds.

The doctor was quite sure that the abundant, but mostly clear fluid she saw was not semen.

"Did her put his penis inside you Caitie," Doctor Patterson asked scanning the girl's vulva for any sign of trauma.

The teen's grunt had an affirmative ring to it.

Ginny found no evidence of damage during the visual inspection but the size of the Caitie's prepuce was remarkable. Pulling slightly upward the sexually overheating woman on the little stool had to bite her lip when the pea sized glans emerged.

Caitie couldn't actually feel her clit pop out but she knew that it had happened nonetheless. Since the doctor had started tugging on her the tingling throb had reached an almost unbearable level. She no longer had the brain capacity to be ashamed of her condition. It was all she could do to keep the orgasm from happening.

"Did he ejaculate ... do you know?"

"Yu ... yes, b ... but not in there," Caitie choked out.

It took a moment for Ginny to grasp what the girl was saying. When it hit home she nearly fell off the stool. Her eyes descended from her fat clit to the crinkled pink ring four inches or so lower. The whitish fluid at the center of the youngster's anus could have been overflow from her pussy but Virginia realized right away that it wasn't.

"Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry," the doctor offered condolences while feeling her own anal sphincter twitch.

The apology was half for what the unfortunate teen had already endured and half for what she had to do next.

The doctor didn't have to wheel the stool very far to reach the drawer under the examination room counter top. The rarely used bullet shaped stainless steel tube with the offset handle was located near the back. She retrieved it first and put it on the instrument tray beside her, then reached back in the drawer for the lubricating gel. She would normally have had a speculum warming in a bowl of water but she wasn't expecting to need one.

She held the tubular silver bullet part of the instrument tightly in her hand and breathed on it to take some of the chill out of it. Ginny tried to ignore the sensations coming from her own ass as she applied the gel to the dilator with her non-dominant left hand.

"I'm sorry honey this is probably still a bit cold," the doctor warned before applying the residual lube on her fingers directly to the girl's anus.

"Aaahhhh!" Caitie wailed and it had little to do with the temperature of the lubricant.

She and Stevie touched each other there when they made out and Carly had played with her bum a little too. It was always sort of nice but never like this. It was as though the rapist had opened neural pathways that were previously unused. Caitlin felt the lube initially cold on her ass-hole but within a second it was hot—incredibly hot.

Doctor Patterson needed both hands to guide the dilator into place. She pressed gently but firmly at the center of the powerful little pucker and got the very expected clenching.

"Take some nice deep breaths for me Caitie," she asked as she waited for the rebound effect.

The girl's sphincter muscle relaxed a little and Ginny pushed the instrument inside her with firm steady pressure.

It was like fire. Caitlin felt her nearly virgin orifice being invaded and the heat that spread out from where the probe entered her was tremendous; and it was spreading. The unbelievable heat engulfed her whole pelvis and began to spread up her back.

When the doctor inserted the long shafted swab and rolled it in the pool of suspect white material an inch or so inside the teen's rectum it felt a little ticklish, but it only lasted a second. Ginny dropped the swab into the sterile tube on the instrument cart while still holding the dilator in place.

Along with the heat, pressure was building in the low abdomen of the violated patient. Caitie stubbornly tried to hold back her climax.

Virginia placed her left gloved hand on her patient's groin and let her thumb rest on the firm ridge that extended from the girl's pubic bone, under the conical flap of skin at the apex of her labia, and emerged as a glistening iridescent nubbin an inch above her vagina.

Firmly but gently moving her thumb in a circular motion she also began moving the anal dilator in and out slightly.

Caitie felt the probe being withdrawn and her butt-hole closing as the tapered end of the silver bullet got smaller and then she was forced open wide again as the doctor pushed it back in to its hilt.

With the medical instrument sliding in and out of her bum and the doctor's thumb rubbing the root of her clit Caitlin was unable to hold on any longer.

It started with shivering and she thought she heard the doctor say something like,

"That's it baby ... that's it honey just let it all go," as if she had a choice anymore.

Ginny did speak those words when she saw the girls legs begin to spasm. The clit now standing straight out like the tip of a baby's finger was too tempting for the pedophilic physician to resist. She leaned forward and took the teen's pleasure button between her lips and rolled it with her tongue.

The fantastic heat from her ass and the electric charge from her clitoris ignited the volatile vapors and her pelvis exploded with the wonderful release of her orgasm. Despite the spinning dizzy ecstatic feeling Caitie realized that something was different. At the critical moment there was a great rushing gush, sort of like she'd just peed but she knew that she hadn't. The gush seemed to make the release more fulfilling in some indescribable way.

