Hunted at Hooters Pt. 02

The November breeze was chilling as Sarah Summers stood naked, with her hands behind her head, outside the Hooters restaurant where she worked.

Being under the silent, watchful gaze of the judge was creating pulsating shockwaves throughout her body, making it almost impossible to remain entirely still. Breathe in, breathe out, she reminded herself, her oversized chest expanding and contracting with a concentrated effort.

As they waited, she held her tongue and kept her eyes averted from the large alpha male, allowing him to view her body fully, without interruption. Like a cave man might stare down a piece of meat.

This was the price, she knew. She could do it all - be a good granddaughter, a breadwinner, and a college student - but this is what it would cost her. Her dignity, her modesty, and most of her self-respect.

But as she felt herself handing all of that over to the judge in exchange for his pay cheque, there was some unexpected leftover currency. Having felt their hands on her, their mouths, their eyes; standing entirely nude, but for her footwear, whilst they remained clothed and dignified - the feeling was... inexplicable.

As her abdominal muscles pushed and pulled the air forcibly through her lungs, inflating and deflating in the looming silence, her body shook from more than just the cold. Her inner thighs shone with a slick lubricant she tried desperately to hide by squeezing her legs together, and the moan at the back of her throat was being held back by pressing her tongue firmly to the roof of her mouth.

Keep your head, she told herself. Although if someone like Candice could see her right now, she would think she had lost it already.

They heard it long before the family's formidable, mud-splattered pickup came into view at the end of the alleyway. The engine sounded as though it could belong to an eighteen-wheeler, rumbling like thunder and shaking the loose rocks and litter around their feet.

The volume seemed to penetrate Sarah's heart with fear as her eyes darted to the back door of the restaurant, certain that someone might come out to investigate. But nobody did.

Spotting movement from the corner of her eye, her whole body clenched as the judge stepped towards her - his first sign of life after at least five minutes of wordless ogling. He did not reach out to touch her, however. Instead he walked around and came to stand close behind her.

The proximity of his aura seemed to form a wall of static electricity that sizzled along her spine, causing the hair on the back of her neck to rise and her ears to twitch, signalling the presence of a nearby predator. His breath on the back of her shoulder made her shudder harder than the harsh, winter air.

"Let's go, Sarah." Although everything else about the judge lit up that part of her brain that told her she was in danger, his voice was gentle with an air of unquestionable leadership. More like a parent or a teacher, than an axe murderer or a serial killer.

And so, despite her anxiety, Sarah kept her hands in place behind her head like a surrendered prisoner, and began to put one foot in front of the other.

Behind her, she could feel rather than hear the crunch of the judge's footsteps following closely. She wondered if his eyes were concentrated forwards, or if he was watching her 'rump' as she naturally rolled her hips, distributing the weight from one foot to the other, causing the flesh to mould together deliciously, back and forth.

Reaching the edge of the alleyway, her anxiety peaked as the faces of customers came into view through the large windows at the front of the building; people she had spoken to; normal, everyday people she was supposed to be serving right now. All it would take is for them to lift their gaze slightly to one side and they would see her, fully exposed like a cheap whorehouse advertisement.

Would they try to come to her aid? She worried. Would they get Hank? Or call the cops?

Sarah felt desperate to speed things up - to clamber into the backseat of the four-door pickup and hide behind the tinted windows. But neither the judge nor his sons seemed to share her need for haste.

Stanley left the turbulent engine running as he and Mike dropped down from the cab and walked around to join them. And finally, a red-faced Gerard caught up with them, panting from having just sprinted across the parking lot to deposit Sarah's Hooters uniform in the trash.

"I got your phone out of your pocket." Gerard showed her and for a moment Sarah closed her eyes and gulped. She ought to have thought of that earlier. Maybe she really was losing her mind.

"What do you say, Sarah?" The judge prompted her and she nodded in agreement - after all, she was grateful to him.

"Th-thank you, sir."

"That's okay, I'll look after it for you." Gerard slipped it into the front pocket of his jeans and the judge walked around to clap him on the back.

