The Barrens

The offices to "The Frisky Vixen" were located in a small room at the back of the club. It had been a busy night out front, and a good one for the young women who made their living alternately hustling expensive drinks and dancing on stage, but the owner of the club was not happy. He picked up the telephone and dialed a familiar number. "Jimmy," he said, "Get a couple of the boys and get over to the Vixen right away. Come in the back door and don't make a big deal about it. Call me from the bar extension and lie low until I give you the signal. If I call you back, pick it up and do what I tell you."

"Got it, Boss, we'll be there in twenty minutes."

Then, opening the door to the hallway, he signaled for the bouncer, whose duties included watching over the office while the night's cash was being counted after closing, to come closer.

"Manny, tell Kiki, Doreen, and Lisa that I need to see them when they're done removing their make-up."

"Will do, Boss," said Manny as he left to deliver his message to the three dancers. "You gonna be OK with the cash?"

"Yeah, I'll be OK," said the boss as he waved his hand down the hall and shut the door.

In the dressing room the three dancers sat at their make-up mirrors, removing the make-up which had transformed them from good-looking women to "exotic dancers." The door cracked open and a disembodied voice said, "Ladies, the boss wants to see you in his office as soon as you're decent."

Doreen said, "Well, that's the first time he's ever wanted to see us 'decent' huh girls? They chuckled their agreement as Doreen said, "Got it, Manny. Thanks."

Once the door closed, Doreen turned to the other dancers and spoke in a hushed voice. "Well, girls, this is it. We need to be strong and stick together." The other two dancers nodded agreement and silently went about their business.

"The Vixen," like all of the strip clubs in this part of the tri-state area, was a mob-owned business. Its proprietor was Harry "The Blade" Torelli, a former mob enforcer and made man who had earned his "bones" removing opposition mobsters for the current crime family. He had done his job so well that the family decided to reward him with his two favorite things, money and tits, by making him "owner" of "The Frisky Vixen." All he had to do was give the family its monthly cut, and he was free to lead his life in retirement more or less any way he wanted.

The phone on Harry's desk lit up. It was Jimmy, calling from the bar. "All set, Boss," said the voice on the other end.

Harry said, "Tell Manny to go get the girls. Once they enter my office, you and the boys just stand around the bar until I give you the word. Nobody leaves my office unless I say so. Got it?"

"Got it, Boss."

After a few minutes, Jimmy saw the three dancers, who were in their "civvies" and carrying their pocketbooks, pass by the deserted bar and stroll down the hallway towards the boss's office. He strained to lean off the barstool as he watched the strippers' asses move back and forth as they headed down the hallway and paused to knock on Harry's office door. The door opened and the three women walked in. Manny closed the heavy steel door behind them. Jimmy signaled to his companions that it was time to assume their watch per the boss's instructions.

Harry looked up from his desk, smiling. "Come in ladies and have a seat. I'm just finishing up tonight's cut." The three women each took a seat in front of his desk. He put three envelopes, each with cash, flat on the desk which separated owner from employees. The girls reached out for their pay, but Harry spoke before they could actually get their hands on the envelopes. "Not quite yet, girls. I'm instituting a new "cash out" policy starting tonight. Put your pocketbooks up here on the desk."

Almost in unison the strippers said "What?"

"You heard me ladies. Put 'em right here." The three girls looked at each other, with shocked eyes. "NOW," Harry said as he brought down his massive right hand, slapping the desk with a "Thwak!"

Instantly, Harry's face went from welcoming and jovial to stern and menacing as he put on his "game face" from his days as an everyday enforcer. He stood up and tapped the desk again. "Right fuckin' here, girls." Doreen started to rise in response. "Sit the fuck down!" he bellowed. Doreen sat.

"Hey, Harry," Doreen said indignantly, "what's the deal?"

"We're about to find out, you bitch. Now put your pocketbook right here. Do it!" Doreen reached down and did as she was told. "Open it and then dump it out."

"Harry, what is going on?" she asked as she drew the zipper open. "What are you looking for?" the now-shaking stripper asked.