Virginia felt the first part of the squirt hit her chin and opened her mouth wide to catch the rest of the rare clear nectar. The doctor felt her own climax spontaneously erupt as she swallowed down the ambrosia.

---

"Do you usually start by touching your boobies too," Stevie asked the Sheriff who seemed to have frozen.

"I'll bet you do," the naked teen speculated as she stepped toward the old dyke.

"And I'll bet you have really big thick nipples ... big like my thumb that I used to suck when I was little," Stephanie continued and ran her finger tips over the tips of Brenda tits.

The girl felt the firm bumps that the silk blouse over the satin bra were still able to hide. The Sheriff's nipples clenched and rose to meet the tantalizing caress and she moaned. In just a few seconds the secret was out. Her stiff pegs, as big as sewing thimbles, made their impression though the soft slippery material.

"See! I knew it," Stephanie congratulated herself on what she considered to be proof of her prediction. "I think they're even bigger than my thumb was back then," she further speculated and began to unbutton the Chief's blouse.

Brenda felt incredibly wobbly. Her knees were weak and she felt confused. 'How did this happen?' she wondered. 'When did I loose command ... when did this teenage vixen completely take over?' The questions didn't need answers at all; and certainly not right now as the sex assault victim was opening her blouse and exposing her black lace trimmed bra.

---

It took Virginia several minutes to recover. It had been a delightful and unexpected little cum, but she did have work to do—or so she thought.

She removed a couple of sterile wipes from the container on the counter and cleaned up her patient. Caitie moaned softly as the fairly cool wiper removed the residuals of lubricating gel and pussy juice. The little redhead's pudendum was nearly numb; the nerves still shutdown as a consequence of their recent overload. Even though she could barely feel anything below the waist she had no trouble feeling the doctor plant a very unprofessional kiss on her forehead.

"Take your time honey ... don't get up too quickly. You can go ahead and get dressed whenever you're ready."

She wished she could move her patient to a more comfortable position, but none was available. Ginny flipped the skirt of the little sundress down to cover the girl's crotch on her way out.

The doctor heard the Sheriff's moans and groans as soon as she was in the hall. Peeking into the number two examination room Ginny couldn't help but smile.

Brenda Carlyle was sitting in the patient chair; the little blonde was between the top cops legs with the older woman's fleshy thighs on her shoulders. Judging by how quickly the teen's head was moving the doctor knew her friend was getting a very active tonguing.

Angela was beside the chair with one of Brenda's nipples in her mouth and evidently sucking like a Hoover.

---

The gold Lexus pulled up in front of Peggy and Abbey's home and the two sisters from different mothers and fathers scrambled out and ran for the door. The teenagers had had to sit in the back of the luxury sedan while the Sheriff delivered Angela home to her mother and her mother's partner.

It was a touching scene—it really was. Angie's mother cried and hugged Brenda viciously as her partner knelt and embraced their daughter. When Brenda turned back toward the car the mother also got to her knees. That's the way they left them, all sobbing for joy.

On the way back out to the cactus farm Brenda promised the girls that the ordeal was over. There'd be no more interruptions to their vacation; and if anyone tried to interfere they have the full force of the Sheriff's office to deal with.

Brenda reached the front door of the bungalow and Peggy opened it for her. Heather was wrapped around her daughter sobbing. Carly and another woman she hadn't seen before were hugging the little blonde girl who had just made her month; if not her year.

"I guess we're done here," the Sheriff announced. "If anybody remembers anything that's not—" Brenda's PDA rang. The display read Nevada State Troopers.

Oyster Gulch's top cop held up her hand and said, "Maybe y'all should listen to this."

She was seriously hoping that Frank McGraw was going to say that they got the son-of-a-bitch.

"Carlyle," she answered curtly putting her phone on speaker.

"Listen," the State Trooper superintendent said without any opening formality, "we haven't found this alleged house where your victims were supposedly held."

Brenda bristled at his choice of words.

"What do you mean by alleged are you suggesting that this didn't happen ... that it's all some kind of a prank?"

"No," the head of the state police responded a little less forcefully, "But we need better intel. I've got two SRU teams out wondering the desert like a bunch of fuckin' Bedouins."

The sheriff heard the frustration in the man's gruff cigar chomping voice.

"When did you escape ... what time?" Claire asked Carly.

It seemed an odd question and Carly had to think.

