The November breeze was chilling as Sarah Summers stood naked, with her hands behind her head, outside the Hooters restaurant where she worked.
Being under the silent, watchful gaze of the judge was creating pulsating shockwaves throughout her body, making it almost impossible to remain entirely still.
Breathe in, breathe out,
she reminded herself, her oversized chest expanding and contracting with a concentrated effort.
As they waited, she held her tongue and kept her eyes averted from the large alpha male, allowing him to view her body fully, without interruption. Like a cave man might stare down a piece of meat.
This was the price, she knew. She could do it all - be a good granddaughter, a breadwinner, and a college student - but this is what it would cost her. Her dignity, her modesty, and most of her self-respect.
But as she felt herself handing all of that over to the judge in exchange for his pay cheque, there was some unexpected leftover currency. Having felt their hands on her, their mouths, their eyes; standing entirely nude, but for her footwear, whilst they remained clothed and dignified - the feeling was... inexplicable.
As her abdominal muscles pushed and pulled the air forcibly through her lungs, inflating and deflating in the looming silence, her body shook from more than just the cold. Her inner thighs shone with a slick lubricant she tried desperately to hide by squeezing her legs together, and the moan at the back of her throat was being held back by pressing her tongue firmly to the roof of her mouth.
Keep your head,
she told herself. Although if someone like Candice could see her right now, she would think she had lost it already.
They heard it long before the family's formidable, mud-splattered pickup came into view at the end of the alleyway. The engine sounded as though it could belong to an eighteen-wheeler, rumbling like thunder and shaking the loose rocks and litter around their feet.
The volume seemed to penetrate Sarah's heart with fear as her eyes darted to the back door of the restaurant, certain that someone might come out to investigate. But nobody did.
Spotting movement from the corner of her eye, her whole body clenched as the judge stepped towards her - his first sign of life after at least five minutes of wordless ogling. He did not reach out to touch her, however. Instead he walked around and came to stand close behind her.
The proximity of his aura seemed to form a wall of static electricity that sizzled along her spine, causing the hair on the back of her neck to rise and her ears to twitch, signalling the presence of a nearby predator. His breath on the back of her shoulder made her shudder harder than the harsh, winter air.
"Let's go, Sarah." Although everything else about the judge lit up that part of her brain that told her she was in danger, his voice was gentle with an air of unquestionable leadership. More like a parent or a teacher, than an axe murderer or a serial killer.
And so, despite her anxiety, Sarah kept her hands in place behind her head like a surrendered prisoner, and began to put one foot in front of the other.
Behind her, she could feel rather than hear the crunch of the judge's footsteps following closely. She wondered if his eyes were concentrated forwards, or if he was watching her 'rump' as she naturally rolled her hips, distributing the weight from one foot to the other, causing the flesh to mould together deliciously, back and forth.
Reaching the edge of the alleyway, her anxiety peaked as the faces of customers came into view through the large windows at the front of the building; people she had spoken to; normal, everyday people she was supposed to be serving right now. All it would take is for them to lift their gaze slightly to one side and they would see her, fully exposed like a cheap whorehouse advertisement.
Would they try to come to her aid? She worried. Would they get Hank? Or call the cops?
Sarah felt desperate to speed things up - to clamber into the backseat of the four-door pickup and hide behind the tinted windows. But neither the judge nor his sons seemed to share her need for haste.
Stanley left the turbulent engine running as he and Mike dropped down from the cab and walked around to join them. And finally, a red-faced Gerard caught up with them, panting from having just sprinted across the parking lot to deposit Sarah's Hooters uniform in the trash.
"I got your phone out of your pocket." Gerard showed her and for a moment Sarah closed her eyes and gulped. She ought to have thought of that earlier. Maybe she really was losing her mind.
"What do you say, Sarah?" The judge prompted her and she nodded in agreement - after all, she
was
grateful to him.
"Th-thank you, sir."
"That's okay, I'll look after it for you." Gerard slipped it into the front pocket of his jeans and the judge walked around to clap him on the back.
Now that they were all standing so close to her in a kind of circle, like a pack of wolves preparing to take down their prey, she could appreciate just how tall they all were. And although their long shadows loomed over her ominously, she was grateful to at least feel somewhat shielded from potential on-lookers.
"Mikey, hand me the rope." The judge instructed and Sarah felt herself throb inside as the boy unlatched the tailgate and took out a length of thin, green cordage from the cargo bed. They weren't just going to let her get into the car like a normal person. To them, she wasn't a person at all - she was a Hooters Girl.
"Gerard, this is your bag so you'd better come learn how to secure her." The judge went on speaking as though Sarah were a doe they'd shot in the woods and they were planning on bringing home for butchering. This did little to explain why no protests manifested in her mind, let alone made it out of her mouth, as the judge pulled her arms behind her back and wrapped the cordage around her wrists, binding them together tightly.
"Sarah is a good girl, we know that." The judge seemed to speak primarily to Gerard, the birthday boy. But also, perhaps, he was explaining himself to her. "But even good girls can become spooked, and try to run away, or get themselves hurt. We do this to protect her, as much as to protect ourselves."
Once her hands were secured, the judge handed some rope to Gerard and the two of them kneeled down to do the same to her ankles. As their heads became level with her bare, leaking pussy her cheeks flushed with heat, knowing their primal male instincts could probably pick up on the scent of her overwhelming arousal.
She looked away, trying to absorb her embarrassment, but her eyes connected with Mike - the boy who had spit on her face before leaving to get the truck. His gaze somehow felt harsher than that of the rest of his family. Like he was chomping at the bit to get a piece of her and the only thing holding him back was his father's authority.
To solidify that thought in her mind he raised his fist and motioned as though he were giving a blowjob, pushing out the inside of his cheek with his tongue, telling her exactly what he wanted and knowing he was going to get it sooner rather than later.
The idea that this boy had that kind of power of her made her veins surge with anger. It also made wet with shame. Even her mouth was watering as though to prepare herself for the event.
"How does that feel, Sarah? Too tight?" The judge asked as they stood again. After some experimental movement during which she found she was liable to fall if she wasn't too careful, Sarah shook her head, no.
She flinched hard at the contact of his fingertips gripping her chin and forcing her neck back to look up at him. "Speak." He commanded her like a trained dog.
"N-no sir, it's not too tight." She obeyed, her voice barely audible over the rhythmic clanging of the engine. Still, the judge nodded, satisfied.
"Good girl. Now I'm gonna put this gag in your mouth, and you ain't gonna be able to talk no more after that. Alright?" Sarah could see no way to argue, nor could she think of any good reason why she would.
She swallowed hard, afraid.
"Yes sir."
The gag itself was an old bandanna. Thankfully it tasted more like laundry detergent than sweat or dirt as it invaded her mouth and was secured in a tight knot at the back of her head, indenting her thick, reddish hair around her neck.
Now completely restrained and unable to call out for help, with her body fully exposed and, in some ways, pushing out at them as though begging for attention, Sarah felt more vulnerable than she had ever felt before in her life. Now anyone could look at her, grab her, touch her, fuck her if they had a mind to - and there wasn't anything she could do about it.
Even so, she thought somewhere in the darkest corner of her mind, was she really any less powerful than she was before? After all, even before she was tied up the judge had groped her without her permission in the restaurant, with no consequences at all.
Perhaps being like this, out here in the alleyway, was a visual representation of how they saw her anyway: theirs for the taking.
"What do you say, Gerard? Should we get a picture of your first bag?" Asked the judge, his chest inflated as though brimming with pride.
"Yeah!" Gerard grinned with wide excited eyes.
"Okay boys. Let's go out the front. Get the Hooters sign in there." He said and Sarah felt immediate panic as she was scooped up and over his shoulder in a fireman's lift, flashing her bare ass to the entire world.
"It's okay, it's okay... there, there, girly..." The judge spoke soothingly as Sarah's natural instinct to thrash and squeal in protest against the gag took over her brain. His large, weathered hands patted her exposed buttocks, in a way that you might try to calm a horse, causing it to ripple vigorously.
The fear began to blind her and her heart raced faster than it had ever done before as she felt the world pass her by, and she was lowered to the hard tarmac of the parking lot.
"That's it, sweetheart. Lie on your side, just like that. Calm yourself, now. The more of a fuss you make, the more likely it is we're all gonna get caught!" The judge reasoned with her as he arranged her body into a horizontal position.
Her bandanna-gag, now wet with drool, blew in and out as she fought to control her hard, panicked breaths. The ground beneath her felt sharp with frost and jagged edges, biting into the side of her body.
She struggled against her bindings but found them completely unyielding. She attempted to roll back and forth but soon felt the underside of a heavy, mud-caked hiking boot balanced on her hip, keeping her still.
"Like this, dad?" Gerard appeared to be the culprit as his voice came from high above her head.
