The Pussycat Gang









1 pm, the Richmond Mansion on Upper Fifth Avenue, New York.


Heather Smith was a pretty rather than a beautiful girl. About 5” 6” in her stocking feet, she had been the nanny to the Richmond children for nearly 18 months. She tossed her short, chic, blonde hair as she heard the doorbell ring. The job wasn’t precisely what she had dreamed of while she was majoring in art history at Yale, but the pay was good, and the family was wonderful, and she couldn’t say she was unhappy. The job even had turned out to have some unexpected fringe benefits.

Her employer Ms Alexandra, or as she preferred to be called, Sandy Richmond was a busy interior decorator, with a flourishing practice, and a full social calendar. It hadn’t taken long for Heather to discover life was never dull in the Richmond household. Her charges were bright and inquisitive and her employer caring and generous. All in all life really could be a lot worse.


At the third ring, Heather answered the door, and a rather distinguished looking man in a banker’s suit and camel overcoat stepped inside.


“Hello Heather – is Sandy here?”


Heather stood to one side and allowed the tall man to walk in.  “She’s just talking to a client,” she said as she closed the door behind her, “I’ll tell her you’re…”




“Hey there,” he said as a nine year old boy and eight year old girl ran up and embraced him.  “All ready to spend the weekend at my place?”


“Of course we are – are we going to go to the zoo tomorrow?”


“If you want,” he said as a woman came to the hallway.  She was dressed in a cashmere sweater and long slacks, her auburn hair held back by a black scarf.


As she always had her glorious good looks took his breath away. There was a reason why she had been the New York debutante of the year, she exuded sophisticated beauty, he had been so lucky to catch her, and well then…he had been rather stupid. It had cost him both his wife and his marriage. He’d probably regret it to his dying day.


“Hello Sandy,” he said as Heather fetched two bags, and took them to give them to her employer’s ex-husband’s driver waiting by the car outside, “You look well.”


“Thank you George, so do you,” Alexandra Richmond said as she allowed her ex a polite peck on her cheeks. Turning she hugged and kissed her children.  “How is Allison?” she asked backwards over her shoulder as she fussed over a chocolate spot on her daughter’s cheek.


“She’s fine, she started a new job this week.”


“Well give her my best wishes,” she said.  It wasn’t sincere - Allison as far as Sandy was concerned was a conniving bitch, but she tried to keep things pleasant and civilised in front of the children. “Now, be nice for your father, do your homework, and I will see you on Sunday, all right?”


“Yes, Mom,” they chorused as they took his hands and walked out with him. 


“Thank goodness for mandatory state holidays,” Heather said as she and Sandy waved the car off.


“Anyway we have other things to do,” Sandy reminded Heather politely. “Are you all set to go?”


“Oh Lords, and I certainly can’t be late can I?” Heather smiled a sly grin at her employer.


“Indeed – you had better get going.  Juliette will be expecting you.”


“True,” Heather said as she pulled a leather jacket over her white blouse, and stepped out, “See you later.”


“Be safe,” Sandy gave the nanny a long lingering kiss full on the lips. “Be careful my lover.”


Oh yes that was one of the unexpected fringe benefits of Heather’s job.



2.30 pm – Conde Nast publishers, corner of Lexington and E47th, New York


“All done?” Anna Mitchell the Fashion Editor of Complete Style magazine called out as she entered her friend’s office.


Juliette Huntingdown looked up from her laptop and closed it, her long red nails caressing the machine.  “Finished and filed,” she said as she looked at her editor, “and I have to get going.   Time and tide wait for no daughter.”


“Oh yeah – weekend in Vegas.  Have fun – and don’t gamble too much.”


“I never gamble – this is Britney she wants to see,” Juliette said as she stood up, and adjusted the shawl hanging over her left shoulder.  “I will see you on Monday.”


Anna grinned inwardly, of course Juliette never gambled. It wouldn’t have suited her at all, gambling would be putting something to chance, and for all the years she had known her she had never known her to take to a single risk. Juliette was always cool, calm, collected, seemingly never under any pressure. How she managed to be a single mother of a teenager, an award winning fashion writer, but still keep a very discreet private life amazed Anna. Anna was on her third husband and beginning to discover that booze maybe made a better love, she chain smoked incessantly. How many times had she asked herself what she was doing wrong and Juliette was doing right?


Juliette stood up, her full 5’ 10” showing that she had retained much of her model figure despite the rigours of childbirth, picked up her bag, slipped the laptop in, and walked out, the heels of her Jimmy Choo shoes clicking on the floor as she approached the lift.  Descending to the underground car park, she soon found her Mercedes and slipped behind the wheel, driving smoothly off towards Grand Central station.


The mid town traffic was a bitch – so what else was new?  Ass she headed up Fifth Avenue, however, she was as usual precisely on time.


As she pulled up outside, Heather opened the passenger door and headed in.  “Perfect timing,” Juliette said as she drove off, “Let’s hit the road.”



3.30 pm – East 87th Street, outside St Angela’s Academy for Young Ladies


The girls were pouring out of the ornate double gates, chatting and laughing in their uniforms.  All wore an open necked white blouse, grey sleeveless sweater, a knee length pleated red tartan skirt, a red jacket, white socks and black shoes.


The two girls waiting for their lift outside the school made an unusual pair.  Carina Huntingdown was 5’3” tall, curvy with a figure and face that even at the age of 16 had half the men in New York falling for her at a single glance.  Her blonde hair framed a pleasant face, with a pair of wire rimmed glasses accentuating her blue eyes.


By contrast, Abigail de Ros was tall at 5’10”, pencil thin, and forced by her mother to not wear makeup, a bit like an unattractive Stork.  She was the shyer of the pair by a mile.


That they were best friends was in itself a surprise, the popular junior Carina, and Abby the ungainly 14 year old freshman, but Abby had known Carina since she was a baby and Carina had always been like her big sister, including her in all of her doings, and sticking up for her.


They had always known each other secrets, but nowadays Abby, or “Stick” as she was known to so many of her fellow students at St Angela’s Academy, knew a dark secret about her best friend Carina – one that she would not even have dreamed possible 18 months ago. To all the other Angels, as St Angela’s girls called themselves, Carina was the near perfect young lady, sporty, good at academics, popular with staff and students, the “Perfect Angel” as she had once been described. As the other girls waved and said their byes only Abigail knew that behind Carina’s veneer lay a cold blooded and sadistic murderess who enjoyed torturing then killing her victims.


Some boys leaning out of a car drove by making disgusting comments at the Angels. Abby called out “do you kiss your mothers with those mouths assholes?” as she flipped them off. The guys drove away to a barrage of other ribald yells and gestures from the Angels. Inwardly Abby blamed the TV series ‘Gossip Girl’ everyone had such a screwed idea from that show how New York private school girls really were.


Kennedy Fratton waved as she climbed into her Uncle’s Mercedes. Kennedy was certainly a lot nicer since her parent’s death. Previously she had been the school bully and had made Abby’s life hell her first few months at St Angela’s with her taunts about Abigail being flat chested, and her “little jokes” aimed at humiliating Abby.


Now she was a kinder person, ever since her parent’s horrific murders during the robbery of their high-end jewellery store. Abby smiled a secret little smile thinking back to the anguished cries of Kennedy’s mother as Carina held burning matches to her nipples, burning her, encouraging her to tell her husband to open the safe. Abby felt a particular joy that she had ended the life of her tormentor’s mother with a bullet in the back of her head, after the safe had been opened - somehow it seemed fair turnabout for the abuse the bitch of a daughter had given her.


Carina had absorbed fully her mother’s philosophy of crime. It was Juliette’s view that a bad woman had to be at least twice as ruthless as a man to be taken seriously, twice as prepared to use violence, and twice as prepared to kill. Well certainly that description matched Carina. On a job she was pure viciousness. Abby thought on some of the scenes she had been witness to.


Abigail had thought often and hard on a certain question. Had she and Carina been born sadists or had circumstances made them both so? Her sociology teacher called it Nature versus Nurture, were we born as we are, or do we learn behaviours. Abby knew that she found it sexually pleasurable torturing and killing; she had orgasmed while she did it, and she masturbated to fantasies of it.


She could feel that familiar damp feeling between her legs as she day dreamed…


“Abigail!  Carina!”


Abigail was shaken from her dreams back to the present.


The two girls picked up their bags and walked quickly to the Jaguar parked at the kerb.  Standing by the car was Abby’s mother, Diana de Ros, her arms folded as she tapped her toe in impatience.  Technically she was the Countess de Ros, but who in New York used such silly titles? Her husband had, but he had been a complete snob right up until his unfortunate death in a car accident in the French Alps – an accident that had left Diana and her daughter very well off.


She was blonde haired, and dressed in a Versace black pant suit, a silk scarf tied round her neck and tucked into the jacket.  She looked every inch the French beauty she was in her youth – the only daughter of a French nobleman, she had been taught alongside her four brothers to hunt, and to shoot to kill.  A skill she had put to good use with a sniper’s rifle, taking revenge on her cheating husband.


