by Garden Variety
(Seventh story in the "Robbery" series).
Cast of Characters
Gerry – A bloodthirsty, cruel Mistress and professional robber not without finer feelings about Brenda
Brenda [also known as Bren] – Her lesbian lover, helper and crime-partner, a bit softer, not-much, article Natasha [also known as Nat] - a difficult-to-handle redheaded Russian waitress at ‘Lefty Louie’s’ Club
Peter – [“Pyotr”] Heavily-armed Russian pimp, casino bagman and thug, who has a past with Natasha.
Louie -Gangster nightclub-owner fence and slaver who needs new topless waitresses: He’s willing to pay
Doc Hawkings, his Front-Desk Lady, two Orderlies, a casually-dressed Consultant-Surgeon–all small parts
All characters were more than eighteen by the time of the story.
The story so far: Our mean, greedy, lesbian couple improve, or not, by robbing rather than killing?
While the first four series-stories stand alone, this one, like the most-recent two, requires reader to have read previous stories, “Captivity”, “Gang” and “Sold”.
Story codes: F/F, M/F, breast, BDSM, nipple, slavery, face-slapping, lesbian sex, violence, XXX
Chapter 1 “Natasha”
Natasha is told by Louie to meet Gerry and Brenda at the Club back door at closing: Rather than making any late-dates. She does so: Is surprised when shackled, tit-clamped, chained and shoved into a cooler in the back of the van.
Louie says, appearing at the van: “I’m about to lock up. Want uh, …help carrying her into your place?”
Gerry says, “That’d be great!”
Brenda says, “We take out girls in rugs all the time, but this is more compact.”
Louie lifts out the cooler, grunting: “Fifty kilos. That’s what, …a hundred and twenty pounds?”
Gerry takes one side and Brenda runs ahead and opens the door.
Louie and Gerry put the cooler inside, and Brenda gives Italian gangster Louie a kiss. “Thank you.”
He gets in his car and exits.
Gerry opens the cooler: “You’re here for training, Nat: I figure you know this means large-dosage pain.”
Natasha says, “I don’t know what I supposedly done… I’ve been good topless-waitress!”
Brenda says, “You jeopardized ‘Lefty Louie’s’ club-license by working bottomless sometimes. …We plan to cure you of that!”
Gerry takes the sputtering Nat: “What you mean…’Jeopardized’? What’s this?...”
Ball-gags her and after a struggle, replaces shackles, clamps and tit-chain with a front wrists- and ankle -duct-taping, while Brenda sets up an ironing-board, lowering it about a half-foot below normal.
Brenda says, “I’m adding these wooden reinforced-legs to the table. …They fit about right.”
Gerry says, “Let’s lift Nat onto the table and stretch her out.”
They stretch Nat face-up, tying her taped-together hands over her head to the back of the table: Her taped-together ankles, which are off the end, to the front legs of the ironing table, both sets of the board’s legs now having the wood-reinforcement-legs added to handle Nat’s extra weight.
Gerry says, “Get our ironing…”
Brenda brings half a dozen blouses they saved up for this occasion, lays a thin brown-burn-marked cloth atop Nat’s pretty, A/B-cup, curvy but girlish, vermillion-nipple boobs. Natasha body: Good, slim, orange.
Gerry: “We’re going to start punishing you now, you can nod when you’d like to tell us the loot-details about Peter’s Casino.”
Irons a collar-point onto Natasha’s boobs, burning it into her nipple! Works on the blouse-cuffs, over her pussy, roasting it…Ignoring muffled muttered pleas, finishes pressing hot front of blouse onto her rounded belly and irons blouse-sleeves along her long smooth orange-tinted thighs!
“Brenda, untie her so we can flip…” Next Natasha’s beautiful tush is thorough-toasted, leaning down on each svelte hillock severely, with accompanying great pain, finishing up the back of the blouse, lifting it.
Gerry says, “No screaming now, but nod if you’ll talk…You dumb Russkie, we want to know when to hit to get the most dough at Peter’s with the least fuss!”
Natasha burning all over from the heinous torture nods quickly, up-down, more than usual. Torturously sizzling, thinks in fluent Russian: ‘They think they’re cruel. Don’t know the meaning of cruelty. Sure. Hurts. Russians used to pain.’
