Bike Gang & The Schoolgirls
by Pat Montgomery


FOREWORD 

Cindy Ames and her young friend Susan were really a pair of innocent 
schoolgirls. They'd had brief encounters with sex, but for all intents and 
purposes they were really still pretty much virgins. But just because they'd 
never had any didn't mean they didn't want any. 

And then came the fateful day when Cindy and Susan were savagely abducted by 
a squadron of leather-clad sadists, men who knew what they wanted and 
usually got it. And the leader of this sex-hungry mob was a woman, one of 
the most vicious and most voluptuous women that the girls had ever seen. 

They had found out about sex the hard way. 


CHAPTER ONE 

Sixteen-year-old Cindy Ames brushed her auburn hair out of her eyes and 
stole a glance at her friend Susan. Susan was only fourteen, two years 
younger than Cindy, but already she was well on the way to physical 
maturity. Already her hips and bust had begun to blossom into young 
womanhood, and Susan was a very good-looking girl indeed. So was Cindy, for 
that matter. 

Both the girls had recently been enrolled as students at the Gladys M. 
Forsythe Academy for Advanced Young Ladies, an extremely strait-laced girls' 
boarding school. The girls who were students there were forbidden to smoke, 
drink, or participate in so many of the other activities that young people 
like to engage in. 

Actually, neither Cindy nor Susan really minded these restrictions, but 
there was one other restriction that they were very annoyed about indeed. 
That was the school rule that stated NO girl was to have anything to do with 
boys. It was very hard for them to obey this rule, because if there was one 
thing that Cindy and Susan were interested in, it was boys. 

They were discussing this state of events one morning as they sat at the 
edge of the highway that bordered on the Academy's grounds. Neither of the 
girls was allowed to leave the campus without permission, but they had 
sneaked "over the wall", as they put it, to smoke a couple of reefers and to 
discuss the "no-boys" ruling. 

"It really isn't fair," Susan complained to her older companion as she took 
a hard drag on the pot-stick. "I mean, they think that if we don't fool 
around with any guys we won't think about them. But it's just the opposite; 
I haven't even SEEN a boy in the last two months, and I can't think of 
anything BUT boys. How do they expect us to keep our minds on our studies 
when all we can think about is the opposite sex?" 

Cindy nodded in agreement, taking what was left of the joint and inhaling 
deeply. "In a way I guess we really can't blame them, Sue," she replied at 
length. I've been at this Academy longer than you have. Every so often 
they'd relax the rules a little and let the girls invite guys onto the 
campus, but every time it happened some girl got careless and let herself 
get knocked up. So now they figure total chastity is the only way to keep us 
from getting preggo." 

Susan could see the sense in that line of thinking, but even so she didn't 
like it. She had been living as a student at the girls' school for almost 
three months now, and she hadn't even set eye on a single male of the 
species. And the longer she did without boys, the more determined she was 
not to do without them any longer. She promised herself that some night very 
soon she would sneak off the campus, thumb a ride into town, and find 
herself a little male companionship. 

Suddenly the young blonde girl was pulled out of her reverie by a noise in 
the distance. Cocking her head to one side and tossing her ash-blonde hair 
out of the way of her ears, she muttered: "Listen." 

Cindy didn't hear anything. "Listen to what?" she wanted to know. 

Susan gestured to the other girl to' keep quiet. "Don't you hear that?" 

Cindy shook her head. "Can't say that I do. Just what exactly is it that I'm 
supposed to be hearing?" 

The blonde schoolgirl shrugged. "I don't know. It sounds like some kind of 
engine. A racing car, maybe, or a motorcycle. Maybe a whole lot of 
motorcycles." 

The older girl strained to listen, but silence was all that reached her 
ears. "I can't hear a thing," she complained. "Maybe you've been smokin' too 
much pot, Susie." 

Susan started to answer, but then she noticed that the sound, whatever it 
was, had stopped as abruptly as it had begun. Susan couldn't help thinking 
that perhaps Cindy had been right; maybe she really HAD gone overboard on 
the potsmoking. Besides, if they didn't get back to the Academy soon their 
unauthorized absence would be discovered, and then they'd REALLY be in 
trouble. Cindy must have had the same thought, because she stubbed out the 
reefer butt against a rock and stood up, brushing her skirt down across her 
shapely legs as she did so. The faculty of the Academy had complained about 
Cindy's skirts, telling her that she wore them much too short, but Cindy had 
long since learned to ignore those prudes. 

Cindy reached out a hand and helped her friend Susan to her feet. "We oughta 
be getting back to the campus, Sue," she announced. "We haven't been gone 
long enough to be missed yet, but we can't waste any more time." 

The blonde girl nodded her agreement to that, and together they started 
trudging back towards the campus of the Academy. They had sneaked out 
through a convenient hole in the fence on the side of the campus that 
bordered on the woods, and if they expected to sneak back on campus 
undetected they would have to go in in the same way that they had come out. 

As they walked along Susan couldn't help wondering about that mysterious 
noise she had heard. She was sure that it hadn't been her imagination, that 
some person or thing had actually been nearby making that noise. But what? 
The thing had sounded like some sort of vehicle, a car or a truck or 
something like that, but Susan and Cindy had been sitting right next to the 
highway and not a single thing had driven by. Oh well, she told herself, it 
really wasn't all that important. Right now her main worry was getting back 
onto the campus without getting caught. 

Between the highway and the woods was a large open field, and the girls 
would have to cross this to get back onto the Academy grounds. Because the 
field was perfectly flat, with no places to hide, it was very easy to get 
caught there in case any of the teachers from the school happened to be 
standing around with a pair of binoculars, looking for girls who had gone 
AWOL. This had happened so many times in the past that Cindy and Susan were 
always very careful when they walked through that field. 

They stepped into the field now, walking quickly so as to minimize their 
chances of being discovered. As they approached the woods Susan had the 
distinct impression that she was hearing the mysterious noise again, but she 
dismissed it as being merely a figment of her imagination. They walked 
through the field as quickly as they could. The woods were less than thirty 
yards away now, and getting closer. In a matter of minutes they would be 
back at the Academy and, hopefully, nobody would know that they had ever 
been gone. 

As they walked Cindy began to wonder about that mysterious noise Susan had 
heard. She was beginning to hear it herself now, but of course that was just 
her imagination. Still, it did sound as though there were motorcycles quite 
nearby. 

Cindy turned to her blonde companion and nodded in the direction of the 
woods. "If you ask me, I think that we should... " 

She never had a chance to finish the sentence. Because suddenly her voice 
was drowned out by the deep-throated roar of engines, and the next thing the 
girls knew, two motorcycles were shooting out of the woods and coming 
directly towards them! 

Both girls screamed and turned away, running frantically in the opposite 
direction. As they did so, the roar of motors grew louder, and two more 
motorcycles appeared from the direction of the highway and started to run 
them down! 

Panicking, Cindy tapped the younger girl on the shoulder as they ran. "We've 
got to spread out!" she yelled to Susan, feeling her legs begin to weaken 
from running. "We've got to separate! That's the only way we'll get away 
from them!" 

Susan nodded, and the two girls turned and ran in two opposite directions, 
and then Cindy almost fainted from fright, because yet another motorcycle 
was coming towards her! She turned to see how Susan was faring, and saw that 
the same thing had happened; a sixth cycle was bearing down on them and 
getting closer all the time! 

They were surrounded! 

Seeing that there was no possible chance of escape, Cindy stopped running. 
Susan, being a sensible girl, did likewise. The two of them looked on in 
helpless terror as the six burly choppers converged in a circle around them, 
a circle from which there seemed to be no escape whatsoever. 

The motorcycle riders all cut their motors at the exact same instant, and 
now the only sound that Cindy could hear was her own heart, pounding like 
mad. Straining to get a grip on herself, she squinted through tear-stained 
eyes to get a good look at their tormentors. 

They were six men in motorcycle outfits, all young and all so muscular that 
they looked as though they could snap steel beams in half with one hand. 
Cindy unconsciously gulped in terror as she looked into the hard, savage 
faces of these six young men. These were not so much humans as savage 
brutes, creatures who lived merely for satisfying their own ruthless 
pleasures. 

Four of the youths, like Cindy and Susan, were white. Of the other two one 
was a tall, fierce-looking black man, and the other was a shorter youth of 
Hispanic origin, probably Puerto Rican. There was a desperate, almost 
furtive look in the Hispanic youth's eyes, almost as though he were 
constantly running from some unknown pursuer. 

Cindy turned to look at the white men. One was short and squat. He wore a 
shiny black leather jacket covered with nickel studs, and over his left eye 
socket was a black leather patch with a single stud set in its center. Cindy 
shuddered and looked away from him hastily. 

The next man she saw was slightly taller and very thin. He wore sunglasses, 
and his head twitched up and down spasmodically on his neck. Probably some 
sort of dope addict, Cindy told herself. The man seemed to be at peace with 
the world, but she thought that she could catch an underlying current of 
viciousness running through him somehow. 

Straddling a motorcycle not too far from this man was another one, a much 
larger one with flaming red hair, scraggly beard, a hawk-like nose and 
piercing eyes. There was a decidedly foreign look about this man, and Cindy 
knew that she would have to look sharp when he was around. 

But the sixth man looked more dangerous still. He was at least six and a 
half feet tall, and his shoulders stood out powerfully. A thin scar 
traversed his face from temple to chin, and a look of animalistic lust shot 
out from his eyes. This man was obviously someone to look out for. He was 
obviously the leader of this gang, and he looked more dangerous than all the 
others put together. 

The two captive schoolgirls stood there helplessly, waiting for their 
captors to make an opening gambit. The longer Cindy stood there the more she 
wondered why these men didn't speak, or move, or do anything at all. They 
merely stood there, seemingly gloating in their domination of the two young 
girls who were their captives. Cindy decided that the suspense was killing 
her; if these men didn't do something damned soon, she decided that she 
would somehow have to take matters into her own hands. 

Just then a buzzing noise came at her from the distance, and Cindy perked up 
her ears. Another motorcycle was coming! She noticed that the men around her 
looked as though they were waiting for whoever was riding that motorcycle to 
come and join them. Presently the red-haired girl could make out the shape 
of the seventh chopper coming towards them from the highway. Two of the men 
who were standing before her moved their vehicles out of the way slightly, 
to allow the seventh rider to pull up between them. 

The motorcycle ground to a halt, and both girls gasped when they caught a 
glimpse of its rider. They had expected some sort of muscle-bound, 
supermacho stud, but instead the person who pulled up in front of them was a 
voluptuous woman! 

She looked to be about twenty-four years old at the most, with three feet of 
bright orange hair streaming from her head. The chick's face was sharp and 
angular, at the same time both fantastically beautiful and unspeakably ugly. 
If the Devil were a woman, she would have a face like that. 

The woman motorcyclist had on black leather hip boots and matching 
elbow-length gloves, and between the gloves and the boots was a one-piece 
leather garment that tightly encased the body within, showing it off in all 
its splendor. Down the front of the garment, starting in the deep valley 
between the woman's mountainous breasts and working its way down to her 
glistening crotch, was a shining metal zipper. 

Dangling limply from the woman's contemptuous lips was the smoldering stub 
of a reefer. She plucked this from her mouth now and tossed it to the earth, 
grinding it derisively with one booted heel. Then she dismounted from her 
motorcycle and strode slowly and sensually towards the largest of the men, 
the one with the scar and the mean look. 

She nodded coldly in the direction of the two innocent schoolgirls. "What've 
we got here, Scar?" she wanted to know. 

The huge man named Scar grinned in reply. 

"We got us a coupla pussies, Diana," he gloated. "An' if you ask me, tonight 
we're gonna have us a fuckin' orgy!" 

"I didn't ask you," she replied icily, stepping away from him and striding 
towards the girls. Looking them up and down even more lecherously than the 
men had, she demanded sharply: "What's your names?" 

It took several moments for the two frightened girls to work up the courage 
to answer this, but at last Cindy managed to gulp down her fears and tell 
this sadistic-looking woman who they were and what their names were. 

The woman named Diana seemed pleased with that. "Cindy and Susan, hey?" she 
repeated. "Cute names." Her eyes ran appraisingly up and down the girls' 
delicious bodies as she spoke. "Cute bodies, too." 

Susan was scared. Less than five minutes ago she and her friend Cindy had 
been enjoying some good weed, and now they had fallen into the hands of six 
lascivious, demented men, and their female leader who looked even more 
sex-hungry than all the men did put together. 

The leather boy named Scar piped up again in his gruff voice. "Hey, Diana, 
whaddya say we take these pussies with us? They might come in handy some 
cold winter night." He burst into an attack of sadistic laughter at his own 
joke. 

The laughter was cut short as Diana's gloved hand flew to the man's throat. 
"Shut up, Scar, you simp," she barked. "I give the orders, not you. You're 
here to obey them. Get that through your head or it'll be the worse for 
you." 

Scar nodded resentfully. Cindy could see that this man felt he should be the 
leader of the cycle gang, and that he was angry about being humiliated by 
Diana in front of his comrades and the two girls. 

Diana went back to her bike now and snapped the fingers of one hand 
impatiently. Instantly her male followers looked up, alert and ready to do 
her bidding. Pointing to the rider with the red beard, Diana called out: 
"Angus." 

"Aye, lass," he replied, ready to serve her. "Tell me what ye might want an' 
I'll be doin' it." The way Angus was standing he looked to Cindy even more 
dangerous than Scar had. It occurred to the girl that Angus might very well 
be the only one of these men who could really stand up to Diana and live to 
tell the tale. 

Diana called out: "Big Nig", and the huge black man leaped to attention. To 
this man and Angus, the huge woman ordered: "Get the chains and the hoods. I 
want you to tie these chicks up good and tight." 

"I dig," called out Big Nig. Cindy didn't know what to make of what was 
going on. But one thing was painfully obvious: she and Susan were in a hell 
of a lot of trouble. 

The tall, powerful Scotsman and the even more powerful black man were 
pulling knapsacks from the rear of their choppers and delving into them, 
searching for some unknown objects. At last the one named Big Nig gave a cry 
of triumph and pulled a length of stout iron chain from his bag. Cindy 
nearly fainted. 

Angus had some chain of his own, and both of the men were holding crumpled 
objects of black leather that looked decidedly unfriendly. 

Big Nig walked up to Cindy, holding the chain between his huge hands so 
tightly that the links bit into his flesh, turning the black skin white from 
the pressure. 'Turn around, bitch," the African ordered. "Turn around an' 
put yo' hands behind yo' back." 

Cindy didn't move. Maybe these bastards had captured her, but she wanted to 
prove to them that she had as much guts as they did, and probably more. Any 
simp can talk big when the cards are stacked his way, but when you're 
outnumbered and up against the wall it takes real balls to stand up to 
people who try to hassle you. 

Cindy may have been a beautiful chick, but she still had as much balls as 
any man. She didn't move. 

"Turn around, bitch," the black man repeated, jingling the chain 
threateningly. 

Cindy didn't move. 

"Get tough, man," whispered Diana softly. 

CRACK! The huge chain lashed out and caught Cindy full in the face. She 
staggered backwards and fell. There was a hot sticky taste in her mouth, the 
taste of blood. 

She looked up, and saw that Big Nig had straddled her body like some mighty 
colossus. On either side of her helpless form were the heavy black 
motorcycle boots, while directly above her was the black man's bulging 
crotch. 

He stepped back so that she could stand. "Get back," he ordered, and this 
time Cindy knew that she had to obey. Apparently she would be allowed to 
stay alive only so long as she obeyed orders implicitly. 

Big Nig turned her around and placed her hands behind her back. Cindy winced 
in pain as she felt the cold iron bite into her wrists, binding them 
together so securely that she seriously doubted they would ever separate. A 
moment later she could feel the other end of the chain being pulled 
uncomfortably tight about her slender ankles, preventing her from running 
away and even making it difficult for her to stand upright. Out of the 
corner of one eye she glimpsed Angus giving the same treatment to Susan. Oh 
well, Cindy told herself, as long as they've got our ankles chained together 
they can't rape us. 

The chains were bound securely now, and Cindy found herself wondering what 
sort of atrocity would be next on the agenda. 

She didn't have long to wonder. Big Nig was holding up the black leather 
object, and she now saw that it was a mask to cover the entire head, with no 
slits for the eyes or mouth. A lacing arrangement in the rear of the mask, 
culminating in a padlock, saw to it that the mask would stay where it was 
put. 

Ignoring the poor girl's protests, the huge black man pulled the mask over 
her head, plunging Cindy into darkness. She felt something strike her cheek, 
and saw that where the mouth opening of the mask ought to be, there was 
instead a rubber object shaped like a six-inch long penis. The next thing 
Cindy knew, the thick phallus was thrust into her mouth and down her throat, 
gagging her. She could feel Big Nig pulling tight the laces in the back of 
the mask, and locking the padlock. 

With no holes for her mouth or ears and with that artificial cock in her 
mouth, Cindy was now deaf, dumb and blind. Two tiny apertures allowed her to 
breath, and by twisting her eyes at an agonizing angle she could look 
through one nostril-hole and make out a green object, but the hole was too 
small for her to make out what it was. Obviously the breathing holes would 
be no good for looking through. Cindy sighed and shut her eyes. She felt 
like crying, but she knew that that would do no good. 

The iron chain was holding her wrists and ankles securely, with a foot or so 
of chain in between acting as a handle. Big Nig now seized this handle and 
pulled his captive roughly into the air. Being unable to see, hear, speak or 
move she was no longer a human being. She was now merely an object, a 
plaything in the cruel hands of this sadistic sex fiend. 

Cindy could feel herself being carried through the air and then being bent 
over something, ass upwards. The thing she was leaning on felt like the rear 
of a motorcycle, and she had the idea that somewhere quite nearby another 
cycle was groaning under the weight of her friend Susan's luscious body. 
Through the thick leather mask Cindy could vaguely make out noises that 
sounded like a chain jangling, and a moment later she could feel her body 
being chained by the forearms and thighs to the rear of this chopper. 

Suddenly a hand brushed against her captive buttocks, and then it was 
burrowing into her panties, feeling the firm cheeks of her ass. Cindy 
gasped, and involuntarily bit down on the rubber cock she was being forced 
to suck. "We won't need these anymore, she heard a voice say, and then her 
panties were being pulled down her legs and off her body. 

Then the woman named Diana was saying something, but Cindy was unable to 
make it out through the thick mask. A moment later she felt the hot throb of 
the motorcycle directly beneath her as it roared into life, and then she 
could feel herself being carried across the field and onto the highway. 

Cindy knew she was in trouble. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

Having nothing better to do, Cindy began to assess her own and Susan's 
chances of survival. They were two girls against six men and one woman, but 
Cindy knew that in a fight she could not depend upon Susan for much help. 
She would have to do it all alone, and having to help Susan escape would 
make things all the harder for Cindy. 

She began to size up the enemy. The really dangerous one was definitely 
Diana. Getting rid of her would be like killing the queen bee. Cindy would 
have to attack her suddenly, with everything she had and all at once, and 
depend heavily on the element of surprise. She knew that in a fair fight 
Diana could easily paint the ceiling with her. 

And one of the leather boys had seemed to be a junkie, which meant that he 
might not offer too much of a threat. In fact, Cindy felt that she might 
possibly win him over to her own side, with promises of drugs... and 
possibly sex. 

She wasn't sure that she would ever get out of these chains, but she was 
positive that eventually the mask would be taken off her head, if only so 
that she would be forced to witness the atrocities that they performed upon 
her. 

The motorcycle began to pick up speed, and Cindy could feel the cold air 
whipping through her flimsy skirt and battering itself against her naked 
ass. It was extremely degrading to he here bound and restrained like this, 
without even the benefit of panties to keep out the cold air. 

After what seemed to be an eternity of riding, an infinity of bumps and 
potholes jarring her battered body, Cindy could at last feel the motorcycle 
pull off the highway and slow to a stop. She could vaguely make out shouts 
and the sounds of many running feet coming closer to her. 

A moment later firm hands were undoing the chains from her body, and then 
the helpless girl was pushed off the motorcycle frame and plummeting to the 
ground. Cindy hit the earth with such force that she bit right through the 
artificial cock in her mouth and very nearly swallowed it. 

Someone was pulling her to her feet and unlocking the padlock that held the 
mask over her head. A moment later a barrage of daylight hit Cindy in the 
eyes, rendering her even blinder than she had been already. She staggered 
backwards and moaned in pain. 

Suddenly Cindy felt a firm hand grasp her wrist, twisting her arm behind her 
back and bringing her to her knees. As her kneecaps hit the hard earth she 
moaned again and began to sob. 

Diana was towering over her. Behind her, standing at a respectful distance, 
were Scar, the Puerto Rican, and the short man with the eyepatch. Cindy now 
noticed that the man had no left hand, merely a steel hook encased in a 
black leather harness that bound it to his wrist. 

Diana walked right up to Cindy, standing scant inches away from her. There 
was contempt in the dominatrix's eyes that was impossible to mask, so deep 
was it. Slowly one hand reached towards the captive girl, long fingers 
flexing in a black leather glove. 

CRACK! The powerful hand slapped her, then backhanded her, and Cindy felt 
her head explode in pain. Her eyes caught on fire and her tongue rolled 
backwards in her mouth until she was afraid that she would choke on it. 

As her head went backwards, Cindy caught a glimpse of the man who was 
holding her arm behind her back: Big Nig. He seemed to derive some perverted 
satisfaction in giving her pain and humiliation in this way. 

Diana nodded masterfully to the powerful black man. "Let her up, Nig," she 
hissed coolly, rolling the words around on her tongue as though she were 
making oral love to them. To herself Diana was thinking: This is going to be 
good, this is going to be sweet. These are two of the best-looking cunts 
I've found in a long time. I must be sure and make this last as long as 
possible. 

Diana's hand flew out again, clutching at the soft submissive flesh of her 
captive's chin. She lifted Cindy's head so that the girl was forced to look 
her full in the eyes, then she twisted the girl's head sharply to the left. 
A cry escaped from Cindy's lips as she witnessed the atrocity that was going 
on not far away from her. 

Susan was still chained to one of the other motorcycles, her ripe white ass 
pointing up to the sky. Like Cindy, her panties had been torn away and flung 
aside as an article for which there was no longer any further use. And 
Susan's short yellow skirt had been pushed up around her hips and waist, 
putting her bare buttocks on display for all the world to see. 

