Chapter 8: Slaughternight

After breakfast, Ma gave her customary orders for the daily running of the farm, but told the Outhwaite women (Mark was not present) to wait. She had Spike cuff them, and when Spike and his older brother had gone about their business, Ma escorted the women up the stairs to the bedroom. She chained them to the bed and told them she would be back later with their costumes for their last performance.

"That was quite a show you put on last night," said Ma. "I'm sorry you're not going to be with us much longer. So are the boys."

"So, where are the pills you promised?" asked Helen coldly.

"Yeah. Sorry about that. I changed my mind. Can't have you giggling when you ought to be screaming, can I? And you will be screaming, Barbie, I can assure you, before you die."

"From what I heard on the telephone, Katrina and I are to dress as schoolgirls and get our bottoms caned by the Sheriff. That sounds unpleasant, but not lethal. So I guess there's more?"

"That's how it starts, Barbie. But then Bud takes a few purple pills, and opens a bottle of scotch, and it gets nastier. He'll have one of you strung up to the ceiling and start to flog her with a whip. He likes one to play with his cock and balls while he beats the Christ out of the other. If he gets horny enough he'll stop flogging and fuck one of you, then it's back to the whip. When his arm gets tired, he'll have his deputy or me fasten one of you to the saw-horse, and give the other a choice of strap-ons. God help her if she doesn't perform. A drop more scotch, and a few more pills, and he's ready to fuck again. Then it gets really nasty and he's ready to rip the skin off whoever's standing. Can last up to three hours or more."

"How often has he done this?" asked Helen, aghast at the detail Ma had described.

"Twice," said the jailer."Twice, he's sent a couple of wild girls to 'a confidential reformatory for young offenders'. This is his first time he's wanted to fuck with slaves we've abducted. The Deputy told him you and the kid looked more like sisters than mother and daughter. He liked what he saw of the kid, so here we are. Time for you 'lesbian lovers' to become 'naughty schoolgirls.'"

"When does this ridiculous pantomime begin?" sneered Helen.

Ma shrugged. "The Deputy said they would be here at three, Barbie. You planning to be somewhere else?"

Helen shook her head.

"Thought not," said Ma. "I'll be back at about two with some little girl outfits. Before that I'll send that useless dick-wit, Mark, up with a special meal for you all. Sorta condemned prisoners' 'hearty breakfast'. You can have whatever you like, providing it's roast chicken, Barbie. What dya say to that?"

Helen said nothing. As Ma left the bedroom she locked the door behind her.

"Okay," said Helen as she finished the last of the roast chicken. "I'll be damned if I'll go quietly. If we all attack one of them we might be able to hold him as hostage before the other can react. But we'll have to do it sooner, rather than later, because once the torture starts..."

Mark shuddered. "It's no use," he lamented. "They're much too strong for us. If they're in uniform, they'll certainly be armed, and Ma's got a gun too. She keeps it in the locker by the door of the dungeon."

Helen was interested. "What sort of gun?" she asked.

Mark shrugged. "I don't know. I only saw it once. It looked like the sort of gun used for trap shooting. Some sort of shotgun. Attacking one of them won't do any good. It will just get you killed quicker."

"That's Plan B," muttered his wife, too softly for him to hear. Katrina smiled at her stepmother and nodded.

"A shotgun!" cooed Katrina. "I can use a shotgun! Give me a chance to get my hands on it and we have a fighting chance."

"Right," enthused Helen. "Here's the plan. Mark and I will attack one of the state policemen. Katrina gets the shotgun and we take it from there. Not much of a plan but better than nothing. I'll give the signal to attack. I'll yell, 'Take that, you evil bastard!' and hit the target as hard as I can. Mark, you join in, right?"

Mark swallowed. "I suppose so," he mumbled. "But it will never work."

Ma was pleased with her efforts. The three captives stood with their backs against the dungeon wall to which their wrists were chained. They were in school uniform of a sort. Each wore a broad brimmed hat with a ribbon around the dome-shaped crown. Katrina's natural black braids were matched by Mark's false, yellow, wig. Ma had wet the thin cotton blouses so that the women's breasts showed through. All three Outhwaites wore plaid mini-skirts. Katrina wore ankle-socks and the ankle-strap shoes she had been equipped with by the Deputy Sheriff at their last encounter. The long socks she had been given on that occasion were being worn by her father. Helen had retained her black stockings and high-heeled footwear from the night before. Only Katrina was wearing underwear.

Patrick and Spike lolled around the dungeon making crude jokes, mainly about Mark's appearance and his unsteadiness in a pair of high heeled pumps, two sizes too small. Ma had changed into blue overalls and boots. At three o'clock Sheriff Bud Jansen and his deputy arrived. Both were in uniform and, as predicted by Mark, both wore gun-belts sporting a regulation holster containing a Smith and Wesson .38 revolver.

