{ASSTR} The Judge’s Family Terror {Animal} (M+f+ MF, rp, forced oral, scat, fist, tort, etc)
Home invasion, of a judge’s vacation cottage, by a vindictive crew of sadists and rapists
THE JUDGE’S FAMILY TERROR, by Animal
“Court is in recess,” announced Judge Bryan Franklin, banging his gavel. At thirty-nine, he had been on the bench for three years, was still one of the youngest Criminal Court judges in the history of the state. He was known as a tough, but fair jurist, and had never been reversed.
“All rise,” ordered his Bailiff, George Adamson, his teammate from high school football, and best man at both of his weddings.
Bryan rose, smiled at the court regulars, mostly admiring women, and retired to his chambers. George followed him a few moments later, as Bryan was hanging up his robe. “A whole month off!” George said, envious, “Going up to the lake?”
Bryan nodded. “Hey, you’ve got some time coming, why don’t you come up?”
“I’d just be in your way, Bryan.”
“Bullshit! I’d be happy to have some male company. A month alone with three females . . .”
“Yeah, three beautiful females. You’re a lucky son of a bitch, Bryan.” George had been divorced for many years.
“I know, I know. But I mean it. Take some time off and join us. Bring Sherri up, if she wants.”
Sherri was George’s nineteen-year-old daughter.
“I just might. There’s a few fish in that lake I’ve never caught.”
“Groceries first, then bags,” LeeAnn announced pleasantly as Bryan stopped the car beside the cottage.
They had always called it ‘the cottage,’ but it would almost qualify as a mansion. It had been built by LeeAnn’s grandfather, who had been a Justice of the State Supreme Court. Built of stone and timber, it had a full basement, five bedrooms, four and a half baths, and a commanding view of the lake and the mountains to the south.
“Okay, Sergeant,” laughed sixteen-year-old Karen as she opened the liftgate at the back of the Grand Cherokee. She and her sister, fifteen-year-old Andrea, each grabbed two bags of groceries as LeeAnn unlocked the side door of the cottage.
Bryan and LeeAnn picked up the remaining four bags of groceries and followed the girls in, and up the steps to the kitchen.
They heard the terrorizing sound of a racking shotgun behind them.
“Just put the groceries down,” growled a deep voice, “and don’t make any sudden moves. We’ve got guns.”
Two men with handguns entered from the dining room; a tall, bald man and a slender, younger man with greasy hair.
“Who . . . are you?” Bryan asked. “What do you want?”
“We’ll get around to that in time,” said the bearded man with the shotgun. “For now, we’re the people with guns and knives, and you’re the people without. I said put the groceries down,” he growled. “On the table, now!”
Bryan nodded, and the girls, and then LeeAnn placed their grocery bags on the heavy old table in the center of the kitchen, and Bryan put his bags next to them. “Okay, we did,” he said. “We aren’t going to be any trouble. Please, take what you want and leave.”
“Living room,” the bearded man ordered.
The larger man with a handgun led them through the dining room and into the huge front room of the cottage, and the bearded leader and the skinny third man followed them. The room was impressive: a vaulted ceiling, a huge fieldstone fireplace, solid wooden paneling, and a balcony across the rear of the room.
A pretty, slender brunette was waiting for them. Bryan thought she looked familiar.
“Girls, on the couch,” the leader ordered, gesturing with the shotgun.
Andrea and Karen were pale, despite their healthy tans. They meekly went to the heavy leather couch and sat down.
“You,” to LeeAnn, “the big chair for now.”
The leader nodded to the two men. “Ropes.”
They began tying the girls’ wrists in front of them. “Don’t, Please,” they sobbed.
“I know you,” Bryan blurted, “Carson, Martin Carson.”
“You got a great memory, your fucking honor,” the bearded man replied.
It was one of Bryan’s cases as a young Assistant District Attorney. Bryan had prosecuted Martin Carson, then twenty-four, for the statutory rape of a fourteen-year-old. He turned toward the brunette, and you’re . . . Lynda Benedict.”
“You said you wanted to make an example of me,” Carson said angrily. “I had a job, responsibilities, and I wanted to marry her.”
“My parents didn’t like me seeing an older man, and I talked him into getting me pregnant so they’d have to let us get married,” the brunette added.
“But you didn’t want to hear that,” Carson said, “you wanted headlines so you could get elected as DA. Shit, you didn’t even have any opposition. I was going to vote for you myself! I had a business, a gas station, and I was taking care of my mother! I wanted to marry Lynda! But you called me a pervert and made sure I went to prison as a child molester!” He turned toward LeeAnn, “and your old man sentenced me! Ten to twenty!”
“My parents made me have the baby,” said Lynda, “and then give it up.”
“I had a job to do,” explained Bryan. “I was ambitious, young … I’m sorry that things worked out the way they did for you. And although I didn’t do anything wrong, I think I’d do things different now.”
