Armed Robberies

"Don't, Molly. You mustn't!" CRACK! "Nuuhhrr!"

Molly got another herself. This time, the sheriff struck her across her tiny tits instead of her ass again. "GOD! Dear God! Please no! Please! PLEASE! Ohhuuhuhhuuhoohh ..."

"I bet you regret talking so saucy to me before, don'tcha?" asked the sheriff, "Bet you wish you hadn't taken on such a high and mighty tone."

"Yes! Yes, I regret it! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Forgive me!"

"Bet you wish you'd never chosen the life of crime. Bet you wish you'd been a good girl."

"Yes! I regret everything! I do! I'll be a good girl from now on, I swear! I swear to you!" She hated having to say these things, of course. But they had to be said. Even worse, though—she believed them, in that moment. Almost. Not completely. But almost he'd made her believe those awful things about herself—the whipping forced her to accept them. No argument was possible, against the agony of the whipping. "I'm so sorry! I'll do anything you want! To earn forgiveness!"

"Listen to me carefully, bandit girl. Widen your legs for me now—open them as wide as you can stretch. Now stick your ass out towards me. Yes, I know you're afraid to. But do as you're told. If you don't stick it out like I'm telling you, I'm gonna lash it again. Harder than before. But if you're a good girl and obey, I won't use my stick on it anymore. Instead I'm gonna stuff my cock up in there. What do you think about that?"

"Oh God. Dear God. Why is this happening to me?"

"Are you gonna cooperate, like you promised, or do I gotta thrash you some more?"

"Don't do it, Molly. Don't make it so easy for him. Try to hold on."

"I can't, Swift. I'm sorry but I can't. They're gonna do it to us, anyway. They can do anything they want. There's no stopping it. What's the point of trying to fight?" She widened her legs as much as she could, as she was ordered, and bent at the waist as much as the rope allowed her to—which wasn't much at all—to stick out her ass for the sheriff. She could hear him opening up his trousers, but she didn't look over her shoulder at him. She didn't want to see the cock that he would soon be stuffing into her bottom.

She wondered if God was punishing them, because of what they'd done to the other bandit. But that didn't seem fair, because this was so much more terrible than what they actually did—even so, it was still the same kind of crime. He would have felt the same despair and horror she was feeling, at least at the beginning, when Swift was threatening his cock with her knife. Maybe if she hadn't let Swift do that, their luck wouldn't have gone bad like this.

I'm going to be raped now, she thought. She'd been fearing a moment like this most of her life, and now it was happening. I'm going to know what it's like to be raped. It's so unfair. How did I let these men reduce me to this? I don't deserve this. Or do I? All she had left to hope for was that getting fucked up her ass wouldn't hurt quite as much as being whipped. Not such a great tradeoff, was it?

But then a voice said: "Stand away from them, you dogs!" She didn't recognize the voice, not right off. She should have, but she didn't.

The men must not have listened. Somebody must have made a go for their weapon. Because shooting started. A whole lot of shooting.

8.

By chance or design, she'd never know, a bullet severed the rope over her head. She dropped flat on her face in the dirt, but had the presence of mind not to stay there. She scrambled away on all fours, heading for the closest bushes, fast as she could. Her hands were still tied together, but at least they were in front of her. And she was able to grab a gun off the ground, when one of the sheriff's men fell dead directly in her path, with a bloody hole in his forehead. Molly crawled right over top the corpse without slowing down, just scooping up his weapon as she went.

The battle that followed was a lengthy, drawn-out, awkward affair. The sheriff and all of his followers but two had managed to scatter into the surrounding woods. So the only one left out in the open clearing under that one tree in the middle was Swift, all by herself. Still noosed to her branch and helpless, teetering on tiptoe. She stayed there through the whole fight, and what followed. Any of the baddies could have shot her dead, if they'd just taken a moment to do so. But nobody bothered. Well, the sheriff wasn't really interested in killing them. If he did that, he couldn't keep playing with them the way he'd been doing.

For a spell, everybody just blazed away in all directions, from their various hiding spots—Molly included. Everyone was shooting blind. Including her would-be rescuer, who she realized now was the boy bandit. He hadn't fled like she told him. He must have snuck up behind her to help.

Too bad he hadn't intervened a few minutes earlier. But she shouldn't fuss, in that fashion.

Eventually all of them started crawling and creeping around in the undergrowth, hunting for each other. It would have been smarter to say put and keep quiet, but Molly found she couldn't hold still any longer. She was too angry and her ass hurt too much. Her principal motivation was not revenge, you may or may not be surprised to learn, but the hope of getting herself new clothes. She had a spare shirt and some longjohns in her saddlebags, if she could make it to where the horses were tethered. Without getting shot along the way, or when she got there. If any of their enemies had any brains at all, they would lie in wait for her by the horses. So it would be smarter not to try this. But it had started to rain, all the sudden, really hard. It was ice cold, and it was turning the ground into yucky mud. She simply couldn't bear to stay out naked in this.

She still hadn't been able to get her wrists untied. Tried using her teeth on the knot, but that didn't work.

And when she checked, there was only one bullet left in her gun. Damn.

