A Simple Robbery - by AngrySoup,

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esercito sconfitto
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A Simple Robbery - by AngrySoup,

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A Simple Robbery -
by AngrySoup,






“Nobody fucking move!”

“Hands in the air, right goddamned now!”

With only five minutes until closing time, the North American Bank in Grower’s County had been quiet and peaceful, but chaos broke out as two women loudly burst through the front doors.

The first was a tall, lean blonde, a sneer on her face and a sawed-off double-barreled shotgun in her hands. The second was a more muscular looking Latina, a snub-nosed revolver in one hand and a half-empty bottle of rye whiskey in the other.

“Hold it righ – ugh!”

Monica Traceur, one of the bank’s security guards, was reaching for her trusty Smith and Wesson when the Latina violently pistol-whipped her, causing her to fall on her knees in pain. She then smashed the dazed security guard in the face with her whiskey bottle, knocking the well trained professional unconscious and sending her flopping to the ground like a dead fish.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” shouted the blonde robber as rushed the bank’s second security guard, grabbing her wrist as she moved her radio towards her mouth.

“Stop it!” yelled the guard, struggling with the robber. She opened her mouth, perhaps to bark a threat, but her tongue was stilled when the barrels of the sawed-off shotgun were jammed between her teeth.

“Got anything to say now, bitch?" the blonde robber demanded, laughing at the guard’s terrified expression. After a quick glance at the bank tellers and customers to make sure they weren’t a threat, the blonde dedicated her full attention to the guard, ramming a fist into her kidneys to send her to her knees in pain before slamming the stock of her shotgun into the back of her head to send her sprawling onto the floor.

The bank security uniform consisted of a blue blouse, black necktie, black knee-length skirt, brown hosiery, and a belt around the waist with the guard’s gun, restraints, and other equipment. It was the equipment belt that the robbers were immediately drawn to, and the unconscious security guards were powerless to resist as their own restraints were used against them.

With the rapid efficiency of well-practiced hands, the robber pulled each guard’s hands together behind their backs, zip-tying them together, before the same was done to their ankles. Their equipment belts were unbuckled and torn off, radios smashed against the ground, and service revolvers taken and added to the robbers’ arsenal. Then, with the same speed, each guard had their wrists and ankles pulled together and locked with zipties, effectively placing each one of the bank’s protectors in savagely tight hogties.

“My name is Ginessa!” said the Latina robber as she stood up, brandishing her snub-nosed revolver with one hand and the larger security-issue Smith and Wesson with the other.

“And my name is Samantha,” said the Blonde robber, grinning cruelly as she tugged at the skirt of the unconscious security guard at her feet. With the skirt pulled up around the guard’s waist, her choice in control-top pantyhose and plain white and pink-striped cotton “Hane’s Her Way” panties were visible to all in the bank.

“If you’re my friend though, you can call me Sam,” the blonde robber continued “If you give me a hard time like this one did though… well, we’re going to see what colour and brand your panties are too. Ginessa and I, we run this bank now. We’re the new bosses. You get me?”

The six bank tellers nodded nervously, as did their manager, the bank’s two insurance specialists, and the investment broker. All of the bank tellers were young, attractive women, hired for their looks as much as their customer service skills. While the more senior bank staff were older, with the bank manager Teresa London in her mid-forties, they had all obviously put a lot of effort into maintaining their looks as they’d matured.

The bank staff were dressed in conservative skirtsuits, hose, and heels, while the unlucky few customers caught inside during the robbery were dressed with more variety. One of the customers, a school teacher, was dressed in a cardigan and pleated skirt, while a pair of women who looked related wore bright sundresses. A trio of terrified looking sorority girls wore sweaters with their college logos over leggings with Ugg boots, a Mormon woman wore a modest ankle-length cotton dress, and a recently off-duty nurse was still in her starched white uniform with sheer white hosiery.

“Now, you can all be my friends if you keep your hands up where I can see them, and no one does anything stupid,” continued Sam, advancing towards the bank staff and vaulting over the service counter with her shotgun at the ready.

“Which one of you bitches is the manager?” asked Sam, looking from one bank employee’s face to the next.

“The bitch who used to run this shit before we turned up needs to say something,” said Ginessa, “or one of these co-eds is going to get a bullet instead of an education in her head!”

The sorority girls screamed in terror as Ginessa pointed one of her guns at them, prompting the reluctant bank manager to speak up.

“My name is Teresa London, and I’m the bank manager!” she cried out. “Please don’t hurt anyone!”

