and her giggling captors. “Hello, boys. Is this exquisite specimen for me?”
Floyd nodded. “Yes ma’am. She’s, like, way above average in the looks department. Naturally, we figured you might take a special interest in her.”
“Uh-huh, that’s right,” Cletus added. “We heard what happened to Janelle and figured you might be in the market for a replacement bitch.”
The goddess was staring into Daphne’s eyes with an avidity that mirrored the expressions of the diner’s patrons. But Daphne had a feeling hers was a different kind of hunger, a hunch given extra credence when the woman’s eyes went to her bosom and lingered there. “You may be right, boys. Get her clothes off.”
“Yes, ma’am, Mama Hunt,” Floyd said.
Daphne ignored the impulse to resist when she felt the men’s hands tugging at her clothes. She didn’t even react when Floyd ran his callused fingers up her leg after removing her denim shorts. She expected violation by now. Struggling would only make things worse in so hopeless a situation—said hopelessness being emphasized by the fate of the woman the butchers had taken down from the beam. She was on a wooden table with a clean strip of wax paper stretched across it. One of the butchers wrenched the blade from her back and forced her to lie flat on the table. She screamed and struggled, the bloody bandages affixed to her ankle stumps sliding over the wax paper. This lasted until the other butcher took the cleaver from his partner and separated her head from her shoulders with a single practiced whack.
But another factor contributed to Daphne’s disregard of the molestation being visited upon her. “You’re Mama Hunt?”
The goddess smiled at Daphne’s incredulity. “I don’t often converse with sows, but the boys are right. You may be a special case. I am actually the fourth Mama Hunt. My name is Vivian Hunt, and I am the latest in a line of Hunt women to run this proud establishment.”
“Why am I a special case?”
Mama Hunt snapped a hand across Daphne’s face.
“That’s for your insolence,” Vivian said, glaring at her. “I said you may be a special case. Your true value has not been determined.”
Vivian cupped one of Daphne’s now bare breasts in a blood-flecked hand. She squeezed it and pushed at the nipple with the ball of a thumb. This time Daphne had to work a little harder to conceal her distaste for the way she was being handled. There were other explorations as the woman’s hand came away from her breast, her fingertips trailing lightly over Daphne’s taut stomach muscles before sliding between her legs. She probed at Daphne’s sex for a few moments before she abruptly withdrew her hand.
Floyd coughed nervously. “There a problem?”
Vivian snorted. “She’s dry as a bone.”
“Well, hold on a minute,” Cletus put in, sounding concerned in the way of a used car salesman who senses he’s on the verge of losing a commission. “She’s just scared. You get her settled in up at your place, you might have a whole different situation.”
A thoughtful look crossed Vivian’s features as she gave Daphne another up-and-down appraisal. “Possible. I need to think on it some. For now you boys get the standard rate.” She cut a look at the kidnappers to head off additional protests. “If I change my mind, you’ll get the bonus. In the meantime…” She snapped her fingers at one of the aproned men. “Klaus! Hoist this one up.”
One of the butchers turned away from his bloody work. Clutched in his right hand was a bone saw. He had been using it to cut through the dead woman’s ribs. Klaus shook the bone saw, flinging bits of slimy tissue from the blade. He glanced at Daphne, his gaze briefly flicking downward in a meaningful way. “Shall I remove the feet?”
Daphne started shaking. “No. Please. No. Whatever you want, I’ll--”
Vivian slapped her again, harder this time. “No, Klaus. I may yet have an alternate use for this one.
Floyd nodded. “Yes ma’am. She’s, like, way above average in the looks department. Naturally, we figured you might take a special interest in her.”
“Uh-huh, that’s right,” Cletus added. “We heard what happened to Janelle and figured you might be in the market for a replacement bitch.”
The goddess was staring into Daphne’s eyes with an avidity that mirrored the expressions of the diner’s patrons. But Daphne had a feeling hers was a different kind of hunger, a hunch given extra credence when the woman’s eyes went to her bosom and lingered there. “You may be right, boys. Get her clothes off.”
“Yes, ma’am, Mama Hunt,” Floyd said.
Daphne ignored the impulse to resist when she felt the men’s hands tugging at her clothes. She didn’t even react when Floyd ran his callused fingers up her leg after removing her denim shorts. She expected violation by now. Struggling would only make things worse in so hopeless a situation—said hopelessness being emphasized by the fate of the woman the butchers had taken down from the beam. She was on a wooden table with a clean strip of wax paper stretched across it. One of the butchers wrenched the blade from her back and forced her to lie flat on the table. She screamed and struggled, the bloody bandages affixed to her ankle stumps sliding over the wax paper. This lasted until the other butcher took the cleaver from his partner and separated her head from her shoulders with a single practiced whack.
But another factor contributed to Daphne’s disregard of the molestation being visited upon her. “You’re Mama Hunt?”
The goddess smiled at Daphne’s incredulity. “I don’t often converse with sows, but the boys are right. You may be a special case. I am actually the fourth Mama Hunt. My name is Vivian Hunt, and I am the latest in a line of Hunt women to run this proud establishment.”
“Why am I a special case?”
Mama Hunt snapped a hand across Daphne’s face.
“That’s for your insolence,” Vivian said, glaring at her. “I said you may be a special case. Your true value has not been determined.”
Vivian cupped one of Daphne’s now bare breasts in a blood-flecked hand. She squeezed it and pushed at the nipple with the ball of a thumb. This time Daphne had to work a little harder to conceal her distaste for the way she was being handled. There were other explorations as the woman’s hand came away from her breast, her fingertips trailing lightly over Daphne’s taut stomach muscles before sliding between her legs. She probed at Daphne’s sex for a few moments before she abruptly withdrew her hand.
Floyd coughed nervously. “There a problem?”
Vivian snorted. “She’s dry as a bone.”
“Well, hold on a minute,” Cletus put in, sounding concerned in the way of a used car salesman who senses he’s on the verge of losing a commission. “She’s just scared. You get her settled in up at your place, you might have a whole different situation.”
A thoughtful look crossed Vivian’s features as she gave Daphne another up-and-down appraisal. “Possible. I need to think on it some. For now you boys get the standard rate.” She cut a look at the kidnappers to head off additional protests. “If I change my mind, you’ll get the bonus. In the meantime…” She snapped her fingers at one of the aproned men. “Klaus! Hoist this one up.”
One of the butchers turned away from his bloody work. Clutched in his right hand was a bone saw. He had been using it to cut through the dead woman’s ribs. Klaus shook the bone saw, flinging bits of slimy tissue from the blade. He glanced at Daphne, his gaze briefly flicking downward in a meaningful way. “Shall I remove the feet?”
Daphne started shaking. “No. Please. No. Whatever you want, I’ll--”
Vivian slapped her again, harder this time. “No, Klaus. I may yet have an alternate use for this one.
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