The fellow named Angus was holding a whip in both hands, caressing it with 
his fingers, making passionate love to it. He raised his head and nodded to 
the thin junkie, who was standing not too far away. 

Slowly, eagerly, with the air of a man who wants things to be done with 
maximum efficiency, the dope addict seized Susan's skirt and pushed it 
farther up against her body, until it was directly under her breasts. Now 
there was absolutely nothing to stand between the buttocks and the lash. 

But to make completely sure of it, the junkie reached into an inner pocket 
of his jacket and produced a whisk broom. Solemnly he brushed off the girl's 
ass, as though preparing it for the ordeal that was to come. 

Angus was holding the butt of the whip in his left hand and the flail in his 
right. He spread his arms, to put as much tension upon the whip as possible, 
and then he released his right hand, sending the business end of the lash 
careening skyward. 

It seemed to Cindy as though the whip were sailing through its course in 
slow motion. As seen through her eyes, it took five minutes from the time 
the whip began its flight of pain and passion to the time it caressed 
Susan's throbbing butt. 

She saw the tip of it dangling a fraction of an inch from Susan's captive 
buttocks. In an instant or so, the blonde girl would be screaming in pain. 
Cindy could not turn away, because Diana was forcing her to look. So she 
shut her eyes tightly. 

A howl of unearthly agony tore at Cindy's eardrums, and she winced as she 
imagined what had happened to her comrade. Then suddenly hot pain was 
shooting through Cindy's face, and in the shock she opened her eyes. Diana 
was glaring at her. "Do not think to shut your eyes again, bitch," she 
commanded. " I want you to feast upon every crumb of pain that your young 
friend is being subjected to. If you do not care to witness it, then I shall 
be forced to think of some way of MAKING you watch... such as cutting off 
your eyelids." 

Cindy shuddered. She knew that she could not prevent these monsters from 
torturing Susan, and that the only hope that either girl had of survival was 
for Cindy to protect herself as much as possible from the same punishment. 

So she forced herself to watch as the tall Scotsman's flail crisscrossed 
Susan's ass again and again, and each time it caressed her flesh Cindy found 
herself wincing in sympathy with her friend. 

Diana grinned cruelly. Past experience had taught her that the best way to 
do this was to abduct TWO girls at a time, and ALWAYS girls who knew each 
other well, who would stand by each other no matter what the price. In that 
way, whenever one girl was beaten or flogged or cut or raped BOTH girls 
would feel it, and the pleasure was automatically doubled. 

The brawny Scotsman's systematic whipping was getting faster and harsher 
every moment, until Cindy felt that she could no longer tolerate having to 
witness this. Susan was tottering on the brink of unconsciousness, so great 
was the agony. 

Cindy could stand it no longer. Turning her eyes towards the evil Diana, she 
asked: "How long are you going to go on torturing her like that?" 

Diana's pleasure was indescribable. "Until you agree to take her place." 
Cindy's eyes widened in amazement. "You have a choice, cunt. Either watch 
her be beaten to death or allow us to give her rightful punishment to you 
instead. " Cindy glared at the evil Diana balefully. "You people are 
SADISTS!" she accused. 

The huge crimson-haired woman only smiled more cruelly than ever, and in the 
background Cindy could make out the pained moanings of her friend Susan. 
"No," Diana informed Cindy at length. "We are not sadists, at least not in 
the clinical sense of the word. We get off on hurting people, true, but 
sadism is not our number one trip." She blew more tobacco smoke in Cindy's 
face as she spoke. "What we REALLY like is to LUCK." 

Diana saw by the puzzled look on her captive's face that Cindy did not 
understand. "It's really quite simple," she hastened to explain. "My boys 
here would really like to fuck you chicks. So would I, for that matter--I've 
got a nice collection of dildos. But we like to rough our victims up a 
little first." She smiled again, and Cindy could see a thread of saliva 
dangling from the evil woman's mouth. "You might say that this way we... 
tenderize the meat." Diana laughed at her own joke, laughed a little more 
than she should have. 

Cindy was getting desperate. She knew that it would be next to impossible 
for her to escape from this web of lust, and it would be even harder for her 
to take Susan with her, especially considering the weakened condition the 
blonde girl was in. Cindy saw that the only hope either one of them had 
would be for one of them to get away somehow so as to notify the police and 
rescue the others. 

Cindy decided that she would have to make the supreme sacrifice; she would 
have to allow these sex-crazed monsters to have their lustful way with her 
innocent, body, in the hope that she could win Susan's freedom while her 
friend was still in one piece. With any luck at all, Susan could call the 
cops and have them rescue Cindy and put these bastards behind bars where 
they belonged. 

The girl gulped. With a tongue grown dry and swollen from fear she managed 
to mutter: "I... I have a proposition for you." 

Instantly Diana held up one hand. "Hold your fire, Angus," she commanded, 
and instantly the tall Scotsman pulled his flail away from the striped flesh 
of Susan, who gave one final whimpering moan and lapsed into 
unconsciousness. 

They were all coming closer to hear what Cindy had to say. They had left 
Susan unguarded, but they knew that it would be quite some time before she 
would be able to get away. If ever. 

Diana brought her lustful face closer to that of her young captive. 'Talk 
fast, bitch," she ordered. "What's your deal?" 

"It's very simple," Cindy muttered. It was difficult to talk in this 
position. "But before I tell you you'll have to let me up." 

Diana frowned, but then she snapped her fingers. "Rican," she called out, 
and the short Hispanic youth pushed forward and brought Cindy to her feet. 
She frantically began to rub at her chafed wrists and ankles where the 
chains had been biting into her flesh. 

"Here's my proposition:" she told them. "If you let us go, you know we'll go 
straight to the cops. And you can't kill us, because if a certain person 
doesn't hear from us in three days the cops'll come looking for us. And when 
they look for us they'll find YOU." Actually there was no "certain person", 
but Cindy was hoping that these people would accept her bluff. She was 
hoping that, no matter how sadistic they might look, they would be hesitant 
at committing murder. Besides, if she and Susan did not get back to the 
Gladys M. Forsythe Academy pretty soon, the cops really WOULD be looking for 
them. 

The huge man named Scar scowled. 'The cops'll NEVER find us," he rumbled. 
"We've hid from 'em before an' we'll hide from 'em again. An' if they DO 
find us... " As he spoke the thumb of one hand ran lovingly up and down the 
blade of a flick knife. 

"Shut up, Scar," barked Diana, "and put that toy away!" She nodded at Cindy 
again. "Keep talking, kid." 

"Well," quavered the red-haired girl, beginning to regain her courage. "If 
you kill us, kidnap us, or let us go you're in trouble no matter what 
happens. So what I suggest is: let my friend Susie go, and I promise she 
won't mention any of this to anyone. You can do what you like with me." It 
was a brazen bluff, and Cindy knew it, but she hoped that her captors 
wouldn't see through the flaws in it. If they would only let Susan go, then 
sooner or later Cindy would find a way to escape their clutches and get back 
to civilization. 

"I don't like it," Scar growled thickly. "We got two pussies. Why should we 
let one o' 'em go just because the other one tells us to?" He ran a gnarled 
finger up and down the thin white line that had earned him his nickname. "I 
don't like it a bit." 

"Shut UP, damn you!" Diana hissed, flailing outwards with one leather-gloved 
hand. A moment later Scar was flat on his back, sprawled in the mud. "Damn 
it, Scar, I've told you time and time again that I give the orders here, not 
some two-bit half-wit dipshit twit like you. Now get that through your ugly 
little skull before I pound it in with a fuckin' sledgehammer." 

Scar wiped mud and blood from his face with the back of one hand. It was bad 
enough having to take this shit from a cunt like Diana, he reminded himself, 
but it was even worse with all the other guys around to see her give it to 
him. He promised himself that soon, very soon, there would be a slight 
change of leadership in this little social club. Yes; very, very soon. He 
wiped more grime from his leather jacket and struggled to his feet, trying 
hard to mask the resentment in his eyes, pretending that nothing at all had 
happened. 

Diana had turned back to Cindy now. "I have a slight counter-proposition for 
YOU," she said finally. "We happen to be-in case you haven't guessed yet-a 
motorcycle gang. We call ourselves the DeSades. Here's our proposition, 
honeycunt: we're gonna let you and your blonde friend join the DeSades. 
That's an honor not to be sneezed at. Once you're full-fledged members, you 
have the right to either ride with the pack or to resign and do what you 
want, provided you never come near us again." 

"Sounds fair to me," Cindy managed to say. This suggestion by Diana sounded 
a little TOO lenient, and Cindy couldn't help thinking that there must be 
some catch to it. 

"I ain't finished," Diana snarled. "Being offered membership in our little 
sewing circle is an honor not to be refused. If you turn it down, we'll be 
offended. So offended that we just might forget our manners and let Scar 
open up your necks a little with his nice can-opener. And if you DONT turn 
it down, then naturally we can't let you be members unless you pass the 
initiation rites." 

Here came the catch. "Just exactly what ARE the initiation rites?" Cindy 
wanted to know. 

"Never you mind," came the answer. "You'll find out in good time. An' if you 
PASS 'em... every thing's peachy keen. But if you DON'T pass 'em... " Diana 
let the sentence hang in the air unfinished. 

"What happens if we DONT pass?" Cindy inquired. She had a sinking feeling 
that she knew the answer to the question even before she answered it, but 
she wanted to be absolutely sure. 

Diana just grinned again, grinned that hateful, sadistic, animal leer that 
Cindy was learning to hate more and more all the time. "If you don't pass 
the initiation, then my buddy Scar here will just do a little whittling... 
on your tonsils. Comprende?" 

Cindy nodded mutely. She knew that she and Susan would HAVE to allow 
themselves to be subjected to the fiendish perversities of the initiation 
ceremony, and that they would HAVE to pass every test. Because, if they 
didn't pass, there would be no way out... 

* * * 

After several minutes of moaning and writhing, Susan eventually crawled out 
of her unconscious state, and Cindy explained to her what they were up 
against: that they would have to allow these monsters to "initiate" them, 
and that if they did not perform as well as they were expected to, there 
would never be a second chance. 

"I don't like it one bit," Susan complained. "You and I both know we'll 
never get out of this so-called initiation alive. Why don't we just make a 
run for it?" 

For answer Cindy pointed to a shadow not too far away. "THAT'S why," she 
muttered pessimistically. The shadow came closer, and Susan was staring into 
the single eye of the gang member known as Patch. His battered hand and his 
gleaming hook caressed a rifle in a way that suggested he knew exactly what 
to do with it. 

"I have my eye on you chicks," he warned them, and laughed sardonically at 
his own joke. "Go ahead. Escape. Be my guests. We'll only catch you again. 
And when we catch you you won't like what we'll do to you." 

Neither girl had to ask him to enlarge upon that statement. But Cindy knew 
that the suspense of having to wait here for their fate to be decided was 
almost as agonizing as the whips and the chains had been. "What's taking so 
long with the initiation, Patch?" she inquired. 

"MISTER Patch to you cunts," he told her sharply. "And what's takin' so long 
is: Diana and the others are tryin' to decide exactly what to do to you in 
this initiation." He grinned at them in the same way that Diana had. "I 
can't tell yuh what it'll be, but I guarantee it'll be nice an' painful... 
and slow." 

Cindy had noticed how Scar had seemed to resent Diana's domineering nature, 
and she knew that the best way to escape from this nightmare would be to 
create dissension amongst the members of the gang, to turn them all against 
their leader and each other. Smiling sweetly, Cindy told Patch: "It's funny 
that YOU'RE the only one who wasn't invited to the meeting. Doesn't Diana 
value your opinion?" 

That had hit a sore spot, Cindy could tell. "Sure she does," Patch replied, 
sounding as though he were trying to convince himself rather than Cindy. 
"But SOMEBODY'S gotta guard you pussies. So Diana gave the job to the most 
reliable man she had." 

"Maybe so," Cindy replied, "but if you ask me that's not the REAL reason she 
had you guard us." 

Patch looked curious. "Huh? Now what the Hell is THAT supposed to mean?" 

"Oh, nothing, nothing." Cindy turned towards her blonde companion. "Hey, 
Sue, did I tell you about the time all those boys and I went over to... " 
She felt the cold steel of a rifle barrel prodding against her firm breasts. 

"Cut da shit, bitch," Patch snarled viciously. "I wanna know what you meant 
by what you said just now." 

Cindy hadn't expected her plan to work so well. "Well, it's nothing really," 
she told him. "It's just that it seems to me that the REAL reason Diana 
didn't want you in on the initiation meeting was because she was afraid 
you'd come up with better ideas than she would, and in front of all the 
other gang members, too. Naturally she doesn't want the rest of the gang to 
know that you're as good a leader as SHE is." She winked at him 
conspiratorially. "But, of course, I noticed THAT right away. And so did 
Susan here. And if you help us pass the initiation and get into the DeSades, 
I can guarantee you'll have our support when you take over the leadership of 
the gang." 

Patch seemed to be interested by that. "Well, lemme tell yuh something," he 
announced. "It happens that I been CONSIDERIN' takin' over this outfit for 
quite some time, an' I... " 

He never finished the statement, because a moment later a leather gloved 
hand was reaching out of nowhere and encircling his thick throat. "And you 
WHAT?" demanded a voice, the voice of the lesbian Diana. A switchblade 
flicked into existence and pressed against Patch's neck. "Go on, Patchy 
Boy," she taunted him. 'This sounds interesting. And you what?" 

Bullets of perspiration were breaking out all over the gang member's skull, 
and one trickle of sweat dripped down across his black leather eyepatch, 
causing it to glisten almost obscenely. The one-eyed man gulped. "Hell, 
Diana," he stammered, trying to laugh it off and not succeeding very well. 
"You know I was just kiddin'. Ain't nobody but you with guts enough to run 
this outfit. I was only kiddin'." 

Diana's face was totally devoid of expression, and somehow that made her 
seem both ravishingly beautiful and horribly ugly at the same time. "Maybe 
you were jokin' and maybe you weren't," she announced with a low growl. "But 
next time you start jokin' like that I may just laugh so hard I'll forget 
what I'm doin' and kind of accidentally slit your throat. I can make jokes 
too, Patch. Jokes that'll make you die laughing." The blade of the knife 
pressed harder against his skin. "Get the point, Patch?" The woman laughed 
viciously, and then a moment later Patch was sprawled full length in the 
dirt. 

Diana made a gesture with one hand and instantly all the other DeSades had 
converged upon the spot. "Okay, chicks," Diana informed the two helpless 
schoolgirls, "I'm sure you'll both be pleased to know that we've all agreed 
to accept you as members of our gang. PROVIDED, of course, that you pass the 
little initiation I mentioned. And you'll be glad to hear that we've decided 
exactly what that initiation will consist of." 

"Good," declared Cindy. She was determined to show this demented woman that 
neither she nor Susan had lost their nerve. "Now maybe you'll have the 
hospitality to tell Sue and I exactly what you plan to do with us." 

Diana seemed to' think that that was one hell of a funny joke, judging by 
the way she laughed at it. Cindy didn't like the way these bastards laughed 
at the drop of a hat; it implied that to them this whole affair was one big 
picnic, that Cindy and Susan were not human beings at all but mere sexual 
playthings. 

Finally Diana stopped laughing. She gazed coldly at Cindy, with the look of 
a snake about to gobble down its prey. Cindy wanted to turn away from those 
eyes that were boring into her body, but somehow she saw that she couldn't. 
She felt as though she were being hypnotized, being stripped of her will. 
Soon she would be merely a robot, a body without a mind, forced to obey the 
commands of her captors. 

Diana lit another cigar and jabbed it significantly in Cindy's direction. 
"Since you insist," she said icily, "the initiation we're gonna give you is 
one that we haven't used in a while, but it's one of our favorites. It's 
called the Seven Gates to Hell, because there's seven parts to it, and you 
gotta pass them ALL if you expect to survive." She stuck the tobacco-filled 
phallus between her ripe lips and puffed smoke at her two young captives. 
"Needless to say, each part of the initiation gets a little bit harder than 
the part before it." 

"We can handle it," Cindy assured her. It was vital that both girls keep 
their cool, that they not back down in front of Diana or any of her men. 
Cindy hoped that Susan would be able to hold out under the strain of the 
ordeal. 

Susan looked as defiant as Cindy. "We can handle it," the young blonde girl 
repeated. "Maybe you'd like one or two of your boys to go through the 
initiation WITH us to see if they're as tough as we are." 

A snarl flitted across Diana's lips. "Don't you worry about none of my men," 
she growled threateningly. "Just worryin' about YOURSELF oughta be a 
full-time job from now on." 

Cindy stepped forward, eager to change the subject. "Suppose we just get 
down to business," she suggested. "The sooner we start this initiation the 
sooner we'll get it over with." 

She didn't like the way some of the DeSades had laughed at that. 

Diana had a look on her face that reminded Cindy of someone who is about to 
dig into an extremely succulent meal, and who looks forward to it with the 
greatest of pleasure. Diana made a lazy gesture with one hand and pointed at 
two of her men: the big Negro and the junkie. "Big Nig, Needles," she called 
out to them. 'Take these pussy-holes over to the meeting room. Prepare them 
for the First Gate." Instantly the two gang members came forward, eager to 
do their mistress's bidding. 

Cindy was wondering what the "meeting room" was, but she didn't have to 
wonder for long. Big Nig and Needles seized the two girls and walked them 
through a clump of trees towards what looked like a deserted farmhouse. 
Apparently the DeSades had appropriated this stretch of land as their own 
private turf, the place they used in order to hide from the police and to 
bring their sexual hostages to. And it was a well-chosen spot, too: if Cindy 
had driven past here on the highway she never would have been able to find 
the place, even if she had known where to look. 

With one powerful foot Big Nig kicked open the farmhouse door, pushing Cindy 
through the black cavity of the doorway to land in a heap on the hard floor. 
A moment later Needles, the dope freak, was pushing Susan into the room, and 
then the door was being pushed shut again, plunging the room into absolute 
darkness. 

This was their chance to escape! She and Susan were alone with two of the 
gang members, one of whom was a junkie and hence not in very strong 
condition. In the darkness it ought to be easy to get away from them and 
escape out a back door or a window. 

She felt a hand brush against one of her breasts, probing in the darkness 
for the hard point of her nipple. It was literally now or never. "NOW!" 
Cindy shouted to Susan in the inky blackness. "RUN! GET OUT OF HERE!" 

The hand took a firmer grip on her breast. Cindy, knowing that a man's hand 
is usually attached to the same body as a pair of nuts, lashed out with one 
foot for where the nuts ought to be. She felt her foot hit something soft 
and there was a groan of unearthly agony, and then the dull thud of a body 
hitting the floor. Cindy turned and ran through the darkness, not knowing 
whether Susan was ahead of her or behind her. 

Without any light to see by, the terrain of the room was totally unknown to 
Cindy, and a moment later she felt the sharp edge of a tabletop leap out of 
the darkness and strike her in the gut. She collapsed against it heavily, 
feeling a strong urge to vomit. Ahead of her Cindy heard a crash of broken 
glass and the voice of Susan whimpering "Let me go!", followed by some 
undecipherable mutterings by Needles. Apparently the young junkie could see 
in the dark better than the two schoolgirls could. 

Cindy was sprawled full length across the hard wooden tabletop. She tried to 
stand, to rush to her friend's aid, but before she could get up she felt the 
ponderous weight of Big Nig come crashing down on top of her. "I wouldn't 
try to get up if I was you, white girl," he gloated. "Unless, o' course, 
y'all is in a big hurry to commit suicide." 

In the darkness she could feel his huge hot hands seizing her wrists, and 
then she could feel ropes being tied around her wrists and pulled tight. 
From the darkness in the distance, Cindy could hear strange noises, and she 
could only guess at the nature of the atrocities that Needles was inflicting 
upon poor Susan. 

But a moment later Cindy didn't have time to worry about Susan, because too 
many things were being done to Cindy herself. She could feel Big Nig 
snatching at her clothes, tearing them from her flesh. The strong fabric of 
her bra dug into her breasts, struggling not to be stripped from Cindy's 
body, but after a few seconds it was ripping away. And then Cindy's shoes 
and stockings and skirt were going too, and she was stark naked and 
shivering in the cold darkness. She was scared, but her fear was nothing 
compared to her humiliation at being divested of her clothing by this big 
uncouth black man. 

Cindy tried to struggle, to thrash her legs wildly in the faint hope that 
this would help her somehow, but Big Nig merely laughed at this. In the 
darkness she could feel him seize her thighs with his strong hands and press 
them against the table legs, and then stout ropes were encircling Cindy's 
ankles and restraining them against the wood of the table legs. Cindy was 
naked, tied up, and bent over the table with her ass pointing out as though 
begging all comers to help themselves to a piece. All in all, it was not the 
best of all possible positions to be in. 

But the girl did not have much time to dwell upon the thought, because a 
moment later the door was kicked open again. There came the sound of a hand 
against a light switch, and then the room was filled with the harsh glare of 
several naked light bulbs. The bulbs were painted red, so that the light 
they emitted was also red. It made the room look as though it were catching 
on fire, and indeed Cindy could feel herself getting unpleasantly hot just 
at the thought of it. The space between her thighs was even hotter than the 
rest of her was. 

In fact, the eerie red glow made the entire room look just like some sort of 
torture chamber in the depths of Hell. Which was only fair, because that was 
more or less exactly what it was. It was a torture chamber, and, even if 
Cindy and Susan were not in Hell, they were in a Hell on earth. Pretty soon 
the real Hell would seem like a vacation spot in comparison to this place. 
Cindy looked across the room, and through the dim red glow she could see 
that Susan was in the same condition she was: stark naked, bent over a table 
and trussed up like some sort of sacrificial offering. Susan was looking at 
her red-haired companion Cindy, and the expression on her face was not at 
all pleasant. Cindy knew that it was vitally important that both she and 
Susan hang onto their courage and their hope to escape. No matter what the 
cost, they would have to keep these things, or they would lose everything 
they had. Including what was left of their lives. 