Brenda un-gags the facedown, burnt-red-perfectly-bubble-butted Nat. Notices her very-pretty bottom…
Natasha breathes fast and spits out, “Don’t burn -my tits my cunt, -throb, bad…way-down thighs and all over belly, poor bottom very-much-stinging, already!...Peter’s is dangerous place to try to rob…They kill you and put you in water…Don’t try it! ” Thinks: ‘I’m advising foolish-twosome honestly and correctly…’
Brenda says, “We are going to take the place tomorrow, if they keep Friday’s cash until Saturday. That’s what we need you to tell. We stop burning you if you tell schedule. There’s five more blouses to iron?”
Gerry says, “What Bren says is so: We need details, about whether they are alarmed and–or guarded, when and where to strike…”
Nat says, “Don’t hurt me, I sensitive-skinned. You ruin my value, Louie will not like: I promise no more bottom-off-taking, I will be good at Club from now!” ‘I’ll be good so long as busty girls do not top me!’
Gerry brandishes iron…”The details of the Peter’s Club money-drop, or I’m going ahead with this, no fooling…Nat!”
Brenda says [happily], “We have lots more ingenious torments for you tomorrow and the next day too…There’s a whole two days before we need to clean up at Peter’s.”
Nat says fast, “I tell you: Watch out, Peter is most of time armed with small, hidden, extra gun, and, big gun you see. He takes money in brown paper bag on Saturday about eleven and drops at bank. It’s him – alone – going. That is best opportunity…You won’t get Saturday night-takings, since that’s a separate Sunday-deposit…He drop in box.” I warn you: ‘Peter is badman. -He will kill stupid girls. -That’s my gist!’
Gerry gags Nat. Irons her butt and back of thighs, to shaking of upside-down Natasha-head. ‘O.K., you hurt me, make me red all over: I sting and itch like a peeling sunburn…You will pay in blood…’
Gerry: “I’m going to finish up another blouse, we’re going to need one each for our visit to the Casino…”
Brenda helps Gerry untie and flips Nat who tries kicking with her taped-ankles and her face is slapped, “Smack! Smack! …Smack! Smack!” Twice, each way.
Gerry says, “None of that, Nat. …Hey! I’m a poet!” Hands Brenda the blouse and the hot iron.
Brenda takes over the nipple-collar-ironing to horrible writhing, makes sure not a single, elegant, tiny, exquisite curve of Nat’s precious light-orange boobs escapes burning. …Next roasts every niche and cranny of her auburn-tufted pussy, tiny belly, nooks at the top, inner sides of long-smooth-sexy thighs.
Gerry holds Nat’s over-head arms down more and points to her so-far neglected armpits, given the detailed ironing-burning, not a single, pretty, whitish-orange curve is neglected: Perfectionist-torture.
Brenda, holding Nat’s ankles with one hand and the hot iron with the other: “Should we finish up with her neat, narrow feet?”
Gerry: [Shakes head.] “Let’s give Natasha a worry-about for the future, if she doesn’t cooperate, huh?”
Natasha signals with furious ball-gagged head-waving that she had more than enough.
Brenda says, “Tell us the rules of Louie’s joint insofar as what the waitresses are allowed to take off.”
Natasha un-ballgagged, staring horrified at hot iron poised over mid-section: “Topless no bottomless!”
Gerry says, “All right…She seems to know that…”
Steam-burns Nat’s nipples and auburn-haired bush: Gerry lets the hot-steam out of her iron over each nipple in turn, searing it completely, and descends to Nat’s pussy, holds the hot-steam a hair above her clitoris, laying iron’s point nearly onto her clit, and roasting slightly-above it, but all along her labia to her joined legs, nearly-burning the tops of her thighs, and motioning to Brenda. Cut ankle-tape, separate and hold open Nat’s ankles, so Gerry can insert her iron. Point the steam-flow at Nat’s asshole, butt-crease and toward the very base of her sparsely-auburn-bushed cunt: A puff of ending, a hot drop falls.
Brenda says, “You’ve run out of steam, Baby…”
Gerry says, “It did the trick, Nat would even do the heist for us, if we ask her to, now…”
Brenda says, “It looks like she’s going to need first aid for those burns, at least, if not Doc Hawkings?”
Gerry: “We’ll put some Aloe Vera on her worst wounds tonight…See how she is in the morning…Nat, are you ready for bed? She’s blacked out on us!” Gets tube: Rubs Nat’s nipples-boobs, cunt-thighs-ass.
