DEATH RIDERS

AUSTRALIA
Now (Dec 2023)

Sally Bankshead, a beautiful raven-haired teen, was riding her Palomino, Pal Joey, in the sweet-smelling pine and eucalyptus forest outside Daley, in the Glen Hartwell to Willamby area of the Victorian countryside.

Although just turned fifteen, Sally (never dare call her Cyrille, her given name!) was an experienced rider and had raised the two-year-old Palomino from a colt.

She was enjoying the cool change that had come through that night in December 2023. While much of Victoria was burning in forest-, bushfires, Glen Hartwell and its neighbouring towns had been spared the extreme heat so far, just two weeks out from Christmas.

She was riding along, when she saw shadows moving in the distance, too far away to make out what they were.

"What do you think, Pal Joey?" she asked the Palomino: "Stray dingoes, some brumbies [feral horses] maybe? Or my Prince Charming, waiting to sweep me off my feet?"

The horse gave a loud neigh, which sounded remarkably like: "No!"

"No, I guess you're right. Thanks to Germaine Queer, all the Prince Charmings are now afraid of women, in case they accidentally look down her cleavage and get sent to gaol!" Something which has actually happened in the former democracy of Australia.

"No, it's probably just Old Man Emu, running the pants off some unsuspecting kangaroo," joked Sally.

Pal Joey neighed again, and the ravenette said:

"I'm glad you agree with me."

She turned the Palomino, starting to ride away, before noticing that the black shadows, at least three that she could now distinguish, seemed to be heading in her direction.

As she finally made them out as three horse riders, she said: "I wonder if they know that they're on our land?"

She waited there for the three men, all dressed in long black robes like Benedictine Monks, complete with black hoods that completely concealed their faces. They were riding on huge night black steeds, like Pure Spanish Andalusian horses.

"Sorry..." she wasn't sure whether to call them brother or father. "But are you lost? This is the Bankshead family station that you are riding across."

"We recognise no boundaries or private property fair maiden," said one of the brothers (?)

Wondering whether they were travelling performers teasing her, Sally said:

"But seriously, my parents own this land. And my father, in particular, doesn't like people riding across it without asking his permission."

"We recognise no boundaries when we are on the hunt for prey," said a second Monk.

"Oh, I see," said Sally: "You must be English. I know that in England you can ride across anybody's property when hunting foxes, or whatever. But that isn't the law in Australia. In this country private property is sacrosanct and you need the owners's permission to hunt upon it."

"What about when we are hunting fair maidens, such as thyself?" asked the first Monk.

"Look, before you start coming on to me, I am only fifteen," warned the raven-haired girl: "And pædophilia is a very serious crime in Australia!"

"Pædo... what?" asked the second monk: "In our time women as young as six got married and had their maidenheads plucked by their husbands on their wedding night."

"I don't know where you come from, but in this country, a six-year-old would get you thirty years to life in prison. Assuming that the mere murderers and rapists didn't kill you during the first week. Fifteen-year-olds get you at least eight-to-ten years in the calaboose."

"What a wry dialect thou dost speak fair maiden," said the third monk. Speaking for the first time.

"Get stuffed," said Sally: "Aussie sheilas don't take bullshit from turkeys like you three."

"Wry indeed," he said."

She turned her Palomino to ride away. But the Monks rode after her. The first monk grabbed Pal Joey's reins. The second grabbed Sally, throwing her across his lap as though he intended to spank her. The third monk slapped the Palomino so that it whinnied and took off back toward the farmhouse.

"Let me go, you pervos!" cried the ravenette.

Instead, the monk gave her a hard spank on the behind, making her curse him.

Then all three Death Riders turned their black stallions and raced across the property, easily jumping the barbed wire boundary fence, when they came to the end of the farm. To head off into the open forest, to enjoy the delights that the fifteen-year-old's curvy body promised them.


As they sat around the dining table for tea at Deidre Morton's boarding house in Rochester Road Merridale, her guests were talking politics, as they had been a lot lately.

"So Albanese got his title of Number One Fascist Dictator of Australia back?" asked Natasha Lipzing, a tall lean grey-haired seventy-year-old, who had spent the second half of her life in the boarding house.

"Afraid so, Nat," said Tommy Turner, a short fat retiree with blond hair. A former alcoholic, the former forced upon him by Deidre Morton confiscating his stash and only letting have one small glass of booze with each of his meals.

"Don't call me Nat! My name is Natasha."

