Includin’ boffin’ Sheriff Fred, she thought heavily. Gretel took a deep breath, looking into her own eyes. Well, if I gotta do it, I might as well make th’ most o’ it.
Skittishly, Gretel opened the bathroom door, peering out. Although she was naked, the lack of Ginger’s presence gave the girl a moment’s hope of running to Hansel’s prison and somehow finding a way out through the back of the restaurant. Naked and free was better than naked and trapped, after all.
“Why, don’t you clean up well.”
Gretel gasped at the sound of Ginger’s ‘sweet’ voice, and turned to see the woman as she had appeared when the twins first entered the diner; pretty, busty, her blue dress straining at the buttons, with perfectly coiffed red hair trailing behind a friendly, motherly face.
“Well, come on, you don’t want to keep the man waiting,” Ginger urged the girl.
Gretel’s heart hammered, yet she maintained her poise, walking upright and with as much confidence as she could muster. Maybe he’ll be quick, like Cooper always was, she thought hopefully. Just so long as he don’t wanna stick it in th’ back door, I’ll be okay.
Ginger held the stainless steel door open for Gretel, who hesitated in the doorway. Even though everyone else in the diner was gone, the lights were still up, and the world outside was dark. Anyone driving by would be able to see easily inside the place. And here was Gretel, naked as the truth during Sunday mass, about to let a perfect stranger ravage her.
“Go on,” cooed Ginger, her voice so sugary it was nearly sickening. The witch’s lips practically brushed Gretel’s. “Go on and give that man a good...hard...fucking.”
Gretel’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. She had only ever known two men in her life—Cooper Barnes, her first love, and the town mechanic, Ethan (though no one knew about that, and it had only happened twice)—and was not all that sure of herself when it came to sex. Certainly, she had never ‘fucked’ a man before! And in such a public place, with all the lights on, no less!
Carried along on quivering legs, Gretel stepped into the diner, staring at Sheriff Fred as he sat at the counter, sipping his coffee. He was a big, muscular brute of a man, yet with a hometown boy’s friendly and handsome face. Gretel was glad for that, at least. Her immediate impression was that the sheriff was, essentially, a nice man. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all, Gretel thought.
Catching movement from the corner of his eye, Fred turned his head to look, immediately arching a brow in surprise and wonder. The naked girl approached him, stopping a good five or six paces away. Behind her stood Ginger, hands held together over her apron.
“So is this what you meant by ‘a pleasant surprise?’” Fred asked of the older woman, before his eyes returned to Gretel’s slender, youthful body. He gazed with undisguised interest upon the young woman’s firm, upturned breasts, her slender legs and small patch of dark pubic hair.
“I thought you might like to try a different dish,” Ginger said with a wink. “Go on, Greta. Make nice with the man.”
Gretel took a deep breath, nervousness churning in her stomach like an opossum running chaotically around inside her. She reminded herself of why she was doing this: ‘Cause if I don’t, that witch is gonna hurt my Hansel. I can’t let that happen. ‘Sides, like she said, ain’t like I never done it before...
Fred turned fully in his chair, smiling smugly upon Gretel as she slowly ambled closer. “Yeah, c’mere, girl. I won’t hurt you.”
Gingerly, Gretel sidled up to the man, eyes downcast. Her hip brushed the inside of Fred’s right leg. She could see the growing bulge beneath his khakis, and that made her both frightened and curious. Fred was a large man, all around; she wondered if that meant everything about him was big.
Still, she flinched when the sheriff cupped her breasts in his meaty hands. He squeezed them, a bit roughly, pinched and pulled her nipples. Gretel hissed through her teeth, feeling both a jolt of pain as well as a sense of heat that shot throughout her body, gathering low in her abdomen like the coals of a fire that had just been ignited.
“Oh, you’re gonna be sweet, little girl,” Fred moaned softly. He rudely pushed his fingers between Gretel’s legs, cupping her intimate flesh. “That’s a real prime pussy you got there. You’re not a virgin, are you?”
Gretel began to answer, but as her lips parted, she gasped loudly, eyes flashing open wide from the feel of a thick, rough finger pushing past her slightly damp lips, into the tunnel beyond. Fred dug deep with that singular digit, pressing his palm against the young woman’s pubic mound.