“Sorry Mama,” Abigail said as they placed their bags in the trunk of the car, and then climbed in the back, “We did not see you there.”


“Indeed?  All set for a weekend in Connecticut? Well, buckle in – we have to try to get to the Freeway before the traffic gets too bad,” Diana said as she started the engine and the car moved smoothly off.





5 pm – The Farmhouse


The Mercedes drove up the quiet road and stopped, Heather getting out and opening the large barn doors to allow Juliette to drive in.  Once inside, she waited for her partner to come out, and closed the doors.


The farmhouse was the perfect hideout. Isolated at the end of a dead end street, no one came there; most people didn’t know it even existed.   Apart from the large white main building, there were a number of large barns and a vast grazing area, surrounded by woods. 


Diana’s husband had bought it years before with vague plans to renovate and maybe use it as a weekend retreat, but beyond some routine maintenance nothing had ever got done before his death. So here it lay, deep in the woods of Southern Connecticut - a hidden place that was the perfect headquarters for the gang’s activities.


“We’d better hurry and change,” Juliette said as she looked at her watch, “or we’ll be late.”


The two women walked to the front door of the farmhouse, Juliette fishing out a set of keys before they went in.





7.30 pm


Tommy the Fish had got his name working the fishing boats, but he had found his vocation in dealing with clients who wished to buy guns…discreetly.  He was in his late fifties, dressed casually, didn’t look out of place, and drove a nice modest Ford Magnum.   He was still nervous, however, checking his mirrors again before turning.


Tommy didn’t like being out of New York City, but for these particular clients he was prepared to travel. The old abandoned barn on Long Island was out of the way; he’d driven past the road leading up to it three times before he’d found it. He hoped to God he wasn’t late, as he knew to his cost that you didn’t worry these people.


The Fish was connected, he’d been doing business with the families for years, but the mob had never scared him in the way these clients did. The mafia killed you it was business. These bitches “enjoyed” doing it. He’d read in the papers some of the things they’d done, it chilled his bones. That jeweller and his wife they’d tortured them for a couple of hours or more. That wasn’t normal, even in the Fish’s world. That bank manager in Connecticut they’d killed his whole family, right down to his little girl.


“Brrrrrr,” the Fish let out an involuntary sound, these bitches was just plain evil.


The broken and gnarly index finger on his right hand suddenly started throbbing. It bore witness to the brutality of these women. The Fish shivered as he remembered. She’d used a pair of nutcrackers to break it several times, working up and down the finger while the other bitch held him down.


Honest to God he hadn’t been trying to follow them, it was a coincidence he was on the road going the same direction at the same time, but that hadn’t mattered to them. He’d been punished for his indiscretions and he knew from the papers that worse awaited him if he ever really crossed them up.


He drove in the open barn and the doors swung closed behind him. Slowly Tommy got out of his van. As usual there were two of them. She Bitches as Tommy thought of them. As usual they were dressed to kill, “pray God not literally” the Fish thought to himself.


Both women were wearing tailored blue jackets and knee length skirts, dark stockings and black leather shoes with four-inch heels.  They also wore black gloves, and stockings covered their heads, their black hair held down by the stretched nylon. He’d speculated what they looked like really, without the distortion from the stocking, but that was way back, he wasn’t interested who they were, it was healthier not knowing.


Each always wore a silk scarf.  The taller of the two had a Hermes scarf with a horse pattern, tied at her throat by a clasp that was shaped like a panther crouching, the two diamond eyes looking at him as the ends were tucked into her jacket.


The smaller woman wore her scarf like a cravat, the front of the black silk tucked into her jacket, the ends down her back.  On the lapel of her jacket was a brooch in gold and black, with blue sapphire eyes in the cat’s face. It looked like a cheetah.


“Got what we asked for Tommy?” the slightly taller one asked. She’d been the bitch with the nutcrackers.


“Yeah, I got it,” the Fish mumbled out his reply. These women truly scared him and he wanted out of there as soon as possible.  He opened the back doors of his van and waited.


“I do hope these are clean Tommy,” the slightly shorter one said in her modulated, slow, and calm way. “I’d hate for us to have to become dissatisfied customers because these have some nasty history that could be used against us.” Tommy had thought at one time these women had spoken in honed tones, now he knew better, it was pure acid.


“No Ma’am,” the Fish almost genuflected, “they are totally clean, I got them in from a supplier in California who bought them legit.”


“Did you do as we asked?” the taller woman asked in what sounded like a polite tone, but which the Fish knew to be a veiled threat.


“Yes Ma’am,” the Fish quickly replied, “all serial numbers removed, all the ammo you asked for is there…. everything’s good.”


For a moment he stood there shifting from foot as he waited for an answer, watching the smaller woman as she looked in the back of the van.


“Good,” the shorter woman interrupted the silence. “Your money is in the trunk, pick it up when you put our things in there please.”  Tommy breathed a sigh of relief as he removed the two canvas bags from his van, and walked to a waiting Ford Galaxy, the two women watching him the whole time.   He removed the briefcase inside, closed the trunk and walked back.


“Do you not wish to check the payment?” the taller woman said.


“No Ma’am – I know your word is good,” Tommy said, his finger itching as he did so.  Placing the case in his cab, he got in and drove off, the doors to the barn opening and closing behind him. He felt himself shaking, those bitches were pure poison, the minimum amount of time he had to spend with them was too long.


“Okay he’s gone,” Heather moved away from the crack in the door she’d been observing The Fish through, Cooley, calmly she pulled the nylon off of her head, shaking her head as it came off. “You know he virtually crapped his pants?”


“I noticed,” Juliette smiled an evil little grin as she took her mask off. “Anyone would think we’d hurt him at sometime!”





8.30 pm


Sandy Richmond gunned her Maserati along the shady Connecticut lanes, she was late and she knew if there was one thing that Juliette demanded when the gang was on a job it was totally perfect timing and discipline.


Normally she’d have driven up I-95 from the city to get to Connecticut, but she had more than enough speeding tickets gathered on that particular road, and with the cargo she was carrying country roads seemed the best alternative.


“Slow down,” she told herself aloud, “you can’t get pulled over by a cop for speeding.”   Mentally she shook herself, remembering the cargo of guns she was carrying in the trunk. Guns she would have a hard time explaining to a cop. For a moment a little thought crossed her mind, “Is there a good way to explain a sawn-off shotgun to a cop?”


“No” she shook herself again, “slow down Alexandra.“  As much as she loved driving fast she had too much to lose. Slowly she brought the Maserati’s speed down till it was under the limit. 


George coming to pick up the kids had upset her more than she was willing to let on. When she thought of him and the bimbo her heart literally boiled, that he’d left her for that creature wasn’t just hurtful, it was insulting. Still she told herself, channel the rage, channel the anger. She grinned to herself; someone would pay a price for how she felt at that moment.


She kept driving, before turning up a quiet road and through a tree lined avenue, eventually arriving at the farmhouse.


Abigail was walking across the yard when she saw Sandy drive up.  Moving quickly, she opened the barn doors, waiting as Sandy stopped, turned off the engine and collected her bag, before closing the doors again behind her.


“Sorry I’m late,” she panted.


“You’re not – you’re right on time.  Juliette and Heather should be back in 30 minutes, so we’re cooking dinner.”


“Hello Sandy,” Diana said as the two women walked in, and she embraced her friend, “Safe drive.”


“Yeah – had to keep myself in check though.  What’s cooking?”


“Chicken stew and dumplings.  Good French provincial food. We need a good meal tonight – lot to do tomorrow.”


“Yeah,” Sandy said as another car pulled up. 


“That’s them,” Abby said as a horn sounded, and she went out.


“Tell your Mother I have the sawn-offs,” Sandy shouted after Carina’s back as they headed out the door.


After the meal, the six of them sat round the table, going over the plans as Juliette told them the arrangements.


“Sounds good,” Carina said with a yawn, “So we spilt up tomorrow?”


“We split up tomorrow – be back here by four.”





10 am, Pop’s Coffee Shop, Lewis Street, Greenwich, Connecticut


“I hate these mandatory school days,” the grey haired waitress said to her colleague, “They all want to hang around here.”  She looked again at the group of ten high school students, and shook her head before walking to the booth.


“Want refills,” she said to the two girls sitting there.  They were both wearing sweatshirts, denim shorts over leggings and runners, and were looking intently at a laptop. Two more kids she thought silently, and these two aren’t even local, still at least they have some manners.  Perhaps they were waiting for their mothers to go to Lululemon Athletics?


“Yeah, thanks please – and two more slices of pie,” Carina said as she handed the plates back to the waitress.  She then looked at the brown haired girl who was talking to the boys, her white t-shirt cut low to show off her developing chest, and her skirt a little too short.


