Menage a Trois
by Ozmanga
Gina

She screamed but they didn't stop. The one behind her, the one who'd been wearing the Prince Charles rubber mask, wrapped his arms tighter around her chest, pinning her arms to her side.
"Make as much noise as you like, little lady, no-one will hear you!" he said, in a pleasant educated accent, and laughed.
The one in front of her was laughing too, as he tugged at the waist band of her tweed skirt with enough force to rip out the fastener.
"She's no lady," he chortled, his voice muted by the grinning Richard Nixon mask which covered his face, "She's a whore! Or she will be before the morning!"
The skirt slid down her stockinged legs. With his left hand, the speaker stroked the soft white flesh exposed between her black lace stocking-top and her panties. With his right hand he unzipped the fly of his jeans.
"Nothing but a fuck-toy!" he elaborated.
She tried to kick him but only succeeded in tangling her feet in the cloth of the skirt.
Prince Charles licked her slender neck. She could feel his hot, wet, tongue probing between the collar of her blouse and her ear. She instinctively shook her head to avoid the slimy aggravation. He responded by taking her ear between his teeth. He wasn't biting, yet. She could also feel his erection, barely constrained by his woolen track-suit pants, pressing into the small of her back.
She stopped screaming and tried begging.
"No! Stop it! Oh... I beg you..." she pleaded.
Nixon slid a fore-finger under the elastic lace which formed the crotch of her fashionable pink bikini style panties and pulled. The panties slid off her hips and down her thighs.
"You're college boys, aren't you? Is it rag week? Please, before you go too ..."
"She's a natural blonde! I do declare!" crowed Nixon.
"For pity's sake... don't do this!" she wailed. Her voice was growing shrill.
Prince Charles let go her ear and stepped back. He had taken her blouse in both hands, one either side of the line of pearl buttons which held the demure top together. As he retreated, he pulled.
The buttons parted explosively and the woman's ample breasts, tightly confined by a pink lace brassiere, were unveiled. The blouse, pulled off her shoulders, now pinioned the woman's elbows and freed Prince Charles' hands.  He cupped one lace covered breast in each hand. She could feel his erection again, harder and now pressing between the cheeks of her arse. He put his tongue in her ear.
"Please ... don't do this!" she gasped.
The panties caught on the small metal fastening which secured her stockings to her garter belt. Nixon swore and pulled. The panties ripped. 
"No! Stop it! You monsters...! You filthy perverted ...."
Nixon felt between her legs.
"You're dry, Whore! And tight!" he growled.
You low grade ill-bred bastards!" she screamed. "Get out of my house! You scum! You ..."

Nixon held the tattered remains of her panties under her nose. He'd stopped laughing.
"Shut up!" he bellowed. "Shut the fuck up! Or I'll ram these down your throat till you choke!"
Her eyes were big. Pale blue. Wide open. Filling with tears of rage and helplessness.
"Do you understand, Whore?" Nixon shouted.
The woman nodded. A tear ran down her cheek.
Prince Charles undid her bra. It fastened in the front. Without its support the woman's full breasts sagged slightly then bounced softly causing Nixon to laugh again.
"Nice tits!" He chuckled. "More than a mouthful, eh, Charley?" 
He was having difficulty in extracting his swollen penis from his briefs and through the opening in the fly of his tight jeans.
Prince Charles cupped a breast in each hand. He took the prominent nipples between thumb and fore finger and rolled them, quite gently. He nibbled her ear  taking care not to cut his mouth on the half carat diamond stud which decorated the lobe.
"Very nice!" he agreed, between little bites which were more like kisses. "Do you like that?"
She whimpered.
Nixon undid his belt and dragged his jeans and his briefs down onto his thighs. His erection, released from its constraints, sprang out and up. The woman looked down. His member was big. Bigger than her husband's. It was corded with thick raised veins. Like some animal drooling over a meal about to be devoured, it dripped a saliva-like string of glistening fluid.