Diana strode into the room, followed at a respectful distance by the members 
of her gang. She stood between the two tables, where both the young 
prisoners could not help but look at her, and paused to inspect her men's 
handiwork with an expert eye. She nodded in satisfaction. This was going to 
be very good, she promised herself. This was going to be very good indeed. 

Stepping to one side slightly so that both schoolgirls could see her face, 
Diana addressed them both. "You have now attempted to gain entrance to the 
Seven Gates of Hell," she informed them ominously. " 'Abandon hope all ye 
who enter here.' " She checked to see that her men were ready for what was 
to follow before she continued. "The First of the Seven Gates to Hell," she 
announced. "The First Gate is known as: the Gang-Bang." 

 CHAPTER THREE 

A gang-bang! Poor Cindy shuddered at the mere thought of being ravished and 
violated by all these perverts. And she remembered that Diana had promised 
that each successive Gate of the Seven Gates to Hell would be worse than the 
one before it. If Gate One was a gang-bang, what would Gate Seven be like? 
Cindy couldn't begin to imagine it, and she wasn't too sure that she wanted 
to. The way things were going right now, she and Susan would be damned lucky 
to survive Gate Three. 

Diana snapped her fingers as a signal to her men, and they stepped forward, 
eager to do her bidding. She did not have to tell them what to do, for they 
had taken part in so many other feasts of the flesh that by now they knew 
exactly what had to be done. 

Scar and Rican came over to Cindy's table, while Angus and Patch crossed the 
room and strode towards the table where Susan was bound. Straining slightly, 
the men turned each table one hundred and eighty degrees, so that the two 
girls who had been looking directly at one another now had their backs to 
each other. Cindy could appreciate the sane thinking behind this last 
maneuver. Now, with their backs to each other, neither girl would be able to 
see what gruesome indignities were being forced upon her companion. Even 
though they would not be able to SEE each other being raped and tortured 
they would be able to HEAR it, and the sounds they would hear, coupled with 
their fevered imaginations, would have a much greater effect than the truth 
could ever have. Apparently these aptly-named DeSades knew exactly what they 
were doing, and that fact of life made it all the more unlikely that Cindy 
and Susan would ever leave this nightmare alive. 

Out of the corner of one befogged eye Cindy could dimly make out Diana 
striding towards the light switch. She heard the door to the outside world 
slam shut with a bang, and a moment later they were plunged into pitch-black 
darkness. 

Cindy could hear heavy footsteps on the floor behind her, footsteps made by 
men's feet clad in heavy motorcycle boots. Apparently all six of the men 
were standing between the two girls, waiting impatiently for the festivities 
to begin. 

From somewhere in the darkness the sharply sadistic voice of Diana assailed 
Cindy's tortured ears. "At my signal the initiation will begin," she 
intoned, and Diana's voice unattached to Diana's body was even more 
frighteningly awesome than Cindy would have imagined. She could feel herself 
breaking into a cold sweat. She didn't know how Susan was taking all this, 
and she prayed that Susan would faint at the very beginning of the 
atrocities and not wake up until they were over. 

But they would never be over. 

"The initiation is about to begin," Diana announced. "Each of our two 
inductees is to receive two men at once: one in the vagina, from the rear, 
and the other through the mouth. It will be... " 

"Aw, hell, Diana," complained a thick masculine voice, a voice that Cindy 
recognized even in the darkness as coming from Scar. "You know that I like 
t' ass-fuck. Why can't we ass-fuck 'em for a change?" 

There was a sound of steel upon flesh, and then Scar was whimpering in pain. 
But Cindy knew that his pain would be as nothing compared to what she and 
Susan were about to be subjected to. 

"I don't want to have to tell you again, Scar," rasped the voice of Diana 
through the blackness. "I'M the one in charge here. If you forget that again 
I may just have to open up your head and NAIL it in next time." 

That's good, Cindy was thinking to herself. Keep on mistreating these guys, 
Diana. Pretty soon they'll all gang up on you. And then, like they say in 
the song, there'll be some changes made. 

Diana was still giving her instructions. "Each of our inductees will be 
fucked in the mouth and the twat, from behind, at the same time. Each man is 
entitled to the mouth of one girl and the cunt of the other one, but no 
more." Scar sounded as though he was going to protest that ruling, but he 
apparently thought better of it. He did not relish the thought of another 
confrontation with Diana so soon after the last one. 

"The ceremony of the First Gate will last exactly twenty minutes, no more no 
less," Diana proclaimed. "Within that period, our two subjects must make 
each man climax at least once. If they fail to do this, then they have 
failed the ceremony of the First Gate, and must not be allowed to survive 
for the ceremony of the Second." 

Even though Cindy was totally blind in the absolute darkness of that room, 
in her mind's eye she could still see Diana standing before her, legs wide 
apart, as she raised one hand commandingly and announced: "LET THE GAMES 
BEGIN!" 

What came next happened so fast that Cindy wasn't able to think about it 
until it was far too late. For suddenly a huge pillar of man-meat thrust 
itself between her throbbing thighs and into the tightness of her quivering 
vagina, and at the exact same time an even bigger wad of flesh was forcing 
its way into her mouth, across her tongue and down into her throat. Cindy 
felt like screaming, but she was unable to with that huge organ inside her 
mouth. Besides, no one would come to her aid, so what good could screaming 
do? 

The two pistons of lust had both gone into her with such force and such 
suddenness that all the air had been knocked out of Cindy's battered body, 
and now it was difficult for her to regain her breath what with that immense 
dong inside of her. And even as she struggled to breath she could feel both 
cocks plunging deeper and deeper into her flesh, until Cindy felt sure that 
they would meet in the middle and she would be impaled like a piece of meat 
on a spit. 

Deeper and deeper the peckers plunged. Was there no end to them? In Cindy's 
fevered mental state it seemed as though the two organs were literally 
endless, that they would just go into her farther and farther and farther, 
that they would PASS each other and both come out the other end, and that 
would be that. Not at all a very attractive proposition. 

Finally she could feel her face buried in the masculine stench of someone's 
groin, and at the same time she could feel someone else's muscular torso up 
against her body. So it looked as though the cocks had reached their limit! 

But Cindy was wrong. For now the two men who were within her began to pump, 
to send their organs shooting up and down inside of her in a frantic attempt 
to pierce their way another quarter-inch, another half-inch, another inch 
into her flesh. And there was nothing that Cindy could do. Nothing at all. 
Except to lie there and take it. 

Again and again the twin daggers of cock-flesh forced their way into her. 
They were now pumping in perfect unison; in together, out together, in 
together, out together, and Cindy found that the friction of those powerful 
phalluses was getting her hot against her will, was sucking her into a 
vortex of lust and a pit of passionate pleasure. Even though she despised 
these men for abducting her and stripping her and beating her and raping 
her, even though she despised them and loathed them with all of her might, 
still she had this feeling that in some strange and perverse way SHE WANTED 
THEIR COCKS, she longed for their meat, she hungered for their flesh. 

She didn't want it, but she longed for it. She hated it but she loved it. 
The faster and the harder the organs pumped, the more Cindy could feel 
herself being overwhelmed by a flood of confusion. She could not think 
properly. Her mind was just as helpless as her body. And, with both mind and 
body totally helpless, there was nothing she could do. Nothing at all. 
Except to lie there and take it. 

Suddenly she could feel the spear of meat within her pussy shake and throb, 
and then it was gushing red hot cock-sauce deep within her cunt. The man had 
creamed into Cindy's flesh! And then a moment later the pungent meat in her 
mouth began to erupt like a volcano, and its boiling molten lava was sliding 
across Cindy's tongue and down into her captive throat that lay in wait 
beyond. 

Cindy and Susan had been good friends for quite some time, and to a great 
extent they had lived through each other. So now, as Cindy felt those two 
cocks shooting out their love-juice into her body she could hear Susan 
moaning in involuntary passion as two other men did the exact same thing to 
her, and it seemed to Cindy as though she and Susan were the same person. Oh 
God, she thought to herself, I'm being fucked by four men at once. That 
thought was so overwhelming that Cindy herself very nearly had a climax. 
Almost had one, but not quite. 

Two men had creamed into her. Two down, she thought, and four to go. The 
ceremony of the First Gate was supposed to last for twenty minutes. Cindy 
couldn't tell if the ordeal had been going on for twenty seconds or for 
twenty years. It felt like an eternity of agony and a fleeting moment of 
pleasure at the same time, and this thought merely confused Cindy all the 
more. 

I just can't think and be fucked at the same time, she realized. I'm not 
made to think. I'm a woman. Women are made to be fucked; that's all they're 
good for. Men are the ones who are supposed to think. Men are the masters, 
men give the orders. Women are just supposed to lie down and get fucked. I'm 
glad I'm a woman. It feels nice to get fucked. 

WHAT AM I SAYING? Cindy's eyes widened in terror as she realized the nature 
of the thoughts that had just run through her battered head. It was 
definitely NOT her role in life to be a sex object. It was her role in life 
to get the hell out of here as fast as she fuckin' could! 

But there was no time to think about that, because now the two limp 
phalloids were crawling out of her flesh and two new ones, primed and at the 
ready, plunged into her. This time the shock of the double-entry bookkeeping 
was not quite so great to Cindy, because of what had gone before, but even 
so it was extremely strong. It was a pain, but it was a good pain somehow, a 
pain that she felt she deserved. I'm a woman, she repeated to herself, men 
are SUPPOSED to hurt me, if it makes them feel good. That's what I'm here 
for. 

And then Cindy realized what a lie that was. But why did she keep thinking 
it unless she believed it? And if she believed it then it was the truth, not 
a lie. But how could it be the truth if it was a lie? And how could it be a 
lie if it was the truth? Cindy could feel her brain shriveling up and 
blowing away. It hurts too much to think, she thought. But women don't have 
to think; just get fucked. NO! That's a LIE! Women are great thinkers! I can 
think as well as any man! I can think about these two huge cocks which are 
going into my... what am I saying? 

Cindy felt her brain explode, and then she could not think at all, only moan 
as the two gleaming pillars of flesh went deeper and deeper into her. 

And as they went into her she could feel the huge barrels of meat growing 
gradually bigger and harder and more tumescent, and the bigger they got the 
harder her body squeezed them, and the more it hurt and the better it felt, 
and the more it hurt the better it felt. The better it felt. The better it 
felt. The better it better it better it felt. 
Thebetteritbetteritbetteritfelt. 

And then, suddenly, suddenly, thuddingly suddenly, both cocks were creaming 
at once, and Cindy screamed in boundless passionate delight as she felt the 
twin volcanoes erupt and gush their hot torrents of molten love-lava deep 
down into her at the same time, rush into her faster and faster and harder 
and harder and more of it, more of it, more of it, more. 

There would never be enough. 

And then the cocks were out of her and Cindy moaned with pleasure as she 
felt two more phalluses coming towards her in the dim dank darkness. She 
wanted those cocks, she needed those cocks. Her twat was hot from those 
rock-hard cocks, and her mouth was full of the sweet cream from the cocks, 
and she wanted the cocks, the cocks, the cocks, she wanted those cocks in 
her hot twat box. 

And then they were going into her deeper and deeper and more and more, and 
ten million thoughts were bouncing around in Cindy's fevered head: I want 
their meat I want their meat I want their meat. All she could think of was 
more cock, more cock. Hundreds and thousands of organs were dancing before 
her eyes. 

The cocks went into her, deeper and deeper, and Cindy realized that in the 
darkness she could not tell which cock belonged to whom; the men themselves 
had lost their individuality, they were nothing but cocks to fuck her, cocks 
to fuck her, cocks to fuck her more and more. 

And she herself was no longer a person, she was merely a zero, a round hole 
in which these formless faceless dicks stuck themselves, shooting their hot 
rich cream into her waiting eager flesh. More of it, more of it. There had 
to be more. There had to be more, there never would be enough. 

More! 

MORE! 

Give me your cock! 

Give me your COCK! 

Give me your give me your give me your COCK! 

The rhythm of those frantic thoughts was beating through her brain. They 
filled her throbbing body with their pleasure and their pain. She wanted it, 
she wanted it, she wanted it again. She wanted it. She needed it, she had to 
have it. 

And then both men were creaming at once, and the pleasure for Cindy was so 
intense that she started to cream too, and it seemed to her as though she 
was creaming from her cunt and her mouth and her ass and her tits and her 
eyes and her ears and her whole damn body was caught up in an explosion of 
cream, glorious cream, more of it, more, more of it, more! 

As fast as her own cream was shooting out of her she could feel the cocks 
shooting more cream into her, and that made Cindy feel so good that she 
creamed again, and again and again, until she was sure she would never stop. 

But the pumping and the thumping and the bumping and the humping rose and 
swelled to a fever pitch, and Cindy could feel herself begin to scream, to 
scream and cream, to scream with pain and passion and agony and delight all 
mixed together and jumbled about. It was good, and she wanted it. It was 
bad, and she wanted it. It hurt, and because it hurt it felt good, and 
because it felt good she wanted it. Cindy wanted it all, and not even all of 
it would be enough. There would never be enough. She opened her mouth and 
her cunt at the same time to swallow all the cock in the world. 

"AAAAHHH! I want it, I want it, I want it! Give me cock, give me cock, give 
me cock cock COCK!" She wanted it all, she wanted it all. 

Suddenly Cindy felt a bolt of pain flash through her whole body, and then 
she was flying through the air and crashing painfully against the opposite 
wall. A huge powerful hand reached out and snatched her back into Reality. 

Diana, the dominatrix of the DeSades, knew all the ins and outs of pleasure 
and pain. She knew that, after sufficient degradation and humiliation and 
pain and rape the subject reaches a point where she actually WANTS to be 
hurt and humiliated and raped. And when that happens the sadist must 
instantly STOP hurting her, because at that point hurting her will make her 
feel good, and the only way to HURT her is by NOT hurting her. When the 
victim actually begs for the pain the tormentor must withhold the pain until 
the victim has creeped back to Reality, until she no longer wants the pain. 
And then, when she no longer wants the pain, that is the time that the pain 
can begin anew. And in larger doses... 

Cindy shook the carillons of pain from her throbbing head, and with the back 
of one hand she wiped feebly at the warm flow of blood in her mouth. A 
moment ago she had been in sexual heaven, but now she was in Hell. She was 
back within the torture chamber of these six insane sex maniacs, and the 
lecherous lesbian who led them. 

Diana smiled when she saw the fear and terror begin to well up inside 
Cindy's eyes. Her plan was working very well-, very well indeed. Give the 
girl pain until she wants it, and then bring her back to the real world in 
which pain is undesirable. 

Slowly, deliberately, masterfully, the powerful dominatrix strode across the 
room towards the huddled heap of ravished humanity that had once been Cindy. 
A single foot in a high-heeled boot lashed out and struck the girl's firm 
flesh. "Get up, bitch," Diana commanded. "Get up and take what you deserve." 

Oh my God, was all that Cindy could think. A moment ago these people had 
been hurting her with their daggerlike cocks and she had loved it. But now 
the very thought of that pain repelled her. She wanted to get out of here. 
But there was no way out. No way out at all. 

Diana kicked her again, kicked her square across the clit, and against her 
will Cindy creamed from the pain. "Get up, bitch! Do as I say or it will be 
the worse for you." 

With what felt like a superhuman effort Cindy managed to climb to her feet. 
Through one red-rimmed eye she saw that Susan was being given a similar form 
of persuasion on the opposite side of the room. 

Some gang member-Cindy was too confused to be able to tell who-seized 
Cindy's chin and forced her to look at Diana. The flame-haired vixen lashed 
out with one hand, and a moment later Cindy's face was a welter of pain-. 

"You have successfully passed through the First Gate," Diana told the two 
captive females, "and I feel that congratulations are in order, even though 
you are unworthy of them. Hopefully you are now ready to attempt entrance 
through the Second Gate." 

Cindy nearly fainted. With a courageous effort she managed to hang onto her 
conscious, but then she felt that she was going to get sick. If she did it 
in here, in the presence of all these sadists, it would be the last thing 
she would ever do. She HAD to hold it in, or else Death would be just around 
the corner. 

Cindy's tortured face and pain-wracked body went through a series of 
convulsions as she struggled valiantly to keep from vomiting. Diana saw what 
was going on and smiled. Sometimes it was good to have a little mercy, so 
that the victim would fail to become disciplined enough to survive the 
final, crushing blow. 

With a wave of magnanimity she turned to address both girls: "If there is 
anything you would like to do... other than trying to escape, of course... 
you have three minutes in which to do it." She gestured to the gang members 
to let them pass. There was a fleeting look on Scar's battered face as 
though he wanted to protest this leniency, but he remembered what had 
happened the last time he had spoken out of turn. 

Like lightning Cindy and Susan were bolting towards the door, stumbling and 
staggering from the after-effects of the orgasmic orgiastic ordeal. Cindy 
had both hands clamped over her mouth, and Susan did not look very healthy 
either. 

The two girls pounded out the door and sank gratefully into the soft cool 
grass that beckoned them. It seemed to Cindy as though she were completely 
expelling herself into the grass, as though she were vomiting and pissing 
and shitting and spitting and crying and creaming and everything else all at 
once, as though she were turning into a puddle of excretions. 

She wept. 

Finally she could feel a remnant of normalcy returning to her body, and she 
managed to pull herself into a sitting position. She saw that her friend 
Susan had already "done her thing" and was sitting and watching the gasping, 
groaning Cindy. Apparently Susan had endured the ordeal better than Cindy 
had. 

The two girls stared at each other for a long moment. At last Susan opened 
her mouth and out came: "Feeling better?" 

"Feeling less bad." Cindy seriously doubted that she would ever experience 
any sensation remotely resembling healthiness again. 

Susan stole a glance at the sweat-streaked, naked body of Cindy, then nodded 
at her decisively. "Now's our chance," she whispered hoarsely. "Nobody's 
watching us. Let's run." No sooner were the words out of the blonde girl's 
mouth when a bullet whined inches away from her left tit and sent splinters 
of rock rebounding from a nearby boulder. Apparently they WERE being 
watched, and being watched very closely. 

From somewhere or other a voice that sounded suspiciously like Diana's 
called out: "Ready for Gate Number Two?" 

Cindy fainted. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

She was dimly aware of a tightness around her body, as though she were 
heavily bound by cords or cables. Cindy found that she was unable to see or 
speak or hear. 

Had they deliberately blinded her and deafened her and muted her? Cindy 
wouldn't put it past them. She tried to move her arms and legs, and 
discovered that not only could she not move them, but that she couldn't even 
FEEL them? Had these sadistic monsters amputated her limbs? 

An even more horrible thought struck her: was she dead? It seemed to Cindy's 
fevered mind that she WAS dead, in fact she hoped it was true, because she 
knew that even the most painful of all deaths would be far more pleasant 
than the endless agony that she had just been subjected to. 

But no, she knew she was alive. Probably crippled, possibly maimed, but 
definitely alive. Damn it. 

The only question now was: how long would she be allowed to go on living 
before they crushed her like a helpless insect? Cindy had barely survived 
the First Gate, had she not been granted a three-minute rest period she 
might not have survived at all. Cindy knew with a certainty that she would 
never survive the Second Gate, even if it were to be less severe than the 
First had been. 

And Cindy knew that, however bad the First Gate had been, the Second would 
be infinitely worse. And the Third would be Hell Incarnate. And the 
Fourth... 

Cindy would not survive the Fourth. 

She would not survive the Third. 

For a moment she considered killing herself right then and there, killing 
herself with one quick, merciful stroke, and thereby give herself the 
pleasure of denying one more lascivious thrill to her tormentors. She knew 
that they wanted her to live, to live as long and as painfully as possible, 
so that when every last throe of agony had been wrung from her battered body 
then and only then would they begin the actual Death ceremony. And when 
Death finally did come, it would be slow and painful and mercilessly 
agonizing. 

Cindy screamed, but no sound came out. She was certain now that during her 
unconscious state those demented DeSades and their gleaming switchblades had 
been at work upon her body, blinding her, crippling her, making her even 
unable to scream. 

As they slowly lessened the wretched treatment her battered senses needed to 
begin functioning again. Now she could see and hear and feel and do 
everything else again. And now that she could sense things she didn't want 
to, because her senses told her that she was still in the clutches of the 
motorcycle gang, and that she was not going to escape. 

Not even through Death. Not even Death itself would be an escape from this 
web of pain and agony. There was no escape at all. 

"Feeling better?" a voice called out sarcastically, and Cindy did not have 
to ask whose voice it was. She could see Diana coming towards her, and the 
look in those piercing eyes was infinitely more evil than it had earlier 
been. 

Cindy saw that she and Suzy were huddled naked in a corner of the "torture 
chamber". Both of them had been bruised and scratched, and they'd even bled 
a little, but Cindy was surprised to see that the damage had been much less 
extensive than she had imagined it to be. She shuddered as the thought came 
to her that perhaps these people wanted them to remain reasonably healthy 
NOW, so that the pain would be all the more intense later on... 

Diana seemed to be psychic, because she laughed as this thought went through 
Cindy's brain. "No, bitch," Diana said cruelly, "we do not get our thrills 
or our pleasures from bleeding people or killing them. My men could have 
beaten you or tortured you, but they raped you. There was pain in that act, 
yes, but it was still an act of sex, and not an act of sadism. We only 
choose to use sadism as a means to make our subjects more... willing... for 
the sex." 

Cindy and Susan merely glared at this woman. Cindy didn't know how to take 
this news at all. Apparently they were not going to be tortured so much as 
ravished, THAT much was promising. But she knew that as they passed through 
each successive Gate of Hell the sex and the pain that went with it would 
gradually become more painful. And, in the long run, was it better to be 
tortured to death or raped to death? Either way you're dead. 

Diana was coming closer all the time, and so were her six playmates. "Are 
you ready to enter the Second Gate?" 

Cindy was too weak to answer. Susan started to say something, but Diana cut 
the words off in mid-syllable. "It matters not whether YOU are ready," Diana 
said coldly. "The fact remains that WE are ready." 

"Just a minute," protested Cindy. She knew that she had to keep her 
resistance up for as long as she could, that it would be fatal to submit. 
"What if we refuse to enter this so-called Second Gate? We didn't like the 
First one too much." 

The smile upon Diana's face became even more evil than before, and there was 
beauty in that evil, for truly pure Evil is always filled with fascinating 
qualities that make it hard to resist. 

