Suburban Underbelly Ch. 04

Dear reader; this is the last part of a four part group sex tale. If you've read this far you know that I am willing to let the narrative slip into the realm of bat-shit crazy from time to time. That said, let me reiterate that this is a work of fiction and is meant to be entertaining rather than enlightening or socially responsible.

All characters are at least eighteen.

***

It was a cold room of unpainted cinderblock with a single, bare light bulb mounted in an unfinished concrete ceiling crisscrossed with ductwork and conduit. I was chained to a stainless steel table; the kind you'd use for an autopsy, or, more probably in my case, a vivisection. I felt sick from the lingering effects of the spider venom, my body ached, my dick throbbed and the skinless patch where Mimi had flayed my tattoo off my ribs prickled with searing pain. There were also fresh burns that Lila had been applying as she worked through practice questions for her GED exam and chain smoked cigarettes, using me as her ashtray as she finished each butt. She was on her fifth Marlboro now and I watched with trepidation it slowly burned down to the filter.

I had no idea what time it was, but I felt like I'd been unconscious for a long time after passing out from pain the night before. I had woke up still tied down as Lila, my young, boyish-girl guard, crushed out a cigarette in my armpit. I was now starting to realize I probably wasn't going to be alive much longer and what little life I had left was probably going to be a nightmare. I would have moaned aloud in fear and self pity if it wasn't for the ball gag.

When Ramona walked in I looked over at her with hopeless eyes. She didn't see me of course; she could barely see anything with her pink albino's eyes. However I could tell she knew I was there by the way her nostrils flared as the turned my direction. But otherwise she didn't acknowledge me.

"Hi Mona," said Lila. Her voice had an eager catch in it and she immediately put her book down to focus her attention on her visitor. I sighed with relief when I saw her stub her butt out in the ashtray.

"Mom wants you guys to call me Lady Ramona, now that I'm a... you know... a woman."

"Yeah, of course Lady Ramona," said Lila without sarcasm or irony. She stood up awkwardly from her chair, looking fidgety and anxious as she plucked at her straight leg jeans and smoothed out the fabric of her black Jolly Roger sweatshirt.

Ramona was wearing the same type of full length black robe the women of the coven had worn the previous night. She had the hood pulled back, revealing her ivory skinned face with her eyes concealed behind dark Ray-Bans. Her long, wavy locks of snow white hair flowed over both shoulders. "How's the prisoner?" she asked.

"He's not giving me any trouble."

"That's good. Because... well, I thought maybe I could finally take you up on your offer."

Lila's eyes went wide. "What, here?"

"Why not?" asked Ramona with awkward nonchalance. She pulled aside her robe to reveal her voluptuous pale body as she sat on the edge of the desk currently cluttered with Lila's text books and scrap paper.

Lila gave me a brief glance and shrugged away any consideration of my presence before she began hurriedly pulling off her clothes. Ramona untied the cord at the neck of her robe and brushed it off her shoulders to sit as nude, quiet and pale as a marble Roman statue. Her nearness and nakedness flustered Lila who almost fell over twice as she distractedly peeled off her jeans while gazing eagerly at Ramona. Soon Lila had wrapped her wiry, muscular body around Ramona's soft, curvy form; pushing skin against skin as they began kissing each other with ravenous, lusty hunger. Lila's hands glided up along Ramona's flanks, her fingers tickling along her ribs. Ramona giggled and shied away, but only briefly as she let Lila surge towards her again. Lila's palms slipped around and under Ramona's full, lovely breasts; hefting them, pushing them together, taking her nipples in her fingers to twist them slightly. Ramona responded with a pleased hum and laced her fingers behind Lila's neck to guide her down her body; letting Lila pause to taste the soft mounds of her breasts; the rough flesh of her nipples; the smooth skin of her stomach that quivered deliciously as Lila tickled around Ramona's belly button with her tongue; finally to kiss across the frosty lawn of her mons and settle in the crevice of her vulva which seemed so shockingly pink against her stark white skin.

I twisted my neck to watched with shallow breath and wide eyes as Ramona leaned back and threw her legs open to let the Lila lap and suck at her greedily. Lila's fingers probed into her to pull Ramona closer from the inside, wearing her on her fingers like a puppet as her lips and tongue fondled and teased Ramona's sensitive bud and damp labia. Ramona's breasts bounced and swayed as her body began to convulse. She writhed in time with her ragged breathing as she quickly stampeded towards climax until she cried out and sagged back, pulling Lila up from between her thighs by a handful of short red hair. Lila flashed a sloppy smile through wet lips. Her eyes darted over towards me and confirmed that I'd been watching. She shot me a cold look.

