Wild in the country book four
Mark Denning listened patiently to Sid Buchanan's endless diatribe about the symbiosis of business and politics, growing faintly concerned about the way government ran at this level, as he was coming to understand it. Of course, he had never been overly na•ve about it, and knew that considerable influence was peddled and pushed, but he had had no idea how far he would have to go to obtain the help of these people that he needed to get himself elected.
The other man sitting with them at the table in Buchanan's lounge, Khalid al-Mazkum, was a man Mark thought he could never trust no matter how much he wanted to or how hard he tried. His Rolex watch, a piece of jewelry that attracted Mark's unaccustomed eyes again and again, was heavily encrusted with diamonds and gave Mark the definite impression that he was dealing with a man of exceptional economic power and considerable vanity.
"Mark," Sid said after a long dissertation. "I'm disappointed that you didn't bring DesirЋe with you this time."
Mark saw a gleam in Sid's eye and a furtive glance in his direction from al-Mazkum.
"I didn't think it appropriate to bring her along to a meeting like this," Mark responded. "But, I mean, if you want me to bring her with me in the future, I will."
"Please do," Buchanan said. "She has every right to enjoy your successful climb in public life. My wife is usually at every party, no matter how exclusive." Though she never gets in the way of my fun and games, thought Buchanan.
"Yes," said the Arab, in an oily voice. "I've heard such wonderful things about her. That she can even sing and play piano."
"Oh, yes, she does that," Mark said, allowing his pride in her to surface through the lingering resentment and negative feeling he had been harboring and that had seriously afflicted their love life.
"That young woman is a definite asset to you and your career," Sid added.
Mark was forced to agree. He loved her still, he knew that, but still and all too often, memories of her lovely figure, mounted by that evil dog and responding to the rape of her pure body surfaced in his thoughts. He knew in his heart that she had been the victim of the act, but he found it too hard to forgive her reacting sensually to the dog's huge, driving cock. Mark shook himself, swearing he would make himself forget it. Yes, when he returned, he would rekindle their love, take her to bed and pleasure her the way no other man – or animal – could. They had always had one thing between them that no other male could share with her – Love. It was fact, pure and simple, and he knew it, felt it. They loved each other and that could never be changed by outside elements.
Yes, he had vented his male energies, again, with Nancy Pace just that morning, before leaving, but that would stop as soon as he and Dez had begun making sweet, beautiful love again. Of course, it wasn't her fault that they weren't having sex every night. It was his reaction to her giving herself to the wild dog Lobo, with the sole purpose of saving his life. Truly, she was innocent of any ill intent, yet he had shunned her solely for being the dog's victim.
But why should he? She was his wife, and the greatest asset he had, breathtakingly beautiful, musically talented, and undeniably intelligent. Sexy, stunning, and barely out of her teens.
Nancy Pace? A lovely teenage girl, quite innocent in her own newly awakened and sexy way. He liked Nancy, loved to fuck her, as she, it seemed, loved him, though the fact remained that she was engaged to marry the black sheriff Clete Anderson. What he found amazing was that he could be so turned on with a girl involved with Clete, so dark-skinned that he looked like he applied black boot polish regularly to keep from getting too pale. Though Nancy had told Mark that she loved him many, many times, he supposed that a young and lonely girl needed someone. And Clete had his qualities, among them his Olympian musculature and an overpowering aura of masculinity, but Mark wondered how young Nancy had wound up with him when there must be some pretty decent, wealthy white men available for a girl as lovely as she.
Clete had never ceased to be a source of irritation to Mark, a constant voice of opposition to every single idea or local ordinance he proposed, so it had given him a certain perverse pleasure to have had sex with the teenager, three times now, behind her fiancЋ's back, and it made him more than a little jealous to think that Nancy would return to Clete and probably have sex with him when he demanded it. It was hard to imagine it. Imagine DesirЋe having sex with someone like Clete! He must have a cock like an elephant!
Buchanan's voice broke through Mark's thoughts. "You are coming to the party tonight, aren't you, Denning? I'm sure we can find some companionship for you."
Mark returned Buchanan's smile thinly. Was the big man suggesting that he be unfaithful to DesirЋe? Occasionally indulging in his clandestine affair with Nancy Pace was one thing. Openly cheating on DesirЋe in front of political associates was quite another thing altogether.
"There was something I wanted to discuss with you concerning what my – our – stance will be concerning illegal aliens," Mark said, changing the subject.
Buchanan said, "We need them, so we've got to oppose any further clampdowns." He glanced at al-Mazkum. "We need the cheaper labor, and it gives us a competitive edge against some of these foreign businesses."
"Well, don't you think that the country's in danger of becoming overrun?"
Buchanan leaned forward and put both hands on the table. "Mark, let me tell you something…"
And while Mark, in the utmost sincerity, discussed important political matters with Sid Buchanan, his lovely young bride DesirЋe rode innocently in the back seat of a car on the path to the horrible death her two captors had planned for her. Had she had any idea of what awaited her down the road ahead, she would have been petrified and done anything to escape, for, while DesirЋe was a brave, religious young woman with a noble and selfless heart, she was just as afraid of death as any atheist would be. Yes, she was very brave and would gladly lay down her life for Mark, but that same life was devoted to him and, with things running so coldly between them at the present, she could never feel ready to leave the world without telling him one last time of her love for him.
But for now, she was only mildly apprehensive for herself. It was Mark who had had the accident out here on the road and him only that she was concerned about. Her darling Mark, whom she idolized.
"I'm sorry," DesirЋe said as the car sped over the dirt road toward her rendezvous with death. "But I don't know you two gentlemen."
Sam Quaid turned and with a thin smile, he said, "I'm Jim Smith, and this is Dan Jones. We're Mark's liaison men with the party."
DesirЋe looked from one to the other. "But can't you tell me anything about this accident? I mean, is it serious. Oh, it must be."
Mr. Smith turned his head slightly. "He'll be all right if we get you there in time. Just hold on."
"But haven't you called an ambulance? A doctor?"
"The doctor's with him now, but Mark's asking for you. Needs a blood transfusion."
DesirЋe felt her heart leap to her mouth. Transfusion? Mark was bleeding seriously, and he needed blood. Oh, God, please don't let him die! Her hands went to her face as her eyes flooded with tears and a sob wracked her bosom.
Sam saw her reaction, and in spite of his hard and evil resolve, felt compassion for the innocent young woman. Fuck! Why are we doing this to her? She's got nothing to do with Johnny's death, but we're ripping her up inside for Bill's sake. But fuck me! This was my idea so what am I getting all soft about?
"Don't get too upset, Mrs. Denning," Sam tried to console her. "It might not be that serious."
"But-but… he needs blood!" she sobbed. "He's injured badly."
Sam shut up. If he wasn't careful, he was going to turn her into a hysterical mess before they got her to their provisional slaughterhouse. They wanted to be able to get her inside before she started kicking, screaming, and fighting. Damn, but she was a luscious bitch, with that shapely, warm pair of round tits, those creamy legs, and that smooth, clear voice of hers. He had never heard her sing, but he had heard that it was an experience not to be missed. He still remembered her the first time he had seen her, through the slats in her closet door where they had crouched, hoping to be able to plant some cocaine in her bedroom to give Clete Anderson an excuse to arrest her. His mind went back to the picture of her naked on her bed, masturbating, her dainty fingertips working in the wet gash of her pussy. He recalled the way she had panicked when Johnny had burst out of the closet, followed by him and Billy, how she had squirmed and pleaded for mercy while Johnny tasted her sweet, fragrant pussy with the butterscotch-colored fur, remembered how her tender hole had clasped around Johnny's big, hard cock when he had pushed it wetly into her, the two of them nearly coming to climax before the nasty dog Lobo had bounded into the room and chased the trio of rapists away with his flashing teeth, before himself falling under the spell of her feminine charms and mounting the moaning blonde angel and fucking her silly while Johnny watched through the window.
The funny thing was that DesirЋe didn't seem to recognize either Billy or himself at all, even though she had stared into their faces while they held her open to Johnny's lustful pleasure. And Sam was still wishing he had had his time with her then, those weeks before, because now they were planning to kill her and cut her up into pieces to feed to her black lover Clete, in revenge for his killing Johnny out of jealousy. Jealousy over DesirЋe.
Yes, it was regrettable, but it had to be, for Billy had taken obsessively to Sam's idea of murdering and mutilating this beautiful girl, even though Sam had said it half-jokingly. Regrettable to have to turn this angelically beautiful girl into a lump of rotting meat. But it was useless trying to talk Billy out of killing her. He already had a buyer for the "snuff" film, for which he hoped to make a handsome sum, and his hatred for Clete seemed to have been wholly transferred to DesirЋe as an outlet for his grief over his acne-scarred brother, whom Sam had never really liked anyway.
Shifting his gaze from the weeping blonde girl in the backseat, he looked at the smooth, aquiline profile of his old friend. There was no hope of deterring Billy from his plans to vent in anger on DesirЋe, for the horrible murder of his brother had done something to twist his feverish mind. He was obsessed with Clete and revenge and spoke of little else, except when speaking of DesirЋe as a vehicle for his revenge. There was little doubt that DesirЋe was doomed to breathe her last today in the old, unoccupied Pace mansion where the whole convoluted tale had begun with Nancy Pace's dog rape just a few months previously.
The car sped up in its approach to the Pace house and Billy braked sharply, throwing the car into a little sideways slide as it came to a stop before the veranda.
"He's here?" DesirЋe blurted, unaffected by the incongruity of Mark's being here injured in a car accident with no cars in sight. Throwing open the door, she jumped out, pivoted toward Billy and quickly searched his face with her limpid, blue eyes. "Mr. Jones, is this where he is?"
Billy was getting out, but without waiting for his answer DesirЋe mounted the steps two at a time.
Sam saw Billy turn with a wicked smile and give him a thumbs-up sign, then follow the girl into the old house.
Priscilla Devereaux sat morosely in the hospital, her wrists strapped to the bed. Things had become worse since her coming here, under Dr. Hemmings' care two days ago. She had required special surgery for an anal and a perineal tear after the dogs that had raped her had torn their swollen penile lock-knots from her tender orifices, and she had needed a pint of blood to replace what she had lost that day when they had brutally degraded her at the same time as she wallowed passionately in her own wastes in the dust near the Pace mansion. The humiliation she had undergone had thrown her into a state a depression and anger, but her father had vowed to see the evil animals exterminated, increasing the reward to fifty thousand dollars per head.
The final insult had been the mysterious appearance of the video tape in her bedside drawer. She had found it yesterday, after Hemmings had left after examining her, and the note that accompanied it, giving dire warnings about any further attempts to blackmail DesirЋe Denning. She had secretly viewed the tape on the video machine supplied with her private room and promptly gone into fits of anger.
The tape, graphically photographed and well edited showed her in the most degrading position she could imagine, from the time she had of necessity voided her bowels to her seduction and abasement beneath the pounding thrusts of three big, savage German Shepherd dogs! She, Priscilla, the world's most scheming manipulator, had been set up! Obviously, it had been DesirЋe, grown crafty beyond former experience, and now the older girl understood. DesirЋe was the leader of the dog pack. The dog-fucking bitch was controlling them with her nasty pussy. It had been she, DesirЋe, who had arranged for Priscilla to be lured to that remote spot and systematically assaulted. The video tape was ammunition against Priscilla's own designs to shame DesirЋe and alienate the two newlyweds.
She had raged around her private hospital room, breaking everything in sight, until orderlies came to subdue her, and in her fury she had kicked, scratched and bitten until a doctor had run in with a hypodermic to calm her. They had strapped her to the bed and this morning a psychiatrist had been in to talk to her. Still unsatisfied that she was no danger to herself, he had kept her on sedatives with arms and legs immobilized.
Priscilla still wanted Mark Denning back now more than ever, and more than ever hated DesirЋe for coming between her and the man she wanted and deserved. The auburn-haired girl now understood what had to happen. The only way to protect herself from DesirЋe's blackmail was to see the young woman permanently out of the way, and soon. So the spoiled and scheming Priscilla Devereaux resolved to bide her time for another day quietly, until they removed the straps and sent her home.
How would she do it? Arrange a car accident? Poison? Yes, that sounded good. Arsenic, so the little singing bitch would die puking her guts out. Or maybe just a gun? That was a pretty awful death in itself, Priscilla knew, much worse than any depiction in any movie she had seen. She would have time to decide this afternoon, while she waited for these idiots to remove her bindings.
While his erstwhile lover mentally plotted to murder his lovely, loving young bride, Mark Denning was finishing his meeting with Buchanan and Mr. al-Mazkum. The afternoon had been an education in practical politics, and not a pleasant one at that. Mark found himself faced with the necessity of gross conflicts of interest and dishonesty if he were to ever become elected to office through the influence of Buchanan and his many powerful business cohorts. It was amazing the power, all silent and under the table, that these men wielded in the government of his country, even to foreigners like the sinister al-Mazkum, whose dark, smokey eyes hid much more than his words could ever reveal. Mark was beginning to feel soiled by all the covert and immoral activities he saw rising around himself on the front of state politics.
He was beginning to yearn for the company of DesirЋe, who was pure and decent except for one momentary lapse of self-control that night not so long distant when she had surrendered to the plundering penis of the predatory dog Lobo. DesirЋe was a gem and not to be deprecated. He must forgive her for what had happened, just as she had forgiven him for letting it happen to her. Yes, it had happened to her and she had been the victim and he must put the lurid image of her dog-mounted nakedness out of his mind, force it out, and purge it from his memory.
Buchanan had requested quite insistently that she be present at tomorrow night's party here at the mansion. It would be their chance, his and DesirЋe's, to rekindle their love and their physical intimacy. As he thought of her rosy, perfect nudity, he felt himself becoming aroused at the thought of thrusting his penis into her loving, tight vagina and reinitiating their attempts to have a child, which would bring them together like nothing else ever could. The thought of sending his millions of sperm up into her womb to invade and unite with an ovum to produce their son – or daughter as the case might be – filled him with a strange heat. He thought of her lovely, trim body swelling with the robust bloom of pregnancy until the two of them would become three, a family, and somehow, a power in the world of government – the three of them together. Until they were four, five, and six.
He thought of it. Six children, perhaps? Seven? Eight? Though the possibilities were not quite endless, the joy of it would be. Fortunately, even the powerful Lobo's seed could not do to her what his, Mark's, could.
Yes, they had a life to build together, Mark thought, and it was high time they got to work building.
He would call her tonight.
Less than an hour earlier, when DesirЋe had left Tanya and Robyn in panic-stricken haste, the latter had turned to the older girl with wide eyes filled with concern. Her best friend had departed without explanation but in obvious distress, and the teenager felt an answering anxiety. DesirЋe had always been the kindest and most unselfish girl she had ever known, had never done her the slightest harm, and it upset Robyn to think that her friend might be experiencing some pain or hardship.
"What was that about?" she asked Tanya, who sat quietly gazing at the door that had just slammed shut. When the older girl merely shrugged, Robyn came back reprovingly, "Tanya, aren't you worried about DesirЋe? Didn't you see the state she was in?"
Tanya nodded. "Yes, I did, but she didn't let us in on it. What could it be, do you think?"
"Family," said Robyn. "Mark or her parents. They're in Europe, aren't they? Some accident, possibly? What else could it be? A loved one. Nothing else would make her act like that."
"Well, if it were her parents would they have called her here instead of at her own home. She doesn't live here anymore, you know."
Robyn nodded. "Then it must have been Mark. But what?"
Tanya thought a while, then smiled. "Well, I wouldn't want to intrude in their private matters, but she and Mark have been having a hard time. He's gone cold on her and he must have just called up and bawled her out for something. I wouldn't worry about it. Everybody's got their problems in a marriage. I've had mine too."
"Really? Then you don't think it's anything I should worry about?"
"Robs, darling, from what you told me about you and your uncle, you've got enough problems of your own. Frankly, I don't think that screwing your uncle a few times is anything to write home about one way or the other, but I can see it's affected you pretty deeply."
The younger girl's eyes clouded with sorrow. Tanya looked at the striking young brunette teenager with the lithe, mature body. Her hair coloring was darker than DesirЋe's but her beauty rivaled that of the blonde. Together they looked like two heroines of a hit TV show, equally beautiful each in her own way. Robyn was slightly slimmer, though DesirЋe could never be called plump or even buxom, though definitely large-breasted. DesirЋe fair, blue-eyed, and angelic, Robyn chocolatey-haired, trim-hipped, and lithe, with a dancer's grace, for a dancer she was. DesirЋe with the straight nose and patrician features, Robyn with the small, pixie-like nose, wide, greenish eyes, understated dimples in the chin and rosy cheeks. Both girls radiating demure sexuality and prudishness, they would never sink to the moral depth that Tanya felt she herself had reached owing to her emotional deprivation of the last month and the experiences she had had – still secretly – with Liz Clark's wild pets, the dog-pack her husband Rodney seemed obsessed with exposing.
It was true that Tanya had ample reason to be unhappy. Rodney was a not-very-successful freelance writer hoping to win a Pulitzer with the shocking story of the marauding pack of woman-raping dogs terrorizing this affluent, Midwestern farm community. But his devotion to this literary dream of the prize had seriously taxed their resources. He had let many things go back at home, the bill collectors were getting nasty, and they had no resources left at all to get payments and obligations up to date. If Rodney didn't turn something over soon, they would be out on the street with only themselves to blame.
Of course, Tanya had no intention at all of helping him in his quest to find the animals that pleasured her lonely body and soul almost daily. She had lost track of how many times she had been mounted and brought to orgasm by the savagely-rutting animals. Most of all, she loved Lobo's technique, but Bruno, his giant offspring with his mammoth penis was special himself, with a member surpassing in size even that of his father, which was huge by all human – or canine – standards.
So the pressures of her young existence had brought Tanya to a critical stage in her life, where her baser instincts had conquered those more refined and left her with a comforting, hedonistic streak that threatened to overshadow her generally sympathetic and loyal personality. She was now drinking a lot, enjoying sensual afternoons of lesbian indulgence with Liz Clark, and going mad beneath the pounding loins of the animals that the older woman had trained for the purpose.
It was a terrible, tangled web! Rodney had learned to neglect his wife while searching for the dogs his wife had taken to fucking out of loneliness, and at the same time he was getting frequent thrills in heterosexual couplings with the dogs' trainer, Liz Clark, with whom his wife was having a secret homosexual affair. Had either the husband or wife known the truth of the convoluted circumstances surrounding their existence, he or she would have been astounded. But still, both of them were protected by ignorance of the full picture.
There was no doubt that the rot was setting in all over Pickford's Meadows. Even the pristine little Robyn Young was having an affair, albeit reluctantly, with her own uncle, and Tanya knew for a fact that Liz's dogs had had their way with several of the town women, having scared the life out of Agatha Proctor but only after already making use of her homely, red-haired and freckly seventeen-year-old daughter.
Yes, Robyn, and here you sit, you lovely little piece of pink fluff.
"Let's save our worries about Dez until we know it's all for real," Tanya said to the teenage brunette with the silky fall of chocolate hair. "Just relax and pour it out to me. I'm here to talk to, Robs, and I'm the understanding type."
Robyn smiled gratefully, toying with the empty wine glass. She had drunk already far more than during any past experiment with alcohol in her life. She felt relaxed, and the distress she had been feeling about her three sex sessions with Uncle Jim was melting away in the company of her new friend Tanya.
Robyn felt a tear of gratitude burning her eye and she dabbed at it, smiling shyly. "You're so nice, Tanya."
The older girl smiled back and touched the back of Robyn's hand where in rested on her skirt, on the firm and shapely thigh that was beginning to attract the emotionally twisted desires that she had developed in her afternoon orgies with Liz Clark and the dogs. She found she was drawn by firm, young, and healthy flesh, regardless of the sex or species. Robyn was ravishingly lovely and, in spite of her admitted couplings with her uncle, endearingly innocent. But she could be led, for her dear Uncle Jim had led her three times into lustful indulgence.
Tanya pressed Robyn's hand warmly. "Come on, tell me about it. Tell me about the first time with him. From the beginning."
The teenage brunette looked at the other dark-haired girl, finding warmth and, more than that, a fire in her eyes.
"I… I took a horse, to catch up with Priscilla, when she rode out in a hurry. I wanted to… go with her," Robyn continued haltingly. "The horse got spooked, saw something, it looked like a wolf, I think, and ran… ran away with me. Toward a cliff. I knew I was going to die, I was so scared, and I lost control. Wet myself. It was so embarrassing. All down my legs, my jeans – Yuck!"
Tanya was smiling, chuckling, but without ridicule. "Go on."
"I was sure I was going to die, but then he was there, Uncle Jim, like a knight in shining armor, and just swept me up with his big arm and threw me on the back of his horse. I was so weak with fright that I couldn't resist him when he touched me. He peeled my wet clothes off and just… just did it."
"What was it like?" Tanya asked smoothly.
"It-it felt good. Strange to be touched, but good."
Tanya, smiling softly, reached out, put her hand caressingly on Robyn's round, firm breast. "Are your breasts sensitive? Does this feel good."
Robyn shivered and dropped her eyes to the touch. "Yes – they are sensitive."
"And you like to have them touched?"
"Well, yes…" Robyn said, and gave a little nervous laugh. "Yes, I like it. I'm normal, aren't I?"
"Very normal," Tanya reassured her, taking her hand slowly away. She got up and poured another two glasses of wine, giving one to the younger brunette.
Robyn took a sip and smiled. "I guess I shouldn't get too upset. Lot's of girls have lost their virginity by my age. I'm the only one back home – or I was."
"You've got a whole new world of pleasure ahead of you, Robyn, now that you've learned to enjoy a man's cock inside you."
Robyn shivered at Tanya's explicit words, thinking back on the way her Uncle Jim had stroked his big penis so effectively and pleasurably in and out of her tight, wet vagina and brought her to orgasm countless times.
Changing the subject, Tanya said, "Have you seen this house? You know, the Mitchells are really wealthy. While I'm house sitting here, I'm using DesirЋe's room, now that she's married and living with Mark. Like a tour?"
DesirЋe burst through the double doors of the Pace mansion and stopped in the middle of the spacious reception room, looking anxiously around at the faded and dusty furniture. It was a bit eerie to be here in this place that she had heard about but had never before seen. This was where Nancy Pace had been raped by the wild dog, and there were local legends attached to the place. No one seemed to know why the house was unlived-in, but there had been talk of a murder here forty years ago and a haunting, ghosts of the angry departed. It was a splendid house, but the family chose not to live here, preferring a smaller, homier place two miles away on the property, over a hill from there.
Now she stood there, searching for Mark, some sign of his beloved presence, or something of his injury.
Spinning on her heel, she faced Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones coming through the door. While Sam Quaid turned the key in the door lock, Billy Canning walked toward her, smiling.
"Where's Mark?" DesirЋe asked. "I don't see him here."
Billy smiled. He was not bad looking. He had never suffered the acne that had scarred his older brother Johnny's face, and his proximity to and use of drugs had not yet wasted his younger body.
DesirЋe saw his transparent smirk and remembered something of his face out of the nebulous dreams that plagued her sleep at night.
"Just what is this?" she said suspiciously. "Please. Tell me, where is Mark?"
Billy stopped, removing his jacket and loosening his tie while Mr. Smith, Sam Quaid, stood behind him quietly. She forgot, now which was Smith and which was Jones? And it occurred to her that the two names were aliases and that something was seriously wrong. Her voice trembled as she asked meekly, "Please, what's going on? Where's my husband?"
Tossing his jacket and tie on the settee, Billy hooked his thumbs into his belt. "I'm not sure where he is, but he's probably where he's supposed to be. It's you who're in the wrong place."
"I want to go home," she said lamely. "If Mark isn't here, I've nothing to do here."
Billy smiled. "Oh, but you do, I'm afraid." His hand dipped into his pocket and came out with a huge – to her – revolver.
DesirЋe felt her knees going weak, felt a trickle of urine, which she quickly stopped by tightening the exercise-strengthened muscles between her legs. "What-what do you want with me?"
Billy's eyes blazed and there seemed to be a madness in them. "Revenge."
"Revenge? For what?"
"Revenge for my brother, who your nigger lover murdered out there in the fields."
DesirЋe gasped. She was shocked that they knew about her and Clete, doubly shocked that he had killed someone. Out in the fields. That young man in the pasture, torn apart. But that had been the dogs, hadn't it? How…
"He killed my brother, tore him to shreds, because of you."
"So now it's payback time."
Mr. Jones, or was it Smith, thrust the gun at her and she quailed. She hated guns, feared them worse than almost anything. DesirЋe stumbled back.
"Now get your fat ass upstairs."
She hesitated the briefest moment, then turned and hurried up the curving staircase, running away into what she thought must be a dead end. She stopped at the landing, turned and saw the two men right behind her, stopped, looking this way and that.
"There, in that bedroom."
DesirЋe gasped. "Bedroom?"
"Bedroom," averred Billy.
"Please," she whispered, her throat dry. "Not that."
"Yes," answered Billy sadistically. "That. You're going to be a movie star." He looked at Sam, but the latter wore an uncertain expression, and he hesitated as DesirЋe walked slowly through the door, her shoulders drooping as Billy followed her.
Sam was not happy with this. His suggestion to kill DesirЋe had been made under the influence of drugs and now sober and alert, he was not sure killing her would be a good idea. It was certainly not fair. The girl was innocent and would never hurt anyone, yet she was to be made to pay for Johnny's murder. Still, his first loyalty was to Billy, since high school his partner and lifelong friend.
Sam saw the girl pause in the doorway, taking in the sight of the large bedroom, more like a suite, with the fireplace and the large area covered by an Indian silk rug. And the tripods and video cameras set all around.
DesirЋe wanted to throw up. They were going to make her do something and photograph it. Her lips trembled with frustration, that she had just rid herself of the threat of one nasty film and now another one was going to be made. She felt Smith – or was it Jones? – give her back a push and she stumbled into the room. It was a bedroom made for royalty, but what was going to happen to her here inside it?
Sam watched Billy go over to the leather bag where he had secreted the weapons with which to kill her. The plan was to slit her throat with a large, razor-sharp hunting knife, the saw her limbs off, disembowel her, and use the body parts to incriminate Clete for her murder, but not until they had shown the black sheriff the film they planned to sell in the brothels of Europe. The murder of the wife of a state politician would not go well for Clete, and Billy was gloating over Clete's date with the executioner.
Billy started the three video cameras one by one, then positioning the uncertain and frightened girl in the proper spot between them, thrust his hand into the leather bag for the huge Bowie knife. Sam waited, his heart rising to his throat at the thought of seeing DesirЋe's throat gouged open and her hot blood arcing from the severed arteries onto the carpet, the innocent blue eyes that would open wide in wonder, then dim with the rapidly encroaching oblivion of death. Billy was drawing out the knife when Sam's hand grasped his wrist and forestalled the movement.
"Wait a minute," Sam said. "Wait a minute, buddy." His grip was strong and Billy's eyes bored into his questioningly.
"I've got an idea," Sam said. He felt Billy trembling with pent-up energy, unreleased in the gruesome way it had been planned. "Got an idea. Come on outside." He drew Billy out onto the landing, near the rail that looked down onto the marbled entrance hall twenty feet below.
"This girl is one sweet piece of ass," Sam coaxed, nudging his friend with his shoulder. "Why snuff her so quick? Why not make use of her first? Give us something to remember her by." He saw Billy's lips curl in a thin smile. "Make her do a strip for us first, film the thing. Plant it in Clete's house, or something. Add to the evidence."
Billy's smile slowly broadened. "You know, Sam, you're one devious son of a bitch."
"Yeah, but you love me."
Billy nodded, looking toward the door. "Yeah, I'm getting a rhino horn on me just thinking about it."
When they re-entered, they found DesirЋe standing there, her sweet face full of fear and expectancy.
"Now, bitch," Billy said, pulling out the gun again and pointing it at her heart. "You're going to do exactly what I tell you to. If you don't, I drill you a new asshole right in the middle of your chest. Understand? Exactly what I tell you."
DesirЋe nodded hesitantly, her magnificent bosom heaving with her quickened, panicked breathing.
Sam was coming back now from the car, a large ghetto blaster in his hands. He plugged it into the car batteries they had set up to drive the cameras and lights. He turned it on and the tape inside began playing a rhythmic disco tune.
"Now, what I want you to do is please me so much I won't want to shoot you."
DesirЋe stammered, "Y-y-you mean, you won't kill me?"
Billy grinned. "That's right, baby. If you please me real good, I won't shoot you." Turning slightly away from her, he winked at Sam, who felt his skin crawl with apprehension for the girl. It seemed the closer they got to carrying out their plan, the more Sam regretted having made the suggestion in jest.
"Now, Dezzy," Billy went on. "I want you to do something you've never done before in your life, but I want you to do it really, really good. We're going to play this music and sit down in these fucking hand-carved chairs and you're going to make like a harem girl and do the sexiest striptease in the world. Got it?"
DesirЋe was shaking her head in disbelief, in utter revulsion. How could they ask her – But they weren't asking, they were commanding, and whatever their reasons were and however unreasonable their demands, she had to go along with them. They had a big gun pointed at her solar plexus, the barest twitch of a finger between her and oblivion, and they would have to have what they wanted. She couldn't leave this world without seeing Mark once more and declaring her love for him.
Sam saw the girl's distress and knew she was about to blow it. If Billy lost his temper, he'd whack her right here, and Sam knew that that would be the end of this beautiful and innocent girl. He touched Billy on the arm and whispered, "Bill, I don't think we should leave the car out there in plain sight. What if someone comes along? Why don't you go hide it up in the hill behind those rocks. Meanwhile, I'll prime the bitch and make sure she does a good job. If she's expecting to get snuffed at the end of it all, she's not going to make us happy beforehand." He smiled. "Don't you think?"
Billy nodded. "Yeah, you're right, but don't do anything with her until I get back." And he turned and hurried out of the room. Sam and DesirЋe could hear his footsteps thundering down the stairs, and slapping across the terrazzo of the entrance hall.
Sam turned to DesirЋe and tried to reassure her with a smile. "He's crazy, you know. He's gone off the rails since his brother was killed. There's no telling what he might do if you don't cooperate."
DesirЋe shook her head while the tears rolled down her creamy cheeks and Sam wanted to comfort her, but he wasn't sure he knew how.
"But I've done nothing," she sobbed. "I didn't hurt his brother, so why am I here?"
"You're Clete's woman, and that makes you a target."
"No!" DesirЋe fairly screamed. "I'm not Clete's woman. I hate him. I'm married to Mark Denning."
"Yeah, yeah, we know that, but you've been fucking Clete."
DesirЋe turned away. How did they know about Clete? It mortified her that anyone should know, but it had only been once that she knew of, or at least remembered well, for Hemmings' hypnotic manipulation of her mind had made her forget the first time, weeks ago, when under the influence of drugs that Priscilla Devereaux had slipped into her drink and she had allowed the older girl to seduce her into a position where Clete had been able to fulfill his dream of using her hot, wet baby cunt for his own pleasure.
"Now, DesirЋe, before he gets back I want you to understand that you're going to have to please him, any way you can. If he says jump, you say how high. If he wants you to suck his cock or eat his shit, you do it, just because he's got the gun, and don't believe he won't use it."
DesirЋe spun, her arms crossed over her breasts, shivering with fear. "I don't think I can go through with it. I'm not a dancer, I've never done… that."
Sam said slowly, in words spaced for effect, "You will have to, and do it well. Keep a big smile on your face, move like a belly dancer, push your crotch forward, and show him your pussy. Take your clothes off, all of them, slowly, but not too slowly, and whatever he tells you to do, don't say no. You do. You watch me, and I'll show you exactly how and when and what. And don't let your smile slip. You want him to think you like him, and if you show anything else, well, remember, he's got the gun. Bright eyes and a smile, don't forget, and if you turn him on, so much the better for you."
DesirЋe opened her mouth with alarm. "Turn him on! But if he gets turned on, what then?"
Sam was glad that his friend returned before he had to give an answer to that question. He didn't like being in the middle of the lovely young woman's outraged innocence and Billy's lust for vengeance. There was little more he could do for her short of physically confronting his unstable friend.
DesirЋe's eyes were wide with dread when Billy walked back in and he swayed his hips to the pounding music, moving over to the ghetto blaster to turn it even louder.
"Baby, baby, baby," he intoned, lifted his arms over his head and swiveling his hips, pushing his visibly hard cock forward against the inside of his pants. Sam could see that Billy had not only re-parked the car, but that he had had a long line of the white powder from their sales inventory. He was looped, aggressive and horny, and he hoped that DesirЋe didn't slip up or he would be wiping her guts off the wall within a short time. Please, DesirЋe, don't make me watch him blow you away!
"Go on, bitch," Billy commanded. "I want you to do the hottest striptease I've ever seen. Move that pretty ass."
The girl felt her knees going weak and fought to stay erect, looking desperately to Sam, who opened his eyes wide in exasperation and put on a grin, pointing to the corners of his mouth. DesirЋe, who had studied acting in high school, did her best to feign a loving smile.
Billy drew up a chair, sat down, and folded his arms, crossing his feet at the ankles before him. "All right, baby, perform!" he commanded.
Sam, standing behind Billy, used his hands to guide her into a rhythm, which she started with her head, then with her shoulders, and then with her hips. The music and beat she knew, for she had been to discos before in Chicago and the little nightclub here in Pickford's Meadows. She had danced before and studied dance at college, though her almost spectacular breasts had hampered her movements. Robyn was the real dancer, but DesirЋe knew the moves and had much of the grace, with the added allure of her perfect figure. To Sam's urging, she began thrusting and swiveling her hips, feeling the blush of shame and embarrassment, which she fought back, knowing that he might use the gun if he were somehow disappointed with her performance. Billy's eyes were glassy and gleaming and it made her almost physically sick to think that she had to do this to please this maniac.
But DesirЋe taught herself to do this lewd display, out of dire necessity, as she went along, watching Sam for her cues, how to move, when to turn and push out her shapely bottom at Billy, when to shake her hips and jiggle her tits, and when to start unbuttoning. Sam gestured and she read his signing, lifting the front of her dress and showing her expensive panties that covered the plump mound of her pussy. Sam mimed unbuttoning a shirt, and she began unfastening the tiny buttons of her blouse and she felt her cheeks and ears burning with shame.
No, this can't be happening to me. I just can't be doing this.
But she was. She was doing it, and by the expression on Sam's face, she was doing it well. As she let her blouse gape open and – after much inward hesitation and refusal – she removed her bra, Billy fairly salivated at the sight of her deep, warm cleavage. Finally, her big, firm, round tits popped free and rose tautly into the room, the small, pink nipples piercing the heated air and Billy's eyes grew beady and lustful. She danced more sensually, shook her breasts back and forth, moved closer to him. Billy's hands reached out, touching her ripe mounds, and DesirЋe had to steel herself to keep from backing away. She felt the electric shocks as his thumbs twanged her pink nipples, felt her belly flutter. His hands came up under her skirt and, feeling his fingertips brush over her vaginal mound, she reflexively backed away.
The look on Sam's face caused her a frisson of terror and a glance at Billy showed his beginning to contort with rage. Quickly and rhythmically she slithered back to him, her tender anus tight with fear, her ears burning with a blush she felt all the way to her nipples. She was going to have to let him touch! Had to, or he would shoot her. But if this was a rape, it was of the strangest kind, for she was stripping for him in front of cameras, enticing him. The camera couldn't know now that she was doing this to survive, to live out the day and be able to see her beloved Mark again. Was this to be a fate worse than death? Tomorrow she would know, if she lived that long.
Billy's hands came up under her skirt again and palmed her buttocks and partly immobilized her hips while he pressed his lips to her belly. She fought to keep from screaming, looking desperately at Sam, but the look on his face told her to go on, yes, don't stop, she was doing well. Fighting back her sobs, she felt Billy's mouth close electrically on one of her nipples, the lewd sensations shooting from the hardening breast tips down into her womb. His hands came up into her panties from underneath, through the leg holes, to splay across her flexing buttocks, pulling her off balance and hard against him. To steady herself, she closed her hands around the back of his head, causing him to suck so hard that she moaned, burying her face in Billy's bushy hair. Feeling a steadying hand on her shoulder, she looked up and saw Sam standing behind Billy, wearing an encouraging smile. She smiled back, then gasped.
Billy had slid his hand into the cleft of her bottom and was hotly feeling over her anus and down to her vaginal slit. It was already damp from the movement of her dancing and her inner labia were rubbing against her sensitive clitoris. His fingertip had no trouble finding the slippery well of her oozing cunt, sinking in to the first knuckle and doing a quick twisting motion against a tingling, wet spot inside her. Tingles ran up her tailbone, surprising her so that she tried to twist away, but Sam's hand tightened on her shoulder and his mouth formed a silly grin to remind her to keep smiling. She smiled and closed her eyes when she saw Billy's excited eyes staring up at her, and against her will she moved her hips closer to him, forcing his straightened finger entirely up into her juicy, tight vagina. DesirЋe grit her teeth and swiveled her hips around the intruding finger, feeling her lubricant increase as an unwanted pleasure shot through her.
How much of this was she going to have to take? When would he tire of playing with her? Exactly what was this all leading up to? But she knew in her heart and mind that he would not be satisfied until he had sex with her, with his penis thrusting and ejaculating in her defiled vagina. Trying to resign herself to it, she shook her hips faster.
Sam motioned for her to completely removed her blouse and bra, which she did as slowly as possible, slowly, feeling Billy's finger gouging into her cunt, drawing more creamy lubricant into her hot pussy. She shrugged off her blouse and gave it a toss with a flourish, then dropped her arms forward and let the bra fall off into Billy's lap.
Backing away, she stood back far enough that his hand was taken from her crotch, but glancing at the revolver on the floor beside him, she did her duty and began rolling down her panties, down until her pubic fluff was revealed and then the warm crease between her puffy, tender labia. DesirЋe spun, pushing the garment down her smooth, slender thighs, over her knees, letting them fall to her ankles. She had seen this move before and looked at him coquettishly without straightening up. Wracked with shame, she knew he was staring at her private nether orifices, knew that with this moment she had lost nearly all her body's privacy.