"It's five miles east of here," Brenda said also sounding frustrated. "There can't be that many roads over there."

"That's what you think," McGraw returned.

"It was just before daybreak," the photographer told her mentor, "so five-thirty?" she said with little confidence.

"So you were there at midnight?" Claire probed in the aside conversation.

The cops conversing on the cell phone were beginning to raise their voices. Personal hostility was seeping through.

"I've got the location stored in my GPS," Claire announced loudly enough to get the Sheriff's attention and headed for the door.

Brenda still didn't know who the woman was or why she'd have the coordinates of the house, but if it was true it was the answer to a prayer.

"Hang on Frank we may have something here," she said.

A moment later Claire set the navigation tool on the side table beside the kitchen door.

"Okay, Frank I'm sending you a text with the exact location," Sheriff Carlyle informed her adversary as she keyed in the numbers.

"Got it!" the head trooper announced. "Hang on" he added.

There was silence in the cactus farm bungalow while the state cop worked.

"Okay both teams are on there way to that location. According to the records the property is owned by a family named Symenkov ... ever hear of them?"

Claire felt a chill run down her spine. She, up until a couple of months ago, hadn't heard that name in over twenty-five years.

"I can't say as I have," Brenda responded.

"Seems the property was bought by Uri Symenkov in nineteen-forty-nine; died about ten years ago. His wife died a year later and left the property to their only child."

They could hear the click of the keyboard keys as Superintendent McGraw retrieved information.

"The first name's not coming up."

"Ivan," Claire said flatly.

"Uh ... that's right," the trooper confirmed as he eventually got the information to appear on his screen. "How did you know?"

That was a long story, and one the Kiddie Porn maker would not be sharing with the police.

Two months ago she'd gotten a call from Gregor. Claire was sure the mobster's voice would always strike terror in her heart even though he was their guardian angel. Every time she heard his voice—except the last time—it had been to tell her that she was in immanent danger and had to move immediately; move and establish a totally new identity.

The previous time Gregor had called was fifteen months before that to tell her that her beloved Stephan was dead. That earth shattering call Claire had taken in the living room of their—hers, Amy and Stephanie's—latest hide-out in Minnesota.

Claire had mixed emotions about the news. The death of Stephan Malonovich meant that she could stop running, but the loss of her husband and first love tore her heart to bits despite the fact that they'd only been together off and on for about five of the last twenty years.

Stephan would never tell her exactly what had raised the ire of the organized crime syndicate. All he would say was that he'd made a mistake—a big mistake. Gregor, his friend in high places, was never forth coming with details either, not even when he called to inform her that it was over.

Then out of the blue a couple of months ago the Hungarian crime boss had called.

Gregor informed her that Vladimir Illyitch had died—succumbed to a myriad of ailments caused by a combination of his life style of constant excess and old age. It was a year after he'd finally avenged his granddaughter's death. Gregor pointed out the irony, that it was probably his hatred of Stephan that was keeping him alive. The mafia King Pin's second in command and heir apparent wanted to tie up loose ends now that his boss was gone.

"I thought that you deserved and explanation of what caused you all those years of anguish," Gregor had said.

Then he told her the sad unfortunate story of Tatiana Illyitch's death over twenty years ago; all about the symbiotic relationship Steve had with Ivan Symenkov.

"Hooking up with that bastard was the biggest mistake of Steve's life," Gregor announced. "The fact that he stuck with him, in spite of what Ivan caused, ultimately lead to his death."

Gregor told her how he'd found out later that Illyitch had gone directly to Symenkov to set her husband up.

"If I'd known I would have warned him," the new head of the syndicate informed her in a very uncharacteristic watery voice. "If it wasn't for Ivan Symenkov, Steve would be alive today."

"Sure it was Illyitch who pulled the trigger, but he'd have never had the opportunity without Symenkov's help."

When Claire had hung up the phone in the San Francisco mansion she shared with her daughter Amy, her granddaughter Stephanie, along with Carly, Heather and Caitlin the need for revenge had swelled up in her like a volcano. She recalled throwing herself on the bed and crying herself to sleep.

The next morning looking across the breakfast table at Amy and Stevie she decided that the one horrible mistake that had taken Tatiana's life had already cost enough. She would not waste anymore of the time she had left on this earth pursuing the man responsible, not only for her husband's death, but for her and her family's twenty years of running and hiding. Still the injustice sat like a lump of lead in the bottom of her shattered heart.

The fact that the Hungarian drug formulator was responsible for abducting and abusing her family once again was almost enough to make her reconsider her decision.

