CAT (ghostgirl)

It had been a long week, but midterms were a fading memory and the last minutes of her Friday evening shift at her uncle's tow yard and garage were ticking by, slowly. She saved the accounting spreadsheet and shut down the computer, then laced her fingers and stretched her arms up and back over her deep copper ponytail, arching her back as her cropped t-shirt slid up over creamy skin, high enough to confirm her disdain for bras.

The ancient rolling office chair creaked and threatened to topple her over backward, but the stretch felt so good after hours of sitting and staring at glowing plasma numbers, cooking Uncle Red's books. Her slim, lithe body wasn't made for stillness; every inch from her well-toned gymnast's calves and thighs, small round ass, smooth flat belly and high, tight little breasts, to her pretty green-eyed face, just a shade too intelligent and feral to be beautiful, gave the impression of heat and motion, barely contained. The fiery hair topping it all off made her a dancing flame even at rest.

Jake stuck his head in the door, flashing a smile she recognized all too well. She relaxed her arch and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him from under a thick fringe of dark lashes.

"Cat, take one last call for me? I have a really hot girl waiting impatiently." He swung the door a little wider and curled his torso around it, eyeing her cautiously.

She narrowed her eyes at him, her face tightening into a scowl. "And I give a fuck...because?" She'd been dateless for a month, since Zane had dumped her for that treehugging, doe-eyed blonde Kirstie.

"C'mon, sis, don't be a bitter little puss." His smile was gentle; he knew how betrayed she'd felt, how hurt. He had roused her from her self-pity by amusing her with revenge fantasies, deliciously cruel little scenarios that all featured the soft, sweet, and completely blameless Kirstie. Soon he and she were sharing, the imaginary torments escalating in viciousness as they worked through a twelve pack, giggling drunkenly and shouting addenda from the bathroom to one another as they took turns pissing the beer mostly into the toilet.

She smoothed her face impassive and uncrossed her arms, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the desk, steepled fingers to her lips, her brows arched over emerald eyes. Careful not to let her brother know she'd already decided she owed him one.

"It's an easy run, Cat, just fix a flat, no tow." He noted her non-reaction to this, rolled his eyes, and reached into his jumpsuit pocket, withdrawing a set of keys which he dangled enticingly in front of her face. "You can take the Snatch..."

Her arm shot over the desk and ripped the keys from his grasp as a triumphant smile spread over her face. The Snatch was her uncle's repo rig, the boom and wheel-lift integrated and operated from inside the cab for a quick, stealthy vehicle grab. "Pure pussy," the wreckers called the self-loader, light-weight and built for speed. Cat never got to drive it; she only knew how to operate it in theory. But she knew about the thick wooden baseball bat under the seat and the small pistol in the glove compartment because her brother and uncle both thought she should know where all the weapons were when she worked alone in the garage office after hours.

She waved him away with the back of one hand, clutching the keys tightly in the other as she rose.

"Silver Prius at the rest stop, interstate west," he said, chuckling as she slid past him. "Don't forget to gas up."

***

A bloated yellow harvest moon was already hanging over the eastern foothills as she pulled up beside the Prius, the only vehicle in the deserted parking lot at the backside of the rest stop, behind a pair of cinderblock restrooms. A girl in a fuzzy pink sleeveless sweater and very short black denim skirt sat on the curb near the rear bumper, her shapely brown thighs and satiny knees pressed tightly together. Sunny butter-blonde hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, obscuring her face. Cat peered through the passenger window at her, biting her lower lip.

Kirstie.

She eased the Snatch up to the curb in front of the Prius and backed a few feet, then popped the stick into neutral and set the parking brake. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel; it took her a full minute to turn the ignition off.

She grabbed the lug wrench as she hopped out, letting the door slam behind her, and walked up to the blonde, now standing at the right rear bumper. Kirstie looked up as she heard the truck door and fixed huge brown puppy eyes on Cat, though her smile of relieved recognition quickly faded as she caught the redhead's expression. With a clang that made Kirstie start, Cat dropped the wrench in front of the flat tire and turned on her heel, back to the truck for the jack.

***

Cat crouched on the curb and sullenly went to work. It wasn't until she was loosening the first nut that she spoke her first words to Kirstie, without looking up.

"Get your spare."

Kirstie opened the empty trunk and stood peering into it, arms crossed under her ample pink-fuzzed tits, rounded and bouncy like the rest of her. Cat cast her a couple of sidelong glances, more patently disgusted by the second at her fluffy blonde defenselessness. She sighed heavily, dropped the nut into the upturned hubcap next to her, scrambled to her feet, lug wrench still in hand, and went to join Kirstie under the open hatch. After a long, mocking minute, Cat reached in, pried up the carpeted floor, and stared down at the donut in silence.

"This is it?" She turned to fix Kirstie with savage green eyes. "This is all you have?"

Kirstie nodded. "I didn't even know I had that," she murmured quietly.

Cat closed her eyes and drew a long breath. When she opened them, Kirstie was still there, with her big brown heartbreakingly luminous eyes, and so was her flat tire and her little black rubber balloon that wouldn't get her stupid politically correct car even a mile closer to home at freeway speeds. Cat raised her empty hand in a gesture of frustration, preparing to launch into an explanation. Her eye snagged on a wide black grease stain in her own palm. She froze, mouth open...relaxed by degrees...and smiled. Slowly, deliberately, Cat reached out and wiped her greasy paw on blondie's left breast, smearing it with oily dark smudges, giving it a hard little squeeze as an afterthought, watching the girl’s face.

"Wow," she purred. "Your sweater is really soft. What is it, cashmere or something?"

Kirstie stood, stunned, for at least 20 seconds before she whispered, "Angora..."

"AnGORah," Cat repeated. She canted her head, studying Kirstie. "What, doesn't your vegan compassion extend to yaks or goats or long-haired possums or whatever the fuck they make angora out of?"

"They're rabbits, and they aren't harmed," Kirstie was infuriatingly earnest. "They aren't even sheared, just combed. This sweater is a charity thing. The money goes to Rosco Rabbit Rescue."

Cat stared at her through a haze of red that quickly darkened into black. This was who Zane had dumped her for? A blonde bubblebrain who "rescued" bunnies?

Kirstie continued, "I'm sorry for all this trouble, Cathy. I tried to call Zane to come and get me, but my cell kept dropping it. If it hadn't been for that nice trucker who promised to call it in, I'd be totally stranded. I should have caught a ride back with him and left my car. He did offer, but I didn't think Zane would be comfortable with it..."

Her eyes locked on Kirstie's, Cat's arm lashed out and drove the lug wrench through the rear passenger window.

***

Cat tore the wrench from the window, bringing with it a shower of safety-glass pellets that rained over her boots and Kirstie's nearly-bare, sandaled feet. Methodically, she strolled around the Prius, knocking out each window and leaving big, ugly dents in the side panels. She knew she ought to feel scared...no, appalled at her loss of control and looming consequences; she felt...great. Better than great. Energized, buzzed, on top of the world.

She felt wet.