"How about, Tash?" asked Sheila Bennett, an orange-haired Goth chick. As Senior Constable, at thirty five she was the second highest ranked cop in the Glen Hartwell to Willamby region.

"No!" said Natasha, then to Tommy: "And if you say I've got one, no one will ever again call you testy ... because you won't have any."

"Tasha?" suggested Freddy Kingston, a tall, obese, bald retiree.

"No thank you."

"What about you Tare?" Freddy asked Terri Scott: "What do you think of Albanese getting back his position as Evil Fascist Dictator of Australia?

She stuck up her right pointer finger and twisted her hand round side to side."

"If I didn't know that you are too ladylike," teased her boyfriend Colin Klein, a redheaded journalist from England: "I'd swear that you were telling Albanese to sit on it and swivel!"

"I was," said Terri laughing. A tall beautiful blonde of thirty-five, Terri was the Chief Sergeant and number one cop in the local area.

"And you used to be so ladylike?" teased Deidre Morton. A short but energetic lady, who could make most Michelin Chefs look like fish-and-chip shop operators.

"I still am sometimes," insisted Terri: "But it's difficult not to be rude when talking about an evil fascist dictator who tried to disenfranchise 96.6% of Australians in his 'V for Defeat' referendum. Which would have turned all white or Asian Australians into slaves. Strangely enough including himself."

"No, no, the 3.4% who still had the right to vote, would have awarded him honorary Indigenous Status," said Natasha: "So that he would have remained Chief Evil Fascist Dictator of Australia!"

"She's right, you know," said Tommy Turner. Surprising Natasha Lipzing by agreeing with her for about the second time ever.

"Thank you, Tommy."

"That's all right, Tasha."

"Call me that again," she said picking up a carving knife.

"I know, I won't ever be testy again," he said. Crossing his legs, as men always instinctively do when subjects like sex-change operations, or castration in general arise.


The three monks, rode their night black Pure Spanish Andalusian horses, deeper and deeper into the forest, until there was little chance of anyone accidentally coming across them.

As the monks climbed down from their horses, Sally grabbed the reins and tried to ride the horse that she was on away from them. But the stallion would not obey anyone except its master.

So, instead, she jumped down and started running at a fast pace away from them.

Like a trick rider at a rodeo, one of the monks grabbed onto the side of his horse which took off after her. As soon as they were level with her, he let go and fell against her, pushing the ravenette to the ground.

She instinctively kicked him in the crotch. Yet the monk gave no indication of feeling any pain.

Taking off his black hood to reveal, a mouldy, worm-riddled face, he said: "You cannot hurt the dead!"

Sarah started gibbering in terror, trying to crawl away from the Death Riders. Hoping that this was all a hideous nightmare. And hoping that she would awaken soon.

Ripping off their vestments to reveal mouldering, pus-laden bodies, the three monks strode across to grab Sally. They ripped off her Denim Trousers and her blouse, stopping in surprise at the sight of her bra and panties. Having just arisen from five hundred years of death, they were unfamiliar with the concept of underwear.

As Sally kicked one of them again, then tried to crawl away, they got over their surprise and ripped off her remaining garments, except for her boots, having, therefore, to tear off her pantyhose.

Then holding her spread-eagled, they began to rape her one after the other. Sally turned her head away, refusing to watch them, and abhorred by the thought of them wanting to French kiss her: I would throw up! she thought, one of her last rational thoughts, before going stark raving mad.

Even the funereal stink of their breath was enough to make her gag, struggling not to throw up as they took her, and took her, and took her.

Finally, one of the monks rolled her over and sodomised the fifteen-year-old girl. The act that finally drove her completely mad.

Finally, they had all sodomised her. Then, fortunately for Sally, they did not expect her to suck their festering, ichor-laden penises.

Even prostitutes, as they took her to be, did not do such things in the fifteen hundreds.

They threw a handful of ancient British coins over her. Then, remounting their night-black steeds, raced off into the night. Leaving the naked fifteen-year-old helpless to any passing dingoes or other possible predators.

She started laughing hysterically, as though she had just heard the funniest joke of her life.

After a few minutes, she stood up, too mad to even notice or be ashamed of the fact that she was naked. She started walking, in no particular direction, but in a direction, by chance, which would take her into Merridale township in a couple of hours.

As she walked, she continued to laugh, ignoring the blood and pus-like semen that leaked down her legs from her vagina and anus as she went along.


At Deidre Morton's house in Merridale, they had just finished a massive and magnificent lunch and were ready to go watch TV, in the case of Natasha, Tommy, and Freddy. Or go back on the beat in the case of Terri, Sheila, and Colin.