Nixon pumped it twice, easing the foreskin over the purple tinted glans.
The woman looked at his face. She could make out his eyes, hard and cruel, in the holes cut in the caricature mask. She sobbed.
"Just a quickie to start with!" He panted, entering her roughly. She began to scream again. Prince Charles pinched hard on her nipples and sank his teeth into her ear lobe, drawing a tiny spot of blood.
She was still screaming, minutes later, when Nixon ejaculated deep inside her, pressing her hips to his with a clawlike grip on her bare buttocks.
          *           *          *
The newlyweds had been thrilled when Trevor's uncle had offered them full use of his farm ten miles out of town. He'd bought it, on the recommendation of his accountant, as a tax minimization gambit three years earlier. Not a good one, as it turned out. Trevor offered to pay rent on the house and Gina said she'd keep an eye on the agistment, so a deal had been done which satisfied Uncle Gus and gave Gina and Trevor their own little love nest, far from the madding crowds.
Gina was always careful when Trevor was away on business, which, as the year progressed, became more frequent. When he was away, the doors were bolted, barred and chained securely. Not that there was any real risk, but the farm people she dealt with were a dour lot and she had made few friends in the local community. She didn't mind. In Trevor's absence she painted watercolor landscapes of the surrounding countryside which sold well in a gallery in town. When he returned she was happy to be the loving wife of a successful IT specialist who, she was sure, would, one day, make a fortune to rival Gates'. She was also less security conscious.
As Gina prepared supper, Trevor played chess at the other end of the big, solid, kitchen table with the sixteen year old step-daughter of his Uncle Gus' second marriage known as 'Kipper'. She was a sort of cousin who had, said Gina, a teenage crush on her handsome and athletic husband. Kipper was a frequent visitor at the farm when Trevor was present. Her dark complexion and long black hair contrasted with Gina's short blonde page-boy and peaches and cream coloring. Kipper was still wearing her school uniform. She usually changed before supper into something which showed a bit too much teen flesh, Gina had said acidly on several occasions..
Gina finished tossing the salad. The table was laid. The steak ready for the pan. She looked for a bottle of Merlot. There was only white wine in the rack.
"I'll just pop down to the cellar and get a bottle of red." she told the chess-players. "Supper will be ready in about ten minutes!"
As Gina descended the steps into the cellar, which led off the big kitchen, Kipper leant across the corner of the table, moved her King's Bishop with one hand and grasped Trevor's thigh with the other.
"Check!" she said, grinning.
"No, Kipper!" Trevor hissed.
"It is so!" declared the girl finding what her hand sought and giving it a firm but gentle squeeze. "You know how good I can be!"
"Stop it Kip!"
"You didn't say that before."
"Kip!"
"You came in my mouth!"
"That was before I was a married man!" Trevor grinned, making no effort to move her hand. Kipper pouted and gripped him tighter. She could feel his penis start to swell under the denim. She started to rub. Trevor sighed.
"Only just!" Kipper snorted. They could hear Gina clicking up the cellar steps in her high heels. She always felt she had to dress up when Kipper visited. Perhaps she sensed the teenager's fierce resentment that she was Trevor's bedmate not the youngster. Lambskin boots and old jeans, out! Tweed skirt, stockings and patent leather pumps, on!
"Why don't you come to my room tonight after the blonde bitch is asleep!"
He smiled, hungrily, but shook his head.
"I'll be waiting!"
"Waiting? Waiting for what, Kipper?" said Gina emerging from the cellar with a bottle of Wolf Blass.
"Waiting for Trev to give in. I'm just about to take his Queen and mate him!" she smiled innocently. Hands in her lap.
The door bell rang. Gina put the bottle on the table. "Open it, will you?" she said. "I wonder who that can be?"
Neither Trevor nor Kipper made a move to answer the door. The bell rang again, Longer this time.
