My Secret Admirer Ch. 03

"See, the bitch likes it in the ass. We'll see how she likes this." And two more fingers violated me even more forcefully than the first. I squirmed away from those fingers, but to no avail. His grip was too strong. I thought I was going to pass out from the pain, and I would have welcomed that.

Finally, after several minutes and several more hands and fingers violating me and practically pulling my nipples off my body, one of them said, "Fuck this. Let's get back to our pool game. This puny little bitch isn't worth our time." And someone slammed the trunk lid.

The lid opened again, Josh's voice, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, Sir." I managed. And the lid closed again.

The car started moving again, and for quite some time. Finally it stopped again. I hoped we were back in their garage, but I didn't hear the echo of the engine like I would have if the car was in a garage.

Doors on both sides of the car opened and then slammed shut. The trunk lid opened again and my sister said, "Get your ass out here." When I was out of the trunk and standing, I felt a tug on the leash. There was cool grass under my feet, and I was thankful for that. They were still sore and concrete or asphalt would have scraped them even more.

We'd been walking for quite a while, fifteen minutes or so, with one of them constantly jerking on the leash to make me keep up their rather quick pace when I heard both of them, almost simultaneously say, "Fuck!"

Becky whispered to me, "It's the fucking cops. You just play it cool and we'll see if we can get out of this without going to jail."

"Hi, officers." Josh said in a voice that was way too cherry for the situation.

A voice of authority asked, "Do you mind telling us what the fuck is going on here?"

"We're just out for a stroll, Sir."

"Uh huh, well then explain her, and you'd better lose that smug, smart-ass tone or you'll all be in jail before you can swallow your spit."

"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir." Josh submitted to the officer. "I . . . she lost a bet on the game. She's my sister, and she was stupid enough to bet on the Jets. My wife and I are just collecting on the bet . . . Sir."

"Hum, is that so? Well, the two of you need to go with my partner so that I can have a private chat with your sister."

After ten seconds or so, the officer asked me, "Is he telling the truth, Ma'am. Are you okay with what's going on here?"

"Yes, Sir. It was a harmless bet. I just knew the Jets would win—that's all. Where are we, anyway?"

"You're in Randville Park, Ma'am. So everything is alright with you? It's okay, you can tell me the truth. They can't hear you. They don't have something over you right now, do they, a friend or family member they promise to hurt if you tell us the truth?"

"No, Sir. If that was the case I'd tell you for sure, but it's nothing like that. I'm just paying off a stupid bet."

"Okay then. I should arrest you for indecent exposure or at least give you a ticket, but it's late and there's no one around, so I guess it's a case of 'no harm, no foul'. What is your name?

"Dallas Marshall, Sir."

"And your address?"

"1523 Cleveland Circle here in town."

"And your social?"

After I gave it to him, he said, "I will have your brother show us his car so we can get the license number, and we'll record their ID info as well. If anything happens to you, they will answer to me, and I'll make damn sure they understand that. Otherwise, it's nice to know that some people actually pay their gambling debts. Oh, and how could you be so stupid as to bet on the fucking Jets?"

He'd said that last part with a humors chuckle, so I just shrugged.

I stood there for another five minutes before my leash was tugged on again and we resumed our walk.

I must admit, being led around a public park totally naked and blindfolded was erotic and exhilarating. It didn't make me horny, but it was strangely erotic. I liked it.

* * *

Two days later, when it was time for me to go home, I was sad, and I could tell my brother and sister were sad as well. The week had been great fun.

I did have my doubts that the "bikers" were really random people Josh lured out of a biker bar to his car. I couldn't even picture him going into one of those places. I also had my doubts about the cops. They never even had me remove my sleeping mask. But Josh and Becky would neither confirm nor deny my suspicion. I guess leaving it that way makes for a better memory for all three of us.

* * *

The End