As Terri tossed her the keys to her brand new Lexus, replacing one which had been written off recently, Sheila said: "Don is right."

"There's a first time for everything?" teased Colin good-naturedly.

"No, I mean how come the chief gets to take you, her boyfriend on the beat, not that we have any cases at the moment. Whereas Don can't take his girlfriend Lisa on cases with him?"

"For one thing," said Terri: "She almost threw up over evidence and fainted in horror at the sight of a hideously mutilated victim."

"Yes, but...?"

"Whereas, Colin as a thirty-year veteran crime reporter is not likely to do either."

"Also, you're the head cop of the area," she said starting the Lexus: "So you can bloody well do whatever you like?"

"Exactly," agreed Terri, refusing to be bated.

"One law for the powerful..." whispered Sheila.

"What was that, Sheils?"

"I said, you're the boss."

"She's a terrible liar isn't she?" said Terri.

"Yes, but that doesn't stop her from trying," teased Colin.

"Ha-ha, it is to laugh," said Sheila, quoting Daffy Duck for the umpteenth time.


They had barely started patrolling Rochester Road when they saw a disturbance at the other end of the road.

Flicking the siren on, Sheila took off toward the crowd of people. Many of them were using mobile cameras to take pictures of something that the people in the Lexus still could not see.

Honking her horn, to disperse the crowd, Sheila jumped out of the police-blue Lexus, followed by Colin and Terri.

Finally, the crowd dispersed, many of them running away for fear of being accused of taking child pornography. The two cops and Colin could now see the naked, except for boots and torn pantyhose acting like stocking-socks, teenager Sally Bankshead.

Still laughing like a fool, she kept walking toward them, making no effort to cover herself, as pus-like semen and blood continued to leak down her legs from her vagina and anus.

"Sally!" cried Terri in shock. She took her police jacket off and placed it around the laughing, naked fifteen-year-old.

"Three monks fucked me," said Sally, laughing hysterically, as though it was the funniest thing anyone had ever said.


"Three monks?" asked Jesus Costello, when they took Sally to the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital. Jesus, pronounced 'Hee-Zeus' was the chief surgeon and chief administrator at the hospital.

"Three monks," agreed Sally laughing hysterically. "I guess they hadn't taken the vow of chastity yet. So they wanted to get their ends away first."

She laughed loudly, until finally collapsing from exhaustion.

Topaz Moseley, a gorgeous, very short, platinum blonde, wheeled the ravenette to the operating theatre to be operated upon by Jesus and his chief assistant Tilly Lombstrom, a tall shapely brunette of fifty-something. Also they had to douche Sally out, since her body cavities not only contained blood and pus-filled semen, but also worms and maggots, along with small pieces of dead flesh.


"The only monks within cooee of here are the Franciscans led by Father Bernard," Fr. Leon the hospital's nondenominational pastor told them: "But they certainly wouldn't rape a fifteen-year-old girl."

"No, of course not," agreed Terri Scott, deciding to pay them a visit anyway.


As they climbed back into the Lexus, Sheila asked: "Where to, Chief?"

"Father Bernard at the monastery," said Terri, Sheila, and Colin as one.

"Ha-ha, it is to laugh," said Terri.

"Hey, that's my line," said Sheila.

"You pinched it from Daffy Duck," reminded Colin.

"All right, mine and Daffy's ... in that order."


At the monastery, Father Bernard was pleased to see them. He hugged the two women saying, "Terri!" as he hugged her, then "Sheila!" hugging her too.

"I've heard disturbing rumours that you two are now the top two cops in the Glen Hartwell to Willamby region," he teased.

Laughing, Terri said: "Well, Sheils is more disturbed than I am, but yes, yes we are."

"And very good at it, I'm sure," said Father Bernard.

"Well, I'm more good at it than she is," teased Sheila.

"And who is this handsome gentleman?" he asked, shaking hands with Colin Klein.

"Colin, my boyfriend. He's an English Crime Reporter."

"Then it's a pity you weren't up in Sydney recently when our questionable Prime Minister's questionable behaviour was put into question?"

"That's a lot of questions for one sentence," said Sheila.

"I was. But before I even went a friend of ours, Totty Rampling, predicted that he'd get away with it."

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" asked Father Bernard.

"Father, do any of your monks have black robes?"