“Right little cockteaser, isn’t she,” she whispered to Abigail, who simply nodded in reply. “She’d be cute if she didn’t try so hard and obviously to turn guys on.”


“Have a look at her Facebook page,” she said as she indicated the screen to Carina.  A beaming picture of the girl appeared under the name “Megan Markham,” and as she scrolled down and looked at the posts made, Carina let out a low whistle.


“She really does lead them on, doesn’t she,” Carina said as she looked back over.


“Yeah, I’m going to enjoy taking care of her tonight,” Abby said, and Carina could see the light of evil in her eyes.


“Question,” Abby said as she looked closely at the page, “says here she goes to Greenwich High.  Bit downmarket for her isn’t it?”


“Want to look at her permanent record,” Carina said as she typed some more, and brought up the file.  As she read it, she said, “Oh my – she does seem to have a problem controlling her desires in front of the teachers.  Seems she’s been expelled or barred from almost...”


“Here you go.”


Just as suddenly, Abigail smiled and said “thank you” to the waitress, watching as the group got out and left.  “Do we follow them,” Carina said as she looked at her friend.


“No – we know where to find her,” Abigail said as she brought up a project for them to work on.


Outside the Greenwich branch of the Bank of Long Island Sound, Sandy watched as the middle aged couple talked.  He was in his late forties, balding and dressed in a dark suit, white shirt and blue tie.  The woman was of a similar age, wearing a short sleeved yellow dress with white trim and a white belt, with white heels.


They kissed and walked in different directions, the man back into the bank, the woman to a nearby hairdresser.  “How nice,” Sandy thought to herself, “A hairdo to make the evening special…”


The gang always spent the day before the job making last minute checks, ensuring that nothing had changed, there were no strangers around, and that all was it had been when they cased the job. Any differences they’d pack up and go home. Armed robbery was a dangerous occupation, but getting caught was far worse. So safety first was always the motto.


Once again Sandy gave thanks for Juliette’s incredible skills in research and planning. Risks were cut to a minimum, no chances taken. Everything was planned to the second. Truly it was crime made easy, all she and the others really need do was just follow Juliette’s orders.


Sandy had driven the routes they’d be using twice, once last night, the other this morning. All clear, no work being done on the roads, no obvious hold ups, all should run very smoothly.


Anyway all looked like it always had at the bank, nothing strange, no added security. Sandy glanced at her watch; she had time for a quick Cappuccino before her next appointment.


Setting off from W Elm Street, she turned down Greenwich Avenue, past the fashion stores and boutiques, and then turned left into Bruce Place.  She smiled as she drove past the Police compound – if only they knew...



12 pm

Ridgeway Shopping Centre, Stamford, Connecticut


The shopping mall in Stamford was the perfect place to go shopping for a couple of nice anonymous SUV’s. Stamford was perfect, wealthy residents, low crime rate; women dashing to the stores were careless.  Juliette, Heather, and Diana sat in Diana’s weather beaten old Ford Explorer watching. They felt secure, they felt safe, each was wearing a good wig, and clothes that made them blend in with the crowds of suburban housewives outside the Toys’R’Us store.


They were unobserved, but they were observing everything, watching the comings and goings round them.


“Ooh, perfect,” suddenly Heather cooed, “lady just pulled up in that black Lincoln MKX even left her keys in her ignition for me.” Slowly she climbed out, “I’ll see you ladies later at the farmhouse,” she mouthed quietly as she pulled a pair of black leather gloves on. Quickly she walked the 20 yards to the black car, opening the door and slipping inside. Less than a minute after it had been parked the black Lincoln had been stolen.


“Okay we need another,” Juliette remarked to Diana, “any other possibilities?”


The two women continued to scan the parking lot, until Diana said “There.”  She pointed to a dark blue GMC Envoy.  The woman getting out was clearly harassed, as she almost pulled two young girls out and walked off, the driver door slightly ajar.


“Doesn’t deserve it,” Juliette said as she slipped out, pulling her gloves on as she walked over.  Two minutes later she too was driving off, as Diana waited for her to disappear over the horizon before moving herself.



 6 pm, the Farmhouse.


Diana checked and re-checked the shotguns, pistols and ammunition, as Abigail and Carina packed neatly coiled ropes, rolls of tape and other items into holdalls.


Sandy had spent the afternoon working on the cars. After her hard work she’d deserved the shower she had just taken. Having Heather come in and soap her body all over had been a delightful bonus. Still she mentally told herself to concentrate, the cars were clean, no obvious mechanical flaws, and she’d switched to the new license plates. New York plates were common enough in Connecticut and the cops were a little less likely to look at out of state vehicles.


“Quick early supper,” Heather said as she brought in bowls of hot soup, hunks of bread and cheese.  Diana packed the last of the weapons away, and sat at the table with the others.


“Abigail, will you say Grace,” Juliette said as they held hands.  Abby nodded, and as the others closed their eyes she said, “For all we are to receive today, may we be truly thankful.”


“And we will be,” Sandy said, making everyone laugh as they sat, ate and talked.


The talk was of anything but the up-coming job. Anyone listening would have found nothing strange in what the group of obviously old friends talked about. Heather was worried that the kids maybe needed an early visit to the dentist. Juliette, Sandy, and Diana gossiped about mutual acquaintances. The two teenagers got into an impenetrable argument about something that had happened at school.


It was normal, it was simple, and it calmed stretched nerves.


“Homework finished?”


“Yes, Mother,” Abigail, said as she rolled her eyes, making Carina laugh before she looked at Juliette.  “Mine as well,” she said with a grin, “I want a clear mind for this.”


“Good,” Juliette said with a smile, “Eat up – then we need to start to get ready.  I want to move out at 2100 hours.”



8.30 pm


Carina towelled off her hair as she came into the bedroom, watching Abby as she applied the lipstick to her mouth, making them large and red.  Really wearing makeup Abby was transformed and Carina couldn’t work out why Diana wouldn’t let her wear it for school. With cosmetic aid Abby went from being “The Stick” to a girl who for all the world could be a contestant on America’s Next Top Model. Placing the lipstick on the dresser, she stood up and knelt, picking up the garment as she said, “Can you give me a hand,” as she slipped it around herself.


“The Thing” as Abby thought of it was her disguise. It gave her a mature figure, nothing like the skin and bones that she naturally was. As uncomfortable as it might be she took pleasure from the thought it meant the police and FBI were working to an inaccurate description of her. Carina’s mother had had it made for her, only the Goddess knew where.


“Sure,” Carina said as she walked over and fastened it behind her.  “The Thing” was like a type of corset, but instead of holding her chest up it provided additional support, making her figure fuller as she pulled on some panties, and then the dark silk stockings. 


Standing back up, she walked over to the dresser and started to apply her own make up, as Abby picked up a tailored dark blue skirt and slipped it on, fastening it around her waist as it fell just to her knees.  She then sat on the bed and slipped her feet into a pair of black leather shoes with three-inch stiletto heels. The shoes were a gift from her mother. Diana only bought the best, and these were soft, handmade Italian imports.


As Carina applied the red lip-gloss, blotting her lips on tissue paper, Abigail picked up the matching tailored jacket and slipped it on, fastening it so that the top of her white bra could just be seen.  She then selected a gold and yellow silk square, folded it into a band and laid it on the bed, before returning to the dresser.


“Here, let me,” she said as she took the eyeliner and applied it to Carina’s eyes, making them seem larger.  She then put her blonde hair up in a bun, picked up one of the two black wigs and put it on her head, adjusting it so that it framed her face.


“Contact lenses?”


“Already in,” Abby said before she tied the scarf around her neck, the ends to one side.


Finally, as Carina started to dress, she picked up a jade cat shaped brooch and pinned it to the lapel of her jacket.  She had selected it from the jewellery store, and felt it matched her character.


As Carina tied a grey silk scarf around her neck, the ends to the opposite side from Abby, she fastened to the knot a small yellow and black clasp, with silver eyes.


The suits fitted perfectly. Tight, business like, but sexy. The perfect outfits for the business they were in.


Turning, Carina slipped her delicate feet into the patent pumps with the five-inch stilettos. She loved her extra high heels; they gave her a real power boost.


The girls looked at each other, and walked own the staircase.  The other four were already waiting, dressed identically save for their scarves.  Juliette and Heather wore theirs as they had when they met Tommy the day before.


Diana was wearing a large Hermes Crois de Lyon scarf over her shoulders, her neck bare, but the ends were held together by a black clasp in the shape of a cat face, with ruby eyes.  Finally, Sandy wore a black and white square folded around her neck and the ends tucked in front, a safety pin in the shape of a puma holding it in.


The suits were made by a contact of Juliette’s in China. The style and workmanship was up to the standard of Paris couture, the fittings had been done in Hong Kong a few weeks earlier. Juliette smiled at her own cleverness; the gang was dressed in outfits the law had always assumed might be traceable, exclusive, poor suckers!