Billy's head throbbed with lust as his eyes nearly leapt from their sockets. She was his to enjoy at will, he knew, as he stared at the wet, red gash of her pussy, and above it the pale, vermilion halo of her tiny anus, looking so pristine and untouched that he wondered if she had ever used it for anything. He watched it pulse with the tension she felt inside her and he leaned forward, hooking one hand around her hip to draw her back to him. His wet tongue came out and licked the sweat-moistened anal dimple, lapping like a loving dog, trying to push his tongue into her tightness there. Too tight. Too young and pure.
Billy bent her forward and pushed his face into the gap between her asscheeks, beginning a hungry lapping over the trembling cleft of her vagina and on up to the other pulsing hole. And again, the tip of his tongue flicking at her clitoris, which had begun to throb with unwanted arousal, a masochistic reaction to her situation and the strange protected relationship she had somehow formed with Sam, to whom she was now exposed in all her glory as well. Glancing his way, she saw him looking into her secret region, wishing he would not, wishing he would throw his friend out the window and save her from this.
But Billy's splurging tongue was taking its toll, stoking up flames in the same way Clete had done, entirely without her willful acceptance, just two days ago. Why was she feeling like this, just two days after Clete had fucked her pussy into a lather of orgasms and left her totally satiated and completely disgusted with herself afterward? She wasn't this kind of girl, was she? She had lapsed once in her life – that she knew of – and she wouldn't allow illicit self-indulgence to become a habit. She was doing this to save her life from this evil young man, but somehow, against all her training, her body was responding. Behind her, she felt his tongue drill into her fiery area on the front wall of her vagina, just inside, and Sam was sliding his hand past his friend's cheek and very gently insinuating his fingertip in her squirming asshole.
How could he? she protested inwardly and she felt the tickle of the insertion, but she was forced to fight down her feelings of betrayal. Of course she had no friend or protector here, for they were both kidnappers and why Sam had coached her through this could not be completely for her own welfare. Of course, he wanted to see his maniac buddy gratified.
Billy now had two fingers slipping wetly in and out of her pussy and she noticed that he was intently watching the grip of her pink inner flesh on his thrusting digits. She felt Sam's finger give a twist in her rectum and felt a chill of pleasure bring up the gooseflesh on the backs of her legs and jiggling buttocks. She began to rotate her vagina around Billy's curious fingers, giving herself over to the feelings he was generating in her loins, thinking of Mark and trying to keep a grip on the image of his face and body while it threatened to slip away from her consciousness. Mark, Mark, my darling! I'm trapped here, doing this just to be able to see your face again. Even though you don't seem to love me anymore.
Now Billy spun her around and pressed his face into the luxuriant silkiness of her buttery pussy hair, whiffing her delicate aroma mixed with the pungency of her fear and the perspiration that was beginning to dew on her smooth skin. Again, his tongue slithered out and into the cleft of her furry labia, finding the vibrant bud of her clitoris. The men heard her sigh as he hit the mark and Billy's finger dug deep into the crease of her bottom. She jerked her soft pubic mound against his face and her fingers twined in his hair, wanting to pull him away, to stop forcing these feelings on her but in reality pushing his face deeper into her steaming bush. She was turned on, undeniably aroused, and she felt her juices beginning to streak her inner thighs.
Billy pushed her back a few inches and pried her thighs apart with his knees, pulling her down toward his lap. A glance down showed that while he had been tonguing her derriere he had also loosened and opened his own pants. His big, fat cock was jutting upward from his belly, pulsating in the air above his thighs. She felt him pull her down, clearly intending to skewer her sweet pussy with the blood-engorged shaft of man-flesh. He was going to do it to her! Fuck her, Mark's new bride, and fill her with his sperm! Wait! Wait! Not like this!
But Billy wasn't listening to her telepathic messages. Her legs stiffened, resisting him while she looked up in desperation at Sam, who, his eyes holding a sympathy he dared not express, reached out again and put his hand on her bare shoulder, pushing her down toward Billy's cock. DesirЋe stifled a sob. Was this a fate worse than death? Or should she try to cling to life no matter what? It would all be over shortly and she would see Mark.
DesirЋe surrendered, slowly bending her knees until she felt the blunt prod of his cockhead at the hairy and humid gates of her femininity, felt the soft tip part the fat labia and move inexorably to the oozing hole of her vagina, brushing electrically across her pulsating clit before sliding into the wet and slippery groove of pleasure. One last pleading glance at Sam and then her legs bent slowly, allowing Billy's cockhead through the tight ring of flesh. She felt the stretching by the fat cock, felt it push up in another inch as he arched his hips upward, and then she gave up the fight and began to settle down on the invading member.
Sam saw her bite her lip, heard her give a long quavering sigh as her honeyed pussy slid down the lusting, hard shaft. In spite of his jealousy, his concern for the lovely and innocent girl, he felt his own cock begin to stir. He saw the blush creep up her neck into her cheeks as he skewered her pussy onto Billy's rampant prick.
DesirЋe gave a sigh of surprise as she felt the penis enter her vagina, sliding up slowly and chafing the slippery walls that were still sensitive for the drubbing they had taken from Clete's massive cock. The bulge of his cockhead scraped up the inner membranes of her cunt, re-igniting fires she had just dampened two days earlier.
What Clete had done to her vagina with his massive cock had left an irritating itch in her tender insides. DesirЋe twisted around, looking for some escape, but he was inside her, Billy's hard, jerking penis was inside her tight pussyhole, and there was nothing she could do about it. It was a fact and she felt a fire burning in her womb, an itch that caused her to squirm her hips, trying to pull off him while he was pulling her down. But her heel slipped on the floor and she sank down heavily, his big cock doing deep into her, all the way, until her swollen clit was crushed against his pubic bone and hair.
Billy gave a grunt of satisfaction as he felt her sweet flesh close tightly around his leaking, erect cock. Without her even trying, the ring of her vaginal opening pinched almost painfully around the base of his shaft, and he felt his bulging balls warmly lodged between the plump cheeks of her bottom. What a babe! What a sweet, tight, hot cunt! He felt that he could fuck her hot hole for a week without resting. The cocaine he had snorted had bloated his cock to much larger than normal size and sensitivity.
Looking up at Sam, who was nodding his approval, DesirЋe felt despair and shame. Here she was accommodating one of her kidnappers, an evil man with the glaze of drug intoxication in his eyes, a maniac with a gun. Behind Billy, Sam was making up and down motions with his open hands which she understood to be that she was to start moving up and down. Shaking her head, she wrapped her arms around Billy's neck and hid her face in the side of his neck. They couldn't really be expecting her to fuck him now, could they? Not like this.
But in answer to her unspoken question, Sam moved around behind her and, cupping his hands under her soft moons, began lifting her up and then pushing her down, gently, slowly. She felt that the itch inside her vagina was getting scratched and she found that there was relief if she moved up and down. At first she went slowly, carefully, trying to soothe that spot of irritation a few inches up her love channel, and for a while it worked. Raising her head from Billy's shoulder she flexed her thighs, moving his cock in and out just a few inches, her hands resting on his shoulders while he sat there, his head lolling back while he moaned with pleasure.
It bothered her that he was enjoying it while she was trying to scratch the itch up inside her, so she told herself that she must stop this now. Just one more stroke and then she would stop, whether he liked it or not. Just one more, and then… just one more. In and out, and in and out again, and again, and she realized that, yes, they were fucking, that they were fucking each other, and suddenly she felt her hips beginning a more sensual movement, making a longer stroke on his rock-hard shaft, tipping her hips back and up as she rose and reversing the tilt as she descended. Her pussy was juicy, and growing more so with each wet-sounding stroke. The other man was back there somewhere, watching, she supposed, but she was beginning to forget about him. She found she knew what to do without his coaching or advice.
DesirЋe moved that way for a long time until Billy was groaning and giving an upward stab each time her steaming vagina lowered and swallowed his penis. There were other sounds too, coming from somewhere, human sounds that she thought she recognized. Yes, she knew those sounds well, for she had heard them before, heard them when Mark made love to her and when Clete was raising her to the heights of sexual joy just 48 hours ago. It was her own clear voice, tightened with passion, groaning, moaning, grunting and sighing, barely audibly, almost just a vibration in her head, but growing in volume with each passing moment.
Sam watched her from several feet behind, watched her blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders, shimmering as she moved, her beautiful derriere rising and falling like a white, inverted heart, the round cheeks parting as she raised them, tipping them up, the cleft opening each time to flash the enticing, pinkish halo of her anus, centered with a tiny dimple so perfect that it looked as if it had never been used for any purpose. A fraction of an inch below that private opening, so clearly displayed, was the entrance for Billy's veiny cock, the thin, perfect edges closed wetly around that shaft, sucking it inside toward her hungry womb. Each time her butt rose, her soft, delicate cuntal lining clung to the penis, to be swallowed back inside as her pretty hips moved back down, the round loaves jiggling as they dropped onto the man's thighs.
Sam saw that she was getting into it, her wet, sucking pussy loving the cock thrusting into it, and he remembered how she had responded when Johnny had taken her on her own bed, but two or three months previously. He had been surprised that she had not recognized either him or Billy when they picked her up on the road today, but he had no way of knowing that Dr. Hemmings had used hypnosis and drugs to cloud memories that would be painful to the dear girl. Whatever was going on in her head, her body was loving what was going on in her little cunt.
And from the way his cock was throbbing, Sam knew that he wouldn't be able to wait much longer to get into the girl. The thing was, Billy was digging it and it was obvious that he had no intention of cutting his own pleasure short just to accommodate his best friend. But his cock was so swollen and painful at watching the beautiful girl moving and fucking so gracefully that he had to loosen his pants to relieve the pressure. He watched her rising and falling, her cunt slurping audibly up and down Billy's long, thick shaft and felt a need building that he could not control.
Kicking off his shoes, Sam let his pants fall to the floor with his shorts and, stepping free of the puddle of clothing, walked forward, his eyes on the junction of the other man's cock with the girl's cunt. Billy's bulging scrotum and DesirЋe's thighs were already shiny and dripping with her lubricant and the inner surfaces of her open buttocks were coated with it as well, her cute asshole shining wetly. Where one hole was occupied, another was vacant, and Sam decided that, after having saved her life, at least for the time being, he should be the first to use the coquettishly-winking orifice.
Billy opened his eyes on the divine sight of the beautiful blonde servicing his heavy penis with her silky, babyish vagina. She was the sight of dreams, her round, pink-nippled breasts bouncing tautly each time her bottom touched his thighs. Her cherry-lipped mouth opened and closed partway with her breathing and with the feelings of rapture that were beginning shoot through her loins, causing her fertile womb to vibrate and sing with joy. Whatever her mind thought, whatever her lips spoke, her cunt loved cock, any cock that could bring it to orgasm. And while he watched her jiggling tits, he saw two hands come up under her arms and spread their fingers across them, squeezing them as if to milk them of the life that someday they would give to the child her pure womb would bear.
He saw Sam's face over her shoulder, saw his friend place his lips on her shoulder in a sucking, hungry kiss. DesirЋe impulsively pressed back against him, her body given over to the sensuality growing inside her. His hands rubbed down her belly and found her clitoris, stroking it while Billy's prick drove up and down inside her, and Billy felt the touch of his friend's fingers more than once by accident.
DesirЋe's brain swam with the enormity of what she was doing and was being done to her, the incredible perversity of being sandwiched in between two men. She squirmed her ass back against Sam, perhaps to push him away, or perhaps to entice him, overwhelmed with the physical chaos she was engaged in. She felt his hand tweaking her clit, felt another hand between her asscheeks, rubbing fondly over her anus, digging into it until a fingertip slipped inside. Oh, no! He's touching my bumhole, putting his finger inside! Somehow, recollections of an earlier troilistic invasion was coming back to her, the face of Johnny, and of these other two young men, all together on a bed, hands feeling over her while one of them fucked her pussy. Recollections, unclear, of gut-wrenching shame and degradation, of being raped while these two held her, resistance and then acceptance, a building pleasure interrupted by a blood-curdling roar, the roar of a lion perhaps, and then all three of them running, leaving her… to what?
But her thoughts wavered from those nebulous, dream-like memories with the pleasant immediacy of what was happening now. Billy was hoisting her hips up and down, reaming her innocent pussy with his driving cock, while Sam's hands played over other sensitive areas. She felt his hands rubbing up and down in the cleft of her buttocks, over her anus, one fingertip intruding, and then two, stretching her open and filling her with a strange feeling.
"DesirЋe, honey," he was saying in her ear. "I've got to have you now, baby." She felt herself warm to his words, hoping this other man would take her away from the one whose cock was filling her belly now, this man she loathed even while he raised her to sensuous heights. But the feelings were irresistible and she was unable to stop herself from bending her head forward and kissing him on the mouth. Billy opened his lips and pushed his tongue into her mouth.
Sam looked down and wet his cockhead with saliva, slowing her hips' motion with his hands, pushing the perforated tip toward the tight, untouched hole, centering it over the twitching hole and pressuring forward, feeling the tightness resist, resist, and then yield, her warmth flowing over his cock like molten lava.
DesirЋe felt the uncomfortable stretching of her most private, never-before-touched rear hole, choked on Billy's tongue, and groaned.
"Oh, no, not there!" she cried, feeling Sam's arm encircle her waist from behind, pressing her belly so that she was forced back on his hard cock squeezing deeper into her rectum. Was there no limit to the degradation she must endure? Fucking her backside! She had read about things like this, but had no idea she would ever participate, and that it was happening at the same time as another man fucked up and down in her vagina at the same time, well, it was unbearable. There was a fire burning through her, from her well-stretched pussy to the hideously and unnaturally distended rim of her anus and the two cocks were like electrodes arcing a current between them through her genitals.
Having forgotten through hypnotic suggestion all that she had been through in the last few months, she was shattered by the realization of what she was doing. In her mind, her abasement had begun when Clete had used a pornographic film – which she could not remember having participated in – to lure her into a disgusting session of sex in his back office, of all places, while Mark loitered around in the front. She remembered how she had felt, still bucking madly in the throes of her orgasm, when Mark had ventured into the back office and seen her with the black sheriff thrusting into her wet vagina from behind. Disaster had only been avoided because Mark had not seen her face.
But now, after having crossed the boundaries of race and all decency, she had sunk to the very depths. She was taking two men at once, one of them in a forbidden spot reserved for excretion only, in the most unnatural way. Her poor back passage was burning, spasming around the penis stretching it, and she felt she must die of shame and embarrassment. Anything but this, please! She felt like begging him to stop, that she would let him do it in the natural way, if only he would stop.
Not that it felt bad, for the pain had vanished almost immediately. Once the muscle had stretched, it was not uncomfortable, for the opening had passed objects of similar size and shape before, but the idea of being used this way was so loathsome as to nearly mask the sensations caused by the dual shuttling motions of the invading penises.
Sam held his cock planted deep, feeling that of his friend, fucking into her honeyed vagina from the front, rubbing his through the tender wall separating the twin, pleasure-giving channels. He could feel Billy's cockhead, swollen to bursting, alongside his own, ramming up and down in her belly like a fleshy piston. The three of them had become a single machine of passion and pleasure. Sam initiated a smooth thrusting up and down in her rectum, his knees braced against Billy's.
DesirЋe opened her mouth to protest, to beg for mercy, but a wave of sensation passed through her, from one penis to the other, and she began trembling violently. Sam fucked her asshole carefully, drawing incredible pleasure from her silky, hot inner surfaces sliding over his cock. This girl could kill a man with pleasure, and could thereby tame any man she let into her.
Billy felt Sam's cock rubbing against his own, and felt the girl begin to groan and move with a new frenzy. She began to jerk wildly, her two holes clamping down on the cocks fucking them. Billy felt her juices gush out over his balls and cock and knew she was coming. He was making her climax, and he just couldn't believe it! He was making this lovely girl, better looking that anything he could ever hope to buy with a thousand dollars, come like a river. Her swampy crotch was making sucking noises as she ground her pussy against him in circles.
And then sagged forward over Billy, panting and whimpering with exhaustion.
Sam, feeling her anus clasping spasmodically around his hard cock, said, "I want some of that pussy."
"I didn't come yet," Billy said, beginning to shuttle his prick into her still body as best he could. "But I guess we can trade places."
"On the bed."
Sam drew out of her asshole slowly, stood, grasped her under her arms. Billy got up and helped him carry her to the bed. Sam repositioned the cameras to take in the next episode, and then, while Billy stood jacking his cock and watching, got onto the bed. DesirЋe's eyes were open, watching him come down over her. In her situation, she had bonded with him as her protector against the insane other half of the kidnapping team, taking him for a friend. Now, as he hooked his hands under her knees and drew them high and wide apart, he looked down at her enticing vulval slit covered with the soft pelt of butterscotch-colored hair, lying like cornsilk on the plump labia, either side of the delicious, wet furrow.
DesirЋe's breasts heaved with her breathing as she looked up at him helplessly, knowing that a second penis would soon be sluicing wetly into her sacred vagina. She peered between the ample melons of her round tits as his cockhead disappeared below the hairy mound of her pussy. She felt the insistent prod of his flaring glans, felt the mouth of her cunt yield and stretch, giving way before the young man's lusting thrust. Once again, she caught her breath in a gasp as he eased his cock into her vagina, his weight supported on one arm while his other held one of her knees high and wide. Their eyes locked as the intimate penetration deepened, then the both looked down to watch it happen, as they alternately glanced from each other's face to the junction of their genitals. Sam saw her tender flesh swell outward, the labia doubled back.
Billy watched, jacking his big cock while his best friend sank his cock into the cunt of the most beautiful girl he had ever known, saw her mouth open wide as Sam's shaft slowly and completely disappeared from sight, his big balls swinging against her exposed asshole, raw and red from the fucking it had received and which had helped bring her to her first orgasm. When he was all the way in, Sam lowered himself onto the comfort of her tits, which bulged out to the sides, and the girl's legs, trembling in the air, slowly raised up higher and folded around her new lover's lean buttocks, which began to slowly rise and fall, driving the rampant cudgel of his penis in and out of her soft, tight vagina.
Billy knew what his friend was feeling and knew that he would not want to change places very soon, so he stepped back and flopped in the chair, stroking himself to bring back the sensations he had relinquished when they had drawn their wet cocks from her juicy, young, female belly.
Sam was fucking her, and he had never felt anything so pleasant in his life, her tightness and tenderness goading him on involuntarily to the next deep, hard stroke, and the next and the next, in and out of her pink, honeyed palace of joy and pleasure. He felt her moving instinctively with him, pushing her vagina up and over his cock, matching him stroke for stroke, feeling the inner surfaces of her flexing asscheeks clutching at his down-swinging balls, her fingers gripping his shoulders and pulling him down close to her, so that her panting breaths puffed in his ear. She was so sexually hungry, he wondered if her politician husband was giving her regular sex or not. And he heard her very quiet voice in his ear grunting quietly whenever his penis hit an especially sensitive spot inside her.
"You… you won't let him hurt me, will you?" she whispered. "I didn't hurt his brother. I – agh – agh – I've never hurt anyone."
Trying to control his voice in spite of the feelings the loving grip of her cunt was raising in him, Sam whispered to her, "I'll do my best, DesirЋe, but – agh – aaaaagh – but you've got to make – aaaagh, shit – you've got to make him like you. Don't let him think you don't like him."
DesirЋe strained harder against him, feeling the reaming stab of his cock to her cervix, making her womb vibrate with desire for his cum. He began fucking her faster and faster, rising up over her so that his thrusts jarred her heavy tits and made them roll on her chest. Sam could see the inner lips of her pussy gripping his penis, could feel his passion building.
And then she was coming again, great shudders of body-quaking explosions ripping through her loins as her nails scored his back. She moaned and whimpered for a long moment, and fell back, her pussy still squeezing his cock in spasms.
– you've got to make him like you, came the echoes of her present lover's admonition in her mind. She had to make him like her, but how? While Sam, whose name she did not know, continued fucking his cock into her still-hot vagina, she turned her half-closed eyes toward Billy, sitting in the chair masturbating. Taking a chance, she reached out her hand for him.
At first he didn't notice, but then he got up and stepped over to the bed, leaning his knees against the edge of the mattress. DesirЋe's hand moved slowly, timidly to his prick, which she found difficult to encompass, and began stroking it up and down in the same way he had been doing to himself. Billy took a deep breath, smiled, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back, savoring her gentle touch.
Sam kept fucking DesirЋe and she urged him quietly, "Please don't stop," she said in her silky voice. "Don't stop yet, please."
"You like it, baby?" he whispered, feeling her left arm distractedly moving her hand up and down Billy's cock, her thoughts on the deep electric feelings in the loving vagina.
"Oh, yes, I can't help it, and… and I can't stop myself. You won't stop, will you?" She was making little grunts of pleasure in her throat.
"Not if I can help it."
"Agh… agh… oh, I'm sorry… you… agh… feel so good."
"Oh, why won't Mark make love to me like… agh… agh… this?"
"He must be crazy."
"I want him to, but he won't touch me."
"I'll touch you," Sam said, his fingers prodding gently around her anus, feeling his slick, wet cock sliding back and forth in her snug, oozing pussy.
"You hurt me, you know, back there," she said softly, without missing a stroke with her cunt up over his raging prick.
"Yes, I'm a bit sore," she told him. She was speaking calmly now, having bonded with the saner of her captors, with the young man whose male organ was giving her so much long-needed pleasure. He was pushing so deep into her, staying planted against her cervix a moment before each quick, sucking outstroke that rasped at the bundle of nerves near the entrance to her womb. "I want to have a baby, and he won't even touch me."
Sam saw her eyes mist with tears of frustration that this fuck seemed to be relieving. Damn, she was trying to get knocked up and she wasn't even protected, not on the pill. What if she got pregnant today? That would be a hoot! Aroused at the thought, Sam began to fuck in and out of her pussy faster.
Billy had been watching them talk quietly while they made love slowly, but he could only catch the odd word of their conversation, which never seemed to slow the pace of their motion. The girl's body was moving on its own, independent of her mind, but as Sam increased the speed of his fuck-strokes into her furry, pink-rimmed vagina, he saw her eyes begin to close as her feelings expanded. Her hand on his cock was losing its coordination, and Billy wanted some stimulation, so he got onto the bed.
"Roll that way," he said to Sam, tapping his friend on the shoulder. "On your side."
Sam looked up, understood slowly and reluctantly complied. He had wanted to come with the girl, all alone just the two of them, but now Billy was getting impatient. He couldn't really blame him. Lying on his side, with DesirЋe's legs around his waist, he kissed her soft lips and slid in and out of her slowly. Not bad. It felt good in this position.
For DesirЋe, it felt ever better as Sam's cock could reach deeper into her hot belly. She kissed him back naturally, her mouth wanting to feel even as her young vagina did the loving caress of a man's parts.
Billy looked under DesirЋe's squirming butt, lifting her upper leg so that her asscheeks opened wider and he could see her pinkish, raw anus winking at him just a fraction of an inch from where Sam's shiny cock, wet with her juices, shuttled back and forth in her eager love-hole. Billy moved his face down, watching up close for a moment, then spat a gob of saliva onto the twitching little dimple of her anus. Then, moving into position and further wetting the head of his cock in the secretions that had collected in the cleft of her buttocks, he pushed it against the light, demure opening.
Sam saw DesirЋe's eyes open with dismay, saw her mouth open in a gasp, and then heard Billy moan with pleasure, saw his eyes close in ecstasy. He felt DesirЋe's vagina tighten and the stiff shaft rub against his inside the girl's belly, the two penises separated only by the thin wall of flesh between the two tender passages. He felt Billy's balls brushing against his own as he began fucking in and out of the girl's asshole.
Her blue eyes were wide as she gave a grunt of discomfort. "Oh, that feels funny," she whispered.
"Yeah?" Sam said, fucking slowly, further aroused by the pressure being created by Billy's cock against his own. "What does it feel like?"
"It feels like… like…" and she stopped, unable to put word to it, giving a backward push with her buttocks.
"Like shitting in reverse?"
He saw her eyes partly close in embarrassment while a slight smile touched her lips and a blush spread up to her cheeks from her neck. And then it all melted away as her hips and entire body began moving back and forth between the two males organs ramming in and out of her vagina and rectum. Sam felt her shudder with tiny orgasms every minute. Billy was moaning, clutching at her tits from behind and Sam felt Billy's balls banging against his own. It was a strange kind of friendship, this, their cocks sunk deeply and joyfully into the belly of the same beautiful woman.
DesirЋe raised her upper leg high into the air, undulating back to take Billy's cock into her ass, then forward to suck Sam's up into her vagina. She tried not to think about what she was doing, but she had to confess that it now went far beyond saving her own life. Her body was enjoying this far more than she could have thought possible as they plunged in and out of her twin holes, filling and emptying her, sometimes both in at the same time, sometimes one in and one out, but her little orgasms were coming thick and fast and she couldn't stop herself now, no matter how disgusted she was with herself.
But they went on, the three of them, for a long time, working together, the two men pounding the lovely girl between them, for a good half-hour. Billy was getting wild behind her now, and DesirЋe felt a strange, pleasure-pain darting out from her stretched anus. He was going to come soon, right up inside her, back there, where no one had ever ventured before. Sam was kissing her face and in her hunger and passion, she kissed him back, feeling the supreme joy of her approaching orgasm, radiating from the plunging head of his cock in her vagina.
Oh, Mark, forgive me! They're doing it to me and I can't stop myself. I'm a slut and a whore and lower than dirt, but my body loves this feeling and you weren't here, my darling, like you haven't been for weeks, and I need a normal sex life. Oh, Mark, I love you, but I can't stop myself now!
Billy clutched at her big tits from behind, driving wetly into her asshole, growling and grunting with his orgasm, feeling his balls begin to erupt. His swelling cock was felt by Sam in her cunt, and his own climax could be postponed no longer and as their big, throbbing cocks, working as a team, began to spout, gushing their pent-up sperm into her. DesirЋe felt the scald of their semen and felt her own orgasm whip through her. It was amazing! She was being filled up with their thick, gooey sperm at both ends, hundreds of millions of tiny wriggly little beasts sent squirming the warm, wet tubes of her body, seeking out an ovum to fertilize.
DesirЋe felt it happening and gave a cry of masochistic passion as they flooded her belly with their white, creamy ejaculations. Her body quaked with the release of the tension in her thighs, belly and womb as Sam poured his semen into her pulsating cervix. In concert, the three of them howled in the grip of sexual paradise before a contented lassitude crept into their labored muscles.
And then, as if on cue, they began to subside, the men's cocks draining their last drops of cum into her warm, receptive orifices. Four arms stayed locked around the girl's sweaty, lush curves while their softening pricks lay in the wet grip of her body, while the stillness of the room was disturbed by the sobbing of three pairs of tortured lungs. The heaving slowly stilled until their three tangled bodies lay like a beached octopus, glistening with rivers of perspiration.
DesirЋe was barely sentient, and as awareness began to dawn, she pushed it again to the back, wanting to expunge this experience from her consciousness. She could not believe what she had just done, even to save her own life. Death would have been preferable, the honorable thing to accept from these two nameless men. But the thought of being separated forever from her beloved young husband had been too much to accept, and the passion they had aroused and the joy they had given her made, for the moment, a pleasant mask for the grief she knew she would soon feel at her betrayal of her marriage vows.
And so, she forced herself to relax and let herself drift into an exhausted slumber.
Sam felt her sweet body melt. She was so wonderful to lie with this way, all feminine aromas and honeyed flesh. He felt content to stay like that, in the arms of this sexual Goddess, and would have been happy never to move, but after only ten minutes, he felt a hardness push against his soft and limp penis as it was gradually slipping from her vagina. The stiff prod turned out to be Billy's re-hardened cock seeking entrance where his own lay lifeless in the sucking mouth of her pussy. He allowed his shrunken hose to slip free, felt Billy's shaft find the opening and squeeze into the streaming hole.
Billy began fucking loudly and before long, DesirЋe was following his movements, her eyes half open and rolled back in her head. Sam lay quietly and watched her respond and lose her mind to the newly-stoked fires in her loins. He was getting aroused just watching her face as Billy fucked her from behind. She raised her upper leg to better accommodate Billy's driving cock and Sam could see the pink folds of her pussy taking the hammering cock.
He was hard again, Sam saw, so hard that he thought it would explode, but there seemed nowhere to put his aching member. It seemed impossible, but he moved into position, pressing his cockhead against Billy's slippery one, waiting for the instroke, and then fucked up inside her vagina, his penis driving inside her cunt right alongside his best friend's. Incredibly tight, but if she could take Clete's monstrous shaft, she could stretch to take both Sam's and Billy's cocks.
DesirЋe yelped, groaned, and swore. "Oh, shit! You're tearing me apart!"
But both young men fucked away in her tender, hideously stretched vagina and until she came again twice and her two lovers again pumped their creamy sperm into her belly.
Tanya had led Robyn room by room through the lovely, rambling home that she was watching for the Mitchells while they were away in Europe. While Uncle Jim Devereaux's house was just as big, she found the decorating more tasteful and opulent in DesirЋe's parent's house. She was impressed with the library, the high bookcases and DesirЋe's own collection of books on music and its history. For her young age, DesirЋe was quite an intellectual, Robyn surmised. But then, she had always known that her friend was talented and intelligent. She found it doubly hard to believe DesirЋe's admission that she had had an affair outside her marriage with some, as yet, unnamed man.
She would have been shocked to know that that man was Clete Anderson, the black town sheriff, whom DesirЋe had mentioned only once and in the worst possible context.
But that would be something for another day, if any day at all. The fact that DesirЋe had admitted to that certain indiscretion took some of the sting out of Robyn's conscience for her affair with her Uncle Jim, with whom, it must be admitted, she felt a great admiration, affection, and yes, most certainly, attraction. For even while she hated herself for her weakness, it took a great effort of will not to go running back to the Devereaux house for more of the same sexual stimulation she had been enjoying for the last few days.
She supposed that moving from this lovely house to Mark Denning's much smaller home would have been something of a hardship, though she understood that true love makes many such things easier. So, why had DesirЋe started an adulterous affair? Still, in her position in her strange relationship with her Uncle Jim, Robyn told herself that she had no right to judge. DesirЋe's peccadilloes could in no way approximate the wickedness of her affair with James Devereaux.
"And this is the bedroom," Tanya announced as they walked in. It was a big and airy room with a large, double window and louvered closet doors. "Rodney and I sleep in here now, and if anyone wanted to peek, they could hide in the closet and see everything we did – if we ever did anything."
In the final days of August, the room was hot and Tanya walked over and opened the window. From her angle of vision, she did not see Lobo waiting, and for once she was glad, for she wanted Robyn all to herself and was sure that Robyn would be terrified to see the legendary raping dog in the room with them. Smiling, she turned back to Robyn, an idea forming in her mind. She had liked the feel of the younger girl's firm, ripe, hard-nippled breast when she had touched it earlier and she had felt her lonely woman's lesbian longing for the other girl. Not that a man wasn't always better, just that this innocent, young brunette dancer was here and available and recently awakened by Jim Devereaux's randy penis just two days previously. Big Jim must be some man to have broken through this little cupcake's defenses.
Tanya laughed at herself, at the way she was thinking. Cupcake indeed! Robyn was just a couple of years younger than she.
Robyn was standing there, her arms at her sides, when Tanya crossed to her and put an arm around her waist, lightly pressing her left tit against Robyn's right.
"Cozy room, isn't it?" Tanya said in a low voice. "To think some kids are born to this, while the rest of us live like peasants. What's your place like back home, Robyn?"
Robyn smiled and she drew away from Tanya's friendly touch, though her body had been enjoying the tender brush of the older girl's breast against the sensitive nipple. "Like a peasant, of course. Uncle Jim's the rich man in the family and he's kept Priscilla bottled up like a rare perfume."
"Looks to me like she's rebelled in a big way," Tanya remarked. "How were you brought up?"
"Very, very straight."
Tanya drew the shy young girl down to sit on the bed beside her. "I don't suppose you ever felt like just up and breaking free?"
Robyn shook her head. "No, not really – well, not very often."
"I suppose your mother dragged you to church and told you never to let a man touch you," Tanya said, her finger lightly brushing the back of Robyn's hand where it lay on the bedspread. "But I guess you've seen by now that you missed out on a lot of fun."
Robyn blushed and dropped her gaze. She really didn't understand all the foreign, rebellious thoughts and impulses that whipped through her mind and flesh. She did know that she felt terribly ashamed by what she had done with her older lover, and somehow she blamed herself for enticing him into betraying the relationship of brothers, her father and her uncle. She also knew that the floodgates of her passion had been opened and, try as she might, found it impossible to stop the feelings from bubbling to the surface, upsetting her chaste scruples. Could she redeem herself from her own filth, now that she had committed fornication with her own uncle? Did she have the strength to resist these new impulses that had possessed her mind? She knew the best thing she could do now was to stay away from James Devereaux as much as possible.
The young coed felt a tingling on her thigh and saw that it was coming from the stroking of Tanya's magic fingertips.
She was very lovely, Tanya was, with long slender legs like Robyn's and a glow in her eyes that seemed to mesmerize her. Her face was very close to her own and she could feel the older girl's breath on her cheeks.
"Here, Robyn," Tanya whispered. "Let me take your hurt away."
As Tanya's lips moved toward hers, Robyn felt her own breathing quicken, and then, like an electric shock, the contact of labial flesh against labial flesh shot a bolt of current through her body that ricocheted up to the top of her head. Robyn moaned with startled passion and felt Tanya's hands playing over her clothed body as her unresisting lips were pried open by a questing tongue.
"Baby, you're going to feel so good before the day is out," Tanya said. "You'll be in no hurry to go back to that other place."
"Oh, Tanya," Robyn moaned, feeling Tanya's fingers tracing her thigh up to her moistening crotch. "I've never done this before. Not with a woman."
The older girl was unbuttoning Robyn's dress, slipping her hand into her warm cleavage there, palming the ripe mound and carefully tweaking the hard, tingling nipple. Tanya eased the younger brunette back onto the bed, feeling success within her grasp. One hand slipped inside the leg of Robyn's panties and found the moistening slit of her baby vagina, and there was an uncontrolled moan as her fingertip found the teenager's clitoris, which was swelling in response to the knowing caress. No man could stimulate a woman the way another woman could, for only a woman knew the exact trigger-points of sensuality in a woman's body. Tanya concentrated on Robyn's hot clitoris, only dipping inside the girl's pussy briefly to collect lubricant on her probing fingertips.
Robyn's words were garbled now, unintelligible against Tanya's French-kissing mouth, her hips swiveling uncontrollably up to the magic caress, and she felt her loins grow loose with a flood of juicy feminine nectar that was being released. As it had just a few days before with her uncle, an expanding glow suffused her loins that weakened her ability to resist, to pull away from the maddening, wicked caress of the older girl's talented fingers and lips. While Robyn lay there on the bed, her mind reeling with this new dreamlike reality, her moral strength and resolve melting into the sheets, Tanya carefully worked her clothing and damp panties off her smooth flesh.
Tanya sat on her heels, caressing the girl's skin lightly, drinking in the sight of pristine, youthful beauty, so lovely as to rival the angelic DesirЋe's. It was a wonder that Robyn and DesirЋe were such good friends, but it was a tribute to their innocence that neither resented the other's beauty. Robyn's creamy flesh, the silky, dark pelt lying on her soft and deeply-cleft mound of Venus, and the glowing pink of nipples and aureoles the size of silver dollars, made her look as delicious as a sundae. Tanya wanted an intimacy with this lovely creature, wanted to caress and love and be caressed and loved in return, and felt a need to enslave her to her will, to make her want to come back again for the pleasure she was going to teach her.
The older girl slipped out of her own clothes, always keeping at least one hand on Robyn's humming flesh, keeping the fires stoked in the girl's vibrant loins. Then she moved over the squirming, young body, her hips near Robyn's face, her kisses pecked their way down over the flat, graceful sweep of her belly, the lovely vortex of her navel, to the generous, fragrant patch of dark brown hair at the junction of her firm thighs. Tanya could smell the girl's natural perfume as her lips brushed the silken curls and her tongue pushed through the growth to the hot, moist crease of her vagina. Gently, her hands opened Robyn's legs a bit wider and with careful fingers she parted the adorably furry labia. She peeked into the tiny, red hole and the clitoris swelled before her eyes. Slowly, her tongue came out, found the right spot just this side of the erected tip, and began to lick it expertly.
Robyn moaned loudly, her thighs yawning reflexively just as her soft, cushioned crotch snapped upward into Tanya's face. The tight buttocks parted and the older girl could see the tight, vermilion halo of Robyn's anus. Pushing the tip of her nose against it, she went to work with her marauding tongue, all around the rim of the vagina and up and down the slit, from above the burning love-bud to the twitching anal orifice so intimately exposed.
Robyn's eyes rolled, her eyes only seeing hazy, unreal things, as the tongue working down between her legs spread fire through her womb. Better with her tongue than even Uncle Jim, Tanya lashed the girl's pussy into a roiling heat, and saw the thick lubricant ooze from the maidenly slit to run down through the valley between the rolling asscheeks. Tanya lapped happily, slavishly, knowing that soon the girl would do anything to perpetuate the wonderful sensations, would reciprocate in spite of the revulsion she might feel naturally to enjoying another woman's body and attentions.
The teenage girl, just introduced to world she did not know existed, allowed herself to be swept along on a tide of sensuality. She felt it growing, just forward of her tailbone, expanding through her womb and vagina, to the full, jiggling mounds of her ripe tits. She knew it was going to happen, that she was soon going to explode from Tanya's lewd ministrations. There was no protest from her when her foggy vision saw Tanya's leg swing over her head so that the older girl's knees rested on either side of her head. It a burst of affection she wrapped her legs around Tanya's neck and her arms around her waist. Her vision cleared and she found she was staring into the same moist and aromatic orifices that Tanya was licking and pleasuring of hers.