Brenda says, “That steaming is way beyond her ability to take, even for a Russian dame! Oh, Sweetheart I wouldn’t put any goop inside her ass or her pussy, and not even on her clitoris… It’s pushing-it?”
Gerry says, with two last blobs on Nat’s red-orange, swollen nipples and another swipe of her fingers, down each pussy-lip, putting away her goop: “She’ll only wear our big iron-ring collar for tonight.”
Chapter 2 “Anthill”
Natasha is staked on an anthill in the backyard and a horde of ants are lined, moving confusedly in two directions between her pussy, navel and tits to take turns biting her nipples and pussy, where black piles of ants are clumped. Brenda grins, spoons from honey-pot, luring tormenting ants to Natasha’s goodies.
Nat: “Oh, please, I cannot take any sun…I never brown, but only burn and in minutes…” More truth.
Gerry: “We want you to go to Peter’s. Find out his schedule for the bank…You’ll probably have to sex him, blow him at least. When you’ve got him naked in the bed, meanwhile, we empty his guns.”
Brenda: “Say you’ll help us out and you won’t suffer this torture, anyway not more than your front side.”
Nat: “I will help you rob him! Please the sun… is very bad for me… and the bugs …are killing me!” ‘I take anything you dumb dames dish out: You don’t know what hell Russians put us through…in their casino of pain, I live after being brought to States…And Louie pays two thousand to buy me from slavers, yet I must repay them five thousand: This takes forever to work off, dancing with ugly, old, fat men!”
Young pretty slightly-heavy Natasha single-plaited red-hair top-of-head-wrap, meets Peter her first time:
Brings her to the casino: Says, “All our Russian Mail-Order Brides live here in States the first few days…”
Suddenly when inside, Peter grabs her and pulls her arms behind, her slender wrists held in his one big hand, handcuffing her and throwing her into a dungeon, where a fat, near-half-naked, hairy man in a black-leather vest is heating up irons. “Karl breaks you. We sell you!”
Natasha cries: The two men rip, cut off her clothes and strip her brutally. She tries to kick their balls. Face slapped, a half-dozen times by both men. “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!”
“Aeeeee!” Gagged, chained and near-stuck here and there with red-hot pokers, always focusing on her most sensitive spots, held a safe half-inch away not to mar merchandise. Hurts like hell! ‘It was most pain I ever have: Seemed like burning over and over for hours continuously: My tits, my pussy, ass, clit!’
Peter says, “When you want to blow us instead, nod your head.”
Nat nods right away. Ends up sucking off not only fatso Karl and Peter: Three more guys, two with shaved heads, and one wizened. ‘My experience to this time: Few oral-sexes with my first, only lover…’
“You’re also going to be topless a lot of the time if we sell you to Louie, so you might as well get used to the idea of nudity.” [Pinches her nipple.] “Small tits: …I do like the way you’re red-orange and your orange color skin. That’s unusual, isn’t it Karl? Could be a trade-off there… Think you’re grand, Baby!”
Natasha thinks, ‘It’s funny how those two stubbly-headed, stocky guys have dicks that are short and fat. The thin, wizened chap has a thin dick, and Karl’s is bulky and wide. “I like you best of all, Peter.” [Sucking his dick with long, slow, careful strokes all the way up to the top, licking around and chomping with her lips, back down, doing his balls, next around and around, until he explodes, when Nat managed to drink his dick right down her throat and swallow his jism] ”…In fact, I’m falling in love with you!” [Licking her lips around his dick sucking pumping-out with palms of her hands tongue-hooking last drop].
Peter says, “…And when I’ve hung you, fucked you, given you to Karl and guards, and sold you as topless-waitress to Louie…Will you love me then?” [A strictly-evil grimace accompanies this remark?]
[He yanks her up and leads her to the suspension-pulley, hangs her, uncomfortably extremely-stretched, held wide-open with taped-down, pussy-lip clamps and screws her unprepared, abruptly and hastily.
Her hands tied behind: Torturously connected to her separated-ankles over the pulley by ropes. A set of clamps on her red-orange nipples is tied - via going through taped-down, wide-spreading, pussy-lip clamps around and up her back, - to her long, single, unwound red hair-plait, lifting her head. Forcing her, laid facedown, to watch the lined-up men helping themselves to her body in a full-length mirror.
Added is a rope wound around her neck twice and tied not to slip. The ends of the neck-rope are held in each man’s hands. Nat’s face is never less than pink, but only twice red, purple: Nat never turns blue.