The response was immediate from Sam, who rushed over and slammed the butt of her shotgun into the forty-something year old manager’s stomach, doubling her over in pain. She grabbed Teresa’s hair, sinking her fingers into her professionally styled bun, and dragged her out from behind the service counter and out in full view of everyone.

“I don’t think you understand that we’re the new bosses,” said Sam angrily, before ripping Teresa’s skirt down to the floor. “We run this bank now, and we expect immediate answers. You understand, you old bitch?”

Teresa nodded, tears forming in her eyes from the pain of Sam’s blow as well as the shame of being humiliated in front of her staff. She had run the bank with a firm hand, and was known as a bit of a disciplinarian – she could have sworn she saw the hint of a smirk on one or two of her tellers’ faces as her floral print panties and tan control-top pantyhose were put on display.

“Now, I know you ain’t been fucked in a long time, but unless you want to get penetrated by some lead, you’d better start talking,” said Ginessa.

“What do you want to know?” asked Teresa, fighting to keep her voice steady as her face grew redder and redder with shame.

“Well first, I want to know how old you have to be before you start wearing granny shit like panties with flowers on them, and how fat and saggy you got to be before you start wearing tights like this!” said Sam cruelly, putting a finger into the top of Teresa’s control-top pantyhose and snapping the waistband against her skin.

Teresa’s face was crimson with embarrassment as she could do nothing but stand there with her hands in the air enduring this mockery, but her face was even redder after Sam delivered a firm backhand across it.

“I asked you a question, bitch!”

Tears ran down Teresa’s face now, staining her carefully applied makeup as she replied. “Bank policy requires hosiery be worn, and… and I guess I just… I just…”

Sam grinned as Teresa struggled to answer. She had walked behind the bank manager, and reached down into her pantyhose, taking a hold of her panties. Teresa gasped as her panties were sharply tugged upwards, burying themselves in her buttocks in a massive wedgie.

“And you’re a good girl who always follows policy, right?” she said mockingly, twisting and pulling the panties even further upwards and causing Teresa’s eyes to widen in pain and shock.

“It’s alright miss bank manager, because we run the bank now, and we’re revoking that policy. Aren’t you glad? And it’s lucky for you that any pair of panties can be a new, hip thong with my help,” said Sam, before grabbing a hold of Teresa’s hair again and dragging her backwards further into the bank.

“To show your appreciation for my style advice, I think you and I should have a nice little chat about the vault combination while Ginessa here sees to it that those nice security-issue zipties are put to good use,” Sam continued. “You and these other ladies are going to become good friends in no time, aren’t we?”

“Oh, we certainly are,” said Ginessa, the small snub-nosed revolver now tucked into her belt as she wielded zipties in one hand and a security revolver in the other. “After all,” she continued, “this bank paid all this money for this security equipment – it’d be a shame if it were never put to good use, right?”


*20 minutes later*


“This is the police, we have you surrounded! Come out with your hands up!”

Sheriff Cathy Greene shouted her instructions through her bullhorn as her deputies took up positions around the bank. The silent alarm in the bank had been activated, and the police response was swift as the Sheriff’s Department arrived in force, forming a perimeter with their cruisers and taking cover behind them with their revolvers drawn.

“What’s the status on the Tri-County SWAT team?” asked Cathy, eyeing the bank cautiously.
“They probably have hostages in there, if we go in we’ll have to go in hard.”

“They’re on their way, and an ambulance is already here just in case,” replied one of her deputies.

“Good, I’ll want them ready in case we have to blast our way in,” said Cathy, before pausing as one of the bank’s side doors opened. Her eyes narrowed as she saw a Latina nurse help a tall blonde in a dishevelled business suit stumble outside. A pair of deputies rushed forwards to help them away from the bank, their weapons trained at the building all the while.

“We have two escaped hostages here, a nurse and one of the bank staff – excuse me, the bank manager,” crackled one of the deputies over Cathy’s police radio. “They’re saying that there are eight robbers, and that the rest of the bank staff and patrons are being held hostage, bound and gagged. Bank security sounds like it’s been completely neutralized, the manager says they had the crap beat out of them and got hogtied like steers. They won’t be of any help to us while they’re trussed up and chewing on gags, we’re on our own.”

“Good work, now get them into the ambulance ASAP,” ordered Cathy. She was a little curious as to how the two women had managed to escape the bank robbers, but her mind was on other things as she saw a black Buick with Federal Government license plates approach the scene.

"Who the devil could that be?" she asked herself.
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