Now that they were all standing so close to her in a kind of circle, like a pack of wolves preparing to take down their prey, she could appreciate just how tall they all were. And although their long shadows loomed over her ominously, she was grateful to at least feel somewhat shielded from potential on-lookers.

"Mikey, hand me the rope." The judge instructed and Sarah felt herself throb inside as the boy unlatched the tailgate and took out a length of thin, green cordage from the cargo bed. They weren't just going to let her get into the car like a normal person. To them, she wasn't a person at all - she was a Hooters Girl.

"Gerard, this is your bag so you'd better come learn how to secure her." The judge went on speaking as though Sarah were a doe they'd shot in the woods and they were planning on bringing home for butchering. This did little to explain why no protests manifested in her mind, let alone made it out of her mouth, as the judge pulled her arms behind her back and wrapped the cordage around her wrists, binding them together tightly.

"Sarah is a good girl, we know that." The judge seemed to speak primarily to Gerard, the birthday boy. But also, perhaps, he was explaining himself to her. "But even good girls can become spooked, and try to run away, or get themselves hurt. We do this to protect her, as much as to protect ourselves."

Once her hands were secured, the judge handed some rope to Gerard and the two of them kneeled down to do the same to her ankles. As their heads became level with her bare, leaking pussy her cheeks flushed with heat, knowing their primal male instincts could probably pick up on the scent of her overwhelming arousal.

She looked away, trying to absorb her embarrassment, but her eyes connected with Mike - the boy who had spit on her face before leaving to get the truck. His gaze somehow felt harsher than that of the rest of his family. Like he was chomping at the bit to get a piece of her and the only thing holding him back was his father's authority.

To solidify that thought in her mind he raised his fist and motioned as though he were giving a blowjob, pushing out the inside of his cheek with his tongue, telling her exactly what he wanted and knowing he was going to get it sooner rather than later.

The idea that this boy had that kind of power of her made her veins surge with anger. It also made wet with shame. Even her mouth was watering as though to prepare herself for the event.

"How does that feel, Sarah? Too tight?" The judge asked as they stood again. After some experimental movement during which she found she was liable to fall if she wasn't too careful, Sarah shook her head, no.

She flinched hard at the contact of his fingertips gripping her chin and forcing her neck back to look up at him. "Speak." He commanded her like a trained dog.

"N-no sir, it's not too tight." She obeyed, her voice barely audible over the rhythmic clanging of the engine. Still, the judge nodded, satisfied.

"Good girl. Now I'm gonna put this gag in your mouth, and you ain't gonna be able to talk no more after that. Alright?" Sarah could see no way to argue, nor could she think of any good reason why she would.

She swallowed hard, afraid.

"Yes sir."

The gag itself was an old bandanna. Thankfully it tasted more like laundry detergent than sweat or dirt as it invaded her mouth and was secured in a tight knot at the back of her head, indenting her thick, reddish hair around her neck.

Now completely restrained and unable to call out for help, with her body fully exposed and, in some ways, pushing out at them as though begging for attention, Sarah felt more vulnerable than she had ever felt before in her life. Now anyone could look at her, grab her, touch her, fuck her if they had a mind to - and there wasn't anything she could do about it.

Even so, she thought somewhere in the darkest corner of her mind, was she really any less powerful than she was before? After all, even before she was tied up the judge had groped her without her permission in the restaurant, with no consequences at all.

Perhaps being like this, out here in the alleyway, was a visual representation of how they saw her anyway: theirs for the taking.

"What do you say, Gerard? Should we get a picture of your first bag?" Asked the judge, his chest inflated as though brimming with pride.

"Yeah!" Gerard grinned with wide excited eyes.

"Okay boys. Let's go out the front. Get the Hooters sign in there." He said and Sarah felt immediate panic as she was scooped up and over his shoulder in a fireman's lift, flashing her bare ass to the entire world.

"It's okay, it's okay... there, there, girly..." The judge spoke soothingly as Sarah's natural instinct to thrash and squeal in protest against the gag took over her brain. His large, weathered hands patted her exposed buttocks, in a way that you might try to calm a horse, causing it to ripple vigorously.

The fear began to blind her and her heart raced faster than it had ever done before as she felt the world pass her by, and she was lowered to the hard tarmac of the parking lot.

