Tuesday, March 10, 2020

From the Top Shelf - The Island

Rollin Hand introduced his short fantasy tale The Island with this:

"When your husbands are West Virginia state troopers it pays to heed their warnings about dangerous places. Who knows? In some remote mountainous areas there could be cannibal hillbillies still about. Wait–are you kidding? Cannibal hillbillies?"

The boat sat there all ready to go. It was just a stupid green rowboat, but there was no wind. The lake was as smooth as glass. The island beckoned. But they had been forbidden to go there by their husbands.

“Do you think they’ll know?” said Cath nervously.

“How would they?” sniffed Luanne. “They’re off hunting or fishing-or doing whatever it is with the sheriff’s office.”

“I don’t know,” said Cath. “They told us to stay away from the island and they got really mad when we went anyway. Do you think that there really is a cannibal hillbilly clan on that island?”

The men had told them to stay away from the island. The first time the girls had ignored the warning and had gone exploring. They landed in a few spots just to check it out. Gus had chewed out Luanne up one side and down the other. Jake had given Cath a piece of his mind, too. The second time they went over there, they’d just lied about where they’d been, but Luanne thought maybe Gus had sniffed it out. They’d have to be more careful.

Luanne turned and put her hand on her hip. She gave Cath a look of utter disgust. “Don’t be a little girl. They said that to scare us. That old story has been told in these parts for decades. Nobody’s ever seen a deranged hillbilly over there or anywhere else. Don’t be stupid. Cannibal hillbillies-sure,” she snorted.

“I-I don’t know…” Cath was the more cautious of the two.

“Look, it is private property, but that old ghost story was concocted probably to keep people off the island. What are you, chicken? We do know that pot grows wild there. We also know that there is a cove with a sand beach where we can go swimming. The men go off hunting for snipe or whatever and they expect us to cool our heels doing what? Needlepoint? Look, I’m on this vacation to cut loose and have fun, and that island is fun. So let’s load the rowboat and go.”

“I know that Jake was serious when he said to stay off that island,” said Cath. She looked around nervously, maybe expecting Jake to pop out and take her to task for even thinking about it.

“Or what? What’s he going to do? Honest, Cath, you’d think this was the middle ages.”

“Well, you don’t know Jake when he….”

“When what? When wifey misbehaves? Let me tell you, you need to take charge, tell him what’s what. That’s what I do with Gus.” She folded her arms in a huff, but she knew that last statement was not at all true. Gus, like Jake, had set boundaries for his wife, boundaries that were enforced rather emphatically. There was a short strap that hung on a nail in the closet at their house and it came out when Luanne did something stupid or dangerous. And a willful hothead like Luanne was always getting herself in trouble. But Luanne would never let Cath in on that little secret.

Luanne was a blond country gal built like the proverbial you-know-what. In short Daisy Dukes and a halter top she could stop traffic—and often did. Cath was a slender redhead and pretty as a picture. She wasn’t as buxom as Luanne, but what she had was perfectly proportioned. Everybody said Gus and Jake had married the prettiest girls in Parkersburg. But being the wives of West Virginia state troopers they found they had to walk a tight line.

It was a working vacation, their husbands said. They got to use the highly sought after state cabins for free if Gus and Jake would help the sheriff of Greenbrier County with some problem. It had to do with watching for some activity of certain persons on the lake. And the best part was, they could do it while fishing. So off they went, leaving the wives behind.

Well, one thing was sure, thought Cath. She wasn’t like her daredevil friend Luanne. She didn’t finish telling her how Jake sometimes expressed his displeasure. But, what the hell, you only live once. And she was bored. The men had gone fishing off in the opposite direction in Gus’s motor boat while all they had was the stupid green rowboat. So why not go back to the island?

It didn’t take that long to row over there. The cove was delightful on a hot day and yes, there certainly was wild pot growing. They found some leaves that had dropped and dried in the sun. They helped themselves to it and whiled away the afternoon getting giggly and feasting on munchies.

“Let’s get nekkid and go swimming, girl,” said Luanne with a gleam in her eye. Cath was too far gone say otherwise. Soon both beauties, one red haired, one blond, were splashing naked in the water.

The girls cavorted in the water unawares. They didn’t see the eyes peering through the thicket at the edge of the beach, taking in the whole scene. When they finally emerged from the water, they were in for a surprise.

“Where are our clothes?” said Luanne looking around.

“They were here. Right here.” Cath looked at her friend. “Luanne, this isn’t good. Someone took our clothes. What are we going to do? Ohmigod, even if we row back without being seen-what if our husbands are back? They’ll know.”

They were startled by a voice coming from the woods. “Get your hands up, girlies!”

Cath and Luanne shrieked. A figure emerged from the trees. She was in her fifties and stout-not fat, just solidly built. She wore an old fashioned dress of a type that had been out of style for 60 years. Her hard lined face was framed by gray hair held in a bun. And she held a shotgun. But it was her eyes that were the most scary. They were a piercing vivid blue and wild looking.

