The Purple Turtle Incident

This is fiction but I vaguely remember reading in the paper maybe 20 years ago that something like this happened during a bar hold up. Let me know if you remember anything about a real event like this happening.

*

There once was a bar called the Purple Turtle and I happened to be there during a robbery. However, the robbers only emptied the cash register and got out as quickly as possible. Most people did not even know that a robbery was in progress, and there certainly was no sexual coercion.

Oh, and remember everyone—THIS IS A FANTASY. I certainly do not condone violence against women or against anyone for that matter. What might be titillating as a fantasy would be horrifying in reality! Eliza

Bonnie could tell that, as far as her nephew Nick was concerned, she had brought him to just the right place to celebrate his twenty-first birthday. Nick's dad Matt seemed less thrilled with her choice of a venue for their celebration, and his Mom, Bonnie's sister Paulette, looked almost apoplectic.

"I thought we were going somewhere nice," Paulette said. "I should have known when you drove us down to this neighborhood, that we'd be coming to some dump ..."

"Are you kidding? This used to be one of the nicest neighborhoods in town ..." Bonnie said. "And ..."

"Yeah, about a hundred years ago," Matt said.

"And, as I was about to say, this neighborhood is gonna be the next hot part of town."

In truth, the Purple Turtle was in a neighborhood that had seen better days, and the bar did seem a bit seedy. Some of the customers seemed a little seedy too, but Bonnie had been coming here once or twice a week for several years and had always had a good time and felt perfectly safe. The beer was cold and cheap, the music was good, there were plenty of pool tables, and the burgers were the best in town.

"I like it," said Nick, looking around. "I like it a lot. There are some hot looking girls here."

"Forget about them," said Paulette curtly, "you're here with your family."

They sat at the bar. The bartender came over. Paulette ordered a margarita and the rest of them ordered beer. The bartender asked for Nick's I.D. and he proudly whipped out his wallet and showed the bartender his driver license. "A birthday boy," she said, smiling. "First one's on the house, then."

Bonnie had always adored her nephew Nick. She'd never had kids of her own. Nick was her "son" in a way. But he was also a very good looking young man. She glared at the bartender. She projected the thought, "Stay away from him." Then she felt silly. Nick was her nephew, not her lover. He should have a good time on his 21st birthday.

They sat and chatted for awhile. After a couple of beers, Matt seemed to relax. The band was playing 60's music, which made him happy. Nick was happily flirting with the bartender. Paulette was the only one who still seemed uncomfortable. But then, Bonnie thought, Paulette never seems comfortable.

"Slow down," Paulette told her son. "You're drinking too fast."

"Mom," he whispered, "you're embarrassing me. You know, just because this is my first legal beer doesn't mean it's my first beer."

Paulette gave him a dirty look.

To make matters even worse for Paulette, the guy sitting at the bar next to her kept trying to chat her up. There were always a few scary people hanging out at the Purple Turtle, but Bonnie found that they were harmless, and some of them were very nice guys. The one next to Paulette, though, was extra scary looking. Even though it was a warm evening, he was wearing a leather jacket. He had a pasty white complexion and some ugly tattoos. He kept trying to talk to Paulette. "Pretty Lady,: he said to Paulette. "Maybe you dance of me?" She stared at him as if he were cat vomit on her oriental carpet.

"I don't think so," she said, waving her hand in front of her face as if swatting away flies.

He smiled, a rather evil smile, and said, "That's OK ... maybe later on the evening you'll feel more for dancing." Bonnie heard a Mitteleuropa accent in his voice. He might have been Croatian, or Bulgarian, or Lithuanian or something like that.

Paulette rolled her eyes. "I don't think so, we're just hear to celebrate my son's birthday."

"Oh is very nice, whole family gathered up, your husband, your son, your daughter, to celebration the birthday boy," the man said.

"She's NOT my daughter, she's my sister," Paulette snapped at him. "She's only four years younger than me."

Bonnie knew that she looked ten years younger than her big sister, who had really let herself go after marrying Matt, but there was no way the man could really have thought Bonnie was really Paulette's daughter. He's just needling her cause she wouldn't dance with him, she thought.

"Am sorry to offending you," said the man. "Has been so nice talking, but now must do an important something."