"A fuckin' tampon. Dump it." Doreen inverted her bag and her life spilled out all over the desk. Her wallet, two different compacts, breath mints, Kleenex, keys and a hundred other feminine doo-dads lay in a pile. "Give me the fuckin' bag and you open the wallet." Harry reached out for the leather handbag with his left hand and with a broad sweep of his right forearm blasted the lipsticks and everything else off the desk. "Dump the wallet," he said, "everything out on the desk."

Doreen said, "Sure, Harry," as she emptied a few credit cards and thirty-one dollars, no change, on the desk. "That's everything. Now, can I have my pocketbook back, pick my shit up off this disgusting floor, get my money and get the fuck out of here?"

"Tell you what, Doreen, how about you sit the fuck back down and don't say a fuckin' word until I tell you to? That gonna work for you?" Doreen sat down. The two girls flanking Doreen said nothing and stared straight ahead. Kiki, a diminutive Japanese-American woman who specialized in schoolgirl outfits, was shivering in fear and Lisa, a big-titted, dark haired, twenty-five-year-old whose on-stage preference was see-through lingerie, was clenching every muscle in her body to keep herself from following suit. Harry put the black leather pocketbook on the desk and reached inside. After thirty seconds he withdrew a black plastic strip, perfectly shaped to the bag's footprint and tossed it on the desk. Next came the money in fives, tens, and twenties, a hundred and fifty bucks worth.

Doreen moved to speak, but Harry gave her the full stop hand signal followed by a single, pointing finger. He turned to the two shivering strippers and spoke calmly, his voice dripping with malice, "Thirty seconds you two. Go!" Twenty seconds later the table contained over three hundred dollars and all three women sat silently with their heads bowed and sobbing.

"Look up, ladies," Harry said as he pushed a button on his phone and held up his finger in the "shhhh" sign. "Jimmy," he said into the receiver, "this is Harry. It's getting late. Better make that pizza 'to go.' Yeah, we want an extra-large." He turned to the three cowering women. "Now, what am I going to do with you three?"

"Harry," Doreen said, "we're sorry. It won't happen again. We'll pay you back."

Before Harry could speak there was a quick knock on the door. "That must be the pizza guy. You guys are buyin'." He swiped up a couple of twenties from the pile on his desk and went to open the door. In walked Jimmy and two of his men. Each carried a medium sized satchel. Manny kept watch outside. "Jimmy," he said, "Wrap these three slices 'to go.' Try not to damage the goods."

The girls were frozen in terror and incapable of any kind of defense against the men assigned to kidnap them. They were, well, strippers, thin by design, flyweights against accomplished, experienced heavyweights. The gags went on first, snug and efficient. Then, each of the girls had their wrists and ankles tied. They weren't walking out of this office or hopping for that matter. As the three thieves stood facing Harry for a final time, he took a moment to look his former employees in the eyes, eyes that were wide open in a mixture of terror, horror, and deep grief. He spoke in earnest. "Nobody steals from Harry the Blade, especially not strippers." He spat on the floor. "Tits are two for a dime, a dozen pairs for a buck."

"Manny, take Jimmy's 'dream date' here out to the stretch limo for him. I want to talk to him for a second." Manny and the other two goons each hoisted one of the girls over a shoulder as they followed their orders and set about preparing the terrified strippers for transport to the garage where an old, dented F-350 white panel van sat waiting, their "stretch limo" for the evening. In a minute or two the girls were secured, masked and lying on the mat-covered steel floor next to a cot. Jimmy emerged, opened the creaking driver's side door, slammed it shut, and started the motor. Putting the van into drive, he left through the garage door, which Manny closed behind the departing truck. It was 1:30 in the morning.

Once underway, Jimmy spoke. "It's two hours to the Barrens and another four until daylight. You two get your pick, for an hour each. One at a time. The other watches and stands guard. If any of them gives you any shit, feel free to slap them around, but don't kill them. The boss was very specific about that."

Wait until I get on the interstate, but you can decide who gets first choice. No fighting. There's three to choose from, all of them equally nice.

"Nicky Two Times," the goon riding shotgun, twisted around in his seat and said, "How about it, Tony? I want the Jap. That OK with you?"

"Sure. I want the one with the big tits and I get to go first. You got first pick."

