Bart's cock sent shock waves through Tina's pussy, waves that shot into her tits and belly. He was all the way in her pussy, fucking her hard, slamming into her again and again.
Francine withered at the sight of her daughter being fucked. Bart was forcing her open even wider, sending streamers of weird delight racing into Tina's head.
"Ahhhh!"
As Bart fucked her, the scalding pain corkscrewed, becoming something else. They collided over and over, his prick fucking into her until the first bursts of cum burned into the teen's cunt.
Tina screamed, her knees jerking up as she beat his kidneys with her feet. She shamed herself in front of her mother. Her mother saw how she had loved the fucking. Tina closed her eyes in defeat, wondering what else they could drag her through before they let them go.
CHAPTER TEN
Francine lay in the dark, having been cleaned before the men threw her into the small, low ceilinged room. It must have been a fruit cellar at one time before they had converted it to their hideous purpose.
After being tossed in, Francine had thought she could hear more cries, the sounds of someone being beaten severely. She cried out, hammering her fists against the wooden door. But no one listened. No one seemed to care. She had been shut out, refused entry.
Despairing and sobbing out curses and pleas, Francine had sunk to the floor in honor, wondering how on earth she and the others would be able to escape.
She sat there in the darkness, thinking of happier days. Tears rolled down Francine's cheeks as a wave of bitterness soured her memory. She had stood there, watching her daughter writhing in agony. And then the girl had welcomed the men, had actually spread her legs for Bart, begging him for more fucking action while she laughed and groaned with insane delight. The innocent little girl she had raised had been turned into a rutting whore, a woman who lived only for fucking.
Francine doubled over, hiding her face in her hands while crying softly in he darkness. Her family was shattered forever, the men had shit on her and the stain would last no matter how things ended.
Footsteps! Francine caught her breath, drawing her hands inward, feeling her body shiver as the door slowly creaked open. A wedge of yellow light flashed into the narrow room. The woman shielded her eyes, squinting, trying to see if she could catch sight of her daughter.
Bart seemed a little drunk, swaying from left to right. He was holding a can of beer in his right hand, his fingers having crushed the sides slightly. Taking another swig of the beer, he stepped forward, shaking his finger at Francine.
"You weren't nice, sending all that electricity into your daughter. She was pissed."
"You you animal! You made me do it!" Francine hissed, curling her fingers into claws.
Bart threw back his head and laughed, finishing the beer, then throwing the can at Francine. Ducking, the woman scooted forward a little, searching the room for Tina.
"She sure was hot, though. You done me a favor. And now I'm gonna do one for you," Bart said.
Francine could smell his stale breath as he bent down, hooking his fingers under her arms and dragging the woman out of the small room. Francine struggled, swearing at him, beating back at him with both arms. But he was too drunk and worked up to care.
Once in the larger room again, she noticed Kathy on the floor, one arm stretched over her face, obviously unconscious. There were belt or whip marks on her thighs, ass, and belly, indications that the beating sounds Francine had heard earlier were real. The girl moaned, rolled onto her belly, then curled into a fetal position, keeping her back to the woman.
"Let's take her over to the bench. She'll be comfortable there, and we can hold her down," Bart said.
Francine looked around wildly for Tina. There was no sign of her daughter. In a moment, she felt her head bang against the side of the table, and she realized they were getting her ready for yet another torment. She was hoisted up and rolled onto a rough, splintery surface. Starting to get up, Francine felt a hand come down roughly against her chin, knocking her head against the table.
"You'll be still and like it," Bart said, keeping her down while other hands strapped the woman to the table.
Francine realized that more than just Bart and Max were there. The room was crowded with drunk maniacs, all murmuring softly, all watching as the men bound Francine to the table. She grew quiet. Something was up, something more serious than the torment she and her daughter had already endured.
"This'll be the last thing you remember as your lover, baby."
Bart approached from the left, unwrapping a tapered iron three feet long. The handle was hard and ribbed to fit a man's hand, while the tip was grooved. He was going to drive the thing into her. He was going to fuck her with it. Francine could see it in his eyes, in the way he was holding it.
"Seen enough?"
"No, no, no!" Francine rolled her head from side to side, arching her spine, digging her shoulder blades against the table behind her. It had to be a bad dream, a terrible nightmare. But the touch of the branding iron against her tit was enough to tell her it was all too real.
Then Bart brought the iron down to her cunt. The end was cold against her hot flesh. Francine shuddered and moaned, turning her head away.
"You know, since you saw your daughter in action, it's only fair that she see you! Tit for tat, right?"
There was a general murmur of approval. Francine protested, but her pleas were shouted down. Max walked to another part of the room and opened a small door, reaching in and dragging Tina out, dropping the girl like a dead weight on the ground.
Francine shrieked, seeing the same marks on her daughter she'd spotted on the groaning Kathy. The noise of her mother's voice awakened the girl. She struggled to a half-sitting position, putting one hand over her mouth and barely suppressing a giggle.
"You you look so silly there, Mom," Tina said, her voice strange.
Francine stopped her crying, staring wide-eyed at her daughter.
"What've you done to her?" she asked, staring up at Bart.
He shrugged, trailing the tip of the poker along her hot belly flesh.
"She just kinda freaked. Her friend over there's goin' back into the womb and all that fuckin' shit, while this one just laughs all the time," Bart said.
"You bastards! You ahhhh!"
Bart shut her up with a quick thrust of the rod into her cunt. Francine jerked her hips up, her legs trembling while her fingers scratched at the table. She could feel her nails breaking as the cold iron scraped painfully along her cuntwalls.
"No, no uhhhhh!"
The bonds holding her ankles fast to the table were loose enough for her to jerk her knees at least four inches up from the table. She tried drawing them together, working her slick auntmuscles together to push the dreadful poker from her pussy.
Bart was stirring the handle around and around, making sure the sharp edges of the end were touching all points of her cunt. Francine's ass clenched, slapping together again and again as the fought against the fucking rod.
She felt Bart grabbing her cunthair, snatching the hair from her flesh. Laughing, he shoved the poker in yet another inch. She could hear her daughter crying out in delight, clapping as if she were watching a circus while that poker shot into her mother's body.
Francine screamed. But this time, the shriek wasn't only from pain. Bart was fucking the iron in, twisting it, then shoving it in farther. She could feel a climax explode through her pussy as he ravaged her, gutting a new path into her hot cunt.