"If you refuse," said Diana calmly and flatly, in a voice drained of all 
emotion, "then we shall quite simply have to kill you." It was not a threat, 
nor was it a promise. It was simply a statement of fact: we shall have to 
kill you. 

Cindy was still defiant. "But you just said you're rapists, not sadists. If 
you kill us you can't rape us." 

It was important that she confuse this woman, that she hold her up to 
mockery before her followers, so that the revolt which had been brewing 
would now burst into life and become a reality. 

There was tension in the air: extremely high tension. Both Cindy and Susan 
could see that every single male member of the DeSades gang had turned to 
look at the voluptuous woman who was their leader. They were waiting to see 
what she would do, how she would react. And Diana knew that they were 
watching her, and that only made the tension grow worse. Cindy hoped that 
now-right now, this very minute-would be the time when Scar and the other 
men would try to wrest the leadership of the gang from Diana. Cindy held her 
breath and waited for the volcano to burst into eruption. 

But Diana was cool. That was why she was the leader: because no matter what 
happened she never lost her head or her ability to use it. Slowly, 
decisively, she lifted one gloved hand towards the roof of the farmhouse and 
calmly, steadily announced: 'The Seven Gates to Hell. Gate Two." 

She had not eliminated the confrontation, merely postponed it. When the 
showdown actually did come it would be all the bloodier as a result of this. 
Cindy doubted that she and Susan would be able to hold out that much longer. 

"The Second Gate to Hell." 

Instantly strong hands reached out towards the two female captives, reached 
out and dug into their pliant flesh, which was already beginning to show the 
scars of this ordeal. But Cindy knew that the ordeal had barely begun. They 
had come through the First Gate battered and bleeding. Would they come 
through the Second Gate alive or dead? 

Cindy saw a hand reaching out to cover her face. She gave a little moan and 
then she fainted. 

* * * 

Everything was black, and Cindy could feel a tremendous pain in her wrists. 
Her face and her legs and her breasts and her buttocks were all nonexistent, 
they had all vanished. The whole world was gone. The only things that 
remained were her wrists, and the tremendous pain that flooded into them 
faster and faster every moment, giving no sign at all of ever stopping or 
even diminishing. 

For what seemed like an endlessly infinite eternity she merely existed as a 
pair of throbbing wrists, radiating pain to every corner of a universe which 
had long since vanished, which had disappeared completely so as to make more 
room for the mountainously monstrous pain in those wrists. And then, after a 
millennium of agony, Cindy found that she had a mouth, and that it was 
screaming. And now there were two forces flooding the cosmos and battling 
for superiority: the pain and the scream. And now Cindy knew that she must 
also have ears, besides the wrists and the mouth, because she could hear her 
own scream. And the fact that she knew this meant that she had to have a 
brain, and if she had a brain than she had to be alive. And if she was alive 
then that meant that the pain was going to continue, that she would not be 
allowed to die, at least not yet. 

Cindy screamed. And screamed. And screamed and screamed and screamed. 

Something struck her across what was left of her face, and she found herself 
opening her eyes in surprise. And then she saw what these monsters had done 
to her and she screamed yet again. 

Two thick iron manacles had been clamped about her pulsating wrists, and 
chains led from these bands of metal to a hook in the ceiling. Cindy was 
dangling in midair by her wrists. 

She looked downwards and saw that her toes were a fraction of an inch from 
the floor. If she could only reach the floor that would take the ponderous 
weight from her wrists, and then there would be no pain. 

Grunting and straining and sweating, Cindy expended every ounce of strength 
she had in a desperate struggle to make her feet touch the ground. But it 
didn't work. Apparently her captors, so finely trained and experienced in 
the art of tormenting women, knew exactly how far up to hang their victims 
to keep them from touching the ground. Because no matter how much Cindy 
grunted and gasped and struggled, she still could not put her feet on the 
ground. Once she thought she felt the floor brush against the tips of her 
toes, but then it was gone again and a million miles away. 

A voice called out from somewhere in the fog of her battered brain. "Forget 
it, cunt. You're gonna hang there a while. You're gonna hang there like a 
piece of meat in a delicatessen, waiting to be butchered." The voice broke 
out into fits of raucous laughter, and Cindy recognized the source of that 
voice as none other than Scar. 

Deciding to abandon her attempts to stand on her feet, the girl began to 
exert her strength in another direction. Straining with both hands, she 
managed to get her fingers to close around the chain directly above her 
wrists. Holding it firmly, she managed to pull herself another fraction of 
an inch into the air. Now she was supporting her weight with her hands, 
rather than her wrists, and this felt a little bit better, but even so she 
could feel the agony of those links cutting into the soft skin of her 
fingertips. Deciding that she had to keep her strength up no matter how much 
pain she brought on herself, Cindy let go of the chain to dangle by her 
wrists again. She fell downward slightly, and for one gloriously delicious 
moment the balls of her feet were touching the floor and there was no pain 
in her wrists. But then she was dangling again, and the pain was worse than 
ever. 

She could see a few feet into the darkness now, and Cindy saw that she was 
surrounded by all the DeSades, with their lecherous lesbian leader front and 
center. Just behind Big Nig's gigantic left shoulder Cindy could make out 
the shadowy outline of a strange object. At first she thought that it was a 
side of beef hanging in a smokehouse, but then she saw with a suppressed 
scream of horror that it was Susan! Like Cindy herself, Susan had been 
chained at the wrists and strung up helplessly. Now the young blonde girl's 
head dangled towards the floor and her golden hair cascaded down her limp 
body, lightly touching her bruised and bleeding flesh. Susan was 
unconscious. Thank goodness for that much anyway, Cindy thought. But then 
she remembered that just because Susan was lying absolutely still didn't 
mean that she was unconscious. She could also be something else, and when 
Cindy realized what that something else was she was screaming all over again 
at the top of her tortured lungs. 

"Shut up, you bitch!" snarled a voice, and by now Cindy had sunk so far into 
a chasm of agony that she could no longer tell who had spoken, or even 
whether the speaker had been Diana or one of the men. Somebody's hand 
flicked out of the darkness and slapped Cindy hard, and then backhanded her, 
and then slapped her again. Her ears were wringing and her teeth were 
throbbing. The blow to her jaw had been so severe that Cindy actually 
expected to see her jawbone fall off and tumble to the floor, where it would 
break into a thousand pieces and scatter teeth in every direction. But 
nothing happened. Except for more pain. More pain and the fact that the 
barrage of blows had sent her swinging back and forth on the chain, swinging 
back and forth like a target in some sort of sadists' shooting gallery, and 
the pendulum motion only flooded her bleeding wrists with more and more 
pain. 

Suddenly the lights were turned on, and Cindy screamed again as she felt 
certain that this time she had gone absolutely, totally, permanently blind. 

Finally the blazing inferno that swept through her pain-scorched eyeballs 
managed to diminish somewhat, and Cindy could see at last. She saw the hook 
that was holding her above the ground. And then she saw what had happened to 
her wrists. It wasn't at all pretty. For a long moment she was sure that she 
was going to be sick again, but then she felt the hollow emptiness within 
her writhing flesh and remembered that she had been sick once already. 
Unless these monsters became merciful enough to throw her a few scraps of 
food, she wouldn't be able to get sick again. So now there was a bad taste 
in her mouth. That was all. That was all, except for the burning hellfires 
in her agonized wrists. 

Diana took a step closer to the dangling sex-object, placing one leathered 
hand roughly against the girl's shivering right breast. "Your entry into the 
Second Gate is about to begin," Diana announced calmly. 

ABOUT to begin? Cindy knew that she had endured enough torture and torment 
for all the Second Gates that ever were or that ever would be. And now they 
were telling her that the ceremony was ABOUT to begin? Cindy very nearly 
fainted again, but the extent of the pain, as well as some sort of morbid 
masochistic curiosity about the atrocities these people were going to do to 
her made her stay reasonably conscious, so that she would know what it was 
that they were doing to her. 

Diana signalled to her followers, and Scar and Angus stepped right up to 
Cindy; Scar in the front and the Scotsman behind. Two others, Patch and Big 
Nig, were closing in upon Susan in the identical fashion. 

Diana smiled at the redheaded schoolgirl in a way that was not pleasant in 
any way, shape or form. "I feel that I really must apologize for the little, 
ah, inconvenience to your hands and arms. It is really not a part of the 
ceremony, because it is basically a sadistic act rather than a sexual act, 
and you are here for the purpose of satisfying my men and I SEXUALLY, rather 
than any other way." A cloud of cigar smoke found its way into Cindy's eyes. 
"But we have chosen to... keep you in suspense, you might say, like this 
because it is the best way for us to perform the ceremony." She smiled in 
what was almost a friendly fashion. "And don't worry. Soon there won't be 
any pain at all." 

That was a statement that could be taken two different ways, Cindy thought 
to herself sardonically. She was beginning to wonder how many more times she 
would be fucked and hurt and bled and tortured before she would find herself 
actually longing for Death, begging for a chance to be put out of her 
misery. 

Scar and Angus were starting to lower their pants. Not far away Patch and 
Big Nig were doing the same thing, each keeping a lecherous eye upon the 
helpless Susan. 

Diana was looking Cindy squarely in the face. "The reason why you are 
hanging there like that," she informed her coldly, "is because you are about 
to get sandwich-fucked." 

Sandwich-fucked? Now what the hell was that, Cindy wondered. Whatever it 
was, it certainly didn't sound very enjoyable. Were these perverts planning 
to shove a BLT up her cunt? Cindy wouldn't have put it past them. She knew 
that there was absolutely nothing that DIDNT turn these bastards on, 
providing that it called for the humiliation and sexual ravishment of a 
helpless naked female. 

But then she saw the two men taking out their huge cocks, and Cindy groaned 
as she realized exactly what was meant by the term "sandwich-fucking": 

both these guys were going to screw her at once: one in the front and one in 
the back, and she would be quite literally in the middle. It was going to be 
a human sandwich, with the men as the two slices of bread and Cindy as the 
filling. And the men were the ones who were going to be doing the filling... 

Slowly both men reached out for her, until Cindy was pressed tightly between 
them. She was dimly aware that Susan had regained her consciousness, and was 
screaming and protesting as two more of the DeSades prepared to give her a 
sandwich-fuck of their own. But Cindy, concerned as she was for her friend's 
safety, really couldn't afford to worry about her, because she had herself 
to worry about. 

Suddenly a glorious feeling shot through and through the girl's body as Scar 
and Angus came closer to her. For in so doing they were now holding her body 
up between themselves, and thus taking the awful weight from what was left 
of her agonized wrists. 

This may not be so bad after all, Cindy was thinking to herself. But she 
knew deep down inside that actually the pain and the agony were only just 
beginning. And it would be a long, long time before they showed any signs of 
ending. 

Cindy shut her eyes so as to blot out the hideous sight of Scar's bulging 
cock moving slowly and inexorably towards her vagina. With her eyes shut she 
hoped that she would be unable to see it, but actually this was no help at 
all: for some masochistic reason known only to itself Cindy's battered mind 
insisted upon visualizing that ugly twisted organ rubbing against her flesh. 
And then she felt the thing touch her, and that made it even worse. 

And less than a second later she could feel a similar shaft of flesh rubbing 
against her scratched buttocks, and then Cindy was held at bay between the 
two cocks. The things were moving across her flesh like animals with minds 
of their own, sniffing about and finding holes to burrow into. Somehow the 
conception of those two pricks as living things, independent of the men to 
which they were attached, was extremely repelling to Cindy, and she very 
nearly became sick again, despite the emptiness in her stomach. She thought 
she heard a slight moan or a whimper from across the room, and then Cindy 
knew that already her young friend Susan had crossed the threshold of the 
Second Gate to Hell. But would either girl get through the obstacle alive? 

And now those two thick heavy organs were pressing more firmly against 
Cindy's body, and she could feel them sliding down the length of her figure 
towards the twin clefts between her legs. They were there now, brushing 
their hot tips against the tight pink rosebud of her asshole and the only 
slightly looser expanse of her vagina. 

The two men were pulling her body downwards, almost like some sort of erotic 
bellrope, and Cindy could feel hot stinging pain come jabbing its way into 
her tortured wrists once again. 

And then her wrists were not the only parts of the girl's body that were 
crying out with pain, because she could feel those two swollen prick-pillars 
forcing their way into her, literally breaking down the door, because these 
were men who felt that sex was all the more enjoyable if they FORCED their 
way into a woman. They wanted to hurt her, they wanted to see tears in her 
eyes and blood in her mouth. 

Cindy was on the verge of crying now. The two cocks were gigantic, and they 
refused to go into her. But their masters refused to keep them out, and they 
thrust them into her all the harder, and Cindy gritted her teeth. She was 
sure that she could actually feel the flesh tearing within her loins. It was 
bad enough for her to accommodate one organ, but each of these big 
fucksticks was making it all the harder for the other one. There was very 
little room inside of poor Cindy, and two cocks at once simply would not go 
in. 

But they DID go in. They HAD to go in. The two men pulled her up and down 
and up and down on the chains that held Cindy to the ceiling, until finally 
the spears of man-meat had gone into her all the way. She gave a little moan 
of relief as she hoped and prayed that at last it was over. 

But it wasn't over. It would never be over. Because now her two tormentors 
were pumping up and down inside of her, and in a sandwich-fuck the best way 
for a man to fuck is not by pumping his cock up and down, but by pumping the 
woman up and down. 

So now poor Cindy was being pulled up and down faster and faster, and with 
each stroke she could feel those two glistening phalluses sliding up and 
down inside of her reluctant and captive flesh with ever-increasing vigor. 

By this time Cindy was no longer a woman, or even a living thing. She was a 
plaything, a sex-toy, and she was being manipulated up and down by these two 
men for the sole purpose of their own erotic enjoyment. They didn't care 
what Cindy thought or how it felt for her. It didn't matter. Cindy was a 
woman, a girl, a cunt, a twat, and such things aren't supposed to think or 
even to feel. They're only supposed to lie there and get fucked. Or stand 
there and get fucked. Or sit there or kneel there or hang there and get 
fucked. That's what they're made for, and that's all that they're good for. 
A woman is supposed to make a man come. Whether she comes too or whether she 
screams in agony is completely unimportant, just so long as she makes the 
man come. Because that's what she's here for. 

And then, suddenly, both men were creaming at once, shooting their hot 
sticky wads into Cindy's writhing interior from two different directions. 
She squirmed in panic and screamed, begging for mercy, pleading for mercy, 
offering to give these men whatever they wanted if only they would leave her 
alone. But they already knew what they wanted, and now they were taking it. 
Cindy screamed again. It seemed to her that those two gargantuan organs were 
burrowing right into her body and up her throat, to come out of her mouth. 
Just the thought of it repelled her. 

And then at last, at blessed last, they were pulling out of her and she was 
dangling by her wrists again, which hurt like hell but was better than the 
agony of a sandwich-fuck. I made it, Cindy thought. I made it through the 
Second Gate. 

Diana gestured to Rican and Needles, who had both been standing by watching 
all-this amusedly. "It's your turn," Cindy heard the dominatrix say to her 
two demented disciples. 

As Cindy looked on in horror, Rican and Needles came slowly towards her, 
opening their flies as they did so. 

She fainted again. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

It was an endless agony of nightmare from then on. They woke her up with 
some slaps and some kicks and some punches and a pot of boiling water, and 
Cindy was forced to watch as she was sandwich-fucked again. As they 
subjected her to the indignity, the girl hoped and pleaded and prayed to 
Heaven for unconsciousness, even if only for one merciful second. That would 
be enough. That would be enough. 

But her tormentors did not want her unconscious. They wanted her wide awake 
and with her eyes open so that she could see all the atrocities that they 
were doing to her. And what they did lasted for several hours, and it was 
all the harder for Cindy to take when she heard the groans and whimperings 
from across the room that told her that Susan was getting the same treatment 
as she herself was. 

But at last it was over, at least for the moment, and Diana ordered two of 
her men to take the girls down, and as soon as Cindy felt the pain leave her 
wrists she instantly lapsed into blessed oblivion. 

* * * 

She was lying down somewhere, and it was very cramped because she couldn't 
move. Her ass felt as though it were on fire, and Cindy noticed that she 
couldn't feel her arms from the elbows down to her fingers. Well, at least 
numbness was preferable to the excruciating agony that she had just been 
through. 

With what was almost an indescribable effort, Cindy managed to open one eye. 
The other one just wouldn't seem to open for some reason. 

It took at least a minute for her blearied vision to focus itself, but at 
last Cindy could make out the battered form of Susan not too far away. The 
fourteen-year-old blonde girl was still unconscious, and Cindy thought that 
she could detect what looked like teardrops on the edges of Susan's 
eyelashes. 

Softly Cindy tried to call out to her companion. She opened her mouth and 
moved her tongue but nothing came out. Finally she tried again, and this 
time she was successful: "Susan." 

But she had to try again, because Susan had not heard. It was very hard for 
Cindy to speak, other than by yelling so loudly that their captors would 
hear it, and it took quite a few minutes before she managed to find the 
right volume range, and after a while Susan's eyelashes fluttered and she 
looked up at Cindy. 

Susan's lower lip was trembling. "W-w-where are we?" she asked fearfully. 
Cindy could tell by the look on the young captive's terror-stricken face 
that she already knew the answer to that question, but was hoping that she 
didn't. 

Cindy couldn't see very much of their surroundings, and what she could see 
she couldn't recognize, but she was sure that, wherever they were, the 
DeSades were not too far away. Without even waiting for Cindy to answer her 
question Susan saw the look in her companion's eyes and burst into tears. 

A sudden burst of pain shot through Cindy's wrists, and she looked down and 
saw that they had been neatly bandaged. So had Susan's for that matter. But 
the bandages looked as though they were in need of changing. Cindy wondered 
how badly their wrists had been damaged, but she didn't want to pull off the 
bandages and look at what was underneath. From what she could see of it it 
was very nasty. Her fingernails looked decidedly black at the edges. 

Cindy nodded significantly at the bandages. "Well, at least we know they're 
trying to take care of us. Maybe they want to hurt us, and maybe they even 
want to damage us, but I don't think they're planning to kill us." 

Susan didn't seem to want to believe this. "Maybe they just don't want to 
kill us ahead of schedule," she muttered glumly. "Besides, even if they DONT 
kill us, I think that pretty soon we're going to be too fucked-up to ever 
live normal lives again. Who WANTS to live if it means being a cripple? 
Especially when for as long as we keep living we'll never be able to forget 
what happened to us here!" 

Cindy nodded glumly at these last remarks. She agreed with what her friend 
had said, but even so she wished that Susan wouldn't think such things. It 
was of the utmost importance that they gear their minds completely towards 
that one thought: ESCAPE. The moment that they gave up all hope was the 
moment that they would slowly begin to die. 

Cindy was about to say something to comfort Susan when all of a sudden she 
became aware of voices talking through the thin wooden wall she was propped 
up against. "Listen," she whispered hoarsely to her friend Susan, and the 
two of them lay absolutely motionless so as not to miss a syllable of what 
was being said. They knew that any scraps of information they garnered might 
turn out to be of vital importance. 

The voices were far away and speaking in very low tones, so at first neither 
one of the girls could make out the words that were being spoken or even the 
identity of the speakers. After a while it became obvious that the voices, 
and presumably the speakers, were coming closer. But even then it was hard 
to understand what was being said, because the speakers seemed to be walking 
over a stretch of gravel and kicking it with their feet as they walked. The 
sound of the tiny stones sliding across each other and scattering in every 
direction made it almost impossible for the two girls to hear what was being 
said. For some perverse reason, the harder they tried to screen out the 
gravel noises and concentrate on the voices, the louder the gravel seemed to 
get. 

But finally the gravel sounds stopped, and both girls could feel the frail 
wall creak as two large bodies leaned against it. Eagerly they moved their 
ears as close to the wall as they could, which was not very far due to the 
fact that they were tied up and in pain. 

There was the sound of a match striking and somebody puffing at something, 
and then one voice spoke up: "You do see, don't you, that it's got to be 
done?" That was Big Nig's voice, but from that small snatch of conversation 
it was next to impossible for either girl to determine what it was he was 
saying. 

"Of course I see it," rasped the second voice. Scar's voice. "I ain't no 
fool. The only question I got is: when the fuck do we do it and how?" 

There was a slight pause, and then a grunting sound that suggested Big Nig 
was nodding in agreement. "Good question," he admitted at last. "Damn good 
question. We'll hafta get as many o' the guys ovuh to our side as possible." 

This time it was Scar's turn to grunt his agreement. "Yeah, right, baby," he 
muttered thickly. "But how many yuh figyer we can count on?" 

There was another pause, as though Big Nig were doing some heavy thinking. 
"Let's see now," he mumbled. "Needles is no problem. He'll do anythin' 
anybody tells him to. If we ask him to fight he'll fight." 

"Right," assented Scar. "But if Diana asks him to fight he'll fight. An' 
remember, coon: Diana's still the one who's runnin' things. Otherwise we 
wouldn't be sittin' here jawin' our nuts off." 

Cindy drew in her breath sharply, and nearby Susan was reacting in similar 
fashion. So at last the male members of the motorcycle gang were planning 
their long-awaited revolt! This was the opportunity Cindy had been waiting 
for. She strained against her bonds as much as she could and then some, so 
as to be certain not to miss a word of what was being said. 

"Let's not count on Needles, then," she could make out Big Nig suggesting. 
"Besides, even if we did get him on our side he wouldn't be much help. An' 
if he was on her side, he wouldn't be much hurtin'." 

There were a few seconds of silence, punctuated by the sound of someone 
sucking furiously on a reefer, and then the big black sadist was speaking 
again. "Rican'll go where I go," he assured his companion Scar. "But Patch I 
think we can forget about. He'll stick to Diana till the day he dies, an' 
even then maybe. So that makes it three against two, wit' Needles bein' a 
toss-up." 

There was silence again, and then Scar was sharply demanding: "What about 
Angus? Think he'll be for or against?" 

It was sheer agony for the two girls as they waited for Big Nig to pass 
judgment on the loyalties of Angus. Finally the man spoke: "Angus? He's the 
kinda guy that'll make a damned good friend or a fuckin' deadly enemy. 
Whichever way he sides could probably swing the bat tie. Diana an' Patch are 
both damn good fighters, as good as we are, maybe better. Us an' Rican will 
hafta depend on him bein' with us if we expect to win. If he says he's 
neutral we can forget it. An' if he sticks with Diana, then you an' me is 
dead, boy." There was a pause. "An' Rican too." 