"Fair enough" said Anthony. "Jimmy, you OK with the blonde or do you want 'sloppy seconds'?"

"No, the blonde works for me," said Jimmy as he drove down the interstate highway away from the city and into the countryside. "The boss gave me some special instructions for her anyway. I can wait 'till we get there. Be careful. Use the cot."

The mob enforcer in the back of the van lifted Lisa up onto the cot, banging her head against the sloping steel side of the van, but her gag prevented her from crying out. Her pretty face was smeared with her own drool and tears, her make-up a mess. This was no longer a naughty and buxom temptress, prancing about on stage in diaphanous lace, but a bound, terrified soon-to-be ex-stripper. "Sit still and you won't get hurt. I'm gonna have a little fun with you."

Nicky withdrew a switchblade knife from his rear pocket and snapped it full-open. Lisa started to squirm and shake her head back and forth all the while spit-talking "No!" into her unyielding gag. With his free hand, the enforcer grabbed her by the neck, squeezing just enough to let the quivering girl know that he wanted her undivided attention. "Stop moving, bitch, or you'll get cut." Lisa stopped all motion and resistance. "That's much better," he said as he reached forward and used the razor-sharp blade to slice the buttons off her blouse. Moments later, her bra was in shreds as her tits flopped out, exposed.

Normally, having her tits exposed was no big deal to the professional stripper, but this time was different. She was immobilized, held captive at knifepoint with two other women in the back of a ratty, rusted van and believed that these three rough men intended to kill her as well as her companions.

Nicky Two-Times reached over and undid the belt on her form-fitting jeans and pulled them, as well as the panties underneath as far down as the ligatures around her ankles would allow. "Listen, bitch," Nicky said. "I'm going to retie you. If you resist in any way, I'll cut your fuckin' nipples off. That OK with you Jimmy?" he asked the driver, raising his voice to be heard above the highway drone.

"The Boss said not to kill them. He didn't say anything about their tits, so I suppose it's OK; sure, cut 'em off if you have to." Jimmy looked over at Tony, who was smiling. They both knew that Nicky wanted to suck on those tits, the nicest rack on any of the captives by far, not cut them off.

Lisa nodded in the affirmative indicating that she would not misbehave while Nicky adjusted her bindings. Wrists and ankles were untied and Lisa's jeans and what was left of her blouse and underwear were removed. He re-tied her wrists to her ankles on each side, opening access to both her pussy and her ass. Her gag remained in place.

Made men have a way with nicknames. Every one has a story behind it, a secret known only to other mobsters. Nicky was no exception. Those who had simply met or knew Nicky peripherally thought that "Two-Times" referred to, for lack of a better way to put it, Nicky's "execution style," two bullets to the back of the head, the famous "double tap." While it was true that the double tap was Nicky Two-Times' business signature, that was not why he had received his moniker.

Years ago. when Nicky was just a new foot soldier, one of the older and most respected mobsters in the family had sidled up next to him at an old, trough-style urinal at "The Napoli," one of the oldest and best Italian restaurants in the city. As the mobster relieved himself, he looked over at the enforcer and could see that Nicky's cock was huge in both length and diameter.

"Mother of God!" the mobster said to Nicky, your dick is twice as big as a fuckin' mortadella. Put that sausage away, Nicky Two-Times. You're scaring me," he chucked as he slapped the young soldier on the back and they both headed back upstairs to dinner. Nicky had his new nickname; one he would carry to his death.

"Get your ass up in the air, bitch," said Nicky. "Spread 'em." Lisa did as she was told and soon, with some assistance from the enforcer, was more or less stable, with her shapely behind raised as far as she could, offering clear and open access to both her pussy and her anus. Her head was flat on the cot so that she saw a framed view, albeit an upside-down one, to Nicky as he unzipped his pants and released his legendary dick. She squirmed and protested into her gag, knowing that no matter how much lubrication was applied, when he finally put it into her, it was going to hurt.

She was right. As he squeezed and pinched the big-titted stripper's tits while he mounted her from behind, Nicky's enormous penis eventually forced itself into Lisa's pussy, stretching it from within to its absolute maximum diameter. He began to pound her, pulling all the way out each time he withdrew. Lisa cried and tried to maintain her balance as the truck entered a long slow curve. Eventually, Nicky came in her pussy, shooting gobs of sticky semen deep into the back of her vagina. Finished, the enforcer quickly retied and lowered Lisa back onto the floor.

