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The old woman, of course, kept her eyes on the helmeted, visored girl sitting in front of her man. Did her head drop back as if she were wailing to the sky? Did her wrists twist in seeming torment? It was hard to say, since the bikers were already gone—the image of the helmeted girl’s amazing chest and fabulous legs the only things that really remained in the memory.
She could imagine the poor girl the previous night, fat on her back in her own duplex’s garage getting cunt and tit-fucked by the bikers as the dirty blonde held an oily red rag in her mouth. Then she could see the same fat faced girl holding a rusted blade to the overwhelmed brunette’s throat as she cleaned their cocks with her mouth before getting bound and gagged yet again for the long trip to sexual hell.
She could imagine what it would be like: frustrated, foiled, and fucked at every stop by her three “companions.” Secreted in sheds, sleeping bags, and ditches; mammaries mauled while her mouth and cunt were flled at every opportunity. Restrained, silenced, abused, and hidden with possible rescue sometimes only millimeters away.... The old woman fnally turned back to the quiet policemen, a smug grin on her wizened face.
“Well gentlemen, to what do I owe this pleasant surprise?”
The second cop shrugged. “Just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
“You know how things are nowadays,” said the frst.
“I certainly do,” said the old woman, noting the fgure in the back seat of the cop car. “Taking in a perp?”
The cops looked over as if surprised. “Just trying to help,” said the taller of the two as they all began to saunter over. “You know how it is...kids nowadays....”
They stopped by the window, the old lady bending down to look in. There, a undulating, pain- wracked Barbara sat, seatbelted around the waist, wearing a black, thin rubber, stunningly tight, foundation garment—the kind with a top that matched the bottom, like a mirror refection from the waist. The top had a deep “U” neck which barely covered her red nipples, while the bottom had a deep upside-down “U” which barely covered her crotch—the tops of the “U” serving as garter belts, holding black stockings on her great legs.
On her feet were six inch ankle strap high heels, twisting and digging into the carpeted foor. Her arms were bare, her wrists twisting in the tight shackles attached to the standard police issue silver cuff belt, which was tightly affxed around her sexy waist. The old woman had seen them before on news and cop shows, when the offcers didn’t want an alleged perp to damage himself or others.
Stuck deep up her cunt was the second cop’s night- stick, held in place by the way its perpendicular handle was wedged against the front of the seat. Barbara looked back at the old woman in terrifed recognition and agonized realization, wailing into the clear plastic plug that pressed against her lovely lips and down on her tongue.
“What’s that in her mouth?” the old woman asked, not taking her eyes off the coed.
“Standard hospital issue,” said the shorter of the cops.
“Held on by rubber tubing tight under the hair and around the neck. Keeps ‘em from swallowing the tongue during electroshock therapy.”
“Testing its street use,” added the other
cop. “Keeps skels from disturbing the
peace or inciting riots during arrest.”
“She a skel?” the old woman asked sweetly.
The frst cop shook his head sadly. “Too bad. Sweet college kid. Fell in with the wrong crowd. Found her servicing gang bangers....”
Barb writhed in anguish. “Every night,” added the second. “Guess she likes the big meat in her sweet little sandwich....”
Barb screamed in denial, wrists twisting. “Had a good effect on the hood, tho’....” “Nice ‘n’ quiet....” “No rumbles....”
The frst cop shook his head again. “Such a shame....”
The beautiful blonde tried to tear herself out of the car, or at least force the nightstick from her cunt. But, no matter how she writhed and wrenched, she remained trapped, shackled, and impaled—her breasts bulging against the rubber and her cheeks bulging from the plastic bulb in her mouth.
“Every night, huh?” the old woman echoed after Barbara collapsed back to the seat, panting. “Where is she during the day then?”
The frst cop frowned. “Old holding cell.” “Back of our station,” said the second. “Blocked off after a renovation.” “Forgotten.” “For her own good.” “Gotta be fed.” “Bathed” “Rested.” “Lubricated.” “Lubricated?” the old woman asked knowingly.
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