Scar seemed to think that this was a telling point. There came the sound of 
feet sliding along gravel, and then Scar wanted to know: "Okay, so how do we 
find out which way he points his blade? You think we should just walk up an' 
ask him if he's on our side?" 

Big Nig snorted. "Hell, no, baby. What if he says 'no'? Once he's in on our 
little plan, then unless he's on our side we've had it. Unless we get 'im 
alone when we ask him. Then, if he doesn't go our way we can just snuff him 
right there." 

This time it was Scar's turn to snort. "Us? Snuff Angus? Up your ass, man. 
Cut him, yeah, but snuff him? No way. Unless we had Rican to help, an' maybe 
not even then. So it's us three against them three, but they got the big 
three. What we need is somethin' to break the tie." 

There was a very long silence, and for a while Cindy was afraid that the 
discussion had ended with nothing being resolved. She was lying propped up 
on one elbow and it was a position she didn't think she could hold much 
longer. She was about to roll over when suddenly Scar spoke again: "What 
about the cunts?" 

"Huh?" Big Nig sounded mystified. "What you talkin' about, man? What cunts? 
What's cunts got to do with anything?" 

Scar sounded almost as though he were talking to a child. "Asshole! What the 
fuck you think we been goin' over for the last day, muskrats? We got us two 
cunts right here in this barn." 

It took a while for Big Nig to pick up the significance of this statement, 
but when he got it he got it in a big way. Practically exploding, he roared: 
"Man, you tellin' me we should get them two chicks on our side?" 

"Why not?" Scar wanted to know. Cindy and Susan were exchanging frantic 
glances. "They'll be glad to snuff Diana. I bet they hate her fuckin' guts 
after what she did to them." 

"You mean they hate OUR fuckin' guts," the black man hastened to correct 
him, "after what WE done to them. Maybe Diana was callin' the shots, but 
we're the ones who pulled the triggers." 

"Maybe YOU pulled a trigger, nigger," spat Scar ferociously. "Me, I'm gonna 
go make them chicks an offer they can't refuse." The girls could hear him 
standing up and making sounds as though he were about to walk away. 

"Wait a minute," said Big Nig. "I'm not worryin' about what if they says 
'no', but what if they says 'yes'? What good are they gonna be? They only 
little kids; that's why we snatched 'em, because we like our cunts young. 
I'll bet they never could fight, an' they sure as hell won't be any good 
aftuh what we been doin' to 'em." 

"I don't care," countered Scar. "If we can get 'em to swing with us it'll be 
five against four, maybe six against three. An' who knows, Angus might be on 
our side. Maybe the chicks can't fight, but sometimes a whole crowd o' 
shitheads can whomp one fighter. A big crowd can kinda demoralize the 
opposition." Scar laughed as he said this, pleased with himself. 

He was the sort of fellow who got a kick out of using big words correctly, 
especially when he used them in front of other people, because that was even 
more impressive. 

There was a silence that both girls thought was agonizing, but then at last 
Scar was speaking again: "Well, I guess I got a little business to talk over 
wit' them chicks. An if they say 'no dice' then I'll just say a few things 
to them... if yuh know what I mean." There was a pause, followed by a sound 
that Cindy recognized as someone pressing the button on a switchblade and 
letting the business end pop out ready for action. 

Suddenly a door opened not too far away, and there came the sound of heavy 
motorcycle boots coming towards them. "I'll take over guardin' the chicks 
for a while, Rican," they heard Scar's gruff voice booming. "You go see Nig. 
He wants t' talk to you." 

Quickly both girls tried to get away from the wall so as to look as though 
they hadn't heard anything, but suddenly the door was opening and Scar was 
standing there. It didn't take long for him to figure out what had been 
going on. "So you heard, huh?" he demanded accusingly. 

"Yes, we did," Cindy said, trying to drum up a touch of defiance in the tone 
in which she spoke. "We heard it all. What's it to you?" 

"Never mind what's it to me," came the answer sharply. "You two got a 
decision to make. So which way you headin'?" 

Susan glanced .significantly at the gleaming blade that Scar held in one 
hand. "We don't exactly seem to have very much of a choice now, do we?" 

Scar seemed to think that was funny. As he laughed he snapped the blade back 
into the knife and then the knife went into his pocket. "No, you AIN'T got a 
choice. But tell the truth now... " At this his voice dropped to a 
conspiratorial level. "If yuh DID have a choice, which way would you go?" 

"With you, Scar," Cindy said frantically, in such a way that he knew she 
really meant it. "Definitely with you. Now hurry up an' get these ropes off 
us." 

As Scar bent to free them from their bonds Cindy turned the recent 
happenings over and over in her mind. Hopefully there would be civil war 
amongst the DeSades, and just as hopefully the survivors--if any-would be 
too messed up to be able to prevent the girls from escaping. But if not... 
well, Cindy didn't want to think about the if not. 

They were free now, and they stood up with an effort. Not only were both 
girls stark naked, but they were also in extremely weak condition, and Cindy 
doubted that either she or Susan would be of any help at all in the battle 
that was about to begin. But she didn't want to communicate her doubts to 
Scar, because otherwise he might decide not to help them after all. 

Scar stuck his head through the door and looked around, making sure that 
nobody was watching. Apparently nobody was, because he made a beckoning 
gesture to his two female allies with one hand. "Let's go. On the double." 

Neither girl had to be told twice. As quickly as they could the two battered 
sex-captives stumbled and limped along behind Scar towards the door. 

Big Nig and Rican were both waiting for them outside. The expressions on 
their faces were not very nice to look at, but then neither were their 
faces. 

"Bad news," the black stud announced as the three came up to them. "Angus 
an' Needles are both swingin' their fists from Diana's side of the fence. 
An' Patch too, of course. So that makes it five against four." 

"FOUR against four, you mean," corrected a voice, a female voice. They all 
turned to see Diana standing not too far away, and in her capable hands was 
a double-barreled shotgun. 

Her finger squeezed the trigger, and the shotgun spat flame and smoke. 

r There was an unearthly yell scant inches away from Cindy, and she turned 
to see Big Nig looking in horror as his white T-shirt turned pink and then 
red. It had been a close-range shot, but it had also been a shotgun and not 
a rifle. To Cindy's untrained eye the wound was serious, but not fatal. 

Big Nig didn't seem to care about the distinction though. 

Even as Cindy watched, the big black stud rolled his eyes heavenwards and 
muttered "Oh, Lawdy". And then a moment later he was writhing in the dust, 
spilling out his lifeblood. The wound was a small one, but Cindy knew that 
unless Big Nig was in a hospital bed within the hour he could kiss this 
world good-bye. 

Diana tapped her finger noisily against the shotgun trigger. "Who's next?" 
she called out. "Shall we try for THREE out of four?" 

At that instant something happened to Cindy that she never did understand. 
Suddenly all the pain and the agony and the torture that she and Susan had 
been subjected to was all merging and coalescing into one solid ball of 
fury. The next thing Cindy knew she was charging like a bull, head down and 
stark naked, straight for the gut of the woman that she hated more than 
anything she could think of. 

Diana was so surprised at the attack from this unexpected quarter that she 
didn't react until it was nearly too late. Even though Cindy's lithe body 
was guided by all of her pent-up fury, still she was weak and hungry, and so 
her charge was not quite as fast or as well-aimed as it ought to have been, 
and there was a fraction of an instant between the time that Diana noticed 
the attack and the time that the two bodies met head-on. 

Diana took advantage of that fraction of an instant. With a cry of triumph 
she turned her gun around to send the heavy wooden butt crashing against 
Cindy's temple. The young girl groaned and collapsed. 

And the gun went off. 

The shotgun pellets tore through the fabric of Diana's one-piece leather 
suit and kept on going, barely grazing the skin of her armpit. But they had 
drawn blood, and she was so surprised by the sound of the shot, followed by 
the pain in her side, that she jumped to the obvious conclusion. 

For one brief moment there was a terribly pained look on the harsh lesbian's 
face as she suddenly thought that she had been fatally shot. 

This was all the respite that Susan needed. "The gun's empty now!" she 
shouted. "Let's get her!" 

 CHAPTER SIX 

No sooner did Diana realize that she had not been shot fatally after all 
than she had a new problem to worry about. Because suddenly Scar and Rican 
were both piling on top of her at once, pummeling her face and body with 
their fists and seeing to it that the gun that had brought down Big Nig 
would never do the same to anybody else. 

Susan tried to join the fray, naturally, but she had been even more weakened 
by the sadomasochistic ordeal than her friend Cindy had been. The frail 
blonde girl took one step forward and then fell flat on her lovely face. 
There were two deep craters in the dust where her tits hit the ground. 

The fight was short and sweet, and the outcome obvious. Diana was a better 
fighter than Scar or Rican, but not better than both men put together. Also 
the wound under her arm made her hesitate slightly when she threw a punch, 
and that little bit extra helped things enormously. In a moment Rican had 
his hand around Diana's neck and his knife to her throat. 

"NO!" shouted Scar hastily, taking a step towards them. "Don't kill her! We 
need her alive!" The big lecher's eyes narrowed to slits. "Later on we 
can... let her pay for what she's done." A slight swelling in the vicinity 
of Scar's dungareed crotch told the world exactly what he meant by that. 

The young Hispanic spat to show his contempt for that suggestion. "We make 
her pay NOW!" he hissed through battered and yellowed teeth. "She killed my 
frien' Beeg Neeg. We make her pay NOW!" The knife twitched in the direction 
of the leather-clad lesbian's throat. 

Scar's foot, clad in its heavy motorcycle boot, lashed out, and the 
fragments of what had once been Rican's best switchblade bounced into the 
dust. "Do as I say!" He thundered. "Big Nig meant as much t' me as he did t' 
you. He still does. An' I'm tellin' you she didn't kill him; she just fucked 
him up a little. If we can just get him to a hospital he'll be good as new." 

Rican looked angrier than ever. "YOU take him to hospital," he countered. "I 
keel this bastard fo' what she do to Nig." 

The monstrous Scar took a menacing step towards his former battle companion. 
"Damn it, I told you we're not gonna KILL her!" 

"Bloody right you're not," called out a voice softly. Both men looked 
upwards. 

On the slanting roof of the farmhouse stood the fiery Angus, while directly 
behind him stood Patch and, a bit farther back, Needles. Angus might have 
been rough and merciless in matters of sex, but on the battlefield he was a 
gentleman. He would never think of killing a man from behind, preferring 
instead to have him turn around before he killed him. Now, outnumbered and 
several feet below their attackers, it was Scar and Rican who had the 
disadvantage, especially because Rican's knife and the shotgun had both been 
put permanently out of commission. 

Angus nodded his burly head in the direction of their female captive. "I 
think ye'll be lettin' Diana go now," he said softly. 

But Diana was the sort of fighter that preferred escape to rescue. Taking 
advantage of the diversion from above, she bent her head backwards and her 
arms up. Rican gave a yell of fear and surprise, and a moment later he was 
face down in the dust, with all the wind knocked out of him. 

Scar saw that the jig, to coin a phrase, was up. But he was not the sort to 
surrender unless absolutely necessary. Knowing as he did that Angus fought 
according to a gentlemen's code of honor, he pointed out: 'There's three o' 
you an' one of me. Wouldn't be sporting for yuh to all take me on at once. 
If yuh had any decency or any guts you'd fight me one-on-one." He knew that 
neither Patch nor Needles gave a damn about whether or not they had any 
decency, but he was sure that they were concerned about their possession of 
"guts", as he had put it. 

Patch wasn't the sort to give up an advantage, though, least of all on the 
field of battle. "Why SHOULDNT we all jump you at once?" he wanted to know. 
"You an' Rican seemed t' think yuh could do it to Diana." 

Scar was about to answer that by saying "Fuck you" or some equally brilliant 
remark, when he heard a noise behind him. He turned to see Diana bearing 
down on him from behind. Apparently she did not share Angus's views on the 
subject of sneaking up on the enemy. 

With lightning reflexes Scar stepped out of the way and stuck out one leg. 
He tripped the lesbian up quite neatly and sent her hurtling through space, 
howling and screaming all sorts of obscene revenge-laden threats. 

Just then Susan climbed out of her unconscious state, just in time to see 
Diana come plummeting down on top of her. When one is a fourteen-year-old 
girl who has just been raped, beaten and sandwich-fucked it is not the most 
pleasant thing for one to wake up and see a bleeding six-foot tall lesbian 
dressed from head to foot in leather come falling down on top of oneself 
screaming and cursing. Susan gave a shout and reacted on pure instinct, 
drawing her legs and arms up to protect her face and body, which were the 
parts of her that a lesbian would be most likely to go for. 

As luck would have it, one of Susan's uplifted feet caught Diana smartly in 
the gut, and the leather-clad vixen flew backwards and slammed against the 
wall of the farmhouse. 

The shock from the collision was enough to send the entire side of the 
building on a shuddering spree, and Susan was dimly aware that the three men 
on the roof were having difficulty maintaining their balance. 

Surprisingly enough Needles, who was in the throes of his most recent heroin 
jag, was the only one who managed to remain upright. His friends Angus and 
Patch were not so lucky. The brawny Scotsman, shouting some sort of Celtic 
oath that sounded very savage indeed, stumbled over his own feet and slammed 
against the rough shingling of the roof. Because the roof was built on a 
steep slant he was unable to prevent himself from rolling straight off the 
eaves of the farmhouse and hurtling down to the bloodstained earth below. 

Patch didn't even have time to hit the roof; he merely keeled over and 
dropped to the ground, screaming and flailing at the air as he went. For one 
brief moment the steel hook that protruded from one wrist flailed 
frantically at the roof and managed to snag itself in the very last row of 
shingling, but then the rotted shingles gave way and Patch was heading for 
the same spot in which Angus lay. 

Angus recovered from the fall just in time to see that ponderous body and 
that gleaming hook come straight down on top of him. With a cry of "Bloody 
Hell!" he rolled out of the way, only to find that his progress was blocked 
by the inert form of Big Nig. 

Cindy recovered from the stinging blow with the gun butt just in time to see 
Patch falling groundwards, narrowly missing Big Nig as he fell. There were 
two screams, and then Cindy herself screamed when she saw what part of 
Angus's body Patch's hook had landed on. It was not a pretty sight. 

Instantly Rican was helping Cindy to her feet, while Scar did his level best 
to calm down the moaning Susan. As soon as he saw Cindy was all right the 
gasping Rican rushed to the side of his fallen comrade Big Nig. 

After he had seen the extent of the damage his face was not at all pleasant 
to look at. "We must get un medico," he mumbled, his distraughtness revealed 
in his accidental lapse into his native tongue. "Nosotros necesitamos... " 
he stopped,- looking very embarrassed, and then began again. "We need an 
ambulance. Pronto." 

"Sure," said Scar bitterly. "Call an ambulance. Have them come and let them 
see Angus lying there. Have them come and see these two chicks all naked an' 
lookin' like they got gang-banged by every animal in the fuckin' Bronx Zoo. 
Have them come and ask a lotta questions." he spat derisively in the 
direction of Diana, who had not yet shown signs of coming around. "Get 
fucked Rican." There were signs of desperation on the young Hispanic's face, 
and he was struggling with himself to keep his breathing under control. 
"Beeg Neeg is my friend," he said pathetically. "Perhaps you would not be 
able to appreciate a friend, Scar, because I don't think you ever had one. 
But we mus' help the man quickly or he will die." Rican actually seemed to 
be fighting back tears as he spoke. "El sangre... the blood, he is pouring 
all over the ground. We mus' get medico quickly or he will die." There was 
desperation in his voice as he came closer to Scar. "You understand, hombre? 
DIE!" 

Some sort of strange internal struggle seemed to be going on inside of Scar. 
"Sure, man, I understand. An' I want Big Nig to live as much as you do. That 
time I got my neck broke on top of that mountain I woulda froze to death 
layin' there if Big Nig hadn't helped me. An' I'd do the same for him a 
thousand times over. But we can't take a chance on the pigs comin' aroun' 
an' askin' questions." 

Rican seemed to be metamorphosing into some kind of savage beast before 
Cindy's eyes. "DAMN YOU, Scar!" he shouted. "Damn you an' all your race! A 
gringo, a white man die an' you moan an' groan an' shed tears. Ten hundred 
thousan' negros n' hispanicos die an' you put it on the TV an' call it 
entertainment." The bitterness had gone from Rican's voice and been replaced 
by pure lust for revenge. "I warn you, gringo," he announced, biting off the 
words as he spoke, "eef Big Nig die then you die with him. This I swear! 
THIS I SWEAR!" And then Rican was toppling to his knees, crawling through 
the dust to where his comrade lay prostrate in the brown dirt which was 
rapidly turning to blood-red. "Que lastima, mi amigo! Que lasti... " At this 
he collapsed into a fit of sobbing. 

Neither Cindy nor Susan could think of a single thing to say. Gradually the 
two girls became aware of an icy wind stinging against the scratches and 
lacerations of their flogged buttocks, and Cindy turned to see where the 
wind was coming from. 

The sun was setting. 

It was very cold. 

* * * 

It would be difficult, if not impossible, to determine whether or not Scar 
had been intimidated by Rican's threat that if Big Nig died Scar would die 
too. However, intimidated or not, Scar decided that it would be the best 
thing to try to get help for Big Nig while there was still a chance of his 
pulling through alive, even if it meant getting busted for all of the 
unusual endeavors that had been going on here. The police in that state did 
not look kindly upon men in black leather who rode motorcycles and kidnapped 
schoolgirls for the purpose of sadomasochistic rape, followed by a 
determined attempt to wipe each other off the face of this Godforsaken 
planet. 

Scar announced to Rican that he would ride down the road until he found a 
diner or some other place with a pay phone, and he would call an ambulance. 
However, he made it abundantly clear that, if the cops were coming, then he 
sure as hell wasn't coming back. Whereupon Rican made it equally clear that 
he wasn't going to let Scar out of his sight until Big Nig's fate was known 
one way or the other, because if Rican found out that Big Nig had died then 
Scar could count on his own life coming to an end pretty soon after that. 

At this point Susan got up the nerve to ask these men what the hell was 
going to happen to her and Cindy, whereupon Scar told them to stay there and 
keep an eye on the casualties. By now it had become apparent that Angus was 
going to need extensive medical care too. And when Patch had fallen he had 
landed with his spine and neck at a very unusual angle. His breathing had 
slowed down and he had shown no signs of reviving. So the nearest hospital 
was going to be having a triple-header night, apparently. 

Cindy started to tell Scar that there was no way in the world that she and 
Susan would stand around naked and sore all over and keep an eye on three 
would-be cadavers while the cops were on the way and Needles and Diana were 
still on the loose. This last was said because, during the confusion over 
Big Nig and Rican, the tall lesbian had revived, and she and her junkie 
friend had sneaked off, taking their motorcycles with them. Cindy was 
yelling at Scar that she and Sue weren't going to sit there like sitting 
ducks with perverts of both sexes bouncing around in the underbrush, but 
Scar very politely and in his most gentlemanly manner invited her to go fuck 
herself. He also offered to show her how, but Cindy merely turned and fled, 
taking Susan with her. 

A moment later they could hear Rican threatening Scar, and then there came 
the twin roars of the two men's choppers as they rode off to find the 
nearest hospital. That was how it had all started for herself and Susan, 
Cindy reflected: the roar of motorcycles in the distance, only then they had 
been coming closer and this time they were going away. Did that mean that 
the two girls were going to be left here abandoned? 

As soon as the two survivors of the battle were gone the pair of girls went 
back to see what, if anything, they could do to help the casualties. "It's 
always the same fuckin' thing," Susan muttered thickly to herself. "The men 
have a war and go kill each other, and then the women come to clean up after 
them." 

Various arms and legs of Patch were lying on top of Angus and Big Nig, but 
Cindy cautioned that it would be dangerous to move him since he seemed to 
have a broken back. The only thing they could do was stop the flow of blood 
from the black man and pull Patch's hook out of Angus without increasing the 
damage. Then the two girls moved to a spot where they would not have to look 
at the wreckage. They had an awful lot of talking to do. 

Susan had managed to scrounge the makings of some reefers from one of the 
combatants, and now she rolled a pair of joints as they got down to 
business. "The basic question," Cindy began, "is: what the fuck do we do 
now?" 

Susan tried not to show any emotion, and she shrugged in what she hoped was 
nonchalance. "Hitch a ride back to the Academy?" 

It took Cindy several seconds to recall the significance of the phrase "the 
Academy". It seemed as though several years had gone by since they had been 
taken away from there, and now their life had come full circle: the whole 
affair had started with the two girls sitting in a field smoking weed and 
talking. They were doing the same thing now, except that they were both 
stark naked and their bodies were covered with the marks of some rather 
heavy sexplay. 

Cindy reached out to take the joint that Susan offered her and took several 
long, greedy drags on it. "We can't go back to the Academy," she said at 
last. 'They'd ask us where the hell we were all this time. We could tell 
them the truth: that we got nabbed by a bunch of motorcycle perverts, but 
then they'd automatically know that we sneaked off campus, an' right away 
they'd be accusing us of actually forcing some guys to kidnap us and rape 
us. You know how the farts that run the Academy are about things like that." 

Susan nodded grimly. She knew all too well. A thought seemed to occur to 
her, and she asked: "Why don't we try to get back home, to our folks? We 
could tell them that we ran away from the Academy because of the slave 
drivers that run it, and after we left we got grabbed by these people." 

"That idea's even worse," Cindy opined. "First we'd get a big lecture about 
how we wasted our folks' bread by running away from a school that they paid 
a lot to send us too, and then they'd fuckin' send us right back to it. And 
once we got there we'd go through all the shit again for running away, and 
it would be even worse then because we DIDN'T run away, so why should we get 
the lecture?" 

Susan nodded again, even more grimly than the first time. And to think that 
all this had started by the simple act of sneaking through a fence to smoke 
a few joints and talk about sex! It just goes to show how dangerous 
marijuana really is. And after all the rapes and gang-bangs that the two 
girls had been through lately, they were both sure that it would be quite 
some time before either one of them would feel in favor of having sex again. 
And when two luscious girls like Cindy and Susan start thinking about things 
like THAT, it's a sure sign that they've had more cock than they can handle 
for a while. 

