Roped and raped



It is hard to conceive in this day and age, and especially in our Western society, that individual human beings could be and are now being treated like mere chattel and worse.

Yet there are examples to be found all around us. Migrant workers labor for a pittance, and are beaten or thrown out of their jobs if they protest against their meager wages. Sharecroppers are forced to turn over as much as 50 percent of their produce to large landowners to pay off an ever-increasing debt whose termination they will never see. Illegal aliens must work for cruelly low wages or face exposure and deportation.

And then there is Marilyn Bergman, an intelligent, beautiful woman who, at the outset of her trip through the hills of West Virginia, would never have dreamed that a mechanical breakdown and a request for help would lead her into a nightmare world of rape and degradation and violence.

ROPED AND RAPED -- the story of a woman who finds out what it is like to be treated like an object rather than a person. A reminder that our society is still a long ways from Utopia.



CHAPTER ONE

"And this is the bedroom," said Angela, doing a pirouette as she led me in.

I went to her, put my hands on her waist, and buried my face in the angle of her neck. She tasted like fresh peaches and my lips clung to her skin. I felt her hands come clasp my shoulders with a passion, like mine, too long denied. "I thought we'd never get to the bedroom," I whispered.

She stood up for me, straight and proud while I unbuttoned her blouse and opened it to reveal her conical braless tits. They were small, pointed in brown and beautiful, the points already standing out to me in greeting. I covered one with my mouth, sucked till I felt her heart throbbing behind the tender firm cushion of tit, and then I switched to her other nipple, sucking it as well to quivering, thrusting erection. She wrapped her hands around my head and pulled me to her willing tits, feeding me on their pale contoured curves and brown caps. There was a gentle aroma to her flesh, heavy in the vale between her dainty tits, and I filled my nose with that scent as I filled my mouth with her jugs.

"Oh, don't stop!" she whispered, clutching me, and I didn't want to stop but I had to breathe, too, and reluctantly I forced my lips to abandon Angela's tits. I straightened up, helped her out of the blouse, and then my fingers flew to the waist-button of her skirt. It fell with a swish as I undid the button, and I ran my fingers up and down her smooth flanks, the cool chaste nylon of her white panties.

"Your skin feels warmer each time I touch it," I said in a moist, breathy tone, my fingertips dancing across the cunt-filled crotch piece of her panties.

"Then touch it," invited Angela. "Touch it again and again and again and -- Oh, my God! Your hands, your hands, your hands!"

My hands, my hands, my hands were inside her panties by then, one of them stroking her ass in sexy circles, the other closing its fist like a hot, tight vise on the puffy, hair-covered bulge of her pussy. My fingers dug at the clinging slice of her cunt-lips. I felt them yield moistly. My finger lunged inside, lying full-length along her warm, slick gash. The base of my knuckles rubbed Angela's clit, found it stiff and obvious, and she gave a whimpering groan, slumping heavily against me.

"Bear up, Sister," I told her with a kiss. "We've only just begun!"

I laid her on the bed, tickling her butt so she'd lift it and enable me to remove her panties. Her shoes clumped to the floor, and she was naked -- totally naked, totally desirable, curling and stretching an invitation to me.

"Come now," she gasped, her hands lifted towards me. "Come to me now!"

I wanted her. It had been too long. Too, too long! Quickly I stepped back, peeled off my sweater, dropped my jeans, and kicked off my shoes. That left me naked, too -- as naked as Angela, and God, twice as horny! I threw myself onto the bed, rocking it, rocking her, and she rolled into my embrace with a wet, open mouth that sought mine hungrily. My tongue fucked her mouth and she sucked eagerly, and our crotches squirmed into oozing, passionate contact.

As we rolled and twisted, I slid my hand between her legs. They opened greedily, and her tight pussy swallowed the finger with which I tickled its wet lips. Into her pulsating snatch my finger darted, and each time I thrust deeply into her cunt, Angela went "Ohhhhhh!" into my kissing mouth. Her tits were very small but very hard, and their nipples scraped against me so hotly I thought -- Jesus, I hoped -- she'd set my flesh afire with the burning lust of her body.

I opened my own legs and pulled one of her thighs into the spread. She was beginning to perspire, the way she always did when she was sexed up, and her moist slim thigh rubbed frantically on my pussy, until I felt my head swelling, my heart ready to burst, and my cunt coming alive with a million kinds of arousal. I squeezed that thigh with my legs and she was strong and supple and incessant against my snatch, and in a moment or two my cunt juice was joining her sweat to make that thigh even greasier, even slicker, even more erotic where it strummed up and down upon my puffy gash.

"God, do it!" I cried, my fingers madly at work on Angela's pussy, one of them in her wet hole, the others squeezing and teasing the puffy, sex-swollen outer cunt-lips.

Delicious! Ah, God, I could taste her cunt on my lips already, and I knew that soon I must have my face between Angela's legs, my tongue lapping at her slice. She was a deep, deep pink in cuntal coloration, and when her snatch gleamed with the secretions of her inner juices as it must be gleaming now, thanks to the invasions of my stabbing finger there could be no more beautiful sight in creation.

She was wild and uncontrollable in my arms, her body hot and active in my embrace, and I wondered if she'd been anticipating this moment as much as I had. For days I'd thought of nothing else -- only the delirious coming-together of me and Angela. But my dreams were nothing compared to the reality of it. The stimulating taste of her mouth, the erotic womanly fragrance of her body -- they overwhelmed me as we writhed together on Angela's bed. They made me drunk with passion and desire and a frenzied, craving lust for her delights.

I opened my eyes and saw that hers, soft and very brown, were fixed upon my face. Our mouths parted, my hands began to wander up and down her lean, hungry frame as if they didn't know where to begin, and I heard Angela whisper my name.

"Marilyn, please do it for me."

And I needed no further invitation. The sound of my name on her sweet, thin lips was like a battle cry, a trumpet to arms. I touched her tits and she lay down obediently, her knees lifting into the air, and I angled my head downward.

My tongue lingered on her nipples, licking circles of love around the brown flowers of her tits, and then it was down her slim middle, into the patch of dark fluffy cunt hair that nestled between Angela's thighs. She was mousy brunette on top, and no matter how many times I suggested touching up the color, she only laughed. No matter. I loved her as much with mousy-brown hair as I would have if she'd been copper-red or platinum-blonde or even bald as Telly Savalas. But her cunt hair was rich, shimmering brown, very thick and curling across the white of her crotch, and I wished that I could run my fingers through that same lovely shade of hair on her head, too.

Even more lovely was what lay beneath that thicket of rich brown fur. I could smell its honeysuckle goodness as I moved my face nearer; my finger in Angela's cunt-hole had stimulated a tangy hot flow of juices which was already making beads of moisture glisten on her beaver. I wanted to slither my tongue into that sweet pit and lick up all her savory twat-cream, then lap her steaming gash into drenching me with another flow just as sweet, just as tangy, just as addictive.

"Yes, Marilyn," she warbled, "use your tongue. Lick me. Lick my pussy inside out. No one -- no one does it the way you do!"

I pawed the lips of her cunt, parting the pussy fuzz to lay bare the delicious slice itself, and for a moment I stared at the dripping pink of her open cunt. The mouth of Angela's hole quivered and pulsated with expectations even before I thrust my tongue into it, and my own mouth was awash with frothy saliva. It was wonderful to stare at her cunt, to torture myself thrillingly with the withheld pleasure of tasting it. But when my tongue dared at last to slip into Angela's slit and my mouth inhaled the scent and flavor of her pussy -- well, there was a throb of response in my own cunt and I broke into a shivering fit.

"There, Marilyn, THERE!" she called, reaching for my cunt as she spoke.

Her hands slipped into my crotch and, while one of them stroked up and down my inner thighs, the other made just like Little Jack Horner. Angela thrust up one thumb, ground its tip against my cunt, and gradually worked it into a sopping, itching hole that was more than ready to take her on.

She thumb-fucked me, and the sensation was simultaneously soothing and incredibly erotic.

I threw back my head, sucking in breath even as I exhaled it in a deep, soulful moan, and then I was upon her, splitting Angela's cunt wide with my fingers, driving my hungry mouth into the gap I had made.

I licked her swollen gash, I drank honey-cum from it, I thrust my tongue into her twitching hole, teasing, digging, penetrating deeply between the walls of her tight, loving cunt.

Angela's clit was large and obvious, and I had only to jiggle around its base with the tip of my tongue to get a moaning, whimpering response from my friend. Her bud stood up, gleaming with cunt juices. Occasionally I cleansed it with the flat of my tongue, but that was a dangerous pastime, for Angela was quite clit-sensitive and even a flickering touch sent her into spasms and convulsions, her thighs coming up to grip at my head, her thumb going crazy inside my own pussy.

Angela was a small whisper of a woman -- barely five feet tall, weighing not more than a hundred pounds or so -- but it was all I could do to control her as she began to thrash about and shudder with an oncoming orgasm.

The bed rolled beneath us, and I felt a little twinge of seasickness flutter through my head. It was a lovely, swimming sensation, and I relished it as much as my tongue relished the ever-more delicious seeping of wetness from Angela's cunt. And her thumb was diddling my twat like crazy, jabbing, thrusting, fucking me silly, so that I had little choice except to tighten the grip of my legs on her hand and prevent her from ever taking out that sweet fucking thumb.

Up and down her pink slit I raced with my tongue, absorbing the cunt-cream that flowed from her hole more and more heavily. My tongue squished through the stuff, into her hole, across it, a jiggle and a bump at the base of her clitty, then back down her swollen slit and into her hole again!

"MarilynMarilynMarilynMarilyn!" she cried, running her words all together, but the word was the same and I liked the way she spoke it, then as always.

The undulations of her thighs alternately enfolded and deserted me, as Angela raised and lowered her legs around my head, but I kept on munching at her gash, my tongue flying as I raced to bring her off. There was nothing wrong with the way she was thumbing my cunt, but I wanted more -- I wanted my pussy planted atop her face and her own frisky little tongue romping in the playground the way I frolicked in hers. I tried to hold her down, but it was like wrestling an angry wolf. Angela wanted to buck and I could only hang on while she did.

My eyes flitted around the room as I dipped again and again into her juicing honey-pot. Like the rest of her digs, the bedroom was sparsely furnished. I suppose she'd gotten into the habit of living with only the barest essentials, what with her background. Of course, if the University saw fit to hire me for the teaching post I'd come to see about, I'd be moving in with Angela, of course and I'd see what I could do about brightening up the place.

For the moment, I was more concerned with her interior than her decoration. My tongue speared into her wet, sucking hole and I felt her cunt muscles contract like the jaws of a vise. It was all I could do to stab farther, through the rippling web of tissue, and it was nearly more than I could handle to get my tongue out of her cunt-hole at all.

Angela screamed, her legs stiffening, and I clasped her thighs to soothe away any uneasiness she might have had. Her skin vibrated beneath my touch, nearly as much as her clit base vibrated when my tongue snapped at it eagerly.

"AHHHHHH!" she cried as my finger stabbed into her tight cunt-hole in perfect harmony with my tongue-passes around the rim or her clit.

I thrust into her wet, churning depths and I pressed firmly against her, my hand grinding on her twat-mound. Her cunt erupted like a volcano around me and my fist was covered with Angela's stickiest, wettest juices. I'd screwed around with a couple of women since my last time with Angela, but they'd only been substitutes. This was the real thing and I wondered how I could have lasted a year without her.

"Come, Angela! Come!" I changed as I fucked her with my middle finger and blew whooshes of warm breath across her glistening trigger.

She writhed, she moaned, ahhhs and oooooohhhs bursting from her fluttering lips, and there was an oily sheen of cum across the pink mouth of Angela's pussy. I scooped up some of her juice with my tongue, relished it, and then, before she'd quite come out of her own orgasmic tremors, I mounted her face, thrusting my cunt down on her whimpering mouth.

"Now me! Now suck my cunt!" I implored her, my ass twitching to a rock 'n' roll beat, my labes twittering atop her fluttery lips.

She was still puffing and sighing with her own climax, and the effect was pure magic. Her mouth tickled my cunt, and I giggled, settling down a little more intently. My puffy split did precisely that as it flattened down on Angela's face, and she stabbed up into my gash with excited wiggles and jiggles that opened my eyes as well as my snatch.

"Yes, lick me! Get your tongue into my hole, Sister!" I cried, rocking my cunt across her willing face.

She was wet-mouthed with desire, and my twat was dripping hot, sweet juices -- at least, she always told me they were hot and sweet -- into her mouth as she licked. Angela opened wider, her teeth grinding into the flesh of my cunt, and she sucked like a fucking vacuum, as if she meant to pull my twat inside out.

"AHHHHHHH!" I cried deliriously, and I shoved harder with my puss.

It was no frisky little pussy now, either. I had a fierce, hungry tiger-cat between my legs, and it wanted to eat Angela's entire head out of gratitude for the splendid sucking she was dishing in my direction. And then she started to hum.

Just a soft, muted, but incredibly prolonged "mmmmmmmmm!" into the flesh of my hot box, making it hotter, hotter, hotter!

My clit was hammering like a drum, and she knew that I loved to have it nibbled and sucked.

Mine wasn't quite so delicate a bud as hers, but it was definitely on a hair-trigger today. She pulled it in her lips.

I felt my clit swell like a busted thumb and then I was coming, too, showering Angela's face with the abundant juices of my orgasm. Her tongue squished and sloshed through the sexy wetness; penetrated my spasming hole like a beautiful, sensual snake, weaving through the contractions of my cunt. It withdrew somehow, in time to tickle the very tip of my clitty with such a skillful technique that I was coming all over again, and this time I couldn't seem to stop.

"Love me, love me, love me!" I whined, and I buried her trapped face beneath my sopping pussy and, though I could hear Angela call out in soft, understated protest, I couldn't bear to raise my cunt, to let her breathe. I wanted her to drink my essence, to love me, to remember how good it had been for us before, how good it was going to be again, very soon.

"Oh, too much," I said finally, lying beside her. My arm was around her body, fingers making a cup over one small, warm tit. She cuddled closer, lying like a child against me, and her hands strayed up and down my body -- not with invitations to an immediate return bout, of course -- merely to remind me that she was here, close, that she loved me and cherished me, as I did her.

"Does it mean that much to you, Marilyn?" she asked, and I wondered what she meant. Of course it did! How much proof did she need?

"Don't talk. Just be close, be warm, be here," I told her, my finger sealing her ups with a gentle press. In another second, my mouth had underscored the fingers' touch and we were kissing and hugging. If I hadn't been so tired from the day's long drive, I'd have thrown her and blown her just one more sweet, sweet time but the sun had gone down while we were making passionate reunion love and I was so knocked out.

CHAPTER TWO

My name is Marilyn Bergman and I am twenty-nine years old, which seems a little mature to be head over tumbling heels in love, particularly with another woman; but if you've never tried it, don't knock it.

I'm tall and dark with a good figure, and people still tell me I look Jewish -- Daliah Lavi is the person I'm most often compared to, though I think I look a little more like a younger Jean Simmons. My hair is very dark and thick, and I let it flow down my shoulders, onto the curves of my tits. I used to take a lot of pains setting and straightening it, but not any more. It's my hair and it feels good to set it free. My eyes are black and noticeable, my lips full and pink by nature, and I have a strong, firm nose and chin. I was born in Maryland and I'm a Ph.D. in history. I was also very much in love with Angela Scopish and I didn't give a Goddamn who knew it.

I've known her for several years. We were arrested together, in 1969. I'm not ashamed to say that, because it was in a good cause. We were both activists and got nabbed during a raid on a draft-information storehouse. One of our companions was a pig for the FBI. She alerted the Feds and we were all caught in the act. I was a senior in college then, and Angela -- well, Angela was a nun.

We were tried and sentenced in that wonderful year 1970, but neither of us went to jail immediately. Appeals, postponements, all that shit. It was late in 1973 when we both reported to the federal penitentiary to spend our prescribed stir. I'd finished my B.A., my M.A., and most of the work for my doctorate by them, and Angela was on the verge of leaving her order.

It was a great time to be going to prison for war-related offenses. According to the White House, the war was virtually over. LBJ was gone to his final reward; Agnew had been run out of office on a rail, and Nixon was in such terrible shape after Watergate that it was only a matter of time for him as well.

And we didn't get hustled off to any of your cherry, minimum-security, country-club prisons, either. No, those were all filled with politicians and Nixon aides. Angela and I found ourselves assigned to maximum security, the real Big House. I suppose it was to teach us a lesson. A leggy Jewish intellectual and a radical nun cast among the female murderers and heroin addicts and all the other fem violators of federal statutes.

In spite of the maximum security horse shit, the inmates were firmly in charge of the penitentiary, the way they are in every slammer. Our warden was a political appointee who usually found same warden's conference to attend so she could get the hell away from good old Greystone, and the guards were all for sale.

Angela and I checked in together, and we were assigned to the same cell. I hardly remembered her. We drew laundry-room duty, which is low down the scale of prison jobs, but she was so cheery about the whole deal that I couldn't bring myself to bitch too audibly. Our second day in laundry, the guard took a bribe to go outside for a smoke, and Angela and I were gang-raped by half a dozen butches. It was standard procedure for new brides in the house, and they worked us over but good.

It could have been worse, perhaps. I was twenty-six then, long past virginity. As for Angela, well, she'd been growing disenchanted with nun-hood. She'd spent the last few years in college, working on her graduate degrees, and along the way she had had a brief affair with one of her professors. So she wasn't totally inexperienced, but she was not at all ready for what happened to us that day in the laundry room.

Two dykes grabbed her, pulling her to the floor. One of them stuck a hefty thigh beneath Angela's belly, to make her hindquarters stick up. We were dressed in prison uniforms, and it was no trick at all for another butch bitch to flip up Angela's skirt, drag down her panties, and fuck her brutally with a sawed-off, slick-polished broom handle. God, I can still hear her screaming as that thing rammed into her unready cunt!

"NOOOOOO! AGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH! FOR THE LOVE OF GODDDDDDDD!"

I can see it sometimes, as well -- Angela shaking and sobbing and screaming bloody murder, her ass bobbing while those bulls held her down and the third fucked her again and again, each thrust seeming to plunge deeper, harder into her cunt. Angela's voice failed her completely, and she could only hack and moan and whimper, her body convulsing in rebellious but impotent resistance.

If I could have helped her, I would have. But I couldn't. I was flat on my back, a skinny black bitch straddling my face and smothering me with her rank pussy. She cackled and gloated as I choked on the vile, fish-piss aroma of her cunt. Two more were sitting on my hands, forcing the fingers to invade their cunts and do foul, intimate things there. I heard them give pleased sighs: "Ahhhhhh, that's it, baby, that's itttttt!" as they used me to get their rocks off. Wet snatches melted onto my hand and jelly-like cunts quivered around my reluctantly probing fingers.

"Ohhhh YOU FUCKING BITCH!" I yelped in sudden revulsion.

One of them had spread my thighs, lifted my skin, dropped my drawers, and in a moment there was a plastic hardness prying at the mouth of my dry snatch. It was a dildo, strapped to the crotch of a hard-faced but attractive young woman who was doing time for boosting a bank.

"Open up, you cunt!" she barked, working on me till my cunt sphincter yielded.

Then, with a grunt, she rammed deep into my cunt, fucking me without the slightest trace of tenderness, love or subtlety. She slammed her crotch against mine, burying the dildo in my dry cunt, moaning as she thrust home, and -- do you know, it reminded me very much of the last time I'd been fucked by a guy? Same Goddamned thing. Spread her thighs and ram on in.

"Goddamn all of you!" I screamed, that black whore's pussy muffling the words, but I screamed them again for good measure.

The fucking I got from the bank robber wasn't such an awful experience. I'd been screwed by too many guys who were nearly as crude! That was probably the reason I'd been off sex almost completely the past year or two. My doctoral work was a good excuse -- "Can't spare the time to fuck; I'm busy researching my dissertation" -- but it was only an excuse. The fact was I had no interest in getting laid. At twenty-six I assumed I was over the hill, sexually speaking, and it was reassuring. Men were such a pain in the ass.

What angered me, what made me want to kill, kill, KILL was the degradation. They had slapped me around, thrown me down onto the hard concrete floor, stripped me, pawed me, abused my body and invaded its privacy. And, God, if it was bad for me, it must have been twenty times worse for Sister Angela. I couldn't even hear her crying now, nor even those panting gasps. Had they murdered her in the frenzy of their sick, perverted lusts? I couldn't even guess. All I knew was that the black woman fucking my face was dripping onto me a vile, stinking rush of girl-cum that made me gag with its acrid bitterness.

The gang-rape went on for well over an hour. They dildoed us with their crude sex tools, they made us suck their tits and pussies, made us finger-fuck them, and there was no way we could prevent it. At any rate, they finished finally, and went their way, and a sobbing Marilyn helped a pale, drained Angela to dress herself, and we staggered out of the laundry room.

"Where are you going?" demanded one of the guards, a big beefy woman with a dog-like face. She obviously enjoyed her work, for she got to carry a truncheon (and to use it, if she found that necessary). How many times did I pleasure myself with the image of ripping off her skirt and pants, then stuffing that truncheon up her fat ass until its tip came out her mouth?

"I'm taking her to the infirmary," I said, helping Angela stand. "Can't you see she's hurt?"

"She looks okay to me," said the other guard, pushing Angela's head back and staring at the bruised, swollen face.

"She's been raped," I replied, "and so have I. Why the fuck didn't you do something about it? Why did you stand out here and simply let it happen?"

"I didn't hear any screamin'," one guard said idly. "Seems like there should have been some screamin' if anybody got raped. 'Sides this is a women's prison. How can anybody rape anybody in a women's prison? Takes a man to rape a woman."

"My God," I said, shocked. "This woman is a nun! How could you -- even a pair of meat-headed bulls like you -- have allowed this to happen to her? Are you that fucking corrupt? Don't you have even a particle of shame?"

"What the hell's a nun doing in prison? You're both here to learn your lessons and get punished for your crimes. Ain't neither of you any kind of special case. So don't expect no special treatment. Look at this as lesson number one. And you're not going to the infirmary, either. There's nothing wrong with you, or with that skinny little bitch. Bath of you better turn out for work tomorrow, or you'll wind up in isolation."