"Oh, Tanya!" Robyn cried, planting a kiss in the wet cleft of Tanya's cunt. "Sweet Tanya!" Her tongue came out and went to work in the way she could feel it happening to herself down below. This was lovely! This was heaven! Why had this never happened before in her life? She wanted it to go on forever, forever and more, and soon, she knew from experience, her body would crave her uncle's thick, hard penis. More, oh please, more!
Lobo, lurking outside the bedroom of DesirЋe's former bedroom – as it was his custom to wait to be invited in to mount Tanya's willing body – smelled the aromatic air of sex drifting through the open window. Two distinct odors, from two distinct females, both young, both healthy, but only one of the scents was familiar. The other, slightly more delicate and without any trace of canine contact, drew him like the most expensive perfume draws an amorous young man. Rearing up, he planted his forepaws on the window sill and peered through at the two interlocked bodies on the bed. He could see the wet underside of the unfamiliar female, knees raised and parted, the brunette head of his sometime mistress moving in between the gaping thighs, her tongue lapping doglike at the anus and hairy cuntal split.
A barely audible whine escaped his throat and he saw Tanya's head rise. Her eyes opened and she made a wry expression, which of course Lobo could not decipher, then grudgingly smiled and lifted one hand up, beckoning him into the room. More than happy to comply, Lobo launched himself silently into the room, stopping obediently short of the bed, and then sitting down like the loyal animal he could be, holding his lust in check for the moment. He had enough animal faith in Tanya to wait – for a while.
Tanya worked on Robyn's soft, hot, flowing vagina with other things in the back of her mind. When she had seen Lobo in the window, her heart had sunk, for she knew Lobo was here for his daily attention and at this moment she didn't want to leave the teenager's fragrant, wet cunt to offer herself to the dog. She definitely did not want Robyn to know she had been carrying on with the dog, for that would be letting the cat – or the dog – out of the bag in a major way. The damage would be irreparable. She was sure that the teenager would be so shocked and outraged at the idea that she would never be able to keep quiet about it. But Lobo was here for sex, to mount and copulate with a human female, and he was not used to being denied. Tanya should know, for both she and Liz had been training the dog pack personally for weeks. It had been Liz's idea of revenge on the town that had ostracized her, and the dogs had been trained to take women in the same way lions demanded raw meat.
Even a lion could be made to wait a minute to feed, but Tanya had no idea how to please him with Robyn lying here hot and pulsating, her pussy leaking like a river. How was she going to get the girl out of the room without her seeing Lobo so that she could assume the position and allow Lobo to take his pleasure? That would mean, of course, destroying this magic moment with Robyn with no chance of reviving it ever again. No, Lobo had faithfully showed up and made a mess of things this time, and there was no way out of it.
As soon as Robyn saw the dog…
Tanya moaned, feeling Robyn's tongue stabbing into her wet cunt, her cute little nose snuffling against her anus. The girl was learning well, and since this was a safe pursuit, safe sex with no chance of unwanted pregnancy, she could be made to indulge regularly, at least until Rodney found his libido and she didn't need it anymore from another female. But Tanya was terrified to think that Rodney, through this lapse of discretion, might find out that his own wife was involved in the bestiality story that he had been chasing the way Quixote chased windmills.
The younger girl's lashing tongue swiped up and down Tanya's appreciative slit, lapping up the liquid offering streaming out of that experienced lovehole. While the girls mutually pleasured each other, Tanya glanced furtively at the increasingly restless dog. Things were going to get very embarrassing soon, and she regretted having invited the dog in, which she had done mainly to keep anything else from happening. Now, she feared, the worst was going to happen. The dog would soon leap upon her, demanding copulation from her while Robyn watched terrified and shocked. It was coming soon and she could see only one way to keep her secret covered up.
Tanya leaned to her left, rolling on the surface of the king-size bed, so that their positions were inverted and Robyn was on top. Her lovely bottom was raised in the air above the older girl' face, and while Robyn, after little hesitation, returned to her cunnilingual work, Tanya lovingly ran her fingers up and down in the folds of the plump vulva before her face. She slid her two fingers in until the tight vagina gripped them pulsatingly and Robyn moaned with passion.
"Oh, Tanya," she sighed. "That feels soooo good."
"I bet you'll be ready for a cock soon," Tanya answered sweetly, her tongue jabbing at Robyn's redly-throbbing clit.
Robyn only moaned in disappointment, for she knew that the only cock she had ever known was miles away, in Uncle Jim's pants.
Her fingers still busy in the inner surfaces of Robyn's labia, Tanya turned her head and looked at Lobo, motioning him toward the bed. Like a shot, Lobo was up, climbing lightly onto the bed, and she took the silver chain around the dog's neck and guided his snout to the hot and receptive split of the teenager's vagina. Lobo sniffed curiously, decided he liked the delicate, sweet odor, and whipped his tongue out into the delicious, innocent furrow of the girl's cunt. The first delightful touch of the canine tongue sent irresistible waves of fire through the girl's loins, causing the downturned melons of her breasts to swell with undreamed-of pleasure. Her nipples reddened and hardened even more, scraping against Tanya's belly and prompting a hand to leave her pussy and squeeze her teenaged tits.
Lobo licked and slavered, as he had been taught, with the purpose of preparing this sweet human vagina for his canine penis. The girl's moans deepened and her hips began pumping uncontrollably back and forth, pushing her needing sex-hole toward his face. Oh, my, what is Tanya doing to me? Her tongue feels fantastic! went the thoughts through the innocent mind of the young female.
From below, Tanya watched it all, catching the drops of Robyn's pussy juice on her tongue as it drained in a string from her super-stimulated slit. The young dancer's hips were moving in swiveling circles now as the flames of arousal spread wildly through her fertile belly. She could not think now, could not remember her strict and moral upbringing, as the feelings swarmed through her loins like ants, invading her most private and sacred regions in a way she had always hoped until now to avoid. But she belonged to Tanya now, to the tongue that laved her sizzling pussy with pure, irresistible joy. Because of the feelings that now were melting her feminine core, she could not feel the change in the texture and shape of the tongue that was bringing her this incredible pleasure. Tanya kept the plump labia spread wide to Lobo's lapping tongue, watching the bared clitoris swollen and throbbing with the stimulation. She could feel Robyn's moans of ecstasy vibrating through her quivering tits to her own soft belly, and she knew it was time to lead the teenager to the next phase in her sexual development.
Lobo's huge, red cock had begun to protrude from its furry sheath, that rampant urge beyond the control of its possessor or any other being in the universe, a reproductive force outside of any reason or any compassion whatsoever. The penis needed a vagina into which it must release its hot, live-giving seed, and that tender receptacle was now very generously presented to him. Below the rosy hole of the female's tight anus, glistening with the sweat of arousal, was the vertical, pink split of her dripping love-hole, waiting to be invaded by his canine cock and flooded with his scalding, liquid sperm. Below that was the apprehensive face of his friend Tanya, staring up at his oozing, massively throbbing shaft and bulging balls in their black, pendulous sac.
It's time, thought Tanya. Time to make this beautiful little girl into a dog-fucking slut, douse that holier-than-thou sneer with a gallon of steaming dog cum. And reaching up under Lobo's belly, she took hold of his pulsing balls and tugged him toward Robyn's upraised backside…
Automatically, Lobo moved forward and reared up, his paws coming to rest on the girl's heart-shaped, dimpled bottom, his furry belly slotting in between the wide-parted, creamy cheeks. Tanya squirmed out from under her girl lover and kneeled around so that her face was near Robyn's. Reaching under to fondle her quivering tits, she whispered affectionately, her breath hot on the young girl's cheek.
"Ready for your treat, dear Robyn, the cock I promised you?"
Robyn's innocent eyes opened from the dreamland she was in. "Cock? You promised?" She felt arms around her waist and a strong belly pressed into the cleft of her butt, the fur tickling her anus the way Uncle Jim's had done the first time. Was… was there a man back there, ready to take her, to thrust inside her and cool the flames that were burning out of control in her inexperienced but hot-blooded womb? When had Tanya promised her anything? She had already given her much more than she had promised, except for the orgasm her healthy femininity craved. She wanted a cock, but she had seen no man enter to give it to her, so who was this pressed up against her squirming bottom?
"He's here, Robs baby, the best penis on the block, and we've got it right now. A new experience for you. To make you my partner, my sister, here in Pickford's Meadows." Reaching down between Robyn's apprehensively twitching legs, she grasped the awesome length of Lobo's cock, guiding the tip to the soft opening of the teenage girl's vagina.
Robyn's eyes looked questioningly at Tanya and then back to where she could not distinctly feel the shape of the other warm body. She felt the tip of Lobo's cock stretching the rim of her cunt, the eager driving of his hind legs against the backs of her thighs. She tensed with fright at the sight of the massive wolf-like dog mounted astride her tender, defenseless…
Lobo lunged forward with a powerful thrust of his hind legs, tearing the rock-hard penis from the gentle grip of Tanya's fingers, ramming the sticky, thick shaft into the delicate and vulnerable girl-flesh before him. The older girl saw Robyn's face as her mouth widened and her eyes seemed to bulge, a sudden flush reddening her cheeks like two ripe tomatoes. She choked and threw her head back and groaned.
"Oh! Oh, my God, nooooo!" Robyn cried, her body quivering and shaking as Lobo's cock sliced into her young vagina. "Help me, oh please, help me!"
Tanya, missing her meaning, said, "Sweetie, you don't need any help, you're doing just fine." She moved to gaze at Lobo's half-buried penis, stretching the mouth of Robyn's vagina into a large, round O-shape framed by silky, dark-brown curls. Tanya steadied the thigh nearest to her so the teenager could not crawl away and anger the huge, savage animal and watched while he took several small steps forward to fully hide the great, pinkish shaft in the girl's reluctantly receptive vagina. Damn it, but prudish little Robyn was getting dog-fucked by the king of dog-fuckers! Wouldn't DesirЋe be happy to see this!
Robyn felt her pussy filled as nothing had ever done before. Nothing with Uncle Jim had ever been like this. She felt she was bursting, jammed full in this perverted sexual penetration. It was actually happening, just as she had been warned about by DesirЋe. Her brain swam with the enormity of what was happening to her. How could it be she that was being mounted by this infamous, marauding dog, his disgusting canine penis, already the instrument of rape for numerous women, now sunk into the wet well of her teenage vagina? Defensively, she reached between her legs, felt the huge cock, that it was fully planted inside her, the big, swollen balls lying comfortably on the hairy lips of her vulva. It was simply unbelievable, how far she had descended into the pit of carnal filth. She felt the fire of arousal, unassuaged by the shock of what was happening, expand through her female core and into her tingling breasts, on up through her graceful neck to her befuddled brain.
Lobo balanced himself between her knees and then, as was only natural to him, began fucking into the tight and silky vagina between Robyn's legs. Robyn groaned with outrage while the mammoth, red shaft sliced through her delicate, girlish vagina, shooting fire through her inexperienced womb to the base of her head. She made a weak attempt to scramble away, but Tanya forestalled her, her eyes locked on the lewd sight of the giant cock sinking ever deeper with each stroke into the teenager's tight cunt, the thinly-stretched rim of the tender opening giving wetly with each stroke.
Supporting her weight with one arm, her firm breasts jarred by the impact of each instroke, Robyn reached back, pushing her hand against the dog's lunging belly, trying to stop what was being done to her, but she only succeeded in exciting the dog to stronger thrusts. While tears of shame and revulsion poured down her cheeks, she felt the sexual fire exploding through her tender womb, melting her guts like the liquid that oozed from her to bathe the invading penis of the dog. Her eyes turned to the face of her friend and found a gloating smile.
"Oh, pleeease, ooooooh," Robyn cried, straining to maintain the focus of her eyes. "Please, stop him, Tanya. I can't be doing this. Not with… not with… with a… dog." And at mention of the species of her uninvited lover, she sobbed with horror and humiliation. "Stop him, Tanya. Make him stop, now!" Her voice dropped to a rasping, angry screech. "Tanya!"
Tanya, shaking her head, ran her hand down Robyn's spine, felt with her fingers down into the cleft of her butt. "Can't do it, sweetie. Lobo came for sex, and that's what he's got to have. I couldn't stop him now, even if I wanted to."
"You… you don't want to?" Robyn sobbed, tensing as she felt the other girl's fingers at the spot where Lobo's cock was entering her.
"I need a partner," Tanya said, anointing her fingertips in Robyn's juices, then finding the tight pucker of her anus. She watched the surprised look on the younger brunette's face as her digit broke through the resistance of the muscle and pushed into her hot rectal depths. "I need a partner that can keep a secret. You see, Lobo came here today and there was only one way to handle him. He had to have one of us. I could have turned my ass up for him myself, but then you'd have told everyone in town, and I don't want Rodney to know how close his dog story is to home. That would ruin everything, I'm afraid. Now, I'm sure you won't want to tell anyone about my friendship with Lobo."
Robyn had slowly begun to relax, the tension in her arms running away to a certain lassitude as the dog's smoothly ramming penis spread a nagging desire through her loins. Tanya pushed her finger deeper into Robyn rectum, feeling the enormous shaft through the thin, delicate wall of flesh, charging up and back with an impelling rhythm.
The teenager's lovely, blushing face lifted up supplicatingly and she said, "Please, oh, please, Tanya, make him stop. I promise I won't tell anybody."
"Insurance, kid, it's insurance. Besides, he won't stop now until he comes in your pussy, so you might as well go for it."
Robyn shook her head. "Me, no, I can't." But the pleasure from his wonderful cock was spreading through her young vagina, and Tanya saw her move her knees slightly wider apart, saw her lower back curve downward as she angled her pussy up to receive the irresistible fucking of Lobo's magic instrument. The older girl fingerfucked Robyn's asshole in time to Lobo's cockthrusts, feeling the sphincter tighten like a vise, heard her begin to hum with ecstasy, and her hips began moving in that natural way she might have learned with Jim, but which no woman really needed to be taught. Tanya drew her finger free of Robyn's ass, and stood up, going to the dresser drawer where Rodney kept his cameras. She took one out, and took a few revealing shots of the teenager's flushed face and red-rimmed pussy stretched around the dog's wet and glistening fuckshaft, from which shiny trails of pussy juice streaked her flawless thighs, flexing rhythmically as she pumped her vagina back over the veiny, red penis with a growing abandon.
She watched the young woman, just freed of her virginity a few days before, undulating with a graceful motion, now in harmony with the dog's rutting thrusts into her soft and wetly yielding femininity, his heavy, sperm-laden balls swinging like a pendulum beneath her soft muff of brown pubic hair. When Tanya was satisfied that she had taken enough pictures, she put the camera back in the drawer, intending to have them developed later. Then she kneed her way back onto the bed and encircled the waist of the impassioned, jerking girl.
Robyn was working harder with each passing moment. The huge, sticky dog's penis was filling and emptying her irresistibly, flooding her womb with a fiery joy. The rhythm of the feral cock, the angle of penetration, and the tirelessly constant pounding into her tender cunt, was sending her into an increasing frenzy of movement. She was going to come now, she felt it happening, in spite of herself, even though the possessor of this incredible prick was not even human, and that she was participating in something overwhelmingly perverse, something ugly and filthy. But she was doing it, and she felt the love – or lust – of the dog, and the affection of the girl who now held her close.
Tanya palmed Robyn's ample breasts and kissed her full, pouting lips, feeling the younger girl's body jarring with each savage thrust of Lobo's cock. She could feel the teenager's growing heat in her cherry-red lips and searing, panting breath that matched each backward jerk of her fertile hips.
Lobo felt her snapping pussy around his cock, and for a time he could forget the image of his beloved, inaccessible DesirЋe, who had twice been the eager receptacle for his heavy, canine seed. This girl was equally young and tender, just as sweet smelling, her pussy just as clean and pleasure-giving. And it was giving him pleasure, the silky caress of her inner tissues over the sensitive head of his doggy cock bringing him inexorably along to the ejaculation that he craved.
"You're ours, Robyn honey," Tanya whispered. "Ours. Lobo's and mine, and don't ever forget it. You're part of this thing now, another doggy-girl, like me and Liz and Nancy Pace, and all the other women in Pickford's Meadows who've had his wonderful cock. You're part of the picture now, Robyn." She looked into Robyn's eyes, found them glassy with passion, felt the orgasm begin to vibrate up through her womb to her bosom. "Now, baby, beg him to fuck you. Beg him, now!"
Robyn stared at her, then she turned her head breathlessly and whispered to the wildly humping dog, "Fuck me, doggy, oh fuck me hard!"
Tanya drew the act out as long as she could, stopping the dog's movements right after each of the several orgasms Robyn experienced, keeping him from ejaculating and losing his strength. Each time she shuddered climactically, a firm grip on Lobo's balls stopped his humping, leaving the girl to moan and quiver with supreme ecstasy, her vagina gushing streams of juice that coated her smooth thighs and his swinging testicles. The older girl walked around, encouraging the dog, urging Robyn on, kissing her lips or sucking her nipples, thrusting her probing fingers into her friend's asshole or into her cunt, so that she could feel the enormous dog cock sliding in and out.
"Go on, Lobo, fuck that sweet little pussy. Get your ass up, Robyn honey, open those cheeks right up to him. There now, squeeze his cock with your tight little cunt." Tanya went on, talking like the director of a silent film, goading on the girl and her animal lover, until she was nearly senseless with her orgasms, which broke over her regularly, like waves on a seashore. The liquid sounds of the tight, baby vagina around the huge dog's massive penis, punctuated the grunts and groans of the passionate young woman, while the feeling of her silky, wet tissues around his driving cock wrung whines of pleasure from Lobo. Tanya watched the delicate inner lining of Robyn's pussy clinging to the penis, drawing outward on the outstroke, then disappearing back inside her as it stroked inward with an audible wet sound. The girl's round, perfectly formed buttocks jiggled with each backward snap of her hips and the muscles in her legs flexed visibly with her efforts. She seemed so absorbed in this unnatural act of cross-species sexual intercourse that she seemed unaware of the time or any sense of fatigue, her bosom heaving regularly with her heavy breathing, her mouth opening and closing as she gasped for air, her half open eyes rolled back in her head.
And it went on and on, for nearly an hour, until Robyn was reduced to a quivering, jerking mass of superheated feminine flesh, a vaginal sheath for the savage dog's rutting shaft. And when Tanya had enough pictures and made sure that Robyn was well initiated into this dog act, she let the two lovers have their final pleasure. Sweat glowing on her skin and dripping from the pink nipples on her jiggling, down-turned tits, Robyn felt another orgasm coming on and felt Lobo coming along with her.
Lobo felt her vagina squeezing his cock with a desperate strength, felt the hot hole gush her thick, slippery fluids, and, filled with love and gratitude, slammed forward into her warm feminine cavern, letting the flood of his sperm race up from his swinging balls, through the pulsing urethral tube, and into the young girl's warm, receptive womb. Feeling the lava-like eruption filling her, Robyn groaned and her own final climax began bursting through her. She gave a loud groan and Tanya rushed to her side, holding her hand underneath the spasming belly of the teenager, faintly feeling the frenzied pumping of the dog's exploding cock. While he ejaculated a river of sperm, Lobo's lock-knot squeezed into Robyn's tightly squeezing vagina, holding the massive cock inside her while it slowly drained its puppy cream and finally immobilizing the jerking dog. The older girl watched to see the thick emission bloom like a white flower around the pink cock lodged between Robyn's furry labia, to drip like a slow-motion waterfall between her knees to the bedspread.
With a deep sigh of exhaustion, Robyn allowed her head to drop to the mattress, her ass still raised high behind her, Lobo's cock locked inside her defiled, sperm-flooded pussy. Tanya petted the dog, then lay down on the bed, opening her legs and presenting her hot pussy to the dog, who kicked his leg over his trapped penis and, asshole to asshole with the sleeping young girl he had just fucked to insensibility, lowered his head to lick at Tanya's open cunt.
Tanya came three times on Lobo's tongue before he could draw his cock from Robyn's forever-stretched vagina and separate himself from her shattered, quiescent body. Slowly, her hips lowered to the bed, though whether she was conscious or not, Tanya could not tell. She gave Lobo an appreciative petting before letting him out the window and into the outdoors where he roamed with his three male offspring, who were out there now seeking food and sex.
Closing the curtains and leaving the room in near darkness, she turned back to the teenager on the bed, noting how the gaping red hole of her pussy oozed a white stream of canine sperm. The bedspread would have to be dry cleaned, she noted. Naked, she lay down beside the younger girl, kissing and caressing her gently until nearly an hour later, she came around. Robyn was pliant, yet barely coherent as Tanya led her into the bathroom, seated her on the toilet, slid a syringe on the end of a long rubber tube into her vagina, and thoroughly douched out all the dog semen, and then as an afterthought, gave her an enema as well. She had decided that after Robyn had rested they could continue their own tender lovemaking. She didn't expect Rodney for some time yet, and even if he did show up while she and Robyn were writhing passionately in the sheets, she didn't care. It was time to have it out with him once and for all.
After finishing with the water bottle, she took the young beauty into the shower and washed them both, then toweled them and led her back to the bed, beginning a sensuous massage that she hoped would help arouse her both sexually and mentally. But Robyn still had not recovered her senses when the phone rang. Cursing, she answered it, and was surprised to hear Liz's voice on the other end.
"Tawny, get over here right away," Liz said with a discernable note of desperation in her voice. "Dusty's been shot. With a gun."
Tanya hung up immediately. This was a disaster and there was no arguing about it. She had to get to Liz's house and see what she could do. As she dressed, she looked at the sleeping girl, who lay with her fist to her mouth in innocent slumber. There was no time to wake her and bring her along. First things first, she told herself, and the dogs were a priority. Tanya would be back from Liz's place as soon as possible, and in the meantime, Robyn should be all right alone here, sleeping in the cozy bed.
Two hours before that, while his wife was introducing the innocent teenager to one of the dogs he sought, Rodney found his feet near to exploding, so far had he followed the black sheriff through the fields and wooded hills around Pickford's Meadows. But Clete's diligence in seeking out the wild dog pack had increased proportionally to the size of the reward that Jim Devereaux had offered him just a few days before. Though Clete was obviously no great tracker, he did show wonderful conditioning. The man was a mountain of well-hardened muscle, and Rodney knew that he had spent several years in the marines, and had seen combat somewhere. He was a good pistol and rifle shot and he seemed to laugh at the idea of fatigue, carrying his weapons and field gear, while Rodney's slender frame struggled along lugging his recording and camera equipment.
Still, he was not sure where all this effort was leading them, or him. Back home, the bank was sending nasty letters about missed mortgage payments, a situation that had not originated with their coming to Pickford's Meadows but had rather been exacerbated by the unproductive time spent on this wild goose chase – or rather, wild dog chase. Things had been bad for Rodney and his young wife for several months and their home was near foreclosure. It was their dreadful financial state that had driven him to pursue this story about dogs that raped women, but the rumors had not been born out. None of the women rumored to have been set upon sexually by this Lobo and his canine companions would talk about it. Priscilla Devereaux was in the mental ward of the county hospital with injuries no one would talk about either, and there was no reliable way to document a dog attack, though her father had raised the reward sky high the day after she had been admitted. And, damn it all to hell, the dog sightings had nearly ceased completely the day he and Tanya had come to town, as if something about their presence had sent them into hiding. (Of course, he had no way of knowing that many times when he and Clete were out hunting them, the dogs were in the warm and hospitable company of Tanya and Liz Clark.)
The pressures of his disorganized life had left him exhausted, and he hadn't had time for days to visit Liz Clark and keep their little clandestine affair spinning. He knew it was wrong and that he should be giving his all to his lovely young wife, but Liz's pure sexual expertise kept him going back for more. Just thinking about her blowjobs caused him to shiver.
But today, Clete swore they were getting close, up here in the hills behind the Mitchell ranch. The big sheriff, tireless for all his size, kept his nose down, seeming to sniff the ground, almost like a dog himself.
Clete had learned a lot in the last couple of months about tracking, through trial and error, though mostly error. He had assiduously avoided bringing in a professional hunter, for he had no desire to share the reward with anyone else, especially now that Jim Devereaux had made it fifty thousand a head. He was positive that one of them had raped Priscilla, and it made him smile to think of how she had had a taste of her own degrading medicine, after hoping for the worst for DesirЋe, and doing the most to foster it.
But he had to get results now, he knew, for the town council was pressuring him, Devereaux was calling him two or three times a day – Priscilla wasn't out of hospital yet – and several citizens had called him up complaining. John Proctor's ugly old wife had been scared by the beast, and his daughter had been raped in plain sight of her three female companions one night after a movie when they had taken a shortcut across a meadow. Though he deemed Proctor's daughter Darla lucky for the attention – with her looks it was probably the only cock she would ever know – he still had to answer the calls. Still, he was not sure that the four girls had not invented the episode just to get attention and excitement into their dull, wallflower-girl lives.
Rodney was just about to begin complaining about his feet, when Clete suddenly turned, whipping his finger up to his lips. The young reporter stopped still as a statue, his whole body quivering with excitement. Clete had never done this, but Rodney had never seen the sheriff gesture him to urgent silence before. He had to admit that the tracks they were following did seem to be fresher and easier to read than any he had yet seen.
The black man was glad that they found themselves downwind, for were it otherwise they would never manage to find the dogs before they were detected. The late summer breeze would carry away their scent and the small sounds of their approach. They avoided stepping on any dry leaves or twigs, keeping their feet on rocks and bare earth as they moved with the utmost slowness through the trees. Rodney kept his camera poised for action, for one good picture could get him a commission to cover the full story for a national newspaper or magazine.
It was as much a surprise for them as for the dogs when they suddenly moved into a clearing where the four wild animals were sharing out the meat from a lamb they appeared to have killed. Clete's rifle was not even at the ready when they surprised the four oversized German Shepherds crouched savagely over the carcass, their jowls smeared with blood and their yellow eyes blazing, like something out of an atmospheric horror film. Each one of the combatants, four dogs and one man, froze in a galvanic pose, a pose that Rodney caught perfectly on film from behind and a few feet to the right of the sheriff. The tableau was fixed on the film forever, the bloody lamb, the snarling dogs ranged around it in a way no artist could hope to devise, and the hulking, powerful form of the black sheriff, just bringing his rifle to bear.
Rodney's camera whirred efficiently, advancing the film, capturing the whole thing twice a second, changing position as the dogs moved toward their most hated human, the rifle coming up, the fire jumping from the muzzle. The second largest, and huge he was, darted to the right of the men, but the rifle had discharged accidentally, without proper aim, and it was only blind luck that the bullet penetrated flesh. Blood flew and Dusty yelped, superficially wounded, but Clete wasted no time and slapped the lever of the 30 caliber Winchester down and back, raising it to aim again for a kill shot. Rodney's heart leapt as he contemplated the violent death of the dogs, one by one, to be taken into his camera. The film was spending fast, but he always carried two cameras as a precaution.
Dusty should have been a corpse worth fifty thousand dollars, but Lobo, darting out from the men's right, closed his powerful jaws over the barrel and wrenched it from Clete's hands. Clete's grip had been relaxed for the shot or even Lobo would not have been able to tear it from his iron fingers, but the delay gave the dogs a chance to get away, Dusty trailing drops of blood from a painful flesh wound under his belly.
Clete's eyes were blazing as he turned, then pursued, and Rodney followed in his own, slower way. The big sheriff disappeared from sight into the bush, but within a few minutes, he returned.
"Fuck it! They got away!" he growled. "Fat lot of help you were!"
Rodney was taken aback. "What could I have done? No bullets come out of these cameras."
Clete's eyes narrowed. "Did you get any pictures?"
The reporter nodded. "You bet your ass, and they're some good ones too. Worth a fortune."
The sheriff nodded. "Yeah, yeah, and I want copies of all of them. The council will want to see them. And Jim Devereaux."
Rodney drew back, his face showing his shock. "These are mine. They belong to me. I have copyright." He clutched his camera tightly. "My livelihood depends on these photos. My story…"
Clete's hand shot out and closed on the other man's slender throat. "I don't give a fuck about all that. Just get them developed and show them to those people. My livelihood depends on that. Understand, shutter bug?" And he gave Rodney a shove.
The young reporter rubbed his throat where the sheriff had left red fingerprints.
"Yes, I understand. But-but I keep possession."
Clete was already retracing their steps back to his car. He was furious at having lost the dogs without a single kill, without a single check for a five with four zeros. The reward for just one of the raping animals would change his life forever, and the whole two hundred thousand would completely make it for him, his marriage with Nancy and his affair with DesirЋe on the side. How he wished it could be the other way around, but right now, DesirЋe was chained to Mark Denning, body and soul, even though her body had betrayed her several times.
He dropped Rodney at his own car, and said a brief so long, not waiting a moment. He was disappointed, but excited. He had actually, really truly, tracked the animals, and he knew he could do it again. After so many weeks of hunting them, he had finally drawn first blood, and suddenly the reward looked like much more than a dream. A nice house, a good car, fine clothes, and Nancy on his arm.
Damn, but he was horny all of a sudden! That taste of success and the excitement of the blood lust that was natural to him had sparked a flame centered in his giant male member and heavy, swelling testicles. If Nancy didn't get pregnant today, then there was something wrong with her. He was so hyped up, so frustrated, yet elated. He had to fuck a woman, and fuck her good.
He sped over the dirt road in the direction of Nancy's house, his cock itching for the irresistible caress of her tight, hot pussy. And then, as he crested a hill, he almost crashed into a car sitting askew in the road. It was easy to recognize the cute little German car that DesirЋe's father had bought her for her twentieth birthday. But where was the darling girl? He looked in all directions, and then began to follow the road. She was out here somewhere, and he was worried about her.
Billy Canning drew his thoroughly spent and sore cock from DesirЋe's quiescent vagina, feeling Sam's flop out at the same time. The girl had been an incredible fuck, and he had enjoyed her body more than any other, ever. Her body was cooling now as she slept the sleep of the dead, her sweat drying on her without odor, while millions of his and Sam's sperm invaded her vulnerable womb. Shakily, he got up from the bed and looked down at her, seeing Sam coming around himself. It was time to finish their business here and get going.
The video tapes had long since played out, so he stored the used ones and inserted new. He didn't want to miss catching what would come next, for that was what they had come for. From the leather bag he took the big hunting knife with the razor-sharp blade. It would be beautiful, cutting her throat while she was in a stupor of sexual satiation, slumbering innocently. He would draw the blade across her throat, making it bite deep, severing the arteries and windpipe while her hot blood pumped out onto the same old sheets where she had just been bred like a prize heifer. Then she would be cut up, and her head hid in the sheriff's office.
Billy moved forward slowly, hefting the heavy knife, so big that it resembled a scimitar.
Sam was waking up, rubbing his eyes, his hand resting on DesirЋe's breast. He saw Billy beginning to bend over her, bringing out the knife to lay the blade against her tender throat. Suddenly Sam understood that Billy, in spite of the joy the girl had given him, still meant to kill her. Sam, now strangely emotionally tied to the lovely girl, forestalled Billy.
"What, you mean you're going to do it with me here on the bed, cover me in blood?"
Billy looked taken aback. "Uh, uh, no, uh, I was just getting ready."
"You still want to snuff her? After all this, you still want to snuff her?"
"Well, yeah, why not? There's the buyer for the film in Europe. Lots of dough on that."
Sam was grasping at straws. He, like many men that knew the lovely, young woman, had fallen for her, loved her. Now Billy wanted to kill that love, as impractical as it was. "But, man, like, you've probably knocked her up. You'd be killing your own baby."
Billy shrugged. "Yeah, so what?" he had aborted enough of his own girlfriends' babies that he would not be worried about this one.
"Man, her husband's going to the top in politics. You could have a baby in the state capital or the US Congress."
Billy paused. His hate for the world and for politicians had not begun with his brother's murder, and Mark Denning, whose actions as a local lawmaker had hampered his drug peddling business, was a man he particularly hated. The idea of planting a strange baby in his wife's womb, like a human cuckoo, appealed immediately to his perverse and selfish nature. To Billy, Mark Denning needed to be punished for hampering his private enterprise in pharmacopoeia. Then, something else occurred to him.
"But what if it's your baby?"
"Well, there's no real way of knowing until the kid gets big enough to resemble its father, but wouldn't it be a kick to plant your seed in Denning's garden?"
Billy thought, his unbalanced, drug-riddled mind going over the possibilities. "But the buyer in Europe wanted a snuff film."
"You'll have to disappoint him. We don't need the money that bad, do we? Just tell him the girl OD'ed before she could be set up. I'm sure he's had girls get away from him before."
Billy thought some more. "Don't we need the money?"
Sam shook his head, thinking fast, for DesirЋe's sake. He saw her lying there, pretending to be asleep but now hearing everything. He saw the tears running from her eyes as she tried to prepare herself for death.
"We don't need it that much. All we gotta do is get out of town, go over to the falls for a few nights and sell some shit. We can snuff someone later. There's always more bitches."
Billy looked down at DesirЋe's lovely form. "She is one beautiful bitch, isn't she?"
"She is. Be a shame to kill her. A girl like this isn't born every day."
Billy was still not convinced. His mind was unhinged from his brother's death and overuse of his own product. He had wanted to spill blood today, and this girl was available and close to the source of his personal irritation – Clete. "But – I still want to cut her up."
Sam saw Billy's jerky eye movements and knew that it would be almost impossible to appeal to reason. And, at that last sentence, he saw DesirЋe's body flinch and start to quiver. He cast his gaze about for something that would inspire him, but found nothing until he looked out the open window.
"Fucking hell, look at that!"
Billy looked out the window and saw the plume of dust behind Clete's car as he moved at speed up the road toward the house. "That son of a bitch! We can kill him now."
Sam shook his head. "No way, man. All we've got is that little Walther and you can't hit anything with that if it isn't standing next to you. He's a good shot, and you aren't. Hell no, count me out if you want a gunfight. Let's sneak out of here and get to the car."
Billy was indecisive, but the adrenaline of fear was clearing his mind. "What about all this gear?"
Sam thought quickly, watching the approach of the car still two miles away. Clete would be here soon and there was no way they could explain their being here with DesirЋe in bed. The jealous Clete would make short work of them surely. "Hide the tripods in a closet and take the cameras with us."
"What about her? She'll talk. I've got to whack her."
"No, no, no, man," Sam hurried to say. "We can't kill anyone here today. We've left too much physical evidence already. Sperm, hair, pubes, prints – Do you want to clean up all the fingerprints here? Can you remember everything you've touched? He's the sheriff, her husband's a politician. It'd be manhunt of the year. Let her live, man. She's only a girl, nineteen or twenty. You can catch Clete some other time, with his pants down."
Billy fidgeted, and Sam took his arm. "Come on, man. He'll be here soon, and then you will have a gunfight on your hands, and I promise you'll lose."
The two fleeing rapists picked up the larger equipment and hurriedly stashed it in one of the closets, then turned with their cameras and started toward the stairs.
Clete parked in front of the house and looked around. He couldn't imagine DesirЋe being anywhere else in the vicinity, after finding her car just down the road. Other tracks in the dust showed that another car had driven her away, but he had lost those tracks on the harder surface nearby and saw no other vehicle here. What was going on?
Clete tried the door, found it locked, and used a credit card to open the old lock. The entry hall was empty and appeared undisturbed since he had last been here, the day Nancy had been raped by Lobo. Then, he heard a sound upstairs, a female voice, he thought.
What the hell was going on?
Because they had spent so much time arguing about DesirЋe's fate, the two young men had delayed their escape past the point of no return. As they saw the sheriff begin to mount the curved staircase, Sam motioned to Billy to go the other way. They moved silently past the first bedroom where DesirЋe was coming slowly to life, moaning sorrowfully, thinking that they had gone. A few doors down, they closed themselves into another room and waited. And while they stood there in fear, Billy fumbled with the small pistol he had brought.
Clete reached the top of the stairs and heard the rustling of sheets in the first bedroom. It was an eerie place, this mansion, completely furnished yet unoccupied. When the well had gone dry some years previously, the family had moved down to another, smaller house on the estate, fully intending to return when the work could be accomplished to bring running water to the property, leaving all the antique furniture in place. He and Nancy had used it for their own special trysting place, but he would not have expected anyone else in this community ever to come up here uninvited.
The family had been given a bid for piping in the water, but since it appeared to be a huge expense, they had not initiated work yet. Nancy's uncle, with whom she lived now, since her parents' death, was an heir and not the most resourceful fellow in the world, having inherited everything without first earning it, and so the work had been postponed for a long time. During this past summer, Clete and Nancy had often come up here to make love. This was their place, so why had DesirЋe come up here?
DesirЋe was just rising to her hands and knees to look out the window, wondering who it was that had scared off her two abductors, inadvertently treating Clete to an intimate view of her bottom's open cleft and the hair-fringed split of her wet, sperm-flooded pussy. At the sight, Clete's breath caught in his throat.
"DesirЋe," he said quietly.
DesirЋe gasped and turned on the bed, sitting on her heels with her knees pressed together in front of her, holding the big, round, white melons in her dainty hands, the ripe, pink nipples peeking out between her fingers. She was terrified! Terrified of him, even though she knew she had had sex with him twice before and remembered the last time vividly, remembered his huge, womb-piercing cock that had brought her to many orgasms over the desk in his back office while her husband Mark had stood outside in the front office. He had coerced her with that awful video tape, and she could not say that she was surprised to learn that he had murdered the brother of one of her abductors.
What would happen to her if Clete found out that she knew that he had committed murder? He would kill her as well, she was certain. He was an evil, bloodthirsty man and he would surmise that she knew about the murder if he found out that she was here with the other two. Yes, if he found out that she had been here with them, having full unprotected sex with them, then he would count her as being in cahoots with them. No, she could never report this rape to him, nor even let him know that she knew of them. For her own safety now, she hoped sincerely now that they had got away clean.