“That sure makes up for a lot,” said Carson angrily. “Back up against that post.”
Bryan backed against one of the posts that supported the balcony.
“Hands up, and behind the post.”
Lynda snapped police handcuffs on Bryan’s wrists above his head and behind the post.
“This isn’t a good idea, Martin,” said Bryan as evenly as he could. “Whatever you’re planning, you won’t get away with it.”
“Planning? You’re right, your fucking honor. I’ve been planning. For years. And you’re wrong, we will get away with it.”
“I’m telling you … ” Bryan began.
“Shut the fuck up! When you talk out of turn, someone gets hurt. Donkey, show the man.”
The big gunman punched LeeAnn in the abdomen. She crumpled to the floor, hands to her tummy.
“LeeAnn!” cried Bryan.
“One of the girls is next, smart mouth. Got something to say?”
Bryan swallowed and bit his lip.
“We’ve got some rules,” Carson said in a pleasant tone. “Rule one is to keep quiet, unless we ask you something or tell you to speak. You just had a mild example of the kind of thing that happens when one of you breaks rule one. You don’t get punished; someone else gets punished.
“Rule two is do what you are told, when and how you are told to do it. Break rule two and another family member gets punished.
“We’ll make other rules as we go along. Now, your fucking honor, do you understand rules one and two?”
Clenching his teeth, Bryan nodded.
Carson looked at him for a moment, then turned and watched as the big man called Donkey pulled LeeAnn to her feet. “You, Cunt! Did you hear rules one and two?”
Leanne’s eyes widened. “What did … ” She realized she was about to get someone else hurt, “Yes, I heard them.”
“I’m gonna love this,” Carson said. He turned toward the frightened girls. “You two, do you understand the rules?”
Andrea and Karen both nodded, trembling.
“Okay. Rule three is you always tell the truth.” He looked at the girls. “Have either of you ever seen your dad’s cock?”
“No!” they gasped, almost in unison.
Carson looked at Lynda, who began unfastening Bryan’s belt.
“Please, Martin, don’t do this,” Bryan begged. “Leave them out of whatever you are going to do. They had nothing to do with anything that happened to you.”
Lynda pulled the belt out of the loops.
“That’s a rule one violation,” said Carson. “Pete, Stand one of the girls up.”
The skinny man grabbed Karen’s bound wrists and jerked her to her feet. The blonde teenager was terrified.
“Lynda, use the belt.”
Lynda lashed Karen across her buttocks five times with Bryan’s belt. Karen cried out in pain, and Pete pushed her back to the couch.
Lynda unzipped Bryan’s Dockers, unbuttoned the waist, and jerked them down past his knees. Bryan had remained athletic in adulthood, and was only five pounds over his college graduation weight. He jogged five miles three times a week, and worked out at least half an hour daily.
“Nice legs,” Lynda drawled as she ran her hand from his knee to the pouch of his low-rise bikini briefs. “Not too hairy.” She cupped his genitals and chuckled.
She knelt and held the Dockers. “Step out of them,” she ordered.
Bryan let her help him take off his slacks, and then his sneakers and socks. He already felt naked, although he still wore a golf shirt and the briefs.
“Looks like girl’s skivvies,” said Donkey.
“Maybe they are,” Pete added.
Lynda was still kneeling in front of Bryan. She Reached up and grabbed the elastic waist of his briefs, and tugged them down a couple inches.
“Tell his fucking honor what happened to you after they took the kid away,” Bryan said.
“My parents were convinced that I was a slut, and they convinced me too,” she said, tugging Bryan’s briefs a little lower, “so I became one. I let the boy next door fuck me, and then the paper boy when he came to collect, and they both had friends.”
Bryan felt the elastic of his briefs slide down and press against the root of his penis. He bit his lip as it slid lower, knowing that part of his penis was exposed. To his daughters!
She pulled slowly down. “I quit school, and ran away.”
Now only the head of his penis was covered.
“I worked the streets in San Diego, L.A., Phoenix.” She jerked the shorts down past his knees. “Went to Dallas and worked in some gentlemen’s clubs.” She fondled Bryan’s penis and cupped his testicles.
He couldn’t help it; he felt the tingle.
“Oh, yes,” Lynda said, “Nice cock!” she teased it some more. “Nude dancing, lap dances, and occasional trips to the back rooms. Most of them wanted blowjobs. But others wanted to fuck, some fucked me in the ass, and some just jacked off on my tits or my face.”
“Look at it!” Carson ordered the girls.
They turned away.
“Rule two, both of them. Lynda?”
Lynda picked up the belt and lashed Bryan across the abdomen, then again just above his pubic patch. The next one was across the tops of his thighs and penis, and elicited a grunt. She paused and grinned at him, and then looked down at his cock. He shook his head and gasped, and she laid another lash across his thighs and the slightly tumescent shaft of his penis. One more. A little lower, stinging the head of his penis. Bryan let out an agonized groan.
