Raped nurse

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Oh God, my arms!" Lisa moaned as she raised her hands and rubbed her shoulders. She was huddled in a ball in the cellar of the ranch house. It was cold and damp, the air chilling her to the bone. The blonde had been literally thrown down the wooden steps after she'd taken care of changing Art Decker's dressing. Above her Lisa heard the sounds of that young girl shrieking, moaning and begging the men to stop whatever they were doing to her. The cries seemed to last forever, but finally subsided. Lisa had no idea if Art and his brothers mercifully killed the girl, or if she just passed out, about to become the victim of another round of sadism.

"L-Lisa?" Marilyn stammered from another corner of the darkened basement.

The blonde raised her head and peered hard into the blackness. They had flung the screaming brunette down into that hole shortly after they had thrown Lisa downstairs. Neither woman spoke to the other for what must have been several hours. Lisa felt funny about talking to a woman who'd been busy chewing her pussy earlier than evening. And Marilyn felt too shamed to speak to the blonde.

But now in the cold, damp dark basement the terror of what would happen to them in the future broke down any walls between them.

"Where are you?" Lisa asked, lowering her knees and tucking her feet under her ass as she rolled forward and tried to get up. "Oh," the blonde cried, feeling a tearing, ripping ache ripple through her body. The Decker brothers had really done a number on her. They'd managed to bruise every tendon and muscle in her arms and legs. With a lot of effort, Lisa crawled over the slippery cold cement floor toward where she guessed her friend was.

"Over here. Oh God, I'm so frightened!" the brunette cried in a long, high-pitched shuddering whimper.

"If it's any comfort, we're in this together," Lisa said, feeling the sole of Marilyn's foot with her hands. Lisa crawled up next to the brunette then rolled around, pressing her back against the brick wall and grasping Marilyn's hand for mutual comfort.

"And I'm so ashamed," the brunette moaned, choking on her last words.

"Of what? Of what you did? You had to do it, Marilyn, or they'd have killed us," Lisa said reassuringly.

"Maybe, but… Oh God, what's that!" the brunette asked in a hoarse whisper, jerking forward and sucking in a deep breath.

Lisa felt her skin crawl as she heard a noise filter through the locked door above them and drift down into the basement. Then she heard the girl's odes, only this time they were more desperate than before.

"My God! I don't know, but it sounds – ohhhh!"

Lisa groaned before finishing her sentence. The howls grew louder now, swelling into a chorus of unearthly hoarse wails as the teenaged girl shrieked and shrieked and shrieked.

"What are they doing to her? What are they going to do to us?" Marilyn cried in a high whimper, covering her ears finally and turning away from the blonde.

"God, I hope it's not what they're doing to her there now," Lisa said, looking up through the darkness as the howls and screams mixed together in an obscene chorus of pain and horror for what seemed like an eternity.

The howls and shrieks finally died down to nothing. Lisa found herself panting in that cold corner, her ears pricked up like a hunted animal's for the first sign that indicated the Deckers opening that door above them. Lisa was certain that they'd never see daylight again once those men got ahold of them. Art Decker's wound could be treated by anyone. She could see that realization in Claude's and Hank's eyes when she changed the dressing the last time. Besides, both she and Marilyn would soon become too much of a burden to carry around as they tried to make their break out of the country. The blonde was certain that whenever they got through with the girl upstairs, they'd be coming down for her and Marilyn.

"I'm cold," Marilyn said, breaking her silence and cuddling up to Lisa's warm body. Normally the blonde would have shrank from such close female contact. But the chilling cold was becoming unbearable. Claude had stripped the uniform off Marilyn before tossing her like an empty sack down the stairs after her friend.

"Just come close and forget about anything," Lisa said consolingly, putting her arm around Marilyn's neck and drawing her head slowly against hers. The two women curled around one another far heat and protection as the minutes ticked by.

"Here they come," Marilyn whispered, jerking away from her friend and hunching her knees protectively up to her tits.

"Get the light," Lisa heard Hank say as the sound of heavy footsteps filled the basement. They were coming down to the cellar to finish their filthy work. Lisa shrank against the cold wall, pressing her head against the bricks as she drew her knees up and against her chest. She curled back up into that protective huddled ball as her heart started to beat wildly. Her breathing became shallow and rapid.