"That's it, sweetheart. Lie on your side, just like that. Calm yourself, now. The more of a fuss you make, the more likely it is we're all gonna get caught!" The judge reasoned with her as he arranged her body into a horizontal position.

Her bandanna-gag, now wet with drool, blew in and out as she fought to control her hard, panicked breaths. The ground beneath her felt sharp with frost and jagged edges, biting into the side of her body.

She struggled against her bindings but found them completely unyielding. She attempted to roll back and forth but soon felt the underside of a heavy, mud-caked hiking boot balanced on her hip, keeping her still.

"Like this, dad?" Gerard appeared to be the culprit as his voice came from high above her head.

"And with these." She heard Mike say, although she could not see what 'these' was referring to.

"Make it quick, son." The judge said from behind her. "Best not to hang around any longer than we have to."

In the distance, and through the tears she could not recall having shed, she could see Stanley fiddling with something on the ground in front of them. A camera, she assumed, propped up on a heap of clothing that may have been the boy's jacket.

"On three, everybody say Hooters..."

"One... two... three... HOOTERS!"

Sarah wasn't sure if she blinked during or after the flash from what she could now see was a more expensive, professional-looking camera than the one on Stanley's smartphone.

This was a moment they wanted to cherish, as a family. The day they 'bagged' a Hooters Girl. Whether Sarah looked like a snivelling mess on the ground beneath them was inconsequential. The point was that she was beneath them, naked and bound. Hunted.

"Alright, alright, let's get movin'!" The judge rounded them up and there was movement and footfalls all around her head. "I'm gonna pick you up now, darlin'. Try not to squirm."

Though she found that she was able to freeze her body from flailing in fear, Sarah still squeaked and complained in grunts and moans as she was lifted as easily as a backpack, slung once again, over the shoulder of a powerful man.

This time when he dropped her it was less gentle, and the full front of her body landed in a splat on the metallic bed of the pickup. Sarah felt the air burst from her lungs in an ooph! And continued to whimper as the cold seeped through her skin, into her bones.

"Don't move," the judge warned her. "Don't you move now, little girl. You remember who's in charge here. You ain't gonna forget, are ya darlin'?" He continued speaking to her in a way that both soothed and spiked her anxiety, all the while driving her crazy with lust.

Gripping her shins, he forced her knees to bend back until her heels were touching her ass. Then she felt the vibrations of him untying the laces of her bright, white sneakers and removing both them along with her socks.

"You won't be needin' these anymore. Daddy's gonna take care'a you. It's okay if you wanna cry. You go ahead and cry. Let it all out."

And Sarah did cry. She sobbed hard as her pussy throbbed and gaped when he called himself her Daddy. She'd had boyfriends who had wanted her to call them that before, but she had never felt comfortable with it. It felt wrong, shaming the memory of her father like that. But the judge wasn't her boyfriend. And somehow it made her need to cum, badly.

"Alright, you can roll over now if you want to but you're hog-tied now, Sarah. So you can't move your legs like you might want, okay? Mikey's gonna sit back here with you to make sure you're safe, and we're gonna start headin' home. There's a good girl."

He stroked her tear-stained face with dry, callused fingers, moving her hair out of her eyes as she came to settle on her side. The position was far from comfortable, but it was better than having her lungs compressed by the weight of her oversized breasts.

Gradually, her breathing calmed to a much slower rate and the sobbing stopped. She felt the suspension of the truck shifting up and down as the judge jumped out and Mike got in, slamming the tailgate shut like a prison cell door.

Soon the boy came into view, settling himself into the corner closest to the cab, holding a mean-looking 12-gauge shotgun. Just as quickly as her panic had subsided, Sarah felt it building again as she stared at the weapon with huge, rounded eyes.

"Oh, you like this, huh?" Mike smirked as the truck began to move and the vibrations of the engine intensified all around them. He must have been enjoying the terror in her eyes, because he took the butt of the gun and shoved it between his legs, stroking the barrel like it was his giant, metal cock.