She crawled around a tree trunk and found Sheriff Strake standing there, with his back to her, clutching a wound in his arm and breathing hard. She should have been able to hear him before she saw him, except she was breathing just as hard herself. She lifted the gun, but her hands were shaking too much to get off a good shot, and she had made an involuntary noise when she saw him. She went "Oh!" in surprise. And he spun around too fast for her. Stamped down on her hands and forced the gun into the mud. It went off, but without hitting him. Her only shot, wasted.

"No! Dammit! No!"

"Thought you had me there—but you just blew your chance, Molly. Let go of the gun. Or I'll crush your hands with my boot."

She let go of the gun, moaning in despair, and he took his foot off her hands and kicked the gun away.

"Now raise up on your knees. Hold your hands up so I can reach the end of your rope."

She didn't move. She kept herself flat on belly. Her sniveling face pressed in the mud. She couldn't look at him. Couldn't bear seeing his expression, and having him see hers.

She didn't think he still had his stick, but he did. It had been propped next to him against the tree trunk. He snatched it up and lashed her ass with it.

"Yawwhharrhh!" She would have to obey him. Whatever he ordered. She pushed herself up on her knees and held up her bound hands. But she kept her face turned away and her eyes shut. She felt him tugging the loose end of the rope. Where the bullet had split it, the remaining part was still long enough for him to tie it around another of the tree trunks. At least this position was less painful than the previous way she'd been tied. Felt more humiliating, though. Hard to believe that was possible, but somehow it was.

She thought she was saved! And now she was captured again! She'd never felt this horrible in her life. Not even when her family was killed. She wanted to die.

"Now you wait right there for me like a good girl," he told her, "While I find this other fucker, whoever he is. After I kill him, I'm gonna come back here, and you are gonna suck me cock. You think about that, while I'm gone. I'm still gonna take your ass, by the way. But you're gonna suck my cock, first."

She didn't respond. She still couldn't look at him. But she knew she'd have to do what he wanted, when he returned. No getting out of it again. Oh God.

She heard the sheriff turn away, and then there was a gunshot. She heard him go "Oof!" and then topple over. He wasn't dead, though. He thrashed around in the muck, groaning.

Now she could look at him. He was clutching his belly, gutshot. The boy bandit stood over him with his pistol.

"You shouldn't have hit her again like that, you son of a bitch. I wouldn't have been able to find you if you hadn't made her yell again." He kicked away the sheriff's gun, the same way the sheriff had kicked hers away just a moment before. "The name is Wyleigh Wildman, if you were wondering."

"Christ you bastard ... Christ ... You've killed me ... Christ ..."

"You're not dead yet. I'll let Molly finish you off." He stepped around the sheriff to untie her hands. "Don't worry about the other guys," he said, while he was prying at the knots. "I just saw two of them shoot each other by mistake. The rest have ran off. Here you are." He was offering her his pistol.

She took it and pointed it at the sheriff's gasping face. But then she lowered the barrel. "Let him die slow. And I want him to watch something while he's doing that." She looked up at Wyleigh. She was still down on her knees. "Take your cock out."

"What? Now?" He looked at her like he was genuinely afraid he'd arrived too late and she'd lost her sanity. Probably she had.

"Don't argue. Do it. You just rescued me. Now I'm gonna reward you."

"You don't need to—"

"I want to. And I want the sheriff to watch me doing it, while he dies. And anyways I was gonna do it for you before, when this asshole interrupted us and ruined everything. Let's pretend that never happened. Let's pick up right where we left off, like all this horrible shit never even happened. Can we do that, please? Can we try?"

"Whatever you want, whatever you need." She was afraid the boy might let them down, having trouble getting hard again, like he had earlier under pressure. But this time that didn't end up being a problem. "Oh yes. Oh dear Lord yessss. That is good. This is damn good, Molly Sheridan. Does this make me an official new member of your gang, from now on?"

"Uhhmm-hmm," she murmured. Why not? He'd earned his place.

"Christ," groaned the sheriff, "Uhhuugghhnnn. Christ. I've shit myself. I can feel it. Shoot me, damn you. Someone. Ohhoohh shit this hurts. Jesus Christ. End this. It hurts too much."

"Are you watching, sheriff? Are you seeing this? God, if you could feel this—you can't imagine. You really can't. And I didn't have to tie her down. She chose me! But I'm handsomer than you are."

"Fuck you! Fuck you both!"

"Oh, don't worry about that. I'm gonna fuck her all right. If you hang on long enough, you might get to see some of that. So long as I can hold on long enough too. Can't promise you that, though."

Bit presumptuous of him, thought Molly. But as she considered the matter, well, perhaps ... Anything to take her mind off her aching ass for a few minutes. God, she hoped there were no scars on it.

"Christ—bastard—please kill me."

"I already have. The dying is up to you. Oh God! She just started sucking me even harder! Ohhuuh!"

"Hey! Hey!" That was Swift, yelling from the clearing, "I can hear you all! Don't forget about me! Someone come cut me loose! Hey! Dammit! Molly!"

Shit. Molly should have thought of that. She went to pull her face away, but Wyleigh caught hold of her shoulder and her hair and stopped her.

"Just a minute!" he called back to Swift, "Just wait one ... more ... minute ..."