“Okay none of you wearing any personal items? No jewellery? Nothing traceable?” Juliette looked each woman straight in the face as they nodded their yeses. It was stupid little mistakes like that, which got you caught.


“Gloves on,” Juliette ordered as all six donned thin black leather gloves, “time to go to work ladies.”


Each woman donned a pair of wayfarer sunglasses, the identical suits, the identical wigs, they were de-individualised completely. They were a cohesive unit, six acting as one, they were the Pussycat Gang.






10.30 pm, Cos Cob, Greenwich.


“Thank you Maria,” Beverley Markham said as the young Puerto Rican woman laid a cup of tea on the table beside her.  Maria was in her late twenties, and wore a simple grey coatdress with a white apron, dark stockings and flat shoes.


Beverley was wearing a pale blue V-necked sweater and matching pants, a matching scarf tied as a band over her tightly curled brunette hair.   Her husband Joe had a scotch in his hand as he watched the news, in a shirt and slacks with a pair of comfortable slippers on his feet.


Megan was sitting at the dining table, looking at something on her mobile phone.  “Who are you talking to now, dear,” Beverley said as she looked over.


“Cath – talking about boys,” Megan said with a yawn.  It was getting late, and she was beginning to think about going to bed.


None of them heard the two SUVs pull up outside of the house on Richard Street, the lights off.  They had come up the tree screened driveway from the main road, and now stood silent outside the stone clad two storey building, the lights on downstairs.


“All quiet on the home front,” Sandy said as she turned and looked at Diana and Abigail, the three women removing their glasses.


“Yup,” Abby said as she opened the bag, and took out three nylon stockings.  Handing one to her mother and one to Sandy, she pulled it down over her head, tucking the opening into her scarf as she watched the others do the same – save for Diana, the stocking sitting at the base of her neck.


Opening the doors of the Galaxy, they stepped out and waited for the others to join them, the nylon stockings obscuring their features as they walked over.  Opening a bag, she handed two sawn off shotguns to Juliette and Sandy, a pistol to Heather, and kept one for herself, closing the bags as Abby and Carina picked them up.


The six women walked up the path to the front door, their heels clicking on the flagstones.   Sandy was controlling her breathing, trying not to get aroused too early, while Juliette’s eyes burned under the nylon.


Turning and nodding to the others, she pumped the shotgun, Sandy doing likewise, before putting her hand on the door handle, turning it slowly.  Taking a deep breath, she threw the door inwards and entered.


 “Don’t move a fuckin’ inch, you bastards,” she shouted as they walked in.  Joe and Beverley looked up to see six extremely well dressed women making a dramatic entrance, two of them brandishing sawn off shotguns as they stood in front of both of them and pointed the weapons into their faces.


“Playtimes over bitch,” another said as she pulled Megan out of her seat and pushed her over, “so sit down and don’t say a fucking word.”


“What the hell do you think…”


“I said to shut the fuck up,” the lead woman said as she slapped Beverley across the cheeks with her gloved hands.  “Miss Puma, Miss Leopard, get the maid.”


Two of the women, armed with shotguns, nodded and walked off as the final two opened a bag, and took out lengths of rope.  “Tie the bastards fuckin’ up,” the leader said, as they moved behind Joe and Beverley and pulled their hands behind their back.


“Who are you,” Joe said as he felt the cords biting into his wrists.


“I’m Miss Panther,” the leader said, a grin clearly visible under the nylon stocking covering her face, “and you may have heard of us, the newspapers call us the Pussycat Gang.”


“Oh god,” Joe whispered as he visibly paled, “Please, we’ll do whatever you say…”


Oh my God it was a bank manager’s worst nightmare come true. These bitches had been pulling big robberies for over a year, they never left clues; they just left the odd dead body.


“Who the hell do you think you are,” Beverley said as Maria was dragged in by the two women, a damp tea towel pulled between her lips.


“She tried to run and scream,” Miss Puma said as they threw her to the floor, and she grabbed some rope, pulling her arms behind her back and binding her wrists tightly together.


“Joe, do you know who these people are?” 




“It will be fine darling, just do as these ladies order,” Joe shook literally with fear. “You remember that story we watched on the local news a few weeks ago about the robbery at my banks branch in New London…”


“Oh my God,” the colour drained from Beverley’s cheeks. “ It was th’ th’ these women? They killed those people.” She tried to pull her arms away as she exclaimed  “you are savages!”


“Sweetie I wouldn’t go calling us names, but yeah I think you now know who we are and what we are capable of doing.” Miss Puma clearly smiled under her mask.


Joe swallowed and said, “Yes – what do you want?”


“Simple really,” Miss Panther said as the two women pulled ropes around the arms and chests of Megan’s parents, “We’re going to stay the night, hold your family hostage, and in the morning while someone stays here with them, you’re going to open the bank vault for us.”


“So you’re common bank robbers?”


“There is nothing common about us sweetie,” the woman behind her said as she pulled on Beverley’s hair, forcing a dirty rag into her mouth as she opened it to scream before tying a length of rope between her teeth to keep it in place, “we are the un-common bank robbers.”


“Quite right, Miss Lynx,” Miss Panther said with a smile, as her partner walked round and started to bind Beverley’s ankles together.  At the same time, Miss Puma and Miss Leopard were hogtying Maria, while Megan watched.


“Please,” Joe pleaded as his ankles and legs were bound, “Don’t hurt them.  I’ll do whatever you say.”


“Yes, you will… Miss Cheetah?”


“Of course,” the final woman said as she pulled Megan’s arms behind her back and started to bind her wrists together, “You’re not going to say anything, are you cunt?”


Megan shook her head in silence as her arms were bound to her sides, stretching her t-shirt over her chest as she held her legs together, desperate not to show what she was feeling.  She watched as her mother’s legs were bound, then her father’s, and then hers.  She had heard of this gang as well – and now here they were, holding her and her family hostage.


“The rules are simple,” Miss Panther said as she looked at the captives, while Miss Cheetah said “open, slut” and pushed a cloth into Megan’s mouth.  “Just do as we tell you, that’s it.  No stupidity, no mistakes.  Miss Lynx, disable all phones.”


“Can I play with this one,” Miss Puma said as she gently stroked the back of Maria’s legs.


“Later,” Miss Panther said as she watched Miss Lynx pull the phone from the wall.  “Right now, we need to show Mummy and Daddy we mean business.  Miss Tigress, Miss Lynx, you take the daughter upstairs,” the boss gave an order. “And I don’t mind if you enjoy yourself with her in your usual fashion.” Miss Panther smiled knowingly at the two younger women.


“Yes, Ma’am,” Miss Tigress said as she forced Megan to get to her feet, whispering “I’m going to enjoy taking care of you,” as she and Miss Lynx made her hop to the stairs, Beverley screaming after them.


“I told you to shut the fuck up, you bastard bitch,” Miss Panther said as she leaned forward, “or would you like to remain silent permanently?”  She pointed the pistol she was holding at Beverley’s forehead, the woman shaking her head as a wet patch appeared between her legs.


 “Oh dear – the stupid bitch has pissed herself,” Megan heard Miss Panther say as the two women pulled her along the corridor. 



“Which fuckin’ one’s yours bitch?” Miss Lynx said, and as Megan nodded to a door Miss Tigress opened it, pulling Megan in and throwing her onto the four-poster bed.



 “Nice room – Daddy and Mummy give you everything you want,” Miss Tigress said as she closed the door.  Megan nodded as she watched the two women standing over her.


Megan whimpered as she looked at the two masked woman.  Miss Lynx looked round, then walked over and picked up a pair of scissors.


“We might as well have some fun,” she said as Miss Tigress pushed Megan down on the bed, holding her as Miss Lynx cut her t-shirt away from her, revealing her blue bra.  She cried out as she then cut the bra through the middle of the front, pulling the cups away and pinching hard on her nipples.


“AGngngngggg” Megan screamed out in pain as the gloved fingers pinched on her nipples.  “Oh she’s a ripe one,” Miss Tigress said as she stroked her gloved hand across Megan’s stomach, “and I get the feeling she’s never been fucked.”


“Is that right, cocksucker,” Miss Lynx said as she looked into Megan’s eyes, “Are you a pure little virgin?”


Megan looked at both the women, and then slowly shook her head from side to side.


“Really?  Let’s find out,” Miss Lynx said as she cut Megan’s shorts away, and then pulled her panty hose down, before cutting off her panties.


“Oh naughty little fucker – she’s damp,” Miss Tigress said as Megan heard muffled screaming from downstairs.






“We told you not to try anything stupid, you fuckin’ stupid bitch,” Miss Panther said as Maria was forced onto her knees, the tears streaming from her eyes and running down her cheeks as Miss Cheetah knelt behind her.  “And what do you do?  You try to send a fuckin’ text.”