"When we get you home, I'm gonna fuck you with this gun." He told her without a single shred of uncertainty in his voice. "I'm gonna shove this end right into your pussy, and I'm gonna fuck you with my finger on the trigger. Understand? So you'd better be nice to me, or my finger might... just... slip."

Mike seemed especially pleased with himself, smiling sadistically as the tears began free-falling across Sarah's face, following the line of gravity off the side of her nose. She was too afraid to form any cohesive thoughts, too scared to do anything except blink and breathe.

Even so, she was beginning to feel lightheaded. Breathing too much, she knew vaguely at the back of her petrified mind. But it wasn't long before they felt the truck halt for more than a traffic light or a stop sign and the engine that had been rattling Sarah's universe was switched off.

The relief at the thought of seeing the judge again instead of his psychotic offspring actually allowed her body to relax an iota. But that feeling did not last for long.

The sounds of passing traffic were too loud and too frequent for them to have pulled into a private dwelling. Above them, all Sarah could see was blue skies and black crows flying over powerlines. But it definitely seemed as though they were still on the highway.

"Don't make a sound." Mike warned her, levelling the gun across his lap in her direction. Sarah was pretty sure even her heart stopped beating in an effort to obey his demand.

"Oh, howdy Judge. I'm awful sorry for pulling you over, I didn't recognise your boy back there." A new voice approached the driver's side window and Sarah knew instantly it was a cop.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. How was she going to explain this?

"Mikey went and got his hair shaved off last week, didn't you Mike?" They heard his father's distant voice explain to the unseen officer. "He wants to be on the football team like his old man was. I told him those ridiculous, girly bangs would get in his eyes."

"Yeah, you'd be right about that, Judge." The cop agreed with him, conversationally. "You understand, of course, why I pulled you over today?"

"Yessur, I surely do. My son is not wearing a seat belt back there however, he is helpin' me to transport some precious cargo. My fault entirely."

"Is that right? You boys had a successful huntin' trip?" Sarah's senses nudged her from behind, feeling a new set of eyes drinking in her vulnerable, exposed body.

The Texas State Trooper removed the aviators covering half of his face and instead used the brim of his white cowboy hat to shield from the sun as he leaned over the truck bed to get a closer look.

"Well, I'll be damned. I can't say I ever caught me one of those. But I think I know this girl - don't tell me... ain't she a Hooters Girl?"

Sarah flushed deeply with embarrassment at the thought that this man had been a former customer of hers. But even so, she did not know whether to relax or not, listening to the judge chuckle and confirm the trooper's suspicions.

Was any of this even real? She was beginning to wonder. How was it that a cop could look at her, naked and hog-tied in the back of a vehicle with four armed men, and not react?

"Yessur indeed, she's got the hooters for it. Why, that's the perfect job for you, ain't it sweet pea?" His crooked smile revealed a set of tobacco-stained teeth as his hand, both younger and daintier than the judge's, reached in at her and began groping at her helpless tits.

Sarah groaned both in pleasure and shock at the lawman's audacity.

"Oh yeah, I've definitely seen this pair before. Gorgeous. Now let me see here..." To her horror his hand disappeared from her view and, from behind, a cold, bony digit penetrated the searing heat between her legs, splitting her lips and completing one firm stroke from clit to pussy.

Sarah squealed through her bandana and the cop grinned insidiously.

"Well fellers, it appears you have consent." He deduced from the moisture now glistening in a thin gel over his index finger, raised under his nose to inhale and then popped into his mouth to taste. "Make it home safe and, err... enjoy your venison." He tipped his hat and replaced his sunglasses, looking pleased as punch as he disappeared from Sarah's view.

"Thank you, Officer." The judge called.

"Thank you!" Gerard added, sounding audibly relieved.

Sarah wasn't sure if she felt relief or not. Her mind was still reeling from the unexpected intrusion between her legs. Was this really it? Was this her life now? Not just the judge and his boys, but anyone could touch her?

And could it also be that the judge, as a result of his high-powered position, was legally untouchable? And if that was really the case, just how safe would she actually be? Would she even make it back to her Granddaddy at all?

Those thoughts were drowned out by the sound of the family pickup's powerful engine roaring back to life, shaking the very brain within her skull where her head was rested on the metal of the cargo bed.