“Well, well, we got us a couple o’ plump morsels here, yes, we surely do. Turn around slow, so’s I can see what we got here.” The girls did a slow turn as the woman admired the high set breasts, the well toned legs, the flaring hips and the curvy bottoms on the girls. “Yes, indeed-y,” she cackled.

“Look, don’t hurt us,” said Luanne. “We didn’t mean any harm.”

“Please,” pleaded Cath. “We were just out for…”

“You was out trespassin’ that’s what you was doin'” She pulled the shotgun higher.

“No, no-we didn’t mean to. We’ll just go.”

“What, so you can come back tomorrow? No, that dog won’t hunt. That dog won’t hunt at all. I own this island and nobody comes on lest I say. And trespassers are persecuted.”

“Won’t you please at least let us put some clothes on?” said Luanne.

The old woman smiled grimly. Her eyes shown wildly. At first Cath thought the woman was probably deranged, on some drug or something. Then she realized, no, it was just the eyes. Still it gave the woman a frightening, off kilter appearance.

“Nope,” she said. “Not for what I have in mind. We’re all done with clothes now.” She looked over her shoulder. “Ordell, Jasper, get out here.”

Cath and Luanne shrieked when they beheld the horrific vision that emerged from the woods. Two rough men dressed in dirty overalls and caps strode out of the bush. It was their faces though, that had made the girls scream. Both had either been severely disfigured or—their faces were masks. That had to be it. They wore hideous masks made of skin of some type, like that leatherface character Luanne had once seen in some horrible drive-in movie. Something about a chainsaw massacre.

The woman gestured with the shotgun. “Tie them up, hands and feet,” she said.

“They look tasty, ma. We gonna take ’em to the stew pot?” said one. He spoke with a guttural drawl, the mask making his speech sound almost inhuman.

“No, no,” shrieked Cath and started to run, panicked now. She had barely hit the water when one of the men caught her and dragged her back. The other one grabbed Luanne. She fought but he was too strong. The men produced ropes and tied the girls’ wrists and ankles securely, immobilizing them.

“Naw, boys you aint gonna eat ’em. You still got them hippies that come over here lookin’ for our crop still danglin’ in the smokehouse. Somebody will miss these gals. No we’re just gonna teach ’em to stay offn’ our island.”

“Yes, yes, let us go,” pleaded Luanne. “We won’t tell anyone. We promise.”

“You gals gonna learn a good lesson first. You boys string ’em up from that branch over there.”

“Yes, ma,” said one. They pulled the girls over toward a low tree branch and tossed ropes over it, then tied the ropes to the girls’ bound wrists. They hoisted the girls’ arms up, pulling them until they were standing almost tiptoe. Neither Cath nor Luanne had ever felt so exposed and vulnerable. They were naked and stretched, arms overhead while these hulking men in their horrible masks leered at them.

“Now cut you some switches, make ’em couple feet long, real swishy. These gals are gonna find out what happens to trespassers hereabouts.”

“We gonna whoop ’em, ma?”

“That’s right, Ordell. You and your brother are goin’ take a switch to some sassy behinds. Teach these little misses a lesson.”

“Ma, I still think they’d make awful tasty stew.”

“Now you hush, Jasper, or I’ll take my strap to you in the shed.”

That pronouncement had the girls crying and pleading again. “Don’t whip us. Please no, not that!” Luanne looked in horror as the two brothers took knives and cut and began to peel some switches.

“Humph! A little whippin’. You rather I let my boys put you in the stewpot? Hunhh? Would you?”

That shut them up, but they watched anxiously as each brother readied a switch. The slender withes made a sick whining sound as the two men tested them by swishing them through the air.

“All right little misses, now we’re gonna see you dance. Boys, lay on with them’ switches. I wanna see some red be-hinds on these two.”

Ordell and Jasper took up positions behind the girls and tapped their bottoms a few times, testing the flex in the switches. The girls recoiled at the touch of the springy switches. Then they drew back their arms. Cath and Luanne heard the whine of the switches before they felt the stinging lines of fire across their bottoms as two switches landed nearly simultaneously driving the girls up on their toes.

“Yeow!” shrieked Luanne.

“Ahhh…ow!” Cath matched her friend in volume.

“Give it to them again,” said the old woman.

The switches whined again.

Swick! “Yowee!” yelled Luanne flinching.

Swish! “Ouch!…Ouch! No!” pleaded Cath.

“All right boys, keep going. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

The two hideous sons, Ordell and Jasper, then commenced a stinging switching of the two girl’s bare bottoms. Lashes fell steadily a few seconds apart. The glade echoed with the swish of the withes and the cries of the two girls. Lick after lick found the tender bare cheeks of the girls’ bottoms as the two hillbillies administered a thorough switching, urged on by their deranged mother.