"I'll go then!" said Gina, shortly, and strode off down the stone-flagged corridor, her heels going clicketty-click until she reached the hall with it's carpet, mirror and umbrella stand.
The bell rang a third time as Gina reached the door. Without thinking she undid the chain but before she could turn the handle the door burst inwards and all Hell broke loose.

Four masked figures crashed through the door, screaming like banshees, yelling obscenities and wielding baseball bats. Gina was hurled backwards. She crashed into the umbrella stand and tumbled to the floor. One of the intruders, looking like a political cartoon of the late lamented President Kennedy, smashed the mirror with his bat before careering down the corridor yelling like a brave on the warpath in a bad B movie and splintering every framed picture on his way to the kitchen. He was followed by the smallest of the intruders, one wearing a caricature mask of Queen Elizabeth the Second and a back-pack. She stopped long enough to snarl, in an unmistakable female voice, at the Prince of Wales and Richard Nixon. "What are you waiting for? Fuck her! That's why you're here, damn it!"
Gina was hauled to her feet. She screamed.
* * *
Trevor

Trevor felt Kipper's hands on him again, the moment Gina headed down the corridor. He grinned at her, said, "Perhaps. Later... " and stood up. 
As he reached for the bottle of wine he heard the doorbell ring a third time. The bell was followed immediately by a hideous yelling and the sound of breaking glass and shattering timber. He had barely registered that something very bad was happening when a big, black-clad, figure wearing a JFK mask came screaming into the kitchen. With his baseball bat the intruder swept the kitchen table clear of plates, cutlery, glass-ware and most of the chess men. Then, with an enormously loud shout of "Banzai!" he smacked Trevor on the side of his head and the lights went out.
Later, he didn't know how much later, someone was pouring ice water over his head. He tried to lift it to see who was tormenting him. His head hurt. He rested it again on the solid wood of the kitchen table. More water was poured in a slow, steady, stream. Trevor snarled and tried to move off the chair he was sitting on and away from the table. He couldn't. He found his arms were spread over the breadth of the table and his wrists secured to each other underneath it. He blinked the water out of his eyes and raised his head as high as his bonds permitted. About ten inches.
"Enjoy your little nap?" Enquired Queen Elizabeth.
"Wha ...?" He began, thickly. There was a taste of blood in his mouth.
"It's a party," said Her Majesty. "A DYO orgy. A fucking bacchanalia!"
"More like a pack rape, Ma'am!" Said Prince Charles.
Trevor thought he was hallucinating. "Gina...?" He croaked.
"Bring her here, kid!" Ordered the Queen. "Where he can see our blonde beauty!"
Kipper, topless but still wearing her uniform plaid skirt and long white socks, helped Gina to a chair where Trevor could see her. His wife had been stripped to her stockings, a garter belt and a torn linen blouse. Her face was streaked with tears. On the inside of her thighs, smears of a thicker, stickier, fluid caught the light.
She looked at him and sobbed, "Oh, Trevor! Thank god you're alive! I thought ... They raped me!" she wailed!
He was slow to understand the situation. "Wha..." he mumbled
"Spare us this sugary crap, sister!" Growled HM. "She's already serviced two presidents and a prince. Loved every minute. Came every time. Proper little raver. Raring to go again, aint'cha, Whore?"
Gina started to cry.
"Show hubby how she likes it!" Commanded the Queen.
He saw Gina stiffen then Nixon and Kennedy grabbed her. He saw her struggle weakly as they dragged his wife to the table, threw her onto it, then stretched her across its width in front of him. She lay on her back. Her left hand brushed his face. Gina's hips rested on one side of the table, her neck and shoulders on the other. He could smell her scent overlaid by the musky odor of drying cum. She was sobbing, "No! No! No!"
Nixon positioned himself between Gina's thighs, pulled down his jeans and underpants, pumped his erection two or three times, then slid into the recumbent woman.
