The Pussycat Gang
Thursday
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…”
“DADDY!!”
“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.”
Friday
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?”
“Daddy?”
“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.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!”
“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.”
“NO!”
“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.
“Well?”
“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.
“AAAANNNNNNOOOOOOOO”
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.
“LLLRRTTTT – LLLTLU!”
“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.
“Why?”
“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.”
“Why?”
“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.
“Heather!!”
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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