She knocked out both headlights and looked in Kirstie's direction, half-expecting to spot her in the distance, scampering down the shoulder of the interstate, frantically trying to flag down a state trooper.

Kirstie wasn't scampering; she wasn't even standing. She was sitting in the middle of the cement walkway, tanned legs sequined with random safety glass pellets and crossed in full lotus, miniskirt hiked to her hips, modesty abandoned. Her palms were upturned on her knees, forefingers and thumbs pressed together. Her eyes were closed.

Cat loaded the wrench and jack, turned the ignition, and hitched the Prius in one try. She left the idling truck in neutral and climbed back out, locking a pair of blinking amber safety lights to the rear bumper before walking slowly over to the meditating girl.

The redhead hunkered down on her heels in front of the blonde and watched her for a few moments. Then Cat reached out and slapped Kirstie's face, hard.

Kirstie swayed backward from the waist under the blow, her cornsilk hair swirling around the red handprint materializing on her cheek. Her eyes remained tightly shut, squeezing out tears that glittered under the parking lot phos lamps.

Cat stared, spellbound. Her blood fizzed maddeningly in her veins; she was unable to move, unable to speak, unable to think. Her nipples tightened under her t-shirt. Her green eyes, pupils dilated, drifted down between Kirstie's spread thighs. Her hand, fingers poised for a cruel pinch, followed the same track....hovered, trembling, less than a millimeter from Kirstie's pink thong...but then switched directions...slowly, slowly floated upward to the fading red mark on Kirstie's face, as Cat's other hand moved to her own waistband, in the small of her back.

"Kirstie, open your eyes, princess." Cat stroked the blonde's cheek, feather-light, with her fingertips. Kirstie's lids fluttered, opened; she blinked several times, finally focusing her huge brown eyes on the barrel of the pistol, briefly, before Cat pressed it to her forehead, wrapping a thick hank of golden hair tightly around her other fist.

Cat leaned in and whispered huskily in her ear, "Your chariot awaits."

PITCH (VVV)

He drove at the speed limit in the right hand lane of the interstate, anxious to go nowhere, going at all only for the hunt. The 14 foot unmarked white Chevy box truck was neither old nor new. It looked like a hundred others hauling goods or a tradesman’s equipment along the highway, but Pitch was driving this one and he was going nowhere in particular.

If any other drivers had cared to observe they might have seen how Pitch looked at back at them. Male drivers would have noticed a glance, at best. Most female drivers the same. But young, pretty women, behind the wheels of their cars alone, might have noted somewhat more attention paid to them as Pitch looked down from his perch above.

Had those other drivers looked back at his face they would have been deceived. The short curly brown hair on his head was not his, nor was the wide nose and cleft chin. Altering his appearance was a necessity, Pitch had learned. Seeing one’s sketch in the newspaper following a misunderstanding about “consent” can shock a young man and force him into an inconvenient move a thousand miles away from his home even though family and friends never did connect that sweet mannered man they knew with that sketch.

The box of the truck behind him hauled no goods, and if he was a tradesman the equipment he carried betrayed and odd and disfavored trade. Stored or carefully arranged and fixed to the floor were all the things he might need to entertain a female guest in considerable discomfort. This mobile room – Pitch might even call it a “chamber” of sorts, but then only to himself or to the rare guest of the box’s unusual amenities – lacked a guest at the moment.

Pitch saw the rising moon. The harvest moon, he thought, his favorite other than the hunter’s moon, of course. Either way, they boded well for his quest tonight, which was taking nature’s bounty.

He turned off to drive through the rest area as a matter of course. He’d passed through in past hunts and knew this place was unattended at night and had no security cameras. It was quiet this night, the traffic towards the city not in need of these accommodations, drivers and passengers anxious to get to their restaurants and clubs. Pitch saw two unpromising vehicles in front on the highway side: a minivan with child seats and a beaten up Ford pickup with decals on the rear window showing the silhouette of a stripper bending over. Pitch hauled his truck into a U-turn and drove around the rear of the unlovely cinderblock restroom building.

Pitch knew the moment he saw the blonde standing next to her Prius looking at her cell phone. Smooth, carefully tanned legs rose into soft, but still firm thighs of which a generous amount was displayed by the short black denim skirt that covered her womanly hips. The girl’s waist was narrow; her big tits covered by a pink, fuzzy sleeveless sweater. By the time Pitch’s eyes had come back up to her face she was still looking at her cell phone and not moving, just standing pigeon toed. The waves of blonde hair floating around her sweet, round, clueless face fluttered ever so slightly with the gentle breeze. And still she looked at her phone but did not move.

He drove slowly closer. As Pitch pulled in next to her car the girl still looked at her phone, now finally pressing a button. The man was struck by her large, brown eyes.

Pitch knew the type and loved it. She exercised enough to keep her pulchritude riding high now, at twenty, but would be a total mess by thirty when life had become not so easy for her anymore when things began to settle and the boys had stopped looking and doing and buying. Not that this bothered Pitch, of course, because he would be plucking this delicious fruit at its ripened peak. Tonight.

When he saw that the car’s right rear tire was flat Pitch smiled.

His prey now found, Pitch moved into his approach. Sliding down from the truck he moved towards the beautiful girl, walking stiffly, back straight.

“Hi, miss,” Pitch started. “Flat tire?”

He marveled how she hadn’t even looked up as he had pulled the truck up next to her.

“Um, yes? Can you help me?” she asked.  “My cell phone keeps dropping my calls when I call my boyfriend. I can’t get anyone.”

To the girl Pitch appeared to be a little over six feet tall with brown curly hair and a coarse face. Around forty, he wore the blue shirt and pants of an electrician or plumber.

“Sure, I’ll try. I’m Bill,” Pitch said.

“Uh, I’m Kirstie,” the blonde said.

Pitch walked closer to Kirstie, moving just by her in order to see the flat tire. She smelled great.

“Flat, alright,” Pitch said. “I’d change it for you, but I’ve got this back problem,” Pitch said, palms of his hands pressed against the small of his back. Then he turned his palms up.

“Can I use your cell?” Kirstie asked.

“You could… but it looks like I don’t have service here either,” Pitch said as he pulled it out of the holder and examined the full service bars.

Pitch pointed to the restroom structure. “And I can see that payphone is no good.”

Kirstie turned and looked at the building where the public telephone’s handset was missing. Pitch stared at down at Kirstie’s ass, barely covered by that skirt. For just a moment his mind swam with the things he wanted to do to that juicy young scoop of female flesh. The breeze blew her scent into his nostrils again.

The girl was almost his.

“Well,” he said, “I’m sure a trooper will be through here within an hour. You won’t have long to wait for some help.”

Kirstie looked at him. Her sweet face and big brown eyes almost glowed with helplessness.

It couldn’t be this easy, Pitch thought, but tried.

“C’mon, Kirstie, let me give you a ride to the next exit. I’ve been through before. There’s a garage there. I’m sure they can help you.”

The girl shifted one sandal, looked at Pitch’s truck, then said, “That’s nice of you, Bill, but my boyfriend would tell me I shouldn’t.”