Trevor screamed, "Nooo!" As Nixon began to fuck his wife with the ease and familiarity of an old lover. Then he saw  what Kennedy was doing and his screams doubled in volume. He was fully awake now. The pain in his head was forgotten. JFK's hands were fiercely gripping Gina's ripe breasts, scant inches from Trevor's bulging eyes, while her head, thrown backwards in either agony or ecstacy, offered her open mouth to the rapist's long, black, penis.
Trevor tried to stand and found he could not. His ankles had been secured to the legs of the sturdy kitchen chair. He started to bellow abuse at the intruders but Queen Elizabeth stuffed his mouth with some silky material and fastened with sticky-tape from her back-pack, until he choked and stopped yelling.
His wife's ordeal went on and on. Trevor watched, unable to do a thing. Kennedy was popping the head of his dick in and out of her mouth, dribbling strands of pearly fluid around her lips and on her face and hair. He plucked and kneaded her nipples as he plundered her mouth. Always prominent against her pale skin, tonight, Trevor thought, they were extra large and red. Nixon was fucking her with long, slow, deliberate strokes to which she seemed to respond with mounting enthusiasm.
"That's a good little Whore," condescended Nixon. "You're learning. Now, show pencil-dick here how much you appreciate being screwed by a real man! You fuck me back, hard!" 
Gina had little choice but to obey, as the rapist clawed her buttocks spasmodically. Trevor heard Nixon's taunt and, in his dazed state, began to believe her seeming cooperation was voluntary, as she bucked and writhed under the double onslaught. Still woozy from the bang on the head he mistook her frantic resistance for sexual abandon. He became irrationally angry, not with the rapists, but with his wife. He wanted to punish her! She'd never screamed and jerked like that for him! She'd even refused his frequent requests for oral sex and here she was, he could see her hardly more than a foot away, deep throating a big, black, cock! 
Trevor found that he was becoming sexually aroused. He tried to hide his growing erection by putting his knees together. The Queen noticed. She laughed.
"Kid!" she called to Kipper, and pointed to the swelling in Trevor's  jeans, "show me what he's hiding in his jeans!"
The teenager knelt to one side of the chair to which Trevor was secured. Trevor could see that she had been crying. Stains on the front of her skirt indicated that, while he had been unconscious, Kipper too had entertained one or more of the sex-crazed home invaders.
She unzipped his fly and reached into his bulging briefs. He wasn't fully erect but was already secreting juice. The teenager pulled his penis out.
"Horny sod!" said HM. "You just hold onto it for the moment, Kid!"
After what seemed an age, Nixon quickened the tempo, and increased the ferocity, of his thrusts. Trevor saw Gina's back arch under the dual assault. She choked as Kennedy's erection was driven down her throat as he came. She bucked as she was pounded by Nixon's final frenzy. Then they let her go. They laughed. 
"Thought we was goin' to meet in the middle, Dickie!" said JFK.
"I thought you were going to choke the life out of the slut before I shot my load!" chuckled Nixon. "Fancy a glass of wine, Mr President?"
Expletive deleted ..ingwell I do!" laughed JFK. 
The pair headed for the cellar
Their victim squirmed and retched on the table top, her face and groin smeared with sticky fluid.  Her tear-filled eyes were no more than a fifteen inches away from Trevor's. He glared at her. "Why did you let them do that to you?" he wanted to yell through the wad of silky material in his mouth but his glare of jealous fury said it all, and more.
Gina looked shocked. She recoiled in horror and disbelief. Over Trevor's shoulder she could see Kipper with her hand holding his swollen member. Gina sobbed. She rolled onto her side, and drew her legs up to her chest. Before she could fully adopt a fetal position Trevor saw Prince Charles grab her hips, turn her onto her stomach and slide her legs off the table. He stood between her stocking-clad limbs, hauled his track suit pants down to show a formidable rampant cock, and seized a handful of buttock in each fist.
"My turn!" he said, cheerfully.
"I intend to sodomize your dearly beloved!" said Prince Charles to Trevor. "Unless, Ma'am, you want the little lady's arsehole yourself?"