"No, no, we're Franciscan monks. You need Benedictine monks for black robes. However in England in the fifteen hundreds and earlier, some highwaymen wore black robes, so thinking that they were monks people would stop for them. Then they would rob and kill the men, and kidnap and rape the women."

"Do you keep horses here?" asked Sheila.

"No, we have an ancient tractor to plough the land, and we have two cars. A 1960s mini minor which has a starter button. Turn the key and nothing happens, then hold down the started button. Also, we have a 1982 yellow Morris Minor."

He thought for a moment then said: "One of our monks, Father Bresslaw said he saw three men on night-black horses yesterday. But they were too far off for him to see the riders clearly. Besides, as a horse lover, a former bookmaker now reformed, he probably was only looking at the horses. Beautiful night-black Pure Spanish Andalusian horses, he thought."


Black horses," said Terri as they returned to the Lexus. "That's one of the things Sally was muttering about, black horses."

"So they're either Benedictine Monks or English highwaymen from the fifteen hundreds or earlier," said Sheila with a laugh.

"Don't laugh, Sheils," said Colin: "It's no less likely than a lot of the weird stuff that goes on in this area."

"The Colin Klein Weird Casebook?" teased Sheila.

"Sheils!" said Colin and Terri as one. Only managing to make the orange-haired Goth policewoman laugh.


The Blythe family comprised; Forty-five-year-old Donald, the father, thirty-nine-year-old Hester, a mildly pretty redhead, their twin twelve-year-old daughters, Lois with her mother's red hair, and Janis with her father's black hair, despite facially being identical twins. Also tagging along was nine-year-old Irkel, the twins irritating blond brother, whom they had nicknamed Irk.

They had stopped their ancient burgundy-coloured Chrysler in the middle of the forest outside Daley township, to have a picnic lunch, before intending to drive four hundred kilometres to Sale.

"Boiled egg, girls?" asked Hester.

"Thanks, Mummy, they said each taking an egg from her."

"Irkel?" called Hester. But he was too busy watching a brown-grey kookaburra up a sweet-smelling gum tree to even hear her.

"Earth to Irk," teased Lois.

"Come in, your planet needs you," said Janis.

As the two girls giggled, their mother glared at them.

Taking the hard-boiled egg from her mother, Janis said: "Leave it to me, Mum."

She wound up her arm like a baseball pitcher before Hester warned her: "Throw that at your brother and I'll use the egg flip on your bum ... the metal flip, not the plastic one."

"Can't have any fun anymore," said Janis. Getting up, she went over to stand in front of Irkel to give him the egg.

Without looking away from the Kookaburra, which started to sound off, he deshelled the egg and began to eat it.

"What part of the Twilight Zone is he from?" asked Lois. And both girls started to dee dee dee dee dee dee dee, the Twilight Zone theme.

"You know he's artistic," Hester defended him.

"Autistic, more like it," said Janis. Both girls cackled with laughter.

"Girls, don't mock your brother," chided Donald.

"No, Daddy," they said. Both Daddy's girls; they were more likely to obey Donald than their mother.

Finally, Lois solved the problem of Irkel. Picking up a small stone from the forest floor, she wound back her left arm and hurled the stone with perfect aim, bouncing it off the Kookaburra's left wing. Making it squawk then fly away.

"Hey, why'd cha do that?" asked Irkel finally turning round to face his family.

"To getcha attention," said Janis. The two girls giggled as they each began eating a chicken and mayonnaise sandwich.

"There was no need to hurt it."

"There are plenty more kookie-burras where that one came from," said Lois, and both girls giggled again.


They had finished lunch and were packing things away into the boot of the Chrysler when the three black-robed 'monks' rode up on their night-black steeds.

"Horseys," said Irkel.

The three children raced over to pat the three horses. Which snorted smoke from their nostrils, as though they were the horses of the apocalypse.

Leaning down, the lead monk-highway man, used a large knife to slit the throats of Donald and Hester.

Then, as the three children froze in terror, the three highwaymen leant down to grab one child each, to pull across their lap in the spanking position. They then whipped the reins to send the night-black horses racing back into the depths of the sweet-smelling pine and eucalyptus forest.

More than an hour later the Death Riders stopped and climbed down, careful to hold onto their human cargo this time. Having learnt from their earlier mistake with feisty young Sally Bankshead.

"Let us go you ... you freaks," cried raven-haired Janis.

"Yeah, freaks," agreed redheaded Lois.

"Pwease let me go," begged Irkel. Not aware that like his two sisters, he was about to experience the proverbial 'fate worse than death'. Which would leave him the autistic child, that his two sisters teasingly called him.