“Nope, not a virgin,” Fred said with a chuckle. “Still pretty tight, though. That’s good.”
Gretel was sure her face was glowing beet red by that point. The finger squirming inside her, however, felt somewhat pleasant, in an unanticipated way. She could feel herself moistening around the sheriff’s intrusion. Her breasts were beginning to throb, as if trying to grow, her nipples puckering stiffly and growing darker with each passing moment. Regardless of the scenario, she was becoming aroused.
Abruptly, Fred withdrew his questing finger from Gretel’s sex, and tasted the glistening essence as he smiled upon her. “You’re a shy one, aren’t you?”
Gretel swallowed dryly, nodding, still keeping her head down. “Yes, sir.”
“I got a feeling that’s about to change,” the sheriff commented, shifting on the stool and pulling down his zipper. Gretel’s anxiety returned as she listened to the tiny metal teeth pop loose. Fred’s hand dug inside, searching, manipulating. Finally, the dark, shiny head of an erect penis was revealed to her, riding a pale, somewhat thick shaft.
“What do you think about that?” the sheriff asked with a rakish grin. He held his stiff cock with the fingers of one hand, while the other settled upon Gretel’s shoulder.
“Um...it’s okay,” she responded.
“’Okay,’ little girl?” Fred echoed. His voice held an edge as he continued. “It’s a lot more than ‘okay.’ Now, why don’t you be a good little white trash whore and get to know it better. And I better not feel any teeth.”
The sheriff’s hard words made Gretel whimper with the fear that she had done something wrong. Eager to placate him, if only to stave off any chance of further rudeness, she settled to her knees between Fred’s spread legs. The manly aroma of the sheriff’s crotch was strong, touched with the sweet odor of sweat. Experimentally, Gretel slid her hands up Fred’s legs to his cock, wrapping her fingers around the shaft. She leaned in to lick, then kiss the tip.
“Put it in your mouth, girl,” Fred ordered, his voice like gravel. “Suck it. Suck my cock.”
Gretel paused only briefly, then took a breath and submerged the stiff tube of flesh in her mouth. She drew the flavor out of him, sucking intently, not moving her head at all. The sheriff’s cock was thick enough to make her lips stretch, but no longer than any she had tasted before. She was able to engulf more than half his stiffness with ease.
“Oh, that’s it, baby...suck it good, you little slut. Get me ready for that tight little cunt of yours.”
Gretel frowned at the sheriff’s words, yet dutifully massaged his cock with her mouth, sliding up and down. She didn’t like how he was referring to her as a ‘whore’ and a ‘slut,’ how he called her private place a ‘cunt.’ Those were rude, debasing words. Gretel decided she did not like the sheriff very much.
Yet still she serviced him, whimpering now and then as the penis throbbed in her mouth, gliding between her slick lips. Fred had his hands on the girl’s head, guiding it up and down. He liked watching the sight of his cock disappearing into the teenager’s mouth. Crude words dribbled from his mouth like the drool that dripped down Gretel’s chin. With each use of whore, slut, bitch, and cunt, Gretel felt more and more debased, more and more defiled.
The sheriff finally stiffened, his cock like marble in Gretel’s mouth. She knew what that meant, and prepared herself for the hot liquid outpouring that would herald the man’s orgasm. She was glad for his impend
ing release, not because she wanted to bring this rude man pleasure, but because she hoped it meant an end to her abuse.
But the sheriff didn’t ejaculate. Instead, he pulled Gretel’s mouth off his penis, leaving strands of saliva that trailed from his cock to her flushed lips. Gretel gasped, and for the first time, looked up to the man she serviced.
“That was a nice appetizer, girl,” growled Fred, pushing up from his stool and roughly turning Gretel around. He shoved her against one of the tables in the dining room, bending her over. “Time for the main course.”
Gretel yelped, clawing the surface of the table, feeling the sheriff’s cock nudging its way between her lips. Her arousal had vanished, leaving her dry, but her saliva upon Fred’s cock allowed him to push inside her. She cried out in pain, feeling her labia pinched and turned inward with the intrusion. But her exclamation was more from the debasement she felt, being taken the way she was, and by a man who saw her as nothing more than a tool to be used.