"Carry on, dear boy," said the bogus Royal, affecting a fair British accent. "I have another end in view!" She rummaged in her back-pack and produced a heavy pair of scissors. She opened and closed the sharp blades under Trevor's nose. 
"Guess what I'm going to use these for?" she chuckled. 
Trevor closed his eyes in terror. The gag prevented him from screaming but he tried to. He threw his body about but the bonds holding him to the table and chair remained firm .Kipper squeezed his rapidly softening penis protectively. He felt the cold metal edge of a blade caress the skin above his ... wrist as HM set about cutting the shirt off his back. His relief was palpable. He mentally sighed, his body sagged. HM laughed.
"Fooled you, eh? Don't worry I'll keep you entire. So long as you do as I say! Capish?"
Trevor swallowed and nodded. The scissors wove up each sleeve and down the sides of his shirt. Kipper removed his belt and it was she, on Queen Elizabeth's instructions, who cut up the sides of his jeans and underpants and peeled them off, leaving Trevor as naked and vulnerable as his poor abused spouse. 
Trevor heard HM rummage in her back-pack again but she was out of sight. His attention was now concentrated on Gina and what Prince Charles was doing to her. The rapist had produced a condom from his track-suit pocket. He was rolling it on to his cock.. "Please note, little lady," he said to this tearful victim, "that I have squeezed the air out of the pocket at the front of this high- grade lubricated (with a water-based lube) prophylactic as a precaution against it splitting. I do like to protect myself during anal intercourse!"
"No!" begged Gina, "Oh no! Please, not that! Please..." Her hands were clasped in prayer and her body was wracked with sobs.
"Why not? The Greeks do it all the time, I'm told. Sailors too, according to Dr Johnston. Even prisoners in Sing-Sing! Surely your husband, who is sitting dumbly close by, has plumbed this neat little orifice?" And he began to press the latex sheathed tip against her tightly clenched anal sphincter.
"No!" Gina screamed!
"No?" said HRH, pretending to misunderstand. "Well let's show him what he's been missing!" And he proceeded to force his way into the virginal passage with short, controlled jabs of his thick, swollen, member. Every half inch he gained opened Gina a little wider.
She maintained a steady stream of pleas and protest which seemed to have no effect on her tormentor. Prince Charles ignored her constant complaining and carried on a one-sided conversation with Trevor who, once again, was rising to the occasion.
"The first time is always a bit difficult for the smaller woman!" Jab.
"You may have to tie her to the back of a chair when you start." Jab.
"It will holds her legs apart without you having to pinch her bottom!" Jab.
"If you secure her hands to the front of the chair..." Jab.
"...you can play with her tits at the same time! Jab.
"I think she'd like that. She did earlier..." Jab.
"When I first fucked her from behind!" Jab.
"Doggy fashion..."Jab.
"While you were recovering from your run in with JFK." Jab.

"Nearly half way. Your wife'll know when I'm right in, because the hairs on my balls will tickle her cunt! Jab.
"And you too will know just what it feels like to be reamed up the arse in about ten seconds!" Jab.
HRH laughed. 
Trevor didn't understand. He had been totally absorbed watching the anal rape of his wife so had not seen HM slip out of her boots and jeans and strap on a double ended dildo of solid rubber. She now tugged the chair he was sitting on towards her. Trevor's ankles were attached to the front legs so he was suddenly left suspended between the chair and table. The chair was dragged further back until his legs were straight. HM then sat on the chair and patted his well muscled backside and squeezed a tube of lubricant between his cheeks. Then she stood and drove the solid rubber baton between her legs into the man's unprotected anus.
Trevor gave an incoherent scream of agony, muffled by the gag, as the dildo bored into and up him. Tears of pain and shame at this latest humiliation streamed down his cheeks. His head rested on the table where he had been obliged to observe, close up, the continuing ravishment of his bride of twelve months. His legs were stretched back further as JFK and Tricky Dickey returned from the cellar to lend a hand by pulling on the chair and sliding it away from the table..