"What's going on, DesirЋe?" Clete asked, his eyes devouring her nakedness. He remembered that she had stolen that incriminating video tape from under his nose, yet once again, here she was, naked and vulnerable before him. Very strange. "What are you doing here, Dez?"
The wide-eyed girl seemed to choke for a moment, and then she said, "Waiting for you, Clete."
"Yes, I-I wanted to see you, but-but I was too shy to call," she stammered.
A big, white smile split Clete's black face. Just looking at her he felt his loins burning. Instantly, he began unbuttoning his uniform shirt and loosening his belt.
DesirЋe's wide, blue eyes took in the sight of Clete's body as he bared it quickly, and with horror she saw the two other men standing behind him in the doorway, the crazy one holding the pistol, pointing it at Clete's back. No, no, no! If they killed Clete, they would have to kill her as well! Or, more likely, she would be hit by the bullet as, at this range, it passed straight through him.
Behind Clete, Sam and Billy watched the other man strip, revealing massive muscle. His back was broad and rippling with sinews, his deltoids as round and defined as if they were shot-puts, and his equine buttocks was exaggeratedly round, massively developed in the way only his kind could. His thighs were corded muscle nearly as thick as one of the young man's waist. And his penis! It was over two and a half inches thick and ten inches long, the mushrooming tip emerging from the foreskin to flare aggressively like the head of an angry cobra. The shaft was knurled with purplish veins and the urethral tube running underneath was a visible bulge leading up to the pink-lipped hole from which his own life-giving, pearly baby cream would spill like the flow of a horse. To compliment the monstrous shaft, there hung beneath it in a bristling black scrotum two testicles as large as plums, throbbing with sperm.
DesirЋe had never seen Clete's penis from this revealing angle, and the size of it terrified her. From her past experience she knew that he fully intended to put it inside her tender vagina, and she shivered as his pants dropped to a puddle around his ankles. He stepped forward out of them and toward the bed, his gross intentions more than obvious by his state of undress and the monstrous priapus that waved in front of him with each pace.
DesirЋe froze in terror. Yes, she had had that huge shaft inside her before, but she couldn't imagine now actually having ever been able to accommodate it. She had never seen it in this perspective or quite so clearly, and she was sure it had grown. Iron hard with intent, it arced from side to side with his walking, throbbing with a life of its own, pulsing with its own individual life-giving, womb impregnating power. As the cyclopean, anaconda-like creature advanced, seeming to drag its powerfully muscled possessor along behind it, DesirЋe's thoughts went to her husband Mark, the light of her life. She so much wanted to be with him now, to feel the comfort of his embrace after this afternoon's unwanted debauchery, but to ever see him again she must preserve her life. To be separated from him by even the unyielding wall of mortal oblivion was more than she could contemplate.
With a lethal weapon pointed at Clete's back – and at her – she knew that she must somehow diffuse the situation before bullets could fly. If they killed Clete and left her alive somehow, she would be incriminated in an affair with the black sheriff, which would be intolerable to Mark, both from a personal and political point of view. The headlines would ruin him, and shame her parents immeasurably. The effect would be equal were she to die in a hail of bullets. Or, should Clete discover their presence and succeed in getting to his gun and killing the two other men, he would probably kill her as well, knowing that she had had sex with them and surmising that she knew that he had murdered the brother of one of them. Of course, there was the possibility that Clete would let her live with the knowledge of three homicides, however, that was not something on which she wanted to bet her life and her future with Mark.
With Mark? Oh, how had she managed to get into this terrible position of being unfaithful to him, last week with Clete in his office, and today, in this mothballed Pace mansion with these too hard-thrusting partners in sex whose names she did not even know. Was there any way Mark could ever forgive her, or forget that she had done these vile things? She feared that the only way to preserve their relationship was to see that he never did find out.
Holding out her arms to the advancing black man, she looked past him to the two men standing behind him in the doorway, signaling desperately with her eyes that they should make good their escape. Still, they did not move, and finally DesirЋe was forced to fold her arms around the big man's bull neck and turn her head to kiss him, feeling his tongue go wetly into her mouth, his thick, sensual lips sucking onto her own. Her nostrils knew the strong, savage smell of him as she felt both his big hands curl under her plump buttocks, and fingertips dipping into the crease of her sperm-flooded vagina, the massive bulk of his cock heavy against her belly.
"You must have been waiting for me, Dez," he said against her cheek. "Your pussy's as wet and sloppy as a bowl of cornflakes."
DesirЋe cringed at the simile, but his touch on her clitoris and vagina sent bolts of desire through her and she kissed him again, with the dual purpose of shutting him up and allowing the other two to get away. After a long and breathless moment, she pressed her cheek next to Clete's and found them still there, a smirking look on the face of the crazy one, and a rather hurt look on the face of the other. She and the sheriff were kneeling face to face on the bed and now she felt him cup his hands under the buttocks, lifting her and tipping her back so that her legs were forced to part. He maneuvered her tender pussy slit over the upstanding prong of his penis, and began lowering her on it. She fixed her eyes on Sam's face as she felt the broad tip stretch her tiny vagina, which opened reluctantly and admitted the dangerous instrument into her hot and quivering depths.
She gasped, feeling her cunt expanded just as far as it had been shortly before when Sam had squeezed his cock into the same delicate sheath at the same time as Billy's was thrusting and occupying it. Sam saw her eyes open wide in shock, the same shock she had felt the last time Clete had had her in a similar, undesired situation.
And then Clete began moving her up and down on his cock, raising her weight with his strong hands and arms, and then allowing gravity to carry her slowly down, thrusting upward with his mighty hips. Sam saw the glistening black buttocks hollow as the sheriff pushed upward into the tender cavern of her vagina, saw the girl's mouth open each time the huge shaft filled her. He saw her wide, blue eyes gradually close as her cunt relaxed and adapted to the massive presence inside it. He heard her grunt each time that it reached to her very womb, pushing her cervix back ahead of it, saw her shapely calves pressing his undulating buttocks, her ankles locking behind them.
Damn her! Sam thought, gritting his teeth. She's nothing but a slut that'll fuck anyone, even dogs. He had seen a certain affection in her eyes when he was plunging his cock into her hot cunt, giving pleasure to them both, but he could see that now it meant nothing. She loved the man whose cock was in her at the time, it seemed, and Sam meant nothing to her, he could see. Her lovely eyes, face, and body had aroused something more tender in him – she had that power over men – but he saw that it meant nothing to her. She could turn on with any guy. He seethed with anger and disappointment so that he almost lost control of himself, his red vision narrowing so much that he almost failed to see Billy raising the gun again. It was nearly extended to fire before Sam caught himself, and Billy's wrist, and pulled his friend back out in the hall.
"What are you doing, you dumb shit?" Sam hissed, then stopped, afraid that Clete might have heard them, but the squeaking of bedsprings, and the grunts and groans and sighs of the two hotly fucking lovers in the next room seemed to be covering their verbal exchange.
"Man, don't you see?" Billy said. "She ain't goin' to be pregnant with nobody but that big nigger. Who cares about her now? You?"
"Yeah, yeah, she's a slut for sure," said Sam, working hard to reclaim his own reason. "But we can't do it here and now. She's a politician's slut and he's the sheriff and we've still got physical evidence lying all over the place. That hasn't changed just because she likes fucking the sheriff." He patted his friend on the shoulders with both hands. "Not today. Maybe we can use her to set up the black bastard when things are safer, but not today."
Billy closed his eyes and tried to dominate himself. He had spent the afternoon fucking most of the aggression out of himself, and perhaps that was why he allowed himself to be led along. He nodded and they picked up their cameras and moved toward the stairs again, passing the open bedroom door.
DesirЋe was on her back now, her blonde hair fanned out on the pillow, her thighs lifted high and wide on either side of Clete's thrusting hips, the great pendulous sac of his balls swinging resoundingly between her spread buttocks to batter her tight, pink anus, where both the other young men had fucked her. The huge black cock had her pussy spread into a wet, red O-shape, making lovingly musical, liquid sounds in accompaniment to the plunging, joy-giving shaft. Her eyes were closed and she was kissing him deeply, their tongues in each other's mouths. Her big tits bulged out to the side where his muscular chest flattened them and their bodies gleamed with hot love-sweat.
Sam stopped briefly as they broke their kiss and she turned her face toward them. Her eyes half opened, misty blue with passion, saw them and half smiled a farewell, and then a particularly deep thrust of the black penis into her wet and tender hair-fringed vagina drew a wail of ecstasy from her and her nails clawed urgently at Clete's as she pumped her avid love-hole faster and harder over the veiny, shining male member.
With her two abductors now departed, DesirЋe could concentrate on reaching the orgasm that she needed. Clete's sinewy, powerful body pressed her down, his hips pounding her into the mattress as his cock slid pleasurably up and down in her sperm-flooded pussy. Her healthy and passionate young body, denied her owns husband's attentions for so long, had enjoyed countless orgasms today, but now the black man's enormous penis was bringing her to another, heightened state of sexual release. She felt it beginning to bloom inside her loins, from her clenching anus to her deeply split vagina, to her battered, burning clitoris and her tingling, pink nipples and hot, kissing lips. She felt her feminine passage flood with her love juices as Clete felt her gush against his pubis in that particular way of hers that few women could do.
He rose up and looked into her face as he felt her begin to quake, her vagina clutching at his loving cock, and she opened her eyes. He loved her this way, in a bed, face to face, like real lovers, and her eyes spoke her passion. Perhaps it was just a fleeting love, like some feline creature being fed and petted and gratified sensually, but he was sure it was love. He was giving her something she needed and something inside her appreciated it.
DesirЋe gasped, her body jerking, her thighs gripping his hips and her cunt squeezing his cock with desperation, and he saw her tits jerking with her orgasm. Her pussy flooded his cock and balls with the hot liquid expression of her joy and Clete felt his own climax crash upon him, burning like napalm behind the root of his cock as he felt the semen gush up through it to the tip and erupt outward into her vagina like molten lava, searing her delicate walls and mingling with what Sam and Billy had already poured into her. Clete gave a deep grunt and groan, and DesirЋe answered similarly in a higher, clearer voice, feeling the fluid pour into her and inundate her receptive tubes. Her orgasm went on for a long time, long after Clete had collapsed over her and his great penis had been stilled inside her.
And then, they both lay still, struggling for breath, glowing with satisfaction, the huge penis still inside her yet slowly softening, his great testicles nestled, throbbing, between her warm, parted buttocks. It was a long time before either of them came around to the real world, and when they did, it seemed to happen simultaneously. They lay quietly for a while, rubbing each other's wet flesh, slowly separating until his cock popped free of her sucking vagina. His fingers brushed slowly through her blonde pubic hair, probed gently into her wet pussy and below into her raw anus, sore from the penetrating cocks of her two abductors.
After a long time, Clete regained his strength and sat up, dressed, tucked his great cock into his pants and buttoned his shirts over his massive chest. Wordlessly, reluctant to break the spell, he helped her dress and took her to the car, failing to notice the tracks of the car that had brought her there. Within a few minutes, they were back at her car and after seeing that she could drive, he followed her back to town, turning off only after she had turned into her own driveway.
By the time she was through her doorway, her conscience was tearing at her heart. What had she become? Not only had she responded in the most disgusting way to two abducting rapists, but just to protect them she had given herself to a man she hated and feared. What frightened her most was the way she had responded to him, again, after he had lewdly lowered her unresisting pussy onto his cock. Was she a slave to her desires born of emotional deprivation? Yes, most certainly, for Mark was shunning her, and her body and soul were starved for affection. Mark, oh, Mark, my darling! Please don't do this to me!
The phone rang and she picked it up.
"DesirЋe? This is Mark, sweetheart. I miss you. Could you come up here to Sid Buchanan's tonight? There's an important party here and I need you with me. And I need you."
Tanya found Liz bending over Dusty, who whimpered while she cleaned his bloody wound near his shoulder.
"Somebody shot him," Liz said, without looking up. "No doubt that bastard Clete." She worked carefully. "Looks like the bullet went clear through, though. Otherwise, he might not survive. We couldn't take him to a vet to get it taken out. They'd shoot him dead for sure. Everybody in the county knows the story, and any dog with a bullet hole would be suspect."
Tanya looked on with concern over the injured animal that had pleasured her on several occasions. To lose him now would almost be like losing Rodney. It was a strange intimacy, but it did exist.
"Is there anything I can do?"
Liz said, "Get some needles and thread. Boil them in the kitchen, and see if you can find some peroxide."
Tanya turned away to the task, and heard Liz add, "And I think there are some antibiotics in the medicine cupboard. Crush them up for me and mix them with some meat."
The younger girl bustled around, worried and irritated. She had known that the dogs were public enemies number one in the area, and perhaps with good reason, for she and Liz had trained them to take advantage of the neighborhood women, had taught them to work in concert to rape when possible. It had been Liz's secret agenda, in which Tanya had unknowingly assisted at the time. Now she understood what they had been doing in the training last month, and how Liz had wanted to avenge herself on those who had made themselves her enemies. Still, even in her understanding of the situation, she found it impossible to believe that anyone could take a shot at man's – or rather woman's – best friend.
In the following hour, Tanya was impressed with the expedient manner in which Liz worked, cleaning and "suturing" the suffering animal, then inducing him to ingest the antibiotics to fight infection. And more impressive yet was to see Dusty get to his feet after the operation and curl up on the rug to watch television.
Liz looked at Tanya, who returned her smile, and they both laughed.
"Let's have a drink," Liz said, getting up and going to the kitchen. "I need one."
"Make mine a double, Dr. Clark."
Rodney let himself into the Mitchell home quietly, yet he felt elated by the day's developments and wanted to shout. The pictures in his camera had changed everything and the elusive story truly was beginning to gel. Dogs caught in the act of feeding on a stolen lamb, then hunted down and shot by the savage featured, black sheriff of a white community, whose own white fiancЋe had been raped by one of these selfsame animals – and that had been documented – was more than any book or national magazine publisher could resist. It was worth a fortune. He, Rodney Foster, had seen it with his own eyes, was himself a hunter of the evil dog pack, having spent weeks trekking up and down hills and through woods and over rocks and tree trunks in search of Lobo and His Gang. Lobo, Spanish for wolf, for a dog part wolf, part Alsatian, and totally and completely the Devil.
He knew it was true, and a bribe he had paid to the orderly in the nearby hospital had revealed – in the recent mysterious case of Priscilla Devereaux – serious injuries to the young woman's private parts, and animal hair, canine fluids and saliva, evidence her rich father may be hoping to keep completely secret but which the young reporter had no intention of keeping from the public. His ambition and financial needs were now overriding all human considerations, as they largely had since arriving here, from his neglect of his passionate, young wife to his needless affair with the sluttish Liz Clark. If DesirЋe had any idea of the oversexed and promiscuous quality of her friend…
Of course, he had little excuse for neglecting Tanya while carrying on with Liz. It was just his sense of failure that had made him feel alienated and unworthy of his lovely bride of less than two years. She had been very young when they married and while her schoolmate DesirЋe had gone on to university, Tanya had devoted herself to her ambitious, day-dreaming husband, now approaching thirty years of age and needing somehow to find some success in life.
Now he had it. He had kept his nose to the grindstone and pursued this wild story of bestiality in the rural Midwest. It had nearly broken him and destroyed his relationship with his devoted Tanya. But now he felt triumphant, happy, rejuvenated. And horny. Aroused like a wild stallion. He needed her, needed to fuck her and scream his joy into her face. He was made, and she with him.
Putting his cameras with their precious film down on the couch, he walked through the big house, unbuttoning his shirt. It was very quiet and he wondered if Tanya was at home. He had not seen the Mitchell's car that they had lent her before their departure for Europe, though he had not looked; it was usually kept in the garage. The carpet was thick and he made no sound as he went from the living room, where he had not found her, to the library, and then to the bedroom.
He found the room in very dim light and he almost backed out without seeing her, but then, as if from a dream, he saw her lying there, naked on the bed. She was waiting for him! How did she know that today of all days he would come home feeling great and needing her, and that this afternoon was the time to be there ready for him in bed? Rodney thanked heaven that he had a wonderful, patient, and understanding wife like Tanya, his twenty-year-old angel, this young, fresh vixen.
He didn't turn on the light, but undressed silently, trying to control his excited breathing. He was fairly wild with the long, lovely sight of her lying on her side, her smooth back and bottom toward him, the cleft deep and warm. Was she asleep? He went slowly so as not to wake her. He thought he could bring her out of her afternoon nap with a very pleasant, long-missed surprise.
Rodney crawled carefully onto the bed, his hardening cock lengthening ahead of his trim belly. Her flesh was so smooth, so sweet and fragrant! He reached out and touched her dark hair, lying like spilled chocolate on the pillow, then stroked his fingertips down her shoulder to her waist and beautifully formed hip and thigh. Still, she didn't move, sleeping deeply and soundly, the way young women can.
Rodney started at the ear, planting kisses from her neck and on down her body on the same sensuous path his hands had tenderly just traced, feeling a quick, reflexive jerk of her thigh muscles when his fingers curled around in front and stroked the so-sensitive crease between her pubis and thigh. The silken hair there was dry and fragrant and he could tell she had just showered before going to sleep. She smelled so sweet and pure that he had a flash of super-erotic inspiration.
Rodney reversed the position of his body, putting his head down by her bottom, pressing his hard penis against the back, between her shoulders. He had never done this to her in two years of marriage, but now he was going to give her a real treat. He gently parted her nether cheeks and found the dark recess of her anus, sniffed, and found it just as sweet as the rest of her. His mouth watering with hunger, his tongue reached out and lapped the tightly clenched orifice. She was delicious, and Rodney loved her flavor, her warmth, her gentle aroma. His pointed tongue speared out into the trembling hole and it yielded but slightly, allowing his tongue a fraction of an inch inside her. He licked it avidly, bathing it in his saliva, and it quivered reactively; he did not know that it had had ample lingual attention in just the last few hours.
His tongue had not the strength for a deep intrusion, so he used his index finger to penetrate her there while he pushed his head forward, under and between her thighs, parting them and beginning to work on her recently excited cunt. He tasted an immediate gush of her fluids, flooding his mouth with renewed arousal. Damn it, but his wife was a hot and lovely young female. It made him happy to be able to greet her this way after having neglected her needs for so long. He heard her pleased moan in her sleep. It could be that she would wake up to an orgasm.
Robyn was in a dream world of her own, wrapped in the considerate arms of a lover she had never met, a handsome young man with a lean, muscular body, kind and tender blue eyes, and blond hair. Uncle Jim was nowhere to be found, though there was the frequent snarling nightmare of Cerberus, a dog with multiple heads and a massive, red erection straining at the air. But there was a pleasant fire in her womb, down there at her pussy, and her clitoris was glowing. She felt streams of her lubricant washing through her feminine channel, and something gentle probing her recently evacuated rectum.
It was the sexiest, most wonderful dream she had ever had, and though she felt herself coming awake, she fought back the wakefulness, preferring to stay in this sweet world of fantasy love.
Rodney pulled his ravenous mouth from the girl's streaming, steaming vagina, and carefully drew his finger from the hot grip of her asshole, reversing his position again and pressing up against her back, shifting her upper leg and scooting his hips down to align his pulsing cockhead with the opening of her pussy. This was going to be heaven, after so long away from the comfort of her seething cunt. He found the spot, flexed his legs, and his cock surged into the wet opening to her womb.
Robyn moaned, feeling her excited pussy spread and entered for the second time that day. It was bringing her awake, but it ran right along with her romantic dream, so she moaned and lifted her upper leg to let her blond lover inside.
"Oh, yesss, my darling!" she said, feeling the big penis prying the walls of her baby vagina open, plunging deeper with each push of the man's belly against her firm butt, the knob on the end of the shaft pushing into the receptive cup of her cervix. He groaned. It felt fantastic! Different, somehow, from how he remembered her eager, snapping pussy. He pulled his cock back, hearing the wet slurp of her snug and slippery love-tube over the length of his penis, then levered back in, gasping at the irresistible caress of her loving flesh. In and out, again and again, a receptive, deep warmth, that pulled fire into the end of his throbbing shaft. Groaning with impulsive joy, he began pumping into her wondrous vagina, reaching around to palm her firm breasts from behind. He noticed that they seemed to be slightly bigger – damn, he had been away from her too, too long.
Her voice sounded different as well as she sobbed passionately, pushing her lovely ass back against him, her upper leg cocked and lifted up, invited his deepest penetration. He ground into her, as deep as he could go, his pubic hair brushing her tingling anus as his glans hammered into her vulnerable cervix.
Robyn was wide awake now, but fighting reality, as her re-excited body drew wonderful feelings from the human cock invading her vagina from behind. In the very dim light, she could hardly remember where she was and she had no idea who this man was that was giving her this joy. Not Uncle Jim, but another man she did not know. Who? She fought back the questions as her body jerked and undulated on the tide of the fucking he was giving her from behind. The emotions bursting inside her she voiced as spastic, sobbing whimpers, and her lover answered with grunts and moans as they created a chorus of passion.
Rodney turned her head to him, and in the dim light of the room, could not see her face, but he kissed her lips and their tongues dueled in the darkness of their mouths. Suddenly, he dragged his cock free of her vagina and without breaking the kiss, re-positioned himself breast to breast with her, quickly finding her sopping cunt again and re-sheathing his penis in her wet warmth. Her body felt leaner and harder, moving against him, sliding her hungry, tight vagina up and down his massively swollen cock, and her cheeks felt like velvet against his face. They kissed with all the passion of newlyweds and she hummed happily into his mouth with each upward push of her hips.
For a long time, Rodney happily fucked his cock satisfyingly into the pussy of the girl he thought was his long neglected wife, while Robyn, in mental retreat from the nightmare of her perverted dog-fucking of a few hours previously, enjoyed the escapism of making love with this young and vigorous dream lover. He felt his cock slicing again and again deeply into her belly, removing real memories like that of Lobo and her twisted relationship with her father's brother. She saw the shorthaired silhouette of him, felt the trimness of his belly rubbing against hers as his hips bobbed up and down between her thighs, driving his loving penis into her vagina. She was so wet, she could hear the luscious sucking sounds coming from her pussy, creating a rhythm of sound to accompany the chorus of their mutual sighs and groans. It was strange, doing it with this unknown man, and she tried to calm herself and still her voice, but the feelings in her belly as his cock drove up and down in the soaking channel of her cunt took all control away.
Rodney felt her fingers clawing his shoulders. Tanya must have trimmed her nails, for she usually wore them long. Robyn kept them short for piano. Now Rodney felt the soft pads of her fingertips pressed into his shoulders, urging his thrusts into her wet, receptive pussy, while his balls bashed against her tingling asshole beneath. Oh, this was great! He'd never felt such a tight, wet pussy. It seemed to be sucking the cream right up out of his balls into her belly.
He pumped in and out of her, groaning with delight. It was the most wonderful fuck they had ever enjoyed together. Oh, it was good to be home, triumphant in his career, happy and horny, with his cock plunging deep in his Tanya's clasping pussy.
"Oh, baby, I love you," he said, pushing deep inside her to the hilt, mashing her clitoris and grinding it with his pubis. Sliding his fingers in the warm cleft of her buttocks, he wet one digit in the freely flowing liquid from her cunt and slid it into the tight sleeve of her rectum. He heard her moan and buck up against him, her muscles clamping down hard on his penis. He made his cock pulse and swell inside her while he fought to postpone his orgasm, wanting to prolong this act until they would both be totally satisfied.
"Aaahh, aaaahh, aaaaaaahhhh," she chanted, her thighs gripping his hips and pulling him into her hard. Robyn was fully awake and wildly aroused, completely captive to this strange fucking she was experiencing in the dimmest light, watching the faint silhouette of the young, strong man over her driving his beautiful penis into her hot and happy vagina to the very depths of her fiery, young soul. "Baby, oh, baby," she panted. "Give it to me, you sweet lover!"
Rodney pulled his cock out almost all the way, until the flanges of his swollen cockhead caught at the convivial inner labia and produced a sensuously wet smack, like a gentle kiss. His mouth covered hers and his cock lunged full length into her loving, avid cunt. He had never felt anything like this, so different from what he remembered of Tanya. He found a new rhythm, heavy and strong, then altered it after twenty or thirty strokes, fucked her for another half minute, and then again altered his rhythm and the depth of his strokes. She was gushing hot fluid all over his cock and balls, which slapped wetly into the crevice of her bottom, rolling accommodatingly up and down.
Robyn was glowing with a new fire. She had never had a young lover with a lean, young, body and unending vigor. Uncle Jim's cock was huge and filled her to the seams, yet this young man's more normal-sized member made her feel young and alive as it stabbed into her feminine channel like the needle of a sewing machine. He was going to make her come, yes, yes, she was already coming, had already come twice, and he was going to push her into total release, fill her tender pussy hole with his hot, streaming semen. It was beyond reality, beyond fantasy, and it was somehow perfect, because she did not know who he was, could not see his face. There was no reality here to be ruined by familiarity. He did not exist except in this dream of hers, and there was no shame, no sin, just his incredible, hammering young penis in her vagina. How had she ever lived all her adolescence without sex, without this feeling of total abandonment and completeness with a man?
Rodney felt her beginning to go wild beneath him. They had been at it for nearly an hour and he wanted to come, to spray his hot sperm up into her cunt. He clenched his buttocks, driving into her in shorter strokes, all the way to her cervix. She was coming now, and he wanted to fill her, come with her, like a volcano. She was whimpering, grunting, sighing, shudders wracking her body and Rodney felt it bubbling up, exploding from his balls, pouring into her, making her cunt into a swampy, sucking pit of pleasure, his millions of pent-up sperm swimming inexorably up into her feminine tubes to the core of her.
Sighs, squeals, groans, cries of pleasure, as wet, smacking sounds resounded in the room like a chorus of passion. Rodney growled into her mouth as he filled her, and their bodies locked together, quivering completely as one, for a long moment.
And then they collapsed, whispering words of endearment, subsiding into complete contentment, his softening cock lying inside the wet cave of her vagina. It was a wonderful moment, and they hoped it would last forever.
And then the light came on. Rodney looked up and saw Tanya standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. Then he looked down at the girl beneath him.
"Who are you?" he gasped, shocked, surprised, and completely paralyzed.
"Who are you?" Robyn echoed, her body stiffening as her legs reflexively locked around his waist.
Tanya said, "Robyn, meet Rodney, Rodney meet Robyn." She was unbuttoning her blouse and moving toward the bed. "Now it's time for a little three-way conversation."
It was after dark when DesirЋe finally arrived at the Buchanan property. All the way up she alternately cried and pouted about what had happened today. She felt so filthy because of what the men had done to her, and she felt even worse because she had responded with her whole being, had welcomed their cocks and their hot ejaculations into her tender pussy. She had let them and she had enjoyed it. So she cried and hated herself and sobbed and streaked her make-up. And then she remembered that Mark had not made love to her lately and that if he had given her the love she needed she wouldn't have responded that way to those three evil men this afternoon. Yes, it was partly Mark's fault. So she pouted.
And then she cried again. She had done something terrible, as bad or worse than what she had done at Clete's office, on his hard desk, with that horrible, disgusting videotape playing. The tape she had stolen and destroyed because it could be used to destroy Mark's political career and her life with him.
But now, there was another tape, or tapes, and those young men had them, and the danger was renewed. Of her, fucking wildly with two men at once that could definitely destroy Mark, and she was frightened to death that Buchanan would find out. She was a liability to her beloved husband now and if Buchanan found out somehow it would put everything in the toilet. She went over all the possible ways of dealing with the situation. Mark could not know, no way. No way could he find out that she had had sexual intercourse with two young men at once and then with Clete as well. But if he found out how she had been unfaithful, he would demand to know all the details, which were much too nauseating to contemplate.
However, perhaps Sid Buchanan, the fixer par excellence, or his wife Helen would be able to help. He would not demand details and she was sure that he would consider it expedient to help cover the matter up rather than expose it to Mark. No, as a political manipulator, he would not do or say anything to break up the young couple. Yes, he would be a friend to her.
Had she had total recall of what had happened last time she had been in this house, she would never have considered bringing her problem to Buchanan, but her own doctor's secret hypnotic suggestion had wiped clear memory of her last experience here from her mind. She had no memory of that that came to her mind right now, so she rationalized that she could trust him.
DesirЋe drove up the circular drive and parked in front of the wide verandah. The scarlet bougainvillea entwined around the latticework. The statue was of a small, brightly clad Negro jockey, forever offering a ring to tie one's horse's reins to. DesirЋe passed the statue and stepped to the front door.
Buchanan's third wife Helen answered the door. She was dressed in a striped silk sheath with a white leather belt around her slender waist. She was so elegant and held a cooling drink in her hand. She said, smiling, "Come in, DesirЋe. So good of you to come."
"Thank you, Helen." DesirЋe stepped in the house.
"The festivities are in full swing out in back," Helen continued, walking down the hall. DesirЋe followed, clutching her purse nervously. They went from the hall through a sitting room filled with furniture of the Empire period, then through a pantry and out into the backyard. All around, people of wealth and power were enjoying themselves with food, drink, and conversation.
The backyard was mottled with shafts of sunshine intermingling with areas of shade. The courtyard behind the huge mansion was covered with more lattice, hardy grape and honeysuckle vines growing around and through the slats. Helen sat down in a lawn chair and waved her hand to the one next to it, indicating for DesirЋe to sit down as well. The glass-topped table before them had a platter of canapЋs on it, a condiment dish piled with pickles and olives, and an earthenware pitcher filled with wine.
DesirЋe first looked at the food. She wasn't at all hungry, but she knew that she would have to eat so as to not offend Helen. Then she looked out on the broad expanse of lawn and thought how peaceful, how serene and healthy it was. Not at all like the sickness that pervaded her inner being at that moment and made her quiver with a desire to die. She was suddenly brought back to reality by a gentle touch of fingers on her shoulder.
Startled, she looked around at Helen, who was frowning slightly with concern. The wife of her husband's boss was saying, "… haven't heard a word I've been saying, have you?"
Miserably, DesirЋe shook her head. "I'm… sorry, Helen."
"You haven't been yourself since you arrived. Aren't you feeling well? The flu perhaps?"
"No… no," came the choked response. "I'm fine. Really."
"No, you're not. I can tell, DesirЋe." There was a long pause, then, a silence that was louder than shouted words. DesirЋe didn't know what to say, how to begin, or if she even dared. She had had the courage to come, and she knew that Helen was indeed the friend she had hoped she would be, but now, confronted with the awful confession, she wasn't sure she had the strength. Helen was obviously baffled and unsure of what to say, but finally, the woman leaned forward and placed her manicured fingers over DesirЋe's and said: "I think you've got something you want to talk to me about. It's weighing heavily on you, DesirЋe. Tell me. Get it off your chest. It'll do you good."
"I… I," stammered DesirЋe, "I've been with another man."
"Really?" Helen sat back. "Another man, hmm?"
Was that a smile DesirЋe saw forming on Helen's lips? No, it couldn't be… but even if it was such an unexpected response, DesirЋe couldn't have stopped the torrent of words that now tumbled from her throat. The dam had been broken, and from her tortured soul came all of the gruesome details about her seduction. She left little out as she poured forth her agony to the other woman, and wept copious tears openly as she confessed.
DesirЋe could only refer to Clete as the sheriff, unable to speak his name much as ancient Jews were not allowed to utter the name of their God, the Nameless One. It was as if to name the man would bring him forth from the shadows of the evening. Nor could DesirЋe detail what perverted acts she had been forced to do with the two young abductors, glossing over it quickly. Above all, she was completely silent on the subject of her own arousal, of her apparent enjoyment of the systematic rape of her purity.
But everything else she placed before Helen Buchanan, like a horribly sculpted gargoyle complete of substance and shadow. The sex… the filming. Especially the filming, the rolling video cameras recording it all. Everything kept revolving, kept returning to the uses – the abuses – of the video camera.
When she was done, she dropped her head in a symbolic act of supplication, of awaiting judgment. Her blouse and skirt were wet with her tears, and her golden, bell-like voice was almost hoarse with her wracking sobs.
The first thing Helen did was to pour DesirЋe a glass of wine. "Here, drink this," she commanded, and even though the distraught young wife refused, she persevered and finally DesirЋe haltingly swallowed some of the ruby liquid. It did make her feel better, she had to admit, as she set the glass down.
Then Helen looked DesirЋe in the eye and said, "One thing more. Did you enjoy it?"
"Helen!" DesirЋe was taken full aback, her eyes wide with horror.
"I must know in order to get a full, clear perspective of the situation, DesirЋe. Forgive me for being so blunt, but it's only between us girls." She leaned forward. "Now… did you? Even a little bit?"
Blushing a color as scarlet as the bougainvillea out front, DesirЋe Denning first stared with frozen shock. Then, trembling and biting her lower lip, she squeezed her eyes shut and nodded affirmatively. There was no use trying to cover it up, no way in which she could bury the awful truth about herself, and it was harder to admit it to herself than to Helen.
"Yes," she moaned. "At… at first I loathed their… attentions. But… but in all honesty, I have to confess I… began to like it." She twisted in her chair, then looked at Helen, wetness blurring her vision. "But only a little bit, Helen," she lied. "Only a little bit, and when it was over and I'd collected my senses, I was sick about it!"
"Yes, yes, I understand," Helen said in a soothing voice. She then poured herself a little more wine and sighed. She thought of the best way of handling the matter, of trying to calm the near hysterical girl so that a greater crisis would be averted. She could almost picture the scandal it would cause if it was publicly known, and she had the inherent knowledge of a shrewd woman that such publicity could easily spread to herself and Sid, and Sid's political machine, for DesirЋe being in the frame of mind that she was in, could break apart and tell everything. Everything, including the business about Mark's association with Buchanan and their involvement in politics.
"Listen to me, DesirЋe," she started to say, then sipped the wine as she thought carefully of her next words. "I'll be frank, for I'm sure that's what you want me to be. Why you came to me."
"Yes, yes, that's right, Helen."
"First of all, you were forced into what you did. You had no other choice. You were lured into it and forced, and no matter what you may think of what you did, you had no other way out. You did the right thing."
Helen held up her hand. "Your feelings, right? What's really bothering you is that you became excited, right?"
DesirЋe again nodded, mute, and twisted the little napkin in her lap.
"Well, pardon me for saying so, but I don't think any woman could have avoided becoming excited. Any full, loving, responsive woman, that is. Now neither one of us is frigid, DesirЋe; both of us make love to our husbands with every cell in our body, and we like to. That's the key to understanding what happened to you, DesirЋe – the fact that we naturally, physically like sex. How could you help not to get hot when their hands were caressing you, their… penises were hard inside you? Hell, I couldn't have, I know that."
"What it boils down to is this: you're a woman first, biologically. Half your body, and mine, is tied in with sex and procreation. Our feelings, emotions, and physiology are regulated by its rhythmic chemistry, and no matter how you try to, you can't deny that fact. You're a wife second, which is an artificial social discipline which is learned, not instinctive. You did what was natural, what your body was intended to do – and while most of our country would not approve nor condone it, you must chalk it up to an unpleasant happening. A mistake, at the most, but never as a sick, warped evil thing."
"But what am I going to do?" wailed DesirЋe.
"Do? Why, you're going to do nothing, DesirЋe. Nothing at all, though I think Sid should know about it so he can make sure there are no political repercussions. You know what I mean."
"Mark shouldn't be told. Men don't understand about such things, DesirЋe, and might do something rash." She shook her head. "No, best to let things lie as they are. You still love your husband, I'm sure, and while it's been a mental shock, it hasn't hurt you physically. You can respond to your husband and his love just as well as before, and of course, that's what counts in situations such as these."
"You… you really think so?"
"Trust me, DesirЋe," Helen said. She went on for a little while longer, soothingly and with confidence, instilling some reassurance back in the shattered wife, pouring a little more wine, and finally getting DesirЋe to have a sandwich. By ten, DesirЋe Denning was perked up as much as possible. The heavy weight of her sin was like lead between her shoulders, but at least she was able to carry the load now, and not collapse as she was in danger of doing before.
Yes, DesirЋe thought as she moved around the big rooms among the guests, yes, I was right in coming to see Helen. She certainly was a great help, being forthright and blunt, and at the same time showing me that she really was concerned. She was correct in what she had to say, and I will follow her advice.
She was wearing her new summer dress and the guests, those that knew her and those that didn't, were drawn to her lovely appearance as she wandered through the house, looking for Mark. Where was he? It was a pretty dress, a frilly pale-blue sheath with no sleeves or belt, but a matching jacket for evening wear – which she now had on. The hemline was daringly high for her, just below the current "mini" style, allowing her to show off her slim, wonderfully toned legs. At first she had been uncomfortable in the dress, for she didn't have a slip she could wear with it and her only underclothing was her bra and panties, but when she saw herself in the mirror at the clothing store, saw how childlike and innocent it made her look, she couldn't resist it.
Helen Buchanan had been right, DesirЋe once more reminded herself. Telling the older woman her problem had helped. It certainly had. But, she still had terrible upheavals of conscience. Then the comforting words of Helen Buchanan would replay in her mind. You were forced… you did the right thing… no woman could have avoided becoming excited… do nothing… do nothing… they will never come back.
"I love you Mark!" she said to herself as she looked around the huge mansion for him.
The party had been planned on the flight from New York, after the meeting with the cadre of Arabs who were supporting Buchanan on this big deal. They were going halves, and the stakes were enormous. But so were the rewards. Sid had paid bribes to many, many inside men and he had things lined up in volatility and derivative trading. Over a billion dollars controlled by the investment chief for the Palestinian Liberation Organization Khalid al-Mazkum, were to go into this move to corner markets and manipulate the stock exchange in America, to tip the hand of the huge country against Israel and in favor of the PLO. With a death lock on so much American wealth and influence, the forces behind the Arab terrorist organization could change the face of American politics. It was a tremendous coup, and Mark Denning would go into the US Senate at the next election as their man in place. al-Mazkum had been in an expansive mood.