The three sixteenth-century highwaymen, each lay his intended victim on the grass and started to rip their clothes away.

The two girls fought furiously, Lois managing to kick her attacker in the crotch. Like Sally Bankshead she was amazed when the 'man' did not react.

Stripping her naked, he tied her hands and feet with her own torn clothing, then stood up and said: "Varily thou canst hurt the dead, pretty doxy."

He dropped his robes to reveal his festering pus-dripping body, his genitals being the most hideous, half rotten away part of his ichor-slimed carcase.

"Aaaaaah!" shrieked Lois. As he untied her legs again and slammed his rampant dick into her, bursting through her twelve-year-old hymen, then starting to rut like a hog during mating season with no pretence of making love to the girl.

"Tight, little doxy, though art very tight," he cried. Even as a dead thing, able to appreciate the incredible tightness of the young girl's vagina.

"Please help me," cried Lois. Barely able to withstand the pain of the penetration.

But there was no one to help her as the second highwayman stripped Janis, who screamed and then fainted when he revealed his gruesome body to her.

Unconscious, she was unable to even fight as he used her torn garments to tie her up, then pull her young legs wide apart, before stepping between them.

He plunged his foul, ichor-riddled penis into her virgin opening, then like his companion, began rutting like an animal on heat, rather than merely having sex. With no resemblance at all to making love.

As he thrust into her, pus, ichor, plus the occasional graveyard worm fell from his body onto the young girl.

Janis awakened and started screaming as she saw what was happening to her, by what, and the foulness falling from her assailant's body to land on hers.

"Don't hurt dem," pleaded Irkel. Too traumatised to even resist as the third highwayman stripped him naked, then rolled him over onto his belly.

Spreading the boy's buttocks with his mouldy thumbs, the creature slammed its huge but rotten penis in through his sphincter.

"Noooooooooo!" shrilled Irkel as he was ruthlessly sodomised by the ghoulish monster.

"Soooooo tight!" cried the creature. He decided that he had been the lucky one to get the boy to violate, while his two companions had been stuck with the two beautiful girls.

"Heeeelp me!" cried Irkel, although there was no one to help any of the three ravished children. He tried to escape from the monster buggering him, but the fiend held his buttocks tight in its boney claw-like fingers as it thrust in and out of him ejaculating its pus-like sperm into his bowels no less than three times.

After finishing raping Janis and Lois coitally, the first two highwaymen rolled them over and started sodomising them brutally. So that all three siblings were now being buggered by the three sixteenth-century monsters.

"Soooooo tight," shrieked the three monsters. They climaxed almost simultaneously in the three children's rectums.

Leaving the three sobbing, bleeding, leaking children, the three highwaymen stood up and promptly saw five Aborigines standing a few metres away in the forest watching in terror. A tall middle-aged buck carrying a spear and boomerang. Three topless, huge-breasted lubras, and a teenaged buck.


ENGLAND
A Week Earlier

Over in Carlisle on the extreme edge of Northern England just short of the border with Scotland, an exciting discovery had been made. While digging through the ruins of a collapsed castle, the builders had discovered the partially mummified remains of three notorious sixteenth-century highwaymen: Basil Ridgley, Giles Meriwether, and Eustace Cooper. Along with their night-black steeds: Incubus, Nightmare, and Darkling.

The highwaymen had robbed, murdered, and raped travellers on the way to and from Carlisle more than five centuries ago. Then had suddenly vanished.

"Never to be seen again ... until now," said a local clergyman, Father Patrick. As excited as if they had just proven the reality of Santa Claus.

"Yeh, wonderful," said one of the workmen, less than impressed. Only impressed to be getting paid for his labour.


AUSTRALIA
Now

"Darkies," said Basil Ridgley, leader of the highwaymen starting across toward the natives.

One of the women crossed herself, the others made the equivalent signs in their own religions as the mouldy creature strode across to them.

Terrified, the older buck threw his spear. Which landed in Ridgley's chest cavity, pointing out the back, without doing any damage to the fiend.

Ripping out the spear, the ghoulish being hurled it back at the buck. Hitting him in the heart with enough supernatural force for the spearhead to pass right through the buck before he fell over backwards,

One of the lubras, muttered something in their native tongue to the teenage buck, who span around and charged back toward the Aboriginal village to report what they had seen.

All three highwaymen walked across to the huge-breasted lubras.

"Quite bosomy ladies of the night," said Giles Meriwether.