Kipper lent a hand too. Trevor, despite, or as was later suggested, because, of being the victim of a savage and unexpected act of buggery developed a stiff erection. He felt Kipper's hands on his penis and cupping his swinging scrotum while he howled into the gag and endured the agony of Queen Elizabeth's sadistic pleasure. His silent scream ended when he spurted  onto the stone flags of the kitchen floor. This relief coincided with his wife's most piercing scream of the evening so far, as Prince Charles rammed home the last half inch, ripping her a little and filling the deflated scum bag with his warm seed.
That was Trevor's last coherent memory of the night's activity. He remembers Kipper's knickers being extracted from his mouth. His hands must have been untied because he remembers sitting, uncomfortably, on the kitchen chair being given a glass of wine by President Nixon, and a handful of pills by Prince Charles. Then, or sometime later, he remembers a feeling of real well-being. He remembers having a hard on which throbbed as Kipper, wearing only her socks and shoes, straddled him and lowered herself slowly onto it. He remembers clearly, the teenager sliding up and down his improbable erection, gasping with pleasure as she impaled herself then rose again, impaled and  rose again and again. He remembers seeing, over Kipper's naked shoulder, Gina, sprawled on the kitchen table regarding them with a look of disgust and horror. Which is why, before Kipper had climaxed, he remembers asking Queen Elizabeth - brusquely, he was no royalist - if his wife could be made to help by licking his balls and later, after an explosive orgasm, by using her tongue to clean up his cock and Kipper's cunt.
He shies away from other memories. He wouldn't - couldn't possibly - do that sort of thing. Not with a man, two men, a baseball bat, a cucumber! Not that. Not to his wife! Not with his tongue! No! These were false memories, surely? Some echoes of the evening persisted. In particular Gina, tied to a chair just as Prince Charles had recommended so she could be sodomized and milked or fucked doggy-fashion and forced to give head or just plain beaten until she'd agree to  join in any and all sexual deviations proposed by any one of them.
Queen Elizabeth had had a digital camera in her back-pack, along with her scissors, dildo and other bits and pieces. She left a flash card, tucked into Gina's one remaining stocking, which had images of some of the highlights of the night. Trevor, later, could not bear to look at them.
Just before the home invaders departed, as dawn was breaking, the leader spoke to Trevor, Gina and Kipper in the shower. As the warm water washed away the worst of the accumulated goo, and soothed the various hurts, she said that they would be foolish to report the night's activities to the police. However, they were welcome to do so. Any investigation would need to consider all the evidence including the digital images on the memory card tucked into Gina's stocking. They show sexual activity of various kinds spread over several hours involving just the three of them, she said. Of real interest would be the repeated coupling of Trevor and Kipper which possibly breached a number of laws concerning intercourse with a minor not to mention several acts of buggery which were still unlawful.
The Queen and her gang were photo shy. They were untraceable, she said. Yes, there was DNA evidence of the intruders' presence but none of it was on their victims freshly washed bodies. There would be finger prints too. But none of the gang had a police record. Should Trevor, Gina or Kipper  nevertheless decide to report the matter, they should consider the consequences. One of which would be another visit, and not such a 'friendly' one. The inevitable publicity would be intrusive and unpleasant and, eventually, lead nowhere.
Best to say nothing, she said, as she locked them in the cellar, before departing.
*  * *

Kipling Ruddyahd




"It's all very well for you," said Kipper to Mary, her older half-step-sister, Gus' step-daughter from his third marriage. "Your mother had the sense to call herself 'Smith'!"
"Never mind, Kip, funny names are character building."
They were drinking coffee after dinner in Kipper's small apartment in the city. A month had passed since the incident at the farmhouse. Gina had gone north to her home town. Trevor stayed on at the farm but traveled frequently. Their marriage had gone west. No report had been made to the police.