"Go fuck yourself!" I snapped back, and I led Angela to our cell. What else could I do? Go to the fucking warden? She was in Bermuda this weekend, discussing prison reform with a lot of other wardens.

I sometimes wonder if Angela and I would have become lovers under any other set of circumstances. I had never laid a finger on another woman before I went to prison, nor had I been fingered. Never. Not even schoolgirls playing around and discovering the mysteries of their budding bodies. I had to learn mine the hard way, all alone. And it was the same with Angela. She was raised in a devout Catholic household in Detroit, and she decided to become a nun when she was about ten. In spite of her brief affair with that professor, she was extremely inexperienced.

"I feel like filth," she said to me in our cell after lights out. Her voice was tiny, a whisper in the darkness.

"No," I told her firmly. "You and I are only victims. Think of us as the last victims of the war, Sister."

"Don't call me that," she said. "I'm leaving my order. Anyway, I couldn't stay in. Not after this..."

"'Sister' as in the sisterhood of women," I corrected her. Down the cellblock I could hear female voices moaning in orgasm. Self-induced, lesbian-stimulated -- what did it matter? Those women were cooing and groaning. We'd heard them last night, we'd hear them tomorrow night, and we'd hear them every night we were locked away in this big doll house. Not every woman in prison is a lesbian by choice, but I suppose every Sister participates at least once, even if under compulsion. And if you're fairly young, on the attractive side, you damn sure find out what compulsion is. That gang-bang in the laundry room was standard operating procedure for a can like this. You might even call it a kind of sorority hazing. Ugly and cruel, but it was part of the dues.

I settled back on my bunk, trying to sleep, but she was weeping into her pillow, only partially muffling the little tears and murmurs. She'd taken it much harder than I had, in every meaning of that phrase. The dykes had slapped her around, given her a hell of a reaming with that broom-handle prick, they'd forced her to kneel and lick their cunts down the line, and then they'd punched her around a few more times for good measure. I slipped down from my upper bunk and touched her shoulder in comradeship.

"It's not the end of the world, Sister. Be brave."

"I can't! I'm afraid! Oh, Marilyn, will you sit here with me on the bed? Just let me know that you're close, that you care, that you won't let anything else happen to me."

But the bunk was too low for us to sit comfortably, what with my long legs, and we ended up lying side by side, squeezed closely together on the narrow pallet. Her body was warm and tight against mine, and she squirmed to narrow the already non-existent gap.

"Do you know what this reminds me of? When I was a little girl and afraid of the dark, I'd sometimes get into bed with my mother -- especially on nights when Daddy was away, driving his truck. And I'd squeeze up close, and she'd hold me and kiss me and tell me that there was nothing to worry about, that soon the day would come again and I'd laugh in the sunshine. You feel just like Mama, especially your b-b-breasts, Marilyn. They're so full and soft, like a pillow, and -- oh, I think everything's going to be okay after all!"

She kissed me on the cheek and in a moment she was asleep, snoring softly, like a child. And I lay in the darkness, shivering despite her warmth, wondering why it pleased me so much to be here with her, my arm around Angela's shoulders, my bare legs rubbing her bare legs, her head resting on my full warm tits, the scent of her clean, scrubbed body filling my nostrils.

We slept together the next night, too, and the night after that. I'm not sure exactly when it happened, but it began and neither of us made any effort to stop. We began with kisses -- little innocent ones at first, which soon lost their chastity. One night somebody's hand got active beneath the blanket. I won't say whose. Use your imagination. Was it the back-slidden nun or the leggy Jewish intellectual who made the first move? And I wonder -- was that caress of a panty-covered crotch as innocent as it seemed to be at first? How did it turn so quickly into a loving symphony of fingers, and then tongues and lips and by the end of the second week Angela and I were lovers. We slept together every night. When we bothered to sleep, that is. More often it was mouth glued on pussy for hours on end, each of us tongue-lashing the other into eruptions and quakes of orgasm that left us shivering and shaking and soaked in girl-cum and perspiration.

I was a head and a half taller than Angela, and I outweighed her by thirty pounds. In prison terminology, that made me the husband and Angela the wife, though we didn't think of ourselves that way. We were just Angela and Marilyn, and we loved doing it. No wonder I'd thought sex overrated! I'd only tried it with men. And that wasn't sex at all. It was only fucking, and the hell with it!

No one bothered us during the rest of our term. The gang-bang was our initiation, and we paired off inseparably before anyone could try a repeat performance. Of course, I managed to steal a small but wicked paring knife from the kitchen, and I sharpened that cock-sucker till it would cut granite, let alone flesh. It was all the protection we needed. Even the fucking guards left us alone.

Besides, we were model prisoners, as prim and proper and well-behaved as you'd ever want to see. Neither of us wanted to be sent to isolation! The only thing that made my life worthwhile, it seemed, was the feel of Angela's tongue in my cunt each and every night, the marvelous shudders of response I could lick from her slit, the orgasmic convulsions that seemed to flog us both with simultaneous thrills. We hardly heard the sounds of other women making love at night any more, for we were too busy making our own.

We spent a year of our two-year sentence behind bars. Someone decided, apparently, that burning draft records wasn't quite as bad an offense as peddling heroin, and so we got out on parole after twelve months. That entire year we'd spent talking about what we'd do when we were free, how we could be together, but economic realities intervened. Angela already had her Ph.D., and she had some pull, through friends, which got her a teaching position at Boonesfield State U., in Kentucky, despite her criminal record. I had a dissertation to finish. So we separated, but only temporarily. She left her order, becoming simple Angela Scopish again, and she moved to Kentucky. I hustled my ass to Boston and took up living quarters in the Harvard Library while I researched the economic structure of colonial New Hampshire. We wrote each other a lot, and we talked on the phone whenever either of us could afford long distance rates; and at Christmas/Chanukah she flew up to Boston to spend the weekend that should have been an eternity.

We spent that weekend making love after love after love. I didn't ask her if she was being faithful to me, because I respected her individuality and privacy. Besides, I'd been kicking it around occasionally with a couple of women I knew around Cambridge -- not because I didn't love Angela any longer, but because I had to do something.

Neither of my part-time friends was very satisfactory, and that pleased me, because it made me pant and yearn all the harder for the day when I'd be with Angela all the time, instead of simply dreaming and wishing and longing. She'd called me long-distance to advise me of an upcoming history vacancy at Boonesfield, and I was hungering for that job with all my heart. Indeed, I took a masochistic pleasure in comparing the poor performances of my sometime lovers with Angela's splendid proficiency in the art of sex.

Men? Well, I had offers. Certainly more than I wanted, and I didn't want any.

And here we were now, Angela and me. Her body warm, soft, cradled against me, my snatch still wet from the honey she'd licked out of it I kissed her as she slept, moistening her lips with the taste of her own cunt, and she stirred fitfully.

"Mmmmmm... mmmmmm... darling Maaarrrkkkk..." I heard her say, and my eyebrows lifted. Mark? Had she really said that? Oh, of course not! It was only an inhalation, a little gasping which punctuated "Marilyn". Nothing else. I kissed her again, and she purred for me, and my hands covered her tiny tits, delighted beyond measure at the supple firmness, yet soft roundness as well, of her little tits. The nipples heated in my palms, and I wanted to wake her for another round of mutual cunt-lapping, but I had that interview at ten in the morning, and I wanted to be bright-eyed and chipper for it. I had best get back to sleep.

"Good night, my love," I whispered across her moist lips.

CHAPTER THREE

God, what a beautiful day this was! June just budding into life and the sky was as blue as a virgin's eyes, the grass vivid green, flowers blossomed a cascade of colors everywhere, and birds chirped in every tree. Angela was the only person I knew in this entire city, but I had such a happy smile on my face as I walked from the University administration building that strangers were nodding and telling me hello. Too many ex-convicts have trouble getting jobs in the straight world, which leaves them no choice but to return to crime for livelihood. Well, this ex-convict was due to start work as an instructor in history, come Fall, and she had no intention of contributing to any crime statistics as long as the government behaved itself.

"Oh, baby," I said aloud, and a couple of people turned to stare, "I can hardly wait to tell you!" A guy came out of the student union, got an eye-fix on my tits, and ran into a tree. I couldn't suppress a giggle. Let him look, I thought, because looking was the best he'd be able to do.

In a way it was too bad, though, for I'd almost gotten used to being cupped in a bra again, and his horny stare had reminded me that the garment was there, that it lifted my tits slightly and made them just a little more prominent, more noticeable. I wished I could just stop in my tracks, haul off my sweater, and strip away the damned uncomfortable thing, but the middle of campus wasn't the place for it. Ah, so! Angela could remove the no-longer-needed brassiere for me when I got back to her digs, and she could massage my skin with her sensitive fingers until the red strap marks were all soothed away, and then -- well I was pretty sure she could come up with something to do then.

Maybe I should have called her from the Student Union. In retrospect that seems like a good idea, but I was too anxious to get back to her place and break the good news face to face. As a preliminary, of course, to getting mouth to cunt. I knew she'd be as happy as I was, because it meant we could be together again, and permanently. And I wanted to see her eyes light up when I told her that I had the job, that I had her, that I didn't need anything else at all.

Boonesfield isn't that large a city, but it's nearly as bitchy to get through as Boston. One-way streets, detours, mandatory turn-off lanes -- I'd never been there before, and somehow I managed to get into the circular by-pass around town. I was like a squirrel on a treadmill, getting nowhere fast. But as I drove, instead of cursing and bitching, I let my memory feast on the way Angela and I had discovered loved behind the stone walls and steel bars.

God, she was hot for it from the very beginning!

"I never had an orgasm before," she confessed to me, lying in my arms after I'd given her one with my tongue and fingers. "Not even with myself. I always felt too guilty just touching myself down there, you know? Well, don't laugh! For the most of my life, the only thing I wanted to be was a nun!"

"What do you want now?" I asked teasingly, my fingers running through the hair she still kept very short.

"This," Angela replied firmly. She cupped my cunt in her hand. There was a surprising strength to her grip, and when she got her fist on me, I thought she was about to rip my pussy out.

"Oh, dear God," I moaned, thrusting my cunt into her clutch. "Oh dear, dear God -- but is that all you're going to do?"

"Of course not," Angela giggled. That was when I really stopped thinking of her as a nun, because I couldn't imagine a nun with such a sexy, provocative giggle. But in a moment she announced her liberation in an even more thrilling manner. Her head moved down my belly, into my crotch, and her tongue found the damp, open crack of my cunt. From the moment her tongue flipped my clit, I was lost. Completely lost. I grabbed her head and slammed my cunt into her open, sucking mouth.

And we were no longer locked into a cell in a filthy, dreary prison. We were rolling in dew-damp grass, and a warm breeze blew through the meadow while the moon shone like silver beams on our bodies. It had to be the moon. The moon belongs to women. Stars twinkled in a blue-black heaven and they were far, far away, but if I'd wanted, I could have reached up and plucked them from the sky. The bars of our cell were melted away, and we were free, and there was nothing else in the universe except me and Angela and the night.

She was with me, in me, her tongue, her fingers, doing me as if she'd been eating pussy all her life, and I was coming a river onto her sweet sucking face and I never wanted her to take that mouth away from my cunt. Never, never, never! And before I knew it, I'd pulled her legs towards me, and my face was buried in her cunt, and we were doing a sixty-nine with me giving as good head as I received. My tongue stabbed again and again into Angela's fragrant honeysuckle snatch-hole, until she drowned me with her cum and I smacked my lips like a glutton, drinking her pussy-cream, sucking cunt till she gave me more.

It only got better as our confinement dragged on.

Oh, how could time drag, when I knew that each and every night of that prison term Angela and I could give glum, hard-timer looks to the guard-bitches who locked us in -- and then, as soon as the cellblock lights went out, we'd be on each other, in each other, sucking cunt, kissing, fingering -- learning for the first time what it was really all about. Everything important, at least. Life, love, passion. Did anything else matter when she was in my arms and I in hers?

"Mr. and Mrs. Bergman," they used to call us -- all the old bull-dykes standing around with the trembling young chickens they'd dildoed into submission. As if they thought we had the same kind of relationship they did. Fat fucking chance! We were equals, Angela and I, and we were both completely aware that we were women. We didn't have to pretend by using imitation pricks on each other, and we didn't need to establish a domination/submission status. For ours wasn't the kind of situation that frustrated women turn to when they're locked away in prison. We were in love.

The older inmates -- the same ones who'd gang-raped us in the laundry room -- invited me and Angela a few times to sample the new brides with them. It was a sign that we were old-timers, too, privileged to take part in prison sports, but neither of us had the slightest interest. And, as I've already said, I carried a knife. Which I never had to use -- merely to show once or twice when some venturesome old dyke would make a play for "Mrs. Bergman".

All in all, our prison year wasn't that bad. In many ways I hated to see our paroles coming, because it meant an end to the total intimacy we'd found behind bars. Oh, outside, we'd be much freer, physically, but we had responsibilities on the outside, too. Her job, my doctoral work. We couldn't throw those away. We'd have to sublimate our passion until we could once again embark upon it with all the freedom we'd known in jail. Doesn't that sound paradoxical?

Well, no matter if it did, because the time was at hand. I had my job at Boonesfield, the same school where Angela taught, and we could be together always, as we were meant to be. I'd already broken the news to my parents -- that I was deeply, fully, irrevocably in love with another woman -- and they'd taken it much better than I'd ever dreamed they could. Of course they didn't understand. They're middle class bourgeois-liberal. But they acknowledged that it was my life, that I had the right to live that life as I chose. Perhaps Angela and I could come out of the closet here in Boonesfield without losing our jobs. We could try, at least. But for now...

There was a small foreign car parked on the curb outside Angela's home, and I had to steer hard to get my oversized junker past it, into the driveway. Did we have company? Probably not. At least, I hoped not, because I had the most fantastic news for Angela, and I wanted to tell her, then celebrate it in bed, and we didn't need company around for that.

I let myself into the house, using the key she'd given me. Even from the doorway I could hear the sounds of lovemaking. A bed shaking. Violently! Angela groaning, whining, cooing. Her tones were unmistakable to my experienced ears.

For a moment I stood in the doorway, numb, shaken. Wait, Marilyn, I told myself. If she's making it with another woman, is that really such a big deal? You tried a couple of ladies on for size when you were separated from her, didn't you? Maybe she had a date this morning, made before she found out I was coming, a date she couldn't break. Maybe -- I smiled knowingly -- she's using one last sexual encounter as a means of telling that other woman good-bye, it's all over, my love has arrived and I must go to her. That would be like Angela. She was so kind, so gentle. She hated to cause pain. She would say good-bye as sweetly, as tenderly as she could. My heart still beat rapidly, but the numbness had begun to depart. Of course that's how it was. After all, I was here now. We'd made fantastic love last night.

The bedroom door wasn't quite shut. That's why the sounds were so obvious when I entered the house. I reached curiously, touching the door, pushing it gently. Maybe I'm too nosy for my own good, but I had an interest in stealing a peek at Angela's other companion. I was vain enough to wonder if she mightn't have picked a temporary lover who perhaps reminded her slightly of her Marilyn. Just a sneaky look, and then I'd steal way to allow Angela freedom in breaking the news to her friend.

Well, she hadn't picked a sweetheart who reminded her of Marilyn, and I wished that I had never looked around the half-open door. The damned thing slid easily, without the graciousness of a telltale squeak, and as it opened farther, my eyes were treated to a broadening view of Angela's bed and its occupants.

Angela was on top, rocking up and down. Her eyes were shut tightly and her head swayed from side to side. Unless she was an incredibly good actress, she was definitely enjoying herself.

Beneath her, stretched out full-length on the bed, was a man. A man, with hairy legs and hairy chest and a big hairy cock that was, at that particular point in time, busily involved in Angela's plummeting pussy.

She rocked up and down, thrusting, swooping in to eat up his meat, and he lunged up to join her, burying his tool in her delicate, tasty snatch. Her hands were braced on his stomach and he held her, one hand on her ass, the other pawing her small, tender tits.

"Ooooooohhhhhh!!" she squealed in glee as he mauled her titties and pulled the nipples with his fingers.

I could even see his balls shake as he punched his tool up her cunt with sure, vigorous strokes. And she was enjoying getting fucked by a man! There could be no doubt. None at all!

"Harder, darling Mark! Harder! Harder! Oh, fuck me! FUCK MEEEE!" she cried in a delirious voice.

It hit me like a slap in the face. The name she'd whispered in her sleep! Oh, foolish bitch! I chided myself. I'd thought it was only a mumbled venture at saying my name. It had sounded like Mark, I remembered, but I'd been stupid enough to rationalize it away. Oh, God, I thought. Oh, God!

Tears blinded my eyes as I listened to her wail in ecstasy as that big prick pounded in and out of her dripping cunt.

"Do it, do it, do it to me! Fuck me! Fuck me! FUUUCCCKKKKK!"

The door slid a little farther, and I could see his face. It was a passable face, as male faces went, but there was nothing extremely handsome or provocative about him. He appeared to be in his middle thirties -- about Angela's age, I suppose, though she had always seemed much younger to me because of her late awakening. I saw no character or other traits that could help me understand why my lover was mounted upon his ugly dick, fucking the hell out of it and herself.

She rocked more passionately, her ass bouncing up and down on his lap, and I saw her shoulders give a twitch. Muscles rippled in her back and thighs and butt, and I was certain that in just a moment or two, muscles would also be rippling inside her darling cunt, all around that disgusting cock.

There was a weakness in the pit of my stomach and I wanted to turn away, to stop watching this hideous nightmare, but I couldn't. I felt a dizzying sensation in my head and I reached for the door to steady myself. Just then, Angela squealed.

"Oh, Christ! I'M COMMMMMIIIINGGCGGG!"

She slammed her pussy down forcibly upon his impaling prick. My eyes closed. I heard him groan and the bed started shaking even more as if he were really pumping his dong up into her cunt. And then he was panting and puffing like a steam engine and I knew he was coming, too, that his cock was drenching the pussy I'd eaten only last night with the acrid, sticky juices of male orgasm.

I grabbed the door, bumping it, knocking it slightly past my reach, and I stumbled towards it for support, just as I began to sob in hurt, aching convulsions.

The sickness only lasted a moment, but that moment seemed an eternity. When I opened my eyes and stood up straight, balance regained, both of them were staring at me from the bed, and Angela's pale body was suffused in a total blush.

She'd uncunted herself, and she was lying on her side, blocking my view of his genitals. That was fine by me, since I had no interest in looking at the cock that had befouled her sweet pussy -- the pussy I had thought was mine and mine alone.

"Oh, dear," she said. "Oh, dear." It seemed a mild reaction, to say the least.

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way," she went on, her voice sincere as hell. "I wanted to tell you last night, but it didn't seem the right time. You were so happy, and you had your interview this morning. Oh, Marilyn, I wasn't going to keep you in the dark! I wanted you to know! I'd have told you! But..."

"What would you have told me?"

"About me, about Mark." I felt the world collapsing around my shoulders.

"Hello, Marilyn," the man said. "Angela's told me a lot about you."

"Well I never heard a fucking thing about you," I snapped back bitterly, taking a step towards them. Violence smoldered in my fists, but against whom should I direct that violence?

His clothes were tossed haphazardly onto a chair beside the bed. I saw them then, for the first time, and the first thing I noticed was a clerical collar. I started giggling hysterically.

"Please, darling," Angela tried to explain. "What you and I had, what we shared in prison -- it was beautiful and I wouldn't take anything in trade for the memories. You kept me sane; helped me become a woman. But I came here, Marilyn, and..."

"And she met me," the man interjected. Without his clothes on, he didn't look very clerical, but straight guys don't wear collars. My God, was Angela fucking a priest? With her background, a priest seemed the obvious choice, though.

"Yes," Angela said. "Mark is assistant director of the Newman Center on campus, though he's planning to leave the priesthood soon. We drifted together by accident, we became friends, and in time we became lovers. When it happened, Marilyn, it happened without plan, without forethought. But it was such a magical thing, so incredible, like a mystic experience."

"Marilyn," her partner added, "you and Angela were thrown into a vicious, unnatural institution, and what happened there was almost inevitable. But it was only inevitable in that prison setting. Here, in the real world, it couldn't last. If Angela hadn't met me, she'd have met someone else. She's too much a woman to be trapped in homosexuality. She's..."

"This is ridiculous," I interrupted angrily. "I have been betrayed and thrown aside like a used rubber, and the only thing that comes to my mind is, 'Well, at least Angela found herself a good Catholic boy'. Does anyone particularly mind if I go into the bathroom and slash my wrists?"

Angela had the graciousness to arise from the bed. Over her shoulder I could see the man stretched on the bed. He had a long, lean body and appeared to be well-hung, if that matters. To me, it doesn't matter. I hated him, I hated her.

She came towards me naked, her body still flushed from the screwing Mark had given her, and she extended her hands to me. As if that would make it any sweeter! God, I'd been fantasizing, not two minutes ago, and what had I been fantasizing? That Angela was graciously breaking off with some substitute who'd eased her loneliness during my absence. The only thing I had wrong was the identity of the discarded lover. It was Marilyn who was getting the gate, and I felt as if she'd slammed it on my fingers.

"I'm sorry," she said when I rejected the offer of her hands. "I'm sorry for you, Marilyn, but I've finally found out what love truly means." That's the same thing she used to tell me in prison as I sucked her pussy and licked her little nipples. "Mark and I are very happy and when he leaves the priesthood, we're going to marry. And have children. I want children very much, and so does Mark."

"Whoopee shit."

"Please don't take on so, Marilyn. I still love you very much, as a person, as a friend. I hope we can always be close. It won't be the same as before, but I want to be your friend. Oh, please say you understand."

I didn't say anything. Angela went on, "If you want to, you can stay here with me until you find your own place. We can't be intimate any more, of course, but..."

"Why don't you stick it up your ass?" I suggested. "And you can tell the University to do the same with their fucking job. Which I got, not that it's of any interest to anyone, because I'm leaving. And I wish you -- both of you -- all the happiness you fucking deserve. Don't think that's a hell of a lot!"

"Marilyn," she said again, but Father Mark interrupted.