The smashed remains of her mobile phone were on the floor in front of Beverley and Joe, who was looking on, unable to stop or speak.  Their mouths were stuffed and rope gags held the cloths in place, the cords rubbing on the corners of their mouths as they moved about.


“Plssssdnhrtmm,” Maria pleaded as Miss Puma knelt in front of her and slowly unbuttoned her dress, pulling the apron away before she pulled the front open, and started to run her finger down her chest.


“Now, little cunt,” Miss Panther said as she leaned back, the sawn off shotgun on her lap, “we’re going to show what happens if you try and disobey us.  Very kind of your maid to volunteer for the demonstration.”


Miss Cheetah slowly reached her hands round and started to roughly massage Maria’s chest, the young woman moaning as she felt her nipples harden under the assault.  At the same time, Miss Leopard took out a cigarette lighter and lit it, holding it in her hand as Beverley’s eyes fixed on the flame.


Miss Puma smiled at the maid before she ripped her bra off, and started to pinch her nipples, making Maria scream into the saliva soaked towel that filled her mouth.  From her jacket pocket, Miss Leopard took out a pair of small paper clamps, and started to heat them with the flame from the cigarette lighter.


“Whtrudng,” Beverley whimpered as Miss Cheetah held Maria’s arms, Miss Puma standing up and watching as Miss Leopard brought the hot metal clamp over and looked at Maria.  She tried to cower back, but she was held firmly in place as Miss Leopard fastened the heated clamp onto her left nipple.







“Sounds like somebody is being naughty,” Miss Lynx said with a laugh as she looked at Megan.  “You don’t want that to happen to you, do you?”


Megan just stared back at them, trying desperately not to show what she was really thinking.   All she knew was the feeling inside her, as Miss Tigress tied her ankles to the foot of the bed.


“I don’t know,” Miss Lynx, said as she picked up a pencil from her desk, “perhaps she wants to be a bad girl.  What do you want to do, Megan?”


Putting the pencil down, she reached into the inside pocket of her jacket, and took out a penknife.  Flicking it open, she sat on the bed next to Megan and ran the flat of the blade between her legs.


She noticed the way Megan gasped as she did this, and wondered if there was something going on she was missing.  “Are you afraid of me, little cunt,” she said as she pressed the flat of the blade against her clit, the cold steel making Megan shiver.


She nodded slowly, and then gasped, unable to contain herself any more.


“Hey – look at this.”


Megan looked at Miss Tigress, who was looking in her wardrobe.  She knew her secret had been discovered, as Miss Lynx stood up and looked where her partner was looking.  She then looked back at Megan, walking over and pulling the cloth from her mouth.


“Talk, bitch,” she said as she squeezed Megan’s left breast, making her scream out in surprise, “What is the meaning of that?”


“Aaaaaaaa please,” Megan gasped, “you’re turning me on with that!”


Miss Lynx stopped for a moment, and then said, “You’re turned on by what’s happening?”


Megan blushed, looking at both of them as she said “I’ve heard of you – read of the things you have done, and.”


“Not a good idea to lie to us, cow,” Miss Tigress said, “What?”


“I’m fascinated by you.  That’s why I have what you saw – I was copying you.”


Miss Tigress took out the blue jacket and skirt, a light blue silk scarf wrapped round the top of the suit hanger, and smiled.  “You admire us?  You do know what we do?”


Megan nodded, and then screamed out loud again.  “To make them think you’re hurting me,” she added, as there was another muffled scream from downstairs.




Maria was crying even more now, her head bowed as the searing pain on her nipples slowly started to ebb.  The metal clamps were still in place, lengths of duct tape now holding them in place.  Her breath was coming in short, ragged gasps as she raised her head and looked at her employers.


“Plss, dnnthrthrnmrr,” Joe said as he looked at Miss Panther.  He could hear the screams from his daughter, as he looked at his wife, her head resting on his shoulder.


“She’s all yours, Miss Puma,” Miss Panther said.


“Thank you, boss,” the masked woman said as she and Miss Cheetah lifted the crying maid between them, carrying her out of the room to the rear of the house.  As they did so, Miss Leopard walked over and stood in front of them.


“You don’t mind if I go and have a look round upstairs, do you?  I want to see what you spend your money on.”


Beverley started to shake her head, but Joe rubbed his cheek against her and said “Tsnnlllmnee.”


“Listen to your husband, Beverley,” Miss Panther said with a smile, “after all, what will the local PTA do without your firm and honest leadership?”  Beverley stared at her, and then said “ufkngbstrd, fuvehrrtmgn...”


“Language,” Miss Panther said as she stood up, “I strongly advise you to watch yours.  After all, we are your guests.”  Standing up, she walked over to the music centre, selecting a CD and putting it into the machine with her gloved hands.


“Ah yes – music to love by,” she said as she walked back over to them.  “You love your husband, don’t you Beverley?”


The older woman nodded as she looked at Joe.


“And you would do anything for him?”


She nodded again, wondering what the masked intruder was planning to do.


“Then get on your knees,” Miss Panther said as she picked up the shotgun, and pointed it at her.  Too frightened to refuse, Beverley slid off the couch, grunting as her knees hit the ground.


“Move over and kneel in front of your husband,” she said, watching as Beverley slowly moved over, indicating with the gun that Joe should sit up.  As he shuffled forward, Miss Panther used a knife to cut the rope from his wife’s mouth, and pulled the soaking wet cloth out.


“Wh....What do you want me to do,” she grunted as she looked at Miss Panther.


“Isn’t it obvious,” she said as she reached down and pulled the zip of Jim’s trousers down, then reached in and pulled his cock out, “I want you to suck him off.”




“I said,” Miss Panther repeated, slowly this time as Beverley felt the cold steel of the sawn off barrels against her head, “Be the dirty fucking slut you really are, and suck this big juicy man off, you slag!”


Beverley stared at Miss Panther, then at Joe as she whispered “Please, no, I’ve never...”


“You don’t have a choice, you fucking stupid whore,” Miss Panther said as she pressed the gun against her head.  Crying, she shuffled forward, whispering, “I’m sorry” as she kissed her husband’s cock, and then started to lick it, drawing to slowly into her mouth.


It had been over twenty years since she had done anything like this to him, and Joe could not help himself as the gently sucking and the feel of his wife’s tongue started to turn him on, making him throb as she drew it further and further in. 


In Maria’s bedroom, the maid was standing at the end of the bed, stripped naked with her wrist tied to the two brass knobs on the top of her foot rest, and her ankles spread wide apart and secured to the bed legs.  Her breasts were throbbing, but that was not all, as Miss Puma used the end of a rounded toothbrush like a dildo, pushing to roughly in and out of her damp passage as she started to orgasm again.


At the same time, Miss Cheetah had a second hairbrush – this one forced between her butt cheeks, as she twisted and turned it to increase the stimulation on the young woman.  The towel had been removed and replaced with a pair of her dirty panties, while duct tape had been wrapped tightly round her head.


As she threw her head back and screamed in the heights of her orgasm, the two smartly dressed women smiled and watched.  “There now,” Miss Cheetah said as she looked at the young woman, stroking her cheek with her gloved hand, “That was fun, wasn’t it?”


“Plsssnmmrrr,” Maria moaned as she looked at the two masked women.


“Awww,” Miss Cheetah said, “And we were saving the best for last.”


Maria’s eyes opened wide as they untied her, Miss Cheetah pointing the gun at her as she said, “Dress up nice.”




“NNGMMMMMMMMMYSSSSSSSS” Joe screamed out as he shot his load directly into his wife’s mouth, the gun at her head forcing Beverley to swallow everything.  Eventually she stopped and said “PLLSSNDDNTLT.”


“I beg your pardon,” Miss Panther said as she removed the gun, allowing Beverley to move her head back.


“I need the toilet, ma’am,” she panted.  Miss Panther looked at her, then untied her ankles and said, “All right – downstairs pisser, and door stays open.”


“How can I....”


“Not my problem,” Miss Panther said as she untied her legs and forced Beverley to her feet, then frog marched her to the toilet, waiting by the door as Miss Leopard came back down the stairs.




“Quite a nice collection – and I found a safe.”


“Really,” Miss Panther said with a smile, “then we need to get the combination.  Go and...”


Their talk was interrupted as Beverley surprised both of them, running full tilt from the bathroom and screaming “HELP!!! POLICE!!!” as she sprinted with a speed she never knew she had for the front door.  She had one thought – get out, raise the alarm, save her family.  She focused solely on the door, determined nothing would...


“You fucking bitch, you fucking stupid little bitch,” Miss Panther said as she brought barrel of the shotgun down on the back of Beverley’s neck, sending her sprawling as she cut her forehead on the floor.  She lay there, stunned as the two masked women dragged her by her ankles back to the couch, and Miss Leopard kicked her in the side, making her groan.