Ramona sighed contentedly as she grinned at Lila. "I've got a special treat for you," she said and reached behind her to find a pocket in the robe. She pulled forth a thick, black dildo with a network of leather straps mounted to the base. "Help me put this on."

Lila obliged. Ramona stood with her legs wide, holding the phallus to her pubis as Lila looped the top straps around her hips and threaded the bottom between her thighs. With the buckles fastened tightly to Ramona's pelvis, Lila looked up and asked, "How do you want me?"

"Bend over the desk," she said, patting Lila gently on the cheek.

Lila stood and bent over to rest her elbows on the desk. Ramona reached down to feel around for Lila's discarded jeans and pulled the belt free. Looping the leather strap in one hand she slapped it sharply across Lila's upturned ass.

"I knew you'd be a sick bitch," purred Lila. "I love it."

Ramona felt her way into Lila's parted thighs. She began slowly fucking her, sliding the shaft in and out of her partner with slow, deliberate pushes punctuated by sudden swats of the belt across her ass. Lila moaned with each slap.

"Faster," groaned Lila, and Ramona began thrusting into her more violently, slapping her body against Lila's ass on each pump.

"Faster," Lila again commanded and Ramona began pounding the dildo into her. She looped the belt through the buckle, slipped it over Lila's head and tightened it slightly around her neck like a choke collar. "Tell me when you're gonna come."

"Yes Lady Ramona," panted Lila. "Anything."

Ramona was really throwing it into her now, the desk was scraping across the floor on each violent thrust and they were both heaving deep breaths like runners in a long race. "I'mm... cumm... iing..." gasped Lila as it became obvious she was nearing her climax. Ramona pressed her against the desk and pulled back on the belt, cinching it tight around Lila's neck. Her face bloomed red as she struggled for air and her orgasm wracked her body with great quaking spasms, but as the climax passed Ramona did not release the pressure on the belt. She pulled it tighter and Lila's face grew sickly blue as her eyes bugged in her face. She tried to reach behind her, tried to dig at the strap around her neck, but she was too weak now, too faint. She collapsed onto the desk at last; her body limp and inert.

Ramona reached around her to check her pulse then quickly walked over to me. "Are you OK?" she asked.

"Unnoo," I said around my ball gag.

"Oh yeah," she said remembering that I was gagged. She felt for it and released the strap. I spat it from my mouth.

"Holy shit, did you just kill Lila?"

"No, she's alive, just unconscious. We'd better hurry, I don't know how long she'll be out," she said breathlessly. "Here's the key to your cuffs."

She shoved a key into my hands and I started working to blindly get it into the locks. As I did, Ramona felt her way down my body. I was naked but for a leather loin cloth covering my crotch. Ramona reached under it.

"What are you doing?" I asked as I opened the first lock.

"Removing the leeches."

"There are leeches on my dick!?"

"It was to make the swelling go down so you don't get gangrene. Don't be such a baby."

As they say, there's a time for everything; including a time to feel grateful for having leeches on your cock. It's a strange world my friends.

"Are you letting me go?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

I got the other lock open on my wrist and sat up painfully. The skinless patch on my side burned like crazy. Ramona raised her face to mine and kissed me on the lips.

"Because I like you," she said with a smile as she tossed a handful of leeches across the room.

I bend down, fighting past the protestations of every screaming muscle in my aching body, and quickly unlocked the manacles binding my feet to the ring bold in the bottom of the table. I swung my legs over the edge, dropped to my feet and fell directly to the floor.

"Stop playing around, we need to go!"

"I'm not playing. I'm recovering from being tortured."

"Come on," she commanded and reached down for my hand. I took hers and she helped me to my feet. With me in a loin cloth and covered in wounds and her wearing nothing but a big, black strap-on dildo, we pulled open the door and lurched out of the room into a dimly lit hall.

There were stairs. She helped me up until we reached a door and pushed through. I found myself in the back room of Suburban Underbelly, Ramona's mother Mimi's boutique. Just to my left was the futon where Mimi, Madison and I had a three way a couple of days ago. The lights were out and no one was around.

"Hurry!" urged Ramona.

"Wait, we can't go outside like this."

"I'm not leaving, just you."

"Will you be OK?"

"I'm the princess of these freaks, I'll be fine. Now go!"

"But... How? ...Where?"