“Fuck, you’re tight, girl! God damn! Oh, this is gonna be a good fuck!”
Gretel grunted, moaned, mewled with each hard thrust the sheriff made within her, not one of her emissions the result of pleasure. Her face contorted with humiliation, made worse when she saw Ginger standing by the stainless steel door, arms folded, a smug smile on her face as she watched.
Again and again the sheriff drove inside the girl, gripping her hips, groping around for her pert breasts. Gretel gritted her teeth when he pinched her nipples again, silently cursing her own body as jolts of pleasure raced down to her clitoris. But that tiny thrill could not overcome her sense of degradation.
Finally, thick, meaty hands squeezing her hips, the sheriff plunged deep inside the girl, shaking. “Oh, fuck! Here it comes, girl! Here it comes!”
God, no, please, no, God...Gretel squeezed her eyes shut, suffering the spasms of the man against her, the hot rush that spread through her womb as the sheriff’s seed poured within. Fred moaned and sighed with his release, jabbing a few times, giving in to the rippling of Gretel’s vaginal muscles around his spurting shaft.
“Oh, man...fuck, that’s nice...such sweet, sweet little whore...”
The sheriff’s enjoyment of the moment only worsened it for Gretel. She lowered her head to the table, sobbing quietly, waiting for the man to be done with her and leave.
Beside the door to the kitchen, Ginger smirked, eyes smoldering as she beheld the scene.
* * * *
Hansel sat morose within his cage, gaze darting back and forth between the cell floor and the door to the room. Gretel had been gone for almost an hour, he figured. He wondered what atrocities, what pain, the witch was inflicting upon his sister. That he was helpless to prevent any of it sapped at his soul.
He had spent the first several minutes looking for any possible way out of the cage. But there was no lock that he could find, and the bars were too narrow for him to slip through. The floor and back of the cage were covered with relatively soft pressboard. He could not even make a weapon from it.
Melancholy and despair had set in, leaving Hansel numb. The fact that he could not hear anything that occurred outside the room in which his cell sat was both comforting and disturbing. Yet still, he felt flashes of intense emotion now and then, feelings of abasement and mortification. Gretel’s pain, he knew, though he knew not what was happening to her.
When the door opened, Hansel shot to his feet, gripping the bars once more. Ginger the witch shoved Gretel before her, sending Hansel’s sister sprawling upon the floor. Hansel gritted his teeth in anger at the sight of his naked, angry sister. “What’d ya do t’ her!” he shouted.
Ginger smiled haughtily, gesturing. The other cage sprang open with a metallic clatter. “I’ll let your sister tell you about it,” she said, stooping to grab a handful of Gretel’s short, thick hair. The girl struggled fiercely, clawing at the witch’s hand before being thrown into the cage. The door slammed down loudly, making all the cages rattle.
“Gretel?” asked Hansel, looking with concern upon his twin.
But she ignored him for the moment, clamoring to her feet to grasp and shake the bars of her cage. “Ya evil fuckin’ bitch! I’m gonna kill ya!” she shrieked.
Ginger only laughed, stepping from the room. The door swept closed behind her. Gretel shook the bars of her cage, screaming incoherently for a moment or so, then shoved herself back, falling to the floor of her cage.
Hansel was quiet for several beats of his anxious heart, watching Gretel as she curled her legs up and hugged them. She glared out at nothing in particular, chin rest upon her reddened knees, rocking back and forth.
“What happened?” Hansel asked at last.
Gretel’s temples bulged as she ground her teeth. “Nothin’.”
Hansel sighed. “Ya can’t tell me that,” he said. “I can tell when ya—“
“I said, nothin’!” yelled Gretel, her violet eyes vivid with misdirected anger. She resumed her rocking.
Hansel slumped, sitting down in his cage, reaching through the bars for his sister. “We’re gonna get outta here,” he said.
Gretel rocked in silence, eyes darting to her twin’s hand. Finally, her eyes grew moist, then began dripping anew. She grabbed Hansel’s hand and pulled herself as close to him as the cage walls would allow. The tears poured freely, drenching her cheeks, dripping down to her body.
“One way or ‘nother, we gonna get outta here,” Hansel vowed, slipping his arm around his sister’s shoulders, beneath her chin. Gretel clutched at him tightly, sobbing.