Peter thrusts into Natasha, demonstrates how they can choke her out, if she seems in any way uncooperative: Rope ends held like reins. Natasha swings terribly in the ropes. ‘O.K., if it’s him.’
To Nat, “You must flex your snapper so their dicks are gripped.” Natasha has never used her pussy-muscles, but being choked gives her an incentive. By clenching her stomach and thighs tight, she can grasp Peter’s dick a little, enough so he isn’t pulling the reins and choking her always, only sometimes?
Next, gets to try three ugly guards who each satisfy themselves. ‘Two ugly stocky baldies, I pretend they are still Peter’s - Although my arms aren’t meant to bend this way, and even fifteen minutes is too much in this position! Why am I choking? Oh…the rope, I must try to tighten my stomach and thighs! It’s working, I’m not faint…Now the skinny guard: He’s a bad fit to match my Peter but I’m so narrow, he is tight anyway…He came! Peter fits me close so I’m being rubbed hard, nothing to spare, but can tighten.
Fat Karl says, “Better late than never,” pushing, it resists - won’t go, because Nat’s sex is very narrow…wrenchingly fits his very-wide dick in–! At last he’s pumping his silly, short, fat schlong– and choking Nat. ‘I try clenching, grip a bit: There’s no room to!’ ‘…Only my Yrkucht-village, peasant-women pre-anesthetic childbearing tales compare for pussy-ripping-apart agony longevity. See red.’ Passes out.
Gerry nods to Brenda, who installs ball-gag harness as Gerry holds Nat’s head up: “Snap!” It’s on her.
Gerry and Brenda go back in the house, Gerry: “We’ll let her go, like you promised without flipping her.”
Brenda asks, “…In say twenty minutes? I could get behind a quickie…”
Gerry replies, “Exactly.”
They retire to the bedroom, with Gerry’s arm around her little blonde helper Brenda. Swoon in each other’s tightly-squeezing arms, bright lips open-mouthed kissing with tongues-flicking. They’re transported to lesbian paradise. Round B/C-cups breasts: Except the fairer-haired Bren contrasts with light-brown nipples and light-brown-haired Gerry’s nubbins are pinkish-red.
After terrific boob-licking and sucking, they do sixty-nine mutually pussy-eating, not quite to climaxes. Get out their double-dildo: Brenda is on top this time. Brief comment from the two heaving breathers. “Thanks, Gerry, my Love,” because Brenda has a history of being crashed on and crushed on the bottom.
“Argghh! … “Welcome, Baby!” Gerry comes a bit ahead of her blonde helper, Brenda a half-minute behind. “Argghh!”
Brenda wistfully moans, “I’d like lying-together awhile now.”
Gerry says, “Bren, we’ve got to let Nat up, since she’ll be no good, if she’s sun-poisoned.”
Brenda says, “O.K., at least Nat has no blisters…”
Gerry [getting up and dressing]: “We’ll do some monkey-bumping later and Baby will orgasm again.”
Chapter 3 “Caper”
Peter [recognized from Flashback, now clothed] is a large, heavy-built Russian, wears for the moment, a tuxedo.
Natasha leads him upstairs, away from the sparkling casino crowd. They undress…
While Nat is blowing him efficiently, seated Peter yanking her red head into his hairy lap, he closes his eyes.
Gerry creeps in around the door, pushing it closed with one hand, while holding the edge not to slam closed, with her other hand.
Brenda, as a lookout, sits on the stairs outside.
Near Peter’s discarded pants is a shoulder-holster, and in it, a forty-five semi-automatic pistol. At a point in the proceedings where Gerry believes Peter climaxes: –He’s pumps, grunts, groans– …Noise from the couple perhaps covering, Gerry ejects its clip: “Click!” Replaces, with blanks-clip she brought.
Seeing the noise isn’t detected, Gerry replaces ammo in another automatic in a small-of-the-back belt-holster with six thirty-eight-special blanks, which she brought loose. An ankle-holster bears derringer made for four three-fifty-seven-magnums that she replaces with thirty-eight-special blanks, which fit.