"I think Mom's got a boyfriend," Nick whispered to Bonnie. Bonnie laughed. She glanced over at the guy next to Paulette again. He was looking, she noticed, at a couple of other guys with pasty complexions sitting across the bar from him who were also wearing leather. They might have been his brothers or cousins. Then she noticed another one of these east European types at the door. As she watched, the guy next to Paulette nodded to the others, smiled his nasty smile, and unzipped his jacket.

What happened next was very alarming. He pulled out a gun. It had a handle like a pistol but was as long as a shotgun. It looked particularly lethal. She looked around. The other three men in leather were also brandishing weapons. The one next to Paulette fired a shot into the air. It sounded like a rocket being launched. Paulette, who had deliberately turned on her barstool so as to avoid looking at him, was unaware that her neighbor at the bar had drawn a gun. She was so startled by the thunderous report that she nearly fell off her barstool.

There was a shower of plaster dust onto the bar, into their drinks, and all over their clothes and hair.

"Everyone, listen out, and listen out good," said the man by the door. He also had an eastern European accent. "There's a robbery going up here. EVERYONE lies down to their bellies NOW, you don't mind."

Bonnie slid off he bar stool and laid face down on the dirty floor of the Purple Turtle. She was sorry she'd worn a white top.

She saw the man who had been standing near the front door lock the door behind him. Another pasty-faced. leather-jacketed man herded the kitchen help out into the main part of the restaurant and had them lie down, then he went into the restrooms. He pushed out an older man who had a wet stain on the front of his pants. He must have been in mid-pee when the shot went off.

The man who had been sitting next to Paulette went behind the bar and emptied the cash register into a bag. Another man went into the office and forced the manager to empty the safe. Bonnie thought, "They've got what they want. Now they'll get out of here as fast as they can ...."

This was wishful thinking. Now they were going around the bar from person to person, stealing everything of value.

"Stay down in the floor you bitch girl," one of the robbers said to a woman who was lying near Bonnie. This woman had raised up on her elbows, trying to figure out what was going on. The man put his foot on this back, forcing her flat against the floor. The woman said, "I've been drinking beer ... I need to go to the bathroom ... I'm scared ..."

"Shut up, you cunt girl," the man said, pressing down on her back with his foot. "Don't be moving yourself."

"Are you going to kill us?" the woman asked him tearfully.

"Perhaps we might," said the man, with a smirking look at her, but first, we're going to watch as you fuck up each other."

Does he mean watch as we fuck each other? WHAT?" Bonnie thought. Is he serious?

Bonnie couldn't see her brother-in-law or nephew's face but she could see her sister's. Paulette had gone white with fear. Paulette had also overheard the raider's remark.

"Now, all you going to lie down especially quiet, like you're dead people, cause we're gonna come around and check for valuables and weapons and cell phones on your bodies..." said the bandit that had fired the shot. "Have you gotten that?"

While one man stood at the door, three made their way from customer to customer. They would make one person at a time stand up and then would search that person, taking jewelry, phones, watches, wallets, cash. They also had the women empty their purses, and would paw though the contents looking for more valuables. They did not search the customers gently, and with the women, they were particularly rough and particularly thorough.

When they came to the woman who had tried to sit up, she was virtually hysterical. They took off her jewelry. One of the men searched her, roughly feeling in her bra. The woman, who seemed more than a little drunk, lost control. She started to cry and to pee simultaneously. Her urine poured down her legs and onto the floor. A few warm drops splashed on Bonnie's forearm.

"Oh my God, she's pissing up herself!" said one of the men, and they all laughed. They stole everything the woman owned.

When they came to Bonnie, one of the men nudged her with the barrel of a gun and told her to stand up. Shakily, she got to her feet. "Nice," the bandit said, fingering the diamond pendant around her neck. It had been a gift from her ex, one of the few nice things that he had ever given her. The man emptied her purse and took her wallet Goodbye credit cards, driver's license, library card, paycheck, and ... what, maybe $80 cash? She cringed, thinking of the hassle it would be dealing with the loss of all those lost items, then realized that was not the most pressing problem. One of he raiders was searched her. He put his hand up her blouse and felt her breasts. He pinched her nipples. She tried to run away but he grabbed her roughly by the hair, hurting her. "Do you want to loose some your teeth?" he asked, then he kissed her, his mouth tasting of beer and cigarettes. He forced his tongue into her mouth. "Kiss back at me, bitch girl." Fighting back tears, she returned the kiss, though it almost made her nauseous "Now hold still and let me search you." He unzipped her jeans. The man stuck his hand into her panties and roughly fingered her, while his face was just a few inches from her. She felt his breath quicken as he rubbed her privates and then roughly stuck a finger inside her, hurting her . He smiled, looking at the pain in her in the eyes, watching her. "Guess you not hiding nothing in your pussy," he said, smiling, his foul breath in her face. Still holding her by the hair, he kissed her on the mouth again and then kicked her legs out from under her. She tumbled roughly to the floor. Then he went on.