The Sheriff was full of bonhomie and good cheer. He gave Ma a peck on the cheek and a pat on the butt, and said, "Howdy," to the boys. Bud regarded the line-up of "schoolgirls" with bright, predatory, eyes. "Lookee here!" he boomed at his deputy, lifting Mark's skirt to reveal coloured ribbons tied tightly around the prisoner's scrotum. "There's even one for you!"

Deputy Sherman smiled a thin smile and put the sports-bag he had brought with him on the wooden table. He took out two bottles of Johnnie Walker Black Label, three glasses and an ornate ivory pill box. "One of you boys like to get us some ice?" he asked.

Pat and Spike merely glared at him until Ma snapped, "Spike! Get some fucking ice!" As Spike left the dungeon Sherman said conversationally, "Nice ass, that boy." If looks could kill, thought Helen, there would be one less for the forlorn hope to deal with. Not that they could do a thing just yet, attached as they were, by cuffs, to the dungeon wall.

Bud Jansen got to know his victims. He was a big man and stood a head and shoulders taller that the line of captives. First he leered down on Katrina. "This little lady I've met before. Damn near went to sleep on me, Ma. Just got up her in time. She was a very naughty girl. Blew the heads off two fine Butchersville Boys. And I mean 'blew' with a shotgun, and 'heads' as on shoulders, not cocks!" He laughed immoderately at his joke. He squeezed the teenager's nipples, still rouged from the previous night's exhibition, through the thin linen blouse. "Nice tits. You've got nice tits, child. Haven't you?"

Katrina maintained a stoic silence.

"Answer the Sheriff, you stuck-up little tart!" bellowed Ma and advanced toward Katrina waving the modified cattle prod.

"Yes, I've got nice tits," offered Katrina.

"Sir!" yelled Ma jabbing the prod at where the wet linen showed pink. Katrina screamed.

"Yes, I've got nice tits, sir!" the young woman responded.

"Good and firm," said the Sheriff. "But a bit big for a girl of her tender years?"

"She's had a lot of sex, Sheriff. Hell, even her own daddy fucks her."

"Is that true? Your daddy been poking your pussy?"

"Yes, sir." Mark dropped his head in shame but the Sheriff didn't notice.

"Well, he probably taught you how to give a grown man a good time. And that's what we're here for, a good time. Hey, you're wearing panties. I'm going to have to take those off you, little girl."

The Sheriff passed by Mark and loomed over Helen. "This ones got big tits, too, Ma. Big for a child of thirteen..."

"I'm damn nearly thirty, you dumb-shit!" croaked Helen, before Ma could silence her with a long shock from the prod.

The Sheriff sighed, "I know that, little girl, but this is my party and I make up the rules. If I say you're thirteen, that's how you act. If I say 'suck my dick', you suck it. And if I say I'm going to send you up to heaven, it means I'm gonna get Ma here to put steel hooks in those big ripe tits of yours and haul you up to the fucking ceiling so I can ram a baseball bat up your bloody ass!"

Spike returned, scowling, with a large bowl of ice. Deputy Sherman took it from him. The Sheriff turned to Spike and Patrick and said, "Now which one of these little girls gives the best head?"

Ma answered for them. "Barbie is more experienced and can take some throat but the kid has a sweet mouth, Bud. So I've been told."

Sherman poured three glasses of scotch and added three cubes of ice to each. He handed one to the Sheriff and one to Ma. The third he sipped himself. "Why don't you have them demonstrate, Sheriff. I'll take the middle one and Ma's boys can have a final bit of 'fun' with the girls before going about their duties."

"Good idea, Deputy," said Jansen heartily. "Unhook them from the wall, Ma."

Ma scurried to obey.

"Now, young ladies, kneel, like you were at church," laughed Bud. "Hands together like you're praying. Gentlemen! Take your partners for a face-fuck."

Spike stood in front of Helen, Deputy Sherman before the trembling Mark and Patrick, his hose-like rope-veined cock dribbling lubricant already in his hand, advanced on Katrina.

Helen did not disappoint Spike, who had been the first of the Butchers to rape her, nearly two weeks earlier. Then, like now, she hoped to milk his heart for sympathy as skilfully as she milked his cock. As she took Spike's shaft between her palms, and opened her mouth to receive his plum coloured glans, she glanced at Deputy Sherman.

The policeman was thrusting his long, thin, penis into her husband's mouth with every indication he meant to choke his cringing victim. Mark could not escape, because Sherman was holding tight onto the long yellow braids of his wig.

Down the line Helen could hear Patrick's cries of ecstasy and guessed Katrina was trying for a quick result, using lips, tongue, fingers, teeth and all.

The Sheriff refreshed his glass and watched the proceedings his little piggy eyes glittering with anticipation. "Now don't go spoiling the little ladies' uniforms, boys. Make sure they don't let any of that vital fluid drip on those nice white blouses."

Patrick was the first to cum. He had paid no attention to the Sheriff's instruction and Katrina's blouse was spattered with gism, as was her face and hair.