"Ohhhh," Lisa groaned, raising her hands and covering her eyes as a bare overhead light bulb flicked on and nearly blinded her with its glare. Slowly the blonde grew accustomed to the bright light and opened her eyes, squinting up toward the stair. Claude was near the top of the relatively short stairway, leaning against the wooden rail that ran along its length. Hank was at the bottom, standing spread-legged with his hands folded tightly against his massive bare chest. Both of them had sick grins on their faces as they stared at the cringing, helpless women.

Lisa didn't want to say a word. She was dying to know what happened upstairs to cause all that horrible noise. But she didn't want to give the Decker boys the satisfaction of relating any of their horrors. They loved talking about their crimes almost as much as they enjoyed performing them.

Lisa suddenly heard that same howl she'd been listening to earlier. This time it was less intense. She looked inquiringly into Hank's face. All he did was smile, then turn around and look up at his brother.

"Your little friend up there's not gonna give us no more trouble," Claude said, chuckling softly as he leaned against the wooden rail harder and stared at the two women.

"What've you done to her?" Lisa asked, feeling anger rising in her.

Hank spun her toward a rectangular wooden table about four feet high that stood against the wall. "Guess they belong to the old man and his daughter, but they're ours for the time being," Hank said as he shoved Lisa roughly against the edge of the table. "Get some rope, will ya?" her ordered Claude.

While the big blonde rummaged through several shelves for the rope, Lisa leaned on the table and tried to collect her thoughts. Then the blonde thought of those howls and shrieks she heard upstairs earlier. Her body shuddered when she thought of the carnage that must be upstairs in the living room now.

"Okay, blondie, you know the score by now," Hank said, pulling her arms off the table and placing her wrists on either side of the right front leg. The big man tightly tied her wrists to that wooden brace, nearly cutting the circulation off to her hands.

When he finished making the final knot, Hank turned around and took a longer piece of line from his brother. Lisa turned her head around to see what was happening and watched with some curiosity as Hank kneeled down and tied one end of the rope to her ankle. She didn't have to wait long to see what he planned to do with it.

Satisfied that his knot would hold, Hank stood up and ran his hands up from her ankle to her inner thigh. Lisa shuddered at this big man's touch as she felt his fingers crawling up to her pussy. But instead of him fingering her snatch or clawing at it the way Art did earlier, Hank simply pulled her leg up and out, making the blonde grunt and desperately move her left leg around to find some point of balance.

"What are you doing?" Lisa panted as she felt him pull her leg out until it was perpendicular to her body.

"Get that rope tied around the ladder," Hank ordered his brother as he held her leg by the ankle in both hands.

Lisa turned her head and saw what he was talking about. A wooden ladder that probably led to a trap door overhead was bolted to the wall against which the table was pushed. It was about two feet behind the leading edge where Lisa's wrists were tightly bound and right in line with her leg.

"The high rung, dummy. Not that one!" Hank said to Claude angrily.

"Careful who you're calm dummy," Claude said sullenly as he took Lisa's leg and rested it on a high rung.

"Ohhh," the blonde groaned. She was being stretched for the kill. Her body ached from the tension that pulled at every muscle and bruised tendon. Her hands were wrapped around that splintery wooden table leg, half-inch hemp line cutting into her already-chewed wrists. Her right leg was pulled up and out as far as it could go without being pulled from the hip socket. Lisa's only point of support and balance was her left leg. She kept hopping her foot around, looking for some comfortable and safe position. There was none. Her back ached from the unnatural position. The low height of the table, combined with the high rung on the ladder her leg had been tied to pushed her ass and pussy high in the air. Lisa felt more exposed now than she ever did in her entire life.

"Okay, let's take care of her friend," Claude said, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he checked Lisa's rope for the last time.

"No, I'll be good. I swear I will," Marilyn cried, covering her face with both hinds as the two men walked up to her.