Bonnie closed her eyes when the robbers came to Paulette. This would not be pretty. She heard Paulette beg to be allowed to keep her wedding ring, then she heard a loud slap. "Before, you too good to talk at me, eh?" said the man who had been sitting there. "Now maybe you wish you made nice with me." He slapped her When she opened her eyes, Paulette's lip was puffy and cracked and there was blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Within a cold and ashen face, Paulette endured the search, only crying out when the bandit reached under her dress and felt her between legs. "He patted her ass. "I talk you again soon," he promised.

One of the bandit's searched her nephew Nick. When they'd finished, he, "Looked this watch boy has. goddamn Rolex." Bonnie almost smiled. She'd bought Nick's "Rolex", which she'd given to him for his twenty-first birthday, when she visited Hong Kong a few months ago. It had cost her about $12.

Soon they'd taken everything of any value from all the customers and employees and searched them all. "Well," said the man who'd been sitting by Paulette, "is concluding business now. Now we' all going to have little fun."

"First, a little dancing," he walked the floor looking for women he wanted to see dancing, He kicked the bartender, the female singer from the band, and the woman who had wet herself, and told them to get up on the stage. Then he kicked Bonnie and Paulette. "Get asses up there."

Bonnie reluctantly made her way up to the stage. Paulette was still cringing on the floor. She refused to move. She was trying to say something but no words came out.

The raider who had been sitting next to them at the bar went over to Nick. He lifted Nick's head by his hair and put a hunting knife to Nick's throat. "You want boy live to be twenty-two?" Paulette, looking utterly horror stricken, shuffled to the stage.

"Everyone, sit up and watch at the show!" one of the bandits yelled at the people on the floor.

Music started, an ugly rap song Bonnie hated rap, but she danced. She'd only been to a strip club once or twice, with her ex-. She tried to remember what they did but could only remember her ex-husband tripping over himself to put dollar bills in the dancers' g-strings. She tried to be a little bit sexy so that the bandits wouldn't scream at her as they were screaming at poor Paulette. "You're dance like damned zombie girl." one of them shouted at her, "You're fucking robot woman!"

"OK, is time is come to see dancers' boobies," said one of the raiders.

There was nothing she could do. She pulled the tank top over her head and dropped it to the stage. Paulette was wearing a dress. She looked confused. "Taking off the dress, cunt girl." Paulette very slowly unbuttoned the dress and very reluctantly removed it. One of the robbers urged the customers sitting on the floor watching the dance to hoot and yell for more. Thos who didn't, he kicked hard..

Slowly, sadly, and with infinite reluctance, Paulette reached around to undo her brassiere.

When they had been teenagers, Bonnie had been jealous of Paulette's breasts and her shapely ass. She remembered, one night, when she was about 18 and Paulette was 22, Bonnie went skinny-dipping with a group of friends to a little lake, and somehow Paulette had invited herself along. Bonnie, with her 32B's, had hung back in the shadows or stayed in water up to her neck. Paulette always seemed to be in the full glow of the firelight, sticking her 36C's out to make them see even bigger or strutting around so that everyone could see her dynamite ass.

That was 20 years ago, though, and time and gravity had taken their toll. Once, after he'd had a few drinks, Paulette's husband Matt had told Bonnie, that Paulette slept in bra and panties under her nightie so that he couldn't see her body. According to him, Paulette's tits had drooped and her nipples had a chewed-on look to them—Nick might have been in part responsible for that, the kid had breast fed for an ungodly long time, over three years. Paulette's ass, her husband had sadly confided to Bonnie, was oatmealish and scored by stretch marks. Bonnie remembered taking a certain satisfaction in hearing this—her own tits and ass didn't look all that different than they had in the mid-eighties.