Luanne and Cath yelled as each stinging lick landed. Before long their bottoms were covered with red weals. They were dancing on tiptoe as strokes from the switches seared their bare seats. Neither had ever felt anything like it. The switches’ whip-like strikes felt like hornets stinging. Luanne thought someone had lit a fire on her bottom. She could only imagine what she looked like, dancing on her toes, tits jiggling, her bottom bounding lasciviously. We’ll be lucky if they don’t rape us afterward, she thought.

Swick! Swick! Swick! The switching continued without letup. These men were like automatons, whipping them over and over with those switches. Luanne imagined that her bottom cheeks were quivering as the switch bit, probably inflaming the lusts of these horrible hill clan men. She just hoped the old woman would hold them in check.

“”Oww…oh, oww…”. Both girls were crying freely now and were dancing from foot to foot as much as their bound ankles would permit.

Cath could feel the burning mount with each successive lick. As she vainly tried to evade the switch, she was aware of the spectacle she must be presenting-dancing like a whipped slave girl, nude fanny jiggling with each lick. Her seat felt like a mass of stinging red welts and each new stroke stung worse than the one before it. She was crying like a baby. This hurt worse than any spanking she’d ever had. If only she had listened to her husband.

After several minutes the woman called a halt to the awful switching. By that time though, tears were streaming down the faces of the girls and their behinds stung atrociously.

* * *

When they put the Luanne and Cath back in the boat, they tossed their clothes in after them. The girls could not row fast enough to get away from the island. They never saw the cannibal hillbillies depart. It was as if they had melted back into the woods. It was only after they’d cleared the island completely that they put their clothes back on.

It was agony having to sit in the boat and row but they made it to the dock and the cabins. Their husbands were not back from their trip, they discovered. That gave them time to shower and rub aloe on the welts.

“Somebody has to do something,” said Luanne. “Those hillbillies are dangerous. They were talking about actually eating us!”

“I know, I know,” wailed Cath. “But that means we’ll have to tell the men. They told us to stay away from that island.” Jake would be furious. That little novelty store paddle would make its appearance. A cold shiver ran up her spine.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Luanne, but even as she said it, she rubbed her bottom unconsciously. She’d never admitted to Cath how her state trooper husband kept the worst of her bratty impulses in line.

When the men arrived they were told the harrowing tale. Naturally they wanted to see the evidence.

“Whooee, Luanne, that was quite a licking you got,” said Gus as he beheld his wife’s welted bottom. Jake confirmed that the state of Cath’s behind was similar as he emerged from their bedroom. “We’re glad you are all right, girls, but damn, why did you have to go there again? We told you, dammit!” Now Gus was furious.

“And it could have been a lot worse,” said Jake.

“Jake,” cried Cath, “they wanted, they wanted to e-eat us. They ate some hippies they said!” And she dissolved in tears.

“They whupped my behind so bad, I can’t sit,” complained Luanne. Even as she said it, though, she realized that it was probably the current state of her lush seat that kept Gus from thinking about tanning it for disobeying him. She gulped when she realized that that might come later.

“Good God,” said Jake. “I knew there were some nasty folk around that island, but this…. Gus we should go over there after them.”

Gus shook his head. “We’re out of our jurisdiction, Jake. Besides it’s too dark. They know that island and we don’t. We’ll talk to the sheriff first thing in the morning.”

Both men assured their wives they would get law enforcement on it right away. They had their guns, but it was too dark now to even think about going back to the island and capturing the cannibal hillbillies or whatever these horrible creatures were.

* * *

“Was my deputy a help?” asked the sheriff. He was sitting in his office at the county seat listening to Gus and Jake make their report.

“She certainly was,” said Jake, who smiled and nodded at the solidly built gray haired woman with the piercing blue eyes, now clad in the uniform of a Greenbrier County deputy sheriff.

“Good,” said the sheriff. “I guess she can get back to the stakeout now. We’ve been waiting for those people to show up and harvest that marihuana crop. Our biggest problem is keeping the civilians out.”

“Well,” said Gus, “our wives surely won’t be going back in there again and potentially ruining things.”

Jake and Gus let themselves out. Gus put his hand in his pocket to fetch his keys and felt a slip of paper. He pulled it out. It was a receipt–“Ace Costume Rental-2 ‘Leatherface’ masks, $7.00 ea.” Wouldn’t do to have this turn up in the laundry, mused Gus. No, sir, it wouldn’t.

He crumpled it up and threw it in the gutter.
Wasn't that fun?
From Hermione's Heart


Roz said...

Wonderful, fun story Hermione, love the ending! Thank you for sharing:)


Baxter said...

That was quite the story with an ending that I never considered.

ronnie said...

Hermione, thanks for fun story. I didn't expect that ending.