As they dragged her to the other end of the table Lisa was tied to, the blonde thought about whit was going to happen. This was the final episode in the whole horrible nightmare. What started out to be a normal, routine duty at the hospital was going to wind up in a bizarre murder. She thought of Chad as Claude threw Marilyn roughly against the other edge of the work table, sending the brunette sprawling across the top. The doctor's kind eyes and his gentle touch contrasted measurably to the kind of treatment Lisa had received at the hands of the Decker brothers. Yet the blonde had to admit that there was a kind of thrill she experienced through the ordeal. All that torture and humiliation had touched something deep in her soul, something Lisa never suspected she had in her. Well, it didn't matter now. Everything would be over for her and Marilyn in a few minutes.

"P-p-please," Marilyn stammered as Claude tied her wrists against the front table leg in the same way he bound Marilyn's. There was no ladder to strap her leg to, but Hank used a pipe that ran from floor to ceiling.

The two women stared across the work table at each other. They were both in that grotesque spread-eagle position, laid out for the kill. There was nothing they could do to help themselves. Lisa let her tears fall freely now, rolling out of her eyes and down her flushed cheeks as she thought of her life and the pile of waste it was going to.

"Well, guess we might as well take care of 'em," Art said, wiping the nervous sweat off his forehead.

Something in his voice aroused Lisa from her relaxation. This was it! She and Marilyn were up for the kill now! No more delays! No more fuckings! Everything was over.

Then the blonde realized that the high-pitched wailing she heard was coming from outside. Lisa lifted her head and looked toward one of the half-opened basement windows. It was the sound of police sirens!

"Cops!" Art said, his eyes widening with fear.

The three Decker brothers stood petrified in the middle of the basement as the sounds of the wailing sirens grew louder.

Finally Claude moved, bolting from the group and springing up the stairs.

"Come on! Let's get the hell out of here!" he cried out to his brothers.

"What about them?" Art asked, looking at the two terrified women and the two Dobermans still licking their slick pricks.

"Leave 'em. We ain't got time," Claude insisted.

Art seemed a little reluctant, but Hank grabbed him under the arms and nearly dragged him to the stairs.

Lisa watched in disbelief as the Decker brothers stumbled up the stairs and out of her life. She couldn't believe it! Just a few moments ago she was getting ready to die. Now, miraculously, she was safe. She looked up and saw Marilyn's face. The brunette smiled weakly, then began sobbing uncontrollably.

Lisa could hear the sound of the van starting up and pulling away. But the Deckers were too late. Police cars blocked their escape. The blonde could hear shouts followed by countless volleys of gunshots. The fight lasted for only a few minutes, but it sounded like a battle.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot! I'm hurt!" Lisa heard Art Decker shout. There were shouts from the police, then the sound of running feet over gavel.

"We're down here! Oh God, we're down here!" Lisa screamed at the top of her lungs. "Damn it, Marilyn, shout! You've been screaming enough for the past few hours. Use your voice now!"

"Here! Down here!" the brunette shrieked.

The two women kept yelling until they heard the sound of the back door opening upstairs.

"Down here! In the basement!" she cried out again.

Lisa sighed with relief when the police stomped down the stairs and peered into the basement.

"Christ!" a tall, dark-haired sergeant exclaimed as he looked at the two bound women.

"Come on. Let's get them untied," another officer said.

"How did you find us?" Lisa gasped as the first sergeant untied her ankle and wrists.

"We knew the van was stolen back at that diner. We found the Monte Carlo and knew it was the Decker boys," the sergeant said. "Hey, get some blankets or something over here," the policeman said to the others.

Lisa murmured her thanks as he handed her a large, grey wool blanket to cover herself.

"We figured the Deckers would want to hide out someplace right away. Seems the rancher who owns this house spotted the van turning into the drive when he was driving home. He said he heard the broadcast over the radio describing what we were looking for. From then on, it didn't take us too long to figure out the rest."

"Too bad you didn't come sooner," Lisa said, looking up the stairs.

"Yeah. By the way, what did they do with the guys daughter?" the sergeant asked.

"I think they took her out to the barn and tied her up," Lisa explained. "We've been through a living hell, sergeant. A real living hell," Lisa said grimly as she walked away from him and toward Marilyn.

The brunette looked up into Lisa's eyes sadly, then lowered her head and covered her face with both hands.

"Is it all over?" she groaned through her trembling fingers.

"It's all over. All over," Lisa said, dropping to her knees and putting her hand comfortingly around Marilyn's shoulder. "Come on. Let's get out of here."