“Your wife is a stupid cow, bastard,” Miss Panther said as Joe screamed at her, “and now she has to pay the penalty.”  Kicking her onto her back, she reached under her skirt and pulled her panties down, baling them up and pushing them into her mouth.


“Tape her up,” she said to Miss Leopard, “I need to fetch Miss Lynx.”




Miss Lynx and Miss Tigress looked at Megan as she sat in the chair, putting her ankles together and then to one side.  She had put on the jacket and skirt, tying the scarf and then allowing them to bind her wrist together behind the back of the chair, pulling them down and securing them to the centre spar of the chair back. 


“So you’ve admired us,” Miss Lynx said as Miss Tigress bound her ankles to the chair leg, “In what way?”


“That robbery you did a few weeks ago, the one my dad mentioned?”


Miss Lynx nodded.  “What about it?”


Megan wriggled round and said “I imagined you, forcing the family down to the basement, hogtying them, gagging them so they could not scream, then one by one putting the gun to the back of their heads and.”  She moaned a little and the said “Pop – little girl with little curls has big hole in head.  Pop – preppy teenager has new red tie-dye pattern on her top.  Pop – Mummy joins them in peace.  It made me so wet to think about it....”


Miss Lynx and Miss Panther exchanged a look and sighed a little as well.  “So the thought of killing someone turns you on as well?”


Megan blushed and nodded.   “Is that why you do it – the thrill in every way?”


“None of your fucking business.”


The two masked women turned to see Miss Leopard standing in the doorway, looking at them.  “We have a fan,” Miss Tigress said to the leader of the gang, “who gets wet when she thinks of what we do.”


“Does she now,” the woman said as she walked in, looking at Megan with her clear eyes.  “What else have you done?”


“I’ve broken into a couple of houses around here.  Stolen some jewellery, had to take care of a couple of people.”


“In what way?”


Megan swallowed, and said “A neighbour of ours – she came back with her eight year old daughter when I was there.  I had an imitation gun, so I forced the mummy to hogtie her daughter up tightly, and then threatened to kill her unless she tied her own legs together.  I then tied her arms up, hogtied her, blindfolded both of them and gagged them with panties and tape around their heads.  As they pleaded for their lives, I masturbated and laughed.”


Miss Panther smiled, and said “Miss Lynx, Miss Tigress, we have need of your skills downstairs.  We will discuss this matter later.”  As the two women left, Miss Panther sat down on the bed, the shotgun to her side, and said, “Now, Miss Megan Markham, we need to have a serious discussion, but first...”


She reached forward, pulled open Megan’s jacket and squeezed her chest hard.







Joe winced again as he watched Miss Leopard cut his wife’s bra off, discarding to on top of the slashed and torn jumper, before she wrapped the tape around her upper body, above and below her chest, forcing her bare breasts up and out.


“Miss Panther said you had need of us,” Miss Lynx said as and Miss Tigress walked down the stairs.


“Indeed,” Miss Leopard said as she taped around the base of Beverley’s breasts, the flesh turning purple as she groaned.  “The stupid cow tried to raise the alarm, and Miss Panther wants her punished.  However, we also need Mister Markham here to tell us the combination to the safe in their bedroom.  Can you oblige?”


“Of course,” Miss Lynx said as she looked at Beverley, her hand stroking her chin.  “Of course, her husband could always just give us the combination.”  She looked at Joe, but for some reason he was unwilling to give the combination, as he shook his head.


“Good – I would hate for my fun to be spoiled.  What happened to the maid?”


“She’s been taken care of.”


“Nice,” Miss Lynx said as she fetched a box of matches, and set them on the floor, kneeling as she pinched the older woman’s nipples.  “Lie her on the floor and tape her legs together.”


Miss Tigress helped Miss Leopard to lay the near naked Beverley on the floor, as they taped her legs at her ankles, thighs, calves and upper legs.  At the same time, Miss Lynx walked to the dining table, and took a partially burnt candle from the holder.


“Now then,” she said as she lifted up her skirt, and played with the lips of Beverley’s passage, making her groan as she did so, “the combination?”


Joe shook his head and said “plssdnt....”


“Remember,” Miss Lynx whispered into Beverley’s ear, “Your husband is responsible for this.  Hold her.”  As the two other masked women held Beverley’s shoulders and ankles, she pushed the end of the candle into her vagina, making her scream as she forced it in and left it vertical between her legs.


“Now,” Miss Lynx then said as she struck a match, and started the candle burning, “the ball is entirely in your court, Mister Markham.”  The trio watched as the hot candle wax began to run down the shaft, Beverley’s eyes widening as it made its way down and into her passage.


“NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN” she screamed as she arched her back, the hot wax burning inside the entrance to her passage, and Joe screaming in response.  As she squirmed round, it only seemed to fan the flames – literally and metaphorically as Miss Tigress felt the dampness between her legs.


“Any time you so wish, Mister Markham,” Miss Lynx said as she lit another match, and held it against his wife’s red and throbbing nipple. 




“Wise move,” Miss Lynx said as Miss Leopard removed the rope and cloth.  “Please, just put the candle out and take it off her,” he cried as he looked at his wife.


“Combination first, motherfucker.”


Joe swallowed and gave a series of numbers to Miss Leopard.


“Backwards,” she said as his wife screamed again.  He repeated the sequence backwards, Miss Leopard nodding as she walked off.  Miss Lynx pulled the candle from Beverley, blowing it out and then dripping the hot wax over her bare belly.


“Help me get her back onto the seat,” she said to Miss Tigress, “and then tape her eyes over.”






Maria lay on the bed, her arms spread-eagled above her as Miss Cheetah and Miss Puma bound them to the headboard.  She had put on a black cocktail dress, with spaghetti straps over her shoulders, and then lay on the bed as her legs were tied tightly together, and then secured to the bed.


“Open wide,” Miss Puma said as she held a pair of her panties in front of her mouth.


“Thank you,” Maria said as her mouth was stuffed, and then Miss Cheetah used duct tape to seal her mouth, strip after strip pressed over her lips.


“No, thank you for being so willing to help us,” Miss Puma said as Miss Cheetah tore off one last strip of tape.  “Now you may have you reward as we promised.”


Maria watched as Miss Cheetah smoothed the tape over her eyes, and then Miss Puma picked up a pillow, placing it next to her head as she pressed the muzzle of the pistol next to the cushion.  There was barely a sound as she pulled the trigger, and Maria’s head fell to the side, her eyes wide open as a trickle of red flowed from her scalp.


“YESSSSSS,” Miss Cheetah screamed as she watched, and then she and Miss Puma embraced, their nylon covered lips pressed against each other as they reached under each other’s skirts...





Joe watched helplessly as the masked woman wound the duct tape over Beverley’s eyes, unable to speak with his mouth taped over, the remnants of Beverley’s bra sitting very uncomfortably in his mouth.  As she tore the tape free and smoothed it down, the one they called Miss Tigress tore the end free again, and he closed his eyes, in the forlorn hope that as he was blindfolded it would be easier to deal with.


“What was in the safe, Miss Leopard,” Miss Lynx said as she came into the room. 


“Money, shares, a few decent pieces of bling – and a USB stick I would love to get a look at,” she said as they heard footsteps on the stairs.


“Miss Leopard, open the door – I need you and Miss Tigress to take young Megan to the hideout.”


The three women looked at each other, as Miss Leopard said “Why?”


“She tried to bite me – I want to take care of her – personally, at my leisure, in my own way.”


This was unusual, as Miss Leopard walked to the door.  Miss Panther walked down, his arm on Margo’s as she called out “mmmemddeeeedntlthhhmghgddddd.”


“Say good bye to them, little bitch,” Miss Leopard said as she walked Megan to the door, Miss Lynx and Miss Tigress looking at her as she looked back through the nylon stocking covering her head.  She was smiling as they stopped at the door, and Miss Panther closed it again.


The group watched, Miss Cheetah and Miss Puma joining them as Megan walked silently across the floor, standing behind her parents as she pulled the leather gloves over her hands.  She was still in the tailored skirt and jacket, the scarf now tied around her neck with the ends hanging down her back.  Her feet were in the four-inch heel black leather shoes from her wardrobe, and she was smiling through the nylon stocking covering her head.  A black wig she had used in a school play was covering her hair.


Suddenly, she pulled her mother’s hair, forcing her head back as she said in a refined Louisiana accent that sounded totally unlike her own voice. “I’m going to so enjoy killing your daughter, you cocksucking little bitch.  Just think on that.”


“Nnn nnn nnnn” was all the couple said as she let her head go, and then reached under her own skirt, muffling a gasp as she did so.  Miss Panther walked over to the stereo, turning it up as she motioned to the others to follow her.


In the kitchen, she stopped and said “It appear young Megan has potential.  She has a ruthless streak almost as strong as Miss Lynx, and she has some style.  I think she can be an asset for us.”


The group looked at each other, before Miss Puma said, “She will need to prove her worth.”


