Chapter 4: Escape

Supper, on the first full day of their captivity, was a miserable affair for Mark Outhwaite, and his second wife, Helen. They were both naked and cold. Mark's black eye was less swollen but he slumped at the table, head bowed, a beaten, sad, and sorry excuse for a man. Katrina, Mark's teenage daughter, was not present. She was upstairs, spreadeagled on the filthy, stained, mattress of the king-sized bed, she had shared with her step-mother, the night before. Katrina's ankles and wrists were fastened with rope to the four corners of the bed. All afternoon she had been subject to the insatiable sexual demands and rough fondling of Patrick Butcher, Ma's elder son.

Katrina's ordeal had started when she accidentally broke a plate, while washing up Ma's lunch dishes. Ma had grabbed the young woman by her long black hair, bent her over her knee, and spanked Katrina's bare backside. Ma was still punishing the girl when Patrick returned from his overnight journey to LA. Ma grinned at him and parted the cheeks of Katerina's ass, an invitation the horny rapist could not resist. Ma helped him squeeze the tip of his over-sized erection into Katerina's small pink ring, and held her down while Pat (mercifully for the young woman) quickly shot his load into her ravaged rectum. Katerina was still crying as Pat dragged her upstairs, and tied her to the bed.

The meal, of stew for Ma Butcher and her boys and oatmeal for the captives, had been eaten in silence. When it was over, Ma told Helen to clear the table and wash the dishes. As Helen rose to obey, Spike reached out and fondled her naked pudenda.

"You smell real good, Barbie. Ma give you a shower, did she?"

"Yes, Spike," Helen replied, mindful of the punishment for not speaking when spoken to. "Ma gave me a shower." Her voice was still a croak from the damage done to her throat by Ma the day before.

"You're gonna need another one after I've finished with you tonight," said Spike standing up and moving behind Mark's chair. The captive businessman shifted uneasily. He was nervous with the big biker leaning over his shoulder. Spike was holding a cattle-prod.

Helen crossed to the sink. She wondered what torment Ma and her boys had in mind. Whatever it was, it would mean sexual humiliation for either her, or Mark, perhaps both.

"Don't ya like the way her tits bounce when she walks?" Spike said to Mark.

"Yes," Mark mumbled.

Spike waved the cattle-prod under Mark's nose.

"Yes! Yes! I like the way her tits bounce when she walks," Mark gabbled, just in time to avoid a shock to his naked chest.

Ma was grinning. "Your kid got her ass reamed today, Mark. Did you know that?"

"No, Ma, I didn't know that," he whispered.

"Didn't know what, Shit-for-brains?"

"Didn't know my daughter... my kid... got her ass reamed today. Oh my god!" Mark began to sob.

"She got more'n that," boasted Patrick. "I fucked her all ways. Fucked her tight hairless cunt, her tits, her face. Filled the little slut's belly with cum. She couldn't get enough of me. I spent the whole afternoon with the horny little bitch. Tonight I'm gonna..."

Patrick rambled on describing, in minute detail, every perverse act he had performed on the helpless young woman, and every sexual ordeal he intended to inflict on her, that night, and every night she was a captive. The recitation excited him. The crotch of his cum-stained jeans swelled noticeably as he described what he was going to make Helen, "the little blonde dyke", do to the, "kid". A fantasy, Helen assumed, lifted wholesale from a late edition of "Lesbian Lust".

Ma interrupted Patrick's monologue. "You ever butt-fuck your lady-wife, city-boy?" Spike readied the cattle-prod, certain Mark would fail to respond properly.

"No, Ma," he gulped, more fearful of the pain than of the shame in answering. "I've never butt-fucked my lady wife."

"Is that right, Barbie?" Ma called across the kitchen.

"That's right, Ma," replied Helen, stacking the last of the clean, wet, dishes in the wooden rack above the huge sink, and wiping her soapy hands on a piece of towelling. She glared at her too compliant husband. She suspected what was about to happen, and dreaded it.

"Come here!"

