The getaway

After Clarice had gone, he decided to clean himself up. He grabbed a shave then hopped in the shower to get rid of the strong perfume smell he picked up from Clarice. His mind drifted back to the surreal experience of the shower he shared with Clare and Angela. Once done, he toweled off and selected a suit still hanging up in the bedroom closet. After dressing, he stuffed the balance of his little strongbox into his pockets. Reaching into the hole in the floorboard, he grabbed the pistol there, checked it, and tucked it into the belt at the small of his back. He picked up the suitcase from the floor and laid it on the bed. “Time to get out of Dodge,” he mumbled under his breath.

When he walked into the living room from the bedroom, Jack gave a start. The woman named Hildegarde sat on his couch, hands in her lap, head slightly tilted as if evaluating him. Her purse on the couch beside her. He held his hands up at chest level, fingers spread and smiled a big friendly smile.

“Hilde isn’t it?” he asked, practiced smile still on his face, he was bigger than her now, he contemplated, but that hadn’t help him with the other two women. The uncertainty made him wary, cautious.

“I thought we had an understanding Mr. Dalton, there is no escape from your situation,” she said, no rancor or malice, just direct and to the point. “The pistol in the rear of your trousers, please set it on the table if you would,” she instructed.

“Can’t fault a guy for trying,” he replied, moving slowly and openly, he removed the pistol from his pants and set it on the table, then stepped away.

“There are consequences to such actions,” she informed, slight frown on her face.

Pointing at the bottle of liquor lying on the floor in front of his liquor cabinet, “May I?”

“By all means,” she allowed.

Picking up a tumbler, he blew inside the glass to get any debris out, looking over his shoulder, “You want one?”

“No thank you, I may share some of yours later though,” she answered, ghost of smile on her very pretty face. Connecting the dots, meaning if she consumed him, she would in turn share some of the whiskey he consumed, that didn’t sound good.

He nodded and poured himself a half glass. Capping the bottle he sat down in the armchair facing the couch and took a pull off the glass, savoring the warmth the whiskey left in its wake. “I am curious,” he said, meeting her gaze.

“About?”

“I can understand the gemstone, but why a stupid hairbrush?” he asked.

Hilde laughed lightly. “A fair question I suppose, maybe one you should have considered before accepting the contract. The stone has significant value of course, beyond mere dollars, the hairbrush is a foolish attempt to try and acquire materials with which to bind my employer. A situation we will be remedying soon,” she avowed.

“Like some voodoo shit?” he asked, taking another sip.

“In terms you might understand, that analogy is sufficient,” she acknowledged, smoothing the fabric of her skirt in her lap.

“Are you a witch?” he asked, eyes narrowed, “the girls a part of some coven or something?”

She smiled broadly, “Or something,” she replied.

Tipping the glass back, he emptied it and swallowed. Placing the glass down of the coffee table, he flashed her a smile, “No time like the present. I guess we should get this over with.” He stood up. “Don’t suppose you’re the sporting type?”

“I admire your aplomb Mr. Dalton, I must say it has been refreshing dealing with you,” she replied, also rising to her feet.

“Arm wrestle?” he asked, miming the motion with his right arm. “Fisticuffs?”

She smiled and pointed her left index finger at him. His world begin to spin. The transition was less disorienting the second time around, he extricated himself from the tangled folds of his clothes. He waited while she walked over, the booze was giving him that glow. She crouched down and gathered him up in her hand. Bringing him in close to her face, she smiled and touched the tip of her tongue to her lips.

“Sleep,” she whispered, and he was asleep.

Action, corrective reaction

When Jack awoke, he was lying in the center of a large bed, king, queen, it was too big for him to determine. The blanket on which he lay was plush with some type of pattern of image, but he was too near the pattern to identify the picture. When he looked beyond the boundary of the foot of the bed, Hilde was standing there when, hands on hips. She was naked, body magnificent. Perfectly proportioned, lithe and taut like something feral. A tattoo of brilliantly colored flowers started at her left hip and curled up her side. Her sex was smooth, a gold ring through her clit. He did not recognize the décor of the room, but thought it must be her bedroom.