“I agree,” Miss Panther said, “which is why we will test her, and if she is found wanting...”  She looked at Megan, before saying, “We need a name for you – and I have just the one...”




Saturday, 5.30 am, the Markham House


“Time to get ready,” Miss Panther, said as she untied Joe, and made him stand up.  “Miss Puma, take the bastard upstairs, make sure he showers, shaves, and dresses.  He doesn’t want anything to happen to his family, does he?”


Joe shook his head as Beverley sat still, her head to one side.  She had eventually passed out, but her breasts were red and purple, and the wax between her legs had cooled and congealed to seal her clit.


From the kitchen, Megan watched, as her father was taken upstairs.  The black wig hid her own brunette hair, as she pulled the stocking down over her head, pushing the opening under her scarf.


“So what’s this test?” she said as she looked at Miss Lynx.


“To be one of us, you have to be twice as violent, twice as aggressive, twice as bad as you might think,” Miss Lynx said as she handed Megan a pistol, the young girl weighing it in her hand, “so if you want to join us, you need to show your father that streak.”


Megan looked at them, then at her mother, before she walked slowly in, Beverley stirring and moving her head from side to side as she did so.


“Miss Bobcat,” Miss Panther said as she looked towards the kitchen, “What news of the darling daughter?”


“She is safe,” Miss Bobcat replied with a smooth as molasses Louisiana accent as Joe Markham came back down, dressed for work.  “Have they been any trouble darlin’?”


“Please, don’t hurt them,” he pleaded again to Miss Leopard, who looked out on the dawning light.


“Let’s go,” she said as she fixed Joe’s wrists together behind his back with a zip tie, “Co-operate, and not only will your wife be safe, we’ll tell you where to find your daughter.”


“No, Miss Panther, with all due respect I do not believe Mister Markham has fully realised the magnitude of his position.”


Miss Panther looked at Miss Bobcat, as Beverley whimpered “Whtshhpngnng.”


“Hush now, lady,” the masked woman said as she stroked the bound woman’s cheek, and then picked up a scatter cushion, “time for you to sleep.”  Joe watched as she slowly squeezed the trigger.


“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” he screamed as three shots were fired into the cushion.  His wife bucked her body at the impact of the first bullet, and then he saw the body relax. The warmth was burning in Miss Bobcat’s legs as she removed the cushion, and saw the three holes in her mother’s forehead.


“Now, you bastard,” Miss Bobcat said as she walked over, her hips swaying as she grabbed his other arm, “You come with me, Miss Panther and Miss Lynx.  No funny stuff, or I blow your fucking head off before we get onto the main road.”


The masked women picked up their bags and left, the door closing behind them.  Walking into the grey dawn, they climbed into the two SUVs and removed their masks, save for Miss Bobcat.  The others replaced their sunglasses before Miss Panther drove off, Miss Cheetah driving the other car as they went down the street, along Frontage Road and then left onto Byram Road, the cars passing the quiet residences as Joe watched doors opening, people starting to go to work.


He was too scared, too shocked to do anything as they drove over the main railway line from New York to Stamford, past Showtime Productions and through the tree lined street.  Eventually, as they turned right at the Sunoco garage and headed along West Putnam Avenue, he said one word.




“I beg your pardon, motherfucker?”


“Why did you have to kill her?  She never hurt anyone.”


“Because I wanted to do it, you stupid motherfucker,” Miss Bobcat said as she pressed the barrel of the gun into his head, “She was a whining cold bitch who hated everyone and everything.  You’re better off without her.”


“And Megan?  What will you do with her?”


“None of your fucking business, jerkoff,” Miss Bobcat said with a smile.  “Right now, you need to concentrate on what we tell you to do, and staying alive yourself.”


“I would listen to her, Mister Markham,” Miss Panther said as she glanced at Miss Lynx, “She’s a stone cold killer.”



The two vehicles headed right onto Greenwich Avenue, past Saks of Fifth Avenue, and then turned into West Elm Street.  They turned round the back of the bank, and stopped.  The book store next door was still closed, with no sign of activity.


“Okay Joe,” Miss Panther spoke slowly and calmly. “We need put our stockings back on. We’ll be a few seconds, but I’m sure you are used to waiting for your wife…oh I mean your former wife, to get dressed up. Ladies?”  She removed her dark glasses and stretched the nylon back over her head, tidying the end away under her scarf as the other women did similarly.


“It’s all clear,” Miss Puma called out.


“You two wait in the cars,” Miss Panther said to Miss Puma and Miss Leopard, “until we give you the signal.”  The others unloaded the bags, Miss Bobcat keeping her gun on Joe Markham, as they walked to the rear entrance of the bank.


“Open it, motherfucker,” she said as Joe desperately worked the keys, and they walked inside.  “Now switch off the alarm,” she said, forcing him to the control panel and watching as he turned off the automatic alarm after she cut the strips away.


“Very good, sugah – now open the vault,” Miss Bobcat said as she pushed Jow to the rear of the bank.  Trembling, he unlocked the heavy steel doors and opened them.  The five women stared at the stacked piles of notes sitting on the floor and shelves inside.


“Very nice indeed,” Miss Lynx said as she looked at the others, “I am sure your wife would appreciate the value we placed on her life.”


“Get the bags from the car,” Miss Panther said quietly, Miss Tigress and Miss Cheetah walking out of the back door and returning with a number of large canvas bags.  Depositing them on the floor, they turned and looked at their leader.


“Seven Thirty,” Miss Panther said as she looked at the clock on the wall, “The assistant manager will be here any minute.”  She took two more sawn off shotguns from a bag and handed them to Miss Lynx and Miss Tigress, the two taking position by the rear entrance as the door opened.


“Good morning, Mister...”


“On the floor asswipe,” Miss Lynx said as the young man was thrown to the floor, the business end of a shotgun between his legs.  Before he knew what was happening, his wrists were secured behind his back with a plastic zip tie, and strong white tape had been plastered over his mouth and eyes.


“Speak, raise the alarm, even breath funny, and your head gets a new opening,” Miss Cheetah said as she dragged him across the floor, her bottom wriggling in her skirt as he was deposited by the wall, and the door opened again.  Joe Markham watched, helpless as his own wrists were re-secured, and the lady they called Miss Bobcat put the barrel of her pistol into his mouth.


“Oh honey, please give me a reason to use this.” Miss Bobcat’s words were almost a plea as Joe stared at her, eyes wide in fear and sorrow.


“What the fuck...”


Joe looked over to see his senior teller staring at Miss Lynx and Miss Tigress, before she started to turn and run to the door, the heels of her red shoes clicking as she did so.   She only managed two steps before Miss Lynx slammed the door shut, and Miss Tigress grabbed her arm, pulling her to the floor as she placed the shotgun at the back of her head.


“Shouldn’t have tried that, bitch,” she said as she pulled the trigger, both Joe and his assistant staring at the body as the red started to seep from under her.


8 am, Bank of Long Island Sound, Greenwich.


The two women walking towards the back entrance pulled their coats around themselves to keep the early morning chill out.  One was tall, thin, wearing a white blouse and blue V-necked sweater under her coat, the legs of her jeans tucked into tight brown leather boots.


The other woman was shorter and wore a long tweed skirt, the black leather boots visible as they walked along chatting.  A large brown shawl covered her upper body.  There were only a few people out, as they headed for the entrance to the bank.


Behind the wheel of the black SUV, Miss Puma sat, watching the two women through her glasses.  She was not just watching them, but the traffic, the passers by – everything.


The two women stood waiting as the door to the bank opened, and they walked in, the door closing behind them.  Miss Puma looked at her watch – they were the last two.


“Shut your fucking mouth and get on your knees, you stupid bitch,” Miss Tigress said as she pushed the butt of her sawn off shotgun into the back of the smaller woman, who was crying as she looked at the lobby of the bank.  The other four staff were there, sitting in front of the counter as Miss Cheetah stood guard over them, moving from one to one in turn.


The woman grimaced as her colleague was forced to secure her wrists together behind her back, the plastic zip tie digging into her skin, before a strip of white tape was pressed firmly down over first her mouth, then her eyes.  Miss Cheetah walked over and grabbed her arm, forcing her to join the others as Miss Tigress bound the wrists of the final arrival.  She stared at the dead body in front of her, crying as she was gagged and forced to join the others.


“I’m sorry,” Joe Markham, said as the gun was finally removed from his mouth, and he watched Miss Panther and Miss Lynx loading the contents of the bank vault into canvas bags, “but they are holding my daughter hostage…They murdered my wife already,” he sobbed.


“That’s right, so we don’t any more stupid fuckin’ bastards playing hero,” Miss Bobcat called out as she watched Miss Cheetah pulling the last woman over, securing her legs as she was made to sit down.  There were four women and two men, all of them whimpering under their tape gags as they looked blindly round.


Miss Cheetah moved over and started to help Miss Panther, as Miss Tigress pulled Joe over and made him sit next to the staff.  “Pick one,” she said as she looked at him.