Cindy couldn't help thinking that, no matter which way they decided to go, 
they were sure to run up against a brick wall. They couldn't go back to the 
Academy, and they couldn't go back home, and they couldn't stay here. There 
didn't seem to be that much else that they could do. Except for one thing. 
It was a last resort, but it seemed to be the only alternative possible for 
them. 

Cindy jumped to her feet and flicked away the remains of her reefer. "We've 
got to hit the road," she announced, with an air of finality. 

"It's simple, Suzie. We rip off two of these guys' motorcycles. God knows 
they owe us at least that much. From somewhere we get hold of some clothes, 
because we can't go cycling around naked, and once we've got some threads 
and some wheels we just go on down the road until we find some place that 
might be a good place to stay for a while. We take life as we find it." 

It was clear to her that Susan didn't think much of this plan, but Susan had 
brains to go with her looks, and she saw that this was the only practical 
plan, desirable though it might not be. They were stuck with it. 

She shrugged. "Okay. Let's go see which two cycles have the most gas in 
them, and then we'll check 'em all to see if there's any money or clothes or 
anything like that. We really need some clothes, Cin. I'm fuckin' 
desperate." 

Cindy shrugged. "You need clothes? Take some off those three dudes over 
there." She gestured towards the inert forms of Big Nig, Angus and Patch. 

Susan gave her a look. "I'm not THAT desperate." 

The two of them walked silently away from the scene of all the sado-sexual 
horrors and down to where the three remaining motorcycles had been parked. 
Although none of them had much gas to speak of, all of them had knapsacks on 
the backs with men's clothes in them, and the girls managed to outfit 
themselves with complete rigs, except for boots. The clothes were too large 
and did nothing at all to hide the fact that the shapely teenagers wearing 
them were girls, not men. 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

The hour had come. 

Cindy made sure that both she and Susan had motorcycles that worked 
properly, and then they both roared off down the road, the broad black 
highway upon which they would find unknown adventures and thrills. 

After they had gone a mile or so they saw an ambulance coming towards them 
from the other side of the road, its siren screeching as it came. Behind the 
ambulance were two motorcycles and behind them a police car. As the four 
vehicles zoomed past Cindy recognized the riders of the two choppers as Scar 
and Rican. She said a silent prayer that Big Nig and the others would be all 
right. 

Now that she and Susan were safely out of the clutches of the DeSades, Cindy 
was slightly surprised to realize that she actually MISSED them. Now that 
she had had some time to recover from the beatings and the whippings and the 
rapings and the fuckings she found herself thinking that the orgy of sadism 
to which she had been subjected really hadn't been so bad after all. In 
fact, the more she thought about those huge cocks that had gone into her 
cunt and her mouth and her ass the more she was absolutely certain that she 
wanted more of that, that she HAD to have more of that. 

So that was it, then, she told herself. There was no way out of it now. Now 
that she was out on the road she had to find more men, men who would give 
anything for a chance to violate her flesh, men who would long for an 
opportunity to possess her body. With a sudden thrill Cindy realized that 
this was what she wanted, this was what she needed. 

She may have had the body of a teenager, but she had the emotions and the 
desires of a fully mature woman. She knew now that she had to have men make 
love to her and possess her and pierce her body with the hard spears of 
their cocks. For this was what she had been made for; to give men pleasure. 

Cindy stole a sidelong glance at Susan and saw that her companion looked 
more thoughtful than was usual. Was Susan thinking about the same sort of 
thing that Cindy herself was? Cindy decided that that might not be such a 
bad life; for two girls to travel around the countryside as they pleased, 
each one in search of men to make love to them. If handled properly, it 
could turn out to be a very enjoyable life indeed. 

The two girls rode on in silence for a time. After the ambulance and the 
other vehicles had passed them neither girl had seen a single motorist. They 
were riding along one of those stretches of back road that are so frequent 
in certain parts of the United States-too out-of-the-way to be highways and 
too close to civilization to be old Indian trails. Cindy wondered how far it 
would be to the next town and how civilized that town would be. She wasn't 
surprised at all to discover that she was also wondering about how many men 
she'd meet there and what kind they would be. 

Suddenly Cindy saw that Susan had dropped behind her slightly, and that the 
girl's motorcycle engine was now making very odd noises. Cindy looked into 
the driving mirror that protruded from the handlebars of her own chopper and 
saw that the younger girl was making signals for Cindy to stop. Obediently 
the red-haired girl cut her engine and turned her own motorcycle around. 

"What's wrong?" she wanted to know, as soon as she'd pulled up beside Susan. 

The blonde girl nodded in the direction of her motorcycle's fuel gauge. 
'Tank's almost empty," she reported. 

Cindy was baffled. "But just before we left we made sure that both tanks 
were almost full." She checked her own fuel gauge. "Mine still has most of 
the gas." 

"Well, mine doesn't," came the reply. "I must have developed a leak 
somewhere. I remember hearing some funny noises when we drove over that 
gravel." She sighed wearily. "Anyway, unless we can figure out a way to 
siphon some gas from your wheels into mine, I'm stuck." 

"You mean we're BOTH stuck," Cindy retorted defiantly. It was important that 
both girls stick together now, that they depend on each other, because 
neither one of them had anybody else to depend upon now. 

Susan was about to say something when all of a sudden she stopped talking 
and cocked her head to one side. She gestured to Cindy to remain silent. 
"Listen," she whispered softly. For one brief moment there, Cindy felt as 
though they were both in the field near the Academy again, that fateful day 
when Susan had heard the engine roar of the oncoming motorcycles. Cindy 
realized with a start that "that fateful day" had in fact been that very 
morning, and that they had been gone from the Academy for less than 
twenty-four hours! It seemed almost impossible to believe that a single day 
could have been packed with so large a quantity of pain and pleasure and 
passion. 

The sound of the engine was getting louder now, and closer. Whatever it was, 
it was not a motorcycle; it sounded like some sort of heavy-duty truck. 
Through the thin phalanxes of the trees that lined the road Cindy could make 
out the glaring headlights of the oncoming vehicle. 

At Cindy's direction, both girls turned their cycles so that they were 
perpendicular to the road, making it impossible for a truck to pass in 
either direction without running right over the motorcycles. Then the two 
girls stood in front of their choppers and started waving their arms and 
jumping up and down frantically, trying to get whoever was driving the truck 
to see them and stop. 

At a distance of about fifty feet the truck started slowing down, and it 
pulled to a stop less than ten feet in front of them, the brakes squealing 
in protest. Shading her eyes from the glare of the headlights Cindy could 
vaguely make out the form of a large man in the driver's seat throwing the 
truck into neutral and then sliding over to open the door and leap out. 

The man was coming towards them. Because it was a moonless night, it was 
almost pitch dark, and the brilliant headlights shining directly into the 
girls' eyes made things even worse. They could see the man coming towards 
them, but it was impossible to tell what he looked like. He could have been 
thin or fat, black or white, handsome or ugly. There was absolutely no way 
of knowing. 

From a distance of about two feet he called out: "You chicks in trouble?" 
The man had a very unusual voice, one of those voices that cut through your 
ears like a radio announcer's voice, fantastically clear. It was impossible 
to tell by the voice whether the man was white or black. The voice was 
definitely an American voice, and what they could see of the man looked 
American, but somehow there was something about the voice that sounded 
foreign. 

Cindy came forward. "My friend's cycle has a gas leak and we can't siphon 
any gas from my chopper to hers. Is there any way you could give us a lift 
to someplace where we could get it fixed?" 

The man seemed to be taking an eternity to answer. Cindy felt herself 
growing very impatient. Both of the girls were barefoot, and the surface of 
the road was extremely cold beneath their naked feet. Cindy wondered why the 
man wasn't answering. There seemed to be something very strange about him 
but she couldn't quite tell what. 

Finally he spoke again: "Yeah. You can both ride in the back, I guess. We'll 
help you get your motorcycles into the back." The man turned and called out 
to someone riding in the cab of the truck. "Hey, Willie! Willie! Wake up, 
you big gorilla! We got company!" 

There were the sounds of someone waking up with a snort, and then: "Huh? 
Who? Wha... ? What you say, Archer?" It was hard for the girls to understand 
what Willie was saying over the sound of the truck engine, but judging from 
his voice he was obviously a black man. 

The first man, the one who seemed to be named Archer, was getting impatient. 
"Shut up and get out here, Willie!" he commanded. "We've got company!" 

"Company?" There was a slight pause. "Archer, man! Don't tell me the cops 
fou... " 

"SHUT UP, DAMN YOU!" Archer screeched nervously. "Just get your ass out here 
and give me a hand." 

There were some strange sounds from inside the truck, and then Willie, 
whoever he was, was leaping to the ground. It was very hard to get a good 
look at him, but he looked to Cindy as though he were well over six feet 
tall and at least three feet across. 

Willie went over to Archer. "What's goin' on, man?" he wanted to know. "Why 
ain't we movin'? We shoulda gone over the state li... " 

"SHUT UP, I SAID!" roared Archer. A moment later there was a flurry of arms 
and the one named Willie was lying flat on his back. Willie might have been 
huge, bigger than Archer, but apparently Archer knew just how to handle him. 
Cindy wished that she could get a good look at these guys. There was 
something very strange about them, something not quite realistic. She felt 
as though she had wandered onto a movie set somehow. 

Archer was standing over Willie now, sounding as though he were having 
difficulty controlling his temper. "Now listen, you fat ape: these two 
chicks here want a ride INTO THE NEXT TOWN." The words were emphasized for 
some reason, as though they had a secret meaning that the girls weren't 
supposed to know about. "Help me get them and their motorcycles into the 
back of the truck, and then we're going to take them INTO THE NEXT TOWN. Do 
you understand?" 

Willie was struggling to his feet with a groan. "But what town, Archer? We 
gotta be... " 

There was the sound of a fist against flesh, and then of a body striking the 
side of a truck. "Damn it, do what I tell you to do." 

"Okay, Archer, okay. Sheeee-it." A moment later the two men were picking up 
the motorcycles and loading them into the back of the truck, which seemed to 
be full of boxes and crates of various sizes. "There's no room for you girls 
in the front," Archer told them politely. "You'll have to ride in back and 
keep an eye on your motorcycles." 

"That's fine, sir. Thanks," Cindy assured him. "Come on, Suzie." The two of 
them clambered into the back of the truck, and Archer pushed the heavy metal 
doors closed. They shut with a click. 

Susan jiggled the handles of the doors. "We're locked in," she pointed out. 

"They always lock the doors on trucks so the cargo doesn't fall out," Cindy 
told her. "Don't worry about it. The main thing is we're heading for 
civilization." Just then they heard the sound of shifting gears, and a 
moment later the truck was moving again, gradually picking up speed as it 
went. 

Cindy stuck her hands in the pockets of her too-large jeans, which had come 
from the knapsack of one of the gang members. In one pocket were several 
crumbled bills; a five and three ones. "You have any money?" Cindy asked 
Susan. 

Susan checked. "Four bucks and some coins. Not enough to get the motorcycle 
fixed." 

"We'll think of something," Cindy said, leaning against one of the walls of 
the truck. As she did so she could hear the voices of the two men talking in 
the cab of the truck. She motioned for Susan to be quiet and join her, and 
the two girls started to eavesdrop. As a rule Cindy didn't believe in 
listening in on private conversations, especially those of total strangers 
who had done her a big favor like this, but for some reason she felt that 
there was something about these men that she ought to know. 

The first voice to speak belonged to Willie. "Damn it, Archer. What the fuck 
you gotta go pickin' up them cunts for?" 

Archer sounded annoyed. "I do what I feel like doing. I'm the brains of this 
outfit and don't you forget it. If there's any decisions to be made they get 
made by me, not by certain dumb baboons I could mention. Them chicks said 
they needed a ride so I figured I'd give them one." 

"Yeah, but what the hell for?" 

Even though she couldn't see him, Cindy was sure that Archer was shrugging. 
"Who knows? They're both good lookers. I wouldn't mind screwin' them. And if 
worst comes to worst, we can use them as hostages." 

Hostages! Cindy and Susan exchanged an anxious glance. Who were these men 
and what had they been doing? 

The big one, Willie, was talking again: "I still don't like it, Archer. We 
shoulda been over the state line two hours ago." 

"Fool," was Archer's reply. "You've been watching too many Humphrey Bogart 
movies. What we've been doing is a federal offense. It doesn't matter HOW 
many state lines we cross; as long as we're still in the country they can 
try to get us." 

Willie mumbled some sort of a reply, and then they both started talking 
about basketball. Since the New York Knicks were one of the subjects that 
neither Cindy nor Susan gave half a fuck about, they turned away from the 
truck wall and started carrying on a conversation of their own, in low tones 
just in case the back of the truck wasn't soundproof. 

Susan was understandably upset. "These guys are crooks," she pointed out. 

Cindy nodded her agreement. "I know. I wonder what the hell it is that they 
did that they're making such a big getaway." 

"Who knows?" asked Susan sharply. As she spoke her glance fell upon one of 
the stacks of crates that the truck was loaded with. "Hey, I wonder what 
they've got inside these boxes." Cindy had qualms about snooping on other 
people, but she felt that in this case they could make an exception. She 
helped Susan pry open the lid of one of the cardboard cartons. There was 
very little light in the back of the truck, and they both had to lean 
forward to get a good look at the contents. 

Inside the box were several neat rows of glass jars. Susan picked one up by 
the metal lid and looked at what was inside it. "It's sugar," she reported. 
"You think maybe these guys went and hijacked a sugar truck?" 

"Let me see that," Cindy requested, taking the jar from her friend. Placing 
the jar in her lap she unscrewed the lid, then stuck her hand inside and 
pulled out a pinch of the contents. "It doesn't feel like sugar," she 
announced. "Feels more like baking powder." She held a pinch of the 
substance up to her nostrils and sniffed. "It's not sugar, and it's not 
baking powder." She stuck out the tip of her tongue and touched it against 
the strange substance, then let out a yell. "HOLY SHIT! This stuff is 
HEROIN!" 

Susan managed to b"lf Stifle a shriek as both girls looked at each other in 
terror. Suppose the men in the front seat had heard? They put their ears to 
the wall and listened. No, the men were still babbling about how Jerry West 
was a million times better than Walt Frazier. 

Cindy put down the jar of acid and she and Susan started to check some of 
the other boxes and crates. Most of them contained heroin, or LSD, or 
marijuana. A few held empty glassine envelopes and hypodermic needles and 
various other tools of the trade. Apparently Cindy and Susan had walked 
right into the clutches of a couple of dope-suppliers! 

Just then they heard Archer's voice again, so loud and clear that it sounded 
as though he were in the back of the truck with them. "I'm worried about 
those cunts in the back of the truck," they heard him telling Willie. "As 
soon as we get to the warehouse we'll tie 'em up. Maybe we'll even beat 'em 
a little, and I guarantee we'll screw their asses off. I just hope they 
didn't start poking around inside our cargo." 

Cindy turned to her blonde friend. "We've got to get out of here," she 
announced, which was probably one of the most unnecessary statements of all 
time. 

Susan was busily engaged in stuffing cocaine into one of her hip pockets. 
"What for?" she wanted to know. "We've got lots of dope an' these guys say 
they're going to fuck us." 

"SUSAN!" There was panic in Cindy's eyes. "Don't you see that, as soon as 
these guys find out we're on to them they'll kill us?" 

Susan shook her head. "I don't think so. Maybe if we offer to let them fuck 
us every day we can be their gun molls or something." She giggled slightly. 
From the dazed look on Susan's face, she was apparently a bit woozy from 
going without food and from the torture she'd suffered at the hands of the 
DeSades. In any event, she wasn't thinking properly. 

Cindy slapped her friend full in the face. "Don't you see" she clamoured, 
trying to keep her voice down so that they wouldn't be overheard by Willie 
and Archer. 'These guys will KILL us! We've got to get out of here!" Susan 
only looked confused for a minute, and then she nodded. "Yeah, I guess 
you're right. Okay. So now that we've walked right into their clutches, how 
the fuck are we going to get out?" 

"I don't know yet," Cindy admitted. "But I'll think of something. Now give 
me a hand with these boxes." 

As Susan looked on in confused bewilderment, her companion opened several of 
the boxes and dumped their contents onto the floor of the truck. Then she 
started rearranging them, putting jars and hypodermics and the other heavy 
things equally distributed in each crate, and then filling up the rest of 
the area with the envelopes and so forth, packing them in the dead spaces so 
that there were five or six crates of equal weight. 

Cindy picked up one of the boxes and hefted it. "Just right," she declared, 
sounding pleased with herself. She explained to Susan: "They've got to be 
light enough for throwing, but heavy enough to do some damage." 

Susan opened her mouth and nodded. She still had very little idea of what 
was going on. 

Just then there came a sound as the truck pulled off the road and up some 
sort of embankment. A moment later it stopped and they could hear somebody 
getting out. "Now's our chance, Cindy," whispered Susan excitedly. "Let's 
get out of here." 

"We can't. They locked the door, remember?" Cindy stepped over the boxes and 
crossed to the motorcycles. "Come on. Help me get these out of the way of 
the door. When we make a run for it, we can't have anything stopping us." 

Susan still didn't comprehend completely, but she knew better than to argue. 
"Now remember," Cindy was telling her as they wheeled the two motorcycles 
away from the doors. "When we jump out of the truck it's a long drop to the 
ground. You've got to be prepared for it or you'll fall flat on your ass." 

Susan nodded and bit her lip. She didn't want her friend to see how scared 
she was. 

Cindy could feel the truck starting again, and it sounded as though it were 
being driven into some sort of a garage or a warehouse. They could hear 
doors opening and closing and somebody walking impatiently towards them. 

"This is it," Cindy announced, handing three of the boxes to Susan and 
keeping three for herself. "As soon as they open the door throw one box with 
each hand. Leave the other box on the floor and kick it out in front of you 
when you jump out. We've got to make every shot count. Just because there 
were only two guys in the truck doesn't mean there are only two guys 
wherever we are now." 

Susan nodded again. When they'd been captured and raped by the DeSades there 
had been nothing she could do about it except to lie back and submit. But in 
their current predicament they had a chance to fight back and they had to 
make use of it. The fact that their fate was more or less in their own hands 
was what made Susan so scared. She knew that when the gang members had had 
complete control over whether she lived or not there was no sense in being 
scared, because it wouldn't have helped one way or the other. 

But now was the time to be scared. 

Susan put one of the boxes down in front of her kicking foot and balanced 
one more on each shoulder. She'd never thrown with both hands before and she 
hoped she would be able to now. Her life might depend on it. 

Cindy had readied her own boxes, and now she was nodding towards the doors 
at the back of the truck. "Look," she hissed. 

Susan looked. 

The doors were opening... 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

It seemed to Cindy as though the whole world had stopped moving, that the 
only thing which still existed was the door handle that turned slowly as 
those two metal doors started to open. 

They could hear Archer calling out to them. "End of the line, girls, 
everybody out. I hope you... " 

"NOW!" 

There were only two people there, Archer and Willie. Maybe there were 
others, on the other side of the truck, but they had to take a chance that 
there weren't. Cindy tossed two boxes at once. The first one caught Archer 
full in the face and laid him out, while the other one missed Willie by 
three feet. At the same time she sent the box next to her foot flying. Out 
of the corner of her eye Cindy could see Susan doing the same thing. 

Archer got the worst of it, because he was standing next to the truck. 
Willie was at a distance and got hit a single glancing blow by one crate, 
but Archer was brought down by the very first box, and the three boxes that 
followed changed his mind about standing up for a while. 

Both girls were sailing through the air simultaneously, trying to leap clear 
of Archer and the boxes and reach the ground. In midair Cindy suddenly 
realized that her pants were falling down. Talk about poor timing, she 
thought. 

They hit the floor hard but were up and running, Cindy tugging at her jeans 
with both hands. They were in some sort of warehouse, and about ten feet 
away were the sliding doors that they'd come in through. Run to those doors 
and then open them and then you're free, Cindy was thinking. These were 
going to be the longest ten feet she'd ever run. 

"No, you don't!" Willie was yelling as he ran forward to tackle them. Susan, 
who was so scared by now that she didn't know what she was doing, lashed out 
with one fist, and Cindy was surprised to see Willie stumble backwards and 
fall face downwards. Something small and white like a tooth skittered across 
the asphalt, but Cindy didn't have time to worry about such things. All she 
could think about was escape. 

"Come on, Sue!" she shouted triumphantly, as she felt her hands close around 
the door handle. She bent forward to push the door open with every ounce of 
strength in her young body. 

THE DOOR WAS LOCKED! 

Almost sobbing with grief, she turned. Archer and Willie were standing there 
and not looking very happy. Archer was walking with a limp and Willie was 
holding his jaw as if he was afraid it would fall off. 

For the first time Cindy got a good look at Archer. He was black, but much 
lighter than Willie. He wasn't too big, but he was powerful. He was 
obviously a man to be reckoned with, and now Cindy and Susan were going to 
be reckoning with him whether they liked it or not. 

One backward glance was enough to assure Archer that his two prisoners had 
not only been snooping through the contents of the truck, but that they had 
had ample opportunity to find out just what those contents were. He faced 
the two girls again. "You realize, of course, that we're going to have to 
kill you." 

The girls didn't answer. 

"Don't get me wrong, ladies," Archer was saying. "I'm not a murderer or a 
bank robber or a mugger. I don't want to hurt anybody. I sell dope, sure, 
but dope makes people happy, and if it happens to be against the law I can't 
help that. But I also can't afford to let you girls go to the cops and tell 
them about us. So we'll have to kill you. We don't want to, but we have to. 
You girls made a mistake and now you have to pay the price." 

Susan was starting to whimper. "Please let us go, mister," she was pleading. 
"We won't tell a soul. We promise." 

Archer's face did not look at all nice. "You say you won't. And maybe you 
really mean that. But I can't take that chance. So Willie here and I are 
going to have to put you out of your misery." 

As he spoke one hand strayed downwards towards his belt. "You girls did a 
lot of damage to the goods in my truck. You owe me money for that. And I 
have a right to charge you money for transporting you and your motorcycles. 
You owe me for that too." He started to undo his belt. "So I guess before 
Willie and I kill you you're going to pay your debts by doing us a little 
favor." 