"Her mind's made up, Angela darling. She's obviously living in a dream world, and she won't listen to reason. Let her go, if go she must," He was damnably cool for a naked priest, and thinking of cool made me wish for an icicle. SO I COULD RAM IT UP HIS COOL FUCKING ASS!!

Angela listened to him, too, the cunt! She didn't move to stop me as I gathered up my clothes and stuffed them into my suitcase. Instead, she moved towards the bed and took his hand and turned her big soulful eyes on Mark's face with an intensity that made me sick. I wanted to kill. Kill them both. Mark for snaking himself into the settled pattern of my life and Angela's, and Angela for being so shallow as to let him. Didn't she understand that he only wanted a piece of her ass? Men will use any means necessary to get into a woman's cunt. Leave the priesthood? I'll bet the cock-sucker had a cardinal's hat in his closet, just waiting for the day of his appointment many years hence. Couldn't she see that I, Marilyn, was the one who loved her? I could see it. Why not Angela, too?

And the gracious gentility and hospitality she'd offered me. I could stay on, if I wanted to, but I had to stay out of her bed. I wished she were in prison right now, being raped round the clock by an army of bull-dykes with broomsticks and dildos! And I wished I was dead and buried and far removed from the bitterness my life had become without warning.

"Good-bye," I said, not looking back, afraid I'd break down and crawl to her on my knees, begging for another chance. I had my dignity to preserve and I left with that dignity intact. My heart resembled something that had passed through a paper shredder.

I threw my bag into the car and took off, intending to drive until I ran out of road. At that particular moment I was confident that no matter what happened next, it had to be an improvement. I had never been more wrong in my life.

CHAPTER FOUR

"GODDAMN IT TO HELL!" I screamed in frustration, thumping my hand on the steering wheel.

Of all the fucked-up places for the car to get temperamental, this had to be the pits! It was very late in the afternoon, I'd crossed the line into West Virginia a couple of hours ago, and apparently I had taken the wrong turn somewhere. I was deep in some wooded mountains, and only the bumpy pavement of the road itself convinced me that I wasn't the first soul who had ever wandered into this particular piece of country. It had been an eternity since I'd seen another car or human being or even a stray dog.

And now the car was malfunctioning. Oh, damn it all! I thought, getting out to investigate.

I'd left Angela's in a huff and a hurry, not even bothering to change out of the clothes I'd worn for my interview. A gas stop allowed me to get out of the sweater and skirt and the damned confining underwear, though, so at least I was comfortable in a sleeveless top and blue jeans.

I had a jackknife in my bag, and I did a little exploring under the hood, and that was when frustration really began. Oh, shit! I knew when I left Boston that my carburetor was on its last legs. Why hadn't I taken care of it then? Why had I trusted so blindly in luck?

And then there was a sound, and my heart almost stopped. Oh, God, it was an automobile engine! I looked in both directions, trying to localize the noise, and all I could see ahead of me or behind me was the empty narrow road, yellow dividing line faded almost to invisibility. My ears perked. They were coming up the ascent, definitely, the same way I'd been traveling, for I could hear the engine straining to pull. I blinked, and in a moment I saw a pickup truck come around the bend a few hundred yards below. I breathed a sigh of relief and waved one despairing hand.

The truck pulled off the road and stopped, just below my car. The doors opened on each side, and two youngish men stepped out. From their looks they had to be brothers, rangy hillbilly types with unkempt hair and pinched, sharp-featured faces.

"Havin' trouble?" asked the one who'd been driving.

He was tall and husky, wearing a T-shirt and overalls. His hair was dun-colored and, in spite of my gratitude I couldn't help thinking that he resembled a rat, facially. There was a blue-green Marine Corps tattoo on one of his wiry shoulders.

"Yes," I said, "It's my carburetor." I sighed.

"Do you think you could give me a lift to the nearest telephone, so I can call a tow truck?"

"Lemme take a look," he offered, brushing past me. It seemed that he took particular care to let his shoulder scrape my tits, and I didn't especially like it.

He peered under the hood for a few minutes, then looked out. "It's your carburetor."

"Yes, I know. Could you possibly give me a ride to the nearest gas station or phone booth, even? I'll be glad to pay you for the trouble."

"You talk funny," the other one said, coming closer. He appeared to be in his early twenties, while the other looked as if he were about my age. Well, they sounded a little hilarious to me, too, with their nasal Appalachian drawls, but I wasn't a speech therapist so I didn't bring up the matter. "Where you from?"

"Massachusetts," I replied, indicating the Bay State tags on the car. I didn't feel like chit-chatting at the moment.

"They sure growin' 'em pretty up in Massachusetts," the older one winked, coming back to where I stood.

I felt as if they were trying to surround me, and I stepped back. Both of them moved, too -- it was like a fucking dance -- and I had a closer look at the Marine tattoo. It was subscribed SAIGON 1970. Obviously, the older brother had been at war while Angela and I were protesting it at home. Angela. Oh, damn Angela!

"Damn straight," agreed the younger one. He winked at his brother. "Built like a brick..."

"Shithouse." The tattooed man hadn't taken his eyes off my tits for a second, I was suddenly, sickeningly, aware. I looked at their faces and saw, strongest in the eyes, a reptilian kind of craving that made my skin crawl.

"Forget it, okay?" I told them, turning half away. "You just hop back into your truck and be on your way, and I'll wait for somebody else to come along."

"Come on, now, honey. Don't take no offense."

"Don't call me honey, Goddamn it!" and I stepped back, defensively folding my arms across my tits.

The tattooed one grinned. "No harm meant, and I'm sure ain't none taken. Now, why don't we just push your car to where it's good and safe? You got two wheels on the road, and ole road ain't none too wide as it is."

I looked, and he was right. The road was narrow here, with a high, wooded bluff on the far side and, on this, a steep drop-off maybe ten feet from the edge of pavement. I hadn't had quite enough momentum to get completely off the paved part when the engine died.

So before I could offer any other suggestions, the two of them were hopping into position. The younger one poised at the back end of my car, while his tattooed brother reached inside to let off the emergency. "Got her?" he called, and his brother grunted. "Okay, let's go!" With a whoosh and a straining of muscles, they began to shove, and my car started rolling.

"There," I said, "that's good -- WHAT IN THE HELL??"

The car rolled off the road, onto the gravel berm, right to the edge and that steep drop-off into the wooded hollow below. My heart pulsated with concern. Couldn't they see? I ran towards them.

"Wait! Stop! GODDAMN IT TO SHIT, STOP!!"

They weren't listening. My car kept rolling. "Heyyyy!!" the tattooed one yelped, jumping back. The front wheels went over the edge of the cliff. From the rear, his brother gave a hard push and the entire car went over, clattering down the hillside. My eyes bulged but I couldn't see anything. I only heard a thumping and bumping, the sound of metal crashing against trees and through underbrush.

"Sorry," said the tattooed man, turning to me with an evil smile. "Guess we just don't know our own strength."

I ran to the edge of the drop-off and looked down. My car was fifty or sixty feet down the hillside, nose rammed against a huge oak tree, front end smashed to hell.

"LOOK AT THAT, DAMN YOU!! LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO MY CAR!!"

A momentary flash of vertigo twittered in my belly and I stepped back from the cliff, right into the arms of one of the men.

He locked his hands around my midsection and jerked me back. "LET GO OF ME!" I screamed, fists flailing the air. He kept pulling, and my heels dragged through the dirt and gravel. I couldn't bend my hands back far enough to hit him where it counted.

"Got a real live one," his brother commented. "Lookit her kickin'!"

"Ain't nothin' to worry about," my captor purred into my ear. "You be nice to us, and we'll be extra nice to you."

The tattooed one was holding me. His body was rank from stale sweat, and the noxious aroma infiltrated my nostrils, weakening me for a telltale instant. During that instant, the younger brother grabbed my feet. I lashed out, but too late, and now they had me. Like a sack of potatoes I was carried down the slope toward their pickup truck.

"Lookit them titties wiggle," the younger one said. He caught both feet in one arm for a moment and reached in to squeeze my breasts. I screamed, and I writhed, but I couldn't stop him from touching me.

"She ain't even wearing a brassiere," he added delightedly. "Feel them jugs!"

His brother took the invitation, hands coming up to fondle my tits. "Big ones, too," he grinned. "But real firm!"

"You take her tits. I got my eye on this..." and the other one punched me between the legs with his thumb. He dug at the tight crotch of my jeans, and again I squirmed in helpless fury, unable to prevent this degradation of my body.

"Let go of me!" I moaned.

"Goddamn, step on it, Luke!" the younger one hollered. "Or ain't neither of us gonna get nothin'. And if I don't get my dick wet, I'm gonna cut the damn thing off. Hooo-eeeeeee!"

Let me cut it off for you, I wanted to say, but I was afraid. They were madmen. They'd pushed my car over the Goddamned hill, they'd grabbed me, they were handling my body, talking about... My God, they were talking about fucking me! "NO!!" I yelled, struggling again, but by then we were at the pickup truck, and they tossed me unceremoniously onto the flat bed, as if I were a sack of feed being loaded. The bed was hard, and the fall almost knocked me unconscious. When I shook my head and looked up, Luke, the tattooed brother, had joined me on the truck bed and his hands were inescapably near.

I had nothing with which to defend myself. Sure, my knife was in my bag, but my bag was lying on the ground. It might as well have been on the moon. Fingernails? I was too liberated to wear my nails long and pointed.

He grabbed my tits and his fingers dug into my flesh. I was braless underneath the thin top and there was nothing to stop him from testing the firmness and shape of my breasts. His fingers pulled at the top's straps. I heard it rip and then I was completely bare-breasted, my tits heaving in desperation.

His eyes gleamed approval and he reached for my quivering boobs, but before he could lay hands on them again, I leaped up and tried to jump over the side of the truck. The younger brother was there, anticipating.

"Not yet, honey," he grinned. "Luke gets first because he's the oldest. But just hang on. I'll be comin' in for my turn pretty soon."

I hung suspended over the edge of the truck, hair fallen into my face, blinding me for a second. Something wet attacked my nipples. It was his mouth! I felt nausea, a gorge in the pit of my stomach, and then something worse. From behind, Luke was dragging down my blue jeans.

"She don't wear pants either, Randy," he called as the retreating denim laid my ass bare. One of his fingers jabbed into the space between my legs, and he pawed the lips of my cunt.

"AAAAGGGHHHHHHH!!" I screamed in impotent fury. The rounded edge of the truck's bedside was hot against my stomach. Randy was busy on my tits, his strong arms keeping me in place while he sucked and bit my nipples, and behind me, Luke was finishing the process of stripping me. He jerked my jeans down to my quivering ankles, then put both hands on the cheeks of my ass, kneading my butt as if it were dough.

"Big soft ass," he said appreciatively. "You oughta see it, Randy. It's pink and round, looks good enough to eat."

Again he used his fingers between my legs, sliding them across the crease of my slit. I wriggled and twisted in my futile resistance, but I couldn't stop him. One finger poked at the mouth of my cunt, then slithered in, ramming deeply, and it was as if I were being torn apart.

"Goddamn, is she ever tight! Feels like her cunt ain't hardly been used at all."

"Please," I groaned in dismay, "please! Do you want money? I'll give you money. But don't -- for the love of God, don't!"

"Sit still," he commanded. "You're gonna enjoy the fuck out of this. Damn, I know I am!"

He leaned up against me, rubbing my ass with the front of his jeans, and I could feel inside them, very hard, the erection of his cock. My heart sank into helpless despair.

"Oh, God, no!" I sobbed. "Anything but that!"

"Relax, Sister," he told me. "Ain't no way you can stop me from a fuck when I've got my horn up."

I closed my eyes. He was right. There was no way I could stop them. Not if they were determined to fuck me! They were too strong, and they'd already taken me by surprise. I heard him unzipping his pants and I shivered in dread.

"Ever feel a dick as big as this one, honey bunny?" he cooed, and the bare flesh of his cock touched me.

He used the tip of his cock like a finger on the uplifted swell of my buttocks, and it was a shivery, tingly sensation. I trembled like a buzzing vibrator.

"Reach back here, give my cock a feel," Luke invited, and he pulled my hand around.

He laid his prick on my palm, then closed my fingers on it. God, the slimy, crawly feelings that pulsated through my body then! I moaned.

"Damn right, bitch," he said, evidently mistaking my moan for a cry of pleasure. "It's about the biggest and best cock around. Bet you can't wait to get this ole pussy-choker into your tight little cunt, now, can you?"

He let go of my hand, and my fingers unlaced from around his cock, but it didn't matter. Not now! Luke jammed his knee between my legs, forcing them apart, and I could feel a little flutter of spring wind on the exposed puff of my pussy. Oh, God, he was looking at my most private possession, feasting upon it with his lustful eyes, anticipating the moment when he would violate my cunt with his with his cock! The very thought of getting fucked by Luke's tool was like a blow to the chin. I'd felt his cock, for he had made me hold it, and his prick was as big as he boasted. A thick cock, seemingly as thick as my wrist, and long besides. My hand had moved in what felt like an endless march up his shaft.

Ten inches? Perhaps.

Damn it, the size wasn't important! I wouldn't have been any more enthusiastic if he'd been hung like a grade-school boy. I didn't want any man's ugly, stinking prick in my cunt!

"NO!!" I cried again, slapping at Randy where he still licked and nibbled my fear-swollen tits. "You can't do this to me!"

"The fuckin' hell I can't!" Luke whooped.

Even as he spoke, he touched my half-parted cunt-lips with the end of his dong. Rubbing me, petting me, digging as if he meant to stuff his incredibly engorged knob up my cunt right now, dry as I was, unready as I was. "AGGHHH!! AAAAAGGCGGHHHHHHHH! You're hurting meeee!"

"Nothin' good comes easy," he observed, replacing his dick with his finger.

My cunt was tight, because no man had been inside it for a hell of a long time, and because fright had contracted my cuntal sphincter. My snatch was dry as a bone, but it didn't seem to intimidate my rapist. He thrust that finger up my unwillingly exposed pussy, then worked it like a screwdriver, around and around.

I screamed again. "AIIIIIEEEEEEEE!!" But my screams didn't stop him, nor did they inspire him to any degree of courtesy. He kept working that finger crudely, roughly, until my pussy abandoned the struggle for chastity and seeped with a thin flow of feminine juices.

Oh, God, I thought, if I don't loosen up, he's going to kill me! It was rape, and I didn't want to be raped, but there were worse things. Nothing could make me like this experience -- not the portion completed nor the part upcoming -- but active resistance would only make it worse. Be passive, Marilyn, I told myself. Go limp. Let him fuck you, if he must. GO LIMP! If it worked against the pigs in the 60's, it'll work now.

My body slumped. It was as if I were a balloon and all the air had suddenly whooshed out of me. I lay across the edge of the truck bed, and Randy kept on playing with my nipples, but I was numb. I couldn't feel anything. Going limp had worked.

"That's better," Luke told me. "You're gonna like it better if you don't fight."

He pulled his finger out of my tight cunt, and I could feel the slightest trickle of juice from my splayed lips, into the thick mass of black pussy hair that adorns my crotch. At least my twat wouldn't be totally dry when he fucked me. There would be at least a smatter of cuntal fluid to keep him from tearing me apart with that giant cock. Oh, God! Let him be swift, I prayed. It was the first time I had prayed in at least fifteen years.

"Man, has she got a hairy pussy!" Luke hollered to his brother, who was squeezing my tits brutally, the nipples rigid between his pinching fingers. "Looks like a monkey's cunt!"

Well, I was willing to bet he knew all about monkey cunts! They probably fucked sheep when they couldn't find women. But today there was no need to hunt a sheep, because they had me, like it or no.

Luke pressed his arm down on the curve of my back, and my stomach ground harder against the rounded truck side. It hit me just below the solar plexus, and I thought I might faint. But I wasn't that lucky. Consciousness faltered but didn't abandon me. Luke eased his crotch against my ass and rubbed my gash again with his dick. His fingering had made my cunt wet, to a degree, and he sopped that little trickle of wetness with the spongy tip of his rod.

"No!" I groaned as the fat head dug at my cunt, and then "OH, JEEEESSSSUUUUSSSSzzzzzzzzzzzzz!" when he began to put it in me.

I screamed shrilly, hoping against hope that someone would hear me cry and would came to investigate. But who? These woods and hills looked as if they'd not been explored since the days of Daniel Boone, and everyone knows that the Good Samaritan is exclusively a Christian story. I was shit out of luck.

My cunt tightened automatically in resistance, as if that could save me from being raped. God, how long had it been since I'd permitted a man to fuck me? I couldn't remember. And something else I'd forgotten was how hard a hard-on could be, how cruelly a cock could gouge soft, tight, unwilling pussy-flesh. But the memory was returning swiftly, and I knew I'd never forget again.

"Why don't you loosen up, damn it?" he growled, cuffing me on the back of the head.

I reeled with his slap, my senses swimming. For a long moment I was on the verge of blacking out -- I couldn't even feel Randy's fingers pulling my nipples to rubbery, aching extensions -- and I had no control whatsoever on my body. Luke saw his advantage and he took it, that cock of his thrusting up with furious energy, and I hadn't even the strength left to scream my pain when he buried his thick rod in my burning cunt-hole.

"GODDAMN!" he yelled in glee. "TALK ABOUT TIGHT FUCKIN'!"

Randy slapped my tits and stooped to attack my nipples with his mouth once again, as if he were savoring the delights his brother had found, as if he were anticipating his own share of them.

"You're tearing me apart," I moaned, trying to pull away from him. But where could I pull to? My knees bumped the side of the truck and he pushed down on my back again, and then Luke started barrel-housing his dick up my cunt-channel.

"That's what they all say," he informed me, "and maybe a few bitches walk around bowlegged when I've finished with 'em, but I ain't never killed one yet. Least, not with my cock! Hot damn, you're wigglin' and jigglin' like a snake! You that anxious for it? Well, let me get my breath and I'll fuck you seven ways from Sunday, girl."

"Move your butt a little, honey," he added, patting my cheeks. "Don't you know how to fuck? Don't nobody bang each other up there in Massachusetts? Well, they sure God do in West Virginia, and I'm gonna give you a real down-home screwin'!"

His cock thrust into my hole, filling me completely from labes to cervix, and it felt as if my cuntal sheath weren't long enough to take it all. His cock stretched my cunt mercilessly, lengthwise and sidewise, and there was a moment of ghastly, indescribable pain as he battered the tip of my womb with his dick-head. He seemed to enjoy the way I moaned and writhed in agony, because he socked it to me again in quick succession, several times, before he gave up the search for interesting frills and threw all his attention into getting his rocks off.

It was, a thankfully subdued brand of fucking that Luke threw into me then short, jiggling strokes that reamed me terribly but didn't hurt so much as his mad, deep penetrations.

"Ah..." I whimpered, rocking as he fucked me.

"Yeah, I'm almost there, too," he groaned. "Jesus, Randy boy, this is a real nut-cracker pussy. Feels like it's gonna tear my pecker off!"

"Well, hurry up," Randy called, biting my tits and neck, "or I'm gonna come in my pants!"

"Be a hell of a waste, boy," panted my rapist, "'cause there's no place like hooommmme!" and he collapsed on me, cock gyrating and dancing in my cunt as he filled me with his hot cum.

Randy stopped his sucking, biting and fondling of my tits, and the truck-bed shook as he leaped across the side to join us.

"Out of the way," he told his brother, "or I'm liable to fuck you!"

"Her cunt's all yours, little brother," Luke guffawed.

He lifted himself from my prone, helpless body, and his cock hadn't diminished much in hardness when he pulled it from my slit. As he extracted it, I felt jism begin to drip from my slash, the hot thick globs collecting in the hairs around my cunt-mouth. I had never felt so degraded in all my life, as I did at that moment.

Randy dropped his jeans -- he wore nothing underneath, I noticed over my shoulder -- and he moved towards me with a formidable prick jutting up from his crotch. It was a long, hard tool, not quite so thick as Luke's nor so long either, but it was the second largest prick I had ever seen in the flesh. A hideous monster and I was chilled to think that it, too, would...

He hastened into the spread of my legs. I was too weak to close them, and for what purpose? They'd both seen everything. What did I have left to hide, to cherish? His knees made sure that my thighs remained open. His cock touched me from beneath, nosing into the cum-wet vicinity of my leaking snatch, and he greased his rod in the scummy oil of his brother's orgasm.

"God, please," I moaned. "Make it fast!"

"What's a matter, can't wait?" he chuckled, and then he was thrusting up into my pussy, and I was moaning again as I received another unwelcome prick.

My cunt was thickly coated with Luke's seed, which allowed Randy's cock to enter me without much trouble. The reaming I'd gotten from that first monster cock had loosened the natural snugness of my cunt. Oh, I was still tight, but nowhere near so tight as when this revolting incident had begun.

Randy screwed me hard, with deep strokes, until my cunt had loosened even more for him, and he pawed my hips where I writhed in futile resistance.

"Hotter'n a two-dollar pistol," he told his brother. "Mmmm-hmmmm!"

He swayed behind me, burying his boner up my cunt with a certain eccentric rhythmic pattern that counterpointed the twitchings of my ass, and almost imperceptibly his strokes became shorter.

And shorter. His dick slicked into my hole only far enough for the swollen head to rasp a ticklish contact that reminded me very much of a favorite masturbation technique of mine. In -- but only so far -- then out and in again, swiftly, as if I were playing a game of hide and seek with my cuntal emotions. He kept it up, and if I closed my eyes and forgot about the metal beneath my upper abdomen. And forgot about the hands fondling my privates, and tried to forget that my cunt was being ravaged by an ugly, disgusting cock. I could almost pretend that I was safe at home, in my own bed, loving myself. He killed that half-soothing fantasy in his brutal male fashion. Randy panted and jammed his pecker up my chute, and I felt it convulse and quiver as he began to shoot off, deep in my cunt. He reached around to cup my tits, and he squeezed them as he panted and pumped and squirted his seed into my snatch, and the battering of his crotch against my ass was agony itself. My tits ached from the crudity of his squeezing and my pussy felt as if it were about to burst aflame.