Brenda and the head of the State Police continued to talk while Claire let the sordid connections be made in her mind.

"Okay," she heard the gravely voice over Brenda's PDA, "My team's on site. I'm going to patch you into our communications."

Oyster Gulch's Sheriff had very few kind words about the State Troopers but she had grudging respect for their Strategic Response Units. Those guys were good.

"What's happening Mike," Frank McGraw demanded of his SRU team leader.

"It's all quiet here boss," the captain responded. "One dead naked female cauc ... looks like was bludgeoned ... I guess she's the female suspect from the report. We won't be needing to waste any of the state's money trying her."

"What about the man ... Ivan Symenkov?"

"No sign of anybody else boss ... he's in the wind. We'll check the rest of the property but if he had any way to get out of here he'd have to be crazy to stay."

"Oh he's crazy alright," Claire commented.

---

Brenda Carlyle left, promising to keep them up to date on the manhunt. It was late afternoon.

Abbey and Peggy put together a buffet supper of cold cuts and salad. They ate in the living room balancing their plates on their laps.

"Abbey's got to go on delivery early tomorrow and I've got an eight-thirty appointment at the bank in Wells." Margaret informed her visitors while they ate. "I'm sorry to say you'll be on your own for most of the day."

"That's okay," Carly assured their host. "We're exhausted. We need a day to just veg and sleep anyway."

"I'm going to head back first thing," Claire informed the other women. "Somebody's gotta keep working to support our opulent life style," she tossed a barb at Carly and they all laughed.

The only one who'd slept the night before was Abbey, and she had a long trip to embark on before dawn. They were all more than happy to settle into their beds even before the sun had fully set.

As they went down Ivan Symenkov was rising. His head was pounding since the narcotics had worn off. He didn't take more. The pain was a motivator for his revenge now.

---

His plan was simple. The bitches that'd killed his partner and turned his life upside down had come to visit someone in the village of queers. Even if the trauma had spoiled their trip and made them want to go home Ivan was pretty sure the cops would make them stay at least a couple of days. 'How many Escalades can there be ... especially dark blue ones.' It wasn't a popular color for desert inhabitants.

The town was bigger than he'd thought.

Up and down the streets of the unique little town in the late twilight his frustration grew and his head pounded louder.

Ivan had covered every street twice and debated whether he'd look a third time. The hours had passed quickly and he now had to concede that his plan might be fatally flawed.

The drug formulating pedophile was concerned by the fact that he could barely open his left eye. Not only did it make it that much more difficult to locate the subject of his search but it might be a symptom of the injury, indicating a more serious condition than he'd bargained for.

He was feeling sick and disappointed when he took the main street south out of town. He'd really been looking forward to sampling that little redhead's ass again—and her mother's too.

The house standing all by itself caught his attention and the ache in his head almost vanished in the elation at the sight. There it was in front of the ranch style bungalow sandwiched between an old looking red pick-up and another new looking SUV.

There was just the slightest glow on the eastern horizon when he swung around and headed back toward the secluded house.

He rolled by very slowly. He was absolutely convinced now that he'd found his prey.

A hundred yards up the road was a driveway leading into the cactus field. Ivan turned onto the rutted path and between the five foot cacti, pleased that his vehicle would be hard to spot from the road.

The Bowie knife hung from a sheath on the right side of his belt. The nine millimeter Glock was stuffed down the waistband of his black jeans. The black hoodie was too hot even for the coolest hour of the desert day but it did make him practically invisible. When he was in view of the house he was surprised and angry to discover that there were already lights on. It had taken too long to find the damn Caddy. In his plan he stole up on the unsuspecting women while they slept now that seemed unlikely.

A skinny woman appeared on the back porch, followed a moment later by a much more full figured one. Peggy kissed Abbey good-bye and the slender cactus farmer quickly started the flatbed they'd loaded the night before and headed down the driveway. That was one less that he'd have to kill, not that it worried him. Ivan would have just as happily murdered every queer in the misguided little town to get at the four he'd come for. He started trying to calculate his next move. Maybe he should leave it until tomorrow. Now that he knew where they were he could time his attack precisely. Problem was the troopers were on his tail. It wouldn't be long before they found his father's shop—he needed to be gone before that happened.

Trying to come up with plan B made his head pound harder and he sat with his back against one of the large cactuses struggling with the dilemma while the sun got higher. The door opened again and the larger woman he'd seen before came out with another female. There was something familiar about her but with only one eye and at this distance in poor light he wasn't sure. The women shook hands and got into the other two vehicles. A minute later the only thing left in the driveway was the elusive Escalade.