He started to lower his pants. 

Cindy screamed. They were going to get raped! Both girls turned and tried to 
open the door again, even though they knew it was locked. Behind them they 
could hear Archer and Willie coming closer and closer. 

They could feel strong hands on their shoulders, hands that pulled them away 
from the doors and back into the center of the room. Cindy felt her hands 
clawing at airy emptiness and saw the door to freedom moving away faster and 
faster and knew that she was in more trouble than she ever had been in 
before. 

Archer had Cindy now, and Willie was coming ever closer to Susan. "I want 
the blonde one," Cindy could hear the huge black man saying. "I like 'em 
blonde." Susan screamed, but even as she did so she knew that screams would 
be no help. There was nothing that could help her now. 

Cindy found herself being pushed down onto the hard asphalt. She saw the big 
hands of Archer pulling the shirt and jacket from her body, pulling away the 
pants until she was naked. This made it all the more humiliating for her. It 
was bad enough being raped, but being stripped made it even worse. 

She was naked now, and the black man who called himself Archer was right on 
top of her, fondling her breasts with his hands. The blackness of his hands 
looked filthy and impure against the lily-white purity of Cindy's creamy 
skin, and she knew that rape by a black man was even more of a violation 
than rape by a white one. Not that she was in any position to choose, 
because now Archer was using his powerful knees to spread Cindy's naked 
thighs, to spread them wide. And there between them was her captive cunt, 
naked and glistening for all the world to see. 

She shut her eyes so that she wouldn't have to look at that huge piece of 
black meat going into her, but even with her eyes closed she could still see 
it. There was no escape from it. And she gritted her teeth and hissed as she 
felt the long cylindrical organ thrusting itself into her body, to ravish 
her, to rape her, to violate her purity. 

Deeper and deeper the monstrous organ went, until Cindy was sure that she 
was being tom apart. Finally she could feel Archer's flat stomach pressing 
firmly against her own, and she knew that he was in her all the way. And 
even as that cock lay burning deep within her like the Devil's own firebrand 
Cindy could feel it getting larger and larger, pushing her farther and 
farther open. It was getting bigger and bigger, and the bigger it got the 
longer it got, and the longer it got the farther into her it went, and the 
farther in it went the more tightly Cindy's pussy squeezed it, and the 
tighter she squeezed it the bigger it got. She opened her mouth and screamed 
for mercy, for this man to stop tearing open her flesh with his erotic 
dagger. 

She begged him to stop it, but he only laughed and slapped her several 
times. "Shut up, bitch," he hissed between his teeth. "You take it and you 
like it. Bitches like you are supposed to get fucked whether they like it or 
not." 

And even as he spoke the black man was pumping, was sending his organ 
shooting up and down inside of her, and Cindy discovered that against her 
will the friction from that big organ was getting her hot, was stimulating 
her desires, was dragging her involuntarily into a state of passion. 

Deeper and deeper the organ went, deeper and deeper and faster and faster, 
pumping and humping and jumping and thumping and bumping and grinding and 
everything else, turning fifteen different directions within Cindy's captive 
flesh, until she found that she was actually being brought to a climax, a 
climax she didn't want. She knew that it was degrading to be raped by this 
man, but that the degradation would be even worse if he made her come. She 
wasn't SUPPOSED to be enjoying this. 

And then she could feel that enormous donger getting excited, and it was 
jerking back and forth in syncopated rhythm, and as it throbbed and 
convulsed and pulsated Cindy found that her vagina was moving with it, and 
that she was tottering on the brink of an orgasm. And then she slipped and 
fell in, screaming with unwanted passion, as the man's red-hot creamstick 
burst into an erection eruption with a brilliant erotic fireworks display. 
And, at the exact same instant that Archer creamed, CINDY WAS CREAMING TOO! 
And no matter how many times a woman lays a man she has never experienced 
the perfect fuck until she and her man both come at the exact same instant. 

And the two simultaneous ejaculations both came shooting out and 
skyrocketing towards each other, barreling along the passages of Cindy's 
inner anatomy, and just the feel of that hot stuff rushing through her was 
enough to make the girl cream again, cream as she never had before. 

The two steaming wads of love-juice came hurtling towards each other, and 
they came together with a crash deep within the chasm between the white 
girl's thighs. They mixed and mingled and intertwined, each one trying to 
push the other one out of the way. But it was Archer's ejaculation that was 
the stronger one, because soon Cindy could feel her own vagina-juice being 
forcibly pushed back down the throat of her own vagina, back down deeper and 
deeper and faster all the time, and that felt so good that she creamed 
again, even though she didn't want to. 

The man was pulling out of her now, and Cindy was surprised to see that his 
cock was still hard. He may have shot but he hadn't lost his wad yet. 
"You're good, chick," he told the white girl, and there was a suggestion of 
tenderness in his voice. "In fact, you're DAMN good. But now I think I'll 
cut me a slice of the blonde girl." And then he got up and walked away. For 
a moment, for a beautiful moment, Cindy thought that she was free, but then 
she saw the big black beast named Willie come lumbering towards her, and she 
realized that the ordeal had just begun. 

Willie was coming closer to her now, and Cindy could see that his cock too 
was still stiff, was still rock-hard and straight as a stick. "On your 
knees, bitch," he ordered his helpless captive. "I like my pussies on their 
knees. Now KNEEL!" 

There was nothing Cindy could do but obey. There was only one way that she 
could hope to get out of this, and that was through obedience, through 
submission, through degradation and humiliation. She got down on her knees, 
wondering what sort of perverted fate was in store for her now, and as Cindy 
kneeled she noticed that she was in the traditional position for praying. 
But not even prayers would help her now. 

As she watched, the big man named Willie put one hand to his cock, raising 
it slowly until it was on a level with her face, while with his other hand 
he suddenly gripped Cindy's neck firmly. She saw the bulging muscles in 
those long black fingers and knew that it would be a very simple matter for 
Willie to break her neck, to snap it as if it were a matchstick. 

And even as the fingers gripped her neck she felt them squeeze until the 
pressure on her windpipe increased oh so slightly. "Open your mouth, bitch," 
the big black man commanded her. "Open your mouth. You're gonna give me 
head." 

Cindy was too dazed to respond, and the fingers squeezed just a little bit 
tighter until Cindy's eyes goggled and her tongue was hanging out of her 
mouth. She could feel everything going black and realized that without 
oxygen her brain would die, and she would die with it. "Open yo' mouth, 
bitch," the huge man repeated, tightening his grip just the teeniest tiniest 
bit. "Open yo' mouth before I kill you." 

Cindy was so dazed by now that she did not think she could obey, but she 
knew that she would have to if she expected to survive. With excruciating 
slowness she opened her mouth an inch at a time. She could barely see by 
this time, her breathing was growing slow and labored and she felt as though 
she were underwater. Everything seemed to be happening very slowly, until 
Cindy was sure that the world had stopped moving altogether. It was like 
watching one of those instant replays on television, where everything 
happened so slowly, only things were so slow that it seemed to take three or 
four minutes before any movement at all was noticeable. From somewhere or 
other a bell seemed to be ringing, to be ringing so very very slowly. Cindy 
tried to count the number of times the bell rang, but it was impossible to 
concentrate, it was impossible to think about anything but that monstrous 
cock which was coming closer and closer to her mouth with every passing 
second. 

And then the big thing was inside of her, was forcing its way into her mouth 
and across her tongue, across her tongue and down her throat. Against her 
will Cindy was giving the black man head. 

She found her mouth closing in around the thing, to kiss it, to suck it, to 
mouth it, to make passionate love to it. Cindy was on her knees before this 
big black man, and that was the position that she was supposed to be in: on 
her knees, in a gesture of submission, of sexual surrender to the majestic 
male of the species. 

Deeper and deeper into her the thing went, all the way into her mouth, and 
Cindy felt even more degraded than before, because now she could TASTE the 
cock, and the taste was awful. The hot glistening stickiness all up and down 
the surface of the rod was being sucked off into her mouth, being washed 
away down and into her throat, and Cindy was sure that she was going to be 
sick. The big meat pushed into her farther and farther still, showing no 
sign of mercy, until the white girl was sure that she was going to choke on 
the big organ. It was the biggest piece of meat she'd ever had, and the fact 
that it was in her mouth made it seem all the bigger. 

Suck, suck, suck, that was all that existed now, suck or die, suck or be 
killed, and as Cindy sucked she could feel the big creamstick getting bigger 
and bigger still, swelling up with the hot tumescence of its own juice, of 
its own red-hot cock-sauce which was destined for a trip down Cindy's hot 
slavering throat. 

More of it, more of it, moremoremoremore. The thing got bigger and bigger 
and longer and longer. Would it never stop, or would it keep on swelling up 
like some sort of erotic balloon, keep on filling up until every inch of 
Cindy's helpless body was filled with cock? 

And then suddenly the thing stopped getting bigger and started getting 
hotter, until Cindy could feel her throat catch on fire. 

The thing got hotter and hotter, and then from far away Cindy could feel a 
distant rumbling, a rumbling that grew slowly and inexorably closer and 
closer and louder and mightier and more of it more of it more of it more. 
Then the rumbling was not a tremor but an earthquake, getting bigger and 
more powerful as the entire mountainous pillar of flesh within Cindy's hot 
throat began to quiver and quake and shiver and shake and thump and throb 
and bob up and down and then suddenly burst into ten thousand pieces as its 
hot steaming cock-juice went shooting out like a volcanic eruption, like a 
geyser of goo, come shooting out and down and across Cindy's tongue and down 
into her throat and more of it more of it more of it more. 

More of it. More. 

 CHAPTER NINE 

The black man had creamed in Cindy's mouth! It felt so goddamned good that 
he threw back his head and roared in delicious delight as that bolt of 
liquid lightning went shooting into the young girl's mouth. And she was so 
surprised at this sudden flood of cockness in her throat that Cindy forgot 
what was happening and BIT, The man screamed, and his hand grew tighter 
around Cindy's throat, and she was so scared that she bit down harder, and 
the man screamed again and again as the hot frothy liquid poured into 
Cindy's mouth, the hot white cream from his cock. But there was redness in 
the whiteness. 

Willie staggered backwards, clutching at his crotch. There was blood on his 
lips and he was shrieking and wailing. It seemed to Cindy that she would 
never get the taste of that meat out of her mouth, that she would carry the 
memory of that taste to her grave. She was dimly aware that Willie had 
backed into one of the crates and fallen over. His head cracked against the 
asphalt and he lay still. 

Archer had stopped fucking Susan when he heard his friend scream, and now he 
was coming closer to Cindy. "Damn it, you bitch," he hissed, spitting out 
the words as he came towards her. "I'll teach you to hurt my man Willie!" 
She saw a hand dive into his trouser pocket, and a moment later Cindy found 
herself staring down the business end of a revolver. As she looked on in 
helpless terror the black thumb pulled back the hammer of the pistol and the 
black finger tightened on the trigger. 

Suddenly Cindy saw that Susan had jumped to her feet and was running across 
the room. The blonde girl went into a nose-dive and crashed into the base of 
Archer's spine. He yelped in panic, and at the exact instant he pulled the 
trigger of his pistol the firearm flew upwards and the wad of hot molten 
lead streaked up towards the ceiling. 

The bullet flew into the roof and brought a barrage of plaster and concrete 
tumbling downwards. Pieces of it showered down upon Susan's naked ass, and 
one enormous chunk plummeted earthward and connected with the top of 
Archer's skull. He groaned once and fell. The pistol tumbled from his hand 
and clattered across the room, echoing hollowly in the concrete emptiness. 

Neither of the black men moved. 

There was a pause, and then Susan looked up at Cindy. "Let's get out of 
here." 

While Susan put on her clothes Cindy went to inspect the damage. Willie was 
conscious, but he wasn't going to go anywhere for a while. The big black man 
was moaning softly and puffing air in and out of his cheeks in a grotesque 
fashion. 

But Archer had not been rendered harmless yet, and even though he was not as 
powerfully built as Willie, Cindy knew that he was still the more dangerous 
one of the two. While he was still unconscious she stripped him, and then 
used his own clothes to tie him up with. He wouldn't be scampering about for 
some time to come. 

The two girls dressed quickly, pulling on their ill-fitting men's clothes as 
best they could and in total silence. Finally Cindy spoke: "You saved my 
life, Sue." 

Susan grunted. "I mean it," Cindy continued. "That dude Archer was standing 
three feet in front of me. He couldn't possibly have missed me at that 
range, even if he was a bad shot. If you hadn't jumped him from behind I 
would be dead by now." 

"And so would I," Susan reminded her friend. "Forget about it. You would 
have done the same for me." 

They finished dressing. Cindy had gone through both men's pockets. Willie 
hadn't had anything of interest, but Archer, who was obviously the leader of 
this little group, had been holding onto some very interesting things 
indeed. Besides the revolver there were a box of bullets, a wallet filled 
with money and credit cards, the keys to the truck, and a little notebook 
filled with the names and addresses of what were pretty obviously drug 
connections. 

At that moment Archer groaned and raised his head. He tried to sit up, and 
his eyes widened as he saw that he had been securely bound with his own 
clothing. 

He glared balefully at Cindy. "Let me up," he said. It was not a demand, 
because he was not in a position to demand. It was not a request for mercy, 
because he was not the sort who begged for mercy. It was merely a statement. 
"Let me up." 

Cindy calmly leveled the black man's own gun at his face. "Why should we let 
you up?" she asked. "A minute ago you wanted to kill us." 

There was a desperate catch in his voice. "You can go. Just let me up and I 
swear you can go." 

She let the revolver dangle from her finger casually. "And what guarantee do 
we have of that?" She smiled at him thinly. "No, Mister Archer, Mister Big 
Bad Superfly who rapes helpless white girls, I think you're going to stay 
just where you are for a while, so that Susan and I can go to the police and 
show them this nice little book of yours with all the names and the 
addresses in it." 

Archer's eyes widened until Cindy thought that they would fall out of his 
head. "I've got to have that book!" he screeched. "I'll give you anything 
you like for it! I'll give you all the money in my wallet!" 

Cindy smiled cruelly. "I've already got all the money in your wallet." She 
dangled the leather billfold where Archer could see it. "I've even got the 
wallet." 

Bullets of sweat were breaking out on the black man's forehead. "Look here, 
miss... " he stammered. For some reason he had stopped calling her "bitch" 
and started calling her "miss" 

"I've got to have that book, do you hear me? I've got fifteen thousand 
dollars in a bank near here, and you can have it all. But I've got to have 
that book." 

Cindy idly tapped the revolver with her Fingernails. "Not a chance, fella," 
she said calmly. 

"Now wait a minute, Cin," Susan interjected. "Fifteen thousand dollars is a 
lot of money. Maybe we should do what he says." Cindy snorted her contempt 
for that suggestion. "Of course it's a lot of money. But if we let him go 
and give him his book do you think we'll get it? All this guy would give us 
is a couple of lead sleeping pills." She turned back towards Archer again. 
"Sorry, Supercool. I hope you look good in stripes because you're going to 
be in jail for so long that by the time you get out marijuana will be 
legal." 

There was a groaning noise behind Cindy and suddenly Archer looked up. 
"WILLIE!" he shouted. "Get her!" 

Cindy turned to see Archer's enormous pal lumbering towards her. Without 
thinking she fired straight at his face, but the recoil sent the bullet 
several yards to one side of him. Willie groaned again, tripped over his own 
feet and fell face down. Archer muttered something that sounded like 
"fuckin' shit." 

Cindy turned to her friend Susan. "Let's get out of here." 

* * * 

In a corner of the garage, hidden under a canvas tarpaulin, was a 
motorcycle, practically brand-new. The gas gauge showed it had just been 
juiced up, and the two girls wheeled this and Cindy's cycle towards the 
front door. Cindy had a ring of keys that she'd fished from Archer's pocket, 
and after several trials she found the one that unlocked the door. Together 
she and Susan pushed the warehouse door open and looked at the world that 
they hadn't seen in several hours. 

The sun was coming up. 

Cindy kicked her motorcycle into gear and looked back at Archer. "Be cool 
now," she said sweetly. "The next voice you hear will be your friendly 
neighborhood police." She gave her blonde companion a swat on the fanny. 
"Let's hit the road, girl." 

They closed the door from outside, locked it and roared off towards the 
highway. They had wheels now, and money to buy food and clothes. And Susan 
had a pocketful of speed, in case they needed a kick that they couldn't get 
from sex. 

And now there would be one quick trip to the police station, and another one 
to a clothing store, and then the two girls would be off down the open road. 
Cindy knew that there were a lot of cocks out there, a lot of cocks and a 
lot of thrills, and she knew that she and Susan would want them all. 

And they would get them. 

 CHAPTER TEN 

The two girls rode in silence for at least an hour. As they pounded down the 
highway Cindy couldn't help but think back over the many strange erotic 
activities that she and her good friend Susan had been through in the last 
twenty-four hours. Little had she known, when she and Susan sneaked off the 
campus of the Gladys M. Forsythe Academy for Advanced Young Ladies, that 
they would never return, that they would instead embark upon an odyssey of 
thrills that neither girl had ever imagined existed. They had sneaked away 
from the Academy to smoke a few reefers and get some cheap kicks. They had 
ended up getting a lot more kicks than they had bargained for. 

Two days ago they had been almost total innocents, practically virgin 
schoolgirls. They had known about sex, and they'd gotten into some heavy 
petting with boy friends, but up until their fateful rendezvous with the 
DeSades neither girl had been into sex in a big way. Well, now they'd been 
brought out, in fact they'd been brought out in a big way. Neither girl 
would be able to go back to her days of lollipop-licking. One taste of sex, 
of REAL sex, and now they would never settle for anything less. 

After an hour or so of cycling they saw the dim streetlights of a backroads 
rural town coming towards them on the horizon. It was very early morning 
now, and the two girls, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, could barely make 
out what their surroundings looked like. Cindy pulled her chopper up to some 
very large bushes by the side of the road and cut her motor, gesturing to 
Susan to do the same as she had. 

Cindy jerked a thumb in the direction of the bushes. "Well flop here for the 
night," she announced, having a bit of difficulty stifling a yawn. After all 
the excitement they had had it was quite natural that Cindy be a little 
tired. "Well just hit the hay right here and sleep all night," she added. 

Susan grinned in amusement. "You mean well sleep all morning," she 
corrected, gesturing towards the sun that was already well up over the 
horizon. "You think it'll be safe to flop here during the daytime? At night, 
yeah, but it's morning now; somebody might see us an' figure we're a couple 
of bums." She yawned too, then added: "Why don't we at least go into the 
woods a ways?" 

Cindy nodded to show that the plan was all right with her, and then the two 
girls dismounted from their motorcycles and started to push them through the 
bushes and into the woods beyond. Cindy noted with satisfaction that the 
forest floor was coated with a soft lining of dead pine needles and leaves. 
It wouldn't be a bad place to fuck in, she told herself. 

"Well, be it ever so humble," she said out loud as they leaned their cycles 
up against a tree. The two girls took off most of their clothes and lay down 
on the soft ground to catch up on all the sleep they had gone without. 

All through the rapings and beatings and whippings and torturings, both 
girls had been desperate for a chance to get some sleep, to lie back and 
relax and let the pain and the suffering all wash away. But now that 
everything was all right and the girls were actually trying to get some rest 
they discovered that they were wide awake. 

"I can't sleep," Susan confessed, propping herself up on one elbow. 

"Neither can I," admitted Cindy, grinning sheepishly. "But we've got to." 

"No we don't," protested her blonde friend. "I'd rather have a look at this 
town and see what kinds of cocks it has." 

"We'll do that," the older girl promised her. "We'll ball our way through 
the whole town and the whole county and the whole state and maybe even the 
whole damn U. S. of A. But we've got to get some sleep first. And after that 
we've got to go to the cops and tell them about our good friends Archer and 
Willie." As she spoke Cindy reached out for the dungarees that she had taken 
off and placed beside herself. She patted the pocket where she had put 
Archer's address book, to make sure that it was still there. It was. And so 
was his wallet with all the money and the credit cards. 

Susan pouted as though she were a little girl rather than a full-grown 
teenager. "Oh, Cindy, not the POLICE! We don't have to bother them about 
Archer. They'll keep us busy with red tape and all kinds of shit like that, 
and by the time they let us go we'll be so old our tits will fall off. Why 
waste time fooling around with the police when we could be out fuckin' and 
funnin'?" 

Cindy stood absolutely steadfastly firm on this one point. "Sorry, Sue, but 
it's just something that's gotta be done. People like Archer and Willie are 
just crooks an' that's all there is to it. I had a boy friend once who used 
to do business with people like that. He did an O. D. Folks like Archer and 
his big gorilla friend are plain old everyday murderers, and that's all 
there is to it." 

Susan sighed as she lay there semi-naked. "Yeah, I guess so," she admitted 
at length. "And, what the hell, those bastards raped us. I wouldn't mind 
getting 'em busted for that alone." 

"There, you see?" retorted her redheaded friend. "Now roll over and get some 
sleep." 

Susan rolled over, her long golden hair obscuring her face and one of her 
breasts as she lay there. "Good-night," she whispered to Cindy. 

There was no reply except for a snore. 

Cindy was one of those girls who woke up a little at a time, the kind that 
would lie there for an hour arguing with herself over whether or not to get 
up. At last she yawned and, eyes still closed, reached out with one hand for 
the dungarees that she had taken off the night before. 

They weren't there. 

Frowning slightly, the girl reached out farther, trying to recall exactly 
where she had put the things. She felt her fingers close around the hardness 
of a tree trunk. Knowing that she had left the clothes around there 
somewhere, Cindy began to poke around over a wider and wider area until at 
last her hand came in contact with something that wasn't part of the 
landscape. 

A motorcycle boot. 

Cindy opened her eyes. 

Towering over her was Diana, still clad in the one-piece leather body 
stocking and looking about two feet taller than the day before. Cindy 
noticed that there was a hole in the leather tunic under Diana's armpit 
where the charge from the shotgun had grazed her. Cindy could see the naked 
skin underneath and saw that a slight wound had been partially healed over. 