"If you can call darkies ladies," said Eustace Cooper. The three creatures roared with laughter.

Finally recovering from their lethargy the three middle-aged lubras turned to flee after the teenager.

"Darkling, Nightmare, Incubus!" called Basil Ridgley. The horses, snorting smoke from their nostrils, raced across in front of the three lubras to cut off their escape.

"After five hundred years, they are very well trained," said Basil.

"Yes," agreed Giles Meriwether.

"Very," agreed Eustace Meriwether striding across to grab the hugest-breasted lubra to easily pick her up to throw across his shoulder to carry across to his horse. Without missing a step, without using his hands, he mounted the horse and placed the mature lubra in the spanking position across his lap.

"A fine, bosomy darkie," he said laughing, as he started to ride off even deeper into the forest.

Basil strode over to grab one of the two remaining huge-chested lubras, calling: "Incubus."

The horse raced over to its master and he easily stepped into the stirrups and onto the horse's back, without using his hands. He placed her in a spanking position across his lap, pulled up her animal skin skirt out of the way, and gave her three hard spanks to be getting on with.

Holding the lubra with one hand, he raced off after Eustace.

Grabbing the remaining lubra, Giles called, "Nightmare!"

The horse raced across to him, and quickly Giles climbed aboard with the busty lubra across his lap.

"A productive day today," he said with a laugh as he started after Basil and Eunace: "Very productive indeed."

Just in time, he remembered to toss a handful of sixteenth-century guinea coins at the three ravished children.

"Spend it wisely," he said with a cruel laugh. Riding off with the helpless lubra across his lap.


Back in Glen Hartwell, Terri had arranged for as many cops as possible, plus friend and part-time native tracker, Bulam Bulam to try to locate the rape scene.

A tall wiry grey-haired man of sixty-five, Bulam Bulam was an Elder of the Gooladoo tribe, outside the township of Harpertown in the Victorian countryside.

Bulam Bulam rode on the bonnet of the lead vehicle, a police-blue Range Rover, driven by Sheila Bennett, as they started.

They drove into the forest till reaching the Bankshead property, where they found signs of a struggle, but no suggestion that the girl had been raped there. Following the trail across to the barbed wired boundary fence, Bulam Bulam said:

"It leads out into the forest."

They had been given permission by Sally's devastated parents to cut the fence if necessary. So having come prepared with wire-cutters, they quickly cut through the barb-wire and pulled it away to allow the cars to drive into the forest.


Two hours later they found the fifteen-year-old's torn clothing plus blood, fæces, and pungent pus spilt widely across the ground.

"This is it," said the Aboriginal Elder.

They left Paul Bell, a tall wiry dark-haired cop and his constable, Drew Braidwood, a tall gangly blonde man to ring through for Elvis Green, the local coroner. Nicknamed due to his long black sideburns and devotion to Elvis Presley.

Then the procession continued into the forest to track the 'black monks' as they had started to call them.

They followed the trail till past midnight, before returning to Glen Hartwell. After first taking coordinates of the area to start again tomorrow in Louie Pascall's old Bell-Huey helicopter. A farmer outside Lenoak, he used the chopper to round up his cattle. However, he had leased it to the police before.


Deep into the forest, almost at the start of the desert land, the three highwaymen climbed down from their horses, easily carrying their huge-breasted captives down with them.

One of the lubras, the one who had crossed herself earlier, started to say a Christian prayer, but in an Aboriginal dialect.

"What's the bosomy darkie muttering me wonders," said Basil Ridgley.

"I care not," said Giles Meriwether carrying his own busty lubra: "Tis not the mouth that interests me, but other rare charms."

"Speak for thine self," said Eustace Cooper. Like the other two highwaymen, he prided himself upon being the most depraved of the three. "For a darkie, her mouth is quite sensual."

Giles and Basil laughed riotously.

"Thine are indeed depraved," Giles congratulated him.

Soon they had the three lubras naked on the ground. Unlike Sally Bankshead or the three Blythe children, they did not struggle, merely hoped and prayed to survive the experience. Having seen where it had got the Blythe children, they realised that fighting would only make their position worse.

"This darkie wench is just lying there," complained Giles, having hoped for an excuse to beat her about a little before raping her.

"So are ours," complained Eustace,

"They must indeed be doxies, who will not fight," Basil insisted: "They must be ready for anything."

So saying he dropped his robe, to reveal his pustulant suppurating body to the lubra, who, despite having seen it before, almost fainted in terror.