That was all she brought, the loaded forty-five clip and ten loose shells: Sneaking out while the couple lies back on the bed to have regular sex, sideways, Peter facing mostly away. Facing more towards Gerry, Natasha’s eyes open wide with alarm. Soon Nat is distracted by sex, Peter doing curt, lively, short strokes which titillate, pulling her on top of him, thrusting long, smooth strokes. ‘Oh heavenly…’ For ten minutes, Nat is feeling no pain. Isn’t conscious of this Peter’s-bedroom world: Flies the coop! ‘Sheer bliss…popping multi-orgasmic, twenty in a row…Cannot count how many I smile floating in a pink haze…’
“Open your purse, you should’ve seen the outdated Leninist-Stalinist belt-buckle that Peter-guy’s got, with a hammer and sickle yet.” Pours live magnums, thirty-eights and forty-five clip into Brenda’s purse.
Adds smirking Brenda. “…And him such a capitalist-crook, too!”
Peter is on the way to the bank when Nat comes up and asks to walk with him. He is about to say “No,” when Brenda appears, draws a gun. –Peter draws, finds firing his forty-five isn’t stopping stick-up, draws his smaller automatic, fires ineffectively: Last fires his magnum at Gerry appearing on other side. Gerry, holding her handgun at him, steps up and grabs his paper bag, looks in it and sees wad of cash…
For effect, Brenda hits Nat, knocking her groggy and limp, but Peter yanks off his belt-buckle - a hidden knife - and stabs Brenda in the center of her chest – twisting its broad short blade. As Brenda fires point-blank at Peter: Nat in falling ground-ward, grasps Bren’s arm, making her bullet miss, pass harmlessly over the Russian’s shoulder.
Gerry disarms him, hitting his knife-hand with her gun, so Peter lets go of it: Twice clouts his head with her handgun knocking him first halfway-down – and again, since he’s half-standing – all the way out!
Gerry sees all three are out for the count–runs down and to the curb leaping in–starting–moving van closer curses–lifts loads her wounded heavily-bleeding Brenda: Belt-buckle knife protrudes from bosom.
At Doc Hawkings’, Gerry is told gently as possible Brenda probably won’t make it: “Too close to heart?”
Gerry counts the dough in the paper bag while waiting: ‘Thirty-five thousand: But not worth it?’
The outer door flies open. A gray-haired man wearing plaid shirt, jeans and sneakers comes rushing in:
Following him are two young men, really no more than muscular boys, wearing white coats, pushing a stand with eight dark-red fluid bottles hanging on it, waving back and forth as they roll in stand.
The front-desk lady motions them on in. All of them hustle inside, out of Gerry’s sight.
A minute later, Doc Hawkings sticks out his head from the inner door and says, to Gerry, sitting upset. “It’s going to come dear, but Brenda might make it…That was our consultant-surgeon you saw.”
He disappears again. Inner door closes.
No movement for an hour…It tries the patience too much for anybody: The depressed Gerry has to ask. Gerry approaches the front desk, “What’s the story?”
Front Desk Lady: “Transfusion: Going to be awhile, an hour or two, before we know for certain. Maybe you should go home? But, first, could you please sign this form? ”… ‘Description of illness/Injury: Fall in China Closet’ [handwritten.]
Front Desk Lady: “We’re going to need eleven hundred and five dollars: That’s for our consultant-surgeon, one thousand, and the blood, a hundred and five. We won’t know about our own charges until the end, when Brenda …goes home? …It depends on how long she’s staying here. …Be at least two or three nights.” Front Desk Lady: “Confidentially, …Doctor will tell you all this later…” [While Gerry passes her a short cash-money stack…] “…The cut missed the aorta by a hair’s-breadth. Right now, if she’s as strong as she’s young, with cautious aftercare, Brenda will squeak through…” [Gives her back a five, a ten and a receipt, which Gerry tosses.]
Gray-haired Consultant-Surgeon [Addresses Gerry, passing desk, on his way out, rolling down his sleeves, two young muscular Orderlies pushing now-empty blood-bottle stand]: “…You’re Brenda’s friend? Oh, there’s Doctor Hawkings…” [Seeing him come out behind him.] “He’ll tell all. …News is good, though.”
[They, all three, Surgeon, Orderlies pushing clanking metal-stand, waving empty, hanging tubes, Exit.]
Dr. Hawkings says, “Gerry, Brenda’s going to pull through after all. I’m sorry I worried you for nothing. We operated over an hour. It’s going to be a long convalescence. …She’ll be as good as new someday!”
The End of ‘Robbery’ story series
Copyright© 2015 by Garden Variety. All rights reserved.