"When did you know it was me in Queen Lizzie's mask?" asked Mary.
"I began to suspect when you said 'Capish'. You're the only person I've heard use the word outside gangster movies! I was certain when you made us pose for the 'wedding photo - one year later'! But when you and the presidents first burst in I was as scared as anyone."
Mary chuckled. "'Capish' eh? That was a bit of a give-away, I guess. But the whole thing was what you asked for."
"What are you talking about? I never asked for anything of the sort!" said Kip, indignantly.
"You did. When you told me about the wedding, last year, a week after the event. You were getting ready to be the bridesmaid in the farmhouse. You had tried on the dress but slipped it off to hang it up. You were wearing nothing but satin shoes, white lace stockings and a floral tiara, when who should sneak into your room but the groom-to-be. He was sporting a big grin and a bigger dick! Were you shocked? Horrified? Alarmed for your virginity? No! None of those. You were delighted, horny and had lost your cherry some time the year before. You covered your freshly plucked teen-age pussy with the bouquet of salmon pink roses - Julia's Rose, you said - and looked coy."
"O.K. so I told you he hit on me the night before he married. That doesn't mean I asked for a replay of the home invasion from Kubric's 'Clockwork Orange'! Does it?"
"You said you knelt and started to give him some head, 'foreplay' you thought, but then, let me quote you young Kipper, '...the dirty bastard grabbed my head and didn't let go until I'd swallowed the lot. I'd like to see him do that to the snooty blonde bitch he's married! I'd like to fuck him properly with her watching then have her lick me clean....' You said ..."
"Enough!" cried Kipper. "You and your freakish memory! I was a bit high when I told you about that night."
"Not as high as Trevor got, after he thought I was going to geld him," laughed Mary. "God knows what was in the bunch of pills Charley gave him. I guess it included some Viagra. Didn't he go ape after that?!"
"He was still as stiff as a starched weasel the next day after Gina left. Had to go to his doctor 'to reduce the swelling' . The old boy gave him a real lecture on the dangers of fooling around with drugs!  
The two young women laughed. Kipper began, again. "So who were the three men with you, and what were you all up to behaving like hoodlums? She asked.  
"Never mind. They are members of a very exclusive club for... er, thrill-seekers. They were happy to help me fulfil your heart's desire. Sorry about JFK. He got carried away and forgot you were supposed to be off limits."
"Huh! Well I suppose it wasn't too bad. He wasn't a fraction as rough with me as he was with Gina! At one time I thought he was going to choke her!"
"He's a big brother, isn't he? But I'll never forget that poor woman tied to a chair wearing little but her bridal veil while the object of your affections, stylishly dressed in a bow tie, tried to choke her on his drug enhanced dong. Meanwhile, you, sweet sixteen in long white socks and a tiara of flowers,  fisted her with one hand and beat the bejasus out of her backside with the other. I guess you gave the 'blonde bitch' what you thought she deserved, eh? I guess, now she's gone, you can have Trevor whenever he's at home?"

"Yeah," said Kipper doubtfully. "I don't want to sound ungrateful but she didn't deserve the abuse Trevor dished out to her after you untied him. He treated her as though she had welcomed you in with open arms and legs apart. Trevor didn't see the hard time the three of them gave her before you baptized him. He chose to believe you when you said she'd taken pleasure in being serially raped rather than the evidence of his own eyes. Miserable selfish sod!"
"So now you're sorry for her? You don't want him anymore?"
"That's right." Kipper poured some more coffee. "You know, I made some smartarsed remark about taking Trevor's queen just before you and your gang of thrill seekers broke in and ruined Regina's life. When I realized it was you in that royal mask I wondered if she thought I had something to do with the invasion! And now you tell me you were granting some 'wish' I made a year ago. It's weird!"
"Coincidence."
"I wish ..."
"Careful what you wish for, Kip, you just might get it!" 
END