"Tony, you're up," said Nicky as he tapped the mobster on the shoulder and they carefully changed places. It was KiKi's turn to be used.

After an hour of sexual torment, KiKi was back on the floor with her fellow captives. "Tony, you want your seat back?" asked Nicky Two Times.

"Naw," said Tony. "I'll stay back with the luggage."

Jimmy said, "It doesn't matter anyway. We're here." The truck pulled off the highway and in ten minutes was on a dirt road stopped in front of a locked steel gate. Nicky got out of the truck and opened the large lock. He pushed the creaking gate out of the way. He got back into the truck and handed the lock to Nicky. Once I drive through, get out and reset the gate and use the lock. We do not want to be disturbed."

Nicky did as he was told and in five more minutes the van came to a stop at the edge of a kind of fen. The girls were unloaded and their ropes untied, but not their gags. As the women stood there shivering in the cool fall air, they were very different looking than they had been just a few hours before when they were taunting their "patrons" and teasing them, using their beauty to siphon dollars from their wallets.

Jimmy spoke. "Well girls, here we are. Have you had enough yet?" All three nodded vigorously in the affirmative. "Then there's only one thing to do now." The girls went wide with fright. Kiki peed herself while Lisa and Doreen shook. Jimmy undid Doreen's gag.

"Jimmy, don't kill us, please," blurted Doreen as she moved her jaw around to regain its use.

"What?" said, Jimmy. "You think we're gonna kill you over a measly three hundred bucks? You aren't worth the trouble. Nope, the boss says we're to fuck you, dump you in the lake, watch you shiver for a while and leave you to find your way home. Needless to say, you can't ever come back to town. If you do, you die. Got it?" All three nodded their heads and smiled, relieved, and barely able to stand from emotional exhaustion. "It's gonna be cold and muddy, but considering the alternative, I guess you won't mind."

Anthony and Nicky Two Times pulled off Kiki and Lisa's gags and then launched the two girls from the shore as if they were flirty teen girls at a jock pool party. Both girls instinctively grabbed their nose as they landed with a splash in the cold water. They both cried out and immediately drew in their arms for warmth. Their feet sank into oozy mud up to their ankles.

Jimmy turned to Doreen and said "Now I have a message for you, bitch, direct from the Boss. Boys, put her gag back on; tie her hands behind her back; and turn her around so she can see her girlfriends while I deliver the message." Nicky and Anthony did as they were told. "Your girlfriends are never coming out of that bog. We've been using this place for thirty years. Nobody steals from us, not $300, not $3, not a stick of fucking gum." I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole, you skank. Launch her, boys."

With a heave and a splash Doreen went into the cold mire ten feet from her girlfriends. Immediately they tried to move to her aid, but they were stuck. Every attempt to lift one leg caused the other to become more fully embedded. Before long, the two girls were in up over their knees. Lisa, cried out. "Kiki, Doreen, I'm stuck."

"Me too," said Kiki. I'm sinking, Lisa. I can't stop shivering. It's almost up to my waist! Tony, Jimmy, please get us out. Please! Throw us a rope or something. We're sinking!"

Nicky Two Times pulled out his enormous cock and shouted "Sorry, Kiki, no rope; come and grab onto this." The other two mobsters doubled over in laughter.

As the naked strippers screeched and thrashed about, the muck continued to rise until all three women were literally up to their tits in freezing mire. Despite their increasing peril, the screaming eventually subsided as the combination of bitter cold and shear exhaustion took over. Every breath was precious now, as the doomed women could feel their future shrinking fast.

Doreen, who entered the pit last and whose hands were tied, screamed into her gag as her tears streamed down her cheeks and dropped into the rising water.

"Jesus, Jimmy," said Nicky Two-Times as he re-zipped his fly, "That was some prime beef we just dumped... and for what? a stinking three hundred bucks."

"Bitches are a dime a dozen," said Jimmy as he moved to open the van door to start the ride back to the city.