All the organization men hoping to land a piece of the action, Sid Buchanan knew, and their assorted wives and girl friends were at the party now, and it was a swinging affair. Good ol' Khalid, the head man over the PLO banking organization, tossed liquor down his throat and laughter resounded in abundant profusion, belying his plump, round-shouldered brooding appearance. Sid was pleased to be allied with the money and power that Khalid controlled.
Khalid liked Sid's house, which was a replica of a southern plantation home, complete with widow's walk and white pillars along the broad, wide front. It looked like a set out of a grand, cinematic epic, right down to the outbuilding and the horse stables. The garden, about the size of a football field, was more modern: swimming pool and cabana, two tennis courts, and a pond and stream where Sid raised his prize race horses.
Not tonight, though. Tonight DesirЋe was going to stay until the Buchanans put her and Mark to bed. Until the last dog is hung, until the last drink was…
"Marhaba!" came a booming voice, and DesirЋe nearly jumped a foot in the air. "Ahlan wa Sahlan!" Gruff hands went around her waist and a wine-heavy breath seared her neck as al-Mazkum kissed her. "Haw! Haw! I finally meet Denning's beautiful diva wife!" he guffawed, his laugh reminding DesirЋe of a bowling ball bouncing down a flight of stairs. She tried to smile and act as though his kiss had been fun… but it hadn't been. His rubbery lips, his sudden grasp had been too vivid a simile to the Arab's unfamiliar touch.
DesirЋe waited impatiently, for she wanted some sangria; wanted a lot of it, in fact, to dull the building pressure in her head. This party was going to be terrible until she could find Mark, that she could see – but not as terrible as the silent nightmare that had thrown a shadow over her happiness.
Mrs. Stone – "Just call me Vickie" – delivered two brimming tumblers of the ruby liquid and DesirЋe drank deeply. The sangria was pleasant tasting, very refreshing, with a combination sweet-tart taste hard to identify. A fruit punch? No… the fruit taste was in the background, DesirЋe thought as she ran her tongue around her lips. A wine base, plus… what? She finished her glass in three more swallows, excused herself to find Mark – where was he!? – and the Stones who were both listening intently, and walked over to the large cut-crystal punch bowl.
Samira al-Mazkum was behind the sangria bowl, busy looking pretty and exotic in her gold and silk Arabian finery. She was an impressive woman, statuesque, with a large figure gained from many years fine food and idleness in a villa in a country where Filipinos and Pakistanis were imported to do all the labor the rich Arabs would not stoop to. Her breasts were well buttressed in a corset, standing out like the Continental Shelf, and her whole bearing was one of imperious condescension as she looked over their tops. She was, however, a pleasant and friendly woman, and unlike most of the other females, knew something of the world. DesirЋe's husband had once said of her: "She must have been one lovely little virgin one day long ago."
She was most pleased to see the ravishing young wife of Buchanan's candidate-designate for the State Senate; her own husband being quite aware of Mark's prospects and coming ability and having mentioned the young man to her. DesirЋe felt warmly toward the woman, and after getting a refill of sangria, they started chatting amiably. Samira al-Mazkum was discussing with DesirЋe the recipe for sangria. DesirЋe had thought that Arabs did not drink, but she supposed everyone had their own mode of living.
"It's a red wine base, a good and hearty wine like Burgundy. Seven parts of it to two parts brandy and one part Cointreau, add a little Vodka if you want – I did – then a bottle of some carbonated lemon drink, slices of orange and lemon and some cherries, stir like hell and serve. Voila!" The older woman chuckled and winked, though never losing her decorum. "Be careful with it. It's very potent!"
DesirЋe let some more of the fine punch swirl around her taste-buds.
She nodded. "It's delicious Samira. Did you make it?"
"Well, I thought it might be fun to have something different than the usual bourbon and scotch and gin. My recipe, the servants' labor. So now they know how to do it."
"Hello, DesirЋe," came a familiar, mellow voice, and the young girl turned, startled slightly. Sid Buchanan stood, smiling at the two women, though his attention was mainly focused on DesirЋe. "A very pretty dress you're wearing tonight."
DesirЋe was flattered that her husband's boss noticed her enough to pick out a new dress – most men wouldn't have bothered. "Why, thank you, Sid. Yes, I bought it on the way tonight. Sort of a pick-me-up."
"After you've been married as long as I have," Samira al-Mazkum interjected wryly, "you'll be buying the pick-me-ups when your husband's home, not away."
The three of them laughed at that. Samira was quite devoted to her husband, and everybody knew that. They talked a little more, and then Sid said to DesirЋe: "My wife is dancing with Higgins. How about you and me taking a little whirl around the floor?"
"Well… I… I don't know." DesirЋe looked around for her Mark. Where was he?
She saw him in an animated conversation with another distinguished-looking man over in one corner, oblivious to everything else. Then she saw Sid's raven-haired wife Helen in the arms of one of the men she had met at the last get-together. He was not much of a dancer. The music being played by the excellent 12-piece band was a fast tango, something DesirЋe was very good at, but she was not in the mood for such a beat.
"No, I think not, Sid. It's a little fast for me."
Just as she spoke, the number ended, and was followed almost immediately by Jackie Gleason's arrangement of "Moonglow".
"This better, eh?" Sid asked. Not waiting for an answer, he took the glass from DesirЋe's hand and placed it on the table and swept her in his arms. "But…" DesirЋe protested weakly.
"Go ahead," urged Samira al-Mazkum. "Sid is such a good dancer."
"Relax and enjoy the party…" Her last words were drowned out as DesirЋe found herself whisked to the middle of the wide polished wood floor. She gave him one more moment of unreasoned resistance, and then she let the strong muscular arms of her husband's mentor lead her briskly to the beat of the music. The muted horns and gentle percussion soothed her tormented soul slightly.
The three glasses of sangria, taken as they had been on an empty stomach – for DesirЋe had lost her appetite that evening – began to slowly seep through her blood. She began to smile and, as suggested by Mrs. al-Mazkum, relax and enjoy herself. The sharp edge of panic melted and she found herself humming, her eyes half closed, as the music soothed her. She dropped her head and pressed against Sid Buchanan's rising chest.
Hot damn, the scheming man thought, trying to control his trembling passions, things are better than I thought. After Helen told him about how DesirЋe had responded today with three men on a date rape, he had been tingling to get into her pants again. Last time, he had taken advantage of her in bed with her drugged husband lying next to them on the king-size bed, and he wondered that she seemed to have forgotten the whole incident, not knowing that hypnotic induction had wiped the unpleasant memory from her mind.
He held the tipsy young wife tighter, his total willpower being taxed to stop his penis from becoming hard and pressing against her undulating belly. The thin and revealing dress she had on certainly didn't help his control any. When she had walked in without her husband, Sid had almost ejaculated in his pants on the spot, ogling the tight buttocks and ripe, jutting breasts, and smooth expanse of thigh and leg… never had so little covered so little. It made him quiver with the desire to really possess this proud little beauty again, and again, to bore his cock deep in her vagina as he had done last time she had come to this house.
Sid Buchanan had immediately set to work trying to find a way of getting his desires answered that night, to seduce the wife of his star political protegee. His prick and testicles ached with a burning fire for the beautiful little twenty-year-old wife, goading his mind to come up with some plan of attack.
And he had. He waited until she had consumed enough of the sangria to become slightly wobbly, and then he started to work on her. First this dance… then a short break for another glass of that wine punch. Sid chuckled secretly to himself. Sangria didn't taste strong, it went down like soda-pop, and women who would normally never indulge heavily soon found themselves drunk out of their minds. Sangria was sneaky, just like him.
The music stopped, and Sid led the pretty wife back to the punch bowl. She drank thirstily, finishing another glass, and Helen filled it again. They talked, the three of them, of general items: the local gossip, opinions on the fools in Washington, D.C., the Middle East and the problems in Israel. Sid sat out two more numbers and then, when another slow dance was played, he took DesirЋe in his arms again and away they went. Then there was more sangria…
After the third dance, DesirЋe was beginning to stumble a bit, and her tongue was getting tied around words of more than one syllable. It was, Buchanan thought, about time to drop the bombshell. The band was playing "Laura" and as he again danced with her, he leaned down and whispered in her shell-like ear: "DesirЋe, Helen told me about what happened today."
The reaction of the little housewife was sudden and cataclysmic. She stopped dead in her tracks, a quivering, shaking statue of agony, her mouth open and her eyes wide as saucers. "No!" she feebly choked. "No, she couldn't have!"
The sangria dulled the worst of the terrible pain that coursed through her brain. She had already realized that she had had too much to drink, but as happens when such a point is reached, she really didn't care. At this moment, she was desperately glad, for the dual shock of hearing that Helen had prematurely divulged her confidential confession to her husband, not even waiting until the party ended, and of being reminded of those raping men and Clete's blackmail, would have been too much for her tortured mind to absorb sober.
"H-Helen… shouldn't have!" she moaned, shuddering.
"Now take it easy, DesirЋe," Sid soothed, wrapping his arms around her. "Listen to me. Helen was very concerned about you, and naturally she turned to her husband for advice. We, you and I, both have an interest in Mark's political career, don't we?"
Obstinately, the pretty young bride fought back her tears and said bitterly: "She warned me against telling Mark!"
"Well, of course she did, DesirЋe. He would be the wronged husband, wouldn't he? I mean, it isn't as though I was hurt by your indiscretions. But Mark could very well become belligerent, seeing as it's his pretty young wife who was in bed with other men and…"
"Stop it! Stop it!" wailed DesirЋe, putting her hands over her ears. "I can't stand it any longer!"
Sid looked around, feared that her sudden outburst might have attracted attention. No, the others were well involved in themselves and laughing and shouting louder than her cry had been. Her husband, Mark, was nowhere in sight now.
"DesirЋe!" he hissed. "Get hold of yourself! You have to face the situation, no matter how unpleasant. Don't you understand? Do you have any idea what would happen to Mark's career if all this got out?"
"No… no…" the now hysterical young wife pleaded.
"He'd be totally unelectable, the cuckold husband of a loose and wild woman. I'm your friend, DesirЋe. Believe me, Helen did the right thing telling me. I can help you."
"Help me?" DesirЋe looked up suddenly. How can he help? she thought irrationally.
"If Mark should find out somehow. Or if that local sheriff makes good his threat and exposes the whole thing. Or if those men do something with the video tape, what then?"
"I… I don't know," she shuddered, the possibilities too horrible to contemplate. "I don't know what I'd do."
"Well, we have to talk these things out, DesirЋe." He looked around again. "We can't talk here, though. Too many people. Tell you what. Let's go somewhere and discuss this. All right?"
"In my study. It'll be nice and private and quiet in there, and nobody will disturb us."
"But… but what about Mark?"
"He's fine. He's having a ball here somewhere. Hasn't found you yet, has he?"
Sid saw the shake of her head, indicating the negative answer, and he pressed on. "We have to stick together, us Buchanans and Dennings. Now you go on into the study. I'll join you in a little while."
"Sid…" she started to say, but DesirЋe knew that she was going to the study. She had to, for as Sid Buchanan had said, she was in no position to deal with the consequences if they occurred. Her own father was powerful in his way, but he must never, ever know about her sordid lapses into adulterous lust. She would have never dared to go to Buchanan, never would have even considered going to another male, friend or no. But now that Helen had done so – strictly with good intentions, of which DesirЋe was now assured – and the rich and powerful man had evinced such strong personal interest in her plight, she was going to have to lay bare the sordid details again and see what Sid Buchanan could do to solve her immense problem.
"Now, go on," Sid prompted. "That's it. I'll be there in a minute. Soon as I talk to Khalid."
Nodding numbly, DesirЋe Denning, a whirlpool of swirling emotions and agonies, was escorted to the study by a servant. Samira al-Mazkum, coming out of the bathroom, paused and asked her if anything was the matter. DesirЋe shook her head, saying that no, she just needed a little rest and quiet for a short time.
The moment that the beautiful young wife of his star political protegee was out of sight, Sid Buchanan began the second part of his plan. He hurried over to his most important new associate, Khalid al-Mazkum, who was listening with a bored expression to a story about a nude mermaid, a New York executive on a deep-sea fishing trip, and a bag full of lead weights.
"Khalid," he said, sidling up to his new partner. "Khalid, come over here for a minute, will you?" He indicated a quiet corner with a tilt of his head.
al-Mazkum nodded, wondering why Buchanan was so excited all of a sudden.
"Thank Allah you came along when you did. That's one of the oldest dirty jokes I know, and if Matthews doesn't learn any new ones soon, I'll boycott the next party he's at."
"Khalid, listen," Buchanan cut in. "You said you wanted to get your prick into Denning's wife. I think you've got a chance."
"Samira's sangria gotten to you?"
Buchanan grinned, his grin a fiendish look of devilment. "No, but it's gotten to her. The sangria is great, Khalid. No, this is to help us cement our little deal."
Khalid al-Mazkum had arrived from his offices in Dubai the day after Mark and DesirЋe had left after the last party. Buchanan remembered well the festivities that DesirЋe seemed to have forgotten, for he had drugged Mark with a powerful Mickey Finn and had treated the girl to a liberal dose of an expensive aphrodisiac, helping himself to her hot, young pussy as she lay masturbating in bed next to her comatose husband. She had been duly shocked at finding him on top of her, and he had never expected to see her again quite so soon without her bringing with her a serious attitude problem, but he was not one to analyze women and their moods and motives too deeply.
Khalid had money to invest for the terrorist gang he worked for, the Palestinian Liberation Organization. Buchanan was much too astute to believe their false respectability, and much too unscrupulous and practical to care whence the money came. He wanted 1.2 billion dollars to match his investments in some insider trading deals he had developed over the last three years through what he called his jackals. The data had been constantly in development, and when the time was right, the capital had to be there, instantly, to take advantage. A number of positions had to be established at once, the result being that he could obtain control of a number of big, pro-Israel corporations with much influence in Washington and in the markets of the world.
He had succeeded in interesting Khalid al-Mazkum in his machinations for two reasons: the PLO, a venal and greedy organization underneath it all, could treble its money on the one hand, and on the other neutralize the anti-PLO influence of the Jewish-run companies and turn their influence in the opposition direction. Sid Buchanan's razor-sharp mind had conceived and put the plan into execution. It was complicated and involved an unscrupulous organizer in each of the stock exchanges in New York, San Francisco, Tokyo, Singapore, Hong Kong, and London. Inside information, and the systematic placement of dozens of his jackals, his information gatherers, his jackals, bribe-givers, spies, informers, and computer hackers. They were now getting ready to make their move precisely tomorrow, and it would have to be done quickly and all at once before it was discovered what they were doing and market forces adversely changed the prices or someone moved to block them.
Buchanan had rounded up a colossal 1.1 billion dollars of his own, had further funds from a consortium of close associates of 1.9 billion, and a further 1.2 billion available through Khalid al-Mazkum, the investment manager for the PLO, an enormous 4.2 billion dollars for his use, which he conservatively estimated would triple their value within a month, dwarfing most of the world's banks and giving them more power than could be imagined.
Even now, the email had arrived from his central investment compiler, the organizer, working on all the gathered information. It was sitting now on his desktop computer in the study, right there on the screen for Khalid to see. The Arab's wire transfer would give him disposal of the funds within two hours, and he would transfer the information to his broker via email in the morning. The transactions would be completed just prior to the stock exchanges' closing on tomorrow, Friday, leaving a whole weekend before anyone could take steps to neutralize the massive transfer of corporate power to Buchanan's consortium, whose members, including the PLO, could remain mainly anonymous several weeks before the damage was assessed. By then, Sid and the PLO would have control of no fewer than twenty-three multinational corporations dealing in defense, microchips, and finance.
However, Khalid had taken a lot of convincing to risk his organization's money on such a venture, and the blitzkrieg nature of the move made it nearly impossible to do any long-term planning. al-Mazkum's total trust and optimism had to be cultivated, and Sid had been a trifle premature is promising the Arab a chance to have sex with DesirЋe Denning, after bragging about how he had done it before. Khalid had seen her picture and had instant palpitations, not alleviated by the knowledge that she was still shy of her twenty-first birthday nor by Sid's detailed descriptions of her physical charms and musical abilities.
Now it appeared that, with the help of the sangria, if he was terribly clever, Sid could deliver on his promise to the Arab and vent his own burning lust that had been crackling inside him since he had last seen her. He had devised this pretext to have Mark here and had been disappointed that his little bride had not accompanied him, had even curried favor by prematurely advancing a half million dollars for the young politician's campaign fund.
"Yes, our deal."
al-Mazkum was still smiling as Buchanan led him to a small room adjoining his study, where the young woman was now waiting for his consoling attention. Sid pointed at the door.
"In there, on the computer, is a list of our targets, ready for emailing to my buyer in the morning." Sid smiled broadly, and repeated, "In there, on my computer, the business that will make us richer than the Sultan of Brunei, and…"
"DesirЋe," Buchanan said quietly, feeling a bit unhappy at having to share the blonde angel with this Arab, whom he liked very little in spite of everything they were planning together.
"Tell me more," al-Mazkum said, suddenly very interested. He was almost as much of a swinger as Buchanan was, going after women whenever he could get a chance of avoiding his steely-eyed wife. Christ, just the idea of nailing the tender little pussy of straight-laced Mark Denning's wife made his cock tingle with lewd preparations. "What are you going to do, feed her Spanish fly?"
Buchanan shook his head and lifted the bourbon bottle. "Not this time. Just this… and the old Sid Buchanan touch, heh, heh. Now listen, Khalid. I'm going in there to talk to her, see. She's already there, waiting for me."
"Ya Allah, I'd have never believed it," al-Mazkum said in new-found awe of his partner. "Waiting for you, no less."
"Right, and I can't keep her waiting for long, heh, heh. In about fifteen minutes, you sneak in very quietly. I think you might get a little view well worth your trouble, heh, heh."
"Yeah, but what about my…"
"Your turn? Have to play that by ear." Buchanan turned to enter the book-lined, walnut paneled room. "Keep the light out in here until I've got her where you want her…"
"Sid…" al-Mazkum was licking his thick lips, a gleam in his eyes.
Buchanan was by the door. "Yes?"
"You set it up so that I can fuck that DesirЋe Denning, and I'll send you three beautiful whores from my friend's harem." That young beauty with all her wide-eyed aura of virginity had been on his mind a long time. And now… if Buchanan could, well by God, no price was too high. "Hear me? I'll raise it, Sid."
Buchanan chuckled obscenely. "Worry about raising that cock of yours, then. DesirЋe Denning is going to get screwed like she's never been screwed before!"
He walked quietly to the door, eagerness already swelling his testicles, bloating them with the sperm he was going to pour into that tight, hardly touched cunt of Mark Denning's young wife. This was going to be great, he gloated to himself, a piece of the finest tail in the state, and would make Khalid al-Mazkum dump a fortune into his investment company.
Now all he had to do was to play his cards right…
DesirЋe Denning slumped on the couch, shuddering as she sat in the cozy quiet of the study. She cried plaintively, weeping her tortured emotions into her palms as if her heart would break. The sangria she had consumed to dull her sensitivities had, if anything, only loosened the barriers holding back her tears, and now, fully surrendered to the alcohol, she allowed her pent-up emotions release – again.
She had purged her soul once, to Helen Buchanan… but the intervening hours had once more built the raging storm of her torment to cyclone proportions. It had brought her, upset, to this party, had been the leading cause of her not eating and then of drinking heavily – and was, with the help of the potent sangria, completely controlling her mind. She was nearly delirious, almost psychotically hysterical, and there wasn't even the sanity of sobriety to fall back upon.
Her only prayer, her only hope was Sid Buchanan – or so her benumbed mind thought. The one thing that had kept her from dashing out of the house and fleeing – but to where? Anywhere – so long as it was far, far away. But there were the comforting words that Sid Buchanan would help her. Perhaps if she hadn't imbibed the sangria so heavily, if she didn't have a head spinning so madly, she might have considered that it had been Sid's opening words Helen told me about the black sheriff, that had sent her into such a mental and emotional tailspin.
As it was, when her husband's associate opened the other door to the study and sat down beside her, she looked upon him almost as a savior, an angel who could save her from the consequences of her reprehensible actions.
"Thank God, Sid," the pretty young housewife moaned. "I was afraid you weren't going to come." She started crying again.
"Everything will be all right, DesirЋe," Buchanan said, and he put his arm around her, as a father might his errant daughter. "Of course I was going to come. You don't think I'd let you be like this, do you? So upset and all."
She leaned against him, clutching to him for dear life. "It… it was terrible, Sid," she blurted. "I… I went with them to meet Mark… they said he'd had an accident…" and she went on to pour forth the total story of her humiliation by the two young men and then what she had had to do to avert a disaster when Clete had showed up, breaking into sobs of agony frequently.
As she talked, Sid was only half listening. He knew the story already, had Helen repeat it to him until he knew every detail. Instead, he was looking at the comfortable couch they sat on now. Plenty of room here for fucking, plenty of room. He had used it often enough, when Helen had knowingly and obligingly turned her back.
He took down a bottle of pernod and poured some into a glass. "Here, DesirЋe. Take a swallow. It'll help."
She took it gratefully and drank heavily. The liquor burned a path to her stomach, but she was too wrought up and too drunk to notice. She drank again, came up for air and continued telling her story.
"Then… they made me sit on his lap and the other one… he did it to me from behind… in my… my… I've never done that even with my husband before… and then they changed positions. Oh, Sid, it was just awful," she sobbed.
He interrupted her with an urging to take another swallow, which she did, and then he said: "Would you like to lie down, take a rest? Wouldn't that be better?"
"Yes…" The combination of the sangria, pernod, and her now purged soul had made her lethargic, dazed, and she had to fight to keep her eyes open. Her muscles seemed to be plastic and her bones like sawdust. "But I don't want to go back out there yet, Sid, not until you tell me about what you can do for us… I need your help…"
Her voice was slightly slurred and thick, as though her mouth was full of pebbles – or she had taken too much liquor and was pretty drunk. The great manipulator smiled and said, "You can stretch out on the couch if you like."
DesirЋe looked up from Sid's chest. "That would be nice," she replied dreamily. "Help me…"
Sid Buchanan did, his cock hardening into a throbbing beast as he carefully helped Mark Denning's wife to lie back on the couch. Her motions were a bit jerky and fumbling; but she wasn't falling down drunk, and he hoped she wasn't too present of mind to turn this situation against his plans. She sprawled on the soft fabric of the couch, not minding or even being aware that her short dress had slipped up around her panties. Buchanan sucked in his breath as he saw the thinly covered pubic mound become exposed… then he squeezed onto the couch with her, and the two of them lay side by side on the warm, padded surface, and he placed his hands around her and held her to him.
Buchanan stroked the tipsy young wife's golden hair lightly, gently, comfortingly. And in a smooth, rich tone of voice he intoned, "Don't think about it anymore, DesirЋe. Don't think about those hard, strange men and how you looked with them on that bed, about the passion you three were experiencing, don't think about it at all…"
In the tortured, stupefied confusion of her mind, DesirЋe Denning couldn't help thinking about what she and the two abductors had done – and why. She remained in her husband's associate's gently pressing embrace, stretched out on the expensive couch, a dreamy torpor making her lightheaded and giddy. His words flowed like honey, soothing and hypnotic… and although she didn't want to think about what she had done that very day, his soporific voice dredged up still more of it from her subconscious mind. She sobbed into the thin material of Buchanan's shirt, finding security in his masculine nearness and the gentle stroking of his hand on her bare arm. And horribly, perversely, the images in her drunken brain started to have a certain physical effect on her dazed mind as well. She could feel an odd twitching in her belly, and for some crazy reason she sensed that her nipples were hardening in her bra cups. She tried to will her body to cease its evil awakening and her mind to stop the vivid remembrances – but nothing she tried to do would work. And what was Sid Buchanan saying? The same thing as his wife Helen had told her?
"… You're all woman, DesirЋe. Of course you couldn't help but enjoy their penises inside you. Of course you liked their tongues on your lips and between your legs. You couldn't help liking it, DesirЋe. You're a real woman… a sexually alive woman…"
He continued to stroke her shoulder, letting his hand slide slowly down. DesirЋe had stopped crying now, though her face was still pressed to his shirt, and he sensed that his caress had quickened her breath. He teased the ridge of her spine, pressing his horizontal body closer to hers, and he whispered into her hair bolder and bolder words: "You and the sheriff were making love, DesirЋe. Yes, making love… and fucking, DesirЋe. But you mustn't think badly of yourself for your actions. Everyone likes to fuck…"
DesirЋe was breathing faster now, and Sid could hear this tipsy little wife of his pet politician trembling with her reactions. Well, if there was ever a moment to give it everything, this was it!
Buchanan brought his hand casually from her shoulder to the swelling mound of her breast. He began to rub the pliant globe tenderly through the thin dress and bra, and there was a sharp intake of breath from the beautiful wife and a sudden stiffening of her body and a convulsive kneading of his shirt. But she made no move to pull away! Buchanan grinned eagerly, glancing toward the door from behind which he knew Khalid al-Mazkum was peeking, knowing he had won, that she would be his, and he ran his thumb over her rock-hard nipples, his heart pounding in his chest and his cock leaping in the cage that was his shorts and pants.
A warning scream tried to penetrate the foggy lethargy that inundated DesirЋe Denning's mind, tried to warn her that something was going to happen if she didn't pull away. And yet, unexplainably, his hand on her breast felt good, soothing, and his voice, so far away to her ears, made everything sound right. It was as if the sangria and the pernod had been some liquid cement, gluing her to this position, making her unable to move at all… and the pinwheel thoughts in her mind made her not really want to move… not yet…
And then the evil man's hand slid down from her breasts and went to her bare thigh, sliding up along the hot skin under her new dress. Higher and higher – until his fingers were touching the silk-encased mound of her vagina. He slipped up and down the now moist furrow from the outside, then pushed the damp crotchband of her panties aside and slipped his middle finger into the wet, trembling passage of DesirЋe's suddenly hotly burning young cunt.
Distraught, nearly comatose from alcohol, DesirЋe squirmed up tighter against Sid Buchanan with the contact of his finger against her naked flesh. Her whole being began to oscillate and she moaned in staccato cadence. The warning voice of before tolled again through the swamp that was her fevered mind: "Wrong… wrong… I love Mark, I must be faithful to him… not Sid… not with Sid… stop it… stop it… not again…"
But she couldn't stop it. She was incapable of pulling away, and she could only lie there on the couch and let her husband's political associate continue to work his hand down between her legs, to tease the hard bud of her clitoris and revel in her soft, elastic vaginal opening.
Christ, Buchanan thought, she really turns on, just like I hoped she would, this time, even though she knows it's me with her, I damn well knew she could after the way she got going last time. She's all fired up for a good fuck for the umpteenth time today, and when a woman like this gets that way, nothing else matters. He whispered in her ear: "DesirЋe, baby, help me… help me take your panties off…"
"No…" came the feeble answer. "Oh, God, no, Sid!"
"Yes…" he hissed back, and he moved around so that he hovered over her limply splayed legs, removing his finger from her wet, trembling pussy. He bunched her dress around her waist and hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and slid them down slowly over her full rounded young thighs and hips. DesirЋe tried to stop him, to yell out at him to leave her alone, but her body was controlled by other forces and, in spite of her hesitation, she found herself raising her hips obediently. And then her softly hair-lined, fragrant vagina came into view, and Buchanan gazed salaciously at it, his mouth watering at the beautiful sight.
The great manipulator drove his head savagely downward, unable to control his lusting emotions, and his lips mashed onto her vaginal lips, his tongue parting the softly curling pubic hair and slipping teasingly down the pink-rimmed valley. The sheriff's black cock had been in there today, but Sid didn't care because she tasted perfectly fresh and delicious. DesirЋe shuddered and involuntarily her legs spread a little wider, allowing him further room. She whined sharply and convulsed into lurches as his long, hot tongue speared her quaking flesh. And as he flicked his mouth and tongue around the velvety soft, flowing interior of her vagina, he unbuckled his pants and pushed them down with his shorts, allowing them to tangle around his ankles. Now that he had the little bitch so hot and ready, he did not want to take the time to fully undress. He was afraid she might suddenly come to her senses, and then all would be lost.
DesirЋe's mind was in complete turmoil now, the blood fever of his touch and then his mouth filling her with animal wantonness – yet the other part, the portion so satiated with alcohol as to render it nothing more than a protest in vain, cried out that this was wrong… all wrong and must stop!
And suddenly, Buchanan stopped.
He raised his head and grinned triumphantly down at her, his lips and chin wet with her sexual secretions.
"Sid… Sid… Sid…" was all that the crazed young housewife was able to chant to the manager.
"I'm going to fuck you now, my sweet little friend. I'm going to put my long, hard cock inside your pussy and cum in it." And with those words, the lasciviously grinning man moved across the writhing, weakly resisting body of his associate's wife. He held his huge lust-hardened cock at the open pink mouth of her wet, palpitating cunt, and then he levered forward, sending his sensitive, hungry cock sliding hotly, deliciously far up into her quivering young vagina.
Oh, God, he's inside me… he's inside me… in my vagina! His penis! It's happening again! DesirЋe thought vaguely, her mind and soul shattered by the liquor and the wretchedness of her emotions, and her body one huge sensation of pagan desire. He can't be doing this… he can't, and I can't be letting him, but he is. Not again, not another time today, with a man. Oh, he is… and, oh, God, it feels so good… I must stop him… but how can I when I can't stop myself?
Sid Buchanan's long, hard penis fucked up and down in her tight cuntal passage, causing her juices to flow like a river, his body heaving in demoniacal force as he drew his sperm-heavy cock nearly out of the clasping sheath of the mesmerized young DesirЋe's pussy, then plunged down again until his aching, bloated testicles slapped ruthlessly against her naked, twitching asshole, itself so sensitive and excitable after having been reamed so thoroughly today. She was itching there, her little anus, still raw from the acts performed in it this very day. He was so intent on the release of his nearly bursting orgasm that he almost forgot about Khalid al-Mazkum in the next room.
Khalid al-Mazkum sucked in his breath sharply and felt a tingle of anticipation surge through his loins and stiffen his penis as he stealthily moved through the door and approached the pair on the couch, listening to the girl's half-repressed sighs and the liquid sounds of a cock sluicing in and out of a wet pussy. No, Buchanan hadn't been kidding. He heard the soft moan, a woman's throaty purr, and murmuring, "Sid… Sid…"
His head nearly dizzy with the anticipatory thoughts of that lovely, na•ve young wife of the aspiring politician being thoroughly fucked by Buchanan, of that luscious DesirЋe Denning first succumbing to Buchanan and then being available to him – Allah! It was enough to send his semen shooting out right then and there!
He moved to the side of the couch.
Balls of the Prophet! He was really doing it! Old Sid Buchanan was fucking the hell out of sweet, innocent DesirЋe Denning! Khalid al-Mazkum nearly staggered backwards with the dizzying excitement that the lewd, licentious coupling aroused in him. There was his business partner pumping up and down on top of Denning's angelic, lovely young wife, sinking his cock to its hilt between her widespread legs, his huge, hairy balls slapping noisily into the wide split of her buttocks, whapping down against her visible tight, pink anus. And there was Denning's wife undulating her body and buttocks in tiny, hungry circles, her face turned sideways so that the Arab could see the effect that the fucking was having on her body. Her features were contorted, as if in rapture, and her mouth hinged wide, her tongue licking her dry cherry-like lips. Slurpy, wet, sucking sounds were rising from the action of their genitals, and Khalid could see tiny ridges of tender tissue emerging from the pink-rimmed vagina as Buchanan stroked outward, which then folded back inside as he pushed back into the girl's hair-framed grotto of pleasure.
The chief of PLO Investments found his breath coming in tight gasps and the burning sensations in his belly growing to maddening proportions each moment as he watched the young, na•ve girl being ravished. Her body perspired freely, and her forehead, cheeks, and upper lip were sheened with tiny beads of sweat. The heavy liquid from her clasping cunt was soaking the couch beneath her bouncing buttocks.
DesirЋe Denning looked almost inhuman to the Arab as he beadily focused on the wildly writhing couple. She was no longer human to him, but a grunting, panting, quivering mass of sweating, lust-deranged flesh that was begging for prolonged subjugation, was reveling in humiliation at being fucked by the evil, overweight unbeliever over her. She ground her buttocks lasciviously down into the cushions of the couch and the perspiration on her body and on the sales manager's skin glittered in the pale light of the desk lamp like moving diamonds.
al-Mazkum couldn't stand it much longer. He slowly slid his hands down and stroked his burgeoning cock through his pants. Then, unable to resist the temptation, he unbuckled his pants and let them drop around his feet. He lifted one leg, his eyes still feasting on the lewd adultery going on before him, and removed one shoe and one pant-leg. Then the other, and then his underpants. He moaned, transfixed, his cock jutting forward from his loin, pressing against the arm of the couch by Sid's feet. The soft, expensive fabric of the furniture against the head of his cock made an odd tingling sensation. He rubbed his thick shaft up and down in time to the rhythmic drubbings of the manager, Buchanan, and the politician's wife, DesirЋe, as the evil one fucked into the other innocent one mercilessly.
al-Mazkum watched with lust-filled eyes the actions on the couch, ready to crawl up on there with them to quench the fire raging through his penis and testicles. The sight of that virginal girl being buffeted by Buchanan without mercy was too much! Something had to give!
The great manipulator, Buchanan, cried out, "Oh, Jesus! I'm going to cum! I'm going… AAHHHHHHHHHHH!" His body froze in mid-stroke, then hurtled downward again in an insane fury as his climax struck and his white hot semen spewed out of his balls like lava from a volcano, inundating DesirЋe Denning's vagina, filling her womb to the overflowing; Khalid al-Mazkum could see his associate's hot sticky cum flow out around his cock and form a puddle on the expensive fabric beneath their sweating heaving bodies… Then Buchanan collapsed forward over the quivering woman, cooing his delight in her ears.
DesirЋe detected movement in the corner of her eye, but nothing mattered except the body of the man breathing hotly over her. It felt so good to be here like this, warm, loved, and full of the man's cream, soothing her hot vagina inside.
"Ya Allah," she heard a voice harshly grate. "You were right, Sid, you certainly were right! Her pussy really was climbing your cock!"
"Didn't I tell you I'd nail her? Heh, heh, be patient, if you want a little of her."
"Man, is she tender! If you don't fuck her to death, I will!"
Sid Buchanan chuckled lewdly and DesirЋe felt his deflating penis slip from her overused and ravaged vagina and his hands pull at her hips. She could sense the sucking withdrawal between her legs and the cool rush of air to her tortured loins, suddenly freed from the body of her husband's mentor. The pain that existed in her mind and in her loins was replaced by a different pain… that of unsatisfied desire. She had had an orgasm with Sid, but she needed more. She squeezed her buttocks together, almost beside herself, for the end of her torment was so far away. She writhed on the sofa, lost in the hedonistic world the liquor and her own betraying flesh had conjured up, and one hand strayed to her damp, hair-lined slit. She stroked into herself fretfully, trying to reach the impossible depths the vanished cock had a moment before.
In the distance she heard the rustle of clothing as the two men changed positions, and she trembled, half in fear and half from impatience. Then, male hands were searching over her again, pulling her thighs apart, urgent fingers parting the lips of her throbbing vagina, and a deep, guttural voice, a voice she knew but couldn't at the moment identify, rumbling as a storm cloud rumbles thunder from above in its guttural Arabic tones. "Come on, DesirЋe. Khalid is going to show you what fucking is all about!"
She gasped at the force of the powerful fingers… and the sudden blunt stab of a fiery pole of flesh. The new male dropped like a sack of concrete, smashing her tightly into the cushions. His thick penis found her tender hole and plunged into her hungrily waiting vagina, pushing the moist unresisting folds of pussy flesh in rippling waves before its smooth, tunneling head.
DesirЋe cried aloud at the quick, brutal impalement, surprised by its thickness. Her whole body twitched and writhed uncontrollably as she groaned out in helpless and abandoned welcome to the huge, punishing instrument sinking ever deeper in her cunt. But the pain was only momentary, and then the greedy walls of her vagina clasped around the fleshy cudgel hungrily, slithering up wetly to devour its length to its hilt. She groaned in relief at the filling of her wide-stretched cuntal passage as the Arab, his identity still unclear to the helpless young girl, began a heavy thrusting motion in her hungrily grinding pussy. She hissed her sex-fire between her clenched teeth, the inferno raging in her loins spurred on by the liquor and the obscene position she faintly realized that she was in. Through glazed, half-lidded eyes she saw the dark, swarthy form heaving above her. There was somebody else watching them from just a couple of feet away, which she knew instinctively was Sid Buchanan, though she couldn't make out the blurred image, which now wasn't important. The flames of growing lust boiled out of control, and there was nothing else in the world. No today, no tomorrow, no Mark; nothing save her deep hole of lust and flesh, of belly smacking belly, of cock heaving into cunt. DesirЋe Denning, ruled by the pagan instincts of her female biology, responded automatically, not caring who was driving so deeply in her, who was ready to burst his sperm into her vagina next. Her hands darted behind the man's driving buttocks, pulling him to her, spreading her legs wider and pulling them upwards until her feel waved in the air above the Arab.
Buchanan turned away from a sight he now found faintly disgusting. While he himself was fucking her, with her turning on like a vixen in heat, he had enjoyed looking at her passionately contorted face, but now, watching her excitement and body actions with the Arab's nondescript, circumcised cock, he felt a tiny pang of jealousy. She was one little hot-cunt bitch, he thought. Might as well get some mileage out of the sweet little pussy while the fires in it were lit, if she was going to forget so easily whose cock was reaming it.
Sid dressed and walked out into the party area, crossing to the dance floor and standing up on the bandstand so he could see all around the room and find the guest he was looking for. Then he saw him, Reg Fields, dancing with his lumpy wife. Reg controlled the funds from the consortium, the third part of the money that was going to capitalize the deal he was working on. Bounding down from the platform, he weaved his way between the dancing couples to Reg's side. Reg was a fat, jowly bastard, but he controlled a lot of capital and Sid thought, yes, they could really cement the deal now in a special way.