Helen walked across the stone-flagged room to where Ma presided over the heavy wooden table. Her tits bounced invitingly. She was aware of the lustful stares and the bulging jeans of Spike and his older brother. She saw how Mark, too, had responded to Patrick's pornographic fantasising. His naked penis was swollen, tumescent, rising slowly between his slender thighs.

Ma, still seated, put an arm around Helen's hips and looked up at her pretty blonde captive. She smiled a cruel smile as she caressed Helen's firm round buttocks.

"You've got a nice ass, haven't you Barbie?" Ma asked.

"Yes, Ma, I've got a nice ass," replied her victim.

"Tell your man, the city-slicker, what I did to your nice plump ass in the shower, Barbie."

Helen turned to Mark and tried to smile. "Ma butt-fucked me, Mark, with a prick made of soap." She wanted to sound matter-of-fact but the croak in her voice made it sound sexy.

"You'd like to have seen that, wouldn't you, mister? Your pretty blonde wife butt-fucked with a big soap dick?"

"Yes, Ma," Mark choked, "I would like to have seen that. My wife... Oh God!"Mark wailed as Spike applied the prod to the back of his neck.

"You should'a heard her yell when she knew where I was going," laughed Ma. "'Oh, no, no, no', like a virgin on her wedding night. You didn't like it, did you, Barbie?"

"No, Ma, I didn't like it," croaked Helen shuddering.

"Is that why you've never fucked her up the ass, city-boy? Because she said, 'Oh, no, no, no'?"

"I... I..." began Mark, betrayed by his growing erection and unable to fathom what answer his tormentors required. Spike laughed and zapped him again with the cattle-prod. Mark recoiled. He slid the heavy kitchen chair away from the table and tried to stand up. Spike pressed him down onto the chair and growled at him to keep still.

Ma stood. She grabbed Helen's hair, and marched the naked blonde to where her husband sat.

"Lie across his lap, belly down, Barbie. I want him to get a good view of your nice plump ass."

Helen did as she was ordered. She could feel the prickle of Mark's pubic hair against her side and detected the moist tip of his growing erection pressing softly against her bare stomach. Mark's hand softly cupped one of her breasts where it rested against the outside of his thigh. She heard the scrape of a wooden chair against the stone floor, as Patrick lumbered to his feet.

She heard Mark gasp, and felt him tense.

She heard Ma say, "He is a big boy, isn't he?" and Mark's pain-saving, but tearful, response, "Yes, Ma, he is a big boy."

She guessed Patrick had pulled down his jeans.

Helen remembered what she had seen yesterday afternoon. Pat's huge, thick, rope-veined cock dribbling as he advanced towards Katrina, his hairy belly swelling above and an equally hairy ball-bag swinging below. She had watched, helpless, as he had buried his cock deep in her step-daughter's tight little pussy, and raped her unmercifully while Ma Butcher, Pat's mother, held the young woman, and urged him on.

Helen heard a grunt as Patrick knelt behind her. Perhaps, she thought desperately, after his exertions overnight, and his sexual excesses during the afternoon, he would be tired, not as rabid, less brutal. She felt Patrick's hairy paunch brush her lower back. She felt his massive hands seize her butt cheeks and spread them. She screamed as he forced the head of his cock into her anus and again, with each powerful thrust, as Patrick penetrated just a little deeper. She begged him to stop, and heard him laugh. She pleaded with Ma to make him stop. But he did not. Grunting and sweating he ground on and on.

After what seemed an eternity, Patrick came, then slowly withdrew, and stood up.

Helen was giddy with pain. Her bowels churned. She felt sick. To her horror she felt Mark's erection pressing hard into her belly. She was shocked that her husband had been aroused by what had just occurred. She struggled upright and revealed Mark's infamy.

"You bastard!" she hissed at her naked husband.

"He wants to fuck you up the ass too, don't you city-boy?"

"Yes, Ma, I want to fuck her up the ass too," answered Mark. This time he looked at Helen briefly. She thought he sounded as though he meant it.