“You going to eat me?” he asked, pulling himself to standing, feet sinking slightly into the blanket.

“My instructions were not particularly explicit,” wicked grin on her face.

“Hmm, maybe we should,” he started when she pounced on the bed, the force sufficient enough to bounce him several inches, feet to him, up off the blanket and into the air. Twisting, he hit the blanket running straight toward the stack of pillows. On all fours she stalked him, gold eyes intense. Leaning her head down, she licked at him as he ran. He deked left then right, she swatted at him, knocking him down. Rolling from the blow, he came back up and altered direction, heading in the opposite direction of the pillows, passed her pendulous breasts and toward the space between her knees. Rearing back, she sat back down on her knees, feeling him just brush against her naked sex and anus. Pivoting she grabbed at him, but he circled around her other side, careful not to get pulled into the well her weight caused on the material. Twisting the other way, she cuffed at him again, sending him for a tumble. Again he darted toward the pillows, closer now. He remembered the incident on the table, twenty paces, he altered direction to the right then veered left again. He could feel her moving, the whole bed shook, making it hard for him to keep his feet. Almost there, he changed direction again, as she sprawled on the bed where he would been, back to the pillows, she rolled, the tangle of her hair tripped him up. Reaching down, he tried to use his hand to keep from falling. Lunging he dove between the pillows. His breath coming in pants and sweat on his brow, he felt the pillow being pulled away. She sat up into a kneeling position looking down at him, an amused expression. He maintained no illusions, he was at her mercy now. She snatched him and slurped him into her mouth. Tossing him around, she pinned him to the roof of her mouth and swallowed. He could feel her tongue undulate, releasing him, she swallowed again, this time he was drawn into her throat, but she caught herself and forced him back up into her mouth. Drawing him out, she used him to stimulate herself, breasts, the split in her pubis, her tight anus. He was unceremonious pushed completely into her vagina. He knew she was moving because he felt like he couldn’t orient up from down. When next she settled, he could see light. He felt something hard pushing at him, driving him deeper into her, glass. She was using a glass toy. The glass allowed diffuse light to illuminate the inside of her velvet femininity. Everything became slick. She experienced an orgasm, pussy convulsing. He struggled toward the opening, but couldn’t get passed the glass object imbedded in her. When she drew it out, the vacuum created by the suction pulled him partially along, his head emerging from her vagina, He gasped and sputtered, but found he was held firmly. She continued to stroke her exposed clit, sliding her fingers down the groove and pushing him back inside. This continued until she had another orgasm. Pulling him out, she pushed him head first into her rectum. With some effort and persistence, he was inserted into her ass. As with her pussy she used the glass toy to pleasure herself. He thought for sure she would drive him into her colon.

Finally his consciousness drifted away leaving him only vaguely aware of what was happening, like some distant spectator. Again and again she used him to her delight until at last he lapsed fully into the darkness.

His experiences with the girls paled to the appetite of this woman. He felt like a wrung out dish rag. His right arm was broken between shoulder and elbow. His left shoulder was dislocated. The fingers on his left hand also broken. Several ribs felt cracked and it was hard to breath. His right ankle was also broken.

He looked up. She was standing beside the bed looking back down at him, dressed similarly to when he first saw her. The hint of the smile on her face looked amused.

“You should’ve let me take a run at you full size,” he croaked, glossy from her pleasure, “I could’ve tamed you.”

“That Mr. Dalton remains to be seen. This union, while a lesson for you, was very rewarding for me,” her voice soft. “I look forward to your next indiscretion, I will not be so gentle with you.”

She scooped him up, he grit his teeth to prevent from screaming. She put him into a small case and snapped it shut. Every movement burned agony into him as she dropped the case into her purse and he tumbled within.