Ramona opened the back door and there was Hafsa sitting patiently in her silver Mercedes SUV. She saw me and her eyes went wide in horror.

"Oh my God! Mr. Yost! Oh no, oh no!" she cried as she leapt from the car and ran up to take my hand.

"Get him out of here," shouted Ramona, standing there like a hallucination; flowing white hair, bare white breasts, dark sunglasses and a thick black, latex cock. She stepped back and disappeared back into Suburban Underbelly with a slam of the heavy steel door.

"What the hell are you kids up to!" said a voice from my left as Hafsa helped me into the car. It was an old fellow in plaid shorts and a light golf shirt walking a tiny apricot poodle along the alley. His face was sagging with disbelief.

"Mind your own business!" scolded Hafsa and slammed the door to the car as I slumped across the back seat. She ran around the vehicle, jumped in and soon we were speeding away.

"Here, take these," she said, handing me a fistful of pills.

"What are they?"

"Painkillers, antibiotics and amphetamines; the amphetamines are to keep you awake until we get you someplace safe." I accepted the bottled water she handed me and swilled down the pills.

As I lay in the back seat waiting for the drugs to kick in, Hafsa seemed to be driving around aimlessly. "Where are we going?" I finally asked when I was starting to feel a little better.

"I have to take you somewhere Mimi will not look for you when she notices you are gone, so, for now, I am going to take you to my house and clean you up. But we have to wait until my father leaves for his soccer game. If he sees me drive up with a man in the car... oh, I don't even want to think about it."

Finally she announced it was probably safe. She stopped to throw a blanket over me in the back seat and she drove slowly up her block. We stopped and I heard a garage door start to go up.

"Shit! Shitshitshitshit. Be still, Mr. Y. Be very still."

I knew what that meant. Laying still, trying not to breathe I heard Hafsa chirp a greeting to someone in Urdu and a male voice answer. There followed a rapid conversation of which I couldn't understand a word. Then, suddenly, the talking paused. Hafsa's father began speaking curtly in that tone of voice that comes naturally to suspicious fathers the world over. I heard the back door open and the blanket was suddenly pulled off of me.

"AGH!" cried Mr. Abbasi.

I grabbed the opposite door and pushed it open as I bolted from the car and tumbled into the grass of their front yard. I looked behind me as I struggled to get up, expecting to see Mr. Abbasi bearing down on me. But he was running into the garage, not towards me. I looked at Hafsa with confusion but she just motioned for me to run as she mouthed the word "GO!"

I got up and started limping away quickly. I had no idea where I was or where I should go. But when I looked back again and saw Mr. Abbasi run from his house with a large curved sword in his hand I found my motivation. It didn't matter where I went; I just had to get the hell away from Hafsa's murderous father and his giant fucking scimitar.

I turned left to start cutting through the back yards of the neighborhood. It was a good strategy for me. I was tired and sore, but my long legs carried me over the fences more easily than short Mr. Abbasi. However, still he gained. He may have been twice my age, but playing soccer had kept him spry and quick. So, we cut through yard after yard, jumping fences and walls, disturbing a warm Sunday morning with our desperate chase. I wonder how many families were getting ready for church and looked out to see a man in the leather loincloth with a gaping flesh wound on his ribs pursued by a middle aged Pakistani clothed in a yellow and blue soccer uniform and swinging a large sword etched with Arabic calligraphy.

Eventually I found myself confronted with a high, stone wall. Abbasi quickly closed the distance as I scaled the it and chopped the sword across the backs of my legs as I squirmed over the top. As I landed in a malodorous compose pile on the other side I felt down expecting to find my legs severed at mid-thigh, but fortunately Mr. Abbasi's sword had been some kind of ceremonial affair, rather than a real, chop-the-infidels-to-tiny-bits type of blade. I guess the poor guy was so freaked out at finding a nearly nude dude hiding in his daughter's back seat that he didn't really carefully consider his choice of weapons for the pursuit. Praise Allah for that.

The high wall kept Mr. Abbasi corralled behind me as I limped my way onward. But my panic still increased as it again dawned on me that I had no idea where I was going. But my luck, such as it was, came through for me once again. A blue Volkswagen Beetle pulled up in front of me and a chubby girl flung the passenger door open.

"Mr. Y, get in!"

Even though jumping into girl's cars had not been working out for me lately, I jumped in. She sped off and I hunkered down as low as I could in the passenger's seat.