“We better,” she whispered between blubbery sniffles. “We better...”
CHAPTER SIX
The sound of the door opening roused the twins from sleep. Following more tears, Gretel had shared with her brother what had happened with the sheriff. Hansel’s first reaction had been rage, but he forced himself to be calm for his sister’s sake. They had spoken throughout most of the night, about everything from their current predicament to life back in Brimstone. Eventually, fatigue had claimed them, and they fell asleep in their cages, curled up upon their sides and facing on another through the bars that separated them.
Ginger—in her ‘pretty’ guise—carried a laden tray into the room, setting it down before the cages. Hansel and Gretel warily sat up, turning to face their captor.
“When ya gonna let us go?” Hansel asked the witch.
Ginger smiled radiantly, settling into a lotus position on the floor. “Once I get what I want,” she said, meeting Hansel’s gaze meaningfully.
Gretel frowned as Hansel looked away. “What ya want with him? He ain’t done nothin’!”
Ginger showed polished teeth as she grinned. “And that’s exactly why I want him,” she said.
Gretel frowned. “That don’t make no sense.”
“No, I suppose it wouldn't, not to simpletons like you. But then, you don’t know anything about witches,” Ginger said. “You see, witches can live for a very long time. But to do so, we have to complete certain rituals. Some are very complicated.”
“So what’s that have’ta do with me?” asked Hansel.
“Simple,” responded Ginger, licking her lips lecherously. “I want you to make love to me.”
Hansel balked, nearly retching, recalling the images of Ginger in her hideousness. “No way! You’re a monster!”
Ginger’s face darkened malevolently. “I never said you had a choice, boy,” she glowered. “Now, eat up. I don’t want a single crumb left on those plates.” Abruptly shoving herself to her feet, the witch left the room. Hansel and Gretel both shuddered as the door slammed shut behind her.
“What we gonna do, Greta?” asked Hansel worriedly. “I don’t wanna make it for th’ first time with that nasty old hag!”
Gretel’s eyes shone with sympathy. “I know, Han. But let’s at least eat. Maybe we can figure somethin’ out.”
The twins dragged the tray closer, each taking up a plate loaded with eggs, grits, hashed browns and biscuits.
They had to hold them outside of the cage and feed themselves through the bars.
“Damn! How’m I s'posed’ta eat after what that witch just said? Just th’ thought o’ her naked...ugh!”
* * * *
Ginger returned nearly an hour later, smiling with all the grace and charm of a doting parent upon seeing the empty plates and glasses. She held a small red vial in her hands, cradling it reverently as if it were the Holy Grail. A casual arcane gesture sent the tray with its empty plates sliding across the room, startling the twins.
“I have something for you, Hansel,” she said with a soft, sultry voice. “But first, you need to get out of those clothes.”
Hansel paled. Oh, sweet Jesus...she wants t’ do it now? In front’a Greta? His eyes darted back and forth between the witch and his sister. Gretel stared back, wide-eyed and equally appalled.
Ginger laughed. “No, not yet, sweetie,” she said, as if reading Hansel’s mind. “You may look sweet, but you sure don’t smell like it.”
Hansel blushed deeply in embarrassment, casting his eyes down. Not that he wanted the witch’s favor, but he certainly felt her disapproval.
“Come on, my little man,” Ginger continued, her voice tinged with a patronizing tone. “Get those clothes off, and I’ll let you out so you can take a nice, long shower. Come on, now.”
Hansel hesitated, glancing to his sister. Despite the fact that Gretel was fully nude, Hansel was reluctant. Still, he pulled of his shirt, then his dirty old shoes and socks, peeling them from his skin. The aromas released nearly made his eyes water. Gretel gagged.
“I can smell you from here,” muttered Ginger with disdain. “Go on, take it all off.”
Ashamed, Hansel nevertheless complied, shoving his pants and underwear down to his ankles. Keeping his eyes on the dirty wooden floor of his cage, he stood, naked and degraded, for the witch’s assessment.
“Hmm,” muttered Ginger, letting her eyes wander down the slender man’s form, pausing to inspect his tumescent penis. “I see potential.”
gingerbread Page 5