“I’m sure by this time next year, this will be a cool story to tell the other girls…” 

That was the face Cathy had tried to put on their situation, for all the good it did her and her two friends Lindsey and Samantha now. The 19-year old girls’ night of driving the backroads like crazy had ended when Cathy’s car had crossed paths of a patrol car heading home after a long, boring shift. The cop driving it hadn’t been too happy, having the end of his day delayed, nor was he pleased with the girls’ hamfisted attempts to talk their way out of the ticket. In the end, they’d managed to talk themselves up from a ticket and maybe a citation to spending the night in county jail. 

The jail he’d taken them to, probably because it was the closest one, was a tiny, local jail in the middle of nowhere. At that late hour, the only people on the graveyard shift was a single policeman, a young fellow with short brown hair, doing paperwork, a bored, blonde policewoman at the front desk and another with curly dark hair she’d called to take the three coeds back to the holding cell after booking them. 

“We’ll need to wait until morning to run these.” The blonde policewoman at the desk had said, sleepily as she took the girls’ fingerprints. “The internet is down and so are the phone lines. Which also means you’ll get your phone call in the morning, not before.” As the teens groaned and grumbled, she grinned. “Hey, a night in jail never killed nobody.”  

Still grumbling, the girls followed the second policewoman back to the small jail’s holding cell. At the moment, it held one other person: a woman in her mid-20s. Her hair was close cropped on one side, the other spiked and dyed a bright crimson and orange flame pattern. She was dressed in black leather, with metal studs all over. 

As they were put in the holding cell, the coeds gathered that their cellmate had come in earlier that day on a drunk and disorderly charge, harassing the locals at a nearby small town. The cops suspected there was more to her than that, but they wouldn’t know for sure until they could send in her prints and check for a record and any outstanding warrants. The trio eyed her, warily, but she seemed to be sleeping off her earlier trouble, so they found the bench on the far side of the holding cell and did their best to wait till morning. 

They’d been locked up for a couple hours when the three girls were roused from their dozing by a sudden commotion from the front of the jail. There were shouts, crashes, people running about, all muffled by the thick walls and doors of the jail construction. The coeds called out through the bars, asking what was going on, but got no reply of any kind. 

Just then, the door to lockup swung open with a loud clang. A quartet of figures sprang in, pistols in hand. Seeing there were no guards, they relaxed, putting the guns away as they strode confidently to the holding cell. The intruders were all women, all in their 20’s. Like the coed’s cellmate, these girls were dressed in studded leathers, their hair spiked and dyed in punk style. Their ears, noses and lips sported a number of heavy metal piercings. 

As they approached, the woman in the cell slowly sat up on her bench and stretched. “You sure took your time getting here, Spike.” She said, grumpily. “Thought you’d forgotten all about me.” 

The girl in the lead, with ice blue highlights in her mohawk, shrugged as she slid a set of keys into the cell door’s lock. “Bite me, Snake. We didn’t even find out you’d been pinched till we rocked into that pisswater town. No one there’d tell us which jail you’d been taken to either.” She slid open the door. “You didn’t really think I’d leave my best girl rotting in jail forever, did you?” The other girl stood and they embraced, kissing each other passionately. 

After a full minute of tonguing, the girls broke apart at last. Spike inclined her head to the back corner of the cell. The three girls had retreated there and sat, being very still and quiet in the hopes of avoiding attention, all for naught. “Who are they?” She asked. 

Snake shrugged. “Coupla teens, got picked up for reckless driving. Why?” She flashed a wicked smile. “You thinkin’ of baggin’ ‘em?” 

Spike returned the grin. “We’re taking the three piggies here, at least have some fun with ‘em before we decide if we’re takin’ ‘em to market to to slaughter. You’ll be on my bike…” She gave her girlfriend’s ass a playful squeeze. “So we’ve got room for three more. Besides…” She giggled. “They do look cute when they’re scared like that, don’t they?” Turning to the other gang women she added, brusquely. “Take ‘em, girls.” 

“Take us? What do you mean?” Lindsey exclaimed, nervously. 

“Hey! Let go!” Cathy demanded as the other gang members came forward and grabbed the coeds. Ignoring their protests, the toughs dragged the struggling girls out of the cell, followed by Spike and her girlfriend, watching them with obvious glee at the coed’s terror. 

The front of the jail was trashed. The desks were overturned, papers scattered everywhere. Out front, a line of bikes were pulled up in a loose semi-circle in front of the door. Between them, four more gang-members were gathered around what proved to be the three unfortunate police officers on duty at the jail that night. The teens gasped, seeing what the gang was doing to them. 