Claire followed Peggy down the gravel road that would take them to State Road twenty which, in turn, would lead them to Interstate eighty.

Ivan felt a rush. 'This might work out after all.' There were no more lights visible inside the house but there was also little need for them anymore. The new day had dawned.

With all the stealth his cramped sixty year old six foot six frame could muster Ivan made his way to the back door. He was not accomplished at B and E but the Bowie knife was as good as a pry bar. He wasn't expecting too much security on the farm house.

A smile broke on his face when he discovered that in true rural tradition the back door wasn't even locked. He stepped inside with the eight inch cold steel blade in hand and found himself in the kitchen. Peeking carefully around the door frame leading to the rest of the house he saw the front door off to his right, a hallway that he presumed led to the bedrooms to his left, and the living room straight ahead. The dark haired woman who had done all the damage to his head was sleeping on the pull out couch cuddled up with the blonde girl. 'The redheads must be in a bedroom, ' he deduced.

No matter he was back on plan A.

Three quick silent strides and he grabbed a handful of blonde curls and yanked the teenager out of the bed by the hair. Stephanie shrieked in shock and pain. Carly popped up stunned and befuddled. The teenager was still screaming as he backed toward the far wall of the living room away from the only door. Holding the petit teenager's head back at an awkward angle he put the knife blade against the tender white flesh of her neck.

The mother and daughter scrambled into the room a second later shocked out of their sleep by Stevie's tortured cries.

"If anybody does anything except exactly what I tell you I'll cut her head clean off," the drug dealing rapist bellowed.

Caitie started crying.

"Shut up!" Ivan commanded. The exertion had made his head ache so badly he thought he might pass out.

Caitlin sucked in her sobs and clung to her mother who was trying to envelope the girl to protect her from this maniac.

Carly choked and thought she was going to throw up. 'This can't be happening ... this is right out of a 'B' horror movie, ' Ivan released Stevie's hair. Red droplets of blood formed where the hair had nearly been torn from her scalp. Holding the knife even more firmly to the teenager's throat Symenkov reached into the front muff pocket of the black hoodie with his freehand and pulled out a roll of silver duct tape. Her threw the tape in the direction of the dark haired woman on the pull out bed and said,

"Tape their hands behind them."

Carly just sat looking at the monster in shock.

Ivan pressed the blade against Stephanie's throat hard enough to draw blood and she squealed loudly again.

"Have you ever seen anyone decapitated," the invader threatened. "There's an unbelievable amount of blood that squirts out before their heart stops ... do it NOW!"

Carly jumped out of the bed wearing only a pair of bikini panties. She was sure she would have thrown up if there'd been anything in her stomach. She met Heather's eyes and saw her own terror reflected. Stepping behind Caitie she whispered,

"Oh I'm so sorry honey," and then she taped the red haired teenager's wrists together.

She moved behind her partner and suddenly Heather shrugged off her robe revealing her spectacular nakedness.

"You don't want to tie me up," the drop-dead gorgeous woman said in an amazingly calm voice. "You can have me ... I can make you feel so good," she offered taking a step toward the man with the knife.

"Don't you worry I'll have you ... I'll have all of you," the mad Hungarian roared. "Tape her up!" he commanded once again.

Carly struggled to swallow the sobs as she wrapped the tape around Heather's wrists.

Ivan shoved Stevie away so hard that she almost fell. He pulled out the Glock and pointed it at the terrified teen.

"Tape up your sleeping buddy," he ordered.

Carly handed Stephanie the tape and turned her back. The blonde teen sobbed and shook as she wrapped the tape around the photographer's wrists leaving her the only one not restrained.

"You three sit on the bed," Ivan demanded waving the semi-automatic for emphasis.

Heather, Caitie and Carly complied, leaving Stephanie standing alone in the middle of the room holding the roll of duct tape and crying softly.

Ivan had been developing an erection ever since he put the knife to the blonde's throat. Now his cock was as hard as a steel bar and throbbing in unison with his head. He decided that although his hostages weren't very secure that they were too scared and emotional to try anything.

He scanned the room for the prop he wanted, and found it beside the kitchen door. The slender tall man moved with the grace and speed of a cat, grabbing Stephanie's upper arm as he crossed the room. The blonde teenager shrieked in pain and surprise.