“Now look,” Carson again ordered the girls.
Bryan closed his eyes as his teenaged daughters were forced to look at his naked loins and Lynda caressed him into full hardness.
Carson laughed. “I read somewhere that it is more humiliating for a man to be stripped and exposed than if he is forced to do it himself. I wonder how they set up a lab experiment to prove it.” He laughed again and looked at LeeAnn. “And the opposite is true of women. Lynda, you got the shoes?”
Lynda held up a pair of red stiletto pumps, with extremely high heels. “What size do you wear, Bitch?” she asked LeeAnn.
LeeAnn swallowed. “Seven and a half, usually.”
“Put these on. They’re sevens.”
LeeAnn was about to object that the shoes were too small, but she saw the gleam in Carson’s eyes. He was waiting for her to speak out of turn or to refuse. She kicked off her sandals and forces her feet into the pumps. They were just small enough to hurt, and she was unsteady in heels anyway.
Bryan couldn’t help but notice how long and sleek her legs looked.
“The shirt first,” Carson told her. “Try to make it look sexy.”
LeeAnn slowly pulled her tee shirt up, over her face, and then over her head. She slowly slid each slender arm from the short sleeves, and looked unsure of what to do with the shirt.
Donkey took it, and tossed it into the cold fireplace.
“Tits don’t look very big, Martin,” said Pete.
“Let’s see. Show us, Cunt! And remember, make it sexy.”
Her bra was plain white. She reached behind her and released the single hook, and then shrugged the straps from her shoulders. She pulled each arm through, holding the cups in place with the other arm, and finally, she handed it to Donkey, who threw it into the fireplace.
LeeAnn’s face reddened as she felt her nipples stiffen.
“Not very big, but nice and firm,” Donkey said. “And great nipples!”
“What size?” Carson asked.
LeeAnn hesitated. She gulped. “Thirty-four. B”
“Pete?”
The skinny man pulled the bra from the sooty fireplace and looked for the label. “Thirty-four B,” he said.
“Good girl,” Carson said to LeeAnn. “Play with them.”
“I . . .” LeeAnn cupped her own breasts and kneaded them gently. She pushed them up, and then flattened them against her ribs, then squeezed them again.
“Nips too,” Carson ordered, “Pull on them.”
She wished they weren’t erect. She teased her nipples and fondled her breasts for a few more minutes, afraid to stop or one of them would hurt Bryan or the girls. She had babysat those girls when they were toddlers, and then when their mother was dying of cancer.
Bryan had been a protégé of her father’s, and she had known him most of her life. She’d had a teenage crush on him, even when he was married to Sharon, and after Sharon died she realized how much she had grown to love him and his daughters.
She had seen him often while she was in college, but they never dated and she never told him of her feelings until her graduation, when he gave her a big congratulatory kiss. She remembered how surprised he looked when she kissed him back passionately.
The girls had been delighted when he told him he wanted to marry her, and although it was always clear she was in charge, the three of them were more like sisters than stepparent and children.
She decided she would do anything they told her, no matter what, so that her family would not be hurt.
“Now the shorts.”
She unfastened her khaki shorts and slid them down her long legs. She risked a glance at Lynda, and realized that the dancer’s legs weren’t as good as hers.
She saw that Bryan was still hard, and the other men had shifted to allow their erections some room. She wanted to cry.
Donkey tossed her shorts into the fireplace.
“You gotta tease with your ass,” Lynda told her, “and show the beaver last.”
She had seen this in a movie, and she tried to do it the same way. She faced away from Carson, leaned forward and inched her briefs halfway down her buttocks, then faced him and pulled the front down to her mons. Another turn, and slid them down and off her buttocks, then forward and slide them down her thighs.
Donkey tossed them after her other clothes.
“Parade, show Pete everything,” Carson ordered.
LeeAnn stood in front of Pete and slowly turned. She gasped when he cupped her breasts and squeezed them, and she almost objected when he pulled her to him, cupped her buttocks and spread them.
“Now Donkey.”
Donkey stroked her blonde pubes, which she kept trimmed to wear a bikini. She held her breath when he slid his fat finger between her puffy pussy lips and fingered her swelling clitoris. She was getting wet!
“Her too.” Carson ordered, gesturing toward Lynda.
Lynda grinned triumphantly. She knew LeeAnn didn’t recognize her, but she remembered how the popular judge’s daughter always acted like a princess in junior high and high school. She stroked LeeAnn’s breasts and teased the thick pink nipples even more erect, and then stroked the blonde’s clitoris until she let out a gasp. “I also learned to like girls,” Lynda said with a grin.
“Okay, over to the fireplace.”
LeeAnn was puzzled for a moment, then Carson handed her a metal can of charcoal lighter. “Squirt this on your clothes.”