He pulled back a little, and for a moment or two he resumed that short, teasing kind of action which had almost enabled me to forget what was happening. His cock-head flirted with the sensitive mouth of my cunt, darting in, pulling out, splashing amid the wet hot jism already beginning to leak from me for the second time today.

His hands were still on my tits, and my nipples were raw between his prying, pinching fingers. He'd sucked my tits and bitten them and fondled them, while his brother had fucked me, and my nipples still ached from that. When he squeezed those tender tips now, when he pulled them in his fingers, tweaking, twisting, mauling... I don't know how else to explain it. It shouldn't have happened, but it did, and nothing could stop what started in my belly. One of his strokes had touched me where it should not have touched me, and my body could only obey the impulse. As he pulled my nipples again, as he kept tickling me with his dick, I began to climax.

Not a big climax -- just a little series of shudders and moans and pussy-contractions around the tip of Randy's dong. But it was a come all the same, and I felt juice seeping through me, my juice mingling with his, and I couldn't even whine in protest because I was too busy moaning "Oooooohhhhhhhh!" over and over, in a lost, agonized voice.

Even so, it didn't disguise the facts. I was being raped -- fucked without my consent, against my will. As soon as I got away from these cock-suckers, I was going to find a policeman, get that sonofabitch by the ear. I'd show him my car, where they'd shoved it over the hill. And I'd make that pig comb these hills and Goddamned mountains and valleys up and down until he found these two degenerates, and then -- and then I'd take over! Luke and Randy would never rape another sister.

Randy took his dick out of my cunt, and one last drip of his cum oozed out, landing on the back of my thigh. It was so thick, so sticky, so hot. My muscles jerked when I felt it touch me.

"Damn," he said appreciatively, slapping my ass with a playful hand. "Talk about pussy!"

His finger thrust between my legs and across the slash of my humiliated cunt. I was still tingly from the embarrassing orgasm, but I was too drained, physically and emotionally, to do more than murmur disapproval.

Slowly I eased back, and I saw that my stomach was red where I'd been forced to lie upon the edge of the truck-bed. I rubbed the long scarlet bruise, my eyes floating aimlessly from Luke to Randy and back again. They were hoisting up their pants, covering their cocks, and both of them were flushed from lust and activity.

As defiantly as I could, I pulled up my jeans and fastened them. That took care of my cunt, but how could I clothe my upper body? Luke had torn my top apart, and there was no way I could regain decency from that ripped garment. I had a sick, despairing premonition of myself, trying to get to help, probably getting arrested for indecent exposure because the rapists had destroyed my shirt.

Still, I was willing to try. I crawled past them, holding the torn top against my tits.

"Hang on a minute!" Luke called, grabbing my ankle and giving a nasty jerk.

I fell onto my stomach, bumping my chin in the process against the hard metal truck-bed.

"Where you goin'?"

Rebellion flamed inside me. They had already raped me. If they killed me for insolence afterward, at least I'd express my sense of outrage.

"Let go of me, you cock-sucker!" I snapped. "If you ever touch me again, I'll kill you!"

Luke guffawed, and then he pulled on my ankle. I skidded towards him, bumping as I was dragged. He got his hand on my shoulder and pulled me into a sitting position.

"Feisty little cunt," he said with a snicker. "But I knew you'd be feisty soon as I laid eyes on you. Pretty face, hair like a Goddamn hippie, outa sight body -- knew you'd be feisty and fucky and lots of fun."

He cupped my chin in a somewhat dirty fist and leaned close. If Luke tried to kiss me, he would learn what feisty was all about. I might not be able to kill the bastard, but I could do a hell of a lot of damage.

But he didn't even try to put his mouth upon mine. Instead he leaned back, eyeing his brother. "You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" he asked Randy. Randy shrugged. "Damn right you are," Luke grinned. "Why not?"

"Why not what?" I asked in a tense voice. God only knew what kind of after-rape diversions these two were capable of, and there was a sudden gleam in their eyes that sent chills up my spine.

"Somethin' real nice," Luke purred, and his hand stole up my shoulder, towards my neck. Was he going to throttle me? I froze in dread. Much as I wanted to break away and run, I couldn't. That hand on my shoulder blade paralyzed me, stilled me in my tracks.

"Learned to do this in Nam," he announced, directing the words to no one in particular.

His fingers moved like a spider across my flesh. Randy watched us lazily, from a few feet away, and I saw him scratch the crotch of his jeans. Luke's fingers touched my neck.

"Just a little nip, right here," and I don't know what else he said, because I went out, frigid oblivion encompassing my mind and body.

CHAPTER FIVE

Waking up at all was a surprise. There was a momentary flash of pain in my head as I opened my eyes, and my nostrils immediately filled with the scent of hay and straw. I squirmed, discovering that I lay in a pile of moist straw, with a single yellow bulb overhead. My flesh began to itch and I realized that I was completely naked.

"What -- where..." I began, sitting up.

They came to me, out of the shadows. Luke and Randy, both of them grinning like shit-eating dogs. Consciousness became more general now, and I could see that I was in a barn, lying on the straw-strewn floor of a cow's stall.

"She looks even better when you peel her, don't she?" Randy admired, jerking his thumb in my direction. Even my shoes were gone. I sat up straight, resisting the impulse to cover myself with my hands. They had already seen me bare -- my God, they had both raped me! It was too late to worry about modesty.

"Where am I?" I demanded to know. "Where have you brought me? Where are my clothes? If you don't tell me, I'll..."

"You'll what?" Luke wondered smugly, dropping to squat beside me.

He looked at me with a perverted kind of curiosity, then reached. I started back, but not fast enough to evade his hands. He grabbed me by the tits and began to squeeze them in his horny, callused fingers until I moaned and winced with dull pain.

"We just decided to keep you for a while," he told me as he fondled my tits in that crude, animalistic fashion. "Thought you was too good to let get away."

Randy knelt, too, and he placed a hand on one of my thighs. I looked down in panic, watching his fingers amble along my flesh, up and down, back and forth. A ticklish tingling shot through my legs, and they began to quiver uncontrollably. Randy grinned, and his fingers made a beeline for my cunt.

"AAAHHHHH!" I cried in protest.

He caught a handful of pussy hair and pulled as if he meant to jerk out my beaver by the roots. Two fingertips brushed the lips of my gash. That made him smile.

"Look," I gasped, regaining my breath, "if you think you're going to keep me here, you're both crazy!" I tried to shake them off, the way a cat tosses a rat. "Let me up," I said firmly. "I want to go."

It was time for the defiant, determined woman to put in her appearance. No, damn it, it was past time!

I'd taken too much from these cock-suckers already. I would take no more.

"Simmer down," Luke replied, and he pushed at my chest. I flopped onto my back in the straw.

Luke stood up, his hands going to his belt. Oh, my God, I thought, he's going to do it again!

He undid his belt, unzipped his pants, and let them fall. As gracefully as he could, Luke freed his feet of the fallen trousers, then peeled off his shirt. He had a trifle too many muscles, both for my esthetic sense and for my fear. He was built like a weight-lifter, and he looked as if he could crush me with his hands.

"Please," I said, changing gears instantaneously. "I don't want any more trouble. Just let me go. I won't even," I lied earnestly, "tell anyone what you did to me. I just want to go."

Luke knelt again, and he took his long limp cock in hand. Jiggling it a few times in my direction, he said, "Won't be no trouble at all, long as you do what you're told."

One of his hands reached for my head, catching a few dark wavy tresses, and he pulled me up. I came reluctantly, for his cock hung like a roadblock in the pathway of my face. Only a few more inches, I thought, and surely he must touch me with that ugly prick of his. A gorge stuck in my throat and my eyes began to water.

"Taste this," he invited, rubbing the tip of his soft pecker on my cheek and lips.

I shivered, and I tried to turn my face away, but Luke whipped my head around, then pressed his cock-head directly upon my mouth. It was a vicious-looking prick, long and very dark-colored, with a full foreskin, which his fingers peeled back now and then to give me brief glimpses of the slick, grape-like knob within. When not retracted, I estimated despairingly, his prepuce must extend perhaps an inch beyond the tip of his prick itself. God, how disgusting! It was the first uncircumcised tool I had ever seen, and I knew now that Jewish custom was correct in this matter, at least. A cock was ugly enough when the prepuce was cut away but with the damned thing intact, it was positively hideous.

And right now that prepuce and its hidden contents were slithering about on my lips as Luke tried to persuade me to suck on his prick. I closed my eyes and shook my head in dumb refusal.

"C'mon, you bitch!" he rasped, pulling my hair viciously.

I couldn't help it! I opened my mouth involuntarily as the urge to scream in pain possessed me, and when I opened, Luke jammed his prick into my mouth. He stopped yanking my hair and concentrated on feeding me his sausage.

"URRRGGGHHHHH!!" I gagged as the tool pressed into my mouth, as it began to swell with passion from virtually the moment its barrel slid across my tongue. His cock had a foul, pervasive male taste and I felt as if I'd been ducked into a vat of ammonia.

"SUCK MY DICK!" he yelled, pulling my ears.

I had no choice. His cock was growing in my mouth, engorging with blood, and my jaws strained as the bulk grew larger and larger. I thought my eyes were about to pop from their sockets. It felt as if the entire inside of my head were full of cock, overflowing with cock.

"Suck, suck, suck, suck, suck, suck," he chanted, and as his prick swelled, he started fucking it in and out of my mouth. Not so far out that there was any chance of my losing it -- no, I wasn't that lucky! He pulled back, so that only the head and a small portion of the shaft remained inside, then he prodded deeply forward, as if he meant to bury his dong in my gullet.

His foreskin had retracted with the erection of his dick, and Luke's knob brushed across my tongue as he mouth-fucked me. It was already leaking a thin watery ooze of male pre-coital fluids which I could taste. And that only reminded me that he was a man, therefore capable of oozing out quite a different kind of male fluid, the very thought of which made me long for the courage to bite off his cock during this degrading act.

"C'mon, suck my prick," he coaxed, punctuating those coaxes by pulling my ears.

One of his hands went down to pinch my nipples, and I squealed around the imbedded stalk of his cock. The squeal must have pleased him, because he patted my cheek and started pumping his rod a little more energetically.

I had no choice. I was only a victim. My God -- a victim! What else might I be a victim of? I had thought that their only interest was in fucking me, there in the truck bed. That I could escape safely once they'd satisfied their crazy lusts. But here I was, in a falling-down barn, with a cock fucking my mouth. It looked as if Round Two were beginning. How many more rounds did Luke and Randy have in mind??

Even worse, there are men who take pleasure in first raping women and then -- and then killing them. From the rapist's viewpoint, the idea must have some merit. It takes care of potential witnesses. Were these men like that? Would they kill me when they'd finished degrading and abusing my body?

"I can't wait," Randy put in. "I'm gonna fuck her now."

"Go ahead," Luke invited, like a generous host.

His cock kept thrusting into my mouth as I sucked it helplessly. My tongue began to flit around the shaft while it moved in and out -- not because I wanted to. I hoped that a little participation from me would make him come faster, that I would be a tiny bit closer to possible escape from these brothers and their degenerate lusts.

There was a rustle of clothing and even without looking I knew that Randy was hurrying to undress. In a few moments his hands were on my legs, spreading them, his frame sliding between. I could have been tight and immovable, but it wouldn't have gained anything. They'd already cuffed and slapped me -- they'd pay for it, too, if there were a God of justice -- and I didn't want to find out how much violence Randy and Luke were willing to practice upon a defenseless woman.

"Spread 'em," Randy insisted, and I opened my legs until my hip joints ached.

It was a shameful thought to know that my cunt must now be completely exposed to his eyes, and, I was glad that my own were closed tightly while I concentrated on sucking Luke's cock. Hut I could feel the air touching my cunt-lips, and I knew that I was split like a porno-magazine gatefold, lacking only the shimmer of baby oil with which cunt models decorate themselves for extra sparkle. Randy's prick touched my pussy, working around the tight, resistant cunt-mouth, and my hips began to writhe uncontrollably.

It had the effect of stimulating him further, and he began to writhe with me, his dick-head prodding at my cuntal opening. Randy's swiveling hips carried the point of his fuck-stick into my gash, and the tight, clinging lips yielded just enough to allow him a beachhead. He had a slightly easier time with his beachhead than the Marines had on Tarawa; two strokes more and he was in my cunt, fucking like a demon. Apparently my dryness didn't hurt him, for he didn't let up on his attacks, and gradually my cunt began to moisten around his cock in automatic response. I was almost grateful, for the first few fuck-strokes were like driving a square peg into a round hole and my response, albeit unwilled, made the whole thing as comfortable as it could possibly be.

Randy grabbed my legs and raised them, using them like levers as he plowed my furrow. I could hear him grunting and groaning, and I could certainly feel the ramming penetrations of his prick, but most of my conscious attention was devoted to Luke's cock in my mouth. My hips and groin ached from the lusting urgency of Randy's attack, and my jaws felt as if they'd been pulled out of socket where I struggled to do something to hasten Luke toward his climax.

They were big-pricked, both the brothers, and they used their pricks with all the subtlety and finesse of jackhammer operators tearing up a street. I was battered and banged from both ends, and I wondered from time to time if my body could even endure this rough usage. And there seemed to be no let-up. They'd both raped me in turn, how long ago? Had I been out for an hour? Through a crack in the barn wall I had noticed sunlight outside, just before they set upon me for this second assault, so it couldn't be much later than when I had first met them. And here they were again, both with hard-ons, both horny, both eager to have a go at me.

"Suck my cock harder," Luke commanded. "I'm gettin' ready to come!"

That was the best news I'd heard all day. The sooner he discharged his vile sperm into me, the sooner his cock would go soft, and the sooner I'd be at least half-delivered from this rape-bondage. I let my tongue play around the driving shaft of his rod, and I pulled in my cheeks to create a vacuum on it. Come, you bastard, I was praying silently.

Come and get it over with!

And then he was coming, shooting my mouth full of enormous thick gobs of jism. I hadn't tasted male seed in years, so perhaps my imagination had magnified the disgusting qualities of sperm. At any rate, I'd been willing myself not to vomit at the first ejaculation, but as his cum flowed, I found that it really didn't taste so awfully bad, after all. Not pleasant, certainly, but I couldn't detect the spoiled-fish flavor I seemed to recall. His cum was thick and very warm and sticky, and it began to ooze down my throat in a slow viscous dripping. Luke had me by the head, so I couldn't do anything but swallow, and he kept on squirting into me, as if he meant to make sure that I didn't go hungry.

Randy had my legs very high, sticking up at right angles to my crotch, it felt to me, and while the small of my back was touching the floor, my ass was slightly uplifted, suspended on his dick. He rammed his cock up me with sure, fast strokes that sometimes went deep, sometimes played coyly around the sensitive ring of flesh at the mouth of my pussy. As he fucked me, he gave my legs and feet little jerks that caused my cunt to twist and wiggle around his plunging prick.

That seemed to do something to me. I couldn't say what, for most of my attentions still centered around the spurting cock in my mouth, but a warm feeling started to build in my cunt. As Randy kept on plugging away, that feeling clung and held. I was astonished to find my pussy beginning to thrust back at him during the attacks -- as if I were participating too.

No! I told my body. Don't encourage them! And even though my mind stayed as chaste and as removed as it had ever been, I knew that I was drifting into a replay of that rather disgusting incident that had occurred the first time they raped me. A come was building in my cunt, a come that I could neither restrain nor delay, and Randy's cock was fucking it out of me.

"Mmmmmmmppppphhhh!!" I warbled around Luke's cock as little flares began to explode in my pussy.

It wasn't natural, it wasn't right, but I couldn't stop it. My body was reacting the way a woman's body is supposed to respond to sex. Apparently, my stupid body didn't know the difference between sex and brutality.

It was nothing to be ashamed of, really. My pussy snapped at Randy's cock, twitching as if I were seeking to milk the cum out of him, but my heart and mind were still repulsed by what was happening.

"Mmmmmmmm!" I whined with Luke's cock rigid in my sperm-coated mouth. They could conquer my body, perhaps, but they'd have to wait for a cold day in hell before they overwhelmed my spirit.

That day in the prison laundry room when the dykes had gang-shagged me and Angela; I'd orgasmed then, too, with a pair of women working on me with fingers and tongues and a thick rubber diddle-stick, with another cunt mounted on my face for me to suck and lick. It hadn't been pleasant to think that I could still respond in such circumstances, but then, too, it had been a response of my body alone. And now it was happening again.

But it was different now, in a way. These were men, and they were using me for their shallow male pleasures. The dykes in the penitentiary had, at least, been women, the sex I preferred to make love with. Indeed, their attack had helped to propel me into a conscious declaration of my lesbian inclinations. Luke had just filled my mouth and throat with his cum, and Randy was screwing toward a repeat performance in my cunt. Under no circumstances would this brutality return me to a desire to be fucked by other men. When this was all over -- and I knew that sometime or other it must be over -- I would take my revenge.

Luke jerked his hard cock out of my mouth, and I choked, filling my lungs with the barn's hay-scented air. There was also a pungent stench of male sweat, which sickened me, and I coughed in reply to it. Luke's cum was still thick in the corners of my mouth and around the entrance of my throat. It had begun to dry somewhat, and the taste grew unpleasant in the extreme.

But before I could ask for a drink of water, my unwilling orgasmic flashes struck and blazed, and I was astonished to find myself humping at Randy where he fucked me. Even more astonished to hear myself screaming like a fucking nymphomaniac!

"Cooomnmmeee! COOMMIINNGGG!"

My legs were high, and they seemed to operate with a mind of their own. I wrestled them out of Randy's grasp and wrapped them around his neck, toes wriggling as I tied them tightly. My pussy sucked and swallowed his thrusting rod, and I blushed from head to navel in shame. But I couldn't stop it. The muscles of my cunt were tippling around his hard-driving cock and I was still moaning and purring my come, with a slight husk in my voice, thanks to the jism that still clogged my throat.

It was a good come for me, much more vibrant than I'd dreamed possible, though it couldn't compare in any way to the ones I had as a matter of course with Angela.

Angela. DAMN ANGELA! If it hadn't been for that mother-fucking faithless bitch, I'd be in a warm bed in Boonesfield right now, purring wards of love into the cunt of the woman who had meant so much to me. But I wasn't. She'd thrown me out of her life and I had stumbled into a picture out of Erskine Caldwell -- I was being gang-banged in a barn by a pair of hillbilly louts whose blood I ached to spill.

And I was coming like a bandit! Thrusting my pussy up to meet Randy's steady fuck-strokes, clutching my tits where I half-lay, half-sat in a pile of old straw, and my nipples were hard as rocks between my fingers. I tweaked them endlessly, cupped my tits from beneath, squeezing, fondling, coaxing every ounce of reaction out of my flesh, as if I meant to degrade myself fully now. Perhaps that way I could savor my revenge so much more when the time came.

Luke thrust his dick into my face. It was red and hard, and dripping stray bubbles of jism. At the tip, his foreskin had retracted about halfway down the head, so that the wet swollen knob, purple as a grape, protruded slightly. He took his prick in hand, working the layer of loose outer flesh, alternately exposing and concealing his knob. The old shell game, I thought in my flashes of conscious reflection. Now you see it, now you don't.

"Lick me clean," he commanded, working his prick back and forth across my lips. Moaning as my orgasm persisted, I extended my tongue and glided it over Luke's prong. God, didn't his cock ever get soft? It was as fucking rigid as it'd been during my blow-job on demand, and it showed no signs of going limp.

"Mmmmmm, yeahhhhhh," he groaned. "You got a tongue like velvet, honey. Lick me some more! Oh, right on! Damn it to shit, Randy, get your dick out of her! I need a little piece of nookie, right now!"

My snatch, feeding on Randy's cock, was as reluctant to let it go as I was humiliated to have it there in the first place. I suffered the indescribable shame of feeling my twat gobble Randy's dick while he tried to obey his brother's command and pull it out of me. Little fish-snaps of my pussy-lips teased and coaxed him, and those ripples of excitement continued even when he jerked his cock free and I saw it lancing above me, red and swollen from sex.

"AAAAAggghhhhh!" I moaned, no longer certain what I wanted. My cunt had been opened, now it was empty. There was an itching emptiness between my legs and I writhed in uncertainty.

But only for a moment! Luke switched places with his brother and that emptiness was suddenly full of the thickest, hardest prick I had ever seen, let alone felt inside me.

"AAAAAIHHEEEEE!!" I screamed when he tickled my clit with his knob, then slipped it up my cunt without missing a stroke.

My snatch was crammed with pecker, and I could feel the throbbing of his race-tempo pulse as it shuddered through the barrel of that pecker. Like a vibrator buzzing away inside me, that pulsating beat skittered along the walls of my cunt with his strokes.

I bucked upward, throwing my pussy at him, and he took it with his tool. His fingers dropped into the fray, and he placed them alongside the splayed lips of my cunt, pushing my gash together, so to speak, around the buried length of his root. Again and again he brushed a fingertip across my swollen, throbbing clit, and again and again I burst into unwanted but irresistible orgasmic upheavals.

"Lookit her goin' to town," Randy chuckled. "Acts like she ain't had no cock in years. Hell's fire, do you think me and you can take care of her all by ourselves?"

"Fuck if I know," Luke grunted, putting it to me.

"But if we can't handle her, we'll whistle up Ole Blue and let him shove her a few inches, too. Hell, he's just like one of the family. Go holler for him."

Who or what was Ole Blue? I wondered, but I didn't wonder for very long, because I couldn't seem to train my consciousness upon anything. I had never climaxed like this with a man before; God, the only comparable comes I'd known were the magical ones with Angela. What did it mean? Probably -- hopefully -- no more than that I was starved for love and sex, open to the attacks of whoever happened to attack me when I most needed it.

Moral values tended to fade in that setting. A come was a come, after all. Some were better but all were good. Perhaps this one would give me the strength I needed to escape, to get revenge on Luke and Randy. I could have murdered them easily, even after the orgasms they were bringing me to. Those orgasms were a taunting and a sneer at me, at my sense of womanhood. Randy and his brother would pay for them.

"Hell with Ole Blue," Randy scoffed. "Let him find his own pussy. I got me a hard-on, and I'm gonna get rid of it real soon. Open up wide, honey, 'cause I got me a big one and I want you to suck it real nice and sweet, the way you did ole Luke's dingus."