He took the pair aside and made conversation with them, flattering the unattractive woman and joking with her husband. "Ruth," Sid said to the man's wife after about fifteen minutes. "Could you excuse us? I've got some important business to discuss with Reg." He watched the smile on her face fade slightly as she nodded and moved away to the punchbowl. "Follow me, Reg."
Reg looked up at Sid with bloodshot, droopy, basset hound eyes. "Don't tell me something has gone wrong," he said, walking beside Buchanan toward the study. "I mean, I'm committed to the deal and if anything happens wrong, I'll have to pay penalties."
"No chance of that, Reg," Sid assured him. "Not now." He opened the door quietly and Reg came into the study, standing silently for a moment before he noticed what was happening. His mouth dropped open and he stared at the two people on the couch. The lovely, blonde girl's legs were sticking up in the air as the swarthy man moved on her, her incredibly well-formed breasts jarring on her chest with each deep stroke, his dark-skinned cock clearly visible stroking in and out of her tender, fat-lipped, hair-fringed vagina.
"For fuck sakes!" Reg breathed in awe. "Isn't that… isn't that Mark Denning's singing wife?" He had seen her at the last party and had much admired her musical virtuosity.
Sid made a show of looking and noticing. "Well, I'll be damned, I do believe it is."
Sid had never seen the fat man's eyes so wide. "But, that isn't Denning there with her."
The other man shook his head knowingly. "No, it's not. Looks to me like she's taking all comers."
"Well," Reg said incredulously, "it looks like she is."
Buchanan nodded. "How'd you like a turn? Just to christen our deal."
"Who, me? No, you don't mean…"
"Sure. You're not averse, are you?"
Reg was speechless for a moment and then, after a disbelieving hesitation, began undressing. "Haven't had anything like that for years."
"Kind of a way to bring all parties together on the deal. You see, politician's wives do have their uses."
While Reg bared his shapeless body, they watched the erotic action on the couch, and were startled by the sudden cries of al-Mazkum.
"I'm cumming – oh, you little, Christian bitch, you're making my cock shoot! Fuck harder! Fuck harder!" came the maniacal voice above her. "Uuuuhhhhhhhhh!"
Her juices flowed wetly out around his still-pounding prick, trickling down the splayed crevice of her buttocks over her tight, twitching anus, and mingled with the spent seed of Buchanan's orgasm, both inside of her and out.
"Give it to her," the Sid-voice goaded excitedly from somewhere in the distance. "Shoot it in her!"
Spurred on by the words and DesirЋe's greedily twisting body below, al-Mazkum dug yet deeper into the girl, forcing her legs yet farther back, doubling her in half, fucking her like a pile-driving machine out of control. He groaned loudly, roared like a lion, and DesirЋe felt more hot waves of his sperm shooting into her dilated cunt, mixing lasciviously with the pool Sid Buchanan had throbbed into her before. Her head whirled in depraved sensuality as the powerful spurts surged wildly in her, filling her to the bursting point with its sticky wetness. The burning walls of her vagina clasped and unclasped desperately like a starving mouth, and she was utterly caught up in the lewd web of ecstasy. She opened her mouth for a soundless scream…
And her own second, blinding orgasm struck!
There, in Buchanan's study, being fucked half to death by a man she could not identify, DesirЋe Denning was totally reduced to a churning mass of sensual jelly in that instant. Great flashes of pinwheel light sparkled before her tightly shut eyes, and pleasure so acute that it bordered on pain consumed every fiber of her being. She heard but did not hear the wild sluicing sounds of Khalid al-Mazkum's ejaculating penis sawing in and out between her legs, felt but did not feel the fleshy smackings of his sperm-loaded testicles against her tingling, twitching anus – knew only that she was grunting out her climax and was nearly out of her mind with its magnificence.
But suddenly, Reg was tugging on the Arab's arm. "Come on, man, it's my turn."
Grumbling, the Arab backed off. As soon as the Arab's still dripping penis pulled free of her vaginal embrace, Reg hoisted his ungainly bulk over her, reached under the hang of his pot belly, grasped his cock and directed the broad tip into the swampy hole of DesirЋe's vagina. He sighed loudly as he slid into the fleshy squeeze of her now sperm-flooded sex hole. Her smaller, slender body was almost buried out of sight by the man's gelatinous bulk and he began making hard, deep fuckstrokes into her pussy. To the other watching, satiated men, his body moved liked a walrus blobbing its way across a stretch of sand.
DesirЋe could hardly breath, and were it not for the grossly different shape of the body of the man over her, she would hardly have noticed the change. The sangria and her level of arousal had clouded her discernment and ability to differentiate her feelings. Rather that feeling the localized sensation of his penis in her vagina, she felt a large, hot ball of pleasure glowing in the center of her womb. Her head was pounding with a pleasing ache, and her body moved and undulated with the waves of his quivering fat. One of her legs curled around his wobbly ass and, more than goading his heavy thrusts into her, used it to squeeze her steaming pussy and tingling clitoris up to his soft pubis and thick, deeply invading cock.
As he wheezed out his pleasure and came to orgasm in just ten minutes, DesirЋe's voice accompanied his and they howled out his and her final orgasms.
She collapsed then, her firm young body drained of everything, her limbs loosely spread on the sofa as Reg Fields' grip was released, and he rolled his flabby bulk awkwardly off her. She lay spread-eagled as she felt his heavy weight lift from her and free air flowed over her sweat-soaked skin and she felt too tired to move a muscle. Sid's voice spoke in the distance as she faded into a peaceful doze.
"What about her husband?" Reg asked, as he began to dress.
"I don't think she'll tell him," Buchanan chuckled as he peered in at the comatose young wife of his new captive politician. "He'll never know. Take my word for it. She won't ever spill what happened to her tonight. We'll tell old Mark-boy that his little darling had too much to drink and fell asleep. True enough; we just won't add about the part in between the too much to drink and the falling asleep. He'll take her up to bed and maybe fuck her for sloppy fourths. Now, come on."
"You son of a bitch, Sid," al-Mazkum said approvingly, reaching for a leg of the piteous, spent little wife, lifting it so he could catch a look of her cute little vagina, it's matted, swampy curls, and the stream of white cream that ran out of it. "You earned my support tonight for your plans. Don't worry, after fucking this sweet little woman, you've got my unending support."
"Mine too," Fields said.
"Good," Sid said. "While she's pooped out there, let me show you what I've got. Come over here to the computer." Buchanan, not a good typist, used one finger to slowly type his password into the computer.
The Arab sat at one of the chairs while the fat man stood behind him, and in the dark the three men looked at the screen of the VDU.
"You know that I know what I'm doing," Sid said. "Remember, I showed you last week when I made you a quick three million on that one lone deal. As I told you, I've got a whole batch of bigger and better deals right here. I've been working on this list for years. Now we're ready to spring the trap tomorrow. Well, I told you about all that."
"Yes, it sounded very interesting."
"So, I've got it all laid out in this email, which I send tomorrow. My brokerage firm makes the buys at three, and the stock markets are closed for the weekend before anyone can figure out what we're doing and move against us. By Monday, we'll own and control so much, they won't be able to stop us. We triple our money and keep buying."
Khalid al-Mazkum nodded. He had heard it all before and tested the theory. The risk was minimal because of the inside information Buchanan had from his jackals and the size of the investment meant huge rewards. He looked at the open window with the line-up of companies and the number of shares that would be bought.
"What's that?" he asked, pointing to an icon.
"Oh, that's volatilities," Buchanan answered. "Very risky. I've got inside information on them as well. To be avoided at all costs right now. If you bet on them to go up five ticks, and they do, then you can make money, but these are going down. They're especially dangerous right now because – and I've got inside information on this – something it going to happen to wreck their stocks. Kaflooey. So we steer clear of these. This other one here is the list of buys I'm emailing in the morning."
Khalid turned toward the girl. "She is very beautiful. I'd like to fuck her again sometime."
Buchanan smiled. "You'll have plenty of opportunity when we get her husband into the government and we're controlling him and dozens of other politicians. Her father is a rich lawyer, but we'll have enough to buy him a million times over. But we'd better leave her little cunt to rest. It's had a hell of a workout today."
The Arab looked down at the sleeping girl, to her pale-haired vagina leaking a stream of white sperm onto the expensive sofa. "Should we dress her, cover her up?"
"Hell, no, leave her to cool off. Leave the little slut to dress herself. We'd better get back to the party."
And the three sexually satisfied men went back to their wives and the dancing.
After the men had left her lewdly exposed and used, lying on the couch, DesirЋe opened her eyes and began to sob. Little slut! Little slut? She had been used and abused all day long by men, and she felt betrayed and angry. Buchanan had never been her friend, had never wanted to help her, and minutes before, as he had held himself over her sliding his cock so pleasurably up and down in the warm, vulnerable sleeve of her vagina, the memory of doing it with him last week had come back to her, strangely forgotten yet now magically remembered. He had fucked her, slithered into her bed and her body, while Mark was lying unconscious beside her. Had told her that he hoped to make her pregnant so that she would have his baby. It was all clear in her mind now, and how she had forgotten, and how she had trusted him tonight, she did not know.
Her body had glowed, burned, seethed with joy as he had plunged his cock back and forth in her traitorous vagina, but now she hated him, for he had once again induced her to be unfaithful to Mark. She could trust no one, it seemed. She longed now to be with Mark, but she had lost track of him tonight and ended up doing filthy things with three men on this couch in the study.
For too long she had been meek and ladylike, benevolent and unselfish, and men had just taken advantage of her and what appeared to be a terrible weakness in her personality, that of desire to be made love to. Well, it was time to get even. Yes, to get even with Buchanan, for he had taken advantage of her trust and passed her off as a toy to that disgusting Arab and the other man.
But she had an idea for revenge, which Buchanan himself had just now shown her.
Still completely naked, she went to the desk and looked at the computer's monitor. She opened the two files that the men had been talking about, the Big Deal file and the other, the volatility file that Sid had said listed issues that were to be avoided. She opened the word processor and made a new file, a swap file, switching the information so that the two files ended up containing the information for the other. She did some altering of numbers on the Big Deal file so that they reflected a similar number of contracts that it had for the other issues. Then she saved and closed them.
That ought to ruin his whole day, at least throw his deal behind schedule so that it could not be completed before the weekend.
DesirЋe felt the Arab's, or was it Sid's, semen leaking from her vagina and used a tissue from a box on the desk to mop it up. She wanted a shower, but first she wanted to find out where Mark was. She missed him so much. She loved him with all her heart and she hoped that someday he would forgive her for what she had done out of weakness. What she had done to Buchanan's files would cause the Great Manipulator some trouble, however, there was still Clete and the other two vile men to deal with, and that would take some thought.
Priscilla watched Lightning paw the ground and give a tug at the reins, which she had tied to a branch, while she carried on with her target practice. She didn't know why she was so obsessed with practicing hitting little beer cans when she would only need to hit a warm body from a few feet away. Yes, five or six shots into DesirЋe's vitals at point blank would put her well and painfully out of the picture, so why was she going through five boxes of fifty practicing? She supposed it calmed her, but the noise was doing nothing for Lightning, who was excitable at best.
The girl kicked the empty boxes aside and holstered her weapon. She already knew where she was going to do it and how, and she had the grave already dug, ironically on the southeast corner of the Mitchell property. If they ever found the body, it would not be on Devereaux land.
She had done some investigating about guns and ballistics. She knew that to keep her gun from being linked to the killing, she had only to remove the barrel, clamp it in a vise and twist it off with a crowbar or something, just a very small thing to have to bury deep somewhere in the great outdoors. Of course, a shotgun was untraceable and would make a real nice mess, but it was much too large to conceal, if anyone should see her before the act that would expunge DesirЋe from the landscape of Priscilla's future with Mark Denning.
She was set to start renewing her relationship with Mark, when he returned from the capital, so that when his wife disappeared, she could be the first to console him. He was a real catch now, with his political star rising through his close association with the super-capitalist Sid Buchanan, and her father Big Jim Devereaux could never call him a no-account small-timer now.
Mark Denning, US Senator! That was in the offing, she had read, and from there, could it be the White House? He was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen, a Clark Gable without the false teeth, a John Kennedy with infinitely more principle and without the uncontrollable lechery. But of course, when Mark belonged to her again, she would control his lechery and keep it all for herself, with the blonde bitch DesirЋe in the ground in some unknown spot out in the hills, while her dashing husband thought she had run off with another man. By the time everyone had begun to see through that falsehood, the trail would have gone long cold and they would not dig up her bones until a hundred years from now when Priscilla's and Mark's own great-grandchildren decided to build a shopping center there.
Priscilla reloaded, aimed, and sent a tin can flying.
Nigel Harmsworth, Buchanan's English butler, stood by the bedroom door with the portable cordless phone and listened to the commotion coming from inside. Things were getting rather wild in there, by the sound of it, and he hated to disturb his employer, but Harry Wickes had stressed the urgency of the message, demanding to talk to Buchanan without fail.
But peeking through the crack in the door and watching the action on the bed, he wondered if he dared interrupt. The sight was erotic in the extreme as Mr. Buchanan lay there, his flabby body quivering while his massive penis pointed straight up from his belly, disappearing and reappearing into the pink-lipped vagina of the girl humping up and down over him. Nigel strained his eyes to see, for while he was very proper to all outward appearances, while no one was watching, he was just as interested in sex as the next man, and he enjoyed the occasional session of voyeurism. The girl's pink, tender, inner pussy-flesh clung to the withdrawing shaft, vanishing back inside as her plump, creamy, round buttocks descended. Each time the lovely cheeks rose, they parted and revealed the delicious, tight dimple of her anus and its surrounding, pale halo. From this angle, he could also see a bit of the taut mounds of her breasts as they swung over the man's face while he licked at the pink nipples.
The girl's husband, Nigel knew, was this afternoon locked in an important, protracted meeting with Khalid al-Mazkum, and if he knew his employer, the next thing on the agenda would be another long meeting with Buchanan while the Arab took his place with the girl.
But Harry Wickes had been very insistent, and Nigel was afraid not to at least give his employer a chance to talk to the stock broker. He rapped gently at the door, and through the small gap saw the lovely blonde girl's hips freeze in position on the downstroke.
"Yeah," came Buchanan's breathless reply.
"It's your stock broker, Harry Wickes, sir," Nigel called in his precise British diction. "He says it's very important."
DesirЋe looked at Buchanan, and he looked back at her. He saw the look of alarm on her face when he called back to Nigel, "All right, come on in."
She made a move to jump off him and hide beneath the sheets, but Sid reached up and gripped her hips, pinning her to him with his throbbing cock, now near to coming, thrust full-length in her belly.
Trying not to look at the lovely, lewdly-exposed and quivering young woman, Nigel walked over to the side of the bed and handed Sid the phone, and the prone man looked up and mouthed the words, "Go, baby, go," to DesirЋe, using one of his hands to guide her back into her up and down fucking motions. After a short hesitation, she began moving again, making embarrassing wet sounds that Nigel could hear as her sweet vagina glided back and forth over the big man's cock. She was terribly embarrassed, but the fires of arousal burned in her belly and the butler's untimely interruption had not quenched them. Now, as Sid urged her to move again, his massive, joy-giving presence inside her made her gasp with a rekindled passion.
Sheepishly, she glanced up at the butler, who was looking down his nose at her, saw his gaze switch briefly to the point behind and beneath her where Sid's cock was entering her. Her hands on his broad chest, she tried to listen as Buchanan put the phone to his ear.
"This isn't the best time, Harry," Sid growled, and then, "Oh, Dez, that's it," as her hot, squeezing pussy clamped wetly down on his cock.
DesirЋe herself, besides being utterly mortified at being watched by the butler bouncing up and down on Buchanan's deeply-piercing penis, was shamed that he was also carrying on a conversation with the stock broker while her body worked against her mind to find the orgasm she was trying to achieve.
Sid had called her in this morning after involving Mark in what was supposed to be an important meeting with the detestable Arab. He had not listened to her feeble protests as he pulled her to the bed and began touching her in those places Mark had not touched her for weeks, for last night he had come to bed very late and quite drunk and had fallen immediately asleep. DesirЋe, for the first time in a long time, felt no resentment, for she was completely satisfied sexually and on top of that she felt utterly contaminated and untouchable.
She found him ugly and disgusting, but he could somehow make her soul burn with need, which his huge penis did a good job of satisfying. What had once been a difficult stretch was now a cunt-searing fullness that caused the juices to stream out of her.
"Yeah, Harry, what is it?"
Harry's voice sounded strained and timid, but he wasted no words. "This email you sent me…"
"Yeah, yeah," Sid said impatiently. "Get to it."
"But, Sid, some of these issues are very dangerous."
Sid thought he meant that he thought there was some insider trading going on, so he said, "Don't worry about that. It's all been planned very carefully and researched. It's got to be done today, or I lose a fortune."
Harry cleared his throat. "But from what I see, you might lose that anyway, looking at these…"
"What's wrong with them?"
"Well, they don't even add up," Harry protested.
DesirЋe, terrified, heard his question and tensed at the beginning of a downstroke, and the tension was transmitted to her vaginal muscles. Sid groaned in extreme pleasure and arched his cock up into her. All at once the most important thing in the world was DesirЋe's sucking pussy hole.
"They add up, I've already checked it. In the end they'll add up. I know what I'm doing. Damn it, Harry, I'm fucking, and you're fucking it up for me. Who works for who, anyway? Don't, ugh, ugh, ugh, question my, ugh, judgment. Just do it. It's got to be done before the closing bell today. Got it?"
"Not buts, just do it, Harry, or I'll get myself another broker."
"It's a lot of volume."
"You can handle it, so handle it," he shouted, and handed the phone back to the butler.
"I'm sorry, sir," Nigel said solicitously.
"Never mind, just get out of here. You're making DesirЋe nervous."
The groaning and grunting of the copulating pair filled the room and Nigel crossed to the door and he turned for a last glance at the beautiful blonde's bottom as Buchanan filled her pussy with his sperm. His last look was at the throbbing penis of his employer as streaks of white cream ran down it from her clasping vagina to his big, rolling testicles. Cooing contentedly, DesirЋe collapsed forward over the big man, and Nigel's last sight of the dear girl was the winking, pink eye of her anus staring at him from between her sweaty, splayed buttocks, while her honeyed cunt sucked happily on the softening penis inside it.
Half an hour later, DesirЋe rolled her damp softness off Sid's sweating mass and lay her cheek on his outstretched arm.
Softly and in a small voice, she said, "I hope that never happens again."
"Dumb ass, Harry Wickes," Sid grumbled. "Ruined the best moment of my life, just because he can't take orders the first time." He curled his arm around her and held one of her big tits gently in his hand. "DesirЋe, you've been a real good girl. I won't forget it. Mark will have my total support."
She closed her eyes at the mention of her beloved, though hurting worse for she felt more the whore. "Thank you," she said, almost inaudibly.
An hour later they had showered and dressed, and she was looking forward to being away from Buchanan as he led her along a hall of bedrooms upstairs. He stopped before one door. She looked up.
"Is this…?" she started, wondering if this was where Mark was.
"Be a good girl, Dez," Buchanan said, and opened the door, taking her into a room where Khalid al-Mazkum sat on the bed, grinning.
"I've had a real good day here, Dez," Mark said, sitting down on the bed and kicking off his shoes. He looked at his dear young wife. She looked positively exhausted, even though it was just early in the evening, eight o'clock. Her skin was still glowing with the effects of the long, hot shower she had taken – her third of the day – before climbing into bed, and her hair was still damp from the shampooing. "You must have had a hard day just sitting around with the women. Anyway, we made some good progress on the campaign and funding. For all my misgivings, I think I'm in good company here. Sid's already given me a big campaign fund. Baby, I'm on my way." He reached out, touched her on the cheek, and found her sound asleep. Why she should be so tired, he did not know. He was the one who had to spend six hours with two of the world's most obnoxious people. Perhaps it had been the long drive up yesterday, but whatever it was that had sapped her strength, she looked like she was resting up from it.
Too bad. He had wanted to talk to her intimately, to tell her he wanted to be more loving to her, and that he would forget what had happened, that it didn't matter, wasn't her fault. They were going to be loving newlyweds again, just as they were meant to be. If the image of Lobo mounting DesirЋe's kneeling body ever occurred to him again – But no, he wasn't even going to think about it. Life was going to be good for them after this, very exciting, very fulfilling.
Back in Pickford's Meadows, life seemed perfectly normal over the weekend after their return on Saturday. The town was all abuzz with the news of Clete's latest hunting party, the wounding of one of the dogs, and how Jim Devereaux had advanced Clete several thousand dollars expense money.
DesirЋe had called Robyn and made an excuse for leaving her and Tanya so suddenly a few days before. Of course she withheld the story of her abduction and seduction by not one but ultimately three men. It was something she couldn't afford to tell anyone now, after telling Helen Buchanan, a mistake that led to her vile seduction in that woman's husband's study. No, those incredibly sordid stories could not be told to anyone, for the truth was mind-boggling. DesirЋe, by one means or other had had sexual intercourse with six different men in the matter of only two days, and she felt very unworthy of even being touched by her own wonderful husband.
She had found Robyn strangely subdued, though the grief she had vented at their last meeting seemed to have given way to a more mature attitude. Perhaps she had found a way of dealing with her uncle's demands, or perhaps she was carrying on with the affair and had changed her outlook toward the situation. Still, she was staying at the Devereaux home, though she admitted to having been at her parents', the Mitchells' home every night since DesirЋe's leaving suddenly for the Capital.
Rodney, on the strength of the pictures he had taken, had received a modest advance for a book, to be entitled The Devils of Pickford's Meadows, and a hefty fee for a magazine article detailing what had happened so far.
DesirЋe didn't know why, but the mere mention of Lobo, the dogpack leader, gave her the chills. She still had nightmares of being mounted and raped, in the way some other women in the neighborhood were claimed to have been, with two recurring scenarios: one, taken to bed by three men and then being invaded by the dog, and the other in a situation when she was forced to submit herself to save Mark from being killed by the dog. It was all the more real to her, since last night she had dreamed the first dream again, and two of the men present before the dog's arrival were those who had taken advantage of her at the Pace mansion.
Had it been rape? She had responded, in a natural way, but yes, the one with the gun had coerced her, frightened her into cooperating. What about after that, when the nice one had held her, and pleasured her with his thing inside her, and whispered softly to her? By then, she had no ill feelings toward him, and again had responded when the crazy one had entered her from behind. Oh, it was all so confusing. It just seemed that since Mark had started being cold toward her, the mere touch of a man, any man, was enough to arouse her. However, though she had been aroused several times, it had been other undue influences that had brought her to the ultimate physical acts that she now so regretted. Could Mark ever forgive her? But, no, he must never find out. It would spoil his feelings for her forever, to know what a slut she had been.
And with Clete. With Clete! A black man that she detested. Right now, the thought of having a black man's penis inside her made her sick. So why had she responded like a broody whore?
Rodney had spoken to her and he seemed very happy with his recent nibble of success. At least they had the money to pay their bills back home. And it seemed that they had been seeing quite a bit of Robyn Young lately, which made DesirЋe happy for she hated to see her friend lonely while she had been away so much with Mark.
After returning to town, Sunday had been quiet and she had done her usual solos with the choir at church, the choir she herself had trained. She felt like such a hypocrite even showing her face in church and letting people think, because of her presence there, that she was a good and pious person when she was actually no better, in her own eyes, than the lowest whore, and probably a bit worse.
Mark had made love to her Sunday night, finally, for the first time in a long time. Her pussy had still been a trifle sore from the drubbing it had taken by all those uninvited cocks in the previous few days, but it had felt very good, and very physically satisfying, though her pangs of conscience had stopped her short of total and complete emotional fulfillment.
Oh, would she ever feel clean again? Would she ever be the sweet and innocent girl she had been the week before, before going to meet Clete at the station and seeing that she had already committed adultery with him at a time she hadn't remembered, seduced back there in the mists of her unremembered past by Priscilla Devereaux and drugs.
Yes, that had been it. Priscilla, her enemy, had tried to corrupt and destroy her. Obviously, the motive had been jealousy, and her desire for Mark, whom she had lost before his meeting DesirЋe. Priscilla Devereaux, spoiled, selfish, and evil, had caused much of the hurt that DesirЋe was experiencing. How had she ever trusted that malicious young woman for a moment, enough to share an evening and a bottle of wine with her while she arranged a situation in which Clete could penetrate her tender body with his huge, black penis and be photographed in the act? It had been the end of her innocence and the beginning of her downfall, though she had never desired anything wrong, never sneaked away intending to do anything behind Mark's back.
She was feeling hate now for the people who had done this to her, Priscilla, Clete, those two abductors, and Buchanan and those other awful men, one whose name she did not even know. The amazing thing was that she had forgotten so much, had lived in blissful ignorance, until she had somehow recalled some horrible events, like the first time with Clete and the first time with Buchanan. How had she sublimated those things? Were there more disgusting things that she would remember some day, that perhaps had something to do with her recurring nightmares?
Now, she had learned to hate the people who had wronged her innocence. She had so much hoped to cause Buchanan difficulties with her altering of his computer files, but Mark had been on the phone with the great manipulator just this Monday morning, and no hint of a problem had there been. Probably just a minor nuisance, perhaps set right by the stock broker, Harry Wickes. DesirЋe was no expert on stocks, but she knew the general principles. Maybe they had seen through her alterations. As Harry had said, they didn't even add up. Who could know what they had found in the end? But she had no intention of letting Buchanan get away with what he had done. She would keep her eyes wide open, and someday, somehow, she would get even. And she vowed she would never be alone with that man ever, ever again.
It was only ten AM and she was very upset. She had never done it before so early in the day, but she felt like a glass of wine. So she poured herself one.
Billy Canning and Sam Quaid sat in the coffee shop just a few doors down and across the street from the police station. Billy was chain-smoking and Sam was beginning to get tired of the smoke. Plates of half-eaten, greasy food sat in from of them and Sam was getting tired of hanging around.
Sam was scared. Everywhere he turned, things were looking slippery. Billy was hyper, packing pistols, and Sam was sure he was going to make a move against Clete, a very badly-thought-out move that would backfire and leave them in the shit. He wanted to run, get away, and let Billy hang himself his own way. Sam figured that by now he had been loyal enough and it was time to start looking out for himself. Billy had changed completely from the school chum he had been into a paranoid-psychotic on the verge of exploding. He was obsessed with killing Clete to avenge his brother Johnny. And the more he panted and sweated and snorted coke and smoked hash and swallowed pills, the worse he got. There was no way he would ever be normal again this side of detox.
But he would never surrender himself to treatment. One needed to be at least slightly rational to do that, and he wasn't even that.
"We're gonna take him today," Billy said, and Sam read the insanity in his bloodshot eyes and knew it was true.
"You got a plan?"
Billy looked at his friend, twitching in a way that reminded him of a rat.
"Let's talk about it."
She used a silk cloth to polish the.38 special revolver, and she very carefully wiped all fingerprints from the bullet casings wearing surgical gloves as she inserted them in the cylinder. She didn't want to leave anything lying around that could be traced back to her. She had gone into the farm workshop and used the grinder to remove the registration numbers from the gun. She had been smart enough not to get a stainless steel weapon, for she hoped that a short time in the ground or in a river would make the gun completely untraceable, just in case she had missed something.
Priscilla had made her plans for the day, and top of the list was to kill DesirЋe in the forest and bury her body in a deep hole, which she had already dug. Priscilla's muscles were still sore from the effort, though she had been clever enough to wear gloves and avoid blistering her hands. Of course, it was not something she could give to one of the farm hands to do, and besides, it was on the Mitchell farm, in a remote corner of the property where only a psychic would think of looking.
Hate and thoughts of revenge had ruled the girl's life for over a week, and she was decided about whom to blame for her humiliation. Yes, she had set DesirЋe up for Clete to fuck her and be filmed in the act, though the planned blackmail had gone awry when the sheriff had stolen the video tape. But being made to have sex with a black man was nothing compared to being raped by three dogs while wallowing in one's own feces, which was what DesirЋe had made happen to Priscilla. Though the older girl had no concrete evidence of it, she could not think of anyone else with a motive for making the anonymous phone call that had lured her into unspeakable degradation.
Following the incident Priscilla had spent several days in a mental ward, struggling to deal with the reality of it, and of course, she had had to have surgical repairs to her vagina and anus after the bolting dogs had torn the bulge of their penises from the lock of her muscles. She had felt so humiliated, and still did, that ideas of revenge had swirled in her brain twenty-four hours a day. Since she had no way of finding the canine perpetrators except by seeing her father offer huge rewards to the mercenary sheriff, she had decided to go straight to the author of her misery. Killing violently the big-eyed, innocent, blonde piano teacher who had alienated Mark's affections was the only way Priscilla knew of exorcising the demons in her heart. To do it secretly would accomplish all her ends without jeopardizing her own existence and future with DesirЋe's husband.
Picking up the phone, Priscilla dialed DesirЋe's number. It was picked up on the fifth ring.
"Hello," came DesirЋe's faintly forlorn-sounding voice.
Priscilla hung up before the greeting was repeated. She knew that the blonde bitch was home. She packed the revolver, two boxes of cartridges, three speed loaders, and a pen and paper into a Gucci bag, and walked out of the house, passing the half-open door of her father's bedroom and hearing the excited moans of her cousin Robyn coming from inside.
Things have really changed lately, Priscilla thought. Though maybe not for the worse. At least Daddy's fucking someone.
It was a form of spying on her husband, Tanya knew, as she accompanied him to the sheriff's office. They had injured one of the – to her – loving animals and she and Liz considered it a smart move to quiz Rodney discreetly about Clete's activities in tracking them down. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep track of the dogs, though Tanya figured that they had a lair somewhere on a remote part of the Mitchell property – from which they made frequent visits to the reporter's lonely young wife at the house.
Tanya had insisted on coming along for this meeting and Rodney, much more concerned about her since the three occasions when he had enjoyed threesomes with her and Robyn, was happy to see her interest in his work.
Clete was standing at the front counter when they walked in. She had seen him before and detested his cockiness and his savage animal presence. It seemed as if his mammoth muscles would burst through his shirt at any moment. She had never liked black men, and couldn't stand this one. She had seen the lovely Nancy Pace a couple of times in town and she wondered that she could let this beast touch her at all, much less consent to marry him. But then, some women liked the exotic. Tanya, however, admitted that her feelings toward him could have been influenced by the knowledge that he was hunting her loving pets.
Clete eyed her briefly as they came in, and gave Rodney a brief smile.
"Thanks for showing your pictures to Devereaux," Clete said. "It secured me an advance." He lit a cigarette and motioned them to some chairs at a table near the door. "Of course, it's just expenses, but I'm thinking of renting a good bloodhound to track them."
"Good idea," Rodney said, sitting down with Tanya, toying with the SLR camera that he took everywhere with him. "I've had some pretty good advances myself lately. I dashed off the story and sent it to TIME. You're going to be the most famous lawman since J. Edgar Hoover within a few days, and I'm going to be out of debt."
"Lucky you," Clete said, taking an indolent drag on his cigarette. "But I won't be getting married until I've made at least one kill."
Lucky Nancy, Tanya thought, noticing the way his huge penis lay down against the inside of his left leg, the head delineated through the fabric of his trousers. It was huge! No woman could take that. Though when she thought of Bruno and Lobo, she admitted there was a rivalry. Funny that Clete should be chasing the other two biggest dicks in the county.
"Like a drink?" Clete asked, going to a cupboard behind the counter.
"Are you on duty?" Rodney asked.
Clete winked. "I got a duty to the man who's made me famous," he said, pouring Scotch liberally into some glasses.
Lobo ran at the head of his three younger offspring, Dusty, Sandy, and Bruno along a trail they had found a few days before. It was not a trail that a man would see, for it was a scent trail, and they were following the familiar scent of a human female, a scent they knew fairly well, harking back to the time among the big rocks near the Pace mansion where they had hurriedly enjoyed this female, and where they had also met the kind male who worked at the church. They were in rut, as usual, and the scent of the woman drew them toward what they expected would lead to gratification.
They broke suddenly into a large clearing among the trees and Lobo skipped aside to avoid falling into a deep hole beside a mound of earth. There was a shovel there, and a pair of gloves lay nearby, where the woman's scent was strongest. They sniffed and looked around, but were disappointed that there were no soft female buttocks to mount and no wet and fragrant female hole to sink their throbbing canine penises into. Their search had been tiring and they lay down there to rest. Soon it would be time to seek food, either from the young woman living down at the blonde female's house, or from Lobo's original mistress in another locale. If the doors were closed there, then they would have to hunt for a sheep or another animal. Or some carrion.
But right now they would rest.
Mark Denning drove a bit over the speed limit on his way back from Buchanan's house. He had been driving all that day, starting early in the morning, for an important meeting, but when he got there at 11:00 AM, he had found the big man in an agitated state, screaming imprecations over the phone, railing at his butler Nigel, picking up ringing phones, screaming more imprecations, slamming the receiver down, and calling for his secretary to get this or that man on the phone.
After fifteen minutes of that chaos, he had finally been nice enough to tell Mark that their appointment had been overridden by a huge crisis and that he would call him when things were sorted out.
Mark, ever responsible to his elected duties, got into his car and hurried off down the interstate, hoping to get back to Pickford's Meadows in time to deal with some things that now seemed quite mundane when compared to his new activities for the State Senate. He checked his watch and calculated that at his present speed he would arrive within two hours, perhaps less. Maybe there would even be time for a late lunch with DesirЋe, a bit of romance, and a chance for sex this evening. Did she need him as much as he needed her?
Priscilla braked her car in front of DesirЋe's home and sat there, trying to dominate the rage that, if she let it show, would spoil her plans. The Denning home was nice, though just a small three-bedroom and heavily mortgaged, a state that would alter for the better if Mark was elected.
She knocked on the door and waited a long time before DesirЋe opened. The blonde girl's face fell when she saw her nemesis standing there on the porch, and Priscilla was smiling so sweetly that her tender heart softened and she returned the smile, though a bit half-heartedly.
"Priss, what brings you here?"
"Just a friendly visit, Dez," Priscilla replied, stepping inside the door just a foot. "I was missing you."
DesirЋe was puzzled. "Missing me?"
"Yes, after our last evening together, I thought we had something special."
The innocent blonde blushed deeply and looked at the floor. "I-I didn't think we should be repeating that. It's not really my nature."
Priscilla touched DesirЋe's arm warmly. "Sweetheart, from the way it went, I thought it was completely in your nature."
"But-but you drugged me," the blonde protested.
"Not at all," Priscilla lied. "Unless you call pouring you a glass of wine drugging you. And, if my sharp nose doesn't deceive me, you do like wine."
DesirЋe, confused, looked up. "Would you like a glass?"
The older girl put her arm around DesirЋe's shoulders and walked with her into the small living room. "Sure, and we'll talk."
Priscilla got her glass of wine, but she hardly touched it, sitting across from DesirЋe and bringing up the subject of their last meeting, when the older girl had seduced the younger into a lesbian embrace which later gave way to sex with Clete when he had seemed to appear out of nowhere.
"I just don't remember all that well," DesirЋe said in a small voice. "But I wasn't raised that way. I know I didn't want to do those things."
"Neither did I," the other girl said, her eyes filling with crocodile tears. "But – Clete was blackmailing me, yes, me too. He said he wanted to fuck you and photograph you, so he could make it a regular thing and use you against Mark. He hates Mark. He'll use anyone and anything to destroy your husband. And, he's obsessed with you. Forget Nancy, he wants you, but he can't have you until Mark is out of the picture."
"He was blackmailing you?"
"Is he still?"
Priscilla nodded in feigned distress. "Dez, we've got to stop him."
"But I stole the video, the other day. I destroyed it."
The older girl's eyes opened wide. "But didn't you know, darling. He's also got two rolls of still shots that he made me take. Don't you remember, or were you so turned on you couldn't see. He's got pictures of you that are every bit as bad as the video. Negatives, the lot."
DesirЋe's face dissolved into despair, and she covered her face with her hands. "Oh, no, Priss! I don't think I can bear it! What am I going to do?"
Priscilla put her hand on the girl's shoulder in sympathy, sitting close beside her on the couch, kissing her cheek like a Judas. "What are we going to do, Dez? He's got me as well."
The young blonde looked up. "He's got to be stopped. Mark can't know about what he made me do. He just can't!"
DesirЋe began to cry but the other girl hushed her. "Crying isn't going to get us anywhere, Dez. We've got to stop him ourselves."
"We've got to go to him and threaten him. Make sure he knows that if he doesn't stop blackmailing us, he's going to go down all the way. Threaten to tell Nancy."
"But you said to forget Nancy."
"Maybe he doesn't feel the same for her as he does for you, Dez, but he knows he can't have you, and she's his only chance of respectability in this community. If he loses her and Mark gets him thrown out of his job, then he's in deep shit."
DesirЋe cringed at the coarse language. "He's got just as much to lose as we, doesn't he?"
"That's right, but he's got to know that we mean business."
"Priss!" DesirЋe exclaimed, remembering what the two young men had told her. "He killed that boy. Remember, the one they found in somebody's cow field? Clete killed him."
Priscilla stopped, her eyes narrowing. "How do you know."
"Because-because his brother told me. But he was sheriff, so he could cover it up and make it look like the dogs did it. He's an evil man, Priss, and I'm afraid of him."
"Well, we've got to confront him. He's out hunting the dogs right now, for the reward. He's killed people just to get the reward raised, and my dad's put up the money."
"Yes – why?"
The older girl felt her composure cracking as her mind touched on why her father had put such a high bounty on the dogpack. Of course DesirЋe knew why. It was she that had arranged Priscilla's own rape and degradation by the dogs! But she brought herself back to the matter at hand; the other girl mustn't know that she knew. "He had his reasons, so never mind. We've got our own problems, like bringing Clete into line."
"I wonder if he'll ever be punished for what he's done, to you and me and that boy."