Standing directly behind the huge lesbian amazon was somebody that Cindy 
realized with a start of surprise was Needles! From the expression on the 
junkie's face he was right in the middle of a powerful acid trip, and both 
he and his mistress Diana looked as though they were about to do something 
very enjoyable. Such as raping helpless girls. 

Cindy opened her mouth and screamed with all of her might. "SU-U-USAN!" She 
wanted to tell herself that this was all a dream, or rather a nightmare, 
that she was still asleep, that she would soon wake up. But deep down inside 
Cindy knew that it was all very real. And that it was about to get realer. 

Susan's eyes fluttered open. She still looked about half-asleep, but as soon 
as she saw who was standing there she was wide awake herself. In a single 
glance the frightened girl took in the situation: their clothes were gone, 
and so were their motorcycles. Either Diana or Needles had taken the 
opportunity while the girls were asleep to slip a length of chain with a 
padlock around the leg of each girl and lock it, after first doubling the 
leg up so that the foot was directly under the back of the thigh. Cindy knew 
that if she stood up with that chain on she would have one leg tucked under 
her ass like a stork. Running away was quite clearly impossible. 

For a long time neither girl dared to speak, either to each other or to 
their captors. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Diana herself 
opened the red slit of her mouth and spoke. 

"The Seven Gates of Hell... Gate Three... " 

Cindy felt the long shadow of the dominatrix fall across her helpless body 
and at last she managed to work up the nerve to speak. "You can't be 
serious," she protested. "The Seven Gates of Hell were so that we could get 
into your gang. We passed the First Gate, and then the Second Gate, but then 
Scar broke up the gang. You've got to let us go." 

"The Seven Gates of Hell," Diana repeated. "Gate Three. And then Gate Four. 
And then Gate Five. And then Gate Six. And then Gate Seven." 

Cindy remembered how, when she had tied up Archer, she had gotten a kick 
from watching him struggle, from listening to him bargain for his freedom. 
The knowledge that she had had control over another human being had been a 
big kick for her, almost a sexual kick. Now she was beginning to understand 
the kick that Diana got from abducting girls, from tying them up, from 
torturing them and raping them. 

But Cindy didn't want Diana to get that kick. Not at the expense of her own 
and Susan's bodies. Struggling to pull off the chain that bound her leg and 
held her captive, Cindy protested: "Please try to listen to reason. You 
can't do this to us. We've earned the right to freedom. You've got to let us 
go." 

"The Seven Gates of Hell," Diana repeated. "Gate Three. And then Gate Four. 
And then Gate Five. And then Gate Six. And then... " Cindy saw that she was 
trapped. She and Susan had escaped from the arduous ordeal to find 
themselves a few hours of freedom, a few minutes of liberty. But now that 
was all being denied to them. They had just been thrust back into the cage, 
the prison, the torture chamber of sadistic lust. 

"The Third Gate of Hell," Diana announced, as though she were making a bid 
in a game of contract bridge. She held up one hand and, without turning 
around, spoke to the faithful Needles, who stood waiting behind her, eager 
to serve. "Give me the- apparatus for the ceremony." 

The two girls looked on in fearful apprehension as Needles reached beneath 
his faded, tattered jacket and pulled out an object wrapped in felt, which 
he began to unroll with great care as though he were unveiling a prized 
heirloom or even a sacred relic. Cindy remembered that the Royal Sceptre in 
the Tower of London was wrapped in cloth like that, and the thing Needles 
was unwrapping was about the same size and shape. And he even handled it as 
though it were some sort of hallowed object. Did Diana possess some sort of 
sceptre that symbolized her imperial power over her captive sex-slaves? 

And then the object was pulled out of the cloth, and Cindy saw what it was. 
It was a sceptre, at least in a manner of speaking. It was certainly a staff 
of power, and a symbol of domination. 

It was a dildo. 

Cindy couldn't help staring in morbid fascination at this thing that Needles 
held in his hands, held as though it were the object he worshipped above all 
else in Creation. Cindy had seen big dildos, but this one was literally a 
monster; it was at least a foot long and as wide around as a grown man's 
fist. The artificial cock was perfectly contoured, and was crafted from the 
most realistic latex that Cindy had ever encountered. The thing even had a 
pair of well-formed testicles dangling below and a small but definite 
outcropping of pubic hair. Except for the gigantic size of the thing, it 
looked and felt exactly like the real McCock in every way. 

Slowly, haltingly, Needles approached his tall flame-haired mistress. He 
came before her with bowed head and then dropped to his knees, offering up 
the divine object as though he were some sort of altar boy offering the 
Sacred Chalice to his priest. 

Cindy saw that some sort of divine light seemed to be shining out from the 
haggard junkie's pockmarked face, as though he were taking part in some sort 
of blessed event. My God, she thought to herself, that woman's really got 
this guy brainwashed. I don't care what she does to Susan and I as long as 
she doesn't try to rape our minds like that. 

Slowly Diana reached down and took the awesome dildo, cradling it in her 
fingers as though she were the Virgin Mary and the dildo was the Infant 
Jesus. The look of total devotion that shone from her face was so intense 
that the scene was actually inspirational. Cindy knew that she ought to be 
scared out of her wits, but for some reason she felt almost as if she were 
participating in some form of sacred rite. 

And then she realized that it WAS a sacred rite. It was going to be a 
sacrifice, a burnt offering to the God of Lust, and she and Susan were to be 
the sacrificial victims. They were going to be ravished, they were going to 
be impaled upon a pillar of fire, a cylinder of artificial flesh shaped like 
a monstrous phallic symbol. 

Slowly Diana took the dildo and raised it heavenwards, uplifting her head as 
she did so that she might see the orgiastic organ pointed directly towards 
the sun. A look of tremendous rapture was bursting forth upon the woman's 
beautifully ugly face as she opened the walls of her mouth and spoke. 

"In the name of the Flogger," she intoned, "and of the Stunned, and of the 
Holocaust. As it was in the Big Sinning, is now and ever shall be, Pain 
Without End. Hymen." The words sounded sacred somehow, and Cindy realized 
that this woman actually believed them, that she revelled in a demented 
catechismal creed of Pain and Lust and Torture, that she was the divine 
priestess of a cult of pain worshippers, of flagellators, of torture 
inflictors. And, even though Cindy knew that she ought to escape, she could 
not help thinking that somehow she and Susan had been given an honor they 
were unworthy of, by being chosen as the sacrifices on this woman's Altar of 
Blood. 

And now Diana was coming closer, with Needles not far behind. And somehow 
the sadism and the filthiness had fallen from them and they seemed to be 
divine missionaries, spreading a credo of pain and suffering and 
humiliation. Their eyes were uplifted towards the heavens, and they seemed 
to glow from within. Even the Dildo, the Sacred Dildo, seemed to be gleaming 
and glittering with a divine light of its own creation. 

The world had stopped moving now, everything had stopped to watch the 
Priestess of Pain and her Divine Dildo advance upon the two chosen 
sacrificial victims, the ones who had to die for their sins. Cindy glanced 
down at her naked legs, and as she watched it seemed as though the flesh 
upon her feet was melting away to reveal open wounds, wounds that bled and 
did not heal, wounds such as might be made by nails tearing into the flesh. 
And she saw the same marks upon her hands, and a gaping gash opened in her 
side and from it seemed to flow the very lifeblood of her tortured, twisted, 
agonized soul. Cindy was to become a martyr now, she was to be crucified 
upon the lance of the Divine Dildo, and Susan was to die at her side. 
Together they would die for the sake of the God of Pain. 

Diana turned away from Cindy now, to devote her full attention to the blonde 
girl Susan. "You shall be the first," she intoned, and there seemed to be a 
sacred quality in her voice that had not been there before. "You shall be 
the first. For the lashed shall be forced, and the thirst shall be lust." 

Cindy looked, and there was wonderment in her eyes, and awe in her heart, as 
she saw that Sacred Organ coming downward, ever downward towards Susan's 
shuddering cranny, towards the Tabernacle between her thighs. 

Cindy saw that the Divine Diana was attaching the base of the Dildo to some 
sort of a metal fastener that protruded from the crotch of her leather 
garment. Now the Object of Adoration protruded from between her legs, so 
that now it was a more powerful Dildo than ever, a Dildo that would be put 
to good use upon the two sacrificial victims that lay waiting to receive it. 

Slowly the thing came towards Susan, and as Cindy watched she saw that Susan 
too had acquired the same stigmata, the same Holy Marks upon her hands and 
feet and in her naked side. For now they were going to be martyrs, to die 
the most blessed Death there ever was or ever would be, to die as willing 
disciples of the Dildo of Diana. 

And now Cindy could see the huge thing going into Susan, slowly at first but 
with gathering speed. In the beginning of it Susan merely lay there quietly, 
meekly accepting her fate, passively submitting herself to the divine power 
of the entity that entered into her body. 

But then the thing thrust deeper, deep within her until suddenly Susan was 
screaming in pain and fear and suffering, and it seemed to Cindy as though 
the young girl's body had been entirely consumed in an all-powerful 
onslaught of infernal Hellfire. Susan opened her mouth to scream, and it 
seemed as though a river of blood, a red sea of suffering, gushed out of her 
mouth as though it were an open wound. And then the blood was coming from 
her eyeballs and her fingertips and every inch of her body at once, and 
Cindy saw that the girl was not bleeding at all, but burning, burning under 
the hot flames of passionate lust, but the flames were blood-flames, and 
every particle of the girl's captive anatomy was swept up into the blaze, 
burning and shriveling up in a blaze of blasphemous heat hot heat hot heat 
hot heat until her eyes and her lips and the mounds of her breasts were 
turning into blood-red flames of passionate pain, and her pubic hair had 
become a burning bush of blessedly brazenly blaspheming bloodening bliss, 
with a hiss of disconsolate doom and defeat and demented despair, and exotic 
erotic I despotic delight. 

And then the blood-red flames of passion turned golden yellow and then 
virgin white as from out of Susan's ravaged ravished body poured gallons and 
gallons of orgasm goo, as she creamed and she screamed and she seemed to be 
burning and turning to churnings of hot liquid cream, cream of the orgasms, 
cream of the comings, cream of the thousands and millions and billions of 
people who died on the altar of Lust, who devoted- their lives to the 
pleasure of pain, that dominate, subjugate, liberate waves of libidinous 
Lust. Lust was the Father, Lust was the Son, Lust was the Trinity, all three 
in one. Lust was the Deity that dominated us all, filling Susan's body with 
every sacred and profane emotion known to man, woman, angel or devil. 
Goodness and evil no longer were distinct, they blended and ended a lifetime 
of life without sex. Because Lust was not evil now, nor was it good. It was 
All That There Was. Lust, Lust, nothing but Lust. Lashes to Asses and Bust 
to Dust. 

Just Lust. 

Lust was a Must. 

More of it, more of it, more of it, more. More of the passion would open the 
door as never before to lust, Lust, Lust! LUST! 

"Torture me! TORTURE ME!" Susan was screaming, screaming and dreaming and 
dreaming of Lust. Lust was the Answer, Lust was the Prayer. Every land, 
every race, every place, everywhere needed LUST, LUST, NOTHING BUT LUST, 
ASHES TO ASHES AND DUST TO DUST! 

Susan was creaming and Susan was crying, Susan was screaming and Susan was 
dying, and trying to fly to the sky on a pillar of LUST, LUST, NOTHING BUT 
LUST, Lust is Salvation, Lust is our Hope, the Whip and the Lash and the 
Chain and the Rope. 

Lust! 

Pain! 

Torture and Blood! 

And Susan expired in a murkied-up maze, and a haze of hot passion, of 
passion and LUST. At last she collapsed in the throes of her passion, her 
pleasure, her pain. Now she was satisfied, now she was crucified, now she 
was purified, now she was pure. Now she was sure of the cure to be pure, it 
was LUST, LUST, NOTHING BUT LUST! 

Susan creamed out her life on the bare forest floor, pleading "More! Give me 
more! Oh, like never before give me more!" And her orgasm shattered to bits, 
with her hips and her tits and her lips and her ass, as. she lapsed into 
pits of emotional passion. It was good, it was great, it was what she 
deserved. She had managed to serve the Almighty God, Lust. 

And now it was Cindy's turn. 

She saw that glistening organ all coated with the cream of Susan's orgasm, 
and she knew that now she would be the one to feel its hard thrust within 
her. She wanted it all. She needed it all. Without it there was nothing, but 
with it there was all. She wanted to die on the altar of Lust. 

Closer it came, closer it came, and Cindy felt as though she could see with 
her vagina, as though she could taste with it and feel with it, as though 
her entire body had become a part of that one all-powerful organ, as though 
her entire life revolved around that one thing between her legs. 

She actually could see with her vagina now, and she could see the glistening 
nose-cone of the Sacred Dildo coming towards her, coming forward to go into 
her, to penetrate her, dominate her, fenestrate her, subjugate her. She 
opened her legs to receive the hot power of the Dildo, the Dildo, the 
Wonderful Dildo, the cock that would give her delicious delight. 

And slowly it was coming towards her, slowly it was drawing near, and now 
Cindy could feel the thing coming up against the edge of her flesh, touching 
the lips of her vagina, kissing her. And then the kiss became a tongue-kiss, 
but the tongue was going so far down within her that it was not a tongue at 
all but a cock, a dong, a dildo, a huge shaft of artificial flesh that 
worked its way deeper and deeper and farther along, more of it more of it, 
farther along. 

Cindy could feel a fire burning deep within her loins, a fire that slowly 
spread and grew as it consumed more and more of her inner flesh, gradually 
more of her body. More of it, more, and she wanted it all, she needed it all 
to enthrall the huge wall that divided the pain from the land of delight, 
the wall had to fall so that all of the pleasure and all of the pain could 
combine altogether and mingle and mix until pleasure and pain were the same, 
all the same. 

Cindy came. 

Cindy creamed. Cindy shot out her wad, and the hot rubber rod prodded all 
through her body to fill her with Lust. 

Every spot in her twat was so hot that she not only shot but she got to a 
level of Lust where she had to have sex, throbbing Sex, driving SEX, 
writhing S*E*X! There was nothing but sex now, except for the Lust. There 
would always be Lust. 

Cindy creamed once again, and the session was done. There was nothing but 
Lust. There would always be Lust. 

It was over. 

And done with. 

As Cindy gradually crawled back to a state of mind roughly resembling 
consciousness, she saw a long fuzzy object dancing before her eyes that 
gradually began to focus into a voluptuous leather torso: the body of Diana. 
Cindy moaned once again, but it was a moan of pleasure. She realized now 
that she HAD to have pain, she needed the firm disciplinarian hand of such a 
person as Diana. Cindy sighed with sexual contentment and lapsed into a 
state of euphoria such as she had never felt since the day her erotic 
adventures began. 

Suddenly a, red-hot bolt of pain lashed across her thoughts as Cindy felt 
searing agony blast its way through her body. Diana had struck her with one 
leather gloved hand. 

Diana was standing, hands on hips, legs spread wide apart, where both her 
young sex-slaves could see her. "Stand up, slaves," she commanded to them. 

Susan gestured helplessly towards the chain that was binding her leg. "We 
can't stand," she pointed out, which was a statement that happened to be 
quite true. 

THWOCK! One high-heeled hip boot shot out and caught Susan in the face, the 
stiletto point of the heel coming dangerously close to an eye. "SLAVE! You 
will not contradict me. You will do as I say. Now get UP!" 

Susan saw that there was no sense in arguing, which was something Cindy had 
already found out long before. The blonde girl sighed wearily, and then she 
and Cindy were both struggling to their feet. Because if the chains that 
wound about their thighs they were each forced to stand upon one foot, 
grasping the other one with one hand and holding it flat against their 
buttocks. It was a very humiliating posture, and a very painful one. 

Diana nodded in what appeared to be satisfaction. "Not exactly what I 
wanted. But I suppose it will have to do. I should have known better than to 
expect even such a simple act as obedience from such incompetents as you." 
She balled one gloved hand into a fist and stroked it lovingly against her 
leather-clad hip. "What you two need is some corrective discipline." She 
smiled at them in a very cruel way. "You two ought to thank me for taking 
time from my busy schedule to help such worthless creatures as you two." 

Susan's only answer to that was a very angry look, but suddenly Cindy 
lowered her head submissively and murmured, "Yes, Mistress." Susan was 
totally stunned with surprise. Had her friend been dominated once too often? 

But not even Susan was half so surprised at this as Cindy herself was. She 
suddenly realized how much she really did WANT this woman to dominate her 
and humiliate her like this, not merely sadomasochistically but sexually as 
well. The more the girl thought about it the more sure she was that she 
WANTED this woman to make hot sexual love to her. VIOLENT love. Love that 
HURT. 

Diana had appeared interested by what Cindy had said. "I did not hear what 
you said, unworthy slave. Repeat it to me, if you please." 

Cindy tried to do as her Mistress commanded her to, to repeat her oath of 
undying loyalty to the lust and the lash. But the words would not come out. 
She was struggling with her own conscience, with her own mental processes. 
She wanted to be possessed by this woman, to feel the hot lustful thrust of 
her Dildo. But at the same time there was something within Cindy that told 
her this sort of thinking was wrong, was immoral, that pain and sex were two 
separate things which were not to be combined under any circumstances. 

Manfully she labored to bring the words to her tongue, to force them out of 
her mouth. She was painfully aware that Susan and Diana and Needles were all 
watching her with very intense expressions and somehow this one little extra 
bit of humiliation was enough to tip the scales for Cindy. Raising her head 
to proclaim to the heavens, she shouted: "YES, MY MISTRESS!" 

And then the ground came up and hit her in the face. Cindy felt a pain in 
her knees, and then everything went black. Now I can sleep, she thought. 
Blissful sleep. Now I can rest and recover. 

But Diana would not let her victims rest. She seized Cindy firmly by the 
chin, digging her long pointed fingers into the flesh, until Cindy was again 
standing on one foot, holding the other one aloft because the chain would 
not allow her to put it down. 

"I am glad that you have learned to accept your slavery," Diana announced, 
smiling at Cindy almost kindly. Then, turning to frown at Susan, she said: 
"I fear that you will need a bit more training, slave. I will see to it that 
you receive what you deserve." 

Cindy could think of very little to say. A whole new world had been opened 
up to her here, a world in which sex was combined with pain. For pain is 
after all the most vivid feeling of all, infinitely more vivid than sex, and 
only by combining the two can a truly pleasurable experience be achieved. 

Diana turned to face her servant Needles. 'The slaves are ready," she 
announced. "Bring me Brahmo." 

Needles nodded silently, and a moment later he returned tugging at a leash, 
to which was attached an enormous black Great Dane. Apparently Diana had a 
pet, Cindy thought, and she wants him to watch what we do from now on. As 
Cindy stood there she couldn't help admiring the sleekness of the animal's 
pelt, his huge wet tongue, and his long pendulous organ. 

Diana came closer to both the girls in chains, until they were forced to 
look at her, forced to wonder what was going to be done to them next. They 
watched as Diana raised one arm, the arm from which the leather had been tom 
by the gunshot, and as the arm went upwards the half-healed wound underneath 
was exposed. 

"The Seven Gates of Hell... Gate Four." 

Cindy fainted. 

 CHAPTER ELEVEN 

It seemed to Cindy, in retrospect, that her entrance through the Fourth Gate 
of Hell had been the most erotically arduous ordeal that any human being 
could ever have imagined. More and more she could realize-and 
appreciate-what a fantastically demoniacal mind her mistress Diana really 
had to be able to think up such painfully delicious excruciations of 
sadomasochistic lust. 

Cindy had passed through four of the Gates now. She still had three to go, 
and she knew that each of those three Gates of Hell would be significantly 
more pleasurable than the ones that had preceded it. Cindy decided that she 
couldn't wait to go through the Seventh Gate. 

But she knew that she HAD to wait. She knew that from now on she would have 
to do everything exactly as her Mistress wanted her to. 

But that was how she liked it. 

Cindy tried to get up from her bed of pain and passion, but found that she 
was still too weak. She hoped that her Mistress would be kind enough to 
allow her some time to rest, to recover from the agonizing ordeal that she 
had just undergone. Cindy wanted a chance to recover some of her strength, 
so that when she would be called upon again to enter the Fifth Gate she 
would be able to perform with a maximum of ability. 

She wanted to please her Mistress. 

Cindy's friend Susan had not yet learnt the pleasures of submission, and 
Diana had promised Cindy that, after Cindy had passed through the Seven 
Gates successfully, Diana would take her in hand as an apprentice 
dominatrix, and show her how to manipulate Susan until she would want to be 
punished for her frailties. Cindy told herself that that would be a very 
exciting experience indeed. 

Suddenly a hot searing bolt of pain shot through Cindy's body and sent her 
writhing in a contortion of pain. Her wonderful dominatrix had made love to 
her with the beautiful pointed toe of her boot. Cindy loved that boot. She 
loved the foot that wore that boot, and she loved the person who owned that 
foot. And the person who owned that foot was also the person who owned 
Diana. 

The boot kicked her again. 

"Get up, slave," called a voice. 

Diana's voice. 

"Get up, slave," she repeated, and there was not a trace of patience in the 
voice. "Your useless body is needed, slave. It is time for you to ATTEMPT to 
enter into the Fifth Gate." Diana laughed mirthlessly. "Although personally 
I am certain that you will prove too feeble to do the job." 

It took at least a minute for Cindy to climb to her feet, because every 
ounce of her flesh was still throbbing from the delicious feel of that 
Dildo. She was wondering what was in store for her now. 

Diana walked up to her holding yet another Dildo, one that was nearly half 
again as large as the first one had been. As Cindy stood by passively Diana 
knelt and strapped the huge artificial organ across Cindy's crotch and 
between her thighs. Cindy liked the feel of the leather straps against her 
ass. 

But she didn't know what she was supposed to do with the Dildo. Up until now 
Cindy had always been the one who received the pain, not the one who gave 
it. 

As Cindy watched, Diana pointed towards a nearby tree, against which Needles 
was tying Susan. The blonde girl was screaming and kicking, but all her 
struggles were useless. Soon she was bound and helpless. 

Diana tapped the Dildo lightly, and then pointed a single black leather 
finger at Susan. "She is yours," she said simply to Cindy. "Do as you please 
with her." 

Cindy took a step towards Susan... 


THE END