Even as he spoke, he was moving into position, caressing his pecker as he readied it for my mouth. My eyes were blurred, but that big dick of his cut through the blur and I saw it coming nearer and nearer, and I knew I'd have to suck it, that there was no other way. I opened my mouth as he stroked his cock on my lips, and he thrust right into my wet cave.

The taste of his prick was incredible, especially when compared to Luke's. And as soon as I began to suck his rod, I knew why. Randy had been screwing into my churning, orgasmic cunt, and his barrel was thickly coated with my juices. I had drunk them often enough from Angela's mouth to know how they tingled on my tongue, and it was magical in a way to receive them here, now, from the shaft of Randy's prong. I began to suck his cock with growing interest, lashing it with my tongue, slurping up the sweet savors of my own cunt.

"Goddamn," Luke panted, "why in the hell didn't you suck my cock that way, bitch?"

He punctuated the question with a couple of deep, piercing jabs that irritated the tip of my womb but which passed by me almost unnoticed. Randy was musky with my pussy essences, and drinking them from his hard thick cock was the only way I could retain any sense of self-respect in this entire episode of degradation.

I caught him by the balls and made his cock jiggle in my loosely clutching mouth. He hummed in appreciation and patted the top of my head. My tongue raced up and down his shaft, and once or twice I even allowed his rod to slip free while my tongue flitted south along his tool to pick up stray drops of my cream that had caught in his crotch hair or even -- God help me! -- on the dangling sac of his nuts. I licked his cock like a slut, and there seemed to be no end of the fragrance of me on his meat. Or perhaps that was only the way it appeared to me! I couldn't have coated him so thickly in my girl-cum.

On the other hand, Luke's dick swished as it slammed time and again into my wet, dripping hole, and this time there was absolutely no sexual pain. He entered my hole easily, and my rippling cunt muscles swallowed his prick hungrily. It was better, so much better, than the encounter in that Goddamned truck bed. I could almost get to like this, I thought madly, sluttishly, wishing almost immediately that the thought had never crossed my mind.

My hand locked around the root of Randy's tool and I pulled it into my mouth.

"Suck my cock deep," he commanded, and I swallowed as if I meant to take his tool all the way down my throat.

I couldn't stop myself. My head pistoned up and down on his shaft, and my fingers made a viselike grip on the base, and I twisted and pulled his dick while I sucked it eagerly.

And when he came, when that huge dammed-up flood of jism burst into my gulping mouth -- what can I say? I drank Randy's seed, and I sucked him and shucked him till he shot out more, and still my lips nibbled at his knob, teasing it, coaxing it, begging it to drench me with still more of his sticky white fuck-cream.

In another moment Luke had jammed his belly against mine and he was filling my cunt with the fluid of his own orgasm. My hole was nearly raw from the constant in-out frictioning of pricks, but my pussy had enough energy left to lock itself around his rod, and he came into my orgasm, cock wagging about friskily where it was thrust up the full length of my cunt-tube. My legs came up, wrapped around him, and he seized my tits.

"Drink my cum," Randy whispered, sounding fully as exhausted as I was.

Luke seemed not to have the strength to abuse my tits the way he had before. His body lay upon mine, heavy, burdensome, and I could feel his cock melting in my gash. Randy's cock began to go soft, too, and with a last little squirt it slackened and eased from my tips. Surplus jism leaked from my mouth, and I could feel a similar hot wet oozing at my snatch, the bubbles of Luke's cum dribbling their way into the crack of my ass. Beneath Luke I gave one final shudder before my legs surrendered their hold on his body and I lay beneath him, limp, sprawled, nearly senseless.

They rose, whewing and trying to laugh. "Woman like that could kill a man," Randy sighed, and his brother agreed.

"Die with a smile on your face the fuckin' undertaker'd never wipe off though."

Both of them laughed. I couldn't.

The memory of my climactic explosion was too strong, too painful. What had they done to me?

They'd not only abused my body through the brutality of rape, they had forced my body to respond and, in the process, assaulted my spirit as well. Oh, God, they'd pay! I'd make sure they paid!

"See?" Luke asked. "An' you was afraid we'd get ourselves in trouble. Damn, I told you soon as we seen her tryin' to flag us down, I said, 'There's a piece of tail for you an' me, little brother.' Now didn't I tell you that?"

"Damn sure did," Randy agreed. "You said 'She's got tits and ass enough to keep the whole Marine Corps happy'. And damn if she don't, Luke."

It was almost as if I weren't present at all. They talked about me in a strange, alienating fashion that left me feeling like an eavesdropper on some private conversation. Randy prodded me with his bare toes.

"Roll over," he said, pushing me harder when I didn't comply at once.

"Fuck off!" I snapped, and then he kicked me in the ribs. I rolled over.

Randy knelt behind me, and he spread the cheeks of my butt.

"Lookathere," he told his brother. "See that little brown asshole, with a few little kinks of hair curlin' around it? That's where I wanta put my pecker, big brother. Right up her poop-chute."

He prodded my bung with his finger, as if to make sure I hadn't missed the point. I squirmed and squealed. "Looks tight as fuck, don't it? Betcha she'll do some squealin' when I give her old Pete there, won't she?"

There was another finger on me then, a slightly bigger finger, and it pushed more insistently at my asshole. That had to be Luke, I decided, for it was a cruelly gauging finger that seemed determined to breach my sphincter and bury itself in my unprotected rectum.

"I've seen plenty tighter," he volunteered, still gouging at my asshole, "and they always opened up big enough to take my prick."

"Get her shoe," I heard Luke say. "It's got one of them thick high heels. Little bigger'n a carbine barrel, but it oughta do the trick. I'll widen her out for you, an' you can have first digs at her ole shit-hole."

I went cold all over, and I started to crawl away. God only knew where I could find a hiding place, but I was determined to try. The evil perversion of these men staggered me, and for the first time I seriously wondered if I could hope to escape their clutches at all.

Luke caught my ankle as I moved, and I went flop onto my belly. "Don't run away," he said. "You're gonna like this."

And then -- then it was one of those miracles people want to believe in but which seem so impossible. I heard a car, so close it might have been in the next stall.

"Ssshhh," Randy grinned to Luke, who nodded, and I heard the slamming of car doors. Voices. Human voices. Just outside the bar, I was positive.

Oh, God, I might never have another chance! I looked at the brothers, estimating my chances, and then I took a deep breath.

"HELP ME FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, screamed so hard my chest ached.

Luke was on me in a second, slamming me down upon the straw, his hand covering my mouth. "Damn," he whispered into my face, "I wish to shit you hadn't gone and hollered like that."

There was a cruel glimmer in his eyes and I closed my own in terror.

CHAPTER SIX

Even with my eyes closed I knew that someone was entering the barn. The door creaked and a breath of fresh outside air drifted in. I opened my eyes, but I couldn't see anything because of the high sides of the cow stall where I lay.

"What the hell's this squallin' about?" demanded a harsh, nasal male voice. An older man, certainly. Could he -- would he -- exert himself to save me?

"Oh, shit, Pa," griped Randy, rising to his feet. "She's done and spoilt the surprise we had for you."

The surprise? I thought. Had I made a mistake? And then they came around the edge of the cow stall.

There were three people, though I'd only heard the man's voice, and I looked towards them, my head sinking a little further.

The man was tall and skinny, with a face like a buzzard -- all nose and sharp-pointed features. A mean pinched face that seemed to match perfectly his raspy voice. His ears were large and prominent, and he had perhaps eleven hairs on his wrinkled scalp. His mouth was a wide slash whose corners twisted upward when he got a sight of me, stretched naked in the straw beside his son Luke.

There were two girls with him. Neither could have been more than fifteen or sixteen, and they flanked him on each side. One was dark, sullen-pretty with a plumpish, red-lipped face. She was also extraordinarily pregnant, her belly so swollen that I wondered if she might not be ready to give birth on the spot. She leaned her head to one side and stared at me curiously, but with a bland indifference in her eyes that reminded me of a snake's gaze. I didn't like her.

The other was a pale slim blonde, with long hair, very straight and parted in the middle. It dropped to her shoulders and the edges were unevenly trimmed, as if she'd cut her own hair without the aid of a mirror. She wore a cheap cotton print dress that had seen better days. The colors were faded, and the garment itself was too short, too tight to be quite stylish. The hem struck her at mid-thigh and revealed most of her long, slim legs. They were lovely legs, and I wondered why I should take any note of that fact, given my own situation.

She was young, and mature in some ways. Her body was prettily developed, and frankly displayed by the tight dress. I had a definite impression of round, high tits and a slender waist. But her face was childlike, sweet after a fashion, the pale flesh set off between the falls of silver-gold hair. Her mouth was tiny, her nose small and perfect, and her eyes a blue-gray.

"Oh," she said in a soft light voice, and her eyes fixed upon me where I lay. I stared back at them, and they were the saddest, most haunting eyes I had ever seen. For a moment I could forget my own problems, as I wondered what could have given this young girl such a gaze of heart-tugging sadness. My heart leaped out to her, across the six or seven feet of space separating us, and well, I can't explain it. Does anyone still hold a brief for love at first sight?

"Where'd you get her?" It was the pregnant girl who'd spoken. She had her hands on her hips, belly thrust towards me as she stared.

"We found her," Randy said, showing no embarrassment at being naked in front of his father and the two women, which gave me a degree of insight into the makeup of this family, if a family it really was. I wondered who might be the creator of that swelling abdomen.

"Yeah," Luke yawned, rearranging his cock and balls. He slapped me on the ass. "She's hotter'n a cheap automatic. We thought we'd bring her home as a present for you, Pa. All of us need a little recreation lately, with Patty growin' punkins in her belly."

"Well, I'll be Goddamned," the old man said, stepping closer.

He stared me up and down, and I was excruciatingly conscious of my nudity. But Pa had the kind of eyes that can make a woman feel naked, even when she's fully dressed.

"Who is she? She from around here? You could get your asses into a hell of a lot of trouble draggin' off women that belong to anybody."

"No, Pa, she's from Massachusetts. Just passin' through. Her car run over the hill, so we give her a lift."

"And about twenty inches," Luke interjected. "Go ahead and give her a try, Pa. She's got enough to handle all of us."

"Damn, boys, I don't know if I like it. Seems to me there's laws against this kind of stuff."

For the first time I spoke. "Of course there are! So why in the hell don't you tell your sons to give me my clothes and let me get out of here? I have been raped and assaulted and..."

"And you oughta feel that pussy of hers when it starts suckin' on the shaft of your dick," Randy interrupted, digging his big toe into my crotch.

Flushing, I doubled into a ball and tried to dislodge him.

"Oh, hell, Pa, we wouldn't have to hunt strange cunt if you'd let us take a crack at Emmylou. And Patty's too damn big-bellied to fuck. We gotta have something!"

Pa stepped back defensively, and he put his arms around the young blonde girl who had attracted me so much. She flushed when he touched her, but the old man held her tightly, in a parody of protection. One of his hands went low -- I knew that he was holding her by the ass -- while the other stretched across her tits, taking advantage of the position to cop some sneaky feels. He grinned lewdly.

"Now, boys, you know damn well I promised your mother on her deathbed that wouldn't nobody lay a finger on this little girl till she turned sixteen."

"Nobody fuckin' worried about me," Patty observed, rubbing her belly.

"That's different," Pa replied. "You was a daughter, an' this little girl ain't."

He squeezed one of her tits, and Emmylou shivered visibly. I stared at her face, and she stared at mine, and somehow we seemed to communicate with our eyes alone. My sympathy flowed out, and I could finally understand why she had such a wistful, sad cast to her blue-gray eyes.

"Well, come on, Pa," Randy offered. "Give her little ole pussy a try. She's still good and hot for it."

His toe burrowed into my cunt and I squirmed in discomfort. That unexpected orgasmic high was past, and once again I felt like an animal brought to the stud farm.

"This is pretty sudden, boys," Pa demurred. "I ain't even got my horn up."

Patty, the pregnant one, sighed, and eased onto her knees. She moved slowly, like an elephant doing tricks, and she reached for Pa's zipper. He slapped her fingers, turning to Emmylou, the sad-eyed girl I couldn't take my gaze from.

"You do it," he told her. "You get my cock hard."

She looked at me for a moment, and it was as if she were trying to speak to me with her eyes. They were full of sorrow, and I could share that sorrow. Then Emmylou knelt and I didn't know if I could bear to watch. She unzipped the old man's pants and reached inside with a trembling hand, drawing his cock into the light.

"Suck it for me now, Emmylou," he encouraged her. "Suck it real sweet and purty."

She stretched his prick in her hand, looking at it for a moment, and then she moved her face closer and I heard her smack a kiss onto the barrel. It didn't sound like an enthusiastic kiss to me, but perhaps I was only projecting myself into Emmylou. I don't know why -- something about her appealed to me very much. She was only a child, but she made my body tingle.

"Suck it, girl," he repeated, and Emmylou opened her mouth.

It was a slightly bigger mouth than appeared from a distance, and she swallowed his cock, cheeks pulling in as it entered her. Pa grabbed the girl by the head and pulled her a little closer to him, swiveling his crotch as he fed his dick into her mouth.

"Oh, shit," Patty grumbled. "She don't know shit from apple butter about suckin' a dick."

"Bet you do," Luke grinned, tapping her shoulder.

Slowly Patty turned, her face brightening when she saw Luke's cock almost erected and within reach. She grabbed his tool with both hands and leaned in, her maternity blouse swaying, and she began to suck his cock.

"Me, too," Randy put in, and he stepped closer to the pregnant cock-sucker.

He rubbed her cheek with the tip of his prick, until it began to stiffen, and Patty reached up to grab it with her hand. She pulled and shucked Randy's cock while she sucked Luke's, and then she opened her mouth, shifting to the other brother for a bit of gobbling.

Patty had an enthusiastic technique. She ate prick with loud smacking noises, and her head moved like a dynamo on whichever cock happened to be in her mouth at the moment. She didn't appear to care, for she moved to Luke and back to Randy in quick, frenzied questing, her lips set in what appeared to be a permanent O of acceptance. Into that O those cocks thrust, and Patty sucked. It was too bad for her that she hadn't sucked the prick that filled her belly with sperm. Apparently it was too bad for me as well, because her unfuckable status had been the stated reason for my abduction.

Emmylou was sucking without much enthusiasm, and Pa's cock grew in her mouth.

"Good girl," Pa told her, patting the pale blonde tresses. "Suck a little harder. I think I'm almost ready."

When he allowed her to remove her mouth, his dick thrust out in a gnarled erection. There was a slight bend at the middle, and a cocking, if you'll forgive the expression, to one side. An ugly prick, as pricks went, but to me all pricks are ugly, and if this one was determined to bury itself in my cunt, I couldn't do any more to prevent it than I could with Luke and Randy.

"Out of the way," he told Emmylou, pushing her aside.

He undid the belt and fastenings of his trousers, and they fell to his ankles. Emmylou sighed and helped him out of the fallen pants, and without a look at the young girl, he moved towards me, cock extended rigidly.

"Lay down," he told me, kneeling beside me in the straw.

He grabbed one of my hands and jerked it towards his waiting cock.

I grimaced as he fitted my hand around his tool, and I was totally conscious of Emmylou's eyes upon me and Pa. Oh, God, I didn't want her to see me humiliated like this! I looked at the girl, apologizing with my eyes, and I saw that she was staring fixedly at me. Again our eyes and hearts were in communication, and only that back-and-forth messaging enabled me to endure the next few minutes.

I stretched on the straw, and Pa moved between my legs. He hovered above me, his hands testing the roundness and curvature.

"Damn my ass," he sighed, "she's got a reg'lar pair of melons, don't she?"

"They taste even better than the feel," Luke contributed. "Real sugar-tits, Pa. Go ahead. Give em a suck."

"Damn if I won't," he agreed, bending down and licking at my nipples.

They stiffened against his tongue, and he pulled my teats into his mouth for some hard, toothful oral work. His incisors ground on the curves of my tits, and I ached from the cruel intensity of his action.

At the same time he had a hand in my crotch, fingers digging into my slit, prying my cunt open. I was wet from the last couple of rape-attacks, and he entered my hole easily, but that didn't ease the shame I felt.

Over his shoulder I could see Patty, still switching back and forth from Randy's cock to Luke's, while Emmylou knelt dejectedly by herself.

"C'mere, lazy," Patty gasped, removing one hand red tool. "You, damn it all!" And Emmylou moved slowly on her knees, obeying Patty's command. "Suck on Randy's cock," she told the girl. "I got all I can handle with Luke."

"Open up," Randy ordered, steering his dick towards Emmylou's reluctant mouth.

She opened, and the prick jammed inside. It was hard and stiff, and he thrust so deeply I heard her groan in pained resistance. He grabbed a handful of her pale blonde hair and pulled until she moaned again, and her acceptance became a little more complete. He pushed at her mouth, thrusting until his balls grazed her chin, and he ground his crotch against her face, soaking his cock in her wet mouth.

At almost the same moment Pa reached down, grasped his prick, and slammed it into my cunt. He was still sucking my tits, and I was looking down at the bald, wrinkled top of his ugly head when his rod entered my cunt, and I couldn't repress the urge to scream.

"Goddamn, boys, she's tight!" he grunted, working against the tightness he had mentioned.

"AHHHHHHHH!" I cried shrilly, scooting backwards slightly, through the straw, in a vain attempt to escape the somewhat bent rod that had invaded me. The kink in Pa's tool made accepting it an agony. He thrust harder, sinking more of his rod in my hole.

His cock was thick and long, though not quite so big as his son Luke's. His ramming thrust carried his rod up my vaginal chute, reaming out the tender internal machinery of my pussy, and he sank upon me, still ramming, still humping. I hoped he was on a short fuse.

"Uhhhh! UNNNggghhhh!" I whined, shaking each time he stabbed me, and Pa hung on for dear life, as if he were fearful I might buck him off. If only I could have!

In, out. In, out. Plunging like a sickle cutting weeds, Pa fucked. I was stretched out, flat on my back, knees slightly uplifted. He reached back, grabbed one leg, and slung it across his ass.

"Hang on, honey," he panted. "I'm just gettin' started!"

I'd been afraid of that. I touched his shoulders -- not to embrace him, but to depress one arm so I could look over its blockade. I wanted to look at Emmylou, to see what they were subjecting her to, to reassure her with my eyes.

She was still on her knees sucking Randy's prick. He played with her pale blonde hair while she accepted his pecker-thrusts, and every few strokes he humped viciously against her, burying his root in the quivering portals of her mouth. I could see her shiver each time she was so abused, and my heart wept for her. What had they said? Something about promising not to lay a finger on her till she was older? It looked like a broken promise to me. Perhaps I'd have a chance later to talk to the girl, to hold her hand even, to promise her that she still had a chance to get away from this obscene debauchery. As much chance as I had?

Luke groaned mightily, and I knew that he was spilling his seed into Patty's suckling mouth. The pregnant teenager lifted up as the dick gushed, and I saw a dribble of cum spill from the petulant curve of her lower lip. She grabbed his nuts and the root of his tool and set about hand-jobbing him, as if she were starved for the taste of his sperm.

"Ya-HAAAAAAAAA!!" He whooped, and emptied into her.

"Hurry up, Emmylou," Randy grunted. "I wanta get my rocks off, too!"

The girl sighed visibly, her small round tits heaving inside the tight dress. She withdrew part of his cock from her mouth and took hold of it the way Patty had grasped Luke. Her fist began to work up and down on Randy's dong, so fast she bumped herself in the small, widely stretched mouth every time she moved, and, unless my eyesight was failing, I was pretty sure I could see tears rolling down her pale cheeks. One of her eyes was fixed upon me -- I couldn't see the other -- and the mist blurring that blue-gray eye was heart-wrenching. Obviously Emmylou was being exploited against her will, just as I was. We had that in common.

And she was so beautiful. Maybe I have a weakness for blondes. The first three or four men I allowed to fuck me were all blond, and I used to ask Angela why she didn't dye her mousy hair a honey shade. Emmylou's hair was an extremely pale-hued yellow, almost platinum, and she had the creamiest skin I had ever seen. Her body was young and prettily developed, but her face was that of a child -- a lovely, appealing child. Except for the eyes, which bespoke a knowledge of evil no child ought to have. If she were mine, I thought, if only she were mine. Her eyes would never weep again. I'd kiss away all her tears, and I'd kiss a smile onto that tiny bow of a mouth. I'd cup her little tits in my hands, squeezing them so gently, like the delicate fragile treasures they were, and when I adored them with my mouth, I'd show Emmylou what tenderness was all about. Emmylou -- such a fragile, totally feminine name. I liked it, and I liked her.

"Oh, God," I said, overwhelmed by the enormity of the passion I felt for that lonely, lovely child. She stirred, turning her head as far in my direction as she could despite the hard cock between her lips, and I wondered if she was thinking about me. Christ, it was no time to be falling in love! I was already a captive, in danger for my very life! And all I could think about was spreading the legs of that darling young girl and eating her cunt till she screamed with passion and love.

Pa was still fucking my ass off but my fantasies of little Emmylou interposed themselves and gave me precisely that bar against reality I needed then. It was no longer the goaty old man who mounted me, fucked me like an animal, abused my delicate cunt with the hard shaft of his ramming rod. And it wasn't his obscenely bald head which I gazed down upon, nor his snaggy uneven teeth which nibbled my tits. No! Emmylou had come to me, had thrust the vicious old man aside, and she lay upon my body, her slim legs intertwined with mine.

Our cunts ground together, hers a child's pussy but advancing with each passing moment a step closer to glorious womanhood, and mine a woman's cunt eagerly guiding hers down that loving road. Not for us the agonizing, rip-it-out slam-bang-thrust of man/woman sex. We had found the better way, the perfect way. Her snatch dripped honey into my cunt and sucked up the juices I was leaking in such loving abundance.

She raised her face, lips parted innocently. Mine rushed to join them. Our mouths came together, my tongue thrusting into her warm oral cavity. A second's hesitation, as if she weren't sure how to respond, and then she was sucking hungrily on my tongue, bumping her twat against mine with more and more erotic frenzy, until we came together, orgasmed, climaxed, CAME, in a flutter of heads beating a mile a minute and throbbing of ecstatic clits as they pounded together, together, together. My body leaped up, up, into the throes of a churning come, and I locked my feet around the body which covered mine. I clawed flesh with my fingers, reaching low to paw the hips, pulling high to stroke the shoulders. My mouth opened and I was ready to receive a kiss from my lover, and it came.