Working his huge penis into her vagina, he grabbed her huge bust in his hands. Almost tearing her breasts away from her chest as he raped her savagely with sheer open lust, without even the pretence of affection of any kind.

"Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!" he grunted, taking her as violently as he could possibly manage.

Soon Eustace and Giles were also ravaging their chosen Lubras, in Giles's case digging his claw-like fingers deep into the fatty tissue of her vast opulent breasts as he rode her ruthlessly like the fleet doxy that he had mistaken her for.

"Yes, doxy, yes!" he screamed as he started to ejaculate his pus-like semen into her for the first of several times.

Eustace had a thinner, but longer organ than the other two. He was delighted each time he plunged it to the hilt into the busty lubra who screamed each time when the tip of his penis slammed against the opening of her uterus, almost penetrating her womb.

For hours the three fiends fucked the three women, before rolling them over on the carpet of dried pine needles and gun leaves to start brutally sodomising the three busty lubras.

All three women started shrieking and praying to different gods: Yahwe, Jesus, Mamaragan: the Great Rainbow Serpent.

The men sodomised them for hours, right throughout the night, before, deciding to force the women to fellate them. Something which they had not made Sally Bankshead or the Blythe children do.

The busty lubras wanted to refuse, but were too terrified of the Death Riders, to refuse them anything. So, clenching their eyes painfully shut, they took the foul, worm-riddled penises into their mouths and tried to fellate them. They had from time to time to stop, to turn their heads aside to throw up.

"Me thinks they do not like our juicy cocks in their full-lipped mouths, these darkie doxies!" complained Basil Ridgley. "Who the hell dost they think they are?"

So saying, he took out a long-bladed hunting knife, turned it on its side and began to spank his lubra's naked behind repeatedly.

Which had the desired effect of making her try harder to ignore the foul funereal taste as she sucked upon his organ.

Finally, all three highwaymen were finished, they redressed, mounted Incubus, Nightmare, and Darkling and rode off. But not before tossing a handful of sixteenth-century guinea coins to the three lubras.

"Why did you pay them? They're only darkies," insisted Giles.

"Fair enough," said Basil: "But even darkies have to earn a living. And although a bit whiney, they were well satisfying."

The three Death Riders laughed raucously as they rode away, leaving the three sore and bloody lubras to try to find their own way home.


The next morning Terri, Sheila, and Colin were just starting off in the blue Lexus when they received two phone calls one straight after the other.

The first to tell them of the ancient guinea coins found at the site of Sally Bankshead's rape. The second was to tell them that the three Blythe children, Lois, Janis, and Irkel had wandered into Lenoak in the same bloody pustulant semen-dripping state as Sally. They had been transported to the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital.

A quick search through the forest found Donald and Hester Blythe. Then their job was made easier when the seventeen-year-old Aboriginal buck was escorted to the police station by Bulam Bulam. The buck told them where the rape site for the Blythe children was, and also about his father having been murdered and his mother and two aunts taken away by the Death Riders.


An hour later they were at the rape and murder site, where they found the middle-aged buck's corpse. Along with a handful of ancient English guinea coins.

"What the Hell are these?" asked Stanlee Dempsey.

"Old fashioned guinea coins; they're equivalent to two pounds ten new pence these days," said Colin Klein: "Although they could be worth big money to a serious coin collector."

"So explain to me again the law of 'Finders Keeper, Losers Weepers'?" teased Stanlee.

"Sadly there is no such law," pointed out Terri Scott, taking the coins from him: "They go into the evidence lock up."

"Hydra-foiled again," teased Stanlee.

Hearing the whur-whur-whur of rotors, they looked up to see Louie Pascall arriving in his chopper.

"Okay, let's go find the missing lubras, first," said Terri: "Then see if we can spot these Dark Riders."

To Stanlee and the other cops, she said: "Follow as best as you can in the cars. We don't want to be stuck in the desert when we have to get out to make way for the lubras."

"Chief, if you just built those flabby muscles up a bit," teased Sheila.

When the chopper landed, Sheila climbed into the shotgun seat with a pair of binoculars. As on previous occasions Bulam Bulam, Colin, and Terri squeezed into the rear of the Huey.


They had been travelling for about fifty minutes when Bulam Bulam, also using binoculars, pointed, saying: "A couple of kays to your right."

The others looked right and could see the struggling lubras too. They landed the chopper, then with difficulty managed to get the three Aboriginal women into the chopper and seat-belted in.

"Take them straight to GH&DCH," Terri instructed Louie: "Then come back to resume the search."