"Let's get started on it then. We'll go meet him right now. Talk to him face to face. He's up in the hills by your farm now. It's a good place to talk where no one will hear what's being said."
"Is he alone? Rodney likes to go with him."
"If he is, we'll ask him for some privacy, but I just saw Rodney in town at the cafЋ."
DesirЋe nodded. "That's better. Should we go now?"
"Right now, kid, while the time is right."
DesirЋe went and put on some jeans and a T-shirt.
Ten minutes later they were driving down Main Street. Priscilla hurried their passage, for she couldn't afford to have anyone see DesirЋe in her company today. She didn't want anyone asking her questions after the little blonde bitch disappeared.
"That's Clete's car there," DesirЋe said as they passed the police station. "He's in his office."
The older girl thought fast. "No, he goes on foot, leaves the car for the deputy."
Inside the station, Clete glanced out the window as he saw a car speeding by at twenty-five miles over the speed limit. Seeing it was Priscilla's vehicle, he almost forgot it, until he saw that DesirЋe, his sweet fucking DesirЋe, was riding on the passenger side. In an instant he was on his feet. "What the hell!" He ran for the door, automatically grabbing a shotgun as he went.
Rodney followed, with Tanya close behind, and as he took the wheel of his car, they jumped in with him, Tanya in back and her husband in front. Now what the hell was DesirЋe doing with that auburn-haired bitch of Pickford's Meadows? Knowing how evil Priscilla could be, he felt immediate concern for the innocent, big-eyed blonde.
"You're not going without me," Rodney vowed.
"This has nothing to do with the dogs."
"Like hell it doesn't."
Clete had no time to expel the pair. He didn't want to risk losing the trail, and Priscilla's car was too far down the road now for him to waste time with any delay.
The two young men in the cafЋ saw Clete go, and though the sheriff was not alone, Billy was not deterred from his purpose. While Sam protested, he fired up his car and followed at speed, though at a discreet distance.
Mark was on the road into town when he saw Priscilla Devereaux driving past him, and he thought he caught a glimpse of DesirЋe's river of honey-blonde hair beside her. Was it? Yes, he thought it was. And while he was still pondering the possibilities of their being together, all of them distressing, he saw Clete's four-wheel drive, off-road Blazer go by at speed.
What was going on?
After a little more thought, Mark spun his car into a U-turn and followed.
"This is my father's property," DesirЋe remarked, somewhat surprised.
"The dogs have been sighted up here, and this is where Clete's been tracking them."
DesirЋe shivered. The disgusting animals were on her father's own property. "What if we run into them? The dogs, I mean?"
"Well, from what Clete told me, you know just how to handle them."
DesirЋe was taken aback. "What do you mean by that?"
"Oh, come on, DesirЋe, I know about you and Lobo."
"Me… and Lobo?"
Priscilla stopped herself. Let the little bitch try to act innocent. In just a little while, it won't matter one little bit. The car reached the end of the indistinct trail it had been following and Priscilla braked and turned off the car.
"Here we are."
Priscilla got out, and DesirЋe followed suit.
"What did you mean by that remark about me and Lobo?"
"Never mind, darling, let's get down to business with Clete. Forget Lobo."
"Yes," DesirЋe said meekly, then remembered her vow to get even with the men who had used her. She had tried with Buchanan, and would try again. Now, Clete. And, someday, she would do more than just scare him. For what he had done to her, he would have to suffer somehow, and perhaps her strange friend Priscilla had started the ball rolling right now.
Her strong legs carried her athletically on up through the forest behind the older girl, bravely going to face the man who had been her lover, her tormentor, and her enemy, never thinking that the woman who guided her was the worst enemy she would ever have and was leading her to her grave.
They walked for a good fifteen minutes, and DesirЋe in her building rage, managed to pull ahead so that Priscilla had to lead from behind, directing her by voice. They had gone over a mile when they suddenly burst into a large clearing.
And DesirЋe froze. Perhaps she had been expecting to find Clete there in some classic hunter's pose, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun with his rifle cocked on his hip, but it had never crossed her mind that she would find the entire dog pack, galvanized to alertness and ranged around her like hyenas, their hackles rising and their teeth bared. Priscilla, no less shocked, was still the first to act, and went straight up the nearest tree with an agility that surprised every living thing there.
DesirЋe clutched her hands to her soft breasts in a panic, then followed Priscilla up the same tree, but by then, the older girl was safely established on a branch and pushed DesirЋe back down to the ground. The blonde tumbled back onto her bottom, legs splayed and feet in the air, and looked up uncomprehendingly into the bore of the.38. Though it wasn't necessary for firing, Priscilla theatrically thumbed by the hammer.
"A surprise for me same as you," she said. "But it just couldn't be better, now could it?" This was perfect! The dogs would eat DesirЋe and she herself could be ever after in the clear. But what if…? "Time for a taste of your own treachery, bitch!"
"What? Priscilla?" DesirЋe gasped. "What do you mean?"
The older girl's face was a snarl, bared teeth beneath flared nostrils. "What I mean, slut, is that you strip. You've got thirty seconds to get your rags off or I'm going to punch you a second navel."
For the second time in a week, DesirЋe found herself looking into the bore of a gun, and had she been standing, she would have collapsed. "Priscilla, please…"
"Fuck that, bitch, no pleading with me. I'm going to watch you suffer the way I suffered with these beasts. Now get those clothes off!" And to show she meant business, she loosed a shot into the dirt beside the blonde girl's hand.
DesirЋe felt herself shuddering violently. She looked around at the dogs, which had been startled by the shot. Perhaps the dogs wouldn't kill her, but Priscilla would if she didn't comply. Struggling to control her trembling and the jelly weakness in her knees, she got up and braced her back against the trees, fumbling with her clothes.
"Did you hear that?" Rodney asked Clete. "That sounded like a gunshot."
"No kidding," Clete responded sarcastically, his ear trying to place the location of the report. Sounds in the forest were always hard to place, and he was not sure which way to head.
"Can you tell where it came from?"
"Over there, I think," Clete answered, his brow wrinkled with concentration. "Maybe."
"Well, it sounded like it came from that way to me," Rodney volunteered.
"Yeah, well…" Clete was indecisive and said, "Let's compromise. Half-way between yours and mine."
Rodney nodded eagerly, and turned back toward his wife. "Come on…" He looked all around. "Where's Tanya?"
Clete said, "Fuck Tanya, let's go," and he set off in the direction he thought they should go.
The wrong direction.
When she had heard the gunshot, Tanya had darted into the bushes and set off in her own direction. She thought she knew where they were, and she certainly wasn't going to lead them to her dogs. She also feared that her dear friend DesirЋe was in danger. The shot had sounded a long way off. She only hoped she would be in time.
The possibilities raised the hair on the back of her neck. Priscilla takes DesirЋe into the hills. Next they hear a single gunshot. Were they shooting at the dogs? If so, why only one shot? If not, at whom was the bullet fired?
Billy came around a curve in the dirt road and swerved to avoid a BMW that had gone into the ditch.
"Who was that?" Billy asked, pressing the accelerator down harder.
"I think it was Denning," Sam said, "but I'm not sure. Looks like he spun out in the dust."
"Did he see us?"
"I don't know. Looked to me like he was looking under the tires, but I don't know." Sam looked at his friend, wondering what he was planning. "Are you going to stop and help him?"
"Are you kidding?"
"But you can't do anything now. We've got to assume Denning knows we're here, and then there's the two people with Clete. What about them?"
"We'll take 'em out," Billy said, his eyes darting from the rearview mirror, to the road, to Sam's face. "Tired of waitin' man. They're all the enemy. We'll take 'em out. Clete, Denning, the bitches."
"Billy!" Sam shouted, aghast. "We can't take anyone out today, don't you understand? They'll hang us high, man. We can't kill all these people around here. We'll never cover our tracks."
"Fuck 'em, Sam, we're gonna do it. Just give me a clear shot at the black bastard. I'll wilt that big pecker for good."
Sam was terrified. Being with Billy in his state of mental instability was like being in a whirlpool, getting sucked toward the center and down to the bottom. The young man's mind was gone, and Sam wanted out. But something in him told him to stay with Billy and stop him from killing everyone. Clete, well, he deserved it, but the reporter and his wife had nothing to do with it. And why was Mark Denning up here as well? They couldn't shoot him. They would be running all the rest of their lives.
Running until they were caught and executed.
"Billy, Billy, Billy," Sam said. "Let's go back. Right now it's all wrong."
"No fuckin' way, Sammy boy. No fuckin' way. We're goin' all the way today."
Sam closed his eyes. Billy was taking him right into the jaws of fate, and nothing would stop him.
By the time Sam and Billy had gone by, it was too late to stop them. Mark got up from his inspection of the position of his right front wheel and cursed heartily. If he had only driven a bit slower and more carefully, he wouldn't be immobilized right now. Now he was afoot, unless someone came along by chance with the gear to pull him out.
Mark was more than a little worried now. The haste with which the three other vehicles were traveling gave him a definite feeling of impending disaster. Why had Priscilla and DesirЋe been together? Why was Clete following them, and the third car, why was it going so fast bringing up the rear?
Mark took off walking up the road in wake of the other three cars. Whatever was going on, he might get there in time to see the aftermath, which, he feared more and more, would be horrible. And what of his dear, sweet, misunderstood DesirЋe now?
At that moment, DesirЋe let her T-shirt fall to the ground. She looked up at Priscilla, and then diffidently followed with her bra, liberating her big, round breasts.
"Go on, slut," said the girl in the tree. "Get those pants off. Everything, I said. Jeans, socks, panties, tampons, whatever."
The blonde peeled off her jeans, and then tearfully removed her thin panties. "No tampons."
"Good," Priscilla said. She looked at the advancing dogs, who all kept their heads erect, not dropped low like skulking beasts, but lifted high in fearless defiance. She saw DesirЋe's apprehension and said, "Don't worry, slut. I'm sure you'll find a way to handle them. Now, I want you to rub your pussy, real good, get it nice and juicy." She brandished the gun. "Dez. I'm getting impatient."
The angel-faced blonde thought she would die of shame. Her cheeks were red as tomatoes, and then she looked behind herself at the dogs. They were approaching slowly. They were huge animals, far outsized for their breed, with a wolf-like quality she couldn't isolate, but they were distinctly feral. They didn't seem to be anyone's pets, though she knew that one of them had probably been Liz's pet Lobo. She remembered a few months ago, after Nancy Pace had been raped in that same vacant house that she herself had been… What was the word? Raped, seduced, coerced?
She remembered what Liz had said about Lobo when he got to a woman, remembered running from the house in horror. Things were beginning to come back to her now, and she was recalling other things now, and her straining intellect would have been able to isolate them if it had not been filled with terror and imagined scenes of herself being torn apart by four sets of savage jaws.
"Go on, Dez," Priscilla insisted. "Stroke that pussy."
DesirЋe's hands trembled as they moved down her creamy, unblemished belly to the thick, silken patch of butterscotch hair covering the tender pillows of her labia. She moved her finger into the slit, and found her clitoris, but she was so terrified that she failed to feel any of the arousal that Priscilla thought she would. She closed her eyes and tried harder, but the harder she tried to feel, the less she felt.
However, Lobo remembered her scent and approached her from the front as the others crowded around. His nose nuzzled at her honey-colored pelt and into the split between them, but her legs were so tightly closed, his tongue could not reach the sensitive well of her sex. With a bit of impatience, he nudged her harder, unbalancing her, and she had to quickly widen her stance to maintain herself upright, her thighs parting enough for access while her hands automatically reached out beside her and found support on the necks of two of the others. Lobo's soft, wet tongue whipped out and underneath her and swiped her center from anus to clitoris.
DesirЋe cried out, half in terror and half in surprise. This was awful, so awful, to be licked between the legs by a dog, fully in front of her gloating enemy Priscilla, and now, one of the animals behind her had begun licking as well, into the cleft of her buttocks and the moistening slit of her vagina. Two tongues, lashing ceaselessly between her legs. The feelings were strange, but not so much different than what the two strangers had done to her in the Buchanan mansion.
Oh! Ooooooooh! Felt strange, very strange! Felt good! Felt good? How could it feel good? It was wrong. Perverted and evil. But it did, it felt good.
She felt herself losing her balance again with the feelings that were making her weak in the knees and she set her feet wider apart again, giving the dogs yet better access to her feminine core. Looking down through eyes growing ever yet blurry, she saw the stainless-steel chain around the dog's neck. It was Lobo, and looking down at him as his tongue laved her vulva brought a forgotten image back to her consciousness. She knew this animal, this dog. This Lobo. He had done this before – to her. She remembered his licking her, stirring up feelings once, no twice before. Purely animal feelings, divorced from her mind and morality, merely brought up by the flesh of the animal's tongue stroking across the passive, excitable flesh of her clitoris and vaginal lips.
While Priscilla giggled from her perch on the tree truck, it went on, and DesirЋe lost track of time while her womb began to burn with animal desire. Her knees gradually bent, her hips pushing backwards to offer her parted buttocks and tingling anus to the dog behind her while Lobo went on swabbing her pussy from in front, their lapping tongues often crossing beneath her and swapping points of contact. She felt the electricity pulsing through her legs, felt her knees give while she rolled onto her back, her thighs now parting wide to give Lobo easy access while the other dogs went to her rosy, hard nipples and mounds of her jiggling breasts.
DesirЋe was moaning loudly, her belly shuddering with tiny orgasms, while Priscilla watched, wondering whether she should pull the trigger and end the younger girl's life and pleasure all at once.
"Oh, Priss!" DesirЋe gasped, rubbing her belly while the dogs licked her body all over. "This is amazing! Oh, it feels so gooood."
Damn, Priscilla thought. She wasn't supposed to enjoy it, but like Clete said, the dirty little slut likes dogs. Wonder if Mark knows…
The blonde girl, now sizzling with arousal, was wet from tailbone to pubis with her own secretions and the saliva of the dogs. She was writhing on the grass, jerking with joy, as Priscilla could see. And the dogs around her were getting excited as well. She could see the big, red torpedoes of hard flesh emerging from the hairy sheaths beneath their bellies, and the one that was licking her had a really huge one, like half a salami, and nearly as thick. But even his was no match for that of the even larger dog that was circling around her, darting his head past the bodies of the other animals to get an occasional taste of her sweet flesh.
DesirЋe was shaken by an orgasm that temporarily calmed her desire and caused her to wet the grass beneath her grinding bottom, and it was in that instant that the full horror of her position burst upon her. Looking around, she saw the fully distended penises, four of them, and knowing they were all meant for her, she caught her breath. No, no, no! This could not happen! She wanted none of the evil that Liz and Nancy had done, not that degradation. She had already gone too far, and she had no intention of submitting to one dog, much less four. With a flash of movement, she swung her leg over Lobo's head and moved to her hands and knees to crawl away, but she found her forward path blocked by the largest animal, and suddenly, two other dogs crowded against her, one on either side, blocking her lateral movement as well.
She felt Lobo's tongue lashing against her vulva again, preparing her, and she whined with despair and with the lightning-like sensations that shot through her womb. And then he was mounting her, his strong forepaws pressing in on her waist, his belly slotting into the cleft of her derriere, his rear feet preventing her from closing her knees. She bucked and struggled, feeling the broad tip of the dogcock butting against her buttocks and labia, searching for the vulnerable, tender, wet opening to her womb. She shifted her hips, trying to remove the target from his range, and Lobo growled. It was a terrifying sound, and then she froze when the jaws of the big one, Bruno closed firmly over the nape of her neck.
Lobo quickly found his position and as the swollen head of his cock found a purchase in her pulsing, dripping slit, his powerful hind legs propelled the shaft forward, into the delicate, juicy sleeve of her vagina. Her pussy stretched to near splitting, DesirЋe fought to catch her breath, her mouth open and her eyes wanted to pop from her head.
"Oh, no, no, no!" she screamed, turning her head to look up at the girl above her in the tree. "Priscilla! Oh, please, help me!"
But there was no help, and Priscilla sat on her safe perch laughing at the sight of the lovely, na•ve girl whose beauty and goodness had disrupted her life, humiliated in this fashion, mounted by a vile dog, her belly pierced by his huge, animal cock. It looked so incredibly obscene, the girl with her perfect, creamy, flawless body, kneeling on the ground, topped by a wild dog whose cock dwarfed that of most men, the petals of her tender, pink pussy clasped wetly around the throbbing red shaft. Halfway buried in her belly, the jerking member waited for full penetration, and the dog wasted no time in gathering his hind legs and shoving the great penis to the hilt in the girl's tiny vaginal sheath.
Visions of the past, sublimated and buried by Dr. Hemmings' hypnotic suggestions, rushed to her mind, and she understood many things, for she saw the past clearly now. This had happened before, once in her own bedroom at her parents' home, and once in their bedroom at Mark's and her house. The first time, Lobo had come interrupting a rape of her defenseless body by the young man, Johnny Canning, whom Clete had murdered. And that rape had been witnessed by the two young men that had abducted her last week and had their way with her. Lobo had come and saved her from being used and filled with the sperm of three different men, only to fuck her himself and to flood her womb after they had fled.
The second time had been one night when she and Mark had been happily together, ready to unite their bodies in love, but unfortunately having left the window open. Lobo had come in, and DesirЋe, believing him to be the animal that had killed the rapist Johnny Canning, yielded her body to him, again, to save Mark's life. While her mind and soul rebelled, her body had responded, and she had screamed out in one climax after another as her young husband, from inches away, had watched, masturbating at the lewd sight. She had done it to save Mark from the dog, but now she saw that it had been a waste of time, for it had been Clete that had killed Johnny Canning. The irony of that caused her to groan.
Yes, she had responded. Her vagina had accommodated the belly-distorting penis and responded, burned with passion and fire, gushed with liquid pleasure. Just as it did now, as Lobo, his tail waving in circles behind them, began pumping his giant cock in and out of the girl's newly penetrated sex hole. DesirЋe groaned with humiliation and shame while his shaft reamed her tender, unwanting belly. Deeper and deeper, he pounded his cock into her streaming, wet vagina, finding her deepest depths, drubbing the head against her cervix, his pre-ejaculate leaking thousands and millions of wriggly sperm into her hot hole.
DesirЋe trembled, trying to keep her body passive. She didn't want this, didn't want anyone but her husband. Didn't want Clete, or Buchanan, or Sam and Billy, or Priscilla. Didn't want any dog, would never touch a dog again. But her tender vagina, penetrated deeper and faster with each careful stroke, flowered open, feeling an amazing joy, against DesirЋe's will. The now receptive hole dilated and lubricated itself with hot juice, sucking audibly on the male shaft, and to her chagrin, the girl felt her hips begin to move in concert with his strong thrusts.
"No, nooooo," she chanted. She was lost. She was a slut, she knew, just as Priscilla had said, and she felt her womb flower open to Lobo's plunging penis. His belly hair brushed her anus, tickling her, and his big balls swung beneath her like a pendulum, beating against the base of her belly, on the soft pad of her pubic hair.
Priscilla watched triumphantly from the height of the tree, hearing the blonde's grunts of pleasure, the sucking sounds of the pink cunt on the cock as it drew pink ridges of inner flesh that clung to the huge shaft. Fuck, if Mark could only see his little sweet angel now, bucking her pussy back and forth on the dog's cock, he would never want to touch her again. If he could see it, maybe it wouldn't be necessary to kill her. He would never want to touch the dog-fucking little bitch again.
Again and again and again, Lobo sank his cock into the sweet, honeyed vagina before him. He was happy again, possessing this special, well-loved female that was pounding her backside back against his belly with the same force and speed that he hammered into her cunt. Priscilla watched her body move with an animal grace, her big tits swinging beneath her, the distended, pink nipples occasionally brushing the grass. Her pearl-clear skin was beginning to glow with the moisture of her arousal and exertion, a trickle of sweat running between her plump buttocks while her hot pussy oil dripped in a long string from her clitoris to the ground between her knees.
Tanya had been going for half an hour and she had heard no more shots, but she chafed at the time it was taking to find what she sought. DesirЋe was in trouble and she had to get to her, following some intuition that Clete and Rodney, of course, lacked. Her feet were sore in her new shoes, but she dared not sit down to rest. Time was against her. Somehow she knew that she would find her dear friend in some life-threatening situation, though she was pretty sure that her dogs would not be the source of that danger.
Her feet screamed as she put one foot in front of the other in the direction her instincts and sharp, female ears told her to go.
DesirЋe's thighs flexed rhythmically, driving her vagina back over the huge sausage-like penis of the dog, Lobo, mounted on her tender buttocks. She was humming mindlessly, panting with the exertion as she chased her orgasm. It was going to happen, like a volcano. During the last fifteen or twenty minutes, she had been shaken many times by small spasms of ecstasy as the hard male cock speared her from behind. But she was going to come hugely now, like never before, in this wonderful, lewd position. She was going to come, and scream out in passion and joy, and then be attacked by her conscience as always happened.
This had happened before. She remembered clearly now, all the times she had committed adultery with insistent and dissolute males, and with this canine now using her pussy, three times now. Oh, what a slut she was! Beyond redemption, a slave to males' cocks and these irresistible feelings in her hot, tight vagina. But for now, she must have release, for it burned like a fire through her loins and only an orgasm would extinguish it.
Lobo began fucking her faster. This lovely female that he loved so much was sucking the seed out of him with the hole between her legs, from the depths of his loins to the tip of his plunging cock, now he howled as it exploded up through that well-used conduit into her feminine sheath in long, hard spurts of thick, heated sperm. The sounds her pussy was making increased in volume as it poured into her, flooding her belly like never before, more than any man could release in six sex acts, enough to sire a thousand puppies.
DesirЋe screamed, her breath coming in savage, throaty grunts and her belly dissolved into hundreds of tiny spasms and wrenched her belly and cramped the muscles while her gushing vagina clamped down on Lobo's throbbing, squirting penis. The dog's chest heaved with his efforts while he howled with pleasure, his penile knot locking just inside DesirЋe while his balls drained into her.
The darling blonde girl's arms collapsed, her cheeks resting on the ground, her bottom lifted up behind her while the massive dog found himself immobilized. She cooed softly, like a baby, in deep satisfaction, trying to relax her pussy muscles enough to allow Lobo to pull free of her cuntal grip as he pulled nervously, tugging at her delicate inner membranes, drawing them out of her body. Finally, with a wet, smacking sound, the apple-sized lump came free. DesirЋe sighed, feeling Lobo's expended semen ooze out of her.
Priscilla watched the dog slime running in streams down her inner thighs from her gaping, red slit. She screeched her approval. This was getting good – but not good enough.
"Just fine, so far, Dez," Priscilla sneered. "You're living up to expectations. But now, I want you to freshen up your performance with a new routine. I want you to stay in that nice doggy position you're in and poop right there."
DesirЋe's face showed puzzlement. "Poop?"
"Yeah, kid, I want you to shit right there and roll in it."
The blonde's half-closed eyes widened in horror. Not only had she just been raped by Lobo again, but Priscilla had a gun trained on her and was demanding that she perform an intimate, private bodily function.
"Payback, baby. I want you to know how it feels."
"But, I know how it feels…"
"Not that, kid. How it feels to be degraded. Now lets see that little pink asshole produce."
DesirЋe's face was stricken with horror. "But-but I can't," she said positively. "Really, I can't."
"Let's see if this helps your sweet little bowels move," Priscilla said, thumbing back the hammer again.
DesirЋe was trying to do what Priscilla demanded, but now Dusty, the dog with the healing wound on his side, was mounting the darling girl, his penis starkly distended. From the tree, the older girl watched his big balls wobbling as he slotted his belly into the groove of DesirЋe's backside, saw the cockhead prodding at the vulnerable, sperm-flecked cuntal slit, which opened up before the thrusting shaft, the petals spreading accommodatingly as the long, thick cudgel of dogflesh sank deeply inside.
"Oh, nooo, not again," the blonde moaned as she felt the dog immediately beginning his animalistic rutting movements, driving his eager cock back and forth in her hair-fringed vagina.
At the same time as Clete and Rodney heard Lobo's howl of satisfied triumph and changed their direction of travel, Tanya heard the sound and began moving faster, changing her direction slightly as well. Now she was certain that DesirЋe and the dogs were together in the same predicament, that Priscilla Devereaux was there too. DesirЋe and the dogs! She hated to think how disgusting that would be for the lovely, innocent, blonde girl. It would do lasting emotional damage to Tanya's straight-laced puritanical friend. She had to get there fast to avert the worst, if she could.
Tanya moved on as fast as she could for another fifteen minutes, over the obstacles of rocks, bushes, and fallen tree trunks. She ran near to panic out of concern for DesirЋe until she could no longer postpone a rest.
The tired brunette stopped and panted, trying to catch her breath, with her hands braced on her knees. Hell of a friend she was when she couldn't even help her best friend!
Because of the tenderness of his healing wound, Dusty fucked the kneeling girl at a slower rhythm than his sire had, at the same speed as a loving man would. DesirЋe's hips moved at the same speed, pushing her vagina back and forth over the dog's cock, sheathing it with wet sucking sounds, giving great pleasure to her new canine lover as another orgasm began to bloom in her belly.
She moved faster, wanting the explosion of supreme joy to subdue her feelings of self-loathing and humiliation. She could hear Priscilla's obscene comments from the safety of the branches above and she tried to close her ears to them as she whipped her butt back and forth, each motion gradually raising her to her next shattering orgasm.
"Oh, look at that pink little ass go," Priscilla chanted. "Go, go, go! Looks like he's turning your rosy little cunt inside out. You're so wet we should have brought a drop cloth. Go, pussy, go! Wait 'til Mark sees these pictures. Click, click!"
Priscilla had no camera, for she had planned to kill the other girl, and one did not photograph such things, but she knew that thinking she was being photographed would increase the young bride's inner pain. DesirЋe gave a guttural groan and shut out her abductor's words. She felt herself melting inside, as if her guts were turning to lava and pouring out the sweet, quivering hole between her legs. She panted, doglike, with her efforts to attain ever greater pleasure, her big breasts bouncing off the backs of her arms, and the fronts of Dusty's hind legs were soaked with her juices.
He sped his thrusts as much as his injury would permit, and then yelped as his canine fluid exploded up from inside him, pouring into her vagina in long, ropy spurts, adding his own seed to what his sire Lobo had already left in her belly. DesirЋe screamed out another orgasm, her whole body shaking while Dusty struggled to dismount, his cock imprisoned in her cuntal grasp. He managed to get his right leg over her heart-shaped bottom and was facing away from her when another of his brothers, Sandy, jumped up on her.
Sandy's forepaws were scratching urgently over her ribs while he struggled to enter her still-occupied pussy, and the pain drove her to her next action. Reaching between her legs while Dusty barked and snarled at Bruno, the biggest dog, as the latter tried to make his move on the vulnerable female, she painfully worked her finger into her tight hole to pry the still-leaking cock out of her.
As soon as Dusty was free, he advanced on the feral and horny Bruno, whose evidence of arousal hung nearly to the ground, red and angry. But while Dusty and Bruno circled and lunged and nipped at each other, Sandy found DesirЋe's raw and defiled young vulva with the heavy tip of his pulsing cock. She choked as he rammed inside her to his furry hilt and followed quickly with the in and out fucking motions that instinct urged him to do.
"Oh, Priscilla," she protested, but her hips almost immediately began to follow his pounding cock as it slid freely in the semen Lobo and Dusty had poured into her. DesirЋe began to sigh. If he was like the others, he would take fifteen minutes to come and would bring her to half that many orgasms. She groaned and let her body take over.
Five minutes later, Tanya was able to resume her frantic search, though she feared she would be much too late. Still, she had to get to DesirЋe's side, whatever had happened. It was the least she could do.
Meanwhile, Clete and Rodney were undergoing the same problems of mobility over the uneven ground and the obstacles nature had put in their way.
"Keep that camera ready, Skinny Rod," Clete urged as they loped along. "You won't want to miss any of this."
"You're going to take a hide today?"
"Four, if possible. And a lot of money."
"We'll both be in the money if I can get good pictures of the hunt. Interviews with the seven women assaulted and raped by these dogs. It's a Pulitzer for sure."
"Sure, sure," Clete huffed. "Only move your bony ass."
Sam and Billy had undergone the same problems as everyone else, but because they were following Clete and because they were so untrained that they could not track an elephant through mud, they ended up far off of the trail of the sheriff they intended to kill. Instead, and solely by chance, they were approaching the scene of DesirЋe's degradation by a more direct route.
"I think we're following the wrong trail, Billy," Sam remarked, trying to catch his breath. "We're not going to be in any shape for a fight if we do find him. We've lost the element of surprise. We'll stagger out there like boxers at the end of fifteen, and he'll blow us away."
But Billy seemed to feel no fatigue. He was high on cocaine and utterly obsessed, nearly having forgotten his reason for revenge, his brother's murder. His irrational brain was fixed on one thing, Clete Anderson, the object of his hate, and he had left aside all fear and discretion. He was sweating freely, like an overworked horse and his heart pounded wildly in his chest, but the drugs he had inhaled kept rationality far from the present situation. He was carrying two pistols and a shotgun, while Sam reluctantly toted a small revolver, though he felt that at some time it was more likely that he should have to use it on his companion. His knees were aching from the pounding over the ground as they arrived, only by chance and by a serpentine route, near the clearing where poor DesirЋe was undergoing her ordeal, which now had passed beyond forty minutes while her would-be rescuers stumbled around in the woods.
And there, just thirty yards from where the young bride was going through the most humiliating and degrading experience of her life, Billy stumbled and hit his head.
Tanya happened onto the clearing so suddenly that it took her, and its occupants, by surprise. Bruno and Dusty, near to breaking into a savage fight, were startled and stopped their lunging and circling, and in a moment recognized their devoted friend and human lover. Tanya was shocked to see her best friend DesirЋe in an obscene dog-fucking position doing just that, her body jerking, bottom punching back at Sandy as if there were no tomorrow, while animal grunts of passion tumbled from her throat. Her fingers were clawing at the ground, pulling up tufts of grass, while Sandy was coming in her. Tanya could see the blonde's pussy sucking at the throbbing cock, heavy drops of sperm leaking from the tightly stretched rim of the delicate orifice.
Meanwhile, Lobo appeared to be aroused anew, his incredible cock protruding again from its furry scabbard, almost as large as Bruno's, which was fairly close to bursting. With the smell of females in the air, the animals were in a rutting, mating frenzy and it appeared that they would soon forget their companionship and go at each other's throats. DesirЋe did that to men, and male animals it seemed, without even trying or knowing she could. Tanya's main worry was that if they began a fight over possession of DesirЋe pussy, she might be seriously injured or killed in the dogfight. Lobo was coming around for another turn at the girl's sweet body and Bruno, nearly as large as a Shetland pony and with a penis to match, was clearly determined to sample what the others had already enjoyed.
DesirЋe was alternately sobbing and groaning with pleasure in a way Tanya had not thought possible for the chaste, prudish blonde to do. Look at that sweet pussy go, she thought as she watched DesirЋe churning her tightly expanded cuntal foramen around the swollen cock. Sandy was struggling to get the bulge of his cock free of her vagina's tight-muscled grip and with the way Lobo was stirring things up, Tanya feared that that cock knot would tear the poor girl asunder. She had to do something to calm Lobo down, and she did the only thing she could think of.
Reaching up under her skirt, she slid off her panties as she kicked off her shoes, hiked up her skirt, and assumed the dog position on the grass where Lobo could see her. Reaching between her spread thighs, she rubbed her pussy to bring up her lubrication and her irresistible feminine aroma. She saw Lobo jerk, saw him sniff, and then immediately circle around behind her. Lobo mounted her and buried his cock in her receptive and willing cunt and began his fuck-strokes that would soon bring them both to orgasm.
Tanya succeeded in catching DesirЋe's eye, and the blonde gasped and groaned with shame.
"Oh, Tanya! Please don't watch!" she squealed as Sandy finally slid his oozing cock out of her cunt and backed off, making way for Bruno, who was nearly in a state of madness.
"Don't worry, kid, I won't tell a soul if you don't." Already Tanya was feeling the heat of her passions, a purely biological reaction to the friction of Lobo's massive cock, and she began to move to pleasure both him and herself. Her eyes began to narrow with the familiar feelings at the same time as Bruno reared up and settled on DesirЋe's uplifted buttocks. She moaned and sobbed at the inevitability of it as she felt his ponderous cock swinging back and forth between her parted thighs, banging against one and then the other of her sperm streaked legs. The tip of the horse-like cock pushed against the split mound of her pussy, finding the slit, mashing against the fiery clitoris, then finding the tight, raw loop of her cuntal orifice. Immediately, he romped forward, sliding easily on the sluice of his partners' seminal cream, parting the delicate walls in rippling waves before the tunneling head, until it was interred to the hilt, nearly twelve inches of vile, wild dog cock buried in her unwanting belly.
DesirЋe cried out, and then yelped sharply as Bruno, without a moment's hesitation, began fucking her as neither he, nor she, had ever fucked before. "Oh, oh, ooooooooooh," howled the young blonde bride as she felt her cervix pushed up into her belly as far as her navel. If she had thought the others were savage-fucking, heavily endowed beasts, then this animal was the daddy of them all. She felt his huge balls swinging up beneath her on each stroke to collide with her tender, hairy pubis, wringing a surprised cry of pleasure from her each time they beat against her super-sensitive clitoris.
The sound of the abused blonde's voice carried to Billy and Sam, as the latter was just bringing his friend around from the trip over the exposed tree root, which had stunned him slightly. At the sound of DesirЋe's pitiful cry, his eyes sharpened and he sprang up.
"She's fucking him," Billy said, drawing his gun and checking the load. "Clete's fucking the bitch and I'm going to whack him while he's on the job."
Sam was horrified. Billy would shoot DesirЋe in the process, and that just wouldn't do. Sure, she had a taste for black cock, but Sam couldn't forget the way her eyes had looked into his when they were coming together, the way she had cooed when he flooded her cunt with his cream. She belonged to him, at least a part of her, and Billy mustn't be allowed to hurt her. As for Clete, he could watch out for himself, and Sam was happy to let him die. He had murdered Johnny after all.
Sam tried to prepare himself as he followed his crazy friend. He could tell that the sounds were coming from fairly close by.
The sounds of DesirЋe's moaning voice caused Clete and his companion to stop in their tracks.
"Did you hear that?" Clete asked Rodney.
Rodney's eyes were wide. "Think so. Sounded like DesirЋe's voice. She's the only one in the world with tones like that."
The sheriff listened carefully, hearing distant sounds of torment – or passion. His hand shot out and he starting running. "That way."
It crossed Mark's mind that he would have to get more exercise and fewer lunch cocktails with his political associates. The breath was burning in his tortured lungs and his run was down almost to a walk. He had thought he heard a distant gunshot, nearly an hour ago, and he had begun to run, but his physical conditioning was not up to the demands of the situation. He was nearly to the forest toward which he had seen three other vehicles driving. How he would find them once he got into the trees was anybody's guess.
Things went through his mind. Priscilla was a malicious bitch, and selfish beyond understanding. Mark berated himself for ever having had anything to do with her, and hating himself for their brief, ill-advised affair. He knew that the auburn-haired harridan still entertained ideas of resuming their relationship, and he now knew that she was not above exposing DesirЋe to anything that might get him back into her life and her bed.
Priscilla brayed with laughter from the part-concealment of the tree, and from her position beneath Lobo, Tanya looked up, seeing the gun in the grinning woman's hand.
"Go on, bitches," Priscilla screeched. "Get on down with those fucking dogs. That's all you're good for now." And she laughed in a high, manic voice at the sight of the two friends kneeling on the ground in bestial passion.
At that moment, Billy and Sam arrived at the edge of the clearing and without breaking from cover looked up at the woman howling with laughter in the tree. They recognized Priscilla Devereaux, her beautiful face distorted by insane hate and perverted emotions, like the jealous queen that killed Snow White. But this fairy tale princess was blonde and she was kneeling subserviently beneath a huge German Shepherd dog being fucked out of her mind.
Sam had never seen such a large dog of that breed. He would have stood hip-high to the tall female with which he was now copulating and his penis was like something from a nightmare. When he drew back, leaving some of its length still buried in the girl's body, fully nine inches emerged, nearly turning her pink vagina inside out, nearly two inches of her delicate, inner tissues pulling out of her, which then folded back inside her as the animal thrust forward with an audible wet sound. The ponderous size of the dog's organ kept him from moving at the normal canine speed of copulation. He thrust slowly, his uplifted tail waving happily behind him, his long tongue drooling slaver onto the smooth sweep of the girl's back.
But DesirЋe was not an unwilling participant, Sam could see. She was jerking and bucking and moaning with pleasure, her knees placed wide on the grass, parting her sweet asscheeks and scrubbing her winking, twitching anus against the fur of the dog's belly. In the last hour, she had developed a skill for having sex with large dogs, and the motions were becoming natural to her. At times she became so avid that she would rise up on her toes, lifting her bottom high, to sheath the giant cock. And, Sam could see, it was nearly three inches thick. How the tight, little pussy he had fucked last week could accommodate such a huge organ, Sam did not know, but it was the most amazing, lewd sight he had ever seen.
At this moment, Rodney and Clete arrived at the clearing from another direction, and true to the hunter's craft, stayed within concealment, as did the other two men across the ground from them. Rodney, his eyes catching the amazing sight of two women in sexual congress with dogs, went to work right away with the camera. He had expected to see DesirЋe here, and though he was completely taken aback at seeing the beautiful, prudish girl squealing and jerking on the giant dog's glistening wet cock, he made sure he captured every detail with his camera. The other girl's face was turned away, and he assumed that it was Priscilla who was being serviced by the other dog.
Fuck! This is worth a million bucks! Two innocent women being raped by dogs, and then responding passionately. He clicked away ceaselessly. The fact that DesirЋe was doing this was chilling, and the pictures were much too explicit and obscene for any national publication, but they were proof positive of the truth of the story that he had been trying to investigate all summer, a cult of bestiality, like rumors of a witch coven in Iowa, or UFOs in Texas. Rodney finished a roll of film, changed cameras, and when that was empty, re-loaded them both.