The mouth that touched mine was slobbery wet, and the breath issuing from it was like inhaling the stench from a public toilet.

I spat, my eyes clearing, and I was horrified to discover that Pa had clamped his mouth onto mine. Neither of his sons had even bothered to try kissing me. I'd have killed them if they had, for to me a kiss is a token to be reserved for moments of love and affectionate tenderness. Not a fart to be thrown into the winds whenever my stomach filled with gas and a fart is what Pa's mouth reminded me of.

He thrust his tongue into me, despite the spitting I had done, and I bit him with a hearty good will. He moaned, lifting his face, and if he hadn't been struck with his own orgasm at precisely that moment, I'm certain he'd have struck me. I'd been slapped around a lot today, and I didn't like it.

Even less did I care for the agitated jerking of Pa's dick in my cunt, the shudders and convulsions of which told me he, too, was dumping a load of stinking cum into my depths. My pussy was throbbing with release at the time, certainly, but it had nothing to do with any of the men who'd used me today. I had done it all by myself, with that pathetic little fantasy about young Emmylou, and it was a marvelous come in spite of everything.

"AGGGGGHHHHHH! I'M COOMMIIINNGGG!!" he yowled across my face, blinding me, sickening me with his stinking breath, and he didn't need to speak because it was so obvious that his prick was out of control. It thrust and snaked inside my cunt, and each wiggle meant that another glob of pecker-snot had squirted into my ravaged, abused cunt. But at least, thank God, he was finished. I was pretty certain old Pa wouldn't be able to work up another boner to use on me. Not soon, at least.

Over his shoulder I saw the girl Emmylou still engaged in blowing Randy. She moved her hand with a weary desperation, socking herself again and again as she struggled to bring him off. At the moment of release, however, the hold of her mouth slacked and Randy's prong jumped out. She tried to get it back inside, but there wasn't enough time. He put his hand on her forehead, pushing her face back on a 45-degree slope, and he covered her blushing flesh with the hot seed of his jism.

Emmylou shuddered, trembled like a leaf, as Randy moaned, "Drink it all, you bitch! Drink all my cum!" and he kept squirting it onto her, until most of her sweet face was sticky and glistening with his sperm. And even when his cock had ceased to vomit out its fuck-cream, he kept rubbing its tip across Emmylou's face, massaging the jism into her skin. She had her eyes closed, closed as tightly as she'd sealed her mouth, and she looked extremely uncomfortable.

The poor young darling! I wanted to throw Pa off me, to go to her, take her in my arms, give her aid and comfort. As for the others -- well, the rest of them could go fuck themselves. Pa could bend over and let one of his sons jam an oversized cock up his hairy ass.

"Oh, get off me," I told him in a snarl, pushing at his limp, fucked-out body. "Get your cock out of me and go away!"

CHAPTER SEVEN

He rose without much resistance, and his cum-dripping prick was limp as a twenty-minute noodle. I wiped angrily at the slice of my cunt, wishing I had something to douche with, to take away every disgusting trace of the sperm they had fired into me in salvos.

Randy and Luke were grinning broadly. "How'd you like it, Pa?" Luke asked.

"Damn fine pussy," Pa said gravely. "A little feisty, but when she gets them ole muscles workin', it's Katy bar the door!"

"Can we keep her awhile then?" Randy wanted to know. "At least till Patty lightens up?"

He stooped and rubbed the girl's swollen tummy through her flimsy maternity blouse. She, meanwhile, had a hand stuck beneath her skirt and was apparently fondling her pussy with some vigor, for as Randy rubbed and her hand jerked about, her face suffused in a rich flush and she moaned heavily.

"I don't know," Pa said, shaking his head. "I rightly don't know."

It would have been astonishing if he'd known anything about anything. He bent over to pick up his pants, and the view of hairy asshole and dangling, wasted-looking balls was incredible. In spite of everything that had happened to me, I began to laugh.

"See, Pa?" Luke began hopefully. "She likes it. Hear her gigglin'? Oh, shit, Pa, the doctor says Patty's too far gone for screwin', and all you'll let us do with Emmylou is get sucked off."

"An' Emmylou can't suck for shit," Randy ventured.

"An' me and Randy's getting damn tired of jackin' off! Oh, Pa," and he sounded just like a wheedling child, "nobody knows she's here. We could keep her around and take the edge off our horns, and then when Patty gets back into shape, why, we'll just send her packin'."

I couldn't stay quiet. "Listen, Goddamn it," I cut in, "you're talking about me! I was accosted on the fucking highway, and these assholes pushed my car over a cliff, and then they raped me! I've had about all I'm going to take, and I will not listen to you chat like morons about the possibility of keeping me around to take the edge off your fucking horns!" I stood up then, chest heaving as anger possessed me more fully. "So if everyone has had his little pleasure, I'll just be on my way. See you in the funny papers."

I started past Pa, who backhanded me and knocked me sprawling to the floor. It's hard to fall gracefully when you're naked, and impossible to keep your dignity when you're lying winded on a barn floor. Panting, I rose like an animal, into a crouch.

"You all kin get into trouble keepin' her here," Patty observed in a lazy voice. She even sounded like a slut. "Ain't it against the law?"

Pa nodded. "Suppose we'd have to kill her, when we was finished, wouldn't we?"

Kill? Someone had finally spoken the word. My blood froze.

"Shit," Randy guffawed, grabbing me under the arms and pulling my limp body erect, "might as well. When we get finished juicing her with Tolliver cock, she won't never be satisfied with no other kind. Why'd she even want to keep living then?"

"Oh, my God," I said weakly, collapsing against him. He put his hand on my ass, and I didn't have the energy to resist.

"You can't do that," Emmylou whispered, looking up at me. She was so tiny there on the floor, her pale face still sticky from Randy's cum. "You couldn't do that."

Luke came towards me, hand reaching. It fastened upon my fucked-out pussy, squeezed, then twisted brutally.

"AAAAAAHHHH!" I cried in pain.

"Hell we couldn't," he said. "Fuckin' hell we couldn't." He loosened his grip, stroked my pussy, then let his hand drop away. "Stick a Magnum up her twat, get the barrel all juicy with pussy-cum, then -- BLAMMMM!"

His hand came up again, socking me between the legs. I jumped high, away from his painful belting fist, knowing that he could do it, that he could do it with a sick, gloating smile. The Marine tattoo on his bicep gleamed beneath a film of lust-induced sweat. Had Vietnam turned him into the animal he appeared, or had he always been this way?

"What'll we do with her now?" Randy asked, bracing me when I staggered.

"Let's tie her up," Luke suggested. "Use them tethers on the wall, string her in all nice and neat. We might's well keep her in the barn. Ain't no extry beds in the house."

That seemed to settle it. I was led back into the stall where I had been multiply raped and, naked, I was roped fast to a pair of ring tethers near the base of the wall. The ropes, also, were very short. I couldn't stand up once I'd been tied into place. All I could manage was to lie or huddle, cramped, uncomfortable. When I was secure, Luke and Randy rose from me, patted my tits and cunt, and retreated.

"Don't worry about tryin' to get away," Luke advised. "I'm gonna hook up a bell to the barn door and, if you try to open it up, why, I'll have to come see what's wrong. Course, you ain't gonna get them knots undone anyway."

"I'm hungry," Patty whined nasally. "Hungry enough for two. Let's go get some supper."

"We'll send you out somethin', when we've finished," Pa put in courteously. "If there's anythin' left."

I hadn't even thought about food. It was the last thing to worry about when my very life hung teetering on the edge. I had no doubt they intended to kill me, once they'd used my body to its breaking point. And how long could I endure the sexual agony without breaking? Weeks? Days? Hours, perhaps? I didn't know.

Weariness stole upon me once I was alone, and I moved back against the wall, relaxing the strain in my arms and legs. I let my head settle and, for a moment, the physical exhaustion was the most important thing. I couldn't plan, couldn't think, couldn't do anything -- not until I'd given my abused body some rest. Night was settling in with chill breezes that seeped through the chinks of the wall behind me, and I was cold and naked, but not even that could keep me from dropping into a much-needed sleep.

I slept. I dreamed.

Angela and I were making love in a bed of fragrant blooming flowers. Roses and violets and daisies and daffodils, their colors our blanket, their perfumed scents an envelope for me and her. I could see it so clearly, as if I were watching as well as participating. We were in a 69, each of us burrowing madly, deliriously, in the other's cunt. I licked her clit and a flood of honeysuckle dew oozed from her slit. My tongue ventured in, lapping up that delicious wet oozing, poked up her twat for more, and she was doing precisely the same to me, as if we'd been programmed to make beautiful, symmetrical love. Orgasm after orgasm rocked my cunt.

I heard a voice above us. "Angela. What are you doing? You promised me there'd be no repetitions, that you were done and finished with the dyke bitch. Have you forgotten so soon?"

It was Mark, towering above us. He wore a basin-type priest's hat, and a black shirt with clerical collar. And nothing else. From the hem of his shirt to his toes, he was naked, his prick thrusting in a fantastic erection. The length of his cock, the thickness -- they were incredible, and they cast a deep, dark shadow across my and Angela's bodies. I saw her eyes flicker towards him, locking in.

His hand extended towards her, but she didn't take his hand. Instead she reached for Mark's gigantic cock. Her eyes began to gleam and sparkle like a drawerful of diamonds as her fist encompassed his prick, and slaver appeared in the corners of her mouth. Desperately, I burrowed into her pussy, pleading with my tongue, hoping I could remind her of the perfection we had together. She slid from me, her body greasy as butter, and I heard her make a few clucking, pigeon-like sounds. And then into her mouth went the end of Mark's dick! She swallowed the meaty pecker with greedy gulps.

"Stop! You'll strangle yourself!" I whispered, unable to believe what I was seeing. She took so much of his cock, took it so deeply. It was horrible, dreadful, blood-chilling -- and I couldn't look away, not for anything. I lay on the ground, watching Angela from beneath. The flowers had begun to decay where my body touched them, and a smell of rot drifted into my nostrils.

Mark's was no ordinary cock. It was long. A foot or more when his shadow had fallen across our lovemaking. Twenty-four inches, when Angela took it in hand. A yard when she stuffed the tip into her lustful mouth. My God, his cock was like Pinocchio's nose! His prick kept rowing. Growing! Growing! It was as long as I was tall, thicker than a willow sapling, and Angela's mouth was stretched beyond belief as she took his prick in. Down the flesh of her neck and chest and tummy I could see a little mole-like motion as Mark's cock invaded her body.

"Don't do it, Angela. I love you. I want you. Me, Marilyn! Not him!"

Eagerly, wishing to prove my point, I spread her silky thighs and began once more to lick her cunt. I gave her everything I had, tonguing avidly. I stabbed, I speared, I sucked her clit. I covered her cunt with all my mouth, sucking as my tongue fluttered across her dewy pussy-petals. I vacuumed her gash until the labes began to twitch with response. Oh, thank you, God! I'd done it! She'd be mine again! She was responding. Her cunt wasn't pulling away. It was fucking towards my mouth with sexy bumps and grinds. I licked her cunt harder, knowing that I'd won. I sucked more passionately, as if I meant to pull her pussy inside out.

Something touched the tip of my teasing tongue; something fantastically hard and aggressive.

It was hot, as well, and it burned my flesh where we touched.

"Nnnnnhhhhh!" I whined, and then the tip of Mark's rod slammed into my mouth. She'd swallowed his cock all the way, and the end of his elastic rod had began to stick out from her pussy!

I lurched back in disgust and terror, but his dick kept coming out of her slit.

"No! GET AWAYYYYYY!!" I screamed at the penile worm.

It pursued me! Slithering like a snake from the gash of Angela's cunt, wiggling along the ground towards me, searching. I slapped it, and the thing spat little squirts of cum onto my flailing fingers. They scorched me, they stung like venom, they made my flesh crawl!

"No, no, NOOOOOO!!" I wailed, backing away.

Something about the dream-setting had changed. Mark's feet were buried in fresh, lovely flowers, but only rotting stumps of roses spread before me. When that cum-spitting snake sprayed them with his juice, puffs of reeking smoke rose. And though I'd been certain this was an open field, that the horizon spread around us as far as the eye could see, my back was now jammed tightly against something solid, something which prevented me from backing away a single inch more. I dared not look to see what was barring my way.

"Go away, go away!" I cried helplessly, my legs writhing as that crawling cock wormed its way between them, making directly for my cunt. "Please, no! Don't fuck me!" I told it.

The tip of his cock touched my pussy-slice, sliding up and down the tight, unwilling lips.

"I don't want to do it," I told that elastic prick. "Don't make me do it!"

And into me it thrust then, spitting more of its acrid burning jism onto my cunt-flesh. The gates of my twat split as that sticky hot dew bathed them, and my back was pressed against the invisible wall behind me. I looked at Angela, and she was still swallowing that India-rubber prick, and more, more, more of it was coming out of the split of her cunt. Above us stood Mark, fanning himself idly with his wide-brimmed priestly hat, smiling a triumphant, smug smile as his dick worked into my cunt and I writhed helplessly, unable to prevent my impalement.

Deeper into my hole it snaked, each wriggling jerk accompanied by a shot of that gooey, sticky mess, and -- Jesus! There were at least ten inches of cock buried in my puss, and still more, still more was coming out of Angela, coming towards me! I screamed as I felt the tip of Mark's cock wriggle up my cuntal passage, through my womb, into my stomach.

He was a thick, throbbing mass interfering with my lungs. He thrust himself into my windpipe. I gagged, I choked, I wanted to vomit. There was a ticklish sensation at the top of my gullet and I knew, horribly knew, what it was. His cock rammed up my throat, then through my mouth, and its tip emerged, red and wet, between my trembling lips. The slit at his knob was open and as it peeked into the light, another bubble of cum gushed out, falling on my tits, burning them, marking the flesh.

"GGGGGHHHHHH!!" I screamed, my mouth so clogged with cock I could do no more, and my body jerked about wildly, so frantically that the ropes on my wrists tore the flesh. It was that raw aching pain that awoke me, and after such a hideous dream it was almost pleasure to be conscious again.

Even if it meant that I was trussed like a hog and bound to the wall of a barn. Even if it meant that my naked flesh was chill from the night air; that my cunt ached from the sexual abuse I had taken this afternoon and evening; that the only imminent release from my bondage lay in the arms of death. Overhead a small yellow light bulb gleamed, one tiny island of light in the sea of darkness.

It was worse than prison, for I didn't have Angela here to make the darkness come alive with sexual excitement. What in the bloody hell had I done to deserve this animal usage? I had only asked Luke and Randy to give me a ride to the nearest pay phone or gas station. And they had beaten me, raped me, degraded me in every way imaginable.

"Are you okay?" a small quiet voice whispered from the dark that bordered my captivity.

"Oh," I said gratefully. It was Emmylou. I knew it, even before she emerged from the darkness and entered my circle of dim light. I was glad it was she. She was the only member of this family who had any semblance of humanity. Even Patty, the hugely pregnant teenager, struck me as basically an animal. Hadn't she been the one who first suggested killing me when my usefulness was ended? But Emmylou seemed, in so many ways, to be as much a prisoner as I was. They had used her this afternoon, used her as brutally and unfeelingly as they used me. Perhaps our common situation would persuade her to help me.

She had a glass of milk and a couple of sandwiches. "These were all I could bring. They pretty much ate up all the supper I fixed. I'm sorry. And -- and I brought you a blanket, too. It's s'posed to be cold tonight, and you out here with no clothes." She began to sob and her hands trembled. Milk spilled over the edge of the glass. "Oh, my God, ma'am! What are they doing to you? How can they stand to treat anybody the way they're treating you?" For a moment she was helpless with tears.

"Help me," I pleaded. "Help me, Emmylou. I know that you're not responsible for any of this. And don't you see I have to get away? If I don't -- well, you heard what they were planning to do to me."

"I'm afraid," she said, kneeling before me.

The young girl scent of her was so sweet and clean and fresh. I remembered the attraction I'd felt for the child at first sight, the way I'd transferred my consciousness from Pa to her. Some of that feeling was coming back now. Emmylou was only a child -- she couldn't be more than half my own age -- but the sad innocence of her made my spine tingle with renewed desire. Perhaps, if I sublimated some of that desire into an appeal for her help... "I don't understand any of this, Emmylou. Why are you so different? From the others, I mean. And don't call me ma'am, please. My name is Marilyn."

"My mama and Luke and Randy's ma were sisters," Emmylou said, helping me drink the cool, rich-flavored milk. I'd never tasted anything so good. "Mama died over the winter, and I come to live with the Tollivers 'cause they're the only kin I had. Ma Tolliver was sickly, too. She died the first of May."

"Oh, Jesus, ma'am -- I mean, Marilyn -- you just wouldn't believe the things I seen after I come here! They're crazy, all these folks, even if they are my kin. They don't think about nothin' except screwin', and... and, God, the first night I was here, Luke came into the room where me and his mama was talkin', and he just hoisted up her skirt and stuck her with that big cock of his. And he said, 'Emmylou, me and Pa and Randy has already agreed that I git the first crack at your little pussy-wussy.' And there wasn't nothing Ma Tolliver could do. Pa used to watch them big ole boys double-teaming her, one in her pussy and one in her mouth, and he'd laugh his fool head off. And all of them after Patty! Why, nobody rightly knows who knocked her up, whether it was her daddy or one of her brothers!"

She hugged herself with her slim arms. "All of 'em after me, too, because I was young and new. Feelin' me, touchin' me, makin' me touch them. Oh, and you saw what they made me do! Ma, I think she died of shame for what they was all turnin' into, but she made Pa Tolliver swear when she was on her dyin' bed that none of 'em would... would try to fuck me till I was sixteen at least. She said that was all she could do for her sister's little girl, that she wished she'd never brought me into their house."

"And Pa swore?"

"Mmm-hmmm. A deathbed promise ain't somethin' to trifle with, Marilyn. He don't want her comin' back from the grave to haunt him."

Thank God for superstition, I thought.

"But they say they didn't swear nothin' about me sucking them, and they make me do that all the time till I'm so sick even thinkin' about it. And I'm almost sixteen. They're countin' the days. Maybe I'll fool them all. Maybe I'll kill myself before they finally get me."

"For the love of God, Emmylou! Listen to me, darling! Don't cry! I can help you, if you'll help me. Don't you understand? If you help me escape, I'll go to the police. I'll have all the Tollivers thrown into jail, and the court will make sure you're put in a decent home, a place where no one is going to hurt you. But you have to help me. I can't untie these ropes. I can't go to the police unless you give me a hand."

"Do you mean it, Marilyn? Do you mean you'd really help me, too? You don't even know me."

"We're both victims," I told her. "Victims should always stick together. Will you?"

She leaned close, and one of her little round apple tits brushed my bare arm. I felt a tingle of excitement in my pussy. Emmylou was braless under her thin dress and her nipple was delightfully obvious. She kept leaning while she touched the ropes attached to my wrist, and I badly wanted to angle my face towards hers for a kiss. No. Much as I wanted to, I couldn't. First I had to escape.

In a moment she spurred herself to action, and one of my hands was free. I reached in to help her with the other rope and it was with a thrill of excitement that I realized I was no longer tied.

"My clothes," I said. "I'll need some clothes."

She ran around the stall divider and came back in a couple of minutes. "Are these yours?" she wondered.

It was my jeans and shoes. God only knew what had happened to my shirt. Of course Luke had ripped it to shreds back along the road. It was unwearable now, short of a charge for indecent exposure. At least I had the other garments. I hurried into the jeans and shoes while Emmylou stood close, trembling and breathing heavily.

"Here's that blanket I brought you," she said then, holding up a woolly square of fabric. I reached for it, and I stared at her sweet face. Her eyelids were half shut and her lips fluttered softly. I couldn't stop myself. I leaned close and pressed my mouth upon hers.

"Oooooohbh!" she trilled against my lips, but she didn't pull away.

It was a long moist kiss, and I was trembling by the time it finished. Emmylou had a soft, sweet mouth, and it had parted ever so slightly as my lips caressed it -- just far enough for the tip of my tongue to press forward, into her warm, soft wetness. My nipples were achingly erect, and I wished I had time to show her my gratitude as I felt it by throwing her down and making mad, passionate love to the girl. She needed love, and I wanted to give it to her.

"Thank you, darling," I told her. "You won't regret it."

"Why did you kiss me?" She rubbed her lips with the back of her fingers. Her eyes were fully opened, luminous, heart-stirring.

"Because you looked as if you needed to be kissed."

"I think I did," Emmylou giggled. "But I feel funny now. All tingly. Nobody ever kissed me before. Not like that."

I should have ignored her and gone about my duty of escaping, but there was such an appealing invitation in her voice. "Really, Emmylou? Would you... would you like me to kiss you again?"

She came into my arms timidly, but her body rubbed mine up and down and she was a warm, ripe bundle to hold. I fondled her silky hair, following it to where it touched her shoulders, and then down her back. The dress fit tightly on her hips and I smoothed the wrinkles that had formed there. Emmylou stirred against me and her tits moved like little puppies just below mine. I cupped her ass and aimed my face down at hers. She parted her lips freely this time, just as my mouth touched them, and my tongue shot into her.

Oh, God, I knew as our mouths rubbed and our tits nuzzled that she was ripe and ready for it, that I could have her now, here, merely for the asking. The blanket I'd wrapped around my shoulders fell away and my bare tits bumped her chest. One of Emmylou's hands came up, trapping a breast and its hard, hot nipple. She purred wonderingly into my kissing mouth and she began to squeeze and stroke the treasure she had discovered. I took a tighter grip on the buns of her ass and pulled her body against mine. Our legs entangled and we swayed in a gentle rocking motion that kept brushing out tits and cunts together.

I lifted the hem of her skirt and touched the panty-covered cheeks of her butt. She felt warm and very moist through the wispy film of nylon, and I couldn't wait. I thrust my hands inside.