“I’m sorry?”


“Pick one, motherfucker,” Miss Tigress said as she pumped the shotgun, “if the cops come, which one of your fucking staff gets to pay the price, like her over there.”


“None of them,” he said as he looked at the curvaceous young woman, “you can kill me instead.  Just promise me Megan will be safe.”


“I’m sure she’s perfectly safe for now,” Miss Tigress said with a laugh, before she looked at the others.  They laughed as well as they carried the canvas bags to the door, and Miss Cheetah looked out of the door.


Miss Puma saw the door open, and slowly moved off, pulling up in front of the bank entrance before she jumped out and opened the side doors, Miss Leopard doing the same.


“What do you mean she’s safe,” Joe said as the women loaded the bags into the car, Miss Panther walking over to where he sat, and pushing the barrel of the gun into his mouth.


“None of you bastards move a millimetre for the next hour,” she said coldly, pulling back the safety on the shotgun as she did so.  Joe’s eyes glanced over to the other staff, the sweat on his pale face forming rivulets, as he tasted the cold steel against his tongue.   “If you behave, Megan comes home and mourns with you.”


“That’s it, all bags in,” Miss Puma said as Miss Bobcat slapped a strip of tape over the manager’s mouth, and then brought the barrel of her pistol down on the back of his head, knocking him cold. 


“Move out, Pussycats,” Miss Panther said as they slowly walked to the rear entrance, their skirts swaying and their heels clicking on the floor as they left and climbed into the cars, Miss Cheetah closing the door behind them.  Climbing into the cars, they removed their stocking masks and put on their sunglasses.


“Here,” Miss Lynx said as she handed Miss Bobcat a pair, smiling as she became one of them and they drove off, back onto Greenwich Avenue and past the stores as people started to mill round.  Miss Bobcat ticked them off as they passed – Ralph Lauren, Starbucks, Petticoat Lane, Band and Olufsen…


The road ran onto Steamboat Road, before they turned right onto Arch Street, past the car park, and then joined the I95 as they headed towards Stamford.


They said nothing, did nothing except look out of the window – the time for celebration would come later.  Miss Bobcat sat impassively, showing no emotion.





10 am, The Farmhouse


The two vehicles pulled up outside the farmhouse, the ladies disembarking and unloading the canvas bags full of money inside the farmhouse.  As the last bag was taken in, Miss Panther turned to Miss Puma and Miss Leopard.


 “The Galaxy is already at the barn, our contacts should be there by eleven thirty to take these off our hands.  Good luck, and no speeding.”


As the SUVs were driven away, Miss Panther walked into the farmhouse, and looked at the group assembled there.


“Good work today, ladies,” she said with a smile as she removed her gloves, “all of you.  So, Miss Bobcat, you chose to take and pass our test?”


“I did,” Megan, said as she removed her wig and shook her hair out, “and oh my god I so want to join you.  I’ve never known such a thrill. What a rush!”


“I’ll say,” Carina, said as she removed her wig and let her blonde hair fall, “You almost put me to shame.”


“Excuse me – a burning candle there?  Mind you, it was hot killing the bitch that was my mother.” Megan paused as something came to her mind. “But what about me?”


“It’s not the first time we’ve taken a hostage and then – killed her,” Miss Panther said with a smile, “but it is the first time we have recruited one of them.”  She removed her own wig and looked directly at Megan.


“I know you,” Megan said as she stared at Julianne, “I’ve seen your photos in my mother’s magazines.  You write fashion articles, you used to be a supermodel. Wow!” Megan shook her head, “now I know why you never got caught, who’d suspect you guys?”


“Which shows we are going to trust you,” Juliette said as she ran her fingers through her hair.  “The young lady next to you is my daughter, Carina.”


Megan turned and looked at Carina.  “My god,” Megan said quietly, “You’re not that much older than me.”


“Older enough,” Carina said as Miss Tigress and Miss Cheetah removed their wigs.  “This is my best friend Abigail and she’s Heather Smith.  You can meet the other two later.”


“I’m younger than you,” Abby giggled as she shook out her own hair and started undressing. “Oh my Goddess that feels good,” she moaned with more than just a little relief as she removed ‘The Thing’.


“Oh wow,” Megan shook her head in disbelief at both the body altering characteristics of the device Miss Tigress wore, and that two of the infamous Pussycat gang were really just teens like herself.


“Enough,” Juliette said as she stood up and stretched.  “Everyone, shower and change – Carina, loan Megan some of your clothes.  Then we will prepare lunch for when the others return, and have a discussion.”


“About how to split the proceeds?” Everyone looked directly at Megan. “Well we did steal an awful lot of cash today, I was just interested.”


“No. About what we are going to do with you,” Juliette said as she looked at Megan.  “Megan Markham died today, her body will never be found.  This means we need to decide who you are.” Juliette paused, “and don’t worry about the money. You’ll receive a full share, just like everyone else.”


“Don’t worry,” Carina said as she and Abby took Megan by the arm, “My mom can sort it all out.”





4 pm, The Farmhouse


“So we have a new recruit,” Diana said as she looked at Megan.  The young girl had showered and changed into a sweatshirt and jeans, while Carina and Abby sat either side of her.


“Indeed – She showed no mercy in the home or in the bank.”


“That’s right,” Carina said as she nodded, “She’s a natural.  But we need to find a way of bringing her into our circle so that she can be trained and nurtured.”


“I’ve been thinking about that,” Sandy said as she nursed a cup of coffee in her hands, “I’ve got a spare room at my place, so she can stay there.  As for an identity – Heather?”


“Yes lover,” Heather said as she came round and put her arms around Sandy’s neck.


“What do you think – could she pass for your younger sister?”


Heather looked at Megan in a critical way, before saying, “she could – dye her hair, give her some glasses, and she could.  She’ll need to dress down as well.”




“Because you’re not Megan Markham, teen cocktease any more,” Abby said as she looked at her, “You’re Joanne Smith, new to the city and living with her sister, the nanny to the Richmond children.” Abby paused, “and most importantly you’ve got to try not to stick out, you have to blend in and be invisible. You can be cute like Carina, but not the stuck-up bitch you used to be. The less people notice you the better.”


“And remember your photos likely to be in every paper for a period while the FBI look to ‘save you’.” Julianne interjected.


“Just look at me.” Abby stood up and twirled. “Who’s going to think I’m a Pussycat?”


“Yeah at school they call her ‘The Stick’,” Carina said with a giggle in her voice. Then ducked as Abby through a cushion at her.


“And that my little sister is why you dress down.” Heather slipped from her lovers embrace to hug her new sibling. “Welcome to our family Joanne.”


“Joanne Smith – I like it,” Megan said with a smile.  “But what about my new clothes, all that sort of thing?”


“Leave that with me,” Diana said with a smile.  “You will return with me, I will have my personal beautician and stylist deal with you tomorrow night, and then we shop.  That will give Sandy and Heather time to make arrangements – we can see if you can be an Angel as well.”


“An Angel?  But...”


“I’ll explain later,” Carina said with a smile.  “But remember what we said – no repeats of the incidents at your previous schools.”


“We’ll also start your training – if you are going to join us, you’ll need outfitting, skills – and a name, unless you like Miss Bobcat.”


Megan looked round the table.  “Miss Panther, Miss Lynx, Miss Puma, Miss Cheetah, Miss Leopard, Miss Tigress... and Miss Bobcat, if you will agree.”


“Fits her temperament,” Carina said as she looked at her mother.


“We will see,” Juliette said.


“So how did you get started in this anyway?”


“Well,” Carina said as she sat back, “it began when Sandy was insulted...”




One week later, Grand Central Station


Greenwich bank robbery – daughter still missing, feared dead.

Father grieves as police and FBI search for Pussycat Gang.


Sandy looked at the front-page headline of the New York Post as she stood with her children, Heather waiting anxiously by the exit.  The picture of the brunette Megan Markham stared back at her, alongside one of her grieving father.




She turned to see a fifteen-year-old girl walk towards her, pulling a suitcase and with a large rucksack on her back.  She wore a pair of denim dungaree shorts over a brown t-shirt, striped leggings and brown Ugg boots.  Her short blonde hair was under a striped hat, and she peered through big black rimmed “nerd” glasses as she stood there and waited for Heather to come up and embrace her.


“Welcome to New York, sis,” she said as she took the handle of the case and walked over.  “Sandy, this is my sister Joanne. Joanne, this is my boss, Alexandra Richmond, and my charges George and Sandy.”


“Pleased to meet you both,” Joanne said as she shook her hand.  The group walked back to the car outside, and Heather loaded the case and rucksack into the trunk of the car.


“Welcome to your new home,” Heather said as she strapped the two younger children in, and then strapped herself in as they moved off.  “I think you’re going to love it here.”


“I think I will too,” Joanne said as she looked out of the window, “I think I will too.”







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