The three officers had been forcibly stripped naked by their captors and put in heavy leather bondage gear. The captives had their arms trapped in tight armbinders, their legs in thigh high bondage boots and thick, high bondage collars around their necks. 

While two of the gang members held the other two captives at gunpoint, the third captive; the policewoman who had booked Cathy and Lindsey earlier that night, was being further secured by the other two. One gang member had her bent over as the other took a pair of plugs and, one at a time, positioned them at the struggling woman’s rear. Her loud squeal as the plugs went in was muffled by the thick wad of cloth stuffed in her mouth. She squealed again as a leather belt was pulled tight between her legs, one end secured in front to a second belt around the woman’s middle, the other to the end of her armbinders, keeping the plugs in deep. 

“Nothin’ like stuffed pig.” The gang woman said, giving her red-faced captive a quick spank. As the trio of gang women laughed, a leather bondage hood was produced and pulled over the policewoman's head. After lacing it up tight, the gang member dragged her captive to one of the nearby bikes. After setting her atop it, straddling the powerful machine, the poor captive was strapped in place with leather belts. Leaving her to struggle, uselessly, the gang turned to their second captive. 

Then the male officer was dragged forward, grunting angrily through the gag packing his mouth. A metal cage-like contraption was locked around his manhood, then he was bent over to get a plug like the first policewoman. He was then hooded and secured to a second bike. While the third policewoman was brought up next, grunting useless pleas through her packing, another gang member pointed a gun to the three coeds. “You’re next girlies. Now get all your clothes off!” 

The girls protested, but they had little choice. Trembling with fright, they undressed, adding their clothes to the pile the three officers’ discarded uniform had made. Once the girls were stripping off their panties, one of the gang members scooped up the undergarments. 

“Cute!” She commented, balling up Cathy’s sky blue briefs. “Open wide!” The coed shook her head, mouth clamped shut, but she couldn’t prevent herself from being gagged. While another gang member held the struggling captive, the one with the panties grabbed Cathy’s tit and gave its soft pink nipple a hard pinch. Involuntarily, Cathy opened her mouth to yell only for it to be cut off as her wadded up panties were jammed inside. 

“Nice tits!” The gang member said, giving the first nipple another squeeze, then evening things out with a couple quick pinches to the other. “When we get back to the hideout, I’ll give them a couple nice, heavy rings. They’ll look good with some jewelry hanging off the end, don’t you think?” She laughed, rattling the many piercings she was sporting. Cathy, eyes wide with horror, moaned through the wad of underwear filling her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes.   

Seeing what had happened to their friend, Lindsey and Samantha both glumly opened their mouths to let the gang member stuff their own panties in their mouths. It didn’t save them from getting their nips pinched as well. Teary-eyes, the three coeds were led to the center of the ring of bikes. By now, the other police woman had been plugged, hooded and left to struggle atop a bike alongside her coworkers. Nearby, one of the gang pulled three more sets of arm binders, boots and collars from the saddlebags of one of the bikes. She grinned, setting them down in front of the captives, letting the coeds look over the restraints they would soon be wearing. 

One at a time, each of the girls were dragged forward. While one of the gang members held her in place, the other placed the heavy leather restraints on, pulling the leather straps as tight as they could go before securing the buckles with small padlocks. Next, the girls were bent over to be plugged. They squealed loudly through the wadded up panties as the thick, hard rubber prongs entered them, to the laughs and jeers of the thugs. The belts were soon strapped in place between the captives legs, ensuring the uncomfortable intruders would not be coming out any time soon. 

Finally came the hoods. The coeds sobbed as the heavy leather hoods were pulled over their faces, making everything go dark. Their panicked breathing carried the heavy smell of leather, mixed with the sweat of previous captives unfortunate enough to have fallen in the clutches of this gang. As they struggled to adjust to this, the girls felt rough hands seize them, dragging them forward. They were picked up, their legs forced apart so they could be set down over the bikes. They groaned as they sat down on the hard, leather covered seats, feeling the plugs pressed deeper inside them. More leather straps were applied, fixing their legs, arms and backs to the vehicles. 

For a couple minutes, they could only squirm, joining their muffled sobs of terror with those of the three officers. Their captors, meanwhile, got ready to go. They searched the building, clearing out the armory, evidence locker and all the handcuffs and shackles they could find. Finally, a couple molotov’s were tossed in through the busted front door. The captives heard the sound of breaking glass, followed by a dull “whumph!” as the mixture inside took light. As the fire crackled, the gang mounted up, the roars of eight engines revving split the night. 

“Back to the hideout!” The leader of the gang ordered. “We’ll have some fun with our new slaves!’ Whooping, the bikes peeled out and drove off down the highway…