Have you ever felt electrical energy ripple through flesh? It was that way when I touched Emmylou's bare buns. She jerked, but not away from me, and my fingers moved inside the panties, tickling, stroking. Oh, God, give me strength! I prayed. It was no time to initiate this child in the highways and by-ways of love. We should be running for our lives, looking for help. Not kissing one another as if kissing were going out of style, petting one another's bodies, throwing ourselves into love as if we had all the time in the world...

I heard a bell clanging, and I was so wrapped up in Emmylou that I dismissed the sound as a figment of my imagination, brought on by excitement. Not until Emmylou was literally torn from my arms and a big beefy hand slapped my face, did I understand what was happening.

Panting, his trousers already unzipped, Luke Tolliver stood glaring at the two of us. I could smell whiskey fumes. His face was twisted into a gloating sneer.

"What in the Goddamn fuck is goin' on, girls?" he asked.

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Oh, God, no!" Emmylou whispered, sinking to the floor in a harried crouch that reminded me of a trapped animal, cowering from the stalking hunter. Luke reached for her wrist and jerked her to her feet. Once, twice, three times he cuffed her face back and forth. She screamed at the first slap, and I threw myself upon Luke, fists made, beating at his ugly face.

Luke was strong as an ox. He backhanded me, sent me sprawling, and then he struck Emmylou again.

"I can see what's goin' on," he said finally. "Little whore come out here an' let you loose, didn't she? Little whore thought we's all asleep. Little whore don't know shit from apple butter."

He let the girl sag to the floor and she lay crying. Luke turned, hurrying to the barn door. He pushed it open and again there was a clanging sound. Of course! He'd mentioned something about attaching a bell to the door.

"Pa! Randy! Get your asses out to the barn! On the fuckin' double!" He let the door come shut and he marched toward us.

"Well, well," he grinned, eyeing a pair of frightened women. "Looks like Emmylou had a couple ideas 'bout you an' her, don't it, bitch?"

He drew back his foot as if he meant to kick me. I braced myself, but the blow never came.

"You an' her, standin' there kissin' on each other, feelin' each other up. That's disgustin'! Made me sick to watch you. I reckon Emmylou's got a touch of queer in her, don't she?"

"Don't blame her," I told him. "It's my fault. I threatened her. I told her if she didn't untie me, I'd..." The lie was too improvised. I couldn't complete the sentence.

"Shut the fuck up!" Luke growled. "This is family business, and you ain't family! How about it, Emmylou? You got a touch of the queer? How come you was kissin' on this girl?"

She didn't get a chance to answer. The bell clanged loudly and Pa and Randy entered the barn. Pa wore an untied bathrobe over his underwear. Randy was bare-chested and bare-footed, wearing only a pair of trousers whose belt hadn't been fastened.

"What's wrong, son?" Pa asked in his nasal rasp.

While Luke was telling him, Patty came lumbering in as well. She caught most of the story and I heard her say, "Whooooo-eeeee!" in a giggly, detestable tone.

Pa approached the cowering Emmylou. "Is all that true, girl? Did you come out here an' untie that girl? Was you doin' them foul, disgusting things with her when Luke caught you?"

She whimpered, her face averted. Pa shook his head, almost sadly. "I'll be Goddamned," he sighed nasally. "Take a child into your family bosom, and she turns out to be a viper, waitin' only for the chance to strike you with her fangs. Girl, don't you know that if she leaves here on two feet, she'll go lookin' for a policeman? Is that how you repay us for giving you a home? By sellin' us to the law?"

"My God," I cut in. "You're insane! All of you are insane. That child has been abused sexually, physically and mentally ever since she came here. Your sons dragged me into a truck and raped me, then carried me to this barn and raped me again. And you have the balls to stand there talking about family responsibilities!"

Patty giggled again, but no one else said anything. That was a bad sign. I braced myself to be hit or kicked.

"You know, Pa," Randy ventured, "it seems to me that Emmylou's done gone and abused our hospitality. Why should we have to worry about what you promised Ma?"

The girl whined in fear. Pa scratched his bald head. The bathrobe fell widely open and I could see the gray hairs on his chest, the tip of his tool hanging out the front of his boxer shorts.

"Son, I think you may be right," he said at last. "After all, if she don't have no respect for her family, why she's nothin' more than a thing to be stepped on, to be tramped in the dust."

"Hot damn!" Luke exulted, bounding towards the prostrate girl. He lifted her from the floor. "Y'all remember," he went on. "I always said her cherry was gonna be mine!"

"Please!" Emmylou whispered, but Luke paid no attention.

He pulled the girl to her feet, holding her up with one hand. The other he used to rip the front of her cheap print dress open. She screamed and tried to cover her suddenly bare tits, but not before I had a heart-breaking glimpse of two perfect little apples, each capped in ovals of pink.

Luke caught his thumb and finger in the waistband of her white panties and he ripped them, too. They tore, and he flung them across the barn. Emmylou dropped one hand to shield her cunt. Luke grabbed each of her hands, pulling them out until she stood upright in a cruciform position, and she could hide nothing.

My soul ached to see the brutally revealed nudity of the young girl -- her trembling, quivering titties and their pink nipples, her slender waist and legs, her softly rounded underbelly, the wispy thin tufts of pale gold pussy hair that hedged her mound.

He danced her around and around. "Don't fight, Emmylou," he told the girl. "You always knew this was gonna happen. Seems to me you 'oughta be hot and ready for it. I'm gonna fuck your little ass off, same way I shot it to your girl friend over there. Hot damn, she's full of fire!"

"Sock it to her!" Patty contributed. She came closer, her belly prominent under the shapeless nightgown she wore. "It's time she had to do a little of the fuckin' around this house. I sure as God can't handle all of it."

"I don't want to!" Emmylou whined piteously.

Randy grabbed her ankles and he and Luke swung her between them. I saw the flash of her virginal pink slit, creasing the puffy little bulge between her slim thighs. To think of those animals, violating that tender cunt with their brutal, ugly cocks!

"NO!" I shouted. "Take me instead! If you have to fuck somebody, fuck me! All of you, any of you! I don't care! But don't touch her!"

Luke grinned. "By God, I think she really is queer for Emmylou! Is that it, honey? Do you crave this little peach for yourself? Like to get down there and play stink-finger in Emmylou's twat? Or would you rather lick her where she pisses? Y'know, Pa, Randy, when I was in Da Nang, we all went to this whorehouse one night, and we chipped in to pay for the whole shebang. Dirty movies, a hot little gook bitch for each of us. And they had this special show they put on. A coupla midgets fuckin' each other, a woman and a dog, everything, right up there life, in front of God an' everybody. And they even had a couple of women who got up and ate each other's cunts and assholes. Laughed myself silly watchin' that one! How about we get 'em to do it for us?"

"Oh, shit," Randy grumbled. "If you ain't gonna fuck Emmylou, I sure as hell am. I don't want to see no women queerin' each other. I need some nookie, and by God I'm gonna have it."

"Gotta wait your turn, little brother. Her cherry belongs to me. Set her down. She's ready as she'll ever be."

It was madness! Somehow I wished that I were dreaming again, even that hideous dream of me and Angela and Mark. It seemed sweet by comparison with this. Luke and Randy were on the verge of raping a terrified Emmylou. It was my fault. If I hadn't kissed her, if I hadn't kissed her again, if we'd simply hustled our asses out the door and ran for help, none of this would be happening. And, now that it was, I could do nothing to prevent it. I'd already been kicked and slapped. If I tried to intervene, I would probably be killed.

My muscles froze and I didn't want to watch, but I could not make my eyelids snap shut. It was part of the general paralysis of my body. I sat where I'd been shoved, huddled on the floor, and I watched in horror as Luke and Randy stretched the trembling girl on the floor.

Luke let his pants fall and he stepped out of them. As earlier, he wore no underwear, and his rampant cock reared up as soon as the trousers dropped away. His prick looked bigger, thicker, even than the last time I'd seen it, and I died inside, knowing that he would stab Emmylou's fragile pussy with that hideous tool.

"Been waitin' a long time for this," he purred, kneeling between her widespread legs. "Take hold of it."

She was slow to obey, and he grabbed her hand, pulling it forcibly to his pecker.

"Feel how hard my cock is? Feel how big and thick! It's gonna split you to take me, but you'll be a woman when I've done with you."

The girl couldn't even speak by now. She merely hacked out a raspy sound the reminded me of death rattles. Her face was corpse-white and her eyes sealed shut. She had lovely little tits, and they were all aflutter now.

Luke jerked his dick out of her fist and he pulled himself back, dropping one hand to the floor as a brace for his body. He went into a kind of push-up position above the girl and he steered the tip of his cock towards her pink slice.

"Be easy on her," Pa suggested. "Try not to hurt her too much."

"Damn lucky if he don't kill her," Patty observed, coming in closer.

She leaned against Pa and allowed one fist to seek the dangling stalk of her father's prick. As she leaned, she began to play with it, the cock swelling by degrees.

"I remember the first time he stuck that thing in me. And I wasn't nowhere near as big as Emmylou! 'Bout time she had to chip in. Then you wouldn't have to go round draggin' in strangers and makin' trouble."

"Get yourself ready," Luke grunted. "Here comes ten inches of paradise." He looked up with a sly grin. "That's what all them whores in Saigon used to call it."

Emmylou screamed in tenor as he wormed the tip of his cock into her tight-slit. She twisted about on the floor, but Randy dropped down and held her head and shoulders. She was pinned fast now, and Luke stabbed at her cunt again.

"AAAHHHHHHHHH!!" the girl wailed.

I wanted to close my eyes and ears, but I couldn't. Today I'd drawn strength for my own ordeal by fixing my gaze upon her. Maybe I could give her the same kind of long-distance aid. It was the only help I had any chance of giving her.

She opened her eyes, and I know that she saw me. I hoped she could read the message of love and sympathy I was beaming. Luke thrust harder, and Emmylou's mouth gaped in a cry that had no sound to accompany the gesture. It was a chilling sight. I knew what she was feeling. God, how I knew! My own cunt hadn't been exactly virginal when Luke first shoved his tool into me, but the sensation had been one of hideous, unbearable pain. It must be ten times worse for Emmylou. He was her first man. He might be her last.

From where I sat, I could see the whole thing. His fat-tipped dong, battling to part the tight pink lips of Emmylou's cunt. The way her young pussy writhed and bucked away from him but all, all in vain. I saw the very point of his prick sink inside, and I heard Luke sigh in a kind of relief. The edges of his coronal rim were nearly covered by the splayed lips of her cunt, and I knew that his cock was almost inside, that only the actual penetration, the rupturing of her cherry, still awaited.

"Goddamn, but she is TIGHT!" Luke groaned.

He arched his back, then rammed inward, and Emmylou found the voice to scream with this time. And scream she might. His dick rammed into her pussy with the force of a steam-drill and my eyes enlarged in horror as I watched her tight little cunt swallowing that ferocious organ.

He kept on shoving, cursing and moaning as he pounded his prick in, and Randy panted, too, from the effort of holding down a screaming Emmylou.

"AAAARRRGCGHHHH!!" she bellowed, but not so loudly that Patty's simpering giggle was drowned out.

Patty. She was still playing with her father's cock, and a hard-on it was indeed. Her hand stroked up and down the shaft, he was fishing inside her nightdress after titty-feels, and both of them stared avidly at the degrading spectacle in progress on the floor. Patty. She might be a woman, but to me she was merely one of the enemy.

"Oh, Goddamn it!" Luke exulted then, and his rod sank to the hilt up Emmylou's twitching pussy.

She was beyond screams now. He rocked atop her, grinding his crotch against hers, and the look of agony on her face was indescribable. Why had I ever persuaded her to help me escape? Why hadn't I accepted my fate and awaited the eventual murder that would still be my ending? Nothing had changed because of my escape attempt. Nothing, except that I'd gotten Emmylou into trouble and she was now being punished horribly.

Randy unzipped his pants and hauled out his tool. He rubbed Emmylou's face with the tip. "Suck on me," he said to the girl. "Suck me while ole Luke de-cherries you."

Again he ran his rod across her lips, but she seemed uninterested in sucking, and after a moment he pulled away.

Luke extracted part of his cock for another stroke, and I saw that his shaft was red with Emmylou's virgin blood. A thin stream of it was seeping from the splayed lips of her cunt. Oh, God, no wonder she'd screamed!

"She's done de-cherried," he told his brother. "You can thank me for doin' your dirty work, little brother."

"All I want's the hole," Randy chuckled. "You can have the blood. How is she? Good as Patty? Good as what's her name over there?"

It struck me that none of them, except Emmylou, even knew my name. I wasn't Marilyn Bergman, human being, as far as they were concerned. I was only a piece of ass that could be enjoyed without moral involvement.

And they were turning little Emmylou into the very same. Rage boiled in my blood, but I couldn't think of anything to do. Nothing that wasn't suicidal, at least! If I attacked them, it was three to one (discounting Patty), and I couldn't win against those odds. If I could have, I wouldn't have been here in the first place.

"Not too hard, Patty," Pa Tolliver said in a chiding tone. "I wanta save some of that for Emmylou. She's been a bad girl and she has to pay the price of transgressin'."

His cock was red and rigid now, sticking straight out the fly of his shorts, and I saw Patty slow down the caresses of her hand. Pa stroked her swollen pregnant belly and she began to purr kittenishly.

"Gets you all wet an' sticky, bein' touched on the oven, don't it, honey?" Pa said proudly.

"Damn right it does," Patty replied. "I can hardly wait till I've emptied out and can get back to fuckin'. Sometimes I miss it so much I can taste it."

"Why don't you taste it, daughter?" Pa said gravely. He pointed to his dick. "I'll give you a nice sweet taste."

Giggling, Patty eased onto her knees and she began to lick her father's prick. In a moment she was sucking it furiously. Randy and Luke, meanwhile, were engaged in holding down Emmylou. Thank God they were all occupied, I thought, or else they'd be finding some use for me in their perverted games.

THEY WERE ALL OCCUPIED! Luke's dick was embedded in Emmylou. Randy was pinning Emmylou's head and shoulders. Pa was fucking Patty's mouth as she knelt in subjection. Could I get to the door, and out it, before anyone noticed? God in heaven, it hurt me to abandon the innocent girl who was currently their victim, since I'd helped to make her the victim, but it was no time for moralizing. They might not kill Emmylou, but they'd promised time and again to kill me.

I crawled slowly, so as not to attract anyone's attention, and my heart was in my throat. I was naked to the waist, but I'd have to risk an indecent exposure charge if I wanted to save my life. No one seemed to be looking. Patty slurped around Pa's thrusting cock and Luke and Randy made obscene banter back and forth regarding the tight unwillingness of Emmylou's snatch. I slipped behind Pa and Patty, my eyes intent upon the barn door ahead. And then!

"Heyyyyy!" Patty squalled. "Somebody better get her!"

Randy was on me in a flash. I suppose Emmylou was too anesthetized to need any additional restraint. At any rate, he left her, beelined for me, and made a flying tackle as my hand touched the Goddamned door. I went sprawling, and he was all over me.

"Bitch!" he snapped into my face. He'd been drinking, too. "Goddamn bitch! Don't you ever learn? You'll leave here when we're ready to let you leave, and not a fuckin' day before!"

He cuffed me, then grabbed my tits in a cruel loveless grip, mashing and squeezing. We rose together, and he ground against me with his loins, where his peter still protruded from unzipped pants.

"C'mon back and join the party," he leered. "I'll work on you till Luke finishes Emmylou, and then we'll play switchies."

I went. God, what else could I do? He released my tits, then pointed to his cock.

"On your knees. Suck my dick. And suck it good, bitch, or you'll wish you had!"

I sucked. I swallowed his cock until my throat and jaws ached, and my body was covered with shameful blushes. He held me possessively by the head, steering me back and forth, around and around for his increased pleasure and he took great care to ram me deeply. Somewhere to the left of us, Emmylou was moaning in abject desperation, and I could hear Luke panting as he neared his climax.

"I'm gonna shoot my cum into your mouth," Randy advised me. "And I want you to drink it all. Right?"

He patted my head, then slammed into my throat and I felt his jism flow begin. Down my gullet in thick, clogging spurts, sour all the way to my belly. I sucked and drank, fighting the wish to vomit. Not until his cock had begun to go soft did he pull it out of me, and then it was only to rub the wet sticky rod on my face and hair.

I stole a peek at Emmylou. She was taking her first fuck badly. Her legs were widespread and inactive, while Luke made faster and faster fuck-strokes into her cunt. I suppose that by then he'd enlarged her hole with his reaming tool, for he seemed to have no trouble putting it in and pulling it out. Suddenly he gave a deep, whimpering groan and collapsed upon her. His ass wobbled atop Emmylou and I knew that he was filling her poor little cunt with his dirty seed. She lay like a corpse, hardly reacting at all except for a few pitiful shakes of her head.

Something wet touched the back of my head while I was watching Luke screw the girl. I turned, in time to catch a stream of piss from Randy's cock, full in the face.

"G-G-G-Goddamn you!" I sputtered, raising my hands to fend off the urinal rain, but he only laughed.

Some of his piss went into my mouth while I was cursing him and I felt the stuff oozing down my throat.

"Gggghhbh!" I said then, as my gorge rose. I hung my head and vomited. Randy shook out a few final drops onto my back and I heard him strutting away. Luke had just pulled his bloody cock from Emmylou's pussy and Randy intended to be the girl's second attacker.

CHAPTER NINE

It was the last straw. I rose, spitting out the last of my bile, and there was blood in my eyes. I wanted to kill, to destroy. But Randy threw himself upon Emmylou. He was just stuffing his cock into her cunt as I staggered to my feet, and the girl was too far gone even to cry out. Patty was licking the rim of her father's pecker knob, alternating that caress with some deep swallows of the tool, and she had lowered her nightdress, baring a set of pregnancy-swollen, hugely brown-nippled tits, which Pa was leaning down to tickle as she mouthed his prick.

And Luke was coming towards me, his blood-stained cock still erect. He took it by the base, angling it slightly upward, and I saw that it was filthy with his sperm and the red of Emmylou's cherry.

"Clean my cock off," he invited.

"I'd sooner die first!" I snarled.

My hands clenched into fists. Luke grabbed one wrist and bent it. I know I heard the bones cracking. He forced me onto my knees again, though I beat him with my other fist, though I cursed him, though I spat at him, and as my knees touched the floor, he rammed my face with his prick.

"I told you to clean it off," Luke repeated, and he smeared some of the coating mess on my lips. As if to underscore the command, he twisted my arm again. Sick unto death, I opened my mouth and he thrust his cock inside.

I gagged and choked as the foul rod sloshed about in my mouth, and as soon as he pulled it from me, I spat onto the floor. There was a foulness in my mouth I knew I'd never forget.

"Drop your drawers," he added. "I want seconds. From you! Emmylou's tighter, but you got more spirit in your twat."

I didn't move, so he stopped and unfastened my jeans. My resistance drained away instantly. Let it be, I thought. Let it be. Nothing I can do will save me.

Luke dragged my jeans down to my knees, flipped me over, and mounted me from behind. He gouged me with his own knees, to separate my legs, and then his cock slammed into my cunt. It was a quick, crude penetration, and I screamed. Somewhere in the distance Patty giggled again. I didn't know why. There was nothing funny.

"Damn, but you're good," he grunted into my ear.

I didn't reply, and he nibbled at my lobe. He was a heavy weight on my body immobilizing me, nailing me to the floor. His cock thrust deeply, swiftly, a dozen times, and, as before, my cunt began to moisten in self-defense. The last five or six strokes weren't as bad as the earliest ones, for I wasn't so dry.

"Got a better idea," Luke told me. He extracted his cock from my pussy. "I'm gonna take your cherry. Not the one you think. The other one! Bet you never had it up the ass before, have you? Snotty bitch like you? Prob'ly think you're too good to take it up the poop-chute. Anyway, I know you never had a real man there, 'cause you never had a real man till you had me."

"No, not there," I pleaded. "You're too big. You'll kill me -- don't..."

But by that time he'd already begun to slosh his cunt-wet prick around and around the tight pucker of my asshole.

"Here, Patty, you suck on this for a while," Randy was saying. "It's Pa's turn with Emmylou. Go to it, Pa. She's all warmed up for you."

I couldn't even look back. Luke was pinning my head down with a strong arm laid right across my spine, and the only immediate occurrence of which I was aware was the effort of his cock to fuck my asshole. He pushed against my very snug sphincter, pushed till I screamed shrilly, kept on pushing.

"Oh, shit almighty!" Pa hollered. "I told you not to suck so hard, Patty! Now lookit what I've done!"

Luke eased up a moment, turning around. I did, too, and saw Pa Tolliver on his knees between Emmylou's slim, pale legs, his cock dribbling a few final spurts of cum onto her heaving belly.

"You pulled my trigger," he told Patty. "Just touch her with the Goddamn thing and -- bang! -- off it goes."

"And she ain't even hardly broken in," Randy added, thrusting his prick into Patty's mouth. "Can't you get it up again, Pa? Give her a few inches of the bottled-in-bond?"

Pa shook his dwindling prick, then shook his head again. "Soft as butter," he said. "Well, at least we've all had a crack at her."

"Not all of us, Pa," Luke put in.

I felt sick. Were they going to ask me to couple with Emmylou for their amusement? I would not do it. The girl was too sweet, too precious. I would not make the most beautiful act of love known to me an object of their salacious entertainment. I started to tell Luke that when he spoke again.

"What about Ole Blue? He's one of the family, ain't he?"

"Oh, shit," Patty guffawed, momentarily taking her mouth off Randy's dick. "Not Ole Blue!"

They'd mentioned Ole Blue earlier, as a possible partner for me but I hadn't met that particular Tolliver yet. Who was he? Some retarded son who was kept locked in the attic, perhaps?

"Yeah, Pa," Randy agreed. "Go get Ole Blue. See if he needs a little piece o' tail."

That seemed very funny to him, for he laughed uproariously, re-fucking Patty's mouth as he roared out his amusement. His cock seemed even harder, too, and he ravaged the pregnant girl's mouth with it. She sucked valiently.

Pa thought for a moment, then grinned. He tucked his dick back into his shorts, rose from Emmylou, and moved towards the door. "He's prob'ly asleep," he mused. "Sleeps most all the time."

"He won't be sleepin' when he gets a look at that nookie," Luke said lustfully. "Least, I wouldn't be!"

And for another moment at least, he'd apparently forgotten about his wish to fuck my asshole. Perhaps I should be thankful for small blessings.

That's what I thought, until the moment Pa Tolliver re-entered the barn, dragging behind him a flop-eared, red-fuzzed hound.

"Come on, Blue," he told the sleepy dog.

"OH, MY GOD!" I shrieked, and the dog's ears perked at the shrill sound.

Ole Blue was a dog! They meant to let that beast fuck Emmylou!

Luke had released me by then, and he sat staring with anticipation. "Seen it in Nam," he told the room in general. "At a whorehouse. This woman came out on stage, an' she had a dog with her, not as big as Blue, but that ole dog had the longest cock I ever seen on an animal. Musta been eight, nine inches, red as a fireman's pants. She laid herself out with her pussy toward us, and that ole dog -- shit! He musta been trained! Just hopped up on the couch with her, and she reached down and grabbed his peter and stuck it up her twat, and they fucked like man and woman."

"Damn dog," he went on, "nibbled at her shoulders while he screwed her, an' she just ate that up. Course, she was a gook, an' they don't feel pain, not the way we do. He bit her on the titties, too, chewin' away on them black specks, and all the time he's a-pumpin' peter up her snatch, just like a man. Damn, she even sucked on his tool, made him squirt his cum all over her face, and then she licked the stuff up. Man," and he slapped my knee, "that was worth the money it cost to see. 'Course, you'd a-died laughin', see them midgets go at it."

I wasn't listening. My blood was ice water and my body was numb. Pa and Randy were dragging the dog into position between Emmylou's legs, and Randy reached under Blue's red belly to tickle the hairy sac containing the animal's cock. A snaky pole jerked into sight, then retracted. Randy tickled again, and the cock thrust forth once more. It was a red cock, I noticed, long and slim.

"Get his ass down," Pa commanded.

"I'm tryin', damn it," Randy countered. "He wouldn't be so stubborn if he knew how sweet it was. Why, hell, he's only the third cock that's gonna get into Emmylou. She's almost a cherry. He oughta be more excited!"

"He ain't stubborn, he's just lazy as hell," Patty interjected. "Oh, hurry up! I wanna see this!"

Her nightgown still lay in a pile at her waist, baring her swollen tits and the upper curve of her bloated belly. She had a hand under the hem of the nightie and I could see the jerking fingers as she diddled her pussy.

At almost the same moment Blue's cock touched Emmylou's flesh, the girl seemed to awake from her stupor. She opened her eyes and looked at the expressionless hound's face. Emmylou blinked once or twice, apparently trying to interpret what she saw, and then she shuddered. I could see that shudder with crystal clarity, even from ten or fifteen feet away.

"Oh, my Lord, what are you doin' to me?" she whispered.

"Fuck her, Blue," Pa Tolliver told the dog, lifting one of the floppy ears and shouting his command. "Stick your dick in her and fuck her. She's all yours, this turn."

"Go ahead, Blue," Patty suggested. "Everybody else's had their chance..."

"Lookit this," Luke said, nudging my almost senseless body. "When he sticks that thing in her and starts goin' whooshety-whoosh, whickey whack -- Goddog!"

I heard a voice screaming loud enough to break every eardrum within miles, and I was only a little astonished to find that it was my voice. Everyone looked in my direction. Luke cuffed me, but I kept screaming. Patty covered her ears.

"Make her stop it! Make her stop it!"

I kept screaming.

I had endured all the rest of it, I had watched Emmylou being raped and degraded by the Tolliver men, but I couldn't sit here and watch her be fucked by an animal.

I stood up. If it meant my death, then I would die. But I would take at least one or two of the Tollivers with me. I started forward, forgetting that Luke had pulled my pants down to fuck me. I stumbled, fell. My chin hit the floor, hard, and everything went dark.

It must have been a little after dawn when I came to. Except for me, the barn was empty. I lay on my pile of straw, half-clad in my jeans and shoes, and someone had thrown the blanket across my chest. I was tied again, but whoever tied me had evidently been in a hurry. I slipped the knots that bound one hand, then started in on the other. I'd try again, and the only way they could stop me this time was to kill me.

Oh, God, had I seen all that I thought I'd seen last night? Emmylou raped by all the Tolliver men? Had they truly, really, led in that red hound and steered him into position to fuck a helpless young child? My hair smelled of stale piss. At least I knew that had happened. Someone had pissed on me. And odds were, all the rest was true as well. They'd pay for this. All of them!

The barn door bell clanged, but it was an aborted clang. I raised my head and looked towards the door, ready for anything. It opened, and I drew back a fist defensively. Come on, knot! Loosen up, you son of a bitch! I need both hands!

"EMMYLOU!" I cried.

She hurried to me, wearing only a bathrobe. It slipped open now and then, and I could see into it, where vicious red marks marred her creamy flesh. Her face was swollen from bruises and her eyes were red from crying, but she smiled bravely.

"Are you all right?" I demanded. "Are you?"

"I'm still in one piece, more or less," she sighed. "Oh, Lord, how are you? I saw you fall over and hit your head, and they just drug you over and tied you up again, and then they took me into the house. Oh, God!"

"What happened? No, don't tell me. I'd rather not know. The men... the dog..."

"Ole Blue didn't hurt me," she assured me. "He ain't like them. They tried to make him be nasty with me, but he just wouldn't, and finally Pa hauled him outside."

"Do they know you've come out here? Are they all asleep? Oh, God, Emmylou, if I can get this one fucking knot undone, I'm going to fight them. I'd rather be dead than endure another day of this."

"Listen," she said excitdly. "Last night, over in the house. It got out of hand. Really out of hand, you know? Everybody drinkin' and carousin', and Luke put his thing up my -- up my..."

Up her ass, she meant, the poor kid!

"And Patty got all hot and bothered, just watchin', see. She finally said the hell with the doctor, and Luke and Randy took turns screwin' her on the kitchen table, with her legs hangin' over the side. And the doctor said she shouldn't be havin' any sex at all, her so close to her time."

"Anyway, a couple hours ago she started bleedin', real bad, and she was hollerin' because her stomach hurt. So Pa and Randy loaded her up in the car and bustled into town, to the hospital."

"Not Luke?"

"Luke was screwin' me then," she confessed, "and he passed out from drinkin' not very long after. In fact, he's still laid out like a dead man. Don't you see, Marilyn? We can get away now, you and me! There's nobody around to stop us! But we gotta hurry, 'cause Luke always wakes up early, even if he's been drinkin'. Here, I brought you this shirt, and there's a path through the woods that gets to the main road. It's only six or seven miles. If we hurry, we can be gone before Luke drags out of bed."

Luke! The most animalistic of them all! The one who'd taken the lead in everything! And he lay asleep now, snoring off a drunken debauch of rape and brutality. Luke!

"We're not going quite yet," I told the girl, kissing her cheek. "Give me that shirt, Emmylou, darling, please. Oh, you want to help me button it? Mmmm, hold me again. It feels so nice when it's your hands on my tits."

"Hurry," she sighed.

"First," I replied, "we have a little business with Mr. Luke Tolliver. Some business I shall enjoy with all my heart. Bring those ropes, if you would. And -- let me see -- what else will we need?"

I had my first sight, then, of the world outside that barn. Strangely, the house wasn't a ramshackle shack. It was probably 40 or 50 years old, and it had seen better days, but it looked like a hundred, a thousand other houses I'd seen in rural areas of this marvelous country. From the outside it gave no indications that it was home to a family of rapists, kidnapers, and would-be murderers.

A pickup truck was parked beside the house -- the same truck in which I'd been abducted. I nodded to myself. There was no need for us to walk. We could ride away.

Quietly, Emmylou and I entered the house. Inside, it was neat, though disordered here and there, probably from last night's orgy. Emmylou had to be the one responsible for the essential sense of order. Patty was too sluttish to be a housekeeper, and the men would gladly live in their own filth.

"Where is he?" I asked.

She pointed to a staircase.

Luke lay spraddled on his bed, snoring drunkenly. He was naked, and only a sheet covered his body. Gently, I pulled that sheet down. The man was at my mercy. Mercy? What did that word mean? I couldn't remember.

"The ropes," I whispered.

Emmylou trembled as she handed them to me, but she moved without fear when I told her what to do. The bed was made of brass and it had a post at each corner. We fastened Luke Tolliver's hands and feet to those corners, fastened them securely. Only when I was certain of that did I advance to the gun rack on his wall.

I think I picked a twenty-two. Guns were never a specialty of mine, and I picked this one principally for the long slim barrel and for the large triangular-shaped sight at the tip of that barrel. It fit my plans perfectly.

"Luke!" I snapped, the rifle in my hands. "Luke Tolliver!"

He stirred, eyes opening tentatively. They stared at me through a film of his last night's debauchery, struggling to get a focus. Finally they opened, and he knew, and I knew that he knew.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," I smiled, gesturing with the rifle. "And how are we this morning?"

He smiled. That was just before he realized that he'd been tied down. The smile faded. That was when I smiled.

"You bastard," I said. "You're a disgrace to the human race. You don't have the right to live." I stepped closer and put the muzzle of the rifle squarely between his eyes. "Do you know any prayers, Luke Tolliver? If you do, I'd suggest you say them. Fast."

"Oh my God," he said, and it was fantastic to see that he was really, truly frightened. His eyes crossed, staring at the gun barrel between them, and for a moment I was afraid he would pass out on the spot. I didn't want that.

"Well, Luke Tolliver, it seems the shoes are on my feet now. And I'm going to stop your nuts with those shoes, you mother-fucker!"

I reversed the gun and gave him a quick chop in the balls. He screeched but he couldn't double up, though he tried.

"This," I added, "is how it feels to be at the mercy of someone who doesn't have any mercy."

I gestured to Emmylou. Nervously, she lifted his cock and balls out of the way. I could see Luke's asshole, brown and hairy. A perfect target.

"Maybe we shouldn't," Emmylou whispered.

I shook my head. Definitely we should.

I touched his asshole with the gun barrel. He squirmed and I saw him bite his lip to keep from crying out.

"Hold still, Luke, or we might have an accident."

I pushed again, gouging his shitter with the twenty-two's muzzle. It seemed to yield a little.

"Goddamn it, what the fuck are you tryin' to do to me?"

"I'm fucking you, Luke. You fucked me. More times than I can remember. Isn't it only fair that I get to fuck you, too, you miserable cock-sucker?"

Again I pushed, and he screamed. It was a satisfying scream, the first I'd heard him make, but it only whetted my appetite for more. So I shoved harder. He screamed more shrilly, as if I'd just cut off his balls.

"That still isn't exactly it," I mused.

My wrists flexed and I thrust the gun barrel up Luke's asshole.

The sight, as I mentioned, was large and triangular. It must have torn the hell out of his rectal sleeve. I hoped so, at least. I pushed farther, wedging the gun firmly in Luke's ass, and then I stepped back.

"Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" he wailed. "That fuckin' thing's killin' me! Take it the fuck out! Oh, Jesus, take it out, take it out!"

"It's not for what you did to me, Luke," I said sweetly but earnestly. "It's for what you did to Emmylou. That was unforgivable. And I can't forgive you, so don't ask me."

I reached for the gunlock. My finger found the trigger and I pulled it.

CHAPTER TEN

Nothing happened.

"What the hell?" I blurted. I'd psyched myself up for this. I was emotionally ready to kill the man. I had even pulled the mother-fucking trigger.

Beside me, Emmylou gasped, and she grabbed my arm. "Oh, my God, Marilyn!"

I staggered back. My resolve faded like spring morning dew. I couldn't touch that gun again, not for any amount of money, not for any sense of satisfaction.

"Come on," I told her. "Let's get the hell out of here. We've done enough."

"Uh... you go on," she said. "I gotta get a couple things out of my bedroom; my mama's picture and my doll. I don't want nothin' else."

Her doll! Her mother's picture! My God, she was only a child! Yet she'd been through so much. Emmylou rose onto tiptoes and she kissed me sweetly on the mouth. Luke had to see that if his eyes were open, and I hoped the son of a bitch was looking. He had used the girl's body, but I was positive her heart belonged to me.

I went downstairs and out the door. Ole Blue came out from under the porch. If I'd had a gun, I'd have shot the dog.

And precisely as I was telling myself that, I heard a resonating blast -- an explosion that shattered the air and seemed to come from the second story of the house. In a moment Emmylou came out the front door, her face dead-white, her eyes enormous. She ran to me, collapsing against my breast, and I hugged her tightly, absorbing the tears and shudders that seized her then. I couldn't blame her. I'd have done it myself. I should have done it myself.

"Come on, Emmylou," I said. "We'd better be going."

Wonder of wonders! My purse was in the cab of the truck. They must have left it there when they carried me into the barn. And even more wonderful, they hadn't bothering rifling it. My wallet was inside, with a couple of hundred dollars in cash and three hundred in traveler's checks. We could depart in style.

We drove the truck to Huntington and abandoned it there. If the Tollivers reported it stolen, it would be returned to them, sooner or later. I didn't know what they planned to do about Luke. It was doubtful they'd bring in the police. However, because of Luke, Emmylou and I couldn't go to the cops either. I didn't regret his death but I didn't think the police would exactly understand.

We checked into a hotel and I left Emmylou to sleep while I went shopping. Both of us needed clothes, as well as plane tickets to Boston.

She was up, waiting for me when I returned, and the mouth that fell upon mine was hungry, starved for kisses. We rolled onto the bed, kissing and touching, and I slipped my hand into her shirt. A little tit waited there, warm and delicate, its pink nipple erected lovingly.

"Yes," Emmylou purred as I unbuttoned her. "Kiss my titty, please!"

So sweetly invited, how could I refuse? I opened my mouth and suckled her darling young breast, my tongue sloshing back and forth around the tingly tab of nipple. She was shrugging off her blouse, bringing my hand up to cup her other titty, and she said a wondering, wonderful "Oooooohhhhhh, Marilynnnnnnn!" when I shifted my lips from the right tit to the left.

"Come see what I've bought for us," I told her proudly, and she sat up on the bed. "This is for you," and I opened a box.

Emmylou took its contents, a pale-green silk shirt, beautifully sheer. She studied it from every angle.

"You can see right through it!" she laughed naughtily.

"I hope I can," I replied.

That was for private moments, though. Me and Emmylou, all by ourselves in my apartment in Boston. No one else would be allowed to delight in the prettiness of her pink nipples and apple tits as revealed by the transparency of a green silk shirt. Noone but me.

"And..." It was a black dress, satin, with red trimmings on the hem and sleeves. The sleeves were long and the skirt, I was sure, would fall all the way to her toes. No one but me, Marilyn Bergman, would look at this darling child and know that hidden beneath the beautiful long gown was a body to delight the eyes and quicken the heart and make the cunt juices flow in sopping profusion.

Oh, God, the way they were flowing now!

She stripped off her jeans and panties, posing for me a delicious moment completely naked, completely adorable, and then she slipped into the dress.

"Let me help you, Emmylou -- God, I love to say your name! Emmylou, Emmylou, Emmylou!"

But while she was fastening the buttons and catches, I was unfastening them, and Emmylou giggled as I peeled the dress over her shoulders and down her young frame.

"I dreamed of doing that," I said, "the first time I ever saw you."

"I'm glad," she whispered, and we were kissing again, my hands stroking and petting the length of her. So many lissome young curves, and such soft, velvety flesh beneath my fingers!

This was the first time we'd made love, and it was working perfectly. Perhaps, I thought, I'm taking advantage of a mixed-up child. She'd been through so much. Mightn't I be forcing her into a relationship with me now? The thought was sudden, unexpected and sobering. I raised my mouth from her tits.

"No!" she cried, grabbing my hands. "Don't stop! Please, Marilyn, don't ever stop loving me!"

"I couldn't."

And it was true. She might be another Angela, another love to sustain and then abandon me. I couldn't know that, not so soon. I could only try to show her how I felt, hope that she responded. Let it be this time, God, I implored silently. Let her be the one. I'll be good to her. I'll be mother and sister and lover and best friend. Whatever she needs, I'll be. The Tollivers didn't deserve Emmylou. I'd take her with me to Kentucky when I went to Boonesfield to begin my job. She'd never want for anything. Only let me keep Emmylou.

That's all I asked.

Prayer said, I cupped her tits, kissed the nipples again, and licked my way down her tummy. She giggled. "It feels like I have butterflies inside me," Emmylou informed me. I kissed her navel, rimming it with my tongue, and she began to writhe in happy response.

My hand slid lower, cupping the soft swell of her pubes. The slit was obvious but very neat, and she had pale golden pussy hair, matching the locks on her head. Her cunt was a vision of beauty, delicate and fragile as glass. The labes were perfectly formed, and they showed no signs of the abuse that had been thrust upon her last night in the barn.

"Tell me if I hurt you," I said. "Because I don't want to hurt you."

"I don't think you could ever hurt me, Marilyn. Not you."

"Oh, Emmylou, I want to love you and kiss you and lick you with my tongue! I want to bury my face in your pussy and show you what love is all about! Tell me I can."

"Please!" Her voice was soft but intensely accented. "Oh, please show me what love is all about!"

I reached under, cupping her buttocks, which were hot as fire. They got even hotter as I squeezed them. I was kissing her slit, tickling it with the end of my tongue, and my thumbs came up between her slender thighs, opening her pussy from the bottom to the top. The lips were still virginally tight, and I had my first real look at Emmylou's cunt.

It was gorgeous! An oyster or coral flesh, smooth and already a little bit wet. Folds and crevices and intriguing little nooks and crannies that simply screamed to my tongue -- LICK ME! LICK ME! And from its tiny hood of flesh, the tip of her clit was emerging shyly, a pale pink nubbin.

I touched it ever so gently with the tip of my tongue, in humble adoration, and Emmylou moaned, and so did I, for my own clitty was throbbing, too, throbbing and thumping from the excitement of it. I knew that if, in our maiden encounter, I could bring her to an orgasm, I could erupt spontaneously in one of my own. The knowledge spurred me on, inspired me, thrilled me beyond belief.

I laved her gash, swirling my tongue through the delicate inviting playground before I made my first tentative attack upon her cunt-mouth itself.

But oh, God, when I did! She moaned my name -- the sweetest sound I had ever heard, that delirious "MMMaaarrriiilllyyynnnnn!" that trilled from her pink-lipped mouth, and then she cried aloud in ecstasy.

"Aaaahhhhhhhhhh!"

Her pussy muscles began to snap like a tiger at my tongue. Those men hadn't gotten this response from Emmylou! It was mine, mine alone! Nothing would do me then but to thrust my tongue up her hole as far as I could stab, penetrating Emmylou till she screamed again and a little oozing flood of indescribably delicious girl-cum bathed my tongue in its tangy spiced sweetness.

"Jesus God," she whispered intensely. "Your tongue... Oh, God, your tongue! It feels like a little live thing inside me!"

"It is a little live thing," I told her huskily, emotionally. "And it would like very much to go inside you again. Would you like that?"

"I'd love it! Oh, Lord Godamighty, there, Marilyn! That's the PLACE!!"

It was indeed! My tongue was deep in her beautiful cunt, and my fingers were playing back and forth across the tingly flesh of her ass, and I let my nose brush a sexy pattern on her clitoris, and Emmylou began to hump excitedly at my mouth. Yes! I thought, wishing only that I could talk while I ate her. Do it to me, my darling darling girl! Fuck my face with your lovely cunt! Drown me in your girl-cum! Smother me with your musky sweetness, Emmylou my treasure! More! Oh, it's oozing now, oozing for me, oozing for Marilyn!

Let my tongue get in there, let me drink and lick and suck your honey, princess bee! Sweet, so sweet! How your cunt-lips flutter when I thrust between them with my tongue! How you ripple for me when I tickle your clit! Ripple again! Ohhhhh -- suck my tongue with your snatch, while I love your snatch with my tongue! Yes! Yes! God in heaven, Emmylou, yes!!

Come on me, sweets, come for me, come with me, come, Emmylou, come, come, come, come, come, come, come, come, COME!

She came! Her snatch rippling, jerking, convulsing, wet ooze dribbling from her lips onto mine, being snapped up by my fucking tongue. Her cunt hot and musky, a swamp into which my face was greedily thrust! The play of muscles in her ass, vibrating beneath my fingers' caress! And I was coming, too, coming from the sheer delight of bringing my Emmylou to her passionate release.

We scaled that hill together, Emmylou and I, we climbed and we struggled until we could climb no higher, till only heaven itself stretched above us. And then, hand in hand, we leaped into a sky electric with ecstasy, immersing our bodies in erotic, sexual fulfillment.

Her body shuddered against mine as she writhed in her climax. My cunt ached. I was coming with Emmylou, my pussy exploding in harmony with hers, but I wanted to come again. I wanted her to love me with her mouth, the way I'd loved her. I wanted that sweet mouth of hers to suck honey from my snatch. I wanted her tongue to invade my cunt and flog me to hysterics. I wanted -- I wanted -- oh, I wanted everything!

I spoke into her cunt. "Do me now, darling! Lick me! Suck me! Kiss my pussy! Use your tongue on me! Oh, Emmylou, will you eat me just like I ate you?"

"I don't know if I can," she moaned. "I don't know how, but I want to learn! I want to, Marilyn! God, let me try!"

I slid back, opening my legs. Trembling, shuddering, her face flushed with passion, Emmylou sat up. She stared at me where I sat rubbing my stomach, and I saw her eyes flash with happiness. She licked her lips and she came towards me, spittle forming in the corners of her mouth.

"Yes, suck me, Emmylou. Suck me!"

Perhaps there really was a God. My prayers had been answered. I was free of that horrible captivity, and I had Emmylou, and Emmylou was eagerly sucking my pussy.

Somehow I knew, as her tongue brushed my cunt, that this time it would be for keeps. I had my lady, and my lady had her lady. Our love may have been sealed in Luke Tolliver's blood, but Luke Tolliver didn't mean diddly-shit even when he was alive. Nothing counted; no one else counted! Only me and Emmylou. Together! Now! Forever!

THE END

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