He needed a different angle and in disregard for any other consideration, broke cover and ran around the edge of the clearing, in plain sight of Sam and Billy.
Clete cursed, for the reporter was disturbing the scene. He had to get these dogs today, and he felt he could do it as soon as they had climbed down from the two unfortunate women, but he could not take a chance on hitting them with a wild shot while they were being fucked by the dogs. Now, Rodney was ruining everything.
Yes, thought Tanya, when she saw him. The silly idiot is ruining everything, and she saw the astounded look on his face as he moved to a different point and saw that it was his own wife being shagged silly by Lobo. He was so shocked that he held his finger down and the camera was taking pictures of everything on its own.
"Tanya!" Rodney gasped, watching her humping her hot, wet pussy back onto Lobo's huge cock.
"Rod-Rodney," his wife choked, "f-forgive me, honey. I can't stop myself."
Rodney looked up and his camera caught Priscilla in the tree as she screamed with laughter. That clearing in the forest was a scene of utter madness, of rutting dogs and degraded women, of hate and malice and animalism, with sweet, lovely DesirЋe Denning at the center of the whole thing, the focus for the drives of the dogs and the insanity of the madwoman in the tree. It was beyond belief. Rodney had always worshipped DesirЋe, the silver-voiced angel too beautiful, too pious to be a nun, now spitted on the huge cock of a wild dog and whinnying like a mare in heat.
DesirЋe looked up as another cataclysmic orgasm began to wrack her body. Her insides were melting with ecstasy, her skin burning, and she felt rivers of sweat running off her. Heavy droplets of it were dripping from her swollen, red nipples as they danced upside down beneath her. Bruno whined and then seemed to roar like a lion as the most gut-wrenching coming of his life shattered his loins. Priscilla, as well as all the men watching, saw his enormous, buried penis expand and throb, pumping his virulent sperm deep into DesirЋe's forever-stretched vagina, filling her to the scuppers. She saw the thick, white liquid explode from the tightly-locked rim of her tender hole to run in thick rivulets down her quivering thighs to pool in the hollows behind her knees or to cascade like a waterfall from her bursting cunt to the grass between her knees. All the dogs stopped still, watching their companion gushing his cream into the squealing, grunting female beneath him.
Priscilla was looking down, and expected Bruno's apple-sized knot to weld him to DesirЋe for half an hour, but the blonde relaxed her muscles and let it slowly slip free, coated with the juices of her passion and the emission of four lusty German Shepherds. And while her sweet, honeyed womb teemed with the foreign sperm of those great animals, Priscilla, regardless of the reporter standing in plain sight snapping pictures, snapped.
"Time for payback, you bitch!" Priscilla cried, furious that DesirЋe had derived so much joy and pleasure from being mounted and humiliated by four rutting, savage dogs. She swung out of her partial concealment, her left hand holding onto a branch above her head while her right raised the revolver and pointed it at poor, spent, trembling DesirЋe, who was trying to raise herself from the subservient position she had been in for over an hour. "Eat lead, you dirty blonde bitch!" And she fired.
The bullet struck the ground between DesirЋe's knees, splashing the puddle of dog jism there in myriad droplets over DesirЋe's sweat-coated belly and breasts. She cried out in terror and tried to scramble up from her sore, painful knees, but Priscilla was already aiming, more carefully this time, for the kill.
At the same time as Clete bounded out into the clearing with his shotgun, Sam stood up thirty feet away. He had seen DesirЋe's danger and he acted without thinking, his pistol firing wildly at the tree. Most of the bullets went wild, but one of them struck flesh, hitting Priscilla in the wrist, shattering it, while the shards of bone shredded the flesh, completely severing the hand, which kept its grip on the branch while its owner tumbled untidily to the ground. She came down hard on her cheek, the stump of her wrist spouting blood from the artery, but her rage dampened the pain and where she would normally have collapsed in shock, she came up firing. One bullet struck Sandy behind the shoulder. The next one hit Sam in the knee.
Sam felt his leg give beneath him and the unbearable pain of the virtual amputation, and he returned fire. Clete loosed a shot at Priscilla, missing with most of the pellets, though some hit her face and blew out one of her eyes. His next shot cut Sandy in half.
Priscilla was still shooting and her next bullet, fired one-eyed, caught Sam in the chest, and another made a hole perfectly in the center of his forehead. He toppled back, his last sight that of DesirЋe as she scrambled stark naked away with Tanya into the bushes, followed by the dogpack leader. They huddled behind a boulder while Lobo, still aroused, sniffed at their dripping cunts.
Tanya turned to the dog, grabbed his face between her hands, and said, "Go, Lobo! Get out of here!" And she gave him a slap to get him moving, while DesirЋe watched her in horror. She had helped the raping animal escape! It was unbelievable!
In the clearing, Billy saw his friend die, and opened up with both pistols, riddling Priscilla's dancing body as she stood there. Clete pivoted and let the wild young man have the next one, splitting his vitals with a perfectly-placed shot to the lower belly. One of Priscilla's last bullets struck him in the neck, shattering his spine to shrapnel and removing his head in a bloody spray.
But still Priscilla was operating. She used a speed loader to recharge her weapon while Clete turned to fire at one of the dogs, hitting Dusty with a well-placed shot. He used his pistol to quickly finish that fallen dog, and then turned toward Bruno. He had two skins now, and a third would make him rich.
Clete felt a burning pain in his thigh and he felt the strength going from his stance. He dropped to one knee, feeling the blood soak his jeans from a severed artery. He looked up and saw Priscilla coming at him, her face torn on the right side and her eyeball hanging in tatters on her cheek. Her blouse was holed in places and she was covered in blood spouting from half a dozen wounds. With peripheral vision he saw Bruno bounding into the undergrowth while he brought up his shotgun and fired his last two shells in Bruno's direction. Then, bringing out his pistol, he punched two bullets straight into Priscilla's heart, ripping it to shreds on the way through her body and out the other side in a spray of blood and flesh. But not before one of her bullets had punched into his upper chest.
DesirЋe saw Priscilla crumple like a house of cards while Clete toppled back, clutching one hand to his chest and one to the torn flesh, bleeding severely at the back of his thigh. He lay there, staring up at the sky. Rodney stood there, frozen to his spot at the edge of the clearing, taking picture after picture.
When the shooting stopped, the silence was shocking. DesirЋe and her friend carefully, timidly raised their heads and looked at the scene of carnage. Two dogs lay dead and unmoving, as also the headless corpse of Billy. Sam's sightless eyes stared up at the sky. Priscilla was a bloody mass gasping her last in the midst of a crimson pool, her beauty destroyed by her own acts.
Seeing Clete, DesirЋe cried out and ran to him, cradling his dark head and kissing his lips. "My darling Clete," she sobbed. "You saved my life."
Tanya was behind her, fitting DesirЋe's dress over the girl's shoulders as she wept into the black man's face. "Here, baby, let's get you dressed."
DesirЋe shook her hair out of the dress. "Not important. He's dying, Tanya. You must get help."
"Will you be all right?"
"There's nothing here that can hurt me," DesirЋe answered. "Not now. Please! Go!"
Tanya turned and ran into the forest. She hadn't gone far before she ran into Mark, struggling along blindly. She hurled herself into his arms. "Mark! Mark! Clete's been shot. Everybody's been shot."
"DesirЋe?" Mark screamed.
"No, she's okay. She's with Clete. He's been shot. You must get an ambulance."
Mark nodded. "I did. I called for help on my portable when I heard the shots. It shouldn't be long now." He took the panic-stricken girl by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. "Tanya! Take me to DesirЋe."
When he arrived at the clearing with Tanya, he found DesirЋe, disheveled, holding Clete's head, her rumpled dress covered with blood. She looked up at him, and took his hand.
"Mark," she said, "please call an ambulance. Clete's hurt badly."
The young politician looked around the clearing at the carnage, the bodies of the two drug pushers, two of the dogs, and Priscilla's blood-soaked heap of flesh. "What a scene! But, DesirЋe, are you all right?"
The lovely girl turned her blood- and dirt-streaked face up to his and said in a strong voice, "My love, I'm just fine. They didn't touch me."
Sid Buchanan listened wearily to Reg Fields' screaming protests as he paced up and down in the study where they had taken turns with DesirЋe's body just days before. Fields was sweating freely, his pudgy hands trembling as he ran them over his dripping jowls. His wooly eyebrows worked up and down like the wings of an ostrich and his belly shook with each step he took, while above it his obese heart could be seen as it pounded, stirring the flab of his chest.
"I'm ruined, Sid," he whined. "Ruined. My clients will have me prosecuted. At best. Some of it was Mafia money. They don't forgive." He covered his face with his hands. "What about Khalid? Can't he cover our margins until we find a way out of this?"
Sid shook his head. PLO dissatisfaction with Khalid al-Mazkum had been quickly vented, and his body had been found in his own office this morning. "A few million we could sweep under the carpet. But not a few billion. Khalid won't be covering anything more than a three-by-six foot plot ever again."
Fields stopped, his puffy eyes wide. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, they took him out. The PLO. They don't forgive either."
Reg Fields' trembling increased. He was essentially bankrupt and he feared the retribution of the people who had trusted him. And his wife…
Buchanan wasn't feeling very well himself. He had been destroyed in a matter of twenty-four hours. The stock exchanges had executed on his assets, frozen his accounts, and he was expecting auditors and lawyers from the SEC. He was trapped no matter which way he turned. Harry Wickes had been trying to avert this when he called, but Sid had not listened, being too wrapped up in DesirЋe's sweet palace of pleasure. Now, as he stared at the computer screen at the email he had sent to the broker, he wondered how it could have gone so wrong. The volatility list had replaced his selected buy list somehow, and he wondered how it had happened. He could not have been so scatterbrained as to do that himself. So the only answer to the question of how was who. The computers were not networked and could not have been accessed from outside. The files would have had to have been altered from right here in the study, the night of the party, most probably, most certainly, after he had shown them to Khalid and Reg, after he had used his password to access the computer. Sometime between the time when they had left the room at eleven-twenty and when he had sent the email ten hours later.
That was a fairly big window, but who could have done it? Who could have even known, or want to alter the files? As far as he knew, of the people at the party, only the three men in the study, who had taken turns with DesirЋe's sweet body, had known of the plan. Of his jackals all over the world, none had known of the whole picture, only their separate functions.
But the email he had sent was exactly the opposite of what it should have been, numbers randomly altered in a way that didn't even add up, as Harry had said. Only the three of them present could have known enough of the project to sabotage the file. Buchanan knew that he hadn't done it, and Reg Fields would have done it only if he knew he would profit somehow. But here he was, sweating and greasy, and it was plainly no act. The fat man had taken a bath, that was plain to see, nor was there any way he could have profited by having Sid sink his money into volatilities.
If Khalid had come back later and done it, why was he dead? Or was he really dead? Had he somehow faked his death? But how could he have profited from buying huge amounts of stock in dying companies? No, Khalid had been paid off for his losses in a pound of lead this morning, as a lesson to the next guy entrusted with the terrorists' money. No, Khalid would never ride another camel, or another young unbeliever again.
Unbeliever. Buchanan looked down at the couch, still stained with male ejaculations and female secretions. She had been here, asleep over there with her belly filled with the semen of three men, the same three men who were now destroyed by the events of the preceding day. Had she really been asleep? He wondered. He had not logged off after showing the computer file to his two associates. Could she have been listening? Did she really hate them enough to do this to them, after her countless orgasms and cries of joy? Of course, women said no, but they really meant yes, didn't they? She had loved it, hadn't she, all those big cocks sliding up into her tight pussy?
He looked again at the couch. She had hated it, and she had found a way to get even for the time before when he had seduced her in bed with her own husband and the time when he had shared her with the other two men. For fuck sakes! She had already set him up for a fall when he had brought her to his room on Friday morning! When Harry had called and she was sitting on his cock, she had known what Harry was talking about. Because she had done it. The bitch had done it! To him! If it weren't so horrible, so final, so devastating, it would have been funny. In one fell swoop she had avenged herself on the three of them.
Buchanan looked up at Fields. He was wiping his cheek with a handkerchief, trembling and breathing heavily, looking pitiful. To Buchanan, it was not the biggest surprise in the world when Fields grabbed his chest and fell over.
He was looking at the VDU, at the email that had been sent on Friday morning and being read by Harry Wickes just as he was easing his big cock into DesirЋe Denning's wet vagina. Besides the numbers that didn't add up, which the broker had had to reconcile, there was something else that didn't look quite right. There. There it was. She had corrected his spelling. The fastidious little bitch had corrected two misspelled words, words he had always spelled differently.
He looked up. The paramedics were wheeling Reg Fields out, performing CPR. Buchanan wasn't accompanying the fat man to the ambulance. He was already flat-lining and there was little hope. Let the hospital break the news to his wife. Whether they would let her keep the life insurance money, with all the huge liabilities the fat man now had, was another question.
Score two now for DesirЋe.
What was he going to do now? He couldn't let the little bitch get away with what she had done. First, he would have to see Mark Denning ruined, and there were a dozen ways to accomplish that, but she would have to pay with her life. But slowly. Maybe a few years in an African brothel would do. Sure, her father was rich and powerful, now much richer than Buchanan, but he would never know. Even poor men could get revenge. DesirЋe herself had done it for free.
As for Buchanan, he now had to figure out how to get himself out of this mess. The stock exchange would have this house before long. He wished he had more squirreled away in Bermuda. But he was smart, much smarter than either Khalid al-Mazkum or Reg Fields, and he would make a comeback. Then little DesirЋe, and her na•ve husband, would be dog meat. All he needed to do was set up some shell corporations and get some people to front for him. Build up his strength and get straight with some of his investors. Most of the money he had lost had been his own. It had been a decision born out of greed on one hand – he had wanted all the profits for himself – and on the other the necessity to be discreet about his inside information.
He was making plans when the door to the study opened.
"Nigel, bring me a lobster sandwich," he said.
For a long moment there was no reply, so he finally looked up. It was not the butler, but a man he had never seen before, a swarthy man who looked very much like Khalid al-Mazkum.
"Yes?" Sid said, beginning to rise.
"A message from my brother Khalid," the man said, bringing an automatic pistol fitted with a silencer out of his jacket.
Buchanan was about to make a hasty plea for mercy when the gun popped and put a bullet through his throat. The next one hit him squarely in the solar plexus and slammed him back into his expensive, leather chair.
They had immobilized his upper body so as not to tear the newly stitched wound, and the back of his thigh was incredibly sore because of the flesh he had lost there. He would need physiotherapy and lots of exercise before he could get back on the trail of the two remaining dogs, but hunt them he would, for Devereaux had raised the bounty on Lobo and Bruno astronomically. Of course, with Priscilla gone he had little else to do with his considerable fortune and his revenge would one day be sweet.
Of course, there were Rodney's pictures that told a story Devereaux would not be pleased to learn, those showing Clete shooting the now-dead girl with his revolver. He had blamed her wounds on dead Billy Canning, and the rich ranch owner had given him a check for a hundred thousand dollars without much thinking about it. Accompanied by a weeping, distraught Robyn Young, he had paid his respects and thanked the sheriff, who felt himself nonetheless to have been within his duty to stop the crazed auburn-haired beauty from murdering DesirЋe and him. Besides, the money was for the dogs, and not for keeping Priscilla alive. She had essentially committed suicide by her evil acts.
Still, Clete had coerced Rodney into giving him the negatives of the two photos that showed him firing and hitting Priscilla.
Clete could still smile through his pain. Nancy had just spent a lot of time with him, and had told him she thought she was pregnant and was going to the pharmacy for a home test. The idea of fatherhood had raised his spirits and they had immediately begun making plans for a quick wedding, to be carried out before he left the hospital. A call to Nancy's uncle and some bold negotiating on his part had secured a deal with the family over the abandoned Pace mansion. If Clete put up the money from his bounty to either dig a new well or have water piped in, he would be allowed a long lease on the property, which he now thought would be a good place to raise the brood that they appeared to have already started with Nancy.
He knew now that his obsession with DesirЋe was insane, and he felt his love for Nancy renewed by thoughts of his hopes for the future. In spite of his race, he was a respectable citizen now, a local hero, and perhaps a national one. He had had calls today in conjunction with Rodney's syndicated accounts of the Pickford's Meadows saga. The graphic photographs of yesterday's massacre had had to be sanitized for public distribution, and Clete had laughed to see the faces of the naked women victims and their private parts covered with big black rectangles.
Amazingly, and laughably, Mark Denning had no knowledge of what had happened to his wife, nor of the brief, passionate affair she had had with Clete. Except for the unfortunate episode when Lobo had invaded their bedroom in the middle of their love-making and taken the bride for himself, Mark believed his DesirЋe to be completely faithful. Perhaps she was, for she had never actually sought sex with anyone outside of her marriage. And, she had told Clete, while holding him and waiting for the ambulance, that the time they had had sex at the Pace mansion had been because she had been abducted there by Sam and Billy. She had begged him not to tell Mark about any of it.
So, in spite of his pain, that kept him from moving any faster than a snail, Clete was reasonably content. He had a nest egg, a great home to move into, respect and a job in the community, a wife soon-to-be, and offspring on the way. There was no reason why he should allow his obsession with DesirЋe to upset that any longer. He would simply have to learn to live without her.
He hoped it was a son. It had to be a son! Sure, he would look a little pale, like his white mother, but he would mainly look like his father, Clete had decided. But it was something that would tie him to the respectability of the old Pace family, the longest-resident members of Pickford's Meadows, since that great mansion had been built in the heyday of the region.
Clete sighed, smiled, and relaxed. His struggle, it seemed, was over.
When the door slowly opened, he raised his head. Had Nancy forgotten something?
Remembering his resolution made just a few minutes before, Clete tried not to smile when he saw DesirЋe enter, wearing a light, powder blue summer dress. She was radiant, clean and scrubbed to a radiant glow, with no sign of the sperm-smeared and blood spattered girl he had last seen as they moved him into the ambulance. Her glowing blue eyes were sparkling and clear, though downcast shyly as she crossed from the door to the bed. He watched her attentively as she stopped there and laid a hand on the mattress beside his leg.
"I…" she started, then swallowed and started again, her eyes looking at that hand. "I had to see you, Sheriff Anderson. Clete. I had to come and thank you and see how you were doing."
He smiled. "Well, here I am." His uninjured free arm gestured downward. "All that's left."
He saw a tear streak her cheek. "You saved my life, Clete. If it hadn't been for you, I would never have come back from that forest. Those men…"
"You told me about them, remember?"
"Yes, I'm sorry."
"You did what you had to do. How's Mark?"
She smiled slowly. "Just fine. Sore feet, but just fine. We're going to get started on the family now soon. You know…"
"I know what you mean," he whispered conspiratorially. "Keep it under your hat, but I think Nancy's pregnant. She thinks she is."
"Congratulations," she said, inadvertently putting her hand on his leg. "I wish you all the best." Then she noticed her hand, and withdrew it. "Excuse me."
He caught her hand as she moved it. "No, it's okay." He felt the familiar, uncontrollable churning that DesirЋe always evoked in him, and his stirring cock made a tent at the junction of his legs. DesirЋe saw it, remembered what it had done to her, and couldn't tear her gaze away. Clete pulled her hand gently and placed it over his huge cock, and, wonder of wonders, her fingers closed around it, though unable to completely encircle it.
Her hand moved slowly, stroking it up and down while a wet spot began to form on the sheet where it peaked. Glancing up into his eyes, she moved her hand under the cover and grasped the great shaft, feeling the throbbing veins, the bristly hair on the scrotum holding the big, swollen balls. Her hands moved upward, felt the exposed, wide-flanged corona, slippery with his pre-seminal fluid, and she used her thumb to smear it over the tip, raising a groan from his open lips. His big, black hand reached out, running up inside her thighs to the soft, damp center strip of her silk panties, pressed the thin material into her vulval slit to find the nub of her clitoris.
"Oh," she whispered, almost inaudibly, pressing her other hand to her full, swelling breasts, feeling the heat rise to her loins and bosom. Her knees began to tremble, and she squatted slightly to open her thighs while his finger slipped inside to the dripping split of her vagina, slipped inside the honeyed hole of her sex.
DesirЋe, losing control in a way she had not expected she would, and taking initiative for the first time in her life, lifted the sheet, looking down at the frightening black length of his two-and-a-half-inch thick cock. Making low, purring sounds in her throat, she bent her head forward and, holding the huge shaft in both hands, opened her mouth and slid her shining wet, red lips over the head of his cock.
"Dez!" he groaned, feeling her suck the big bulge into her mouth to twirl her tongue all around the throbbing, helmet-shaped glans, trying to work the tip into the hole in the end. Clete arched his back, pushing two fingers into her juicy pussy, feeling her muscles tighten and suck the digits up into her.
What she was doing with her mouth turned out to be inadequate, for his cockhead was much too big for her mouth and the cock itself too thick to even begin to go into her throat, as she had read about in the sex manual. She tried to give him as much pleasure as she could, but she had to stop when her breath ran out. She straightened up, pushing her pussy against his working hand, her eyes glassy, and a shy smile on her face.
"I can never see you again," she said softly. "Not like this. I'm Mrs. Denning, and Mr. Denning has a political career. Mrs. Denning loves Mr. Denning and wants to be his wife forever." She looked at him directly with those wide, soft eyes, hope in them that he would understand. A tiny drop of his fluid glistened on her lower lip, and her tongue lapped it away. She smiled quietly, and waited.
Clete spoke in a near whisper. "Never again, DesirЋe."
She nodded and he felt her pussy suddenly grow wetter. Her shaking hands moved up under her dress and she slid her damp panties over the ripe hump of her buttocks and he drew them down her thighs. She stepped out of them and while his hand played in the crease of her vulva and stroked her burning clit, her hands moved to her neck and unbuttoned the front of her dress, down to her navel. The clasp of her bra was between the cups and they parted under her fingers, letting her sculpted breasts spring out, the wondrous, pink nipples bobbing with her breathing that was coming throaty and faster. Leaning over him, she let him mouth her tautly hanging tits, closing her eyes as the sensations shot through her while his fingers dipped into her sweet cunt. Her hand moved inexpertly up and down his penis, a trail of goo dripping onto her white hand.
"I can't move," he groaned, and she moved her face to his, pressing her mouth to his thick lips, and enjoying the way his tongue worked against her cheeks and halfway down her throat. She felt possessed by this powerful man, though on his back and unable to move, and felt the heat grow in her. She hoped that Mark would never find out, that if he did he would understand, but more than anything that, when he next held her in his arms, he would possess her totally and completely, the way she felt it happening now.
Clete had three fingers stretching her tight pussy, which would need a lot of work before it was wide enough for any large cock to enter comfortably, with the fourth finger deep in her asshole. She was flexing her thighs, rising up and down, frigging herself on his hand, his palm filling with her warm lubricant. But it was not enough.
DesirЋe drew back and very carefully put her left knee up on the bed, then lifted the right and swung it over him, straddling his hips and carefully placing it between his side and his immobile left hand.
"Careful, baby," Clete said softly.
DesirЋe hiked up the dress around her waist, smiled at him, reached down, and fitted the tip of his enormous black cock into the tiny loop of her vaginal opening. She closed her eyes and with her lower lip caught between her teeth, bore down with her hips, rotating her pussy in tiny circles, working the inhumanly sized penis into her hot sheath, moving up and down until it was gradually buried in her belly to the hilt.
She groaned with him as she rose and fell over his pulsing prick. "Oh, God, Clete, it's so big," she whispered. How did Nancy take this thing night after night? The blonde felt the soft, mushrooming head pressing her cervix high up into her belly. She pumped slowly and carefully until she had coated the cock liberally with her secretions, until they could both hear the wetness of the actions. Reaching behind her, she massaged his bristly scrotum and the swollen testicles inside, as large as ripe plums.
"This is dangerous, you know, my darling," she said, moving now smoothly, the way she had seen in a sex book and in a sex film. "I'm not protected. Not on the pill." She closed her eyes and squeezed him with her pussy. "That's why… never again." Too dangerous for her marriage and for Mark's career. She knew she must douche when she got home, very carefully.
"You've got the best pussy in the world," Clete said. "The best."
She closed her eyes again. She worked over his almost motionless body for a long time, until her grunts and sighs grew loud enough to attract the attention of a passing nurse.
The nurse looked in and saw the honey blonde hair and the spectacular white body moving lovingly over the dark form of the patient, this man who was now a celebrity for his heroism. He had saved lives and stopped the spree of woman-raping wild animals, and now, poor dear, he needed some love. She had thought Anderson's fiancЋe's hair was a little darker, though. Ah well, first impressions. She saw the slowly bouncing, wide-spread buttocks, the way the great cock was sinking into the lovely girl's vagina. Yes, even heroes needed love, she thought, and went on with her duties.
DesirЋe drew the act out for a long time, over an hour, until she felt she could no longer torment him with postponing his orgasm, which she had complete control over.
"I'm going to come, Clete darling," she sighed. "Are you going to come in me?"
"Come in you, baby," Clete gasped. "For the last time."
And they could no longer keep their voices at a quiet level as DesirЋe's orgasm swept over her like a tidal wave. Clete growled and felt his balls quaking, his cock gushing into her like never before, flooding her womb with his potent, life-giving seed. That quiet afternoon, attendants in the hospital were startled to hear their voices raised raucously in the explosion of their passions as the man's cock pumped his sperm into the lovely white woman's tender vagina.
Half an hour later, DesirЋe arose, sliding her sucking pussy off the depleted and contented black shaft, dropping the hem of her dress and using a tissue from the box on the nightstand to mop up the cream running from her cunt. As she buttoned her dress up the front, she looked at him and smiled.
"Thank you again, Clete, for saving my life." She kissed him deeply and tenderly, and moved to the door, pausing a second at the door to turn back and say, "Goodbye, my darling."
Clete watched the door close behind her.
As she walked down the hall toward the exit, his mind went back over the previous day's ordeal. Something Priscilla had said as she commanded DesirЋe to remove her clothing. It was… tampons. She had ordered her to remove a tampon, but DesirЋe had said she wasn't using one and – she tried to calculate the days of the month – perhaps she should have been.
It was spring in Pickford's Meadows, and Dr. William Hemmings, the secretly fallen pastor and renegade doctor not yet exposed, bustled about his private clinic on Main Street. Since the disaster and mayhem of last August, it had been fairly quiet in the conservative farming community, and things seemed to have returned to normal, or as near as possible. Clete was still out in the country, obsessively hunting the two remaining members of the dog pack, now that Jim Devereaux had raised the reward astronomically since Priscilla's death. He blamed the dogs, not totally without good reason, for taking her away. The stray blast that had killed her had never been accounted for, and was attributed to Billy Canning, but the reason for the shooting seemed to be completely attributable to the dog pack's presence, so Lobo and his remaining companion were being hunted day and night, and Clete swore that it was just a matter of time, even now nearly nine months later. His leg and chest had taken months to heal and the former had been too weak to carry his weight until fairly recently.
Yesterday, he claimed to have found something very promising, which was why he wasn't there for the birth of his child, as it had come rather suddenly. Nancy had just delivered a beautiful little girl and Hemmings had her sedated in the next room and the baby in another room, waiting for parental attention.
The doctor was in turmoil and, though he was not in any way to blame for the present situation, was terrified of facing Nancy Anderson's bad-tempered black husband. But there would be hell to pay, and there were no two ways about it. Thinking back, Hemmings could trace it to the day he had seen Mark Denning pick Nancy Pace up in his car and drive away with her. Though he did not know that they had gone to a hotel for an afternoon of sex, he surmised that they had found somewhere discreet to get together, for that was the day she had been impregnated with the purely white little baby girl he had just helped Nancy bring into the world. Mark's child. It was as obvious as could be that it was not Clete's child, even though he had been ecstatic at the prospect of having children. Now, he, the town hero, would be shamed and made a laughing stock.
And truly, none of this fit into Hemmings' plans at all, for he knew that he could expect great social upheaval in the community and, with Clete's temperament, perhaps violence. How could he be expected to remain calm after finding out that his least favorite politician and husband of the woman he secretly loved, had sired his firstborn. And the social chaos that would follow would utterly and completely upset Hemmings' plans.
And Clete was not alone in his feelings for the beautiful, silver-voiced, piano teacher wife of Mark Denning. Hemmings still carried on the hypocrisy of his church, even though he had violated all his vows out of his obsessive love for DesirЋe. But now, with this scandalous event, the pleasant situation that had existed for Hemmings during the last year appeared doomed to an untimely end. DesirЋe would perhaps divorce Mark and maybe Clete would kill him, but there was a big danger that the lovely blonde girl would leave town in disgrace.
During the last nine months, Hemmings had had DesirЋe to himself quite a lot. The post-hypnotic suggestions planted last year had continued to bring her to his office regularly, and less than a month after the terrible events that had led to Priscilla's death and the massacre on the Pace farm, DesirЋe had begun to come in for her pre-natal examinations and scans. Hemmings, knowing that the child was his own, watched the girl's pregnancy progress, from the ripe glow in her cheeks and the cessation of her periods to the gradual plumping of her thighs and buttocks, and swelling of her breasts and belly. The scans showed that it was likely a boy child, and the two couples had become almost cordial as their time of joy approached concurrently.
Yes, he had watched DesirЋe's body swell and change slowly, day by day. Still under hypnosis, Hemmings found that he was able to have sex with her in his office twice a week, making sure that she remembered nothing of the sessions. He photographed her naked body and kept a scrapbook, proud that she was healthy. Her skin was perfect and there would be no stretch-marks. Motherhood would leave her looking young and lovely as ever, and to make sure, every session after he had drawn his depleted penis from her vagina, while she slept contentedly in the afterglow of the orgasms that came to her so easily, he had rubbed her belly and breasts with expensive creams.
Hemmings traced DesirЋe's pregnancy back to the day or two before Nancy's impregnation when his angel had come to his office and he had seduced her under hypnosis. He was so proud now to be the father of DesirЋe's child that he deeply regretted not being able to boast about it all over Pickford's Meadows.
Mark Denning was out of town, as usual, since he had been elected to the State Senate, and though people were trying to contact him to tell him the birth was in progress, no one had succeeded in getting through to him yet. She was only a couple of days overdue by Hemmings' calculations, but the doctor was not bothered by her husband's absence. This was his own special time with his secret love DesirЋe and his own child.
Hemmings had her mildly sedated and kept her on a drip. If things became too painful for her, he could induce unconsciousness. Her legs were in the stirrups and she was gasping with the contractions, which, he knew, were coming regularly.
"How're we doing, DesirЋe?"
DesirЋe took a deep breath. "It's getting very uncomfortable, Doctor. I hope…" and she groaned and pressed her lips tightly together, breathing through her nose in quick, choppy puffs. "I hope it's over soon. Is my baby all right?"
Hemmings checked the baby's ECG and nodded. "He's doing just fine," he said with pride. His baby, his son, through the womb of the young woman he adored. "I'm going to check the dilation." He gently inserted two fingers into DesirЋe's vagina, and was happy to see she was progressing well. "Seven centimeters, my darling. It won't be long now." This was going to be just fine. He had given her an enema when she had come in with Tanya and was keeping the temperature constantly comfortable for her. There was a videotape running of the birth, something DesirЋe knew nothing of; like the twice-weekly photographs of her, it was for Hemmings' own private viewing.
Though it had been quiet in Pickford's Meadows for the last eight months, it had not been totally uneventful, and Hemmings knew just about everything that went on in the community, with his window over Main Street, and the microphone secreted in his waiting room that picked up all the gossip. Rodney and Tanya Foster were still in town while the former worked on his book. He'd had a huge advance for it, and after the money he had made from the magazine articles that went out all over the country after the killings last year, he was in a very comfortable condition financially. He and Tanya spent several evenings a week, sometimes staying all night, at the Devereaux ranch with James and his niece Robyn, who for some reason had not returned to university and her father last September. Hemmings thought the situation a trifle strange, but he supposed the older man needed some company and comfort in his grief at the loss of his only daughter.
DesirЋe was terrifically brave, the doctor thought. She was hardly making a sound in the pain of her contractions, and when the time came to push, she did a marvelous job, exhausting herself without complaining. With her birth canal dilated to a full ten centimeters, Hemmings moved to the camera and focused it for a close-up on DesirЋe's yawning birth canal, wanting to capture the moment perfectly for remembrance. He moved down and watched carefully without obscuring the camera's view, watching the girl's wonderful, lovely, sweet vagina stretching naturally to deliver the dear child.
In time, while he rubbed her swollen belly, the baby's head began to crown, and he could see it all, with thick, dark hair. He moved the light closer to see better, and could see that, yes, the baby's hair was very dark, which was odd, with tight, close-set waves. As the top of the head emerged, Hemmings peered up close, swore, and quickly moved to DesirЋe's side. He quickly and carefully twisted a valve on the IV line in her arm, increasing the amount of sedative, and watched her eyes begin to droop. Then he quickly went over and turned off the camera.
He was numb with shock and disappointment, and with fear of the consequences for DesirЋe. He had miscalculated the time of the conception, and saw that she was not overdue at all with the birth. It was incontrovertible that she had conceived on the same day as had Nancy Anderson, then Pace, the day the latter had ridden off with Mark in his car and DesirЋe had paid a quiet visit to the sheriff's office. That had been it, damn it! While Nancy was shagging Mark in some motel room, DesirЋe was lying on Clete's desk while he pumped her full of his potent, black sperm! Under hypnotic induction in the doctor's office punctuated with her sobs of shame, she had revealed in graphic detail the full and lurid details of that episode. Hemmings had not been unduly worried about it, for he had confirmed her pregnancy and assumed that, as nasty as the act had been with Clete there in his office, she had been protected by a pregnancy already implanted two or three days previously.
Well, calculating conceptions and terms of pregnancy was far from an exact science, as the doctor had now learned to his chagrin. If he had known, he might have been able to do something about it, though it would mean further violating every thing he had held dear until being shattered by his obsession with DesirЋe.
While Hemmings helped the nearly unconscious girl deliver her firstborn, he fumed and cursed. It was an incredibly awkward, dangerous situation they were in now. Mark would divorce DesirЋe and Clete would murder Mark. The scandal would be colossal in this conservative and religious community, and DesirЋe, his lovely, honey-voiced, innocent angel, would go away, flee, and Hemmings would never see her again, or hear her angelic singing, would never know the joy and fulfillment of her twice-weekly visits to his office.
Bringing the dark-skinned boy child out of DesirЋe's defiled belly, he took the innocent newborn into the other room and laid him in a bassinet next to Nancy's little girl. If he had thought that last August's massacre was a disaster, it was nothing compared to the murder and mayhem that was looming on the horizon when the two new fathers found that a most hated cuckoo had invaded their nests.
It was a scenario beyond the wildest imaginings of a pulp writer, and would have been laughable were the impending consequences not so dire, things at this point limited only by the imagination. He was aware that both the Dennings were reluctant participants in the lustful goings-on, though it was a sure thing that they would be the ones to suffer the most. Though Clete would probably go madly violent at seeing that Mark had sowed his seed in the sheriff's field, he had been aware of one only incidence of sex between the two of them. Nancy was so young, and her family was far from white trash, but Clete would feel triumphant at the knowledge that he had fathered DesirЋe's son. The political and social consequences for Mark would be incalculable.
As he walked into the nursery to put the ID wrist bracelets on the neonates, Hemmings wracked his brains for some obscure, technical excuse he might offer, but could come up with nothing really plausible. To coin a very apt and vulgar phrase, the shit had hit the fan with great force in Pickford's Meadows.
Hemmings quietly closed the door on Clete and Nancy Anderson and shuffled in to where DesirЋe was slowly coming awake. Mark was coming shortly and the doctor had kept the dear girl conveniently sedated. He had begun bringing her out when Clete arrived, and now she was opening her eyes. They were soft and vulnerable, and the doctor smiled as he saw color coming back into her pale cheeks. He loved her and nothing could be allowed to hurt her. Sitting on the bed, he stroked her forehead and pressed her hands in his.
"How was your sleep, little mother?" he asked tenderly.
Her throat was dry, and she had trouble getting her first words out. "How-how's my baby?"
Hemmings had some difficulty finding the words. "Just fine, DesirЋe. Just fine." He heard footsteps in the hall and kissed her cheek. "Mark's here. Are you ready to see him?"
DesirЋe gave a little nod and smiled. "Oh, yes!"
Mark knocked, then came in, hurrying to his young wife's side, kissing her warmly. It was obvious that their former marital problems of the year past were all patched – he had never learned of her experiences with Clete – and there was a long moment of tender affection displayed between them. While they made him jealous with their loving and touching, Hemmings went into the nursery.
"Oh, Mark, I wanted you with me for the birth," DesirЋe cooed. "It would have been so perfect."
"I know, baby," he returned in the same velvety intonation. "I was in an important high-level meeting and my secretary was blocking all calls. I'm so sorry."
The girl sniffed and kissed him. "But you're here now, and that's all that matters."
"You know something, darling?" Mark said. "I feel a powerful urge to make love to you right now."
She laughed weakly. "I think we should wait at least until after dinner."
Mark chuckled, and then turned as the door opened. Hemmings was standing there cradling a bundle of white fabric. He came over and gave it into DesirЋe's eager, open arms. Tears of joy were streaking his face and Mark looked up.
"Thank you, Doctor," the young father said. "Thanks for everything."
DesirЋe moved the blanket from the baby's face and sobbed. "Oh, baby, look!"
Mark moved the folds aside and looked down at the tiny body. "It's a girl!"
The young mother cried, "Oh, yes, Mark, and she's got your eyes!" She pressed her cheek to the baby's face and began to sing.
A slight look of puzzlement on his face, Mark looked up at the doctor and met his cryptic gaze. From the scans Hemmings had told them to expect a boy, but then he supposed those things, like politics and love and a great many other things, were not completely reliable.
Nothing's perfect, he thought, and turned back to his wife and child, his happy family.