Thee was no hiding herself now. Paulette's bra fell away and there were her tits. Not so bad that I'd sleep in a bra every night, Bonnie thought, but they sure don't look like they did the night we went skinny-dipping.

"Get rid off of your jeans," the raider told Bonnie. She realized, now, why strippers didn't wear jeans. Taking off pants while you were dancing was a feat. Once, with one leg still in her pants leg an one out, Bonnie took an ungainly fall on the stage. No wanting to risk another fall, Bonnie stayed on her back, and, still moving in time to the music, pulled her jeans off her other leg and stripped them off.

"Both of you, taking your panties off," the raider told Bonnie and her sister. Bonnie hated to do this. She was in the habit of shaving herself down there, but lately, she hadn't had a boyfriend and ... well, she had gotten lazy. She was in that halfway stage between shaved and natural that she though looked weird. Seeing that the robber was waving his gigantic firearm in their direction, however, she did what she was told. Paulette had given up trying to complain. She just dropped her panties. Paulette, she noticed, didn't shave at all. There was a thick black bush that spilled over onto her upper thighs and crawled up her ass.

The music stopped. "Now we have for us a little living sex show," said one of the robbers. The man who had been sitting by Paulette took both Paulette and Bonnie by the hand and led them to the edge of the stage where Paulette's husband and son would have no choice but to watch them. The two women stood naked in front of the robber.

First, he put his hand on Bonnie's most intimate place, his finger going deeply into her vagina. Then he took his finger and made Paulette lick it. "Are you liking taste of your sister cutie?" he asked Paulette. Next he handed Bonnie a beer bottle. "Stick bottle up your sisters pussy," Bonnie just looked at the brown bottle, then he slapped her face, so hard he almost knocked her over. "You must doing what I tell you when I tell you , bitch girl!"

Bonnie got down on her knees in front of Paulette. She used one hand to try to part the dark hair and to pry the sister open. Her sister had thick, long pussy lips. Bonnie managed to get those open but then Paulette's vagina seemed inordinately dry and impenetrable. "Push on hard or I hurting you," the robber told her. "I break the goddamn bottle and put it up your ass." The pain on Paulette's face was evident. Bonnie put her fingers in her own mouth, wetting them, and then rubbed them on Paulette's lower lips so there would be a little bit of lubrication. Still too dry. Sighing, Bonnie touched her sister's clitoris. When she did, her sister squeaked. "What the hell are you doing to me?" Paulette whispered angrily. "I'm trying to help. I'm going to tear you up with that bottle if you're not a little wet, damn it."

Paulette looked no less angry but she didn't stop Bonnie, even pulling the fold away from her clitoris so Bonnie could touch it. Finally she was then able work the bottle inside Paulette's pussy. "Push it in then out," he told Bonnie. "Fuck her with the bottle. Is good, yes?"

He pushed both of them down to their knees. "Taking down my pants," he commanded them. Bonnie undid his belt and Paulette, as if in a dream, pulled down his zipper and pulled his pants down to his knees. "And taking down my boxer underpants." Together they pulled down his underwear. His dick flopped out. It seemed thick as a horse's but was only about 4 inches long.

The oral sex he forced them to have was brutal. He started with Bonnie, grabbing her head with two hands and forcing her to take more of his meaty dick into her mouth than she could stand. She gagged and tears came to her eyes. His cock rammed against the back of her throat hand and unpleasantly triggering her gag reflex. Then he turned his attention to Paulette. He wrapped Paulette's hair around one hand and jerked her head so that his cock was right in front of her mouth Her lips were still trickling blood from when he'd slapped her. He pried her jaws open with one hand and stuck his fat cock into her mouth. "If you biting me, bitch girl, you'll being sorry, you and whole of stupid family." Then he pinched her nose with one hand so she had to keep her mouth as wide open as she could or she wouldn't be able to breathe. Periodically he would take his cock from Paulette's mouth and slap her hard with it across her face. He didn't wield it in his hand like a bat. Instead, he swung his hips, his whole body, and made his fleshy dick fly at her face with blinding speed. It sounded like someone slapping a big dead fish against a marble floor. Paulette was weeping continuously now, lost and dazed by the sexual humiliation.