Starting over

Clare and the twins were seated in her room when Hilde arrived. She presented Clare the case containing Jack’s battered body. “He is a little shaken up and may require some healing,” she said. She smiled at the case, “An excellent selection of plaything.” Clare took the case.

“He has been ‘disciplined’?” asked Angela.

Hilde smiled, leaving little doubt discipline.

“What about Clarice?” Angela asked.

“I shall see to her,” replied Hilde. Nodding at the girls, she left the room.

Cracking open the lid, Clare and the girls peeked in. Jack looked a mess, his breathing ragged, right arm off at an angle.

“Oh, that doesn’t look good,” commented Angelica, a concerned look on her face. Jack roused at the sound of voices, opening a bleary eye to try and locate the speaker.

“You should see the other guy,” he said, voice hoarse.

Angela chuckled.

“You brought this on yourself Jack,” Clare chastised, looking sternly down upon his shattered form. “I don’t know why you fled?”

“I took the chance because we both know it’s inevitable. At some point, no matter how you feel right now, you’re going to get bored of these little games, then what? Into your belly I go?” he nodded weakly to Clare. “Yours?” to Angela. He paused, puzzled, looking at Angelica, and blinking a couple of times.

“This is Angelica, my sister” introduced Angela seeing where he had locked his gaze.

“Awesome,” he said with a sigh.

As carefully as she could, Clare eased him out of the case, holding his broken little body in the palm of her right hand, she looked down to him.

“There is something you need to understand Jack. You participated in a conspiracy directed at my mother and there are repercussions associated to that involvement. For now, the life you had is done, over. For right now, you are here, each breath you draw is now a gift, another moment you exist. Don’t fret about tomorrow, focus on today.”

“That sounds fucking ominous. Is there something else I should know” he said with a grimace as he tried to roll to face Clare.

“Some of the other conspirators, those still alive, have been rounded up and are awaiting a determination,” she said

“Hilde mentioned a determination, what is that?” he asked, a cold feeling in the marrow of his bones.

“A determination is a judgment of innocence or guilt. As the aggrieved, my mother will decide culpability and impose a sentence,” Clare provided.

“So what happens when I’m found guilty,” he asked, no illusions.

“If I had to guess, given the number of people involved, I think she would sanction a hunt,” she offered.

“What do I need to know about this hunt?” he asked.

“You will be released into some form of an arena to fend for yourself,” answered Angela.

“Battle Royale, last man standing? Against other guilty people, No worries, I can take care of myself,” he added.

“Against us,” supplied Clare softly, looking to each of the twins before looking back to Jack.

“Oh,” was all he said.

Clare nodded, but hastily added, “For the moment, Hilde has allowed us to retain custody of you, but soon she will come to collect you for the determination.”

“When?” he asked

“Shortly, when the balance of the conspirators are brought low, a day, two perhaps,” she replied.

“So I got like a day or two, then this determination,” he clarified. “Then hunted down and killed by ornery giant girls. Sweet,” he said facetiously.

Clare placed her left hand over her right, sandwiching him between her hands. He felt an odd tingling sensation, painful at first as bones re-aligned and knitted, torn muscle mended.

He felt so tired, but the pain was gone.

“You’ll have to catch…me…first,” he whispered, voice so low it was barely audible to the women. His little body shuddered in her hands, then he fell dead asleep. Holding her hands out, she offered him to Angelica. Carefully she passed his still form over. Angelica received him both hands and then shifted him to her right hand. Bringing her hand up near to her face she examined him.

“Hunt or not, he is hot, in that badass kind of way,” Angelica offered, a big smile look on her face, she caressed him softly.

“I know,” added Angela, “he’s just so cute.”

“He’s going to need some rest if he’s to be of use later on,” Clare said.

“It’s worth the wait,” cooed Angela.

Angelica set him down gently, as she might a delicate bird, near the pillow.

They took one more look and left the room.