“Of course,” Pitch said as he walked to the cab of his truck to get the flex cuffs and duct tape he had prepared for a snatch. “I understand. You can’t be too careful.”

Leaning into the cab of the truck the man picked up his restraints. Just the thought of capturing this girl had started his heart beating a little faster – given him a little wood, even – but this was a place he had been before. He was calm and prepared.

Pitch turned back towards Kirstie, now standing looking at her cell phone again. He held a clipboard in front of him. The flex cuffs and tape were on it. A stun gun was ready in his pocket.

“Kirstie, I’ll just write down your plate number and call that garage when I get a cell signal. How about that?” Pitch said as he moved closer to the girl.

The wind kicked up a little, and Pitch watched it blowing Kirstie’s hair and the fuzz covering those tender D cups he would soon get his hands on.

“Thank you very much,” Kirstie said and smiled for the first time. “I knew someone would help.”

He was just a few feet away from Kirstie when Pitch saw another minivan pulling off the highway. He stopped, pulled a pen from his shirt pocket, and wrote down the plate number for the Prius even as he glanced at the minivan.

Pitch cursed under his breath when the Caravan stayed right and headed for a parking space behind the restrooms. A few young teens tumbled out of the van and headed for the bathroom, but their mother stayed behind the wheel staring at nothing.

“Got it,” Pitch said and went back to his truck. Up in the seat with the truck’s door still open, Pitch took a long look at the blonde while she looked at her phone again.

“Good luck, Kirstie.”

The girl looked up at Pitch.

“Thank you!” she called.

Pitch couldn’t help watching her for as long as he could in his side view mirror as he made his way to the highway. He was going to get this bitch.

Now driving fast, Pitch considered the angles. He would swing around east at the next exit, reverse again to come back west then hang back from the rest area until he could see it was clear. But what if it never was?

As Pitch got off at the exit he saw that his recollection was correct. A place called Red’s Garage and Tow sat next to the exit. He pulled out his pay-as-you-go cell phone, purchased for cash. He called information and got the number. A man answered Pitch’s call for a wrecker, though plainly he was not happy about it.

By now Pitch was back on headed east. If little Kirstie was never alone, Pitch now had a back up plan. Follow her and the tow to some spot and moment more opportune for abduction. He drove quickly, determined not to lose this prize.

This time he pulled off on the shoulder within sight of the rest area. He took out a pair of binoculars and found he could see Kirstie now sitting next to her car. The rest area was otherwise empty. Pitch had only just put the glasses down and put the truck in drive when a wrecker flew past him in the right lane. “Red’s Garage and Tow,” was painted on the side in white lettering on a vehicle that was otherwise painted all red. It pulled into the rest area.

Fuck, Pitch thought. He had driven fast, but this wrecker driver must have been doing a hundred to get there. He picked up the binoculars and was surprised at the hot little redhead who got out of the truck. She was a slender thing wearing low riding jeans and a high riding shirt that showed off a flat belly. Her tits were smallish but her trim thighs let out into a surprisingly prominent round ass.

Pitch watched her coppery pony tail bounce and swing as this girl moved energetically around the truck and the Prius. The tow truck driver was talking with Kirstie and must have gotten angry because she smashed the car’s window with a tire iron. Pitch hoped he was about to witness a cat fight, but saw instead Kirstie collapse onto the ground into a lotus position while the tow driver smashed all of the glass on the Prius. Then she lifted the car onto the wrecker.

When the driver had finished with the car she came back to Kirstie. Pitch’s cock pulsed when he saw the redhead slap the blonde across the face then lean in. Pitch recognized the moment. The redhead was taking the blonde. His blonde.

A moment later Pitch’s belief was confirmed. The tow driver had pulled out a pistol and seized Kirstie by the hair. She dragged the blonde up onto her feet and herded the girl over to the tow truck, shoving her into the passenger side before she climbed into the driver’s side.

Pitch put his truck into gear again and prepared to follow. This hunt promised to be interesting.

KIRSTIE (ghostgirl)

Kirstie huddled in the passenger seat for a good five minutes before she dared to cast a furtive glance toward the silent girl at the wheel, whose face was mostly lost in shadow, eyes fixed on the road. The tow truck swayed slightly as they rounded a wide curve. They seemed to be going awfully fast. Kirstie craned her neck to get a glimpse of the speedometer, reaching up and back for the seatbelt clip. At her movement Cat lifted the pistol from between her thighs and poked at Kirstie's cheekbone with the muzzle.

The blonde instantly returned her hands to her lap. She felt reasonably sure that Zane's crazy ex-girlfriend wouldn't actually shoot her, but she didn't like her waving the gun around, either. She stole another glance at Cat. The redhead's face was an ivory mask of intensity, lit up at regular intervals, then swallowed in darkness between the freeway lights as the truck breached city limits and slowed for the first exit.

Kirstie's eyes widened as they drove past the big "Red's Garage & Tow" sign fronting the garage without slowing, but Cat turned in at the next gate along the frontage road, rolling down the driver's window to punch in a code on the keypad. They cruised slowly through the narrow canyons confined by looming, moonlit stacks of rusting automotive corpses, until Cat found a spot that seemed to satisfy her. The slender redhead jumped out, disconnected the cable, and switched off the blinking lights; as she slid back under the wheel, she flashed a grin at Kirstie that only widened when the blonde flinched. Kirstie watched the her unhitch the Prius without leaving the driver's seat; the car coasted into place between two unrecognizable wrecks.

***

Cat parked the truck behind the garage and turned to Kirstie, reaching over to pat her smooth, sunkissed knee. "Time for a little girl-talk, Kirstie." She scooped up the pistol and aimed it at the pink fuzzy sweater, keeping her eyes on the blonde's face as she opened the driver's door and found the concrete with her feet. "Get out."

Kirstie climbed out; Cat was at her side in a blurry flash of motion, steering her by the elbow toward a metal door topping three cement steps. The little redhead released her grip to unlock it, then shoved Kirstie in ahead of her. She stumbled along a dark corridor, guided by Cat's pushes and grabs, until the space opened out around her and Cat hauled her to a stop. Florescent lights flicked on, buzzing, overhead; the blonde blinked and took in the mechanic bays and incomprehensible array of parts racks, pneumatic tools, and diagnostic equipment.  Kirstie turned to face the redhead, who laid the pistol on a counter, then leaned against it, hands on her sleek hips.

"Cathy..." Kirstie sought the girl's eyes, but Cat was staring at a pegboard lined with tools on hooks. "Look, I understand you're really upset about Zane and all, but -"

"Shut the fuck up, you stupid cow," the redhead spat, cutting her off without looking at her. "You don't understand shit. But not to worry, I'm going to give you a little remedial tutoring." Cat lifted something from the pegboard and walked over to her. "Wrists."

Kirstie took a hasty step backward, bumping into a shelf. "Come on, Cathy, this has gone far enough. You're not going to..." The girl had already grabbed one of her wrists and was looping a thick rubber strap around it, tugging it tight and securing it with a small metal catch.

Kirstie's mouth fell open; she shut it quickly and yanked her arm away. The free end of the strap hissed past Cat's face, barely missing her right eye, making the girl flinch and snap her head back. Then her eyes, slitted and blazing, met Kirstie's, and Kirstie found herself sprawled on the oily cement floor, holding her stinging, throbbing cheek, dazed and in tears, while Cat stood over her, bouncing on her toes and rubbing the back of her hand.

"Let me explain about our little slumber party." As Cat spoke, Kirstie tilted her tear-streaked, flushed face up to her, her eyes wide and brimming, her breasts bobbing under her stained sweater.

"The garage is closed for the weekend, blondie. My uncle likes to take the boys up to the cabin for the opening of deer season. Do feel free to scream all you like, no one will be around until Monday morning." Cat was pacing, ticking off points from a chart in her head, looking just as she did when Kirstie had her as teaching assistant for that miserable computer science course. The redhead switched directions; in a few feline strides she was standing over Kirstie again, gazing down at her, her green eyes glittering. From this angle, Kirstie could see the lower curves of Cat's breasts; her t-shirt draped loosely from pink nipples tightened into stiff peaks. Kirstie forced her eyes back to Cat's.

"We'll make some phone calls, I'm positive Zane will be relieved to know you're having a study group weekend. He hates clingy bitches, almost as much as I hate moronic bigtit bimbos. And once we take care of that, it'll be just us girls." Cat paused and reached down, twining her fingers in Kirstie's soft golden waves; Kirstie pulled her head away, but the girl's fingers only tightened, pulling her hair with a sharp little tug. Kirstie lowered her eyes and stared at the greasy floor as Cat continued.

"...then I can give you a few tips on proper auto maintenance and safety essentials every girl ought to know." She fisted her hand in Kirstie's hair and yanked hard; Kirstie scrambled awkwardly to her feet. "Now give me your god-damned wrists."

***

As soon as her wrists were bound behind her, Cat pounced back into her field of vision with that grin on her pretty, pale face. Kirstie stared at her, tremulous; her hopes of calming Cat down  were dust. The redhead's eyes were on her smudged sweater.

"Well, first things first, right? Let's have a look at the mammoth boobs Zane lost his sanity over." Cat grabbed Kirstie's sweater and jerked it up over her lacy white bra. "Underwire... that can't be much fun, but I guess those jugs need the support, huh?"

The little redhead grabbed her bra, and tried to jerk it up like her sweater, but only succeeded in dragging her breasts upward. Cat gave Kirstie's bra a few furious yanks, watching her tits bounce, until the front closure popped open in her fist.

Cat let go and stepped back, staring at Kirstie's soft, round, golden-tanned tits, each crowned with dusky rose areola and perked nipple.

Kirstie held her breath, watching Cat's face anxiously. For the first time, the redhead seemed uncertain, even a bit stunned. Then Cat's eyes narrowed; Kirstie squealed in terror before the girl's sharp slap connected with her left tit, sending a bolt of pain all the way to her collarbone and setting both swaying heavily.

"Yep, those are big'uns," Cat hissed through her teeth as she aimed a hard smack at Kirstie's right breast. "I'd want to tittyfuck those myself, if I were a guy."

***

Kirstie hung her head and sobbed quietly as Cat turned on her heel and walked away from her. Both of her breasts showed stinging red hand prints.  She didn't look up again until the redhead bent and placed the heavy-duty jump starter at Kirstie's feet and grabbed the cables, straightening to squeeze the heavy black and red clamps open and shut under Kirstie's nose.

"Does Zane fuck those tits a lot, blondie?" Cat lowered the clamps to a point level with Kirstie's nipples.

Kirstie started, stared, shrieked, and then burst into tears, hunching her shoulders forward, curling at the waist, lifting one knee as close to her vulnerable breasts as humanly possible.

"Jeez, Kirstie, calm down. I haven't even put them on yet." Cat slammed Kirstie's knee with the copper alligator nose of the red clamp; Kirstie gasped and dropped her knee.

"Would you happen to know which tit is positive, and which is negative? I always forget."

***

Kirstie squealed and wriggled and kicked as Cat tried to clamp her nipples, until Cat stopped, dropped the cables, and stood looking quietly at Kirstie.

Kirstie stopped too, and slowly sank into a crouch, panting and sobbing.

"I guess that's a little over the top, huh?" Cat's voice was soft and calm, although she too was breathing hard.

Kirstie looked up at her. Her breasts burned and ached from the slaps, and her face was wet and hot. Cat bent down, gently brushed sticky golden strands of hair from Kirstie's forehead, and helped her stand. After a moment the little redhead slipped a hand over her bound forearm and carefully led her away from the jump starter, its cables coiled like snakes on the cement.

Cat parked Kirstie next to the engine hoist and slipped behind her. Very soon her wrists were free, though one was still wrapped in rubber; Cat slipped her palm under Kirstie's and slid around in front of her again. The redhead held her hand and smiled at Kirstie, holding her free hand out palm up for Kirstie's rubber-strapped wrist.

Kirstie heaved a shuddering sigh and placed her other wrist in Cat's upturned palm.

Cat grabbed the free end of the rubber strap and wrapped it tightly around Kirstie's unbound wrist before Kirstie could react, flipping the metal catch and locking them together in front of her. Then Cat slipped a hook on a chain under the strap.

Cat stepped on a pedal, and the chain clanked, pulling Kirstie's arms up over her head. Within seconds she was dangling in the air, straining for the cement with her toes, which barely brushed the cracked, oil-stained floor.

The redhead crouched and grabbed one of Kirstie's flailing ankles, slipping a yellow poly cargo strap around it and tying off on the upright strut of the engine puller. The blonde managed a feeble kick with her free leg, which Cat easily dodged. Then Cat caught that ankle, too, and tied it to the opposite strut.

Cat stepped back and surveyed with a critical eye, hands on hips. Kirstie twisted and writhed,  tugging at the binds, breasts bouncing, hips swaying, whimpering as her shoulders and arms began to flare with pain, a molten ache spreading from her shoulder blades.

The redhead nabbed a box cutter from the counter and the hem of the pink sweater, which was creeping back down over Kirstie's left tit. Kirstie gasped and froze as Cat began sawing upward, steering the razor blade unevenly toward her cleavage. Cat cut her sweater open, then sliced through the fuzzy shoulder straps. It fell to the floor in a small, bedraggled pink heap, followed swiftly by Kirstie's lacy bra. Cat kicked them both into a corner.

"Please, Cathy, don't do this." Kirstie's mouth and throat were so dry with fear she could barely form words. The little redhead tossed the knife back onto the counter, then just stood and watched her in silence. Kirstie began crying again.

After a minute or so, Cat turned away and went back for the jump starter.

***

"Now then, where were we?" Cat dumped the heavy box on the cement directly below Kirstie's pink-thonged pussy. "Oh, yeah...tittyfucking." The redhead crouched and scooped a clamp from floor.

Cat pinched Kirstie's right nipple between a forefinger and thumb, pulling her nipple away from her breast and her breast away from her chest. Cat squeezed the red handles in her other hand, positioned the copper jaws around Kirstie's areole as the blonde watched in mute horror, and slowly, slowly released; metal teeth sinking deeply into Kirstie's tender, sensitive flesh.

Kirstie shrieked.

She was too busy writhing and bucking to see Cat bend down for the black clamp. Cat watched her for long seconds, breathing raggedly, before she slapped Kirstie's face, hard.

"Hold still, dammit." Cat fastened the black clamp to Kirstie's left nipple. Then she just stood and watched, as Kirstie wriggled and bounced and wept and pleaded and tore futilely at her binds, her tits bobbing and swinging, the cables lashing like furious tails.

After a while, Kirstie slowed her thrashing by degrees until she hung limp and silent from the chain. The icy, fiery agony crawled over her breasts and dug long-nailed fingers of pain into her quivering belly and up into her shoulders, trembling with the strain of her stretch.

A soothing, welcome numbness tickled the edges of the pain. Kirstie lifted her head and met Cat's eyes; the redhead stirred groggily, as if waking from a trance, and sighed, almost inaudibly.

***

"Well. I can see the attraction, I have to admit. Your tits are definitely fun, blondie." Cat stretched her arms over her head, mirroring Kirstie's pose for a moment. Then the redhead took a step closer and inspected Kirstie's clamped nipples, her eyes avid.

"Soft and bouncy and fun. I can even see why you let Zane fuck them... I mean, after all, what else could an empty-headed, helpless little bimbette like you possibly have to offer?" Cat leaned to one side and cast a glance at Kirstie's rear end, more exposed after her skirt climbed her hips in her wild struggles.

"Then again, your ass looks like soft and bouncy fun, too, but you don't let him fuck that." Cat grinned; Zane had pestered her for the back door constantly.

Kirstie's face got very, very hot.

She loved Zane. She would do anything for him.

Cat flicked a quick glance at Kirstie as she bent over the starter...looked down at her own slim pale hand, hovering over the voltage knob...then back at Kirstie's face again, staring. The slow dawn of recognition rose in the redhead's green eyes; an incredulous smile spread over her face.

"Oh...my...god..." Cat straightened and put a hand to her hip, staring at Kirstie. "You do, don't you, you fucking slut."

Kirstie closed her eyes. A lone tear escaped to roll down her cheek.

"You let Zane fuck your ass."

***

Cat began pacing again. "Kirstie..." The redhead stopped and stared at Kirstie. "...you filthy whore, don't you have even a shred of self-respect?" Kirstie swallowed hard and stared at the ground. She heard Cat's pacing start up again.

"It all makes sense now, you worthless little pig. And everyone thinks you're a sweet, oh-so-innocent angel of compassion." The sound of Cat's footfalls stopped. "Even I thought so." The little redhead's voice was soft and bitter.

Cat walked up to Kirstie and raised her hand for a slap; her arm hung suspended in the air for  seconds as the bound blonde cringed and averted her face, before Cat changed her mind and snatched at the cables, giving them a vicious tug. Kirstie jerked and moaned. The numbness dissolved instantly; her tits were on fire again.

Cat didn't stay to watch. She paced the garage, scanned the shelves, crouched and rifled a couple of toolboxes, searching.

***

"Okay, Kirstie, I'm willing to concede that maybe I'm being a little judgmental here." Cat looked at Kirstie, dangling from the hoist, from across the room; Kirstie's wriggling had stopped again. "The end justifies the means, right?"

Cat plucked a gleaming tool from the box and strolled back over to Kirstie. "After all, you have Zane now, and I have no date on Friday night." The redhead slipped a cellphone from her pocket, punched a button, and held it up to Kirstie's face. Kirstie focused on her own image, blurred by tears, on the tiny screen. Then Cat closed it and slipped the phone back into her pocket.

"On the other hand, you stole my boyfriend by letting him fuck you up the ass."

"Here's what we're going to do, blondie." Cat dropped a long socket driver with a clang on the cement. "We're going to make a tutorial. For all those poor, unenlightened girls like me who just don't comprehend the inner wisdom of the whole assfucking thing." Cat gazed down at the wrench contemplatively.

Kirstie whimpered softly. Cat looked up at her. "You're going to fuck yourself, in the ass, and show us all how it's done." Cat stared back down at the wrench, then stretched her arm for a can of motor oil on a nearby shelf. "Lube." She waggled the can in Kirstie's face.

"You'll demonstrate, I'll film, and we'll have something to upload to Facebook within an hour."

PITCH (VVV)

 

The chick driving the wrecker was crazy, Pitch thought, pushing his box truck hard to keep up with the amber safety lights attached to the trunk lid of the Prius. If the wrecker had not been struggling with its ungainly load of a towed vehicle, he could not have stayed with it. At least the speed meant that Pitch did not have long to wait to find out what the redhead's intentions were with the blonde.

 

The tow driver had vandalized the blonde's car, Pitch considered, giving Kirstie time to escape. Only the blonde's odd reaction meant Kirstie was still there when the redhead decided to take her. Pitch saw that this abduction was not planned, was likely based on a personal connection between the girls. The redhead couldn't be experienced in this kind of thing, as young as she was and as incautious. She destroyed a car in a public place with her victim unsecured. At any moment some motorist might have come by and summoned the highway patrol.

 

Whatever the redhead planned to do with the blonde, she seemed quite anxious to get to it.

 

The exit came and the tow truck hurtled off the highway, the Prius seeming just on the edge of sliding off the ramp at any moment. Then the wrecker was on the frontage road. Traveling at a more reasonable speed on the ramp, Pitch was able to see the truck pass the front of "Red's Garage and Tow", travel a short distance along the chain link fence that sprang from the side of the garage, and swing very wide to pull up to a gate in the fence. Coming now onto the frontage road himself, Pitch saw the gate roll open and the wrecker move slowly through.

 

The man made a quick assessment. There were some vehicles, including trucks, parked on the road despite the "no parking" signs, some half pulled up onto sidewalks that probably saw little foot traffic. The bays of the garage fronting on the street were dimly lit – only enough to let someone outside see if someone who didn't belong inside at night was there. The six foot high fence was topped with razor wire. The Prius was now being hauled through the gate.

 

Pitch pulled the box truck part way onto the sidewalk just after he passed the end of the garage. A pedestrian gate with a chain and padlock stood next to the garage and his parking job purposely blocked the sight of it from the street, but Pitch decided against using it for now.

 

This was worth the risk, Pitch thought, jumping down out of the truck's cab with his kit bag in hand and a .380 tucked into his belt. He walked quickly toward the gate as it closed, looking into the yard where the truck had turned right behind a building inside the tow yard. He knew that this reckless redhead's mind would be focused on her beautiful blonde captive, especially now that she had returned to her own turf.

 

Pitch slid sideways through the gate and moved to find concealment in the shadows of the sparsely lit yard.

* * * *

Peeking around the corner of the building in the middle of the tow yard, back from the street, Pitch saw the copper haired tow truck driver take the blonde by the elbow and guide her to a door at the other corner of the building. Under the light burning above the door Pitch observed the redhead unlock a deadbolt then push Kirstie inside. Bag in hand, Pitch closed his right eye and trotted along the rear of the building to the door.

First, he put his ear to the cool metal of the door. Nothing. Never doubting the door would be unlocked, as distracted as this crazy bitch must be, Pitch set his bag down, pulled the .380 from his waistband with his right hand, and slowly opened the door with his left just a crack to find darkness inside. A little more and he peered in, opening his right eye that was better adjusted to the dark. He saw a corridor at the end of which lights were coming on.

Pitch reached for his bag, stepped in, and closed the door. He crept down the hall, boxes stacked on the floor, a few doors on the right hand side. Now he heard voices from the lighted room ahead.

“Wrists,” a woman said. Pitch did not think the voice was much like Kirstie’s quiet tone. He still could not see anyone, though he could see that the lighted room was a large garage. When he came to the last door on his right before the garage Pitch tried the knob and opened it just a crack. No lights were on inside.

Pitch slipped into the room and learned that, as he had hoped, it was an office with a window that opened onto the garage. The lights out in the garage were high and focused on the shop floor, leaving much of the office in which Pitch stood in shadow despite the big open sliding window. Standing in the darkness, the man settled in for the show just in time to see the little redhead – Kirstie had called her “Cathy” – deck the taller blonde with a backhand.

Tough little cookie, Pitch thought with a smile.

“The garage is closed for the weekend, blondie,” Pitch heard as he watched the redhead pacing in front of the keeling blonde. “Do feel free to scream all you like, no one will be around until Monday morning.”

Pitch now had a chance to see the redhead better. Her belly was flat and smooth, a narrow field of creamy skin that Pitch’s eyes strolled on, not sure whether to head up or down first. Then she bent down to grab Kirstie by the hair and Pitch’s eyes were caught by her red thong as it peeked over the top of the tight jeans that rode low on the redhead’s hips –hips that swelled just enough to show she was a girl. Moving up, Pitch noted that her short t-shirt barely covered her breasts and did not conceal the stiffness of her nipples. Her eyes shone with green fire as she shot her hard edged words at Kirstie and when she was moving, which seemed to be always, her straight coppery hair whipped around in scourging ponytail of fire.

As she dragged Kirstie to her feet by the hair, Pitch heard her say, “Now give me your goddamned wrists.” He watched with increasing excitement as Cathy – Pitch found this an ugly name and changed it – Catherine secured her captive’s wrists behind her back. This was going beautifully.

“Let’s have a look at the mammoth boobs Zane lost his sanity over,” Catherine said before yanking the pink fuzzy sweater up over Kirstie’s bra. To Pitch’s amusement when Catherine tried the same thing with the bra the size of the blonde’s breasts defeated her. Finally the bra’s clasp opened, Kirstie’s jugs spilled out, and Pitch joined Catherine in admiring the blonde’s perfect tits.

Then with a full swings Catherine first slapped Kirstie’s left tit then her right, leaving the girl’s big breasts swinging while Kirstie sobbed in pain and humiliation.

“I’d want to tittyfuck those myself, if I were guy,” Catherine hissed.

Pitch was now almost fully erect, basking in the realization he had fallen in to something amazing – he would watch as this redhead punished an abducted blonde.

* * * *

Pitch watched with a silent chuckle as Catherine tried and failed to attach the clamps from a battery charger to Kirstie’s breasts. Naturally the blonde, who only had her wrists bound behind her, fought this. The amusement became tinged with admiration as Pitch saw Catherine adeptly string the too-trusting doe eyed girl up from an engine hoist.

“Please, Cathy, don’t do this,” Kirstie croaked after the redhead cut the hanging girl’s sweater and bra off. But Catherine dragged the battery charger over to her captive and, with deliberation, sank the teeth of a metal clamp into one of the blonde’s juicy nipples. The resulting scream echoed around the garage and passed from tip to balls through Pitch’s hard rod. A second clamp on the hanging girl’s other nipple left Kirstie begging her tormentor and thrashing futilely in her bonds.

The effect of Kirstie’s suffering on Catherine amazed the man. She stood still, silent, appearing to take in every jerk and twitch, every pleading word, every tear that fell until Catherine... sighed.

“You’re tits are definitely fun, blondie,” Catherine said, moving in for a closer look at the clamp-tormented nipples. Pitch had come to understand that the Catherine was angry with Kirstie because of a boyfriend named “Zane.” Though interesting, the better story here was how this little redhead was getting into humiliating and hurting her bound blonde bitch.

“What else could an empty-headed, helpless little bimbette like you possibly have to offer,” Catherine said before checking out the blonde’s ass in a very obvious manner.

“But then your ass looks like soft and bouncy fun, too, but you don’t let him fuck that,” Catherine said, her crude and jovial observations, Pitch thought, cattily honed to cut at the young blonde’s pride. Then Pitch saw Kirstie hang her head and he knew.

Catherine was not far behind in realizing the truth she had dug up. Hand on her hip, Catherine stared at Kirstie. “You do, don’t you, you fucking slut. You let Zane fuck your ass.”

Pitch watched keenly as this drama unfolded. Catherine paced and quietly spoke bitter, sarcastic words to her beautiful captive. The angry redhead ripped the clamps of Kirstie’s tits, setting her to bouncing and moaning at the renewed pain in her jugs.

Catherine then walked away from Kirstie. For a moment Pitch thought she might be coming out in the hall, but instead the girl was searching for something. When she found it Catherine walked back over to the suspended slut and snapped a picture of the girl’s tear stained face with a cell phone before laying out the vicious truth that had brought the girls to this point tonight: “You stole my boyfriend by letting him fuck you up the ass.”

Pitch became even more aroused as the redhead dropped a socket driver on the floor and explained her cruel plan to the whimpering bitch. “We’re going to make a tutorial,” the redhead said, “For all those poor, unenlightened girls – like me – who just don’t comprehend the inner wisdom of the whole assfucking thing.”

Catherine got real close to Kirstie, chin pointed up at the hanging blonde’s face.

“You’re going to fuck yourself, in the ass, and show us all how it’s done,” the redhead said. She shoved a can of motor oil near Kirstie’s face, saying, “Lube.”

Pitch realized two wonderful things at that moment. He was about to witness this sick bitch anally rape another girl, and, when he took little Catherine in the same manner, he would be conquering virgin territory.

It only became better a moment later when Catherine explained she would film Kirstie’s shameful abuse.

Pitch didn’t dare to touch his prick when he quietly told it, “Patience.”

       

CAT

Cat focused the viewfinder on the blonde dangling from the engine hoist, then carefully placed the phone on the counter beside her, leaning down to peer through it and adjust the angle. The little redhead tucked a few stray strands of dark copper hair behind her ear. Her fingers were shaking.

"Let's start with a little background, shall we? Tell us all about the first time you let a guy shove his dick in your ass, Kirstie." Cat hopped off the counter and ambled over to the blonde, who hung limp and mute from the chain, hands slowly turning from red to blue above the taut rubber strap. Her honey-toned hair, lank and damp, curtained her tear-stained face and stuck to her neck and cleavage, which glistened with a thin sheen of salt-bordered sweat. The black denim skirt was rucked up around her waist; the girl's pink thong strap drooped over one  trembling, softly curved hip. Cat's eyes flickered over her captive's full, round tits again. Kirstie's nipples were purple and swollen, clenched tightly between the metal teeth of the jumper cable clamps.

 

The redhead hunkered down in front of the battery charger and flipped the switch, her green eyes locked on the trussed blonde.

 

 

Cat flinched as Kirstie's scream tore through her. It seemed to go on and on, as the bound girl bucked and jerked convulsively, her body tightly strung in a rigid, attenuated arc between her strapped wrists and  ankles.

 

Cat flipped the switch off. Her nipples were achingly hard, so that even her soft, worn t-shirt presented disturbing friction to the stiff, peaked nubs. A dull throb of arousal pulsed low in her belly; her cunt clutched involuntarily, slick-lipped and warm.

 

 

The redhead rose unsteadily to her feet. "Well, slut?"

***

Kirstie's frozen scream had liquefied into twitchy, terrified, gurgling moans that rocked her suspended, half-naked body. Her head swiveled sluggishly on her shoulders, her huge brown glazed eyes rolling like an electrocuted calf's.

 

When she finally focused on Cat, the blonde's moans cut off abruptly. The slim redhead had slipped a slender pale hand under the low-slung waistband of her jeans; Kirstie could see Cat's fingers moving under the tightly stretched denim covering Cat's crotch.

 

The blonde's plea for mercy died on her lips. "M-my  first boyfriend, f-freshman year," she croaked hoarsely, her gaze riveted between the redhead's blue-clad thighs. "He got me drunk..."

 

Her voice dwindled to a halting whisper.

 

"Drunk...I suppose you think that excuses your dirty whore behavior?" Cat pulled her fingers from her slippery cunt and smeared them over the blonde's mouth, before grabbing Kirstie's chin tightly in her slender fingers. The redhead leaned in, snarling, her breath hot and harsh on the bound blonde's neck. "Masturbation is normal and healthy, bitch. Everyone does it."

 

Cat straightened and stared at Kirstie's face. The blonde's cheekbones bore blotches of dark, shamed red; the redhead's fingertips dug viciously into Kirstie's round, sweet face and distorted Kirstie's lips into a shiny pucker, gleaming with Cat's juice.

 

"Unlike taking a guy's cock up your asshole. That's just disgusting... You must have liked it though, because you made assfucking a regular habit, didn't you?" Cat's green eyes drifted back to  the silent blonde's clamped, tortured nipples.

 

"I'm waiting for an answer, you perverted cunt." Cat squeezed the handles of the red jumper clamp and removed it. She watched, fascinated, as Kirstie's puffy purple nipple throbbed and changed colors, then glanced briefly at the blonde's face when Kirstie whined miserably and bit her lower lip.

 

The slender redhead hooked a forefinger under the suspended blonde's thong strap, and gave it an experimental tug. The strap slid down Kirstie's silky bronzed thigh, exposing a carefully trimmed patch of wispy golden pubic hair and a moist pink slit.

 

Kirstie's wet brown eyes widened as Cat taunted, nipping at the air with the red-handled clamp, scant millimeters from the girl's vulnerable pussy.

 

"N-no... Cathy... p-please don't..."

 

 

The dangling blonde arched her back in a fruitless effort to shift her  hips away from the clicking metal teeth, but succeeded only in swinging even closer as her body oscillated between the straps tethering her ankles and the creaking chain above.

 

"I don't like anal, it h-hurts..." she said.

 

 

Cat tilted her pale, pretty face up to meet the blonde's eyes, huge and darkly lustrous with terrorized humiliation. The redhead's thin-lipped smirk faded, but the slender hand gripping the red clamp hung motionless in the air, the metal alligator nose barely grazing the blonde's pubic fuzz as Kirstie swayed helplessly in her binds.

 

 

"Just tell me why, then, Kirstie." Cat's voice was soft. "Why did you let Zane fuck your ass?"

 

 

"I...I w-wanted to please him." Kirstie swallowed hard. "I only did it b-because he asked..."

 

Cat grabbed Kirstie's hip and brought her pendulum motion to an abrupt halt. The little redhead reached down and pinched one of Kirstie's pussy lips between thumb and forefinger, stretching it downward. The red clamp sank metal teeth into the blonde's labial fold.

 

Then Cat yanked the black clamp from the blonde's big, bobbing tit, leaving trailing red rake marks on the bruised nipple. She reached for Kirstie's pussy; the blonde's cunt lip was wet and slippery in Cat's fingers. The little redhead clipped the black cable clamp to Kirstie's pussy and took a step back, seeking the blonde's huge, dark eyes with her own.

 

The slim redhead's fine-boned hand drifted upward, as slowly as if in a dream. Cat wiggled her slick, glistening fingers in Kirstie's face, her green eyes locked on Kirstie's . The redhead's expression was intent, almost pensive.

 

Kirstie lowered her eyes.

 

Cat's greenfire gaze zoomed in on her bound captive's cunt again.

 

Cat watched the hanging blonde's thighs tremble and strain, her hips gyrating obscenely as Kirstie made desperate and futile attempts to shed the jumper cables. The restrained blonde moaned incoherently. With an effort the redhead dragged her eyes from her prisoner's spasming pussy lips, macerated in the jagged metal teeth of the clamps, back to Kirstie's face. The blonde was weeping helplessly.

 

Cat grabbed a fistful of  damp yellow hair and tilted Kirstie's face toward her own. Then the redhead bounced up on her toes and lapped a fat teardrop from Kirstie's flushed cheek with the pink tip of her tongue.

 

Cat released Kirstie's hair. The trussed blonde's head dropped heavily from Cat's grip and hung listlessly between her tawny, overstretched shoulders. The redhead bent over the jump starter and flipped the switch.

 

Cat shoved her hand back down inside her jeans.  The slender redhead's fingertips stroked and circled and rolled her own pulsing clit, like a bead in oil, as her blonde captive jerked and twisted and screamed.

And screamed.

 

 

 

 

  ***

 

 

 

Cat flipped the switch to the off position. Gradually the blonde's convulsive jerking waned until her body hung limp and her violent thrashing ebbed into random involuntary twitches and tremors.

 

Cat watched the blonde's rigid, tortured face: a thin rivulet of blood-tinged drool oozed from a corner of Kirstie's mouth, stretched by pain into a tight grimace. The dangling blonde's eyelids fluttered, showing glimmers of white beneath her lashes.

 

Then the movement of her captive's voluptuous golden tits caught the redhead's eye, bobbing unevenly as her chest rose and fell with her ragged panting. The blonde's nipples had almost returned to normal, only slightly swollen and rosily contused, framed by jagged red scrape marks left by the serrated jaws of the clamps.

 

Cat stepped on the floor pedal. The chain above the blonde's head creaked and lengthened, lowering her until Kirstie's feet were flat on the cement. The blonde's knees wobbled and then buckled.

 

Cat paused to unstrap her prisoner's ankles before continuing to lower the blonde by her chained wrists. In seconds Kirstie was on her knees. The thick black jumper cables snaked out from between her legs, winding sinuously back to the starter box.

 

Cat stepped in front of her and braced a blue-jeaned thigh between the blondes's heavy tits before slipping the hook from her bound wrists, easing back slowly and letting Kirstie slide forward from the waist to the stained cement.

 

The blonde didn't protest or move as the redhead strapped her wrists behind her again.With the box cutter, Cat ripped through black denim and pink silk, tossing her prisoner's skirt and thong in the corner with the rest of her shredded clothing. The fair-haired captive, stripped naked, whimpered and pressed her torso more tightly to the ground.

 

 

Cat tilted her head and studied the blonde's position: the side of Kirstie's face lay flat on the cement in a small puddle of drool, her tits squashed under her, bruised nipples smashed against the cold hard floor, all framed by wet, dark gold curls. The blonde's bound hands slowly changed from dusky blue to stinging, tingling red where they lay behind the girl's tiny waist. Cat's eyes traced the flare of Kirstie's waist into the soft curves of hips and the perfect round globes of her ass, quivering in the air, irresistibly defenseless.

 

"That's perfect, don't move." Cat scanned the room, her green eyes narrowed and measuring. "Time to show all the kids at home how you take it up your ass, you fucking slut."

 

***

 

 

 

 

Cat prowled around the mechanic bay, gathering various items along with the cell phone. She returned to stand behind the bound blonde, who had followed the redhead with her big brown eyes but not stirred from her face-to-the-floor, ass-in-the-air position, except to weakly flex her numb fingers.

 

Cat unfolded a step ladder, plopped down on the top step, and bent to  clamp a vise to the lower step. She seated the socket driver carefully in the vise, adjusting the angle until it aimed directly at Kirstie's puckered asshole, before tightening it down.

Cat picked up the cell and focused the viewfinder on the end of the wrench, slowly panning the twenty-odd inches to blonde's ass. "Showtime, bitch."

 

Kirstie twisted her shoulders and neck to stare behind her. The dazed blonde focused her soft, wet brown eyes with effort, first on the gleaming socket driver, and then, uncomprehendingly, on the slender redhead.

 

"Wait, you're right...I forgot the lube." Cat reached for the can of motor oil, popped the  lid, and drizzled a liberal share of thick brown grease over the wrench.

"There you go. Now, back up to it and shove it up your ass." The redhead shifted on her perch atop the stepladder and peered through the viewfinder, one eye closed.

 

Cat tore several strips from a roll of electrical tape and carefully taped the cell to the top step of the ladder, keeping her eyes on the tiny screen unfolded between her legs.

"And make it look sexy, you little whore. We're selling a new paradigm here."

***

 

Kirstie froze.

Cat's eyes drifted to the battery charger. "Come on, you stupid cunt." The redhead rose and strolled over to the box. "Don't you want to share your anal expertise?"

 

"Please, Cathy..." The blonde's plea was a strained, barely audible whisper. "Please, don't make me do this."

 

The little redhead bent over the jump starter and gathered the heavy black cables in her hand. Cat snapped her wrist and watched the resulting wave ripple along the cables all the way to the clamps crushing the helpless blonde's pussy between metal jaws.

 

Kirstie let out a choked squawk as the clamps swung and chewed into her tormented pussy lips. The bound girl shuffled back a few agonized inches toward the greased tool.

 

Cat smiled grimly. "You're not going to make me shock you again, are you?"

 

The blonde scrambled awkwardly backward on her knees, until she felt the cold, oiled metal tube part her satiny, rounded ass cheeks.

 

Cat slipped a hand between her own slim thighs, rubbing her throbbing, tingling pussy through her jeans.  Her breaths, coming short and fast through her parted lips, sounded harshly over the pounding pulse in her ears. Her eyes were riveted on her captive's trembling rump and the shiny socket driver.

"Now fuck your ass." The slender redhead brushed her damp palms over her own nipples, standing stiffly erect on her tight little tits, as she returned to her perch on the step ladder.

The blonde haltingly pressed her hips back, angling her tender pucker against the wrench hesitantly and immediately recoiling.

"Pretend it's Zane's cock, you worthless slut," Cat hissed.

Kirstie turned her face to the floor and sobbed. She tightened her jaw, but an agonized grunt escaped her clenched teeth as she pressed her tensed anus against the socket driver and pushed against the greasy tool until it popped through her tight little sphincter.

 

 

Cat squirmed on the hard wooden step. Hot currents of electric arousal coiled around the base of her spine and flowed down her inner thighs; her pussy was a seam of pulsing liquid fire. She couldn't tear her eyes from the sight of her bound blonde rival, degraded and anally penetrated, sniveling helplessly at her feet. She was so close to cumming she didn't dare touch herself.

"You call that fucking, you whore?" Cat lifted a booted foot and rested the lug sole on one of Kirstie's smooth, golden asscheeks. "Don't tell me you just lie there like an inflatable fuckdoll when Zane shoves his cock up your  ass?"

Kirstie made a few sluggish, reluctant grinding motions with her soft, curvy hips, trying to keep the wrench from poking any deeper into her spasming rectum.

The slender redhead gave the blonde's ass a small tap with her boot. "Such a passive, dumb little cunt. Not very erotic, but I guess you make up for it with your uncomplaining docility." Cat rose to a standing position, put more weight over her boot on the restrained blonde's ass and pushed her off the wrench.

"You're nothing but a brainless, big-teated cow, Kirstie." Cat leaned down to curl her fingers around the slippery socket driver, loosening the vise with her free hand. The redhead straightened, wrench in hand, and slid her boot toward Kirstie's crack.

"But don't worry, I'm willing to give you a little hands-on remedial." Cat dragged her boot slowly down over Kirstie's ass and perineum, nudging the jumper clamps with a steel toe.

 

Cat's green eyes were on the blonde's upturned, oil-smeared asshole. As Kirstie flinched, the blonde's sphincter fluttered. The slender copper-haired girl bit back an excited groan and sank to her knees behind her captive.

The blonde startled and tried to scoot away when she felt her captor's hand grab at her hip. Cat used her left knee to pin the girl's right calf, and curled her right foot around the front of Kirstie's knee so the redhead's right calf locked the blonde's thigh.

With a fleeting glance over her shoulder at her cell camera angle, Cat passed the socket driver to her left hand and pressed it to the blonde's tight asshole.

"Please...no..." Kirstie sobbed.

The redhead unbuttoned her jeans with her right hand and slipped her fingers into her own hot, wet slit as she rammed the wrench deep into the bound blonde's ass.

The two girls gasped and moaned in perfect unison, though one was considerably louder than the other.