"Hafsa sent out a text that her dad was trying to kill you so a bunch of us rushed out on a rescue mission. I can't believe I actually found you," she gushed while smiling at me broadly. "This is great!"

The girl looked familiar but I couldn't remember her name. She was one of the brainy clique who seemed to be in every school activity that didn't require looks or talent; newspaper, yearbook, student government, model UN, et cetera. She wore wire rimmed glasses and her brown hair was twisted up into two short braids. She had only driven a couple of blocks when she pulled up a driveway to a long low ranch house and motioned me to follow her around into the back yard. I did.

"Wait here. I'll go inside and open the window."

I crouched in the bushes and waited anxiously for her to get me inside. Eventually the window opened above me and I crawled though.

"Thanks," I said as I sat on the bed.

She started talking rapidly, spewing words like she couldn't get them out fast enough. "Wow. This is a dream come true. And I mean literally. I've had a crush on you for sooo long, I even wrote some stories about us. I'd let you read them but my dad found them andfreaked out. He ripped them right out of my diary. My mom was all like 'Oh Frank she's just a kid, when I was that age I used to...'"

"You! You're the one who wrote those stories!"

"What? You heard about my stories?"

"Yeah, your parents called Superintendent Dungee and had me fired."

"Dad fired you?"

"What"

"Frank Dungee is my dad."

That son of a bitch! Dungee had been bemoaning the asshole parents who were forcing him to fire me because of their daughter's pornographic fantasy, but it had been him all along. I was furious. I wanted revenge. Perhaps I wasn't thinking straight. I shouldn't have done what I did, but...

"So... tell me about your fantasies."

She blushed. Looking coy, she sunk to the carpet in front of me and smiled. "Well, there's one where I give you a BJ."

"Oh?" I said, opening my thighs, presenting her with the leather flap of my loincloth. She looked from my face to my crotch. Her hand reached up and under the cover. She flipped it up.

And screamed. Loudly. Hysterically.

I don't blame her. I almost screamed too. In all of the excitement of the escape and the chase I hadn't bothered to look at my dick yet so it was a surprise to me too when I saw how it was still swollen and misshaped from the spider bite, covered with livid pucker wounds from the half a dozen leeches, looking raw and red with irregular patches of black and blue. I sincerely hope my grotesque cock didn't permanently scar the girl's psyche, even if she did kind of get me fired.

Of course, with his daughter screaming in terror Dungee burst in. He saw me sitting there with my horrible dick on display as his daughter cowered in terror before me. He totally lost it. He charged at me with his arms out like he was going to strangle me so I popped him in the nose in the spirit of pure self preservation. He fell away and I ran out of the room and through the house. His wife was screaming from the kitchen as I burst out the front door and into the yard.

So there I was, being chased by an angry father again. Actually, two angry fathers because Mr. Abbasi was walking home with his sword slung over his shoulder when he saw me running down towards him followed by a golf club brandishing Mr. Dungee. I started cutting through yards once more.

When I spotted Madison Mallard's green hair poking out of her red Porsche as she drove slowly down the next street over, I screamed for her to wait. She heard me and stopped, waving me forward until I dove into the passenger's seat and she peeled out with Dungee and Abbasi only a yard or two behind.

"Hafsa Abbasi said you were in trouble, I figured I owed you one."

"Yeah, you do. Just take me home."

"What if Mimi goes looking for you there?"

"I don't care anymore."

She stopped the car, threw her arms around me and kissed me. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen." I wanted to be mad at her, but couldn't; especially with her looking fantastic in tiny running shorts and a yellow tank top she was wearing without a bra. I was such a goddamned sucker.

"It's going to be OK. I just..."

And that's when Tom Scofield's yellow Mustang turned a corner about a hundred yards away. He spotted us and skidded to a stop in front of Madison's Porsche. When Tom, Cody and Harris, the same three goons that had tried to rape Madison a couple of days earlier, started getting out of Tom's car, Madison threw her transmission in reverse and backed down the street at full speed. Tom was soon following.

They chased us around the side streets and we careened around town at horrific speeds. When an Escalade with three more of Tom's football buddies joined in the chase it started to get really dangerous. We and our pursuers were jumping curbs and cutting corners across folks' lawns. We sideswiped parked cars, threw up low clouds of sparks as we hit dips and bumps at ridiculous speeds and tore the hell out of Franklin Park as we tried to shake our followers by swinging a series of one hundred and eighty degree arcs across the grass. Thanks God there weren't many people out so early on a Sunday or we would've probably killed someone.