"Gotcha," said Louie, before starting the rotors again.


An hour later the other vehicles caught up with them, so with Bulam Bulam on the bonnet of the Range Rover again, they followed the footprints of the three lubras. Hoping that they would lead them to wherever the Death Riders were.


They had been travelling for over an hour when they heard the whur-whur-whur of the rotors as Louie Pascall caught up with them.

Fortunately, they had brought some cheese and tomato and ham and cheese sandwiches and thermos flasks with them. It would be another eight hours or so before they finally caught up with the Death Riders.

Then as the chopper started to land, the riders stood their ground waiting for the mechanical bird, instead of riding away.

As they climbed out of the Huey, Sheila said: "I've just thought of something?"

"What?" asked Terri.

"What do we do know we've caught up with them? The last time we rented the chopper I fired arrows with TNT taped to them. But we haven't brought anything like that with us this time."

"You just thought of that now, Sheils?"

"Well, you and Col are the brains of the operation, Tare," said the orange-haired Goth policewoman: "I'm the beauty and the muscles."

"Good point," said Terri: "Would it seem cowardly to get back into the whirlybird and fly away?"

"I'm afraid so, babe," said Colin.


ENGLAND
Today

Excited at their discovery, the local pastor led an official from the London Museum to look at the three sixteenth-century highwaymen: Basil Ridgley, Giles Meriwether, and Eustace Cooper. Along with their horses: Incubus, Nightmare, and Darkling."

But when they went down to the cellar of the building where they had been stored, all six of the semi-mummified corpses were missing.

"Who the Hell could have taken them, and how?" asked the official.

"No one, they've risen," said the priest: "They say that true evil is difficult to kill."

He took out his mobile phone and rang through to the Archbishop of Canterbury to have an exorcist priest sent out. The Church of England rarely approves exorcisms, however, it has forty-four exorcism priests, one per diocese. Each one was appointed by the Archbishop of Canterbury himself.

It was the longest hour of the priest's life, before Father Michael, the exorcist priest finally arrived in a helicopter, a lot more modern than Louie Pascall's Bell Huey.

"Father Patrick," he said by way of greeting.

Father Patrick explained what had happened, and Father Michael started to perform the exorcism ritual, having been careful to bring with him a full gallon of holy water, blessed by the Archbishop of Canterbury.


AUSTRALIA
Now

"Any genius suggestions by anybody would be appreciated right now," said Terri, as the Death Riders started racing toward them.

"Run like Hell," suggested Bulam Bulam.

"Great suggestion," said Sheila, taking off back the way that they had come. Closely followed by the Aboriginal Elder.

"Gee, they can really run like Hell," said Colin impressed.

"Maybe we should both go with Sheila to the gym on Saturday mornings?" suggested Terri.

"Good idea babe," said Colin as they set off after the other two. "If we survive this, it's a date."

"You always have to lay down conditions," she teased.

Louie Pascall tried to run some interference for them with the Bell Huey. Afraid to get too close to the Death Riders, in case they were capable of bringing down the chopper.

"What sayeth thou of that strange metallic bird?" wondered Giles Meriwether.

"Some form of local magic," guessed Basil Ridgley" "But not as powerful as our magic. Until you have returned from the land of the dead, you haveth no real magic atall."

So saying they attacked the Huey, forcing Louie to take the chopper straight up out of harm's way.

"It caneth fly straight upward?" puzzled Eustace.


ENGLAND
Today

As the exorcism proceeded, while reading from the exorcism text, Father Michael constantly dipped his fingers into the holy water to splash it lightly upon where the three human and three equine corpses had recently lain.

Then handing the book to Father Patrick, he picked up the large jar and began to pour holy water liberally over the six now empty spaces.


AUSTRALIA
Now

The three Death Riders and their black steeds were only a few metres behind Colin and Terri when white steam started to pour off them: highwaymen and horses alike.

Louie Pascall sounded his alarm to get the attention of the four runners.

Looking back, they saw the Death Riders spewing off steam and smoke, until they were reduced to bone ash, and then even that evaporated.


ENGLAND
Today

Over in Carlisle England, the ashes of the three highwaymen and three demon horses suddenly appeared on the floor. They carefully scooped them up and placed them into the now-empty holy water bottle.

"We must never speak of this to anyone," said Father Michael. Taking the ashes out to be taken back by helicopter to Canterbury.


AUSTRALIA
Now

"To quote Daffy Duck," said Sheila: "Wah happen?"

THE END
© Copyright 2023 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia