Henry Morgan - The drivers

"I want out," said the hiker. "It's time you let me go!"

"What, with no money?"

"You could give me some."

"Balls to that! And you ain't goin' nowhere without I say so. You belong to me now, see? OK?"

The girl considered her position carefully before deciding her best option lay in silence, at least until she had worked out how to get away from the situation which was getting way out of hand. She didn't mind a little roughing up, she was used to it, but this…

A few miles down the road the lorry passed a signpost for the National Park Centre and they slowed down before swinging round into the dark unlit driveway. An avenue of upright larch lined the road like sentinels to the dark forest beyond. The Volvo grumbled along the dirt track for a mile or so, seeming to travel ever deeper into the trees, slowly onwards towards an eerie green light shining ominously away in the distance.

As they neared the phosphorous glow the road widened to reveal the centre as little more than a quaint log cabin. Somewhere where the average two point four family could discover the wonders lurking beneath a rotting log and part with pocketfuls of cash in the shop unimaginatively called 'The Trading Post'.

In the blinking of an eye the hiker took it all in. All except for the shapes moving in the green light that emanated from inside another wagon. This wagon was big and silver, like the long nosed trucks of American movies. Behind the huge windscreen sat two figures. The hiker leant forward, her eyes straining through the gloom until slowly the outline of the driver grew ever more substantial, revealing Hell Raiser.

His ebony face was contorted into a wide maniacal grin that exposed gleaming white teeth. At first she thought he wasn't wearing a shirt but then she realised he had on a black rubber vest that clung so tight to his skin it was difficult to see where skin and rubber met.

The figure next to him in the unearthly green glow, sitting so unnaturally upright, must be groovy Suzy. Her blonde hair was combed back into vicious spikes of inverted cones. A rubber dog collar studded with silver nails encircled her neck, while the same metal defence guarded her breasts, fitted as they were around glorious tits protruding from the holes in her own skin tight rubber body suit.

Jack's hiker screamed in terror.

"What's going on!? Let me out of here!"

"It's just H,' said Jack. "He's alright is H. I think you're going to like him." With that he switched his lights to full beam, illuminating the Hell Raisers rig and the two inside. "I think you better like him, anyway!"

Now the hiker saw why Suzy sat so upright in the cab. A thick linked chain hung down from the roof and was clipped to the back of her collar, pulling her head upwards and effectively preventing her from any movement.

Scared almost to breaking point the hiker pleaded again with Jack to let her leave, money or no money.

"I wont tell about all this," she whimpered. "Just let me go, it'll be like I never saw you."

Jack's attention, though, was held by the Raiser, who had left his cab and was releasing Suzy from her bonds. Black stilettos encased not only her foot but the heavy black stay up stockings that travelled all the way up, almost to the area rarely seen by anything other than Marks and Spencers sensible women's briefs.

The Raiser marched her around into the glare of the head lamps then turned her around and bent her over. In the back of the tight black rubber suit that clung to her so tightly was a rear entry hole which he playfully pointed to before chaining the girl to the bumper of his truck. Then, to the hiker's horror, he walked across to meet Jack.

"Please," the hiker begged, clasping Jack round the knees and burying her face into his crotch. "Let me go, let me go!." When Jack didn't answer she drew back the door lock and jumped from the wagon. In her frantic dash for the trees she left a shoe embedded in the soft soil. There was no going back for it. Onwards she raced, over the trunk of a fallen spruce and into the safety of the shadows.

Behind her the excited whoops of the two men grew louder as the chase began. Further and further into the woods she ran, bashing several times into the trunks of trees made invisible by the night. Finally she could run no more, her foot was bleeding and her legs were burning with the effort. Pressed tight against a tree she hid, fighting frantically to control her breathing as she strained to hear any sounds from the men.

There was nothing, but she dare not move.

Like a waxwork figure she remained motionless, peering into the dark wood, straining her senses. Only when she had calmed down did she even recognise the gentle prod of a branch. She raised her hand and flicked it away, still scanning the gloom. A moment later she felt it again, only this time it prodded her bottom before moving down and slipping under her crotch. Her body stiffened at the realisation, and a low pitiful cry tried vainly to escape her mouth.

"Hey babe," whispered a deep voice. "How about a bit of black? I just know you're gonna like it."

There was no resistance as the young hiker was led back to the wagons. In the blackness of the night she could hardly see his hand on her arm. It was almost as if an invisible force was propelling her to face the same horrors that had befallen the unfortunate creature they called groovy Suzy.

Soon Jack appeared on the scene and the three broke out of the woods into bright light. The hiker's fears increased ten fold at the sight of the other girl, now on her knees, still chained with head bowed towards the cab, the nails from her collar and breast guards sparkling under the lamps. The sight gave her the energy to try and wriggle free but the Hell Raiser's grip tightened and Jack fixed a hauliers strap around her neck in order to tether her next to Suzy.

With the women firmly secured Jack and Hell Raiser took a rest on the bumper of Jack's rig. The lamps on either side of the men shone brightly on the rounded back sides of the girls, on the shiny rubberised rear of Suzy and the skimpily covered bottom of the young hiker.

"So," said Jack. "How come you ended up with Susan? The last I heard she'd been passed on to that wanker Bingo, the scouse twat."

"She had. But Bingo dropped a load off on the East coast minus a few little items he kept for himself. When he got to Whitby he heard the law were after him so he flogged her off to some bikers. I found her in Scarborough. The bikers had her chained over a table in the back room of 'Smelly Joes', charging truckers a tenner a bash."

"So how'd you get her out?"

H flashed his wide mad smile.

"Simple, man," he replied. "I shoved the old bolt cutters down me overalls and had her free in no time. We was out the back window and away before they had time to scratch their balls. Now she's mine and I'm very happy with her."

Jack went across to the woman he'd caught all those months ago, pushed his finger into the butt hole of her suit and dragged her up.

"May I?"

Hell raiser came across and milked the hikers tits with powerful black hands. "Snap!"

Jack slipped the chain from the bumper and led Susan quietly back to his cab. He reached for her tits, then cried out as his finger caught the tip of a protective nail. "Christ H," he shouted, "these fucking nails are sharp."

The black man shook with laughter. "Of course, the Hell Raiser don't use no false shit."

Jack opened the cab door and motioned for Susan to climb in, where they sat and watched the floodlit action outside. H had wasted no time in stripping down the hitch hiker before rehitching her to the bumper and disappearing behind the trailer.

He'd been carrying a load of logs for a saw mill, so it wasn't his usual trailer, but he still had his shagging spare with him. It was an old tyre from a snow plough truck, the Oshkosh J2065, so wide it would take quite some force to push it over when left upright. He unbolted it and wheeled it around to the front of the cab.