Chapter 5

Carmina and Louisa walked into the Larch home promptly at 9 am. The boys were in the living room, lounging on the huge sectional couch.

"Right on time I see," said Mort, his voice oozing with lust. Expressing himself in the Bela Lugosi voice brought Carmina's short hairs on end.

Adding to the effect, he tightened his lips baring his incisors. The Lycan was ready to satisfy his thirst and desire for the blood of a Virgin!

"Mom. What is going on?" Louisa asked.

"I'm sorry Louisa," Carmina whispered. "I... 'We' ... don't have a choice."

Then in a saddened voice, bowing her head, Carmina softly added, "Go with them. Do what they ask. Do what they tell you.

"Everything," she finished with a deep sigh.

"Just do everything they tell you to do," she said as tears started falling from her eyes.

The boys had gotten up and Billy and Stan had each taken one of Louisa's hands. "Come with us," Billy had said to her as he started to pull her toward the archway leading to the back of the house.

Looking over her shoulder, Louisa saw her mother crumple to the floor, her shoulders retching with sobs. Dread filled her heart and she started to pull back.

Mort was right there behind her. He gave her a forceful swat on her butt telling her, "Move it!" Startled, Louisa gave out a squeal from the intrusion but remembering what her mother had said, let the boys lead her off.

"Stop," Mort said as they reached the back door. Louisa started to turn back to look at him and was met with another, even harder swat as he cautioned her, "Don't turn around.

"Stand still," he demanded and she felt a soft cloth drawn around her neck, tighten into a choke hold. Fear swept through her. Then the cloth loosened and it slithered up, under her chin, across her face coming to rest covering her eyes.

Louisa shuddered. "What's that for?" she asked, only to receive another forceful swat and got, "Shut up Bitch!" from Mort.

Then she felt each of the brothers holding her hand slip something around her wrists. It felt like leather. Broad, perhaps an inch or two wide. Clamping onto her and tightly latched in place.

Then a metallic click. Her arms were let free and then came the feeling. She was attached to something. Moving her arms, she found they were free, but not. Then Mort said, "OK, let's go," and both of her arms were drawn up and yanked forward. She was moving again, held ... constrained ... in this new fashion.

Louisa heard a door open and felt the outside breeze flow around her. She recognized the chlorine smell of the pool area and the clack of their feet on the tile surrounding the pool.

"They must be heading to the guest house," she thought to herself. "Why are we going there. Why am I tied like this?" her confused thoughts continued.

Her ideas were confirmed when after the short walk, another door opened and closing behind her, they were indoors again.

"Stand still!" Mort commanded. Her arms were pulled up by whatever was attached to her wrists. Pulled away from her sides, outward, upward, making her body form a 'T.' She was stretched, so her arms were level at shoulder height and although, not uncomfortable, there was force.

A rustle and she felt similar leather feeling straps being tied around her ankles. Another went around her waist like a belt. Soon she heard more metallic clicks and was aware similar restraints were being attached to her ankles and one on each side of her waist.

"What do you want from me?" Louisa cried as fear built up inside of her. A swift slap to her butt elicited another cry from her and a very stern, "Bitch. Who said you could talk!" from Mort.

"Give her the ball," Mort demanded and she heard Billy say, "Here it is." Then a hard rubber ball was pressed against her lips and Stan said, "Open!"

Louisa tried to say, "No!" but as her lips relaxed, they opened, the ball fell into her mouth. An elastic strap quickly pulled around her head, tightened the ball into her mouth, muffling her attempt to protest.

"There we go," said Mort. "Such a nice little package.

"Let the games begin," he laughed.

Louisa felt something wrapping around her ankles. It was cold. It was what was attached to the cuffs that had been placed on her ankles. "Chain?" went through her mind. It made sense. A chain is what they must have attached to the cuffs on her arms and feet and upon her waist too.

Mort came up close behind her, first placing his hands on her hips startling her. Then he traced up her sides, under her outstretched arms, rubbed the sides of her breasts and then up over her shoulders to wrap his hands around her neck.

Louisa let out a muffled gasp as Mort tightened his grip on her neck and she had trouble breathing. His fingers tightened some more and she could not breath. Panic set in.

Holding her tightly, Mort whispered in her ear, "Bitch, you are ours. Your body is ours. If you resist, you will die!"

Her whole body tightened as she tried to force air into her lungs through Mort's choke hold. Seconds went by. She started to feel weak. Then Mort relented, loosened his grasp and said, "Do you believe me?"

Unable to do anything else, Louisa nodded her head and Mort replied, "Nice girl. Just like your Mexican Whore of a mother we had Wednesday."

"Oh. My God," Louisa thought. "They did this to Mom too," and she started to sob, realizing how helpless a situation she was in.

Mort's hands returned to her neck and another leathery band was wrapped around her neck and buckled. The following click signaled she was restrained there too. Something fell down her back and she guessed it was something like a leash.

"I'm their pet," she thought to herself. "Their toy," as she stifled sobs as her fear changed to despair.

Mort was behind her again. Close behind her. Pressing his body against hers. Wrapping his arms around her. His hands began touching her belly.

He moved his hands upward. Panic set in again in Louisa's mind. Trying to struggle, her immobile hands would not move. Her feet were tied. All she could do is send out a muffled cry and shake her head.

Then they were grasping her. Mort's hands. Pressing against her breasts. Rubbing them up and down. Squeezing them. Molesting them. "No ... No!" was her muffled cry.

Mort laughed.

Then she froze. Louisa stopped shaking her head. Stopped wiggling her body. Stopped trying to throw him off, even though she was effectively restrained.

Louisa froze because his hands had left her breasts and were slowly sliding down her body. Down her stomach. Down over her belly. Lower and lower Mort's hands traced on her body.

Through her clothing, she felt his hands travel downward. She knew where they were going and no one had ever touched her 'There.' No one. Ever!

Past the waistband of her skirt Mort's hands traveled and soon they reached the 'V' where her legs came together. His fingers pressed her clothing inward as they searched.

Louisa gasped as his fingers started cupping her crotch. She wiggled her hips trying to break his fingers free but they only pressed harder against her 'Private Parts.' His fingers enveloped her more tightly the more she struggled in her restraints...

Billy and Stan, clapped their hands and laughed. Laughed at Louisa's predicament, her displeasure.

"This is going to be fun," Stan said.

"Well, come on boys," Mort said and instantly two more pair of hands were upon her. Mort's hands stayed tightly cupping her crotch, almost lifting her off the floor. His hips pressed firmly against her rear.

A pair of hands brushed over her face and hair, then traveled down to lift and caress her left breast. The other pair of hands were on her right breast. Hands, pressing against her clothing, massaging her. Assaulting her. Molesting her.