Arriving at the table beside the kitchen door he briefly wondered why the GPS unit was sitting there, and realized he didn't care. He swept the device onto the floor. Grabbing Stevie's hair again he shoved her forward so she jackknifed over the little table.

"Don't hurt her," Carly shouted through her tears.

Ivan looked at the topless bound woman on the couch and smiled maliciously. He pointed the Glock at her and said,

"It'll be nothing compared to what I have in mind for you ... I'm saving you for last," he released Stevie's head and touched the blood soaked bandage around his own. "I really have something to thank you for, but first..."

He turned back to Stevie still bent over the table. He flipped her nightdress up onto her back exposing her maturing panty clad backside. The sight made his balls ache. He needed both hands so he reached around the kitchen door post and set the semi automatic on the kitchen counter.

At some point his victim had dropped the tape. He picked it up and made a couple of wraps around the legs of the table securing Stephanie's arms. Now she was not only helpless, but immobile too. One quick vicious yank shredded the cotton underpants, and he slapped the gloriously firm adolescent ass—hard. The sharp crack was followed by a scream from the compromised teenager.

Ivan deposited a large glob of saliva on his fingers and applied it to the rosy brown pucker he was exposing by pulling the cheeks apart with his other hand. Stephanie groaned at the intimate contact while his other captives closed their eyes and continued to cry.

"That's right bitch, you're gonna love it just like your girlfriend did," he said as he dropped his pants and applied another generous amount of spit to his throbbing dick.

The table shifted a little away from the door post as he pushed the head of his penis against the teen's anus. The mad Hungarian pushed harder and the table leg snagged on something on the floor providing the needed resistance. The head slipped inside the hot incredibly tight orifice.

Ivan felt his balls dance and he had to pause. There were seven other holes he was determined to explore and at his age achieving another erection quickly was not a foregone conclusion; even given the ultimately arousing situation.

He left the back door open, not wanting to make a sound. His focus was on the adorable little moans his victim was making and on staving off ejaculation. The calm clear voice came from somewhere over his right shoulder.

"Ivan," the woman called.

He turned his head and saw the blonde he'd observed leaving earlier that morning.

"Remember me?" Claire asked pointing the nine millimeter at the Hungarian's head.

She watched and waited as the emotions evident in the rapist's one functional eye transitioned. First had come surprise at being unexpectedly interrupted. Next in response to her question she saw him thinking, pondering whether he knew her or not. It was only seconds, but it seemed like minutes before the signs of recognition appeared in the blood shot eye. Then came the emotion Claire had been waiting for—escalating fear that soon became terror.

"This is for Stephan you fucking bastard ... rot in hell!"

The report from the large hand gun was deafening in the small space. Ivan Symenkov's damaged head exploded and he was dead before he hit the floor.

---

The sun contacted the western horizon and Carly watched the quality of the light shift toward blue. Was that the same setting sun she'd been driving into two days ago? She glanced over at Claire and Carly sitting on the patio behind the house with her. Her mentor had an uncharacteristically untouched glass of vodka in front of her.

Claire was miles away and twenty-five years in the past, lying naked with Stephan. She was stroking his hair and saying 'it's okay now honey ... you can rest.' Heather's mind had drifted back to their first stay in The Gulch. Recalling that first day, getting arrested; the body cavity search that preceded her incarceration, an unwanted tingling in her pussy and her ass started spontaneously. Sarah Duggan had abused her—of that there was no doubt. How was it so different than what the mad Hungarian had done?

The girls came running in from the field, sweat rivulets streaking through the desert dust on their faces. They were laughing and babbling as they approached. Abbey was walking behind them.

"Abbey says we should come for the whole summer next year," Stevie announced excitedly. "Can we ... can we come?"

Her question was directed at her grandma.

"She says she'll teach us all about cactus farming and the desert and ... and everything," Caitlin supported her adopted sister. "So can we, Pleeese"

The question was clearly directed at Heather.

The older women on the patio looked at each other in surprise. The cleanup crew provided by the state police had only finished scraping Ivan Symenkov off the walls and floor about an hour ago and the teenagers were behaving as though nothing had happened.

"They're so much more resilient than we are," Claire voiced the thought that was running through all their heads.

"I'd be glad to have them," Abbey said putting her arms around the girls' shoulders.

Heather felt all the joy and sorrow this place had brought her flow through her in an instant.

"I don't know," she said thoughtfully.

"I'll convince her," Caitie assured and hugged the cactus farmer.

Stevie looked at her grandmother.

"Ask your mother," Claire justifiably coped out.